#[and then frederick comes to slap the shit out of him and tell him that even marth couldnt so shut the fuck up blueladv0.2

[convxction]

"Um, Chrom, do you have a minute…?" despite the hesitance in their voice and the Sage's book being held closely against their chest, they still meet his gaze. "Um…what is it to be a leader…to you?"

"Akira," he turned to meet the sage's direction, an easy smile curled his lips but soon his features turn a bit into the concern zone. Akira was acting weird. Did something happen?

"Of course, what can I do for you?" giving his friend all the attention he needs. To the question, Chrom's shoulders relaxed a bit. That kind of 'trouble'. Hmm ... he had been there, and still kind of.

"A leader you say? Hm ..." crossing his arms, he took a moment to ponder about his answer. to be honest, the answer is clear but sometimes what is clear for him, is not clear to others, right?

"I always say that a leader must never rest, never surrender and most of all never stop learning but I feel like I had outgrown that saying. A leader is a human; you need to rest--stopping is not wrong, what is wrong is that you stay in the same spot for so long that you surrender to what's around you. A leader must be someone who can know what he is doing, and if he feels like he is lacking in some aspect, enlist the help of good comrades to give him advice when needed."

He paused for a moment, thinking about how hard he was on himself when he was younger--striving to be perfect, to be of use, to be strong and capable so he can help his big sister.

"There is no wrong with relying on others, Akira. Your friends and close aids are there to help you find the path you want. They will help you when you fall down. They will help you when you lose sight of yourself. A leader would be someone who would appreciate these people and be honest about his shortcomings; no one is perfect, no? I, for a fact, count on my right hand and chief tactician to help me figure some things at times."

Chrom takes a couple steps forward, toward Akira, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. "Whenever you are lost, find your friends. They'll show you the way to be a good leader, Sage-san. Trust in them."

unprompted | always accepting | @flovverworks

[borathae]

First of all… SIBI WHERE IS YOONGI?! IS HE ALRIGHT?????! WHERE’S MY BOONGIE IM SO WORRIED FOR HIM, I wouldn’t be this worried for him if Frederick wasn’t involved in this I DONT TRUST THAT MAN AT ALL, and please it would completely break me if something happens to him and oc still hasn’t had an honest conversation with him, she would feel even worseeeeee gosh maybe, just maybe, I’m overreacting because just like our queen oc I’m an over thinker but for real reading that Yoongi left with that man and didn’t come back made my tummy hurt 😫😫😫😫😫please boongie be ok😫😫😫😫😫😫

My vmin 😭😭😭 my soulmates omg Sibi their honest talk broke me so much 😩 did Jimin not stay the night with Tae after they slept together in the past? Because sweet Taetae was surprised to find him still there with him and I just went like noooooo by sweet boy 😩 Jimin is really trying to be better for him I’m so happy but what do you mean he didn’t apologise for shit for four hundred years?! Of course Tae would get emotional over that 😭 and not him asking jimin to be nice with the rest of the group because he loves them and they are their only chance at finally having a family that cares for them 💔😭 the only thing that these two little idiots (said extra fondly) need it’s affection, lots of affection and they will get it! ❤️‍🩹🥺😭 I’m truly happy that Jimin now is truly starting to understand that he has nothing to be scared of and that he has people that are willing to care for him if he changes his bad habits 🥹 also not him trying to apologise with the rest of the family by gifting them things that he knows they will like in the most awkward and confusing way for everyone jsksksksksksksksk I want pinch his cheeks even if he would probably slap it way and cringe at it like a child, cutie just trying to be a better person 🥹

And I just want to hug my sweetest boys Kookie and Tae for being there to comfort oc and call out her overthinking ways, like both of them telling her once again that there’s no way Yoongi is angry at her for what happened, kook gently pushing her to talk to Yoongi because he knows that’s the only way she’ll stop worrying AND because he doesn’t like seeing them act distant, and Tae telling her that she’s projecting and forming an image of Yoongi that’s not real and being like “you do realise that Yoongi has killed even more people right? He’s understanding he wouldn’t be angry at you for something that was necessary” like GIRL please your boyfriend is the most understanding being in the whole universe 😭 maybe Kook will have to try pull an “attic ambush” on them again 😭 I love how understanding and respectful Yoongi is when it comes to no pushing her to talk if she doesn’t want to, but PLEASE just this time I need him to sit her down and tell her “I know there’s something you are not telling me, and that’s gonna change now or we are not leaving this room because I can sense your fear and the way this is hurting you, so let’s talk” I just know the way you are going to write the scene when they finally come clean it’s probably gonna make me cry hsksksksksksks

On a side and final note I LOVE when Kook calls her Baby???! It really does something to me sjjsksksks I love that cutie so much, my lil vampire bunny 🥹

Wonderful chapter as always Sibi, I’m so excited (AND WORRIED 😬) for the next one! and I’m sorry if this ask is a little all over the place, it’s 3:30 am here and my eyes are begging me to please go to sleep 🤡

-Shy anon

OKAY BUT THIS IS SUCH A VALID WORRY TO HAVE HELLO??? WHERE IS YOONGI AND WHY IS FREDRICK STILL SOF UCKIGN SUS???

did Jimin not stay the night with Tae after they slept together in the past? Because sweet Taetae was surprised to find him still there with him and I just went like noooooo by sweet boy 😩

No, sadly he didn't :( he barely even gave him aftercare (except for the times they were alone and Namjoon wasn't influincing them aka the night Jimin talked about remembering and their year on the farm)

and not him asking jimin to be nice with the rest of the group because he loves them and they are their only chance at finally having a family that cares for them 💔😭

YES GOSH THIS PART WAS SO :( idk Tae sounded so full of childlike hopefulness and istfg I wanna protect him!!!!!!!!

also not him trying to apologise with the rest of the family by gifting them things that he knows they will like in the most awkward and confusing way for everyone jsksksksksksksksk I want pinch his cheeks even if he would probably slap it way and cringe at it like a child, cutie just trying to be a better person 🥹

HE IS SUCH A CUTIE ISTFG PLEASE LOVE HIM :( he is so !! please protect ajfdsfj

kook gently pushing her to talk to Yoongi because he knows that’s the only way she’ll stop worrying AND because he doesn’t like seeing them act distant, and Tae telling her that she’s projecting and forming an image of Yoongi that’s not real and being like “you do realise that Yoongi has killed even more people right? He’s understanding he wouldn’t be angry at you for something that was necessary” like GIRL please your boyfriend is the most understanding being in the whole universe 😭

YES YES YES YEY YES Istfg them being heri voices of reason throughout this chapter sAVED my worrying ass :( they were both so understanding and gentle with her whilst still doing what was necessary for her to "get a grip" istfg best boyfriends ever :(

maybe Kook will have to try pull an “attic ambush” on them again 😭

IMAGINE HOLY FUCK IMAGINE 😭😭

I love how understanding and respectful Yoongi is when it comes to no pushing her to talk if she doesn’t want to, but PLEASE just this time I need him to sit her down and tell her “I know there’s something you are not telling me, and that’s gonna change now or we are not leaving this room because I can sense your fear and the way this is hurting you, so let’s talk” I just know the way you are going to write the scene when they finally come clean it’s probably gonna make me cry hsksksksksksks

NO BUT I AGREE fnasdnf like we can't even be mad at him, because his respects towards her is so fucking hot and healthy and yet I am over her pulling a Kookie and thinking to myself "just be disrespectful for once and tell her to talk LIKE PLEASE YOU LOVE EACH OTHER" jfjadjf

On a side and final note I LOVE when Kook calls her Baby???! It really does something to me sjjsksksks I love that cutie so much, my lil vampire bunny 🥹

S A M E I get flutters all over whenever he calls her baby fjadsjf it's like he is this cutie babyboy who "just exists" for a while who then goes all like "remember that I'm her boo too, so imma be real cute now" :( istfg he is such a MAN I love him :(

[vsuped]

captain vought not granted a luxury of straying away, he was the second face of the company after-all, just after frederick vought. so he did his best not to roll his eyes at how long the speech actually droned on—— it took a lot of willpower, and especially so not to slouch against fredericks chair as he stood with one gloved hand upon the back of the chair on the stage, just aways from the podium. at the clapping towards the middle of the speech, leon let out a soft disguntled & irritated noise. frederick slapped his stomach with the back of his hand when attention was deviated to the new hero coming up on stage. an action that said, try to behave. he put on his brightest smile helping frederick up from his chair, following after him to present the name of the new hero. oh thank fuck.

like usual leon went to stand opposite frederick so voughts newest hero stood between them, hand on his shoulder, posing with a feigned happiness towards journalists who ran up to get photographs. once the older man was off the stage, leon as captain vought made his rounds throughout the noise space, posing for a photo there, signing an autograph here. a rather dull, uneventful night, perhaps more so in the eyes of a supe than any human standing in this room. they ate this shit up. because this "party" was for them, for the investors, for the shareholders. to frederick vought, it was simply the science. but to the company as a whole; money. that's all it boiled down to in the end, every time. money. can't do science without money, can't make more compound v without money, can't make more heroes without money. and that is what the heroes were supposed to do, get revenue.

vought had become and continued to be an ever expanding empire. the "parties" had come such a long way from the small celebration with leon back in 1940 with the success of all his trials, to 1947 when he'd returned home from war a murderer hero —— the ticker-tape parades signaling the end of an war-torn era, to now and who was he to rain on this parade so-to-speak. familiar voice pulled him from his stride, is it always like this? helmeted head rolled his head with the laughter that erupted from him, placing his fingerless gloved hand upon shilohs shoulder, “ oh no, it used to be fucking worse. ” less fun, more boring.

he leaned in, speaking quietly into his ear, “ the party isn't for us. ” us in reference to supes or super-abled such as shiloh the caretaker. “ its for the suits. and the suits are fucking boooooooriiiiiiiing and don't like too much of the glamor. ” he pulled back from the younger man, with a gallant smile that any on-looker would assume, he also isn't as stimulated as he needed to be. though captain vought did preen at the attention. frederick caught his gaze, he knew that if he were to sneak away; he'd only be able to afford fifteen minutes before he'd get a fatherly talking to. the only man at vought tower that could tell him what to do and he'd do it, even if he'd complain the entire time.

“ let me guess, the boos aren't doing it for you either? ”

[twelvegods]

do you want to play? fred and george weasley part two

pairing/s; fred weasley x fem!reader x george weasley

warning/s; (18+) minors dni, pwp, polyamorous relationship, !no twincest!, breeding/impregnation kink, excessive fingering, unprotected sex, reader calls fred “sir”, face fucking, choking, dirty talk, blindfolding, dom/sub undertones, stomach/belly bulge, multiple orgasms, simultaneous orgasms, and aftercare.

word count; 2.6k

summary; where fred and george are in a polyamorous relationship with you and after two weeks of no contact, they’ve decided to come out and play. part one.

a/n; also i’m an amateur when writing smut so leave me alone abt it but constructive criticism is always welcome! stay tuned for part three it’s coming right after this one. (requests are open on the condition that you’re willing to wait, i’ve got a long list to burn though because my pathetic ass can’t manage my time)

edit 110621; here’s part three!​

when you got to the top of the astronomy tower,—properly winded from all the stairs mind you—you barely had the time to catch your breath or bask in the gorgeous setting sun mainly due to frederick gideon weasley’s glorious freckled body leaning against the railing, stark bloody fucking naked.

it painted the image in your head of a young god framed by the flaming sun. it seemed poetic in the sense that that young god was your boyfriend, and your boyfriend was about to fuck the living shit out of you.

to get your lover’s attention, you cleared your throat, anticipation and desire for this boy burning deep in your stomach. “aren’t you cold, love?”

you shut the door behind you, taking the initiative to mutter a locking spell to avoid any... interruptions. it was a spell only george knew how to break. and perhaps dumbledore considering the whole headmaster situation.

fred swiveled around at the sound of your voice, not at all trying to cower or hide, completely confident in himself and in his member which stood proudly at attention. was it from the cold or was it because he’s horny? who knows. not you, that’s for sure.

he smiled crookedly at you. “not any more than you, i suppose.”

he gestured to george’s robes, which the wind had blown open slightly. bruises from earlier peaked out and fred eyed them hungrily. you flushed under the heat of his gaze, nonetheless shrugging off the material and dropping it sensually to the floor.

“come here, bunny.”

fred lifted his hands to you, palms up, waiting for you to enter his arms. when you did, he kept you close against him, your warm bodies more than enough to combat the chill. one hand caressed your hair while the other lifted your chin, bringing your lips tenderly to his.

while the kiss started out soft, sensual, and sweet, fred’s true intentions were revealed as he snarled and nipped at your bottom lip. his hands ran through your hair, bunching it up into a ponytail, before pulling to reveal your jugular, which he promptly attacked.

“fred,” you hissed. “not there. people will see.”

“don’t care.” he murmured against your skin as one hand slapped your ass, gripping it tight. “you’re all mine... and george’s. people need to see, bun.”

when he pulled back, your hair still bunched up in his hand, he seemed satisfied with how much he'd claimed you that he pushed you to a kneel.

“so pretty,” he hummed as he took his dick and practically fed it to you. “such a soft mouth, perfectly made for my cock.”

you locked your eyes with his, kissing the tip, teasing. before he could even open his mouth to complain, you immediately took half of him in your mouth, wetting him, licking the tip, bobbing your head and taking all of him until your nose touched his tummy. you ignored your gag reflex as best as you could while drinking in his broken moans.

“ho—holy fuck, that’s so... hnngg,” fred threw his head back, releasing his hold on your hair and grabbing onto your head with both hands. with the way his hips snapped unevenly, you could tell he wanted to fuck your face so bad.

“i’ve been... edging myself,” he strained, lazily thrusting while you hollowed out your mouth, one hand dropping to massage your clit, your mound already wet once more, george’s spunk helping with the lubrication. “waiting for you... knowing you were with my brother... bloody torture that was.”

you tapped his thigh and he let you up to take a breath, while you continued to service him with your other hand that wasn’t busy with you. your vocal chords were strained as you spoke up. “torture, you say?”

fred stared at you on your knees, mouth wet with his precum and your saliva, an unreadable expression on his face. “you don’t understand how much i want to ruin you, bunny.”

“i’ve a faint idea.” you grinned manically, leaning forward to blow on his erection, watching fred shiver inwardly.

he watched your every move like a hawk. taking his whole head in your mouth, you began to suck him, quite literally, like you would a lollipop. pulling your hand away from massaging your clit, you moved to fondle his balls as you relaxed your throat to take in more of him. you basked in the feeling of his prick, twitching and prodding, in the back of your throat.

but the second you started to gain some semblance of control, some sort of upper hand, he immediately put a stop to it. he took your head in his hands, not bothering with your hair this time, and started to quickly thrust in and out. spit flew as you choked over and over on his fat fucking cock, your hands on either of his thighs, holding on for dear life.

fred let out a long, deep groan as you finally bobbed your head with even more fervor than last time, matching the rhythm that he desperately craved. you wanted to push him over the edge, to see him come apart as his dick took the liberty of choking you.

“you’re not getting away with drying us out for two weeks, no bloody way, we’re going to have our way with you until we’re satisfied. that’s two weeks’ worth of cum we’re going to fill you up with, bunny.” fred grunted as he thrust one last time, his thighs quivering as he came jizzing down your throat.

but before he even finished coming fully, he grabbed you by the neck, and pulled you to your feet where he turned you to lean back against the balcony, slipping a hand between your legs as he smirked.

“swallow.”

a constricting grip around your neck still, you swallowed fred’s sperm, and whimpered when he immediately thrust two fingers into you as a reward. the stretch was an oh-so welcome sensation. it was like your pussy was telling you it missed him.

“such a whore, so wet and loose, finger fucked by my brother in public, unable to make a noise.” he curled his fingers around the g-spot he knew so well. he leaned to whisper in your ear, licking a stripe up your earlobe. “but we’re alone now, bun, and i want to hear you.”

“y—yes, fred.”

"what was that?" he teasingly started to pull away, letting you whimper at the feeling.

"yes, sir."

"there we go, bunny. open up." at an almost excruciating pace, he slipped his fingers back in, wasting no time to stretch you for what was about to come. and who, for that matter.

keeping up the sensual speed, fred made a ‘come hither’ motion that teased the most sensitive part of you in all the right ways. even though you’d just come twice courtesy of george, and was plenty sensitive because of it, you felt a heat already building in your belly, but you knew better than to let go before fred allowed it.

“doing so well for me, bunny.” he breathed, moving his hand from your neck to your jaw, resting his thumb on your bottom lip, which you gladly took into your mouth to suck. “just a little more, want to see you squirm for me.”

when your eyes met, it was almost electrifying. his irises practically spelled out the love and lust he had for you, and in that heated moment you reached up around the back of his neck to pull him closer to you until your lips met. he groaned as he dug his fingers deeper into you, pumping faster, teeth smashing against one another, and you cried into his mouth.

“let me cum, sir, please!”

fred sped up, moving to suck another violet bruise on your neck, whispering his approval. he lazily pumped his fingers as you spasmed around them, calling out his name.

“fred, fred, god, fred, fuck.”

“that’s right. who’s doing this to you, bunny? who’s treating you so bloody well?”

“you are, sir.” you obediently responded, locking eyes with your boyfriend, who seductively brought his drenched fingers to his lips and obscenely sucking your juices off of them.

“merlin, i miss the way you taste.” fred smiled contently at you, leaning in to give you a chaste kiss that had you tasting yourself. “but i’m not quite finished with you.”

how he had you revving for more was lost on you, but he sported a lopsided grin, practically reading your mind. he knew you that well. “reckon george spiked that invisibility potion, don’t you?”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your knees were trembling with your own weight. you held onto the railing for support. “i hate you both.”

fred whistled lowly. “oh, but the sex is all the better when it stems from hate, don’t you think? remember our first time? you loathed us.”

“this is a lot of chit chat for someone that’s supposed to fuck me.” despite yourself, your cunt throbbed at the memory.

“’supposed to?’” fred picked up his wand from a nearby ledge, wordlessly spelling a mattress from nothing. “oh, bunny. my urge to fuck you is made up of complete utter wanton need.”

he then took your waist, turning your back towards the bed and gently meeting your lips, occupying his hands with your ass. immediately, you could tell this kiss was different.

it was soft and romantic, full of sloppy nips and quick pecks. even when his tongue entered your mouth, he spent his time slowly exploring every nook and cranny. his hands ran up and down your body like you were glass.

it made you feel delicate. it made you feel loved.

then your ankles met the edge of the bed and you lost your balance, falling back onto the soft mattress. you leaned up on your elbows, watching fred as his silhouette glowed with the setting sun positioned right behind him. something about this told you he had planned this to happen and you fell back onto the bed in a lovesick daze, your hair scattered gracefully around your head.

fred was running his hand up and down his shaft, which already looked hard as ever, veins prominent against it. he watched you watch him with a knowing smirk. “you want this, bunny?”

“i do, sir.”

“on your knees, then.”

taking position was no problem, but you knew your knees weren’t going to last long and fred was aware of this. so he conjured a pillow to put underneath your belly, kissing your temple as he took his spot behind you, all while teasing your slit with his swollen head.

