#I'm going to hand this on my wall in a golden picture frame!

[hacked-by-jake]

I don't know how or why but I think I have a girl crush on you you are so cool

<33333

Nwjdueiekridudiejrjejudu

Wahhhhhhhhh! 😭 I'm so sorry my answer took so long but tbh, I had no idea what to answer because I wasn't able to find words that would really show how freaking happy your ask made me. Like seriously, you're so kind and it's just such insanely huge honour for me to read this. When I hear people saying they like me it's just so mind blowing for me. I can't describe how much it means to me. 'Everything' would be an understament. Just a big thank you for taking the time to leave those words in my ask box and for making me so happy with it. I wish I could give this happiness back to you somehow. I appreciate so much. People just randomly leaving kind asks is unbelievably wonderful and the world really need more people like you. 🥹🫶🏻

And I can tell you're fucking cool as well! I mean it! 💚💚

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 1

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: Desperately at your absolute limit, you decide to see one last therapist to try and help with your condition. After one session, Dr. Richmond manages to put you at ease, giving you enough tools to start you on your journey. As the exploration continues, your true hope is that you don’t get burned.

Word Count: 4,648k

AO3 Link | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Don't judge me for this chile. I saw that beautiful man in a black turtleneck with glasses and lost my marbles. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

He came highly recommended. That was the only reason you were here. You’d stared at his pictures and read all of the available posts recommending him but you couldn’t get over the fact that he was so damn pretty. And intimidating. 

But after going through nine different therapists, most who ended up as creeps or couldn’t help you, you were at your wit’s end. It was already embarrassing enough starting over with a brand new therapist, but this had to take the cake. 

The hallway was quiet, with muted browns and reds. Supposedly academic, soothing colors. As if the darker the color, the less likely you were to think about anything sexual. You stared at the imposing brown door with his name embossed on a placard. Dr. Terry Richmond. 

You bit your lip and stared at the slip in your hand with the referral scrawled across it. He took on special cases. Pathetic cases. 

“Fuck this,” you said to yourself. You turned on your heel and stepped down the hallway. The door opened and the man himself looked down the hallway. 

“Are you my two o’clock?” He asked. His deep baritone was unexpected. Soothing. Calming. Unnerving. 

“Uh,” you sighed.

He continued to stare so you continued to stare back. He wore an all black outfit, right down to his black tennis shoes. He wore a long sleeved black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Black, form fitting pants that only highlighted how tall he was. He had to be 6’1. Hell, possibly 6’3. 

He cleared his throat, looking for an answer. Light refracted off of his frames, temporarily hiding his eyes. You gripped the straps of your purse and squared your shoulders. “Yes,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond nodded his head and waved you inside. You walked behind him, feeling like you were walking to your doom. Inside his office, it was just as drab as outside.

Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with medical texts and non-fictional books on powerful Black figures through history. The office was small, but clean, with a golden brown sofa pushed against a solid wall of taupe. He had a painting above the sofa, showing a serene ocean view with a boat out on the water. 

Natural light filtered into the room from a window showcasing the cityscape outside. His office was high up in the building, letting you look down on all the people living their normal lives. 

The door closed behind you and you jumped, whipping around to see Dr. Richmond leaning away from the door. He raised his hands. “I’m sorry, would you like it to remain open?” He asked. 

You shook your head. Closed was preferable. You watched Dr. Richmond take his seat behind a massive desk, everything in a neat stack and in its proper place. He rolled forward and then opened a black folder, picking up a pen.

“Please, have a seat. Tell me about yourself,” he said.

“My thick ass file didn’t give me away? Sorry, I shouldn’t say ass. Sorry,” you said and winced after cussing so much. You pointed to a thick file on his desk and you knew without a doubt that it was yours. 

It was crazy how you had a full record of your insanity, detailing how you started down this deep, dark path. Cataloged every doctor, every note, every nasty thought in your mind. Okay, you were being a little dramatic, but this was just so…embarrassing. And it didn’t help to have someone who looked like that hearing what you had to say. 

“There’s no rules here. You want to say ass, go for it,” he said and shrugged. 

You giggled, feeling more at ease. You nodded and took a seat on the sofa. There was a clear coffee table in front of it that held a zen garden complete with little trees, shiny rocks, and…were those Lego figures? You looked from it to him and he smirked, drawing your attention to his full, lush lips. 

 “Some people find it easier to occupy their hands during discussions. You can give it a try if you want,” he said.

You sat back on the sofa. Maybe later. You felt too awkward as is. Like you were some alien visitor testing out your disguise on the human population. You rubbed your sweaty palms on your leggings and shook your head. “What, uh, did my file say about me?” 

Dr. Richmond shrugged and leaned back in his seat, fixing his thin gold glasses on his face. “Those are words and opinions from other doctors. I’d rather hear what you have to say,” he said and leaned back in his seat.

He was so…disarming in a way that allowed you to release the ironclad control you held on to. You picked at your nails and focused on that, rather than his stormy eyes. “I think I’m broken. And I’m not entirely sure why I’m even entertaining this,” you said. 

“Why are you then?” He prompted.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Tired of feeling like a freak,” you said.

“A freak? Why would you use that term?” He asked. 

You snuck a glance at him. He no longer held the pen. He rested his hands against his stomach, clasped, and just looked at you. Even that was different from all your other therapists combined. 

“Because that’s what it feels like. Like I’m in a freak show. I–,” you stopped and licked your lips. But you were here now. May as well rip the bandaid off. “I can’t cum! And I know, it’s normal. I know plenty of people experience it. I know that women especially have a hard time doing it. But no matter what I fuckin’ try, I just can’t. I feel it coming, I know it’s coming, but then it sort of…goes away? And then I’m sitting there embarrassed that I can’t and when I’m with a partner, they pretend that it’s cool, but then I never hear from them again.” 

You clicked your teeth shut as you realized you were rambling. You picked at a stiff hangnail, tugged at it until it started to hurt. You continued flicking at it, egged on by your awkwardness. And realizing you were being awkward was only making it worse. So you picked. And picked, until the hangnail tore and hurt worse. 

“Why is it important that you cum?” He asked. 

“What?” You asked. You looked at him, expecting to see pity. Disgust. Curiousness. Dr. Richmond held none of those things. His face was a pillar of stoicism, balancing the perfect mix of professionalism and empathy. 

“Why is it so important to you? If you know that it’s normal and plenty of people experience it, shouldn’t the journey matter more than the destination?” He asked. 

Your mouth fell open on a silent gasp as you looked at him. Your mind emptied of every single possible answer to that question. It was important because…it was. Because you never got anything else right either. You were always a step behind, slow on the uptick, feeling like you were taking up too much space in the world even after shrinking yourself to the smallest possible point.

Not easy to do considering your size. You loved your body and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it wasn’t exactly easy to hide. You were unassuming, sweet, kind, and a great friend. But beneath all of that, you wanted desperately to fit in. This was a basic human release. It was part of the big three things that humans needed. Food, safety, sex. And you could only achieve one of those things.

But how did you word that without sounding like a pathetic kook? You pulled at the hangnail, felt the burn as it ripped, and shrugged your shoulders. Might as well tell the truth. “Because I feel like a freak when I can’t. Like I waited too long. To have sex, to experience life, to explore what I’m into,” you said. 

“Do you think there are goal posts for life?” He asked. He may as well have been a statue for how often he moved. He retained his position, chair turned slightly towards you, as he looked at you like you were a puzzle. 

“Isn’t there? That’s why we call them milestones? Reach your 18th birthday, yay you’re an adult. Find the love of your life, yay you’re married. Pop out some kids, yay, you’re continuing the bloodline. I feel like now, at my age, I should know what one fuckin’ orgasm feels like,” you said. 

“How do you know you haven’t had one already?” He asked.

“I know my body. There’s nothing. There’s the build up, there’s the excitement, there’s everything leading up to it. But I never get over that peak. It just…goes away,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond nodded and turned his attention to the pad. He wrote down a few sentences and it was so quiet in his office, you could hear a clock ticking nearby. You also heard his pen scratch against the paper. He must be using some fancy, fountain pen. He looked the type. 

“What do you hope to achieve through therapy?” He asked. 

