#like what the fuck am I a parlor maid???

[spicyprincezuko]

I just have to say, I asked for a raise in my last monthly review. My bosses said they were doing annual staff reviews next months and they would ask the other partners what they think. Currently I’m making $18.75 which is cute. But I’m an office manager and I’ve definitely been doing more than what this job denotes. The ceiling in one of my bosses office’s fell in on Friday and I just helped her clean up the mess. No questions bc ??? What the fuck??? Deadass climbed on a ladder on top of her desk to pull pieces of the ceiling down like some gay ass bob the builder??? No mask, no gloves, just vibes and lung infections pending.

#I’m just saying $22 would be nice #I also installed mouse traps and cleaned the office yesterday ??? #like what the fuck am I a parlor maid??? #PAY ME NOW #Steph talks

[sarahisslytherin]

𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 || 𝐁.𝐁.

summary: you’ve been receiving love letters from a secret admirer and you’re desperate to reveal his identity. contains: benedict being fucking adorable, fluff n’ angst! a/n: first part of this multi-chapter fic.

It was a day like any other. You woke to the humming of the maid, the hum-drum of life about the house. You rubbed sleep from your eyes as you reluctantly got out of bed. You selected your gown for the day after scouring through your wardrobe of various shades of pastel. You bid good morning to the servants as you made your way downstairs and joined your family for breakfast. There your mother urgently reminded you (as if you had forgotten from one day to the next) the importance that you find yourself a suitor, someone of good rank.

But you barely had any mind to pay her; for it was elsewhere, with another. You cut your breakfast short, unable to bear any more talk of suitors and marriage and a life without love. You were buttoning your coat when an angel descended the staircase. Well, it wasn’t truly an angel; only your lady’s maid, but the letter she held in her hand couldn’t have been any more sacred to you. She passed it to you and your eyes met hers, the looks you exchanged almost like those of two best friends trading gossip, or in this case, your own little secret.

You slipped the sealed envelope into your coat pocket before finally stepping out the door and down the front steps. Outside, London was alive and full of the colors of spring. Though you could’ve walked the streets for hours on end, you opted to head straight to the park and sat down on the nearest bench. You sifted through your pocket, pulling the envelope out. You couldn’t help noting that it smelled of lavender and cinnamon as you gently broke the seal. There, the words you had been waiting anxiously to read.

Dearest,

I dreamt of you last night. I dreamt of those eyes so deep I was tempted to swim in them. Of that laugh so melodious I was tempted to turn it into a symphony. Of the lips so sweet I was tempted to kiss them. Alas, I know not if I shall ever reveal myself to you. I know you must be dying to figure me out. But you must understand I couldn’t bear to be rejected by you. You drive me mad! When I am awake, you occupy my every thought, and when I sleep you visit me in dreams! I am a tormented man, but oh, how smitten I am with my torment! I clutch it to my chest and carry it with me wherever I go. How could I not? When it was you who gave it to me. Such a state of delirium is the one you have driven me to, simply by existing. Anyway, all this to say that I love you and always will. Write to me, my love. I’ll be waiting.

You pressed the piece of paper to your heart, beating faster than ever. You folded the letter back and let it fall into your pocket once more before starting for the Bridgerton house. It took every fiber in you to go on with this written affair for months on end without uttering a word to your good friend Daphne. But you felt it was something too precious, too fragile to speak of; like a creature as easily spooked as it is beautiful. 

This was what you repeated to yourself in your mind when you arrived at the Bridgertons’, and Daphne swore you had a glow about you only people in love wear. 

“Come now, who is it?” she teased as she delicately sipped her tea. “You must tell me!” 

You shook your head with a playful roll of your eyes. “There truly is nothing to tell, Daph. You must believe me.”

“Nonsense!” she poked on. “I wish to know the lucky gentleman who has you so obviously smitten.” It was then that the others entered the parlor. Anthony, with Kate on his arm, and Colin and Benedict following suit. “Fill us in on today’s gossip, sister.” jested Benedict as he lounged on the nearest chaise with his usual happy-go-lucky air. How handsome he looked today, his jet black hair shiny as ever, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“There’s nothing to share, you busybody.” Daphne scolded him lightly. “Mind your own affairs.” At this, Benedict shot you a cheeky look, one you couldn’t help but return. You wondered if your secret admirer was as handsome as he was, as sweet and boyish.

“Oh!” Daphne exclaimed suddenly. “I forgot to tell you! We are holding a ball this weekend! Isn’t that exciting?” You felt yourself light up at the news. Exciting indeed. Many things can happen at a ball, dances shared and souls intertwined, and perhaps a certain identity revealed.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @holdthegirrrl

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton oneshot

[mercurygray]

hi hello friend it’s me feeding the Godwin/Edith muse yet again because ✨reasons✨ but could I request something for them for ‘22. blood’ from your latest prompt reblog? 🧡

Sorry this took so long, friend! More 1920s Peaky Blinders AU -how could I not, with a prompt like this?

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Edith took a long, deep breath, her eyes fixed on the task at hand. "It's not my job to ask questions."

"And you're not at all curious?"

"It may surprise you to know that bloodstains are a somewhat regular occurrence in this house, Mr. Saxon-West. I stopped being curious a long time ago."

But she was curious, just a little, to know how exactly her employer's lawyer had come to be covered in blood, though she could fill in the gaps, a little, if she squinted long enough.

A car had squealed up the drive at nearly midnight, rain pelting the windshield, and several men had gotten out, banging down the door and bundling someone inside as they shouted for bandages and a doctor and heaven only knows what else, and waking up the entire house while they did it. Edith was quickly out on the landing in her dressing gown, joined almost immediately by Emma, looking around to see what was wrong. "Mama?" Two bleary-eyed boys emerged from the nursery.

"Hush, my darlings, there's nothing to worry about," Emma said, picking the younger up and walking back to the nursery. She turned around to Edith and her eyes gestured downstairs. Go and see.

Edith tightened the belt of her dressing gown and took a deep breath. If her lady wanted answers, then answers she would get.

Lord Edmund had been shot. The details hardly mattered to Edith - at a club, or a bar, or his mistress' house made no difference whatsoever. He was presently laid on the dining room table, wounds staunched with dishtowels and being seen to by the doctor, and some of the minders he'd had with him were in his stepfather's study letting their clothes dry, helping themselves to Canute's whiskey and - perhaps, in one instance - the charms of one of the parlor maids, who'd been summoned to lay a fire for them.

Edith did not know yet why Godwin had been there, though she had some ideas. He and the young lord had been very close lately, hatching plans for his inheritance. Edmund liked to live larger than his funds sometimes allowed, and some disreputable friends often helped him do it. Since his stepmother's marriage to Canute he'd delighted in joining his stepfather's bullyboys for their jaunts around town, and they, in turn, delighted in his foolish ability to spend money.

But that still didn't explain the lawyer - who had quietly removed himself from the group in the study and joined Edith in the hall. "Miss Eden, I wonder if you might help me with my shirt."

Which was how they had come to be in the first floor butler's pantry, Godwin currently leaning, shirtless, against the counter while Edith blotted the blood out of his shirtfront with cold water and salt.

"I'm also not sure why you think I would care, Mr. Saxon-West." The silence had been bothering her, and she felt it needed to be said. I'm a secretary at best and lady's maid at worst.

"Because you're Lady Emma's creature, and she never met a piece of information she couldn't use."

A creature, am I? See how you like me, then. "And you never met someone you couldn't blackmail, sir."

He chuckled at that. "So you're not afraid of being found with me in your dressing gown?"

"You don't appear to be afraid of being found fucking the help." A thread of laughter stumbled through the slightly open door. "Although if that's really what you're after, sir, I'm sure what's in the study is more to your taste."

Godwin was very close to her now, his shoulder close with hers. "I don't really go for shared goods," he said, voice supremely casual. "Or public pleasure, for that matter." He watched her closely, and she did not want to meet his eye. She knew Canute's men speculated about her - she could see their eyes following her as they came and went from the house. "That's where we were, before coming here. A club, you might call it. Now I daresay they're all in a bit of a mood."

She could see it now, the sort of place he meant - Edmund had been dressed for dinner and so was Godwin, so it somewhere for men with money, being lenient to let in Edmund's 'friends'. "And was Lord Edmund getting shot part of the mood?" She parried back. "Or an unfortunate consequence?"

But he did not answer her immediately - instead he kissed her, full on the lips, and she was so surprised she let him, his shirt slipping into the damp sink along with the brush. They had been in close quarters before, but never this close, while both were barely clothed. If you're going to taunt me, fine.

"Consequence," he said, finally, his eyes fixed on hers. "Are you sure I can't tempt you to something stronger, Miss Eden? Perhaps somewhere more private?"

"You'll have to forgive me, Mr. Saxon-West. My mistress needs me and creatures," she used his word with deliberate sharpness, "must go where they're called." She stepped away. "I believe your shirt is finished - it'll just need to dry."

She left him in the pantry and walked quickly across the hall, glancing in to the dining room to see both Emma and Canute, too, waiting in vigil over Edmund's still body, the doctor still somehow at work. There's a story there, for certain, she thought to herself. But I'd never get the truth about it from him.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #edith eadig #peaky blinders au #godwin of wessex

[royalty-and-roses]

First Encounters: Guard & Lady

1.2k words

The Orleretyn manor loomed in front of An as he looked down at the job request to ensure he had the details right. The stone brick walls and ebony paneling seemed more than a bit out of the price range of people who usually hired him. He couldn’t help but feel unusually vulnerable as he took up the entire stone path leading up to the front door. 

“Someone has to be fucking with me,” he said lowly, flipping the request over to see if there was anything off about it. This searching accomplished nothing as the page was just like any other one he’d ever been given. 

With a sigh, he stepped up to the door and unceremoniously banged the side of his fist against it. The door opened, revealing an older maid.

“What business do you have visiting the Orleretyn manor?” she asked, sneering at the shirtless man up and down. 

“I was requested specially,” he said, shoving the paper into her face before she could even open her mouth to ask for it. 

Pinching the paper and bringing it close to her face, she made a soft, thinking noise. “I see,” she glanced at him, back at the paper, and then once more at him. “They’ve certainly made an interesting choice in… you.” Stepping out of the doorway, she allowed him in. 

“I will be showing you around and briefing you on the details. Remember my name; I am Nota, the head housekeeper of the household.” She began to walk away, An following behind her leisurely.

“You don’t have to give me too many details, just tell me who your bosses want dead, and I’ll get it done.” An shrugged, “They don’t pay me to tour their home.” 

Nota stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him with confused, furrowed brows. “You know truly nothing about what you’re here for, do you?” “There are few other things I get specially requested for,” he laughed, thinking that she was just unaware of his true purpose.

Sighing, she rubbed her temples. “Well, I guess this is one of those few, then.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” he scoffs. 

Arriving into the parlor, she motioned for him to sit as she served him tea and some biscuits. He, however, touched neither. “Your task for the next month is to guard the prized jewel of the manor-”

He laughed, heedless of interrupting her, “They’re paying a hell of a lot for me to guard something probably already behind several locked doors.”

“You misunderstand. You see, Lord and Lady Orleretyn are traveling outside of the dome, but they did not want to leave the manor without any member of the family. You are to guard Lady Allannia Orleretyn, their daughter.”

He laughed again, disbelief rife in his tone. “They hired me to watch some noble brat?” “You will watch your tongue. You are lucky that you are held in such high regard that this task was entrusted to you.”

He took a deep breath, his half-lidded eyes boring holes into Nota, “Fine. Continue.”

“For the month, lodging and meals will be provided to you given that you are within the manor during those times. As long as she goes unharmed through the month, you will be paid the full, promised amount.” 

“Doesn’t seem too hard; where is she?” 

“I will go to fetch her now, and you can share your first meal together.”

Scoffing again, he looked up at the now standing woman. “Just because I’m watching her, we’re going to be sharing meals and shit?”

“It is a requirement of all hired by the Orleretyn family that they not only complete every task they were originally hired for, but also display excellent customer service to them. This is especially true for behavior toward Lady Allannia. You will be granted some leeway because you are not of a noble class, and your line of work is…” she trailed off, not bothering to finish the sentence. “Anyhow, I will go fetch her. You may seat yourself in the dining hall.” She motioned toward a door before going to get Allannia. 

Running a hand through his hair, he shook his head. “What the fuck did I get myself into?” Pushing out of the chair, he stepped into the dining hall. 

His eyes widened a bit as he saw the extremely long table stretched before him. The glimmering chandeliers and the upholstered chairs were a luxury he never thought he’d be welcome to. Finding the place set for him, he seated himself. 

It was not much longer after this that Nota returned, standing at the doorway. “Presenting Lady Allannia Orleretyn!” she announced to the mostly empty room. An had never been more confused than in this moment. He looked at Nota from his place at the table. Nota gave him a few angry looks, making a subtle motion for him to stand that he ignored. 

Allannia stepped through the doorway with a big smile on her face; her long, porcelain-colored hair flowing in behind her. She wore a thin, white gown that stopped around her ankles. An, against all of his better judgments, stood now. He thanked the Order’s insistence on apathy because he knew that he would’ve been agape otherwise. 

Her bright blue eyes found him at the table, and her smile only grew as she took quick steps to him. “Hello! It’s so nice to meet you!” She curtsied shallowly to him before extending her hand to him. 

Nota took a step forward. “My Lady, I advise that you do not do that.”

An only smirked at this, meeting her curtsy with a half-assed bow before taking her small hand in his to shake. 

“Nota, you worry too much!” Allannia exclaimed, going to take her seat — which Nota came to pull out for her. 

“Please become acquainted with our Lady,” Nota told An, “The meal will be served shortly.” With this, she walked through another door – leaving them alone. 

Taking a sip of the water in front of him, An looked at Allannia. “Does your family leave you alone with random mercenaries often?” He asked, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms. 

“No, this is the first time actually!” She replied as she unfolded her napkin to lay across her lap. Stopping for a moment, she locked eyes with him, “You’re a mercenary?”

He grinned at her, humming his response to her, “Mhm.” 

“You must be very well-respected in the field if my parents chose you! Impressive!” She beamed. 

“I guess so. I’m surprised they outsourced such a privilege to me rather than using guards you already had hired.” 

“I don’t know too much about the decision, but I do know that they took many of them along and left a small group of them to guard the outside and our more expensive items. They chose you because they trusted that you knew what you were doing and would take the money offered rather than cross us for some reason or another.”

“Huh, that’s a lot of trust that they have in me -- you know -- a random guy, to not do something other than what was advised.” 

Allannia nods softly, smoothing the folds of the napkin over her lap. “I understand your wariness -- and how you might feel in my position -- but I trust my parents. And…” Allannia paused, a finger tapping her chin in contemplation, “they trust you, so I trust you!” 

He couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. “Then I anticipate us doing just fine this month, Lady Allannia.”

#romance #dnd5e #writers on tumblr #writing #dnd ocs #my ocs #oc #ocs #r&r writes #creative writing

[mbb-project-entity]

Chapter 30

Kyubi decided to go to Rivers School, as her teacher was getting concerned. Then, the sound of squeaky wheels echoed through the hallway as Lucy came in with her trashcan and broom. Her sweaty hair dangled in her face and her cheap dress kept everyone wondChloeg what happened to that ambitious Japanese woman that was about to graduate here.

"You rea' for' trashca'?" Lucy said meekly and chirpily, having grown accustomed to her new job.

Lauri nodded and pointed to the full waste bin beside the desk. Lucy picked it up and emptied it.

"Ummm…Lucy?" Lauri asked, taking a break from her pretty nails.

Lucy looked up.

"Do you, like, remember anything from before?" Lauri's voice kept anyone from taking her seriously, but Lucy always listened to her. "Like, I know that I used to be smart… But, it's, like, getting harder and harder to remember. Do you remember how you used to be?"

Lucy smiled and said, "No unastan."

Lauri nodded and smiled back as she watched Lucy wheel her trashcan back down the hallway to clean the bathrooms

Ok teacher, rot their brains into not caring one fucking bit about what you are doing. Once done, get some money from ’em and get done up like me.

Jack smiled and smiled more as Jenny slinked down wearing nothing but a black garter belt, panties, lace bra and her thigh boots carrying a tray with ice cold beers on it. “Oh, I got some plans and some people to see. Thanks for the beers bitch!”

Jenny giggled and gave him a big tongue kiss as she passed the beers out. Mark felt up her ass and she ground back into his hand with a wink. Tara saw her husband sitting on the chair and waved. “Hey baby! I’m leaving you to go and be a groupie and dancer with Jack band! I’m gonna fuck Jack and his band and party until I die! See ya loser!”

Dr. Smith looked up with a weary expression and waved his hand in dismissal. “Whatever, its not like I can ever do anything to control you. Have a nice life bitch.” And then he headed over to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink. Then he went and turned on the TV and they went on their uncaring ways, never again to try and control the teens and their parties into drones who only gave a shit about punching the clock and could care less about what their fuckup students could be doing. Now to find his wife another teacher here to punish for taking an interest some mental and behavioral adjustments must be made.”

Mr. Perkins strapped a pink helmet onto her head, fiddled with some buttons, and then signaled to Dale. Dale began reading from a piece of paper.

“Your name is Cindy Brown. You are my wife. You are 21 years old, and we got married yesterday. You are a stupid girl who only cares about cock, makeup, and pleasing me. You are obsessed with celebrity gossip and fashion magazines. You love soap operas and reality television. You love to look as slutty as possible, and you’re always wearing the sluttiest clothes and makeup you can find. You love makeup that makes you look like a whore. You think I am the smartest, strongest, and sexiest man ever. You think I am a genius, and I’m so much smarter than you. You live with me in my studio apartment, and your only goal in life is to cook, clean, and do whatever I tell you. You talk and act like a ditz at all times, and you believe whatever I tell you. You dropped out of high school because you were too stupid to learn remedial home economics, and you constantly think about sucking my cock and pleasing me. Your favorite movie is “The Hottie and the Nottie.” You will talk in a sexy, high-pitched, and breathy voice at all times. You giggle and squeal and clap your hands all the time. You have long nails which you are constantly painting and admiring. You always go to beauty parlors and talk about inane things with the other girls. In our apartment, you are always wearing the sluttiest maid outfit or whorish ensemble I want. You always wear high platform heels, and you mince and wiggle your hips when you walk. You are always wearing cheap jewelry and strong perfume. You love that you are so stupid, and every time I talk you get wet. You worship me, I am the center of your universe, and you will spend the rest of your life doing and thinking whatever I tell you. Because I’m 60, when I die before you, you will marry my little brother Earl, and he will condition you to be a good girl too. You talk and think and do as I tell you. For instance, you believe that all girls are as stupid as you, and women are only good for sucking cock and cleaning. You talk like the most ditzy Marilyn Monroe, and you giggle every time you speak. You will refer to me as Daddy. You believe the Earth is flat, and you believe that Jesus wrote the Bible while riding on Dinosaurs. ou must repent.”

“Repent,” Kate gurgled.

“In order to repent, you must renounce your former life. Your career as a scientist, and your life as an atheist, have deeply hurt Jesus, who bears you infinite love. You feel his love, don’t you? You feel his love caressing your soul and breathing goodness into your heart.”

“Yes,” Kate moaned, “I feel his love.”

“You feel his love animating your soul, raising it from the ashes of atheism in which it once dwelled. It is free now, as free as the Phoenix and as pure as an everlasting autumn.”