“ready for this? for me?”

you nodded fervently, needing him in you yesterday.

“speak up, bun. i can’t hear you.”

“please.”

“please what?”

“fred, for fuck’s sake! i need you inside me! i need to feel you fill me up, to have me swollen and filled. merlin, fred, please!”

with that, in one hard thrust, fred sheathed his entire twelve-inch dick inside of you, jabbing the entrance to your cervix almost painfully. you didn’t miss his growl while he had you seeing stars.

“that’s ‘sir’ to you.”

“fuck yes, that feels so oh, oh, oh!”

and you were right, your knees completely gave up on you then, the pillow being the only thing holding you up. you were physically incapable of forming coherent sentences as fred pounded you into the mattress, taking out two weeks’ worth of frustration on you. he bent over your form, pressing his sweaty forehead onto the back of your shoulder, sucking another mark there.

the boy wanted to claim you so desperately, wanted you to be his. it didn’t bother him that he had to share you with his twin because even if he didn’t want to admit it, he feared the day you’d walk away from him and george.

no matter how many times you reassured you wouldn’t, that insecurity always came out to play. and this was how he’d beat it out of him; by fucking it out. and even if you hated that particular fear of his, you guiltily loved it at times like this.

“this was what you wanted, huh? such a pretty slut. merlin, i’m going to plow you so hard you won’t remember your name, only mine. you’re going to permanently take the shape my cock til’ you won’t be able to walk, much less stand after i’m done with you.” fred seethed.

he let out a throaty groan as your walls tightened around him, obviously enjoying his dirty talk. a hand snaked around your throat, cutting off any and every circulation to your head until you couldn’t feel anything else but fred’s obscene cock ramming into your sweet spot over and over and over.

your eyes were crossing with the satisfaction accompanied by the sensitivity from before. your veins felt like they were burning white hot as pleasure coursed through your body. the way that you were on overdrive made it so much... worse? better? merlin, you really couldn’t think straight.

what was it with the weasley twins and their dicks turning your brain to mush?

“bunny, did you want me to knock you up? fill you up with my seed til’ you’re swollen you said? have you leaking from your gorgeous tits? want you to be so full of me? oh merlin, this is dangerous. it’s riling me up so bad. need to see you, [y/n].”

fred let go of your neck and momentarily pulled out to flip you onto your back, the pillow still there to lift your hips to a more comfortable position for the both of you. you had a moment to breath, to gaze into fred’s blown out irises through your own half-lidded eyes. you raised your hands to cradle his cheeks.

“i want that so bad, i want you so bad. only you and george. want to be so full of the both of you.” you breathed, not really knowing what your words meant. especially during a heated moment like this. nonetheless, it had you feeling butterflies.

he moved forward, sinking into you once more, sighing in content as he did so, and he stayed like that for a moment. you skin burned red hot as you warmed his cock, and you thought you actually melted when he kissed your cheek so softly, before he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

“i love you so much.” you whispered into his ear, not missing the way he twitched inside of you. you linked your arms behind his neck and your ankles around his waist, trapping him in.

“i love you so much more.” he hummed, kissing along your collarbone.

your tongue traced the shell of his ear, much like he did to you earlier. “you want to impregnate me, fred weasley? go ahead.”

“don’t test me, bunny.” his entire attitude shifted and fred snarled, snapping his hips hard against your cunt, taking you by surprise. “that’s a very dangerous line you’re dancing on.”

“ah! ah!” you were crying out with every thrust he made against you, making you wrap around him even tighter.

“i’m going to bloody ruin you for everyone else, no one else can have you but me.” fred continued his vigorous pace, arms caging you in until your line of sight was nothing but fred, oh my god, fred, yes, please fred, ruin me.

your eye contact was broken when he glanced up at something out of your line of sight that ignited that naughty spark in his eye. he smirked, looking down at you again, withering in his lap, and kissed your forehead. “and my twin, i suppose.”

[darthwheezely]

dating fred weasley and being a ravenclaw

wow i am a SIMP for this man! this ain’t new info but! he is truly such a divine man and like…yeah i had to- also this might be longer because Fred has a lot more things to cover in terms of this and his own issues sksksjjs

warnings: light smut, angst at parts, wicked hot men named frederick gideon weasley, mentions of sexual degrading and not the hot or kinky kind :/ basically dudes being scumbags

people that might like this (?): @whiz-bangs78 @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thatdumbbitchxx @pansydaisy​@vogueweasley @slytherinsunrise @thehufflepuffwife @theweasleyslut dm me to be on the twins taglist or for requests for blurbs/ships/one shots :)

fred thinks you’re an actual literal on god 111% angel sent by god

i swear-

he basically runs into (…literally) when escaping from filch, and knocks into you coming out of transfiguration

and i shit you not, he catches you by the waist like mid dip

oh my GOD please I’m in love with him

Fred Weasley, professional jackass, looked down at you hand still on your waist. He grinned at you and winked and you swore to god you heard the sparkle sound effect. “Hullo, gorgeous.” He heard filch scream “WEASLEY!” and broke away from you, pulling you up and pushing you off of him, leading a running filch to slip in the middle of the hallway, the hall erupting in laughter: including you. Fred inhaled harshly, heart pounding at you laughing at something he managed to pull off. “I’ll…I’ll see you again, yeah?” You froze smiling in place. “Um…yeah…yeah you will?” “Yeah?” He grinned. “Yeah.” With another wink he sped off down the hall…

he couldn’t stop thinking about the wicked hot girl in the hall

god what house was she he thought?

oh shit she had blue on fuck she’s a ravenclaw he thinks. why does he think like that?

she’s outta my goddamn league, he thought before he could stop himself

“Freddie, I know you’re not giving up on the idea of this girl this easy.” George shook his head smirking in the Hall.

“I’m not giving up on anything - she’s just…too good for me.”

“Mate, you know nothing about her except how her eyes ‘sparkled like the stars’ or some whack Tolstoy shit like that…besides, you always did love a challenge, yeah?” At that Fred grinned.

“Georgie, I was thinking exactly the same thing…”

frederick gideon weasley knew what he had to do

FUCKING RUN AROUND THE CASTLE AND LOOK FOR YOU DUH

i swear he probably skipped like a half a day of classes just running from classroom to classroom tryna find your gorgeous self

he also probably was like “anyone seen a literal angel around” and everyone was just like ~please shoot this kid he cannot be deadass~

anyway, he’s starting to run out of breath guys, pobrecito is about to give up for the day and throw in the towel but then

then, fellas and foals-

he sees you

sitting in the center of the quidditch pitch

reading a book and writing in your notebook

and god when i tell you he physically had his ass floored

i mean, Jesus Christ, it’s the way you were just serenely sitting in HIS favorite place in hogwarts, not even in the stands, just absorbing life in the ACTUAL PITCH just

just being there

“What are you doing here, love?” You look up and see Fred, chest heaving, rosy cheeked and fucking glorious. He looked otherworldly with the sun at his back, seemingly glowing. “Knitting a sweater.” You said coolly, and gave a small smile. He bit his lip and made his way over to you and sat down in front of you.

“I’d like that sweater somewhere else, gorgeous.”

“Where, in your mum’s dirty laundry?” He scoffed

“No silly, on me but I’ll take that option too ;)”

You scoffed back and rolled your eyes. “On you? Please, this is made to fit an actual person with a body, Fred.”

“And I don’t have a good enough body for it?”

You bit your lip, gathering courage to look straight back at him. “I wouldn’t know I haven’t seen it.”

and that alone has Fred Weasley garnering a massive tent in his pants

He gulped. “Whats your name, darling?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

He grinned, blushing wildly. “Y/N, you’re never getting rid of me now”

that, my dear, was the truth at its finest

for the first time, he’d found a woman that matched his energy

his banter his intellectual mind was finally satisfied by this beautiful, honest, blunt girl that made him

HIM, THE MAN THAT CAN NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP, be still.

be quiet. be at peace

“freddie, don’t fucking prank first years you’re better than that”

“Fred, please don’t be a bully. You’re not an unkind person so don’t act that way, okay? Come on”

it’s about three to five days of just non stop flirting

constantly leaving him breathless and without a rebuttal, again something no one has ever been able to do

after this period, he’s eating in the great hall, not having talked to you today and bouncing his knees violently

and he sees you get up and leave the hall

this prompts him to get up and run after you

“Y/N!” You turn to see him running full speed behind you, and you smile widely, blushing a fair ton as he stops in front of you, chest heaving. Your smile falters as he doesn’t say anything “Fred, w-what’s wrong?” He then bites his lip “I’m sorry but I have to” and presses his mouth to yours. You kiss back immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck as he backs you up against the wall. The kiss is hungry, passionate, and after a few moments he pulls off you and leans his forehead to yours. “I need you.” He says hoarsely. “And I need YOU, Freddie.” He smiles and you wrap your legs around his waist…

from that moment, you two are inseparable

we are talking handsy too

oh fuck this about to get fluffy as hell

freddie basically waits until you’re out of class and then will pin you against the wall and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years

“My angel, it’s been far too long.” He says breathlessly, smiling wide before giving you a kiss attack, sending ammunition of kisses all around your face, making you giggle uncontrollably. “My love, it’s only been an hour,” you say in between full body laughter. He then stops, looking at you very seriously. “Darling, that simply will not do,” he clucks and then throws you over his shoulder, sending you into fits of laughter again as he takes you to your next class.

you and fred have so much sex

empty classrooms

in his dorm

in your dorm

in the locker rooms

in the library

“Freddie, harder baby, please” you gasp out as he’s thrusting inside of you at a rhythmic pace, him slipping into you like hot oil, skin slapping as he has you in the shower. “How much do you need me, angel? Cmon love I wanna hear your words...” “yes, yes I need you please” you moan as he hits a new angle “That’s my princess, taking me so well, do you love it when I fill you up? Fuck you so good you can’t walk?” You nod and throw your head back. “Freddie, I’m gonna come” “Good girl, princess, come all over my cock” He growls setting a faster and harder pace, as he chants your name like a hymnal, his hips and movements getting sloppier as he finally releases into you, chest heaving and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Where should we try next, gorgeous, hmm? I think snape’s office should do it, he won’t even know us from the grease stains from his nose” this earns him a smack on the arm

fred marks you up constantly too

wants everyone to see how much his “good little princess” really feels

anything that says “I choose/belong to fred weasley” he’ll make you do

and you adore it and think it’s hot as fuck

he’s also marked his name onto your thighs and boobs before

george basically accepts the fact that you’re his new baby sister too, and when fred isn’t there will protect you like it ashsajdsahjsa

by this i mean fred has employed him to (but mainly george just does it because he loves you too)

but basically

during potions, draco slides in next to you and propositions you:

“How about we strike a deal, Y/L/N?” He looks at you smugly. You roll your jaw. “Yeah I agree, you shut the fuck up and let me pass our project, and I get all the credit without you destroying my handiwork?” He flares red and grabs your wrist. “I know Weaselbee the fourth probably tastes like the rest of his family - trash - but how I about I let you try something different, hmm?” You immediately pull away from him when he releases and make an attempt to focus back on your book. 

fred obviously hears about this because some slytherin guys in the hallway are talking about how much Y/N wants to suck Malfoy’s dick

he’s not stupid, he knows you get sexualized by that dumbass constantly, even before y’all started dating

basically he finds draco in the boys bathroom, corners him, and beats the fuck out of him 

“if you ever get near my girlfriend again, i swear to godric i won’t be so nice next time - don’t wanna get your balls cut off before 17 do you?” 

oh and he’s stupid hot when he’s mad btw but we all been knew

he finds you where he always finds you once you start dating, in his dorm stop his bed

He swallows thickly at the sight of you clearly upset, watching you sit up immediately tears welling in your throat as you begin to apologize. “Freddie, love, I didn’t do anything I promise I didn’t want him to come onto me-“ “Y/N, it’s never your fault. You have to trust me with that I...I hate seeing people hurt you love.” He pulls your body into him whne he reaches the bed, touching you like you’re porcelain, careful not to break you. “I know I get violent and angry or pouty when guys do that to you because I feel like you’ll either choose someone else or I can’t protect you and...you mean everything to me, my angel.” He whispers into your hair, tears stealing on his cheeks. “I promise no one will hurt you anymore because I love you and loving someone means you do anything for them.” He babbles like a small boy, convincing himself of everything until he realizes he’s said it and he inhales. “Y/N y-you don’t have to say it ba-“ “I want to say it back. Remember? I love you and I need you, Fred.” You look up at him softly, chin on his chest and he smiles through tears on his face. “And I love you and I need YOU, my love.”

fred knows you love him and choose him over everyone but again

he gets insecure

in the way George is scared people won’t see him as Fred

fred is afraid you’ll find someone better

someone more stable and less quick tempered

you guys have fights sometimes that end in frustration or angry sex

but fred is always there an hour later sitting outside your dorm door praying to god you forgive him for his mistake

he’s never abusive or malicious

he just gets impulsive with pranks or doesn’t consider feelings sometimes

ON TO THE BURROW!!!!

molly is so thankful for you and hugs you immediately as you walk through the door whispering

“Thank you for making my son feel how he deserves” and your eyes water lightly murmuring a thank you

you instantly catch bill’s attention as he notices the way fred is so much calmer and confident with you around

he seems more sure of himself, and not as angry

his temper too is calmer with your presence, as if the very essence of you is soothing to all youre around

he is, so so in love with you

and yes he can be brash

and yes he can be insecure

and yes he can be impulsive

but yes he would do anything for you

but yes he sees you like no one else can

but yes he knows you struggle and he wants to be there

fred weasley is absolutely incandescently in love with you

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 19

The plot fucking thickens.

@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop @scpdragon @wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: implied racism, religiously motivated violence, kidnapping

“So I heard you’re a civilian consultant for the FBI now?” Charissa said through the receiver. “That’s exciting. Are you being paid?” 

“Yeah, actually.” You sat up on the bed. “It isn’t a ton, but it’s enough to get by until I can go back to work.” 

She groaned. “Why would you want to come back to work here?”

“Well, for one,” You laughed. “I’d get to see my best friend in person.” 

“Are you sure you can’t give me just a little hint as to where you’re hiding out?” She pleaded. “No pressure, but you left your umbrella at the restaurant and it’s just been sitting in my car this whole time.” 

“Oh shit, I was wondering where that was.” You held the phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could reach for a Russian chocolate from Hannibal’s bedside table. You popped one through your lips and held it in your cheek. “Thanks dude.” 

You could hear the smirk on Charissa’s face. “So did you ever get the sommelier to call you?”

You wanted so badly to tell your best friend every juicy detail, but your acute paranoia held you back. You couldn’t risk putting making Hannibal and Will targets. But then again, it was Charissa. 

“You’d better not tell anyone about this or else I’ll sever your spine with my goddamn teeth.” You threatened. 

Your friend’s ears perked up. “Go on.” 

You looked around the room for any sign of Hannibal and to make sure Will hadn’t gotten home yet. When you knew the coast was clear, you cupped your hand over the speaker. “We totally just fucked.” 

Charissa pretended to be shocked. “Oh my god, I could have never seen that coming!” 

“But that’s not all.” You shushed her. “The guy that saved me from getting blown up, the FBI agent, I’m sleeping with him too!” 

“You slut!” She cursed, playfully. “I didn’t think you had it in you to sneak around.” 

“No, no!” You whispered. “That’s the best part! They’re into each other too. So we have, like, an agreement.” 

“Like a throuple?” 

“Not ‘like’ a throuple.” You corrected. “Just a throuple.” 

“Dayum, girl.” She said. “You truly have become the alpha female.” 

“Darling?” Hannibal called out from downstairs. He sounded worried.

“Is that him?” Charissa asked. “Are you with him right now?” 

“Okay, goodbye.” You said before abruptly ending the call. 

You descended the stairs and found him in the living room. “What’s wrong?” 

He said nothing, letting the television answer you. 

“At approximately six this evening, Evangelical pastor Calvin J. Armitage was arrested for firing the first shot in what would become a deadly shootout with the FBI.” The anchor said. “Entering the megachurch premises to ask questions about the still-open Baltimore Butcher case, Agent Crawford of the Behavioral Science Unit is on site for an exclusive interview.” 

Jack looked deeply shaken, and had blood stained all over his jacket. He drew in a deep breath before speaking. 

“Special agent Graham and I arrived at the church with the intention of asking Pastor Armitage about his relationship to Chase Mulvaney.” He began. “He was compliant to begin with, then became defensive. He then called the local police, claiming that a-” 

Jack paused, a look of slight disgust on his face for what he was about to say. 

“-A large black man posing as a federal agent was threatening him.” He finished. “He then held us at gunpoint until the police showed up. While I verified my identity to the chief, Pastor Armitage opened fire, shooting me once in the shoulder, then ran. Special Agent Graham went after him. Then both men disappeared. We believe Armitage is holding Graham hostage, but upon further inspection, we have seen no signs of either man in the church.” 

You covered your mouth with your fingertips, too afraid to acknowledge anything with words. Hannibal gently placed his hand on your leg and looked into your eyes.

"Listen to me, [F/N]." He said, desperation in his voice. "You need to tell me what you and Will figured out from the investigation, and fast. Any information at all could tell where he might have taken him."

"The Blue Ridge mountains." You answered with more certainty than was warranted. "He took Will to the mountains just like in Borrasca."

"That's over six hundred miles of land, not including altitude." Hannibal pointed out. 

You pressed your fingers to your temples in attempt to slow your thoughts. “You think I don’t know that?” 

“Please, just tell me anything about Chase that could narrow it down.” He pleaded. 

“He has a ministry.” You blurted out. “In the Blue Ridge Mountains. Something luxurious, meant for Christian women.” 

Hannibal bolted to the office to find his computer. “That’s a start. Keep going.” 

You snapped your fingers to try and kickstart your memory. “Chase is a narcissist, but not a creative one. He stole his title from NXIVM and his cult personality from Handmaid’s Tale. I think that means he doesn’t understand satire.” 

Hannibal’s fingers danced across the keyboard, filling the silent house with frantic clicking. “That also means the name of his ministry might be a thinly-veiled reference to something he doesn’t understand as well. What else?” 

You tugged at your hair. “I don’t know, how far could he have gotten in the last three hours?” 

“It doesn’t take very long to get from the city to the mountains.” Hannibal answered. “They could be anywhere by now.” 

You groaned. “We don’t have that kind of time. Hold on a minute, let me get my laptop.” 

Unsurprisingly, Chase had scrubbed the internet clean of every trace of himself. You were forced to read between the lines. You scoured every ex-fundamentalist forum you could find. You posted on every subreddit that had anything to do with evangelical ministries. You opened dozens of tabs with everything from a PDF of the Handmaid’s Tale to case files of class action lawsuits in Frederick County. 

Minutes turned into hours and the hours stacked up. You had to hit yourself in the face every time you felt yourself drifting off. 

“What are you doing?” Hannibal asked, after a particularly loud slap. 

“Trying to keep myself awake.” You said over a poorly-timed yawn. You knocked yourself against the temple a few more times. “Come on you sack of shit, wake up.” 

Hannibal snatched you by the wrist. "Stop that this instant."

