#I enjoyed the interval acts that I saw

[eurovision-del]

5MINNUST & Puuluup just won Eesti Laul! I’m so hyped about this result, it was exactly what I wanted! Credit to Ollie, and I would really love to see him at Eurovision one day, but 5minnust were just on another level tonight. The perfect level of chaos and excitement with a super catchy song – I really hope that this connects with the general audience at Eurovision the way it seems to have with the fandom. They definitely could tweak the staging to give it a little more polish for the big stage, but I hope they keep the overall energy and honestly choreography from this performance. I’m so glad we’ll get to see them again in May!

[lolchicsa]

Skulls and Chaos

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, nsfw, description of gore

Part 1 of 2: smut in next part (link here)

No use of y/n

Loosely follows the events of the ‘Alone’ mission. Reader’s vacation was ruined by Shadow Company going on a genocidal rampage :( But fear not dear reader! Mr Ghost is here to make it better ;P

A/N: First time using Tumblr to post stories and using mobile to write this. Apologies for bad grammar, it’s been a while, and I have no idea what to tag for this story. Story inspiration comes from a post by @fanficsforfun so here’s my twist on it.

Chaos.

The streets of Las Almas could be described using only one word. Chaos…

Usually, at this time of night, children would be asleep, lovers back in their homes and just a set few would be enjoying the dreamy sight of stars littering the night sky. It is truly a beautiful place to visit, if you can ignore the cartel’s presence that is. The cartel is known for being violent… but this… this was different. This wasn’t the cartel.

The screams and cries of children and parents echoed through the city. Gunfire sounded off at irregular intervals, surrounding me in fear. I had abandoned my hotel room when the screams first started, trying to find my way out in this maze of a city. The first dead body I had come across was that of a young boy. A trail of blood, starting from a small hole in his head, ended on the ground in a pool of crimson liquid. At first, I was fear stricken and unable to look away.

My reality felt surreal, a distant nightmare I could escape when my mind decided to end the torture. But no, I wasn’t dreaming, I was wide awake and running for my life. I officially lost count of how many dead bodies I unfortunately came across after seeing an alleyway filled with them. I wanted to cry, to curl up in a ball and forget the world exist. But I couldn’t bring myself to do so.

Exhaustion took over a few minutes ago, leaving me walking through the streets of death alone and on edge. The sound of death still polluted the air, I was trying my best to avoid the gunfire and escape. Easier said then done, trust me. It felt like the chaos was following me, taunting me with thoughts of escape.

And then I heard voices. Must be a sick joke my mind was playing on me. Logically, I knew there was very little chance of finding a living soul, but hope has shimmering at the back of my mind. Maybe these people can help me, maybe they know how to escape. I travelled closer to the orchestra of voices until I noticed something… odd.

They where speaking calmly to one another, acting like this was a pleasant walk instead of hell on earth. It made me uneasy, but something caught my attention. Their accents. Not to different then my own, but definitely a rarity around here. Americans.

I round a corner and there I saw them. All black tactical gear, guns, knives, they looked ready for war. My heart leaped into my throat, a surge of newfound adrenaline propulsed me closer to them. These soldiers most be here to bring an end to this chaos.

“Man, that Ghost guy gives me the creeps” One said, the pack turning their attention to him. They where huddled close together, seemingly enjoying a 10 minute break of freedom before continuing on. A few snickers broke the silence following the soldiers comment.

“It’s only one guy, c’mon he can’t do much against all of us” replied another.

“Don’t forget about the other one” a third chimed in. Their conversation helped keep their attention off of the street corner I was currently stalking. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in eavesdropping on these guys. The more you know, the better right?

“You mean the one that goes by Soap? Ha! What kind of name is that anyways? How can you be scared of a guy like that!”

“An angry Scotsman is not to be trifled with, trust me”

“Man if you get killed by someone named after a cleaning product, no matter what he is, you’ll be a laughing stock in whatever hell we end up in”

“Oh so getting shanked by Ghost is better?”

As far as conversations goes, this might be the worst one I have had the privilege of eavesdropping on. Their arguing… over names? I don’t get it.

“Hey you! We know your there! Come out with your hands in the air and slowly walk towards the middle of the street” yelled on of the soldiers. The command was directed towards my general area and my stomach dropped. Anxiety started prickling through my veins, thoughts racing through my head a mile a second.

Just do as they say, my conscious brain screamed. It’s the only way to survive this nightmare. With that, I made my way towards the middle of the street with my hands up, just like I was told.

“Mind explaining to me what you are doing here ma’am?” asked one of the soldiers. From the looks of things, he seems to be the leader of this rag tag group of men. He’s got the scariest voice of them all, I would say. Sounds like the type of guy you can easily trust, but would stab you in the back if he had too. He didn’t have a gun pointed at me, not yet anyways, but he did have a death grip on his rifle.

“Please, I mean no harm. I was here on vacation and I just want to go back home” I begged.

“You’re American? Odd to see you here. You’ve got ID to prove your story miss?” His grip on his rifle loosened and his posture reflected that of a calm man. I started searching through my small purse, searching for the requested object.

The moments leading often where a blur. Adrenaline had left my system, leaving me tired and emotional. I remember giving my ID to the man, which I now know goes by Graves. Something in him changed, going from the on edge soldier to overprotective best friend. One of his men was ordered to strip off his armor plate and give it to me. A jacket was placed over my shoulder, a signet stitched on the jacket sleeves. I was told it was their company’s logo… Shadow company.

Graves had me follow a couple of his men out of the city to safer location. They where ordered to protect me with their lives. I felt safe, like really safe. Here I was, following three armed men, tasked with protecting me, out of this city of nightmares and closer to my warm bed back home. Currently, our small group was engaged in conversation. The topic? Well…

“These guys don’t play around. All this death? They caused it. We don’t know why, but we’re tasked with hunting them down” specified one of my bodyguards.

“Specifically that Ghost guy. He has this weird mask thing he wears all the time. It’s like a skull and it covers most of his face. Scary fucker” another added.

I hear admiration when they describe this guy, that and fear. My gut tells me there is more they are keeping from me. Part of me couldn’t give two shits, but another was curious.

Fwoosh

My brain froze, my body stopped moving. The world shifted, the quiet chatter turned into loud commands I couldn’t make out. I saw red. Blood red. This time not painted on walls or flowing down the cheeks of children. This time, I saw it spray out of the neck of one of my new friends. A blade had materialized out of thin air, implanting itself into the soldiers neck.

His body made a sickening sound as it hit the ground. I wanted to scream, I wanted to run, but fear stricken as I was, I could only watch. Watch as the other two had knives plunged into their throats like the first. Watch as lifeless bodies hit the floor.

My body moves, but not because I ordered it to do so. The colours shift into each other, sky and ground blurring together. It only last a couple seconds, but has an everlasting effect on me. Slowly, my senses come back to me and I realize something is very very wrong.

It’s him.

It’s the man with the skull face mask.

It’s Ghost.

He’s the first thing I see when my vision finally focuses. I’m to unfocused to realize what’s going on, but I can feel a wall behind me. His eyes are staring into mine, hands holding me tightly to the wall behind me. I can feel the heat radiating of his body and I can’t help but feel attracted to it.

That’s when I realize he’s shouting at me, but I’m having a hard time making out what he’s saying. I feel trapped, unable to move, forced to keep eye contact with this dangerous killer. His eyes are mesmerizing. I can’t look away, I can’t focus on anything other then his eyes.

“Tell me where Graves is and I promise to give you a quick death”

His words still sounded unclear, but the anger rolling off of them helped snap me out of my daze. This is the killer the soldiers were talking about, the dead soldiers. He killed them… just like he killed everyone else. Fear gripped my soul, my fight or flight instincts finally kicking in. I started trashing about, trying to loosen his hold on me. The wall of pure muscle in front of me didn’t seem fazed by my attempts to escape.

“Answer me now, shadow bitch. I’m losing my patience!”

His hand bolted towards my throat and gripped it with a force I have never felt before. It was getting hard to breath, my already tired body didn’t know how to react. He wasn’t playing around, he’s making that very clear. I have a feeling he’s the type to not make empty threats, especially when it comes to death threats.

Wait, did he call me “shadow bitch”? Hold on.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! I’m not part of that group! I just stumbled upon them and they were gonna bring me home! I swear! They were protecting me!”

His grip on my throat relaxed and for a second I thought I was in the clear. That’s until he moved impossibly closer to me. My head rested on the wall behind me, tilted up so I could keep eye contact with the behemoth in front of me. Our chests was flush to each others. His breath slowly fanned over my face, his warmth bringing some sense of safety.

We stood in silence, staring at each other for awhile. I had to remind myself of the atrocities this man committed… the children he killed. But something felt off.

“Why… why do want to know where Graves is? Are you going to kill him? Like you killed these civilians?” My tone was shaky, filled with whatever authority I had left. I hope this doesn’t get me killed.

Instead, the man stepped back from me, leaving an empty void where his warmth was moments ago. He acted like I had just stabbed him through the heart… if he even has one that is.

“What? You think I am responsible for this genocide? No, the Shadow’s are responsible for that”

This new information served to confuse me even more then I already was. Did Graves lie to me? Or is Ghost lying to me? Who to trust? Graves did seem like the lying type, and if Ghost really was behind all this, why was he being so nice? Well, as nice as someone could be in a situation like this, I should say.

“We have to move. Forget about Graves, survival is a priority. If the Shadows find you with me, they will kill you” His tone suggested he wasn’t lying about that last part. My gut told me to trust him, follow him. So I did and I don’t regret a thing.

A/n: omg I’m finally out of writing hibernation and boy does it feel good. I plan on making shorter stories that focuses more on smut eventually because Ghost melts my brain and I need to share. Pardon any grammatical errors and the fact that I split this in two. Any criticism is welcome, like straight up tell me if this is shit cause I’m trying to get better. Might do story requests if people are interested enough. Anyways, I hope every single one of y’all has a great day!

[ciaossu-imagines]

Could you write something, you’re allowed to choose the format, of Namba going through a zombie apocalypse?

C

Of course I can! Thank you for sending this in, since I mentioned having a lot of ideas for this that I never thought I'd get the chance to rant about and now I can! I hope you'll all enjoy the ranting!

So, the zombie apocalypse comes to Nanba Prison. There's a couple ways I could see it happening. One way it could go is that a visitor, or even one of the prison staff or guards, could unknowingly have gotten infected on the mainland. Maybe they had a random and bizarre experience with someone already zombified and they blamed the encounter on someone just being high on bath salts. Maybe the food they ate carried the virus needed to create zombies. Whatever way it happened, they unwittingly got exposed to whatever makes people turn into zombies and then, when they did get onto the island, the virus really took hold and they went full zombie and started attacking. While that initial zombie was probably put down and put down relatively quickly, they managed to do some damage and spread the virus to at least a couple more people, who then spread it to a couple more before they could be killed and so on and so forth until it's getting more and more difficult to keep up with putting them out of their misery.

Another way it could happen? It could definitely be an experiment the Otogi's were working on together that went terribly, terribly wrong. I think I prefer the first one a little better, just because in this kind of scenario, the Otogi's would either become some of the first to go zombie or just straight up get killed and that really puts Nanba in a real tight spot as to whether anyone survives because they really need their healers and researchers.

Now, in a way, Nanba is the perfect place for the zombie apocalypse to really break out. It's not only inescapable but it's pretty impenetrable, not only with the high walls and security feature but by the simple fact that it is an island. There's only one way on, one way off really. I think that's something that was banked upon during the first initial outbreak, when things were getting bad but still seemed to be under control. Momo ordered all forms of transportation to the island to cease temporarily but overall, the guards figured their strength and diligence alone could prevent it from spreading.

When things started to spin and the zombies started getting more plentiful in number, too much to easily control and take down, Nanba goes into full lockdown mode. Each building is quarantined, much like how we saw Building 5 during the Enki arc. Travel between different buildings is forbidden and the guards are given the orders. Squash this zombie uprising, protect your prisoners, and prevent any prisoners from trying to escape.

In headquarters, Momoko is in charge, overseeing everything, and really tries to keep a handle on the situation. She plans and oversees this as the commanding chief of an army would and believe me, she puts her army to good use.

Of course, she's only able to do that because Mitsuru is also locked safely in headquarters with her. If it wasn't for Mitsuru's communications and technological skills keeping all the different buildings connected and updates kept coming at hourly intervals, Nanba would likely have fallen completely.

Of course, the Otogi's and KAGU-8 are also within headquarters, commanding their teams in a joint effort operation to figure out what the hell is causing all this, to find a cure for it, and to figure the best way to get that cure out to everyone who might need it.

KAGU-8 actually comes in incredibly useful as well because, as a robot, she is immune to becoming a zombie. She goes out of the building whenever it's deemed safe (as in, she won't let anything in and they know she can't transmit the virus back to them as it's not anything skin to skin contact), acting in a variety of manners. Not only can she give them a better view of the actual situation outside of their building, but she can act as a go-between and aid various buildings in need of support.

Because animals also seem to be completely immune to being turned zombie, Kyakuya, Hiiragi, Tsubaki, Sazanka, and Kikiyou also help KAGU-8 in those kind of roles and they're also a valuable source of intel for Building 4.

And Building 4? It makes itself useful. Not only is Yozakura exceptionally strong and more than capable of taking down a single zombie, but he is a very smart man and knows how to research and investigate. Musashi actually is allowed out of his cell, though he must still be closely supervised every minute, under the orders of the Warden, to help as that is something Musashi excels at as well. Building 4 really dedicates itself to helping Headquarters' research and investigation team as much as they possibly can. Even though Hitoshi isn't really the most skilled at research, they help by taking care of the others, rationing out food while still making sure everyone is fed, and really taking over the supervising of the other guards and the overseeing of the prisoners.

Speaking of food, it becomes clear after the first week or so that travel must be established between the different buildings so that rations and provisions can be shared. Not only that, but after the first building or two fell due to zombies, it became apparent that staff needed to have a way for backup to reach them in case things did start to go bad inside a building.

While Momoko and Hajime will definitely need to have a meeting after this whole thing is over, it's really Building 13's time to shine when it comes to finding ways for the Buildings to safely travel between each other. While Jyugo and the others normally keep their travelling within Building 13, Jyugo has probably snuck around to other buildings without Hajime or the boys noticing, just because he could. And with the inmates of Building 13 really being given a little leniency, and the blueprints to Nanba, it's a walk in the park for them to figure out, test, and secure safe passage between the various buildings. Anyone going between the buildings must be accompanied by a Guard, and honestly Building 13's supervisors and guards have the best reputation and everyone wants them to accompany them. The pure amount of just stupid levels of strength and combat that both Yamato and Hajime have make them more than capable of taking on any zombies that come their way. Seitarou and Tsukumo, meanwhile, actually have really fast reflexes and a kind of stealth that makes them really talented at going safely in between the different buildings and at leading groups between buildings.

Building 3 finds their purpose during the apocalypse in several ways. Not only do Honey and Trois team up but they also team up with Ruka under the supervision of Kiji and start to produce various weapons and battle plans and tactics. Honey often collaborates with Building 4, Uno, and even the Warden herself on one occasion when it comes to tactics and plans. But they also do something else that proves useful as the apocalypse wears on. The communications channel gets turned over to Building 3 once a day, where Kiji or other staff from Building 3 just spread positivity, remind everyone of why they're fighting, assure them that things will return to normal, and remind everyone that they also need to take care of themselves. Shower as often as you can, make sure you get your beauty rest, don't forget good skin-care and little mindfulness breaks, just to keep yourself looking and feeling the best you can. After all, if you look and feel good, you can conquer anything, even a horde of zombies.

Building 5 tends to be the building most everyone counts on to actually go out and put those plans and tactics into action. They're really the front-line soldiers of this battle and not without very good reason. Not only are the guards of Building 5 exceptionally physically and mentally strong, but it's inmates are normally quite physically strong and talented fighters in their own rights. Even Qi gets drafted, becoming a sort of combat medic and he's the one to test the zombie antidote, each time the Research Team thinks they have perfected it, out in the field. Other inmates and guards from different buildings do back them up whenever possible, but they are really the ones in charge down on the ground.

[white-cat-of-doom]

Ian McKellen has come to the defense of CATS (2019), and the musical in general, with a concise assessment:

“If you think the film got bad reviews, you should have seen the reviews for the stage show!”

For the majority of the article (or everything pertaining to CATS):

Sir Ian McKellen has reflected on the critical mauling of Cats in a new interview with Attitude.

The acting legend, who plays a theatre reviewer in his upcoming movie The Critic, starred in Cats alongside the likes of Dame Judi Dench and Taylor Swift.

The star played the role of Gus: The Theatre cat in the Tom Hooper-directed flop, which received universally negative reviews.

“I have to temper what I say about Cats,” McKellen told us of the furore four years later.

“When I saw it in the theatre, directed by a good friend of mine, in its previews. I was sat next to the most powerful man in American theatre, who was wondering whether to bring the show to Broadway. Of course, it broke every record.

“At the interval, he said: ‘I don’t think Broadway would accept amateur British attitudes to singing and dancing.’ Almost every critic agreed. If you think the film got bad reviews, you should have seen the reviews for the stage show! His eight-year-old niece on the other side of him said [imitates a New York accent]: ‘I loved it!'”

He went on: “When critics are clearly at odds with the public… A show you know the public are enjoying, or would enjoy, is killed by some negative [reaction]… In the case of Cats, the disapproval seems to be universal.”

[i-llo]

The Whole Beeing Soulmates Thing

Beetlejuice x OC fic

Chapter 3 and Chapter 5

More information about this fic here

Act 2, Chapter 3: Lost Dreams

Sophie was locking up the shop at night, the last customer had left long ago, and the calmness of the city wrapped her in a familiar peace. The decision to stay behind and finish closing up didn’t bother her. Tracy had a family event and needed to leave early. “If anything happens, just call me, okay? Thanks again for covering for me”, Tracy said as she left. “Enjoy your night, I’ve got everything under control! And send love to your mom” Sophie replied, already moving away, organizing the products on the shelf, feeling comfortable in her space. It was a small, quiet town, almost everyone knew each other, and crime seemed like a distant concept. But that sense of security was deceiving, at least for her. Hours later, as Sophie exited through the back door, she found herself in a narrow, dark alley the dim light from the nearby streetlamp barely lit her path. This area was just a shortcut, which explained the lack of activity around, since this was part of her routine, Sophie paid little attention to the details. She didn’t expect this night to be any different, though a strange chill ran down her spine. She quickly convinced herself it was just the night breeze.

Suddenly, Sophie felt a presence behind her, her senses on high alert. “What was that?” she muttered, the tension in the air growing, as if something unseen was closing in. Turning quickly, she saw a much taller, more muscular woman—someone with a physique that only years of training could build—charging at her. The woman carried a vivid red rope, and panic seized Sophie as she tried to think in a escape route. She was slammed against the wall, the impact rattling her bones, Sophie tried to scream, desperate to understand where such strength was coming from. Soon, the rope tightened around her neck, cutting off her breath, the pain was so intense it burned her throat and made her head spin wildly. Her hands grasped at the air, trying to fend off na attack that felt invisible, as her feet stumbled, fighting to keep balance.

It was the first time something physical had attacked her like this, but deep down, she knew it was tied to the fragmented memories surfacing in her mind. It was as if something was trying to stop her from remembering, from piecing together a puzzle that had been incomplete for centuries. Sophie fought desperately, her hands moved fast to try removing the rope—she had to do anything to survive. With a sudden movement, she knocked over several trash cans, causing a loud crash that echoed through the deserted alley. Her screams escaped in intervals as she managed to loosen the choke during the struggle. The woman, realizing they were drawing too much attention, intensified the attack, growing frantic.

Luckily, the noise alerted a night watchman making his rounds nearby. He quickly approached, flashlight in hand, lighting up the scene. “Who’s there? I hope you’re not causing any trouble”, he shouted. The woman attacking Sophie hesitated, still holding her. “Damn it!” she muttered, standing still for a few seconds before deciding to flee, taking the red rope with her. Sophie, disoriented and terrified, collapsed to her knees, coughing violently, struggling to catch her breath. The edges of her vision blurred into darkness as she trembled, gasping. The watchman crouched beside her, worried, “Oh... Girl, are you okay?” he asked, helping her steady herself.

Sophie barely felt the pain from the fight, focusing on getting her lungs to work properly again, but tears began to stream down her face. After a few moments, she finally managed to speak, her voice hoarse,“I was attacked. I was alone. Locking up the shop. It didn’t feel like a robbery”, she said slowly, her breath labored, as she explained what had happened to the watchman. He immediately escorted her to the police station nearby, so she could file a report. Sophie did her best to detail all the situation, but everything had happened so fast and in the dark. “I don’t know who she was, that damn hood showed nothing! I also don’t know why anyone would want to kill me, but she certainly tried!” Sophie knew she should try to control her words, but she neither had the strength nor the will to do so. The officers listened attentively and promised to investigate the case, doing their best to calm her down, but it was clear to everyone that there were no real leads. With a heavy heart, but relieved to have escaped the attack, Sophie was released after being evaluated and treated. A older officer, wiith a kind face, she remembered his name was Harold, drove her home in a squad car.

When they arrived, she debated whether to call her parents immediately. She decided it was best to do it as soon as possible—she needed the comfort of her family. The conversation was brief but intense; she was trying to spare what was left of her voice. “You need to leave there immediately, sweetheart, you dad will get the car ready to come pick you up. We can be there in a few hours!”. They were in shock and insisted she go to their house in another city, where she would be safer, “What if this person comes back?”. Sophie hesitated, reluctant to leave her home but knowing she had to consider their suggestion. “I need a few days to organize things”, she said, trying to sound calm even though her heart was racing. “I’ve lived here since the graduation, I can’t just abandon my things”. “Your life is worth more than anything you own, dear”, her father replied, he always knew what to say. She wanted to tell them about the bizarre dreams, the feeling of being hunted, but she didn’t want to scare them even more. That could wait. After a bit more conversation, she hung up the phone with the promise to pack her things, and in a few days, her parents would come.

Sophie knew she had to find a way to rest. She felt that if she didn’t do it soon, she would lose her sanity. She started undressing on her way from the living room to the bathroom, throwing her clothes around without caring. The shower was quick. She needed to wash away the feeling of near death, the smell of sweat, the grime from the street after rolling on the ground with that stranger and cleaning her wounds. Everything stung—even the feel of her own fingers on her skin was rough. After about 15 minutes, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, stopping only to brush her teeth quickly. Avoiding the mirror at all costs, “I’m afraid of what I’ll see in there”. Entering her bedroom, she threw on the first thing she found in the closet and layed down, pulling the blanket up to her chin and turning on her side, her back facing the wall, feeling safer that way. Despite what every movie shows, sleep overtook her quickly, she didn’t even notice when she fell asleep, and it was a dreamless night.

Sophie woke up with a throbbing pain in her head, a sensation that seemed to come from deep within her mind, forcing her to relive fragments of something lost to time. She sat on the edge of the bed, pressing her fingers against her temples, as flashes of the previous night returned to her. The cold touch of that woman’s hand, the sound of their labored breaths, the indistinct figure lurking in the shadows... Her eyes narrowed, trying to hold onto these fleeting images, but it was like trying to grasp water with her fingers. Standing up slowly, Sophie walked to the window of her bedroom, hoping something would feel different. But as she stared at her own reflection in the glass, it was like looking at a stranger. There was something in her eyes—a shadow that didn’t belong to the life she remembered, she stood there for a few minutes, absorbing the weight of this realization: she was someone she barely recognized. The silence of the house felt overwhelming, filled only with the sound of her heart pounding.

As she walked through the streets toward work, Sophie noticed that everyone was talking about what had happened. Whispers rose around her, and she could feel the curious and pitying glances directed at her, especially at the bruised neck. It was as if, suddenly, the safety the town had provided her unraveled, and she felt exposed and vulnerable. With a deep sigh, Sophie pressed on, determined to face the day despite the lingering fear. If she was really going to leave, she needed to settle some things first—she couldn’t just hide away. The weight of adult responsibilities loomed over her, with this thought in mind, she found the strength to continue her next steps. She was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a few minutes to realize she was already standing in front of the store where she worked.

[empressofthesunwriter]

Maiden of the Moon

What if Kokushibo had a pupil, whom he taught the original Moon Breathing before he deserted the Demon Slayer Corps?

Mochizuki Yua was born only for these reasons: To become a Hashira and make her family a respected one in the Demon Slayer Corps.

But if you only live for the expectations of others, who are YOU truly?

What will it take to find yourself?

A long, hard journey awaits.

!!!!PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!

I want to thank you all that you didn’t give/gave a chance to my little FF!

Now I gave the Spider Family a big sister so Yua had someone to fight. I made her even with a base, so check my Deviantart!

Can some of you guys from whom I got the inspiration for Onee-Sama and the fight they both have?

Enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 7: Onee-Sama

Her lungs felt like collapsing.

The Katana in her hand weighed so much.

She shivered all over her body.

But Yua couldn’t give up.

She swiped with her Aura-Sensing again the clearing she was in.

There!

On her left!

Total Concentration! Moon-Breathing! Second Form: Moongazing Pearl Blossom!

Yua performs three crescent-shaped slashes which deflect the incoming spider thread arrows of her opponent.

“Fu, fu, fu.”, laughed the spider demon, from his hidey-hole. “Little girl, aren’t you tired already? How long can you deflect my attacks?”

The midnight blue-haired beauty gulps but doesn’t back down.

“As long as I can!”, she spats back.

I have to give Tanjiro and Inosuke enough time to reach the demon who controls the other Demon Slayers!

***

A few minutes ago, Yua was racing with Tanjiro and Inosuke through the forest.

Well, she and Tanjiro had to drag Inosuke with them.

After the maks-wearing boy had pinpointed the location of the Spider Demon, who used the other Demon Slayer as puppets, they didn’t know how to reach it.

Thankful Murata and Katsumi had told them to go on and that the two would handle the controlled Demon Slayer. They now knew to cut the threads and be careful of the little spiders.

It happened that Inosuke insulate them telling them that they had pissed their pants before, to which Murata rebuked him was a stupid boar.

Inosuke was ready to kick his ass, thankful she and Tanjiro had gripped him and run forth with him.

Huffing annoyed the boar-headed boy told them: “Dammit! I’m gonna punch that guy if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Stop talking like that!”, told him Tanjiro.

“He called me “a stupid boar”, okay, Monjirou!”

“It’s “Tanjiro”!”

“How can you mess up names so much?!”, adds Yua huffing.

“What’ya mean Yue?”

“THAT right here!? Do I look like I have white hair and blue eyes?”

“Anyway!”, intervented Tanjiro. “We’re heading the right way, right?”

“My senses never lie!”

Like lighting stroke her, Yua Aura-Sensing acted up.

“GET DOWN!”, she screamed and tackled both boys to the ground.

“Yua-Senpai?!”

“What’s your problem, woman!”

However, both boys were speechless when they saw three big white arrows impaled in the ground where they had stood before their Senpai had tackled them.

“W-What?!”, mubled Tanjiro.

He hadn’t even smelled them, so fast were they.

Thankful Yua must have sensed them with her ability.

“Ara, Ara, what do we have here?”, said a feminine voice mockingly. “A handsome boy, a beautiful girl and a ripped half-boar man? You are quite interesting. I wonder if you taste as good as you look.”

The three Demon Slayers stood up and sheathed their Katanas.

“Inosuke is this the Demon?”, wondered Tanjiro aloud.

It was Yua who answered him. “No, this is a different one. The other demon was so far away that my Aura-Sensing didn’t reach it. Also, the arrows have a different Aura hefting on them than the threads that control the Demon Slayers.”

An eerie giggle was heard.

“Fu, fu, fu, beautiful and smart. You will taste good girl. I won’t let you near my mother.”

So the mother of the spider demons controlled the Demon Slayers. At least this was good to know.

Again Yua Aura-Sensing acted up.

“Guys get ready!”, she took a deep breath. “Total Concentration! Moon Breathing! Seventh Form: Mirror of Fortune, Moonshine!”

The barrage of arrows, which was flying towards the three friends, gets stopped by Yua's technique. She performs a frontal crescent-shaped slash that unleashes straight and curved slashes that expand outward, hitting all arrows.

“Tzz!”, grumbles the spider demon.

Tanjiro and Inosuke are in awe.

They never saw Moon-Breathing in action.

It was really as powerful and beautiful as their Senpai told them.

“Kamada, Hashibira!”, turns Yua to them. “You two go along. I will take care of this demon. You need to get to the Spider Mother, it doesn’t make sense if we all stay here.”

“But Yua-Senpai.”, mumbles Tanjiro worried.

Yes, their Senpai and her Breathing Style were on a whole different level than theirs, but could they really leave her behind?

Yua gives them a confident smirk, which makes Tanjiro feel all the flattery in his stomach, even Inosuke feels strangely shyly seeing it.

It was...hot.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m not a Hinoto for nothing. I can take care of myself. Now go!”

Tanjiro thanks her and he and Inosuke start running.

This makes the Spider Child (?) scream in outrage: “You aren’t going to touch my mother!”

She sends arrows after the boys, but Yua is already there.

“Total Concentration! Moon-Breathing! Eighth Form: Moon Dragon’s Tail!” 

Swift Yua performs a massive long-ranged curved slash that leaves dozens of crescent moon blades along its path. The moon blades hit all arrows and Tanjiro and Inosuke are safe to go on.

“You are going on my nerves, girl!”, hisses the Spider Demon.

“And I just got started.”, sasses Yua back.

 ***

This was like a half hour ago and Yua felt how she got weaker with any attack.

It was just her luck that she couldn’t pinpoint where her adversary was hiding because she didn’t give her enough time to do a good sweep of the clearing.

She needed to try while she got attacked to sense the Demon.

This was the only way!

As the spider demon sent new arrows at her Yua performed Moon-Breathing Fifth Form: Ghost of the Moon, Advantageous Swirl! It creates multiple long and curved slashes layered over one another, essentially creating a vortex of crescent moon blades.

Hopefully, this would give her enough time to sense where the demon was hiding.

The midnight blue-haired girl reached with her Aura-Sensing to the borders of her ability and finally, she found the demon.

It was hiding up a tree, not far from her.

Determined Yua ran up to it, deflecting the arrows that were sent towards her, and with a scream she cut the tree down.

This made the Spider Demon jump out of it.

It stood now before her, pissed off.

Like Yua had guessed, it was a young woman, with white skin and red circles markings on her face. Her Kimono was white with some red accents and a green Obi. She wore normal wood sandals and her curly white hair had a green orb-like hair comb to the side.

In her hands, the demon holds a bow and arrows.

“You are a pest!”, hissed the Spider Demon Girl. “I will feast on you!”

“Come at me then, bitch!”, Yua growled back.

With a scream, the Demon ready her bow to shoot her.

Yua quickly dodged the arrow and charged towards the Spider Demon Girl. She swung her sword with precision, but the demon was quick to dodge and counterattack.

The Mochizuki felt herself getting weaker with each hit, yet she refused to give up. She needed to end this quickly before she lost all her strength.

 The two continued to exchange blows, neither one gaining an advantage over the other.

“I have to hit her with my strongest technique or I will be spider lunch!”, thought Yua desperate.

Uncle Noritaka had taught her before he left the family their family ultimate technique. It was of his own creation and had secured him a place at becoming a Hashira, even if in the end he had refused.

However, Yua was scared to use it.

It took an enormous toll on the body.

Muscles and bones could break if you didn’t do it precisely.

She only ever used it on practice wood dolls, never on a Demon.

Could she even do it?

Does she even have a choice?

No.

So she gathered all her strength for one final and hopeful devastating attack.

Yua closed her eyes and focused on the technique. She could feel her body trembling with anticipation and fear.

With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and charged towards the Spider Demon Girl. As she swung her sword, she shouted, "Moon-Breathing, Forbidden Techinic! Executing Moonlight Paradise!"

A loud boom echoed through the clearing as Yua's sword struck the ground in a crescent shape, sending shockwaves through the ground and air.

The Spider Demon Girl was flung screaming to the air, where Yua followed her and started to cut her over and over in crescent forms all over her body. It was so fast that it seemed that the Spider Demon Girl was cute by moonlight, thanks that Yua's sword was white.

She fell to the ground, a mess of ripped-open meat.

You couldn’t even recognize the Spider Demon Girl anymore.

Yua was covered in a white shimmering aura, making her look like moonlight herself.

With a last deep breath, she jumped high up and attacked the neck of the demon.

She cut her head, or what had remained of it, off.

The Spider Demon Girl let out a blood-curdling scream as she disintegrated into ash.

The Demon Slayer stood there for a moment, panting heavily from exhaustion.

She had done it.

She had defeated a demon all on her own using the Moon-Breathing ultimate technique.

As she walked away from the clearing, Yua couldn't help but feel proud of herself for what she had accomplished. She knew that Uncle Noritaka would be proud of her too if he were here to see it.

It was then that all forces left her and she fell face down to the forest ground.

Welcoming darkness embraced her.

***

Yua didn’t know how long she was out, but she awoke abruptly as someone slapped her face.

“Hello dear cousin, long time no see.”, greeted Sayako, her younger cousin, Yua.

She was dressed in her Kakushi uniform.

So that means...

“Huh, we won. Didn’t we?”, she asked Sayako.

Sayako huffed and petted her hair.

“Of course, you care more if the mission was complete than greeting me after so long.”

“Hello Sayako, you are still a pain in my ass.”

“Much better.”, hummed Sayako. Careful she picked Yua up and placed her on her back, giving her a piggyback ride. “Well, you sure made interesting friends, I must say. You and they keep holding off the Demons till the honourable Hashira’s Kocho-Sama and Tomioka-Sama could come.”

“Are the guys okay?”, Yua asked worried.