You shrugged. “If I knew, you wouldn’t be my tenth therapist,” you said with a heavy sigh. When you first thought about going to therapy, you thought it wasn’t truly for you. There was nothing that really bothered you outside of life’s stress. Everybody had that. 

But you ended up finding some that encouraged you to dig deep and find the woman within. The one comfortable in her skin. Encouraged you to explore your sexuality and think about it in depth. You crawled through so many forums, so many health websites, so many articles that you had a great idea of what ailed you. 

“There has to be a reason you keep trying,” he said. 

You leaned back into the sofa with a huff. “You definitely ask the easy questions. What happened to the intake and whatever?” You asked.

Dr. Richmond chuckled. He tapped his pen against your folder. “You’ve done plenty of that, don’t you think?” 

Your lips twisted with a smile. Okay, maybe you were starting to see why he was so highly recommended. He was comforting without being condescending. Soothing without being smarmy. He treated you like an adult and for the first time, you had a little beacon of hope. 

“I keep trying because I want it. I don’t have the words right now to describe why I want it. I want to know the hype. I want the relief. I want to know what post nut clarity feels like,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond chuckled and you chuckled with him. It sounded funny, but you were so serious. It was exhausting at this point. Pretending like you knew what the fuck you were talking about when others asked you. Your group chat blew up with your equally single friends who were less discerning about who they took to bed.

Every other night, there were stories about dick sizes, oral, and a whole treatise on the lack of finesse these guys had. You almost snorted thinking about your best friend, Brooklyn, and how she said that no wonder men were trapping women in marriages in the past. It was the only way they could get women to be with them. It certainly wasn’t because of their pornographic sexual prowess. 

“What’s been your journey with sex so far?” He asked. 

You took a deep breath and told him all about it. The way that you picked up a book one day with sex in it and never looked back. In a lot of ways, that book probably shaped how you viewed sex and your sexual kinks. Before long, you were searching for more and more books with the exact same tropes. A sexy, semi-asshole alpha male that was too big to be real. 7’8, long dick, and a short attitude. Typically bad boy types with tattoos and “touch her and die” vibes. The kind to only be soft with the female main character.

You could wax poetic about why it appealed to you. Blah blah blah, you had a terrible childhood where you felt invisible. It was all there in the file if he wanted to take a gander. 

“I know I’m submissive, that I want to be dominated in bed. But, whew, the game out here is ridiculous,” you said. “The men I wouldn’t mind submitting to are too damn weak to take control. The men I would never submit to act like I’m their pet already and can speak to me however they want.” 

“Do you think you’re being too picky?” He asked. 

You were startled into a laugh. “What gave me away, Dr. Richmond?” You asked.

Dr. Richmond chuckled. “I have a process, bear with me,” he said. That ain’t all you wanted to do. He was fine as hell. You mentally shook your head. No, you could not go there. Not at all. 

You continued to discuss how you led to certain conclusions. Yes, you were picky. But why shouldn’t you be? You weren’t seeking perfection. You just wanted something normal. Something healthy. Something toe curling, mind numbing, sickeningly disgusting and sweet. Was that too much to ask for? 

Dr. Richmond asked more questions and you relaxed fraction by fraction, getting right to the core of why you were seeking professional help. You told him about some of the partners you had. Some who were sweet and really tried. You had a long term boyfriend at one point who was attentive and caring. But he fell short of making you cum. 

He ate you out long enough to get you wet and going and then jumped straight to sex just so he could cum. You often lied about cumming until it got too exhausting to keep up with. He promptly got mad, hurt that you lied, and possibly embarrassed that he wasn’t God’s gift to sex. His loss. 

It was awkward at first to discuss such intimate details with Dr. Richmond but you often forgot he was even there. Until he asked you to expand on something you said or ask a clarifying question. Even the scratch of his pen faded into the background as you spoke about how you arrived in his office. 

Dr. Richmond finally finished and leaned back in his seat once more, squaring his broad shoulders against the high back of his chair. He crossed his leg and looked at you and you briefly wondered what he’d look like without the glasses. 

“We’re nearing the end of our session but I think I’m getting a clearer picture of why you’re here. After hearing from you and looking through your file, it seems like your perception of what sex really is has been skewed. Either through these books, these movies, or even porn. It’s perfectly okay to consider what you like in bed or what you prefer in a partner. But most people’s foray into their sexual journey starts with themselves. What’s your relationship like with your body?” 

“I love my body,” you said, immediately. Why wouldn’t you love your body? You were gorgeous. Sure, you struggled with your weight, but you didn’t want to be thin anyway. You just wanted to roll out of bed without being out of breath sometimes. Or cut your toenails without having to stop every few minutes for air. 

Dr. Richmond licked his lips and your eyes dropped immediately to it. He rubbed the corner of his mouth with his thumb and it drew your attention to his big hands. Too damn bad you hadn’t met him under better circumstances. You bet he could make you cum. Often.

“What else?” He asked. 

“What else is there?” You asked, clearing your throat, and drawing your attention away from how drop dead gorgeous he was. Your thoughts ran wild still, picturing him in all sorts of nasty scenarios. If nothing else, your imagination was always there to show you a good time. Your own perfect world where you experienced back to back orgasms. 

“What has your personal sexual journey encompassed besides you loving your body? Do you touch yourself?” He asked. 

You fought every urge you had to squeeze your thighs together. How the hell did this man end up in this profession? He missed his calling as a phone sex operator. Or an erotic audio content creator. Good lord, he could have people eating out of the palm of his hand if he so wished. Swimming in a tub full of money earned from hundreds of thousands of horny bitches who could cum to his voice alone. Lucky bitches.

You shrugged. “Of course I touch myself. I can’t cum that way either,” you said. 

Dr. Richmond chuckled. “This only works if you lower them walls you try so hard to hide behind,” he said.

You kissed your teeth and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. The hell did he know. So what if he had fancy doctor diplomas behind his chair. So what if he had a MD in this field. What the hell did he know?

After cursing him out two ways from Sunday in your mind, you deflated. “I know I’m not relaxed when I masterbate. I lock my door, I put on headphones, and I still feel like I’m…”

“Like you’re…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

“Being watched? Being judged? You can probably guess I grew up religious. It’s not like I had enough time or space to explore my body. My room was directly next to my parents’. If I so much as sighed too loud, my mom was banging on my wall telling me to fix my attitude,” you admitted. That had been oodles of fun. Growing up, you couldn’t even roll your eyes without someone telling you to fix your face. 

“What does relax you then?” He asked.

“When I find out, I’ll tell you,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled, showing off a dazzling, mega-watt movie star smile that made your knees weak. If you weren’t already sitting down, you’d fall flat on your face. 

“I believe I can help you, but you have to be willing to do the work. I need total, focused commitment from you. Do you think you can do that?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said instantly. There wasn’t even a question. You wanted this more than breathing, more than eating. And that was saying something because you would happily drive far and wide for a good meal. 

Dr. Richmond nodded. “Good. I’m giving you homework. I want you to spend the next week exploring your body. Nothing sexual. Spend time in your body and with your body. Touch yourself, but no masterbating. When you shower, acknowledge your body. When you lotion up, pay attention to every mole, every scar. This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body. I also want you to keep a journal. You won’t share it with me unless you want to, but this exercise is to get you in tune with your body. Rewire how you perceive sex and sexual completion. Does that sound doable?” 

You nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment. He must not know the effect he had on those around him. He had to be completely clueless. Batshit fucking oblivious. The wreck he was having on your libido was absolutely insane. 

Joking aside, you were taking this seriously. In just one session, Dr. Richmond managed to give you a tiny spark of hope. That maybe you weren’t a lost cause. You immediately tempered your thoughts. Hope hurt. You’d been hopeful so many times in the past, with different therapists, who seemed like they had a plan to help you.

Only for them to diagnose some other problem. You had anxiety, duh. You had depression, shocker. You had a laundry list of diagnoses from doctors and therapists who just thought you were obsessed with sex. That was like saying the sky was blue. Who wasn’t obsessed with sex? Besides asexual people. 

“I’ll do it,” you said.

“Good,” he said. He went over your schedule, working out a time to see him once a week until you would eventually graduate to fewer sessions. That bummed you out. Not seeing his gorgeous face ever again? Could you fake another issue and continue seeing him? 