Tears of joy ran down Kate’s face.

“You will renounce your former life in order to maintain the purity of your soul. That is the most important thing in your life now. You must serve Jesus with every fiber of your being, without question and with complete obedience. In order to accomplish this, you must transform into the perfect image of a Christian woman. Only then will you have repented for your grievous sins.”

“Transform. Christian woman.” Kate intoned.

“The perfect Christian woman is, first and foremost, an obedient wife to her husband. She is her husband’s property, and through serving her husband she is serving God. Her husband is her master, given dominion over her by the sacred texts of the Bible. She accepts his every word without question. She is to obey his every whim and submit to him in all things. This is most important. She is not to think for herself. She is too stupid and weak to think without the assistance of her husband. Opinions and ideas, thought and inquiry, it is all too difficult for her inferior brain to comprehend. She knows only that she must please her husband, and must accept whatever he tells her as the absolute truth. To question him is to question God, which is a sin punishable by eternal hell fire. Besides, why would she ever want to question her husband? He is the wisest and most just of men. Everything he says is as true as the word of God.”

“Wisest. Most just.” Kate repeated.

“She must do everything her husband says. It is her role to be completely obedient. She is to never wear pants. Pants are for men, who are the ones to work. Women are never to have a career. That would be un-Christian. The perfect Christian woman does not work. Even if she wanted to, which she doesn’t, she would not have the intelligence or skills to do so. Thus, she is to be a housewife.”

“Housewife.”

“A perfect Christian woman is in essence a perfect housewife. A perfect housewife always wears frivolous dresses and high heels to please her husband. She does her hair and makeup to the specifications of her husband. She does not read, except for fashion magazines and the Bible. She hates science, progress, secularism, and liberals. They are all foot-spawn of Satan, and her husband, to whom she is in adoration, is the noble upholder of true Christian values. He is a Republican, as all true Christians are, and she is to be devoted to the ideas and principles of the Tea party. The Tea Party is so wise, so in touch with the will of God, that to oppose it would to be oppose the will of God himself.”

Pastor Ted waved his hand over Kate’s face, but she was too far gone to react.

“You now know the values and duties of a perfect Christian woman. Your past life, as Kate Griffin the atheistic scientist, is forgotten. You are now christened the name Bunny, a name in honor of perpetual, eternal obedience.”

Earl stoked the coals of his barbeque. He had royal sausages cooking, hamburger patties and red-eye steak. The backyard wedding reception, officiated by Pastor Ted, had been a smashing success. This was just two weeks after the local schoolboard had announced the decision to teach creationism in the classroom. Kate Griffin, who was the most vocal opponent of creationism in the community, had up and disappeared after the announcement was made. People assumed she had left the town in disgust, but no one had been able to track her whereabouts. Earl was glad the liberal bitch had left. For all he cared, she could teach her evolution to a gravestone. But that didn’t matter because he had found Bunny, the woman he was to marry, who knew the true place of women and wasn’t at all like that uppity, science bitch Kate who assumed she was smarter than everyone because she had a fancy college degree. Earl, a truck driver and member of the tea party, hated intellectual liberals more than he hated the rival of his college football team. But that didn’t matter now. He was celebrating today.

He turned over the burnt side of the sausages and looked at his soon-to-be wife. Unlike that flat bitch Kate, Bunny had melons the size of volleyballs. They were on prominent display through a flowery pink sun-dress, which was short enough to reveal her lace pink thong. Her hair, glittery and perfumed, had been done up to look like Pamela Anderson. Unlike any bitch he had ever met, Bunny dressed exactly as he told her to. She was in pink platform heels, and had done her face up to look like a living sex doll. Thick pink lip gloss, dark mascara, foundation and blush and every other cosmetic that Walmart would sell. Cheap sparkling ear-rings dangled from her ears and jiggled along with her monstrous tits and bubble butt whenever she wiggled her hips. Her nails were long, as he liked, and painted an acrylic pink pattern of hearts and lipstick kisses. Finally, a crucifix hung over her cleavage, but he wouldn’t be looking at that. Bunny, who had a big grin on her face, was talking with Pastor Ted. She noticed Earl, blew Pastor Ted a kiss, and then minced over to the barbeque in her heels. You are Cindy, my stupid whore wife, and I am Daddy, the smartest and sexiest man to ever live.”

[manic-nova]

Zhongli is a Whore

Summary: Zhongli presents himself as this refined gentleman, but you, his watchful subbordinate, know better.

Word Count: 2,742 words

Characters: Zhongli x Fem Reader

TW's: Implied Voyerism, slight degradation, mentions of oral sex, fingering, prostitution, dubcon. NSFW Minors Do Not Interact!

Zhongli is such a whore. You always knew it, though no one else seemed to be aware but you. You were around him constantly, running errands for him and with him on behalf of the Wanshen Funeral Parlor, and you’d watch him make everyone around him swoon with his polite nature and vast knowledge. Such a gentlemen, they thought. “Gentlemen, my ass,” you were always quick to respond. It seemed everyone was blind to the lust that hid behind those golden eyes, but you weren’t so naive. It had never evaded your attention the way the strikingly beautiful Tianquan of Qixing would glide her sharply decorated fingers across his shoulders, her endearing strokes revealing the intimate familiarity she had with his firm body. Nor did you fail to notice the way the Yuheng would sharply turn away from his gaze with burning red cheeks, her eyes blazing with anger, while the rest of her body would seem to radiate with a sense of longing. Even women of such power seemed to melt in his palms. No level of resentment could keep them away from his welcoming arms, his alluring presence, his magnetic body. You could even tell the way the current head of the funeral parlor’s eyes would glow as he flung open the doors. The second their eyes met, her aura would pulsate with desire. Of course, who could forget the harbinger he had wrapped around his little finger. The dinners, the exceptional loans of mora, the way that unbearable ginger would flash the cheesiest grin at their encounters in the streets… it was all too obvious. You knew. You didn’t have to see the way Zhongli would inconspicuously make his way up to the Jade Chamber to know how Lady Ningguang would rushingly dismiss her maid staff just so she could spread her legs before him mere moments later as his tongue so willingly lapped up all her juices. You could practically see her shining claws digging into his scalp as her sensual moans escaped her lips, the sound perfectly contained by her precisely curated abode. Nor did you need to see for yourself the way Lady Keqing would stumble face first into his broad chest in the middle of Liyue Harbor to know how he’d whisk her away to the nearest dark corner soon enough, his tongue trailing roughly across her neck as his fingers shameless explored her forsaken insides. It was like you could here her voice scoffing in rejection all while her body betrayed her mind’s utter distaste for his old fashioned ways, how she hated him for the things he made her body do. And you certainly did not have to see the boss, Hu Tao, invited Mr. Zhongli into her office to know how she’d find herself on her knees in front of him, practically lunging for his pants zipper, his erect cock springing out of them in pure arousal. He certainly never left that office unsatisfied, and Hu Tao never left without that almost aggravating smile of accomplishment on her face. And, oh how his trips to Northland Bank never actually seemed to be about business. No, they were about the opportunity to bend Childe over his own work desk and fuck him until his brain went numb, you were certain of that. He was such a whore.

“A whore? I believe that is what you called me, darling, or am I mistaken?” His deep and sultry voice whispered to you after he dragged you away from a private conversation with a colleague and into his office.

You felt your body wince in rejection and yet burn with desire all at the same time as his body hunched over yours, your palms pressed forcefully on the front edge of his desk, his whole abdomen pressed up against your lower back. “Mr. Zhongli, I- this isn’t very appropriate-“

“I know how you’ve been watching me,” he interrupted, his finger gliding ever so slowly across your lips as he spoke.

Your whole body froze at the sound of his demanding undertones as his free hand teasingly dragged across your stomach. You were stricken to a complete loss of words in your humiliation, you only audible response a sharp breath inward.

“That’s right,” he cooed. “Smart of you not to try and deny it. I’m quite perceptive, I’m sure you aware. You do work under me after all.”

Your eyes seemed to trail far away from his gaze, but he was quick to grab your chin and forcefully turn your face toward his, you guilty eyes meeting his sparkling and intimidating gold ones.

“Even I cannot not deny, you do have a point about me being a so-called whore… However,” he spoke, belittling you with every breath. “At least I’m not so desperate as to follow around a man I work with to his private meetings and watch from afar while longing to be the one next to him instead, am I love?”

Zhongli took the sign of your face glowing bright red at his statement as all the confirmation he needed. He chuckled, turning the rest of your body to face him so that he could properly torment you. His hands moved to grip your waist, shutting down your last hopes of a chance to run away from the embarrassment. What embarrassed you even more though was how your whole body was so throughly aching, your treacherous insides dripping in arousal. His gleaming eyes stared down at you in mockery, and here you were hoping he would rearrange your insides, punishing you for your misdeeds. It wasn’t your proudest moment to say the least, but your longing for him has gone on long enough as you watched him indulge so many others before even blinking an eye at you. You despised his inattentiveness. You loathed your own longing.

“So tell me, darling,” he continued with a taunting emphasis on darling, “Tell me who truly is the whore here.”

You seemed to shrivel and shrink under him, you head hanging lowly to the ground. “I am,” you muttered, shamefully defeated.

A devious grin grew immediately across the man’s face, his hands immediately moving to explore the rim of your skirt which he began tugging on with little hesitation.

“Zhongli, what are you-“

“You won’t be needing these,” He answered, the feeling of his hands sweeping your underwear all the way down to your ankles sending shivers through your body. “Step out,” he requested bluntly, looking up at you with glistening eyes so impossible to refuse. He had such a kind face, such a delectably husky voice. It was almost instinctual how you removed your feet from the space in your panties your legs occupied moments ago.

Zhongli tossed your clothing aside and stared up at the soaking mess between your legs, smile stretched far across his face. You knew exactly what he was thinking, that the trickling wetness of your yearning insides was further confirmation of the kind of whore you were just for him. He didn’t stay too long though. Instead he stood back up from the ground and immediately pulled your shirt over your head and unclamped your bra, to which you oh so willingly lifted your arms up for, not even having to think about it. He took a few steps back to get a good look at you, seemingly very pleased with what he saw. “So this is the kind of slutty body you’ve been hiding from me, is it,” he spoke, biting into his lower lip in a way that sent butterflies soaring throughout your stomach. “You seemed to have no hesitation toward my transgressions thus far. Am I to assume I am free to continue?” Zhongli requested as his eyes seemed to take in every inch of your body.

You were so nervous standing before him completely exposed you could hardly put together a sentence. “Zhongli, I- it’s just that- oh god, this is torture.”

He perplexed. “Oh? Are you not enjoying finally having my undivided attention? How strange. Your body was giving me a vastly different reaction.”

“No!” You exclaimed, immediately shrinking in embarrassment from the overly eager tone of your voice. “It’s just that… Zhongli, please,”

“Please?” He repeated back pesteringly. “Well out with it.”

“Please… don’t make me wait any longer for you,” you implored the man, utterly disappointed in how far you had fallen to get to this point.

Zhongli’s whole expression seemed to glow with anticipation. He promptly removed his jacket, slowly making his way back toward you as he began to unzip his pants. “Well, I suppose if you are going to be such a naughty little whore, at the very least,” his voice hummed before his hands slammed into the bookcase you were so carefully leaned against. “You could be my naughty little whore.”

Soon enough he was pushing all of the belongings on his desk toward the ground, picking you up and spreading you across the length of it afterward. Zhongli didn’t waste a second to climb on top of you, his whole body hunched over you as he pressed his hands into the wood just above your shoulders. You could hardly breathe as he only briefly placed his lips on yours, so brief you seemed to blink and it was over, and there was Zhongli placing his godly cock at your entrance. Oh how you wanted to drag your nails across their veins, but you know you’d be come acquainted with them soon enough as he left his imprint on your insides. You felt his member slide into you an array of harmonic moans escaping from your lips and his. “Oh my,” he exclaimed teasingly. “You’re so wet I seemed to have fit right in!” He pushed the rest of his length into you, and you immediately saw stars, tears already prickling at your eyes. Zhongli’s hands steadily gripped around your waist, lifting your lower body off the surface of the desk as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He leaned his face in closer toward yours, his luminescent eyes staring right into your soul as his hips pulled back from you then pushed forcefully back into your insides. Your nails dug into his shoulders as your body struggled to contain the sensations his length was sending throughout your nerves, your stomach welling up in knots of pleasure and desire. His cock was monstrous, tears falling from your eyes as you took in his massive length. You had always figured it was big, given the large imprint in his pants you could never help but notice, but this, this was beyond your imagination the way every time his bucking hips thrusted into you he seemed to hit every one of your weak spots in one go. Zhongli was pounding into you for all you were worth, pulling at your hips, knowing well that the streams of tears falling from your eyes were not a point of concern for him. It didn’t take long for you to become close to your breaking point.

“Zhongli- I- I’m close!” You shrieked.

“Not yet,” he told you, eyes focused on pumping you full of his magnanimous cock. “Just a little bit longer,” he implored.

You took heed of his request, trying your best to hold back your release as he continued to pierce you with his member so forcefully and yet so lovingly. You didn’t last long though, the pleasure he had continued to force into you overwhelming you and flowing out of you in a milky cream. The look of satisfaction on Zhongli’s face as he felt your warm cum pour all over his cock was absolute bliss, his eyes rolling back as his lips released sweet moans of ecstasy. He wasn’t quite done with you yet though, his length still pressing into your now highly sensitive insides. You whimpered at the feeling, so painful yet wonderful, and as his pace began to grow erratic, you awaited his release with desperate anticipation. He pulled your hips into his with a few last forceful strokes, and his viscous liquid ejected into you, his hands releasing from your hips as he rode out his release. You reveled in the feeling of him filling up your insides, your whole body radiating from the pleasure you had felt. Zhongli removed himself from you, his cum and yours pouring out of your abused hole, a sight to behold from his perspective.

“Are you satisfied now, darling?” He asked in lowered and silky tones.

“Ahh, uhuh,” you sighed, brain still too numb to formulate a proper sentence.

He chuckled at your incoherence, walking behind his desk and pulling a towel from his drawers. He placed a hand on your leg and led your body to face him once again. Soon, the pleasure you felt faded and was replaced with a sense of shame and realization. It became apparent to you that in the grand scheme of things, and despite how often you fantasized about Mr. Zhongli taking you like this, this didn’t mean anything. This was all just to prove a point, to establish dominance and demand respect from you. Yet here he was, cleaning up the mess you made with gentle eyes and slipping your underwear back onto you legs because you were so weak you could hardly move. He he was caressing your face to pull back your disheveled hair with the most adoring subtle smile across his face. You loved him. You loved him so much it drove you crazy. You loved him so much you couldn’t bare to be apart from him, so you’d follow him around the harbor just to have to become painfully aware of all those he would turn to for pleasure before he even so much as considered you.

“Zhongli?” You called out to him hesitantly in hushed tones.

“Yes, darling,” he answered, still stringing your clothes back onto your body with precision.

Your eyes stung, trying to hold back pained tears. “What do they have that I don’t?” You asked, the words sticking to your throat in hesitation.

Zhongli finished pulling down your top before removing his hands from you completely and turning his gaze away from you. There was an abundance of awkward tension growing between the two of you. You wished you hadn’t asked, but it was killing you inside, and the question seemed to flow out of your mouth so effortlessly. You had suffered so much watching him jump around from one person to the next, surely nothing he could say or do now could hurt worse. “Do you… really wanna know?” He asked.

You took in a big sigh before nodding your head in agreement. Nothing he could possibly say could hurt you, you were sure of it.

He took his own sigh before turning his eyes to face you. They illuminated in guilt and shame before he simply gave you a one word answer: “Mora,” he said.

Suddenly all that build up of emotions gave way to a sense of confusion and curiosity. “I- pardon?!” You questioned him skeptically.

“They all have considerable amounts of mora,” he continued, frustration and embarrassment seeping into his tone. “I have been under a considerable deficit of funds for quite some time, so they have been paying me generous amounts of money for my knowledge and services. Do you understand?”

“So… your selling yourself?!?!” You pressed further. “Does Hu Tao not even pay you enough to live without providing her extra services?!”

“Does Hu Tao seem like the type to you to actually pay her employees reasonable salaries?” He asked back.

You perplexed. “Point taken,” you answered, “So you’re sleeping with two members of the Qixing, your boss, and a Fatui Harbinger just to pay the bills?”

“Well, technically I am contractually obligated not to disclose any sort of explicit information about what happens during our meetings.”

“Of course there’s a contract,” you groaned, turning away from Zhongli in pure and almost hilarious disbelief. It was surprising obviously, but certainly not the worst thing in the world. Certainly not unbearable. And so you turned to Zhongli and jokingly asked him, “So how much do I owe you?”

He chuckled deeply, sending sparks flying in your brain. “Well, normally I would charge about twenty thousand mora, but for you…” Zhongli soothingly placed his hands onto your hips, their touch now so familiar with your skin. “I’ll gladly take your heart instead.”

#genshin impact smut #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin morax #morax smut #ninggaung #keqing #childe smut #hu tao #zhongli

[hlizr50]

Revelations

Chapter 1: This is Wrong

Hawke eavesdrops on the Duke's lessons with Poppy and realizes what is happening within the walls of castle Teerman

Read on AO3

Casteel… Hawke… stared at the door as it clicked closed, the Maiden having entered the Duke’s office.

“Penellaphe, I am so incredibly disappointed in you.” Duke Teerman always sounded so haughty and condescending.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you. I –“

The Duke cut her off, “Do you even know what you have done that has disappointed me?”

Was this why she and Tawny had been so apprehensive of the Duke’s summons? A scolding? A dressing down? It couldn’t have been just that, considering how Penellaphe had frozen before the door.

He took up a position not too close to seem suspicious to the two men standing guard. No matter. He was Atlantian, and even though he leaned against the wall a few feet from the door he could hear every word spoken in that office. He didn’t know what he should expect.

“I don’t. But I’m sure whatever it is, I’m at fault. You are never disappointed in me without cause.” Her words were measured. Careful. And careful wasn’t really her style.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t be disappointed for no reason at all. But this time I find myself blindsided by what I have been told.”

Hawke had been her guard for barely a day, but he found it hard to believe that Penellaphe would have committed a crime so egregious to blindside the Duke. Although, if her escapade to the Red Pearl was any indication maybe she had.

“Remove your veil, Penellaphe. You do not want to test my patience.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we… we are not alone, and the Gods forbad me from showing my face.”

“The Gods will not find fault in today’s proceedings.”

They were not alone? His amber eyes narrowed slightly. Who else was there? Had he not experienced the meeting yesterday he would have also wondered why she was apparently hesitant to remove the veil. But he knew the Duke likely wanted to take the opportunity to comment on her scars.

“Lift your eyes.”

A pause.

“You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”  Hawke grimaced. His insides roiled at the thought of the Duke looking at her with those deep, empty eyes.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

The Duke made a cluck with his tongue. “Such a shame. What do you think Bran?”

It was Lord Brandole Mazeen, then. Gods above, what was he doing in there? His lust and depravity were well-known throughout Castle Teerman. The maids were often warned not to earn his attention, good or bad.

“As you said, such a shame.” The Lord answered.

“The other scars are easy to hide, but this? There will come a time where there will be no veil to hide this unfortunate flaw.”

How many years had Penellaphe been here? How many times had the Teermans and their lackeys taken an opportunity to cut her with those words?