“Well, as well you can be facing a Lower Moon.”

“A Lower Moon was here?!”

“He made all this Spider Demon. Wanted to make a family if I understood right, but your friends are wounded but okay. You will join them at the Butterfly Mansion for cures.”

A little yawn escaped Yua and she snuggled herself closer to Sayako.

“That sounds good. I used Uncle Noritaka's forbidden technique, I think some of my muscles took damage.”

Impressed Sayako let out a whistel.

“Wow, YuYu, you didn’t break a bone. You are really something!”

“Yeah and now I gonna faint again.”

She only heard Sayako's amused laughter before she fainted again.

Yua was sure she earned herself some rest.

***

Moon-Breathing! Second Form: Moongazing Pearl Blossom! Is Second Form: Pearl Flower Moongazing.

Moon-Breathing Fifth Form: Ghost of the Moon, Advantageous Swirl! Is Fifth Form: Moon Spirit Calamitous Eddy

Moon Breathing! Seventh Form: Mirror of Fortune, Moonshine! Is Seventh Form: Mirror of Misfortune, Moonlit

Moon-Breathing! Eighth Form: Moon Dragon’s Tail! Is Eighth Form: Moon-Dragon Ringtail

Moon-Breathing, Forbidden Techinic! Executing Moonlight Paradise! Is my own invention. ^^

I know it’s a short chapter but I didn’t want to drag it on.

In the next chapter, we will stay at the Butterfly Mansion, and rehabilitation training and bonds will get deeper.

Can’t wait for it.

Until next time!

!!!!PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!!

[adaraprince]

The Club

Chapter 1 here! Chapter 2 here! Chapter 3 here! Chapter 4 here! Chapter 5 here! Chapter 6: Loki Laufeyson

-> The Club's masterlist

Warnings: This is a +18 story, dealing with topics such as sex, kinks and prostitution. Therefore, minors should not interact.

Synopsis: Asgard's whimsical little prince needs to be told that he's been a bad boy and needs to be punished for it, as always our pretty lady is ready to help him.

______________________________________________________________

You could still feel the winter chill on your nose, walking into the dressing room and pulling the day's uniform off the rack. The morning frost was particularly biting; it acted as a prelude to his client. He rarely visited, and when he did, it was only in winter. You could not guess what the man did in his absence; you suspected that his boundless pride and personal superiority limited him to only one visit a year.

Despite the long interval, you enjoyed his visits so much; it was a rare gift and honour for a human being to bend a God.

The corset he asked for was tight, digging into your ribs and flesh, the mesh between the bones pressing its pattern into your skin. Delia was already at your back, tightening the laces as you tugged at the balconette that barely concealed your nipples. You pulled your arms up into her favourite pair of long leather gloves, the leather supple as butter, perfect for impact. Matching heels, boots rolled up to your thighs, and a leather skirt that looked more like a wide belt hid your sex; all your most private parts out of sight, out of reach.

It was exactly as he wished; for a man who had everything he could desire at the snap of his fingers, denial was a secret and shameful craving.

You were glad to oblige.

"The Little Prince wants his usual today," Delia murmured, checking her order list. "Oh, but he wants a bit of breath play; it says here 'you'll know when to do it'."

He was always vague; allowing you to work out the how and when of his demands. Maybe it came from his real upbringing, not caring about the details; but he enjoyed the creativity found in his lax descriptions. It was the most fun.

"Should be a good time," you smiled. Clapping your hands, you headed for the door. "Hopefully very little cleaning." "God's will."

""----- ४ ★ ४-----""

The room the Prince enjoyed most had no bed of any kind; it looked more like an acrobatics studio than anything else. Straps and ropes hung from the walls, from the ceilings; a slab of wood in the centre for clients to bend over and punish. This room was not for the faint of heart; but he eagerly selected it each and every time.

However, when you entered, you were nowhere to be seen. A smile graced your lips; he wanted the works this time.

Swinging your hips for an audience you couldn't see, you made your way to the wooden slab. At hip height, you sat comfortably, throwing one leg over its twin and pretending to wait. Tapping your foot, rolling your eyes, grumbling to yourself; it was all part of the game. One who had lost, the second who had set the rules.

You had no doubt he had his eyes on you; watching you get frustrated by his absence, feigning irritation painted on your face. Wherever he was, I bet he was biting those pale lips, his breathing unsteady as your shoulders tensed and your brows furrowed. He wanted it all; all your anger, your displeasure. He would earn every drop of punishment he could before you even saw it.

You yawned, just as you registered a green glow to your left, just behind you. You didn't turn, didn't even look in his direction; he didn't want that.

"Mm… hello sweetheart," his rough voice in that snake's tongue put a slight chill in your bones; not long ago he was trying to destroy the very city you call home. "Don't you look good enough to eat, like a well-tethered beast--"

"I don't remember saying you could talk," your tone was colder than winter, colder than you knew his skin to be. "Nor did I give you permission to make any comment on my appearance."

He scoffed, finally rounding the slab, introducing himself to you; he hadn't cut his slick black hair since you last saw each other, and God that he was, he had all but a new wrinkle around his green eyes. "How could I not, you divine creature? Every time we meet, somehow you look even more dazzling; despite the vestiges of time on your mortal body--"

Your leathery hand clapped over his mouth; he grimaced with the sting.

"Close. Your. Mouth," he hissed, his burning gaze piercing your wide eyes. You stood up from the slab, precarious heels keeping you almost level. You took a step; straight onto his softly shod foot.

"Making me wait, speaking out of turn, daring me to speak? can you comprehend the anger you are incurring, Brat?"

His eyes glittered and you could feel his mouth twist into a smile behind your glove. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand down; the last deliberate action he would do for his session. Even in her milky skin, a warmth grew in her cheeks, and her eager tongue slid over her lips.

"Show me… Goddess."

Like lightning, your fingers snapped around her throat; her choked gasp was like music. Strip, you worm. And you'll get what you've earned.

Then he grinned boldly, snapping his fingers; the leather and armour were magically removed, and you immediately felt his insistent hardness slapping against your hip. You glanced at his penis, then back at his eyes with a pursed lip and a mocking look.

"You unrepentant little snake," your second hand slid down beneath his shaft and closed around his testicles in a vice grip. Despite the pounding of his blood, his skin was icy cold. "You were touching what's mine while you were making me wait, weren't you? What little self-control you had to put your grubby little hands on this little toy…"

He grunted and writhed under your grip, teeth gritted and fists clenched; so much pain, but he loved it. "H-how could I not, Goddess…?" he gasped, your fingers tightening around his neck. "You looked so… so delicious, waiting for me… I had to-"

"Shut that lying mouth!" Leaving his throat, your fingers twisted in his hair, clenching a fistful at the nape of his neck. Using it as a leash, you dragged him towards the slab, turning him until his thighs touched the edge. "What you had to do was behave yourself. What you had to do was be on time. What you had to do was be a good little prince…" you twisted his wrist, along with his coat. He groaned. "But no. Always the whiny, selfish brat."

His mouth hung open, gulping air with a true face of regret. "S-sorry, Goddess," his hands slapped the table as your nails, despite the gloves, dug in.

You arched an eyebrow and finally let him go, only to push him back against the slab. "I sincerely doubt you can, brat," you hummed, pulling his arms above his head. Fists, anchored to the slab itself, buckled around each of his wrists. The chain rattled between them; enough movement to beg, to plead, but little more. "You've told me nothing but lips, sass and disappointment… maybe I should leave you naked, strapped down… untouched."

"No!" Her response had too much demand; She screamed as you twisted her nipple, ending with a slap. "P-please, don't… let me serve you, I'll prove my worth. It's… it's all I want."

You snorted, but you knew he meant it. The spoiled prince was never satisfied until he saw your own desires. Your nails trailed gently down his chest, stomach, and muscular hip; his length contracted with anticipation.

"You've got a lot to pay, you selfish little insect," lightly flicking his cock, you turned your back to him to appreciate the ample toy chest against the wall. "I don't know if I could bear to fuck you today? Why should I degrade myself to a whole new level of disappointment?"

"If I haven't earned your quim, my dear, so be it," he tugged at his restraints as he rummaged through the chest. He could break free in a moment, break your neck in a minute; but he wouldn't. "Use me, as you see fit. I am your servant, Goddess, I am your flock… let me worship you as you deserve."

You smiled, finding what you were looking for; a ring, only two sizes too small. A cage, punctured on the inside with metal studs. Perfect. "Fine, whiny creature," you feigned an exasperated sigh, holding up your intended toys as you walked back to your captive. "But if you're going to regret it, a little flogging will help.

He looked paler as his eyes widened in excitement. "Whatever you say, my Goddess."

""----- ४ ★ ४-----""

The cage hollowed and hugged his sack, the studs pierced his skin; they couldn't draw his Divine blood, but the pain was exquisite. His cock was turning blue, almost purple; the ring at its base held back his release, but prolonged his desired agony. The Prince's jewels, wrapped in anguish, painted a beautiful picture.

Not that you could see it; with your hips straddling his face, eyes fixed on his, and your lower lips beyond the reach of his tongue. "I know you want it," you teased, swaying your hips. Honestly, you wanted it too, the Prince was a master at eating pussy, but this was part of the game. "You spoiled little rich boy, you have everything you want in the world… except the taste of me on your lips."

He groaned, thrusting and bucking from his prone position. "Please!" he cried, pleading his situation. "I'm not allowed pleasure, I know my Goddess, but won't you let me give you yours? I crave it, to see your climax, to taste your ecstasy…"

"And isn't that in itself a reward?" you replied, slipping two fingers under your barely visible skirt to part your folds. You groaned at the sight. "You think you're somehow entitled to my pleasure just because you're here? Eh… you're dumber than you look."

His nose twisted and for a moment, real annoyance crossed his face. "I only wish to give you what you deserve," he murmured, turning his head to kiss the inside of your thigh. "I seek not to take, only to give… let me give you pleasure, my love. My goddess."

"Well if you insist."

You dropped your weight on his expectant mouth and he didn't waste a second. His tongue attached itself to your clit almost instantly, licking and sucking, desperate for the ambrosia he hoped to draw from you.

Your mouth opened in a gasp, but you didn't moan or whimper; he wasn't allowed the praise of your sounds. Instead, you plunged one hand into the crown of his hair, pulling hard and holding it between your thighs, working so diligently. Your second hand pulled back, prying at his chest and scratching his cold skin. His eyes seemed blurry, as if he was close to completion himself; the heady mix of pain and ecstasy, the punishment and reward of your sex was enough to drive him over the edge.

In a way, he was your easiest customer; even if he had the most demands.

"Finally, a use for the brat," you teased, rubbing your hips against his mouth. He flicked his talented tongue down, sliding up into your core as his sharp nose was wedged against your button. Eager… hungry… and still barely acceptable to please a woman. It's a miracle he's held out on you this long.

He hummed what sounded similar to "I'm sorry" between your legs, but you were actually approaching your climax too fast to care. You let your head tilt back, still pushing against his skilled attentions as you held your usual moans behind your lips. The young god was too talented for his own good; if he spent half his time putting his tongue to work instead of lying, you'd have bet he'd be king by now. You peered into his tenacious gaze, drilling you, focused so deeply on your orgasm, your delight, you.

What a good little prince.

"You could take me there after all," this time it was harder to hide the ragged breath in your voice, the impending peak evident in your words and body. I could tell; your nectar flowed freely on his tongue, and he drank like a thirsty man in a desert. "Since you're so hungry, make yourself useful; make your Goddess cum, brat… show me why I let you in here…"

An outraged man, he pushed his head up and forced his tongue to new depths; it almost felt as if several tongues were playing and working on your clit, your folds, deeper inside you. With his magic, it was a very real possibility.

"Mm… yes, he's a good boy…" you whimpered, unable to contain yourself, but he was earning the praise. "That's right, fuck yeah…!!!" Finally working his perfect teeth into the mix, they scraped your button, playing in a crescendo complete with his tongue swirling and lashing madly; and you were finished.

Your moans echoed in your throat as your back arched, your body trembled and your thighs hugged his head tightly; the coolness of his tongue against the heat of your orgasm created the perfect storm in your sex. Regardless of your weight, you let yourself fall completely onto his hungry mouth; he wanted to play with your breath, and he would get it.

You didn't relax, you didn't move until the last aftershocks faded from your legs and his fingers hit your knee; a signal to breathe. Carefully you rose, to find his mouth pink and sodden, panting as you had been; tears welling in his eyes.

"I-I…" you tried to form a sentence, anything, but the tears kept coming. She tugged at her bindings, twisting and thrashing; panicking, not playing. You had fallen a little too low.

Your character fled from you, and as quickly as they had been locked, you removed his cuffs and his wrists in your hands, rubbing them gently. "Easy, easy sweetheart," you whispered softly, lowering his outstretched arms to fold them against his chest. You pressed your forehead against his, trying to bring him back to the present, to the quiet reality. "It's okay, let it out, you're safe, baby… you're okay."

You repeated it once more, as he sank his face into your shoulder, his body now completely wracked with sobs. Tears were normal for the Prince, they came with the kind of play he enjoyed, but his mind had sunk too deep, and the combinations that normally brought him pleasure became too overwhelming.

It was nothing you hadn't seen before; but never from him. Eventually he stopped, his breathing slowed and his eyes finally screamed. He still clung to your hand, looking so small in yours. You didn't speak, you waited for him to make the first move; I needed the clue on this one.

"I… I'm sorry…" he sobbed and scratched his throat, finally looking into your eyes. "I…I…I couldn't help myself and I…I didn't want to ruin this day…"

He gestured down, and you saw what he meant; his own cum, sticky and cold, coated his slowly softening cock and balls, covering the cage and the broken ring.

You blinked in amazement; no one had ever broken a toy without physical intervention before.

Still, you didn't let it faze you; you took his face in your hands, pressing soft kisses on his nose. "You haven't ruined anything, my dear," you promised, running gentle caresses over her cheeks. "This day is for how we choose to spend it; and it's just beginning. We can get back to things, we can change our game," a soft kiss on her lips caught your attention. "And if you wish, we don't have to do any of that. We can just… be here.

His green eyes searched yours, looking for a lie; something he was used to, but wouldn't find in you. He sighed, as if he could breathe again, and wrapped his long arms around you.

"My Goddess… give me some time," he leaned into you and with him you felt the weight of his year away from you. I will make it up to you, I swear.

"No need," you reassured him, stroking his cheek. "You've already taken care of my fun… now let me help you find yours."

""----- ४ ★ ४-----""

[187days]

Day Seventy-Three

We have a tradition of holiday door decorating at my school, so this morning I covered my door in pretty foil wrapping paper and bold lettering reading "Joy to the World," then added information about holiday celebrations in various countries.

I'm very on brand. Heh.

My Global Studies students had a quiz today (content quiz, open notes, to wrap up our unit on major belief systems), which meant I just had to supervise, clarify the questions as needed, make sure everyone maintained the positive environment. My APGOV students had a quiz, too, but it was just a quick vocab quiz. After that, we picked up where we'd left off in civil rights history yesterday: with the Mississippi Sumer Project, and the disappearance of Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney

I showed an excerpt of PBS' Freedom Summer, which I'm pretty sure made the majority of my students tear up, either when they realized the three men had been killed or when they saw the scenes from james Chaney's memorial service. So, afterwards, we discussed it for a bit. Then I had them read about the Selma march and other acts of protest- and, ultimately, about the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. They're reading an article for homework that covers the last few years of the Civil Rights Movement, and some of the policymaking that happened after that. We'll wrap up the unit on Monday.

What else?

I had a meeting with a local state rep who's interested in taking on student interns, which is very cool.

I also had a meeting with The Principal. He wanted to touch base with me because he'd just finished writing the first evaluations for the new teachers in my department. We talked about those for a bit, and about the way things have been going in general.

And, of course, I had track practice! Today I masqueraded as a middle/long distance coach, taking those athletes to do an interval workout that they found equal parts challenging and fun (note: the longstanding nickname for this workout is "Satan"). They're often left on their own to go on their long runs, but it's good to change it up and do something targeted at speed endurance.

We start meets next weekend, so I'd better enjoy this last free one while i can!

[theweefreewomen]

I saw eleven plays this year, most of them local, and I want to talk about them, so here are some quick-fire reviews.

in chronological watching order:

The Mousetrap

The classic murder mystery play. A very good start.

Labour of Love

Local; focusing on a Labour MP, starting on the election night of 2017 and going backwards through his career in the first half, and then forwards back to 2017 in the second. The chemistry between the two leads was fantastic, and solid acting all round. The back-and-forward timeline lent to a lot of really good set-ups and payoffs.

On Monday Next

Local; a play about putting on a play. A bit of an odd play to perform, since it didn't seem to give much room for the actors to do much. There were altogether too many characters, and only one and a half good roles. The play-in-a-play is meant to be bad, and just beginning rehearsals, so there's a lot of just standing around reciting lines. Both acts begin with a character breaking the forth wall, which is never again broken, which was really strange - why was only one character able to 'see' the audience? Pretty boring overal, and I would have hit the bricks if I wasn't there with a friend.

After All These Years

Local; four old friends and their dramas. When looking back at what theatre I've seen this year, I kept forgetting about this one. Inoffensively boring.

Romeo and Juliet

Local; an all-female retelling of the classic. The programne described this version as being set on a counsel estate, but I didn't really get that while watching. It did feel quite modern though; the Capulet party at the begining had Paris serendating Juliet with Elton's 'Your Song' karaoke. During the wedding scene between R+J, the body of Tybalt was still on the stage for that character's funeral, which I think was a great staging idea. The scene where Nurse finds Juliet's body, thinking she's dead, was heartbreaking and I was fighting back tears.

Anthropology

A woman builds an AI based on her missing, presumed dead, sister. I saw this in London for my birthday this year, and it was so good! The 'AI' sister was played using a combination of pre-recorded video and off-stage voice work. An interesting look at the tendency to romanticise dead loved ones and how difficult it is to cope with not knowing what happened. Very interesting family dynamics.

A Doll's House

Local; Ibsen. I really liked the set design in this, which used both the stage and the area in front of it. The actor playing Krogstad was perhaps overacting a little in places, but the actor playing Nora was very strong.

Past Tents

Local; two men at a campsite over the course of one night. The only play I reget seeing. It was trying to explore men's mental health, but seemed unwilling to actually be earnest about it, and kept undercutting itself with gross-out humour and over-the-top performances. Would have hit the bricks if there had been an interval.

Apologia

Local; the birthday dinner of an artist and activist with her sons and their partners. Explores the family dynamic and history between mother and sons. The acting all round was excellent, except for the one gay character who felt very flat and stereotyped. I really loved the set of this, it felt lived in. One of my favourites of the year.

It Is I, the Seagull

Local/touring; a one-woman show about opera and the first woman in space, written and performed by Lucy Mellors. A lot of fun and really poinant. Balances humour and seriousness really well. Another favourite; if you're in the south of England, look this up and see if she's touring it near you.

(sidenote: one of the credits in the programne was for 'Artist Wellbeing Practitioner', and I hope that becomes more of a thing.)

The Walkern Witch

Local; about a woman sentence to death for witchcraft. Part play, part script reading. This was a lot of fun, a nice mix of fun accents and singing. The actors were clearing enjoying themselves and that was infectious.

--

So, what's the takeaway from this? Partly that it's so good not to be working evenings constantly, but mainly that good theatre isn't limited to the West End or Broadway, that local and amatuer theatre is worth checking out.

es, sometimes it will be bad. Not gonna lie, sometimes it will be awful and you will wish you had just stayed in. But then sometimes it will be amazing and you'll be raving about it to your friends. And sometimes, you'll be dragged onstage to be part of a ballet line and getting emotional over 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'.

[uhlavender]

hey! yeah i went to vegas with a few friends. im not usually the one to have a schedule and plan each activity at each interval of time. with my usual friends we just go with the flow and have some vague idea of what to do and just do stuff spontaneously. but with this friend group i went with, we literally had a doc of what we're gonna do on each day and hour, so it was an interesting, different experience for me. it was definitely an efficient use of time, but i think i still prefer just chilling and just enjoying what life brings to the table. i think people see it as a waste of time or money not knowing what you're gonna do, but hey i see it as just relaxing, meditative, and just enjoying the present moment. kind of like fishing in a peaceful lake and waiting till something bites. it's interesting seeing which people prefer. i dont mind either approach! but i do think the efficient route can get tiring lol. how about you? when you're traveling for time-off, do you plan a schedule, or just wing it?

when i went to vegas i saw a couple of cirque du soleil shows and david blaine live. ok rant incoming: but man cirque du soleil is so inspring and just a spectacle of culture and life. it's a combination of art, love, and perseverance. all the artistic merging of stage lighting, design, music, peformance/stunts, costumes, choreography/dance is amazing and its insane it's all done live including the music. and david blaine was incredible too. i cannot believe how hard he works and that he's doing what he's doing at every show. i literally think he's like at the edge of dying if he keeps performing his act at his cadence lol. out of every show show i've seen live in my life, i think david blaine's is the most insane when it comes to live performance, preparation, and commitment from a single human. that dude give it his 200% lol. he's basically displaying highlights of his life's works in a single show, and so many things can just go wrong.

home is just my bedroom honestly. im not afraid to admit im a homebody especially after growing as an adult, i've just been accustomed to enjoying isolation and time alone. not that i dont like to go out, it's fun socializing time to time and going to events, but yeah i prefer working on projects and doing 'nothing' aka just being present / relaxing / simmering in my own thoughts/ideas. besides, not to be paranoid, but i think there's a higher chance of dying going out, especially these days. and i don't know about you, but id like to experience the world as long as i can lol. i already feel like im living in the future with how much society and technology progressed, so imagine what the future-future would be like. but yeah, some day i want my own studio or something. i can call that my home.

im learning korean because i studied there briefly and recently for a moment i wanted to learn a language again. i just think being stuck in your own culture is just living in a bubble. especially in the u.s., i just feel like were so ignorant of the outside world lol. not to simplify our society, but sometimes i just feel like all we do is complain or become a pessimistic hivemind that just judges shit all the time. maybe other places do the same, but it gets tiring and numbing with the internet/news flashing upsetting stuff. knowing a different language is a superpower really, you get a different perspective of the world, and immersing in another culture besides your own brings new ideas and perspectives in life. since i already knew about korean history, culture, and scratched the surface of the language, i wanted to dive deep again. korea already resonates with me because of its history as being an isolated hermit kingdom and i think the country is interesting because of its westernization after the war and how they adopted our ideas and made it their own. I think kpop fans kind of overshadow how interesting korea is, but yeah korea has cool ideas and artists. check out do ho suh, he does interesting stuff with fabric and conceptualizes stuff about home, space/environments, and identity. you might find it interesting. and i still cannot believe kim jung gi passed away, im still devastated. i feel like every artist who wanted to draw well aspired to be like him at some point in their life

i think i am proud of myself. and yeah your right, comparison fucking sucks, and you're only comparing your behind-the-scenes with others highlight reels lol. i think living in the information age is a blessing and a curse. you get to be inspired and see the greatest artists all around the world instantly at any moment, but it can also suck the life outta you - your comparing your 5 mile progress to people who've made it 1000 miles already in their journey, content becomes so saturated that it's harder to come up or find original new ideas, and its more difficult to satisfy your hunger when your fed so much content. it's just not healthy consuming so much all the time. i feel like once you're past the point of inspiration and now you're just depressed cuz u fucking suck, it's probably a sign you should be producing and not consuming anymore haha. it must've been so interesting how information and content was harder to find back in the day: life was more of a mystery not knowing stuff and how we didn't know each others lives every second. maybe ignorance was bliss.

do you take meds for your adhd?

yeah i understand that you can reinvent yourself. but i also think if you pivot too much, youll never grow as an artist. i think you just have to balance it out or keep yourself in moderation. for me, i see it as you can slowly pivot, but it's important to play your strengths and experiment on ideas that still remain parallel with your craft. theres this video about an artist struggling, and was inspired by another artist. the successful artist told him to just draw the same thing everyday. then the struggling artist learned a lot and figured out you can come up with more ideas and innovate when your restricted. he also learned that you just need to take action. pondering and consuming is not equivalent to progress/production. i think it goes back to the saying "I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times". In terms of art/expression, i see it as you won't experience the depths of a skill/craft or its community if you don't put in its mileage. imagine knowing 20 languages at a beginner level, vs 1 language at its utmost fluency. the experience, depth, complexity, expression is totally different. you can have advanced conversations, tell jokes, say phrases/idioms, create never existing sentences, it's just a whole different experience and connection with the world once you reach a deep vocabulary, grammar structure, and listening skill. i want that same conversation with art. i want that same ability, "speaking" skill with art. i want to have that same "listening" skill in art. i want to form complex sentences in art, not just words, and also "listen" to other peoples art if that makes sense. compare your speaking and language skill with your 12 year old self to yourself now. the way you can speak, express, and listen to others is at whole different level now then when you were 12 years old. i kinda see the same in reaching the depths in an art form. i know nothing about cooking honestly, but i can imagine once you reach it at a very high level, you completely see food and cooking in a different lens and have a deep appreciation, connection, and understanding of cooking and its complexity / "language".

i think if i did persevere, i can actually make something cool and finish a project for once. i want to put something out in the world and make a connection through art and ideas with people. and if i maintained my persistence, my work will progress and form a story, like a tree or song. i find that my coolest works were stuff that i was forced to do, e.g. given a deadline, or i was so passionate about something with a goal in mind and a set date. when there's no motivator, i feel like my mind wanders too much and i leave projects in the dust. it actually feels cool coming back to unfinished projects with a fresh perspective and also being like "hey i forgot i made this", but i feel like it's even cooler when you finish it on the spot and keep it as a historical frame or a special moment in time that was captured in your life. id rather keep the photo than the unshot film, if that makes sense lol.

yeah i find success kind of scary, but also i wonder what it would be like if i did go for it. will i go crazier? i can imagine liking the attention and really appreciating finally being recognized and making people happy or feel something. i can also imagine being emotional that people reflect or feel a connection to what i want to express. but i can also imagine hating it. i dont equate success to being famous, but if i do gather attention from success, i wouldn't like it. i really value privacy lol. and i don't want to deal with questions or criticism. i also dont want people to influence my work or feel the pressure to do something to satisfy fans or maintain relevance or a presence in the community. i just want to do it for myself, on my own terms.

ahh thats great you can sympathize about finding your specialty. and its awesome you have so many interests, all of em sound so exciting haha. i remember i wanted to make clothing at one point. that reminds me of another point though, you also don't have to do it all alone. the greatest artists out there work as a team. so if you have a vision, you don't have to work alone. we are human after all, and some of the most beautiful things we've made are made by a community or team effort. just a friendly reminder that you don't have to pick up these skills by yourself, you can work with others! but hey, if youre doing it out of interest or fun, i dont think it hurts either. films, books, music, clothes, statues, games, actually probably everything in existence is a combination of our efforts working together and collecting, sharing, and maintaining ideas and inventions throughout history. a bit off topic, but also i hate it when people think we take shortcuts or cheat when it comes to making something, like wtf we humans made these tools, so use it lol. its funny how new stuff is considered cheating, then we later adopted it as the norm. like autotune, photoshop, even old stuff like dribbling in basketball or using a calculator. makes u wonder about the future of a.i.

i guess what i just wrote about teamwork is relevant to your next point haha. yeah u can totally be a director. i honestly think part of being successful as an artist (or even just in general) is through connections and just putting yourself out there and being involved in the community. if your interested in all these skills and participate in each community, i can imagine being successful since your casting a big net to meet a lot of different artists with different ideas/perspectives. you can probably meet a lot of people from different backgrounds and form a network.

haha i think at one point when i was super young my doctor asked if i wanted adderall lol. i was definitely super imaginative, stupid/oblivious, and hyper when i was a kid, so i may have adhd, but i dont think so anymore. i was diagnosed with depression when i was a teen and may or may not been bipolar, but was never officially diagnosed during the time. i tried a lot of different meds then tapered off somewhere in college. then i had so many different episodes here and there. i had more existential/identity crisis, and probably a two or three ago, i finally was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and it explains so fucking much about everything i have done in life lol. it probably also explains why im so hesitant about picking up new hobbies/interests because i feel like im entering a manic episode, which is why i get scared if im too passionate about something.

but i made it pretty far. honestly i was going through all my old stuff and recently i was looking at all my old sketchbooks and i was experiencing revelations about myself. its cool that i have all these sketchbooks dating back to like early highschool, and i really captured not only my progress as an artist, but a lot of memories and points in my life and ideas i had. it was surreal and inspiring. i remember the environment/place i was in and the headspace i was at when i looked at a lot of the drawings/paintings. the early days were so innocent, then i could clearly see points where i was spiraling into depression and times where i was manic lol. i would make extensive lists and absolutely fill the page to the brim. and when i was depressed, the pages were isolated or i would take a half a year or more without creating anything. i see the same story with the songs i made.

i think the most i was fucking emotional are these two sketchbooks that were rubberbanded together and had pages that were taped shut. i had no idea what they were, and when i unfastened it, it wasnt a sketchbook but a journal. i dont remember this at all, and i pretty much documented the lowest point in my life lol. it was surreal and pretty much contrasted where i'm at now. i dont remember any of the days i documented. i dont even remember some of the names i mentioned or why i was upset. i felt like a different person wrote this. there was even a letter i wrote that i was supposed to give to someone but never did. the second sketchbook was also a journal, but had pages taped shut. i was scared but also super curious why i taped them shut. i thought it was gonna be like something awful like a suicide letter or something - it was labeled "for everyone or no one", but when i cut it open i was really surprised and super emotional. it was the complete opposite, it was actually a bunch of messages from all my classmates that wrote in my sketchbook to say their goodbyes before we graduated. i absolutely forgot about this, and it was surreal how positive the messages were, especially comparing myself where i am now. a lot of people said i was funny, artistic/creative, unique, and glad i was in their life. some people even wrote they knew ill be successful or stuff like that. i forgot about these people in my life. after that though, the later pages funnily contrasted the messages. i was still journaling my depression, but in a more formal manner, it felt kinda edgy lol, but i guess i was more in a super aware depression and not a completely lost, ignorant depression. it slowly became less depressing as the pages go on, then later became a sketchbook again.

i remember reading that when u have depression or some form of mental illness, you get memory loss, and it explains a lot. there's lots of huge gaps in my memory of highschool and college. those days are completely lost to me. i dont remember anything unless i documented it through a journal, drawing, or song. i feel like im a detective discovering a story by following a trail, but that story is about me. pretty surreal, i feel like a completely different person now.

anyway i think i ranted too long. sorry if this is super fucking long, i feel like a crazy person, but i guess im just flowing with a lot of thoughts and ideas. i may or may not be in a different state of mind right now lol, so i apologize if im sharing too much or talking my mouth off. let me know if you like or don't like these type of messages, and ill moderate my mouth depending on your response haha.

thanks for listening if you actually read every word i wrote this late at night. i feel like i wrote a fucking essay or thesis lmao. it's kind of fun thinking i'm writing all this and it will be stored and archived in the depths of the internet. it's like a journal or snippet of someone's life and someone, including myself, can read this in the future (if tumblr still exists).

Hey!

Sorry about my late reply. I saw this huge block of text and got overwhelmed.

When it comes to traveling a like a mix of both structure and spontaneity. It's nice to have a rough guideline for what you want to do for sure and then fill in the blanks as you go. I recently went to MXCD with some friends and that's what we did! I love it. One of my best vacations ever.

And wow that's cool! I don't really know who David Blaine is but I'm glad youve enjoyed both of these shows.

I think it's great to embrace your lonesome! And you're right, there are more dangers outside and it would be nice to see what life in the future is like. But I hope even though you like to stay inside that you are not doing it out of fear. For me, I'd rather die young and experience the world as much as I can than the other way around.

As for language, I totally agree that languages are a superpower. You know about 30% of Americans have a working passport? Of those people, even fewer have left the country. Korean is an interesting choice. I think it's great that you find it interesting though. I think after Chinese I want to learn Spanish.

I think living in the age of the internet is for sure a blessing and a curse but I think overall it's a blessing. Yes tech companies design with the intent of addiction, but at least the power to disconnect is still technically there. I'd much rather be able to connect, learn from others, and see how expansive and vast everyone is than to stay within an echo chamber I have no choice but to stay in. I think the difference is just choice. You know what I mean?

Yes I take welbutrin for adhd but I'm going to switch to stratera and see how that goes. Adderall makes me too anxious.

I understand what you mean about being kinda good at many things vs being really good at one thing. I think both have merit. In capitalism, the latter is prioritized, but it's really the interdisciplinary people who understand all the moving parts who can see the bigger picture.I don't know if I've mentioned this, but there's the phrase, “a jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.” I think it's sharpening one skill is overrated in my opinion. I've been to many countries and have stayed in a couple of homestays too (thailand and india) and something I am reminded everywhere I go is that communication is often times beyond language.

I think it's totally fair to create for yourself. No need to monetize it.

Yea there is a lot to say about ai's impact on art but I don't think technology is anything to be afraid of. It's the people programming and using it.

I am super grateful to be an artist in NYC, cuz all of my friends are also artists. It makes my life so beautiful and inspiring. I adore my friends, huge fans of them.

I think passion is beautiful! Feels like it's just concentrated love mixed with energy. It's a life force. But I hope you don't let your bipolar stop you. You can learn to work with it, not against it. Do you see a therapist?

It's so cool that you still have all that artwork! I feel like that's my tumblr lol. Maybe you can make new artwork with it. It's like you are addressing your child self, letting them meet you.

Aw I love that story about your sketchbook! I always forget and deflect every nice thing someone says about me so I think it's very special to have them written down. Proof you're loved.