Dr. Richmond dismissed you and you left his office feeling a smidgen lighter than when you entered. Maybe this would actually work out. Maybe. 

Terry

Terry finished with his last client of the day and went over his notes, inputting his clearer thoughts into the patient portal on his laptop. When he ran across your file, he paused and opened it once more.

Your case fascinated him. He couldn’t stop pouring over your files, doctor’s notes, direct quotes. There had been plenty of therapists before him, all trying to help the beautiful woman who entered his office earlier in the afternoon. 

He wasn’t immune to his patients. Some were beautiful and charming and all tried to flirt their way into his bed. He never crossed that line. Never. Yet…when you discussed your story, the rawness of it captivated him. He held onto your every word like you were a theater production right before his eyes. 

He hardly took notes because he was so fascinated with the dichotomy of you. On the outside, you were a bit shy. Perhaps too self-aware which led you to shrink, hide who you really were. He got the sense that there was an entire universe wrapped up in your mind and he began asking deeper questions than he ever had on a first session. 

The hour had gone by too fast for his tastes. He wanted to hear more. Learn more. Know more. He hated to admit it, he even got semi-erect as you told your tale. He was understandably disgusted and it wasn’t the first time; occupational hazard. But it was the first time he’d ever cursed his medical degree. 

You were perfect. Absolutely perfect. When you admitted to being submissive, his dick even twitched. Ached. Why couldn’t he have met you somewhere else? Surely, fate hadn’t been so cruel as to put the perfect sub within reach and then ensure that he could never have you? Never touch you? 

Describing your previous lovers actually made his chest boil. You had been subjected to ignorant men who wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you. And they had you believing that you were the problem. It was laughable. It was maddening. It was cruel. 

He frowned at your file. He had gone over it so many times in preparation for the session. He didn’t know what would walk through the door. A file this thick? He thought he’d have a sex-obsessed, delusional fiend on his hands that he’d have to contend with.

Your wish of cumming was almost cute. Terry sighed. He shouldn’t be thinking it was cute. If anything, he should be passing your case off to his colleague down the hall. Dr. Crawford was as capable as Terry was, their ideas often aligning in regards to treatment.

He preferred a holistic approach. Most problems could be resolved within a few months, once people began to shift their idea of sex and their role in it. 

“Everything is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power.” That was one of his favorite quotes, said so many times that no one truly knew where it originated. 

It was a quote he often repeated to his patients at the right moment. When they were beginning to discover a part of themselves previously unexplored. He wondered how long it would take for your moment? That dawning realization. 

He was only sad he couldn’t see it in real time. That moment when you let yourself feel. Let yourself relax and sink into that subspace you so desperately needed. Terry grunted and closed your file. 

He was about to crack you open like an egg and watch a brand new woman emerge. He was about to hand you off to the first man who pretended to understand your needs. He took out his fresh notepad, every patient got one, and scribbled some more notes. He’d have to make sure you understood the difference between a real dom and a little boy playing dress up. 

His eyes scanned across his earlier notes, little things he jotted down while you spoke. Areas you skipped over, areas you expanded on. They were only a sentence or two long, something to kickstart his memory. Because at the time, his eyes were focused on you. On your face, your voice, your mannerisms. 

It was both a curse and a blessing to notice so much. See so much. Understand so much. But it worked when necessary. You deflected about your sexual partners, retreated when he tried to push further about how you reached these conclusions. What methods you tried.

Usually, Terry did a whole song and dance to ease patients into talking about sex. Sex was taboo until it was time to have it. Now everything was awkward, unbalanced, and led to too many instances of abuse. 

But between your file and how skittish but determined you seemed, you didn’t need a song and dance. You needed someone to give you guideposts. You didn’t truly need therapists. You just needed a nudge in the right direction. A nudge to someone else.

Terry pursed his lips and looked at your name on the file. He had to be careful. If he wasn’t, you would end up being trouble in more ways than one. 

He finished up the last of his notes and then scanned through for anything he might have missed. He wrote down what your homework assignment was. He hadn’t truly known where that came from. 

Perhaps it was the look in your eyes. Perhaps it was the helpless, frantic twist to your mouth that had him going from zero to one hundred where you were concerned. But the more he described it, the lower your eyes went. The way your mouth slackened just a bit. As if you were caught in some picture in your mind that he couldn’t see. 

Terry leaned away from his desk and looked outside of his window. The tinted glass showed the sun in the distance, sinking lower towards the horizon. A bird flew, twisting and turning with the hot currents it found. 

He ought to do the right thing. There was no way to remain objective in this manner. Not when he was strangely drawn to you, drawn to your file, and drawn to the unique challenge it presented. 

You could very well end up a case study in some medical textbook or journal, name changed, but the presentation exactly the same. He didn’t relish the thought of being the one to put you there. But your case could end up helping someone else. It was the way the world worked.

He only hoped that he had enough self-restraint to walk away if he found himself compromised. If he couldn’t reign in his personal tastes and habits to help you. If he found himself looking at your lips as you spoke, your smile as you made self-deprecating jokes, or the shy way you licked your lips. 

“Shit.” He took his phone out of his bag and hit up his on again, off again submissive play partner, Tasia. Perhaps it’d been too long since he took care of his own needs. Perhaps what he needed was to release the pent up tension he carried around all the time. 

How long had it been? He didn’t know. But even as he set up the details with Tasia, he couldn’t help wondering if you were following his directions to the letter.

I said don't judge me! LOL. Thank you for reading, truly.

The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 2 | Part 3

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[tiyawnyana]

Thank you for the request!!! @all-seeingeye so sorry it took so long but I really wanted to capture some angst and soft comfort with what I envision with Viktor and his dynamics with people

A/N: brrrr it's finally like fall out where I'm at, so cold and so windy

Characters: Viktor x Male (or gender neutral) character

Warnings: hurt, comfort, slight angst, illness, character death

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Golden

Growing up, you were more of the scrawnier kid in your family. It wasn't for a lack of food- no, you had plenty. You ate plenty, always provided for by your professor parents.

It just seemed to be what your body was like. Your parents fussed, grandparents even moreso, over your tiny frame but ultimately they realized you were fine. Healthy. Just small.

As you grew, you still remained lanky and small, but it was more so lean, less defined muscle.

You had first met Viktor as he was introduced to the academy of engineering by Counselor Heimerdinger. You had stopped by, bringing food for your parents who were learning they would be teaching the first Zaunite transfer student- you were stunned. Viktor was incredibly kind, his voice smooth but features sharp, soothed by the warm honey glow of his eyes.

He extended his hand, the olive branch to you, and you were so easily entwined in his branches.

You decided to pursue more engineering classes, suddenly interested as Viktor had a way with words that made this whole new world seemingly filled with light and promise.

You appreciated his kindness- you had struggled with making friends that could understand your way of thinking or talking, often residing by the walls in favor of staying out of the spotlight.

He was kind. He was patient. You were entangled.

You devoted yourself to creations, wishing to make a difference down in the Undercity but projects needed funding, something that was scorned upon despite the picture perfect model citizen of the Undercity- Viktor, who worked on said projects with you in hopes for them to take flight and actually help the undercity.

There was a breakthrough- Suddenly, the promise of scientific engineered magic spreading across the city, led by Jayce Talis.

He, too, was a kind man. He cared deeply for Viktor who saved his life. You often found yourself thinking that the man from the undercity did the same for you as well.

As Hextech grew and blossomed, you took notice of Viktor getting ill. He was closer with you, you'd like to think, enough that he would link his arm with yours down vacant halls as you both discussed new project ideas in the late nights. Those were the times that you realized just how badly this illness was affecting him.

You took up working out, building up your arm strength over time.

You wanted him to lean on you as much as needed, figuratively and literally. He was everything- he brought light to your stale world, you wanted to provide that same light and kindness.

He returned from his check up with the physician with a slight wobble in his step, one that he couldn't mask as easily.

You walk beside him, side eyeing his form with a never ending worry.

“You're staring,” he murmurs, side eyeing you back.

“Sorry-” you sigh,”Just- What did the physician say?” You stop in the hallway and he stops as well. People walk past, nodding your way with no regard to the genius before you.

Viktor sighs, leaning wholly on his cane,”Same thing as always,” but he averts his gaze.

You notice, of course you do,”which is?”