“Do you know what that new guard of hers said? He said she was beautiful. Half of her is truly stunning... You look so much like your mother.”

Hawke had said that. He meant it.

“You knew her?” Penellaphe gasped.

“I did. She was… special. You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise. Wouldn’t have spoken the truth. I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could have been far worse.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed. It was difficult to for him to keep his expression neutral as the Duke continued to berate her. So he kept his eyes down, studying the stone floor of the hallway. It had likely once been rough and uneven, but the years of scuffing boots had smoothed the cobbles to satin.

“You do have such pretty eyes… And a well-formed mouth. Most will find your body pleasing… For some men, those things will be enough.”

He didn’t like the way the Duke paused between his backhanded compliments. Was he looking at her? Touching her?

“Priestess Annalia came to see me this morning,” Duke Teerman paused, as if waiting for a response. “Do you not have anything to add?”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what Priestess Annalia would have to say. I saw her last a week ago in the second floor parlor and all seemed fine.” Penellaphe sounded confused.

“I’m sure it did, since you only spent half an hour there before leaving unexpectedly. I was advised you didn’t once pick up your embroidery set, nor did you engage in any conversation with the priestesses.”

So… this was the crime? She hadn’t completed any of her needlework? Penellaphe had sounded confused, and Hawke had to admit that he was, as well. With all honesty and due respect (which was none, if he was being honest), who the fuck cared?

“My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite. I must have been daydreaming.”

“I’m sure you’re very excited about the Rite, and if this had been just one situation I would have easily overlooked your poor conduct. But I’ve learned that you were just in the atrium.”

“Yes, I was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t go often, but –“ she was interrupted again.

“Spending time in the atrium is not the issue and you’re smart enough to know that. Don’t play coy with me. You were speaking with two of the ladies in wait. You know that is not allowed.”

She had barely spoken two sentences to them! Who had run so quickly to report her to the Duke for that? The ladies had been too busy trying to get Hawke’s attention. He grinned at that, recalling the spilled rhinestones and fainting young women. But Penellaphe, who was not to have any interaction with, well, anyone… she had been in the atrium before anyone was there. The ladies had chosen to sit at the same table. Was she just supposed to just stand up and leave?

“Do you have nothing to say?”

“Such a demure Maiden.” Lord Mazeen’s words dripped like acid against Hawke’s skin. He did not have to know the Lord well to know that he would get an inordinate amount of pleasure in killing him. He felt ill knowing that Penellaphe was alone in that room, with those two beasts.

“I’m sorry. I should have left when they entered, but I didn’t.” He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone apologize so much in his life. What had happened to the woman from the Red Pearl? That Penellaphe was so full of heart and fire. The girl on the other side of that door was…

Defeated.

“And why not?” The Duke prodded.

“I was… curious. They were talking about the upcoming Rite.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that. You were always an active child with a curious mind that flicked from one thing to the next: something I’ve warned the Duchess you wouldn’t grow out of easily. Priestess Annalia has also informed me that she fears your relationship with your lady’s maid has become far too familiar.”

Good Gods, how many imaginary transgressions could there be? How was she not supposed to be familiar with someone who had literally been tasked to be at her side at all times?

“Tawny has been a wonderful lady’s maid, and if my kindness and gratefulness has been mistaken for anything else then I apologize.”

Hawke knew that had struck a nerve. Penellaphe and Tawny were close, and the Maiden was allowed so little in the way of… of anything that made life bearable.

“I know it may be hard to keep boundaries with someone you spend so much time with, but a Maiden does not seek intimacies of the heart or the mind with those who serve them. Not even those who are to become members of the court. You must never forget that you are not like them. You were chosen by the Gods at birth, and they are chosen at their Rite. You will never be equals. You will never be friends.”

He inwardly scoffed.

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do. You were chosen at birth, Penellaphe. Only one other has ever been chosen by the Gods. It was why the Dark One sent the Craven after your family. It was why your parents were slaughtered. That hurts, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. That should have been the only lesson you ever needed,” Duke Teerman had a talent for cutting words, Hawke noted. “But between your lack of awareness regarding overstepping boundaries, your lack of attention with Priestess Annalia, your blatant disregard today for what is expected of you, aaaaand the attitude you displayed yesterday toward me. What? You thought I wouldn’t address your behavior while we discussed Ryan’s replacement? You stared back at me as if you wished to do me physical harm.”

The Duke chuckled then. “The meeting would have ended vastly different if others had not been present, and we weren’t there to discuss Hawke replacing Ryan-“

“Rylan! His name is Rylan, not Ryan!”

There she was, that spirited woman that had so intrigued him.

“THERE it is! Not so demure now!” Lord Mazeen sounded… almost gleeful.

“You mean, his name was Rylan. And does it really matter? He was just a royal guard. He would have been honored that I even thought of him. Either way, you just proved that I must double my attempts to strengthen my commitment to make you more than ready for your Ascension. Apparently I’ve been too easy on you. Unfortunately, that means you require another lesson. Hopefully it will be your last, but somehow I doubt it.”

“Yes. Hopefully.”

Hawke sighed inwardly in relief. How long had been here listening to the Duke ramble on about imaginary transgressions and basic human interactions painted as crimes. They should be finished soon.

“I believe four lashes should suffice.”

He froze.

Lashes.

Hawke could barely breathe. This was no mere dressing down, no raised-voice scolding with some hurtful words.

“Are you sure that’s enough? I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you haven’t done enough.” Gods, Penellaphe’s fire roared to life at the worst possible moment.

“How does seven sound? I see that number agrees with you. What do you think, Bran?”

“I think that is sufficient.”

This was no “lesson”.

“You know where to go,” the Duke directed.

This was abuse.

“You’re not ready, Penellaphe. You should know better by this point.”

Hawke strained to hear. It was far too quiet. The Duke was waiting for something. Could he hear the soft rustle of fabric? His restraint was thinning by the second.

This was torture.

“This is for your own good. This is a necessary lesson, Penellaphe, to ensure that you take your preparations seriously and are committed to them, so you do not dishonor the Gods.”

This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Brace yourself, Penellaphe.”

He heard the faint whistle… then a crack… it had to be a cane that the Duke was using on her.

A cane. Sweet merciless, sleeping Gods.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Two. Was this the fitting punishment for not touching her embroidery set? For speaking a word to a lady in wait who needed to be put in her place?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Three. Was this the fitting punishment for daring to have a friend? For not cowering when the Duke had hoped to humiliate her the day before?

Swoosh. CRACK.

Four. His eyes were wide, but when he looked to the guards at the door they avoided his questioning glare, acting blissfully unaware.

This… this travesty…

It was as if…

As if this happened all the time.

Swoosh. CRACK

Five. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He was back there… in Carsadonia. In his cage. Made to bleed. Made to feed. Forced to take and be taken.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Six. The Blood Queen took pleasure from his pain. For decades. He couldn’t understand how any living being could be so monstrous.

Swoosh. CRACK.

Seven.

He let out an unsteady breath. It was over.

Penellaphe hadn’t made a sound.

How?

“I truly hope, Penellaphe, that this lesson… sinks in.”

His rage was white hot behind his eyes. He had to keep them closed. The guards would have been… disturbed… if they saw how they glowed with his ire.

Duke Teerman had signed his death warrant. And it was not going to be quick and painless.

Breathe. You have to breathe. You have to get ahold of yourself. This is not the time and place.

Hawke took a few measured breaths, and his heart began to slow. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what he’d just witnessed.

The door clicked and his head whipped up, amber gaze falling on the veiled woman who gingerly pulled the door closed behind her. She looked up and saw him, and Hawke could see her entire body tense. He just stared at her, willing her to meet his gaze behind the veil. He could tell that she avoided it. Penellaphe then straightened slowly and did her best to walk toward him, past him, as if nothing had happened.

But it had.

Her breathing was labored and he could tell that every step she took caused her pain. He followed her down the hall, cursing to himself when the effort became too much for her and she started whimpering softly with each pace. They made it to the narrow spiral staircase that would lead them down to the main floor. He opened the door for her to enter, and she dared not look at him as she passed.

She was already attempting the first step, grunting with effort to lower her body down through clenched teeth, when he closed the door behind him.

“Penellaphe,” his voice was low. Cold. Raw.

She continued to work on the next step, acting oblivious to his call.

“Penellaphe.”

She stopped.

“How long?”

“What?” she tried to sound surprised, but he could only hear the pain lacing the word.

“How long. How long has the Duke been doing this to you?”

Silence. It hung heavy over him. He felt like he was being smothered, waiting for an answer that he knew would likely ruin him. He could hear her pain-laden breaths sawing in and out. It had taken such effort for her to go down two steps. He watched her shoulders rise and fall with a deep, calming breath.

“Since Ian returned to the Capitol.”

Gods, why weren’t they somewhere with something he could break? Blood red rage roared in his blood. Hawke could feel himself trembling.

“That’s… that’s been years,” he whispered.

“It has.”

And then she began struggling down the steps again. As if that were the end of the conversation.

It wasn’t. Not even fucking close.

He practically leapt the three steps down to stand in front of her. “Is that all you have to say? Poppy this is wrong. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me that.”

“Am I not? Do your friends know about this? How have your friends helped you?” Hawke spat, clenching his quaking fists at his side. “From what I can tell, I’m the only person who seems to give a flying fuck about what just happened. Tell me how that doesn’t qualify me as your friend.”

“There’s nothing that can be done to help,” she whispered and turned her head to the side, suddenly finding the stone wall quite interesting. He uttered a curse and reached for the chains that held the veil on top of her head.

“Take this Gods-damned thing off,” he growled as he pulled it away. He couldn’t stand trying to speak with her without seeing into her eyes, seeing her face. She was a person. Her emotions and expressions mattered. But she barely even flinched, keeping her gaze fixed somewhere near his boots. Her face was flushed and her eyes lined silver.

“Look at me.” When she made no move he reached her hand to her. He lightly traced his fingers over her left cheek down to her jaw, pulling gently so her face was lifted to him. “Please, Penellaphe. Look at me.” Her emerald gaze met his, shining with pain and sorrow and shame.

“I… I used to try. I used to do everything I thought I could to fix whatever it is that I’d done that had disappointed him,” she blinked, allowing a couple stray tears fall. “But it was never enough. No matter what I did, no matter how demure I was, no matter the eggshells I walked on and the dedication I tried to show… I realized eventually that my dedication was never the point. It was never about what I did or didn’t do. It didn’t matter how hard I tried. He would find anything-“

“Like not doing your fucking cross-stitch?”

She sucked in a breath and pulled away from his fingers. “How much did you hear?” the fire-haired beauty clasped her hands in front of her heart. He held onto her gaze and her eyes roared at him with hurt.

“Everything.”

She shuddered and bowed her head. Her hands trembled as she brought them up to cover her face. Hawke could feel humiliation rolling from her in waves and saw the tension in her shoulders. She was weeping before him.

“He will find anything that could possibly be an offense. He’s punished me for walking too quickly and breathing too loudly. And I have come to realize that… he only does it because he wants to hurt and humiliate me. He knows that his words make me flinch and his touch make me want to peel the skin from my body. And he relishes that. And I hate that he has that kind of power over me.”

Hawke’s ire sharpened into something cooler, more calculating and thoughtful. He had come to Masadonia to kidnap and ransom the Maiden, a symbol to all of Solis. He’d come to send a message using their precious prize, a privileged brat that was no better than those soulless creatures who had raised her.

He took a measured breath and ran a hand over his face in realization.

She was... innocent. She was a pawn, a possession. She was a victim, kept in a cage just as he had been, albeit far more gilded. And even though there was an illusion of life and choice, she was guilted, berated, and beaten into submission.

And Gods, she was still brave and vivacious enough to risk the Duke’s ire. Reckless enough to step into a brothel and send all of Hawke’s expectations straight to hell.

There is nothing that can be done to help.

There was. He could take her away from this. He had planned to do that, in a way, but now? How could he deliver her back to the Ascended knowing that this is what her life would be? And how could he convince her of the truth? She was smart, and Hawke knew that she didn’t agree with everything the Ascended ordained. Her reactions at the council meeting had been proof of that.

He reached out to her again, taking her hands in his and pulling them away from her tear-streaked cheeks. He stroked his thumbs over her knuckles and spoke her name to draw her gaze.

“This is wrong. You hold no shame in this. He has done this to you, and that is evil and terrible and monstrous. Tell me you realize that, Penellaphe,” he urged. She nodded softly. He gave an encouraging quirk of his lips and continued. “He does these things to make you feel weak and powerless, and you are neither of those things. He knows that you are curious and full of life, and he is afraid that you will be able to see past his façade and into his own weakness if he cannot keep you squashed under his heel.”

Hawke let go of her hands and gingerly held her face between them, using his thumbs to wipe away any remaining dampness that fell there. He looked down for a moment, and then brought his eyes back up, a burning golden stare.

“I need you to make me a promise, Penellaphe. Can you do that?”

“A promise?” she whispered.

“Promise me. Promise me that you’ll trust your instincts. Question everything. You are fierce and intelligent, so think about what they do and what they say. Think about it… you are the most important person in the entire kingdom. They should be worshipping at your feet, not taking a cane to your back,” he was afraid he’d said too much; pushed too hard. Would she be suspicious? Would she balk at his request? Her gaze was green as springtime, and her eyes stared into his, trying to process what he was saying.

“Can you promise me that?”

The knight endured her gaze for a few tense moments, her face still in his palms. She closed her eyes after a sigh and placed her hands over his, dipping her chin.

“I promise, Hawke.”

Thank the Gods.

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and the Maiden inhaled sharply. Chuckling, he let her go and reached down to the discarded veil.

“I will make you a promise, as well,” he extended his hand with the soft fabric. She moved to grab it and he clenched her hand with both of his. Startled, she looked to him again.

“He will never hurt you again.”

She smiled wistfully then, and he could read in her expression that, as much as she wanted that to be true, she didn’t believe that anyone had that power. Then she pulled the veil from his hand and attempted the next step in front of her.

It would take forever to make it down the stairs.

“I have an idea,” Hawke smirked. “I think it will help. But you have to trust me.”

“I… I don’t trust you. Not when you have that look in your eye,” she laughed lightly.

“Here, if I squat down can you climb on my back?” he turned around on the step in front of her. He knew he was still much taller than she was, even on a step below. “It may be painful to get there, but if you can wrap your arms around my shoulders and your legs around my waist we could make it down much more quickly. And hopefully without too much strain on your back.”

Hawke felt a hand on her shoulder, but she hesitated. “That would be… incredibly inappropriate. What if someone sees?”

“You’re hurt. If someone opens one of the doors we’ll hear it and have enough time for me to set you down and throw that Gods-forsaken sheet over your head,” he scoffed over her shoulder. “Now wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll grab your legs when I stand up.”

He was surprised when she didn’t argue and her forearms crossed in front of him.

“Ready?” He asked, knowing the first time he lifted her up would probably cause her some pain.

“Yes.” Her grip tightened around him. She gasped into his shoulder as he stood straight, putting his hands under her thighs. He waited a moment, listening for her breath to even out as she adjusted to the soreness.

“I’m sorry. Are you alright?” Hawke gave her legs a light squeeze. She nodded against his shoulder, and he started gingerly making his way down the stairs. He thanked the Gods that he was Atlantian, strong and light on his feet. He knew he could practically glide down without causing her any additional discomfort.

They reached the bottom landing and he gently set her down, heart constricting when he saw her wince as she slowly lowered her arms to her sides.

“Here,” he grabbed the veil from her hand and placed it over her head. He studied the tiny chains that were supposed to hold it in place, and he had to admit that he wasn’t sure what to do with those. A giggle escaped from behind the veil.

“Give me that,” she grabbed the chains. “It’s not far to my room. We should be able to make it there without it falling off.”

Hawke grinned and pulled open the door. “After you, Milady.”

They walked down the corridor slowly and silently. He would look down at her from time to time, wondering how she could possibly have the strength to be so spirited and brave knowing the consequences that could await her. What would the Duke do if he’d known about her little trip to the Red Pearl? He frowned to himself and looked forward. That had been reckless, but he understood her need for life. For freedom. She had wanted to experience things that everyone else in the world took for granted. They said she was Chosen, privileged. But she was also alone.

Well, no she wasn’t. Not anymore.

As they stopped in front of her door he turned to her. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Tawny gets an ointment from the healer. It will help, but I may not be… I may stay in my room for a while. But I heal pretty quickly, and this isn’t the worst I’ve had…”

The anger roiled through him as she trailed off. Of course it wasn’t. Of course seven lashes for not touching her embroidery set and her attitude hadn’t been the worst that he’d done to her.

“I… he…” he swallowed and took two deep breaths. “I’m going to calm myself so I don’t do anything reckless about what you just said.”

“I’m sorry,” she answered quietly.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Penellaphe. None of this is your fault. I am simply… staggered by his cruelty,” he managed a soft smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “Get some rest.” Hawke reached down and squeezed her hand before he opened the door and motioned for her to go in. He began to close the door behind her when she stopped.

“Hawke?”

“Yes?” he answered, looking for her eyes behind the veil.

“You can… please, call me Poppy,” she gave a shy grin and shuffled into the room. He pushed the door closed behind her and leaned his forehead against the wood.

He was shaking.

Breathe, Hawke. Breathe.

His ragged breaths seethed out from between his teeth. In for four counts, out for four. In… out… in… out...

After what seemed like ages of breathing exercises he pushed away from the door and stalked down the hall.

He needed to think. And talk to Kieran. He would be none-too-thrilled at the change of plans.

But plans would change.

Duke Teerman would die.

They would have to find another way to get his brother back.

Because nobody was going to hurt Poppy again.

#FBAA #fbaa fanfic #poppycas #ao3 #fanfiction #poppy x casteel #poppy balfour #what if

[hanmegumi]

YOUR WOUNDS BLEED ON ME

Chapter 3

TW: Swearing 😅

@introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @hyperlollypop @chocolate-mallowmelt @an-absolute-travesty @letmefangirlinpeace @atlxsperalta @artemiassamos @lemontarto @fire-sapphics @itstiger720 @theobliviouswhale @persassabeth-shipper

@summer-waves9764 @bianavacker-is-bi-as-hell @aw-fuck-i-dropped-my-crossaint @valkyriesofvelaris @chicken-roll

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

On top of it all, Sophie did not so much as know if she was ready to wed someone.

She had been trying to give it thought, but stopped whenever her mind showed Fitz.

Childhood friends, and he seemed to have the intention of charming her—and keeping away other suitors.

It made Sophie wonder why. Why she? Why now? And, most importantly, with which final purpose? Fitz could pair with someone who had a rank as high as his. Pairing with Sophie would bring him absolutely nothing. So why—

Her thoughts were interrupted when the maid stormed into her bedroom.

"Good morning, Miss Foster!" she said, and ran the curtains open.

Sophie squinted at the sunlight, intense and full on her face.

"We have sudden visitors. Should I prepare a bath?"

"Visitors?" Sophie's stomach turned. "They are not callers, are they, Vertina?"

The maid, Vertina, shook her head, and sketched a yet wider smile. "Say, a bath?"

Sophie sighed.

"Ah, there she is! The diamond of the season!"

Sophie forced a smile as she walked in the parlor, and stopped short when she saw who the visitors were.

Her parents were sitting on one of the couches, close to each other. They were always like this, showing too much affection in public. Grady's mother would always say "No hanky panky under my roof!" when they visited.