I also don't really remember a lot of my childhood. I wish I could journal now the way I used to, but I've never been actually consistent outside of the time I went to india and didn't have a phone or internet. I feel bad and upset at myself for not hacing the discipline to journal more, but I gotta be gentle with myself. ADHD seeps into every facet of my life and my life makes me feel like I can never write enough about it so why bother. (I know why to bother but it's still hard)

Lol yea this was a lot to get through but I'm glad you feel comfortable sharing this w me. How's summer going for you? It's been good for me, but cancer season has been emotional. I almost broke up with someone I really like last night but they begged for another chance even though I just don't think we are in similar places in life or even have comparable experiences with love and dating. I do really like him though, and I'm also not the type to give up without a second chance so we will see what happens. Tonight I had a date w another person I've been seeing for months and I feel like tonight reaffirmed we are probably better as friends. There is a standard I have for the way my romantic partners treat me and this just isn't it. (I'm polyamorous btw lol)

My longtime partner Myka and I have been good though. They really are my best friend.

I feel like I wrote too much for be to proofread rn at 3:30am so I'm just gonna hope it makes sense. These are huge ass blocks of text

[ivesleptsolong]

He was slightly surprised at her question. Had she been curious about how it worked for him? He wouldn't withhold information from her. He just figured it was problematic for her, especially when he detected her racing heartbeat in the past whenever she saw him drink. He thought she was frigthened of him because of what he was.

"Back in the time when I was last awake", he traced his fingertips along her hand, wrist, up her lower arm, slowly. "It was much harder, you know?"

With a small smile, he reached her upper arm, then shoulder, then collarbone. His fingertips ever so gently ghosted over her neck, then he traced a line to her jaw.

"Feeding, for everyone involved, both vampire and human alike, is an intimate act. But it's tricky if one or both refused to let go. It could end in a tragedy, and fast."

Edward cupped her face with one hand, enjoying her warmth against his equally warm palm.

"I've managed, though; drinking from different people at different intervals, never going for too much, just a little every time, to keep myself from starving. I had educated mortals around me, there were people in my home whom I trusted, who gave their blood willingly to me. But it was always dangerous. Now", he glanced at the crystal goblet as he removed his hand from her cheek, "I may not get it directly from the source. It might not taste as good as it would if I drank directly from someone. But I could never fuflill my needs as I can, now. And the best part of it: it's donated blood." He smiled up at her happily, tilting his head back on the armchair's backrest. "The quantity and knowing that I've harmed no one, because they gave it willingly, makes up for it, it really does."

[ clean ] sender reaches up to wipe something off receiver's face (A bit of blood perhaps? I figure she learns he is a vampire some time)

| Comfortable Intimacy |

He just finished feeding.

In these modern times, vampires with Edward's title and rank did not need to hunt anymore. Cain - the most ancient vampire of all times, in fact, Edward's sire, the one who blooded him - took care of his thirst. A steady supply of blood, packed in plastic bags, arrived at his manor every two weeks.

Edward found this blood to be less tasty as it usually was when it came directly from a victim. The struggle, straining, also felt nice, especially as it melted away as his arms held them gently in place, and his venom got to work, weakening the mortals and stopping them from fighting back; sending them to euphoria shortly after.

But in the past few weeks, he had taken a liking to bagged blood, especially because he didn't want to frighten his new little wife too much. Thus, he drank his blood from crystal goblets. Warming it up first in the microwave - wonderful what technology came to, it always surprised Edward -, he could pretend he was sipping some good quality wine.

Except this drink had him completely relaxed in his armchair, as consuming a human being's blood caused him pleasure, too. He hummed as he finished it, placing the goblet beside him on a small table, closing his eyes and giving himself to pure bliss.

He heard her move; she became comfortable around him enough that he had told her the truth of what he was, and she didn't flee the room anymore whenever he brought in a goblet of blood to consume it in one of his many living rooms. It was progress. Small, meaningful progress.

Edward smiled, still with closed eyes, when he felt her lean so close. Then, something touched the corner of his lips. He opened his eyes and looked in her face, searching for something in silence.

She cleaned the blood off of his lips with a kerchief. He hadn't been a messy eater in thousands of years, but drinking from a goblet required more practise, it seemed. He smiled at that.

"Thank you, my love", he murmured softly.

[gurugirl]

The Queen's Secret Chapter 5*

Summary: Queen Y/n and Prince Harry have a quick rendezvous at his house to make up for the session that was cut short. This is a just a filler chapter - it's all SMUT.

Warning: Smut, some angsty thoughts

The Queen's Secret Masterlist

Chapter 4*

Chapter 5*

She could feel his need. The way his hands softly, and then roughly gripped and squeezed and roamed over her arms, her waist, her neck, her back, fingers in her hair - everywhere he could reach. His warm mouth was needy, smothering hers and removing the breath from her lungs.

She hadn’t expected to be greeted by him like this. She assumed a polite offer of a beverage, maybe some flirty banter, a few longing glances. A discussion about what they were doing but skirting the real issue. And then perhaps a soft kiss to start things off.

But Harry hadn’t stopped thinking about the queen since after their first session and today’s session was cut far too short for Harry’s taste. His sensitive soul needed to be shared with someone and it had been far too long since someone wanted it. Gertrude had grown bored of him long ago and she no longer enjoyed being loving and slow and savoring of intimacy. She liked sex on their regularly scheduled intervals, but it was quick and lacked the affection Harry had long stopped begging her for because he was tired of the rejection.

So he turned his suppressed affections onto the queen and when she opened herself to him and returned the need, his soul found a breath of relief and latched on. It was a surprise to her the way he pounced on her as soon as he saw her. He locked the door without removing his mouth form hers and then put his missing hand back onto her face, holding her head close to him.

Harry was dressed very casually in his home, but so was she. She hadn’t seen the Prince in sweats and a t-shirt before but this was a welcome sight.

Y/n slid her hands up the back of his shirt and softly scratched at his skin. She didn’t want to make marks on his back but she wanted him to feel it. His broad back was covering her frame and everything about him surrounded her.

He moved a hand down to one of her thighs and lifted her softly to hitch it over his hip, he needed to get in closer to her. Y/n happily let herself be adjusted to his liking and he kept his hand at her thigh to hold her in place. Harry pressed himself into her center and they both gasped at the feel of warmth between them.

This wasn’t how they were supposed to act around one another. This was forbidden. Their need and desperation for closeness and touch and feelings had won out over their better sense. But neither cared anymore. They’d only just begun this sordid deal and now it was their Garden of Eden. A secret place to dip their toes into, to get the fix of intimacy and pleasure they weren’t getting anywhere else.

Harry rutted into Y/n again and this time he spoke, his nose still brushing against her, “I’m sorry. I swear that I was going to be a gentleman and invite you in for tea and then talk a little but I… how long do we have?” He backed away a bit to see her face, but kept her body pressed into the wall firmly. His clear green eyes were darkened with his pupils and spoke of lust and need.

The Queen needed a moment. She was taken by him. Her breath was still caught in her throat and body was trembling already. She swallowed as she took Harry’s appearance in. The way he looked at her was enough for her to bend to him in whatever he wanted. How long did she have? She hadn’t made a plan. She couldn’t be gone all night or the king would wonder where she was.

“Maybe two hours? I can’t stay all night. But maybe we could arrange for that another night, if you wanted.” She wanted to stay all night. To know what it would be like to have him until the morning. To sleep and wake with him next to her.

Harry dropped his mouth back down to the Queen’s. Two hours was perfect for now. He’d make good use of their time. When Harry stepped back he kept the Queen’s hand in his and he lifted her knuckles to his mouth and gave her hand a soft peck.

“Let’s go to my bed. I want to make our time together count.”

The master suite appeared to have been readied for their encounter. A few candles were lit, the bed was turned down, there was a tray with water and wine and some glasses, dimmed light. Harry was a true romantic. He’d thought of her when he was preparing the room. It wasn’t much, but it was more than the Queen had gotten from her own husband.

Harry pushed the door closed and grasped Y/n’s hips, pressing his forehead to hers, “Would you like a drink? Should we sit and talk first? What do you want, Y/n?”

The Queen held onto Harry’s sturdy sides and bumped her nose toward his, “I just want you, Harry.”

And that was true. She didn’t need a drink or chit chat in that moment, but she did think they needed to talk. Perhaps after. The kiss he’d given her as soon as he saw her at his front door was quite enough to tilt her opinion in favor of action at the moment. Harry was happy to oblige. His body was aching for her.

The Prince walked them to his bed, with Y/n moving backwards, and The Queen sat down and moved herself up toward his headboard. He removed his shirt and his sweatpants before climbing onto the bed and when he got to her he placed his hands into the band of her sweatpants, “Mmm… these are so soft, my Queen. Is this cashmere?” His grin was playful as he looked down at her pants and then back into her eyes. She nodded. His grin widened as he began slipping them off her hips and down her legs, “Of course the Queen wears a cashmere jumper set. Only the best fabric should be placed on this body.” He kept his gaze on hers as he brought her ankle up to his mouth and kissed, slowly moving up her leg, his mouth pecking warm kisses up to her knees and then onto the other leg. Y/n quickly rid herself of her top as Harry worked his mouth over her limbs. When he got to her inner thigh the Queen was downright dripping into her lacy panties. His lips were masterful on her skin and she let out shallow breaths as his lips drew near to her center.

He licked at the edge of where her inner thigh meets just next to her wetness, and then to the other side. He kept his tongue skimming just around her sweet spot and Y/n sighed in pleasure. She loved the build and the attention.

Harry continued to move his eyes up to the Queen to watch her reaction. He loved seeing her arch her back and part her wet lips. He slid a hand up to her tummy, spreading his palm over her belly button as he continued slowly licking all around the fabric crotch of her panties, but never directly on it. They had two hours, which wasn’t all night, but he knew it was plenty of time so he could go slow and bring her to the edge the way he preferred.

When Y/n groaned in impatience Harry chuckled and began to pull at her panties so they could be free of them, “Ruined. These’ll need to be washed. Certainly aren’t able to wear them home, Y/n.” He watched as her arousal caught between her labia and the lace fabric of the panties before pulling them over her thighs and off her legs completely.

When Harry lowered himself back over Y/n’s pretty pussy, the Queen’s hands grasped the blankets under her and then she brought one hand down to the thick curls on the Prince’s head. She met his gaze and saw his tongue jut out at that moment, finally gliding his tongue over her folds and upward toward her clit. She dropped her mouth wider, if that were possible, and moaned at the vision.

Harry began consuming her cunt with wide strokes of his tongue upward toward her clit at each pass. He’d pause and pay extra attention to her clit on contact and then go back to lapping upward. Each pause at her clit, whether he’d flick his tongue around or suck it into his mouth, had the Queen moaning his name.

The taste of her pussy was delicate and lightly tangy, but mostly sweet. As he continued sucking and teasing her he brought both arms under her thighs and held her well in place. She was forced flat into the bed so she could not thrust her hips upward anymore under his solid hold.

The Queen loved how sturdy Harry was as well. His well-built arms holding her in place and the way he pressed her down so firmly was sending chills up her spine. He was amazingly strong and well-founded. The way his muscular thighs flexed and his back muscles stretched and tightened when he held her down was so achingly sexy to her that she swooned over his image between her thighs this way. She’d always have this picture in her mind of him.

Harry moaned into her pussy and closed his eyes when he felt her wetness increase further. She was turned on and her soft panting indicated a good sign. He lifted his head up an inch, his lips still feathering over her labia and spoke, “Taste so good, Queen. Dreamt of the way you squirm under me when I eat your cunt.”

Y/n could feel his lips bracket her pussy again in a full-on hungry display. He sucked her clit into his mouth and the slurping noises were divine. He removed an arm from under her thigh and promptly circled his fingertips at her entrance before pushing three thick fingers past her opening and curling them upward to reach her little honey spot. A deep moan bolted from the Queen’s throat and she keened when he began pumping his fingers and sucking at her clit at the same time.

Harry didn’t let up his rhythm. He felt her begin to wobble and shake under him and her moaning became louder and louder every moment she got closer to her orgasm. This was exactly what he wanted. Y/n to moan his name and be as loud as she needed to be. He reveled in the sounds coming from her body and from her lips. His ego was fed fully when she started to tip and gushed with her orgasm.

He held her down with one arm as he continued lapping at her, prolonging her pleasure from the fingers he fucked into her and the way his lips worked over the rest. Her high-pitched breaths and moans became yelps as she began feeling overstimulated, but Harry didn’t let up. She tried pushing at his hair and her small laugh turned into another moan and a whine as she tried closing her thighs.

The Prince removed his fingers from her and returned his arm back to her thigh to keep her still, and spread open for him. He kept lapping at her but he eventually slowed down as he felt Y/n calm and relax under him. The Queen was at his mercy, so she gave in to the indulgence he was forcing on her.

“Harry… Haarr… please…” she whined when he didn’t let up. Soon, the tickle and overstimulation of his tongue and lips started to twist itself into a second layer of sensuality through Y/n’s insides, making her feel gooey and pliant again.

“I know, Y/n. Let me take care of you. One more for me, baby.” He put his mouth squarely back over her wetness and took his time with gentle strokes of his tongue. He lazily circled over her clit, not going too heavy on the pressure, he wanted her next orgasm to be soft and floaty to get her ready for what was to come.

The Queen relented and her second orgasm was deeply lovely and comforting. Her breaths were hitched and then she went silent, jaw dropped when it overcame her. Harry released one of her legs and smoothed a hand up her tummy and palmed at her tit. The grip she had on his hair was uncompromising. She wasn’t letting go easy. Harry smirked into her pussy and then chuckled as he lifted his eyes up to his Queen, a beautiful mess above him. She had the slightest sheen of sweat over her torso and her pussy was absolutely sodden. Harry determined he’d need to wash the comforter based on the how wet it was below her. Certainly, he’d leave it be for the few more days he had until Gertrude came home. He’d like to smell her on his sheets and his bed for the entire week.

Slowly Y/n slid her fingers out of his curls and opened her eyes. Harry sat up between her legs and massaged her thighs. He ran his gaze over her face and her beautiful body and down to her swollen cunt that he’d just taken care of.

“Harry, you’re… so good at that. My god.” She was still panting and her chest was violently rising and falling as she caught her breath.

Harry pressed over his ruddy tipped cock and then squeezed himself as he smirked at Y/n, “Ya think so? Keep complimenting me like that and I’m gonna go down on you again.”

The Queen chuckled and sat up, “I’d like to go down on you now, Harry. Return the favor…” Harry’s lips cut her off as soon as she spoke of returning favors.

Harry was feeling appreciative and enlivened by the Queen. She was a good match for him. In bed at least. Her willingness to suck him off and allow him to eat her out, the way she wanted him to enjoy everything as much as he wanted her to… he couldn’t stop the emotions that made his heart pound and his tummy sizzle for Y/n. He didn’t want to think of her like a new toy, but it was hard not to get so overly electrified by her sexual appetite. He hadn’t been so wound up about a woman in a long time and the pang of guilt he felt regarding Gertrude and his children, he’d deal with later as his lips smoothed over the Queen’s.

And she could taste herself on him. She loved it because it meant he had just done something that she’d been longing for. Harry was motivated and it reawakened her taste for all the bonuses that went with sex. She’d been disappointed with the king but it hadn’t bothered her all that much. Until she experienced Harry. And this was trouble for the new lovers. Both of them were suffering with lackluster sex lives outside of one another. They both had a deep need for love making and sensuality that wasn’t answered in their marriages.

The Queen got to her knees as she continued allowing the Prince to kiss her lips and sip at her tongue. Harry got to his knees as well so they were mimicking each other’s stance. Her hands journeyed down from his strong shoulders to over his pecs and then continued south to where his happy trail began, soft but firm under the extra bit of flesh that had accumulated from Harry’s large appetite. When her hand grazed the thick hair that surrounded his large dick like a crown displaying royalty, Harry groaned and stopped his lips from working over hers for a moment as he pressed their foreheads together. Their noses were nudged together and Harry flattened his hands around the back of Y/n’s upper thighs before moving them upward to hold onto her soft bum. He pulled her center in towards his as her hand finally made contact with this thick shaft. He could feel her own sparse hair drag over his cock when he pulled her closer. Her wet labia kissed over the ridge of him, wetting him lightly.

He moved his hands up to her waste and titled his head to kiss at her lips again. The soft kisses were an invitation, to do what she wanted. She was being given permission to make the next move.

The Queen cupped at Harry’s cock and gently stroked him and he lowered his lips to her neck, licking over her sensitive pulse point. She rutted her hips to him and continued pumping gently and Harry brought his hands around to her breasts. He placed them into his large palms and massaged before focusing on the nipples and softly pinching the hardened nubs. Y/n gasped at the feel of his lips on her neck and his fingers pinching at her nipples. She was nearly ready to be ravished by him again. Wanted to feel him enter her and poke deep inside of her body. But first she wanted to have him in his mouth.

She pushed at his chest with a tap so he’d sit back onto his bottom. Harry quickly got into position, his arms outstretched behind him, legs spread for her to cozy in and take him however she wanted. He watched as she held onto his knees for leverage and lowered herself further over him. She looked up at him with her eyes, keeping her head tilted down so her mouth brushed over his tip and then she kissed it. Once, and then twice and jutted her tongue out to give a tiny lick. Harry was already heaving breaths. He knew what was about to come. Y/n’s mouth on his cock was holy. He watched her purse her lips and spit over his tip and then grabbing him from the top she pulled her saliva down his lengthy shaft. He could feel the air from the room delicately dance on his cock now that he was wetted with her saliva. It was cool and goosebumps jumped out on his thighs.

When Y/n saw his goosebumps she waited no longer to put him into her mouth. She knew what she must do. What she wanted to do.

Harry moaned and then gulped down the spit that had gathered when he began to salivate over the spectacle. Y/n slowly moved down on him. He was thick and long and she needed to get her bearings with him. She opened her mouth as wide as she could sucked him in, slowly going down further then back up to his glans. She gently stroked her tongue over his sensitive frenulum and then, taking a deep breath, lowered down again to get him further.

She kept a hand at his base and her lips over him were watering down his shaft so he was wet all the way to his dark pubic hair from her saliva. She bobbed and she tried getting him further and further as she sucked and flattened her tongue along the thick dorsal vein that ran underneath. Harry was wetly gasping and he put a hand into the Queen’s hair, gently moving the strands away so he could watch the scene with adoring eyes.

When she felt him move her hair aside she looked back up to him and he groaned at the eye contact and the way her lips were pink and wet and sinking over him. “Mmm… Y/n… your mouth feels so good. Don’t know how I can ever go back to not having this from you again when we’re done.”

That was the elephant in the room, which Harry didn’t mean to bring up but his state of mind couldn’t help but speak it. They knew their time together had an expiration date. It would be too risky to continue this after she became pregnant. Which, she knew she would be soon. If not this round, probably by the next. There was no way this man wasn’t fertile and she knew she was. It would happen soon, too soon for her liking. Though, the Queen was excited to be pregnant and have a child.

She continued her dutiful sucking and licking and Harry moaned her name into the room and threw his head back when he felt that warm ache begin to liven up his groin. He wanted to come inside of her, though. The feel of her pussy around him was not like anything else and he wanted it. So, he sat up and grasped onto her hair to gently pull at her, “I want to fuck you. I’m gonna come if you keep that up but I wanted to come inside your pussy if you want that too.”

The Queen grinned and nodded. Her face was a little damp and her lips puffy and pink from her diligent work on his cock. She sat up to her knees and Harry pulled her down onto him so she was laying over him, their centers pressed together. She was still as wet as she could ever be. Having him in her mouth and listening to his moans and tasting his creamy pre-come was exciting and arousing.

Harry pulled her down by the back of her neck and forced his mouth to hers in a hot and wet kiss. Y/n spread her legs to straddle his hips and she angled herself so her labia would smooth over the large vein under his shaft. She shifted slowly up and down for a bit as their lips meshed and locked together in perfect pace.

Then the Queen lifted herself up a little and reached down between them to put his wide head at her hole. They gazed at one another as she sank over his tip and she gasped at the stretch and the pop of his initial entry. Once his cock was just past her opening it was easy going from there. She moved down and encased him with her wet walls, wrapping him up in a tight, warm enclosure.

Harry put his hands over her ass and pressed her as he moved her up and down over him. Her knees were in the mattress on either side of his hips and her clit was gently rubbed at each pass. She placed her palms on his pecs and began moving herself on him as Harry assisted with his hands over her. Now the sounds of her slick walls around him were evident and their gasps and moans were soft and quiet at first.

“You… Harry… that’s it. Oh my god.” Her words wouldn’t make much sense outside of the bedroom they were in, but to Harry they made perfect sense. He knew he was parting her walls, spreading her open and reaching deep inside of her. He knew she felt good and it made him feel good.

She slid up and down as far as she could fit him, until his balls were tucked up to her ass. Her hips rolling downward at each stroke over him.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, Y/n. Milk me, baby.” Harry groaned into the room. He was going to explode. He was already being bumped toward his peak. He clenched his jaw to stave off coming too fast.

So she did. She went a bit faster and the cock inside of her hit everything, everywhere. Their bodies, where their centers met, were wet, slick, and sticky. The smell in room around them was nothing but sex and heat.

Harry’s eyes were squeezed closed and his face was twisted as he felt the Queen clench and hamper down over him when she began to release. He wanted to hold out a little longer. Wanted to fuck her in one more position and make her come once more for him. Give her a really good ending. Her moans were load and her vision went white. Her body rushed with heat and the small gush of her release dripped down over Harry and onto his ball sack. It was erotic and carnal. The mess between them was something Harry loved during sex. He loved getting a little dirty, didn’t mind the cleanup. The wetness and the smell and the sweat were all a badge of honor for him.  

The Queen collapsed onto Harry’s chest when she was done coming and her lungs were exhausted. She was warm and soft over him. He rubbed his hands over her back and she felt him twitch inside of her. He was still solid and long. He’d not yet come.

She pushed herself up and looked down at the Prince with confusion, “You didn’t come?”

Harry shook his head, “Want to fuck you from behind if that’s okay. Make you come once more. Got one more for me?” He raised his brows at the last sentence.

At that very moment, Y/n couldn’t imagine having one more orgasm dragged from her body. But she was happy to let him fuck her in whatever way he wanted. She wanted his come.

“I can try. But I want you to fill me up, Harry. Even if I can’t come again.” She smiled at him.

She moved her leg off him and leaned back as Harry sat up and gently took her face in his hands and pulled her in for some more kisses. She would not get tired of all the sweet kisses and touches Harry continued to bless her with throughout their baby-making-sessions.

He lapped at her lips and she opened up. His soft lips would kill her. There was no one who could come close to kissing her this way. It was ethereal. He was ethereal.

He lowered his mouth to her left breast and did that thing she loved so much where he licked and gently suckled all around before focusing on her pebbled teat. He gave the smallest nibble and then flicked his tongue over it to soothe before turning to her right breast and repeated the action. Y/n put her hands into his hair and watched as his pink lips sucked and swathed over her tender skin.  

When he sat up the look in his eyes was dark and marked a man ready to devour. She quickly turned herself and lowered her palms to the bed and spread her thighs for him to arrange her however he liked.

He grabbed her hips and rubbed over her bum softly, watching as her flesh indented with his fingers. God what he wouldn’t give to hang onto her with a bit of a grip and watch as small bruises form, marking her up with his fingertips so she could see them as a reminder of what they’d done in secret. But he couldn’t. Despite his need to claim her in some way, she wasn’t his. Would never be.

He leaned over her back and moved his hands from her ass up to her low back and to the plane of her upper back and her spine. She could feel him pressed against her bum as his lips swept over the shell of her ear. His deep, raspy drawl in her ear made her skin prickle with lust, “Want to just bite into your beautiful bottom. Can I give you a quick spank. I won’t leave any marks. I’m just so… God your ass is so beautiful.”

The Queen bit her lip and turned a bit, prompting Harry’s nose to press into the inner notch of her ear, “Yes. Give me one nice swat to each cheek so it stings. Shouldn’t leave a mark.”

Harry rocked his hips down once to push his cock into the spread of her cheeks before he leaned back, kneading over her for good measure and then took his right hand and landed his palm square on to her right cheek first. She jumped and let out a soft chuckle as he did it again to her left cheek. Her moan came out in a wet garble. Okay, now she was ready again. She was sure he could give her another orgasm again after this bit of respite he provided her pussy.

The Queen felt the Prince spreading her cheeks and she closed her eyes, readying herself for penetration when she felt his wet mouth on her from behind. He moaned into her folds and then licked. She spread her thighs a little more on instinct so he could have easier admission to all her parts. When he licked up toward her bum hole she popped her eyes open and turned to see him. He had his hands over her cheeks, parting them for his mouth as he licked over her and up again over her anus. He caught her gaze and then sat up with a smirk.

“Taste so good everywhere. I couldn’t help myself.” He spoke as he dragged a finger back over her tightest hole and she squirmed under the touch and the way he looked at her. He licked his lips and grasped his base, dragging himself up and down her slick crease. She was wet all along her inner thighs and her ass. She was so aroused there was denying the proof.

When Y/n turned back around she stuffed her face into the blankets below her which popped the arch of her back and Harry’s jaw dropped at her submissive pose. He gently attached his tip to her opening and pushed just the head in and then brought himself back out. He loved watching himself disappear inside of her and he wanted to really get a good look from his position. Her holes were both on display for him as he spread her open with his head and then pulled out with a small slush sound, thanks to how wet she was.

The Queen wiggled a little, needing him to wreck her and so he took note of her need and pushed in a little further, watching as her lips spread apart for his thick cock. He pushed in nearly all the way and then watched himself back out little by little with his dick shiny and slick. Inward he thrusted and then slowly pulled out almost all the way. His languid strokes were on purpose. She could feel every single inch as he pushed in and pulled out. The way her body allowed room for him, parted for him and how he filled her up so completely was worth the price of admission. That price being a possible broken heart or a longing that she’d never be able to sate once their time was up.

Harry’s thoughts were similar. He wanted her to really feel him, know him, desire him. He wanted to feel good in and around her. He wanted her cravings and her time and her body, but their relationship wasn’t meant to be endured for longer than necessary. But in the meantime, they both pushed those dwelling thoughts back and focused on their now together.

Harry began at a hungrier pace when he needed to feel more of her on him. The patting and slapping noises that fell from between their bodies were only punctuated by the wet sound of arousal that Harry’s cock glided through. Y/n’s body was on fire and she grunted at each thud of his hips into her. She whimpered his name and curled her toes when he dug in deeper and faster. His hands on her hips were meant to hold her still but she was able to fuck herself back onto him, needing more, more…

Harry choked out a gasp and watched his cock being fucked by her when she reamed herself back onto him, her breaths being knocked from her body as he impaled her with a sturdy force.

“Creaming all over me, this fertile pussy is begging to be bred. Want my babies, Y/n? Hmm?” He was keening and tipping fast again. He wanted to give it to her one more time. Get her to burst over her cock and feel her squeezing and pulsating around him as he filled her up and poured all that he had into her cunt to get her knocked up.

She moaned loudly into the air, a partial yes, but difficult to make out. She was being whacked into rather vigorously so a sentence was out of the question, and even a single word was not likely to be uttered properly. But Harry wanted to hear her and he also needed to slow his impending release so he slowed his cadence to a still vigorous but reasonable pace.

“Tell me, Queen. Whose babies will you have? Whose cock do you want inside of you every night? Whose cock do you want to come all over?” Harry’s balls were tightening up, a telltale sign of what was about to happen. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath and tried not to look down to where he was connected with her.

“You. Oh God! Just you, Prince. You Harry. Your babies, your cock. You!” She was trembling and she knew she was close. She couldn’t believe the speed at which he was able to bring her to orgasm. But she needed just one more thing to push her over the edge. She moved a hand between her legs and began slushing her arousal over her clit and the tips of her fingers and nails were delicately swathing over Harry’s balls. When he felt her fingers he looked down to realize she was quickly swiping back and forth over her clit and he panted deeply, causing a small snort to fall from him. He was so close. His sperm had to have been frothing, about to overflow up his cock and into his lover’s cunt. He grunted as he tamped down the cream about to exit his urethra as his muscles started to contract around his reproductive organ.

The Queen moaned loudly and pathetically as she felt his large organ twitching inside of her and his grip on her hips tightened. She wondered if he’d bruise her and if he did she’d need to worry about it later, because her orgasm suddenly spilled onto Harry’s cock as she bit down on the comforter under her face. She cried and her ears rang as Harry coughed out a moan and finally allowed himself to release inside of his Queen. He fucked his come into her as he felt her squeeze around him in soft pulses. He forced his eyes to stay opened to watch her cunt being pumped into. She milked every last drop of his sperm out of his cock, ejaculating into her in big spurts that filled her to the brim.

There was no denying their very intimate connection in the bed. They were well matched and burned for one another in a way they shouldn’t. And while this was all a physical manifestation of a deeper need they were both consumed by, it was easy to see how this could become sentimental and personal on a different level.

With both bodies exhausted and sweat on every crevice of their bodies, Harry slowly pulled out of his beautiful lover and spread her again to watch the come slowly ooze out of her. He thumbed over the spot and pushed into her and spread it up toward her swollen clit. He wanted to cover her in his come. It was some primal need that was ridiculous but the image had made him almost harden up again. Maybe she’d let him come on her body one of these days they had together. Instead of inside of her. Maybe the one time he doesn’t come inside of her is the moment she would be most fertile and they could do this weeklong affair once again. He’d like to do this with her again. And again. If she gets pregnant too quickly, it will all be over for them too fast.

Y/n sat back and hummed in contentment, “I need a shower before I head back. Is that okay?” She turned to look at Harry knelt behind her.

He nodded, “Of course. I’ll join you.”

The shower was over too fast. Harry helped her clean her back and cheeks and he did notice the very beginnings of bruises from where he’d held on too tightly as he started to come. He kissed over the bruises and held her hips and then kissed the back of her shoulder, “I’ve accidentally bruised your hips. I’m sorry. Maybe just think of something to tell the king or try not to let him see you.”

Harry preferred the latter. He’d prefer to be the only one to see her naked. He didn’t like that the King got to see her naked whenever he pleased.

“Edgar will be difficult. He’s been hounding me today. I don’t know what’s gotten into him but I think he’s a little jealous. I haven’t given him reason to be but, he just… I don’t know. I’ll be careful. I think it was worth it.” She smiled softly at her handsome prince.

When the Queen slipped away from his house and back to the castle she checked her phone and realized she’d missed many calls and had a few texts from Edgar. She rolled her eyes but the last text message he sent her 45 minutes prior had her hackles raised.

From Edgar: If you’re at the Styles’ home I will find out.

Part 6

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[grantspectortrash]

Bad To The Bone

pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: Halloween night, King Steve on the cusp of Good Steve, and a shared love for The Karate Kid. Flirting that you'd never admit to, a party that you'll never forget.

word count: 3.2K

A/N: aha honestly? I just wanted to combine my love for Steve Harrington, Cobra Kai/Karate Kid and Halloween all into one place. Hope you enjoy! Requests are open btw <3

-

It's Halloween 1984 and somebody is dressed as a skeleton.

But not any old skeleton - they're dressed up as Johnny Lawrence's skeleton, headphones around his neck and all, completely identical to the costume in The Karate Kid.

You wonder how long it took them to create it, and how many times they went to the cinema in order to memorise it down to the very last thread.

You can't see their face, but they're on the dancefloor and they are killing it - no Halloween pun intended.

Tina is the one throwing the party, claiming that she is the 'ghostess with the mostest'. Her house is large enough to host all of your classmates and more. You're pretty sure that there's some underage kids hanging out and drinking in her backyard, but that isn't your problem.

And, while you take in the scenery and stand in Tina's kitchen, you contemplate why you ever thought dressing up as Mr Miyagi was a good idea - bald cap and all.

Robin, your best friend in the entire world, had bailed on you this Halloween. Sure, maybe she couldn't get out of going to her cousin's wedding, but why did it have to be the same weekend as Halloween? The pair of you were always Batman and Robin, and surprisingly you were always Robin. That joke never got old, not to you at least.

Most girls, if not all, at the party had gone for the sexy side of Halloween dress-up. Sexy ghosts, sexy nuns, Princess Leia in her golden bikini. One very specific, very skimpy, sexy E.T. who had lights glowing from her boobs instead of her finger.

You think it's the first time you've seen an alien that wants to get probed. Alas, you digress.

The Johnny Lawrence poser is dancing as '(Don't Fear) The Reaper' is playing from the large speakers that Tina has borrowed from her boyfriend Chris.

Although you're not very close to Tina, you get the urge to tell her that while she's dancing with her friends, Chris is making out with Stacey in the downstairs bathroom behind you.

Each time their hankering bodies collide with the bathroom door, you take one step further into the kitchen and one step further away from whatever is going on inside that bathroom. You're grateful the music covers their noises.

Nobody has spoken to you in about twenty minutes, and the only conversation you did have was when someone, clearly already drunk and dressed like Danny Zuko yelled "Wax on, wax off!" in your face as he grabbed yet another beer bottle from the kitchen counter.

You had wondered if he had a Sandy to pair up with, but when he sauntered back into the crowd you saw the mass of T-Birds waiting for him.

Hiding out in the kitchen has it's privileges. You had already swiped two bottles of the cheep beer yourself, and now you nurse the second by taking tiny sips at regular intervals and clutching the bottle tightly just so that you have something to do with your hands.

The song ends and a new one starts, and you watch as the skeleton gestures to some of the people he's with - you don't recognise any of them.

His thumb jabs over to the direction of the kitchen and soon he's snaking through the throng of costumed people on the dancefloor, all drunk or high to a varying degree.

As he gets closer you wonder if he'll see you. You wonder if you know him. You still can't see his face; the makeup is deceiving and his hair is hidden by the hood of the costume.