"Why should I?" You said, on the verge of angry tears. "Will is probably fucking dead and it's my fault, so yeah, I'm a sack of shit."

"Don't say that." Hannibal tightened his grip on your wrist. "He's not dead and it is certainly not your fault."

"I can't sleep knowing Chase took him." You admitted. "I just can't."

Hannibal sat down next to you. He cupped your face in his hand and rolled the tears away from your cheeks.

Hannibal opened his computer. "We'll sleep in shifts. Send me everything you have so far. You'll sleep better knowing I'm looking for him."

"Fine." You said, dumping a handful of links into a document and sending it to his email. You decided to go to sleep right there on the couch with your laptop in arm's reach, so when your shift was up, you could get straight back to work. You drifted off to the ambient noises of Hannibal typing away.

You woke up to your text notification sound.

[griffxnnage]

unnecessary || f.w

prompt: “i missed your arms around me so i came to cuddle.”

word count: 1180

warnings: fluff, probably overuse of the word ‘malishka’

a/n: congrats @pad-foots for 500! i’m so proud of you! thanks for the tag, and i hope you like it!

“Freddie? Where are you? I’m home!” You called from the entryway of your flat above the joke shop. It’d been a long day at work and you were ready to put your feet up and relax. According to Fred, however, it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

“Darling? Where are you? I’m making tea, do you want some?” You busied yourself in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and getting two tea cups. “Fred?” You hadn’t heard anything from him yet, so you checked your phone. Nothing. 

You started to wander the apartment, calling his name and peeking your head into the occasional room. You still couldn’t find him. Only when you entered your bedroom did you find a clue to his whereabouts. You found a note on the neatly made bed, and you recognized his unique handwriting.

Hello darling. As you can probably tell, I’m hiding. Come and find me xo

P.S. yes, I would like some tea

“Wow. This man is going to be the death of me.” You thought aloud, smiling to yourself. After you searched for him in the last few remaining rooms, you heard a rustling from the linen closet to your right. A smirk growing on your face, you mockingly said, “Well, I wonder where Freddie could be!” You started to slowly reach for the doorknob when it started to turn at its own accord. 

“There is no Freddie. He’s not here right now. This is Fredrick.” 

Yeaaa, it was Fred, just with a Russian accent. A terrible Russian accent.

“Well then, Frederick, what are you doing in there?” You rolled your eyes, totally accustomed to this behaviour. “I am on a very secret mission, so let me do my duty, sexy but annoying woman,” His harsh accent came from the other side of the door and you couldn’t help but double over in laughter. “Freddie, come on. Just come out already!” You laughed, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Well, my mission was to sweep the area, but now I think I can scrub that and take you in for questioning. You’ve seen too much!” The door creaked open, slowly, revealing the red, fiery hair of your husband and the mischievous look on his face. “Well, well, well. Malishka, what am I going to do with you?” He purred, his large frame leaving the closet and towering over you.

“Well, I dunno. You’re gonna have to catch me first!” The tense atmosphere was broken by your cute smile and speedy run. Fred couldn’t help but break character for a split second before chasing after you. Since you got a good head start, you were able to keep out of sight. Running out of ideas of where to hide, you went to the first place that came to mind: the bedroom.

After you scampered into the room and quietly closed the door, you went under the bed, with your feet closest to the edge of the bed. You tried to rearrange yourself so you could see if he came in, but the space was too tight a fit. So you just waited there, quick little breaths leaving your chest and excitement in your eyes. 

His footsteps grew closer, the floor creaking under his weight. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, which made the creaking stop, and then quicken, coming in your direction. “Oh shit,” You whispered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself. 

“Malishka, where are you?” He said the last word all drawn out, his movements slow and deliberate. You could hear the soft pats of his socked feet on the carpet, and it made your heartbeat quicken in excitement. 

Once you thought he’d left the room, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, relieved that he’d gone. Well, you thought he’d gone.

“Oh, malishka, come here,” You felt two large, strong hands wrap around your ankles and you let out a squeak as your belly got a slight rug burn. Once you were out from under the bed, you flipped over quickly to see ‘Frederick’ standing over you, a stupid smile on his face.

“I have you now!” He lowered his voice to match that of Darth Vader and reached down to gently tickle your belly. “I shouldn’t have let you watch those Muggle movies, Freddie,” You giggled, squirming on the floor.

“Well, I see that Frederick is gone,” You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Who is this Frederick you speak of, darling? I’ve never heard of him,” His voice trailed off as he leaned down to pick you up and carry you to the kitchen, where the kettle seemed to be screaming.

He set you down with a kiss on your forehead and set to making two cups of tea. You sat yourself at the counter, watching him with your head resting on your hand. “So, Y/N, how was your day?” He turned around, carrying the steaming cups of tea and setting them down on the marble counter. 

You just sat there, mouth agape, wondering if he was just going to ignore the events that’d just unfolded a few moments before. “Uh, did you not just chase me down? Or did that not happen?” You furrowed your eyebrows, curious to see what his next move would be. A small smirk appeared on his gorgeous face, and all he said was, “No idea, malishka,” accompanied with his signature wink. “Anyway, wanna cuddle?” He chirped, rather cheerful all of a sudden. You just rolled your eyes and followed him to the bedroom, tea in hand.

Once you were both situated under the fluffy blankets and propped up by innumerable pillows, you leaned against him with your head under his chin. He started stroking your hair, but that didn’t stop you from telling him off about before, and how unnecessary the whole ordeal was. His response seemed very well rehearsed.

“Darling, I missed your arms around me, so I came to cuddle! That’s it! I’m innocent! Nothing but good intentions on this mind. I did nothing wrong. Also, I don’t know about this Frederick fellow. How did he even get it? Seems rather suspicious. And handsome. Troublesome, but handsome,” His voice trailed off as you began to giggle. The laugher only grew louder when he started to tickle your belly, and after that, a full-blown tickle fight ensued.

A quarter of an hour later, you both had collapsed on the bed, which was now completely disarranged, chests heaving and light giggles leaving your lips. “Ok, next time, if you want cuddles, just say so.” You breathed, never wanting those kinds of shenanigans to go down again.

“I can’t make any promises, Y/N. Now come back here and cuddle me, malishka.” He held out his arms, and slapped his hands at you; quite childish, but then again, isn’t that Fred? 

“Freddie, what does ‘Malishka’ mean?” You asked, snuggling in close to him. He chuckled and leaned in close and whispered in your ear, “It means ‘baby girl,’ Y/N.” 

The blush on your face sent Fred into another fit of laughter which would later lead to another wrestling match. Then again, there would always be more to come.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Parental Advisory [18+]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Ass Worship

Summary: You bring Frederick Chilton to meet your parents over a weekend. Chilton is rude them. You do him in the ass at your parents’ house. 

This oneshot stands on its own, but it’s also a side-story from the A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss universe, which has a gender-neutral reader. So this is either pegging or penis depending on how you’re interpreting the reader! (And since even I am not sure, it’s going for the Ass Worship square in @thatesqcrush​’s Kink Bingo instead of pegging or anal)

*There is no weird parent voyeurism or whatever, the walls are thick in this house OK? They’re just there for the awkward social interaction of bringing home a pompous douchebag XD 

5,059 words

“That went quite well,” said Dr. Chilton, voice smooth and velvety with confidence as you settled into the guest bedroom upstairs.

You grimaced, and quietly shut the door behind you. When you didn’t answer, he looked over to see a teeth-gritting expression plastered on your face. He raised an eyebrow. You tried to coax your face into a genuine smile, but only succeeded in stretching the corners of your mouth more tightly until you looked like some kind of face-eating killer-clown monster.

“Did it not go well?”

“Ummmm...” you stretched a long vowel and scratched the side of your neck to fill the pause as you made up your mind on exactly how to explain this to him.

His velvety confidence broke and he closed the distance between you in a quick stride, taking your shoulders and searching your eyes with worry etched into his brow.

“Tell me.”

“Frederick, you can’t just tell people it’s obvious they come from dirt because of the length of stitches in their hem!”

“That is not what I said—I observed the indications of working-class design popularized by the—”

“Frederick!”

“I was showing interest in their cultural heritage.”

“And you thought that was the way to do it?!”

He quieted. “They were not fond of me, then?”

“As first impressions go, it was pretty bad.”

“Shit.” He sank down onto the edge of the bed—a floral lavender comforter matching the rest of the room, tucked crisply around the sides as if it had never been slept in before, which it hadn’t. Frederick rested his elbows on his knees and let his forehead sink into his hands.

He was worried. He had only been dating you for a year, but you were different than his usual flings. For one thing, you had stayed with him for an entire year. You were affectionate and honest. You didn’t care about money. If he made a snipe about you being a hot mess, you would mock him right back for caring too much about appearances. It was, he eventually discerned, because you hadn’t come from a wealthy family, and never envied those who did. You were actually happy with who you were and scorned the idea of status symbols—like his car, his watches, his house, his Montblanc pens—whose only purpose was to display wealth. It annoyed him at first, but then he wondered, if you were not after him because he was a wealthy doctor, what did you see in him?

He was still figuring that out. If possible, he would like to spend a lifetime figuring it out—he even planned to ask you to move in with him—but he may have just ruined that.

***

Dr. Chilton’s poor impression began hours before he even met your parents. Since you were just going home to family, you wore a plain t-shirt and jeans. Despite your specific instruction to dress casually, he wore a suit. And so, the first thing your parents saw when they opened the front door was a pair so mismatched, it looked like an illicit student-professor affair.

He then handed them a very expensive bottle of wine as a gift—but, as was Frederick’s habit, it was too opulently out of your parents’ price range to be interpreted as anything other than boasting. Your father grumbled, “Thanks,” in a way that Frederick seemed blithely unaware meant “fuck you.”

After that, Chilton began observing things like bargain-bin Sherlock Holmes, and generally being Chilton. He mentioned that their entire house could fit inside his garage. After a few minutes of stilted conversation he said, in not a flattering way, that he could “see where you got it from now.”

You hadn’t expected the first meeting between your elitist doctor boyfriend and your down-home parents to go well, but you had hoped he might lean more toward the charming side of his charming asshole spectrum, just for today. He had a way of getting under everyone’s skin at first, including yours. But he was sweet, underneath his WASPy upbringing, and you were sure they would see that.

When Frederick excused himself to the bathroom, your father immediately let out the complaints he had been barely containing for the last hour. “So that’s not going to last much longer, is it?” he snorted, leaning forward in his La-Z-Boy recliner. “How do you stand it? Did you hear him correct me about searing steak? As if that dandy would know the first thing about grilling.”

“He’s right, you know,” you said. “Searing doesn’t lock in juices, it just adds flavor. I Googled it.”

“Now he’s corrupting my own child!” your dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “You gonna be a know-it-all now, too?”

“As if I wasn’t already,” you challenged, hand on your hip. Your dad wasn’t wrong, though, so you laughed it off and shook your head. “I know, I know. That’s just how he is. Once we got into a disagreement about how ‘pajamas’ is pronounced, and he wouldn’t let it go until... Well, I just started using the word sleepwear.”

“And he wears double-breasted suits,” your mother chimed in behind her hand.

“Oh? What about it?”

“They’re so sleazy!” she cried.

“They are?” If this was some sort of well-known fashion knowledge, your parents never passed it down to you. You always thought Frederick looked good in whatever he wore.

“I don’t know what you see in that pompous little twerp,” your dad sighed heavily, then grinned. “I bet I could pick him up with one hand and toss him out the window.”

“Dad!”

“Bet he screams like a girl,” your father roared with laughter, slapping his knee.

“Oh, he does,” you said with a cold, tight smile. “And if you lay a hand on him, you’ll be singing like a girl, you get me?”

The laughter stopped, and you found yourself in the most intense familial staredown since Thanksgiving 2008. Your father’s eyes silently growled, “You would threaten your own father?!” and yours narrowed and hissed, “I will if you threaten my boyfriend!”

Your mother broke the silence with a patient, pleading voice. “I get it. He’s rich, and he’s not bad looking. But you know you don’t have to marry for money. Your father and I have enough, and I thought you were doing well for yourself working with the FBI.”

“You really think I’d be with someone for money?” you said, mouth agape with bewilderment. Sometimes you wondered if these people knew you at all. “He’ll grow on you, trust me. Just… try to ignore the condescending shit that comes out of his mouth. It becomes endearing eventually.” Footsteps creaked on the second floor, announcing Frederick’s imminent return. You put on your sternest kindergarten-teacher face and pointed across the living room at your parents. “Both of you, behave!”

***

You stood beside him and tenderly ran your fingers through his thick brown hair—a gesture he adored, reserved for evenings at home and mornings before grooming so as not to ruin his perfect coif. He closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting sensation, grateful that you were, at least for the moment, not upset with him.

“I was trying to be friendly,” Frederick explained, his voice sounding as much like a whining child justifying why he had tracked dirt into the house as it did like a man.

Your gentle fingers clenched tightly in his hair and tugged down on the back of his head with enough force to make him look up at you, eyes opening wide with surprise. You narrowed yours.

“You weren’t trying to get them to like you, you were trying to prove that you were superior to them. It’s what you always do,” you growled.

He stared back at you for a few beats, trying to decide whether to be offended, chastised, or turned on. With your fingers curled roughly in his hair, controlling his head with a firm grip, he knew you were not truly angry. You were slipping into character, playing a game at ‘punishing’ him, which he could stop in a word if he wanted to. But the evening would be more fun if he gave you more to punish him over.

“I did no such thing,” he huffed. “If your parents confuse intelligence and culture with condescension, that is hardly my fault!”

Your lips crashed down on his with a snarl, shutting him up as your tongue invaded his mouth to stop his from wagging. The kiss was bruising at first, an act of dominance, but his loud, muffled moans into your mouth and his soft, yielding lips coaxed you to slow down and enjoy it. Your grip in his hair grew softer again, turned into gentle caresses, and your kiss grew deeper and more passionate. Fuck if you didn’t love it when he was bratty. When you finally broke away, his face was flushed and there were stars in your eyes. You slowly sucked the mingled saliva off your lower lip while you appraised him.

“You are a very rude boy, Frederick,” you said, a long, predatory smile slowly slanting over your lips. “Aren’t you?”

He swallowed, obediently staying seated but leaning forward with anticipation. “Yes.”

You threw a leg across his lap, straddling him, and pushed the center of his chest until he was lying flat on the bed. You followed him halfway down, caging him in with your arms and staring down at him with mock anger. His cock was already twitching under your thigh, and a wave of arousal washed over you, making it hard to keep up your performance. But you wanted to see him squirm.

“Rude boys need to learn their place.” You lowered your mouth to his, but stopped an inch before kissing him. He tried to tip his head to meet your lips, but you sat up, grinning with the feeling of power over him as he whimpered with disappointment. “Nope. You were a bad boy today, Frederick. You haven’t earned another kiss yet.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked, his voice already heavy with lust.

You thought about it, stroking your chin. “You always act like you’re so much better than everyone,” you observed, reaching between your legs to idly stroke his growing bulge through his pants. His hips jerked, pushing his cock into your palm. “What would your high-society friends think if they saw you with your ass in the air, begging for a lowly commoner to fuck you?”

His adam’s apple bobbed sharply. He liked the idea. He liked it a lot.

“I want you to strip for me,” you ordered in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Then I want you on all fours.”

Normally he wouldn’t have hesitated, so when you looked down and saw tension, not arousal, in his eyes, you were concerned.

“Will your parents hear us?” he asked, a blush creeping up the sides of his neck. “I was hoping to walk away with at least a neutral review from your family, and I assume being overheard in the throes of passion will not result in favorable points.”

You smirked devilishly. “Then you’d better be quiet.”

***

After a few minutes for each of you to shower and prepare, you had Frederick just as you’d asked. Naked and on his knees. “That’s my good little slut,” you praised, running your hand over his ass and giving it a light smack—not enough to make much noise, but the light contact was enough to make Frederick whimper softly with need. “Such a beautiful ass.”

“Touch me more,” he breathed.

“Good boy, telling me what you want, but you have to be more specific. Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Anywhere,” he whispered with such honesty it was heartbreaking. He really didn’t care, so long as you were touching him. It made you want to forget everything else, hold him as tight as you could, and never let him go… but this was punishment.

“I see,” you tutted. “First you’re rude and arrogant, and now you can’t make up your mind.” You let your hand trail off, and he whimpered louder the moment you broke contact. You stalked a circle around the bed, taking your time to just enjoy the sight. It was only a double size bed, so unlike the monstrosity Frederick owned, you could easily prowl around the entire thing as you appraised his form like he was displayed on a pedestal. “You really are handsome,” you purred, eyes gliding over his broad shoulders and muscular arms, bulging with thick veins bulging all the way down to the backs of his hands. He wasn’t especially tall and seemed so bookish in his suits, but those biceps could crack your head like a walnut, and you’d let him. But he glanced up and met your eyes with a pathetic, questioning look that told you he didn’t really believe you. You could tell him over and over again how perfect he was, but for someone with such a big ego, he was remarkably insecure. Then again, maybe the two went hand in hand.

You finished your circuit and finally stepped up to the edge of the bed behind him, welcomed by the sight of his shapely ass with his tight hole eagerly waiting for you, his weighty balls hanging below, cock already standing in rigid defiance of gravity.

“Now that’s a pretty picture,” you let out a throaty growl of appreciation, and couldn’t resist running your hands down the rounded curve of his ass cheeks. “I can’t wait to fuck this perfect ass,” you moaned.

He breathed deeply, shuddering as you climbed onto the bed behind him, the front of your thighs pressed against the back of his. “Thank you. Thank you,” he whispered as your hands roamed over his back and sides. You dipped one down his soft stomach, smoothing over the raised scar and fine hairs that grew coarser beneath his belly button until you found his cock. It was already rock hard. You took its velvety skin in your hand and gave a few lazy strokes just to hear him choking on his breath, to feel his body tense and go slack at the same time. You brought your fingers to your mouth and tasted his salty precum, closing your eyes as it sent blood surging between your thighs. You licked each finger with a loud wet noise, and hummed as you savored it to be sure he knew what you were doing. When his hips shifted, trying to grind against you, and he whimpered a lusty, “Please,” you knew it had worked.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” you asked, voice thick with arousal.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, shifting back to grind his hips against yours.

“Say it then, Doctor Chilton. I want you to tell me what you want me to do. Tell me what will make you feel good. I want to hear you beg for it, remember?”

“Please?” he whined more desperately. You didn’t give an inch.

“Please what?”

He groaned miserably, and didn’t answer. As strong as his need was, he hated being vulnerable enough to ask for what he wanted out loud, and it didn’t help that you had goaded him earlier about begging. Now he was going to deliberately be stubborn. But you were patient. Before the night was over, he would beg.