He huffs in annoyance, but it's never directed at you,”My leg is getting worse- just as everything else is. They think they'll find a breakthrough soon,” he shrugs,”But you and I both know that's not the case.”

“Don't say that,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to hold his bicep,”I hold hope that they will, they have to-”

He shakes his head,”You're always too hopeful,” then looks back at you in silence for a brief moment,”Let's go back to the labs. I'd rather spend my time there anyway.”

You nod with a soft, albeit worried smile, then follow in his stride, almost hovering if he ends up needing help.

Weeks roll on, new breakthroughs with Viktor and Jayce have a buzz going through the halls.

“-this formula doesn't make sense though, look-” Jayce shows you the notebook clasped in his hands,”In theory- it'd work just fine, but when I've applied it to the gauntlet, it doesn't work-”

You open your mouth to respond but it's not you who speaks.

“What of the gemstone?” Viktor responds from across the room, engrossed with his own creation.

“That is.. not entirely ready yet,” Jayce scratches the back of his neck.

“Then we can finalize it,” Viktor turns to look your way,”It only needs a few more tests and final notes, correct?”

“Yes, that's correct,” Jayce confirms.

“Viktor and I can get that done, then-” you nod his way,”You have that banquet, right? With the Counsel and their buyers?”

Jayce huffs at the mere mention,”Yes, but I don't see why it's important.”

“Counselor Medarda seems to think it could help fund some of our future projects,” you speak with a knowing smirk, looking over to Viktor who rolls his eyes.

Jayce becomes slightly sheepish, stammering over himself as he tries to brush it off,”Well- uh, my time is more valuable here, in the labs-”

“You are the golden boy, the face of Hextech, Jayce,” you pat his shoulder,”Go, get the support and funds for the projects, we can handle this here.”

He huffs in annoyance but nods,”I'll be back in the morning, then- if anything happens, though-”

“Tell you immediately,” you and Viktor say at the same time. You throw a knowing smirk his way before shooing Jayce out of the lab.

You walk over to Viktor, midway through writing formulas down. You hover, gazing down at the runes and the new design for his hex claw.

“The new design is nice,” you murmur.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly, before putting down his pencil and turning around in the chair,”we should get started on the gemstone.”

“Not before dinner,” you shake your head, standing up straight and crossing the room to the lunch bags your mother bad insisted you take,”My mother made more of that cuisine- the one with the radishes?”

Viktor looked annoyed at the thought of having to eat but ultimately nods, relenting as you place the food down before him with a soff,’Thank you.’

You eat in silence, leaning back against the desk. After a mouthful, you mumble,”What even are the gauntlets for?” As you usher over to the semi finished project across the room.

Viktor finishes chewing, side eyeing the project,”Jayce says it can help the people that are mining, making a three day job into a 3 hour job.”

He shrugs. You hum at his answer.

“You think they can be used down in the undercities mines, then? Once the air is cleared, of course.”

Viktor is silent for a moment, seemingly thinking it over,”One can only hope.” Then he's silently finishing his food.

After finishing dinner, you stand poised in the center of the lab with a mallet.

Viktor tinkered with the gemstone, finalizing it and stands across the room with goggles on. You stand there, waiting for his mark, with a welders mask strapped to your face.

His hand raises, and you bring your hand down, a loud noise filling the room as the mallet connects with the gemstone. What looks like electricity shoots around the room fizzles out, but the residual shock of it sends Viktor collapsing. You're dropping the mallet just as quick, unstrapping the mask from your face and quickly helping him up.

His face is strained as he carefully sits in the chair you bring him to and he reaches down to rub at his leg, the brace wrapped firm around his muscle.

“The reaction is getting to be less.. violent, at least,” he murmurs through a wince.

“Yes, uh,” but you're not focused on the gemstone, moreso at the fact that his hand won't stop shaking. You grasp his hand in yours,”I think we should stop here.”

His gaze snaps to yours, taking in the furrow in your brow and the worry laced into your eyes,”No- no, let's continue.”

“Viktor, please,” you urge carefully, not wanting to come off as commanding nor pitiful.

“No, I'm fine, just-”

He's interrupted by a coughing fit, and you're quickly moving to grab him water. He takes it quickly, cooling his throat.

He huffs for a minute, confused as he rubs over his chest carefully.

After that minute, he tries to stand, but his knees wobble beneath him and he almost buckles over only for you to catch him with an arm around his waist.

“Yeah, we're done for the night,” you speaks firmly and for once, he doesn't argue as you help him out of the lab.

After locking up behind you, he's leaning against the wall with his eyes shut, taking in soft breaths.

“I should bring you to the physician,” you speak carefully.

He looks at you, momentarily silent before nodding quietly.

You loop your arm with his and you're thankful that he leans on you now but halfway across the building, he begins to cough again, bending at the waist and nearly hacking up a lung.

“Ok, c'mon,” you manage to say after he's calmed, taking his cane and carefully lifting him into your arms. He grips at your shoulder, eyes wide in shock.

“I don't want your pity-” he rasps.

“Viktor,” you mumble, looking at him with sincerity,”You'll never have pity from me, only care.”

He huffs but slumps in your hold, legs dangling over your arm and leaning into your chest as you carry him to the physician.

The door cracks open carefully, the soft creak of wood waking you with a slight startle.

Jayce peeks his head in and you're confused before taking in the early morning rays of sun shining in through the blinds.

He carefully shuts the door behind him and you sit up in the chair you'd dragged closer to the bed Viktor remains asleep on, an iv drip hooked in his arm.

“The physician told me it was a cold?” Jayce murmurs softly as he crosses the room.

You softly clear your throat,”Yeah- I guess, honestly..” you trail off, gazing over at your friend,”I think it's worse than that- but I don't want to jinx it.”

He nods quietly,”I'm trying to figure out something to help him, his leg-”

You nod too,”Been trying to do that for years, too, it seems.”

There's a slight lull, a silence filling the room but not an entirely uncomfortable one.

It's broken when Viktor breathes in shakily, his eyes cracking open blearily.

You focus your attention on him, and Jayce is quick to go get the doctor. Your hand clasps over Viktors, soothing him with a soft, kind smile as he finally relaxes.

Honey golden eyes peer back at you framed by tired eyes and thick, brown lashes.

You grow familiar with his weight- carrying him to the physician due to his health plummeting.

It seems that the first time- it was a cold, but rapidly grew into something in the lungs. It's remained in him the last few months and you remain glued to his side, ensuring his well being.

You lose sleep or have half assed sleep in that little chair by the bed, hand entangled with his. Like a lifeline.

You don't know that he wakes up in the middle of those nights, looking over at you with the same worry and concern, tightening his hand around yours.

One night, Jayce was busy at a concert with the Counselors.

You were crossing the building, bringing food with promises to meet Viktor in the labs that night due to being busy with your parents throughout the day. You had waved to Sky, the new assistant to Viktor, brought on to the team a few months back. A kind, sweet young lady with bright eyes and even brighter dreams- she was going to the lab as well and would be there before you.

Opening the door to the lab, you're greeted with a sob of what sounds to be pain. You drop the food, uncaring if it spills as you rush in, the sight of Viktor collapsed to the ground a staggering one.

You don't hesitate, rushing over and carefully lifting him in your arms, confused at the fine powder surrounding him but paying it no mind.

“Viktor- Viktor, I'm here, I'm bringing you to the physician-”

He passes out in your hold, slumping against your chest.

Your hand is entangled with his, fingers laced together as you muffle the sobs into your fist.

Viktor remains asleep, iv hooked into his arm with a relieving relaxed look on his features.

The door cracks open early in the morning, Jayce quickly but quietly slipping through. He looks exhausted but at the same time like he actually slept. His hair is a mess, eyes rimmed red and he inhales sharply over the sight of you, eyes red and shiny with tears.

You sit up, sniffling softly and wiping your nose with a tissue but never letting go of Viktors hand.

“They told me,” he murmurs, crossing the room and dragging the other chair over to sit beside you.

You nod, that ball in your throat burning. You're quiet for a moment before rasping,”I got into engineering because of him- for him.”

Jayce nods,”All I've wanted to do was help him.”

You wipe your eyes, a soft headache brewing but you remain uncaring to it.