The skeleton-clad boy moves to the other end of the kitchen, his back to you. He grabs a bottle from the counter and absentmindedly cracks the cap off with his teeth. It's an act you're sure a dentist wouldn't approve of, but it comes across as quite an impressive act, and a slightly attractive thing to do.

He pulls the cap from his mouth and flicks it onto the counter. It's only then that he takes in what's been going on in the kitchen.

There's a guy who's been stood over the punch bowl for the last ten minutes, tipping in various bottles of spirits and mixers and meticulously stirring it, all while dressed as a baseball player.

A couple, dressed as Fred and Daphne from the Scooby gang, have been arguing just as long. Their hushed tones are hidden by the music, but whatever is going on neither of them are happy about.

And then there's you. And the skeleton boy can see that.

He turn towards you fully, grinning, and it's only then that you wish you hadn't been staring at him all night. You wish you hadn't created an idea of who he might be in your head. Because he smiles and it's unmistakeable. It's pretty and popular and all the girls love it.

You have to stop yourself from cursing.

"Oh shit, Mr Miyagi. Better stay away from you." He takes a sip from his beer and leans casually on the counter beside you.

He is no longer skeleton boy, the guy with the bad dance moves and the good taste in movies.

He's Steve Harrington. King Steve. Douchebag of all douchebags. And your crush since about eighth grade, not that you'd admit that to yourself. Or him.

And sure, the crush faded in and out, because it was never going to be reciprocated, and honestly you didn't care.

But tonight he looked like Johnny Lawrence, and you had to keep reminding yourself who he really was under his clothes and all of that makeup.

A bully. A rich boy. A reminder of why you didn't need a guy in your life.

And yet, even after all your reminding, when he's dressed as Johnny Lawrence he's almost someone else. Almost the guy you created in your head.

"Yeah, one wrong move and you're dead, Harrington." You reply, rolling your eyes and taking a sip of beer for good measure.

Steve brings his own bottle to his lips, and laughs.

"It's Y/N, right? We have maths together." He asks, and you're surprised he even remembers your name let alone the classes you have together.

You nod.

Steve smiles then, almost proud of himself for remembering, and it's difficult to picture his real face under all the makeup - all you can see is Johnny Lawrence and it's beginning to become a little flustering. No, frustrating. Yeah, that's what you mean. Frustrating.

He says something just as the music gets cranked up. 'The Monster Mash' is playing at a deafening volume, no doubt something the neighbours won't appreciate, along with the smoking and yelling and all the other noises omitting from the house.

You look over at the dancefloor to notice Tina is gone - you hope she's not looking for her cheating, scumbag boyfriend. She's better without.

You turn back to Steve, "Huh?" You have to practically yell to be heard.

Steve repeats whatever he said, only for you to not hear him again. You shake your head.

This time, Steve rolls his eyes. Then, he's ducking his head so it's close to yours and his lips are against your ear. His breath is warm and it sends a spark straight down your spine.

"I said, only hot chicks can pull off a bald cap, I'm impressed."

He pulls away and suddenly the heat isn't from his breath, it's across your cheeks and burning the tops of your ears.

You don't want to admit to yourself that it's because of Steve fucking Harrington, so you blame it on the fact he looks like Cobra Kai's bad boy.

"I - uh, umm..." It very quickly seems like you can't find your voice. You swallow hard, hoping to clear the lump in your throat. You don't know what to say.

And Steve's loving every second of it. There's a smug look on his face, and undeniable sparkle in his brown eyes.

You're about to yell at him. Steel yourself and tell him what's what, when the music gets cut.

Everybody turns to the speaker, including you and Steve. Whatever moment the two of you shared passes. Tina's ripped the cord, and she's standing there in her cheerleading outfit, shaking a pom aggressively.

"Where's Chris?"

As soon as she yells his name, Stacey storms out of the bathroom behind you. Her hair is a mess and her identical cheerleading outfit is ripped. A lipstick stain smears the right side of her face.

"You said you'd broken up!" She's marches across the kitchen and Steve pulls you close to him so that you're out of the girl’s way.

Seconds later, Chris appears. His trousers by his ankles and lipstick all over his face and exposed chest. A line of kisses trail all the way down to his boxers.

"Stacey! Tina!" He stumbles across the kitchen, making his way behind you. Once he passes, you push yourself away from Steve, aware of how close the pair of you were.

The two girls start yelling, moving towards the direction of the front door as they start grappling each other. Tina has Stacey by the hair, while Stacey is trying to shove Tina's pom down her throat. Chris hauls ass behind them, yelling apologies that neither of the girls are paying attention to.

They leave through the front door, and the yelling becomes fainter as they move across the lawn. Someone dressed as a ghost pulls the front door shut, and plugs the speaker back in. The music commences, quieter this time.

"Holy hell." You shake your head and finish your second beer of the night. The alcohol hasn't affected you yet, and it's making you feel left out. Everyone here seems even a little bit tipsy. Apart from you. And, well, maybe Steve too.

"Yikes. That’s depressing." Steve replies, and without asking, leans behind him to grab you another bottle. He does the teeth thing again with the cap and you laugh.

"That's a very Johnny Lawrence move, you know."

That earns a grin from Steve, his real teeth showing instead of the fake skeleton teeth painted on his skin. "What can I say? I'm bad to the bone."

You try to hold in the laughter. For someone who was meant to be cool and popular, Steve was proving to be quite corny.

You take a risk by asking, "Talking of bad boys, why aren't you flooded with your usual admiring fans tonight?” Then you carry on, just to add the illusion of disinterest, “And Tommy?”

Then, you take a long sip of your third beer until the embarrassment of asking goes away. You nearly drain the bottle.

"Well," Steve says, glancing over to the masses of dancing girls who are all dressed up like sexy cavewomen. The actual cheerleading squad.

"They found out I was dating Nancy Wheeler, and I had to stop basketball practice to get my grades up. All of which apparently made me lame. And then Nancy dumped me, yesterday actually. So turns out I'm not as cool as I once was."

He reaches out to touch the fake Mr Miyagi beard stuck to your chin. You slap his hand away, with no real heat behind the act.

"Hence why you're talking to me." You laugh, a little bit of the alcohol taking effect now. Your insides feel warm and you're not worried if your comment seems insensitive. Steve doesn't seem to mind.

And the fall of King Steve is almost intriguing to you. He was funny. And had good take in films. And was talking to you like he actually cared.

"Yeah. Right. Hence why I'm talking to you." Steve's voice is full of sarcasm. But, he's smiling. A real genuine smile that makes you think that maybe Steve Harrington isn't so bad. Maybe.

His clinks his beer bottle with yours then, and tips his head up to take a long swig from his bottle. You watch as his Adam's Apple bobs.

You take a sip after he takes his, and he watches as you do. Some impulse draws him closer to you, and he pulls the bald-cap away from your head. You take the bottle away from your lips and take your natural hair out of its hairband. It falls roughly, kind of sweaty and bobby-pinned in place, but Steve nods anyway.

"Much better." He says, and winks.

It's in that moment that you think something passes between the pair of you. Something special, something that's yours. A strange acknowledgement of something that's just begun.

But hey, maybe it's just the alcohol talking.

You pull the fake beard away from your face and set down the third empty beer bottle of the night. "Want to go outside?"

Steve nods.

Five minutes later you find yourself on a swing set with Steve beside you. The beer bottles and the music are forgotten. There's only a couple people outside, all appreciating the slightly quieter outdoors. Two guys are sharing a joint and are deep in conversation, but they're not in hearing distance.

Wherever the love-triangle of Stacey, Tina and Chris got to is a mystery, but you're glad the drama is nowhere near you.

Steve's pulled the skeleton hood off now, revealing tufts of messy brown hair. His heels are dug into the ground, and truth be told he's a little bit too tall for the set, but he swings slightly all the same.

The sky's pitch black but the tree above you has been bombarded with enough fairy lights to attract an entire moth family. The lights reflect in Steve's eyes.

"I'm sorry about Nancy, by the way." You don't know what makes you say it, but the words come out of your mouth anyway.

"Thanks, Y/N. I think you're actually the first person who's actually said that. Everyone else is glad that we’re done."

There's a tinge of hurt in Steve's voice, and he won't meet your gaze.

"Are you glad you’re done?" You ask even though you can already guess the answer from the look on his face.

"Yes, and no. I don't know. She's in love with someone else. I have to respect that. Maybe what we had was love, maybe it wasn't. Whatever."

You know it shouldn't, but his comments gains a laugh from you, "King Steve respecting women, who would have thought it?"

Steve cracks a small smile, almost painful, and suddenly you feel bad.

"Sorry." You say, "That was in bad taste."

He looks at you then, all soft eyes and skeleton makeup. "No, it's okay. You're not wrong."

There's a brief silence between the two of you, and you watch as the couple dressed as Fred and Daphne - who were arguing the last time you saw them - are stepping out of the back door in tandem. The guy’s hands are on the girl’s ass, her's are in his hair. They're snogging at a rapid rate, and not even looking where they're going. They find a tree, and start making out against it. Their kissing noises are off-putting.

"Well at least now I'm single I don't have to be embarrassing like that." Steve laughs, but the act seems perfunctory. "Anyway."

He stops swinging and looks at you, scanning you quickly before smiling. He leans over to poke you on the knee. "What about you?"

You frown, "What about me?"

Your question gains a smirk, "You know. Are you dating anyone? What's up in the world of Y/N?"

"Oh, well, not much." Your hand comes to the back of your neck, suddenly feeling awkward and exposed. Your fingers itch to be holding another bottle of beer - where was that liquid courage when you needed it?

"I'm single. Very. Always. And it's fine, I guess. Yeah. I'm fine."

Under all his face-paint, Steve's left eyebrow quirks up at you, "You sure?" He's trying to hide a smile, and you move to lightly hit his foot with your own.

"Shut up, Harrington."

"No, come on. You must have thought about someone though. Like the prom's coming up soon, who would you ask?"

You groan, burying your face into your hands. Fuck sake.

Steve moves then, you can feel it more than see it. You peek through your fingers to see him crouched in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your knees. There's a warmth radiating off him, one that you can't ignore.

"Y/N, why're you hiding from me?" Steve's voice is barely a whisper. It gains another spark down your spine, one that circles back around your body and straight into your heart.

You were going to have so much explaining to do when Robin got home.

"You." The words come out of your mouth in a mumble, and you're still hiding behind your fingers. Steve moves them for you. You become very aware of his hands on yours, the way his fingers interlock with yours and rest between your knees. It seems easy. It seems right.

"What was that?" You can tell he's not trying to be mean. He's genuinely curious. His fingers slip out from yours and you end up squeezing your fists tight.

"I'd ask you. You know, the version of you that isn't a dick, anyway."

Steve smiles so hard to the point where he ends up looking kinda goofy, and ultimately, a little bit pleased too.

So, you do the only thing you can think of. You push him with your knees and it sends him landing on his ass.

He guffaws, “Damn, I was right. Gotta stay away from Mr Miyagi."

You stand up and offer him your hand; he takes it.

Steve brushes himself off before looking at you again. He notices the tint in your cheeks, definitely not just from the alcohol this time.

"Tell you what, considering that I'm not cool or a dick anymore, do you think you could handle being friends? Go from there?" There's a gentleness in Steve's voice that fully convinces you maybe King Steve is dead for good.

Maybe tonight, dressed as Johnny Lawrence, there's some sort of symbolism there. The last night of being a bad boy.

You nod, embarrassed and endeared all at the same time. "Sure. Cool. Works for me."

Steve sticks his hand out, cracking another smile, "I'm Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you."

You can't help but laugh, even if you do take his hand and accept the shake. It's almost like a deal. A secret between the two of you. And you have no idea how it happened.

"Hi, Steve. You know, for someone who's been popular for a long time, being a corny loser kind of suits you."

"I guess so. Perhaps hanging around with you has that effect."

You're both smiling, but you hit Steve in the stomach all the same. It leads to an all out Miyagi-Do vs Cobra Kai fight, although you're not really throwing your punches and Steve's totally letting you win. But this is a friendship you didn't know you needed. Hell, maybe is was going to be more than a friendship. And it seems wonderful - an unexpected treat on a Halloween night.

[tokusaatsus]

Hi! I really love your works and it's always fun and enjoying to read them! It's a shame that I didn't made it for the event reqs but i saw that regular reqs are open, if that's what you call them? XD Anyway, can I request for Kohaku, Mayoi, and Hiiro being a secret admirer to the reader? Thank you!

HOW THEY WOULD ACT AS A SECRET ADMIRER

ft. amagi hiiro, ayase mayoi, oukawa kohaku

© tokusaatsus 2022

warnings: none (as of now)

In my opinion, Hiiro is too honest and straight-forward to be considered a ‘secret’ admirer. I feel like he wouldn’t see any reason to hide the fact that he is the one sending you the letters?

Since he wants you to see them and feel appreciated, he would probably think you’d like it better if you knew who your admirer was.

The only reason he doesn’t is because Aira assured him it would be more romantic that way. Out of the two of them, Aira is the more well-versed in pop culture, so Hiiro decides to take him at face value.

I am a firm believer in the idea that Hiiro unironically enjoys puns. So he probably sends you lovemail in that style. Little sticky notes with cute doodles and adorable puns pasted on your desk, or on your doorframe.

Like:

If you were a vegetable you’d be a cute-cumber ♡ or Are you a banana? Because I find you very a-peel-ing ♡

They’re small, usually mentioning food or animals, but they still manage to fluster you with their simplicity.

He places them at intervals–one in the morning, and one in the evening!

It’s especially sweet when you’re having a bad day and you just see these cute little notes. It makes you brighten up and forget your worries, even if it’s only for a little bit.

And that’s exactly what Hiiro wants! He’s glad that he’s able to bring you even a fraction of the joy he gets when he’s around you.

Signs off with little spades, just as a hint!

He does reveal himself eventually, though, because he feels like there’s no need for him to remain a secret anymore.

The only reason you didn’t suspect him to be your secret admirer despite the teeny spade doodles is because you thought that he wouldn’t hide it, rather he would just outright tell you, which is why you’re so surprised when you realise.

Even after you find out, he still makes it a habit to send you the puns–though not so secretly–because he likes seeing you smile when you receive them!

Mayoi is probably the most secretive out of the 3. He would rather die than let his position be revealed.

He finds himself writing you flowery, poetry-esque short letters with cute little doodles whenever he’s thinking about you (which is a lot!). He would prefer to never have to send them ever, but he also thinks you deserve to be appreciated for all the hard work and effort you put into things.

You are strong, you are brave, you make flowers bloom in my heart. A whole garden, just for you. My heart, no matter how small and shrivelled, will always have a space for you. You are more perfect than you know ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

He’s certain you wouldn’t like any messages from a gross creature such as himself, so he decides to take the good ol’ secret admirer route.

Goes full-out super spy when it comes to planting your letters.

Crawls into the vents at 4am so he can place them on your desk before school starts, sneaks into the ES kitchen at midnight to place one in your mug, etc, etc. He’s putting those ninja skills to good use!

You’re like a blushing schoolgirl being serenaded, honestly. It’s sweet.

These letters are the highlight of your day. Not just because of how cute they are, but also because no one can figure out where they’re coming from? No matter how hard you try, you can never catch the culprit who is slowly but surely stealing your heart!?

The actual reveal happens by accident.

You wake up in the middle of night, craving the most delicious drink known to mankind. You open the kitchen doors and lo and behold, what do you find but Mayoi, a piece of paper in one hand and your favoured mug in the other.

Hang on… Your sleep-addled brain starts to connect the dots. Is Mayoi-san…my secret admirer?

Starts stammering about how y-you’ve got it a-a-all wrong and eep! I’m s-s-sorry for r-ruining your night!

You giggle, startling him, and tell him that it’s okay before thanking him for how sweet his words were. You tell him that he also has a special place in your heart and he nearly dies. Hopefully you know CPR? Or maybe…mouth-to-mouth?

Sends you shoujo-style lovemail in the form of adorable letters praising all your virtues and commenting on how cute you are when you smile.

You wouldn’t expect Kohaku to write such cheesy things so easily, but all those Ghibli marathons with Aira have paid off. It started off as a way for Kohaku to express his feelings for you in secret, but after a few too-close calls with Rinne, he decided to kill two birds with one stone.

This way, he can tell you how he feels without embarrassing himself and also seeing how you flush every time you see one of his letters on your desk makes him more pleased then the cat that caught the canary.

Dear Y/N,

I hope your day is going well?

People always talk about how bright the sun is, but I think you’re the brightest thing in my sky. You push me to be the best version of myself, I want to be the way you see me. You manage to stay brave and strong, and I admire your desire to be the very best you can be. You’re a blessing to the people around you, and I thought you should know this. I’m not…very good at expressing my emotions but, I hope that this could make you smile just a little bit. That’s all.

You deserve good things.

Love, 🌸

His letters are so sweet and heartfelt, they make you giddy.

You slowly start anticipating the letters everyday. There’s always a kind note and a query about your day, it feels like the writer really cares about you.

This goes on for around a month, and then you decide that you need to find your so-called secret admirer so you can thank them for their kind words and praise.

When he finds out you’re looking for the writer of the letters, Aira pushes him to reveal himself but Kohaku doesn’t want to. He feels like it might be a letdown for you, and he doesn’t want to tarnish your experience.

But Aira, who knows that there’s no way you would shun him for something like this–actually there’s no way you would ever shun him, period–decides to casually let it slip in conversation that Kohaku’s been writing love letters for someone. Oh, Y/N, you are the recipient of these letters? How shocking~

When you thank Kohaku earnestly for how kind he is–and be sure to compliment him about his writing skills while you’re at it!–he’s flustered like you wouldn’t believe, but also incredibly happy as well. 

notes!

WC: 1.1k

reze txt HELP this was so long omg im?? but secret admirers are sooo cute ahhhh <33 i hope this made up for u missing my 100 followers event anonnie! and that it was as enjoyable to read as it was to write!!

[tamayosclinic]

i love your writing 💛 what’s you’ve posted so far has been great! if you have time could i request something where modern au! giyu is seen by his students being soft/loving with his wife in public? i feel like they wouldn’t except him to be like that since he so strict as a teacher! thank you!!

A Surprising Discovery | Giyuu x F!Reader

Modern AU

Warning(s): Slight suggestiveness at the end

Author's Note(s): Thank you so much Nonny. I'm happy that you enjoy my writing. I had fun imagining the outcome of the Kamaboko squad finding out about Giyuu and his wife. I can see Giyuu being the type to keep his personal life to himself so it would be a shocker to everyone. Enjoy this oneshot.

Word Count: 612

The Kamaboko squad was witnessing a phenomenon. It was mind-blowing, made them question reality, and, in Zenitsu’s case, sparked jealously. The three boys and Nezuko decided to go to the shopping mall after school to commence summer break. The first stop was the food court for lunch which led to them seeing Giyuu Tomioka, the drill sergeant wannabe who instead became a P.E. teacher. The sound of his whistle being blown in intervals rung hauntingly in the boys’ ears.

“Who’s the hot chick?” Zenitsu asked, almost screaming out the question as he pointed to the woman seated across from him. “No way that coldhearted bastard has a girlfriend.”

“Don’t say that Zenitsu and keep your voice down Tomioka-sensei will hear you.” Tanjiro scolded in a whisper; not that Giyuu nor the woman would be able to hear them since they were sitting on the other side of the court. “Besides just look at him right now. Maybe he’s not as cold as you think.”

At Tanjiro’s comment, Zenitsu looked back at the couple and his jaw dropped at the sight. Was he mistaken? Surely, the school’s P.E. teacher would not be capable of looking at a woman with adoration while feeding her icecream. Zenitsu rubbed his eyes then looked again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“Does Tomioka-sensei have a twin?!” He asked loudly, earning him another scolding from Tanjiro.

“Keep your voice down and to answer your question no but he has an older sister according to Kocho-sensei.”

Inosuke, who had been uninterested the whole time, rolled his eyes impatiently and dragged the four to the line of their favorite restaurant. “Why should you care about Tapioca-sensei? Let’s get some food already!”

While waiting in line, the three boys would occasionally glance back to see Giyuu and the woman feeding each other icecream while talking and laughing. Seeing Giyuu act so soft towards someone felt unnatural especially for the boys after a whole school year of hellish military-like exercise that left their bodies sore and heavy at the end of each day.

Nezuko fangirled at the couple’s public acts of affection and snuck a video of the couple to send to her friend group (bad mistake it got shared). The last thing they saw of the couple was them cleaning up and walking away shoulder to shoulder with the woman’s arm wrapped around Giyuu’s.

…

Bonus:

“Giyuu honey, your coworkers have been texting. You won’t believe what happened.” (Y/n) said while preparing some light snacks and wine for their movie night. Giyuu walked into the living room, refreshed after his shower, and wearing the new nightwear (Y/n) had bought for him.

He hummed as he picked up his phone and opened the chat, scrolling past the latest comments to the top comment that started the conversation. He deadpanned at the video Uzui sent in the chat of him and (Y/n) at the mall earlier that same day.

Tengen: Oi Tomioka, what’s up with this?

Kanroji: *GASP* so cute! Give us details Tomioka! Who is that?! When is the wedding?!

Rengoku: WOAH! CONGRATS TOMIOKA! I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YA TO FIND A LOVER!

Shinazugawa: Huh?! Well, I’ll be damned. Tomioka has a girlfriend.

Iguro: Well, if Tomioka has a girlfriend then anything is possible. (i.e., Iguro getting together with Mitsuri)

Himejima: Alas, I wish you both a happy fulfilling life together.

Kocho: Why haven’t you told us you have a girlfriend Tomioka?

Giyuu: That’s not my girlfriend. That’s my wife.

Everyone: …

The chat erupted in countless questions about Giyuu’s relationship and why they were never invited to the wedding, but he muted the conversation. He can answer those in the morning. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy his first night of summer break with (Y/n). Enjoy the night they did.

[safarigirlsp]

Kylo the Malevolent

Kylo the Malevolent

Victorian Magician Kylo Ren x Magician Reader

Word Count: 32.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Graphic Violence. Gore. Murder. Magic Acts Gone Wrong. Burning Alive. Sawing in Half. Drowning. Deaths of Multiple Star Wars Characters. Angst. Old Timey Sexism. Romance.

AO3 Link 

Summary: As autumn falls over London in the year of 1888, you are the newest Magician on the scene, and the only woman among those illustrious ranks. Your debut is not met with a warm welcome. When a series of accidents befall other magicians, causing their gruesome deaths onstage, will the most notoriously wicked magician of all come to you as friend or foe?

Author’s Note: I am beyond excited to share a grand finale Halloween story, a collaboration between myself and my lovely friend @babbushka . This story incorporates everything we love! A seductive historical setting. A brand new AU. A handsome man and an accomplished woman. Thrills. Chills. Romance. Adventure. Intrigue. And of course, Murder Most Foul. We hope you love it too! Happy Halloween! 🎃

Kylo the Malevolent poster by the incredibly talented @stavrogin80

Fog swirled through the darkened streets of London one autumn Friday evening in the year of 1888. Gas illuminated lamps lined the streets in precise intervals, orbs of warm oranges and yellows casting ripples of pale light dancing on the cobblestone streets. The rainy season was at an end, as it would seem, the changes of the weather bringing about a thick blanket of dense fog. Despite the less than friendly atmosphere of the skies, the streets brimmed with people walking to and fro. Some headed home from a long day’s work at the factory, covered in soot and grime and sweat. Others were dressed up in their finery, their evening just beginning.  

The pleasant sound of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones and the rustling and bustling of carriages passing one another in the night took over the sound of the crickets, of the low chatter of polite society. Laughter could be heard, titillated anticipation for that particular evening’s latest and greatest gathering. It was something unheard of by all, the event which most of London seemed to be attending, something incredible and utterly unfathomable -- and as such, the majority of the traffic was heading in the only direction possible; towards the theatre.  

Why, it was rumored that Queen Victoria herself was going to be in attendance, drawing an even larger crowd than one might have imagined otherwise. Most likely accompanied by her children and guards, it seemed that everyone who was anyone was packed into their gilded carriages, top hats perfectly poised on their heads and encrusted canes held in their hands.  

But it was not only the upper crust of London society and English nobility that would be in attendance. In fact, they were to be outnumbered by an altogether different group of intrigued men. The bells of the clock-tower tolled loud and clear for all to hear, reminding theatregoers that time slipped ever so quickly through their fingers, urging the crowd, their horses and their coachmen, ever faster, lest one might not get a good enough seat for the spectacle they were about to witness. 

The newly renovated Royal Albert Hall was England’s answer to the Coliseum. Grand. Elegant. Imposing. A theatre fit to house the crème de la crème of society while they enjoyed an evening watching the most prestigious of performers and spectacles. 

Every magician in London lusted after performing in the Hall, flirting with its owners as ardently as they would a buxom beauty. No magician had ever had the honor of performing within the gilded walls of the Hall, such shows were considered too base and lurid to defile the magnificent stage in the Royal Albert Hall. 

However, it was understood, agreed upon even, that should a magician ever grace the Hall’s illustrious stage, it could be no other than the Prince of Darkness Himself. It could be none other than Kylo the Malevolent. 

London’s top magician, some said the world’s top magician, Kylo Ren had risen through the ranks, ascending from nothing but the cold lonely streets up to the very pinnacle of prestige and success. He had learned tricks and effects, unmatched by all others. Some believed he had trained in the mysterious Orient, learning secrets no other man in London had dared to unmask. Some believed Kylo the Malevolent indeed had powers, as dark and unnatural as the man himself, and equally inexplicable and ominous. 

A large and fearsome man, Kylo had never been afraid to play outside the rules, securing his status by any means necessary. One of the many indispensable skills he honed was that of showmanship, and Kylo had become the best, the most decadent and debonair of all the magicians the world had ever seen. 

Men envied Kylo and women desired him. Kylo the Malevolent was the toast of the town and he knew it. 

Yet, he still could not secure a show at the Royal Albert Hall. Not before another magician sniped that grand honor from beneath his prominent nose, so close he could smell it. 

*******************************************************************************************

Everywhere you looked, your eyes were met with red and gold. Golden gild, snaking up impossibly high walls and across ornate cathedral ceilings. Red seats, filling the theatre, each awaiting its occupant for the sold-out show. Gold flickering light from the dancing flames in a thousand lamps and candles, casting the Hall in its warming light. An enormous red velvet curtain draped down to the floor, concealing the stage behind, waiting to be drawn for you alone. 

It was fitting, you supposed, that the colors of luxury and opulence surrounded you in this great venue. 

What was not adorned in those lavish hues was largely cloaked in shadow. The corners and crevasses, the hidden secrets of the Hall, all obscured in darkness from the candlelight. Shadows hold a mystery, you thought, also befitting of a magician’s grand debut. 

It was neither skill nor charm that had secured this enviable venue on your behalf, although you were possessing of both qualities in spades. Even before your first show as the newest magician on London’s streets, you were already a sensation. A woman magician was simply unheard of. These things were just not done. Women did not compete in male professions; they did not engage in spectacles of that nature. Let alone, a young and beautiful woman from a family of wealth and status, of all creatures! 

You were dressed elegantly for your premier, albeit not in the traditional dress for a woman of the day.  You wore a long dark skirt and white blouse over your corset, although you forwent a bustle. A black thigh length fitted jacket, similarly styled to men’s magician coats made you feel at home in your profession. 

Patrons came from far and wide to see the woman magician. More precisely, to admire your beauty and hope for a revealing outfit, and to watch what would no doubt be a great debacle; a live onstage travesty that would put the curses of Macbeth to shame. 

Another faction in attendance for your inauguration into the ranks of the obscure world of magicians were your competitors themselves. London’s magicians had formed an unintended and unlikely alliance in the sole pursuit of watching you fail, of seeing the lone woman who flew too close to their suns crash and burn in a live catastrophe. 

The prominent men milled amongst the crowd at the reception before your debut, a murder of black-clad crows eager to feast upon your failure. The purpose behind their attendance was as transparent to you as their false smiles when they greeted you with affected friendliness, before turning to toast one another to your inevitable public embarrassment. 

One looming man stood out from the others, a man you recognized immediately. Kylo the Malevolent. The most talented and sensational magician in London who never failed to sell out every seat in the Egyptian Hall in which he performed. Dressed in sharply tailored black with a crimson ascot, he stood tall and proud, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes gleamed a vibrant amber, reflecting the shimmering candlelight, when they met yours from across the crowded room. 

With a menacing elegance, Kylo crossed the room to you, his penetrating eyes never leaving yours. 

“Madam,” he greeted you in a tone as rich as the décor around you. He offered you a gallant bow, the ebony waves of his hair dusting the shoulders of his jacket with his movement. 

Straightening to his full impressive height, he returned his eyes to yours, as though he could hypnotize you with his gaze alone. As your pulse quickened, you thought that perhaps he could, if you were to indulge him long enough. 

“Kylo Ren. I’m honored,” you replied coolly, watching him closely for any of his nefarious tricks. He was much larger up close than you had assessed him, tall and powerfully broad. He was also dangerously handsome in that dark way that adds allure to most forbidden things. Luxurious hair and a matching goatee augmented his air of mystery. Enhancing his dashing good looks was his notorious scar, running the length of his face from above his brow, down over his right cheek and jaw, to disappear beneath his collar. A souvenir from a trick gone infamously wrong in his youth. 

“Your money and influence have put you here. Perhaps with some assistance from your beauty.” He spoke to you directly, devoid of any magician’s bag of tricks. “If only I had been so lucky.” 

“Is this jealously I hear? From the great Kylo Ren?” You tisked your tongue coyly. “I am flattered indeed.” 

“Jealousy, no,” he returned, clenching his jaw. “I feel prevailed upon to be direct to you when others would choose diplomacy. This is no place for a woman, even should you succeed, you shall not enjoy the company you keep.” 

“No place for a woman in a man’s world?” you laughed, despite your attempt at maintaining your decorum. “On the contrary, I have heard this many times.” 

“It is true that I believe you would be much happier should you return to your life of luxury as a woman of standing, rather than humiliate yourself in such a public forum,” Kylo told you sternly, his countenance severe, pausing to consider his words. “Regardless of my belief, the hard fact is that you should not take the stage this evening.” 

“We all reach an age where we must put aside foolish beliefs.” You disregarded his statement sarcastically, raising your chin defiantly. You did not miss the way his eyes sparked in response to your boldness, nor the slight twitch of his mustache with the barest upturn of his lips. 

“Perhaps you could take the stage effectively as a magician’s assistant. I’ll willingly concede that you possess the beauty to captivate an audience,” Kylo continued, unruffled and undeterred. “However, when you step onto that stage tonight, you will be all alone, illuminated for hundreds to see your every mistake. This is not the place for an amateur to begin, even one as lovely as yourself. This is not a game to be taken lightly. It is for a real magician.” 

“In that case, I hope you are watching closely tonight.” You smiled wickedly with your words. “That you may see what a real magician can do.” 

A tall redheaded man with a pinched face and an expression that conveyed his annoyance for all facets of life, stepped from the crowd. A thin brunette woman with short hair and common features held her arm looped through the man’s, although her attention was focused unabashedly on Kylo. Unbidden, the redhead inserted himself into your conversation with Kylo. 

“Magic requires strength, focus, and mental acuity, a balance no woman can juggle,” the ginger intoned nasally, looking down the thin bridge of his nose at you. “We all have our limitations.” 

“You, sir, are ill-equipped to engage me in a discussion of limitations,” you said derisively to the redhead, fixing him with a withering glare. “Being as how common sense and simple reasoning are among your own limitations, of which I am sure there are countless others.” 

Kylo glanced between the other man’s fuming, reddening face and your own amused smile. He couldn’t keep a smirk from gracing his own lips for a moment, his respect for you clearly deepening. 

“Do go charm the ladies elsewhere, Hux,” Kylo said to the man pleasantly, while still looking at you. “I’m sure they must be missing your eloquent company.” 

“Those poor things,” you lamented as Hux glared at you for a final few moments before retreating back into the reception, all but dragging his brunette companion away from Kylo. As the other woman watched, Kylo stepped closer to you, commanding your attention with his imposing presence. 

“As a gentleman and as a professional, I shall make this offer once and only once, and endeavor to ignore your conceit --” he began, only to be cut off by your sharp tongue. 

“My conceit you say?” you chuckled. “Ironic of you to notice.” 

“Allow me to take the stage tonight,” he continued after taking a breath to calm himself. He hovered over you, growing frustrated by your stubbornness, but he was at least sincere. “You can join me as my assistant and I’ll let you perform the easier acts. We have time to prepare. Allow me to save you from shame, embarrassment, and ridicule.” 

“How noble of you,” you replied sarcastically, unintimidated by his scowling features. “I have a different proposition for you, Mr. Ren. Fifty pounds says that I shall have the audience standing and applauding not once but twice.” 

“It will be the easiest fifty pounds I’ve ever earned,” Kylo growled, his mood soured by your rebuff. “And I shall spend every penny of it toasting your failure.” 

You gave Kylo a sarcastic curtesy, smirking as you did, before turning abruptly on your heel and walking briskly from the reception. You now wanted to prepare even more diligently before your show. 

******************************************************************************************* 

Darkness enshrouded you as you stood in the center of the expansive stage. Your breath came short and your pulse pounded in your ears as the heavy red curtain was drawn to reveal the sold out theatre and the thousands of eyes focused intently on you. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself you began your first performance which, if you did poorly, would surely be your last.

You could see them, sitting high in the exclusive royal box, the Queen and her assortment. This was why you were here; you knew that a woman could do exactly the same as any man in your profession – and that you yourself could do even better. With your arms extended in a grand theatrical gesture, you straightened your spine and rose your chin in confidence.  

