#『 madam red / ic. 』 ❝ doctor’s orders! ❞

[crimsonfacets]

"As if I needed to be told I am a delight!" Happy laughter! That only served as a complete stroke for her ego --- and a wonderful affirmation to boot! "I'm damned lovely company!"

[hollywoodhangar]

( days pass )

( silence )

madam red muse, from the absolute blue:

“THIS BLOODY MONTH IS DRIVING ME INSANE !! INSANE !! HYSTERICAL !! WHEN THEY SPEAK OF ‘FEMALE HYSTERIA’, I AM THE FEMALE THEY REFER TO !! I AM THE FEMALE HYSTERIA !!”

“That’s all! A Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good $(#*! Ta!”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Dream Come True.”

Hope you guys enjoy, and hope you all have a great day!

Adam took a drink before setting the glass back down on the table. Across from him, Donovan Red took a pull on his whisky, drinking deeply before setting his glass down wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m Sorry about your man….. I didn’t intend for things to go that way.” Adam said staring down at the amber liquid in the glass before him.

Donavan signed, “Not your fault. Sometimes pride gets the better of us, and it’s hard to admit that an outsider might be able to beat us at our own game.” he patted Adam on the shoulder, “But you saved my life, which means I am, and will forever be in your debt.” He smiled 

Adam tilted his head.

“That doesn’t seem to bother you too much.”

“I think there are much worse people to be indebted to. A least I know you won’t ask me to do something I don’t want to do. Not like other men I know.” He took another drink, the tattoos on his neck bobbing once and then twice as he swallowed, “So, tell me this favor that you are looking for. How can me and mine be of service.”

Adam sighed and slumped back in his seat. He felt like he should definitely be keeping quiet about what he wanted to tell the man, but it was hard keeping it to himself and the people on his ship.It would be nice if someone else knew what was going on.

And wasn’t that the point.

Isn’t that why he had come here.

“When I joined the UNSC, I never thought about politics. I was a fighter pilot and then a spaceship captain. I am no politician, but more and more I find myself having to do politics like things. People ask for my opinions on policy, and they encourage me to support one group over another. I have to manuver as a diplomat for the GA without trying to piss off the actual diplomat, who isn’t too happy that I sometimes get in the way of them doing their job.

I am the human representative to all of humanity, and I have to behave the right way, but, sometimes, in doing what I know is right people get mad at me for it. I am worried one day they are going to give me an order that I just can’t follow. Not to mention that I have suddenly become the figurehead for an entire political movement. Sometimes I have to make speeches now.” he threw up his hands, “I represent a coalition interested in cooperating with the GA and all her interests, but there is a very heavy isolationist mindset on earth that is mad that we ever even joined the UNSC. They have already attempted to assassinate me once, and I have no doubt that they are going to do it again.”

Donavan grunted and looked him over, “Yes, I remember hearing about that.” He looked Adam up and down slowly, “No offence, but you would make a shit politician.”

Adam sighed and nodded, “I know. The only reason that I have so much pull in the arena is based on what I represent, and how the GA feels about me, but now…. Now I am learning that there are factions of the GA that want me gone.”

Donavan rased an eyebrow in surprise, “The GA?”

Adam shrugged and sighed pushing his glass away from him, “Yes, some very powerful people are after me for something I never intended to do.”

“And who is this exactly?”

Adam shut his mouth forcing himself to think about it for a moment before finally making his decision.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, “The chairwoman of the GA herself.”

Red almost choked on his drink, spewing some of it out onto the table before swallowing hard and setting his glass down very slowly.

“WHAT!”

“Adam nodded. I was chasing after some information, and infiltrated the pirate wing of the anti-alliance coalition as a man named captain Kell.”

Red held up a hand, “Hold on, YOU are Kell, no shit. I heard the guy was one badass pirate.”

Adam adjusted his eye-patch, “I AM one badass pirate, but either way, I used that cover to get to their leaders and saw a transmission being sent from the chairwoman of the GA that was ordering those men and women to kill me if they could manage it, and now I don’t know what to do. The chairwoman pretty much helped me get my job. As far as I can recall she was one of the most supportive when it came to my promotion to captain. Thought we were allies if not friends, and now I come to learn that she has been operating behind my back to stage my assasination.”

Red leaned up against the table, “Well no shit, that does suck.” He tapped his fingers together, “And of course you can’t tell anyone without proof, otherwise they aren’t going to believe you. If you are going to come up with allegations like those, then you are going to need hard evidence against her.

Adam nodded, “And I do have some evidence, the recording of what she said, but those sorts of things can be doctored. I need to expose her somehow. I don’t know how all of this fits in of course, but it is partially why I came to speak with you.”

Red waited and Adam continued.

“I can’t trust anyone within the GA, or even within the UNSC. My only option is to go outside the law like my enemies are doing. Fight fire with fire so to say. If they are using the criminal underbelly to try and kill me, then maybe I can use it to try and save me.”

Donavan was nodding slowly, “And you are hoping to fight fire with fire to speak?”

Adam sighed, “I don’t know what I am hoping , but I know for a fact you and your men have the most power in this system, enough that everyone knows but no one questions it. I know you can go deeper than I can ever attempt, and I was hoping that maybe you could keep an eye out for me, track the movements of the criminal underworld so to speak while I try and deal with those people who are pretending to do things legally.”

Red nodded slowly, ‘That is something I can do”

“But is it something you are willing to do?”

He tilted his head back thoughtfully to look up at the ceiling above, “I think it is. Not much different from things my men and I already do accept this time it is going to be for a worthy cause.”

He grinned, his gold capped teeth glittering in the dim light, “I-”

Just then, the implant in the side of his neck began to buzz. He held up a hand for Red to be silent, and the other man nodded leaning back in his seat to finish his drink as Adam answered the call.

“Madam president.” His tone of surprise roused red who raised an eyebrow.

“I have to say this is…. This is rather shocking. I didn’t know that you had this number.”

“I can have any number that interests me Admiral.”

“Yes of course.” He shifted nervously in his seat, “What can I do for you ma’am.”

“Do you know what important event happened on July 20th 1969, Admiral.”

He paused not entirely sure if this was a trick question.

“Go on. I know you of all people would know it.”

“The Apollo 11 moon landing ma’am.’

“More precisely, the 2051 anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. And it has been long in coming but   the Global Aeronautics Space Division has decided to celebrate the occasion by recreating Apollo 11 down to every historical accuracy. The calculations will be done partially by hand and partially by computer. The Ship design will be exactly that of Apollo 11, etc. etc.”

Despite the stress he had been under the last few days, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wait, are…. Are you serious! That is amazing!”

“Yes yes.” She said cutting him off.

“And they want…. Or all of us want you to pilot that ship and command the mission as Commander Neil Armstrong would have in his time.”

The only response he was able to manage was a squeak, and he could feel the fangirl in him coming on hard and fast. He tried to clear his throat and remain professional, his heart pounding, a wide grin setting off across his face.

“Yes Ma’am you can count me in.”

“How confident are you that you can pilot the rocket?”

“I can fly anything ma’am.”

“Even so, we would like you back on earth as soon as possible to prepare for the event. This is a big historical recreation, and we want it to go as well as possible.”

“yes ma’am.”

The line went dead and he was no longer able to fight back the grin on his face.

Red watched him before standing, “We will get to work Admiral, and we will keep in contact. It’s good to know that my men and women are going to have something useful to occupy their time instead of sitting around twiddling their thumbs.”

Adam stood as well and took the man’s hand, “It should be a pleasure working with you.”

Red snorted skeptically, “You are too kind. I doubt it will be so pleasant, but consider yourself as a man who has friends in very low places.”

The two of them nodded and Adam excused himself back to his ship, racing towards his rooms with the giddy excitement of a school boy. The clind in him had awoken. He stopped to sit on the edge of his bed staring at the tiny recreated model of the lunar module sitting on the shelf above his bed glowing blue in the neon light above.

How cool was this going to be.

How dangerous was this going to be?

***

Eris was pleased to learn that she was not lactose intolerant. They hadn’t been sure based on her half alien half human anatomy if she would be able to handle some of the more harsh foods of the planet, but everything seemed to be working properly, a fact she was forever thankful for as she polished off her second bowl of ice cream.

She found the treat novel and delectable.

Leave it to human to think of eating flavored snow, or at least frozen cream.

And she liked it when they put little bits of candy on top.

Martha Sat on the floor next to the couch, and her husband sat in his chair watching ‘the Game’. Eris wasn’t sure what the rules were, but she liked watching them crash into each other. She wasn’t a big fan of all the talking they seemed to do in between the crashing together.

Martha and Jim had invited her to stay over for as long as she wanted after she told them the more detailed story of her life. They had been shocked  but ultimately unsurprised to learn that she was less than three years old feeling sorry that she never got to have her childhood.

That’s why they were treating her like this, she knew.

They wanted to give her that little bit of her childhood.

She worried that they would be annoyed at her presence, but they seemed to have time with her sticking around indefinitely as far as she could tell . She wasn’t sure how long she was going to be staying, but for now, she was happy where she was.

Of course part of her being welcome had something to do with how Martha had no one to model clothes for her. Since her youngest son left the house she had been forced to model them herself, which made things difficult when she wanted to make alterations. But now that she had Eris, things were going much more smoothly,

At first Eris had been embarrassed to put on the clothing for her.

Once upon a time Eris hadn’t known better in thinking her body was weird. She had floated around without it using a gravity belt and no clothes, letting her long dark hair and ribbons cover what needed to be covered, but the more she learned about humans, the more self conscious she had grown, until hoodies and baggy pants were the only things she wore.

Martha did not approve of her wardrobe seeming to think Eris would look very striking in red or black.

Eris had tried on a few outfits for her nervousness at just how much of her alien otherness tended to show, with plunging backs and short skirts to show off her marble whie legs. Martha seemed to think the ribbons were pretty, and in everything she had Eris try on, they were on full display.

“Do they work like starborn ribbons?” Martha wondered, “I know they act sort of as solar sales, storing energy from the sun and using that to glide.”

Eris paused, “I don’t know. I was born on noctropolis where there is no sun, so I have never tried it.”

“I think you should.”

Eris shifted nervously, “But.”

Martha just smiled at her, “our backyard is fenced in, no one is going to see you.” Eris thoughts bout it for a moment and then set her bowl down to the side. She stood slowly and walked to the back sliding screen door and stepped out onto their back porch.

Technically it was only fenced in on two sides. The backside was open where the forest  met their lawn growing deep and black as it went further back in to the depths.

Nervously Eris reached up and pulled off her hoodie dropping iit to the ground.

The tank top she wore had been made by Martha to accommodate her ribbons.

Once upon a time her gravity belt had allowed those ribbons to wave and undulate, but here they sagged with gravity and flowed behind her in the occasional wind current.

She turned around so they were facing the sun and waited.

And waited.

She felt nothing happening and was abut to go inside when.

When something started to happen.

She felt more…. Energized. Her blood seemed to grow warm and a smile spread across her face. At  first she thought it was just all in her head, but then the warmth continued to blossom over her.

Her eyes went wide and she hummed softly feeling recharged from the sun like a battery.

She had her eyes closed and was just enjoying the radiation when she heard something ringing from the inside of the house followed by voices.

She was able to tear herself away from the warmth and stick her head inside.

“Adam, how are you doing.” Jim said and Eris could see Adam’s face projected on the TV.

She recognized a bit of herself in him. She had his nose, and his eyes shape.

“You are not going to believe who just called me.”

Martha smiled as she walked over to sit next to her husband, “Adam I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the president herself.”

Adam frowned some of the wind momentarily taken out of his sales, “Ok, yes it was the president, but.” e lit up almost immediately, “But you are not going to believe what she asked me to do.” He didn’t wait for them to guess, “She wants me to fly a recreated mission of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Historically accurate and everything!.” His grin was so wide it looked like he was going to split his face in half.

Martha’s eyes widened, “Really?”

Jim frowned, “That is great Adam, but…. Historically accurate?”

He nodded vigorously, “Yeah.”

“Son yu do realize the computer they used was less powerful than your mother’s automatic blow dryer.”

He waved a hand, “Yeah yeah, I know I know. Most of the math is probably going to be done by hand.”

Jim snorted and Martha grimaced, “Adam, sometimes I wish you had safer hobbies. I mean flying the omen is one thing, with those shields she could probably survive a meteor impact, but you understand the Apollo 11 mission flew in a rocket that  that parts no heavier duty than your average tin can.”

“yes , and that makes it even more awesome.”

“I think you are getting dangerous and awesome confused again, son.”

“Oh come on, this is like a dream come true for me. ‘

Finally Martha and Jim sighed and broke out into smiles, “There is no changing your mind as usual.”

Adam grinned, “Nope.”

He turned his head just then, seeming to look through the camera, his eyes falling on Eris. Shock spread across his face, “Eris, is that you?”

She smiled shyly and moved forward, “Yeah, It’s me.”

“What are you doing there, I thought you were working at the hybrid foundation taking care of Glados and the others.”

She shrugged guiltily, “I…. well glados and the others wanted to go back to the adapted planet, and after that others started getting adopted, but then I sort of burnt out and wanted to come here and meet…..” She paused not sure if she should say 

Martha put an arm around her, “She wanted to meet her grandparents and extended family.”

Adam looked surprised for a moment as if not having expected that before shrugging, “Just try to avoid mom’s side of the family if at all possible.”

“Adam.” Martha scolded, though she wasn’t actually mad.

He grinned, “I’ll be home in a few days.” he looked at eris, “Maybe I can show you around town when I get back….. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Eris shuffled her feet and quietly looked down, “Yeah,i’d like that.”

She wished she could read his thoughts in that moment. Was he only offering to be polite? She knew better than anyone that her birth had not been his fault. He had had his DNA stolen to  make her, but still she couldn’t help but feel an affinity towards him. One that she knew wasn’t fiar for her to feel.

He hadn’t chosen for her to be born after all.

Not like other people 

Did he just feel guilty?

Was she unwanted?

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XIX. Cuarto movimiento: La realidad

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

Preview

“You take off your clothes.” He whispers. “If you’re brave enough to wear that around me, you should be brave enough to undress yourself in front of me.” He smirks.

My eyebrows raise on my forehead and I give him a little smirk. He chuckles.

“D’you want a show?”

He grins as he nods, resting his back on the couch.

“And what do I get in return?”

“Oh, you’ll find out after the show.”

BLUE’S POV

Coco and I are late. When we enter the café, I tell the waitress Olivia’s name and she leads us to our table. The three of them are already sitting on the table and Ollie smiles relieved at our presence. She might be really hungry or maybe she just doesn’t know what to do about Marie and Jason.

They had a fight the other day. Apparently, it had to do with David Dick. Marie said something bad about it, also known as the truth, but Jason said she shouldn’t be talking about him to people who didn’t even known them. I have stayed out of this. No one has asked for my opinion either, thank God, so I’m just on backstage, waiting for them to make up.

The second Coco and I sit down, Ollie waves the waitress. She tells us we can think what we want while they order but I already know what I want anyway. A strawberry milkshake and the Nutella croissant. Coco orders a waffle and a vanilla milkshake and Marie gets surprised at our quickness. I just smile at her.

I tell them about the wedding while we eat and they keep swooning and making comments that make me blush. I show them the hundreds of pictures we got, for his mum and his cousin Laura had been stealing shots at us and also the photographer of the wedding thought it important to get pictures of the bride’s brother.

“Jesus Christ, he looked good.” Ollie says.

I laugh and she gives me a naughty smile.

“So do you, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No, seriously, Blue” Coco insists “you looked like a movie star.”

I don’t know how many times Coco’s seen the photos but she’s always been the supportive sister and ever since she’s in love, it’s just been something else. She’s so happy she has enough bliss to give the rest of us.

“Can you believe” Ollie says when she comes back from the loo “that I’ve forgotten to put on knickers?”

“What do you mean you’ve forgotten?” Coco laughs.

“I’m just not wearing any.” She shrugs.

“And you realize now?”

“When I went to the loo.”

Marie shakes her head with a smile and I chuckle at my friend’s careless being.

“Yeah and she would have been terribly late if I hadn’t called her.” Marie says. “It looks like she had a busy night with Mario.”

Olivia smiles.

“Right, because Adam and you were surely asleep at 9 pm.”

Jason laughs out loud.

“So Indie, what time did you go to bed last night?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Actually, pretty early. I think it was like 10 pm and I slept alone. In my own bed.”

“Oh, did Harry have work?”

“No” I chuckle “he was home, I guess. We don’t spend every minute together, you know?”

JJ shrugs.

“If I were with a man who could pull off a white fucking suit like Harry, I know I would be with him every minute.”

Then it’s me who shakes my head and laughs.

We haven’t been out all together since last week when we went shopping and even then, Jason wasn’t there so it feels like ages that we don’t just chat around and have something sweet together.

Marie tells us about her grandparent’s golden wedding too and we all drool over the pictures because they look so adorable.

“¡Madre mía, Marie!” My sister says. “You look so good too! Look at that red dress! Where was the red carpet, madam?”

Marie blushes and giggles and Jason smiles tenderly at my sister. I see the way Olivia’s looking at her, with her teasing smile, and I know Coco’s in for some Olivia jokes.

“Guido must be good.”

Coco’s confused eyes drift to Olivia’s.

“Or have a huge dick.”

My sister clicks her tongue and shakes her head giving our crazy friend a look but she just smiles.

“If it has anything to do with genetics” she starts “that should be the case.”

We all laugh and my sister’s cheeks tinge pink.

“Oh my God, it is!” Jason celebrates.

He seems so happy. He’s been laughing and joking around and even though sometimes he still gets a little into his own head, I reckon he’s gotta have to deal with a lot of thinking these next months. I remember when Javier and I broke up, it was like that for me too. Yet that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

I wish him and Marie would make up. They are good for one another. They complement each other like sweet and sour and I know Marie’s sorry. I can tell by the way she looks at him.

After breakfast, the five of us go shopping. I’m not a big fan of shopping, to be honest, I get headaches and hate trying clothes on but these guys love it so that’s what we’ll do. Coco and Ollie are a very dangerous duo. If it wasn’t for the rest of us, they’d be in debt by now.

They make Jason walk into Agent Provocateur even though he tries to remind us that he’s actually bisexual and can’t really give his opinion on this without getting killed.

“You can keep saying you’re bisexual, you know? But you’re gay, pal.” Olivia says.

“Again, the fact that I am not sexually attracted to you does not make me gay.” Jason smirks.

“No, I know, it’s the fact that you always look at guys.”

“I look at girls too. I just don’t tell you about it.”  

“And who exactly would kill you?” I tease him, changing Olivia’s crusade on making him gay. “Mario and Adam are teddy bears, Guido’s shorter than you and Harry’s not jealous.”

He laughs.

“D’you think Harry wouldn’t mind if I saw you in lingerie?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

Jason smirks. I know it might be hard for him to understand but he is a jealous guy. He knows that, we all do. But Harry isn’t or if he is he handles it like a master and I think that’s the most beautiful thing he could do for me. I never understood why my friends in high school thought when their boyfriends acted like cavemen was something to be happy about. I mean I never really understood that well-trodden thought “he’s jealous because he loves me.” No. “He deals with his own jealousy and lets me be free because he loves me.” That’s how I see it.

“Should we get the same set?” Ollie asks Coco. “You know, in order to surprise the Matteoti brothers.”

My sister blushes and giggles and Olivia grins.

“I hope to God they don’t talk about that to each other.”

Olivia giggles.

“I used to think every man did but I actually think Mario doesn’t.”

“And you’re offended by that?” I offer.

Jason walks towards us swaying his hips like Beyoncé placing a bra over his sweater and the knickers over his jeans and Coco laughs and rushes to his side to stop him. The two of them go to the “funny section” where the crazy lingerie sets are.

I see my sister laughing at whatever it is that crazy Jason is telling her about the outfits.

“No, I just don’t know how he’s still with me.” Ollie says.

I frown as I turn to look at her.

“Hey, guys, do you like these ones?” Marie shows us a red lace crazy knickers with holes where fabric should be.

“I have no idea how you put those on.” Ollie shrugs.

“What do you mean?” I interrupt her.

“I genuinely don’t know with these many holes, it’s-”

“No, I mean about Mario.”

“What about him?” Marie asks.

“She just said she doesn’t know why he’s still with her.”

“What?” Marie frowns.

We both look at Ollie, whose blue-grey eyes are busy with the underwear she’s holding.

“I just don’t know how someone that’s… such a saint can be with me.”

I look at Marie but she just shrugs and gives me her best pursed lips.

“I mean… You guys are very different but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I like him.” Olivia confesses. “I really do, what I don’t like is to constantly feel like I’m waiting for the moment he realizes he doesn’t want to be with me.”

“Why do you say that?” Marie frowns. “I think it’s rather obvious that he’s crazy about you.”

“Yeah,” Ollie tilts her neck “now.”

“You are wonderful and it might not work out but that’s that. Every single relationship might not work out but that’s when you show you’re brave. If you get hurt, well, here we are for chocolate ice-cream or popcorn and movies.”

“Thank you,” she chuckles “but that’s not even what I meant. You guys know I’ve… Fucked around.”

“So?”

“Guys don’t like to thrust their dicks in a public hole.”

Her words freeze my blood. I hate that she thinks so low of herself and I hate society for putting that idea on her mind. I can’t pretend I understand her and I don’t know what I would think if I were her so as much as I want to tell her that’s silly, it might not be. I mean it certainly isn’t if it’s something she really thinks but also, I feel bad and I feel bad because I have been a part of that thought, unconsciously but I have.

I told Harry I didn’t want to be another notch on his belt. Isn’t that the same thing? Only, with men. But didn’t I somehow make him less worth it just because he had been with a lot of girls?

“Don’t you ever speak that way about yourself again.” Marie threatens her.

I am taken aback by her reaction but I let protective Marie take the lead her. I am foolishly speechless.

“I won’t even comment on how degrading and sexist the “public hole” thing is because what’s important here is that you are not a hole, Ollie, for goodness’ sake. Do you really think Mario sees you like that?”

“This is not about Mario.” Olivia defends him.

“Still, don’t insult him by thinking so little of him.”

“And don’t think so little of yourself either, Ollie.” I add. “Fighting sexism starts with oneself, don’t be sexist to yourself, let yourself be free, yeah? And just for the record, if Mario ever left you, it’s clearly his lost.”

“So clearly.” Marie adds.

Olivia just chuckles and wraps her arms around both our shoulders, pulling us into a hug in the middle of the underwear store.

I want to tell her to talk to Mario, to let him in and let him hear how she feels and what she thinks so he can have a chance at telling her the same things about himself but I couldn’t bring myself to be such a hypocrite. How could I tell my friends to talk to their boyfriends when I never do that with Harry?

I mean, we’re getting better or at least I think we are but there are still so many things to work on. I don’t want to hurt him and that means I don’t ever want to talk to him like I usually do. I’ve been thinking so hard about it, since that day he insulted me when we were having dinner at Bellamond. It sounded so terrible and it made me feel so little and unwanted and stupid so to think that’s how he’s felt every time I’ve done it makes me very angry with myself.

I’ve already seen how easy it really is to talk to him. I did at Marie’s house after I said those terrible things to him and he hasn’t made a big deal of it. So then I don’t understand why it is so hard for me to talk to him about what I think, how I feel and what I want… Because the truth is- I want him. He already knows that, I think, but I don’t think he knows how I really feel about him.

I would like to maybe text him right now and tell him I miss him, because it’s true, I do. I’ve barely seen him this week because he went on a congress from Monday to Wednesday and after that we’ve both been busy but I don’t know what’s holding me back. Am I really that scared of rejection?

I can’t get our fight on Marie’s house of my head. I think he let me know that night that he was addicted to me but he didn’t mean it like a good thing. He was sad that I was. I keep thinking lately… Did Javier really break that much?

What if that relationship has turned me into an abuser? I can’t believe I called Harry a junkie. I just… And then what? Then I cried so he would forgive me? I mean that’s what they do. Am I toxic to him?

I know ever since Dylan died I haven’t really been myself. I don’t even like the person that he left behind. I have felt… Empty and cold and heartless, I really have but… That has changed now. It has changed. But what if it has turned me into some sort of monster? What if I’m not capable of loving?

Out of all the people in the world who doesn’t deserve that, Harry’s the one who least deserves any of that.

“You can tell me.” Jason says.

We’re both sitting down on two velvety armchairs as the girls try things on. I give him a look.

“Whatever is troubling you, you can tell me.”

I sigh.

“Do you think I’m cold?” My eyes investigate his so he can’t lie.

“How do you mean?” His eyes narrow.

“I mean… Do you think… Do I remind you of David?”

“Of David?” He almost stands up from his chair as he frowns and turns to look at me. “You? Of course not! You’re nothing like David!”

“Well, you don’t know the way I treat Harry…”

Jason straightens his back before he sighs.

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you did so I can decide?”

“Because I’m embarrassed.” I shrug.

“You’re sorry, that’s what you are, which means you’re nothing like David.”

“What if I am? It’s not enough with being sorry, is it? The thing is never doing it again and I keep hurting him.”

“How?”

“I… I speak very harshly to him sometimes and I tell him terrible things… I… I don’t want to hurt him, you know? He’s become someone important to me, someone I care about. I would never hurt him and yet I keep doing just that and I don’t even know why.”