“Our inventions- our creations, we were supposed to make something-”

“The hexcore-” Jayce interrupts,”If we finalize it, we can-”

You shake your head,”Jayce- he said to destroy it.”

“What?” He rasps.

You nod in disbelief, watery eyes meeting his,”He wants us to destroy it- said something about it growing too dangerous.”

“That's just because it's not safe guarded yet,” Jayce tries to reason.

“No- this wasn't a matter of finalizing it,” you look back over at Viktors resting face,”He was frantic. Scared, even.. insisted about its destruction.”

Jayce is quiet otherwise, a soft sigh of defeat filling the room.

You grew familiar with holding his weight in your arms. You gained more muscle over time, but not realizing that he was losing himself- bit by bit, every cough seemingly taking part of himself away.

The building shook with the explosion. You took off, realizing it came from the northernmost part of the building, the counselors chamber. You had walked Jayce and Viktor up there before departing.

You nearly slam into the wall trying to avoid a frantic Jayce, heart seizing into your throat upon the sight of a broken Viktor in his arms.

He looked small in Jayces hold.

You run right behind Jayce, tears stinging your eyes and quickly unlock the door to the lab for him as he carefully places your friend down on the table.

Your fingers press to his throat, trying to find a pulse and a wrecked sob tears from your own at the realization that you can't find it.

You wipe the dust and dirt from his face, urging him to wake up. To greet you with his kind, honey golden eyes and to scold you for pitying him. You allow the tears to flow, sobs coming freely now when the sound of metal clacking followed an almost mechanical whir echoes in the room.

You raise your head, looking to Jayce as he walks closer, clasped onto the hexcore with metal tongs and ignoring your frantic yell before the room erupts into a blue, sending you into the wall with a resounding thud.

The last thing you see is Viktor enveloped by a bright light, his skeleton faintly visible and realizing his spine had broken.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—A/N: thank you again :))))

[slashingdisneypasta]

Severus Snape x Fem!Reader || Drabble

Plot: Severus finally finishes it; the painting of you - the only girl who ever kissed him. The one who didn't care; who then broke his heart and went off with another boy. // Alternatively; Sev's a glutton for punishment.

Warnings: Oh theirs a lot wrong with this picture- pardon my pun. Entrapment (literally), age difference (Technically you are the same age but you died at 17, so your painting is 17. And he's in his 30's), entitlement, self hatred, etc. Snape's a mess.

"Pingis... vivi."

With those words spoken and a waive of his hand over the canvas, the paint melded together to look 17, alive and beautiful, just the way that you did, something changes in your acrylic eyes. Something turns from fake to real. Then you blink, and shift out of the position he painted you in. You tuck hair behind your ears again, and get up off the seat he drew for you.

Snape watches in reverent silence, waiting... will it be you? Really you, or a pathetic pantomime? Will you recognise him, decades later, if you are you?

He's staring, so the girl inside the frame gives him an odd look, and turns away to ignore him- then snaps her neck back his way. Recognition in your wide eyes. "-Sev???"

"... Y/N."

"Did you make yourself an aging potion to get into the club?" You giggle, the sound better than windchimes to him. "I mean- the professors robes are kinda sexy, but I think you put in a little too much aging agent! You look- " Before Snape can speak, you're reaching forward for him-- and missing. Eyebrows furrowing, you step forward this time and try again, still reaping the same results. Its as though no matter how far you go, you don't truly get more then a foot away from your spot.

Stepping back, you look around you- left and right, seeing things that Snape can't fathom (not being a painting himself. Perhaps the scene behind you continues on, or perhaps there are long, eternal hallways. He's never cared to stop and ask any of the annoying idiots on the grand Hogwarts walls.). Still watching you carefully, he sees the exact moment that realisation dawns on you. You lower your arms, cross them over your chest, and slowly look back at him. "Sev, am I dead?... I mean- I must be. What happened??"

"Thats not important- "

"It's very important, Severus." You snap. Its not the firet time you ever cut him off, but it has been a long time since anyone did that to him. Especially not a school girl. He doesnt enjoy it; it puts a sour taste in his old mouth. "Tell me."

"It... I said it's not important." He almost gives in to you, like he used to. But he's not 17 anymore, he's a grown man and you're just a girl. "Wasnt me, anyhow, if thats what you're thinking." You will listen to him. You have to, now. With both hands on the ornamental, golden frame he encased you in like a pretty thing just to look at, he leans in towards the paint. "You listen to me, now... I brought you back. So... "

"So??"

"So that makes me your master." He hisses quickly, making your eyes narrow. What can you do about it, though?? Nothing. You can't leave. He can say whatever, he wants. "Allow me to repeat, my words. Hm? You. listen. to me."

"I don't have to do anything you say." You scowl, waiving a dismissive hand at your old friend. Your old almost. Your dodged bullet. "Severus, just disenchant the painting."

With an eye roll, Snape adjusts his thick fingers on the frame; frustration heavy in ever muscle. You're not getting it. Always so thick in the head, you were. So stubborn, so imperious.

That would have to stop.

"I... can't... "

"What do you mean you can't? Yes you can, Severus. I'm not playing a game here. Disenchant the painting right now."

"No." The one word stops you talking for a whole moment, and it's the first time Severus ever stood up to you. It feels good. So after Straightening up, letting go of the painting - of you, - , and fixing his robes; he repeats it. "No, Y/N."

A new smoke begins to floods yours wide, clear eyes, then; fear. And a dark part of Snape enjoys it. "... What do you want?"

"... What do you think?"

"I don't know, I can't understand crazy people." Anger takes fears place; anger and hatred. Just like that.

... Snape figured this would happen, so he isn't hurt. Not yet, anyway. This changed nothing; all that matters is that you're all his, now. You were always a fickle little thing, anyway.

He gives another eye roll instead of fully reacting to your crassness; beady, dark, almost-black hues almost dissapearing entirely into his forehead. "I assure you, silly girl, I'm entirely sane... " With a swish of his robes, Snape turns his back on you suddenly and moves around his room- looking for something as you watch. "Would you believe it, if I told you I... missed you?"

"Oh my god, you turned into a sad old man- didn't you? I'm not surprised." It's all you can do to him, your capter- insult him. So you will, and you'll enjoy it. "And by sad, I mean pathetic."

With a squinty-eyed scowl thrown your way, Snape pulls out a draw from his desk and sifts through it; choosing to ignore your cheap, juvenile jabs. "Well, I have missed you. You were... you were the only one, who... " You watch him pull out a framed photograph. There's no dust on it- so why was it tucked away in a drawer? He gives it a soft look for a moment, before returning to you. "You were the only one who noticed me."

Rolling your eyes across the canvas, you shake your head at him. No... "I didn't care for you, though, if that's what you're on about. I was kind to you, because you seemed like a future creep and I didnt wanna be murdered. There's a difference."

He gives a huff. So?? "Sure. Whatever." Whatever makes you happy. While you continue to glare at him, thinking of what to say next- what would pull him apart (You ended up quite good at that. Which is why, he needs you)- Severus sets down the framed photo; setting it ontop of a nearby pile of luggage facing you. It's a picture of you and him, of course. Taken by you, not so long ago. Or... quite a while ago, by the looks of Snape.

While you grimace at the picture, he takes another turn around his room and locates a little vial of potion. When you notice him approaching you, or your portrait, with it- you turn up your nose. "... what's that?"

Snape barely spares you a glance, uncorking it and ysing his thumb instead to cover the top before he shakes it up; being sure that all the ingredients are properly mkxed together. Focused on it. "Mm, just a little fail safe for myself... or you."

"What do you mean??" Eyebrows knitted together in frustrated confusion, you comb your brain for any information you had about enchanted paintings, but come up short. Severus was always a better student then you were.

"Just have to... " Severus dips a paintbrush into the vile, the brushes coming back wet with some clear liquid. "Give you one more, final, coat. And... " The feeling of being painted over is cold, but not wet. More like a cold chill that leaves you feeling bare and exposed for a few moments. Snape paints over your entire scene, from both of the top corners to the both of the bottom corners. When he's finished, you look around to see if anything different... and find nothing. What did he do?? "You should be... safe."

"...- safe!?"

"Stuck." He amends, raising his brows as if to say 'what are you going to do about it?'.