But sitting across from them on the other couch were the Sencens.

"Ah." Sophie hurried to bow, clumsily, which made Keefe's parents arch an eyebrow. "Your—"

"Gisela is fine, dearest," Keefe's mother interrupted. Her voice was icy, even if her words were friendly.

Sophie paused. "Lady Gisela?"

"Just Gisela."

"But—"

"Gisela will do, dearie."

Sophie blinked. "I shall call you Gisela, then." She turned to see Keefe's father. "And—?"

"Cassius is fine."

She sighed, but nodded.

If only they could stop cutting her off.

While her parents chatted animatedly with hers, Sophie sat away to have breakfast.

Keefe plumped down on the chair in front of her. "Trust my parents to make every situation awkward," he jested.

She looked at him. "Huh?"

"Will you finish all of that?"

Sophie frowned at her plate. "Of course."

"Ha." Keefe rested his cheek on his palm, a playful smile displaying across his lips. "Say, may I call you Sophie?"

"Miss Foster will do."

"Hmm." Keefe crossed his arms over his chest, his smirk still not gone. "And why is Lord Vacker, nonetheless, allowed to call you by your first name?"

"We are childhood friends, that is all. We know each other too well. He is like a brother to me."

Keefe grimaced. "He wouldn't like to hear that."

Sophie shugged. Fitz's actions had been sudden and outrageous. She would not encourage his attitude.

"And, I need to know, Miss Foster—do you wish to wed someone this season?"

"I am not sure as of now, Your—"

"Keefe is fine."

"... I am still giving it thought, Keefe."

"And that is totally fine." Keefe chuckled. "It will be interesting. This social season, that is. Unrequited love? Unholy, uncompromising, undying? We will see."

Sophie choked at unholy. "Yes," she agreed, narrowing her eyes at him.

His actions just kept telling her something: She had to keep her distance from him. She was not stupid, or blind. He was dangerous—and Fitz had not been completely wrong. Keefe came from a rich family, and his parents were assholes.

What was to be expected from him?

And, as if there weren't many problems, Sophie did get nervous when he was around.

She was aware of the butterflies he caused.

#sokeefitz #sokeefitz fic #keeper of the lost cities #b: kotlc #sophie foster #keefe sencen #fitz vacker #grady ruewen #edaline ruewen #tw swearing #😅 #your wounds bleed on me

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 9

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 9: While Tommy’s healing, he’s plotting and inexplicably brings both Alfie and Ella into his plan. 

           “I don’t want to go back,” Ella whispered to Alfie.

           Six simple words that led Alfie to shelter her in his big coat and escort her out to the car. After requesting to be brought back to his flat, they were quiet during the drive. But he kept a comforting hand over hers. They arrived and Alfie helped Ella step out of the car. He wished his driver a good night and led her inside.

           Cyril was ecstatic to see the young woman again. It had been so long since he’d seen her. His tail was practically a blur from wagging so fast. He trotted up to her and pushed his face against her hand, itching for a pat.

           Ella smiled and fussed over him for a few minutes, cooing softly to him and ruffling his ears.

           Alfie took his coat from her shoulders, hanging it up and retiring to the kitchen. “Want me to put the kettle on?” He offered.

           “Sure.” She responded and made her way into the parlor, Cyril following at her heels. She’d only ever been in the front room of Alfie’s flat. It was very interesting to finally see inside his personal space. You could tell a lot about a person by their home. Even little bits that they themselves didn’t notice. Habits they hardly even realized anymore.

           Alfie was far neater than she was. Maybe it was because he was always working and hardly ever home to make a mess. The room was fairly sparse. Cyril jumped up onto a well-loved couch that the large dog decided to claim as his own. His long legs sprawling out as he fit into the perfect mold he’d created in the cushions.

           Ella continued wandering around the room, passing by the tall bookshelf. She’d never been much of a reader. She learned her alphabet and arithmetic in the betting shop. Her brothers would often tease Ada for being a bookworm and she didn’t want to be made fun of either. So she pretended she was too tough for school and anything that came with it, including reading. But she secretly adored when Ada would read to her at night.

           Her fingers grazed across the bookshelf as she ambled over to a large but handsome looking radio. One that was surely top of the line. She smiled because she never imagined Alfie listening to music in his free time. They’d go to the club together but he never mentioned ever enjoying what the bands played. Toying with the dials for a moment, she wondered what sort of music he listened to. Classical would surely bore him, wouldn’t it? A man who got his kicks from large amounts of money and guns. But she couldn’t picture him listening to popular jazz music either. He wasn’t one to follow trends of the modern age. He was so deeply set in his ways.

           “Here we are.” He entered the room and set down two teacups. “Cyril…” He rolled his eyes at the dog that had taken up the entirety of the couch. But he had too big of a soft spot for the mutt that he didn’t shoo him off.

           Ella knelt down and started tuning through the radio waves to find a clear music station.

           “Hardly use that thing.” He admitted, lingering behind her. “Waste of fucking money.”

           When she found a good song, she stood up and turned to face him. “I don’t think so.” She smiled and stepped toward him.

           “Yeah, why’s that?” Like a magnet, she drew him closer. It became instinct, upon hearing music, to automatically take one hand and rest another on her waist.

           She melted into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and resting her cheek on his chest. “Because what else would we dance to?”

           His chuckle sent vibrations through her. “S’pose that’s a good enough reason.”

           They fell quiet, simply listening to the music and swaying together, somewhat out of sync from the song. It was their own rhythm that they found together. It was enough to push out the rest of the world. For at least one song, they could pretend like everything was okay. There was no harm or foul being so close. She wasn’t a Shelby, she was simply Ella and he was simply Alfie.

           After at least five songs, and long after Cyril had fallen asleep on the couch, Alfie’s lips grazed over Ella’s ear. “Should take you home, love.” He murmured. “Getting late.”

           “I am home.” She replied stubbornly.

           He really wished she were home there in his arms. Forever nearby. “I’m sorry.”

           “Just one more song.” She pled. Both of them were aware there wasn’t much they could do about the reality that awaited them outside. Still, Alfie didn’t have the heart to tell her no. So they danced one more song.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

           When Tommy was released from the hospital, he returned to Arrow House and requested Ella follow. She insisted she had a job to keep but he assured her the law firm wouldn’t dream of firing her.

           “Are you saying you lot are threatening them?” She retorted sternly and helped Tommy tug on his coat.

           “Don’t need to.” He shakily stood and took Ella’s hand for support. "Don't need to threaten anyone, El."

           Since Tommy would be on his own at Arrow House, Ella decided it might be a good idea to accompany him even for a week. She wanted to help tend to Charlie and make sure that her brother was healing. Their siblings were all too busy with their jobs regarding the upcoming robbery so it was left to Ella and the staff of Arrow House to take care of him in the last stages of his recovery.

           Being in Warwickshire allowed Ella to clear her head. Being away from London’s smoke and soot and breathing in some clean air did wonders for the brain. She thought about the shit her brothers were getting into and how it affected her and the rest of the family. Whether it was fair or not really wasn’t an issue anymore. They’d done what they’d done and now they’d all have to deal with the consequences.

           Ella knew that it was nearly impossible to escape the reality of her family. Unless she skipped across the Pond and established herself a new life somewhere in Boston or New York. Maybe even as far as California. But she would miss everyone far too much, Alfie included.

           So perhaps it was wiser to simply find her niche in the Shelby world. Tommy could have his fun but she could establish herself as a Shelby too. A Shelby who decided her own fate. And if she damn well wanted that fate to include Alfie Solomons, then she would. Tommy and the rest of them would just have to deal with it. She had plenty of ammunition to retaliate with if they ever tried giving her shit.

           She just needed to convince Alfie that they could find their way in such a chaotic world.

           Weeks passed and Tommy recovered steadily. Ella had fun bonding with her young nephew and spending time with the dappled gray that she had nicknamed Bean for the little bean-shaped mark on his chest.

           Tommy rolled his eyes whenever she called the gelding that but never protested. He was just glad his sister was sticking around. Things were about to get more complicated but he needed to get the ball rolling. He wanted that damn priest dead and wanted his share of what Tatiana promised him.

           One of his more difficult bits was approaching and he wanted Ella to be there instead of hearing about it later. Bad blood would have to be put aside and that wasn’t a strong suit in his family, especially for Arthur. Maybe the Christianity thing would help.

~~~~~~~~~

           “El, I’m going to sit outside for a bit!” Tommy called upstairs.

           “Oh,” His sister came to the top of the stairs. “I have the paper, do you want it?” She asked.

           He grimaced. He’d already tried reading the paper that morning but was unsuccessful. Something from the injury messed with his eyesight and he couldn’t make out any of the printed words. “No, thank you. Just going to enjoy the sun.”

           “I saw Johnny outside, has he brought a new horse?” She wondered hopefully.

           “’Fraid not. Here on different business.” He explained. “Charlie’s up, right?” He asked.

           “I think he’s with Mary. He’s been pestering her all morning for sweets.” Ella walked down the stairs with the newspaper in hand.

           Her brother chuckled. “Cheeky rascal.” He shook his head and started to make his way towards the patio door. “He’s starting to act like you. Wonder why.”

           Ella grinned and followed him. “I have no idea what you’re on about.” She paused in the hallway. She noticed Johnny Dogs out in the lawn, basking in the dull English sun. “Business ‘bout the robbery?” She wondered.

           “Putting things into motion.” He nodded.

           She chewed on the inside of her cheek and rolled the newspaper up to occupy her hands. “Are you going to need me to do anything?”

           “Not unless you want a job. Rather keep you out of this one.”

           She lingered by a portrait of one of Tommy’s racehorses. “I’ve been thinking, Tom. Maybe…if there’s something I can do.”

           He held up a hand to stop her. “No need. Things are already planned.” He assured her vaguely. But he didn’t elaborate any further. Instead, he opened the glass French doors to step outside.

           “What do you mean?”

           “All in due time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

           Worried that Tommy acquired more brain damage than previously believed, Ella lingered on the first floor of the manor. Charlie was still with Mary so she didn’t have to look after him. She was too confused by Tommy’s hint to really focus her energy on anything.

           A knock at the front door officially sparked Tommy’s plan. Mary opened the door but passed by Ella as she was going to alert Tommy.

           “Who’s here?” The younger Shelby wondered.

           The maid looked perplexed. “Your brothers are downstairs, but there’s another man who’s arrived asking for Tommy.” She answered.

           “Huh.” Ella walked by Mary, letting her outside. She made her way into the front room and was stunned to see who was standing there. “Alfie…”

           The man turned away from the many portraits on the wall adjoining the stairs. He looked just as surprised to see her. “El…”

           “I uh-” She paused and tried to dig up some words. But it had been nearly a month since she last saw him. All the while she was thinking about him nonstop. “Tommy didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

           “I thought you were in London.” He admitted. “Tried calling you.”

           Her lips parted and she suddenly felt stupid for failing to tell him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d be here this long. You…you tried calling me?”

           A sheepish smile crossed his face and he tilted his head to the side. “Well, s’pose we left things a bit open-ended.”

           “I didn’t think you wanted to complicate things.” She ushered him into the big room to talk. “But I’ve been thinking.”

           Alfie wandered over to the window next to Tommy’s leather desk chair while she sat. “What’ve you been thinking ‘bout?” He wondered.

           “If I must be a Shelby, then that’s what I’ll be.” Ella crossed her ankles and held her chin high. “But that doesn’t mean my brothers control me.”

           His blue eyes studied her face, overshadowed by the brim of his hat. “That’s brave of you, innit?”

           “Think I’m brave to still want you too?”

           He chuckled and ran a hand over his beard. “Extremely brave.”

           “Then I’m brave.” She spoke softly. “But I don’t care. S’long as I’ve got you.”

           The gangster took a big breath, his broad shoulders lifting a weighted burden along with the inhale. He opened his mouth to speak but Tommy decided at that moment to walk in.

           “Ah, good, you’re both here.” He nodded complacently and went for the liquor table.

           Ella raised an eyebrow. It was a strangely calm reaction from her brother after seeing her with Alfie. “You’re not supposed to be drinking.” She reminded him. "Not with the medication you're taking."

           “El, do you mind giving Mr. Solomons and me a moment alone?” He ignored the concern about the whiskey in his hand. He also failed to mention he wasn't taking the medication prescribed by the doctor.

           She glanced at Alfie who looked similarly confused. But the Jewish man nodded subtly. “Okay…” She stood and left the room, heading downstairs to greet John, Arthur, and her cousin.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy poured himself a drink and held out the bottle to Alfie. “Drink?”

           “Nah, don’t touch it, mate.” Alfie tried to shake off the feeling of seeing Ella. He couldn’t be in that mindset while conducting business, especially with someone as shrewd and cutthroat as Tommy. “Why’m I here, Tommy?” He asked bluntly.

           “Do you know something, Alfie, This morning I tried to read the paper and I realized that the only consequence of my terrible accident is that I now need glasses.”

           Alfie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Right…” He walked around the desk and sat down next to the Shelby man. “Well, I know a man who can make you a pair of these.” He held up the glasses that always hung around his neck. “He’s a magician, mate. Not only will you be able to read your newspaper but you will also be able to see the future. Now I know this, ‘cause he made me this pair here. And I’ve seen what you’ve been up to.” He leaned back and dropped his glasses. “You’ve been fucking with Russians, aye? Silly boy.” He spat sternly.

           Tommy just looked mildly amused. “If you can see the future, Mr. Solomons, then you’d know what I’m about to offer you next.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After greeting her brothers, Ella sat on the stairs fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. She couldn’t hear what Tommy and Alfie were talking about and she was growing increasingly nervous.

           There was the sound of a bell and a few moments later, John, Arthur, Michael, and Johnny came up from the kitchen. Johnny smiled and tousled her hair affectionately before entering the big room. She smiled weakly and stood up.

           Arthur was last to walk in the room but after only half a second in there, he turned around to exit. His sister looked confused before she heard Tommy beckoning their eldest brother back inside.

           He glanced at Ella for a moment, debating ignoring his brother. He huffed out a sigh before turning back around and going into the room, closing the door behind him.

           Ella frowned and wondered if she was still asleep and just having a strange dream. What an odd day. She sat back down on the stairs and waited for the door to open again. Instead, less than five minutes later, she heard Arthur and John loudly protesting something.

           “Are you fucking mad?”

           “What the fuck? You’re kidding, right? You're just having a laugh.”

           Alarmed, Ella stood up and reached for the door handle. It turned before she could get to it and Arthur threw open the door.

           “Arthur, come back,” Tommy commanded in a stern voice.

           “No, you think this is a fucking game? You’re going to hand her over like she’s one of your horses?” He shouted in response.

           “What’s going on?” Ella demanded, raising her voice to be heard over them.

           John looked ready to strangle Tommy. “They really fucked up tryna put that brain of yours back together!” He snarled.

           Ella pushed her way into the study and saw Alfie sitting by the desk. The man looked out of words, something extremely rare in the presence of Tommy Shelby. He always seemed to have something to say to the Blinder. “What’s going on?” She asked again.

           “He’s going to pawn you off like he did to me!” John answered angrily.

           “What?”

           Alfie slowly stood, his blue eyes flicking to her and back to Tommy. He simply shook his head and walked out of the room without another word.

           “Tom…”

           Her brother finished off a cigarette. “You’re getting what you want, El. I’ve offered a union between the Camden Jews and us.”

           Ella’s stomach dropped in realization. He was going through with what she mentioned to him. He was going to arrange her marriage to Alfie. “Wh-why?” She had no idea what to feel at that moment. So many emotions mixed together to create something inside that made her entire body go stiff.

           “Because he’s drunk with power!” Arthur yelled.

           Tommy didn’t seem too bothered by his brothers shouting left and right. He maintained eye contact with his sister. “Because I can’t have him double-crossing me this time.” He said steadily. "He's not going to fuck me over, not with so much on the line."

           Confused tears started to form in her eyes. “So you’re leveraging a deal with me as some collateral damage?”

           “You wanted to be with him, you’re getting your wish.”

           It infuriated her to no end that he kept his stony composure, not even showing a lick of emotion. “Fuck off.” She spat and left the room before she further deepened the rift in their already fragile relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           She hurried outside to find Alfie walking towards his car waiting in the drive. “Alfie!”

           He stopped and turned. “El, I don’t know what to fucking say.” He muttered in an apologetic tone. “I didn’t know he’d pull something like this.”

           “Well, he didn’t tell me either so that makes the two of us.” Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “But I…” She sighed and shook her head. Her mind was a mess.

           “I want to be with you, love.” He whispered, his forehead creased in concern. “But I ain’t doing it on Tommy Fucking Shelby’s terms.” He jabbed a finger angrily towards the house.

           “W-we can do it on our terms.” She stammered. “It doesn’t matter what he says. We’ll do it our own way!” She stepped towards him.

           “You saw their fucking reaction, Ella!” He laughed bitterly and threw up his hands. “Think I want to marry into that? Not to mention you ain’t even Jewish.”

           She recoiled a bit. “I didn’t know that would be an issue.”

           Wearily, he ran a hand over his face. “There are a lot of issues, love. Lots of fucking issues. I can’t…I need to take some time. Tell your brother I’ll help him with the jewelry but as far as that there ain’t anything else I can do right now.” He opened the car door.

           “So you’re going to leave me here?” She demanded, her voice rising in pitch. “What does it matter what they think? When did Alfie Solomons care what other people thought?”

           “Call me when you’re back in London.” He replied. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing else he could do. He loved Ella more than he could ever express to her. But he wasn’t going to jump when Tommy Shelby commanded him to. There was no way he’d marry her in a business transaction.

           So he closed the car door and instructed his driver to bring him back to London. Leaving Ella standing in the driveway.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy wouldn’t miss his Bentley. Or at least he wouldn’t miss it until he noticed it was gone. Disappeared from the garage along with his sister. Despite his brain injury, Tommy was convinced Ella was the source of all his migraines.

           “That fucking girl is going to put me in an early grave.” He muttered with a cigarette already in his mouth. Mary had just reported that the Bentley was seen driving away by one of the stable hands.

           Arthur was still cooling off after the inflammatory meeting. He held a glass of whiskey so tightly in his hand it seemed like just seconds away from shattering. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor, hard eyes staring across the room. His face was still slightly red from shouting. “Where’d she go?” He demanded.

           “How would I know, Arthur?” His younger brother replied and leaned against his desk. “Probably skipped back to London after you lot were screaming.”

           The eldest Shelby let out a sarcastic bark of a laugh. “We’re the ones that drove her away? John and I? Really? Don’t fucking think it was that you were trying to dangle her in front of that psychopath like bait?” He growled.

           “Arthur…”

           He slammed his glass down and stood up, ready for round two of an argument. “She can get over him but you’ve got to keep pushing the issue. Luring her back to him to help you out with business?” He jabbed a finger at him.

           Tommy just calmly blew out a breath of smoke. “This deal with the Russians is more dangerous than I think you realize. She’s going to keep going back to her. Look at us, aye? Family of addicts. She won’t quit him and he won’t quit her. Might as well speed up the process and get to the point to where he’s family. We’ll be bound by blood and he won’t dare to cross us.”

           Arthur made a disgruntled noise to the notion of Alfie ever becoming blood. “He’ll fucking break her heart, you want that to happen?”

           “He wouldn’t do anything of the sorts. He’s weak for her, Arthur, anyone could see that.”

           He narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you on about?”

           Tommy took a drag of his cigarette before explaining himself. “After I caught them together, I went to Camden to tell him to stay away from her. He pulled a gun on me but didn’t shoot.”

           “Didn’t shoot you ‘cause he knew what would fucking happen if he did.” Arthur didn’t see the correlation.

           “Exactly. Ella would never give him the time of day if he shot her brother. She’s got a hold on him, like nothing I’ve seen before. So excuse me for trying to make sure the man doesn’t use this robbery for his own personal gain.”

           Arthur felt his stomach churn. “You’re using your own sister to drive a man to his knees.” He spoke with a hint of disgust behind his voice.

           “Considering what I’ve done, I think it’s pretty mild.”

           “Oh fuck off.” He spat and returned to his seat on the couch. With an angry swig, he finished the whiskey. “So she’s gone off to find him.”

           “People in love are fairly predictable.” Tommy finished off his cigarette and went to get himself a whiskey and to refill his brother’s glass.

           Arthur snorted. “Love, ain’t never gonna convince me that that animal could love anyone.”

           “I’m sure he’d say the same about us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           As Tommy predicted, Ella drove the Bentley right to Alfie’s. She was relentless, banging on the door. It was hard to pin down the exact emotion she felt. There was anger for her brother’s audacity, defeat when Alfie left her, confusion because she didn’t know what she wanted anymore, and overall exhaustion.

           Alfie knew who was at the door but answered it anyway. He wasn’t going to leave her standing outside in Camden Town. Plus, Cyril was barking up a storm when he heard the knocking. Perhaps the mastiff knew who was on the front stoop as well.

           Upon opening the door, Ella inundated him with a strange question. “How do I convert?”

           He frowned and grabbed Cyril’s leather collar before the massive dog could go bounding out of the flat. “Pardon?” He had no idea what she was talking about.

           “You said since I’m not Jewish it wouldn’t work out, we wouldn’t be able to get married. How do I convert? How do I become Jewish?” She repeated herself.

           Alfie sighed and ran a hand over his face. These Shelbys were relentless. So was Cyril, who was practically choking himself on the collar trying to get to Ella. “Fucking hell, just come in.” He said so his dog wouldn’t suffocate himself.

           Ella stepped inside and knelt down to greet the excited Cyril.

           Alfie sat on the stairs and took a deep breath. “Love, I don’t want you to convert.”

           “Why not? Wouldn’t that make things easier? I wouldn’t be a Traveler girl. I-I could be Jewish and no one would care if we got married. Anything I have to do, I’ll do it for you.” She insisted. Her blue eyes looking up at him with a glimmer of sadness.

           It made his gut wrench. He’d left this woman, a woman who was willing to change religions for him, alone and without explanation. “I ‘ppreciate that, Ella, really I do.”

           “Don’t…don’t say that it wouldn’t work out.” She begged quietly and stood up. She stepped in front of him and reached for his hands. “It could, Alfie.”

           He took her hands, encasing them in his calloused hands and bringing them to his lips. His eyes closed for a moment and he took in her familiar scent. He wanted it to envelop his flat, take over so he would become so accustomed to it that he would notice when she wasn’t around. Wanted to sense it on the pillow beside him, in the sheets, on the couch by the radio. The rose and honey aroma he craved to have permeate his very existence. Wanting it to linger even when she was gone.

           “S’pose I told you I wanted to adopt your way of life. Said fuck it and became a gypsy. Converted, were a Catholic like your aunt.” He looked up to her. “That wouldn’t really be me, now would it? Your kin would still think of me as that Jewish man.”

           Ella swallowed because she knew what he was getting at. That she could convert to Judaism but she would still be an outsider. “Then how can we make it work?” She usually didn’t like to accept defeat, just like her brothers and just like Alfie. In a lot of ways, they were all on the wavelength but there were still huge obstacles that separated them.

           “I love you.” Alfie prefaced and opened his hands to gently kiss her knuckles. “I do, El, but what your brother is doing is…well s’fucking insane, innit?”

           “I didn’t ask what Tommy did. I know what he did. I’m asking what we’re going to do.” She insisted.

           His eyes were steady on her and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. “If I said fuck tradition, right, fuck Jewish law, and we got married tomorrow, Tommy gets it his way. He gets me, yeah, in a fucking headlock, don’t he?”

           “That’s not how it has to be. He is not a part of this relationship!” Ella grew increasingly frustrated.

           “But he just made himself a part of it. By giving me your hand like he were giving me some sort of contract to sign. I marry you, right, and he gets to hold that against me whenever he fucking pleases.”

           She bit her lip until she tasted blood on her tongue. “I can tell him to forget it. Forget the deal, forget everything. We don’t have to get married tomorrow, but I want to be with you.” Stubborn as a mule, she persisted on.

           “I want you too.” He admitted and smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone. “We can work something out.” It would be nearly impossible to turn her away. He’d done it more than once and it physically pained him to see the look of betrayal on her beautiful face. The tears in those Shelby eyes. “We can be together here and me business with Tommy can be separate. He don’t even have to know.”

           Ella got a bad taste in her mouth and she wrinkled her nose. “So I’ll just be your whore?”

           “What?”

           “The woman who comes by every so often, never causing a fuss, never taking her ‘round the people you love and care about or being around the people she loves and cares about.”

           “Ella, for Christ’s sake what do you want from me?” He raised his voice in frustration. Dropping his hand from her face and looking up to the ceiling as if searching for answers. “I tell you I love you but that ain’t enough? You want me to have fucking tea with your brothers twice a week, play nice, be in all the family portraits, why don’t I just change me last name to Shelby. Would that make you fucking happy?”

           “Don’t yell at me!” She snapped back at him. “You can tell me you love me all you want but given the opportunity to marry me, you balk! Love is just a word, Alfie, it loses its meaning the more you keep saying it and keep doing nothing to back it up!”

           The gangster pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned as if the conversation was causing him enormous pain. “That wasn’t a marriage proposal, Ella, that was a business proposal. You want that to be the story you tell your kids? How mum and dad got together? Oh me fucking brother chucked me onto the auction block and Alfie Solomons took home the prize!” He announced sarcastically, throwing his arms up. “Tommy don’t fucking care about your feelings!”

           “Yes, he does!” She shouted tearfully. “What do you know?”

           “If he cared then he would’ve given us his blessing, right, ‘stead of an ultimatum. Marry me sister but never fuck with me again or you’ll be sorry.” Alfie laughed bitterly.

           “Why would you even want to do that? You and Tommy aren’t fighting anymore, you don’t have to double-cross him. Things could work out, you just keep focusing on the wrong part of it!”

           He bit his tongue, actually thinking before he spoke which wasn’t typical. But he couldn’t tell her that he had buyers lined up for whatever he’d find in that jewelry vault. Buyers that Tommy had no idea about. Buyers who were well aware of the robbery and would exploit it in a heartbeat. It was far too late to take that back even if he did agree to Tommy’s terms. Everything would backfire in his face in the end. Maybe that’s why he turned her down. “Things you don’t understand, El. Things you ain’t ever gonna understand. You can bounce back and forth ‘tween Birmingham and London but you still won’t understand the things your brother and I do.”

           Ella fought against her instinct to burst into tears. It would only prove his point that she was just a naïve woman who didn’t know anything. “I…” Her ability to speak started to deteriorate in front of her. She felt scorned, taken advantage of by her brothers and Alfie. Lined up for failure, poised to hit a brick wall. None of it was fair. But she couldn’t go crying around about things being unfair. Or she’d just be little baby Ella who thought the world was always against her. Poor baby Ella. Doesn’t understand the real world.

           “Well, I’ll tell Tommy that he can take his offer and shove it.” She muttered and turned away. Cyril was sitting near the stairs, his sad eyes following her as she went for the door. “Told you I’d do anything for you and now I know you’d do absolutely fuck all for me.” This time, she left Alfie alone. Sitting on the steps, forced to listen to the door slam closed. Forced to sense her perfume fading away.