“You know,” you pondered aloud, spreading and kneading his thick cheeks, “if you have one thing to feel superior about, it’s this ass.” You gave it another light smack, and he jumped. “It’s so big, and I love—” you cut yourself off, ducking down and kissing the inside of his thigh. You kissed all the way down to his knee, and all the way up until you were moving his balls aside, gently toying with them in one hand so you could press your lips to the juncture of his leg and hip. His breathing was coming out harder, more erratic, but he was still managing to control his voice until you switched legs and gave a sharp nip to his thigh that made him yelp and clap a hand to his mouth. You teased and marked his thighs until they were shaking, then dragged your teeth up his buttocks and gave him a firm nip. Now you really got into it, moaning as you sucked on his flesh, leaving stinging red marks all over his pale ass cheeks. He groaned with pleasure, but stubbornly kept his hand over his mouth, denying you what you wanted—hearing him beg for more. It was a battle of wills he could only win for so long.

“Too bad,” you pouted, dragging your fingers slowly up the sensitive flesh between his balls and his ass. You licked a broad swathe along the same path, and his muffled whimpering and the writhing of his hips was like music, spurring you on. “I really want to finger that perfect ass of yours, but if you can’t tell me that’s what you want...” The tips of your fingers found his tight entrance and circled it slowly.

A long whine came from deep in the back of Frederick’s throat, and finally he panted out, “I… would like you to—please.”

“To what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He snarled with frustration, squeezing his eyes closed as he answered, “F-fingers!”

“That’s not a very polite way of asking, but it will do for now.” You poured lube over his ass and worked it in until everything was nicely slippery and circled his entrance again, teasing circles that slowly spiraled toward the center, finally pressing a fingertip inside him.

“More… please…” he whimpered. You complied, building up slowly, sinking one finger into him, then once he was babbling frustrated demands for more, stretching him open with two. Pumping your fingers, you curled them down toward his stomach to stroke that tender bundle of nerves that made him cry out with pleasure, toes curling, when you found it.

“Quiet now,” you warned, pressing a chaste kiss to one of the hickeys you’d left, “You don’t want anyone to hear.” The strangled sounds he made into the mattress as he struggled to keep quiet were almost enough to send you right over the edge. Even though you were focusing entirely on his pleasure, it was a turn-on for you, too. “You feel so good, taking me like this,” you cooed, your voice only cracking a little. “So tight.” Wet noises filled the room, and the huffing of his breath came harder. You reached between his legs and barely touched his burning hot cock when his will broke.

“Please—please fuck me,” he panted, ragged and hoarse like he would die if you didn’t. “I want you to fuck me. Oh, god, oh, god. Please!”

“What a good boy, begging so pretty for me.” You slowly removed your slick fingers from his core, and he looked back at you, eyes pleading for you to fill him again. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, almost stern, on the cusp of complete victory and he knew it, but was too lost to care anymore. The urgent flames of his arousal burned every muscle in his body, and he would say everything he knew you wanted to hear if it meant he could come.

“Please, please fuck my ass. I am sorry for being rude. I was bad. I know I am rotten and do not deserve you, but please, I am begging you to fuck me.”

An aching pang twisted your heart and took you out of the moment and any desire to torment him. You bent low, pressing your body over the length of Frederick’s back, grasped him by the chin, and twisted his face to lock eyes with you. “You deserve me, Frederick,” you said, voice steady and serious. “You are not bad. You are wonderful, and I love you. I wasn’t trying to… I wanted you to feel humble, not undeserving. You deserve to be loved. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and leaned all his weight onto one arm so he could draw your head down closer and kiss you, fervent and warm. It was a little quick and desperate, all wet tongues and sliding lips, but with a loving softness to it that melted you. “Please,” he urged, “if you make me repeat positive affirmations now before you will fuck me, I swear—” He glowered petulantly, though it was a thin performance. It didn’t escape your notice that he cut his sentence short, as there was no actual threat to fill in the blank of what he swore. He would patiently endure any torture you threw at him, and you both knew it.

You chuckled at his adorable defiance, kissed him lightly on the nose, then ruthlessly pushed his shoulders down into the mattress. He fell with a satisfied moan of anticipation. “Look at this,” you pronounced, as if you’d just walked in on the scandalous scene. “The great Doctor Chilton with his ass in the air, begging to be taken by some nobody. How shocking, simply shocking,” you teased, elongating each syllable the way Frederick did when he was being particularly snobby.

“Please, please fuck me,” he pleaded, voice pitifully small and helpless, half-smothered against the mattress, playing his part as if his depravity were on display to his peers.

Your voice dropped a quarter octave and took on a hungry edge. “I could never turn down such a desperate request from such an esteemed gentleman.”

Frederick had been waiting a long time, and moaned loudly as you finally pushed inside of him, not bothering or not aware enough to control his volume. The pace you set was deep and steady, not punishingly hard, but not languid and easy, either. Sliding in and out of his tightness, you gripped his hips, and angled yours to hit the sweet spot inside him. You knew the moment you’d found it—suddenly, he could barely contain his whimpering and moaning, babbling nonsense as he began to fall apart.

“You were trying to prove you were better than everyone today, weren’t you?” you leaned over him and hissed in his ear as you thrust.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice strained and panting, so close to his release. He was drooling onto the blanket.

“What have I told you about being humble?”

“To… try it?” he struggled to answer, voice jostling as you thrust into him harder, his hips rocking to push against your thrusts, deepening the penetration.

“That’s right. Because you’re not better than anyone else, are you?”

“…No,” the answer tore from his throat in a shameful gasp.

You sank your teeth into his shoulder, and he cried out with pain and pleasure. “You’re a dirty slut who likes to be dominated, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“And you’re perfect just as you are and don’t need to prove anything to anyone, aren’t you?”

“Ye—” he almost answered, but then his hips stuttered in their movement and stopped.

“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His hips began to move again as his confusion cleared, meeting yours as they crashed against his muscular ass.

“I think you’re perfect,” you smiled, feeling his muscles tense as his climax neared. “And you would never contradict me, would you?”

“Never.”

“Good.” You sat higher again to get a better angle on his prostate and took his dripping cock in your palm, stroking in time with your thrusts, overwhelming him with sensation. His whole body convulsed beneath you. He shoved a pillow into his mouth just in time to keep the entire house from hearing his lung-shattering wail, his back arching as he painted his seed over the pristine lavender blankets, coming so hard he nearly came on his own face. You slumped down over him, and he reached for your hand, his fingers laced with yours.

His back rose and fell with each panting breath as he slowly came down from the high, both of you exhausted and sweating and pleasantly sleepy. You rolled over into a more comfortable position to spoon him. The hairs on the back of his neck were soft and ticklish against your nose as you nuzzled him, pressing gentle kisses all along his neck and under his jaw, feeling his pulse surging hot beneath your lips. He groaned softly in the aftermath, melting in your arms. Longing to have more of you to hold onto, he flipped over so he was facing you, wrapping his powerful arms around you snugly, burying his face under your chin. His hair was a mess, partly stuck to his forehead with sweat with one giant cowlick on the side he had pressed against the mattress, and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through it to muss it up more. More happy noises came forth, and a few wet, sucking kisses clung to your throat.

“I love you,” he murmured, and the sound vibrated up your neck.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” you whispered back, wrapping a leg around him to pull him even closer, his spent erection pressing into you. You could feel the stickiness of his release smearing over your leg, but at this point, you were both going to need a shower anyway. “I love you.”

For several minutes you just lay there recovering, warm in each other’s embrace, softly whispering praises. Finally, he pulled back, an ocean of green eyes gazing back into yours with a question in them. He pondered it for a long while, and finally, instead of asking, declared, “Tomorrow, I shall correct my mistakes. I run an entire hospital of psychopaths; I can manage to make your parents like me.”

“Why are you so worried about what they think?”

“I do not care what they think. I worry about what they think and tell you. They… are important to you. If they disapprove, it may sway your feelings. Not right away, perhaps, but that familial bond will gnaw at you day by day, like a rat chewing through bone, until you share their negative opinion, and…” he shrugged, his eyes glassy, “…I will lose you.”

You caressed the side of his jaw and neck, thumb stroking his cheek, and peppered his face with kisses. Smoothing your palm down his shoulder, you pulled yourself close until your forehead knocked against his. “Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you, Frederick. Nothing. I love you. I don’t care what they think. It’s not like I’m just now discovering that you rub people the wrong way,” you chuckled. “That’s part of what makes me love you. You can be… officious. It takes time to get to know you. But I have never regretted a single minute of it. They’ll come around.”

His surrounding arms tightened around you possessively, quietly affirming that he understood.

Circling your hand idly over his back, still damp with sweat, you admitted something you hadn’t told him. “I was more nervous about what you would think of them,” you said, and he pulled back to pin you with a stare demanding an explanation. You squirmed under his gaze, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t want you realizing I’m complete born-and-bred trash.”

“I was already well aware of that, darling.”

A low growl stirred in your chest. “Still rude,” you snarled gleefully, rolling him onto his back, pinning his shoulders down, and biting his neck. He yelped and scrambled into a sitting position, taking you with him until you fell off his lap to the side.

“S-sorry!” you gasped, afraid you had bitten him too hard for him to balk so dramatically, when he was usually willing to play along with anything. A split second later, you realized it wasn’t pain on his face. His lips were curled as if he had stepped in something slimy. Or rather, rolled in it. Which he had.

“Eeuughh!” he shuddered.

“Since when are you so squeamish?” you asked with a sultry look to remind him of all the times he had licked himself off of your fingers.

“It was cold,” he shot back.

And kind of everywhere. He came a lot. And none of it had been intercepted by any orifices, so his full load was painted across the blanket like a Jackson Pollock.

You thanked your lucky stars that the guest bedroom had its own half bath stocked with washcloths, so you didn’t have to venture into the hall while sticky with sex. But after cleaning yourselves up and changing into sleepwear, you stared with dismay at the floral-patterned blanket you and Frederick had ruined.

“I do not accept responsibility for this,” Frederick said. “Having sex in your old bedroom was your idea—I cannot be held accountable for ruining your childhood memories.”

The speed at which Frederick shifted to weaseling out of blame overwhelmed your ability to keep a straight face—you smirked, snorted, and gave in completely to a belly-shaking laugh. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at you sideways.

“Frederick...” your shoulders bounced, “Does this look like a childhood bedroom? My parents moved after I graduated college.”

“Ah.” The tips of his ears turned red with embarrassment. You recalled how impersonal his own bedroom—and entire house—was, and your heart ached to think that he couldn’t even recognize that an ordinary childhood bedroom would be cluttered with forgotten toys and old posters. “That would explain the lack of baby pictures.”

“You can ask my parents to show you the photo albums,” you said offhandedly, and smiled at the way he perked up with genuine interest.

“I have been curious what species of gremlin you evolved from...” he smirked.

“My parents would love it if you let them show you the family albums. I will be mortified, but they’ll love you for it.”

“The key to their hearts, as it were?”

“You know, yeah. It might actually tip the scales. It might even make up for this,” you gestured at the blanket which the bodily fluid and lube stains were definitely never washing out of.

He sank down onto the edge of the bed and covered his face with his hands. “Fuck.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @da-po / @madamsnape921

[flamboyant-king]

Any plans to continue the Leon and Jorge story? I was following it like a soap opera 👀

Oh shit that was just a gag! (A very...articulate gag) But if you wanna know, I did have plans to continue because I was writing like all these scripts and junk for future ideas and thumbnailing more “fake screenshots.”

But here’s the rundown:

-After where we left off, Takumi and Jeorge make it into the Dining Hall. They sit nearby Leon and Niles and it kinda pisses Leon off. Takumi is exasperated and asks out loud how the heck can an S-support just happen like that. Kravice and the Askr Trio jump into action and Kravice and Sharena perform a little skit explaining S-supports can just suddenly happen in a moment of great stress and bonding.

-Leon and Jeorge just side eye each other while Niles gets up to go lose his shit somewhere else.

-The whole thing with Leon and Jeorge (and Niles of course) is to try and just get Leon to open up to them. They may not be the “perfect guys” but they’re still friends, aren’t they? Jeorge keeps using “dates” to get to know Leon better. And Leon keeps reminding himself to keep distant.

-There’s a side story, but just as important, with Titania and Camus getting in a fight over their A-support. Years of support, but still no S-support. Takumi loses it and tells them “Just Support Divorce Already! This is why Jeorge stays at the Aether Resort!”

-Then there was a gag story to break all the “tension” with Kravice running around to find who his 3 Summoner supports would be.

-Leon confesses that he would absolutely stop hanging out with the archer gang if Valbar were ever summoned. Niles is genuinely offended.

-Titania starts considering who to have her next support with...someone with a horse...maybe Frederick...

-Kravice runs up to Jeorge to offer him one of the Summoner support rings, but considering Jeorge hates Kravice, he declines without a word.

-Takumi is still distraught over Jeorge having an S-support just out of nowhere, when Oboro from a different Askr delivers a message for Kravice. She tells Takumi not to worry about S-supports, they can be romantic or they can just be a strong bond, or just something for taxes. (thanks sue-me-wright)

-Taxumi....

-Jeorge enters the WHAC clubroom with Leon slapping Niles across the face and running past him. Niles sits down and takes a drink and tells Jeorge everything that was said. Jeorge just sighs and says he’ll talk to Leon.

-Kravice is wracking his brain over who would be the ideal people to Summoner support for battle benefits. Telling Alfonse that, with the support, the boost will make it easier for Krav not to do anything. Alfonse just walks away without a word.

-Titania and Camus are called into battle with a team makeup of Horse Emblem, and what a coincidence, it’s Titania surrounded by all the cavalrymen she was eyeing.

-Takumi goes to the Aether Resort Inn’s Bar and talks with Astram. Astram tells him about Midia and how they never got an S-support. They don’t need a ring to tell them they’re in love. Astram then says that they still plan to get married, but the rings won’t have a stupid letter on it, but probably a diamond that he’s trying to gather money up for in Askr. He also tells Takumi about Jeorge absolutely being the best man at the wedding.

-Jeorge finds Leon on the hilltop where A-supports sometimes occur, but also where Niles likes vibe. Jeorge and Leon have a heart to heart about past relationships and the risks of taking risks. “Wouldn’t you rather know what it’s like to be with that person and have that momentary bliss than going on with nothing but what ifs?” Jeorge points out that Leon knew exactly where Niles likes to hang out, so he does care. The two sit there until Leon works up the energy to apologize to Niles (and fixes his makeup). Before they leave, Leon tells Jeorge his favorite food, his favorite book, and the exact shade of lipgloss he wears. Jeorge tells him his favorite fruit, his favorite place to relax, and his brand of shampoo.

-We cut into the midst of battle, after Titania rallies all men, they all gallop into the offense. Camus stays near Titania and it dawns on her that he’s only staying by her because the support rings still have the boosts. She tries avoiding him and he notices. They argue while fending off enemy forces. “You’re only by my side because it’s what benefits you!” Turning around to shout at Camus leaves Titania wide open and an enemy takes the opportunity to strike. Camus rushes behind her to intervene and confesses, “Titania! I’ve come to realize something! I am much stronger when I’m with you! Not just in battle, but as a person!” Titania looks at him shocked. She feels the ring on her finger get warm. She looks down at the ring and watches as the “A” burns away and is replaced with an “S.” She feels stronger, so this is what having an S-support feels like. Camus doesn’t see the ring under his fatass Mickey Mouse gloves, but he feels the energy in him grow stronger as Titania approaches his side. They feel in sync like the fire has been rekindled. Let’s get those orbs.

-After running away and avoiding all the “villains” trying to possess Kravice’s summoner support, Kravice hides in his little office where the Askr trio are waiting. “Find anyone yet?” Anna asks already knowing the answer. “All the possible contenders for the support all hate me. I guess I’m just unsupportive or something.” Kravice pouts and goes to his summong chair(tm). Alfonse just comes out and says, “The answer has been in front of you this whole time.” Kravice is quiet looking across at the three of them. When it dawns on him, he puts all three rings in his hands and smiles without a word.

-In the end, Jeorge and Leon cut off the S-support seeing as the don’t need outside forces to tighten their friendship. “I’ll get you to fall for me naturally.” “And the same to you.” Niles then slaps both of their asses (and suddenly the three of them have S-support rings lol). Takumi is relieved to see the “divorce,” but remembers just because an S-support doesn’t need romance, romance doesn’t need an S-support either. So Takumi is going to keep his eye on Leon. Camus and Titania “renewed their vows” and break the news to Jeorge and Takumi. The two archer lads sigh in relief. Jeorge tells Takumi that maybe now he’ll start staying at the ModFam estate more often now that the tension has died down. Kravice and the trio perform another skit describing Summoner supports and the “camera” will fade away when Alfonse can’t improv correctly and they all just laugh. So there you go!

[bisexualcrowley]

Breathe

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n turns to Frederick in the middle of a severe panic attack, and he guides her through it

Content/warnings: Panic attack, breathing troubles, unsafe driving, hurt/comfort, established relationship, end is hella fluffy

Word count: 1,584

Your eyes widened in horror at the sight before you, frozen in shock behind the window. You had headed up to the observatory on an anonymous tip sent to the FBI, saying that a figure had been seen carrying something suspicious into the building late at night. It was still dark when you arrived, and you used that to your advantage, parking a block away and sneaking in the shadows up to the building. Seeing a dull light through one of the smaller side windows, you stopped, silently loading your weapon and approaching the window. 

Working alongside Will on the ripper case had forced you to prepare for the worst, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight inside the observatory.

Your hand clamped over your mouth to stifle a scream, knees buckling under you as you watched the horror inside. Dr Hannibal Lector, someone you had considered a good friend, had the frozen body of your coworker Beverly Katz laid out on a table in front of him, slowly sawing her into pieces. Shaking, you pulled out your camera and snapped picture after picture of the horrific scene before the panic fully set in.

Your brain shot into overdrive, stumbling backwards in a frantic attempt to get away before he saw you, slipping on the icy ground as you sprinted back towards your car. You threw open the door, falling into the seat and slammed your foot down on the gas pedal, car shooting forward and away from the scene.

You drove frantically, heart racing and praying that Hannibal didn’t see you, car speeding down the highway.

A sob escaped your throat, hands white knuckling the steering wheel as you sped around a corner, finding yourself at your boyfriend Frederick’s house. A voice in the back of your mind was telling you you shouldn’t have come here, the two of you hadn’t been dating long enough and he shouldn’t be dragged into this, but the thought was drowned out, the buzzing of the saw cutting apart your friend replaying over and over in your mind, and you stumbled out of the car, heart pounding as you scrambled up the steps and slammed your fist against the door, over and over and over. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, banging on the wood until your hands were bleeding. Finally you heard footsteps from inside, rapidly approaching the door, and you had the sense to step backwards, seconds later to be met with a sleepy and confused Frederick.

He was dressed in gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt, covered by a loosely tied blue silk robe, something you at any other time would have found comforting in contrast to his usually so put together appearance, but tonight exacerbated your feelings of dread

His eyes widened in shock at the sight on his porch, ushering you into his house and locking the door behind you. 

“Sweetheart what happened? Come on, talk to me, are you ok?” 

Frederick’s voice was quiet, hoarse from sleep, but with an unmistakable note of concern, and that’s when you lost it, collapsing against a cabinet and sliding to the floor, hands pulling at your hair as shuddering sobs wracked your body.

Frederick was at your side immediately, murmuring soft words of comfort and untangling your fingers from your hair, not wanting you to hurt yourself.