Him saying that gives you a very bad feeling and you immediacy move- attempting to leave the scene just like you've seen all the paintings in Hogwarts do. Weave in and out of different works, like a ghost.

But the moment you try and leave the frame, you bang right into an invisible force like a wall. A gasp springs from you, as you step back and reach forward to touch it. It feels solid like brick. With incensed eyes, you whip your head around to glare at Snape. "... of all the cruel things. You're trapping me here!??"

"Its- "

"You bring me back from, what was quite possibly peace, and make me look at your ugly face for the rest of eternity!? How is that fair!"

"Oh don't throw a tantrum. No need for dramatics, you little twit. You won't be here for an eternity." He rolls his eyes upwards, pursing his lips and shaking his head at you like you're just a silly little girl. "The paint'll dry and flake off, long before that." 

"So, what then?? How long?"

"Just... " For the first time since he enchanted the painting, Snape's eyes find yours. "Until... "

"-Until??" You narrow your eyes some more and set your hands firmly on your hips; waiting expectantly for an explanation. What you punishment here was, exactly.

"Until... " He could tell you the truth, he thinks. The whole truth. About Dumbledore and the Lord, and Lily... you couldnt go and tell anyone. Not even if someone came in here looking for secrets, you wont come alive for anyone else but him. He was quite good at potions. "I feel... " Until he's atoned. Until you've punished him well enough. Until he feels better. "-until I'm no longer lonely, Y/N." He finally says quickly, lying. He can't help it. Maybe one day he can tell you, but he can't bring himself to say any of it- not just yet.

The responce gives you pause, anyway. You don't know what to say. Are you supposed to... what? Feel sorry for him??

"And you chose me, to fill your sad pathetic void, Severus??

Oh, you are going to be sorry you brought me back Sev. You're stuck with me now, and I am going to make your life hell."

"... good." Thank you.

[faggotwalkwithme]

here are the pictures from when i visited twin peaks!!!!!!!! (part 1)

explanations for if u dont recognise the places or what im referencing LOLS:

1: the exterior of the laura palmer house (as seen in the pilot, the return, and fire walk with me) 2: the table and couch with accurate crochet blanket as seen in fire walk with me and the return (for the scene in the return where laura's homecoming picture gets smashed, they used mary reber's framed copy so they gave her a new one and she got sheryl lee to sign it!!! she keeps the cigarettes and stuff :) ) 3: laura's bedroom from the pilot, mary reber put the This Would Look Nice on Your Wall and also has a lot of laura stuff in there 4: laura's bedroom from the pilot, she keeps a BOB mannequin in there and it jumpscared me like 3 times 5: the bathroom that laura washes her hands in and cries into when leland tells her to go wash her hands (scariest scene ever imo) 6 and 7: the ceiling fan... need i say more 8: the kitchen from the pilot, mary reber also keeps a very similar phone to the one sarah uses in that scene. her daughter also made biscuits and they were really good :) 9 and 10: the living room from fire walk with me, the return and the pilot. i tried to recreate that one shot of laura smoking in fire walk with me but i stood on the wrong side of the room lmao 11: my parents and i recreated that one pic of sarah, laura and leland :) 12: took a pic with mary reber!!! shes super sweet!(and she let me get a print for free :3) 13: my mum just took this picture of me taking a picture of the ceiling frame but i thought it looked a bit like one of the shots in fwwm. this is the front hall :3 14: donna's house exterior!!!! 15: mary reber answering the door for my dad hehe 16: just me in front of the house lol 17: the roadhouse exterior as seen in the pilot and fwwm!!! (maybe the return too i dont remember lol) 18: i'm being sheriff cable bending steel in the back of the deer meadow sheriff station and where the shed was in fire walk with me 19: this is where teresa banks' body was found and where leland pushed laura into the water after he killed her. i was collecting water for my science experiment lols :p 20: jack rabbit's palace from the return!! 21: my mum and me where donna and james were when they hid the other half of laura's heart necklace 22: the other half of laura's heart necklace (the tour guide put it there and it hasn't been removed for 8 years lol) 23: this is the area of the motel thingie where leland saw teresa, ronette and laura together (apparently if you stay in room 9, they've made it all creepy and burnt up and stuff and they call it the david lynch room) 24: same motel, but its room 8 which is where mr c like knocks on the door to go meet phillip jeffries 25, 26, 27, 28: the double r diner!!! i think we sat in the same booth that bobby, shelly and betty were sitting in the return, and i sat on the same (or like at least very close to) the stool bobby sits on in the pilot!! it was super cool, they had all the signs up and the menu and stuff and i bought an audrey magnet and laura sticker and we had coffee and cherry pie :) 29: nadine's silent drapes shop!!! the shop keeps a golden shovel and the drapes!!!! 30: me at carl rodd's bench with the titular twin peaks in the background :3 the tour guide provided a prop RR2GO cup for pictures lol

[yc-idkwhy]

Rent a Room

(Spare me if I get any real life details wrong. It's a *fiction* for a reason 👍. Anyways. Enjoy! I had more stuff planned for this chapter but I sort of forgot alot of it. Apologies.)

Chapter 3:- Call

-----•Nick Nelson•-----

"Is this Will Solace?"

"Yep!"

Said a voice with a slight southern accent that was currently adjusting his camera until it settled in on a patio facing the walls of a light blue house. A golden curly blonde, freckled boy then came into frame and smiled at the two.

"Hello!" The stranger said.

"So you're looking to rent this room?" Nick heard Charlie say from beside him.

"Mhm!"

"May I ask why?"

Will Solace went on about how the camp he went to sends out campers for little trips alot of the time and how this one wasn't like one of those trips so he needed a room or something like that. Nick doesn't know. He was too busy looking at his boyfriend throughout the whole thing.

"And where are you from?"

"Well originally from Texas but right now I'm in New York." The southern accent somehow seemed a bit heavier in that sentence. Had Nick been looking at the screen he'd expect the guy to be tipping a cowboy hat right about now.

"Is that the room?"

Nick and Charlie moved out of the frame to give a one frame room tour.

"I mean I don't really need that, I saw the pictures..." Will said hesitantly.

"Oh I'm sorry"

"What did we say about the S word?"

"Sorry"

"Charlie!"

The two went on their "Sorry. Not sorry" chain for about another minute before remembering what they were originally doing but when they looked back, Will's attention seemed to be displaced too.

"Will?" Charlie asked.

"Oh what? Oh my bad. I think my little siblings are getting up to something. I need to check on that. Be right back."

He left Nick and Charlie staring at the screen, until in the far corner the door opened. A middle aged, retired, alcoholic man stepped out. Looking towards the same direction where Will went. The man turned his gaze and it fell onto the computer Will was using. He had a Diet Coke in his hand and just... stared at them for a few very long seconds.

Then the man started towards them. "Who the hell are you." More of a sentence than a question to be honest. "Uh I'm Nick Nelson and this is my boyfriend Charlie Spring, we-"

"Rick Olsen and Chandler Summer, got it."

"That's not-"

"That's all I needed to know jeez calm down you mortal."

"What?"

Instead of replying, the man took a veryyyyy long sip of his diet coke. By then Will had returned and was back on frame.

"Mr. D!"

"Sun Spawn!" Mr... D? Replied not so enthusiastically.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be perhaps... Not here?"

"Are U suggesting I'm a nuisance?"

"I mean not really bu-"

"I can see when I'm not wanted. To think you were one of my favourites Solace."

The man started walking away.

"bye, I think." Will turned back to the couple. "Anyways where were we!"

"I-"

"Ignore him, really, please, please do that. Let's go over the details shall we?"

And so they did that (forgive me, I had stuff to write for the details part planned, but I forgot it all.)

"So I feel like I guess that's that it, feel free to look around the room when you get here, just not in the snooping sense. You can read any of my books if U get bored or something. I mean if you're into like a ton of greek classics and books based of them" Charlie said laughing lightly.

"Oh you're into that stuff?" Will glanced around his surroundings. "Maybe you'd like it around here then."

"I guess that's it. You can contact me the time you'd be arriving. Unless you carry around a knife or something. In that case please try not to arrive." Nick laughed with love at Charlie's joke. Will however had a more nervous laugh, probably at the accusation, he raised his hand to scratch the back of his head. And then Nick saw the bracelet that was on his hand.