“Ladies, gentlemen, and most distinguished guests...” You took a deep bow, already a departure from the normal curtsey. You were going to prove to everyone that you were there to subvert and exceed each and every one of their expectations, right from the start.  

And then a flash! of light for a split second flooded the theatre, followed by total darkness and the gasps and cries in fear of those who would be in for a long night -- before the spotlight turned on an empty theatre balcony which miraculously, impossibly, you appeared in.  

“It is an honor to welcome you to my show.” You grinned to a loud round of applause. Already, the magicians were criticizing your illusions, but the general masses were captivated at once, enthralled by your ability to seemingly teleport. 

Flash! Another strobe of light followed by darkness, as you now appeared on the opposite side of the theatre, in a different balcony box that had the theatre clapping even harder. It was one thing for a magician to teleport once, but for one to do so twice was real magic. 

“During the course of the evening you will see things that you will not believe -- but I assure you -- ” You once again disappeared and reappeared in the center of the stage, “Everything that happens here tonight is one hundred percent real.”  

The audience applauded, but the magicians in their seats knew better. Of course, it was all simply illusion, and perhaps in later shows you would contradict yourself to keep the audience guessing. Some shows you might claim these tricks to be truth, and in others you might assure that they are only acts. This was an excellent way to ensure the audience was kept on their toes -- and on the edge of their seats, as they were tonight. The magicians who watched you knew the truth, but you were confident that these illusions would be unlike any that these men had ever seen. And in order to prove it, you decided to begin with a simple crowd-work trick, a smirk gracing your lips.  

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” You addressed the audience, mostly those men who watched and judged you with their opera glasses and firmly set scowls, sighing dramatically as though such news pained you. “Very well, then I shall require assistance from the audience. Who would prefer to be my first victim -- I mean, volunteer?”  

The crowd grew silent at your question for only a moment, before hands shot up into the air; men, women, children alike all begging in their polite way to be chosen. Such a thing would surely be the talk of dinner parties for weeks to come, you knew, so in selecting your first audience member, you decided to choose someone who would likely boast for hours on end.  

Much to a certain magician’s horror, you selected the Baron de Arkanis, a man whom you knew to be the father of Armitage Hux. He was portly, and his ginger hair had begun to grey at the temples, but he was a more than willing participant for a woman as lovely as yourself. You pointed to him, and the spotlight followed your finger through the theatre, illuminating the seated Baron.  

“Step up onto the stage please, so that all may see you.” Your voice rang loud and true over the applause at the chosen gentleman, as the Baron indeed left his seat and ascended the few steps at the front of the theatre. “Thank you kindly for your help sir, your task is quite simple.”  

Walking the Baron to a marked spot on the stage, you retrieved a cup from a stagehand. It was an ordinary drinking cup, glass all the way round, so that the audience might see it. Holding up the cup, you spoke once more. 

“Prior to the beginning of this show, many of you were approached in the lobby and asked to look into a cup. You were asked to visualize what you might like to see inside the cup, and then asked to write that object down on a piece of paper.” Explaining, you rattled the cup so that the audience may see those little pieces of confetti and continued, “I have the cup, and your answers. There are some rather fun ones here -- a hundred pound note, oh I’d like that as well.”  

Your quip had the audience rumbling with polite chuckles, and you felt pride begin to inflate your confidence. It was one thing to dazzle a crowd with petty tricks, but it was another to captivate their attention and amuse them.  

“My good sir, would you please reach inside the cup and at random, pull out a piece of paper that someone has written on?” You extended the cup out to the Baron, who at once stuck his large hand inside it and rustled around, likely for show.  

Once he had his piece of paper, he pulled it out theatrically, and unfolded it with ease, clearing his throat and reading, “It says ‘an egg’.”  

“An egg! What a marvelous object, the beginning of all life as we know it.” You exclaimed happily, pleased that the trick could continue. You took the paper from the Baron, and gave him a winning smile, asking, “Do you like eggs, sir?”  

“I had an omelet for breakfast just this morning.” The Baron loudly proclaimed, prompting the audience to chuckle again.  

“Excellent!” Clapping your hands together, you sidled up to the Baron and cryptically asked, “How would you like one to bring home?”  

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Confused, the Baron looked at you quizzically, as you pulled out a fan and placed the piece of paper atop it.  

And then, almost nonchalantly, you began to bounce the paper on the silk folds of the fan, speaking with ease and clarity as the audience, and indeed the Baron, had all eyes fixed on that piece of confetti, watching as it bounced and bounced as your voice began to captivate.  

“But of course you do! For all that is required of me, is to use my magic, and visualize that an egg is truly appearing. I can feel it getting heavier and heavier, can you hear it? The weight of the paper growing heavier on my fan?” You asked, and the audience grew quiet, training their ears on the sound of the paper. “Can you see it becoming larger and larger, taking the correct form?”  

They could see, you knew they could. Even the magicians leaned forward in their seats, bracing themselves on their armrests, as they tried to strain their eyes to see how it was happening; how the paper was indeed growing, and growing in size! It began to transform from a flat scrap of paper into something with three-dimensional shape, something with weight -- an egg! Right before their eyes an egg appeared. This was no swap, this was no sleight of hand, there truly was an egg atop the fan.  

You bounced it one last time with the fan, sending it flying up into the air and catching it in your free palm. Dropping the fan, you used your other hand to throw the confetti from the glass high up into the air, and you then cracked the egg into the glass cup, the yolk and stringy white filling it entirely -- to raucous applause.  

Parading the cup around the stage so that all those seated might enjoy the sight, you then bowed to the Baron and gave him the cup, a souvenir of his time on your stage that evening. He marveled at the cup all the way back to his seat, where he was then demanded upon by those sitting near to him, to show the raw egg inside for an up-close look.  

“As you all can see -- this is no illusion or trick of the light! This, and all the secrets I am going to share with you tonight, are real.” You held your hands up to silence the applause, “Although, I must warn you. The acts which you are about to see are far more wicked and dangerous than a simple egg. If you be of queasy stomach or delicate sensitivity, I suggest you leave now.”  

At your vocal cue, the music playing in the theatre grew ominous, grew mystical in a way that had the audience shifting in their seats. The lighting on stage darkened and turned colours, an eerie green washing across your face. But still, no one decided to get up and flee at your warning, so you gave a dark grin.  

“No one? Wonderful.” You chuckled, before hardening your gaze and commanding, “Ushers, lock the doors.”  

The sounds of loud locks snapping shut startled the audience, most of whom jumped at the noise. Women clutched the arms of their male companions, and men gripped their armrests with a heightened pulse.  

“This next act is quite a simple one, I will demonstrate to you how I dissect and reassemble an object -- like this piece of rope perhaps.” You held up a long, thick piece of rope.  

An easy trick, you split apart and reattached the rope so that it was whole again. This was not impressive, but this was only the set up.  

“Wonderful is it not? Strong, good rope fit for any navy man’s shipyard.” You chuckled, before tapping your chin and walking across the stage. “But...what if we did it to a navy man himself instead of his rope?”  

At this, a few of your stagehands brought out a man. You called on several assistants from the audience, and offered them that very rope which you had used only a few moments prior, to use as ties for the man’s hands and ankles. Then, a coffin was wheeled out for the man to step inside along with a table.  

You invited your assistants to pull the ropes through the holes in the coffin, making sure to secure them tightly, ensuring the audience all saw how bound this man was. He was tied in a spread eagle, formation; his arms and legs looking vulnerable to the saw which you pulled out of a hidden panel in the bottom of the stage. Gasps and screams of terror sounded from the audience as you closed the coffin, and lowered it so that it rested horizontally on the table that had been wheeled out to the center of the stage.  

With a series of glass plates serving as blades, you began to one by one, sever the limbs of the man in the coffin, each time pushing harder and harder so that the effect would be cutting through flesh and bone. And with your saw, you cut the coffin clean in half, splitting the man in two, and separating the parts enough that the audience could see the midriff of the man. Cries and pleas sounded to fix the man, and so after a healthy pause for effect, you did just that. With a wave of your hands over the coffin, and a flourish as you removed the glass plates, you opened the coffin once again, and the man leapt out with great theatrics -- completely unharmed.  

“Incredible!” Whistling and cheering loudly for you, the audience leapt to their feet as their overlapping voices shouted and marveled your praises. “Unbelievable!”  

The man bowed, giving you a great smile. It was nice having him along, even if you never quite remembered his name. He was the only young gentleman who had been happy to take an assistant’s job to a woman, and you had to admit, he did the job admirably.  

“Stomachs and legs are quite necessary limbs, are they not?” You spoke to the crowd, as the man showed the audience that he was indeed put together again, with not even so much as a single seam line or scar. “But none would be so necessary as having a good head on one’s shoulders..!”  

At this, there was a sudden flash of light and then the theatre was plunged into total darkness, and your assistant screamed, blood-curdling and terrible. When the lights came back on, it appeared as though he were holding his own severed head, stumbling about back and forth. His eyes blinked and his mouth moved in agony on his disembodied head held in his own hands, the space where his neck should protrude out from his suit jacket completely empty.  

And yet, still he ran about, fueled by the screams of the crowd, until the lights went out again, and the eerie swishing sound of magic filled the theatre, revealing the head to be right back on where it belonged when the lights again lit the theatre.  

This was far more impressive than dismembering limbs for the crowd, who were on the edge of their seats, some ready to faint. This particular trick even received quite a bit of attention from the magicians, although one Kylo Ren sat stonily in his seat, even as his companions stood to their feet to applause.  

You held your hands up again, mindful of the time. If you simply let these people cheer for you as long as they’d like, you’d stand onstage until well after midnight. So, you cut them off, and once again that mystical music began to play, as fog billowed out onto the stage floor.  

“I will be honest with you, dear guests. The rumors you have heard about me are born from an inkling of truth. There are indeed acts of mine which have resulted in tragedy, in the past. There are assistants of mine, who have died.” You spoke solemnly, as the lights went dark once again, to near pitch blackness, the fog creating a hazy ghostly atmosphere in the theatre as waltzing music echoed around you. “However, as they remain ever faithful to my act even in death, they have given me permission to ask them to return for one...final...trick.”  

At this, even the Queen herself high in her royal box leaned forward, her large eyes wide. Could you really resurrect the dead? Could you really communicate with those from beyond the grave? It was up to you to make her, and everyone else around you, believe that yes, yes you could.  

“Out from the ether I summon my friends, each one of whom met a dastardly end. Come to me now my dears from beyond, and show the theatre just how strong is our bond.” You began to speak in rhyme, your voice deep and booming as if to impart your seriousness, your hands raising up from the fog, “I ask you to dance to music you make, conjuring up melodies before this spell of mine breaks. The seats are all filled and the guests are all watching, let us end our show with something most shocking.”  

And then, truly as if by magic, ghostly apparitions took to the stage, their faces pallid and grey, their eyes black and their cheekbones sunken, their clothes the height of luxury for an age long past. A dozen of them, six men and six women, coupled up and began to waltz around and around you, some of them seemingly passing straight through your body!  

“Brava! Brava!” Queen Victoria herself stood and put her hands above her head where all could see, and if the Queen stands, then everyone stands. The entire theatre, Kylo begrudgingly included, was on their feet, as the ghostly apparitions disappeared from the stage.  

Taking your final bow of the evening, the audience rose from their chairs, gifting you with a raucous applause, a sea of patrons all praising you and your performance. Calls for an encore resounded throughout the cavernous theatre, giving you a greater rush than any high you had ever felt. You indulged them of course, giving them a final parting trick; a coup de grace you had saved for this very occasion. 

After your finale, you received your second standing ovation. Looking out amongst the crowd, you noticed one man seated near the stage, a large dark figure, who remained seated with his arms crossed over his chest. The sight broadened your already shining smile, ensuring you were beaming as the crimson curtains closed before you, returning you to the darkness of the stage. 

You walked tall and proud back to your dressing room. You now understood the allure men found in being showmen, the elation you felt was unlike any other you had experienced. 

Inside your dressing room, you stared into a gild-framed mirror, appreciating the way you looked holding a lavish bouquet of red roses that had been sent to you from one of your many new admirers.  

A rude, impatient knock on your door startled you, breaking your reverie. 

Holding your flowers in the crook of your arm, you opened your door to be met with the handsomely scowling face of Kylo Ren, his hulking body taking up the majority of the doorway. 

“I’ve come to pay my debt,” he grumbled, holding out a fifty-pound note to you. 

“You can keep your money. I’ve made my point,” you told him with a mischievous twinkle in your eye. “Besides, you may need it when I become London’s favorite magician and, like one of your famous disappearing acts, you are no longer the great Kylo Ren.” 

“Oh, I will always be great, madam.” He grinned at you pompously with a conceit forged from iron. 

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him, moving back to your place in front of the mirror. You expected him to take his leave and retire to lick his wounds in private. Instead, you watched your reflection as his enormous dark figure approached you from behind. 

“No doubt you proved many men wrong tonight. Myself included.” Kylo spoke over your head to your reflection. “You were not the embarrassment many expected. You are certainly competent.” 

“What a high compliment,” you laughed, inhaling the scent of your bouquet, unbothered by the large man at your back. 

“Do not let an applause go to your head. A crowd will even cheer on a monkey who has learned to ride a tricycle and clap symbols.” Kylo smirked wickedly at the murderous glare you shot him in the mirror. “If I myself had performed the same acts that put your guests on their feet tonight, they would have remained seated and quiet. In time, the novelty of your being a woman will wear off and you will have to succeed on your own merits.” 

“My merits?” You asked heatedly, turning to face the large man, rounding on him like a cornered lioness and backing him toward the door as you advanced upon him. “I have more merits than any man and I have had to work much harder to earn them! Men would not even allow me to train as a magician, so I had to do so in secret. I had to watch shows and study by myself for years, training, as I hid my passion from my every peer and family member. And despite the derision of men like you, I might add.” You punctuated your statement by prodding a harsh finger into his chest. 

“I appreciate your tenacity, madam.” Kylo reveled too much in the ire he rose within you. When he opened his cheeky mouth to speak again, you cut across his words with your own. 

“Let us make another wager,” you huffed, placing your hands on your hips. “I’ll wager that in less than a year’s time I shall be the top magician in England. Above even the formidable Kylo Ren.” 

“No sleight of hand nor parlor tricks shall take my crown from me.” Kylo flashed you his smug grin again, puffing his chest confidently. “I’ll take your wager, pretty girl. And if I win, you will use your magic to secure a performance for me here, in the Royal Albert Hall. And you shall be my assistant.” 

“Agreed.” You offered him an icy smile. “But when I win, I will expect Kylo the Malevolent to be my assistant on stage, subject to my every whim.” 

“Your assistant?” Kylo scoffed, chewing his cheek as he considered your challenge. After several long moments, he assented with a slight bow. “Very well, madam.” 

“In that case, I look forward to seeing you in your assistant’s attire,” you said as you opened your door for him, ushering him out. “I hope you have the legs for it.” 

With your dressing room door open and Kylo finally being silent, a new sound met your ears. Kylo heard it too, his head jerking in the direction of the noisome intrusion. A tremendous ruckus sounded from outside the theatre, men shouting and feet stomping. 

“Stay here,” Kylo commanded you as he walked in his long stride down the hallway leading to the backstage performer’s entrance. You disobeyed him, of course, following closely behind. 

Kylo slowly pushed the door open a crack, just enough to get a glimpse of the happenings beyond it on the darkened cobblestone street. A small mob had formed outside your exit, surrounding your carriage. Men shouted angrily, waving their fists in the air, the makings of a veritable riot just outside the door. The horses harnessed to your carriage whinnied and stomped, frightened by the uproar around them. 

“Some of your new fans,” Kylo remarked, closing the door and locking it fast. “For every ten admirers, you’ll gain at least one enemy.” 

“My horses?” you asked nervously, as Kylo grabbed you by the upper arm, preventing you from charging outside and all but dragging you back down the hallway. “My carriage?” 

“They will be just fine. When you do not make an appearance, the mob will disperse. They have no concern for horses or empty carriages,” Kylo gritted, shaking his head at his misfortune. “It appears that I am to be prevailed upon as a gentleman to take you home myself.” 

“I would prevail upon you for no such thing!” you huffed indignantly, yanking your arm free from his grip. 

“Do you prefer a mob to my company? Not to mention the Whitechapel murders,” Kylo growled his response, clearly frustrated by the unexpected turn his evening had taken. “I am not pleased with this arrangement either, madam. Rest assured, I would prefer to share my carriage with a woman of a more amiable temperament. However, a woman should not travel alone at night.” 

“I think I might prefer even the Ripper’s company to yours.” You glared at him heatedly, but still walked reluctantly beside him through the theatre and out through its front entrance. 

You refused Kylo’s proffered arm as you descended the steps of the theatre, watching as his carriage pulled by a team of four proud black horses trotted to meet you. 

Kylo opened the coach door for you, even helping with the train of your dress as you stepped inside. Climbing in himself after you, the carriage bobbed with his heavy weight when he took his seat on the tufted bench across from you. He had to sit almost diagonally in order to cross his long legs without them intruding into your own legroom. 

Once the horses trotted away from the theatre, the carriage rocking pleasantly to the tune of their hooves on the cobblestone, Kylo fixed you with his piercing honey-toned gaze.

You could feel his eyes intensely upon you, but you would give him no such satisfaction of being the first to speak. You wondered briefly, how long you could sit in this tense silence, how long you could draw it out. The less you gave him, the less he would have to lord over you, as you could tell he was so used to doing.

Well, you thought with a haughty sort of smile, if Mr. Ren believed he would get one step ahead of you on this night, he would be sorely mistaken. 

The night roads were again filled with people mingling about, despite the light mist which dampened the crisp air. Most people would hurry to their warm firesides and sitting rooms, a hot cup of cider or a warming glass of wine in their hands perhaps, but it would appear that everyone was too busy talking about you. Surely that was what they must be talking about, your magic act.  

“Where am I to instruct my driver?” Kylo broke the silence first, much to your amusement.  

“If you’d be so kind as to drop me off on the Hyde Park corner of Park Lane, I should like to walk the rest of the way,” you replied, not wanting to give him all the details to your home. Although Kylo was well known across England, he was still essentially a stranger to you, and with the unsavory murders that had been cropping up around London, he certainly didn’t need your direct address, nor did the grander of your estate need to be revealed to him. 

Kylo seemed to object to this most strongly, as you imagined that someone as proud and pompous as he would. Scoffing, Kylo frowned at you and shook his head like you were being ridiculous, but you paid it no mind. You barely even looked at the man, keeping your eyes fixed out of the window, watching the late-night life of London wind down, as the bells tolled midnight.  

“You know very well a woman such as yourself cannot walk home alone at night.” Kylo spoke firmly with conviction, but you didn’t like that insinuation one bit.  

“And why is that exactly?” you challenged, again not meeting his eyes.  

“It wouldn’t be proper,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and again, grating on your nerves.  

“Men may walk about all by their lonesome at their leisure and yet no one condemns their morality for it,” you scoffed yourself, finally fixing your piercing gaze upon him. “And as that is the case, it should be noted that the solitude of men is what should be deemed improper, forcing ladies to stroll with company lest they suffer the actions of these free roaming men. Dangerous creatures should be kept on leashes or in cages, be they men or beasts.”  

Kylo looked surprised, even shocked by your speech. You began something of a staring competition, a blinking contest, to see who would cave first. As with the silent treatment, Kylo again lost that particular battle.  

“Does your sharp tongue ever cease?” he muttered, a breathless sort of quality to his voice that had your chest fluttering ever so slightly.  

“Only once it has cut her subject to ribbons,” you retorted as you gave him the barest of smiles, not wanting him to think that he could get so comfortable just yet. You would put this man through the paces, you would ensure that he was worthy, before you offered up such comfort.  

“I think you’ll find me far more thick-skinned and strong-willed than that, madam.” Kylo could tell, however, he knew what that hint of a smile could turn into, what it could mean.  

“Well then, to that I say, fire, meet gasoline,” you replied, before turning to face the window once more.  

As the carriage moved through the streets and away from the bustle of downtown, the park towns came into view, and with it, the familiar sights of your neighborhood. It was then that Kylo seemed to recognize just where it was that you said you lived, and he frowned once again.  

“Are you certain Park Lane is the street where you reside? You aren’t confused after the dazzling lights and all the smoke?” Kylo patronized, making you roll your eyes.  

“I have lived there during all my time in London, I would be able to recite the address in my sleep.” Gathering your belongings, you felt the carriage begin to slow, the coachman tugging on the reins of the horses, their four proud necks arching, whinnying as they signaled the arrival of their destination.  

You moved to open the door, but Kylo’s hand shot out and grabbed the handle before you could exit, frowning at you with confusion as he had done so many times already that night. Leaning across the coach, his large body was much closer to yours. 

“But that’s nonsense, that would insinuate that you are...” he began, pursing his lips slightly. 

“A noblewoman, yes.” You confirmed his unspoken thoughts, making his hand drop away from the carriage door at once, as if it had burned him.  

“My Lady, what a scandal you must have caused this evening.” Kylo shook his head, smiling at you with an incredulous sort of disbelief.  

Was it really so hard to imagine that you might have more to you than met the eye? How obnoxious, you thought, that anyone would assume you to be of a certain class just from the profession you have chosen.  

“It would only be a scandal should I fail, Mr. Ren. Which is why I absolutely never shall,” you told him, adjusting your skirt so that you didn’t accidentally tear the fine fabrics when you made your departure from the carriage.  

“Why do you insist on a career such as this? When a life of lavish luxury and finery are already well within your reach?” Kylo had to ask, and oh how weary you grew from questions such as those, when the answer was so obvious.  

“Because, Mr. Ren.” You turned to look at him once again, giving him a sarcastic smile and a sassy wink. “Life is far more exciting...with a show.”  

And with that, you threw the smallest of smoke bombs, the carriage filling with black powder that, while harmless, gave you the cover to slip out of the carriage and sprint safely to your front door. The smoke lingered just long enough for you to secure yourself inside the grand foyer of your family’s London home, without Kylo seeing precisely which residence was yours.  

Watching from the front room’s window, you saw Kylo stumble out of the carriage and look around, searching for where you had gone. With a smirk, you let the curtain drop and made your way through the house, in desperate need of a nice long bath, and a late-night meal to fuel yourself for the eventful day which was sure to follow.  

*******************************************************************************************

The next morning, you were splashed across the front pages of London’s two major newspapers. While they praised your act, they praised your beauty even more. Perhaps Kylo was right, you wondered. Any assistant can be beautiful, if that’s what matters. But nobody can name the magician’s assistant, however lovely she may be. But you believed in your talent.

Swirling a spoon round and round in your teacup, you thoughtfully hummed to yourself as you read the paper. It had been hand delivered to your London home, and pressed flat by the servants with whom you had grown up. A grand breakfast was placed in front of you as you ate alone at the dining table, your family already off doing whatever it was that they did during their leisurely days. 

With your late hours came sleeping far into the mid-morning, the sounds of those promenading in their finery passing by your windows. You mused to yourself that perhaps you might like to promenade, but your body and feet were still a little sore from the long theatrics of being on stage for so long the night before. 

Besides, you thought to yourself as you took a sip of perfectly brewed tea, if that mob at your carriage was anything to go by, it might do to keep yourself out of the public eye this day. It would be less than ideal to get in the papers again by stabbing a man to death, although you certainly had no qualms over doing so should the occasion call for it. 

“Good morning my Lady,” your butler greeted you with companionable familiarity. 

He was a kindly older fellow whom you had known since your birth, and in many ways, felt more like a friend to you than a member of your considerably sized staff. Possibly because out of all of them, your own family included, he was the only one who always supported your dreams of becoming a player in the magical realm. 

“Good morning,” you replied with a smile, welcoming him to sit at the table with you. He declined politely, knowing that it would be improper. You knew that too, but still, it would’ve been nice. “I take it I am the last to indulge in breakfast?” 

“Indeed, although if I may be so bold, there was quite a discussion about your show at the table earlier this morning.” The butler stood with his shoulders quite square, and his chin proudly raised, yet his eyes glittered with warmth and pride. 

Such news! You at once abandoned the spoon you had been stirring, eyes growing wide with interest, demanding almost breathlessly, “Do tell.” 

“It would seem the members of the house were rather impressed by the way you managed to captivate her Royal Highness.” He smiled, and a large grin spread across your face. 

“Were they now! That bodes well for the ball, does it not?” Laughing with excitement, you felt the flutter of pride and confidence once again bloom inside your chest. It took so much work to secure that venue, so many promises, which you had hoped beyond hope that you could keep. 

The Hallow’s Eve Ball was only a few weeks away, an event for only the Crème de la Crème of society, One that while your family had certainly been invited to, although you were on rather thin ice with your magical stunts. It was so strongly frowned upon that a woman of standing should take a career, let alone one on the stage of all things. But hopefully, having impressed the highest authority in the land meant that little by little, your public reception would be changing. 

“I daresay it would, if you’d be so inclined to look through your mail...” Almost as if reading your mind, the butler tilted his head towards a small stack of mail that had been placed on the side table. 

You normally ignored the mail, as it had been a long while since you received any letters directly, but as the butler drew your attention to it, you rose from your seat and quickly approached the stack. There, right on top was a thick envelope, stamped with the royal crest. 

Willing your hands to stop shaking, you carefully used your butter knife from the morning cutlery to slice open the envelope, the beautiful cardstock folding open as you read in disbelief what it contained. 

“Oh! Oh, how magnificent!” You could not prevent yourself from allowing eager laughter to spill forth from your lips. “I have received a personal invitation to the Ball, not addressed to the family but to me specifically.”

Beaming with pride, you showed the butler, who only nodded and smiled with fond pride himself.  

“There you have it.” He clapped his hands together. “You must go, of course.” 

“Of course! If I didn’t have another show tonight, I would spend all my forthcoming hours searching for the most perfect designer to craft me a gown.” Waltzing around the room ever so playfully, you returned to your seat, at once, the musical strings of a dozen violins flooding your mind. 

What a shock that would be to the nobles of London, your attendance. But not a shock of ill will, one of pride. You were certain of it, certain that your newfound fame coupled with your charming personality would win over the hearts of men and women alike. The paper had raved about your beauty, and while this was annoying, you knew it only created a perfect buzz of gossip for you to either prove or disprove. You were beautiful of course, but there was so much more to you than that. 

Why, you could practically picture the line of suitors who once paid you little attention now fawning over you -- what glee you would take in dancing with them all only to reject them later on in the evening, you thought wickedly. 

“I would be more than honored to take on that responsibility, my Lady.” The butler broke you of your reverie for a moment. “You simply rest yourself before your next show, leave the gown to me.” 

“Whatever would I do without you?” Reaching a hand out to the elderly gentleman, you gave him a warm smile and a squeeze of thanks, for truly you would have too much to do and too little time to do it without the help of those around you. 

“I shall leave you to your morning affairs.” The butler bowed, and you returned to your tea, reading and re-reading your official royal invitation to the ball, when he stopped at the door and cleared his throat, “Oh -- pardon me, but I forgot to mention something else.” 

“Yes?” Looking up from the invitation, you saw the butler approach holding a large vase practically overflowing with flowers. 

“There was a man at the door this morning, inquiring about you.” The butler announced, making your heart stop. 

At once, your mind jumped to Kylo, for whom else would be so bold, so daring as to send you such a stunning display of affection? As a Lady, you knew the language of flowers as well as you knew your alphabets, and this bouquet was overwhelmingly grateful; dark pink roses framed with sweet peas and white campanula. But this wouldn’t make much sense -- what would Kylo have to be grateful for? You abandoned him in his carriage amid a smoke-show, after all. 

“He wouldn’t happen to be tall, dark-haired, and handsome, would he?” you inquired, your curiosity getting the better of you, an edge of hopefulness to your voice. 

“No. No, he was rather short and stout, with red hair, if I recall. An older gentleman. He sent you this bouquet of flowers.” The butler shook his head, at once filling you with understanding and amusement. “I told him you were not receiving company, but that you wouldn’t mind the gift.” 

“I know exactly who that is, I shall write the Baron a card presently.” Chuckling, you made a mental note to thank the Baron for his kindness. You wondered what he did wind up doing with that raw egg in that cup, and decided it wouldn’t be too outlandish to ask him, when you wrote. 

“Forgive my interest, but you are not...how should I say...he does not intend to court you, this Baron?” The butler sounded hesitant, and it took you a moment to realize that he was concerned for your wellbeing. The Baron was considerably older than you were, and his son was in fact one of your very own rivals. 

“Certainly not!” This train of thought caused you to laugh rather unexpectedly, waving away the very notion of courtship with the Baron by saying, “He merely assisted me on stage last night, that’s all.” 

“I see.” Relieved, the butler nodded and took his last bow, before leaving you to your breakfast with a smile and, “Good day, my Lady.” 

What a concept, the Baron courting you! No, it would never happen, nor would courtship with any of these fellows likely happen. You were too good for any of them, obviously. Not only too high in status, certainly higher than that of a Baron, but you were determined not to succumb to the expectations of such a status. 

You had worked too hard to be swept off your feet by any man...at least, that’s what you told yourself. 

*******************************************************************************************

The curtains were already drawn, showcasing an empty stage, as patrons filtered in to watch your show. In the fortnight since your debut, your show had become the talk of the town, every show filled to capacity. You observed them from a hidden place on the balcony, waiting for the theatre to fill. The house was dimly lit, strategically so, with intentional shadows and darkness.

A tall, dark figure moved through the crowd to his seat in the back, catching your eye. Something about him was familiar. A wicked smile curled your lips when you recognized the man.  

Despite the heavy wool overcoat worn tightly clutched around his large body and the deer hunter cap with the brim pulled down nearly over his eyes, there was no mistaking the impressive physique and plush scowling lips of Kylo Ren. Even when hunched down in his seat, he still looked impossibly large. Smiling internally, you wondered how much it pained him to venture out amongst the public without his tailored jacket and dapper top hat, which made him loom nearly seven feet tall at its crown.

What a fortuitous turn of events. Audiences do love a good surprise.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to rein in your pounding pulse, you emerged from seemingly out of nowhere, center stage, silencing your audience apart from a few awed exclamations.

“Magic is all around us,” you proclaimed, spreading your arms wide, your voice projecting clearly throughout the theatre. “Patiently waiting for us to see it.”

On that note, you vanished, triggering a collective gasp.

The audience had seen an image made of mirror and light, and heard a voice funneled throughout the theatre so as to obscure your actual location. Now, with a confident sway in your hips, you walked proudly downstage, closer to the audience, projecting your voice for all to hear.

“As you can see, you cannot always trust your eyes to tell you the truth. We are all surrounded by illusions,” you proffered with a slight bow, as the audience burst into applause.

Accepting their applause, you retreated stage left to return pushing a large chest with wheels. Silver rings lay on top of the dresser along with cards, a top hat, a bowl of flowers, and some other effects. Hours upon hours of practice had trained your hands and wrists to prepare you for the Chinese Linking Rings. It was one of the oldest hand tricks, similar to cards. Unlike cards, however, everything is in plain view, as the rings seem to magically link and unlink, becoming one ring and many rings contrapuntally. 

The magic is in your hands, not your eyes, which allowed you the luxury of more closely watching your audience. The front rows were lined mostly with men watching your every move, whose eyes bespoke both lust and awe. One man with a bushy mustache let out a loud wolf whistle, his way of complimenting your allure.

At the sound of his whistle, you noticed a sudden quick movement by someone further back. For a fleeting moment, Kylo’s instincts got the better of him, shooting up from his seat, exposing his face and eyes, green with jealousy. His hat was knocked askew with his motion, freeing his long ebony hair. Just as quickly as he lost his composure, he recovered it, sinking back into his seat and pulling his cap back down to cover his features. You suppressed a smile, not wanting to give yourself away to the man who was no doubt a very observant spy.   

Careful to casually cast your attention elsewhere, you pivoted from the Chinese Linking Rings to the Four Burglars card trick before pulling not one but three docile white rabbits out of your top hat, to the tune of the audience clapping with enthusiasm every time.

“For my next trick, I shall need a volunteer,” you announced, smiling at the sea of hands that rose at your request. “I think I shall choose my assistant myself tonight.”

Descending the steps of the stage, you made a show of surveying the audience. You pretended to evaluate each person you passed as you walked slowly down the aisle. From your peripheral vision, you saw Kylo sink further down into his seat until his knees nudged the seats in front of him, even with his thighs spread wide to give him the most possible room.

Men looked at you longingly as you passed by them, a few ghosted their fingers on the hem of your skirt when you turned down Kylo’s aisle, closing in on your prey. As you took your final few steps to him, Kylo fixed his gaze straight ahead on the empty stage, trying to sink his face as far below the collar of his overcoat as he could. He even tried to maintain his act when you stopped right next to his large thigh in the aisle, not acknowledging your presence.

Using the toe of your boot you kicked him sharply in the calf, an unseen admonition for sneaking into your show, camouflaged to all onlookers by your disarming smile. It also served to demand his attention.

“You look like a man who would enjoy accompanying me on stage,” you said pleasantly. Putting your hands on your hips, you raised a challenging eyebrow at him, your eyes telling him that you would not be deterred from claiming your prize. “Shall we?”

With an audibly painful groan, Kylo pushed himself up from his seat to stand tall and follow you back down the aisle to the stage with all of the enthusiasm of a man walking to the gallows.

On stage, Kylo faced you, fighting his natural urge to face the crowd in favor of glaring heatedly at you. Without asking his permission, you walked behind him and yanked his coat from his shoulders, tossing it toward the back of the stage. He now stood in his customary black suit with a red brocade vest, gold carafe, and white shirt.

“I have a treat for you this evening, Ladies and Gentlemen,” you proclaimed, as you returned to Kylo’s front. Reaching for the brim of his hat, you pulled it off his head and threw it aside, revealing his elegant mane. “Kylo the Malevolent.”