I look away from him and Jason sighs again.

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”

I tilt my neck to look back at him the moment he quotes The Perks of Being a Wallflower. He’s stern and understanding. I frown, I don’t know what the fuck does that have to do with anything of this but I listen because I love this guy more than I love most people.

“Indie” He reaches for my hand “is it possible that you do that when you feel like he’s getting too close?”

I look away. I don’t think it matters why I do it. I don’t think it would have hurt less that I had known the reason why Javier had me tied up on the bed. And what if the reason doesn’t have a solution? I mean what if the reason is my subconscious is trying to put him away from Dylan’s place? What do I do about that?  

“Indie, I can’t pretend I understand what it’s like to lose somebody you love as much as you loved Dylan-”

“I love Dylan.” I correct him.

“You love Dylan, sorry. But… Dylan… I mean… D’you think he would want you to be lonely?”

I don’t answer him nor do I look into his eyes that investigate me.

“Put on his shoes.” He whispers. “Imagine the story the other way, imagine you were him and he was yourself. What would you want for him?”

I let his words take me to that parallel world sometimes I wished it was the real one. If I had died that night, then Dylan would be here and if angels existed then I would be the one for him and I would look after him and protect him from whatever cloud angels get on the sky. But what if I saw him with another woman? What if I heard the same things he said to me said to her? What if he loved her more than he loved me? What would I be then?

I remember my therapist trying to sow that idea in my head- that we have to let go, that no person can live in the past forever, and that letting go doesn’t mean disrespecting. I wonder where’s the balance, I wonder if someday I’ll be able to find a way to feel good without feeling like I’ve forgotten all about him. But I know what I would want if I had been the one dead that night.

“I would want him to be loved.”

I feel tears on my lacrimal and Jason’s hand wraps around my arm and gently squeezes me.

“I know that’s what he would want to.” He whispers.

“I haven’t been able to go to his grave once.” I whisper. “I think if I could… Talk to him… Maybe let him now, I love him and I always will but… I think I love someone else.”

I hear Jason taking a deep breath and only then I realize what I just said. I tilt my neck so I can see his face. I don’t know what I’m expecting neither do I know why I’m expecting him to judge me. But he just smiles.

“I already knew that. Your face lightens up when he’s around or when someone talks about him. I saw that on Marie’s house the other weekend.”

I take a deep breath and give up. He’s right.

“Don’t worry, it’s the same for him. He treated you like a queen and was always looking after you and I think you guys understand each other pretty well.”

“We understand each other? We fight like cat and dog.”

“The way I see it, you’ve had your misunderstandings but you’ve always figured it out. D’you think any other person would have stick around long enough for you to figure each other out? And I’m not talking just about him, I mean, he’s got some issues too.” He frowns.

I finally chuckle. He does have some issues but they don’t come close to all the other good things he has.

“You know, I’m happy you got him. It makes it easier for me to finally do what I’ve always wanted.” He smiles.

“What is that?”

“The States.”

My mouth shuts. My lips pursed and I want to cry.

“The States? You’re leaving too?”

First Ollie and now him. No, no, no, there’s no way Marie and I are going to overcome this. They can’t leave; he can’t leave. I need him. My pulse accelerates. I never thought I was going to be losing my best friends so fast. He smirks and nods his head.

“I need it, Indie. I didn’t go because of David and he… He treated me like shit throughout the entire relationship and I didn’t lose you guys because you are fucking angels from another planet but I think I just need to go away for some time, figure myself out, do what I want for a change.”

I take a deep breath. I really need to stop being so selfish. I don’t even know how long for he’s planning on leaving but the least thing I can do as a decent friend is to support him not matter what. I’ll miss him, sure, but I won’t lose him just because he goes to another continent. He’d have to change his name and go to a secret location for me to lose him.

“If that’s what you want and what you think you need, I’m all in.” I smile. “I’m gonna fucking miss you but I’m happy that you’re doing your thing. I hope you know, even when you were with David, you never changed the person you really are and I think that says a lot about you. What happened to you was not your fault, it was his, and it could have happened to anyone. God knows we both know how they find the way to get into your mind. but you’ve always been more than what happened to you.”

He frowns despite his smile and I can tell that’s his way to try and hold back the tears. He wipes the ones that scape out before he holds my hand.

“I fucking love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And you call me dramatic but look at what speech you gave for three months that I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving for three months?” I frown and he laughs. “Then why would you say it like that? I thought you were leaving for good.”

He laughs.

“And miss your wedding and your pregnancy with Harry’s babies? Never.”

“Hey, hop off the horse!” We both chuckle.

“Just be honest with him, Indie.” He tilts his neck. “You’ve got him here” he flexes his fingers to gesture a handful and taps a finger on it “and here” he taps a finger on his chest where his heart is and I smile. “Now, why don’t you get some sexy ass lingerie for him?” He wriggles his eyebrows. “The straight guy in me can help you decide.”

“You’re on.” I smile.

I try on about five of them. The girls are the judges but they all know I’ll end up choosing whatever I like. I never listen to advices when it comes about clothes. I know what I like and what I don’t and that’s that.

I do have a thing for underwear. It’s the only thing I actually enjoy buying so most of my underwear is cute and lace or silk or nice soft cotton but I do get excited at the idea of surprising Harry with something sexier than usual.

Maybe high stockings would do, I could wear a skirt and underneath it some high stockings hooked up to the waist of a lace bodysuit or something like that. I find a black lace one almost see through except from some parts strategically covered with the black flowery pattern, the cut between my legs and my nipples. The straps are silk and from the one around my waist, the two clasps for the stockings fall on my thighs. I love it.

After getting our underwear and going go with JJ to the male section of Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent, we finally sit down on a terrace surrounded by bags and have a drink. I order a Martini because I guess I’m feeling fancy after all and my friends order a sort of fancy cocktail each, except from Coco that goes with a beer. Her and Ollie are the ones who look fancier by far, Marie does too but in a way that lets you know she’s the good girl in the family, whereas Ollie looks like the one who’s always late to family meetings and Coco looks straight out of a magazine and yet there she is with a beer on her hand not caring about the contrast one bit.

In front of the terrace, there’s an Italian restaurant where there are two guys at the door, opening them for the clients. I have caught them staring at me more than once but every time I look the look away. I’m afraid I even have a boob out with all the staring but when I look down I realize I don’t. Jason’s sitting next to me and I wonder whether he’s noticed too or I’m just being paranoid. I look up at them and one of them look to the floor. Jason laughs.

“Geez, they could get a photo.” Jason says.

Alright, I’m not crazy.

“You’ve noticed too?”

“They haven’t taken their eyes off you since you sat down.” He chuckles. “And I’m sitting right here, I could be your boyfriend for all they know.”

Olivia tilts her neck and turns her head around being the blatant bitch she is before she gives me a smile.

“Well, they can keep trying, they’re trying to get in the place of an Armani underwear model.”

I roll my eyes and so does Marie. My eyes drift to her.

“You’re so exaggerated.”

“He could be one.” I defend him.

My friends and sister giggle and I blush but join in. It’s true, he could really be one and I miss him and want to see him.

Ollie’s call coincides with the moment Jason gets up from our table to go to the toilet and Marie gives my sister a smile.

“Coco, how are things with Guido? Are you happy?”

“Oh, I’m very happy.” She smiles. “I’ve never had this before, you know? Knowing my feelings are reciprocated. It just feels great.”

“Oh, I’m happy to hear that. You deserve someone like that.”

“So do you.” I tell Marie. “How’s everything with Adam?”

“He’s a dream.” Marie shakes her head. “I do worry that everything is too good.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s so gentle and loving and caring… I keep thinking when it is going to end.”

“Why would it end? I mean, obviously there’s always like the first few months where everything is just perfect and all that and after that there’s more comfort and less romanticism but… Don’t worry about that. It’ll come naturally.”

“See? But that’s what I don’t want! I don’t want him to walk in the bathroom while I’m peeing or for him to see me with my hair on a towel and a face mask on.”

Coco giggles.

“Well, maybe not now, but it’ll eventually happen if you guys stay together for long enough.”

She looks away from us and takes a deep breath before she speaks.

“The other day he told me to leave some things at his place.” She all but whispers as if it was some sort of secret. “Well, he got micellar water even though he didn’t know what that was because I told him once that I couldn’t stay over at his house because I didn’t have my micellar water to wash my face.”

“Aw.” Coco rests a hand on her chest and Marie’s lips pursed.

I giggle.

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” She shakes her head. “It’s just… Are we not moving too fast?”

“I mean he asked you to leave stuff at his house because you need stuff. It’s not like he asked you to move in. I stay over at Harry’s all the time.”

“Don’t you think I’ll freak him out when he realizes I’m a high maintenance girl?”

“I mean, Marie” Coco’s sweet tone makes my friend look at her “I think he might have an idea already?”

“I mean” I giggle “he’s been to your house.”

“Yeah, but my skincare is all carefully kept in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Well” I smile “I don’t think that’ll be a deal breaker.”

She sighs.

“Maybe some day you can let him in the bathroom while you do your skincare routine. I do not think he’s gonna be faced by that.”

Her brown, good-girl’s eyes investigate mine whilst she considers my idea. I can’t believe she actually think that would be a problem. Adam is crazy about him. I don’t think there’s anything she can say that would make him not want her.

Jason comes back before Ollie does but it doesn’t take her long to stand next to our table.

“Guys, this was a very lovely day” she starts “but I won’t lie to you. Mario just called me, he said he had a hard day at the hospital today and I want to cheer him up with incredible sex and cuddles so-”

“We did not need to know about the incredible sex.” Marie tells her but Ollie just smiles.

“And of course you can leave to be with your lover, Ollie, no need to explain anything to us.”

“Right.” She smiles. “Then see you, guys.”

With that she picks up her uncountable bags and leaves and Marie bites her bottom lip.

“I think I’m gonna leave too, guys. I have a skincare routine to share with someone special.” She smiles at Coco and me and we both laugh.

“What?” Jason chuckles looking at both Coco and me. “I’m kind of tired too, girls. Your shopping gave me a headache.”

“I’m pretty sure you bought more stuff than me.” I reprimand him but he just rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, I love you all. See you.”

Coco and I walk together to her car and on the way there we both chat about how the group has changed in just a few months. It’s like we’ve grown up more in this year than we have in the last five. Jason went out of a terrible relationship and came out being stronger and more confident than ever and he’s going to the States for that internship he wanted; Ollie’s finally moved on from Jack and her inner crisis and seems to be done with being insecure and afraid of love; lovely Marie found her knight in shinning armour and is living the dream; and even Coco and me left the past behind and meet someone great.

I might miss the way things used to be because they’ve been like that for a long time but… I think they’re only getting better.

I dare to do it, if Marie’s going to show her skincare routine to Adam and Mario called Olivia because he had a hard day and needed comfort, I can tell him.

Indie: Miss you x

I rest my phone on my thigh and look out the window trying not to torture myself if he doesn’t answer straight away. He might be busy, he might be asleep even or he might be with his family.

Harry: Fuck, I miss you too

I grin like a kid on Christmas morning. Harry’s typing…

Harry: Are you done with your friends?

Indie: Yes :)

Harry: Can I see you?

Indie: Yes :)

Harry: Bien

I giggle like a teenager and Coco tilts her neck to give me an amused look. She’s not used to it.

“Do I drive you home or directly to Harry’s?”

“Do you have plans?”

“I wanna go home to shower but I’m going out with Guido afterwards.”

“Are you taking the car?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind dropping me at Harry’s then? So I can shower and stuff before too.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Awesome. Thank you.”

Harry: Did you have dinner?

Indie: Yes.

Indie: Are you at home?

Harry: Yes, I am. Are you coming?

Indie: Are you inviting me?

Harry: You’re always invited, love.

Indie: Then how about I visit you in an hour?

Harry: Can’t wait xxx 

After the shower, I butter my body with my strawberry and vanilla body lotion and put on my new lingerie set before I put on some lip balm and mascara. I put on a terracotta colour soft woollen sweater and a high waist black denim mini skirt that covers my stocking so they look like normal tights.

I’m excited to see Harry but on the way to his apartment while Coco drives and tells me about some of Guido’s jokes that had her laughing last time they saw each other, the excitement turns into nervousness.

Will he think this is too much? Will he find it funny? Because I would be mortified if he does and after all, this is not a special occasion. It’s just a random Friday night. Oh, God, he might think I’m crazy.

As I stand on the lift to his apartment, my sister’s compliment on my outfit gives me some nerve. I mean it’s just Harry. If he finds it funny or thinks it’s too much, I can always play it cool and pretend it was a joke all along.

He’s waiting by the door with a big smile when the lift doors opened and I make my way towards him keeping both hands on my brown jacket. He takes it and places it on the couch before we make our way towards his living room.

“Would you like anything to drink?” He offers.

“Um, maybe a cup of tea?”

He smiles amused.

“I was thinking you were going to say something alcoholic because it’s a Friday after all but you always surprise me, Blue.”

I chuckle.

“How was your day?”

“Good.” He nods his head as he turns the kettle on and takes two cups from the cupboard. “I had lunch with my mum. She asked me about you.” He gives me a smile that melts me. “How was yours?”

“Good too. We had coffee and then went shopping until we were hungry so we had a dinner and then a drink.”

“Sounds like torture to me.”

I laugh at his comment.

“That is not true. I’ve seen your closet, you’re into fashion.”

He smiles dimply because he knows I’ve caught him. God, I have seen him smile countless times in the last five months but still it makes my heart skips a beat. I approach him when he’s giving me his back checking on the water in the kettle and when he turns his head for he noticed my presence, I’m inches away from him. He wraps his arms around me and understands what I want so he leans down and kisses me. I let my tongue tell him how much I missed him and he hums as it pushes between his lips and caresses his. His hands find my ass and I moan against his mouth but the kiss is sweet and tender and we only pull apart when the kettle whistles.

We sit down on the couch and have our cups of tea as he tells me more about his lunch with his mum and I tell him more about my day. He also tells me about his congress and about an interesting case he had this week and I realize then how easy it is to talk to him. I didn’t realize there were these many things I wanted to tell him until I had him in front of me.

He’s been very handsy too and I’m sure so have I even if I don’t notice, but his hands have never left my legs and I’ve been a little nervous that he might move them a little higher and realize what I’m wearing but so far, he’s just been respectfully caressing my knee or calves.

“How is Jason doing?” He asks.

I find it so sweet that he asks about my friends.

“He’s better. Yeah, I think he’s doing good. He’s going to the States though.” My hand finds its bicep as I try to catch his undivided attention even though I already have it.

“What do you mean he’s going to the States?”

“Well, it’s only for three months.” I turn the drama off a little. “It’s this internship he got while he was with David Dick, he said no because David wanted him to stay but apparently he’s gotten a second chance and he said yes this time.”

“Wow, that’s great. Your friends are as nerdy as you.” He giggles.

“I’m not going anywhere though.”

“Yeah, thank God.”

He grins and his hands find my hips before he pulls me closer until I’m straddling him. He captures my lips with his in a long peck. Still, somehow, he hasn’t seen my stockings. I peck his lips again.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I would be very happy for you if you were going abroad for an internship or something too. You know that, right?”

I nod my head.

“I would miss you a lot though.” I confess and he grins.

“I would miss you too.”

I kiss him again and he kisses me back in a long, loving kiss until I pull away.

“I haven’t asked you: what did you get today?”

I lick my lips and feel my cheeks heating up. I’m sure when women wear these things, they don’t feel so shy. Plus, I have no reasons to feel shy when all Harry’s done is worship my body. I don’t know why I’m even doubting myself. He’s going to love it.

“I can show you.” I whisper.

I can feel his heartbeat accelerating under my hand and smile. Every doubt I’ve ever had flees my mind as I grab a handful of my sweater over my belly and pull from it so as to get it out of the hem of my skirt. His green eyes drop to my hand and his hands adjust to my hips over him. He swallows.

When my sweater springs free from my skirt, I just pull it up so he can see my lingerie bodysuit over my belly and his fingers sink of my hips as his lips part.

“Fuck me.” He whispers.

My lips curl up into a grin as his eyes search mine.

“You perfectly know what you do to me.”

His hand squeezes my hip once and I almost moan but then he takes his hands off me and rests them on the couch next to his hips.

“Well, do you want to see it or not?” I whisper.

He nods his head but doesn’t say a word. His eyes challenge me.

“You take off your clothes.” He whispers. “If you’re brave enough to wear that around me, you should be brave enough to undress yourself in front of me.” He smirks.

My eyebrows raise on my forehead and I give him a little smirk. He chuckles.

“D’you want a show?”

He grins as he nods, resting his back on the couch.

“And what do I get in return?”

“Oh, you’ll find out after the show.”

His green eyes, playful and filled on lust, narrow and this time it’s my pulse that accelerates. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I rest my weight on him as I get up from his lap and find my phone still on my purse. I go on Spotify and play Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet and hand him the phone so he can hear the song better. His grin turns nervous.

I have never done this before and I have no idea of how to dance for an striptease but here goes nothing. I sway my hips slowly much like I do when I’m fucking him because I already know he likes it from the times we have danced together. His eyes are set on me but instead of feeling nervous, I feel sexy and hot and lucky that he’s looking at me like that.

I turn around and give him my back before I bend over sticking my ass in the air to get my shoes off. Barefoot, I turn around and unbutton and unzip my skirt pushing it down my legs and letting him see my mid-thigh stockings. The corners of his lips curl up and he silently mouths fuck me.

Funny, I’m thinking the same thing. I caress myself like I’d like him to do, starting with the sides of my thighs and my hips and then my belly and my flanks, pulling my sweater up. I cup my own breasts under the sweater and don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bops as he swallows. Still swaying slowly to the music, I grab the hem of my sweater and take it off dropping it on the floor.

I stand before him on my lingerie and feel fire burning inside me as his eyes roam my body up and down. He’s shifted his position on the couch but I can intuit the bulge between his legs.

“Do you want me to go on?” I whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Come here.”

I do as I’m told and his touch cuts my breathing halfway. His hand sticks to the exposed skin on my thigh and lustfully moves up to my hip where he squeezes.

“You must be fake.” He almost chuckles and I do.

“I’m real” I rest one knee on the couch next to his thigh and resting my hands on his shoulders, I straddle him “and yours.”

“Fuck.”

His fingertips press on the back of my neck and our mouths find each other with greed. The way he’s looked at me and the way he’s touched me and how hard I can now feel him against the inner side of my thigh drives me crazy and I push my tongue inside his mouth hungrily. My eagerness takes him by surprise but he’s just as eager as I am judging by the strength of his tongue against mine and the squeezes of his hands on my flesh. He pulls away but my mouth follows his blindly.

“Calm down, love” he chuckles against my lips “we’ve got all night. Let me enjoy you.”

I pout but instead of getting another kiss, he grins. I can’t say I’m disappointed with the outcome of my pouting. I love that he still looks like a child when he grins even when he’s acting so much like a man, full of lust and need.

“How did I do?”

Grinning, he takes my hand and lets me feel his hard on. It excites me to the point that my walls clench. He’s so hard and so hot… I want him inside me now. No, I don’t want him, I need him.

“I had never done that before.” I confess.

“Are you serious?”

I nod timidly and he sighs.

“You’re a natural then. That was the hottest thing I have ever seen and this thing…” His fingers caress my bodysuit “fucking hell, Blue, I’m gonna be dreaming about this.”

I laugh.

“Now you have to show me what I get for it.”

He grins and licks his lips as he tilts his neck.

“Well, when did the show end? You did ask me if I wanted you to go on.”

“And you said no.” I frown.

“Because I don’t want you to take this off just yet.” His tongue licks my lips like a cat. “But… If you want, I would love to watch you first.”

“Watch me?” I frown. “Doing what?”

He grins. He takes my hand in his and brings them both to my sex making me cup my dripping lips myself. I breathe in through my nose. He’s so close to me and he’s smiling in the way that turns my insides into jelly and I’m so wet and so needy… I need some relief now.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, baby.”

“You mean… Right here on top of you?”

He nods slowly but his fingers move over mine and make me caress myself. He does that a few more times before he removes his hand and lets me work alone. I keep doing what he was doing before and press circles on my clit as my eyes set on him. His hands hold my hips to give me more balance and I slip my fingers underneath the soaked fabric. His eyes move from the place I’m touching to my eyes and stop at my breasts.

“Fuck…” He whispers. “How does it feel, baby?”

I slip a single finger inside before I get another one.

“It feels better when you do it.” I confess.

He squeezes my hips and pecks my lips.

“I can show you how I do it.” His lips press on the exposed skin over my bra and I feel a current of electricity on my body. “D’you want me to?”

I keep touching myself with lips part, enjoying his kisses and his whispers. I love how his voice turns deeper and raspier when we’re having sex. It drives me crazy.

“Why do you want me to touch myself instead of you?” I whisper.

“Because having you pleasuring yourself on top of me… Fuck, baby… You don’t know how sexy you are.”

I bite on my bottom lip but his thumb pulls from it liberating it. I look into his eyes.

“If you do that, I’m gonna burst.” He smirks. “Do you not touch yourself?”

“Yes, I do.” I move my fingers slowly against my clit because I’d cum already if the rhythm was any faster. “I guess it’s just… I’m nervous.”

“Why? You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that.” I gasp. “I do, I just… I want you.”

He grins and cups my breast on one hand making me moan.

“I’m right here, love. I just want you to cum like this first and then we can do whatever you want. Only if you want though.”

“I do want.” I stop him. “Just show me how you do it.”

He slips his own fingers the fabric of my bodysuit and guides mine.

“You have to start here” he covers the upper side to my clit, the part closer to my belly and presses slow circles “slowly, yeah, like that and don’t be nervous, baby. If you don’t cum on your own, I’ll help you.”

I half laugh half moan and he chuckles. I keep moving my fingers like he told me to do until I find a spot that sends electricity through my body. I start rubbing faster and the feeling is so good I almost don’t notice he removed his fingers.

“That’s right, baby, faster, faster.”

I feel the lower part of my belly tensing up and my nipples hardening and I moan as I relax my neck and throw my head back.

“Now stop.” Harry’s hand covers mine and stops my movement and I frown and give him a death glare that only makes him laugh. “And do it slowly again.”

I let him guide me and move my fingers against my clit watching him watch me. His eyes are fixed on my hand and my pussy and he’s biting his lip. God, this is so hot. I’m horny as hell.

One of his hands move from my hips to my inner thigh and he slips his fingers under the fabric again, slipping two fingers inside me and making me moan out loud.

“Fuck, I just wanted to see how wet you are.”

He moves his fingers slowly in and out of me and between that and my own stimulation on my clit I am afraid I might faint. I bite on my bottom lip again and he pulls from it with his thumb.

“What did I say?” He whispers as his fingers keep moving in and out of me so I bit my lip again so as not to scream. “You’re not really as good of a student as I thought.” He chuckles.

He gets his fingers out of me and I whimper making him chuckle again.

“You do it, baby.”

I curl two fingers inside of me and move them with the rhythm he was using and one of Harry’s hands squeeze my hip. I shut my eyes and gasp.

“Imagine it’s me, love.”

“Oh, God.”

When I open my eyes, I see he’s stroking himself over his jeans and my eyes drop to his bulge.

“You don’t know how much you’re turning me on, baby.”

No, he has no idea how much this is turning me on. I thought this was something only done in porn but this is fucking hot. Having him right here as I pleasure myself, hearing his voice thick with lust and knowing how much watching me is turning him on drives me crazy.

“You’re always so good with me.” He captures my earlobe between his teeth and pulls from it and I moan.

“Touch yourself, H.”

“D’you want me to?” His voice comes out strangled then and I feel the power he gives me burning my skin.

“Yes, like I’m doing.”

I hear his zipper going down and feel him lifting his hips from the couch to take his pants off. My eyes set on his hard length, already leaking precum, shinning and tight, and his fingers wrap around himself.

I try to take this time to focus on what he does to himself so I know how to touch him better next time so I slow the rhythm of my fingers for otherwise I’d finish already. Harry’s mouth attacks the side of my neck so I can no longer see him because my neck tilts back without my consent to grant him better access and he keeps kissing my skin.

“I’m not going to last long watching you, baby.” He whispers.

“Oh, God, I’m very close already, Harry… I fucking… This is so exciting.” I moan.

“Fuck me, keep talking.”

“Oh, Harry… I want you to cum so I can cum too but…” I can tell his pumping accelerates and so do my fingers. “It’s such a shame you’re not on my mouth like last time… You taste so good.”

A guttural sound cuts his breathing halfway and I feel a hot liquid spurt on my thigh. That sends me into overdrive and I moan until my throat stings. Harry’s hands hold my hips as I sigh and try to catch my breath and then I smile at him.

“Stop that or I won’t be able to stop fucking you.”

I laugh softly.

“Then don’t stop.”

He smiles mischievously at me and I know he was hoping to hear that.

“I can’t decide whether I want this off or not.”

He says staring down at my bodysuit and I laugh.

“I’m glad you like it.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead he just smiles before he leans in to capture my lips with his. We kiss intimately for a while and then his hands pull my hips down and he penetrates me slowly. He swallows my moans as he keeps kissing me lustfully but slowly, almost calmly.