~~~~~~~~~

           It was late afternoon when Ella returned the Bentley to Warwickshire. She parked it up front and kicked the door closed with a frustrated grunt.

           Tommy was waiting by the front door, having seen his missing car pull up the gravel drive moments earlier from his study window. His hands were deep in his pockets, eyes watching her mumbled obscenities under her breath all the way to the front door.

           She passed by him, shoving her shoulder forcefully against his. Pushing her way into the big room and going right for the liquor cabinet.

           He silently followed her. Taking in her upset nature as she disregarded a glass and grabbed his most expensive whiskey, popping the cork and drinking right from the bottle.

           She didn’t need him to start up the conversation. “So this is my life now.” She said between large drinks from the bottle. “Yo-yoing back and forth between Alfie Solomons. Dealing with me fucking brothers. That’s it. God fuck it all.”

           Tommy sat there without speaking for a moment, letting her go on if she needed. Instead, she just kept drinking. Finally, he had to step in and pry the bottle out of her hands. “C’mon now.” He scolded sternly when she went to take it back from him. “Guess what, you were born into this family. Sorry, that’s what fate gave you. You fell in love with a man like Alfie. Can’t tell you why. But you’re a Shelby.” He reminded her firmly. “You play the hand you’ve been dealt. We were born into nothing. Barely enough to eat. You wore all of our hand-me-downs, not just Ada’s. You wore Arthur’s old shirts as nightgowns. We lost mum before you could even know her. Our father beat us while you and Ada and Finn were there crying your eyes out in the room.”

           Ella’s throat tightened and she finally let the tears she’d been holding in front of Alfie began to flow freely down her cheeks.

           “But we kept surviving. We did what we had to do and now look where we are now. Look what you’re wearing and what you’ve got. I promised you all that I would take care of this family until the day you burn me body. You may not understand my methods or question if what I’m doing is good. But that doesn’t matter at the end of the day when we’ve all got a roof over our heads, a bed to sleep on, and food to eat.”

           Ella sank into a chair and wiped at her eyes. “Why’re you telling me this?” She whimpered weakly.

           “Because,” Tommy knelt down in front of his sister. “I’ve asked Alfie to help us and if he crosses me, then he crosses all of us. He could ruin this family with the things he knows. I know you love him, but you don’t know some of the things he’s done. He loves you, and I know he wouldn’t hurt you ‘less he wanted to sign his own death certificate. This proposal was to keep this family safe.”

           “Well, he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to marry me.” She sniffled. “Am I stupid, Tommy? I thought he loved me enough.”

           Her brother sighed and pulled her into a comforting hug. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.” Even though he hated to admit that fact. “Means he hates me enough to spite himself and push you away.”

           Ella couldn’t think straight anymore. She just fell into a heap of tears on the floor in Tommy’s arms. He gritted his teeth and knew he had to pay a certain someone a visit in London very soon.

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#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons imagine #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #charles shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #shelby ofc #shelby oc #season 3 #fluff and angst #angst

[imagine-loki]

Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 79/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:   Also on AO3 click here

You had to wake stupidly early the next morning, which sucked major ass with how late you and Loki had stayed up.  Granted, it wasn’t entirely your fault that you’d stayed up so late.  You had to attend your wedding feast.  

Ok, maybe you didn’t have to have quite so many rounds of sex with Loki before you finally fell asleep, but it was totally worth it.  

You didn’t have to leave for home right away, but it was still going to be a busy day.  You also didn’t want to head home too early, since it was the full moon on Midgard.  The earlier you went home, the more of the day you would have to fight against moon fever, which wasn’t exactly fair to Loki. He was immune to moon fever, either because he was a strange werewolf that wasn’t entirely werewolf thanks to his biology, or because he was over a thousand years old.  You hadn’t been able to find out exactly why yet.  You’d been a bit busy and it didn’t really matter why.

You found that you were still entwined with Loki, a tangle of limbs and bedclothes.  That made you purr and you rummaged around in the blankets until you found his head.  He was somehow still asleep, which was strange for Loki as he usually slept lightly and was awake the moment you woke most mornings.  

You realized that he completely trusted you to be able to fall so deeply asleep in your company and knew just how rare of an honor that really was.  Loki trusted very, very few people, and it warmed your heart that you were one of those few.  

You leaned down and kissed him softly.  His eyes fluttered as he slowly woke.  When he took in the sight of you his expression turned from sleep dazed to a soft warm smile.  “Good morning, my husband,” you purred and kissed him again. 

His smile morphed into a proper grin.  “Good morning, my mate, my omega,” he purred and leaned in to kiss you again.  His purrs rumbled in his chest as he pulled you into his arms to kiss you thoroughly.  

You shoved back before things could get too heated. “Lo, we don’t have time for more sex right now,” you told him when he pouted up at you.  “We have breakfast with your mother this morning, which I do not want to go to smelling like sex,” you informed him firmly.  

Loki laughed.  “Alright, alright, but we’re gong to have fun later, little wolf,” he purred.  You blushed at that, but nodded.  The wolves’ mating ceremony definitely included sex. And there was no reason to think that Loki would be sated, even after last night’s activities. He was a god after all.  And an alpha werewolf.

You laughed and kissed Loki again softly before you got out of the bed to the waiting bath and the servants who were there to help you bathe. That was something that would take centuries to get used to.  But you’d been told multiple times that it was rude to tell the maids you didn’t need their help to bathe, or wash your hair, or dress. 

Dressing, you would accept their help with, as Asgardian formal dresses were stupidly difficult to put on by yourself.  Especially since you had to dress like a noble lady, even more like a noble lady now that you were married to one of the princes.

Fuck. 

You were a princess.

At some point you really did have to come to terms with that fact, but today was not that day. Today, you had to marry your husband under the sun and the moon, as werewolf tradition demanded. 

When you were dressed and prepared, you made your way back to the living room of Loki’s suite and found him dressed for Asgardian court.  Not that he had court duties today, but he always dressed well, especially for seeing his mother.  You went to him and kissed him softly.  “You look lovely, little wolf,” he told you warmly, his eyes flashing amber for a moment as his wolf appreciated your appearance as well.  

“And you clean up well yourself, Lo,” you replied with a grin.  

You took his arm and went with him to breakfast.  You had a quiet breakfast with Frigga and Thor in a small parlor.  It was quiet and intimate and you found yourself at home there among the royal family.  Even Odin showed up briefly for a bite to eat with his wife.  And he managed to avoid being a dick to Loki for that brief period. 

After breakfast, Frigga came with you to the bifrost to see you off and wished you well in the Midgardian ceremonies.  She slipped something into Loki’s hand before you left and you heard her soft comment to him that it was for you.  Heimdall sent you home and you landed just outside of the tower.  

The second you landed, you felt the moon’s pull and felt the heat of fever crashing over you.  Loki’s grip around your shoulders tightened as he led you quickly into the tower, letting Thor deal with the press and fans who had noticed the bifrost lights and come to investigate.  

Once you were within the safety of the tower, Loki turned to you and handed you the potion bottle Frigga had given him.  “This will help with the moon fever.  Mother wished for you to have a good second wedding,” he explained.  You nodded gratefully and quickly downed the potion, not questioning something that came from Loki and his Mother.  Neither of them would give you anything that would hurt you.  You also assumed that it must be difficult to brew or something to that effect for you to never have heard of such a thing before. “You’ll need to lie down for an hour or so while it takes effect,” Loki continued the explanation.  

“That’s fair,” for a price for magic, that one wasn’t bad at all.  

You stopped by the common room long enough to let your friends know you were home and give out hugs before you and Loki headed up to your room for your nap. You cuddled up in Loki’s arms, letting his cold soothe your fever until the potion took effect.  

Loki let you sleep a lot longer than he should have and shook you awake around ten am.  You jolted up when you realized what time it was.  “Loki! I need to get ready, we still have to drive there and-“ 

Loki grabbed you and pulled you into his arms where he proceeded to kiss you to make you shut up.  “Calm down, little wolf,” he said gently.  “We have plenty of time.  Our friends are already dressing and getting ready and will meet us there.  You are dressing when we get there, which I will help you do with magic.  All you have to do right now is roll out of bed and make it to the car,” he reassured you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“How did I ever deserve you?” You asked him warmly, amazed that he was taking care of everything, taking care of you so well.

“You saw me past the monster,” he said softly against your skin as he held you.  

You stayed curled in his arms for a couple minutes more before you got up to get dressed for the drive over.  Since you didn’t have to care what you looked like at that point, jeans and a t-shirt were perfectly acceptable at the moment.  Loki agreed to drive you, mostly since you didn’t want to keep track of keys or your phone or wallet today and Loki could vanish his at will.  

It wasn’t a long drive, and though you knew things were different now that Jareth was gone, it was still difficult to see your childhood prison as Loki drove you up the access road.  The guards stationed let the car right in when he saw you and Loki.  You were expected for your wedding here after all.  

Loki reached over and took your hand, squeezing it.  “Are you alright, little wolf?” He asked, breaking you away from memories of the past, locked in this compound.  Once you were free of those, you could see the changes Dan had made since he’d become alpha.  The compound was still under construction, but it was starting to look more like a home than a prison, even from the outside.  You couldn’t quite grasp exactly what the difference was, but you knew it was there. 

You nodded “I’m alright.  It’s still not home.  This place will never be home, but it’s better than it was, now that Dan has taken over,” you said softly as you looked out the windshield.

Loki lifted your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles and you turned to face him.  “It doesn’t need to be your home, my little wolf,” he reassured you.  “Ever again,”

You gave him a warm smile.  “I know.  You’re my home now,”

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #packless monsters #chapter 79 #nekoamamori

[cait-with-luv]

J.JK Soul Ink -Chapter 04

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TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of verbal & physical abuse

¬ Hold Me Down - Halsey

And back to reality. Back to being the prissy daughter my father expects me to be. This wasn't me. This isn't who I want to be. Confined by the reputation of my father. I needed to set a 'good example'.

Last night keeps playing on my mind. Too much than I should let it. Lay was acting weird last night once we got to the tattoo parlor. I'm not going to pry because for all I know, it could be dangerous business. I stared at my figure in my room, tracing my fingers over the ink on my leg. Do I regret it? Sort of. But I asked for it. I loved the design. Except dickface marking me with his name.

A banging on my door pulls me out of my thoughts and I quickly clear my throat and yell, "Who is it?"

"It's me bitch, open the fuck up." Irene's voice echos from behind the door. I laugh slightly and open the door and pull her in. She throws herself on my bed and stares at me with an unreadable look before opening her mouth to speak and I knew instantly what she was gonna say,

"So about last nigh-"

"No! Don't even think about it, we're not doing this right now!"

"Okay! Okay! Hands are in the air, I'm shutting up, my mouth is zipped and locked, not another peep! Please don't kill me!" Irene says holding her hands in the air innocently. I roll my eyes playfully and pick up my tights that I had dropped on the floor. Irene gasps and I turn to her frowning.

"Wha-"

"He really did tattoo his name onto you..."

You nod and hum quietly not wanting to talk about it and quickly pull your tights on covering the ink on your skin. You were still adapting to it. You both stay in silence as you got yourself ready to sit in a boring meeting with your father. You sigh out as you slip your stilettos on and top up your lipstick before turning to Irene who was staring at you in awe. You frown and mumble,

"What?"

She snaps out her thoughts and give you a smile, "Nothing, it just never you cease to amaze me at how quickly you can change from one personality to another. I don't get it. One minute you're the straight forward bitch then the next you're this silent mouse that's too scared to speak up in front of your dad. It's almost like you're scared of him sometimes."