The crowd went wild, cheers and whistles greeting you both at what they all assumed was a planned collaboration instead of a mutual ambush.

Turning back to Kylo, you raised a thoughtful finger to your lips, pretending to evaluate his attire.

“Do you all not think that Mr. Ren is still overdressed for an assistant?” you asked to a rousing laughter and applause before continuing with a wicked smile. “Come now, Mr. Ren, your dress must be a bit more revealing in order to distract the audience from my trickery.”

Narrowing his eyes at you and chewing his lip to prevent a smirk at your audacity, Kylo roughly shrugged off his suitcoat, throwing it aside in the direction you had tossed his other clothing, leaving him in his brocade waistcoat and white shirt tucked into his black slacks.

“You’re not done.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you demanded more.

Snorting through his prominent nose, he resigned himself to unbutton his cuffs and roll his sleeves up his muscled forearms.

“You’re nearly there,” you said coyly, stepping close to his body. “But I’m still not satisfied.”

“Could you ever be?” Kylo gritted low for your ears only, forcing a fake smile for the audience.

Reaching to his gold ascot, you snatched it away from his throat with a magician’s flourish. As his ascot flew away from around his neck, the top buttons of his high-collared shirt opened with it down to reveal the powerful cleft in his chest below his collarbone, as if by magic.

“Well played, madam,” Kylo told you, meeting your eyes with a mischievous grin. As you winked back at him, he thought to himself, I need to remember that trick for another time.

Gesturing with a flourish for the benefit of the audience, you reached inside a drawer of your wheeled chest and removed a miniature finger guillotine and placed it on top, prompting giggles throughout the house.

“Just a small way to break the ice,” you announced to your onlookers.

“Rest assured, Madman.” Kylo’s voice boomed loudly enough for all the theatre to hear. “Nothing on me is small.”

“Sir,” you said, glaring at him with an offense you had to fake, suppressing a smile. “Would you be so kind as to give me your hand?”

Smirking at you, he offered you his enormous hand, his long fingers thick and strong. If he so desired, he could easily swallow both your hands in his single grip, making them vanish in his hold as if by magic.

With a nod of your head, you directed Kylo to place his meaty index finger in the guillotine.

“Are you trying to eliminate the competition?” Kylo asked more to the crowd than to you, which was met with a pleasant roar. He really was masterful at captivating an audience.

“Seeing as how the competition is sneaking into my shows, that seems unnecessary,” you quipped, shooting him a glare.

Lifting his hand to the top of your chest, you guided his index finger into the arched aperture in the lunette.

“Are you sure you wish to risk such an important finger? I’m sure I could perform my trick using something of less value,” you told him loudly, pointedly looking down at the crotch of his pants, raising an uproarious laughter from the audience.

“Not unless you have a significantly larger guillotine,” Kylo projected to the onlookers, keeping his wicked eyes fixed upon yours, earning another round of laughter and cheers from many of the men in the audience.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you released the blade.

The guillotine had every appearance of slicing through his finger. A few screams from ladies in the theatre rewarded your act. Holding up his purportedly severed digit, you made a show of reattaching it. Like a tolerably competent assistant, Kylo held his hand up for all to see he had been restored. He even deigned himself to take a bow with you, shaking his luscious hair back into place when he straightened.

A roaring applause and cheers boomed throughout the theatre, less due to your meager trick than due to London’s two most sensational magicians paired together on stage, playing off each other on equal footing. This fact was not lost on Kylo either, who met your eyes as the crowd cheered.

It would be such a waste, you thought, smirking at the man, to have the great Kylo Ren in my spider’s web and not improvise something with the master magician.

As though he could in fact read your thoughts due to some supernatural ability, Kylo gave you the barest of nods and the faintest amused grin.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” you began, gesturing grandly to the audience. “Surely, you are all aware of the nickname given to my assistant for his infamously sunny demeanor, The Prince of Darkness.”

The crowd responded with more cheering applause and laughter.

“Have any of you wondered what it would be like to dance with the Devil?” you asked the audience while casting a challenging look to Kylo.

Taking your cue, Kylo straightened his back to stand even taller and prouder, puffing his massive chest as he gallantly held out a hand to you. Placing your left hand in his enormous right grip, you let him pull you closer to his body until you could rest your free hand on his shoulder, feel the heat radiating off his towering body, and smell the musky scent of him.

“One must be careful not to allow a dancing partner to become too attached,” you projected to your onlookers as Kylo led you in a dance. As he moved to twirl you away, the crowd saw that your left hand and his right were now handcuffed together. The audience applauded you heartily as you danced, handcuffed together.

“I am not so easy to capture, Madam,” Kylo growled in his booming baritone, sending his words echoing across the theatre. Spinning you in his arms, he turned you away from him before pulling you back against his body, your back pressed against his powerful chest. His hands reached to your nipped waist, as you looked down to find both your hands now cuffed together in front of you, his own wrists completely free. The crowd roared again, some of the men in the audience hollering their approval. Dropping his head low until his lips were near your jaw, he purred for your ears only, “Do you enjoy this little dance in which we find ourselves, darling?”

“Is this how you secure ladies’ affections, Mr. Ren?” you teased loudly. Turning inside Kylo’s arms, you raised your cuffed hands high to loop them over his head, letting him dance with you across the stage.

“Only the luckiest ones,” he told you, his eyes gleaming almost golden with the reflected light of the stage lights. Slowing his motion, Kylo decided to seize the opportunity of having your arms fixed behind his head, lowering his handsome face close to yours, bending his body over you, as he leaned in for a kiss.

Just as you felt the heat of his breath on your cheek, your hands shook themselves free from their cuffs. Wrists freed, you dropped your hands to Kylo’s chest, pushing him back with a playful shake of your head. The applause grew even louder in the cavernous theatre.

“A lady must be careful that she does not find herself ensnared by a dark and dangerous man,” you announced to the theatre.

Kylo took your hands again, spinning you in a pirouette. When he pulled you back toward his chest, you ducked under his right arm, pulling his hand with you as you slipped behind him. In the span of a heartbeat, Kylo found both of his hands cuffed behind his back. Returning to his front, you admired your work. Kylo’s chest strained the buttons of his white shirt nearly to the point of bursting as he stood tall with his hands behind his back.

“And a man must be careful that his arrogance does not lead him into the arms of the Devil Herself,” you projected, while gazing at Kylo, pleased to see him match your evil grin.

The crowd went wild with your finale, every person in the packed theatre rising from their seats to applaud you both.

Standing next to Kylo, you took a final bow. Kylo bowed as well, somehow adding a flourish to his movement even with his hands cuffed behind him. He was gracious enough to remain handcuffed until the curtains closed.

“Who is indeed dancing with the Devil tonight, Mr. Ren?” you asked Kylo pleasantly as he effortlessly slipped out of the cuffs.

“I’ll sell you my soul tonight, madam,” Kylo told you in a deep, low voice that was somehow even richer than usual. “If you ask me nicely.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you turned and walked off stage toward your dressing room, knowing he would follow you. His heavy bootsteps echoed behind you on the wooden floor, a shadow trailing behind you.

“Why are you not married? A pretty girl like you?” Kylo asked in his smug manner, closing the door to your dressing room after he followed you inside. He looked around at the numerous floral bouquets that greeted you, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the thought of the suitors who had sent countless roses to your room. “You have beauty, money, a good name. Why are you still here playing at card tricks?”

“Ah, what more could there be to life than finding a husband and producing a litter of his children?” you replied coolly, lifting a large bouquet of at least three dozen roses to your nose.

“Many women think there is very little beyond that,” Kylo gritted as he swatted a blossom away angrily from brushing his sleeve. “What is it that you want then, madam?”

“Do you pretend as though you care to know what I want?” You took a step closer to him as you spoke, enjoying the way he appeared to hold his breath as you moved close to his body. “You do not strike me as one for idle conversation.”

“On the contrary, I am always eager to know what it is that a beautiful lady desires above all else.” Reaching to the bouquet you held, Kylo took it from your grasp. Holding it by the stems in his left hand, he brought his right hand above the tops of the flowers. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, his hand shook slightly with apparent effort as he summoned a rose to rise untouched from the center of the bouquet, the way he could cause a card to rise from a deck. It was surely the most beautiful rose in the bunch, fully bloomed with deep crimson petals. Kylo plucked it with his right hand, before discarding the rest of the bouquet and offering you the single perfect rose. “What must a man do to set himself apart from your masses of admirers?”

“I desire adventure. Romance. To see the world and to live life to its fullest.” Taking the rose from him, you raised it to your nose, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Few men can offer me those things. Fewer still impress me on top of it.” Pausing for a moment, you let your eyes linger on his pointedly before telling him, “I’m waiting to be impressed, Mr. Ren.”

At your challenge, his features darkened, jaw clenching, eyes looking almost fearsomely into yours. His hands shot to your hips, pulling you to him as he crashed his lips down upon yours. Your lips parted for him and your arms flew to wrap around his neck on reflex, pulling him down closer against you. Kylo’s grip tightened on you, stealing the breath from your lungs as he licked into your mouth and caressed your lips with his.

Pulling back for breath, Kylo looked down at you as his chest heaved. Searching your eyes, he saw your hunger matched his own. With a pleasured growl, Kylo encircled you in his arms to hoist you off the ground. He captured your lips again when your legs wrapped around his waist.

Your fingers twisted into the thick locks of his hair as he kissed you deeply, holding you in his arms. Spurred on by your fervor, Kylo walked with you to the nearest wall, kicking aside a stool holding another vase of flowers. Slamming your back against the wall, he attacked your lips with renewed vigor, drawing sighs from your lips.

“Let me take you back to my home, darling,” Kylo growled, his voice thick with lust. Taking your bottom lip between his teeth, Kylo slowly drew away from your kiss, letting your lip slip through his bite. “I assure you, I can perform feats on your behalf that will make you feel truly magical.”

“You’ve impressed me enough for a kiss, Mr. Ren,” you told him coyly, kissing him again before continuing, “But hardly enough for what you’re asking. I’ll not be yet another evening conquest to grace your bed.”

“How can you be the conquest when I am the one who is powerless against your charms?” he asked, bringing his lips to your neck to nip at your skin. “You have bewitched me, darling, and it has been effortless.”

“I’ll allow you to take me home again if you wish,” you said, trailing your nails down from his hair along his neck. “Perhaps this carriage ride shall be more pleasant than the last.”

“As you wish, Madam,” Kylo said, deflating visibly as he returned you to the floor. Once his hands were free, he lifted one to caress your cheek with his delicate magician’s touch, even his simple gesture giving you goosebumps. “I’ll dismiss your carriage and have mine pull around.”

Kylo was glad his shirt was already partially unbuttoned, as heated as he had become merely from kissing you. Stepping back from you, he nodded his head in a bow before slipping out of your door and closing it behind him to ready his carriage.

The theatre was mostly deserted when Kylo walked through its back entrance into a dark, narrow alley. He strode quickly down the alley, his bootsteps echoing off the cobblestone. At the end of the alley, he saw the silhouette of your carriage, moonlight catching on the puffs of fog that snorted impatiently from the noses of the horses who pulled it.

Quick movement from Kylo’s left caught his eye, a dark figure rushing at him from the shadows, light glinting off a steel blade as it slashed toward his throat. Kylo’s agile reflexes served him well as he ducked to the side, easily parrying the attack. Missing his target, the man stumbled off balance from the force of his blow before leveling a backhanded slash at Kylo. Kylo was ready this time. He rushed his attacker, blocking the man’s striking hand with his forearm as he simultaneously slammed his left elbow into the man’s jaw. An explosion of blood and teeth spurted from the man’s mouth from the force of Kylo’s blow, but Kylo was far from done.

Enraged at the thought of this bastard attacking you as you walked to your carriage alone in the dark, Kylo punched his open right hand into the man’s throat. Gripping the cartilage in his iron grip, Kylo ripped his hand to the side, tearing the man’s throat open as easily as ripping a moist turkey leg off a Thanksgiving bird, with the matching sound of a juicy tear. Blood splashed across Kylo’s face, hot and thick, and onto his pristine white shirt.

As the man collapsed to the ground, Kylo watched his painfully contorted face. Kylo recognized him as a fellow magician, a lowly scurvy man Kylo had known on the periphery of his success. When the man’s squirming body hit the ground, Kylo realized his purpose as though he had just been slapped in the face.

The other magician would have indeed attacked you as you walked to your carriage, although not due to your misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been lying in wait for you, waiting to kill the woman who had embarrassed so many men in his profession while also taking so much business from them.

Snarling at his epiphany, Kylo raised his leg, stomping his bootheel down with all of his incredible force onto the man’s face, splitting his head like a ripe melon. Breathing raggedly as he seethed, Kylo looked around for other attackers, or witnesses. Seeing neither, he rushed ahead to your carriage.

Just as Kylo was about to exit onto the street where your carriage was parked, he passed a window, glimpsing his reflection. It was harrowing enough to make him stop for a proper look.

Blood from the other man covered his face, dripping down onto his once-white shirt that was now stained a spectrum of reds. His long hair was wild, matching the murderous glint in his eyes. He looked like a madman who had just stepped from an abattoir.

Kylo couldn’t allow you to see him looking so ferocious and disheveled. His best assumption was that you already found him entirely too beastly and uncouth. How could you not? He could only imagine your reaction to have a man so far beneath your station courting you, let alone how you would cringe from the sight of him now. Worse yet, would it be for you to be seen by any onlookers in his company in his current state of savagery. He did not even dare allow the driver of your coach to see him, instead turning about and retreating back into the shadows.

Making haste to his own carriage and his personal driver who had seen him in worse states of disarray, he sent his driver to pick you up in his carriage. He could have you think many things of him, so long as you did not think he retired for the evening in the company of another woman.

He took the time to scrawl a quick note in surprisingly beautiful calligraphy, leaving it on the coach seat for you along with a single red rose he had pilfered from your dressing room, intending to give it to you later paired with a goodnight kiss.

Perhaps I can show you a finer evening on another occasion, Madam.

Your faithful servant, Kylo Ren.

With that, he sent his carriage to fetch you where you no doubt impatiently waited.

Watching his carriage pull away, Kylo growled in frustration at the mess that had become of what had been a rather marvelous evening, with the illusion of more. Seething violently with no outlet, he turned to the wooden wall beside him, slamming his right fist into it viciously. The force of his punch was easily enough to punch clean through the boards, even shaking the entire wall with his power.

Kylo withdrew his fist, shaking some pain from his bloody knuckles as he turned and walked away down the street toward his home. With every step, he dared someone else to attack him, to try to rob him or worse, anything to give him another patsy to take the brunt of his temper off his own shoulders. He even hoped the Ripper himself would show. Kylo would educate him as to what viciousness truly meant.

As he walked, the midnight London fog helped to clear his mind. An idea came to him, brilliant, if he did say so himself. He had spent too many weeks as your adversary, openly antagonizing you. Now, he could be your alley from the shadows, even though you needn’t know it. Every other magician who had wronged you, slighted you, let alone aggressed you, would receive their comeuppance and meet their fate at Kylo’s massive hands. He would remove them all from your path to the top.

Your rightful place. Right next to him.

*******************************************************************************************

The next morning Kylo was anxious to get his hands on a paper. Wandering about the early morning sidewalks as he almost never did, far preferring the cover of night to the pale light of dawn, Kylo found himself in search of a stall, or a newsboy, or anyone who might already have a copy. Not only did he want to hear what the public thought of his performance with you, but he wanted to know if he had been spotted murdering the man in the alley, or during his long and bloody walk home. 

It had been late enough in the evening, Kylo was certain that few people could have noticed his attire caked in blood. He was no fool, he had thrown on a large coat and wiped away much of the crimson which stained his hands and face. Though he had been hopped up on adrenaline then, now, he had a dread that sat heavily in the pit of his stomach -- if the paper had named him in any way, you would think the absolute worst of him, and he simply could not have that, not now. Not now that he had finally realized his purpose was to protect you, and to keep you alongside him. 

Kylo approached a young newsboy who sold him the paper for seven pence, which seemed outrageously expensive for a piece of paper, but would be worth every coin. He wasted little time, opening the pages as he found an alleyway which was not yet occupied so early in the morning. Flipping through the headlines and advertisements, he searched for any mention of the murder. 

Holding his breath, he saw it, the headline which undoubtedly was in reference to him, and yet not at all attributed to him! Laughing with relief, he pressed the newspaper to his lips, a strange display that would no doubt be attributed to madness if anyone saw him do it. But he could not pretend otherwise, he was glad, happy even, that his bloodshed had been blamed on someone else entirely. The headline read in large black letters: 

RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN! 

What fools they were, Kylo thought with a manic grin, reading the article with vehement interest. The constables thought it was Jack the Ripper, the notorious murderer who was still at large, a murderer who was shaping up to be quite the serial killer. How convenient, Kylo thought with a shake of his head and a grin, that the streets which he called his home were riddled with such devious and dastardly creatures.

There was not one single mention of him in the entire newspaper other than that of his performance with you. And what a glittering review it was! The paper raved of your onstage chemistry, how it must have taken hours upon hours for the two of you to choreograph such an act. Little did anyone know that the two of you had improvised it together on the spot, right before the eyes of hundreds of onlookers. Chemistry indeed, even Kylo had to agree.

Kylo knew he should be angry with the way the papers favored you, but the more time he spent with you, the more he understood why they would be. You were a maddening woman, but when had there been such a woman for London to fall in love with? Not that -- of course, not that he was one of them, he blushed at his own train of thought. 

Shaking his head, Kylo folded the newspaper and secured it under his arm, deciding that perhaps he needed a walk to clear his mind. He had no plans for the day, or even for the forthcoming evening, and he was certain that entertaining himself in town would provide a much more interesting day than if he were to simply sit at home and rehearse his magic tricks.

Perhaps he would take in a show of one of his competitors.

*******************************************************************************************

One of the finest magic acts in Europe was the duo whose posters read simply, Poe & Finn. Finn the Phenomenal, as he was known, a charming fellow with eyes that glimmered with mirth, paired with a brilliantly wide smile. Poe Dameron was a similarly enamored magician, handsome and charming, with the vibrant personality required to draw a large audience. The two men lacked the talent to rise to the top individually, so they had combined their act, much to the approval of the crowds. Theirs would be on the short list of magicians of renown in Europe, although markedly and unequivocally below Kylo the Malevolent.  

Poe & Finn were based in Paris, living the bohemian lifestyle to the fullest. They rarely ventured to London due to the heavy competition from Kylo himself. However, even they were not immune to the draw your sensational show commanded. The two men had traveled to London under the guise of performing a few shows at some lesser halls, although, it was openly known amongst the magician community that they too wished to see the spectacle of a woman magician fly or flounder on stage.

Theirs would be a fine act for Kylo to watch surreptitiously on his day off. It was unlikely that he could learn anything new from the men of far lesser talent than himself, but he hoped they could adequately distract him from his obnoxiously persistent thoughts of you.

From his seat in the back of the small theatre, Kylo watched as Poe and Finn neared the end of their show, about to perform their final act. Finn asked the audience what he always did, “How many magicians does it take to do magic?”

“One will do the trick,” Poe answered to a round of laughter from the crowd.

Finn explained that he and Poe would each perform a trick from opposite ends of the stage and the audience would applaud to determine whose was best. A clever way to split the audience’s attention and cover any sloppy mistakes a magician of lesser talent might make during a trick. The audience would think that they were getting twice the show, when in reality they were getting half the talent.

A large, man-sized water tank was rolled out onstage by one assistant while another handed Finn a sword. The first assistant made a show of tying Poe up in chains, as he prepared to enter the tank. If Poe failed to escape the chains, as he had done several times a week since he was a boy of fourteen, their weight would drown him inside the murky tank. 

Meanwhile, Finn displayed his sword, showing the audience it was real by cutting a few apples in half before taking bites of them to loosen his throat.

Kylo watched both men, seeing all the little flaws and missteps in their performance that would go unnoticed by any other observer. He couldn’t help but contrast their talent with yours; he had been unable to see any similar errors in your performance, no chinks in your armor.

As Poe lowered himself into the water tank, Finn tipped his head back to insert a sword into his mouth. When the assistant closed the lid on the water tank and lowered a curtain in front of it, the hilt of Finn’s sword met his lips.

Whereas the audience held a collective breath, Kylo waited calmly, almost bored as he awaited their finale. He knew that there was little risk for a practiced magician who had performed these tricks thousands upon thousands of times.

But, as Kylo watched, the frantic sloshing of water could be heard from behind the curtain, paired with the dull thudding of fists on glass. That was new, Kylo thought in passing. Poe should already be out of the tank.

On the opposite side of the stage, Finn tried to extract the sword from his throat, seemingly unable to do so. Suddenly, a fountain of frothy blood spewed from Finn’s mouth, erupting around the hilt of the sword that was still plunged deep in his throat. A choking gurgle accompanied another fountain of blood.

Kylo shot to his feet as the crowd around him screamed in horror and began to run from the theatre, stampeding around him. Using his size to shoulder his way through the panicked crowd, Kylo rushed to the stage as everyone else ran away from it.

Finn had collapsed to the floor, convulsing in a pool of his own blood. There was no helping him. Kylo ran to the water tank, yanking the curtain away from it. Poe was free of his chains, but trapped inside the locked tank that was supposedly rigged to open for him when he pushed it from the inside.

Using his great strength, Kylo tried to pry the top of the tank open to no avail. It was locked fast. Poe’s fists hammered the glass weakly as his life drained from him, his eyes fluttering in his effort to stay conscious. Kylo grabbed a stool from the stage that had been used during the act, slamming it viciously against the glass of the tank. A spiderweb crack spread across the glass from the force of Kylo’s strike.

Growling in frustration, Kylo violently struck the glass again, his long hair shaking down in front of his face from the force of the impact. The glass shattered, a rush of water spilling across the stage, along with Poe’s body that sloshed limply onto the wooden floor. Dead. Kylo had been minutes too late.

The Yard called it a freak accident. A tragedy. But that was only because they were utterly clueless as to what had happened. Kylo was not so naïve. He knew that Poe’s tank had been tampered with, sabotaged, and that Finn’s sword had been switched.

Onstage, in front of a hundred witnesses, Poe and Finn had been murdered. And only Kylo and the murderer himself knew the truth.

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One of the busiest quarters of London was Piccadilly Circus, which was a large circle at the intersection of Regent Street and Piccadilly Street. It bustled with shops, restaurants, riders, and performance halls along with a parade of carriages going this way and that. Street performers would stand on boxes to attract attention, showcasing their talents for whatever coins spectators threw their way.

Kylo’s venue was nearby, and he found enjoyment in walking through the crowded streets. Indeed, Piccadilly Circus held a certain nostalgia for Kylo. Like so many dirty young urchins he passed by on the street, he too began his life of illusion on the cold cobblestone streets; sleeping in alleys, stealing bread, pickpocketing meager treasures. The only birthright given to him when his mother abandoned him as a young boy in order to secure a new husband after his father met an untimely demise. He grew up tall and strong, and as hardened as the streets he slept on. The streets even served as his first performance hall where he honed his early skills, performing sleight of hand, card tricks, and other hocus pocus from the top of a box in his tattered clothing. He learned faster than most how to captivate an audience using his unique presence, dark and with an edge of imposing danger.

When Kylo strolled through the busy quarter these days, the crowd parted for him. Some people watched him in awe, others with fear, but all with respect. Even the women looked at him differently, with interest as opposed to disgust. A far cry from his humble beginnings. It had only taken him the better part of four decades to attain such aplomb.  

On rare occasions, when he was in exceptional spirits, he would pause in the street to perform a quick illusion before going about his business, earning uproarious cheers from all who felt privileged to see the Great Kylo Ren give an impromptu performance.

Somewhat more frequently, he would walk through the Circus’s dark underbelly, venturing down the serpentine alleyways between the towering five story buildings that loomed like giants. He would walk among the dregs, thieves, drunks, and prostitutes who hid behind the curtain of London’s prosperity. Kylo would take a macabre joy in out pickpocketing the pickpockets.

What better day to stalk amongst the most unsavory of society than All Hallow’s Eve. Perhaps he would even enjoy a glass of absinthe from a dingey tavern, something to help distract him from the persistent thoughts of you that plagued him like a disease. Especially today. Kylo knew of the regal ball thrown for London’s elite this evening. He knew that you would be in attendance, in addition to droves of eager and dapper gentlemen who hoped to make you theirs.

Merely the thought made Kylo’s scowl deepen and his fists clench where they were shoved angrily inside his trouser pockets.

He was right where he belonged, walking through the dirty shadows in the lonely alleyways, where his birthright designated him. Just as you would be right where you belonged tonight, brushing elbows with the highest echelons of society. Dancing with men from that stratum. Kylo was just as ill-suited to join you in such a setting as you would be walking in the filth beside him now. The thought that he was so unequal to the task of winning your affection tasted like bile on his tongue.

As Kylo stood in his tracks, lost in his dark thoughts, glaring murderously at a patch of unoffending wall, the very wall itself moved. A wooden plank in the wall shuffled sideways, allowing a thin redheaded man to scramble out from behind it.

Brows pinching together, Kylo walked closer, as Hux moved the plank back into place, covering his tracks. Approaching Hux from behind, Kylo’s movements were as silent as a creature of the night.

“Mr. Hux,” Kylo announced in his booming stage voice right behind the smaller man. Hux startled so tremendously that if jumping out of one’s skin was a possibility, Hux would have accomplished it.

“Mr. Ren?” Hux stammered, trying to straighten his clothing as he shifted on his feet.

“Not your usual venue,” Kylo mused darkly, circling Hux to get a better look at his hidden entry into the nondescript building.

“Ah, yes,” Hux nodded. “It might look a little odd, Ren. But I have just finished a private performance, and I, ah, I don’t want the public to know that I can be bought,” he finished with a chuckle.

Kylo accepted that answer, it was plausible enough, allowing his fellow magician to take his leave. Still pondering the coincidence, Kylo made his way to a nearby tavern, relatively vacant during the late-morning hours.

The oddity of Hux’s exit from the wall nagged Kylo, eating deeper at his mind even as he downed a shot of absinthe for lunch in place of his usual hearty meal. As the bartender refilled Kylo’s glass, he inquired of Kylo if he was performing at the All Hallow’s Eve Ball tonight, a special midnight performance that was all the buzz. Buzz that Kylo had somehow missed in his isolation.

At once, he knew who would be performing such an event; the only magician welcome to walk alongside nobility herself. You.

The back of Kylo’s throat stung with distaste from more than the absinthe. He tried to wash it away, downing his second shot in a gulp, but even the Green Fairy herself was powerless to quell his thoughts.

Slamming a note down on the bar top, Kylo left the tavern hours before he had planned, his temper exponentially worse instead of better as he had hoped. He returned to the place where he had seen Hux crawl out from the wall.

Glaring angrily at the plank, Kylo chewed his lip for several long moments before deciding upon his course. Reaching to the plank, he ripped it away from the wall, throwing it violently down the street.

Sighing at his misfortune, Kylo forced his large frame into the low tunnel that was revealed. Whereas Hux could likely bend his thin frame to walk in a crouch through the filthy passage, Kylo had to drop to his hands and knees to squeeze himself toward an unknown destination.

Crawling for several minutes in moist darkness brought him to a dead end, only a brick wall scraping the tip of his nose, telling him he could crawl no further. The space was far too tight for Kylo to turn around in. Even a man as slight as Hux would be incapable of doing so. Feeling around the tunnel in the darkness, Kylo felt only mud and brick. At the sensation of some slimy creature meeting his fingertips, he jerked his head up with a grunt of displeasure, slamming his crown into the ceiling of the tunnel above him. The thud his skull made was a hollow one, not the sound of crashing his head into mud or brick.

Above his head was a wooden panel with a metal ring. Gripping the metal, Kylo twisted and shoved upwards with his arm and shoulder. Standing up from the ground as the trapdoor opened, Kylo found himself inside the basement of a theatre. He had seen many such forgotten places, littered with mannequins, costumes, and props from shows past.

After stepping fully out of the tunnel and dusting some of the filth from his clothing, Kylo located a set of stairs leading upward. Following them, Kylo found himself admitted to the backstage of a prestigious theatre. Numerous boxes and equipment for magic acts sat about the stage. Kylo recognized them at once. They were your props, awaiting your midnight performance for the nobility.

Knowledge that Hux must have been here to sabotage your act washed over Kylo in a rage. Hux was a smart man, cunning and resourceful. He had no doubt planned to eliminate his greatest competition tonight. You. After three other other magicians had died on stage in accidents as of late, who would question when you met the same fate? Perhaps Hux even intended to frame Kylo for your murder. Nothing could be put past him.

Kylo knew he must thwart this attempt on your life, silently thanking the strange turn of good fortune that led him here on the day of your performance. At once, he set about inspecting the props, rummaging through the effects and detritus, before realizing that it could easily take him days to inspect everything carefully enough to deduce what Hux had done.

There was no time to uncover Hux’s scheme. Kylo was left with only one option, which was decidedly less appealing than his crawl back through the muddy tunnel. He would have to use every trick up his sleeve to sneak into the most exclusive Ball of the year.

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Light from a full moon gave the drifting fog the perfect ambience for a night of either tricks or treats, as if any manner of unknown creatures could materialize from its veil. A breeze carried crisply through the autumn tinged-trees, freeing vibrant colored leaves from their hold to send them fluttering down to grounds of the regale estate that hosted one of the most esteemed balls of the year.

Excitement flooded you, coursing through your veins on a tide of adrenaline, alighting every sense, as you walked through the grand marble halls of one of the most prestigious events of the year. The All Hallow’s Eve Masquerade Ball.

Elegant sounds of a classical orchestra filled your ears and the luscious aromas of champagne and anticipation wafted on the air. It seemed as though every surface was either marble or gild, everywhere you looked your eyes were met with the glint of wealth and luxury. Opulent chandeliers hung from the towering ceiling, gleaming like riches, refracting the splendorous colors of the ebullient attendees. Marble pillars lined the walls, reaching to the ceiling themselves. Masked couples spun across the floor to the notes of the orchestra, a sea of ladies in gowns and gentlemen in tailcoats. Each wore a mask. Some elegant, some ghastly, all in the spirit of All Hallow’s Eve.

Holding a crystal flute of champagne, you strolled through the cavernous crowded ballroom, across the hardwood floor polished to the point of reflecting the hem of your decadent gown. Costumed nobility surrounded you, laughing and tipping glasses of champagne to their lips.

As a Lady of renown from a noble family, your attendance and participation were all but required for this large, annual public ritual. Not to mention the personal invitation the Queen herself extended to you. The crème de la crème of society would be in attendance, and your absence would be notably missed. Especially now that you were something of a sensation yourself. The newspapers devoted gallons of ink to covering England’s ruling class, especially when they were at play and often engaged in mischief.

It was common knowledge that you would be surrounded by suitors, as a woman of title and beauty, any of whom would please your family. Especially, if they could prevail upon you to end your foolish escapades on your magician’s stage. Many men sought your favor and your hand for the name you held and the fortune attached to it, each more tiresome than the last.

One man whom you could be assured would be absent was Kylo Ren. Kylo was not on the invitation list, nor would he ever be. He did not possess the title of a Gentleman to mingle with the finer people in society and, save from being knighted by the Queen herself, would he ever attain such status.

Honestly, you could care less for the pomp and façade of it all, although you couldn’t deny you enjoyed the attention. Playing into both of these motivations, was the midnight performance you had arranged for the ball. You had planned a new trick, something particularly spectacular. If you were not yet the top magician in London, after the All Hallow’s Eve Ball, you would be.

The costume you chose for the evening would serve you well once you took the stage for your magician’s performance. It would also hopefully serve to keep the meeker men at bay. You were dressed in a lavish crimson gown, perfectly accentuating the curves of your figure, paired with an intricately beautiful black masquerade mask with an ivory handle. The final touch was a beautiful pair of devil horns, carved from actual horn and polished to a shine, secured by a lace tie hidden beneath your hair. You thought you made quite the handsome devil indeed.

Countless eyes followed your every movement, as you walked confidently and unbothered through the ballroom, sipping your champagne. Gentlemen watched you closely, waiting for an invitation from you or even the barest encouragement to approach. Chin held defiantly high, you fixed each man in your gaze, meeting their staring eyes boldly, until they looked away from you with an embarrassed blush on their cheeks.

Eventually, your solitude would be noted by the people whose station was superior to your own, and some goodly older woman would doubtlessly secure you a suitable dance partner that proper etiquette would dictate you could not refuse. You enjoyed your time to yourself before such an unavoidable event occurred.

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There was no time for Kylo to find a ridiculous mask for a masquerade ball. He scarcely had time to cleanse the mud from his body and run a brush through his hair. He took time he didn’t have to dress in his finest suit, shades of closely fitted black, like most of his clothing, paired with a black brocade waistcoat over his ivory shirt. The carafe he tied around his neck as he rushed out of the door was shining silver.

The horses pulling Kylo’s carriage huffed for breath, steaming in the cool night air, and white frothy lather dripped down their chests and haunches, when they slid to a stop from their frantic gallop in front of the doors to the extravagant estate that hosted the Ball. Before the wheels of his carriage had even stopped turning, Kylo flung open the door and jumped from its coach.

Rushing up the steps two at a time to the double front doors, Kylo was met by a pair of guards masquerading themselves as doormen. Each wore an imposing mask with a pointed snout, no doubt hiding even worse expressions than their masks bore. The guards stepped together in front of the door, blocking Kylo’s path, two peacocks trying to impede a bear.

“This is by invitation only,” one of the doormen squeaked, as Kylo roughly shoved the two men apart to step between them, nearly knocking them off their feet from his force.

“I have urgent business,” Kylo grunted, reaching for the door.