His hands hold my ass and he lifts me and sinks me back down so he’s fully controlling the rhythm, a very slow, torturous one that lets me feel every inch of him as he stretches me on his way inside. I feel him so deep too, I don’t think he’s every filled me like this but I love it and I let him known, with moans and bites on his bottom lip.

“You like it slow, baby?”

I hum and nod my head and we kiss each other as if we were the only people in the world. Right now, he is to me.

“Spread your hips wider apart.” He whispers.

I do as I’m told and replace my knees further away from him. His hands hold me in place as he slowly pushes back in and I feel him paving his way through my channel inch by inch until our pubic bones touch and we both gasp.

“Oh, God.”

And we repeat again. He pulls out almost entirely and then sinks in again. He kisses me passionately and I press my body against his as if we could get closer. He captures my bottom lip with his teeth and pulls from it like I normally do with his and when my lip sets free from his prison, we both smile at each other. He fills me again and, in this kiss,, it’s me who pulls from his bottom lip. I have never felt more filled of him and of feelings for him, lust and love bubble and mix together inside my belly and burst in every kiss.

“Fuck, Harry, you’re amazing.”

I hear him giggling.

“Don’t laugh.”

He slaps my ass cheek and I jump a little.

“I’ll laugh if I want to.” He grins.

I smile too.

“You’re right. Don’t stop laughing. I love it when you do” I gasp as he fills me again, he rolls out “And I love your smile, you’re so handsome when you smile” when he fills me again, I tangle my fingers on his hair and pull from it “and your hair, I love your hair and your eyes, when you look at me…”

He shuts me up with a passionate kiss and I hope he understands how I feel about him through this intimate encounter.

“Blue…”

I wait for him to speak but he doesn’t say anything even though his hips don’t stop moving against mine.

“What?” I press him.

“Nothing.”

I would have insisted but his hips attack mine hard and it cuts my breath halfway. I cling onto his shoulders and he keeps thrusting inside me hard and fast. I pull from his hair and listen to our skins clapping together and the wet sounds of our intimate encounter. His hand cups and squeezes my breast and I arch my back and tense up as I cum again.

His thrusts become faster and sloppier until he cums himself and before I have time to react, he’s standing up and carrying me on his hips to his bed. He lies me on my back and smiles as he stares at me.

He spreads my legs opened and gets on his knees between them and his hands hold my ankle and place it on his shoulder before he unclasps my stockings and put them down my leg. He does the exact same thing with my other leg and caresses my entire body before he takes off my bodysuit.

He then hovers me and pecks my lips a few times before he pecks my nose and my cheeks and then my neck and my collarbones and he leaves kisses in every inch of my skin. I almost giggle when he kisses the spots that tickle and I feel a different type of excitement on my belly at his attention for these kisses aren’t even lustful, even though we’re both now naked. I feel adored and I feel cared for and wanted and I feel my heart about to explode with love for him.

He kisses my legs and from the inner side of my thighs he moves back to my belly, kissing my skin there again before he smiles at me.

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“Everything.” He smiles as his face reaches the level of mine and he pecks my lips again. “I want everything from you.”

My breath catches on my throat. I want him, no, more, I love him. I love him. I swallow and play with his hair as I stare into his eyes.

“Careful what you wish for” I whisper “If you play with fire, you’ll end up burned.”

“I’m already burned.” He smirks. “And here I am.”

I smile but the smiles turns into an o as he thrusts inside me again. God, this man is insatiable, but I can’t get enough either. He fucks me slowly again and he keeps biting my lips and squeezing my flesh as we both gasp and moan.

I sink my nails on his back as he licks and sucks on my nipples and I moan his name once and again whilst his hips keep drilling me to his bed. I wish we could stay like this forever. When the delicious torture on my breasts is done, he grants me again with the heavenly image of his face and that’s all I can see as he rests his forehead against mine and keeps on moving in and out of me. I feel his breath on my face and swallow his grunts and moans.

I am not sure he feels the same way I do. I don’t know if he loves me but I don’t think I could feel any of this if he didn’t. I don’t think he would make love to me like this if he didn’t love me. I think he wouldn’t touch me like he does, I think he wouldn’t squeeze my flesh so gently if he didn’t. I think his kisses wouldn’t feel like this if he didn’t love me too.

“You feel so good, baby.”

I feel my pulse on my skin and I feel the knot on my belly about to untie and with another push of his, I lose track of space and time and my head sinks of the pillow. I can’t even breathe for some seconds until I moan out loud and feel my throat raspy and becoming inflamed. He lets go too, groaning in my ear and shivering on my arms.

It takes him a few seconds to roll out of me, but he stays laying on top of me and I hug him to my chest as we both fight to catch our breaths. I don’t know what any of this was but he filled me in every level and I still feel my heart pumping proudly at the newly found sentiment.

Harry’s breathing pattern changes and becomes calm and deep. Carefully, I pull back just enough to look into his eyes but they’re close and his expression is peaceful. I kiss his forehead.

“You’re falling asleep on me.” I whisper.

“No…” He frowns but his eyes are still closed.

I smile and try my best to pull from the duvet so I can cover us both but I’m not strong enough.

“I just need help to cover us up.”

“I’ll warm you up.” He mumbles.

“You’ll freeze too, come on.”

With one hand he lifts my back from the bed and with the other he pulls from the duvet and rolls us both under the duvet before he hugs me again. This time he rests his back against the mattress and pulls me to him so I’m the one resting my head on his chest. I trace senseless figures with my fingertips on his bare chest.

“Blue”

“Yes?”

“Give me a goodnight kiss.”

I chuckle before I lift my head and peck his lips. His eyes are still closed but he frowns.

“Kiss me well.” He complains.

I press my lips against his again, not quite knowing what he wants, and lick my way inside his mouth, getting a lazy response from his tongue. When I think I did well, I pull apart and peck his lips as closure but he opens his eyes and the intense green in them paralyzes me.

“I want one of your kisses.”

Still impressed by his gaze, I press my lips against his again and I put all the affection I have for him on the kiss until my belly erupts in a fist of butterflies and my chest feels funny and warm. We kiss one another with love, it can only be love, and when I feel like my pulse has reached my brain, I pull away and Harry skims my nose with his.

I rest my cheek against his chest before he opens his eyes and realizes I’m blushing and I hear his heartbeat against my temple. His breathing slows down just like the movement of his fingertips on the low of my back and he sighs.

“Blue…”

I hum.

“I love you.”

[secretlynestaarcheron]

ANGSTMAS DAY THIRTEEN 

Nessian AU // Why me 

Four times Nesta asked “Why me” when pertaining to Cassian. 

She blinks at her English teacher, a teacher she used to consider her favorite teacher, until he announced Nesta’s name followed by her partners, “Cassian Monte.” 

“You can’t be serious! You’re putting me with him?” Nesta whispers, glancing to the back of the room to where Cassian was leaning back in his chair and a ball of paper at his friend Rhysand. “Why me? Any other girl would love to be put with him.”

Her teacher smiles down at her. “That’s exactly why I am putting you with him. He’s failing and you’re succeeding. I am trying something new,” he shrugs, nodding his head towards the back of the room. “Now get back there.” 

Nesta frowns as she slings her bookbag on her shoulder and moves to the back of the room. Why me, why me, why me, why me, why me, why me. She murmurs to herself as she stops in front of Cassian’s desk. He doesn’t even look up. 

She takes a breath before dropping her books on his desk. He looks up at her, his eyes trailing up, slimy pick. “Can I help you?” he asks, leaning forward on his desk to invade more of her personal space. 

“We’re partners,” she states. “Did you just not bother to listen?” 

He chuckles, as he turns to next to him where a sophomore sat. “Scram,” he states. The sophomore grabs his books quickly and makes his way up to Nesta’s old seat. “For you, madame.” 

Just another reason to add to the long list of why Nesta hated highschool. “Let’s just get this over with, we only have twenty minutes to complete the assignment.” she says, adding more quickly to herself, “then we never have to talk to each other ever again.” 

He chuckles, a genuine laugh, not his usually snicker that he did with his friends. “On the contrary. Nesta. I think this is the beginning to a long beautiful relationship.” 

~*~

“Why me?” Nesta shouted as she shoved Cassian away from her. Tears burning behind her eyes as she turns her back towards him and reaches for the doorknob. 

“Nesta, come on, don’t be like this,” Cassian says, jumping up the few steps to the porch and reaching for her arm. She rips it from his grip. “I don’t even know what I said, I don’t know what I did.” 

She pauses, she knew she was being unreasonable, she knew she was being unkind but she was blinded by the multiple emotions swirling in her head. “I just need a second, okay,” she says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” 

Cassian’s shoulders slump as the door shuts between them and she disappears into her house. Cassian turns away and sits down on the sets with his head in his hands. It all happened so fast. He made a joke about his mom and then she blew up. They had been on ten dates already, he thought it was all going well. 

The door opens behind him and he turns around quickly, slumping back down when he sees it was just her sister Elain. “I am sorry, I’ll be leaving soon, I just-,” he pauses, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to know if she’s okay.” 

Elain gives him a small smile before sitting down beside him. “It’s the anniversary of our mom's death,” Elain says quietly. The joke he made was about how his mom had been nagging him lately. God, he felt like an idiot. “She takes it the hardest, she was the only one that really knew our mom, they had a special bond. That’s why Nesta loves literature so much. Our mom would constantly be reading to her.” 

Cassian frowns. He wanted to talk to her. Explain to her that he was an insensitive prick and that he was sorry. “I didn’t know,” he says. 

“She doesn’t talk about it often,” she explains, reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortingly. “She has a whole thing about not being enough. She blames herself, she begged mom to take her to the park, she didn’t understand how sick mom actually was. She keeps saying that if she hadn’t pushed her perhaps she wouldn’t have collapsed or if they were home they could have gotten her to the hospital quicker.” 

Cassian nods, it made sense now, why she constantly needed assurance. 

“She’ll kill me if she knew that I told you,” Elain says. “But, I think you're good for her. She smiles more when you're around. She's actually putting herself first for once.” 

Cassian smiles at Elain. “I appreciate you telling me,” he explain. 

“She’ll warm up by tomorrow,” Elain replies. “It’s just hard now.” 

Elain pats his back before making her way back inside. Cassian stands up and starts moving to his car, his hand faltering on the door. He moves quickly without thinking, heading to her backyard and scanning the ground for a rock before looking up at the windows. 

He had only been in Nesta’s room once, it had been covered in books, journals, and plants given to her by Elain. He threw the first rock, nothing, then the second. The light flickered on and then the window was open. Nesta pops her head out, he could see her eyes were swollen and red in the moonlight. 

“What are you doing here, Cas?” she asks her voice weak from emotion. “I thought you went home.” 

“You said “Why me?” and I want to tell you,” he says. 

She gives him a quizzical look. “Go home, Cas, it's late,” she states, moving back into her room and reaching for the window. 

“Wait!” he yells. She pauses before looking back out the window. “Your determination, you don’t cower away from anyone or anything. You look at it straight on and don’t shy away from anything.” She sniffles, covering her face. “Your intelligence. I didn’t know someone could just be filled with so many fun facts. You have a fun fact about everything.” 

“That’s not annoying?” she asks, dropping her hands to look at him. 

He shakes his head. “You don’t know how many times you’ve told me something and I’ve run to Azriel or Rhys to tell them. They think I am whipped and honestly, I don’t really care,” he states. “Your giving, if you didn’t have people to stop you I think you would keep giving until you had nothing left to give.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying nice things to me,” she replies. “I am just being insecure.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t care if you weren’t insecure, you deserve to hear nice things Nesta,” he retorts, “You deserve to know that people love you, that I love you.” 

“You love me?” she asks, her eyes wide and she looks down at him. 

He gives her a lopsided grin, “Of course I do,” he says with a slight shrug. He frowns when she disappears into her room and closes her window. He had scared her away. This was the end of Nesta and Cassian, it had barely started. 

He moves to turn away when the back door opens and Nesta comes running out. She throws around his neck and he takes a few steps back at the impact to steady himself before wrapping his arms around her. “I love you too, Cas,” she whispers against his chest. 

~*~

“Oh god, why me?” Nesta groans as she doubles over, gripping her stomach as she feels the child inside of her kick. “I am already contracting, why does she need to add kicking my kidneys to the list of pain?” 

Cassian chuckles as he reaches out for her hand which she grips. “How far apart are they?” she asks through clench teeth. 

He looks at his watch. “Three minutes,” he says as she lets out a breath and falls back against the pillow. 

“If she doesn’t get out of her soon I am going to name her something horrible. No one will know how to spell her name, that will be her price to pay,” she says, as she puts a hand to her forehead. Cassian chuckles and she opens her eyes to glare at him. “Is this funny to you?” 

“No,” he says sobering up quickly but he’s still smiling. “It’s not funny at all.” 

She frowns. “Go get me ice chips,” she orders, but as Cassian stands up the doctor walks in. “Alright, we got your test results back and I think it’s time we get this baby out of you, what do you say?” the doctor exclaims. 

Three excruciating hours later, cries filled the room, and Nesta was finally able to breath fully. She falls against the pillows as the doctor brings the squirming infant to her chest. She blinks away the tears as she looks up at Cassian.  “I am thinking Jessica with a silent x,” Nesta whispers as she looks at the small child who immediately stops crying as Cassian reaches forward to hold the baby's hand. 

“I was thinking Sara with a silent q,” he retorts. 

After some arguments they decided on Harper, after the author of the book that brought them together sophomore year of Highschool, and Elise after Nesta’s mother. 

~*~ 

Nesta grips the hand of her husband, who was lying completely still in the hospital bed, his hand still warm from the machine that was keeping his heart beating. He was pronounced brain dead at the scene of the accident. He didn’t have a DNR so they hooked him up to a machine that would keep him alive. 

She leans her head on his shoulder. “Why me? Why’d you have to make me decide, Cas?” she whispers. Her tears left spots on the hospital gown. He had left to get more formula from the store for their second born. She was overwhelmed with a two year old and infant, so he stopped on his way home from work. 

She wished she had gone that morning like she said she would. Then he wouldn’t be at the light to turn into the store, he wouldn’t have had to make that turn, he would have gone straight. The car that ran the red light wouldn’t have hit him if he went straight. 

Feyre had brought the kids in earlier to say their goodbyes. Rhysand, Mor, Azriel, and Amren had just left. Nesta was supposed to have made a decision by herself. They told her it was up to her. That they would be happy with what she decided. That they would be there for her no matter what. 

She knew Cassian wouldn’t be happy laying here for the rest of his life. He was captain of the track and football team in high school, and took up rock climbing in college. He wasn’t known to stay still. He wouldn’t want this. 

“Have you made a decision, Mrs. Monte?” the doctor asks. 

She nods, squeezing his hand. “You can turn the machine off,” she states her voice cracking with emotion. 

The doctor nods and moves over to the machine. “It could take minutes to hours,” he clarifies. “I’ll need you to sign some paperwork.” 

She nods as the nurse hands her the clipboard and she signs her name on the line before grabbing Cassian’s hand again. “I am ready,” she states. He flicks the machine and the light turns off. “I am going to stay, if that’s okay. I want to be with him until the end.” 

The doctor nods. “We will be in shortly to check up on you two,” he says and the doctor and nurse exit the room. She sits there and holds her husband's hand until the line goes flat. 

Why me? Why did you have to leave me? 

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, April 12

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Brad Pitt Blindsided by Abuse Bombshell

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- former Vanderpump Rules hunk Jax Taylor hauling trash outside his L.A. home, tennis star Venus Williams had some courtside cuddles with her pet pup in Miami, sitcom star turned pot peddler Jim Belushi during a spin around Santa Monica

Page 3: Chrissy Metz runs errands in L.A., David Hasselhoff with his wife Hayley Roberts in Calabasas, Lena Headey buzzed around in L.A. on an electric bike

Page 4: Toxic TV talker Ellen DeGeneres is trapped in a tragic tailspin, belting back booze while struggling to get a grip on her fading career and rocky marriage -- after losing 1 million viewers this year alone, Ellen's once high-flying show is on thin ice and she's fighting with wife Portia de Rossi amid talks of a $300 million divorce -- her ratings are tanking, and her marriage is coming apart at the seams and she's knocking back the red wine to drown her sorrows -- her strategy is to let the storm about her talk show die down and then pull in some huge guest stars to win back her audience and reestablish herself as top dog on the talk show circuit -- at the same time, her 12-year marriage to Portia has been hanging by a thread and the two had been at loggerheads after serial house-flipper Ellen put the estate she bought from Maroon 5's Adam Levine on the market for $53.5 million and Portia thought it was finally going to be their forever home and it was like pulling the rug out from under her -- then another crisis struck home as Ellen rushed Portia to the hospital after she collapsed and Portia underwent an emergency appendectomy and is now recuperating but her spouse is a mess over Portia's health crisis and she's been drowning her sorrows in booze -- Ellen realizes much more than ever how much she desperately loves Portia and what she's got to lose if they split but she also knows it's be a lot of work to get the relationship back on track once Portia recovers

Page 5: Chevy Chase secretly cheated death after a secret heart condition landed him in the hospital for five long weeks and now he may never be out of the woods -- the 77-year-old, who is now recovering at his Westchester, N.Y. home, recently revealed the heart issue snuck up on him -- Chevy needed valve replacement surgery, and recovering boozer Chevy's long history of swilling alcohol had left him with an enlarged heart and acute cardiomyopathy, a disease that makes it harder for the organ to pump blood to the rest of his body and his heart problems stems from his years of drinking plain and simple and it's affected his heart, weakened it over the years -- however, before risky surgery could be performed, docs needed to make sure the comedian was stable enough for the procedure -- in 2017, Chevy claimed he'd finally gotten sober after one of his daughters said she gave up on him and his wife Jayni threatened to leave him if he didn't clean up his act but it may be too little too late for the comedy legend because valve replacement surgery could affect his activities for the rest of his life and it means his heart was pumping through an ineffective valve, and this damages heart muscles, which never grow back and he could have ongoing chest pains or dangerous heart rhythm disturbances, which could lead to heart attack or death

Page 6: Dr. Dre's estranged wife, Nicole Young, claims the rap mogul knocked her out cold in a drunken rage -- it's the latest bombshell in the couple's brutal divorce war, with Nicole making the explosive charge in an application for a restraining order that was denied by a judge and she also alleges Dre punched her squarely in the face after he felt she disrespected him at a party in 1999 and Nicole claims she woke up in their car with Andre speeding at over 100 miles per hour, drunk and out of control and he was swerving and weaving and she thought she was going to die and she also claims a drunk and angry Dre held a gun to her head during a 2012 dispute, saying she was terrified he was going to kill her -- Dre has denied all of Nicole's abuse claims

* In a desperate bid to save their crumbling romance, Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez are seeing a sex therapist to spice up their fizzling bedroom romps -- the duo called off their wedding plans after a stormy four-year affair and are on the brink of the end -- A-Rod staved off a break at the last minute by dashing down to the Dominican Republic, where J.Lo's filming her new flick and patching things up for the moment -- the biggest issue has been Alex's roving eye plus sexting various women on the side, and Jennifer wants to get to the bottom of why she's not enough for him

Page 7: Jeopardy! contestants want celeb medic Dr. Mehmet Oz axed as guest host -- casting the dubious doc celebrates the elevation of talking heads at the expense of academic rigor and consensus, according to a group of the game show's former winners and contestants in a letter -- the letter cites instances in which Dr. Oz used his authority as a doctor to push harmful ideas, and referred to a 2014 letter penned by faculty at Columbia Medical School, where Oz also teaches, calling for his removal from the program and the letter concludes inviting Oz to guest host is a slap in the face to all involved

Page 8: Jeffrey Epstein's accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell's third desperate bid to get out of jail on bail has been nixed by a federal judge -- the 59-year-old British socialite it rotting in a Brooklyn, N.Y. federal slammer denying charges she recruited underage girls to be sex slaves for her late lover Epstein, whose 2019 death in his jail cell is suspected on being a staged murder, despite an official ruling of suicide -- Maxwell's offer to plunk down $22.5 million and give up her citizenships in England and France was nixed by Judge Alison Nathan, who agreed with prosecutors the suspected Israeli intelligence asset was still a flight risk -- meanwhile, Ghislaine's lawyers claim she was abused by a guard and is losing hair and weight due to poor treatment in the slammer, where she's awaiting a July trail date

Page 9: Billionaire Queen Elizabeth is bracing for a big pay cut -- due to the financial crash triggered by the COVID pandemic, the Sovereign Grant, the tax money allowance the royals get, is expected to be slashed by more than 25 percent when it comes up for its five-year renewal in 2022 -- last year, Her Highness raked in $114.2 million from taxpayers, but that bundle was exceptional and cannot expect that to be repeated -- a major cost, besides allowances for the royal family, is a renovation of Buckingham Palace, which prices out at $500 million over 10 years -- one saving is Prince Harry and wife Meghan Markle have been stripped of their titles and public paychecks -- Her Majesty is aware of the current financial situation and is happy to play her part in cutting costs

* Prince Harry has landed a job as a hot-shot exec of a firm providing mental health and life counseling but it sounds like the tech start-up company is really using him as a celebrity showhorse -- Harry, who studied art and geography in college, will be Chief Impact Officer for BetterUp Inc, saying he intends to help create impact in people's lives -- BetterUp CEO Alexi Robichaux refused to say how much he's paying the prince, but noted Harry will have a meaningful and meaty role and will attend all employee meetings at the San Francisco headquarters and Robichaux also hinted at Harry's true value, saying he'll be a special guest at company events; in other words, the company will use him as a celebrity draw and they'll lure potential clients and investors to events by saying they can run shoulders with the prince and Harry has no psychology training; he will be a showpiece -- Harry first hooked up with BetterUp by using its app that gives proactive coaching and provides endless possibilities for personal development, increased awareness and an all-around better life and Harry says he was matched with his coach who is truly awesome and has always given him sound advice and a fresh perspective, which is so valuable

Page 10: Lisa Marie Presley is getting back on track after her son Benjamin Keough's tragic suicide and bitter divorce from Michael Lockwood, but she's still a hopeless addict -- Elvis Presley's 53-year-old daughter smokes like a chimney from morning until night and is struggling for every breath and she goes through a pack or two a day minimum and she simply can't quit and she has cut out triggers like booze and coffee, but she still needs her cigarette fix from the moment she wakes up until she puts her head down at night -- she was snapped having a smoke outside a COVID-19 testing center in L.A.'s San Fernando Valley and it was the only time she was spotted in public since her son died in July -- she started smoking at age 15 and has admitted this is the one thing that got her and bit her in the ass that she can't shake even those she's kicked pain pills, cocaine, booze and opioids and she's tried everything she can think of to quit: patches, nicotine gum, going cold turkey, but nothing works and she did stop for a spell after being hypnotized but a day or two later she was lighting up again -- she's losing weight, exercising more and eating healthier, but her smoking habit is the elephant in the room

Page 11: Following the heart-crushing suicide of her brother, Elvis Presley's granddaughter Riley Keough has become a death doula, a counselor who helps terminal patients and their cope with the devastating trauma -- Riley announced she'd completed her training on social media -- the daughter of Lisa Marie Presley and her first husband Danny Keough, Riley was devastated when her brother Benjamin Keough committed suicide with a shotgun last July -- spurred by the tragedy to become a death doula, Riley says she thinks it's so important to be educated on conscious dying and death the way we educate ourselves on birth and conscious birthing

* Reality TV train wreck Mama June Shannon claims she and her boyfriend Geno Doak spent $900,000 in a year to feed their drug addiction and the couple were spending $2500 a day, if not more, on methamphetamine -- June entered rehab with $1.75 in her pocket and they've been clean 14 months

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- reformed boozer Luann de Lesseps sips a soft drink in Mexico (picture), Real World star Rebecca Blasband believes she had an otherwordly 15-year beyond-the-grave relationship with Beatles legend John Lennon's ghost, in Australia a not so itsy bitsy spider bite turned into a giant wallop of a headache for Melissa McCarthy, Ilana Glazer and husband David Rooklin are happily expecting their first baby ironically right before of her horror movie False Positive, Sarah Silverman says no one ever told her not to use tongue in screen kisses and it got her fired from a show called Pride & Joy

Page 13: Al Pacino gets all gussied up in Italy to play fashion godfather Aldo in the biopic House of Gucci (picture), Justine Bateman (picture), Tom Selleck covers up his signature 'stache with a mask in L.A. (picture), first-time mama Katharine McPhee hit a sour note with composer husband David Foster for blabbing their newborn son's name Rennie David Foster on Today

Page 14: Rihanna plunked down $13.8 million for a new Beverly Hills mountaintop mansion that's literally surrounded by noteworthy neighbors like Paul McCartney and Mariah Carey and Madonna who live in the same exclusive star-studded cul-de-sac, Tom Cruise is on a mission to unload his Rocky Mountain getaway for $39.5 million, Goldie Hawn gushes her life partner Kurt Russell is still hot as heck after turning 70

* Fashion Verdict -- Miranda Lambert 4/10, Taylor Swift 5/10, Phoebe Bridgers 1/10, Giuliana Rancic 7/10, Brandi Carlile 6/10