“F- fre- fred it- h- hanib- ha- hannibal- h- he- b-bev- beverly-”

Your words came out in panicked gasps, rocking back and forth on the floor, hands pulling at your hair again.

“Shhhhh, shh shh shh, it’s ok sweetheart, don’t talk, you’re ok, everything's ok. Just breathe, you’re ok” Frederick’s voice was soft, even after you cried out and slapped him at his attempt to put an arm around your shoulders, him settling at a close but not smothering distance after.

You sobbed even harder, choking as your throat tightened, gasping for air while trying desperately to get the images of Beverly out of your mind.

Everything was coming in waves now, nausea mixing with the panic, pain, grief, it was overloading your brain, all there was was death, pain, murder, pain. Your chest tightened more, hyperventilating, desperately trying to draw air into your lungs, but the effort proving futile.

Your eyes widened in fear, fingers coming down to yank at your shirt’s collar in another useless attempt to free your airway, and Chilton swore under his breath, flying forward and helping to loosen your constricting clothing.

“Shit shit shit, deep breaths honey, we gotta calm down a bit, ok?” Frederick moved to your side once more, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead, wincing at how you trembled beneath him.

You tried desperately to calm yourself, but each attempt making it worse. Your gasps turned into wheezing, head lolling downwards as your lips began to turn blue

“Fucking shit, oh god, cm’mere sweetheart, i’m gonna get behind you, ok? I’m not gonna hurt you, i gotta help you”

Frederick scrambled to get behind you when you gave a frantic nod of agreement, chest heaving painfully as tears began to fall again, and sucking in a desperate breath as Chilton tucked a hand under your chin and tilted your head back, freeing your airway slightly

“Sweetheart i need you to focus on my breathing, ok? Keep your back to my chest, and try to match me when i take a breath, alright? ”

His left hand came to rest just below your right shoulder, holding you securely against him as he took slow, deliberate breaths, chest rising and falling underneath you.

Your arm flew back behind you, fingers finding their way into your boyfriend’s hair, tangling there as you shook, breathing slowing slightly.

“Good job, oh you’re doing so well darling, come on, you can do it, keep breathing with me, deep breaths, there we go” Frederick praised, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

Slowly but surely, your breathing slowed, body untensing until finally each breath you took was taken with Frederick, who sighed in relief and released his hold on your neck, allowing your head to fall backwards to rest against the crook of his neck, your hand dropping from his hair down to rest on his wrist, thumb stroking his hand.

Finally trusting yourself to talk, you opened your mouth to speak, voice coming out a hoarse whisper.

“Freddy i... i saw the ripper. it’s Hannibal Freddy, he got bev... he killed Beverly, Freddy, and i couldn’t do anything, i took pictures but i couldn’t stop him, i-”

Frederick shushed you, wiping the newly fallen tears from your cheeks and shrugging his robe off, pulling it around to tuck the fabric over your shoulders, arms slinging around you to pull you into a hug.

“It’s ok darling... Nothing that happened is your fault, you did so well, going there, taking the pictures... You’re safe with me, y/n, everything’s gonna be ok” Freddy hummed against your ear, arms tightening around your waist. 

“Come on, lets get you cleaned up, ok?” You nodded, sniffling quietly before shakily getting to your feet, Chilton guiding you with gentle movements.

“You’re alright darling, go take a shower while i call Jack, i’ll send him the photos you took and then we can get your hands cleaned up” 

You had forgotten about the damage you had done while at Freddy's door, looking down sheepishly at your bloodied knuckles, but did as he said, taking a hot shower and emerging to find a pair of your boyfriend’s pajamas waiting on the counter for you to put on, and a steaming mug of your favorite tea in the living room, along with Frederick throwing bits of paper into the fireplace from across the room.

He smiled at the sight of you, and you managed a small smile back, taking the mug and tucking yourself into his arms on the couch he was seated on. Neither of you said anything for a while, as if speaking of what had happened would turn it from a hallucination to reality.

“What did jack say?”

You broke the silence with your question, thankful that the tea had soothed your voice enough that the rough edge it had before was almost gone.

Frederick leaned forward to pull a blanket over your entangled bodies, tucking it up around your shoulders and kissing your cheek when you snuggled further into him.

“He said the photos and crime scene were enough for a warrant for Hannibal's arrest. They took him into custody 20 minutes ago, and he says they never would have suspected Hannibal, he would have kept killing if it wasn’t for you”

You nodded, unable to find the right words for the situation, and settled on brushing your lips against Frederick’s and curling up on his lap again.

He smiled down at you, fingers combing through your hair, to which you let out an appreciative hum. 

“Thank you Freddy” You mumbled against his chest, eyelids growing heavy. “for everything”

“Shhhh. Sleep now, darling, it’s been a long night” he whispered, continuing to stroke your hair, eyes glowing with affection at the sight of the sleepy smile you wore on your face, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you, Freddy” 

Your words were barely audible, exhaustion clouding your voice and words muffled by the blanket, but Frederick heard it, and his heart skipped a beat, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“I love you too, Y/n”

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 36 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: So I hate to announce it, but the end of Alone, Together is coming.  I’ve planned out 40 chapters to the story, which means it will be ending soon.  Please do not fear – I have planned at least four one-shots for the future, and still might do blurbs of scenes you guys requested I write about since they weren’t included in chapters.  Canon questions are ALWAYS welcome, even when I’m finished writing.  It has been such a wild journey and I cannot wait for you guys to see what is in store for Morgan and Bee in the last chapters and in the future!

“How beautiful is this?!” Bee exclaimed to nobody in particular as she stood atop the first step that descended down on the Capilano Suspension Bridge.  She knew what it looked like because she had Googled it before, so she knew exactly what to expect.  But researching something online and seeing what it looked like was completely different than seeing it in person, and Bee was…flabbergasted.  Overwhelmed.  The beauty that surrounded her on this gorgeous sunny day was unparalleled.  Everything she experienced on the West Coast just kept getting better and better.  The roar of the river flowing beneath the bridge, and the trees – there were so many beautiful trees surrounding the canyon – she just couldn’t get enough.  It was like something out of a fairytale or book; an unpublished Tolkien novel about paradise.  

“Isn’t it, though?” Shirley smiled from ear to ear, seeing Bee’s enthusiasm and excitement about the bridge and the scenery.  “Wait till we actually get on the bridge.  You feel like you’re a bird walking up here!”

“I feel like in a past life I must have been a woodland creature,” Bee said.  “Everything about this is so beautiful.  And I feel so…I don’t know, calm.  Excited, but calm.”

“That’s what a temperate west coast rainforest will do to you,” Andy piped up from behind them, causing them to laugh.  “Ready?”

Bee took one last look upwards, taking in all the trees and foliage, before setting her sights on the bridge in front of her.  She wasn’t too scared of heights, per se, but the logistics of the suspension bridge freaked her out a little bit, and, well, it was a long drop down, regardless of how beautiful everything else was around her.  She hesitated for a moment, mentally preparing herself to take the first steps down, when she felt Morgan’s hands grab at her waist quickly before sliding them over to grab her hand.  He squeezed it gently and appeared at her side.  

“You can do this,” he said gently, nodding his head.  “You want me to go first?”

Bee shook her head.  “Just…let’s go together.”

“Okay.  Let’s go together.”

They both took another step down.  And another.  And another.  Then, slowly, slowly, walking along the bridge.  Bee kept her eyes on her feet the entire time.  She could see the black of her shoes and the brown of the bridge.  She didn’t know how far she’d gone – if she’s gone far at all – and assumed Andy and Shirley had probably already made their way to the other side by now.  

“Look up, Bumblebee,” she heard Morgan’s soft voice.  

When she did, she was greeted with the vast openness of the bridge, the crisp air, the lush greens of the trees, and the rushing blue water of the river beneath them.  A smile crept its way onto her face, slowly, as she took in the sights before her.  “Wow…” she whispered to herself in amazement, trying to internalize the moment.  She looked beside her, to Morgan, already smiling at her.  “Wow.”

“Wow indeed.  You ready to keep going?”

Bee nodded her head.  In the distance, she saw Andy flailing his arms about, trying to get their attention.  Shirley, in front of him, was holding her phone up to take a picture.  “I think your parents might have other plans,” she nodded her head towards them.

Morgan didn’t hesitate.  He wrapped his arms around her body, turning their bodies towards his parents, and rested his chin on the top of her head.  Shirley gave big thumbs up.  Bee was smiling from ear to ear.

***

Bee had never been on such a long bike ride in her life.  She’d taken her fair share of bike rides around Toronto – usually up in the suburbs, in the neighbourhood where Rocco and Clarette lived, since biking on major streets downtown scared the living shit out of her – but this was different.  When she had agreed to go on a bike ride with Morgan in Stanley Park, the famous expansive park in downtown Vancouver, she thought it would be a short ride.  Morgan clearly had other things in mind.  They started their journey at the Stanley Park Lawn Bowling Club, riding along the perimeter of the park before stopping halfway to take pictures near the Lions Gate Bridge.  They then mounted their bikes again, following the paths that went directly through the middle of the park, amongst the hundred year old trees, until they finally reached the Vancouver Seawall, yet another scenic destination, overlooking the Vancouver Harbour and all the tall, glass condo buildings in the West End and Gastown.

It was only then that they truly descended off their bikes – taking photos together, getting strangers to take pictures of them – before they brought their bikes underneath a tree, leaned them against the wide trunk, and laid down on the grass.  “My thighs feel like they’re on fire,” Bee mumbled as she plopped down onto the grass, spreading out her limbs for dramatic effect.  

She heard Morgan chuckle slightly.  “Maybe I can help with that,” he hummed, his hand immediately going to her thigh.

She slapped it away instantly.  “We are in a public God damn park, Morgan Frederick Rielly.  Put your hand away.”

He snorted.  “I was just gonna massage.”

“Sure.”  

“Stop making fun of my primal urges.”

“It’s called public indecency and they will arrest us in this park.”

“They might arrest you for being so hot you’d start a forest fire.”

Bee did the most dramatic eye roll in the history of eye rolls before scoffing at the comment.  Morgan could only laugh at the disgusted face she was making.  “Oh my fucking God, Morgan.  You are literally the absolute worst, you know that?  Like, I’m not even joking.  The worst.”

“You love me.”

“You’re lucky I do or else a comment like that would warrant a 72 hour sex ban for being literally the corniest thing to come out of anyone’s mouth in the history of humanity.”

Morgan pretended to scoff back at her.  “You’re mean when you’re tired!”

“You’re so hot you’d start a forest fire,” she mimicked his deep voice.  “The literal worst,” she laid back down flat on the grass.

“Get over here,” he grumbled playfully, rolling over so he was on his side, propping himself on his elbow as he draped his arm over her.  He leaned his head down slightly to kiss her, and for all her teasing, her dramatic eyerolls and her scoffing at his corny comments, she kissed him back readily.  “I love you,” he mumbled into her lips.

“I love you too.”

He kissed her again.  “Did you enjoy the bike ride?”

She nodded her head.  “This place is beautiful.  You always take me to the coolest and most beautiful places and it makes me never want to leave.  I’m tired and I’m red as a tomato but I could have stayed biking on that path forever.”

“I just want you to see how beautiful it is out here,” he said.  

“Can we build a house along the path we just went on?  Right in the middle of the trees?”

Morgan chuckled slightly as he dipped down, resting his head on her chest.  “You just tell me where, baby, and I’ll build it.”

***

“Morgan.”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

They were on a boat in the middle of the Georgia Strait, watching the sunset again before making their way over to Gibsons to spend the day there.  Both were both already fully clothed, at Morgan’s insistence so they could start the day early – Bee in a sundress and him in his usual slacks and t-shirt – and he had taken it upon himself to cuddle with her again under a blanket as they watched the sunrise from the boat.  Just like last time, except Maggie had to stay home since she probably couldn’t handle an entire day out and about in Gibsons.  The boat ride was going to be tranquil, too.  Just like last time.

Morgan, apparently, had ulterior motives.  

Bee’s breath had hitched in her throat when she first felt Morgan’s hand slip and wiggle its way between her thighs.  His hand stayed dormant for a while, almost as if he had just put it in between her thighs to warm it (the crisp morning air was a bit nippy), but slowly, slowly, his hand kept sliding up, and when he was finally close enough, he began moving her panties out of the way.  That’s when she spoke up.  “Really?  Now?”  

“Always.”

“But what if we get caught?”

“By who?  The people in the other boats?” he asked sarcastically.  It was 5:30am and they were the only boat out for miles.  

Bee’s breath hitched in her throat again as she felt one of his fingers gliding along her lips lightly.  Just as she had planned that little surprise when they were in Kelowna, he had been planning this, apparently.  He knew exactly what he was doing when he told her to get dressed that morning and had made the comment about the sundress being cute and ‘very appropriate’ for the coastal town of Gibsons.  “I seriously don’t know where you get all this energy from.  Not that I’m complaining, cause I’d ride your dick across the Pacific Ocean if I could.”

Morgan smirked.  “I told you that my New Year’s Resolution was to have more sex with you.  I’m not one to break a resolution.”

“You’ve broken your clean eating during the season resolution like, every week since you’ve made it.”

“That’s different.  This is sex with you,” he stressed, causing her to laugh lightly. 

The only problem with Morgan’s surprise was that he wanted to take it slow.  Like, painstakingly slow.  Glacial pace slow.  Geologic time slow.  He teased the lips of her pussy much longer than Bee would have liked, and inserted only one finger after what felt like half an hour.  To make matters worse, he was talking to her and holding a conversation as if he wasn’t fingering her on the Goddamn boat, forcing her to participate instead of relishing in the feeling.  Her mind kept going back and forth – from talking about what book he should read next to the tingle making its way up her spine as he curled his finger in her slowly.  He was teasing her, putting her through psychological warfare, and he knew it, and it was all part of his plan.

She hated him.  But fuck, she loved it.

Another finger slipped in after a while.  As was standard, she found it harder and harder to concentrate on whatever words were coming out of Morgan’s mouth as his fingers moved lazily inside of her – she tried to keep the conversation, she really did, but with each movement and each further tease of his thumb near her clit, she was getting more and more sensitive.  Her body was already flush with heat.  “Morgan.”

“Yeah baby?”

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

“Why?” he asked with fake innocence, at the same time curling his fingers in her, causing her to squeeze her thighs together.

“Really?” she demanded.

“You want me to stop?”

She glared at him.  “If you stop I’m throwing you overboard.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, a third finger now slipping in so painstakingly slow she gave throwing him overboard a serious thought.  She squirmed slightly, trying to maintain her position but knowing it could change at any moment.  He began placing butterfly kisses on her shoulder, moving up to her neck.  She closed her eyes.  “Feels good?” he asked.

She could only nod her head as she let out a sigh, finally concentrating on the feeling of his three fingers inside of her.  If he was done playing his games, she was done playing them too.  “Your fingers always feel good inside me,” she whispered.

“You remember when we were doing this before Auston’s New Year’s Eve party?” he asked.  She nodded her head again, a smile creeping its way onto her face.  “I could have stayed home that entire night and fucked you senseless if you had let me.”

“I was a bit more naïve back then,” she joked.  “I wanted to make a good impression on your friends.  I thought if we didn’t show up Auston would hate me.”

“Auston could never hate you.”

“At least we got to see him make out with a cupcake.”

Morgan snorted, his nose and lips grazing the skin of her neck as he chuckled.  “Does he know you have that video?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way,” he giggled, biting down on her skin gently.  “And you remember Valentine’s Day?”

Did she remember Valentine’s Day?  What kind of question was that?  The question should have been ‘Do you remember the time I fucked you senseless with my hand four fingers deep in your pussy?’  She found herself nodding her head again as he curled his fingers, causing her to squirm.  “How could I forget?” she asked, an obvious strain in her voice.  

“If I remember correctly, I’m one finger short of how I was fucking you that night,” Morgan said, his voice low.  His thumb finally, finally attached itself to her clit, lazily rubbing circles.  Bee bit down on her lip.  She couldn’t help but try to move her hips so he could go deeper.  “Fuck Bee, you’re desperate aren’t you?”

“You fucking know I’m desperate,” she whispered harshly.  “I’m so fucking hot and so fucking wet and I’m ready to fucking explode, Morgan.”

“Guess I better go slower, then.  Tease you a little more,” he whispered in her ear, removing his thumb from her clit.

“Morgan Frederick Rielly, your fingers have been in my pussy for more than a fucking hour.  If you take any longer I will not be held legally responsible for what I will do to you.”

Morgan chuckled.  A low, hearty chuckle as he bit down on the skin of her neck again.  She wondered if he was leaving marks.  “All you have to do is say the magic words, baby,” his voice was so achingly sweet.

“I want to cum, Morgan.”

“Those aren’t the magic words,” his thumb grazed her clit teasingly.

She took a deep breath.  He was really going to make her do this on a fucking boat in the middle of the Strait of Georgia at 6:45 in the morning.  “I want to cum, Mr. Rielly.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, his thumb finally beginning to rub circles again, all three of his fingers curling inside of her, causing her to squirm.  He continued his movements at a steady pace – nothing too fast or slow – and could feel her wetness building and her body getting more and more heated.  

Morgan saw the moment she closed her eyes, unable to take it anymore.  They were both silent as her orgasm tore through her entire body, powerful and long, leaving her body shaking and squirming for a while.  Morgan didn’t stop – really, did he ever? – until her hand reached in between her thighs to grab his.  His fingers left her pussy, and she watched through hooded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and sucked on them, tasting her juices.  

“Are you hard?” she asked quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Let me sit on your cock, Morgan.”

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants quickly, shoving them half way down his legs as he saw Bee stand and bunch up the skirt of her dress around her hips.  She moved to stand in between his knees, facing away from him as she lowered herself onto his lap.  He moved her panties with one hand and grabbed his cock with the other, guiding it into her, and she began bouncing up and down in no time, her hands leaving her dress and squeezing onto his thighs, her nails digging into his skin.  

For all his teasing of her, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this.  Bee bouncing on his cock was probably his favourite view – never mind that beyond her was one of the most beautiful sunrises, with some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.  He could watch his cock disappear into her pussy all day.

“You’re lucky I’m not as big a tease as you are,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look back at him.  

“I don’t know about that,” he grunted, his hands going underneath the fabric of her dress to grab her ass.  “You existing is a tease to me.”

“Cheeky.”

“I see something else that’s cheeky.”

She smacked his thigh playfully.  “I love you, Morgan.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Are you close?”

He nodded his head.  “I want you to cum again too, baby.  With me.”

She nodded her head, turning back around.  After a few more minutes, he felt her walls clench around his cock again, and she cried out his name.  He steadied her bouncing as he came inside of her, never ever getting tired of the feeling of filling her up.  She leaned back into his chest, his cock slipping out of her as he wrapped his arm around her.  They were both breathing heavily as they came down from their highs, Morgan peppering Bee’s shoulder and neck with light kisses.

“I love you,” Bee repeated her earlier sentiments.  “So damn much.  You have no idea.”

“I love you too, Bumblebee.  More than anything.”

***

“Out of all the amazing restaurants downtown…I have to say, the backyard of the Rielly house is my favourite place to eat,” Bee said, leaning back in her chair as she swallowed the last bit of perfectly grilled filet mignon.  She turned her head to look at Morgan sitting beside her, smiling.  “That filet was great.”