From the ground below, several guards approached Kylo from behind as the doormen recovered. To their credit, they composed themselves with the calm of English gentlemen, evenly smoothing their coats back into place.

“This is a private event, Sir,” the second doorman said with only a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“You are well aware that your kind isn’t welcome here,” the first doorman chimed in.

Behind Kylo, the less refined guards closed in upon him, ready to escort him away using any and all force necessary. Glancing over his shoulder, Kylo knew that he would accomplish nothing if he was unable to get inside.

Breathing deeply, Kylo used all of his strength of will to calm himself. He raised his large hands up in a gesture of supplication, putting the other men at ease. Kylo turned his gaze to each doorman in turn, his eyes searing with intensity into the pairs of eyes that were powerless to look away from him. Spreading his raised hands wide like a priest at a sermon, he focused all his intent, watching as the men’s eyes glazed over in a stuporous reverie.

The momentary lapse in the doormen’s attention was all Kylo needed. He charged ahead through the doors, closing them fast behind him. The sound of the slamming doors jolted the doormen from their trance, looking around and between themselves at the strange disappearance of the large dark man.

Inside, the same music and light that tantalized you only served to frustrate Kylo’s purpose in finding you, hiding you amid a dazzling sea and churning crowd. As dancers twirled around him and couples walked by to and fro, sharing their jovial conversations, Kylo realized that only he, the servants, and the guards were not masked. He needed a mask or he would be quickly found out. 

Spotting two gentlemen engaged in earnest discussion, standing against the wall and shielded by the indifferent crowd, he saw his opportunity. Affecting a sway in his step to mimic having had a few too many drinks, Kylo walked to the men as if they were dear old friends, surprising them both by draping his large arms over both men’s shoulders.  

“Gentlemen, I have a favor to ask,” he said pleasantly, distracting them like the master magician he was. Before either man could respond, each of Kylo’s hands shot forcibly to the backs of the men’s necks, squeezing at the Splenius capitis junction, cutting off the blood flow to their brains in the same manner that smaller men do with full-armed choke holds. The men fainted in seconds before they could yell for help, as Kylo held them and lowered them gently down onto the floor, easing their backs against the wall where they looked like nothing more than men who had enjoyed a few too many drinks. 

Snatching their two masks, Kylo could now adapt and change faces if needed. He secured one inside his breast pocket and chose a gilded black mask with flourishes like horns rising above his brows that covered the upper half of his face. Fixing his perpetually crooked ascot, Kylo walked quickly in his long stride toward the ballroom, eyes urgently scanning every face and every body for something bearing your familiarity.

Kylo thought it might be difficult to find you amid such a large mass of masked guests, but he could not have been more mistaken.

There you stood, clear as day and bright as sunlight, ahead of him across the crowded ballroom. Smiling and holding a flute of champagne, wearing an elegant scarlet dress, Kylo thought that he had never seen a more beautiful creature. Yours was a beauty that would shine through any disguise, across any room, one that he would recognize anywhere. He watched as you laughed politely at a remark from one of the several men who encircled you like vultures. Heat flooded his body, flushing up his neck from the anger that rose in him at the sight of other men bringing you joy.

Pushing through the crowd, Kylo grew more incensed with every step closer to you, watching as the men around you greedily vied for your attention. Each man no doubt possessed more wealth than Kylo could earn in ten lifetimes paired with titles that were eternally unattainable to a man like him. Each man was full of gaiety and good cheer, trying to secure your affections for himself.

In the hopes of avoiding a scene he knew you would loathe, Kylo tried his best to swallow the murderous impulse that consumed him, attempting to walk up to you discreetly.

However, nothing about Kylo the Malevolent was ever discreet.

It was as though his very presence drew your attention, your eyes turning to him as he approached, capturing him in your shining gaze. Unaffected by the disapproving sneers of the men in your company, Kylo closed the distance between your bodies until he stood less than an arm’s reach from you. Eyes the color of shimmering whiskey gazed down upon you. His lips were parted, plush and inviting, and his long luxurious hair framed his face wildly.

No mask could obscure the handsomeness of Kylo’s features. Just as no disguise could hide his towering height and massive physique.

Around you, the other men’s faces ranged from angered by his intrusion to disappointed at the sight of your reaction to seeing Kylo; the way your breath caught and your eyes gleamed with something deeper than mere politeness.

“You cannot perform your show tonight,” he told you bluntly by way of a greeting. His tone was commanding, causing a rush of anger to sear through your veins, extinguishing the excitement that had flashed behind your eyes moments before.

“I daresay that any man who presumes to kiss me only then to run away and hide, as you did to me in my dressing room, has no standing to issue me any damned orders,” you scoffed at him, facing him squarely just as a man would turn into a fight. “I can’t imagine the sort of ladies who have enabled you to become accustomed to such manners, but I expect better. I demand it, in fact.”

“You mistake my intentions, Madam,” Kylo gritted, frustrated at your recalcitrance after his extraordinary effort to find you. “You’re in danger. You must take me at my word, or allow me to explain everything to you privately.”

The three dapper young men who hovered around you made a point of encircling Kylo, ineffectively trying to intimidate the much larger and infinitely more dangerous man. The urge to punch their teeth down their skinny throats was almost overwhelming, but as Kylo glared from one man’s masked face to another, he thought he recognized the bushy waxed mustache of a Duke, the bright blue eyes of an Earl, and the jeweled hilt of a decorative sword that could only belong to a man of similar rank. If Kylo struck any of the men, he would be jailed instantly if not outright executed.

“You must suspect as I do that after tonight, there shall be no doubt as to whom the top magician in London shall be,” you said coolly, fixing Kylo with a searing gaze. “And that it shall no longer be the Prince of Darkness. Are you really so terrified of spending an evening onstage as my assistant?”

“I have played your assistant once already,” Kylo growled, taking a step closer to you. “I’ll agree to do so again right now. I’ll say you’ve already won our little wager. You can even start shopping for a pretty dress for me to wear.” He took another step closer to you until he was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his enormous body. “So long as you do not take the stage tonight.”

His seriousness made you pause, meeting his vibrant eyes, before you brushed it off. “I refuse to succumb to fear, Mr. Ren. And when I win our wager, it shall be fair and square.”

Kylo’s jaw clenched at your words. He reached a hand toward your arm, attempting to pull you to him, but you dodged his grip, turning instead to face the man with the jeweled sword as you did.

“I shall accept your offer of a dance now, Marquess,” you said to the man while your eyes remained fixed upon Kylo’s as they burned with jealousy. “Surely, you would not kiss a woman only to run away from her after?”

“Certainly not, Madam,” the Marquess agreed, looking down his nose at Kylo, despite being shorter, with the same condescension Kylo had seen reflected in countless eyes throughout his life. “The well-bred have finer manners more suited to keeping the company of a lady such as yourself.”

“Mr. Ren, the magician,” the Duke joined in from Kylo’s side. “Descended from smugglers and revolutionaries, yet you’ve risen to the lofty rank of a dancing bear in a circus.”

Kylo fumed, clenched fists shaking at his sides. You knew how easily he could rip these gentlemen apart. It was best for everyone to keep his anger focused on you. Looping your arm through the Marquess’s elbow, you allowed him to lead you onto the ballroom floor.

The Marquess smiled vapidly, pleased with his good fortune at finally procuring a dance with you after failing all evening until Kylo made his appearance. The Marquess moved in a perfectly choreographed cardboard motion, having received training in proper etiquette all his life, yet possessing no joie de vivre.

Kylo would not be so easily deterred. Watching you in the grip of another man made his blood boil. He thought that maybe the gallows might be a fine trade both for killing every man here who dared so much as cast his eyes upon you, and a welcome reprieve from the hook you had sunk so effortlessly into him. He inhaled a deep breath, expanding his enormous chest. Chewing the inside of his lip, he weighed his options between causing a riot, a bloodbath, or simply a scene, as he tried to ignore the two remaining Lords who chattered at him like yappy little dogs nipping at his ankles.

Lifting a hand, Kylo ran it through his hair, smoothing it back into place where it had fallen in front of his mask. Setting his jaw, he lowered his head like a bull and charged through happier couples toward you as you danced with the Marquess.

“May I cut in?” Kylo growled at the Marquess, roughly shouldering the other man aside with enough force to send him stumbling away, nearly knocking him off his feet, as Kylo yanked your hand free from the Marquess’s grip and into his own.

Roughly pulling you close to his body, Kylo spun you away, almost carrying you with his powerful motions. You felt swallowed by his towering size; he seemed even larger now in his fury as he moved with you, glaring down at you.

“How dare you!” you exclaimed, despite the heat in your cheeks rising from something other than anger or offense.

“Everything I have done has been to protect you,” Kylo said in a low tone, tightening his grip on your waist. “And I intend to keep doing so, even if you spit on it.”

“Including taking your leave from me in such an unceremonious fashion the night you kissed me?” you asked, narrowing your eyes and digging your nails into his shoulder where your hand rested.

“In fact, it was,” he told you sincerely, his voice still low and thick. “Moments after leaving you, I killed a man who waited for you outside the theatre, intent upon doing the same to you or worse. I killed him with my bare hands. I couldn’t allow you to see me after, or worse yet, risk your being seen with me.” Taking a breath, his eyes flitted downward for an instant before he made an effort to return them to yours as he continued, “I know how beastly you find me on my best days, let alone covered in blood.”

“Beastly.” You let the word linger on your tongue as you gave his words time to sink in properly, smiling when they did. “I’ve always found that to be one of your finer qualities.”

Kylo’s temper broke at your words, a smile blooming briefly on his lips before his demeanor turned more serious again.

“Several magicians have already died on stage after their effects and props have been tampered with,” Kylo said, pulling you closer to his body. “Someone wants you to be the next. Tonight.”

“Those have all been accidents?” you seemingly questioned, although you had suspected the truth for some time.

“I will tell you everything in another setting.” Forgetting the proper etiquette, Kylo brought your hand he held to his lips, placing a hot lingering kiss to your knuckles. “Come with me now to examine your props yourself, if you do not wish to take me at my word.”

“After we finish our dance,” you said as you trailed your hand down from his shoulder to rest on his large chest.

“You are not embarrassed to be seen in my company in such a manner?” Kylo asked as he kissed your hand again, meeting your eyes.

You realized then that a good number of people had stopped dancing in favor of watching the two of you. The ladies envious of you, the gentlemen envious of Kylo. Kylo ignored them all, his focus entirely on you. You found yourself smiling at the thought of those onlookers assuming you were already his.

“Do I look embarrassed?” With your question, you pulled him down by his lapel to meet your lips, kissing him deeply while on full display for the ballroom. As he raised his head from your kiss, beaming down at you, you dismissed any more of his insecurity over his social rank by changing the subject. “You have not commented on my costume.”

“I didn’t notice you were wearing one.” Kylo grinned at you, poking fun of your devil costume. “But I’ve heard the Devil would be beautiful.”

With his body pressed against yours, Kylo stepped a long leg beside you, dipping you backwards until your back was level with the bend in his knee. His huge hand at your back supported you firmly as he bent over you. He lowered his own body until the tip of his large nose skimmed your skin with the lightest touch, trailing from your sternum up your throat as he raised you from his dip, and returned to his full height. He truly was an astonishing dancer, his movements deceptively agile yet powerful.

A warm flush flooded your body and your head spun pleasantly as he danced with you for several more minutes, pulling you across the ballroom in large sweeping twirls, as you both reveled in the attention from the crowd.

“Midnight approaches, Madam,” Kylo said to you, reluctantly ending your dance. “Come with me now to your stage.”

Offering you his arm, Kylo escorted you through the crowded ballroom, walking proudly, impervious to the stares and comments of those who thought you deserved a better man.

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This particular venue was a favorite for the Royal gatherings which so frequently happened throughout the year, hosting a variety of performances. The ballroom which Kylo led you through was only a few corridors away from a great operatic theater, plush seats and ornamented ceilings bespoke the utmost luxury. It was here on this stage that you were to perform, giving a private magic show to only the most elite of the elite. And, much like your first show, the Queen would again be in attendance. 

Backstage, Kylo hurriedly showed you the many boxes and trunks that had been set up and arranged in the order in which they were needed, the work of your stage hands no doubt. But upon closer inspection, you could see that things had indeed been tampered with. You were unsure in exactly which manner, but there were seals that had been obviously cut through, things not in their proper spots. It wasn’t immediately noticeable, which was a sign of a careful sort of sabotage, one that made you grow unsettled and your skin crawl. 

There had been deaths of other magicians as of late, as Kylo had reminded you. One offstage, admittedly by Kylo’s own hand, but two onstage in spectacular stunts which, by all intents and purposes, should have gone off without a hitch.

At the time, when you heard of these horrible misfortunes, you assumed that they were indeed accidents. But now that Kylo was showing you your own props having been tampered with, you realized that they could not have been. Someone must have switched the knives Finn had rehearsed with, with heavier ones. Someone must have rigged the water tank preventing Poe’s escape. Those men died -- no, they were killed. Murdered. And someone was aiming to do the same to you.  

“Do you understand now?” Kylo urged. “Do not perform tonight. You’re in grave danger, madam.” 

Despite knowing deep down that you should agree with him, your stubbornness got the better of you. The music outside the theatre was slowing to an end, the last dance of the ball having been completed. Soon the distinguished guests would move from the ballroom to the red velvet seats of the operatic theatre, and you would have to go out and entertain them. Or risk disappointment and failure.

“I have been specifically chosen to perform here tonight, I cannot back away now, Mr. Ren. I simply cannot.” Your voice was quiet yet firm as you shook your head, placing a hand on the trunks and boxes which had been clearly altered. 

You would just have to do something else. You’d have to think of other tricks to perform, and think fast. Tricks that could captivate but not decapitate. Kylo stared at you incredulously, stark unveiled fear in his eyes. He stood tall, towering over you, trying to use his height and size to intimidate you into seeing your way to agree with him.

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, his only concern for your well-being. “We’ll have them reschedule, tell them you’ll host a special show at another venue --”

“You may not care, but I do, Kylo,” you snapped, feeling hurt at the way he so quickly dismissed your feelings. Was he truly so selfish? The games that he was playing with your heart required more analysis than you had to offer in this moment, your own selfishness and stubbornness filling your voice with determination. “This is everything that I have worked so hard for, I am one show away from proving to my family, to society, to everyone, that I can be successful at this.”

Stepping forward in an entirely too intimate gesture, Kylo placed his hands on your upper arms and looked deep into your eyes. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you again, the way that he leaned in so closely, the way you could feel his breath hot upon your cheek. 

“You are already a grand success. Please, darling,” he whispered, emotion thickening his voice. “I beg of you, do not go onstage tonight.” 

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you entertained the idea for a moment. Just for a moment, you imagined what might happen if you did as Kylo asked. It would be the safest option, of course. But you knew that for the rest of your life, you would regret not taking this opportunity. So, as much as it pained you, you gently removed Kylo’s hands from your upper arms, and turned towards the stage where your assistants were moving behind the cover of the closed curtain. 

“They are calling my name, Kylo. I’m sorry, but I will finish this show if it is the last thing I do,” you told him, placing your hand on his cheek for a moment before assuming your position underneath the stage, where your mirrors and lights were set up to begin your show. 

Kylo watched you go with hardened eyes, speaking mostly to himself as he muttered, “I fear that it just might be.” 

As ominous music began to play, Kylo felt that cold drip of dread trickle down the back of his neck. It was the same feeling he got when that lowly scum of a man had been lurking in the shadows wanting to kill you, but Kylo knew no such murderer would be so bold on this night. No, as far as the murderer knew, your death would simply be a headline in the morning paper. Another tragic onstage catastrophe. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests!” He could hear your voice projecting from the stage. “It is an honor and a delight to have you witness what is sure to be a spectacular evening for this most dark and magical of nights!” 

Without wasting another second, Kylo burst into action, racing about the stage behind the closed curtain as quietly as he could, while you dazzled and entertained the audience with your teleportation trick which never seemed to grow tiresome. These old dusty noblemen and women would never admit to it, but in the same breath that they condemned the mysticism and illusions of magicians, they were enthralled by it just the same. 

“I see some familiar faces in the audience.” Kylo listened to your beautiful voice as he frantically inspected your props, trying desperately to find something, anything that he could be sure had not been tampered with, while you performed simple card tricks to warm up the crowd. “And new ones, the good Earl Vader von Tatooine, would you be so kind as to pick a card?” 

“Fuck, please, something anything -- fuck!” Kylo hissed, fumbling in the dark of the stage, when suddenly, the curtain began to part, and he had to quickly scramble into the wings offstage to avoid being seen. Cold nervous sweat dappled his brow, something he was unused to. Wiping his forearm across his forehead, he looked again over your deadly props, as he ran his hand over his damp hair, smoothing it back into place from where it had fallen about his face from his motions.

When the curtain opened fully, the audience let out a vast range of ooohs and aaahs at the set decorations. Much like your previous shows at the Albert Hall, you stood in front of an intricately painted backdrop that looked very much like it belonged in an opera. On this particular night, for this special Halloween performance, the backdrop was painted to resemble one of the layers of Hell as written by Dante, filled with grotesque creatures of the underworld, dancing in red and orange flames. 

Suddenly, at the sight of the hellish backdrop, an idea sprang into Kylo’s mind. He used flame quite often in his own shows, and he knew that he could protect you if he were onstage with you. Whispering furiously to the stagehands and informing them of his plan, Kylo fled the wings of the stage and rushed through the side door which led down a corridor and around a corner.

“For my first trick, I shall need a volunteer from the audience.” Your voice echoed through the theatre, as you surveyed the eager eyes of your patrons.

Kylo erupted through the doors into the back of the theatre right when you addressed the audience, in a display so dramatic, every onlooker knew that it had to be staged. 

“I volunteer!” Practically shouting from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kylo put his hand up and marched down the center aisle of the theater, a monstrously foreboding presence storming toward the stage, calling out again with a deep booming baritone, “Choose me, my Lady!” 

The emotions that cycled across your face as your brain caught up with his actions were clearly visible to Kylo even as he walked; first surprise, then shock, then anger, and then ultimately, acceptance. Reining in your expressions, you appeared for all the world as though you knew exactly what was going on, even though you absolutely did not. 

“A surprise for you all!” you announced to the theatre, gesturing toward Kylo. “Please, a round of applause for Kylo the Malevolent.”

Kylo took the steps to the stage two at a time while the audience hesitantly clapped for him. The Duke, the Earl, and the Marquess were the only men who leveled the stage with outright glares. Onstage, Kylo took a grand bow with a flourish, and produced some spark papers from up his sleeve, sending little flames sparking from his fingertips and startling the crowd into more appreciative gasps and sounds. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper-yelled at him, sounding furious. By all rights, you should be. 

“Improvising,” Kylo quipped back gruffly, disguising the movement of his mouth with more small flame papers. 

“We’re magicians, we never improvise!” you hissed, unsure of what to do next. This was not like the last time when you had pulled him up onstage from the crowd. You had been in control then and the stakes were not nearly as high. 

The show was certainly unlike any you had ever put on before. At the outset, when Kylo had begun throwing his fireballs, you felt like he was taking over your show, but the more the two of you warmed up to one another on the stage, the more it felt like the very show you plucked him out of the crowd to perform. There was undeniable chemistry between the two of you, palpable chemistry that the audience could see from a mile away – the extent of which was only just now becoming clear to you. 

As loathe as you were to admit it, Kylo worked well with you. Perhaps this was the only person who ever could -- and vice versa. You had heard many stories from men and women alike claiming to have borne witness to his famously explosive temper. But here, onstage with you, his temper and your stubbornness seemed to coexist with a fiery passion. 

And fiery it was, quite literally. There was no time to discuss the acts beforehand, you made them up as you went along, but they weren’t so unknown to you that you couldn’t keep up, and initiate some tricks in your own turn. Starting out small, you and Kylo captivated the audience’s attention with flowers that were once folded out of paper before turning into real roses in a flash of fire. 

Thankfully, this performance was not meant to be a long one, only about an hour’s worth of acts. The truly tricky part of the evening was to avoid using any of the potentially deadly props, which meant some of your favorite acts were out of the question. Anything that had a blade or sharp edge of any kind, even a false one, could not be trusted. 

Kylo was currently making a skeleton dance, a simple trick where a set of false bones were strung up on invisible fishing wire, and using his ‘telekinesis’, Kylo levitated them around the stage to frightfully eerie Halloween music that played from the orchestra in the pit. You introduced a second skeleton and the bones waltzed together round and round the stage, much like your ‘ghosts’ had on your very first show. 

That gave you an idea, a way that you could end the show with something of a bang, without using any of the compromised equipment. The stage itself was in perfect condition. Whomever had hoped to sabotage you hadn’t dared to go so far as to harm the workings of the theatre itself, which meant that the wire system which made the skeletons levitate, would certainly make you levitate as well. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, and distinguished and honorable guests, I am sad to say that this next trick will be the last of the evening.” You addressed the audience, pleased to find that they groaned and murmured in discontent, wanting you to continue on and on all night long. But you could not appease them, your hour was nearly up. “You see, I have expended much of my energy in commanding these bones to animate for your viewing pleasure, and I feel in desperate need of rest. In fact, I do believe, if there is a couch for me to lounge on, I shall enter a deep slumber. Mr. Ren, would you assist me?” 

Kylo seemed to know exactly which trick you wanted, and was quick to jump into his role. He disappeared offstage for just a moment, closing one of the mid-stage curtains so that the beautiful backdrop of Hell was no longer visible. Instead, the backdrop became a simple black velvet wall, before Kylo emerged once again, pushing a beautifully plush chaise lounge, and a large sheet. 

“Lie down please, madam. Here, I will cover you with this blanket so that your arms shan’t grow cold,” Kylo said for the benefit of the crowd, as you laid down on the chaise, lying perfectly flat on your back. 

Holding the blanket high, Kylo completely covered your body from view, and with its blockage, you quickly rolled over the other side of the chaise, and slipped underneath the hem of the stage curtain. 

Once you were freed from view, Kylo laid the sheet down on top of the chaise. As part of the act, an incredibly thin wire bent into the contour of a sleeping person was hidden in the sheet, giving the illusion that you were still lying there. Kylo continued to speak to the crowd who murmured in confusion, wondering what was to happen next. 

“I know what you all must be thinking. Surely, a woman of such a high rank should not be so low to the ground. Watch, as I elevate her...to a height...befitting her stature!” Kylo’s voice boomed as the music began to play once more. Again using his telekinesis, Kylo lifted the sheet up on another invisible wire at each corner. 

While Kylo busied himself with the sheet, you rushed through the back of the theater, knowing there wasn’t much time between the levitation and the reveal, and you wanted to poise yourself perfectly. 

The crowd let out gasps of shock and amazement as your body seemingly floated off of the couch with Kylo’s powers alone, and he walked your “body” around the stage as if to show the audience that there were no wires holding you in place. Of course, it was all an illusion. When Kylo noticed you seated in an empty balcony box, he grasped the sheet with his huge hands, violently balling it up into nothing -- before throwing a piece of flash paper to the ground with a blinding spark. 

A second later, you threw a piece of flash paper as well, making it appear as though your body had disappeared from the stage and reappeared in the balcony amid a flash of light, where a spotlight and all the eyes in the theater shot to you. 

“Thank you, and good night!” You bowed to a standing ovation, the Queen herself once again in high spirits at the display, which meant the automatic approval of the entire theater. 

You met Kylo’s eyes where he looked up at you from onstage. Even from this great distance, you could see a fire of an altogether different type burning in his gaze.

In your dressing room, there were more flowers than you thought humanly possible crammed onto every available surface. They were on your vanity, on the desks, the chairs, tucked against cushions on the couch -- even resting atop your personal trunks. Red roses and purple irises and peach blossoms and chrysanthemums galore, you nearly got a headache from the perfumed aroma of your dressing room. Exhausted, you collapsed to a seat in the chair poised in front of a mirrored vanity.

It was overwhelmingly wonderful. But nothing was as wonderful as the reflection of Kylo in your vanity mirror, as he quietly opened your door to enter behind you. 

“You could have been killed on that stage tonight,” Kylo said throatily by way of greeting, taking the top hat off his head and hanging it on a small hook to the right of the door. He slowly walked toward you, until he was standing behind where you sat at the vanity. 

“But I wasn’t,” you said to his reflection, watching him in the mirror as you extended your neck for him, an invitation, as you whispered, “Thanks to you.” 

Although this rough man had been rude and brutish to you for so long, you now saw in his eyes a deep concern for your wellbeing, for your happiness. Despite his unconventional charm, his intentions were pure and true. And though you would never admit to it, he had captivated you in the same manner that he asserted you have done to him. 

Longing for nothing more than to be kissed and taken by him, you turned to meet his eyes, hoping that your own passion was as evident in your gaze as his. 

Kylo, the fool, mistook your passion for him as being anger in regard to Hux’s sabotage. Placing a gentle hand on your cheek, he leaned in close to whisper, “Rest assured, I will make whomever has sabotaged you in this way pay, and pay dearly.” 

You thought of that man in the newspaper, the one they claimed the Ripper had murdered; you thought of the way they had described the brutality of it all. How hot that made the pit of your stomach! How you had longed to watch the murder for yourself, the ending of a rival in such a visceral way -- it was almost too much to bear. At that thought, your hands flew up to clutch at Kylo’s lapels. 

“That can wait, can it not?” You licked your lips, pushing your body closer to his, your chest practically touching his own. 

“What do you mean?” Kylo had to be sure he knew your intentions correctly, he had to be positive that he wasn’t simply conjuring up this fantasy in his mind. Did you want him? Could you? He had to know. His mouth was already opening to ask, to ensure that what he thought was happening, was in fact happening here in the corporeal world and not just in his deepest desires. 

“What I mean...” You beat him to it. Looking deep into his vibrant eyes, you spoke as clear and true as you ever had to him. “I would like to take you up on that offer of romance and passion you once gave me long ago, if such an invitation is still on the table.” 

For a brilliant moment, Kylo’s smile was the brightest thing you had ever seen, and it in turn made a beautiful grin grace your lips, both your faces beaming with happiness. Kylo straightened at once, extending a hand to you so that he might lift you up, the only thing that he could ever envision himself doing from that moment forward. 

“Of course, it is.” He pulled you close once you were on your feet, the bridge of his long proud nose rubbing gently, tenderly against yours. “It always has been. My Lady, I care for you more deeply than I should like to admit. Allow me to escort you to my home.” 

*******************************************************************************************

Steam fogged the windows of the carriage within moments of your desperate eager stumbling bodies entering it. Kylo’s coachman had barely closed the door, before you were in one another’s arms, your mouths crashed down against each other’s. This was the passion you had seen in his eyes so often, passion that you had always mistaken for anger. And perhaps he had been angry once upon a time, but now – now, as he groaned and growled against your lips, you knew that it was something different entirely. 

You, of course, had not yet seen Kylo’s residence, as you had never had reason to, and as much as you wanted to be curious and look around the dark streets, you could not tear your attention away from the man who held you so tightly. It was thrilling, absolutely intoxicating, to be grasped by such large hands, and grasped so firmly! 

“We’ve arrived,” Kylo spoke after what felt like only a second or two in the carriage, the air thick and warm inside, a stark contrast to the chill of the autumn night. “Allow me.” 

Exiting the carriage first, Kylo helped you out with ease, but he did not let your feet touch the ground. Instead, in a motion that would be sure to incite gossip articles galore, he carried you in his arms like you were his bride. Up up up the steps he went with you trying to stifle your excited laughter, so as not to draw too much attention to yourselves, and over the threshold of his humble abode. 

Not that his home was plain or modest, not by any means. It was clear that Kylo had invested a good deal of money in the beautiful townhouse, but it was certainly no Park Lane mansion like that which you were accustomed to. You paid it no mind however, because how could you think of anything else, other than the way Kylo looked at you as he kicked the door closed behind him? 

You wanted him to ravage you right there, but he had other plans, and with a grin, he led you up to the bedroom. The bed was neatly made, although the sheets were at once rumpled by the way he set you graciously down. 

“I should like to see you,” you said breathlessly, your fingers working at your many layers to free yourself of your own clothing. “All of you.”

Kylo’s clothing was far less intricate, much to your dismay, for it meant that he was stripped down to his sock garters and underwear while you were still struggling with your corset. Moving to your back, his hands were hot on the thin layer of your corset cover, as he wordlessly began to loosen the ties which had provided ample support for your bust and back all evening long. 

“Quite familiar with removing a Lady’s corset, are you?” you teased, earning a soft chuckle from the large man behind you. 

“Rest assured, I have much experience in all avenues pertaining to pleasure.” Kylo freed you of your corset and corset cover, and you stepped out of your bustle and stockings, leaving you completely bare before him. His hands slid down your arms, still behind you, his mouth dipping down to whisper in your ear, “If you tell me what pleases you most, I promise I will make you feel unlike you have ever felt before.” 

Turning around to face him completely, you lifted your chin in pride from the naked form of your body, your shape on full display for his ravenous eyes. Kylo appraised you eagerly, and you did the same to him as he pushed down his underwear, leaving him just as nude as you. 

“You assume that I have no experience myself, good sir. And you of all men should have learned by now not to make such assumptions about me.” You spoke to distract yourself from staring at his magnificent body all evening long. 

What a man he was! His impossibly broad chest was sculpted and chiseled, and though his stomach had no ridges, he was decidedly solid, dense and firm. You were certain that if you ran at this man with full force, he would not budge a single inch, and you could feel the wetness growing between your legs at the thought of Kylo’s sheer strength and power. 

“Is that so?” Kylo smirked, the bastard knowing exactly what his physique did to you. He raised an eyebrow at your insinuation, but found it to be ultimately unsurprising. 

You were a goddess before him, that much had always been clear to Kylo, but now more so than ever, this was apparent. He had seen many a naked woman in his day, but there was something different about you, about your proportions, your skin, your eyes -- you practically glowed with desire for him, and he would be a fool to pretend he was not equally affected. You were utterly bewitching. His only flare of anger was that another man had received the gift of your pleasure and had been allowed to simply go on living life afterwards. 

“Yes. So, rest assured, I will tell you exactly what I like, and we shall see if you perform admirably.” You smirked right back at him, stepping ever closer. 

The bed was right there, begging for your bodies to be entwined upon it, begging to be rumpled and rustled all night long. Kylo’s hands found themselves on your waist, and he tugged you flush to his firm chest. 

“And what is it that you like, my Lady?” He licked his lips in anticipation, lowering his head to nudge his nose against yours, his long hair falling in a curtain around your faces. 

“Make love to me, but do not treat me like I am made of glass. I want to feel your power,” you whispered, taking the initiative to fall backwards onto the bed, your grasp on Kylo’s shoulders bringing him down with you along with a huff of giddy laughter as you continued, “Whatever you can give me, I can take.” 

If you had in the past fantasized about this very moment, and if those fantasies were coming true right before your very eyes, you did not mention it aloud. Kylo kissed you with an ardor that rivaled anything you could have imagined, his tongue hot and thick as it slid against your own, swallowing up the sounds that you each made as your legs parted for his body to settle securely above you. 

There were no words exchanged beyond the breathless panting of one another’s names, as he brought your hand to his enormous cock which had grown hard, long and thick and aching, longing to bury itself inside your body. You shifted a little, dropping your hips to provide him the access he needed, and let out a sharp gasp of pleasure when you were so deliciously filled. 

Never before had you felt this sensation! It was at once overwhelming in the best way. Kylo thrusted in in in ever so carefully so as to not harm you. He was large, oh heavens his cock was big, you were certain it would be the end of you -- this pleasure, the head of his cock nudging up against a spot inside of you, would be the death of you. 

Kylo’s body draped over your own, and not once did he break his kiss as his hips bucked and ground against yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist, as he built up a rhythm that would keep you satisfied for hours and hours. It was magical, it was magnificent, the way he so encompassed your body! 

Everywhere you looked, everywhere you felt, there was Kylo. His left arm was used to prop himself up, but his right hand was free to grope at your breasts and pinch your nipples as his hips thrusted his cock against that spot inside you again and again, making your eyes water with pleasure. He kissed you, and as he made love to you it was as though Strauss were composing a waltz behind your eyelids. 

Your body trembled beneath his as he continued to fuck you, his hand roaming across your sweat-sticky flesh, your cunt clenching hard around his cock, your stomach fluttering with fullness and stretch as your hips widened for him, a litany of oh yes please Kylo please more more more! tumbled from your mouth. 

Drinking in your sweet sounds, Kylo issued his own groans and grunts and moans of your name again and again, as if it were a plea, a prayer, a song that he would sing until the end of time. Your pussy was warm and wet and so very tight, the grip it had on his cock made each thrust all the more pleasurable, the friction and squeeze beautiful. He felt drunk on the scent of your body, your perfume curling up in his nose when he moved his mouth to suck marks onto your neck. 

You clung to him as he elicited more and more moans from your throat, his lips suckling and kissing at the soft spot behind your ears, the edge of your jaw, the pulse of your clavicle, his mouth moving farther and farther down, lavishing attention across your breasts, until he could not go farther without pulling away from you -- an act which he was unwilling to do. 

Poetry! He could write sonnets about the curves of your flesh, about the way your back arched for him as you came, your toes curling in his sheets. Sheets in which he had spent so many nights with his hand fisted around his cock, whispering your name in the night. Tonight, he had you. Finally, he had been able to express to you how much you meant to him, if not with direct words, then with the way his hips stilled against yours, chasing your orgasm with one of his own. 

Your bodies sighed together as his left arm finally gave out, all the tension in his body evaporating. He nestled your head on his chest, neither of you wanting to get up just yet. He could lie here forever, just the two of you. It was pure, this feeling, pure joy that thrummed through your veins, as you turned your head up to kiss him. 