That's because I am Irene. You don't know how cruel he really is...You thought to yourself. You just shrug your shoulders and grab your phone, putting it in your bag and turn back to Irene.

"Why are you here actually? I thought you were going out with that Suho guy you met." You ask suddenly realizing she had came to your house out of the blue. She nods and starts twiddling her thumbs awkwardly like she wanted to say something.

"I am, I'm meeting with him in an hour I just wanted to come here first to apologize for last night in your car. It was rude of me to pry like that when you were still clearly upset and trying to grasp the fact some hottie tattooed his name onto you but that's besides the point, I was insensitive and you were right I was acting like a child and for that, I'm sorry."

You let a small smile slip onto your face and nod in understanding. "It's okay, forgive you I guess I overreacted too and I apologize for snapping at you."

"I deserved it. Bitch you should of slapped me. Actually wait no don't do that you're really strong you'd probably kill me and I love my life."

You let out a laugh and turn to Irene to see her smiling at me and holds out her hand.

"Lets shake on it cause I know you're an awkward hugger."

You place your hand in hers and shake hands before letting go and giving each other a smile. She sits back on your bed as you walk over to your mirror so you could put your earrings in and Irene blurts out,

"Jungkook was kind of hot though."

"Irene!"

She holds up her hands innocently and smiles, "Admit it! He may of been a dick but he was hot! They all were! Like holy fuck Y/N they looked like fucking gods!"  

You let out a laugh shaking your head at her as she stares at you waiting for your answer.

"Okay okay, you're right they were good looking."

Irene giggles and then walks over to your bedroom door and then turns to you smirking.

"I have to go now. Enjoy having a boring ass meeting whilst I have a date with Suho. Bye!"

"Cheeky little bitch... "

-------

"Yoongi Hyung could you hurry up? You've literally been doing a background search since last night."

"If you don't shut the fuck up Jungkook, I will smack you so hard, I'll send your ass to the fucking moon, you brat."

Jungkook frowned before turning away from Yoongi and faced a snickering Taehyung. Jungkook's frown turns into a glare to his elder brother and crosses his arms.

"Find something funny Tae hyung?"

Taehyung smirks sitting forward in his seat and pulls the lollipop that lay in his mouth out with a pop. "I sure do Jungkookie."

"Care to share with us?"

"It's just, I haven't seen you so impatient and determined to find out info on someone, especially a girl. It's quiet amusing to see you kick up a fuss about Miss Kang Y/N. Has little Jungkookie got a crush?" Taehyung teases casually leaning back in his chair and placing the lollipop in his mouthing smirking knowing he's pissed Jungkook off.

"I don't have a crush. Especially on her. I just want to find out if she really is the daughter of Kang Beom-Seok and if she's doing his dirty work. Fuck you Taehyung."

"Sorry brother don't swing that way, have a little respect for me as well would you? I'm one of your hyungs."

"By the way you act sometimes, you might as well be younger then me."

"You little-"

Yoongi slams a hand on the desk gaining Taehyung and Jungkook's attention, their eyes widening realizing they had pissed him off.

"Will you both shut the fuck up whilst I concentrate?! This girl practically doesn't exist, I can't find a single fucking thing about her and I can't focus on trying to find documents because your brainless heads are bickering. I swear to god I will smash your heads together!"

Jungkook and Taehyung blink a few times staring at Yoongi before pointing at each other and yelling,

"He started it!"

"No I didn't you did!"

"Fuck off Taehyung you were the one who snickered!"

"You were the one who questioned me so I gave you my answer thus the reason why we're in this situation now dumbass!"

Yoongi groans and slams his head against the laptops keyboard in annoyance, but quickly looks back up when he hears a beep come from the laptop. His eyes widen when he notices he had somehow managed to dig up information about you from simply smacking his head on the laptop.

"Dumb fucks shut up! I've got information on her, Taehyung get the guys."

Jungkook and Taehyung shut up and quickly scramble out the head locks they had put each other in and run off, Taehyung running off screaming "Hyungs" at the top of his lungs around the house whilst Jungkook ran over to Yoongi's side to look at what he had found.

"What've you got Yoongi Hyung." Namjoon says strolling into the room the 4 others following behind him.

"Okay...Kang Y/N, 24, Born Y/D/O/B 1996, daughter of CEO/Mafia Leader, Kang Beom-Seok, mother deceased, cause of death "car accident", I wonder why that's highlighted..." Yoongi says scrolling through everything as Jungkook leaned forward to get a closer look at the screen.

"Oooo Kookie she's your noona." Taehyung teases making Jimin and Hoseok chuckle. Jungkook looks up and opens his mouth to speak but Namjoon cuts him off.

"Enough you two, bicker all you want later but for now focus."

"Says here she's being put into an arranged marriage to a guy name Zhang Yixing, also known as Lay, parents also part of the Mafia and Father is a CEO. It's the guy that came with Y/N and her friend. She mustn't know what she's stuck in." Jungkook says frowning.

"I thought parents are meant to tell their child about the life they have, mine sure as hell did." Yoongi said in confusement looking up to the 6 other boys who mirrored his expression.

"Hyung, there's a CCTV video clip here of Y/N and her dad from last night at 7 pm..." Jimin says as he looked at the screen. Yoongi frowned and uploaded the video to the laptop and sent it over to  the big screen and let it play. You and your father stood in a meeting room that must of been in the business building.

"Y/N."

They watched as your lowered head raises timidly staring at your father with fear in your eyes.

"Yes father?"

Your father stares at you stone cold and they notice how nervous you looked. Something bad was about to happen they could feel it.

"Come here."

They saw how you hesitated before slowly moving towards your father until you were in front of him your eyes now looking at the floor.

"Look at me as I talk to you."

Venom laced his words and you fidgeted in your place nervously. You looked up and stared at him dead in the eye not a single emotion in sight as if you had accepted your fate to come. A loud smack echoed through the room as your father raised his hand slapped you across the face and you landed on the floor from the force holding your cheek. The boys grimaced and stared at your figure on the floor as you sat and did nothing.

"Get up you pathetic child."

You ignore the command from your father in a daze from your father slapping you. He rolls his eyes before grabbing your arm and pulling you up forcefully making you gasp from his harsh grip on your arm.

"When I tell you to do something you do it! How dare you defy me for the second time today you incapable child, I didn't raise you to be like this!"

A small laugh left your mouth and you yank your arm away from your father stepping back away from him.

"You didn't raise me at all. You made the maids do that. I'm capable of more than you know, but you wouldn't know that would you?"

You spat at him making Jimin and Yoongi smirk at your confidence breaking through.

"You little-"

"Little what? Bitch? Whore? They've gotten old now. You might wanna advance your vocabulary if you really want to insult me. I have defied you once, and that is because I will not marry my best friend just improve your business. It's not my fault you're going bankrupt. Fix your own problems instead of using your so called daughter, father."

You smirked at your father before walking out the room leaving your father to swallow down his anger. The clip cuts and the men stare in silence for a few seconds.

"Well that just happened..." Taehyung mumbles looking around at everyone.

"She has no idea what her father does in those business walls does she?" Jin says from his place on the couch. Namjoon shakes his head.

"Yoongi hyung, hack into the building cameras see what's going on right now." Jungkook says crossing his arms. After a few minutes Yoongi pulls up the security cameras of the business and find that there is a meeting going on and realize you are sat in one of the seats messing with your pen bored.

They stare at the screen for a few minutes and then notice the meeting had finished and everyone started to leave including you but your father and two men stayed behind.

"Yoongi hyung put the sound on." Hoseok says. Yoongi nods and presses a button on his laptop and the voices echoed through the room. They look closer and their eyes widen when they recognize a face

"When do you plan to tell her sir? She has to find out eventually, you can't hide her from this life."

"Not now, we're not on good terms with each other at the moment. Besides I leave for business for three weeks in a few hours. Now isn't the time."

"Sir, I hate to push you but you must tell her soon. I can't protect her much longer."

"Is your job proving to be too hard for you Lay? Are you forgetting what happens if you fail me?"

"N-no sir of course not."

"Good, now back to the business I want done, I want this man dead by the time I come back from my business in the Philippines."

"Who is it sir?"

Your father pulls out a picture from a folder and places it on the table they sat around. Jungkook mouth goes dry as he stares at the photo and the others stare with wide eyes.

"Jeon. Jeon Jungkook. He's the only member we know that is apart of Bangtan, maybe if we kill him, it'll draw out the others to avenge him. His family is a curse, for years they had caused me hell."

Yoongi turns off the laptop cutting all signal to the security cameras and turns to Jungkook who's jaw was clenched in anger.

'You can disrespect me Beom-Seok but you will not disrespect my family.' Jungkook thought to himself swallowing his anger.

"Well looks like you've got a massive target on your back, what are we gonna do?" Jimin asks. Jungkook smirks and turn to faces his hyungs.

"Looks like we're going to visit someone."

-------

You walked through the city keeping your head low so nobody could recognize you, you needed to go somewhere to clear your head, but you couldn't help but feel as if someone was watching your every move. Your father had long gone the Philippines meaning you had three weeks of freedom but you're beginning to wish that your cuddly teddy bear of a security guard Mark had stayed behind in this moment. You try to submerge yourself in the crowded streets so no body could see you. But luck was not on your side. The crowds began to disappear the further you walked down the street, you take quick turn and notice your down an alleyway and begin to regret your decision.

You turn around to leave the alleyway but you freeze when you notice 3 figures standing, blocking your exit. You freeze in your place and slowly back up when they move closer. You quickly turn around running jumping onto the garbage bin and jumping over the brick wall and running out of the alley back onto a street you feel one of them grab your wrist and you turn around and kick him in the stomach then elbowing him in the face which weakens his hold and you break free and sprint off across the road. You had no idea what you were doing, you didn't know where to go or how to escape these people.

You ran into the market in hopes it will confuse them as to where you were. Boy were you wrong. You glimpse behind you to see only 2 of the 3 guys hot on your trail. You exit the market and go to cross the road but a Van screeches to a halt in front of you making you skid on your feet to stop yourself from crashing into it.  You had walked right into a trap. You were right where they wanted you. The doors open to van and your pales at who sat in the van in front of you. The window to the driver seat rolls down to reveal another familiar face. They smirk at you and you turn around to face the people that had chased you into the trap. Now noticing the person that was missing had caught up.  There you were surrounded by 7 guys that owned the tattoo parlor

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..."

"That's not a very nice way to greet us, especially after busting my lip...dollface."

#bts #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #bts mafia #bts gang au #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #bts namjoon #bts rm #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #bts seokjin #bts jin #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts yoongi #bts suga #jung hoseok #hoseok #jhope #bts hoseok #bts jhope

[vancilocs]

is javi and keyes viable yet? aaand yeehaws and their respective goths?

the three musketeers and their partners

How did they they meet?

Javier spotted a guy to whore a drink out of and this guy ended up being the softest and most earnest guy who not only offered the drink without blinking and didn’t expect anything out of it, was just happy a cute guy talked to him

Max went to get a tattoo from a parlor she hadn’t been to before and really bonded with the artist

Kasia went as emotional support to a friend getting a tattoo and ditched them immediately after laying eyes on the piercer bear

Who developed romantic feelings first?

Keyes genuinely, Javier was more flattered by the attention at first

It was very mutual, though Max was already all hot and bothered by Heather when she asked her out while Heather was just testing the waters

Kasia probably, sure it was just lusting after Bailey at first but he’s a nice guy so romance came first for Kasia too maybe

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

Heather knows Javier knows what he’s doing and likes Keyes, dude seems like sunshine in a bag. Sunny is happy for Keyes, go on get it boy

Cameron practically declared himself the godfather of their first kid when Heather expressed interest in Max

Despite all the teasing, Heather can tell Bailey and Kasia are all too head over heels for each other and supports them wholeheartedly

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?

One seeing the other home, Javier took initiative

Hanging out at Max’s place, Heather complimented her lipstick and Max asked if she’d like to try it out

Kasia sneaked one from Bailey by turning their head at just the right time. Flustered the poor boy

Who confessed their feelings first?

Keyes bc he has no fucking filter

Heather asked Max out on a date but Max talked about feelings first after that

Could really be either tbh

What was their first official date?

They mainly just ran into each other for a time until Keyes asked if Javier would go grab fast food at 2 am

Go to see a movie and then to dinner, then have drinks at a bar before seeing each other off

Go to an art gallery and to dinner before parting ways

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

Down for it tbh, all three could go together

What do they do in their down time?

Javier works on his music and art, Keyes draws and does his occasional freelancer work, lay around scrolling through their phones, show memes, braid Keyes’ long-ass hair, Javier helps him with writing emails bc his dyslexia is a bitch

Hang around, do makeup for fun, do hair, cook, watch TV or movies, draw, go on walks or grab something to eat at a cafe

Draw together and on each other, mess with hair, lay on bed going through phones, paint nails, go on walks, watch TV, play with cat

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

Keyes’ mom is just as eccentric and loving and open as her son, no problem accepting the twink into the family. Javier’s mom and stepdad were somewhat surprised but not negative about this weirdo dating their son either

Went well, Heather’s mom was a little surprised by Max’s aesthetic but loves her all the same, Max’s parents are happy with Heather, seems like a good lass

After seeing Max it was easier to get over Kasia’s aesthetic, for sure different but if Bailey’s happy she’s happy. Just make sure the thing eats. Kasia’s parents liked Bailey too.

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it?

Keyes is an unfortunate scatterbrain and Javier as an opinionated guy would snap about it, but he’s since realized that the guy’s mind just doesn’t work sometimes so it’s unfair to be mad at him for that. Just apologize about getting heated and work on solutions for the future

Something honestly stupid probably, but they’re both the yelling kinda type with bad past relationships so it easily got nasty. Just apologized after that but after a few of those arguments got some professional help bc that ain’t right

They honestly don’t argue. If anything then just small things like leaving things laying around.

Which one is more easily made jealous?

Keyes has low self-esteem but Javier isn’t flirty when in a relationship, Keyes is friendlier with others but Javier trusts him so. Keyes gets jealous easier but Javi doesn’t make him

They’re both really confident in their relationship, even if Max gets attention as a bartender Heather ain’t worried

Neither really? Neither gives reason and neither is jealous by nature

What is their favourite thing to get to eat?

Junk food, the spicier the better

Spicy but not junk food

Bailey likes it spicy and plenty

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?

Keyes is cuddly and he’s also chubby so he’s good for cuddling, he can lay down while Javier curls up next to him

Both are so soft and good for cuddling, Max can just lay on Heather and rest that head on them titties

Kasia weighs a couple of grapes worth and Bailey is a straight-up bear, they can lay on top of him all they like

Are they hand holders?

Keyes is, Javier happily goes along with it.

Sure, sometimes

Holding hands or linking arms

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

For some time, Keyes has a low sex drive and Javi didn’t mind waiting, he’s not the type to jump into bed immediately in a relationship either so it’s fine

After like the second date when hanging out at either one’s apartment

Took a good while probably, Bailey is a shy boy, agree on it beforehands or he’ll get overwhelmed

Who tops?

Javier is a twink and he’s a top and Keyes is like well sure I do whatever

Either can

Kasia wants to be dominated and Bailey is still a shy boy but when he’s comfortable he’ll agree

What’s the worst fight they’ve ever gotten into?

Something about Keyes accidentally breaking or losing something important and Javier being this close to losing it and just. Going for a walk before he yells. Sad Keyes is a miserable sight anyways

About something absolutely stupid, could be sparked from laundry. And at that point it’s like jesus christ we need professional help

Like for them the worst would be like if. Kasia brought up how much Bailey spoils them and uses money on them and they feel kinda bad about that

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

Either, give Keyes pictures he’s bad at reading lists. Also he will always bring something like poptarts bc he has no inhibitions

Either, both love to cook, Max is better at it

Bailey cooks a lot and he cooks kinda spicy, either does the shopping

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?

Javier who didn’t realize how organized he is until after sharing a space with a guy who couldn’t find his own ass with both his hands taped on it

They’re both tidy, but Max a bit more because she keeps her makeup organized while Heather’s painting corner can get messy

Both are pretty tidy, dunno if Kasia’s art supplies tend to spread

Who proposes?

Haven’t gotten there yet but for some reason Javier has made the decision to marry this man one day, minion tattoo or no

Heather with the help of the kids

Bailey in cargo shorts i’m kidding

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bachelorette parties or separate?

Joined probably

Separate, Cameron can steal Max away like old times while Javier can deal with Heather

Separate, Heather and Max stole Kasia

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?

Heather can be Javier’s best woman, Sunny can be Keyes’

Likewise Javier is Heather’s man of honour, Max will ask Cameron

Bailey miiiiiiight ask Heather to be his best woman, Kasia has their own buddies

Big Ceremony or Small?

Small but Refined, Javier will handle it bc if it was up to Florida Man he’d show up in a sleeveless shirt and on an ATV

Kinda medium, nothing super grand, suitable for children, two guests dressed up like they came to a house party

Similar to Heather and Max, kinda medium, got family there, less kids bc they weren’t around yet, nature-themed with the Jewish side clearly shown

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?  

Probably at Cuba or Florida, just a short visit

Not really, they have two kids to look after. If anything then after the wedding dunk the kids on friends for the night and go to a luxury hotel

A short one maybe, visit Russia or South Africa or both

Do they have children? How many?

Nah, Keyes has never wanted bio ones bc of his medical history and Javier doesn’t want kids in general

Two, a boy and a girl

One rootin’ tootin’ princess

#i've actually shipped them for a while i just haven't voiced it #shipping my own characters is always like #they're gonna end up a pair #i can't help it #i want to see them together and only i have the power to make it so #long oc thing #keyes is a manlet he's like 160 cm max #javier is like 175+cm so #sorry kasia you gotta wait for the railing for a while #they're prolly happy just holding hands for now

[hermannsthumb]

18. wine tasting that leads into 9. Ghost tour, drunk ghost tour!!!

from autumn fic meme here: 18. wine tasting + 9. ghost tour

this one was especially fun bc i am a biggggg fan of ghost tours myself, and i got to make up a bunch of fake lore for the “haunted house” hehe. you can decide where this is set……. (content warning for alcohol!)

—————————————–-----------------------------------------

One of the rare occasions that Hermann actually acknowledges that he and Newt are a thing and lets Newt use romantically-coded words like boyfriend or love or feelings to refer to the two of them–instead of just a terse and incredibly vague this is my partner, Newton when he needs to introduce him to a colleague at work–is on their anniversary. Not that he’ll call it their anniversary, of course. It’s always that time of year again or their special day or flowers thrust quickly at Newt and a kiss pressed to his cheek while he’s brushing his teeth in the morning. Anniversary is too serious. Too intimate. And God forbid Hermann Gottlieb be intimate with someone; it took a month after they got together for him to even take his shirt off in front of Newt. Newt doubts he’ll even let him use the word when they eventually get hitched.

Anyway, it’s that special Time of Year again, Their Day, and Newt has taken it upon himself to book them a weekend getaway. Their first weekend getaway. Usually, for Their Day, they just sit at home and make out or something until their forgotten dinner burns in the oven, but Newt’s determined for them to start acting like an actual couple. Actual couples do things for their anniversaries, like go out to fancy overpriced restaurants. Or have beach vacations. Or rent a room in a cozy mountainside inn (surrounded by beautiful autumn foliage) for a weekend for a wine tasting.