“I thought it was a bit salty,” Connor joked, garnering a sneer from Morgan and a laugh from Bee.  “Whoever seasoned the vegetables did a much better job.”

“You’re just saying that so mom will slice you a bigger piece of cheesecake,” Morgan snarled.  “Don’t fall for it, mum.  That steak was grilled perfectly medium rare.”

“Oh alright you two,” Shirley waved off her quarrelling boys.  “You’re both getting a big fat slice of cheesecake.  No need to butter me up about it.”

“Reminds me of the time you boys were fighting over who was giving the homeless people at the shelter bigger portions of turkey for Thanksgiving,” Andy quipped.  “Everything was always a competition with you two when you were younger.  How old were you boys?”

“I was twelve,” Morgan remembered.  “It was two years before I left for Notre Dame.”

“Yeah, I was in my first year of high school,” Connor nodded his head before focusing his attention back on his brother.  “Have the Leafs kept doing that Covenant House volunteering for the holidays?”

“Every year,” Morgan nodded his head.  

“Have you joined in?” Andy asked.

“Of course.”

“I’d like to get in on that next time…if I can,” Bee piped up.  “I used to be on the receiving end of that sort of stuff.  It’d be nice to give back.”

Morgan gave her a look.  He wasn’t exactly shocked that she’d want to do volunteer work – this was Bee, after all – but to him, her tone sounded like she had been waiting to say this for a very long time.  “Really?”

Bee looked at Morgan as if it was the most obvious choice in the world.  “It’s been almost a year now.  I think it’s about time.”

“You must have discussed it with some of the other girls, then,” Shirley offered.

“I’ve actually discussed this with Aryne Tavares,” Bee said.  “We’ve talked about it a lot, actually.  She did a lot of charity work down in Long Island and she’s been continuing it in Toronto, and I think it’s time for me to start too.  I’m actually going with her to Sick Kids when we get back to Toronto, but I’m thinking there’s other stuff I can do, too.”

Morgan should have known she had already started this discussion with Aryne.  “That’s great news, Bee,” Shirley smiled.  “What were you thinking?”

“Well the Leafs have always had a relationship with Sick Kids Hospital – I know Morgan goes there a lot too, has been there a lot, so that’s one,” she began.  “Since we got Brucey from the Humane Society I thought of maybe doing something with them…like, promoting adoption drives and stuff like that.  Literacy programs too – going into elementary schools and promoting reading to kids,” she continued.  Morgan could tell her tone was getting more nervous the more she spoke.  “And…um, Aryne and I have been talking, and I think, uh, it’s really good, cause, well, it’s really important to me that, uh…I get involved in something like Alateen.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, everybody around the table digesting what Bee just revealed to them.  Morgan barely blinked.  Connor was nodding his head slowly.  Andy and Shirley looked like they were still listening intently – like they hadn’t processed the information yet.  It was only until Andy spoke up that Bee felt the weight lift off her shoulders.  “That’s very honourable of you, Briony.”

“I haven’t um, looked into it yet or anything.  It’s just a very basic idea,” Bee felt the need to explain herself.  “It’s just that, you know, I could have used a mentor growing up in that situation.  Somebody to sort of guide me through.  Not somebody to tell me that everything was going to be okay, because I knew things weren’t going to be okay, but at least somebody to speak to.  And I think of all the kids – all the teens – who are going through what I went through, and it just feels right to try to help them.  Nobody really…I didn’t know these resources existed growing up – mostly because I lied to my teachers, because I’m sure they would have told me – but I just think that I could…you know…provide some insight.  Some help.  However I can.”

She felt Morgan grab her hand underneath the table and squeeze it tightly.  Connor was nodding his head approvingly now, as were Andy and Shirley.  “That’s fantastic Bee.  You’d be great at that,” Shirley said.  “You have built such a successful life for yourself, and you can be a real role model for those kids.  They’ll be able to see someone who powered through, who survived, who got an education and is working and is making a success out of herself.”

“Yeah,” Bee nodded her head.  “Um, I know I’m gonna need to clear it.  I know it’s a very touchy subject for a lot of people and I don’t know if it’ll get approved or whatever, but it’s something I’d like to do.  If not now, in the future.  And if I can’t do it with the Lady Leafs, then maybe through Scotiabank.  Or on my own.  I don’t know.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Andy affirmed, swirling the remainder of his wine around in his glass.  “I think you were meant for something like that.”

***

Andy and Shirley didn’t have rules this time – however imposed or unimposed they were the first time around in January – so Bee and Morgan slept in the same bed, his bed, that night after dinner.  They were spooning – on their sides cradled into one another, Morgan’s arm draped over Bee and Bee’s legs curled into his – just enjoying each other’s warmth.  The sun had set long ago but the light from the moon illuminated the room slightly.

They were staring into each other’s eyes.  They had been since they lay down together.  Morgan initiated it and had barely stopped.  Bee could only indulge him.  

“You’re the strongest girl in the world, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and soft.  “After all you’ve been through, after all you’ve had to overcome, you’re still willing to talk about your experience.  I don’t know if I’d be able to do something like that.”

“It’s never something I’ve backed away from.  You know that,” she said in an equally soft voice.  “I told you from the get go.  I’m not ashamed.”

“I’m just scared,” he admitted.

“About what?”

“Any scrutiny you’ll get for talking about your past and what you’ve been able to overcome.  I’ve told you how harsh the media can be.  You’ve seen how harsh the media can be.  But it’s not even…it’s the DMs.  You know how nasty they can be and those girls can be fucking crazy.  We still haven’t solved the DM issue enough for me to be confident that you’re…you know, safe.”

Bee brought her hand up, cupping his face.  “Whatever scrutiny I’ll get will be from low-lives,” she began.  “Who would go after a girl for trying to help children with alcoholic parents or relatives?  You’d have to be a special kind of dumbass, to be quite honest.”

“I know, but--”

“Besides,” she interrupted him.  “I’m a big girl.  I can handle it.  This is going to do way more good than harm because I’m not ashamed of where I came from.  Even if I just help one person, Morgan, it’s worth it.  It’s worth it to me.”

[janiedean]

Hey Lavi, I never got around to reading Dante, but I studied Renaissance Florence and I saw someone in that long post mention that Dante seemed to have it in for Florence? Why is that, or was that a misreading? All I can recall of Florence’s flaws for the time were it’s reputation for gay guys and prostitutes (IIRC the German word for homosexual is derived from Florence :P)

ba… er, it’s not that he had it on florence, but like, people in that post (the not italian ones) have 100% Missed The Point, so I’ll go at it from the beginning. so, quote in question (I suppose):

he and his idol/mancrush, the famous poet Virgil, journey through Hell on behalf of his dead girlfriend and everyone who he didn’t like was there and suffered punishment for all eternity and then he blames three whole popes and the entire fucking city of Florence, Italy for the shitty state of the Church and over seven hundred years later it’s played a major influence in Western culture

now, never mind that ‘it’s played’ is dumb af because ITALIAN LANGUAGE WOULDN’T EXIST WITHOUT DANTE so it’s not played for shit, but like I’ll try to not touch all the other subjects regardless of how much my eyes are bleeding just reading this sentence.

the point is that he was permanently exiled from florence because of his political stances in which the church took part and that happened before the reinassance, which is like… long and complicate so I’m gonna make it very short and simplified sorry everyone but it’s not a thing you can dissect on tumblr properly. so, list:

florence at the end of the 13th century was a republic in the context of the rivalrly between guelfs and ghibellines, pls refer to that link for specific info but basically most of the politics in italy at that point where ‘there’s a bunch of separate small republics/states fighting each other and people tend to either stand with the pope [guelfs] or the emperor of the sacred roman empire [ghibellines]’, and in florence there had been a war in between the two factions that ended with the ghibellines being sent away from the city around 1289 if I’m not getting the year wrong, dante was a guelf and a nobleman and was directly involved in the city’s politics from then onwards until the aforementioned exile;

after then there was a further split in between the guelf faction ie one wanted the pope to be less involved and the other was more with sticking with him, and dante was in the first one;

now this is the point where I should tell you that the pope was boniface viii ie someone who has since then (and during that time) been wildly recognized as one of the worst people who ever had that job ever and whose papacy can be summed up in ‘trying to have both spiritual and temporal power in each single possible way in italy and outside it’ - pls read the entire article and get to the part where he had an entire feud with philip the ivth of france and ended with him getting slapped in the face in anagni -, and who dante saw as someone who had corrupted the catholic church and was fully not doing what his job entailed ie shepherding souls and not being an emperor;

tldr the white vs black guelfs feud ended up with the black guelfs winning and exiling the whites among which dante who therefore ended up exiled from his hometown for the entirety of his life later;

now the thing that those people don’t get is that to dante/people in his situation being involved in their hometown’s politics especially when being a public figure and so on was most of their life and they had an attachment to their city that was similar to what you’d have for your country since back in the day italy was barely a cultural unit and not a political one, like fighting for your city it wasn’t the same as fighting for your *hometown*, it was the same as your COUNTRY, which means that in his context being exiled from there meant leaving the country he was born in/that he loved/felt like he 100% belonged to and never come back, not just leaving one town and going to another. like, if someone told me I couldn’t ever go back to rome in my entire life but I could stay in naples I’d still be in the same country and as I’m italian first and everything else later I’d suffer but who cares, if someone said you have to leave italy and you can never come back I’d suffer a thousand times more because italy is my damned country and the place I was born in and in whose culture I partake/that I feel at home in, that was what it meant leaving florence to him;

now, his problem wasn’t with florence, his problem was with the people who threw him out and the system which allowed it and the catholic church which instead of worrying about religion worried about politics and mingling with them, which by the way is *exactly what the catholic church does here in italy to this day no more no less*, from then on nothing has changed, and he didn’t blame FLORENCE for the shitty state of the church as OP says, HE BLAMED THE CHURCH FOR THE SHITTY STATE OF FLORENCE AND THE ENTIRE COUNTRY, and guess what it’s been seven hundred years and counting and exactly nothing has changed, which means OP’s point even more dumb because dante saying that then and nothing having changed now should witness to the fact that he was only speaking sense;

like: dante had it in with corrupt popes who turned the church into a temporal power rather than stick with the spiritual because he thought that the temporal power didn’t belong to it, which is like… the principle of separation between state and church on which each single post-american revolution constitution has been founded on sure as hell he didn’t have it in for florence when he missed it for his entire life and wanted to go back more than anything and he couldn’t because he was exiled;

now, another thing that OP doesn’t get because lmao what is context: to catholics, the pope is technically infallible. like, if you’re a catholic You Cannot Criticize The Pope, period, so the fact that dante alighieri, A Catholic In The Middle Ages, puts not just one pope in HELL but more than one in a book/poem that he wants to sell as a revolutionary work (which he wanted to do or he wouldn’t have had vergil walking him through hell) is like… a level of disruptive revolutionary literary BDE that these people can’t even conceive, because it implied saying that the head of the church was wrong and calling him out of it. which, again, for a catholic, is basically the highest BDE level in existence. and guess what, Dante Was A Catholic But Not A Bigoted One As Much As These People ThinK;

also, never mind that the people he put in hell were also people he LIKED and most of the sympathetic characters are there, but tumblr doesn’t know that he put in purgatory manfred, the not legitimate son of frederick the second, who was excommunicated by the church, which I should hope anyone can guess the meaning of - like, excommunication is The Worst Thing The Church Can Do When It Comes To Catholics -, and he still put him in a position where he could be redeemed because he repented on his deathbed (according to dante’s rendition anyway), which means that he said someone the church had expelled for good from its ranks could still be redeemed and eventually go to heaven, which was basically telling them fuck you. same BDE.

now, that is the entire point of THAT SPECIFIC THING RE FLORENCE, but I’d like to state that the way I put it is the 0,5% of the entire problem which I can’t possibly summarize because in that book he comments on the status of things in the entire goddamned nation even if it wasn’t a nation politically at that point while mixing it with his philosophy treatise and his own search to have his faith and political ideals coexist while also discussing courtly poetry and changing his language based on the needs while using the same poetric meter that he invented/came up with and no one else could manage to use again after because it was too complicated, and while he does that he gives you a summary of the entirety of greek mythology figures that he incorporated in his work, a summary of the status of things in discussions of medieval theology and philosophy and on top of that there’s some expressions which are now staples of the italian language like we use them commonly and 80% of the time ppl don’t even know he came up with them.

and that still is a badly put summary of 20% of the basic things you find in the divine comedy as a whole because there’s more than that and there’s a reason why here in high school you study it for three years one cantica per year and it’s not even enough to barely scratch the surface. and that’s why those posts give me a damn aneurysm, because if you say that ^^^^^ above is fanfic sorry but I see red.

also sorry for going off like this but you went and pointed out the one thing that irked me most about that OP but I also didn’t want to reply directly because this discussion has given me metaphorical ulcers in the past plus gave me three days of feeling really fucking down (I don’t wanna use trigger but it was the closest thing I came to that in my entire life) and I’m done engaging with people who wouldn’t want to listen but eh. XDDDDD anyway sorry for the rant I hope it was exhaustive. XD

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes. (1)

―; summary: Florence Abberline was a woman bound to get herself wrapped up in trouble. Trouble came with the name 'Jacob Frye'. 

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 3.4k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: i just think Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate is pretty neat. this is, if all goes to plan, a multi-part fic because i am obsessed at the moment (oops)!

i thought that i’d dabble in original characters for this and so forth came my lovely Florence. i do hope you all like her because she is indeed baby and i treasure her and her journey (that’s already mostly written out in my plans!)

do enjoy and please ignore any segments of terrible characterisation or inaccuracy; my writing hands are rusty.

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

― ❊ ― 

“Freddy! Fredd-- shit!”

Florence Abberline was something of an abnormality when you consider the temperament of your average middle-class lady. She lacked the charm in her spoken word than some of her neighbours and tended to be far too intrigued in tasks that didn’t befit a lady of near-twenty. Though, it was hard to dislike the mousy-haired woman, what with that sweet smile of hers. She was often caught bumbling about the streets of London, doing sleuthing of her own.

She had a penchant for finding dark information about suspected criminals. Time and time again, Florence had helped her brother in making an arrest on someone unsuspecting. This was solely because she was unfathomably lucky in that field. It also helped that, despite her assumed airy-ness, she has a superb sense of one’s character.

The glint in her eyes of honey brown told that she had found something of good enough interest to share. That, and the letter that she was waving wildly in the direction of Frederick.

He, and the two others he was speaking with, turned to look at her as she stumbled over to them, wiping the dirt of Whitechapel off of the knees of her dress. “I have a--” she inhaled deeply and made a ‘hoo’ noise as she breathed out, “I have a letter here that might be of interest. It fell out of--”

“Florence!”

She paused, her face like a startled hare and her body still locked in its dress-patting position.

His mouth was drawn into a tight line. Then, he sighed and held out his hand. “It is as though,” He took the note from her and she rolled her eyes to the side, knowing that she was going to get a telling off, “you never give a few seconds to consider and filter your words.” When she finally looked back to her brother, he was pointing a finger at her, “You’ll never find a man to court you with a foul mouth like that.”

“I shall not marry a man who cannot bear to hear me curse when I desire to.”

Frederick sighed deeply, poking his tongue into his cheek for a moment, before glancing behind her. He gestured to his sister with the hand that held the letter. “I apologise for my sister; she can be so… brash.”

Finally, Florence turned to examine those behind her. A man and a woman of equal height-- give or take a small bit-- with the kind of likeness that only befitted siblings. A strange sense of fashion with regards to the lady, she thought, though perhaps she was envious of her trousers; she certainly wouldn’t have tripped earlier if she had dressed like that. Gaze flickering between them both, she observed they both had a very similar twist to their smile and the look in their eyes told of amusement.

“Well, she’s not the most peculiar character we’ve met in London so far, so you needn’t worry, Mister Abberline.” The woman mentioned, to which her companion nodded almost too enthusiastically.

Florence, having had her fill of trying to assume things about them both, held a hand out for either to shake. “I apologise for my interruption. I’m Florence Abberline-- the sergeant's sister. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance…”

As she trailed off, there came a shake of her hand and the introduction of “Evie Frye”. She couldn’t help but notice how firm Evie’s calloused grip was; it was all but too obvious that the woman wasn’t your usual ‘lady’. “This is my brother, Jacob.”

“A pleasure.” He said with the kind of sly grin that already gave her the impression that Jacob was the more lively of the pair.

They were both fighters, there was no doubt about that. Both grips were strong and, while shaking Jacob’s hand, her eyes had grazed over that strange gauntlet they both seemed to wear. Evie seemed more fluid-- gazelle-like-- even in the way she stood and balanced her weight from foot to foot. Jacob, however, was the opposite and appeared to be very content with making himself out to be a brick wall of a man. Ever intrigued, Florence began a bank of questions she would ask another time.

With introductions out of the way, Florence turned back to her brother, an eyebrow raised, gesturing toward the letter. He narrowed his eyes as he read along the last few scrawlings of ink. Clicking his tongue, he passed it back over to her and she gave him an altogether confused and offended look. “What is it?”

“It’s interesting, Florrie--”

A little hum came from behind her, alongside a “‘Florrie’: how sweet”. She heard Evie mutter something and the sound of a slap on an arm, to which Jacob chuckled out an ‘ow!’.

“-- but we can’t just make an arrest based on a scrap of paper and nothing else. We’d need to do a house investigation and we don’t have the men for that-- especially not with all these bloody Blighters.”

“Freddy! You can’t leave a man to do things like that; he’s a people-snatcher! And, he’s sweet on me.” Florence threw her hands up into the air, the curls in her hair wobbling. The woman was certainly animated; the twins had already come to that conclusion. “What happens if I’m next to be snatched? How would you explain that to mother and father, hm?”

Freddy stared over her shoulder into the distance, bottom jaw protruding in annoyance.

“‘Sergeant Stolen-Sister’-- does that have a nice ring to it, Freddy?”

While Evie stifled her laugh behind them, Jacob unashamedly chortled at Frederick’s vacant expression.

Florence huffed. “Don’t blank me when I’m asking you perfectly valid questions, Frederick Abberline!”

“You’re being ridiculous. I’m in the middle of business and you--”

“Oh, you are insufferably boring sometimes.” She folded her arms below her chest. There were a few moments of quiet in which they could all see cogs rotating in her head, her weight rested on one leg while the other bounced up and down. Chewing on her bottom lip, Florence pointed into the air as if to punctuate her next point. “If you won’t do anything about it, perhaps I will.” Honey eyes locked with her brother’s dark ones. There was a challenge somewhere in her gaze-- a blazing mischievousness that made his posture slump. Before he could say anything to object, she turned to the twins, who were highly entertained by the entire ordeal. “Meet me in the market at 2 o’clock, if either of you are so inclined to help a lady who worries for the well-being of her fellow people.”