Page 16: Cover Story -- Angelina Jolie is determined to paint her ex Brad Pitt as an abusive, drunken monster, and now she's got their kids backing her claim that he's the dad from hell -- the mom of six, who's been battling Brad in court over custody and money for five years, filed new bombshell papers saying she and her children want to testify their life was the pits -- while the documents are sealed, Angelina is making sure their kids paint Brad as violent and aggressive and her shocking charges continue earlier accusations by oldest child Maddox, now 19 and in college, who accused a booze-fueled Brad of abusing him on a private flight five years ago and Maddox essentially painted his dad as a demented monster and he went into detail about Brad's terrible temper, the abuse he inflicted on the whole household with his binge drinking and the scars that exist to this day because of the appalling way he alleges Brad treated his mom during the marriage -- Brad has reportedly been sober for years and Angelina's new claims of domestic abuse are basically a rehash of the old accusations -- legal experts also maintain the minor kids can only testify if Brad agrees to it, which is doubtful -- the superstars have spent a combined $10 million in legal fees and are currently battling over visitation rights for their brood and Angelina has refused to compromise, wants full custody and calls it a fight to the death and she doesn't care about Brad or how anybody sees their fight, she just wants what she feels she is entitled to as a mother and will fight with every inch of her body and soul to get it

Page 19: 10 Things You Don't Know About Topher Grace

* Katherine Heigl boasts she's bionic after having two titanium disks inserted into her neck and the actress says the surgery has freed her from the most excruciating pain

* Wendy Williams broke wind in a stunning fart-burp combo while she was live on camera, right in the middle to discussing Kim Kardashian's divorce from Kanye West -- the gassy lassie seemed surprised at her own outburst and apologized to the audience

Page 20: True Crime

Page 23: William Shatner is creating an artificial intelligence-powered version of himself -- in true sci-fi fashion, people in the future will be able to ask him questions about his life and times -- the 90-year-old icon is the first person to be captured by an advanced video and sound system developed by the L.A.-based company StoryFile -- Shatner says with StoryFile, we can now be present for the future; your authentic self, for all time

* Furious perfume mogul William Lauder is battling to kick his former mistress Taylor Stein and their 13-year-old love child out of her home and into the street, because their supposedly secret love affair was revealed -- the big stink exploded after the 60-year-old Estee Lauder heir learned his secret teen daughter wrote on social media that her parents were divorced but actually, Lauder never wed Taylor, but kept her like a queen in a $7 million, 6000-square-foot Bel Air mansion with a $1 million annual allowance for years and the only condition was that she keep their affair and the child under wraps, but the Park Avenue playboy claims she blasted their pact to smithereens when his illicit daughter blabbed about the relationship online -- Lauder hooked up with Taylor in Aspen in 2000 while still wed to wife Karen, mom of three of his daughters -- he knocked Taylor up in 2005, but told her to get an abortion because he was then in the midst of divorcing Karen but three years before the 2009 divorce, Taylor got pregnant again and gave birth to their girl and that's when the moneybags lover boy drew up the hush-hush deal

Page 24: COVID vaccines hidden dangers -- scientists warn shots don't work and have nightmare side effects

Page 27: Gal rock roadie Tana Douglas is snitching on music superstars including George Harrison and Iggy Pop, who she got close to during her wild years traveling with bands -- in her book called Loud, she recalls her job hauling equipment for bands nearly ended at age 21 when Beatle George Harrison was ready to propose, but she blew it; the two were getting close under a kitchen table after George fled his own birthday party, where he was embarrassed by his present: strippers and she ruined the mood by firing up a cigarette and George told her he would marry her tomorrow if she gave up smoking but the first female rock roadie couldn't kick butts -- she has crazy stories about saving AC/DC's frontman Bon Scott when he overdosed, Elton John who did drugs and threw tantrums, The Go-Gos, and doing a line of coke with Iggy Pop intended for David Bowie

Page 28: Health Report

Page 30: Julianne Hough has plumped up her kisser, and her new look falls flat -- the newly single star may have gone overboard with lip fillers to the point where she's almost unrecognizable -- Julianne's had some surgical and nonsurgical things done, but her lips just look wonky and no one can understand why she'd do it because her lips looked fine to her friends and family, but Julianne obviously thought they needed more volume and clearly got carried away -- she's also totally gone overboard with the spray tanning and hair extensions and she ditched the short blond bob that suited her so well and now she's looking like a Kardashian -- her lips look a bit swollen, so it's possible they will settle down and her natural lip proportions appear to have changed, with her upper lip the same size as her lower lip

Page 32: Tori Spelling has got the marriage blues and she's been out and about without her wedding ring -- the 47-year-old mom of five was spotted buying veggies at Underwood Family Farms in California's Moorpark with her kids but minus husband Dean McDermott and her wedding ring -- Tori's fed up with her mate, whining he's not doing his share around the house or paying her enough attention and they've found themselves in a real rut where they spend less and less time together and barely mention one another on social media and they haven't had a date night since goodness knows and Dean is never in the romantic mood and lately, they're more like brother and sister than husband and wife -- Tori wants Dean to step it up and start acting like a hubby instead of a leach and Tori's exhausting herself by taking care of the domestic chores single-handedly at times while Dean has other things on his mind and he hasn't picked up a vacuum or washed the dishes in weeks and sometimes he doesn't seem to be aware she's in the room and it's frustrating her to no end -- ditching her ring is sending Dean a very clear message that he needs to stop taking her for granted and work on the marriage

* Paul McCartney dove deep into his Beatles past and emerged with a children's book inspired by the group's 1966 hit Yellow Submarine -- Grandude's Green Submarine, a sequel to Paul's picture book Hey Grandude, will be released in September and changes the color of the submerged vessel

Page 36: Reality TV momager Kris Jenner is worth an estimated $190 million and masterminded the megabucks careers of her reality star daughters, but she confesses she was clueless about dough when she became divorced -- Kris confesses first husband Robert Kardashian handled everything and she never paid a bill during their 13-year marriage that ended in 1991 -- she said she woke up to responsibilities that she didn't have the day before but she says she's a quick study and she knew she had to get it together and she felt such an enormous sense of accomplishment to be able to figure it all out and pay her own bills and make her own money and do her own taxes and there were times when she didn't have a lot of money, but she was very organized -- now she studies business for new opportunities and she's interested in different businesses and how they evolve and how they become successful and she just enjoys the business world

* Bobby Brown's son Bobby Jr. died after accidentally overdosing on a killer cocktail of alcohol, cocaine and fentanyl, his autopsy reveals, but lawmen say they are now opening a criminal investigation into the 27-year-old's death at his father's home in suburban L.A. -- the autopsy report showed in his final hours Bobby Jr. consumed a deadly mix of tequila, cocaine and the prescription medication Percocet -- he was Brown's second child with former galpal Kim Ward

Page 38: Long-lost letters written by Nazi dictator Adolf Hitler's father, Alois, reveal the freaky Fuhrer grew up to be a cruel, tyrannical, arrogant lout, just like his old man -- the 31 letters were discovered by retiree Anneliese Smigielski in the attic of her house in the Austrian town of Wallern and are the basis of a new book by historian Roman Sandgruber -- penned to Anneliese's great-great-great-grandfather Joseph Radlegger, who sold retired customs official Alois a farm when future Nazi monster Adolf was six in 1895, the letters reveal Hitler's dad was a brutal boozer and boss of the house, but depended on the skills and money of his third wife, Klara, a former servant girl the cheating creep had seduced and wine-guzzling Alois was awfully rough with her and beat little Adolf and the other eight kids -- like his father, Adolf felt superior through the knowledge he had acquired in self-study and he saw himself as a military, technical and artistic genius, not only as a painter, but also as an architect, writer, composer and actor

Page 40: Bethenny Frankel is sporting an engagement ring from fiance Paul Bernon -- the three-stone ring features a huge eight- to ten-carat emerald-shaped center stone and if it's a real, natural diamond, its estimated value is up to $1 million

* Gwyneth Paltrow just babbled something her second husband, Brad Falchuk, probably doesn't want to hear: she never wanted to get divorced from Chris Martin but she wed Brad in 2018 and Gwyneth calls him the most amazing man adding they've built something that she's never had before

* Suzanne Somers brags she and husband Alan Hamel are having sizzling sex three times a day before noon -- she blames doses of hormones for their frisky urges in their golden years

* Klutzy comic Chelsea Handler jokes about her subpar skiing skills online, but later revealed she wrecked her knee and broke two toes after she flew into the trees on a snowy slope in Canada -- Chelsea confesses she took the terrible tumble in British Columbia, where she was training with a personal instructor

Page 41: Vin Diesel's son Vincent is learning it's a good career move to have a movie star dad -- the 10-year-old has landed a $1000-a-day role in his father's new Fast and Furious flick -- the kid plays the younger version of Vin's character Dominic Toretto in the already completed, ninth F&F film -- Vincent's mom is Vin's longtime galpal, Mexican model Paloma Jimenez, who also has two daughters with Vin -- unlike his dad's megabucks salary, Vincent got the basic $1005 daily rate

* The faith-based Duggar family of 19 Kids and Counting fame is still feuding after a sleazy sex scandal ripped them apart -- Jill Duggar Dillard, who's outed herself as one of four sisters molested by big brother Josh Duggar, reveals she hasn't visited her parents' home in years -- Jill and husband Derick Dillard, say they aren't allowed at Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar's Big House without her father's permission and Jill reveals there's some restrictions but also they just feel like they have to prioritize their mental and emotional health -- TLC axed the family's show after Josh was exposed as a child molester and in the past, Jill's admitted she's not on the best terms with some of her family

Page 42: Kim Kardashian has been getting back in touch with her body big-time now that she has booted Kanye West from her bedroom and her life and she's been strolling around totally nude -- with the pair's six-year marriage officially kaput, Kim is gleefully letting it all hang out, while indulging in once-forbidden McDonald's french fries -- Kanye made a habit of telling Kim to cover up and picked her to pieces for wearing sexy outfits and he said she needed to class up her act and grow old gracefully but now she's free to express herself and a lot of the time, especially when Kanye's looking after the kids, she's walking around totally in the nude and it's liberating for her to be at one with her body and she's made no secret of her desire to pursue a racy image and right now Kim's priority is to get her mojo back and learn to love herself again physically

* Britney Spears confesses she's been so wrapped up in battling the conservatorship over her estate, she forgot about singing until her mom reminded her -- the singer hasn't cut an album for five years as she's battled dad Jamie Spears for control of her $60 million fortune after a court gave him control when she went bonkers in 2008 -- she now realizes she's neglected her career after mom Lynne Spears sent her a video of her signing You Got It All at a '90s concert in Singapore and Britney tweeted that her mom reminded her that she can sing and she never sings anymore

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Cradle-robbing Scott Disick has struck again, scooping up a new galpal half of his 37 years, who is barely out of high school -- the latest victim is Amelia Hamlin, 19 years old and daughter of Lisa Rinna and Harry Hamlin

Page 45: Sharon Osbourne is demanding at least $10 million to walk away from The Talk after being accused of racist and sexist attacks on co-hosts -- Sharon is playing hardball, saying she was wrongly vilified for branding lesbian co-star Sara Gilbert a fish eater and calling Chinese-American Julie Chen slanty eyes -- it's going to become a battle royale and Sharon's made her demands clear and will fight tooth and nail and she's a street fighter and is used to playing down and dirty, owing to her years as a hard-nosed rock manager for husband Ozzy Osbourne

[dearophelia]

self indulgent grey’s spy!au

so i’m watching madam secretary again and it’s reminding me of the grey’s spy au i was frantically texting @evil-redhead about last year

(first of all, and i did the research to learn that this isn’t actually possible, but it’s fic so who cares: please imagine with me addison as elizabeth’s surgeon general. thank you and goodnight)

second of all, and this is just copy/pasted from text messages with some very light editing:

-one-

The kill order comes in over encrypted text just after 2:30am Kaliningrad local time. Addison knows the logic: take him out and the whole supply chain through the Baltics collapses. She also knows the reality: taking out gun runners in former Soviet states is like playing whack-a-mole with a baby hammer. Eventually someone in the Company will figure that out and change tactics. In the meantime, she has orders.

She speaks flawless Russian with zero accent, which helps when she steers the arms dealer out of the party and up to his private suite. She pretends she’s from the same village as his grandmother, tells stories about a local borscht variant. He compliments her tits and her legs and everything else he can see. What he doesn’t see is the way she twists around her ring and flicks open a hidden compartment with her thumb while she’s pouring the vodka.

Addison watches as he eagerly takes the shot and then turns an interesting shade of purple. He’s dead within ninety seconds.

She takes a shot of clean vodka, wraps up in her black trenchcoat, and slips out the back entrance into the night.

There’s a pay phone four blocks down. She calls her handler and leaves a message about the museum being closed tomorrow, code for mission complete. She checks out of the hotel and is on the next flight to Helsinki away from here.

-two-

Addison likes Mark Sloan, she does. He’s a good asset and a great fuck and she doesn’t at all mind that their schedules sync up in Helsinki more often than she syncs up with anyone else anywhere else. Helsinki’s a good place to lay low for a few days, even easier when she’s hardly getting out of bed.

But he’s DIA and she doesn’t trust defense guys farther than she can throw them. Goes out of her way to avoid them, usually. But Mark’s good company, great fun, and nothing they do in this hotel room ever happened the moment one of them leave. So she’ll let the DOD thing go as long as it doesn’t interfere with her own work.

He’s making breakfast and trying to tell her a joke he overheard. This never ends well, but she indulges him. It falls apart in the translation – “You’d find this hilarious if you heard it in the original Czech,” he proclaims, setting a plate of eggs in front of her.

Addison eyes him over a forkful. “Since I don’t speak Czech, your odds aren’t looking good, Sloan.”

Mark’s still telling his joke and she smiles as the sun rises over their tiny hotel room.

36 hours and then she’s off to Paris and meeting a DGSE contact she can hardly stand. Then, armed with that information, back to former Soviet listening posts. Maybe this one will be inland.

-three-

Addison takes the right hook like a champ, luring the goon into a false sense of security. She drops down, grabs a broom from the floor, and lets the guy have one last laugh at the pretty girl with the stick before she comes whirling in and knocks him flat on his ass inside five seconds. Another goon runs out of the shadows and she cracks him across the skull so hard he actually skids across the floor.

“Impressive,” her contact says in dripping French. He sips his tea.

“The file?” she holds out her hand. No one does intelligence theatrics like the French. Not even the Russians.

With an irritated sigh, the DGSE agent drops a USB drive into her hand. “It self-destructs after 24 hours. Would not recommend keeping it in your suitcase.”

Addison gives him a tight smile and returns to her hotel room.

Derek, this time.

(Mark is Scandinavia and the former Soviet states. Derek is Western Europe. Alex is usually somewhere in Central Asia and Jake is in the Mediterranean.)

She waves off his concern about the shiner blooming over her eye and slides the drive into her laptop. “Order room service,” she tells him as she pulls her shirt off, changing out of bloodied and ripped clothes while waiting for the drive to load.

It’s not his fault he hovers. He’s an embassy doctor, bouncing around Western Europe for the State Department. Last time he got into a fight was probably high school. Last time he had to do anything classified on his own was probably never.

He orders – including red wine and extra ice, which she’s sure makes the kitchen worker on the other end say a few choice things about Americans – and her laptop chirps ready.

Volgograd this time. Not a weapons dealer. A physicist. A nuclear physicist. “Oh boy,” she says to herself.

She books a hotel in Volgograd and then places a same-day Amazon delivery for post-its, a portable printer, tape, and other supplies. She and Elizabeth call it the conspiracy theory order, though she skips the red string.

While Derek’s setting out dinner (and sets a bag of ice intentionally – and somewhat aggressively – in her direction), she sends a secure text to Alex.

gonna be in vgrad for a minute. you nearby?

Dinner’s over before she gets a response.

yep. even have some intel for you.

Addison puts her phone away and turns to Derek. “I’m fine,” she says, gesturing to the cuts and bruises.

“I know.” Still, he wraps his arms around her in a gentle hug. “I worry.”

She hugs him back. They haven’t been married in a long time. “I know.”

He gently maneuvers her to the couch and opens his bag. Addison went to med school too – though the CIA scooped her up during her residency – and a few of the cuts need butterfly closures for a couple days. She lets him work.

“How are Meredith and the kids?”

-four-

“Lox and two chives,” Addison orders at the counter, as she has the last ten days. “And the bathroom key, please.”

The cashier slips her a key. She pays and disappears down the hallway with the bathrooms, but opens the supply closet instead. Past shelves of paper towels and cups and cocaine (not her problem, not today), she pauses at the second door. The handprint scanner flashes blue then green at her palm. The door unlocks.

Bright lights overhead, several whiteboards shoved up against the walls, photographs and maps taped up everywhere. The single desk in the middle of the room is covered in folders labeled TOP SECRET, most of them open. Alex puts a cup of coffee into her hand. She finishes half of it before she even takes her coat off.

Spy work isn’t all glamorous. It’s mostly sitting in dark dank rooms filled with boxes of moth-eaten paper, trying to connect two dots. Alex is a good partner for it though. The fact that he’s CIA too doesn’t hurt – she doesn’t have to play the alphabet agency paranoia game with him.

Hours pass. Another day, another half step closer. The bagel shop closes and they slip out the back by the dumpsters.

“You want to grab a drink?” she asks as she has every night.

“We could skip drinks,” he suggests.

She looks at him in the flickering parking lot light. Normally he says yes, they get drinks and dinner, talk shop, part ways at her hotel.

A small smile graces her lips. Addison doesn’t need to be a spy to pick up Alex’s meaning.

Volgograd is fucking boring. And she and Mark have an exclusive-when-we’re-in-the-same-city agreement, not exclusive-everywhere.

The smile shifts into a smirk. “Yeah.”

-five-

This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea. This might be the worst idea she’s ever had. And yet.

Flicking her eyes up to the rearview mirror, she gets a read on the car following her. Scratch that – cars. Plural.

She slams on the accelerator and calls Elizabeth.

“I need a favor,” she says as soon as Elizabeth’s picked up the phone. Addison hears several small children laughing in the background.

“On it,” Elizabeth says, once she’s heard the situation and the favor. “Give me ten minutes.”

Sure. She’ll keep leading a high-speed car chase through Southern Turkey and try not to accidentally make a left into Syria. She can keep this up for ten minutes. Why not.

She has the final piece in a USB drive hidden in her shoe, but this extremely stupid idea only becomes worth it if she – or, she supposes, her shoe – can get back to the agency. Which is where Elizabeth comes in. Addison’s nowhere near Ankara and the embassy, driving into Syria is an even worse idea (and she’d run out of gas long before hitting Damascus anyway), and so she needs an exit. Now.

Seven minutes and Elizabeth calls back about an airfield fifteen miles away. A Blackhawk will be waiting there for her, but she has to clear a couple layers of airfield security first.

Addison looks back up in the mirror. Three cars now and she thinks she sees the silhouette of someone hanging out the window with a gun. She’s going to have to have a discussion with Derek about suitable conversations he has with his current wife about his ex-wife the CIA agent and international spy. It’s not Meredith’s fault; GRU’s been tailing Derek since they were the KGB. Addison makes a mental note to remind State about that, maybe have someone sweep his house for bugs on a more regular basis.

But that’s a later problem. A much later problem. The more imminent problem is that she’s being shot at and still has seven miles before the airfield. “Can I just drive through security?” Addison asks, making an abrupt right down a skinny unlit street.

“Sure,” Elizabeth says. “It’s our airfield, do what you want.”

“Not the first time I’ve destroyed US government property.”

Elizabeth snorts. “Call me if you need anything else.”

The call drops as another round of gunfire shoots past.

“You’re really bad at this,” she mutters at the car behind her. They haven’t even managed to blow out the back window yet, not that she’s complaining.

By the time she hits the airfield, they’ve shattered the back window, blown several holes in the trunk, and they hit one of her back wheels just as she slams through the first security gate.

The second gate guards are a little more prepared and already have the gate lifted. They drop spike strips behind her to trap her pursuers. She jumps out of the car to the sound of many tires being violently punctured and the sound of angry Russians being thrown out of their cars and onto the ground.

The Blackhawk lifts off into the dead of night. Addison runs her fingers through her hair and texts her handler that she’s on her way back to Istanbul. She’ll hand off the intel to people who get paid a whole lot more than she does and move on to a new case.

Maybe South America, this time. Let some heat die down before bringing her back to Europe.

Once it’s all settled and she’s in her state-sponsored room, showered and sitting in a fluffy bathrobe, she checks her messages. One from her brother, about Thanksgiving logistics. One from Elizabeth, making sure she made it out okay.

And one from Mark.

Case is taking me to Venezuela. Gonna be a while, Red.

Addison grins. Her new orders came in just before dinner. Turns out there’s some worrisome news in her area of expertise coming out of the South America desk and the Company’s shipping her off to Caracas.

Maybe not. My flight leaves in a couple days. Buy me a margarita?

[neocity-sarai]

“Love in _____ “ series

❀ chapter 3: reader x jaemin

❀ forbidden love

❀ alerts: fluff, tinge of angst, language, suggestive, making out, i do not speak fluent french whatsoever, please forgive the mistakes, mentions of the dreamies

❀ song rec: “paris” by sabrina carpenter

“Love in Paris”

You’re surprised how you managed to make it this far. When you first told your parents that you wanted to move to Paris, they shot you down even before you finished. You told them you wanted to live by yourself to experience independence in a cultural epicenter and have some type of outlet to practice your french skills. Not that you were an expert in any way. Several days later, your father convinced your mother that it would be a good way to see the world and live in an environment that was different from your dull, quiet neighborhood. Before you knew it, you were on a one-way plane to Paris, France. 

Several months later

Thankfully, you were pretty decent at your french skills without butchering the accent you had to adopt when speaking. You got a job at a nearby cafe that was close to your studio apartment but you couldn’t feel any happier. Despite having such a small room, you adored it. All you had was a small bed, a wooden vanity, a mirror, and a few belongings from home. Every morning, you’d wake up to the honey-colored window next to your bed as you hung your arms out of it- looking at the Eiffel tower that scraped against the dawn sky. It was like you were living in a painting, the way that the sky turned a light shade of lilac during twilight or how the city glowed in the late hours of the night. In the mornings, you’d always pick up a bouquet of pansies in the market that resided in the Jardin des Tuileries. You’d place the flowers in a crystal glass that you found in some vintage store in passing, you considered it your best investment. During the night time, you always felt yourself relaxing with the sound of occasional car honks or the buskers playing their accordions on the streets. You’d put your headphones on to play some soft music, swirling a glass of red wine that sat in your hand. Over the first few weeks of coming there, you mostly stuck to your day to day routine rather than exploring Paris for yourself. When you had the time, you promised that you would scour the city by every corner and alley. You just had to earn your rent money first.

You actually found the boulangerie by accident. You made a wrong turn somewhere and discovered a quaint, two story bakery that was called, “Claudette’s.” By chance, you decided to follow the comforting scent of fresh bread and honey-glazed pastries, an older woman who wore a chiffon skirt smiled at you. The establishment only had a couple customers in it, she made her way around the corner, “Comment puis-je vous aider madame?” 

You answered her, “Embauchez- vous?”

“Oui.”

You walked closer to her, shaking her hand, “Je voudrais travailler ici. Parlez vous anglais?”

“Oui, un peu.”

“Merci.”

Though you could speak french without many problems, you still preferred speaking in english. You’re grateful that the woman was willing to cooperate with you. She eyed you curiously. She seemed like a character straight out of a novel as her hair piled into a messy bun of white, her apron is embroidered with tiny blossoms, and she looked extremely young for how old she actually was. In a heavy french accent she spoke to you, “Are you new in Paris?”

“I am, since a few months ago.”

“What- er, why work at my shoppe?”

Though the job is to make money, you really did want to experience the life of working in a bakery. You always were interested in how to make coffee or how to ice cakes and back home, you just couldn’t. You continue, “I want to learn from you, mademoiselle.”

“Call me Claudette, welcome.”

After your encounter with Claudette, you had been in Paris for nearly a year. Time flew by and you hadn’t even noticed. You were comfortable after trying and failing to make french-foam macchiatos, mixing up people’s orders, and getting the texture of the pastries right. You were thankful that Claudette was patient with you. 

Like every other Monday morning, you swung the sign that hung on the bakery’s door to open, taking the morning rush on by yourself. Claudette entrusted the shoppe to you when she needed to sort out inventory or go on errands. You didn’t mind that, knowing your customers’ names, conversations about their lives. When you finally got to the end of the line, a peculiar customer had stepped foot through the doorway. He seemed to be taller than you, dressed in a white t-shirt and a blue blazer with matching pants to go with it. The odd part was that you couldn’t clearly see his face as it was covered with a black scarf, hat, and blake sunglasses. Why did it seem like he was trying to hide his face? You asked him, “Comment puis-je vous aider?”

“Je voudrais un expresso, pas de lait.”

“Donc tout noir?”

“Huh?” Despite the dark shades over his eyes, you could still sense the boy’s confusion in his voice. You took your chances, “Are you fluent in english?”

“I sure am.”

You nod at him skeptically, “I was asking if you were sure you wanted all black, that’s a lot of caffeine.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice muffled under his scarf, “Are you questioning my refined tastes?”

“Uh- no sir. That is not my intention. But, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

The boy pulls out his credit card as he darts his eyes around the cafe. Like he insists, you serve him his tiny cup of all black espresso, you even grimace at the heavy scent despite working with coffee for so long. He wasn’t kidding, he had gulped it down like it was nothing- your eyes widening at the sight. He smiled, his scarf still wrapped around his face. “I’d like another please.”