These kisses were less hurried, less desperate. Instead, they were chaste but not any less meaningful. Kylo’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, and you let your eyes close as the last sparks of pleasure snaked through your nerves. 

“It’s Hux, isn’t it?” you asked, knowing that bringing this up now was likely going to be a mood killer, but it had been on your mind all throughout your show. Feeling Kylo’s arms tighten around you, you whispered, “It has to be Hux. He’s the only one left.” 

“Clever girl,” Kylo agreed, knowing it must be him too, with the way the weasel had crawled out of that tunnel with such a guilty expression on his face earlier that evening -- had it really only been that afternoon? “Something must be done about him, and soon, before he sets his eyes on a less public manner of your death.”

“How would we get away with it?” you mused aloud, and something like pride filled Kylo’s chest at the sound of you using the term ‘we.’ You and Kylo were a team now, partners in life and magic and crime from that point forward. You both knew it.

“You leave that to me, my darling.” Kylo kissed the top of your head affectionately, sleep overtaking his body after such a frightfully rigorous day. 

You both fell asleep with smiles on your faces, held tightly in each other’s embrace, knowing that when you awoke in the morning, the other would be right there where they belonged. 

*******************************************************************************************

Shortly after the ball and the colossal success of your combined show with Kylo, you decided on taking a day to celebrate. A celebration was certainly in order, after all. Also, to allow yourself to be seen in the flesh by your growing patronage during the same time that your smiling face decorated the newspapers next to Kylo’s glare.

A day of shopping at your favorite stores and lunch at an exclusive restaurant was just what the doctor ordered.

On the tail end of the industrial revolution, London was practically filled with all manner of interesting shops that one could meander through. Specifically on the High Street, a number of department stores had begun to crop up, where people of upper and middle classes could get quality goods at prices that weren’t so exorbitant. 

While you liked having custom garments made, and gifts sent to you from all over the world by family and friends alike, there was very little that beat the thrill of simply browsing. Even if one had no intention of purchasing anything, getting to see the marvels in the stores brought a joy to your face that meant it simply had to be an occasion shared with Kylo. 

Unfortunately, it appeared as though Kylo was not nearly so inclined to simply walk about a massive store with no real intention to purchase anything, and so his customary glare was firmly set as you chatted with saleswomen who rushed up to ask you for your autograph, completely ignoring the Great Kylo Ren. 

“Oh, cheer up, Kylo,” you admonished as you entered one of your favorite shoe stores. “I should think you’d be pleased to be seen out and about with me in such a fashion. Nothing gets suitors off a woman’s back like public appearances in the company of a man as unscrupulous as yourself without a chaperone.” 

“It’s not that I’m not pleased to be with you, I just would rather be somewhere a little less stuffy.” Kylo grumbled as he watched you pull box after box off the shelves underneath the latest designs. 

Such a statement made you scoff out a laugh, rolling your eyes at him. “Less stuffy? My dearest man, from what I’ve heard about you, you often spend your time in the stuffiest places in all of London.” 

At that, Kylo could not deny, and so feeling as if he had lost this small debate, he conceded with a compromise, asking, “Perhaps we might take lunch en plein air?”  

“I am quite hungry.” You thought about it for a moment before nodding, “We shall go as soon as I’ve finished trying on these shoes.” 

Handing him the stack of boxes, Kylo found that he could hardly see over the top of them, wondering exactly how long that process was likely to take. 

Later that evening, after arriving back at your estate and taking an indulgent bath to wash the day away, you set about unpacking some of your new effects. Your favorite purchase of the day was an elegant new dress that fit you marvelously. It was in a vibrant shade of blue, made of luxuriously draped silk. Instantly upon appraising yourself in the store mirror while wearing it, you knew it would become a staple for when you wished to look your absolute best.

As you unpacked your new dress, something fell from within the folds of its fabric. Looking for the object, you located an envelope that had fallen to the floor near your feet. Setting your dress aside, you bent to retrieve the curious letter, turning it over in your hands.

Beautiful calligraphy swept across the envelope addressed to London’s Finest Magician. It was sealed with black wax in the form of a coat of arms bearing a wolf. You were careful not to damage the elegant seal as you opened the envelope and removed the letter within.

Folded inside the letter was a single front row ticket to the magic show of Kylo the Malevolent. The accompanying letter was penned by the man himself in the same artful script as was written on the envelope.

Madam,

As I am now in the unique position of calling upon a favor from you in return for the daring feat of saving your life, I ask only the following:

Please do me the great honor of attending my show this Saturday evening. In response to your rising success and aplomb, I have needed to devise new acts myself in order to ascend in step with you. It is my hope that you shall enjoy my newest illusion.

Perhaps you shall even see something you love.

Your Prince in the Darkness.

Finishing Kylo’s letter, you found yourself smiling broadly as a warm flush crept across your skin. The way that man could incite a fever in you from a simple note was magic unto itself.

Despite his grumbling throughout the day, he had picked your favorite purchase to conceal his letter. The thought brought a smile to your lips.

*******************************************************************************************

Saturday night found you right where Kylo wanted you, seated front and center in the first row for his show. Kylo had seen to it that the two seats on either side of you remained vacant to ensure no man was allowed to sit next to you. He had never been more pleased with a decision when he watched you enter the theatre from his hidden place in the shadows.

The sway of your hips was more hypnotic than any feat of mesmerism Kylo could affect and your feline gait more elegant than any flourish he could conjure. You wore your new vibrant blue dress, beautifully fitted to your body, caressing your curves the way Kylo wished his hands could.

Silence fell over the crowd like a grim veil when Kylo took the stage. Alone on the hardwood floor, he looked even more looming than usual. His very presence filled the theatre, carrying to you until you felt engulfed by him and all too eager to fall under his delicious trance.

As one might suspect, a hallmark of Kylo the Malevolent’s shows was a dark and foreboding ambience, befitting of the severe man himself. His moniker of The Prince of Darkness was well-earned through macabre effects, nefarious illusions, and the omnipresent elements of danger and mystery.

Kylo did not disappoint. He never did. He had the audience in his grip in an instant, captivating them all with his rich mellifluously booming voice and his menacing countenance. Every guest was soon brought to the edge of their seat as they watched him perform trick after trick with awe. You wondered if many in his audience caught the way that he met your eyes during his illusions, sometimes even sharing a slight smirk with you like the cocky bastard he was.

Throughout his performance, Kylo alluded to a spectacular new trick for his grand finale, the likes of which none had before seen. You, of course, knew this to be true. You were the most excited of anyone in the theatre to see what new trick he had up his black sleeve.

A collective gasp sounded through the crowd when Kylo stepped to the front of the stage, right in front of you. To the surprise of everyone, you most of all, Kylo extended his powerful right arm in a theatrical display and quoted Shakespeare.

“What light through yonder window breaks?” He watched the eaves of the stage almost hopefully, as if he expected sunlight to burst through the darkness. “I always found it a farcical concept that any woman could imbue the light of the sun into a heart as black as mine.”

Dropping his hand, he turned back to face the audience with his usual scowl, his grim demeanor having returned. You found yourself more rapt by his uncharacteristic prelude than anyone else in the theatre, watching his every gesture.

“My heart,” he began, his deep voice even darker and richer than usual, thick with honeyed emotion. “Has lived in darkness, cold and lonely.” With his words, the theatre darkened further, until only Kylo could be seen where he stood in the halo cast by the stage lamps, and a frigid chill settled in the theatre. The effect was engrossing enough to make you wrap your arms around your body for warmth.

“Until the brightest light broke through my chest,” he continued, placing his right hand over his left breast. “Not through a yonder window, but shining from the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

Kylo looked directly at you, not masking the direction of his gaze from the audience. As his eyes bore into yours, his right hand began to glow like an ember where he still held it against his chest.

“Now, my heart burns with a fire that shall never again be contained.” As he spoke, a heart-sized ball of flames erupted in Kylo’s right palm, seemingly pulled right out from his chest. Extending his hand out toward you in the audience, the ball of fire grew larger, its flames licking high above Kylo’s head, as it seemed to hover in his palm.

“Love is the only inexhaustible fire,” Kylo mused, watching the flame dance in his hand. “And it has consumed me.”

The crowd was awed by his display, and all eagerly waiting to see if he would reveal the woman who had ignited his heart. Smiling at him adoringly, you felt like the luckiest woman in all of London, knowing he spoke of you.

“Only one question remains.” Kylo again looked directly at you, holding your gaze with the fire reflecting in his amber eyes, as he spoke to you from the stage. “Will I be left to burn alone on my pyre into ash and nothingness, or will I be graced with the love of your fiery heart in return, my darling?”

Holding his hand out in front of him, he crushed the ball of flames in his fist. When he opened his hand again, something else shimmered orange and red in his palm. He held an ornate necklace of gold and rubies, colored like the fire itself.

“A gift from my heart to sit above your own, my love,” he said to you, gesturing for you to join him on stage. “Let it be known far and wide that you alone are the woman who has set my heart aflame.”

Rising from your seat, you were met with an uproarious applause as you ascended to the stage, taking Kylo’s proffered left hand. Turning to face the audience yourself, you gave Kylo your back, allowing him to drape the necklace over your head and secure the clasp behind your neck. He placed a hot kiss to the back of your neck before spinning you in his arms to face him, securing you in his embrace.

The theatre erupted with applause at his display, very indecent by contemporary convention. Pushing the limits of decency further, you reached to Kylo’s lapel, pulling him down to meet your lips in a kiss as searing as the fire he had held in his palm moments before.

Not one to be upstaged during his own show, Kylo dipped you low, bending over you to kiss you with even more passion, growling with pleasure against your lips loudly enough to carry to the first few rows of the theatre.

“I have never known anything truly magical until you, my darling,” Kylo purred for your ears only as he straightened, pulling you up with him against his chest. “You have so effortlessly bewitched me.”

“Tell me, handsome,” you said with a lilt, smoothing your hands up his chest, pressing your body closer against his. “What do you intend to do about it now that you’re bewitched so?”

“Never let you out of my arms,” he assured you with a slight but genuine smile, gazing down at you with all the love that burned in his heart. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“I like the sound of that,” you agreed, returning his smile and kissing him again as the crowd roared.

*******************************************************************************************

No longer would either of you spend a night apart from the other. Now that you had both realized your shared passion and adoration, and perhaps something even deeper, you both wished nothing more than to fall asleep entwined in each other’s embrace.

Kylo awoke with the dawn, as the sherbet hues of sunrise filtered in through the bedroom windows. He should have still been exhausted from the evening’s festivities, hungover from the hours spent loving you. On the contrary, he could never remember a morning he felt happier. Although, he was loathe to use the term as applied to himself, his demeanor would best be described as giddy.

Looking down at you, seeing the soft morning sunlight dance across your skin as you slept, Kylo thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. A goddess, trapped in his sheets.

You must have felt the intensity of his eyes as they gazed lovingly upon your visage, because you stirred awake. Sleepily opening your eyes, you were met with Kylo’s handsome features, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you; his long hair wild from sleep and being twisted through your fingers during the evening, an affectionate grin on his kiss-swollen lips. Smiling up at him, you stretched your body, more for his eyes than from necessity, lengthening and arching your body beautifully.

“How shall we spend the day, handsome?” you asked, stifling a yawn.

“We’ll begin with breakfast in bed,” he growled, his voice hoarse from sleep and even thicker than usual. Rolling on top of you, he lowered his head to kiss one of your breasts before crawling down your body, trailing his lips as he moved lower. “After, I’d like to take you out for a day in the city. I want to show off my girl.”

“How could I refuse?” you laughed, as you once again reached to entwine your fingers into his thick inky mane. “So long as you don’t render me incapable of walking.”

“I’ll carry you,” he replied with a smirk against your folds, shaking his head at you just enough to ensure his goatee tickled your flesh, teasing you before he licked his hot tongue through you.

With ease, your legs fell apart at the sensation of his mouth on your clit, where he gave you so much attention in these early hours of the morning. Gasping lightly, you arched your back and curled your toes in the sheets, reveling in the pleasure he gifted you. 

“Oh Kylo!” you gasped. “More, I want more.” 

You could get used to this. Grinning at the thought, your face turned to press into the pillow that smelled of his cologne. Kylo happily obliged, bringing his right hand up to push three thick fingers into your wanting pussy, your folds parting for him with ease. 

“Yes! Yes, right there!” Biting your lip, you sighed and moaned as he began to finger you in time with his sucking licking biting mouth, as he drank down your slick arousal, sweeter than the most decadent of wines. 

So early in the morning it did not take long for you to cum, your body welcoming the day with a warm orgasm that gently washed over you. Kylo consumed you through it, loving the way your thighs trembled and your stomach fluttered, loving the way he could taste your pulse in your pussy, loving the way your hands twisted into his hair. 

He would let you up, certainly, but not until he got another two or three of these delicious orgasms out of you. He took pride in giving you such pleasure. Much to your delight.

*******************************************************************************************

Much later that morning, as the carriage bounced gently over the cobblestone, rocking in time with the gait of the horses, you allowed yourself to be jostled against Kylo’s enormous body. His arm was stretched along the back of the seat behind you, his body already turned toward you, to buy himself as much room as possible inside the coach.

Kylo reached his hand to caress your jaw with his fingertips, pushing your face up gently with his touch to tilt your face higher. With indulgent slowness, he lowered his head to capture your lips. His eyes burned into yours until they fluttered closed at the feeling of your lips parting for him, at the taste of licking into you sensually.

Trailing your hand up his chest as you kissed, you slid it beneath his hair around the back of his neck, pulling him closer against you. It was so effortless to melt in Kylo’s embrace, to lose yourself in the feeling he elicited from you so masterfully with his lips and touch, as his hands skimmed across your body, painting you with goosebumps with each caress.

The carriage jolted to a stop before you even knew you were approaching your destination, intruding upon Kylo’s exquisite kisses. The driver parked the coach near the square, along a busy sidewalk.

“I could draw the blinds,” Kylo told you with a lascivious grin before attacking your neck with his kisses and growling against your skin. “I’m sure no one would even notice our carriage bouncing.”

“Save your strength for later, handsome,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away. “Do you not think we’re sensational enough without risking exposure in such a compromising position?”

“Never.” Kylo shook his head as he allowed his eyes to rake your body lewdly to emphasize his words. “We shall never be sensational enough, my love.”

Sighing dejectedly for your amusement, Kylo pushed open the door to his coach and stepped outside. Taking Kylo’s proffered hand, you stepped down from his carriage to join him out in the bright mid-morning sun, an uncharacteristically clear and sunny autumn day. You would get proper use of your parasol today as you walked through the bustling streets of Trafalgar Square arm-in-arm with Kylo. Looking out across the crowded square, you admired the Landseer Lions and Big Ben rising behind them in the distance.

Walking beside you, Kylo’s lips curled upwards into a rare beaming smile. His chest seemed even broader, puffed with his pride at having you at his side. The crowd parted for Kylo’s imposing physique, allowing him to lead you toward a small ice cream parlor.

“Ice cream?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at your handsome man.

“The second finest breakfast I could imagine.” Kylo winked at you in that wolfish way of his as he opened the door to the ice cream parlor for you.

A plump elderly Italian gentleman greeted you from behind the counter. Meeting Kylo’s eyes, the older man nodded to him in that way men communicate to each other ‘well done’ at securing a beautiful woman. Kylo’s grin only widened. You had never seen him wear a smile longer.

After purchasing you each the largest sized cones piled high with multiple scoops, Kylo led you back out onto the streets. It would require a feat of magic for neither of your ice creams to topple to the ground as you walked. Leading you to a bench positioned beneath a pair of trees, resplendent in their red and orange autumn foliage, Kylo took his seat first. Before you could protest, his free arm shot to your waist, pulling you down into his lap. He held you securely while you both laughed and enjoyed your ice creams, exchanging chilled creamy kisses, immune to the judgmental looks of the passersby.

One such onlooker lingered too long, her gaze strong enough to draw yours and Kylo’s attention. Turning to look at her, you recognized the thin brunette woman who had been in attendance at your very first reception, secured to Hux’s arm. She was unremarkable in every way, save for the way she looked at Kylo, as though she could break into tears on the spot.

“You’re supposed to be with me!” she almost cried, looking at Kylo. “Hux promised me that he would arrange for you to court me if I became his assistant.”

“That is surely not the first time he has disappointed a woman,” Kylo quipped, without looking at the woman, focused on kissing your neck. “I have never wanted you, Rey. In any capacity. I never wanted you when you begged on your hands and knees to be my assistant, or to receive anything else I might extend to you.”

“You would be much happier with me. You belong with me,” Rey whined persistently. “She’ll never accept you for what you are, and neither will anyone else in her class.”

“Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Rey. Green is not your color,” Kylo replied icily before sucking at the skin below your jaw, tightening his grip around your waist, before dismissing her entirely by adding, “Can you not see that I have a goddess in my arms?”

With a dramatic sigh and petulant stomp of her foot, Rey took her leave, slithering away down the street to be lost in the crowd.

“Is this Hux’s way of trying to sabotage me again?” you asked, still smiling from Kylo’s praise and the feeling of his lips on your skin. “By sending his assistant to steal you away from me?”

“Impossible, my love,” Kylo assured you, planting a final kiss to your neck before shaking his head in the negative. “Rey has hounded after me for years. The poor girl is obsessed. And she has jumped from magician to magician as their assistant. Perhaps performing more elicit services for them for all I know. From Finn to Poe, and now to Hux. But never to me.”

“Well, it seems as though I have a score to settle both with Hux and his simpering assistant,” you mused, leaning in to seize Kylo’s lips in a proper kiss. “Care to help me? I’ll not have men scheming against me and women trying to undermine me.”

“I’m leagues ahead of you, my darling,” Kylo told you, a wicked grin blooming on his lips.

*******************************************************************************************

Hours before any performance the magician and his assistant will prepare for their show. Some tricks are dangerous, and there is no room for error. Kylo knew this well. Just as he knew that he could find Hux and his assistant on any given day they were set to perform preparing for their show later that evening. Luckily for Kylo, Hux’s ego was so hearty that Hux could not imagine he still did not have the wool pulled firmly over Kylo’s eyes as to his being the saboteur of your All Hallow’s Eve show.

Kylo wondered how long that delusion would endure.

A few hours before the curtain rose on Hux’s show, Kylo arrived to bid his former friend good luck. Strolling down the aisle of the theatre like a great black phantom, Kylo was unmistakable as he approached the stage where Hux and Rey prepared.

“Ren!” Hux shouted his greeting from the stage as he saw Kylo enter the theatre, rising to his feet from where he knelt beside a prop. Rey’s head jerked in the direction of Kylo too, a vacuous smile on her lips.

“You have a new trick up your sleeve?” Kylo mused, observing the apparatus Hux toiled over on the stage.

“It’s in development,” Hux confirmed, offering no more. “I wanted to debut it tonight but it’s not quite ready.”

“I’d like a front row seat when it is,” Kylo said to Hux before casting a glance at Rey, ensuring she heard him clearly when he referenced you. “For myself and my beautiful love.”

“And what brings you here today?” Hux asked, as Kylo walked to the stage. 

“Simply to wish you good luck, old friend,” Kylo stated, hoisting himself up onto the stage. “Tell me what you have in store tonight.”

Preening under Kylo’s attention, Hux sat about detailing his show and the tricks he was to perform that evening. Hux was too enwrapped in his own monologue to notice when Rey walked closer to Kylo.

Instead of ignoring Rey, as was Kylo’s custom, he locked eyes with her, holding her steady in his almost fearsome gaze. No one noticed Kylo’s left hand tapping his thigh firmly and repeatedly, a makeshift metronome, as he waved his right hand in front of Rey’s face, pulling the veil of his hypnosis firmly over her consciousness. It took only moments for Kylo to pull the all too eager girl under his spell.

“I’m impressed, Hux,” Kylo said, regarding nothing in particular, merely to keep Hux talking. “You’ve always been particularly masterful at sawing your assistant in half.” Kylo spoke to Rey, a hidden message conveyed through his mesmerism for her mind alone.

“Ah yes!” Hux beamed under Kylo’s praise. “The audience always goes mad over my grand finale.”

“I have no doubt that tonight’s show shall be uproarious indeed,” Kylo boomed pleasantly, clapping his huge hands together loudly with his words.

At the clap of Kylo’s hands, Rey blinked her eyes, awakening from her trance and remembering nothing of the message Kylo had written into her subconscious.

A gift for you, his beloved, to be unveiled during Hux’s grand finale. Smiling to himself as he walked away, Kylo knew you would love it.

*******************************************************************************************

“Let us take in Hux’s show this evening, my love,” Kylo told you that afternoon during a stroll through the luxurious garden on your estate.

It was a rare day that you and Kylo each had no demands on your time, other than those you each placed upon each other. Kylo had just returned from a mysterious errand and now he wished to spend the remainder of your evening together attending the show of your most hated rival and that simpering assistant of his.

You didn’t hide your annoyance when you turned to appraise Kylo, hands planted firmly on your hips, a judgmental eyebrow arched at him.

Kylo only flashed you a dashing grin in response, refusing to give up his secret, even under your scrutiny. He was up to something and he wasn’t hiding it. Unfortunately for you, he knew you too well; that you would never deprive him of the opportunity to surprise you, especially when he exerted all of his considerable charm while doing so.

“What are you up to?” you asked, knowing that he must have a very good reason, yet expecting him to ante up nothing.

“It’s a surprise,” he calmly answered. “Just trust me, darling. You’ll enjoy this show.” Reaching his huge hands to your shoulders, he rubbed you slowly and deeply. “I have a special treat for you. Tonight is for you.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you allowed him to hush you with his lips, kissing you deeply as he rubbed the tension from your muscles.

“It had better be good,” you warned him, smiling against his lips.

“Do I ever disappoint you, my love?” Kylo asked, pulling back from you with a knowing grin.

*******************************************************************************************

Seated in Hux’s theatre, Kylo held your hand in his, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. Kylo leaned in to kiss your neck as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.

“Poetic Justice. I have always liked that phrase,” Kylo purred in your ear, his rich voice and hot breath sending goosebumps racing down your back. “Such pretty words, with such a macabre meaning. It reminds me of an old Greek play, where the furies exact vengeance on those who deserve it.” Trailing his nose from your ear along your cheek, Kylo’s voice rumbled through you when he deepened it to continue, “And my fury is yours to command, my love.”

Drawing your attention, Hux burst onto the stage in a counterfeit version of Kylo’s flair and gravitas. Rey flounced at his side, shaking her ass in her revealing ensemble.

Throughout Hux’s show, you couldn’t help but notice several of his tricks had been influenced by either you or Kylo, if not outright stolen. For his finale, he used another trick that you had reinvigorated yourself. You crossed your arms over your chest in angry frustration at the sight of a table with a long coffin-like box on top being wheeled onto the stage. Beside you, Kylo only grinned at your display, silently enjoying your displeasure at the sight of Hux’s closing act.

Sawing a woman in half.

The trick was simple, of course. Even Rey could master it. Hux helped her climb into the coffin. Once inside the box, Rey could curl her slight frame into the top of the box, leaving her head exposed and inserting false legs through the bottom, so that the middle could be sawed in half safely through nothing while giving the illusion of sawing her body in half.

As Hux raised his saw, displaying it for the audience, Kylo raised your hand to his lips, looking over at you with a wink.

“Rey is not herself this evening,” Kylo told you as his lips caressed your hand, his breath hot on your skin. “You have commented yourself that my eyes are mesmerizing, but tonight you shall see just how much so.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, a smirk on your lips, you looked into his amber eyes, gleaming like a demon’s in the dim flickering candlelight from the stage.

“A woman who stares too long into my eyes might find herself hypnotized,” Kylo said with a sinful grin. “Much as Rey is right now. Frozen in place, flat on her back, inside that box.”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead at Kylo’s disclosure, excitement flooding your body. Looking more closely at the box on the stage, the feet that protruded moved in their restraints, they were not inanimate props.

“Enjoy the show, my love.” Kylo gave you another wink before turning his attention to the stage and lacing his fingers through yours to hold your hand during Rey’s last performance.

Hux brought the large saw to the top of the box, dragging its ragged teeth through the slit in the coffin-shaped prop. Rey was trained to put on a show, to scream and struggle, as Hux pretended to saw through her body.

Her performance tonight was exceptional indeed.

When Hux’s saw met the center of the box, where Rey’s body should be safely tucked away, Hux sawed with vigor. Rey’s face contorted into a portrait of horror, her head shaking from side to side, her mouth agape. Her scream echoed through the theatre, making the blood curdle in the veins of every audience member, save for you and Kylo. An eruption of red blood splattered from the slit in the box as Hux made another pass with his saw, cutting several inches deeper, thinking nothing more than that Rey was acting her part well.

Mingled with Rey’s screaming cries was the wet sound of a serrated blade cutting through meat instead of the dry scrape of it against wood. Hux realized the terrible reality when a spurt of blood landed on his face and his crisp white shirt. With shock and revulsion, Hux dragged his saw back to try to withdraw it, slicing again through Rey’s shredded body. Eyes rolling back in her head, Rey’s screams dwindled as blood flooded her mouth, replaced by a thick gurgling whine. Hux screamed himself as he yanked the saw free, watching in horror as Rey convulsed, slinging blood across the stage and over Hux.

A collective gasp resounded through the theatre as the audience realized what had happened, many patrons rising from their seats. The sound drew Hux’s focus back to his show, his career. Straightening himself, he spun the table holding the coffin around and shoved it back offstage and out of sight. Returning to centerstage, Hux took his customary bow before retreating behind the curtain, leaving the more gullible among his audience to believe it was all part of a gruesome trick. A meager applause followed him offstage, the majority of the crowd unsure of how to react.

One man clapped loudly and boisterously, giving Hux a standing ovation. It was of course, none other than your own Kylo, who grinned down at you from where he stood, clapping heartily. You returned his smile from your seat, beaming with affection for your man, thinking of how you would reward him once you arrived home, or perhaps even during your carriage ride. You would also have to think of another reward on top of it once the final deed was done.

*******************************************************************************************

It was the talk of the town for weeks, as you both knew it would be. Scotland Yard had a field day with interviewing every guest in attendance at Hux’s infamous show. Particularly you and Kylo, who were asked a dozen different questions as to what could have possibly happened. You both provided the same answer, although in your own unique ways. 

It was an accident, truly and terribly, just an accident. So far as anyone else would ever know. There was no way to trace hypnosis or mesmerism, no way to pin it on anyone. Sometimes these things just happened, sometimes tricks went wrong. A misfortune to be sure, but one that every magician’s assistant assumed the risk of from her very first day. 

The papers spun it a dozen different ways, and there was even a pause put on magic shows all across London while an internal investigation was conducted. Rey’s death made four in the series of deaths among London’s magical underbelly, which meant that neither you nor Kylo -- nor anyone else for that matter -- could perform. 

It was strange, not being able to perform. Of course, you still delighted guests with simple illusions and sleight of hand at parties that you attended with Kylo proudly at your side. You and Kylo also practiced with each other during late hours of the night, honing both your skills and developing new and unique tricks.

Soon, all mention of Rey fell to the wayside, as those unpleasant things tended to. A month or so later, no one even remembered her name. 

Eventually, the ban was lifted, and although the public ought to have forgotten about Hux along with his assistant, it would seem as though Hux’s name appearing in the paper all over the country had drawn in even more attendees to his shows. All publicity was good publicity, it seemed. Hux was selling out packed theatres, standing room only. He was starting to grow a little too cocky, Kylo had decided, and it was time to make him pay for his sabotage against you once and for all. 

Enough time had passed that Hux wouldn’t suspect a thing. He knew that if Kylo had any idea what he had done, he would have come after him straight away. Or so Hux assumed. Blissfully ignorant, Hux had been operating under the delusion that he would be in the clear. The accident with Rey had almost felt like a sign, like perhaps he should hang up his top hat and white gloves, and retire. 

But the people at his shows oohed and aahed for him, and the attention he gained was finally beginning to approach that of Kylo’s. That spite was all he needed to continue on. 

Which was precisely why it was time for Hux to have a taste of his own medicine, Kylo thought to himself with a sly dimpled smile. Kylo surprised you with his plan over a candlelit dinner, shared at a small intimate table next to a roaring fire in a large marble fireplace in your spacious den.

“I have tickets to Hux’s next show,” he informed you, beaming. “I know how deeply you enjoyed the last one we attended.”

“Shall I ask what the occasion is this time?” you mused with a smile, excited by the prospect of seeing another grand finale.

Could it be? Was the moment that you had awaited for so long, finally coming to fruition? The way that your handsome lover and partner in magic smiled at you told you that yes, yes it was indeed. 

*******************************************************************************************

“I think you’ll find Hux’s opening act rather familiar,” Kylo whispered from his seat beside you as the curtain rose on Hux’s stage.

Hux stood centerstage in a formal tailcoat and top hat, failing in his attempt to look as large and impressive as Kylo. Wordlessly, Hux waved his wand in a flourish over his head, summoning a thick cloud of white smoke that rose from the floor of the stage, rising around his body.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” Hux intoned from inside his smoky haze as a small ball of fire bloomed to life in his hand, all too similar to the trick Kylo had crafted specially for you.

“He stole your trick,” you hissed angrily, looking at Kylo, who appeared anything but angry, meeting your eyes with amusement.

“The chemistry behind it is the real trick,” Kylo replied quietly, almost conspiratorially. “Even the smallest misstep with the chemicals required can be catastrophic.”

On stage, Hux smiled slimily to himself, very satisfied with the awes from the audience. Straightening himself, he clapped his hands together, spreading the fire to his other palm so that both of his hands appeared aflame.

Kylo’s eyes glimmered evilly with excitement as he watched the balls of fire spark in Hux’s hands, his own large hand squeezing your thigh tightly in anticipation.

“The most combustible chemicals can be so easily transferred,” Kylo told you, keeping his predatory gaze fixed solidly upon Hux. “Even by something as simple as a handshake or a pat on the back.”

Placing your hand on the back of his, you felt your own excitement rising, infected by Kylo’s eagerness.

“The wool of one’s jacket is particularly prone to collecting chemical elements.” Kylo turned to meet your eyes for just a moment to emphasize his words before returning his attention to Hux.

As if on cue, a spark flew from Hux’s right palm to land on his wool coat where it covered his forearm. Ordinarily, the spark would do nothing more than extinguish. However, when it met with whatever mysterious chemical Kylo had surreptitiously applied to Hux’s jacket, the spark erupted into a flame instantly upon contact.

Hux’s right forearm exploded in flames. His eyes shot wide with terror as he began shaking his arm wildly, trying to shake the fire away. The flames immediately raced up to his shoulder, licking at his collar.

Unbuttoning his jacket with his left hand, Hux tried frantically to shrug his jacket away, his motions only succeeding in spreading the fire across his chest and torso. Hux screamed, a terrible inhuman sound, as the exposed skin of his hands and neck began to sizzle and boil, like the fat on bacon when being fried.

Around you, members of the audience began to scream along with Hux, some jumping from their seats and rushing toward the exit as a collective panic consumed the crowd. Kylo gripped your thigh tighter, leaning closer against your shoulder, prepared to knock anyone out of the way who ran too close to you in their fright as you both continued to watch Hux’s last show with amusement.

The heat from Hux’s burning body cascaded over you, stinging your face even from where you sat beside Kylo in the third row back from the stage. Hux was now engulfed in flames and screaming in agony as he flalied and twitched.

Flames erupted on Hux’s head as a spark found its way into his hair, the fire mocking his stock of red hair as it danced and burned. In the final few moments before his face burned away beyond all recognition, his steaming eyes seemed to locate you and Kylo where you both sat calmly amid the sea of terrified and running audience members. You were confident that Hux’s last thoughts were the realization that Kylo had delivered Hux his comeuppance with the cruelest stroke.

Hux’s body collapsed to the floor in a gruesome heap of sizzling tissue and smoking clothing. The only sounds that came from the stage were now the sounds of the fire sparking and crackling as it ate away at Hux’s remains.

The theatre had devolved into a stampede, horrified spectators running toward the exit as they shoved and shouldered each other out of the way in their terror. Screams from a hundred ladies echoed from the rafters of the theatre, mingling with the thunderous drumming of running footsteps.

Kylo sat unruffled beside you, both of you waiting patiently in your seats for the crowd to disperse, still watching the smoldering corpse onstage. When only you and Kylo remained in the theatre, Kylo stood from his seat. Straightening his jacket nonchalantly, Kylo offered you his hand, pulling you up beside him. Placing your hand in the crook of his arm, Kylo led you out of the theatre into the welcoming cool of the night air.

“I should thank you for another lovely evening,” you told Kylo fondly, smiling up at him as you walked toward his carriage. Kylo grinned, his chest swelling with pride from your praise. “You really are malevolent, Mr. Ren.”

*******************************************************************************************

Late the following morning, you were in bed with Kylo, your head resting on his shoulder as you sat side by side leaning back against your headboard. Lingering long in bed, after several rounds of enjoying each other and celebrating your victory together, Kylo had the morning’s newspaper spread across his lap.

The morning’s headline read, Onstage Death of One of London’s Finest Magicians Leads to Mortifying Discovery.

The article detailed how Scotland Yard had uncovered numerous altered props from the other deceased magicians in Hux’s storeroom during the course of their investigation into his own death. It appeared as though Hux had even murdered his assistant to silence her as a witness.

Your wonderfully malevolent man had done it all. He had not only seen to it that every other magician and assistant who had wronged you had met his merciless wrath, he had ensured that Hux posthumously took the fall for all of his crimes, securing your future together quite beautifully.

And as the soft gleaming sunlight of a glorious new dawn trickled in through the curtains of your bedroom, illuminating the dimples that formed when Kylo smiled down the bridge of his shapely nose at you, and reflecting in his brilliant amber eyes as he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead, you realized something else.

You loved him for it.

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