With that, Florence was off, deciding to continue on her endeavour of wiping the dirt from the pale yellow of her dress as she went. The three of them stared after her, Frederick looking particularly defeated. Evie appeared appropriately confused and her gaze flickered between the alleyway and Freddy, who likely didn’t have the answers she would’ve liked. Jacob, however, seemed fairly amused; his lips had curled into the kind of smile that would’ve allowed a laugh had he not also been taken aback by the young woman’s nature.

He pointed in the direction that she had left and Evie gave him a side-eye. “I like her.” He grinned, earning him a deep sigh from his sister, though Evie’s own lips twitched upwards.

Florence Abberline could easily be described as a hurricane of personality.

As Freddy turned back to them, he was pinching the bridge of his nose and overall had the disposition of a man who had dealt with her for far too long. “Just…” He showed them his palm like he was warding away an incessant house cat, “... ignore my sister--”

“That’s what I tell most people too.”

Smack.

“Shut up, Jacob.”

“-- and do not indulge in her fantasies of adventure; she’ll only end up hurting herself.”

Jacob dipped his head to one side, clearly about to object, but Evie placed a firm grip on his arm and gave Frederick a reassuring smile, though her eyes screamed irritation at her brother. “Don’t worry, Mister Abberline. We--” a rather harsh glare was thrown at Jacob, “-- will not be seen at the market this afternoon. Besides, what with the work you’ve given us, among other things, we should be too busy. Isn’t that right, Jacob?”

A snide grin graced the younger’s expression. “Of course, dear sister.”

“Good.” Freddy said, nodding to himself somewhat.

Florence had been known to worry her brother to no end since moving to London. It wasn’t that she was a terrible sister, per se, it was just that she had such an overwhelming desire for her life to be… seen that it likely pained her not to be in the centre of some kind of attention or scheme. She would make a pleasant actress, he’d always thought, but Florence seemed insistent on real-life experience over anything in the theatre. Oh, how he rued.

“Well,” Jacob began, already taking a few steps away from their meeting place, “if we’re all done here I do believe I have one Homer Dalton to bring to you, Freddy--”

Frederick grimaced. “Sergeant--”

Jacob, unfazed his attempt at correction, was still walking away from the scene, a devilish smile playing at his features. “-- and, Evie, perhaps I’ll bring some fresh fruit from the market back to Greenie’s shop for us all to share later.”

If Evie could’ve rolled her eyes any harder, they would’ve popped out of their sockets. “Jacob, no--”

“I hear the pears are exquisitely tasty this time of year.” He was moving further still and had almost turned a corner.

“Jacob--”

“Don’t worry, Evie; I would never forget the red apples.” The rest of him disappeared, leaving them both with the terrible image of his grin.

They stood in silence for a few moments, both staring into the air like they wished they could evaporate into it.

Evie exhaled deeply. “I’m so sorry. My brother is such a--”

“I understand.” Freddy gave her a tired smile and brief raise of his eyebrows before toddling off down the alleyway, holding up the skirt of his dress.

Hoping that this had been a strange dream, Evie shook her head.

Much to her displeasure, nothing changed.

Perhaps she should’ve stayed in Crawley.

---

In the afternoon, the marketplace was quite the attraction. Most saw it as a place to not only collect the next few day’s groceries but also to have a good gossip. On a good day, Florence would accompany her household’s cook, a kindly older lady by the name of Lissie, to have a nice chat and treat herself to a gift or two. If Frederick was lucky, perhaps he would get a trinket when she returned home but it depended on if she deemed he had been a nice enough brother that day or not.

Today was not one of those days.

Having changed into a cooler, green dress for the afternoon-- free of marks of her clumsiness, Florence would’ve been quite content to stand near the woodworker’s stall for a good portion of the rest of the day. She’s always had an appreciation of the little wooden figurines he sold. They framed the mantlepiece in the lounge of her home and she was contemplating on filling a shelf in her bedroom with them too. The little bird sculpture she held was sweet enough. If she’d learnt anything from the nature encyclopaedias she read as a child, she believed it to be a sparrow: a bird that she found to be quite positively adorable.

A hand came to her shoulder and she tensed, juggling the figurine to keep it in her grasp. As she went to turn, a body slid in place beside hers at the stall and a familiar voice said: “It looks a bit like you.”

Her lips tugging upwards, she allowed her gaze to flicker towards Jacob, who was perusing through the other trinkets sold by the woodworker. Studying the profile of his face, she raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I have a beak, Mister Frye?”

Though he wasn’t facing her, Florence could see that he was smiling. “Of course not, Miss Abberline.” His gaze finally met hers and he held his hand out. She placed the bird in his palm and he began to examine it. “I just think it has… pretty eyes.” Jacob had a certain glint in his eyes, as though he wanted to get some kind of rise out of her.

The young lady rolled her eyes and shook her head, though the exhale she gave sounded like a laugh, which satisfied Jacob enough. “While I am glad you trust me enough already to express your, perhaps intimate, liking for avian creatures, Mister Frye,” She began, to which he grimaced and she let out a pleased little laugh, “the man I-- we-- plan on arresting this afternoon is just over there and-- pass me back the bird--” He did so, “-- is glaring at our conversation.” Halfway through her speech, Florence had adopted a rather charming smile, looking through the stalls at a rather large man, though the way he carried himself told of a lack of confidence.

Jacob followed her gaze and, at the same time, Florence went back to looking over the trinkets on display. As soon as the man moved his sight from her and onto Jacob, he seemed a great deal more aggressive. It was an unfruitful effort to scare him away.

Jacob’s smile only seemed to infuriate him more and he went back to moving sacks of goods about to avoid the unwavering stare of the assassin. “What’s his name?” Jacob asked.

“Peter Fullmore.” She mentioned, placing the bird back down onto the stall. Jacob glanced at it, then her. “He’s the eldest son of the local butcher and his first wife recently passed—“

“— meaning he’s on the lookout for his next one.” He finished for her with enough intent in his voice that she knew that he was speaking of her.

Florence hummed uncomfortably. “Indeed. I’ve never truly been interested in him, what with his strange demeanour and grubby, grubby hands, but he appears enamoured with me.” They both stared at Peter for a few moments. During that time, the man managed to wipe his nose in a way that could make some ladies faint. Florence and Jacob shared an almost identical look of disgust, which she took as an opportunity to elaborate on her plan. “His liking for me might make it easy for me to… make my way to his home to hunt for evidence.”

Jacob pondered for not even a few seconds before he reeled back and gave her a look. “You plan on offering yourself to him?”

“Yes, Mister Frye, but I’m not going to… do anything!” Leaning closer to him, her voice lowered, “He’s a kidnapper! Do you really think I’m idiotic enough to fuck him?”

He raised his eyebrows and a smirk graced his expression. “I suppose not, Miss Abberline, what with your strong choice of words.”

“It’s commonplace for me; perhaps you should get used to it.”

“Implying that we’re going to spend more time together, are you?”

Florence grinned, the dimple making an appearance again. “If you’re lucky, Mister Frye. Now,” She gave him a tap on the shoulder, as to move him out of the way and walk around him, “I’ll whistle if I need your help inside the house. Try to keep a policeman nearby, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“So, I’m a bodyguard?” His brows knitted together, body shifting in her direction.

“Of sorts. You look like you climb,” she gestured to his hands, which he then looked at too. Jacob ran a thumb over his palm and fingers. He supposed, with a tilt of his head, that they were quite rough, “and I don’t intend for you to just waltz into his home with me; I don’t think dear Peter is that way inclined. So, you should stay to the rooftops with that lovely gun of yours,” Jacob narrowed his eyes, now realising that Florence was far more observant than she let on, “until something bad happens upon me. Oh, and don't worry; I’ll pay you for your troubles.”

“No need. I’ll do anything you ask to keep the law in check.”

Florence looked unconvinced. “I feel as though you are simply saying that to appear more saintly.”

He smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Well,” Her face twisted in disappointment, glancing away from him, “that's no fun, is it? To think, Mister Frye, that I was going to be getting up to no good with you.” When her eyes met his again, there was a mischievous light within them and her lips tightened to suppress a smile. He shook his head and gave a quiet laugh.

He was going to have fun with her.

“Right,” Florence gave a sigh and Jacob nodded, “I’m off to work whatever magic I may have. I’ll see you in a bit, Mister Frye.”

“Stay safe, Florrie.”

Over her shoulder, she gave him a look sharp enough to stab him but the little smile she fought away made him break out into that terribly satisfied grin of his.

As soon as Peter heard the determined little clicks of her shoes, he shot upwards and gave her a dopey smile. She returned the gesture, her fingers dancing along the wood of his father’s stall. “How’s the day been, my dear?” Her voice took a rather enchanting tone and the way that her posture straightened— no doubt drawing attention to her figure— made it clear why she was well suited to become an actress.

“Oh— uh— good, I suppose. Pa has been…”

His voice trailed into the background of her thoughts-- not that that was a difficult task; poor Peter’s tone had never been particularly invigorating. Rather, as she nodded along to the conversation, honey eyes raked along him for any signs of his criminality. It was a difficult task, what with him helping his father, the butcher, often and Florence failed in finding anything. Though, the way he frequently glanced over her shoulder as though he was looking out for something was suspicious and his tendency to wring his hands together only made him look--

“Miss Abberline?”

She jolted and the absent look in her eyes drained away. To recover, she smiled and huffed out a carefully practiced laugh. “Sorry, dear. My mind has been all over the place lately.”

Peter gave her a concerned gaze, to which her lips curled in a rather feline way. “Don’t worry, Miss Abberline. I was… I was only asking what your plans are for the rest of the afternoon?”

Ah. Splendid.

“I’m entirely free for the day, Mister Fullmore. Why? Did you perhaps want to,” Florence’s voice lowered and she leant over the stall, closer to him, gaze dancing between his lips and his eyes, “occupy my evening?”

Peter coughed, blinking rapidly.

Florence straightened herself again and gave a saddened sigh, “Though, I would understand if not. You’re always so busy--”

“No!” His voice cracked and he looked surprised. If one looked closely enough, they would’ve seen her jaw clench in an attempt to stop from laughing. Florence could almost feel Jacob’s amused gaze watching them. “No, Miss Abberline; nothing would make me happier. I just--” Peter swallowed and his eyes flitted away from her for a few moments. “Meet me at the entrance of the market. I just have to finish up here then we can… be on our way to my home, perhaps?”

A smile that could rival the Devil himself graced her lips and she nodded. “That sounds lovely, my dear.”

With that, Florence made for the main street, a flame of utter delight flickering within her eyes. Adrenaline had already made its mark on her body: her hands shaking and blood rushing in her ears. So many underestimated the might of a charming lady. How foolish of them.

As she passed the fruit stall, she locked eyes with Jacob, who was rolling a red apple in his palm. He gave her a knowing grin, a sense of approval hidden beneath his gaze. Florence had to stop from giggling like a madwoman.

Oh, how devious she felt. It was delightful.

[inkstaineddove]

The von Katte Affair

Characters: Prussia

Summary: Gilbert stood besides Frederick, staring out into the courtyard of Kustrin. Neither of them wanted to be there. Neither of them wanted to see this. Neither of them should've seen this.

It was the first time either of them had wanted to die.

Potsdam, 1730 Two sets of black toed boots clipped through the halls of the plainly decorated palace. The shorter of the two men talked animatedly about the state of the military. The taller one nodded along, only half paying attention since he'd heard this speech yesterday. They were making their way towards the garden to watch one of the regiments run through its drills when a courtier stopped them. "Your majesty! Your majesty! I bring grave news from the border!" He skidded to a halt before the two men, almost crashing into the albino. Frederick William assessed the courtier with annoyance. "What is it? Out with it, I don't have all day."

"His royal highness, the crown prince, he's fled for England. He was seized on the border with France with another officer. I believe he goes by the name of von Katte." The king's jaw tightened. He turned around, facing away from everyone else. "What’s been done with them?" "They're being detained in Kustrin while awaiting your orders." He spun back around, hitting the courtier in the knees with his cane, forcing the young man to come crashing down onto the floor. "Are you a fucking idiot? What do you expect me to do? Two of my officers committing treason, one of them my own son? I want their heads and those of anyone else who acted alongside them!" He kicked the courtier until the man scrambled up. "Do you understand? I will not be made the laughing stock of Europe over this! My own fucking son...I want his head mounted on a pike and paraded through Berlin! Are my orders clear enough?" The courtier didn't answer. Instead, he ran back in the direction in which he came. Frederick William huffed. "I should've drowned that boy in the Rhine the day he was born. He's been nothing but a nuisance. Gilbert," He looked at the nation besides him. "Go to Kustrin. This was a slight against you as well. You're the only one I can rely on to make sure my will is carried out. Now get out of my sight." The king stalked off into the gardens, ready to yell at any soldier who was so much as a fraction of a step out of line. Gilbert sighed. The king had a point - the crown prince had been trouble for quite some time. He'd been moody and trying to eschew all his duties to play flute and read instead. Gilbert could understand that. He remembered when he was a young nation and enjoyed pissing off his father. Annoying Germania was his favorite past time if he wasn't pestering Hungary or Poland. This went beyond adolescent antagonism. The king was right, this was high treason and he'd make sure Frederick would understand that whether it was the last thing he did. --- "Don't play dumb with me, Fritz. You almost got into France. There were obviously more people who helped you out. I'm not an idiot." Gilbert made his way toward where Frederick was seated. He moved with the carelessness of a cat, acting uninterested in the whole interrogation. "I know I act like one, but I'm not. I'm more intelligent than you're giving me credit for. I know a lie when I hear one." "I was the only one who did anything. Katte followed only in an effort to stop me. He was trying to do the right thing and doesn't deserve the punishment you barbarians are giving him! I acted alone and got that far all on my own! See, Gilbert, I'm not nearly as incompetent as you and father would like to believe just because I don't get off from hunting dumb fucking animals and doing all that stupid military shit just to suck Austria's dick." Prussia turned around and pretended to be shocked. "Wow. Those are some very strong sentiments coming from his royal highness. Care to recant?" "Fuck you, you red-eyed freak." "That's what I thought. Alright, we'll go back to playing your game." Gilbert picked up the cane that was resting by the door. Without a word, he walked behind Frederick, making sure to be out of the other's vision. He waited till he saw the teen tense up. Then Gilbert started beating the crown prince in the back with it, releasing all the frustration he was feeling about the whole situation. "That's three for lying again, one for calling your countrymen barbarians, four for insulting the king, one for not referring to him correctly, and five because I'm sucking dick to not go into another thirty year war and sucking that dick got me this kingdom that you don't seem to care about. And here's two more because I can." When he was done, he went back around so Frederick could see him. He let the cane drop to the floor and watched the child who would be his next boss. The crown prince had bit his lip so hard that he'd cut through. Gilbert watched the blood drip down Frederick's chin and felt his hand twitch. At this point, he was no longer sure if it was to wipe it away or to slap him. When Frederick looked up, he had some tears in his eyes that, thankfully, hadn't fallen. Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Fritz, there's an easy way of doing this. Just tell the truth. The king's tearing up Berlin and Potsdam, wanting me to get a confession out of you - regardless of the truth - then send you to your death. All this shit, this is a waste of fucking time. Do you want to die?" The crown prince didn't answer. A pit grew in his stomach, but Prussia forced himself to ignore it. He knelt in front of the crown prince so that they were at eye-level with each other. "Just give me the names. No judge in their right mind will sentence anyone who helped you to death. And, when you inherit the throne, you can pardon them! Everything's erased and life can continue. But, for now, I need the names." Frederick sighed. Gilbert could see the fight leaving the prince's body. "Fine. We'll try this your way. There were Katte and Keith, but Keith should be far away by now so please leave him be. Lieutenant von Spaen may have caught onto something, but kept his cards close to his chest." Gilbert nodded. He'd get a better statement later. The important thing was that he'd broken Frederick. The king's ministers could fight for the details that Frederick William wouldn't need to consider in his decision. "Danke. You can head back to your cell now. The real ministers will deal with you after lunch." He sighed and smiled, feeling a weight off his chest. "You're not a bad kid, Fritz. You're really not. You're just like you're father sometimes, blind to any perspective but your own." Frederick strained to get up out the chair. He wouldn't say anything, but his back was screaming in pain from the fresh marks on it. He stumbled to the door, stopping when he heard the last bit of what Gilbert said. "And you're a fucking neanderthal. We're not friends, Gilbert. We're not going to be." "I've told you this before, I can't disobey your father. He's my boss. If I had it my way, you would've been raised differently. All of you would've been." "And I've told you this before, I wish you'd die. What's your kind good for anyway? We're royalty. We've got plenty of mindless buffoons to carry out our every whim. We don't need morons that only take up space and resources." Frederick stomped out and slammed the door as hard as his body would allow him. Gilbert stood in the room, staring after him. It took a few minutes, but he finally laughed. "Kid, you think I haven't thought about that before? As if I'd actually want to live this kind of life." --- Gilbert stood besides Frederick, staring out into the courtyard of Kustrin. Neither of them wanted to be there. Neither of them wanted to see this. When Gilbert had delivered the verdict, he'd hoped Frederick would've yelled at him. If the crown prince would've showed him how he felt, he would’ve been able to deal. He'd always known how to deal with his anger. Instead, Frederick had broken down. Gilbert was forced to comfort the man as best he could. He hadn't held the prince in years, he hadn't let Gilbert get close enough once he figured out he was on the king's side. That was an hour ago. When Katte was brought out, Gilbert looked away. He didn't want to watch his crown prince's lover die. He didn't need to see this, why had he been ordered to watch as well? Frederick William would get an official report of how the event unfolded from some low-level guard who'd blow his paycheck at a pub afterwards. The king didn't need Gilbert's first-hand account, both would detail the same thing. He'd been in many battles before, seen many deaths, but the idea of this one made Gilbert nauseous. He started to walk away when Frederick grabbed his arm and stopped him. "You've followed all his other orders and you'll follow this one. We're both to suffer." The crown prince didn't look at him. His voice dropped to a pained, pleading whisper. "Don't force me to go through this alone to only spare yourself." Prussia sighed and turned back to the window. He watched Katte sing hymns and pray as he made his way towards them. He watched the dignity with which the young man approached death. He watched - maybe with tears, maybe with none - Frederick and Katte call out to each other, saying everything that had been left unsaid. He watched Katte's head roll to the floor was ease and the crown prince fall into his arms, unconscious. Gilbert watched. --- For the first days after the execution, all was not the same. The guards pretended to go about business as usual. They ignored the moans and screams from Frederick's cell. They tuned him out, made jokes that it was a ghost in the prison instead of the heir to the throne hallucinating and seeing his dead lover in the room with him. The few times that someone entered the room to bring him food or drink, the prince would repeat that Katte was there. Katte was there and he wanted Frederick to flee with him. Every time he tried to leave, he wouldn't be allowed to get through the wall and Katte would return for him, promising to never leave. Why wouldn't they let Frederick leave? The guards and ministers made an executive decision to omit this to Frederick William. For his part, Gilbert stayed away from Kustrin. He spent every hour in different pubs and churches throughout the town - unsure of whether drink or devotion would bring him salvation after this new crime. He couldn't get the images out of his head. He couldn't stop seeing Katte's eyes and Frederick's limp body. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed somewhere along the way. He'd done exactly as he was told, but he'd still forced the worse outcome to happen. It was the first time Gilbert had wanted to die. A message from the king was the only thing that forced him to return back to Kustrin weeks later. He forced himself to smile at everyone he saw. He resisted the urge to ask the other ministers how they slept at night knowing that they all  helped the king satisfy an unnecessary bloodlust. How they could look at themselves in the mirror and not see the blood that was all over them. Prussia stopped in front of the prince's door. He was afraid of what state he'd find him in. He'd heard whispers of what he was like from workers at the prison who came to the pubs at night. He didn't expect to see a Frederick who was relatively put together, with eyes that weren't bloodshot, and his nose buried in some snooty French literature. The prince nodded at him, indicating that Gilbert had his full attention. "The king's pardoned you. You're not facing any punishment. All you've got to do is swear an oath of loyalty to your father and play by his rules." He was troubled by the distressed look on the prince's face. "That means you live. Come on, Fritz, you get a second chance. You're free." This made Frederick laugh. He carefully put his book down and regarded the nation before him. "But at what cost?"