You eye him incredulously, “More? really?”

“Yes, that’s what I said miss..”

“Y/n. It’s y/n.”

“Your establishment is quite the place. You’ll be seeing me here often.”

Trying your best to smile at him, “I look forward to it.” You walk back to the counter, packing sweets for the next customer as you watch the boy gaze out the window. Even his posture seemed so formulaic due to the way he crossed in legs in a prim-proper way, dainty fingers stirring his half-full espresso shot. When you get around to the boy’s third espresso, your surge of confidence makes you lean down at him, “You asked my name, isn’t it right that I know yours?”

He slides his shades down slightly, his eyes a dark brown, “Oh, don’t worry y/n. You’ll be seeing plenty of me that you won’t forget my name.”

He places a large bill on the table, winking at you, “Keep the change, y/n. You deserve it for working so hard.”

He struts out the door, leaving you just as confused as you felt when he first walked in. Who was that? And why was he acting so mysteriously? Throughout the day, you hadn’t thought about him after being so busy taking orders and fulfilling them. 

To your surprise, the same boy came the next day around noon. You could tell by his odd disguise that contrasted with his crisp, white suit- his voice in a lower octave than yesterday. He whispered, “I’d like another espresso and a croissant please.”

You typed up his total on the register, two girls whispering behind him in line. He sat at one of the tables before one of the girls could tap on his shoulder, her expression falling when he walked away. When you set down his cup, you eye him carefully, “If you want more espressos, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on.”

He rests his chin on his hand before yanking his scarf down, “In what obligation do I have to do that? Isn’t it called customer confidentiality?”

“Not if you’re causing a disturbance. You look so suspicious right now!”

A scowl is scribbled on the boy’s face, some pink hair sticking out of his dark bucket hat, “Do you have anywhere private?”

“Follow me.” You lead him to your back stock room, his proximity too close for comfort. His eyes dart from the front of the store and back to you, his hand ripping off his mysterious ensemble. The boy finally reveals his face, a beautiful one at that. The locks that sit at the top of his head curl on his forehead are a shade of bubblegum pink, his lashes accent his eyes attractively, and his cheekbones accentuate his boyish charm. The boy smiles at you, his teeth shining through his pink lips, “You can’t tell anyone that I’m me.”

You stare back at him, “Who exactly are you?”

The boy dramatically runs a hand through his pink hair, “You don’t know who I am?”

“Should I?”

He sighs, “I’m Jaemin Na.”

You don’t catch on. Instead, you look down into space, catching a sight of Claudette’s magazine pile- a picture of a pink-haired boy on the front cover.

“Wait a minute-”

You grab the magazine hastily, holding it up next to the boy’s face, “Y-you’re Jaemin Na?”

He smiles brightly at you, “The one and only.” You rub your fingers against your chin, “Wait, what do you do exactly?”

Jaemin sighs at you, resting a hand on the wall near your head, “Listen sweetie, I’m the son of the Na family- consuls to the royal family of Versailles. I stay in the palace.”

“Ohh- so you’re a rich elitist boy?”

“Well- I guess you could put it that way.”

You scan him up and down curiously, “Well that explains the lame disguise. I’m sure girls would try to maul you. If it’s so much work, why don’t you just have one of the palace people make you coffee? Why bother coming here?”

Jaemin scrunches his nose, “Well I don’t appreciate the insult and I also hate to admit that no one makes coffee like you do- that’s why I started sneaking out and coming here. Don’t take too much credit though.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you smirk, “For someone who sits on their butt in the palace all day, you sure drink a lot of coffee, you should see a doctor.”

Jaemin smoothes down the fabric of his white vest jacket before covering his face with the scarf again, “My taste buds and stomach lining are perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

Shoving his bucket hat over his eyes, he storms out of the shoppe- leaving you with an amused grin on your face. The next day, Jaemin came once again. You asked him, “one espresso shot coming right up.”

Your fingers nimbly move on the register’s keyboard, a hand flying across it without any thought. You bring Jaemin his espresso cup, setting it down on a dainty white saucer in front of him, “Here’s your black coffee of death. Enjoy.”

You swivel back around, only to be stopped by the sound of Jaemin’s voice, “Hold it. Not so fast.”

“What is it now?”

“I never said I wanted an espresso- it’s a lavender latte kind of day.”

You step closer to him, your eyes widened like disks, “But you didn’t stop me at the counter? You always get an espresso- all black?”

“Not today. Plus, you only assumed and never thought to ask.”

You resist the urge to slap Jaemin square in the face, he was acting like a spoiled, conceited child. You eye him sternly, “Are you going to waste that?”

Jaemin bats his eyelashes at you, swinging the fabric of his scarf over his shoulder, “Well I certainly am not going to have an espresso today. I take that as a yes?”

You feel your eyes roll back into your head, you’re surprised they don’t turn inside out. Grumbling, you march away with the espresso in your hand- dumping it into the sink drain as Jaemin smiles an amused grin. You come back to him, a menu in hand, “What do you want and make the choice good because I won’t do this.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at you, “Isn’t that your job? Customer knows what’s best?”

Scoffing, you smash your fist on the table, “Don’t do this Jaemin or you’ll regret it.”

The pink haired boy narrows his eyes at you through his pretentious sunglasses, “I’d like a lavender latte- make it oat milk. I don’t digest dairy well.” Heading back to the counter, you whip up the drink, layering a mint-berry compote and oat milk as you strategically place a lavender stem at the top of it. You stand back to admire the perfection of the drink, the purple gradient blends into a cloud of white. When you place it onto the table in front of Jaemin, he takes a sip of the drink as you wait for his reaction. He uses his index finger to motion you closer to him, your feet moving on their own. 

“Well, how is it?”

A bright smile lights up his face, his white teeth gleaming between his lips, “It’s good but you need to come closer.”

You do as he says, his eyes flickering to your lips- you feel his breath on your face. Is he about to kiss you right now? He darts his eyes from your lips to your eyes. The fast-pace of your heartbeat skyrockets before it ends suddenly, Jaemin smacking his lips before whispering at you, “The oat milk could be a little less nutty.”

You break the tension, launching back from you, “Are you kidding me right now?”

Jaemin gives you a cheshire cat-like grin, “Yes but not to fear, I’ll still drink this since you worked so very hard on it.”

You raise your cloth rag at him, stopping your hand just before the crown of his head- your brows creased with distress. Before this, you had never dealt with such a difficult customer before. Your voice is laced with irritation, “Do you enjoy this?”

“Oh, so very much. I hope you don’t miss me, I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow.”

Grabbing his book sack, Jaemin heads out the door, leaving you alone to be irritated. Like he promises, Jaemin is back the next day. The whole evening after yesterday, you spent taking note of every trap Jaemin would set for you- there was no way he was going to get you this time. When he steps up to the register, you try to sound as polite as possible. 

“Welcome to Claudette’s. What would you like to order?”

He nods at you, clicking his tongue at the same time, “Let’s go with the caramel frappuccino, no whipped cream or foam please.”

After he pays, you skillfully make the drink right in front of him, carefully measuring the correct proportions of every ingredient. He places his fingers on his chin, one hand on his hip in a taunting manner, “This is so fascinating to watch y/n. You’re truly the master of beverage arts.” You scoff, pushing the finished drink to him, “Try that.”

When he takes a sip, his eyes sparkle with pleasure as he visibly shudders, “Well, I am pleased to say that you have passed the frappuccino test except for one thing.”

“What now?”

“The straw is upside down.”

You groan, slapping a palm to your forehead, “You’ve got to be kidding me Jaemin.”

Before Jaemin can answer you, you hear a familiar voice from the back of the stock room and you feel a hand sit on your shoulder, “Are you satisfied with miss y/n’s services sir?”

You whip around to be met with Claudette towering above you, her lips graced with a fond smile. Jaemin clears his throat before answering her, “She’s doing great but she’s having so trouble accepting constructive criticism.”

You stare back at him, gritting your teeth, “What are you talking about? I just-”

Claudette pats you on the head, “Maintenant, maintenant petit pan, what do I say?”

Respectfully, you repeat after her, “Customer always knows best.”

Jaemin adds, “I was just telling her that the straw was upside down just so that she doesn’t do this to other customers.”

“Oui Monsieur! Learn from the customer, y/n, it’ll make you a better worker and person.”

Jaemin lets out a hearty laugh from over the rim of his maroon scarf, “Other than that, she’s great.”

Glaring at him, you look up to Claudette who’s smiling at him, “I see that you come almost every day monsieur, thank you for enjoying my shoppe. Merci beaucoup!”

He smiles back at her, “It’s because of y/n.”

You feel your breath hitch at your throat when you hear Jaemin’s words, how can he say things so casually? You want to believe he’s saying these things to get under your skin again, you can’t seem to predict the pattern of his ways.

Claudette practically jumps out of her skin, her hands clapping wildly, “l'amour est dans l'air! Y/n, you need a break right now- let this nice man take you out for some air.”

Waving your hands in front of you, you shake your head at your boss, “Claudette, please. I need to look after the shop in case of more customers and I-”

The older woman cuts you off, “Nonsense! You’ve been working too hard since I’ve been out! You’re done for today! Out!”

Claudette holds out her hand to you to hand over your apron, an amused smile on her face. After you hand it to her, you gather your belongings from the stockroom before breezing past Jaemin out the door. You turn back to Claudette for affirmation, she’s always trying to shoo you out when she thinks you’ve worked for so long. You don’t mind her motherly aura. It makes you miss your own mother. You begin walking down the street towards your apartment, your bag slung over your shoulder. 

“Wait up! y/n!”

You turn around to be met with a huffing Jaemin, “Where are you going?”

Sighing, you say, “What does it look like? Home obviously?”

Jaemin holds up a finger so he can catch his breath, were you walking that fast? He says, “Why don't you spend the day with me?”

“Yeah, after you embarrassed me in front of my boss? No way, I’ll pass.”

Turning around, you continue to walk until Jaemin runs in front of you, holding his hands as if he’s going to entrap you if you try to make a run for it, “Please, let me make it up to you.”

You eye Jaemin skeptically, “Why? What would you get out of that?”

“Can you just trust me?”

Scoffing, you try to get more steps in until you’re halted by Jaemin once again, “I promise, if you spend the day with me, I won’t bother you about coffee or upside down straws again!”

You gaze at him, your eyes searching for some malicious sign. When you don’t find any, a smile creeps on to your face, “You better stick to your word Jaemin Na or else!”

The first several minutes of walking next to each other make you cringe from the awkwardness. You steal a glance at Jaemin who’s messing with the rim of his bucket hat, the accessory covering his eyes, “So, where are we going?”

He answers you plainly, “Have you been around the city?”

You rub the back of your neck, “I’ll have to admit, I haven’t been around much.”

He stuffs his scarf into his book bag, the sun too hot for the thick fabric, “No worries, I have a plan. Prepared to be amazed out of your mind.”

You let Jaemin guide you to the plaza of the Louvre, the glass pyramid reflecting the sunlight into a million rainbows. People stand in front of the water structure that it sits on, the water is like a pristine mirror that catches even the most subtle details. You had seen the Louvre in travel books and magazines but never in person, “Are we going to the Louvre?!”

“Nope, that can be for another day. I have something even better.”

Jaemin walks over to a man who stands by a red cart, they converse in basic french before the man hands Jaemin two wristbands. He puts his on, motioning for you to do the same. A big red tourist bus pulls over by the front of the Louvre, “All aboard the passengers! tous à bord du bus!”

Without a second thought, Jaemin takes you by the hand before hosting you onto the bus as you both dash up to the second story of the double-decker. You take a seat at the very front, Jaemin’s shoulder touching yours. You try to wave away the tingle you feel when he brushes against you, his cologne smells of fresh pine needles and mint. A skinny teenager dressed in a striped shirt wears a beret at the top of his head smiles at you, extending a fake rose to you. Hesitantly, you take it while smiling back at him. 

“Bienvenue à bord! My name is Pierre and I will be your guide to your journey across the city of love, city of the la romance! Let’s begin!”

Within a few hours, you had already seen so much. You felt like you were on cloud 9 when you stood up on your seat as you passed under the Arc de Triomphe, Jaemin resting his hands on your waist to keep you stable. You don’t resist him. He watches you with adoring eyes, “Look like someone’s having too much fun!”

You look down at him, “How can you not?!”

The bus speeds over the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris that crosses over the Seine, Jaemin pointing out the ducks that float on the banks of it. You laugh as Jaemin takes your rose, putting it in between his lips in order to make you giggle in which you do because he grimaces as a thorn pokes his lip. You swerve with the bus as the driver maneuvers it through Place de la Concorde, the spot where the French Revolution took place. When Pierre told you fun facts about Marie Antoinette, Jaemin would scream at the top of his lungs, his voice getting lost in a blast of wind, “Let them eat cake!!”

When the bus halts at the final stop, you descend down the stairs and off the vehicle- the cool weather sending a chill down your spine. You and Jaemin walk over to the Notre Dame and the Saint Chappele to keep shelter from the blustering winds, the stained glass windows making your faces glow with shades of blues and greens. You sit on a bench, Jaemin’s body pretty much pressed to your body as you both hold a candle between your fingers within the quiet church. Jaemin turns to you, whispering, “So what do you think of Paris?”

You chuckle at him, “Paris is the city of love right? I think I’m in love with Paris, when do we get married?”

Jaemin stiffens his frame, “We as in you and Paris or as in you and I?”

You hit his arm, “No silly! Paris! I don’t want to get married right now!”

Shaking his head, Jaemin laughs at you, tufts of pink sticking out of his bucket slightly. The hat covers less of his face now, at least you can see his eyes. 

“What do you say, we get something to eat?”

“You’re right, I’m famished. All that exploring has made me ravenous.”

Jaemin wins at you, “I know just the thing.”

It’s about evening now, the sun starts to set with a shade of champagne and violet- the trees glinting a shade of vermillion green when you pass the numerous cafes and boutiques on the street. You both find yourself in a field under the Eiffel Tower, the structure staring down at you with regality. You feel as if the air in your lungs has been sucked out, blue lights blink along the lattice pattern of the tower- creating a luminescent effect on your vision. Jaemin nudges you with his elbow, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even realize he had been gone since you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful sight in front of you, your head fuzzy from how the gold and blue cut the painted sky. When Jaemin comes back, he sets down a blanket away from the other people- most of them couples- you avert your eyes from them. In his right hand, he holds a basket full of unknown goodies waiting to be eaten. You and Jaemin sit on the blanket before Jaemin reaches into the basket to pull out a multitude of things. He hands you a long baguette of bread before spreading out various shiny fruits, cheeses, and a bottle of blush cider. 

“Did you really prepare this all right now?”

Jaemin smiles at you, his eyes softened, “I have my ways.”

For the next hour or so, you feel as if you don’t need any alcohol to feel drunk. You and Jaemin watch the dusk fade into a black sky, stars glimmering over the golden glow that surrounds you. You both nibble on pieces of havarti cheese or opt for a slice of bread as you talk to each other in hushed whispers. You had never done this with anyone before, it felt so easy, so light. You learn about Jaemin’s life as the son of the consuls and how exhausted he is to be expected of perfection every second of his life, how he’s had his freedom stripped from him since he was born. In turn, he listens to you when you talk about your life back home, how your parents almost cut off ties with you- thinking you were foolish to want to randomly move to Paris by yourself. You never regretted your decision after all. You say, “If I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

Jaemin laughs, downing his glass of rose blush cider, “This is the first day that I have felt like myself in front of anyone- just me, not perfect Jaemin Na in front of the cameras.”

You nod at him, scarily aware of how close your fingers are to Jaemin’s on the plaid blanket, “Do you have a favorite part about Paris?”

He turns to you, his cheeks and bridges of his nose illuminated by soft golden light, “After living here all my life, I hate to admit that it’s gotten a bit boring. Now, I think that’s changed.”

You quirk an eyebrow up at him, moving your hand away as heat travels up to your cheeks, “And what has changed?”

You see Jaemin laugh to himself, “You’re unlike any girl I’ve ever met. You don’t fall at my feet like the other elitists in my family- you’re not afraid to call me out and criticize me. I like that.”

You nervously laugh, “Thank you? I’m not sure what to say.”

Jaemin’s expression turns serious, his lips looking more prominent when he turns his face to you, “Then you don't have to say anything.”

Before you can register, Jaemin leans into you as his nose bumps against yours in a soft kiss. You pull away, boring your eyes into his before he scans your eyes for some sign of refusal. When he can’t find any, he molds his hand to your cheek, folding his lips over your bottom lip. Jaemin speeds up the pace by pressing into you further, a sound escaping your throat. You blush at the noise, Jaemin leaning his forehead into yours before sweeping a hair behind your ear, “Wow.”

Your bodies feel like they sing with electricity, Jaemin’s fingers hot on your skin as he pulls you into the space of his chest. Your ear is pressed to his heartbeat, “Do you hear that y/n?”

You shut your eyes at the quiet rhythm, “I hear it.”

You take it open yourself to edge your fingers on the rim of Jaemin’s hat, slowly taking it off him to reveal the pink shade of his locks- the soft tufts messy from the day. He watches you take off his sunglasses too, placing a hand on his neck while pulling him in for a fiery kiss. His eyelashes extend from his eyelids, framing his dark irises that reflect the Eiffel like swirling stars. He whispers to you, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

You nod at him, standing to help him fold off the blanket and carry the basket. The whole way back, you and Jaemin dance along the walkway of the Seine- to the beat of your hearts, to the beat of the acoustic guitar that echoes from a late-night cafe. Ending right back at your apartment, you don’t want Jaemin to leave just yet. He holds your hands like you’re a fragile porcelain, the warmth of him gentle and soothing. He leans his head against yours, pressing a kiss to the spot in between your eyebrows, “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it Jaemin?”

“This is only if you want to, don’t feel pressured. My parents are holding a masquerade ball at the palace tomorrow night. Do you want to be my date?”

You stare at him, a hand resting on his shoulder, “Oh, Jaemin, I’d love to go with you, there’s just one problem. I didn’t pack a ball gown when I moved.”

Jaemin’s expression is shocked as if he never expected you to say yes, “Really, you’ll come?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Don’t worry about the dress, I’ll take care of it.”

For a final time, Jaemin presses a firm kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you tomorrow night y/n.”

“Goodnight, Jaemin. Today was perfect.”

“I’m glad. Now, go in first. I won’t leave until you do.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Positive, goodnight y/n.”

In the morning, you wake up the sound of your doorbell ringing. Sleepily, you saunter over to your door, finding a neatly wrapped package on your welcome mat. Unfurling the paper, you hold the delicate satin of a scarlet red dress between your fingers, the softness making you sigh. It’s got billowing belle sleeves that are cuffed with pearls at the wrists, the train of it falls on your hardwood floors. You find a note at the bottom of it, “For the most precious girl, who’s beautiful even without this dress. -Jaemin”

You lay the dress agross your bed, the scarlet organza blending into a shade of fuschia as white sparkles cover the bodice. In awe, you can’t take your eyes off the dress- one thing was for sure, Jaemin had impeccable taste. You had gone to work with a pep in your step- you debriefed Claudette of all the details of seeing the city with Jaemin and how his eyes held every form of adoration. Neither of you had fallen so hard so fast before. You were tingling at the thought of it. Thankfully, Claudette let you off early so you could get ready for the ball, your head filled with the thought of dancing with Jaemin in a fancy ballroom. 

Nighttime approached quickly, a jet black limousine had pulled up to the front of your apartment- Jaemin’s voice crackled through your phone speaker when you answered.

“I’m here y/n!”

“Be right down!”

You descended the stairs, your train dragging slightly despite holding it off the ground the best you could. When you came outside, Jaemin’s eyes met yours, his mouth agape from seeing the sight of you, “How is it so possible that someone can be so beautiful?”

Laughing at him, you hug his waist, “You need to stop with all these cheesy compliments, that’s what a boyfriend would say.”

Jaemin smiles into the hollow of your ear, pressing his lips at the shell, “I can make that happen.”

Suddenly, Jaemin pulls out a clear box. It holds a gold band, a white rose attached onto it. You let Jaemin slip it on your wrist before letting him whisk you away into the car. The whole car ride was full of hushed whispers, lips sealing stolen kisses, and bodies pressed together. Out of your time living in Paris, you have never experienced anything like what you felt with Jaemin.

 Upon arriving at the Palace of Versailles, it was definitely a castle straight out of a fairytale. Fountains line the garden courtyards as different colored lights shine on the cars that line up in front of the palace, guests piling out of them. A velveteen red carpet was rolled out down the stairs of the entryway, giving off a glamorous effect. Extending his hand, Jaemin held out his arm for you to grab- both of you entering the palace. Over the top couldn’t hold a candle to the real description of how the atmosphere looked. Caterers dished out trays of hand towels and small crackers topped with caviar, desserts dusted with glitter in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. You whisper to Jaemin, “Is your life always like this?”

He chuckles, “Mostly. It gets boring all the time though.”

In the center of the main ballroom is a live band, musicians playing their cellos and their violins in sync with the music as guests dance in a flurry around the floor. You felt your heart sink. You were never taught to properly dance because there wasn’t a reason to learn back home. Jaemin feels you stiffen, “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Nodding slowly, you say, “I don’t know how to dance-”

“Relax, just follow my lead.”

Without a moment to breathe, Jaemin already placed his hand on your waist before guiding you hands to his shoulders. Like walking on air, you glide with Jaemin despite tripping over your feet for the first half of the song- you rest your chin on his shoulder, swaying. You two don’t say anything for a bit, Jaemin’s grip on your body feels secure.You’re interrupted when an older woman who resembles Jaemin taps him on the shoulder, “Honey?”

You feel Jaemin’s arms fall from you, hugging the woman you presume to be his: “Mother?”

“Honey, who’s this?”

Jaemin pulls you to his side, “This is y/n. I’ve been showing her around Paris.”

The woman smiles at you, her hand tucking back a strand that’s fallen from her black braid, “Please to meet you, has my son been treating you well?”

You take her hand firmly, nodding, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Na. Jaemin’s been wonderful to me, he’s been showing me around and telling me good things about-”

“Yes, that sounds great. Jaemin, I need you to come with me- there’s someone your father wants you to meet.”

“Can’t it wait until next week mother?”

Her eyes sharpen coldly, the warmth slipping out of her smile, “Do not disobey your father, come now.”

You hear Jaemin groan before he turns to you as he’s being dragged away, “I’ll be back. Do not move. I mean it- don’t.”

You nod at him confusedly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here.”

You opt to take a seat by the tables where guests pile their plates up with various foods, your eyes watching Jaemin’s mother introduce him to a girl that’s a lot shorter than him, her eyelashes batting at Jaemin. They shake hands as Jaemin’s father and the girl’s father laugh, cheering their flutes of champagne as they converse. Immediately, you feel yourself rise from your seat when the girl launches herself into Jaemin’s arms, his face is riddled with surprise. She smiles up at him, whispering something inaudible as Jaemin’s mother teases them to kiss- Jaemin sternly staring at his mother. Getting up from your chair, you turn back into the nearest hallway, your black slumped against the wall. How could you have been so naive? Did you honestly think that Jaemin could sweep you off your feet like some cheesy romcom and then you’d fall in love with Paris’s it boy? It seemed inconceivable. Around the corner, you hear Jaemin’s voice- you start to run towards where you hear him- only to be met with the sight of the same girl pressing Jaemin up against the wall. Her voice sounds like a slither, “Little birdies are telling me you’ve been running around with some peasant girl that works at some dusty cafe. Didn’t you say you loved me?”

You continue to listen in on them. Jaemin holds her at an arms distance, “That was when I was 4 and didn’t know what the word meant. I don’t see you that way. Aleah, I don’t like you that way.”

She laughs into Jaemin’s shoulders, “Your mother has always adored my family- we’re destined from the start. Don’t turn me away, Jaemin.”

Jaemin shakes his head, “Y/n, isn’t some peasant girl. Just because she’s not like you and your family doesn’t make her a peasant.”

Aleah combs her fingers through Jaemin’s hair, “Sweet little Jaemin, that girl could never give you what I could. She’ll only bring you down. Face it, we’re to be betrothed soon- in the palace, side by side.”

When you don’t hear Jaemin protest or even say a word of refusal, you take off running. You don’t care that the ends of your dress are frayed now, your heels causing blisters on your feet. What felt like a dream has now transformed into a nightmare. You burst through the doorway of the palace, guests shooting you dirty glances when you tell the limousine driver to take you home. As the car dashes out of the courtyard, you hear Jaemin call your name on the steps while tears fall from your eyes. Paris has never looked so melancholy. When you arrive at the doorstep of your apartment, you glare up at the moon- the same moon that Jaemin had kissed you multiple times under. You sit on your stairway, crying into the lap of your dress as your hands fist the layers of fabric tightly. With a screech on the pavement, Jaemin flings himself out of another car- slamming the door behind him. You look at him, shaking your head, “I don’t want to see you. I don’t want-”

He doesn’t listen to your words when he wraps his strong arms around your sunken frame, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You collapse into the crook of his chest, your tears staining his dress shirt. Jaemin tilts your chin to him, “I’m not going to marry Aleah, I hope you know that.”