"Oh my god, Char he's also bisexual, bring him in."

Will looked down at his bracelet. "Is homosexuality a leverage? Do I get a discount?"

"Yeah we should end this call now. It was wonderful meeting you!"

Just like that the call ended. Of course Nick had missed out on most of the important parts due to paying attention to Charlie instead.

"He's nice."

"Yeah, great news for me. My room probably won't be wreckt. The old guy was weird though"

[alouiadina]

Last Lines for WIPs

@darkimpala1897 was kind enough to invite me to share my last lines of my WIPs, so here are three WIPs, all first drafts (obviously):

Hitman au (Clegan)

Gale goes to the desk clerk of the emergency room, and asks after the man that was brought in. Expectedly, he learns that the man passed away from his wounds not long after arrival. Gale leaves with a new sense of satisfaction, knowing that he did his job well. He snuck down to the morgue and took a picture of the man's face for his client.

After snapping the photo, Gale lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on the body. It was an unsettling thing, but not unfamiliar. The job was done. His client would be satisfied. He sent the picture, a quiet confirmation of his success. 

The Affair (CurtBucky)

Later that night, Bucky sat slumped in front of the glare of the TV, lazily flipping through channels with a frustrated sigh. The dull drone of commercials filled his tiny apartment, but nothing seemed interesting enough to hold his attention. With a dismissive toss, he abandoned the remote and glanced at the wall clock - only six o'clock. The sun stubbornly clung to the sky, casting a golden glow through the windows and painting the room in warm hues, yet the apartment already felt far too quiet. Suddenly, a knock pounded on the door, jolting Bucky from his lethargy. He rose from the couch and opened the door to reveal Curt standing there, his charming smile on full display.

"Hey neighbor," Curt greeted, casually leaning against the door frame. "Are you busy tonight?"

Bucky felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight of Curt, but he pushed it down, determined to remain composed. "Not really," he replied coolly, pretending not to be affected by their close proximity. “Why?”

"Wanna go for a drink?" Curt asked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bucky couldn't help but smile at Curt's suggestion. "Sure," he replied, trying to mask his excitement. "Let me get changed. I'll be right back."

Bly Manor (Clegan, Crubbles, Curtken)

"I don't have my reading glasses, Curt." Mr. Harding interrupted, holding the resume out towards his assistant.

"Of course," Curt said, walking up to and taking the resume from Mr. Hardings' hand. "Your references are impeccable," he remarks as he reads Ken's resume, sitting in the chair beside him. "However, the extent of your education is a GED and a half semester of University with a mechanical major."

"Uh, I had to leave due to lack of funds. But, as you can see in my resume, I was in the local library when I wasn't on the farm. I read pretty much every book there." Ken replied a bit defensively.

"And you're a fast reader?" Curt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Very," Ken answered. "If you're wondering about my capabilities, I did help raise my siblings while I was still in America. I helped them with their homework every night and prepared them for the next school day."

Harding made a noise, drawing the attention of both men. Ken turned back to the lawyer, his face now back to unimpressed. 

"So... Why apply for a nanny job?" Curt asked. "Clearly, you want a job on your family's farm or something in mechanics."

"I... Well, I came to England in the hopes of finding a well-paying job so that we could afford my mother's medical bills. That and... Well, I saw the position. I'm good with children, I know that. Like I said, I have two younger siblings, and I was able to handle them. I was good with them, and I made sure that their grades were good so that they could get the scholarships that I wasn't able to."

Curt looked at him curiously, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ken felt something flutter in his chest and quickly glanced away, trying to hide the blush that crept onto his face.

--

Thank you again to Marz for inviting me. I think I'm just going to tag @avonne-writes and @oopsiedaisiesbaby because my anxiety also go brrr, but I think for different reasons.

[muserryy]

LIFE OF REVA (H.S)

LIFE OF REVA MASTERLIST || main masterlist

summary: Reva, a young woman who recently moved to a foreign country to pursue her higher education, is striving to adapt and navigate her new life. Harry, her flatmate, becomes a significant part of her journey.

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

CHAPTER ONE!!

Reva D'Souza

Bristol. This is somebody's hometown, and I've never been here before. 

It was just a city I heard about in conversations until now. As I wandered through the neighbouring streets, unfamiliar buildings. unknown faces, and sights, the sounds of this place were far from the comforts of home. It was all exciting but also more intimidating for me. 

The evening breeze gently caressed my skin, still warm under the almost setting sun. I strolled past varied shops, stores, and graffiti-covered walls, trying to soak it all in. 

The streets beyond the museum were bustling with vibrant colours, and scenes, full of life. I was in awe of all the work done on the buildings. My feet came to a stop in front of a phone shop. The small building was painted with various phone application icons and logos from top to bottom. Even the shutter, which was down, had work done on it. The shop was closed.

My hand almost reached into my pocket for my phone to snap pictures, but I hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of self-consciousness. It always holds me back. It's not just shyness; it's this nagging feeling, maybe my mindset, that people might judge me. They might think it's better to live in the moment than to constantly snap pictures like a typical tourist or worse, a wannabe social media influencer. But then maybe they wouldn't care at all and might mind their own business.

Although there's nothing wrong with wanting to capture every moment, in fact, it is a sweet thing to do– preserving moments. I've never done that. I want to, but I think I just couldn't get to it. I don't remember ever taking out my phone in public unless it's necessary. 

It's funny how little things like this can hold me back. Maybe I'm too sensitive or anxious, but the thought of  being judged makes me self conscious, even in such a beautiful and vibrant city.

Maybe some other day, I told myself, now that I'm living here for my studies. I guess I'll have plenty of time.

I continued walking until I found myself once again stopping in front of a cafe. The frames of the glass windows and the door were painted in deep red. Through the glass windows, I could see its cosy interior– the warm golden lights were inviting and there were only a few people sitting inside, so it was not crowded. It looked classy.

I stood there for a moment, gathering my thoughts and debating whether to go inside and treat myself to a coffee or just continue my walk before heading back to my flat. The second option seemed easier to me, a lot easier than interacting. 

But I felt like trying. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. I had never been to a cafe alone before, let alone bought myself a coffee. But then again, I had never travelled so far away from my family and lived apart from them. Yet, here I was, and I still couldn't believe it. I had never envisioned a day like this. The thought of living on my own and being away from the people I had always been dependent on never seemed like a possibility.

I looked up at the sky briefly and a realization struck me: no one knows me here, and I don't know anyone either. I can choose to present myself however I want. No one knows me, no one to stop me from doing what I want. I shouldn't care about how people who I don't even know will perceive me. 

It is a strange sense of freedom– the thought of being outgoing, being loud, being different. I can be anything I want in this new place, right? No… no! I cannot. All my life, I have been a quiet and shy child. That's who I am… or at least, that's who I've always been. Can I change that? 

I sighed. I'm dwelling unnecessarily. It's not a big deal. It's just people, a cafe, and a cup of coffee.

"I think I really need that caffeine fix now," I said to myself. 

I pushed open the door and the bell chimed as I stepped inside. The warmth of the cafe enveloped my skin, along with the distinct and sweet aroma of various types of coffee and freshly baked goodies, drawing me in further. I had no idea what I wanted to order. I knew I wanted coffee but I hadn't really thought about the specifics.

Approaching the counter, the barista greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good evening ma'am. What would you like to have?"

oh, ma'am??  

I returned the smile, peering at the menu board pinned on the side wall. There was so much to choose from– espresso, cappuccino, lattes, americanos, mochas, and more. What was even the difference between all of them? I was an inexperienced coffee drinker, you see.

After scanning through the options, I made a decision and turned my attention back to the barista. "A cappuccino, please." I politely requested, feeling a bit nervous.

"A cup of cappuccino, what size?" he nodded.

I paused, more like my mind was loading. "A small one, please" I gestured with my fingers.

He nodded again, typing away on the computer. "A small cappuccino… anything else?"

"That's all, thank you."

"That'll be £2.50"

I rummaged through my bag, retrieved my wallet, and paid the amount. 

While waiting for my cappuccino, I took the time to scan the interior of the cafe. The sound of the coffee machine filled the air. The chairs and tables were made of dark wood, the red and beige walls looked pretty under the soft golden lights and a few potted plants were placed around the space. 