[my-dear-hammy]

Falling Through Time: Book 2

Masterpost

Jamilton Series Masterpost

Basking in Firelight

Part Forty-Four:

Debating the Future

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Warnings: *cough* Fre-

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Jefferson decided that his trust issues were because of Hamilton.

Well, okay, he couldn't blame Hamilton entirely. He did go of his own free will and he knew it was going to be some sort of public appearance since they were dressed up brightly. But he certainly did not expect Hamilton to lead him through a shady backdoor into a pitch black room. Hamilton guided Jefferson forward, planted him in a specific spot only he seemed to see before his hands disappeared from Jefferson's shoulders and he disappeared into the darkness of the room.

"INTRODUCING THE ICONS OF THE REVOLUTION, ALEXANDER HAMILTON AND THOMAS JEFFERSON!" a voice boomed, echoing throughout the room.

Oh shit.

Lights clicked on, illuminating and blinding Jefferson where he stood. Every single one of Jefferson's instincts kicked in instantly. He slapped on his most charming smile and waved at the crowd that he could now make out due to the lights, they were thundering their applause. Jefferson glanced over at Hamilton who stood at a podium, smiling at the crowd. Jefferson had his own podium.

This wasn't good.

"Are y'all ready for a debate?" the host person said. The crowd roared in response.

Oh fuck.

Hamilton brought him to a presidential candidate debate.

Fuck.

"Alright, let's start this off with the basics," the host said.

Jefferson was not prepared for any debates. He was so screwed.

Hamilton did this on purpose that little bastard. There was only one way to do this. Wing it.

"Basics?" Jefferson asked, "Where's the fun in that?" Jefferson walked out from his podium, slipping the microphone from its stand fluidly and strutted forward. "Never do anything basic. Always go for style and the greatest you can achieve." Jefferson could feel Hamilton's stare on the back of his head. "Now, let's get this started off fun." He stepped out to the edge of the stage, looking over the audience. "Who wants to come up on stage with me and ask a question?" he asked cheerfully, "Any question at all!"

Hundreds of hands shot up. A huge smile split Jefferson's face, "That's it! Let's let the people run this! Okay, you!" he pointed at a girl, "Come on up and ask your question." The girl stood up and made her way up to the stage and accepted the helping hand Jefferson offered her to get on stage. "Can we get an extra mic over here?" Jefferson looked around. "No, nevermind, that's fine you can have mine. Hamilton and I can share so we don't talk over each other. Hamilton, quit hiding behind your podium and get over here." Jefferson handed his mic over to the girl and stole Hamilton's mic as soon as he stepped over. "What's your name and question?" he asked.

"Martha and my question is what is the future for the people? Individually and as a whole?"

"Martha, that's a beautiful name. I had a wife named Martha. You have her beauty," Jefferson smiled, the girl blushed. "You first, Hamilton," Jefferson said, tossing the mic over Hamilton who caught it smoothly.

"Very broad question, Martha," Hamilton started, "Under this New Constitution, the people are their own future. We all have the power to make the future how we want it." Hamilton tossed the mic to Jefferson.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard him say his opinion in so few words," Jefferson laughed with Martha, "Martha, the people are the future. That's the whole point about building a nation or a home or an empire, so it stands the test of time, to pass it on to the next generation and the next. Did that answer your question?" Martha nodded and walked off stage. Jefferson tossed the mic back to Hamilton.

"Alright! Who's next?" Hamilton asked the crowd. Even more hands thrust into the air. "Oh wow, okay. You, yeah, that's it, come on up." A man made his way on stage and Jefferson handed him a mic. "What's your name and your question?" Hamilton asked. Due to the lighting and the clothing the man wore, they couldn't really make out a lot of his features.

"My name is George," the man said easily. "And I'd like you to expand on your previous answer. How do you intend on to bring a nation together that's basically thirty separate nation's bickering and squabbling endlessly?"

Hamilton blinked. "It'll take lots of work, but the people need to be reminded that we are, in fact, one people. Every citizen here is a citizen of one nation. Neighbors, whether one road down or five states. The unity that used to be the defining trait of this nation is gone. Lost in the war that split fifty-one states into three pieces. One of those pieces are only four states and they're more unified than we are. We need to pull together again, reform, pick ourselves, dust ourselves off and learn to trust each other again. I walk down the street and even though the war is over, almost everyone is armed is some form or another. Even I'm walking down the street armed. Jefferson and I both answer our doors armed. Until we can move past this separation among states, we can't truly be one people." Hamilton handed the mic over to Jefferson calmly and the audience's attention followed the mic, shifting to Jefferson.

Jefferson overlooked the crowd. "We recently fought through two very bloody wars to get where we are now and we can't just let it crumble to the ground simply because we couldn't come together as a people. Everyone in this room, in this town, this state, this nation, and even the world, are one, divided by cultures and prejudices. We need to look around and see that each of us has suffered and bled and came together to when it was most important and remember that we can remain united. As one people. Until then, even with our history, I pledge myself to serve these United Divided States. Until we are united again and my services are no longer necessary." Jefferson finished and the man in front of them grinned, lifting his face just enough for Jefferson to glimpse. He stepped forward right as the man clapped and ran off stage.

That had been King George.

Jefferson shook his head as Hamilton called up the next person and they introduced himself. They could deal with the King later.

"Devin, and you mentioned the New Constitution a second ago I couldn't help but question the changes that were made to it compared to the original one from before the oligarchy. Why two presidents? Why do you feel it was necessary to include lgbtq+ rights?"

"Studied the original document now have we, eh Devin? I know a lot about it myself. I've studied it intensely, along with countless other documents and different forms of government. The goal was to create a form of government that can't be corrupted. Of course, that's impossible, everything gets corrupted or changed with time, so the best we could do was to build one that is extremely hard to corrupt and controlled by the people. Two presidents will prevent it falling into a dictatorship or an oligarchy like it did before. But it's still malleable so the people can shape it to their needs as the years pass. As for the lgbtq+ rights, it seems to me that if it's not clearly laid out that people have the right to be who they are, then someone will try to take it away from them. This entire revolution has been about fighting for being able to be who we are and doing what want, being who we want to be in life and chasing whatever dreams we could possibly dream. I'll not stand by and watched that right trampled on again after fighting so hard for it," Jefferson answered. He was about to toss the microphone back to Hamilton when the host walked up with an extra and handed it to Hamilton.

"In all honesty, Madison was the driving force behind the new structure of the New Constitution. I fought for a stronger central government that would bind the entire nation together as a whole. A unity that could last generations. We all know the struggle of the lgbtq+ community, it's something I aim to put an end to. The lgbtq+ community has made great strides over the past few decades, overcoming massive discrimination. Until King George came to power with his crew. The New Constitution keeps those rights from being taken away."

"George Fredericks," Jefferson clarified. "King is a nickname we gave him as a joke and it stuck," his eyes glancing to where that very person had disappeared a moment before.

Devin made his way back to his seat and Jefferson swung his long legs over the edge of the stage and sat casually as the next person came up and asked the next question. "So from the sound of it, both of you agree on something, despite disagreeing on everything else, and that's your support for the lgbtq+ community, is that right?"

Jefferson and Hamilton exchanged glances. "Correct," they both said.

"Can you elaborate?"

Hamilton looked to Jefferson who looked out over the crowd. Hamilton clutched his microphone tightly, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Everything in him screamed taboo. Jefferson seemed to come to a decision and stood gracefully. His entire bearing seeped sophistication and eloquence, he smiled at the crowd and reached into his pockets and pulled out a few colorful makers. Why the hell did he have markers? Hamilton's eye fastened on the specific colors Jefferson held.

Hamilton looked over the crowd, raised the microphone, built up his courage, and spoke loud and clear, "Yeah, I'm a bisexual."

Jefferson smiled at the crowd and posed, twin bi flags on either cheekbone. The crowd went nuts. Cheers or screams or insults, no one could entirely tell, but there was a lot of noise either way. Thankfully, no one tried shooting anyone.

----

[lena-went]

Sesto Senso

                                                     SIXTH SENSE

R: Two days later I kissed him deeply before he reluctantly slid into a cab that would drive him to the airport. I had expressed a desire to take him myself but he didn’t want me driving home alone. I knew this was hard on him but I also knew it was important to take some time away from each other every now and then. Sometimes he would hold me so tightly it was as if he couldn’t bear even the smallest space between us. Boston wasn’t far away and it was only for two days. The event was tonight and he would be back tomorrow evening. I reminded him of this when he called me from the cab a few minutes later. I reassured him that I was fine and was planning on turning in early anyway. We hung up after two or three I love you’s and promises of embraces upon his return.

Back inside the apartment I cleaned a little before settling at my desk to study. I was going to take the New York bar in just two weeks. I was more than anxious. I placed a hand over the growing yet still tiny swell of my stomach and sighed. I hadn’t planned on becoming pregnant at such a turbulent time in my life, but somehow it felt right…I felt whole. With my engagement to Frederick I found myself at peace despite the chaos that had come to surround me. I studied for a couple of hours before showering and heading for bed. It was only 7 pm. I had been falling asleep earlier than usual due to the pregnancy hormones and the long hours I was working at the museum. I put a few drops of lavender essential oil into the diffuser Frederick had ordered online last week. He had become quite the online shopper which was a double edged sword. All his purchases were thoughtful but 90% were unnecessary. I sighed at the cool of the sheets and curled myself around Frederick’s pillow, taking a deep inhale of what remained of his scent. I spoke a soft ‘I love you’ that I hoped would reach him wherever he was and then closed my eyes. I don’t remember falling asleep…but I’ll never forget how I woke up.

Many women say that when you become a mother you develop this sixth sense, this mother bear instinct. And that’s how I woke up. A small voice from the base of my head whispered…”You’re not alone.” My eyes snapped open and I sat up with a start. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark but I could feel a presence long before I saw who it belonged to.

“Hannibal?” I murmured shaking in fear.

“Hello Y/N.” His voice chilled my bones and I felt my newly gifted sense scream for me to run. But I knew, I would never make it far.

CAMBRIDGE, MA.

F: The event was going surprisingly well. Only a few people had heard rumors that I had been accused of being the Chesapeake Ripper. At Harvard little is accepted as fact without substantial concrete evidence. Somehow news of my relationship with Y/N had out-ranked the rumors of murderous activity. I blamed Cliff Daniels. Though the gala had been ages ago Cliff was still very chummy with all the alumni I had tried so hard to distance myself from. Now here I was discussing my book while attempting to keep my mind off of her. No such luck. I imagined her at her desk studying, sipping on her ginger tea while humming to whatever soundtrack she had playing. My fingers twitched around my wine glass as they burned in need for the feel of her skin. I reminded myself with a small huff that I would be back in her arms tomorrow. Multiple people expressed genuine interest in my book and Nicolas Miller, one of my friends from a university study group, had become a patent lawyer in recent years and told me he would help me copyright my manuscript. Hannibal the Cannibal still rung in my ears but I could not tell anyone yet. He had still to be apprehended and it made pain sear through my stomach. Last time I had spoken to Jack Crawford he had seemed certain that the wait was almost over. A large portion of the men attending the event suggested that we go downstairs to the open bar in the old study hall. Somehow I was herded along with them and found myself standing in the dimly lit Victorian style room 10 minutes later.

I was in the middle of reminiscing with a few of my past fellows from the School of Psychiatric Medicine as they recounted tales of Dr. Whitehall, a particularly odd professor, when I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle to attention and my hands turn cold. My jaw suddenly set and all I could think of was her. I raised my arm and moved my sleeve to look at my watch. 9:15. I should call her. I had to call her.

I moved to exit the small circle I was standing in when Cliff Daniels gave me a slap on the shoulder blade.

“You’re not off already are you Fred?” His voice was slightly heavy and slurred, these damn pricks and their liquor.

“I apologize, I need to call my fiancée.” I spoke hurriedly turning away again and reaching for my phone inside my jacket pocket.

“Oh ho ho…the old ball and chain. I never thought I’d tie myself down either. Then again if I had a piece of ass like Y/N I’d be tying her down every night.”

Crunch…thud…gasps…drunken cheers.

Shit.

Apparently all of Cliff Daniels “chums” hated him as much as I did. Cliff had hit the elaborately detailed carpeted floor with a solid thud and now I was receiving pats on the back coupled with sounds of praise. It felt good, but I had no idea where it came from. I always internalized but I never released, save in the form of tears. My knuckles burned and I looked at them to see they were slightly split and bleeding. A few men leaned down to check on Cliff, who was so inebriated that he laughed as he came to. I hated these people. It was as if they had never grown up. I was then pulled into a conversation focused on my work with the FBI and I felt a strange energy flow through my spine. I tried to ignore it and thought of her words. This was good for us…all three of us.

F: It was 5 am when I managed to escape the hordes of drunk men I was surrounded by. I called a cab and arrived back at my hotel within 10 minutes. My flight was at 12. I figured I could squeeze in a few hours of sleep before I had to be at the airport. I quickly set an alarm for 10:30 before I flung myself, clothes and all, onto the hotel bed and shut my eyes.

Hannibal was holding her by the throat and lifting her off the ground with one arm. Her feet dangled helplessly and she looked so small in only her silk nightgown. Her eyes were wide and red. Wordlessly she tried to move her lips that had become tinged dark blue. I heard her voice small and broken in my mind. “Help me Frederick…save us…” Hannibal turned to me expressionlessly before his face contorted in laughter. I tried to move towards them but I was trapped. My limbs were gone, I was nothing. Hannibal’s laughter filled the air swallowing me as I attempted to scream. “Freddy.” She squeaked before going limp. He held her there, her pale body lifeless, the swell of her belly visibly shrinking like a deflating ballon. I felt my soul die and my heart liquidate.

“NO!” I woke with a scream, shooting up in the hotel bed which had become drenched in sweat. I reached for her before remembering where I was. Tears had wet my cheeks and my hands were shaking.

I reached for my phone and fumbled with it as I hastily tried to turn it on. No battery. I had forgotten to plug it in. The bedside clock read 11:15. SHIT SHIT SHIT!

I packed faster than I ever had and flew out the door and into a cab the hotel had waiting. I tried to breathe and calm myself but I could not shake the images of my dream. I had to get home.

14 HOURS EARLIER…

R: “What are you doing here?” I gasped as Hannibal took a step from the shadows moving closer to where I sat upright in bed.

“I apologize for the late hour…I am looking for Frederick and I thought to find him here.” Hannibal’s diction was polite as always but something in his demeanor had changed. He was more raw, more disheveled.

My eyes were more focused now and I could see he was soaked to the bone. I took notice of the heavy patter of rain on my glass windows. He must have climbed in from the balcony. At this moment everything connected and I felt so stupid. It was obvious. Hannibal was the Ripper. A surge of anger filled me for the suffering he had caused Frederick and I felt my eyes darken to match his.

“He’s not here.” I spoke while devising multiple escape plans only to have my common sense throw them out as quickly as I had created them.

“I noticed.” He took another step closer to the bed, his lean and tall figure now only a few feet away.

“What do you want with him?” I could think of nothing else to say and I noticed his mouth form a slight sneer before he answered.

“Frederick’s usefulness has expired.” He turned from me and looked into the night almost thoughtfully but I noticed how he carefully minded me from his peripheral.

His profile was illuminated by the streetlights outside and I noticed a hint of sadness in the corner of his normally emotionless eyes.

“Not to me.”

He chuckled softly yet didn’t look at me. I was glad he didn’t. My eyes darted around the room looking for possible weapons or escapes but I found none. Why tonight? Why now?

“You are a curious woman Y/N. After our first meeting I mused for long hours on how and why you seemed to be so attracted to Frederick. You see, I have never found him particularly interesting…but you…you make me curious.”

“I apologize for the inconveniences your curiosity may have caused you, I can assure you there is little to be discovered about me.” I responded coldly, fighting the panic that had settled beneath my stone demeanor.

“I disagree.” He turned to look at me and I could see drops and pencil thin streams of water fall from his clothes onto the wooden floor.

“Were you not so curious to me I would kill you now and leave your body for Frederick to find when he returns from wherever he has gone.” His face was now inches from mine as he leaned down and raised a large cut up hand to my face where he traced a finger from my brow to my chin. He had abrasions all over his face as well as blood that I assumed was not his own.

Despite his terrifying words I did not flinch. I stared back at him in determination. Determination to live. I could see the outline of my three framed photographs blurred behind him on the wall. I gathered my strength from the love and protection I felt simply from knowing they were observing whatever was happening. Hannibal’s eyes moved back and forth in an effort to read my face. But when he couldn’t he smiled in amusement before dropping his finger from my cheek.

“I have someone waiting for me. And it would be rude to keep her in anticipation.” I could smell metal and sweat mixed with the rich notes of his cologne that still hung to him.

Alana? My heart dropped to my stomach as I thought of her.

“I doubt we will meet again for quite some time.” He lifted my hand to his lips mirroring his actions from my distant memory of the gala. He stood then and walked to back to the balcony doors which were slightly ajar.

“Please inform Frederick that I cannot continue our game until further notice.” As he turned and opened the balcony doors I managed to find my voice.

“Dr. Lecter…Hannibal…is Frederick safe?”

“Is anyone?” And with that he disappeared like smoke in the wind leaving my heart pounding and my ears ringing.

I collapsed back into my headboard and protectively grasped at my lower stomach in an attempt to calm myself. I looked at the clock on Frederick’s bedside table, 9:30 pm. I couldn’t call him. I couldn’t risk somehow leading Hannibal right to him. I rose in a swift motion and locked the balcony doors. Then I swallowed the rise of sickness forming in my throat before taking my phone from its charger and locking myself in the bathroom. What if Hannibal returned? I paced back and forth staring at Frederick’s contact photo and the numbers below it. Frederick would be back tomorrow, it would do no good to scare him like this while he was hours away.

A few hours passed and Lecter hadn’t returned. Still I wouldn’t leave the safety I had found in the bathroom. I laid myself in the dry tub and curled as much as I could in an attempt to gain some warmth but the stark white porcelain was frigid against my skin. I hummed softly to my baby and was calmed by thoughts of holding my child months from now. It was those projections that made my eyes heavy and my heart slow as I fell asleep dreaming of a beautiful future.