“What about your mother? She said-”

“I don’t care what she or my father says. I can’t marry someone I don’t like- I don’t love. Not for money, not for status. I won’t.”

“Jaemin, you can’t. You can’t sever from your family because of me-”

He raises his eyebrows, “Who says I’m doing it for you? I’m doing it for myself. I know what my heart says, I know that it chooses you. I’m not doing it for you.”

He takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your knuckle, “I’m going to do it for us.”

When you try to say something else, Jaemin shut you up with a passionate kiss before eyeing you closely, “Let’s go rest for tonight.”

Letting  it go, you nod at him. Jaemin picks you up, your dress covering his body as he unlocks your door for you before setting you on the comforter of your bed- your room lights are off, the scent of Paris air drifting in from your open window. The darkness invokes the calmness, you start to kick off the heels that are strapped to your feet. Jaemin sits on your bed next to you, “I’ve never seen your room before.”

His dark eyes scan the wilting peonies that sit on your desk and the ivory walls that surround you both. “Your room suits you.”

You let yourself collapse onto the bed, your head hitting the cool fabric of your blanket, “It took me a while to settle into it.” 

Beside you, Jaemin lays down to watch you, his elbow propped up, “I should probably go soon.”

“Do you want to stay?”

“Can I?”

You chuckle, “That depends if you want to. Your mom’s probably wondering why you’re with a peasant girl.”

Jaemin clears his throat, “Did you overhear Aleah?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you want to spit out a string of insults about the rich, how they judge people based on money. For Jaemin’s sake, you don't. He parts his lips, “You know that’s not how I see you right?”

Nodding, you whisper, “If you did, I don’t think you’d be next to me right now.”

Immediately, you feel Jaemin hover over you, “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Your bodies burn like flames as you kiss each other hotly, Jaemin’s tongue gliding over yours. You grip his hair, slightly tugging on it so that he lets out a sound- your legs entangled with each other on the bed. Panting, Jaemin tosses his black suit jacket to the ground- you practically yank of his tie. Jaemin drags his lips down to the juncture of your neck, causing him to smirk when you gasp. You bore your eyes into his, “I need you to help me.”

Jaemin seems to understand when he reaches behind your neck to pull the zipper of your dress now, your chest exposed in front of him. In the dark, his eyes glimmer with adoration- his lips connecting with your own. Using your hands, you take his dress shirt off him to reveal his muscular body, his skin glowing under the soft moonlight. You smell the heaviness of Jaemin’s strong cologne, the scent makes you dizzy. By the end of it, your dress lays on the ground by your vanity and Jaemin’s clothes by your wardrobe as you press your cheek to his bare chest, watching him sleep peacefully. Jaemin has his arm on the small of your back, stroking your skin even in his slumber. You take note of how his pink locks are mussed and his eyelashes have a subtle curl from how long they are. Jaemin flicks one eye open, “Y/n? How come you’re not asleep yet?”

You snuggle deeper into him, “It’s because you’re next to me.”

“You’re right- I’m just that good- hey!”

You slap Jaemin’s chest, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, “That’s not why stupid!”

“Then what’s the reason?”

Without any hesitation, you tell him, “I like you and I want to be with you.”

“You’re a tad late y/n. I knew that already.”

“How? I’ve never told you that.”

“I can just feel it. You and I- we have this connection that I’ve never felt with anyone else. The only reason I come to that bakery isn’t only for the espressos. I want to protect you from harm’s way- even if that includes my own family. I just want to be there for you like no other guy can.”

Smiling to yourself, you reach up to pat Jaemin on the head only to have Jaemin’s hand catch yours, you whisper to him, “It’s only been a little while since we met?”

He sinks to your level, meeting your gaze before pressing a kiss to your eyelid, “That’s the beauty of liking someone. Time doesn’t stop for anyone. I just knew when I saw you.”

Giving Jaemin’s hand a firm squeeze, you press the curl of your lips to his knuckles. It makes him chuckle, his smile upturning on his cheeks. Once again, you shift closer to him. You both succumb to sleep, the low occasional honking of beetle cars and soft music from your neighbor’s window as your own Parisian lullaby- Jaemin wrapped in your embrace. 

[ladynightmare913]

Red Rose, Blood Moon

Welcome to Chapter 6! This is an original story inspired by the tale of  Red Riding Hood. I would like to say a special thank you to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff​ )for joining me on in writing this world onto paper. 

CW: This chapter contains mentions of drunks, blood and traps. You have been warned.

This story contains only original characters created by Olivia and myself. For those of you who want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask to me or Olivia on her blog. If you have any questions, theories, or curiosities about any of our characters or how the story will progress, send them to the ask box!

I hope you enjoy! Now without further adieu!

Chapter 6: The Golden Doe

Her eyes darted from the drunk man staring up at Red with terror filled eyes, to the blooded coated blade that laid on the wooden floor of the tavern, and finally to Red who wouldn’t look away. 

“What was that racket?” The voice of the old woman called out from behind the counter. 

The woman’s voice was enough to break Rosabella from her spell of shock. Rosabella bent over, quickly picking up the blade, she looked at the frozen drunk and cleaned it on his shirt before placing it into its sheath. She placed herself between the old man and Red, holding her hand out to push him back if it came to that. 

Her sapphire eyes locked hard onto his ice blue ones. And she felt it,She couldn’t move, her heart began to beat erratically, the hair on the back of her neck rose. His gaze was intense, his presence radiated authority and dominance, it demanded respect. She felt the need to run, to lower her gaze in submission, she had never felt this way before. She had felt his presence before, it drew attention to him of course, but it wasn’t at this magnitude, it felt different too. He only continued to stare at her, but not. As if he wasn’t looking at her rather through her, at the old man. 

“Red please, stop it. NOW.” She growled out. 

Finally, her voice reached him, Red’s gaze finally snapped away from hers to kitchen doors. The old woman had just walked out from the kitchen doors. He blinked slowly, trying to gather his bearings. The old woman looked down to the old man, she kicked him harshly. 

“Silly old fool, go home.” She muttered. 

Rosabella quickly grabbed Red’s arm, “Pardon madam, but I am afraid we must be going,” She tugged Red along, he only looked at Rosabella in hesitation, “now,” she stressed. The old woman tried to reason with them to stay since their meals were nearly ready, but Rosabella insisted they leave.

He didn’t fight her this time. She led them to any alley, looking over her shoulder. No one seemed to notice them. Red eyed her skeptically. 

“No one noticed us.” He spoke as if he expected it.

Rosabella took a deep breath before she looked back at him. 

“Are you a warlock?” 

“Firstly, I am not overly fond of witches. Second don’t ever compare me to witches. And Thirdly, no, I am not a warlock .” He all but snarled out at her.

She rose a brow at his clear distaste of the topic. “Well what are you then? And why such distaste for witches, I happen to know one.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, he stepped back from her. “I don’t appreciate you berating me with offensive questions.” He turned away. Walking out of the alley onto the open street. 

Rosabella groaned in frustration. Quickly following him. “Where are you going?” 

“Anyplace where you are not.” He muttered. She scoffed in offense. 

“Well that’s it then?! You’re just going to walk away?” 

“I had planned to from the very beginning.” He didn’t look back. 

“We are not finished here.” She marched after him. 

“Oh but we are mademoiselle.” He replied sarcastically. 

Rosabella glared at his head. “You’re really going to leave me without any explanation with what just happened in that tavern?!” 

He simply sighed as he turned a corner. “Good day Rosabella.” 

And he was gone. Rosabella’s eyes scanned over the streets, but she couldn’t spot him anywhere. She gave a dry laugh, shaking her head, she turned back to the Tavern. The carriage had arrived. 

She handed the gold coins into the driver’s hand, he was an old man, with a small beard. 

“Where to mademoiselle?” His voice was soft and gentle, like a grandfather reading a child to sleep.

“Paris if you would be so kind.” She smiled. 

“Aye, but I’d have to make stops, it’s a long way.” 

“It’s no trouble at all. Thank you.”

“Hop on then.”  

And so she did. The carriage ride was silent for the most part. They would stop at inns for the night they didn’t reach Paris. Rosabella offered to pay for the elderly man’s room, to which he politely refused to accept her generosity. Saying she should save her money for better investments. They traveled this way for two days. 

“I’ll have to stop at the next village, a traveler will be joining us.” The old man told her. 

Rosabella only nodded her head in understanding. So when the next village arrived, the carriage door opened to reveal the most handsome of strangers. At least that was what the swooning women were saying, not at all being discreet about their fancy towards him. 

“Ah, I did not know I would have the honor of traveling with such a belle.” The man was tall, his hair was a soft curly brown, lightly tanned skin, and the most striking pair of hazel eyes that seemed to have speck of gold in the sunlight. He had a light beard on his face, it was smooth and freshly shaven. He wore a black leather coat with a white shirt, black pants and boots. 

Rosabella flushed at the bold words from the man. She startled when the man gently reached for her gloved hand, placing a kiss on the back of it. He smiled. 

“I am Bardolph Sinclair. And who might you be?” His eyes looked over her. 

She studied him for a moment, at least while she tried to calm herself from his flattery. He didn’t seem to be bold enough to sit next to her at least. He was rather gentlemanly. Not at all like the way had behaved. 

“Monsieur, you are too hasty to ask for my name upon mere seconds upon our first meeting. Surely you will understand why I must not tell you. I do not know you.”  

“Of course, I apologize if I have offended you.” He bowed his head.  The carriage started to move again.

“It’s no trouble. I am pleased to make your acquaintance Monsieur Sinclair.” 

“Please, call me Bardolph.” He smiled, Rosabelle couldn’t help but feel she should smile back. And she did. 

When night fell upon them, the carriage stopped to rest at an inn. Rosabella and Bardolph both tried to offer their help to the old man, but again he refused. Shooing them away to go eat their supper. As they walked, Rosabella looked up to the sky, it was a waxing gibbous tonight. 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Bardolph spoke. Watching Rosabella.

Rosabella only eyed him playfully before turning to the inn. Bardolph chuckled as he followed close behind her. When they entered the inn, the first thing they noticed was that it was packed full. 

“Perhaps we will be forced to share a room.” Bardolph grinned at Rosabella. 

She did her best not to roll her eyes as she scoffed. “I’d sooner sleep in the stables.”

“Oh, you wound me my fair lady.” He clutched his chest.  “But I would never allow such a thing, I would sleep in the stables while you sleep peacefully in a warm bed.” 

Rosabella only shook her head as she took a seat in a booth. Bardolph joined her. A waitress came and took their order, when the door burst open, a group of hunters staggering inside, carrying a wounded man. 

“Quickly clear a table! He’s wounded!” A man shouted, pushing aside the food and laying the hunter’s body onto it. Rosabella stood to her feet, briskly walking towards them. 

The wounded man’s foot was caught in a metal trap with metal teeth. Rosabella frowned, the man would have a limp for the rest of his life. 

“What happened??

“We were out hunting for venison, we had set up traps to help us catch one. But we forgot where we placed one and now his foot was nearly cut off. 

“We didn’t forget where the traps were placed! Someone must’ve tampered with it!” Another yelled out.

“Is there a doctor?!” 

Thankfully there was a doctor, who quickly sedated the young man and removed the trap. He was sent to rest in one of the inn’s rooms. The hunters all look haggard and exhausted. Rosabella sat next to the man who had helped drag the wounded man in. He was young, and looked terrified. It must’ve been his first hunt at night.  

“Why did you have to place traps? Surely there are enough deer to have caught?” She inquired softly. The poor boy was pale. 

“We tried just using our arrows and spears, but we would never see any. So we placed traps…”    

Rosabella frowned, she may not have been from this particular village but she could definitely catch the scent of a venison on the wind. 

“Why do you think someone tampered with the traps?” 

“Because we’re catching just any deer, we’re trying to catch the Golden Doe.”  

Her eyes widen a fraction. “The Golden Doe? Isn’t that just a legend?” 

“Aye, but my father swore on his mother’s grave he saw it once. A coat that shines gold in sunlight.” 

“If he saw it, why would you hunt it, surely such a wonderful beast would be left alone for its beauty.” She asked gently. She herself did hunt venison but she would never kill such a creature. “Do you plan to hang it up on your wall as a trophy?” She asked bluntly. 

The hunters frowns. “No, we are hunting it to heal someone from our village. Legend says the Golden Does’s meat can cure any illness.” 

Rosabella’s shoulders fell. So, a noble cause. If it had been for something as trivial as a trophy, she would have stopped them from hunting the poor doe. “I see… ” 

“Forgive me but, no has seen the doe in twenty years yes?” Bardolph spoke, Rosabella had forgotten that he was still awake. “Surely it must’ve died by now. At least that’s what I’ve heard from my travels.” 

“Aye, but the Golden Doe has lived for many centuries.” The hunter answered. The young boy looked up to the hunter.  

“Perhaps someone else has already caught the doe… ”

“No, someone’s protecting it. I’m sure of it. It’s all the same. A monstrous beast was never far from the Golden Doe, always  chasing away hunters.”  

“Perhaps the monstrous beast finally changed its mind and finally ate the doe?” Bardolph offered. He leaned onto the table. 

“It wasn’t a monstrous beast, it’s the Lady of the Woods who protects the doe.” The boy looks to Rosabella. “That’s what my mother told me, she doesn’t like hunters in her forests.”  

“Silly boy, it’s the beast! It tampered with our traps” 

Rosabella finally interjected. “If it was the beast who tampered with the traps, how could it have the intelligence to do so? It is a beast is it not?” 

The hunters all died down, they began to look at each other and whisper amongst themselves. Ah, they didn’t have an answer. Rosabella only chuckled. “Perhaps it is simply a normal person who doesn’t wish to see the doe harmed.” 

“But we need the doe’s meat to heal my wife!” The hunter exclaimed. 

Rosabella’s gaze softened. “Has seen a doctor?” 

“Yes…” His eyes were pained. 

Rosabella nodded her head. “I see,” She lowered her gaze. “Well, what if I came to your village, and tried to heal her myself.” 

“What?” The hunter looked perplexed. Then desperate. “How?”  

Rosabella stood to her feet. A smile on her lips. “I am well versed in healing, and if I can cure your wife, you must swear to never hunt for the Golden Doe.”  

The hunter nodded. Bardolph looked intrigued. 

“I swear it.”

Tag list: Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

@spookypotato

[doctorlaelia-ffxiv]

‘tis the damn season.

“This is... an unexpected sort of meeting, lux-- Doctor. Miss Doctor. Madame Doctor?” 

Laelia leans back in her chair and raises a brow at the twitchy-looking yakuza seated opposite her. Still quiet, she gestures at the unopened bottle of wine sitting on the table, and the man blinks twice at her before he seems to understand just what he was being directed to do. 

“Ah-- right. Sorry, yes, of course--...”

Her expression is unchanging as she watches Mori Takahashi fumbling in his pocket for a knife to pull the cork out, but her voice... Even with the chill in the Limsan air, the drop in temperature around them might have been noticeable.

“There’s a bottle opener on the table,” she says, just barely loud enough to be audible, and Mori still flinches a little bit in his seat before looking to the bottle opener in question. 

“Right,” he mumbles, clearing his throat and reaching up with a finger to loosen his collar a little bit before glancing up at Laelia again. 

Gods. She was really as beautiful as he remembered, way back then in Doma, back when he only knew Misaki and Hana and Xiu was just a kid. And Laelia had been a lux, and it had only been through Xiu that he’d met the good doctor. She had been wearing a high ponytail back then, and a crisp white coat, and she had looked tired but... severe. Her eyes had been like ice and felt like they were peering right through him.

That, at least, hadn’t changed. Her hair fell in soft waves, now, like snowdrifts. There weren’t any noticeable bags beneath her eyes. Color was in her cheeks and in her lips and she had gained needed weight, and she wasn’t dressed like a doctor. She was glamorous. She was put together.

And she was downright terrifying, because her eyes were still like ice and they still felt like they were peering right through him, in a way similar to the way that Xiu’s did, but... different. Laelia had no warm, friendly history with him. They hadn’t gone out drinking and laughing in Kugane together. Xiu might have viewed him as a nuisance, an annoying fly, but it was altogether clear to Mori that Laelia viewed him far more as prey that she could easily crush beneath her red bottomed high heels. 

“So, you wanted to meet with me when you heard that I’d be in Eorzea...” Mori attempts, swallowing as Laelia reaches out and picks up the glass of wine that he’d poured out for her.

“I did,” she replies softly, watching him over the rim of the glass before placing it back down on the table and crossing her legs neatly. Even he knew better than to let his eyes stray to her thighs and the skirt around them, but the temptation was hard to resist. “Let’s not mince words or dance around the subject at hand, Mori. I want to discuss Audrey. Or do you know her better as Yuna?”

Fuck, Mori thinks.

Outwardly, he smiles politely and inclines his head, but... Laelia can see the slight tremor in his wrist when he reaches for his own glass of wine. 

The Limsan restaurant was expensive but quiet, that evening. People had opted to stay out of the snow and cuddle in with their loved ones, she assumed, to watch as it fell and stay warm. She wanted no such luxury, as soon as she heard from Xiu that Mori Takahashi would be landing in Limsa Lominsa that same evening. She had put on a pair of tall heels and expensive perfume and told Cato that she loved him, that she’d be back after handling a moron, and stepping out after kissing his cheek. 

The lipstick she wore hadn’t rubbed off on her lover’s cheek. It wasn’t about to make an imprint on a glass. As if. 

“I also don’t think I need to explain myself overmuch, Mr. Takahashi,” Laelia continues, leaning back again with her legs crossed and her drink in hand. “It’s an old story that we know all the words to. Your foolishness, selfishness, and poor decisions lead to a tragedy that could have been avoided. You took steps that you didn’t need to take after Misaki and I had already made a clear, concise plan, because you wanted to be a hero.” 

Mori can feel himself sinking into his chair without meaning to as he listens to each lash of the words that fall off the woman’s tongue, her eye contact unwavering and altogether unsettling. 

“And so forgive me for taking this opportunity to make something abundantly and overwhelming clear for you, sir.” 

Laelia takes a slow sip from her glass again as she watches him, silently daring him to interrupt or argue, but he doesn’t. Like a well trained dog, he knows better, she thinks. If only he’d known better a few years beforehand. 

“With the knowledge of your track record with young women with pretty faces and nice figures... Let me add to the many voices likely discouraging you from ever making an effort to meet Audrey,” she says, her voice low, and this time, Mori frowns. He frowns. 

“Ma’am, with all due respect, I don’t know if you have the authority to make that decision-- she’s Hana’s sister,” he attempts, only to be silenced by the soft way that Laelia places her glass down on the table and the way that she leans forward, ever so slightly. 

“You wanted Misaki more than you ever wanted Hana.” 

Even though it wasn’t the first time Mori heard it... It still felt like a firm slap to the face, that reminder. That horrible, awful, and honest reminder.

“Hana is dead,” Laelia continues, still watching his face. “Hana is dead because of choices that you made, Mr. Takahashi. What makes you believe that her younger sister, who was never presented an opportunity to meet Hana, would want anything to do with you to begin with? Audrey - Yuna - has been through hell, and she has walked back through it, over and over again. The last thing she needs is some little man chasing her coattails hoping to feel something that her cousin or sister made him feel.” 

Slap, slap, slap, slap. This was something that Mori understood from the day he met Laelia. She wouldn’t ever physically harm you, and she wasn’t one to raise her voice, but her words were like poison. The way she spoke was eloquent, painful, and she never did like beating around the bush. She liked getting straight to the point of things, damn your feelings.

“And trust me... If you don’t want to heed my advice on it, then I can assure you that her fiance - yes, fiance, try not to look so shocked or else you’ll give your motives away even more - will be even less kind about it if you go near her. Her father, her grandparents, her fiance’s family... And Audrey herself. I know you aren’t easily deterred, but I assure you that her future husband will have no qualms or concerns about dealing with you permanently if you upset her.”

Mori stared at Laelia as a server came about with the breadsticks and salads for their pre-meal. The young man smiles as he takes a small notebook from a pocket in his apron, bowing a little.

“Do you two know what you’d like for dinner this evening?” he asks brightly, and Laelia immediately switches. She smiles and Mori lets out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding as the ice melts from her face, as her eyes sparkle and plump lips curve, and even the server seems a little taken aback. 

“My apologies, but I believe I have business to attend to. The gentleman may be hungry. Please do put it on my tab if he decides to order something.”

“Y-Yes, miss!” the server squeaks, stepping to the side as Laelia starts to rise out of her chair. 

“Enjoy your stay in Eorzea, Mr. Takahashi. I do hope you’ll remember what we discussed,” she says as she turns back to Mori, his lips parted in some measure of shock as her smile slips away again. “Good evening.” 

And just like that, she was gone, high heels clicking against a marble floor with an easy and practiced kind of grace.  

[crimsonfacets]

a baroness arrives exactly when she means to // starter for @redlineoffate​!

“Nephew, your favorite aunt is here!” Madam Red bellowed from the foyer, voice bouncing off the walls and ceiling with such robust energy. Oh yes, she was here to visit once again without so much as a call ahead of time. As if she’d need the invitation. However, she did come bearing gifts; boxes of sweets lined up in towers in her butler’s arms who scrambled to keep it steady. “Where are you hiding, hmmmm? You’d best not be wor~king!”

[hollywoodhangar]

“Elizabeth this, Elric that.. What about Hades, huh? Where’s the love for Hades? C’mon, I predate those two by, months, ok. Where’s my starter call?”

“Burnt to a crisp like the rest of your tacky career, no doubt.”

“‘Burnt’. Hah! Funny, like I haven’t heard that one before. You know, the next time I wanna hear an opinion from someone who got their career ripped into, I’ll give you a call, ok? Oooo, but wait.. you never recovered from that one, did ya?”

“LISTEN HERE, SIR —”

[kathyprior4200]

Helluva Boss Pilot: Gender Reverse

 Not too far away from Pentagram City lay a shady place in the bowels of Hell. “Welcome to Imp City: est. 1981” was posted on a worn wooden sign with a white painted eye toward the top. Under a crimson sky, a wide array of buildings made up the city, some with spikes on the roofs. Downtrodden imps of various colors and sizes mulled around the streets and ghettos. Mugging, sex, drugs, poverty, and murder were common aspects of their everyday afterlives. Indeed, being considered “lesser demons” and the “lowest of the low,” not very many had opportunities granted to them.

 Well, save for a unique family of imps, trying to get their business running.

 Just who were these imps?

  A nearby screen showed old fashioned numbers ticking down, 3, 2, and 1 against red.

 Elektriza, a red and white faced imp appeared on stage in front of purple curtains. Elektriza smiled in front of the camera with a row of sharp yellow teeth, her eyes yellow with orange irises and black pupils. The left side of her face was red and the right side was white. A prominent black mark was visible on her forehead, looking like an upside down lotus. Her long curved horns were black and white, the horns curving inward toward her face like a ram’s. A dark navy blue business dress graced her form, orange-pink buttons going down the center of it. The collar of her dress was white and her red undershirt had a round pink pin with a stitched up face on it. Her dress had several tatters in it. Navy blue gloves covered her hands and wrists, with a yellow eye decoration on each one. She also wore matching cowgirl boots, the tips of them the same pinkish color as her pin. A red pointed tail with a few white spots on it excitedly swished back and forth behind her.

 “Hi there, I’m Elektriz, the “a” is silent, and I’m the founder of I.M.P.!”

 The logo appeared in red sparkles over her outstretched left hand. “I.M.P.” was shown in bold black letters, the “M” shaped like black and white imp horns. Down below were words in red: “Immediate Murder Professionals.”

 “Are you a piece of shit who got yourself sent to Hell?”

 A small screen in the right hand corner showed Elektriza wearing a black cape and two black pointed hats on her horns. A monocle rested near her left eye. She was grinning in front of a burning house. The sign beside her read “orphanage for disabled neglected children.”

 “Or are you an innocent soul who just happened to be fucked over by someone else?”

 The next slide showed Elektriza in a white angel costume throwing a styrofoam cup into a waste bin next to a recycle bin. An old clerk with large glasses was working behind a desk in the background. Red pentagrams decorated the walls.

 The next clip showed a video of a tall muscular red demon talking in front of a camera. She was wearing a white shirt that read “Ohio” on it in red. A 666 News billboard was in the background along with a “Hella” sign and a beer poster. An imp held a wooden sign that read “Some person who hired us!”

 The red demon spoke, “After lovingly killing my husband for fucking a delivery lady, you can imagine my surprise when I wound up here, after the state of Ohio killed me.” She punched one of her hands with her meaty fist. “I really wish I could just stick it to that yapping charter who saw me hiding the body!”

The scene cut back to Elektriza who was shown holding an ornate Satanic ritual book. She was in a room full of white candles and skulls scattered on the floor and a white clothed altar with a round mirror on it.

 Behind her were her two employee imps, Moxxia and Millard. Moxxia had white messy hair and black and white stripped horns curving back in a zig zag look. Several white tuffs of hair rested beside her cheeks on either side. She wore a similar dark navy blue business dress like her boss, with the pink buttons in the center and the cuffs of the sleeves white. Moxxia’s face was red, and her eyes were big and yellow. White freckles dotted near her eyes and an orange-pink bow rested on top of her head between her horns. Her red and blue curved hooves were visible, as was her red pointed tail with a couple of black stripes on it.