“Yes,” Hermann says, “but most couples don’t go out of their way to hunt down a wine tasting in the most–allegedly–haunted inn possible.”

“That’s because most couples are boring,” Newt says. “We’re not boring. We’re cool.” He clinks his wine glass against Hermann’s. “And don’t say allegedly. It is haunted. I did my research.” He takes the suggested tiny sip of his wine (a sweet dessert wine that tastes more like straight-up honey than any wine Newt’s ever had before) and forces a measure of false casualness into his voice. “They, uh, have ghost tours and everything.”

Hermann groans and sets his glass down. “Oh, Newton, you didn’t.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Newt says.

Newt does know, and he did. Wine tastings are fun and all, and it’s a nice excuse to get Hermann to gussy up a little (because that grey suit he’s rocking tonight combined with his tidied hair is making Newt feel all kinds of hot and bothered) but they’re also a little boring. And gross. Spitting into a bucket for two hours while a bunch of wine snobs sniff their glasses and eat tiny crackers? Boring. Newt’s preferred method of ingesting wine is sticking a curly straw into a box of Sunset Blush Franzia and waking up on the bathroom floor twelve hours later. He just thought–well–he could spice up the experience a little. Especially since it’s October. People do these sorts of things in October. It’s seasonably appropriate.

“Look,” Newt says. “The ghost tour starts at eight, right when this ends, and it’s only an hour. Only around the inn. I already bought us tickets when I booked the place–”

“Newton,” Hermann groans again.

“–but we don’t have to do it!” Newt says, in a way that makes it clear he’d really like to do it. “I just thought it could be fun.”

Hermann scowls at him a bit more, but his shoulders sag. Probably doesn’t care enough to put up more of a fight. “We have a gas fireplace and a bathtub the size of a bloody swimming pool in our suite,” he says, “and you’d rather creep around in the dark and play paranormal investigator. I shall never understand you, Newton.” He takes a long sip of his wine. He doesn’t spit this one out. “I’ll be picking where we go next year. Now fetch us more red.”

“Next year,” Newt echoes happily.

“Don’t push your luck,” Hermann warns.

They have more red, and then they have more white, and then they round it out with some rose, by which point Hermann seems to have given up all pretenses of the tasting factor. Hermann is not tasting; Hermann is imbibing. Copiously. “I revoke my earlier complaints,” Hermann declares, after sloshing half a glass of prosecco down his poor clean shirt and grey suit, “this is a marvelous idea, Newton. I’m–” He sloshes more prosecco onto the tablecloth. “Enjoying myself. A great deal.”

Oh, jeez. “Oh, jeez,” Newt says. “Hey, babe, uh, maybe you should lie down for a bit, before–”

“No,” Hermann says. “I feel very fine. You ought to try this.”

He swings his glass towards Newt, and refuses to allow him to push it away until he’s had a sip. “It’s good,” Newt says, because of course it is–every single bottle here has been fucking great, and fucking expensive, as shit. He gets another taste of it (and about three other wines) a second later when Hermann swoops in and kisses him with no small amount of tongue. “Hermann,” he mumbles, “people are staring.”

Tipsy Hermann is a different breed of Hermann that never ceases to straight-up weird Newt out. It’s like all Hermann’s carefully constructed layers of repression finally unravel like a ball of yarn, like someone’s finally popped his cork and tossed out his filter and let every single mushy, horny thought he’s ever had come pouring out. Tipsy Hermann is handsy. Tipsy Hermann is flirty. Tipsy Hermann calls Newt things like lover and pretty thing and even just ooh, Newton with a little giggle and twirl of Newt’s hair.

Newt thinks he probably should’ve been keeping a closer eye on how much Hermann was drinking; he thinks this especially when they move on from the tasting (with two newly purchased, at Hermann’s insistence, and unopened bottles of the prosecco in Newt’s tote bag) to the ghost tour, and Hermann can barely keep himself upright, even with all his weight shifted to his cane, and Newt has to practically hold him. He’s going to be pissed at Newt for his hangover tomorrow. Because of course he’ll blame Newt.

Their tour guide is a young woman, probably an undergrad at the nearby college working the gig part time, dressed up in old-timey Victorian-looking clothing with an actual lit candelabra. She seems to enjoy her job, at least: she explains the logistics of the tour with a lot of enthusiasm and a lot of wild, animated gestures. (It’s an hour long, they’ll be walking up and down no more than two flights of stairs, one of the tour’s usual stops will be off-limits tonight due to construction, please silence your cell phones, she’s excited to be their hostess tonight!) “You sure you can manage?” Newt whispers to Hermann.

Hermann reaches up and tugs at Newt’s earlobe. “Certainly,” he says.

A hard maybe.

Their tour guide leads them to the narrow front lobby, and they file in in a circle around her as she begins to explain the inn’s origin. It was built in 1823 as a manor; it was converted into the building it is now during the 1870s; the room they’re in now was originally the parlor. “The painting above the fireplace is as old as the house,” she says. “It’s been hanging in that same spot since 1823.”

“Bloody ugly painting,” Hermann snorts.

Newt swats at Hermann. “Dude,” he hisses back.

“I’m only saying,” Hermann says. “They ought to burn it.”

Their tour guide didn’t hear, thankfully, and has gone on into describing the paranormal events of the former parlor. “You can still catch whiffs of his cigar smoke,” she says (referring to the original owner, whose name Newt missed, thanks to Hermann), “and some people have even claimed to spot a dark figure sitting in the armchair in the corner–” It’s faded emerald and ratty as hell, with a small velvet rope blocking it off from the rest of the newer furniture, “–also an original piece of the house, and his favorite spot while he was alive.”

The tour guide leads them down to the creepy basement next (haunted by the ghost of a former maid who’d been brutally murdered by the eldest son of the house–her lover–in 1859 and buried there), up to the kitchen (where servant bells still go off, despite the system being nonoperational and purely for show since the ‘70s), over to the bar (hidden behind a sliding wall throughout Prohibition and only recently re-discovered, where stools move on their own and translucent patrons flit around after closing) up more stairs to the former master bedroom-turned-unoccupied grand suite (where faucets turn on by themselves and strange shadows glide across the antique mirror), down the hall to the nursery-turned-honeymoon suite (where toys turn up out of thin air and ghostly babies cry in the middle of the night).

“‘S all rubbish,” Hermann declares at that bit. Still not loud enough for their tour guide to hear–not yet, anyway–but loud enough that a handful of people in their immediate vicinity turn and frown at him. “Ghosts are rubbish. Not real. I reckon they put--” He waves his hand. “Speakers, in the vents.”

“We fought off giant interdimensional aliens,” Newt says, grinning despite himself, “and ghosts are what you have a problem with?”

Hermann immediately gets snooty. “Kaijus–” (Newt cringes, because come on, how many times does Newt have to explain you don’t need the s?) “–had a logical reason for being here. And there was proof. Loads of it.”

“Stop being such a buzzkill,” Newt laughs. “This is just for fun, dude. No one gives a shit about proof.”

“That much is obvious,” Hermann sniffs.

“Is there a problem?” their tour guide suddenly says. She looks completely earnest, too, not angry at them for talking–like she’s genuinely worried Hermann’s upset or offended about something. 

“No,” Newt cuts in quickly. He wraps his arm around Hermann’s waist and pinches his side to shut him up. It has the opposite effect of what he wants: Hermann doesn’t look affronted, but instead, very pleased at the sudden touch, snootiness evaporating. Of course. “Forgive my partner. We, uh, just got done with the wine tasting, and he missed the memo on spitting.” He cracks another grin.

There’s a small chuckle throughout the crowd that turns awkward fast when Hermann turns to him and says, in a faux whisper (too loud, too flirty, face too close to Newt’s), “I thought you preferred when I swallow.”

Newt chokes on air; he turns bright red. “Hermann!”

The tour ends on a mildly disappointing note. Their guide takes them up to the attic and passes around quote-unquote EMF detectors, with the promise that almost every group (to date) has caught something up here with them, but after twenty minutes of waving the little boxes around with not even the smallest beep it’s very clear their group will not be joining that number. If Hermann was sober, he’d probably say I told you so. He’s not, so instead, Newt says goodbyes and thank-yous for both of them, and Hermann collapses face-first into their ridiculous canopy bed almost the very second Newt gets him through the door of their suite. He doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes first. Or drop his cane--he’s still gripping the handle.

Newt shucks off his docs and tie, moves Hermann’s cane to rest against the clawfoot bedside table, and flops down next to him. He pokes Hermann’s shoulder. “You are not allowed to blame me for this tomorrow,” he says. “You got it?”

“Whatever for?” Hermann mumbles, sleepily, into his pillow.

“The hangover you’re absolutely going to get,” Newt says, “and for dropping sex life bombs on a group of strangers. That was all you, buddy. All you.”

Hermann turns on his side to face Newt, though he doesn’t bother opening his eyes. “You’re being awfully loud. Will you turn off the light, please?”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Newt has to shuffle all the way across the room to switch off the ancient floor lamp, and by the time he gets back, Hermann is already halfway to snoring, mouth open, drool at the corner of it, dress shirt rucked up from his waistband. It’s impossible to stay mad at him when he looks this cute. “I love you, you weirdo,” Newt says fondly, and leans in and kisses his forehead.

“Mm,” Hermann agrees.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[w-re-writes]

Fictober - Day 17 - “an honest muttonhead”

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1867

Rating: General Audiences

Prompt: “There is just something about them/her/him.”

Unbeknownst to him, Cleos is the third wheel in a ridiculous road trip. His wife helps him through it.

(read on ao3)

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

Cleos Frey had never been a saint, but he was sure he did not deserve this punishment.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" His cousin, Jaime, said from the back seat. "Of course the Warrior would beat the Maid. It's right there in the name."

The gigantic woman in the passenger's seat exhaled with resignation. Brienne Tarth, she was called. Another employer of Catelyn Stark's. Reliable, strong. She’d been his manager for the past months, and Cleos liked her. Not the least because she’d also done an enviable job of ignoring Jaime’s constant japes. At least, until he managed to get under her skin.

"You're bypassing the fact," Brienne explained in a tired tone, "that the Warrior cannot harm the Maid. She's an innocent. But if she asked him to fight for a just cause, he could even get killed. She’d win any fight between them."

"But the Warrior cannot die!"

"But that’s not the point!"

Mother have mercy.

Cleos hadn't seen Brienne upset by anything until Jaime arrived to the Tully headquarters to oversee their negotiations with Tywin Lannister. Purchasing company branches was a merciless bloodbath, and Jaime had been sent to do what he did best—to rail people up until they yielded.

Jeyne help , Cleos texted his wife as soon as he got signal. They were waiting for Jaime to return from taking a leak in the woods. He’d insisted, despite the pouring rain.

What is it?

I’m this close to put myself in front of the car. Miss u.

Miss u too. It's Jaime, just tell embarrassing stories re him as a kid. Thats how genna shuts him up

Cleos glanced up at Brienne, who was also frowning and tapping on her phone.

Its nit just him , he typed back.

The girl too?

They nvr stop fighting

Rlly?

Its exhausting. Like Ty and Will

At that moment, Jaime closed the door with a self satisfied smile.

"All good, coz," he said ruefully, shaking his umbrella in an obnoxious way. "Let's go."

Cleos glanced at Brienne, who nodded her approval, and he started the engine.

-------

This whole excuse of a road trip had been Jaime's idea. Cleos had said it was a ridiculous notion, with the weather they’d last the Seven knew how long. But Jaime had argued back. Flights had been canceled due to the storm, but by car it'd only be 7 hours to King’s Landing. "Shorter than waiting for the storm to blow over," Jaime had smiled. "We all win."

Yeah, right . Cleos had begun to wonder if he was trapped within one of the gods’ big jokes.

"Everyone knows that a blade blunts after hitting bone," Brienne was saying, raising her voice over the rain outside. "So a sword is not a good weapon during a zombie apocalypse."

"But the aesthetic," Jaime shook his fists at her, faking emotion. "What else do you have during the zombie apocalypse but aesthetics?"

He makes her laugh tho , Cleos texted Jeyne later, when they stopped at a petrol station in the middle of nowhere. They were all slightly damp, but for some reason Jaime managed to make it look classy. Brienne and him just looked annoyed.

Thats good?

Yeah, shes young but very serious, tries to hide it

That she's serious?

That she laughs

Brienne returned to the car from her expedition into the management store. "The road is closed," she announced, squaring her shoulders and handing Jaime and Cleos an apple juice box each. "But the man said they're cleaning it up and it should be done by tomorrow."

"There's no way around it?" Cleos asked. Of course the gods would make it harder for him. Of course.

Brienne shook her head.

"It'd take us three hours to get to the other road," Jaime chimed in, slurping his apple juice. "Not worth it."

"Then another five hours to circle back to King's Landing," Brienne agreed, not reluctantly. "Can you stop that?"

Jaime gulped his drink with added noise. Brienne rolled her eyes before turning to Cleos.

"The man said there's an inn further down. We should stop there for the night."

Cleos felt his face wrinkle in pain.

"Slumber party" Jaime finished his juice, looking straight at Brienne. "Yay."

-------

Cleos u old fool , Jeyne had texted, adding two laughing emojis. Cleos frowned.

We r eating smtng n staying at an inn, call u soon , he sent her. Then he quoted her last message: Why?

"Coz, the Boss says they only got one room," Jaime's hand patted his shoulder. "We'll all have to share."

"The boss?" Cleos deepened his frown.

"Two beds, though," Brienne walked past them, carrying most of their bags on one hand. "And if you keep calling me Boss I’m going to expect you to shut up and do as I say, Lannister."

"Am I not doing that already?" he teased her, watching her stomp upstairs with determination. He gave a short laugh, picked what was left of their luggage, and trailed after her. Cleos checked his phone and followed, wondering just how insufferable dinner would be.

"No no no no no," Brienne was shaking her hands. "Under no circumstances would the Blue Knight lose to the Golden Knight. There’s a story about it."

“But only the one story,” Jaime insisted, nudging Cleos with an elbow as he cut his meal.

The inn was packed, and they’d been cramped into a corner. Cleos was not a short man, but he was sandwiched between the biggest woman he’d ever met and his cousin's inflated personality in the tiniest, primpiest table in the seven kingdoms. The tablecloth even had lace, which he knew because he had been inspecting everything in his immediate surroundings while his companions spoke nonstop.

"Are you saying it’s not canonical?"

"“I’m saying there’s a chance they never actually fought."

Cleos tried to remember when his remark about the decorative armour in the parlor had turned into a discussion about the age of heroes, or whatever this was. His mum used to tell him and his cousins stories about knights and dragons, and Brienne had been delighted when he'd told her. She loved all of that stuff. As for Jaime… Cleos hadn’t even known Jaime still cared about the stories.

-------

Is she touching her hair? Jeyne’s reply chimed in his phone.

Cleos stopped the fork halfway to his mouth and glanced at his left. Brienne was talking about a historical TV show, tugging her hair behind her ears at least twice in the process.

Yes. What does that have to do w anythng? He texted back.

Is he listening to her? That message had a laughing-with-tears emoji.

Cleos looked to his right. Jaime had cupped his cheek on one hand, following her every word.

His brow furrowed so fast in realization he felt a muscle tear.

Can't be, he sent. It didn’t feel adamant enough. Impossible , he added.

-------

Cleos had been at some office events where both Brienne and Jaime had attended, and he never thought… Surely Jeyne was wrong.

Brienne had sighed in relief when she had told him they’d reached an agreement. They were about to sign the contracts with Uncle Tywin, which was why they’d been traveling to King’s Landing in the first place. Jaime had been unfazed by the result, as usual, even though him and Brienne had written the final document.

Then again…

Cleos looked at Jeyne’s stream of emojis making fun of him (including some suggestive combinations of hand gestures and eggplants), and then again at his manager and cousin.

They were radiant.

-------

Like everything else in that godsforsaken inn, the room was small and cozy, with lace decorating every textile in view.

Cleos sat on the edge of one of the beds, while Brienne threw herself in the other. Jaime was opening cabinets and doors, like a cat inspecting a new room.

Their not flirting , Cleos texted Jeyne, one handed, opening a couple of buttons on his shirt.

Sounds like it to me

"Hey," Jaime produced a box from one of the shelves. "Kingdompoly! What say you, coz? Shall we play, for old time’s sake?"

Cleos huffed. "Will loves it," he said. "So that means we’ve had to ban it from the house. I pass."

Jaime laughed. "Very well. And you, Boss? Fancy a play?"

"What are you, ten?" Brienne was decidedly not looking up at Jaime, intent only on her book, the edge of her mouth curling up just so. "Only if you���re prepared to lose."

"Ah, a challenge. You boast."

"Of course. My sisters hated me because I won all the time."

"That's because you weren’t playing me."

-------

Are u still up?

Cleos had grabbed the spare key and beseeched the safety of the lobby. The rain was still pounding, but the waiting area was quiet in comparison to the tourney-worth of cackles the two blonds had been making.

The phone rang at the tune of the Rains of Castamere and Cleos picked up gratefully.

"Hi, husband mine." Jeyne's grin was palpable in her voice. "How’re the lovebirds?"

"Fighting," Cleos chuckled. "Over Kingdompoly."

“Kingdompoly?"

"See what I do for our sons?"

Jeyne laughed. "I know. They miss you."

"And me them."

"But are you sure? I was rather hoping I had something to tease your mum with. Her favorite nephew, flirting with a Stark. Can you imagine?"

"I just told you. It's not flirting. They fight. And she's not a Stark, exactly."

"Is it fighting or is it bantering?"

Cleos mentally ran through months of constant teasing, chattering, endless nights of working together, heads bent into one single purpose.

"It’s not flirting," he insisted, stubborn as ever.

That made his wife laugh. It was warm.

"Well," Jeyne continued. "Come home as soon as you can and I'll show you proper flirting, then."

Gods, he missed her.

-------

Cleos walked into their room an hour after. He'd assumed Jaime and him would share a bed, so his surprise was genuine when he discovered two large bulks in Brienne's.

Tip toeing his way through the carpet, Cleos peeked over the pink dossel. Kingdompoly was sprawled out on the mattress in disarray, Brienne asleep against the headboard, and Jaime tucked against her leg, his curls resting on her thigh.

Cleos bit his lip.

His first instinct was to wake Jaime up, a million arguments about impropriety crossing his mind. But they both looked strangely peaceful. And gratefully quiet.

Look what I found , Cleos typed to Jeyne.

It was a bit clumsy, but he managed to angle the camera, adjust the flash, and snap the picture.

Jeyne sent back a billion head-exploding emojis.

I told u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She didn't have to seem so smug, but Cleos didn’t mind too much.

I got u something to bother mum with , he replied, sliding into his own bed.

My hero ! She said, with a heart emoji.

Cleos chuckled for himself, and peppered his text lingo with a smiley face for his wife.

Sinking into the pillow, Cleos glanced at his travel companions one last time. They breathed slowly in absolute comfort, holding each other in the bed. Maybe Jeyne wasn't so far off, after all. There is just something about them.

With a knowing grin, Cleos drifted into sleep.

#fictober19 #fictober2019 #jaime x brienne #my fic #cleos pov because why not #third wheeling like a pro #i wish this was better but it's done so #there u go

[kmelanin]

Prince J/eight

AN- so there was a reason why i was SUPPOSE to post this before LIfe after Murder. Dont hate me.