 Finally, there was the other imp, Millard. Millard had a red face like his wife Moxxia, and also had big yellow eyes. His hair was short, black, and wild on top of his head. A white spot in his hair took the shape of a skull. His tall long horns were black with faint white stripes on them. The horns curved slightly past the back of his head. Unlike the other two, he wore torn black jeans and a black crop top shirt that exposed his red shoulders. His clawed feet and red tail were visible as well.

 “Well luckily for you,” Elektriza mentioned, referring back to the red demon desperate for revenge, “Thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…”

 She grinned and wiggled her fingers.

 Fwoosh!

 A fast explosive sound was heard and a flaming portal appeared inside the candle circle. The impact sent the other two imps scurrying away. She walked over to the portal.

 “We can help you take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who screwed you over when you were alive!”

 She smiled and fell backwards into the portal.

 The next image showed a white figure with an angry expression, arms crossed. A thought bubble was above the head with a red x over another figure. A red monster fell next to the startled figure. The camera panned up and showed the three imps arriving in a red circle. Millard stood with a spear in his hands, Moxxia held a gun and Elektriza stood with both her arms out. Elektriza’s arms made the “M” in the I.M.P. logo.

 The commercial jingle began:

 “Who you want somebody gone

And you don’t wanna wait too long

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals”

  Moxxia threw a grenade out the window, Elektriza and Millard covering their ears and smiling as it exploded. A picture of a growling Moxxia hung on the wall.

 In an office room, Elektriza grinned manically as she hung a struggling human from the ceiling. Millard held a piece of paper and showed it to Moxxia, who was sitting on a chair. On the wall was a flat screen TV, a rocker poster, and a drawing of Madam Zmeya, the snake inventor.

 Elektriza shocked a bond and gagged victim, Millard used a mace on another victim, while a scowling Moxxia choked a third.

 “Whether grenade or cyanide

We’ll make it look like suicide

The Immediate Murder Professionals”

 “We do our job so well

Because we come straight up from Hell”

 The next clip showed Elektriza mentioning for her partners in crime to follow her through a flaming portal in the wall. Millard happily followed, along with Moxxia, who tripped on a book as she ran through. The three imps appeared through the floor and did poses after Moxxia quickly stood back up. They fell silent as humans in a church service stared at them in shock.

 “We’ll kill your husband our your wife

We’ll even let you keep the knife

The Immediate Murder Professionals

 Kids die for free!”

  Millard was shown greedily eying a pink pair of ladies underwear while stabbing a naked couple having sex in bed. Moxxia groaned and looked away. Elektriza found a pair of boxers and help them up for a closer look.

 Elektriza repeatedly stabbed another victim’s head in a chair at a circus in Hell. “The Elektriza Extravaganza” was shown in bold black letters on a sign.

 The imps killed more people, torturing people with Medieval stretching, chasing victims with a shark, roasting them with gasoline and fire, smothering them with pillows, dropping a piano on them, and electrocuting them.

 A little kid with white skin, brown curly hair, black pants and an orange shirt with a ringed planet on it was strolling along licking a pink ice cream cone.

 Bang!

 The kid fell to the ground after Moxxia shot her in the back. The imps looked at each other in shock, believing they had killed the wrong target. The kid was rushed to the worst hospital in the city, one where the doctors carelessly treated the kid and only cared about insurance money. The girl was rushed into the emergency room.

 “Doctor, she’s not responding,” said a pink haired male, rapidly shaking the girl’s still form.

 “Who ordered a stat?” asked a female with glasses. She gave the kid hard chest compressions. “It didn’t do anything!”

 The doctor came in. “Damn it! We’re not losing another one! Clear!”

 The kid received a shock to the heart and she gasped for air.

 “Holy shit that actually worked,” the blonde spectacled doctor muttered.

 The imps sat in the waiting room, just outside door 66. The doctor came out to see them.

 “She’s in stable condition, but she’ll need surgery. Now what kind of insurance do you freaks have?”

 “The fuck is insurance?!” asked Elektriza.

 The imps, kid and bed were promptly sent crashing through a window, glass flying everywhere. Everyone screamed as they fell. Thankfully, a flaming portal was underneath them, sending the group back into Hell.

  Moxxia and Millard later sang a murder love song in their living room before the meeting. Moxxia played on her purple guitar as Millard watched her with love in his eyes. It reminded them of the good times when they would shoot at demons together in the streets, when they dragged a bloody sack behind them and when Millard got a grenade as a present and used it to blow up a building.

 Moxxia began:

  “Oh what a thrill when the crimson starts to spill

And my Millard goes in for the kill

He takes away my breath

He’s the angel of death, Millard

Oh Millard”

 “Everything is like a dream

When I hear his victims start to scream

When I go for the attack

He’s always got my back, on guard

Oh Millard”

 “When the blood starts dripping down the sides

And the bodies start to fall from the skies

My heart skips a beat

When my Millard’s guns a blazing in the night

He makes me feel alive in every fight

Through blood and tears, we’ll never be apart

He makes the murdering fun from the start”

  Both of them hummed before Moxxia finished,

  “Of all the imps in Hell…it’s for him that I fell…”

 Millard joined in at the same moment, “It’s for her that I fell…”

 “Oh Millard.”

 They leaned in for a kiss.

  They paused. Moxxia yelled, while looking out the window. Elektriza was pressed against the window with a video camera.

 “Are you fucking filming us right now?!” she yelled.

 Millard glanced over and sighed, as a smiling Elektriza held up a sign which read “Meeting in 2 hours: nice job banging yo’ wife!”

    Just before the meeting, Elektriza walked into the receptionist room.

 A white and grey male Hellhound was already there, Chandra the grumpy receptionist. He wore a grey-blue shirt with black strings making a downward Pentagram design at the top. His jeans were torn and black, his paws visible. He wore a spiked collar around his neck and rings on his pointed ears. His eyes were red with white irises and black pupils, eyes that seemed perpetually angry or bored.

 The rotary bone-shaped phone made barking sounds as it rang. The hound picked it up.

 “Hello, I.M.P.” he said in a gruff monotone.

 “Me and my wife got stabbed! Somebody help…”

 Chandra abruptly hung up and continued reading a Hellhound Monthly magazine in front of him. His breath smelled like meth and cigarette smoke. A hidden “to do” list in front of him read: “terrorize the werecats,” “go get a drink,” “hang out with cute Sobtiny at the hound rock concert.” He already imagined himself back in the comfort of his home, punching a punching bag with Moxxia’s face on it.

 Moxxia stomped over to the Hellhound’s desk, holding a “chub be gone” paper in her hand. “Did you just send me an ad for weight loss?”

 “No,” he replied.

 “Why would anyone send me this?”

 Chandra let out a small smile. “Come on. You know why.”

 Moxxia sighed, “You’re just awful!” before she wondered over to get water.

 “Hello Chandy!” Elektriza beamed at her adoptive son as she came over. “Did you enjoy my adoption anniversary present?”

 “I already fucking told you,” Chandra growled. “It was a bunch of spiders and not a cure for syphilis. So no.”

 “Aw don’t be such a liar,” Elektriza remarked in a playful tone. “Although I’m sorry that it happened, regardless.” Chandra growled out loud, clenching his claws.

 The phone rang again and Chandra answered it.

 “Elektriz!” he called. “That clingy rich asshole’s on the phone! Says it’s urgent and wants to talk to you!” Then he muttered, “Sounds a little D T F y.” (Down to fuck).

 Moxxia walked back in, standing by Elektriza next to the water cooler.

 “Oh god that was one time!” Elektriza called, spilling water everywhere. “We wouldn’t be able to have access to the living world, if I didn’t sleep with that privileged asshole!”

 Moxxia paused, confused. “You what?”

 “And…I may have stolen her book after we fucked. Man it was heavy. Yeah, I then fell off a balcony and landed in the king owl’s cake. Then I was like, ‘Sorry I fucked your wife!’”

 “Elektriz!” Chandra bellowed.

 “I heard you already!” Elektriza shouted back.

 The head imp walked over to another desk and gulped down a cup of iced coffee. She took a breath and sighed in satisfaction. “Ah, this stuff never gets old! My horse Thumbtack agrees with me.”

 “Your horse doesn’t exist,” Moxxia remarked.

 “Don’t you be mean to our boss like that,” Millard piped up as he walked over to Moxxia.

 “Don’t tell me that you believe her?”

 “I just find it amusing that she changes her horse’s name every day!”

 “That’s more like it,” Elektriza responded. “You see, we need more of Millard’s good spirits in all of us. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a certain someone to talk to before the meeting.”

 Elektriza left and opened the door to her office, the one where “Elektriza” was written with the “a” crossed out.

 Moxxia huffed. “Great, now I don’t have my avocado salad for lunch because someone decided to eat it.”

 She glared at Chandra who flipped her the bird. “I was hungover and hungry, alright?”

 “Why would you get drunk on a workday anyway?” asked Millard to Chandra.

 “Dumbass! I was hung over from this morning!” he replied.

 “At least I don’t go around kicking babies in strollers,” Moxxia scoffed.

 “Just admit it, everyone knows you’re a white-haired loser, Moxxia.”

 “So…” drawled Elektriza as she played with bobbleheads of Moxxia and Millard on her desk in her office. A circus poster hanging on the wall reminded Elektriza of the times when she performed with her two brothers, Tillo and Barb Wire. She was sitting in her chair holding her cell phone. “What can I do you for, Stola?”

 An owl princess lounged on a couch in her palace, holding an old rotary phone with wings on it. Her eyes were large and red, her round black hat had a gold crown on it. The hat also had red markings similar to her eyes. Long silky black hair fell past her shoulders, brushing her grey feathery wings. Her chest was fluffy and a silvery grey. A portrait shown a picture of the royal family: Stola, her husband and their son, Prince Octavius. A red robe with a fur collar was draped over her.

 The princess spoke in a British accent. “There’s a doctor that’s causing trouble up on Earth for a few of my associates. He’s trying to convince people that the Covid 19 Pandemic exists and to take extra precautions.”

 “Doesn’t it?”

 “Well, yes, but more people die when they’re being careless and nothing’s done about it. And though I hate being lonely…it’s getting overcrowded here. Frankly, the global warming issue seems easier to deal with.”

 “Okay well now that makes sense,” said Elektriza. A mug with “#1 boss” was on the desk.

 “You know what happens when I’m lonely or stressed, Trizzy?”

 “God fuckin damn it,” she muttered.

 The owl grinned, her eyes glowing red, she spoke a lot of curse words and terrible things. “When I’m lonely, I become hungry. And when I’m hungry, I want to choke on that big red…of yours…lick your…bite with more teeth…until you’re screaming…like a fucking baby!”

 A stunned Elektriza hung up from the “one night stand bird dick,” broke her phone in half, banged another phone on top of it, then mixed the pieces into a blender.

 “Here, eat this,” Elektriza said to Chandra who came in. The Hellhound guzzled it down.

 “And you know that bridge over the freeway?”

 “Yeah?” asked the hound.

 “Shit off it.”

 The imps currently resided in a tall office building that seemed to stand out among the other structures. Along with spikes jutting from the roof and sides, there were a pair of giant black and white imp horns attached to the sides of the building for decoration. The lights inside near the top floor were on.

 Posted on a door were the words “I.M.P. Headquarters” with “IMP Meeting in Progress” written on a piece of paper taped to the door, a smiley face off to the side.

 On a white board was a bar graph and a line graph, the line graph pointing lower at a drawing of a raging horned demon. “Fix this shit!” was written in big bold letters that took up much of the board. “Elektriza is the best, by Elektriza” was scribbled off to the side. Several tall chairs with spikes jutting from the top boarders were set near a brown table in the center of the room. A white pentagram was drawn in the center of the table.

 Elektriza began to speak, pacing back and forth. She looked toward her audience of two imps and a hellhound sitting on chairs around a table.

 “All right, now I know business has been…a bit slow, lately.”

 She mentioned to the board at the downward sloping line. “In fact, there seems to be less people seeking out our services; 1,056 in comparison to the 1,066 from last month. We’ve basically spiraled from the True Blue Market to that of the Raging Bull.” She pointed at the roaring demon head drawing on the board.

 “Shouldn’t it be the Bull Market is good and the Bear Market is bad?” said a voice.

 “Moxxia, nobody cares what you think,” Elektriza said, before continuing.

 “Any decrease could spell disaster for us, not to mention how lots of people use our services and yet look down on us.” Elektriza cleared her throat and spread out her hands. “Now, I’m not saying it’s, *cough* Moxxia’s or anyone’s fault…”

 Moxxia raised her eyebrows.

 Elektriza continued, “…but let’s discuss how we can improve. Now does anyone have any ideas on how to get business drumming up again?”

 Millard, raised his hand with a grin and shining eyes.

  “What…about…a car wash?!”

 “This is Hell, Milliard, no one cares about cars being clean here, okay?!”

 Just then, there came a coughing from the other room. A small cyclops demon with hot pink hair with a patch of yellow opened the door and walked in. He brushed off soot from his white shirt and waved at the group, who stared in surprise.

 “Hi, I’m Preppy! It’s nice to meet you all.”

 He darted around the room and began removing cobwebs from the windows. “It looks like there are two women, a man and a dog here, a nice balance.”

 Chandra, the grey hellhound glared at Preppy, narrowing his red eyes. “What was that, you little shit?”

 Preppy stopped in his tracks. “Now, did you guys need any cars to be washed?”

 Elektriza shook her head. “We don’t have any cars here, we’re broke as fuck.”

 Millard stared at Preppy and cupped his own cheeks with his hands. “Oh my Satan! He’s so adorable! Can we keep him?!”

 “No!” Moxxia and Chandra shouted at the same time. The two workers then glared at each other.

 Moxxia crossed her arms. “We’re in the middle of a meeting right now. Do you mind?!” She pointed to the door.

 Preppy laughed nervously, “Oh okay, sorry about that, hehhehheh. I’ll be outside if you need me!”

 He scurried out of the room.

 Elektriza paused for a moment, then said, “Oh right! Ideas for our company!” She waved her hands, eyes shining. “How about a billboard?!”

 Moxxia crossed her arms. “We can’t afford a billboard, mam’.”

 Elektriza rushed over and held Moxxia in a headlock. Her voice was rushed and sarcastic, “So helpful, Moxxia, I’m really glad you’re in the room right now.” She shoved Moxxia away.

 Elektriza stared in frustration. “Have you guys forgotten what service we provide?!”

 She picked up a remote and turned on an old fashioned TV.

 After static appeared on screen, the footage showed the group killing off individuals.

 Elektriza bashing a red demon’s head with a mullet.

 Moxxia shooting a blue person tied up to a chair.

 Chandra grabbing a red person in his mouth and shaking the person side to side like a wolf.

 Millard beheading a blue person with a spear and laughing.

  Elektriza watched with a relaxed smile on her face, holding up a blue bowl of popcorn. Chandra sat on the table, popping popcorn pieces into his mouth. Millard perched on the table, enjoying the show, but Moxxia stood off to the side with a grumpy face.

 Posters hung from the walls, one showing Elektriza and her two brothers, Tillo (an imp with short black hair) and Barb Wire (a smiling imp with ram-like horns.) It was a picture of them at a circus, the banner reading “The Amazing Imp Siblings!” Elektriza remembered the good times she had with them when they performed on stage. Barb Wire would balance on a tightrope, holding a pole with flames on either end. Tillo tamed and evaded manticores, dragons and other beasts that were released into the arena. Elektriza would sing songs about murdering people and they would all pose and bow at the end as the crowd cheered.

 That was before Elektriza moved on to form I.M.P., recruited Moxxia and Millard, and adopted Chandra.

 Elektriza moved a hand toward her chest and sighed with content. “Ah, those were good times.”

 Moxxia spoke up as Millard ate a piece of popcorn. “We don’t need any reminding, mam’, considering you blew most of our salaries on an obnoxious TV ad last week, one that you then additionally paid to have run for a full three hours on a channel, nobody watches!”

 Elektriza turned her head, insulted. “Hey, uh, excuse me?” She stood up. “What’s “obnoxious” about a super fun jingle, all right? It’s a fun distraction when an advertisement’s spitting bullshit.” She walked across the room.

 “People love musicals, mam’,” Millard added.

 Elektriza smiled. “Exactly, Millard, and we’re basically doing a musical.” Elektriza did jazz hands before pointing rapidly at Moxxia with a scowl.

 “Are you gonna crush my musical theater dreams like my mom did?” She lowered her head.

 “Mam’…” Moxxia began, but her boss cut her off.

 “Because right now, all I see is just my mom’s asshole talking to me, crushing my dreams of being, who I truly am inside.” She turned his head away.

 Millard leaned in toward his wife and spoke with a teasing tone. “Are you trying to crush her dreams, Moxxia?”

 “I…what?” she asked, looking at him. Millard leaned in close and stuck out his tongue, tail curling. “I thought I knew you.” Moxxia rolled her eyes; her husband loved to annoy her.

 Elektriza turned back to Moxxia, tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe you, Moxxia. And after I made you Employee of the Month.” She held a picture of Moxxia with her mouth open in a roar, snake tongue showing.

 Moxxia threw up her hands, “Okay, mam’ I’m sorry, but a commercial jingle is not comparable to musical theater. Nobody actually likes the jingles.”

 “I liked it!” Millard pipped up.

 Moxxia turned to him, finger shaking, “Do not…do not agree with her in front of me.”

  Chandra sat, bored, playing on his phone. Moxxia’s head appeared on the screen but was crushed by a weight and then blown up by a bomb. At one point her face was sliced in half as “boom!” flashed across the screen.

 Moxxia spoke, hands forward in front of her. “I’d like to go on record and say that incident with shooting the kid was Chandra’s fault. Dispatch is supposed to give us the right info on the target. It’s very simple.”

 “Oh sit on some boobs, Moxxia,” Chandra replied without looking up.

 Moxxia stuttered angrily, looking for a comeback. “You sit…sit on a…a…do your job!” She slammed her palm on the table.

 Elektriza scolded her. “Hey, now we don’t blame our screw-ups on Chandra, okay? He didn’t do anything wrong.” She hugged him and nuzzled her head against his cheek, the hellhound growling at her to get off.

 Moxxia stared in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, mam’? He’s awful!”

 “The point is, Chandra is a valued member of our family and we don’t get rid of families.”

 “We aren’t a family, mam’,” Moxxia pointed out. “You are the boss. We are the employees. You treat him like he’s some troubled teenager. He’s more like a meth-addicted homeless man you let run the phones.”

 Chandra flipped her the bird.

 “Now, that is offensive,” remarked Elektriza, walking to the window, pulling open the blinds. “Without homeless people, I wouldn’t have half the joy and laughter I do in this life.”

  Outside, a homeless imp with a broken horn and ragged grey clothing held up a sign that read “Monee helps. Satan Bless.” An imp man with black clothing and little bat wings blushed at Elektriza who waved and did a playful raise of eyebrows before closing the blinds.

 Moxxia crossed her arms. “While we’re on the subject of “family,” can you stop finding me and Millard outside of work?”

 “Come on, it’s not that big a deal,” Millard said.

 Moxxia’s eyes grew wide. “Excuse me…what?! She was in our fucking fridge! She was spying on me while I was asleep. And worse, she fucking filmed me and you while we were singing and about to kiss!”

 Elektriza giggled. “I still have it on camera.”

 “It’s fine, honey,” Millard replied to Moxxia, patting her shoulder. “The “spoiler alert, butter’s spoiled!” was a funny use of wordplay Elektriza used.”

 “No way,” Moxxia countered. “I had a great dream about my parents being murdered and Elektriza interrupted it.”

 “I was just curious,” Elektriza responded.

 “Just…stop…doing that,” Moxxia growled.

 “I don’t see what the issue is,” said Elektriza with a mischievous grin. “Something you don’t want me seeing?”

 “No!” Moxxia spat.

 “Your shaggy flower blossoms?” Elektriza asked.

 Chandra giggled under his breath.

Moxxia was fed up. “Mam’, what you say and how you act is totally inappropriate!”

 Millard pulled her down gently. “Calm down, Mox, you’re gonna have another panic attack!”

 “I am calm!” she yelled.

 Millard rubbed her head and soothed her. “Shh, there, there.” Moxxia whimpered.

 Elektriza spoke again with a childish grin, making a hole with two fingers and tapping the opening with one finger. “Look, I don’t judge the boring couple stuff you do outside of work hours, so don’t judge me.”

 Veins popped out of Moxxia’s yellow eyes. “Oh I do judge you, mam’. Quite a lot, actually.” She crossed her arms as Millard gasped in horror.

 “Mox, she’s our boss!”

 “No, it’s fine, Millard,” said Elektriza with a wave of her hand. “Your wife is just…how do I say this without being offensive…retarded.”

 “Does immaturingly insulting me make you feel better about your sad, single, life?”

 Elektriza leaned in toward Moxxia. “Yes it does, actually.”

 Chandra appeared to agree, because he added to Moxxia, “The only reason you have a husband is because you’re easy to manage.”

 “No she’s not, you turd!” Millard yelled, holding up two middle fingers.

 “Do not talk to my assistant that way!” Elektriza demanded. “He’s sensitive!”

 “Yes I am!” Chandra barked.

 Then a squeaky voice sounded from nearby: “You guys are all fucking assholes.”

 Everyone turned and stared at a girl wearing an orange shirt with a planet on it. She had curly brown hair, white skin and was connected to a monitor.

 Elektriza pointed at her. “Oh shut up, kid, you’re lucky to witness this.”

 Moxxia pinched her nose and sighed in frustration. “Ugh, this company’s such a mess!”

 “Did someone call me?” Preppy’s voice rang from the hallway. He opened the door a crack. “I can clean up any messes you may have!”

 “No!” Moxxia called. “Go away!”

 Preppy slowly closed the door.

 An awkward silence…

 “Alright, let’s get back to talking about my outfit!” Elektriza said out of nowhere.

 “Nobody was talking about that,” Chandra mentioned.

 “Which is why I’m trying to get that ball rolling, so how does it look? It’s good, right?”

 The kid ripped off the wires from her stomach.

 “It was hell pretending to be paralyzed so you fuckshits wouldn’t kill me, but now? I want that. I want death. You!” she pointed to Elektriza. “You’re a selfish, greedy clown. And I’m a kid! We’re supposed to like clowns…even the creepy ones!”

 Moxxia scoffed. “Hey now, that’s not very…”

 The kid cut her off. “If I wanted to talk to a spineless jackass bitch, I’d rip out your spine and ask you some shit.”

 Moxxia shivered in fear.

 “That’s my wife you’re talking to!” Millard yelled.

 The kid snickered. “That’s your wife?! I figured you for a man whore, but I didn’t know you needed it that bad! Fucking with an old lady, ha!”

 Millard fumed at his wife being called ugly and weak. To think that he would have sex with anyone else at random…

 “And you!” The kid pointed at Chandra.

 “Yeah? What about me?” Chandra asked.

 The kid crossed her arms and smirked. “Nothing. I don’t talk to dogs. I’m a cat person.”

 Chandra whined before turning back to his phone.

 “Wow,” said Elektriza. “You know, kid, you kind of are a piece of shit.”

 “Oh you gotta admit, she’s good,” Moxxia muttered.

 A ding came from Chandra’s phone. He smiled. “Oh fuck guys, I just got a text from our client. Guess she was the right target after all.”

 “Who?” Elektriza asked.

 “Her.”

 “Me?” asked the kid.

 “Yep,” he confirmed.

 “They wanted us to kill an actual child?” Elektriza asked.

 “That’s what they’re saying,” Chandra said.

 Elektriza grinned and twirled a gun in her hand. Her job just got more fun and easier. “Well Christ on a stick, I guess there is a god!” She fired and shot the girl in the chest. She flopped down dead with a yell in a pool of blood, smoke and sparks lingering in the air.

 Elektriza spoke about I.M.P.: “You know folks, with this company, I really wanted to prove that we’re capable of doing the same things anyone else can, like killing people. So from us here at the Immediate Murder Professionals group, we promise to settle your unfinished business or your money is gone and you’re never getting it back and you can write us a bad review but we’ll play dumb to it because it’s Hell and no one fucking cares.”

 Elektriza, Moxxia and Millard kicked the dead kid on the floor, enjoying themselves. Blood coated the floor and walls. Chandra snapped a picture with his phone. After the imps left with the body, Preppy came in and gasped.

 “Well, time to clean this up. What a mess!” He hummed a happy tune as he mopped up the blood at rapid speed.

 Elektriza and Moxxia wore gas masks and green suits as Elektriza sawed off the girl’s arm and Moxxia sawed her chest, organs spilling out into a sack below. Millard tossed an arm into the sack and Chandra held it open. Moxxia dropped the girl’s severed head inside and shared a loving smile with her husband.

 Etched in red graffiti on a dumpster behind them were the words “Devil,” “Hell,” “Happy Hotel,” and “I’m always chasing rainbows.” A pentagram, and wide smiles were also doodled on the surface.

 Elektriza embraced the entire group in a forceful hug, knocking the phone from Chandra’s hands.

 “You know, even though this kid was a target, she’s still a child. It’s important that we’ve handled this going forward, respectfully.” She wrapped her long tail around the group, all of them smiling genuinely. For despite all their problems, they were still a company family.

 Back in the human world, a crying blonde father wearing a pink shirt held up a paper saying “missing girl.” Below in large letters on the news was: “Dad sucks at drawing own kid!”

 The father spoke into the microphone, “Please, if anyone has seen my little Ellie…”

 He gasped as a sack dropped into his hands. He and the news reporter looked up to see a smiling Elektriza, Millard, and Moxxia through a portal up above.

 “You’re welcome!” Elektriza called with a wave before the portal closed.

 The father looked inside the bag and screamed. “My daughter! She’s dead! Noooooo!”

[weywyrdsis]

Free Day Prompt

woo, two in one night. Am excite. These things are getting fairly long but I’m actually enjoying writing and having a deadline for once so I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Anyways, modern au Grell/Madame Red in which Madame Red is a Doctor and uh...that’s all I got, this is just me loving the self-indulgent, one person gayly patches up the other and takes care of the trope I'm not sorry.

“Just a...just hurts a bit. ‘M fine.” The other woman was tense under An’s hands and An pulled away as soon as she could. 

“I can’t quite tell, but you should have x-rays done. There might be fractures I can’t detect by touch. In the meantime, let me see your face darling.”

Grell moved cooperatively to let Grell inspect the bruise around her eye and the scrape just under her jaw. The scrape was light, nothing serious and An poured a little melting ice onto a towel. “I’m just going to wipe your makeup off a little dear, is that alright?”

“That’s alright, thank you.” Grell twitched a little with the touches but did her best to hold still and An’s free hand rested on Grell’s cheek, stroking idly with her thumb. Once she’d gotten the majority of Grell’s makeup off she sighed and bundled up some of the ice in a towel and held it to her darkening eye. The hand that had been resting on Grell’s cheek shifted a little to brush a little drying blood away from her split lip, Grell held dreadfully still, breath ghosting out against An’s hand and she blinked once before holding An’s gaze with an intense inquisitiveness. An took her hand away with a deliberate care that she couldn’t identify. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, crossing the line of her usual professionalism.

“Would you go to the hospital if I go with you? I know the doctors at Mercy, they’re all very trustworthy, I can promise that, and you really should have your ribs looked at…” An caught her open eye, letting herself bat her lashes a little, and pout just the slightest. If it got Grell to go, she would be happy with that.

Grell nodded once, breath a little fast, and she winced, curling over them just a little. “Ya, I...yes, okay, I’m fine with that.”

“Thank you, dear, that makes me feel much better. Do you have a vehicle?” An shifted her attention back to Grell’s hand. “I’m going to remove your ring in case you swell up anymore, this will hurt a bit.”

“Uh, no, I don’t…ow!” The ring took some twisting and a few controlled tugs to remove and Grell’s expression twisted painfully. “Damn. Ow.”

“Sorry. I’ll order a car, hold on.” She did so quickly and then helped Grell stand, the taller woman’s hand warm in hers. “Hold this pack to your eye.”

She held the other to Grell’s injured hand with her left hand, her right hand under Grell’s arm gently to lead her out as they adjusted with a little awkward shuffling. “Easy, good. Are you feeling alright? Light-headed or dizzy?”

“A little, but that might just be the alcohol.” Grell laughed a little and leaned on An lightly. An grinned up at her, unabashedly for the first time in ages. 

“Perhaps, but I’d still like to keep an eye on you for a concussion. It’s rather hard to tell in this light, and you weren’t unconscious but still.”

“My, my, I’m rather lucky to receive concern from such a lovely stranger.”

“Yes well, it’s the least I can do since you came to my defence, as I said.”

“They were already on me by then.”

“Yes, but you could have left when you had the chance and let them change their focus to me, but you didn’t. I appreciate that.”

“You’re very welcome darling. I could hardly let them mess up a pretty face like yours.”

“Then you ought to be more careful with your own, you are rather lovely, and you’re lucky you’ve not damaged it permanently with the way you fight.” The men were gone as they waited for the car to pull up and An leaned against the outside wall of the building with Grell. 

“Oh come now, I’ve had a good amount of practice.” Grell seemed to preen under the compliment and An shifted to tuck herself against Grell’s side and way from the cold night.

[shes-claws-deep]

Brothel Demonstration - Mercy, Reinhardt, Zenyatta

My good girl Angela is an excellent choice for a demonstration, as is Reinhardt, a retired breeding bull. Zenyatta is currently not on the roster as a slave, but he is available for massages and aftercare.

Jack brings in Angela and Reinhardt by their collars, Zenyatta following behind obediently. Angela is scantily clad in tissue-thin panties and a simple harness around her chest to emphasise her breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination. Reinhardt is completely bare, exposing his well-built form and the thick, flaccid cock hanging between his legs. They are then made to kneel beside the Madam, both clasping their hands behind their back. Zenyatta, too, follows suit, though he is wearing a tasteful set of trousers.

The Madam first gestures to Angela, running her hand over the blonde’s loose hair.

Angela, oh Angela. Formerly a doctor working in emergency medicine, Angela still carries the stress of the profession on her shoulders. She is very responsive, very pent up, and very, very horny. Once you get her going, there’s no way she’s going to stop. She can cum for ages and still feel the urge to keep fucking, to keep cumming.

With a nod from his boss, Jack extends Angela’s legs and straps leather cuffs to her thighs, knees, and ankles. The cuffs on her knees are attached to her chest as Jack easily manipulates Angela into position against his body. He reaches up for a few chains hanging from the ceiling, attaching them to her chest, her ankles, and her thighs so she hangs in place. Then, bit by bit, he raises her until she’s suspended above the ground, her holes perfectly level with the Madam’s waist.

Perfect. Thank you, Jack. Now, Angela’s holes are greedy. Very greedy indeed. She can take cocks of any size; even the biggest dildos are no match for her pussy. Observe.

The Madam takes a horse-like dildo from the nearby cart, hefting it before the audience to show exactly how big it is. Its girth is larger than the Madam’s bicep and as long as her forearm. She douses it in lube, smearing some on Angela’s already leaking pussy, and nudges the flared tip against her clit.

The blonde moans tremulously, her lips already slack before her Mistress starts to stuff the huge cock into her pussy. Her pussylips stretch to an incredible size, swallowing up the cock slowly but surely. She struggles as she passes the halfway mark, but her restraints hold her too well, stopping her from moving as the Madam forces the rest of it in. The base is then secured with an additional strap, holding it inside her stuffed, leaking pussy so she can milk it as much as she wants.

She loves being humiliated, my angel does. Overstimulation too. Oh, but if you could combine both, Angela will become the ultimate pet for a lucky customer.

Jack hands the Madam a huge butt plug, one with cables trailing from the flat end. This plug goes into Angela’s winking asshole, the bud already stretching open from the strain in her legs and the position she’s held in. It goes in without a fuss with the help of some lube, filling Angela’s other hole to the brim. She sobs out loud and pleads with the Madam, begging her to stop as she feels too full. She’ll break. Please stop.

The Madam merely smiles and takes a vibrating wand. Presses it against her clit. And watches her dance.

Cumslaves like you don’t get to choose, my angel. If I want you to dance for my audience, then dance you will. Remember that you’re nothing more than my cumrag.

Angela yells at the top of her voice, the intense vibrations sending her over the edge. Forcing her to cum once. Then twice in quick succession. And then three times. Over and over and over until she’s nothing more than quivering, mindless slave.

The Madam grins at the audience and comes up behind Angela, using the opportunity to not only attach the vibrator to her clit but to fondle her breasts and pinch her nipples until they turned cherry red from the abuse.

At this point, Angela is senseless and trembling uncontrollably, her eyes long rolled into her skull and her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

Now, the Madam turns to Zenyatta.

Keep her awake, Zenyatta. I want her to suffer every bit of pleasure I deign to give her.

The omnic bows and sends an orb of harmony forth, the golden wisp hanging above Angela and rejuvenating her. The stream of healing does its job, bringing the former doctor to her senses and making her scream anew at the intense pain of her multiple orgasms.

Reinhardt. Ah, Reinhardt. A former breeding bull of mine. As you can see, he is incredibly hung. Almost as much as a horse, one might say.

The Madam bids the massive man to stand and fondles his cock until it rises to full mast.

Although much older than the rest of my merchandise, Reinhardt still maintains an intense regiment to keep up his libido. I daresay he is still able to fuck anyone into unconsciousness if given the order. His stud roots cannot be denied, even in retirement.

She spins him around and forces him to bend over, putting his hands on his ass cheeks so he’s able to spread himself wide open.

His hole is well used and well seasoned, able to pull orgasms out of any cock that penetrates him. He’s not as, hm, stretchy as the Shimada brothers, but he can cum from anal penetration alone. He is experienced in prostate milking and he’s very, very sensitive there.

To demonstrate, she dons a glove and douses her fingers in lube, then slips them into him with only a small moan escaping him. Still, Reinhardt maintains his posture with his feet wide apart despite the tremble in his fingers. The Madam probes deep with two fingers, dipping and clawing until she finds his prostate with unerring ease.

Immediately, he cries out and his knees shake as she stimulates his prostate with an ease born from experience.

Jack, get down on your knees and suck his cock for me. I want our audience to see exactly how much cum our giant can produce.

Without complaint, Jack kneels before Reinhardt, offering the massive man a place to brace himself as the scarred man swallows Reinhardt’s monster cock down his throat. In tandem, they tease and drive Reinhardt to a frenzy; Jack through his silver tongue and clever lips, and the Madam through her fingertips at his now bulging prostate.

Like Angela, Reinhardt begins to beg and plead, rocking his hips back and forth needily to get more sensation. More pleasure. More everything. Luckily for him,, his demonstration also includes copious amounts of cum.

Reinhardt can only cum on command; if he isn’t given permission, he will be unable to orgasm no matter how hard he tries. So, ladies and gentlemen, is he allowed to cum?

A resounding yes echoes throughout the room and Reinhardt can only sob in relief as he cums like a hose. Jack can only swallow one mouthful before he’s forced to retreat, taking a bucketload of cum on his face and his chest. Reinhardt’s cock bobs and twitches, spewing spurt after spurt until Jack’s face looks like it’s been glazed with icing. Yet, he continues to cum even after his cock settles down into a half hard state, helped along by your handy fingers at his prostate that keep the milk going.

With your fingers in his ass, Reinhardt will be forced to cum again and again until you stop. When he was a breeding bull, he was trained to keep cumming until he’s absolutely worn out; which means that he has to drop unconscious before his libido forces him to stop.

On cue, Reinhardt’s cock swells back to full strength, pressing insistently against Jack’s mouth until he opens up and takes his fellow slave’s cock down his throat again. The Madam stops fingering his ass, this time dragging over a fucking machine and impaling him on the massive dildo mounted upon it. Both Reinhardt and Jack can only moan as the movements rock him back and forth, controlling the pace such that both men can only take what the machine dishes out.

And that’s it for this demonstration, everyone! If anyone would like to get a taste of either Angela’s or Reinhardt’s cum, please step forward and I’ll let you have a lick. Both are insatiable when it comes to pleasure and orgasms, so I’m sure whoever has them for the night will be just as wrung out as they are now.

Angela wails loudly as she cums for the nth time, the floor beneath her soaked through and a large puddle of her cum already pooling, the cum dripping around the huge dildo still jammed deep in her pussy. As for Reinhardt, he’s breathing through his second orgasm from Jack’s talented mouth and the insistent cock fucking his ass and jabbing at his prostate, covering the floor in a thin white layer of cum before he jerks back to hardness again.

Zenyatta will be available for samples of his incredible massage skills. Tantric massages are also on the menu, as is relaxation massages and meditating spas.

[boneandfur]

Marry in Haste [6, pt2]

Notes: historical notes are at the end. // Words: 2806 // Catch up: Ch 6 (contains links to other chapters)

CHAPTER SIX, pt 2 :: Song: Scarborough Fair, Amy Nuttall.

The housekeeper unlocked the door with a flourish. I prayed to God it was not too late. "My lady, take James and Alf in with ye," she said with a respectful gleam in her eye.

With James, Alf, and Sinclaire at my side, I dashed into the room just as MacDougal laid his saw to Ned's flesh. 

Edmund was pale as a sheet, hand on the bottle of whiskey, agog. "Dita?!" 

"Stop!" I screamed, and MacDougal reared back, his face like thunder.

"Get out!" he roared like a bull, and then he turned on me. For such a big man, he moved fast. I darted towards him, grabbing the handle of the saw from his hand, and in my madness, wrested it from his grip. The teeth were brown and rusty with old blood, and I shuddered in disgust. I flung it from me, it went skittering across the floor. “Sairpent!” He grabbed me by the wrist, throwing me to the floor, but I was back on my feet and in his face with an anger I had not known I possessed. 

"Get out of my house!" I said in a voice of deadly quiet. "You'll not harm a hair on his head, do you hear me, you wicked old butcher?!" 

"I'll no' be ordered about by a woman!" MacDougal bared his teeth, shaking with anger. 

"Get out!" I roared, pointing a shaking finger at the door. I whirled on one of our footmen. "James, run and get a boy to fetch the bonesetter, as fast as you can!" 

"Yes, my lady!" James dashed from the room. 

"My lady!" MacDougal lunged for me, and Sinclaire stepped forward as though to stop him. "I told ye tae stay out o' it! I'll not be told ma business by some slanty-eyed, foreign bitch!" 

Edmund was on his feet before Sinclaire could move, and his fist hit the doctor square in the mouth. "You forget your place!" he roared, breathing in sharp, jerky pants. "You'll not lay hands on a peeress of the realm, sir! Now get out before we call Bow Street!" 

"Mr Greaves!" I shouted, and the butler came into the room at once, he had likely been waiting in the hallway for my summons. He was a big African man, balding, with a kindly smile, but today he had none, his mouth was set as hard as stone as he looked at the surgeon.

"My lady," Greaves said respectfully. "Mr Marlcaster." 

"Escort this charlatan from the property!" I ordered in a voice like steel, praying none of them could sense how I shook inside. Ye may murder yer husband here an' now... As if ye'd stabbed a knife intae his heart.

"Unhand me at once! I'll show m'self out!" MacDougal cried. "Jamie, ye wee idiot! Bring ma bag!" 

"But sir!" Jamie cried, finding his voice at last. And it squeaked. 

"We are no' welcome in this house. I wish good day to you, Madam!" MacDougal thundered at me. As he turned to go, he whispered, in a voice like ice, "Let all who hear me bear witness! I say ye do murder -- an' I'll testify against ye and yer lover at the trial!" Slamming his hat on his head and shoving his bag under his arm, he stormed out, tripping over the person coming up the steps as he shouted for Jamie to call a cab. 

When he had gone, I turned to Edmund, and as though he knew how I trembled inside, he took me into his arms and held me for a long, sweet moment. Then he sat back down on the bed, he was sweating and pale. "What have we done, Dita?" he whispered. 

"She's saved your life, most likely, Marlcaster," Sinclaire said from the doorway, and I jumped back, feeling guilty for comforting my own husband in front of my lover, though why I should feel such a confusing emotion, I knew not. "I'm not a man for medicine, but that blade would have poisoned your blood and condemned you to a long and lingering death." 

Edmund scoffed, but I saw how ill he looked, and my heart squeezed hard. "Always the bearer of good news, aren't you, Sinclaire? I think you would love comforting my widow overmuch, if I should perish."

Sinclaire ground his teeth audibly. “Is that not why you chose me as your second, sir?”

“Oh, you call yourself an honorable man, Sinclaire, but I've seen how you make eyes at my wife as though I were not right in front of you!” Edmund jeered. I placed a hand on his arm, and he pulled me roughly to him, as though he would kiss me, but at the last moment I turned my face away. I saw hurt flash in his eyes, he let go of me, and I put my hand to my lips. I did not want to be a pawn in that game, and yet suddenly I felt bereft, and ached for the kiss I had denied him. “You hope to wear the fair lady's favor and win the race, I suppose. But do you really think it shall be so easy?” he sneered.

“Enough, Ned!” I snapped, hearing the bell ring for the door. “The bonesetter will be here any moment! Do you want her to see you brawling like a common peasant, or acting like the gentleman I know you to be?”

“Send for the bishop, wife, we may as well give last rites. I will be half a man without my leg, I...” his voice dropped and he turned back to me, stroking the back of his hand across my cheek. He was shaking, his teeth chattering, and his voice had begun to slur from the drink. "But why are you crying? Will you mind so overmuch when I am dead?”

"You're not going to die!" My voice quaked a little on the last word. 

"Who in't going t' die?" It was a little old lady, ugly and wizened, with a wide mouth like a toad and shoulders wide as a dockworker's. She had a thick accent, and leaned upon a walking stick. "I be Mrs Mapp, the bonesetter. Ye must be that high-faultin' foreign miss what married this foolish man who's t' race that wicked Duke. Aye, all o' London is talkin' about it." She eyed Edmund's leg with a gimlet gaze. 

"The race!" I gasped, swallowing hard. If I gambled nothing, I would lose everything. "But how do you know, madam?" 

The bonesetter barked back a sharp laugh. "'Tis the Talk of the Town, girl!" 

When she moved toward the bed, her clothes letting off a not unappealing cloud of herbal smells, Edmund set down the bottle. "What witchcraft is this?" He stared at the old woman, throughly appalled. "Who is this hag?" 

"You respect your ma, boy?" Mrs Mapp bent her ear to his leg and then began massaging it roughly, and he howled. "That's what I thought. Feels like it ain't shattered."

"That is what the surgeon said, madam. He wanted to amputate." At Sinclaire's words, Edmund clenched his jaw and went quite pale.

"An' it was you that kicked him out, eh?" She poked a knobbly finger at me. "I like yer brass, girl. Want ter make yerself useful? Fetch me some hot water, as hot as ye can make it, and fresh, clean towels. Well? Are ye waitin' for infection tae set in, ye wee mort?" She fixed me with a gimlet eye, throwing a pitcher off the washstand to me, and then drew herself up to her full height. "Now, boy," she said, turning her attention back to my husband, "you're goin' ter want t' get very drunk." 

When I returned, my husband had drunk nearly the entire second bottle of whiskey, and when he saw me, his eyes lit up. "Look, Shinclaire, it's Dita," he slurred. "My angel." 

"Aye, she's yer angel all right, boy." The bonesetter cackled, handing Sinclaire a strap of leather, and he put it in Edmund's teeth. "Now we'll set the bone. You, lads --" and she jabbed a finger at Sinclaire and Alf, who I had quite forgotten. "Hold 'is lordship down. An' you, Angel, since ye insist on makin' use o' yerself, cant a tune fer yer man t' keep 'im calmed." She chewed on her spit. "Ye can sing, can't ye?" 

"Dita caterwauls like a cat in heat!" Edmund winked at the bonesetter. "Her mama was a celebrated opera soprano, but m' wife can't carry a tune in a bucket!" 

"Ned!" I scowled, crossing my arms. "You told me I had a beautiful voice!" 

Sinclaire coughed, looking ashamed. "He's right, y'know. Your singing voice sounds like a cat yowling. Madam, you'll want to cover your ears." 

The old woman cackled loudly, and set to her work. I opened my mouth, and began to sing a song from when I was a child, Edmund's eyes never leaving my face. 

Tell him to buy me an acre of land,

Between the salt water and the sea sand. 

Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn,

And sow it all over with one peppercorn. 

Tell him to sheer't with a sickle of leather,

And bind it up with a peacock's feather. 

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme...

When at last the grisly task was finished, Edmund had passed out from the pain, and the men were sweating from the exertion it had taken to hold him down. I escorted the bonesetter to the back gate and paid her a golden crown, she bit down on it, satisfied, and then looked at me with eyes that saw beyond mortal knowing, and I shivered all over at the sorrow in her eyes. 

"When he wakes, Angel, he'll be cursin' both god an' the devil. Don't ye let him go t' that race tomorrow." 

I gasped, I had quite forgotten it. "But his second will race the Duke, madam. Mr Sinclaire." 

"Oh, aye? Your lover they say, and they also say this." And she bent her lips to my ear, dry and cracked like leather. "When men and women make plans, the Devil laughs." She slipped something into my hand.

"What?" I gasped. But when I turned around, she was gone, and the breeze brought the smell of ash and bone from the charnel houses beyond the lichgate, though perhaps I only imagined it.

And inside my palm lay a knucklebone.

•••

"I'm afraid, Ernest," I whispered. We were in the back garden, sitting on the bench together in perfect propriety, as Susanna played ball with her puppy, a little white eared runt Edmund's favorite bitch, Cleopatra, had thrown. He doted on his daughter whenever he could, and I wondered how he could ever think her the child of the man beside me, who twirled his finger through one of my red curls, bringing it to his lips. 

"I do not intend to lose the race, if that is what you fear." He tugged whimsically on one ringlet. "Perhaps I need a lady's token, for luck." 

I kissed him chastely near the mouth, mindful of my husband lying inside. "Very well." He handed me his knife, and I wrapped the ringlet in my handkerchief, slipping it into his front pocket. He caught my chin in his hand, brushing his lips against mine as he stared into my eyes. We both took a sharp breath, and moved back -- and not a moment too soon. 

My Lady Grandmother walked into the garden and came up short upon seeing us, her brows shooting up in surprise. We jumped guiltily apart.  "Granddaughter, your husband is awake and asking for you." 

•••

Edmund was sitting up in bed, his face contorted in a grimace of pain. His leg was bound in boiled linen bandages and kept immobile in a splint. When he saw me, his whole aspect lightened, and he patted the space beside him. 

I sat down next to him with my knees drawn up to my chest, and when he put his arm around me, I pressed my face to his broad chest, unable to hold back my tears. "Ned, Ned." 

He tilted up my chin. "Don't cry, I am still living." He brushed his lips across my cheeks, tasting my tears. Of course, this only made me cry all the more, and I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, lying back against the pillows with him, my body curled up against his. When he spoke, it was husky, ragged. "I don't know how I should have made it back without the thought of you in my head. When the horse threw me... I remembered that race with the Duke, years ago, before we eloped, and I thought, At last my luck has run out. And then I knew I could not live a single moment more unless I..." he turned his face, his eyes softening, and he swallowed, hard. "Unless I had but one more kiss from you, Lady wife." 

His lips on mine were gentle, but demanding: his tongue teased the seam of my lips apart, and I opened them to him, moaning a little as a ripple of heat lit up every nerve ending along my skin. He tasted of whiskey and clear, green water. "You do not know how badly I want to be buried deep inside of you, Dita." Edmund's husky admittance kindled such a longing inside of me that I was staggered by it. He took a small sip of his tea, and his eyes held the glazed look of one whose head is filled with opium Dreams. "Do you not ever think that Susanna might like a little brother to play with?" 

"She has brothers." I was referring, of course, to Briar's children, Harry and Joss, who we saw little to none of, though that was more her doing than mine. If she had not been so ridiculously jealous of me, I would have had the boys to play with Susanna, and often. Besides, it would do Edmund good to see his boys more frequently, for I knew he missed them sore.

In Edmund's voice was a bone-deep ache that made my heart fair turn over with pain for him. "I did not know my father, Dita. And I barely see the boys, for she has sent them to be raised by her mother, back in Grovershire." His lips twisted. "She says it is so she can give all her attention to me, but I... Oh, Dita, it kills me not to see my sons." 

This was the drink loosening his tongue, I was sure of it. Edmund had never expressed such a desire heretofore. In this state, I would be able to get him to admit to anything. But I was not that cruel, not yet. "Tell me again how you want to make another babe with me." I twined my fingers through his, and his brow crinkled before he burst out laughing, half sitting up. 

"Why, in the usual way, Dita. Where I take you every which way possible until you conceive, and then you do not touch me again, but go back to your lover." His voice was void of mirth as he leaned back again. "Do I have that aright?" 

"Ned..." my voice was stricken. "You know that is not... I mean..."

"It is what we do, Perdita." He sounded weary suddenly, and a shadow moved across his face. "It is the game we play. By God, I am sick to heart of it."

"Edmund, would you -- oh!" My mother in law clapped a hand over her heart, shocked to see me curled up beside her son in the bed. "You need your rest, my son." She kissed his brow, smoothing the lines away, and looked steadily at me. For once, we were at an accord. 

Very gently, I sat up, attempting to disentangle our fingers, but he gripped my hand hard, pulling me back to his chest.

"No, stay with me. I shan't be able to sleep unless you are here." His lips brushed against my ear. "I need you, Dita." 

"Well, you need your sleep more, husband." I laid my head back down upon his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the place where his heart beat so steadily beneath my cheek. "But I will stay." 

"Stay forever, Dita," he whispered. 

"I will." My false promise fell on deaf ears, he was asleep. 

•••

I could not sleep before the morning of the race, I tossed and turned in bed all night, the knucklebones upon the wash stand, mocking me. The Duke... This was under his saddle... You are a clever girl, Perdita...

I bolted up in the darkness. 

Sinclaire. 

•••

Historical notes: 

(1) Burial in consecrated ground was only permitted after 1823 without ritual, and with ritual only after the 1880 Burial Act. Usually suicides and unchristened babies were not buried in the family plot, but outside the churchyard, or to the north. I wasn't able to find much. 

Source: http://www.sacred-texts.com/etc/fcod/fcod11.htm

https://genealogy.stackexchange.com/questions/10193/burial-of-a-person-who-committed-suicide-in-18th-century-england

(2) the lyrics that Perdita sings are from a traditional ballad, a version of Scarborough Fair which can be found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scarborough_Fair_(ballad)

••• 

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