You sat at your vanity in a parlor type style. Ji-Mee was currently doing your makeup extra slowly to make sure everything was perfect. About a half hour ago, Tallia came in and gave you a full blow out and straighten. She also did some braids and added some extensions. You didn’t really understand what she was doing and you tried to ask to understand. But she hushed you saying that you had other days to ask. Your hair was now holding in some curlers, Tallia instructed Ji-Mee to take them out after the makeup to make sure they are the right curl.

As you slowly put your dress on, as you held your hair up so the dress can lay nicely on your chest and shoulders, it then hit you. You were going to be marrying this beautiful, kind man.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t scared. Because you definitely were. At night you would wonder if he would change after he became King. ‘He got what he wanted, what’s the point of me?’. But then the good memories out shine those thoughts.

Ji-Mee finished the last bit to your dress, making sure it was snug and comfortable. As she grabbed your shoes, there was a knock.

Your heart started beating like crazy, wondering if it was Jeongguk. But your eyes almost exploded with tears when you seen Yoongi standing there in a all black suit, matching his jet black hair. He leaned down and whispered something in Ji-Mee’s ear. Next thing you know, she hands him your shoes and leaves, shutting the door, leaving you both alone.

“Before you say anything, I am aloud in here as he future Queens best friend.” He pauses and gives you his gummy smile. “Your man said that since i gave you happiness, he will give me that official title so we can see each other all the time here. On or off duty.”

“God I wanna hug you so bad, but i have a cake face right now.” You sigh, you were filled to the brim with joy. How you life changed so quickly, it seemed too good to be true.

“You can hug me later, but for now, i'm here to walk you down the aisle. Well if you will allow me to.” He smiles and you hear what he was saying. You were shocked.

“But I thought that the Ki-” “He can totally walk you if you would like. But I had a talk with him, he mentioned how to respect you and the Princes relationship. He said that as long as I do that I can be your main guard, you know walking you places a such.” He couldn't keep a straight face, his gummy smile not moving in the slightest, his cheeks were red, as his happiness could barely be contained. “He said that Jeongguk choosing you already changed what the future will hold. So if you would like, may I walk you down as your best friend and best guard?”He asks raising his brows up, and giving you the softest little kitten eyes that he has ever given you. You felt a swarm of emotions hit you, your best friend was here and with you for this day.

“I would love you to walk me.” You couldn't help but to let out a couple of tears, feeling the best you ever had. You could help but to chuckle when his face makes Os and quickly grabs a tissue from your desk and rushes over. He hands it to your with his other hand on his elbow and you thank him, dabbing at your face.

Now, you stand behind two large doors, your arm looped around your best friends. You heard the music start from outside. You imagined Jeongguk standing in his Royal Suit waiting for you at the end. You weren't sure how he was feeling, you felt like you haven't seen him in a while.  You dress and hair fell so perfectly around you. You felt like a princess and today was your day. The whole world was watching you, you were slightly confused because you felt like you should be scared but you werent. You felt ready for this.

Just like you practiced, the doors opened at the same time by the guards in the royal colors. You were met by cameras capturing you above, and royal family and friends standing. Below you, flowers were laid perfectly, and petals thrown randomly from somewhere above. Jeongguk was too far away to see his face, so that helped you start to walk.

You see the brides maids standing flawlessly, holding their flowers below and there smiles were bright. You weren't allowed to meet the groomsmen, you were sure, but you didn't care. Everything felt so wonderful.

As you got closer, you heard a sniffle. You looked at Jeongguk and you seen a couple of tears fall down his face. He tries to keep a straight face, but he could help it. We you finally reached it, Jeongguk and Yoongi both bowed to each other.

Everything that was said, kind of went in one ear and out of the other, and you took him in. He was so fucking beautiful, everything around you was, you could barely tell where the camera were.

“Yn, I want you to know that from the first time I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me. You just had this pull to you that I couldn't ignore. And now you stand here before me, taking my name as yours. I love you.” Jeongguk held your hands as he made sure he said every word clearly and perfectly Each word hit you right in the heart.

“Jeon Jeongguk, I never thought I would be in this spot. You have opened my eyes about a lot, and taught me how to truly love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you.”

You heart was racing so much as the words you had to memorize came out. Your eyes were glued together as his mouth moved and said I do. That's when you heard the man next to you ask if you would accept this man as your King, and your husband, and your love.

“I do…” You were so out of if, in pure happiness, that you didn't know you had to kiss until he started to lean forward. You watched as he got so close and his eyes closed, you closed yours and your lips met.

It was different than the kisses before. He took his time, and deepening the kiss at the same time. You felt his hands wrap around you pulling you closer. You kissed back just as much passion. All around you the crowd cheered, and the music continued.

It was dark, all around you, you felt restless and tired at the same time. You were on something hard. Everything was quiet except of a few bangs. Your mind demanded you to close your eyes again. Okay, you easily gave in.

You were sitting in a huge fluffy bed. You looked down and you were in a cute black undies. Jeongguk was in the bathroom a room over, doing as he said, getting ready. You felt a nervousness sit in the bottom of your stomach. You knew what was coming, and you were ready. You had on a grey sheer nighty on, it held your breast perfectly and fell loosely around you. You also had matching underwear on.

You looked over towards the bathroom when you heard the door open. You watched as he walked out and started towards you. Your heart was beating like crazy in your ears and you didn't know what to think. When he reached you he grabbed your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed. You watched as his brighter hands trailed up your legs.

“God, you are fucking beautiful.” You looked at his face and you almost gasped when you seen how dark and eagar his face looked. His eyes were low and dark, his brows were furrowed and his lips were wet and delicious looking. “What do you want me to do, huh?” He asks, he was supporting himself over you with one hand and his knees. With his other hand, his drags a finger over your undies, creating tingles all over your body. His then drags it up and over your belly and between your breast. His finger pokes at your lips, you happily let it enter your mouth. You end up sucks on two of his fingers as his other hands and your hands work your underwear down. He starts to leans down wanting to finally taste and see how sweet you were. You let go of his finger and -

“WAKE UP CALL! WAKE UP INMATES, WAKE UP CALL!” You eyes pop open and look around you. The lights now on and your finger in your mouth.

“I could barely fucking sleep with all of your moaning.” Then it hits you. That was your celly. You were in prison. You were going to marry some fucking prince. You wished. You wished you could be anywhere but prison. You knew that you would never see the outside world, not with a life sentence plus thirty. You've already served 9. You wished you could see your daughter,  who was 15 now. You always wonder what she was doing.

You never knew that she would be doing her own time.

life after murder 1

#royal au #jeon jeongguk #jeong #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook smut #angst #smut #fluff #prison #omg #yall #hate #me? #ambw #kpop

[kyliehorsegirl]

Sensory- See No Evil (Michael Langdon x Reader) REQUEST

A/N: This is part 2 in the Sensory series! I hope you enjoy.

Requested By: @del-rcys

Warnings: Angst, smut

Word Count: 2761

Read part one > Hear No Evil

***********************************

It was now the norm for Michael to make his presence known at murder house. The occupants kept themselves hidden. Y/n disregarded the warnings of many. She would admit that the absence of Constance made her sad. However, Michael was there to be with her. He would spend the days following her around, questioning about her cleaning techniques.

 She caught him sneaking glances at her maids’ outfit. A blush would dust her cheeks. Whenever she was done with her chores, they would sit at the kitchen island, sipping their coffee. Michael learned about her special abilities. It intrigued him, he wondered how she was so young, but had an elder form. She would tell him about her mother Moira, who never showed her face to Michael. She told him about how she died, a tragic thing at that.

 Her soul was old, wise and helpful. He found solace in her presence, making him feel happy and less weighted down. They would talk for hours, about anything. He told her about his life and all the things that happened over the years. His unusual growth, he aged a decade overnight, continuing to age rapidly as time went on. At this point they were close in age.

 Michael told her about the evil in the house. About his parents, about the other spirits. Her empathy for him was overwhelming.

 “Why are you still willing to talk to me?” he looked down at his cup of coffee. Y/n tilted her head and furrowed her brows at him. She leans over the counter, placing her hands over his.

 “Michael, it doesn’t matter how your life is or who you are. I enjoy you as a person. I like your company.” Her smile reaches him, he allows himself a small smile.

 “Thank you, I don’t expect you to.”

 “Stop it.” Rolling her eyes at him.

 *******

Michael walks through the door of his house casually. Ms. Meade was sitting at the table with a stern face.

 “Michael, where have you been?” Her motherly voice making its way to his ears.

“I was with Y/n.” He begins to walk away from her to his room.

 “I don’t like her.” He comes to an abrupt halt. He turns his head slowly to look at her over his shoulder.

 “What do you mean, ‘you don’t like her’.” He fully turns to look at her. Now seeing her stern facial expressions.

 “I don’t think she’s good for you.” She folds one arm over the other. Michael takes slow steps towards her before he is on the opposite side of the table. His hands come to the chair giving it a grip.

 “Who are you to say what is or isn’t good for me?” His voice had darkened and his eyes shot daggers at Meade.

 “Well as you care taker, someone I thought you respected, I feel like my opinion should mean something to you.” She squinted at him, both challenging the other.

 “Of course, I care about you and respect you, but I can still make my own choices.” His shoulders relaxed a bit.

 “She lives in THAT house, that house isn’t good for you, they caused you so much pain. She works for your grandmother who, might I remind you abandoned you. Along with the Harmons, who also abandoned you.” A deep sigh escaped her lips. This was her son, not really, but she still saw him as her own.

 “Y/n is different. We talk, she helps me.” His tone was almost pleading.

 “Do I not? Who took you in? Who fed you and clothed you? Who accepted you for who you are? I help you Michael and continue to do so every day.”

 “I know, and I am so grateful for that, but please, let me spend time with Y/n. She is close to my age, and I never got to interact with people my age, its nice.” Michael was tired. He didn’t want this argument to go on any further.

 “Just know Michael, every choice we make has a consequence.” With that Ms. Meade got up and retired to her room, without another word to Michael.

 ***

Michael paid no mind to Meade’s warning. He continued to spend time with Y/n every minute he could. Their adoration for each other blossomed into a love that Y/n, nor Michael, had ever felt before. He began to take her out on the town, dates, neither of them called it that though. Sometimes they would go to the park, cemeteries, shops and parlors. They got to know the town well.

 Y/n, admittedly, had never explored the town she grew up in. To be able to explore with Michael made the wait worthwhile.  They walked side by side down the isles of the graveyard one night.

 “Y/n? Can I tell you something?” He stopped walking and turned himself to her. She stopped as well facing him.

 “Yes of course Michael, what is it?” Her eyes stared back at him, making him more nervous. His tongue darted to wet his lips, the nervousness causing them to dry. He fidgeted a bit making him look clearly uncomfortable. She wanted to ask if he was ok, but Y/n could tell he had something to say.

 “Y/n, you have been so kind to me, talking with me, accepting me, us being able to explore and have fun around town. I, I really like you, I feel like you like me to and I was wondering, if, um, if you would be my girlfriend?” He pulled a single black rose from his jacket. Her eyes went wide and a huge smile broke out on her face. She threw herself into his arms and squeezed him tight.

 “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend!” She exclaimed. His nervous features melted away and only expressions of happiness painted his face. He was truly happy. On the way home, they walked hand in hand for the first time.

 He walked her up the steps of murder house. She was still shorter than him even though she was a few steps higher. He took her hands in his.

 “I, I love you Y/n.” His face was peaceful as he looked in her eyes.

 “I love you too Michael.” She leaned in and kissed him. His first kiss, his first love. He gently brought a hand to her cheek and she rested a hand on his shoulder. When they broke away they smiled lovingly at each other.

 “Goodnight Michael.” She let go of his shoulder and made her way to the door.

 “Goodnight Y/n.” He walked backwards down the steps, looking at her as long as he could. She blushed and made her way inside. When the door was closed, she pressed up against it, holding the rose to her chest. She felt like a love-struck teenager.

 “What the fuck are you doing?” She snapped her eyes open and looked to the stairwell, seeing Constance at the top, hip cocked and cigarette in hand.

 “Constance! I was just, um, I was.” She fumbled nervously.

 “Out with my grandson. Didn’t I warn you? That boy is pure evil Y/n.” Constance scowled at her.

 “I have to agree with her.” A melodic voice came from the other side of Y/n.

 “Mom?” Y/n hadn’t seen her mom in quite some time since she started.

 “I have seen the evil from that boy.” Moira took a place next to Constance, as for once they agreed on something.

 “He was abandoned! By his family, I can’t imagine what goes through his head!” She began to get frustrated with the two. She gripped the rose tighter.

 “Y/n you have to trust us, we don’t want you to get hurt.” More voices. The Harmons, specifically Vivien’s voice traveled to her ears.

 “Why are you guys showing up all of a sudden huh? As soon as Michael came, none of you would talk to me.”

“You have to understand; the bastard is evil.” Tate.

 “You know what Tate? You of all people should shut it! You let the house corrupt you. Whether he was your real son or not you should have helped him!” Tears clouded her vision. It felt like everyone was attacking her. She wanted to realize they weren’t, but she felt it wasn’t fair to Michael. She shoved past everyone and made her way to her room, she cried herself to sleep.

 The next morning, she went about her normal chores, silent. Different spirits would try to talk to them, but she ignored everyone as if they weren’t there. The Harmons, her mom, Tate and Constance all tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t respond to them. When it was time for her lunch, she sat at the bar in the kitchen. She was trying to eat in peace until Vivien showed up.

 Y/n rolled her eyes and went to get up.

 “Y/n wait, please.” Vivien begged her to stay. Y/n rolled her eyes and sat back down.

 “What do you want?” She folded her arms and scowled at her. Vivien took a sigh and leaned forward taking Y/n’s hands, uncrossing them from her stand-offish appearance.

 “I gave birth to Michael. I felt the evil. Everything we said to you last night was to protect you. Please understand that. None of us are trying to attack you, we all care about you dearly.” She spoke so soft, Y/n relaxed the tension that she didn’t realize she held in her shoulders.

 “Viv, he wants to be good, so bad, I can see he has an internal warfare. He tried to hard with Constance and Ben. He doesn’t know how to act because no one taught him. He is misunderstood. Like a lot of misfits or trouble kids, they act out. They need someone to be their rock. Do you really think a Satanist should be his source of stability? That is the last person he needs, they want to encourage him to bring the end times, to be the antichrist.” Her eyes looked to Vivien, pleading, begging for her to understand.

 “I understand Y/n, its so great that you want to do that for him, but we are all worried for you, we have seen what he can do. We don’t want you hurt.”

 “I need to be able to make my own choices Viv, but I appreciate everyone’s concern.” With that, she let go of Vivien and walked away to finish her chores.

“Please?” Michael begged Ms. Meade.

 “Absolutely not Michael, I will not have that girl in this house.” She shook her head in disbelief as she tidied up her home.

 “She’s my girlfriend I want to have her over for dinner, what’s wrong with that?” Michael followed her throughout the house.

 “Girlfriend? Are you serious Michael? Do you really think a girlfriend is what you need? A distraction from your mission?” She turned to look at him for a moment before going back to what she was doing. She got angrier and angrier hearing about the girl.

 “She is not a distraction! She isn’t keeping me from my mission. I know what I need to do, but did you ever think I would like to feel normal every once in a while?” He let out an exasperated sigh. He grew more frustrated with Ms. Meade and her unwillingness to accept someone that accepted him.

 “You know what? Fine, have her over, cook your own dinner, make the house ready, I will not have a part in this. Just know I didn’t want her in my home Michael.” She stormed out the front door with a slam.

 ***

“Are you sure Ms. Made will be ok with this?” She asked before they went inside. He put a hand on her lower back, reassuringly.

 “It will be fine, she’s just grumpy.” They walked into the house and into the kitchen. Y/n was amazed at the amount of food on the table.

 “Did you do this?” She asked him with warm eyes.

 “Yeah, I did, she was um, busy today so I had to do this myself.” He was kind of proud.

 “Well, it looks wonderful love.” She kissed him on the cheek and he blushed.

Ms. Meade walked through the door and saw the two of them at the table for dinner. She glared before she caught their attention.

 “O you’re home! We wanted to wait for you, food is going to get cold soon.” He motioned for her to sit next to him, across from Y/n.

 “Looks great Michael.” She said stiffly. She clenched her jaw and set down a black bag next to her.

 Dinner was a bit awkward, with Ms. Meade giving snake eyed glances at Y/n. Michael silently speak to Ms. Meade with his face as if to say ‘stop it’. Meade didn’t ask any questions to Y/n, she didn’t give a shit to be perfectly honest. It would matter anyway. Y/n would try to engage Ms. Meade, only for her to respond with short answers and a blunt tone.

 When they were all finished Y/n helped clear the table and clean the dishes. Michael grabbed Y/n’s hand as they made their way to his room.

 “We are going to my room.” Michael called to her, with no response back.

 Michael showed Y/n around his room, looking at his décor. The walls were a dark blue, some posters here and there, a gaming system in the corner. A standard boy’s room. His bed was Queen sized with black sheets. They sat on the bed talking for what seemed like hours. They looked deep into each other’s soul. Michael leaned in for a kiss, bringing a hand behind her neck to move her closer to him.

 She took his face in both of her hands deepening the kiss. He brought her with him as he scooted further onto the bed. They laid next to each other before he rolled on top of her. He kissed down her neck causing her to moan lightly. His lips hovered over her neck, pausing his movements.

 “Don’t stop.” She breathed out. His continued to kiss and suck on her neck. She moved her hands to his shirt, tugging it off. He wasn’t ripped but he was fit, he was perfect. His curls went into his face as he leaned into her more, kissing down to her throat. He brought his hands to her shirt, taking it off as well.

 They were stripped down to their underwear as Michael peppered kisses all over her body. He pulled down her panties with one swift motion. He then removed his boxers as he lined up at her entrance.”

 “Are you sure?” He asked her, worried he was going too far.

 “I’m sure, I love you Michael.” He smiled and kissed her gently before he slowly penetrated her. When the got adjusted to each other, he began to thrust melodically. She arched her back, curving perfectly into him. She brought her hips to his with every thrust he made, pushing him deeper inside her.

 They both were nearing their orgasm, he thrusted harder into her, moaning her name. She took sharp breaths as they both came. They had chased their release.

 When they had cleaned up, Michael gave her one of his shirts to wear. It barely reached past her underwear. They climbed back into bed as Michael held her close to him. He kissed her forehead and she kissed his chest.

 “I love you Y/n.” He pulled her closer.

 “I love you Michael.” She snuggled her head into his neck. With that, they fell fast asleep.

 ***

Michael and Y/n slept peacefully entangled in each other’s limbs. The door was creaked open, slowly and quietly. The moon provided enough light to spread a shadow across the walls. There was an impact before the sound. Michaels eyes snapped open immediately, he sees Ms. Meade look at her work. Y/n is beside him, gasping for air, shot right in the chest. The blood pooled all over the shirt he lent her.

 “No!” He screamed, choking out a sob. He gathers her in his arms as she goes limp. He pets her hair, his tears raining down onto her face. He cradled her lifeless body, he was shaking , the shock not fully setting in.

 “I warned you Michael, you took this too far.” Ms. Meade left the room with the door open. He watched after her with disbelief. He rocked Y/n in his arms, her limbs falling to the side.

 All the way to murder house they could hear a wounded scream.

******************************************

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