My eyes fell on a small table near the window. It was empty and looked like a perfect spot to sit and enjoy the view of the street outside. I patiently waited for my drink, feeling excited because I was done with the ordering and payments. 

"Your cappuccino." The barista slid the cup towards me. 

I thanked him, picked up my cup, and headed to the very table that had caught my attention earlier.

I settled into the chair and placed my cup on the table. I smiled to myself, that wasn't hard. It might sound silly but ordering a drink by myself felt like a small victory. 

The cup was a classic plain red china, filled with creamy milk and a foamy layer. It was only then that I noticed the colour scheme of the cafe– red and beige. Everything in the cafe was almost red, from the napkins to the barista's uniform. It was lovely, though I had yet to taste my cappuccino.

Bringing the cup to my lips, I felt the comfortable warmth from the cup around my fingers. I savoured a sip; it was velvety on my tongue and perfectly sugary. I felt content and satisfied. 

My ears were filled with the sounds of clinking cups and plates along with the low chatter of people. I slowly drank more, gazing out of the window at the street. The sun was almost setting, with people passing by and vehicles speeding past. 

Yesterday, I called my mum to share news of my new life in Bristol. I mentioned the flat and the flatmate I'm sharing it with. but I also politely requested her not to tell dad about this particular detail– that my flatmate happens to be a guy. He would never approve, so I asked her to just mention that I was living with a college student, without disclosing the gender.

When I first arrived in Bristol, Siya, my sister's best friend, came to pick me up. I stayed at her apartment until my enrollment procedure was completed. Once done with all the paperwork, I realized that the route to my college from there was annoyingly long. 

I took my time and did my best to secure an on-campus dormitory room, but unfortunately, they were already taken by the time I applied. I was frustrated and desperate for a place to live. I talked to my parents about my situation and  began my search for off-campus housing. Thankfully, I found a nearby flat for rent. Siya helped me a lot by doing half of the talking and research for me. 

The apartment I was renting was located in a very nice area within walking distance of the college. When Siya and I first visited, the landlord told us there weren't any vacant flats available. However, to my luck, he then informed us about the current tenant who was looking for a flatmate. Unfortunately, we couldn't meet him that day as he was on vacation, but he was fine with us checking out the flat. The landlord seemed to have a very positive impression of this young guy. 

"He's generous and a really sweet guy. You have nothing to fret about," he reassured us, mentioning that he had been living there for nearly two years. 

That was my chance. I knew it could easily be snatched up by another student, so after hearing all the good things about the guy, I took the opportunity and told the landlord that I was firm on renting it. He agreed and said he would talk to the guy to see if he was also okay with me sharing the space. 

I knew we were complete strangers and couldn't meet face-to-face to talk, but to my surprise with the little information given about me, he agreed. I was thankful. Siya was unsure but supported my decision. 

I knew I shouldn't make assumptions about this guy until I met him, but I told myself that even if he turned out to be a "bad influence" type, I would keep my focus on myself and my studies.

The first time I met him was when I was moving in and bringing my belongings. Harry Styles, my flatmate, was in his early twenties and currently in his final year at the same university as me.

I must admit, I initially felt intimidated by his confident and outgoing demeanor. However, he was kind and helpful. He assisted me around and even offered to lend me a hand in settling my stuff. I also immediately felt a flutter of attraction towards him– he stood tall and lean, exuding a rough boyish vibe that contrasted with his sweet personality. He was kind and respectful, and I felt at ease.

Beautiful. He was truly beautiful just to sit and gaze at. His emerald eyes were simply captivating, I couldn't even look into them during our brief interactions. His hair was a thick, soft mass of chocolate brown curls, that he always ran his hand through to push back. His lips—

Wait, wait, wait. Am I moving too fast? It hasn't even been a full week, but there's no denying that I'm drawn to him.

I sighed and stared at my empty cup, wondering when I finished it. I glanced out of the window, noticing the sun had set and the sky had turned dark. I felt a shiver of anxiety. I noticed a rowdy group of friends, who appeared to be college students like me. They were talking and laughing loudly.

I couldn't help but wonder what my college life would be like.

chapter 2 !!

[coffyao]

if brown leaves could be saved part 5

link to my a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

___

"…come in," seungbae said, locking the door behind them.

the interior of his apartment was typical of most apartment blocks he has seen; the only difference is that it had a few distinct personal touches, which make's the person's home, their own.

seungbae, that is.

there was some picture frames around the wall which contained seungbae and a older man. one included on what seemed to be a fishing trip; with the man holding a abnormally large mackerel by the tail, and seungbae cringing in the background.

on the top wooden shelves, were fishing trophies stashed next to each other; their golden stature dimmed by age. there was also a fishing rod left on the kitchen table, among half-eaten side dishes and a pair of chopsticks.

seungbae shook his head at the mess,  gathering the clutter, "sorry about my dad..."

"n-no, its okay."

he put the rod to the side, leaving the dishes in the partially filled sink. It looked like he wanted to wash it, but was conscious of entertaining his house guest.

"ah...do you want to see my room?"

--

unlike the disorganisation of the living room left by his dad; seungbae's room was very orderly. his plain bed covers were neatly tucked into the wooden frame, while he kept his books stacked on top of each other on his bedside drawers. he had one trophy of his own on his window; except it was taekwondo.

Finally, there was a goldfish that he kept on the other side of his bed, mostly orange with white patches covering its body.

yoonbum sat on the bed, looking at the fish bowl.

"...what's his or hers name?"

"haven't figured out a name yet..." seungbae said, rummaging through his top drawer.

...figured out a name yet.

"how about nelly?"

seungbae stopped flicking, landing on a program about wildlife. aquatic mammals to be exact.

"...okay, we can go with that."

--

seungbae broke a block of ramen in half, throwing it into the metal pot of simmering water. After he sprinkles the satchet, He puts the lid on top, waiting for it to boil over.

yoonbum moves next to him, curious.

"what flavour...?" yoonbum asked.

"I chose beef." 

"...I thought it would be hot chicken." 

"...not this time," seungbae said, lips curling subtly.

after five minutes, seungbae dipped the boiled water into the sink, and prepared two ceramic bowls, putting chives on top of the ramen. they sat down, and seungbae pressed his hands together, muttering, "thank you for the food."

when yoonbum tasted it, it wasn't quite as intricate as what they ate earlier. but, since seungbae made it, it was just as flavourful, if not more. 

yes, seungbae made it, just for the both of them.

he made it for me...

seungbae turned his head to look at the clock, looking slightly uncomfortable.

seungbae tersely asked, "when do you need to be home?"

"why?" 

seungbae's discomfort became more visible on his face.

 "I'm just asking, your parents might be..."

what parents?

"...I live with my uncle and grandmother," yoonbum said, cynicism saturated in his tone of voice.

this is how his relationships inevitably fail. all it takes is a question about his life.

presumptions become assumptions. assumptions become gossip. gossip becomes fact.

facts that lie in insidious truth.

"did you want me to go?" yoonbum asked, readying himself to leave, dropping his fork into the soup.

"no, I didn't say that," seungbae said, standing up as well.

"I feel like you did," yoonbum breathed, squeezing both of his arms to soothe himself.

"...if that's the case, then I'm-"

it's over. it's over. its over. it's over.

"s-sorry. I'll leave right away," retreating to the door, only to find it locked. he shook the door-lock, trying to twist the door open.

why? why is it locked? why? why? why?

seungbae reached for yoonbum's hand, bewildered but more concerned than anything.

"...yoonbum," seungbae said, his voice low, and careful, "i need you to calm down..."

yoonbum's hands was covered with cold sweat by now; and seungbae's firm grip couldn't shake the feeling that something really bad was going to happen if he didn't leave right away.

"p-please, just let me go..." yoonbum whimpered, unable to meet seungbae's eyes, shame filling his entire being.

"but..."

seungbae loosened his hand, contemplative on what to do next. he searched for any sign, a sign that he was receptive to talk things out; but he seemed that he couldn't budge.

"only if you really want to..."

seungbae gently opens the lock, and lets yoonbum go, a resigned feeling left in his throat.

---

[finnegansundaysociety]

A Clean Treatment

Session 1

<<1ST | < PREV | NEXT >

this is a fanfic including my utmv oc Sanitizer!Sans and @stitchau's character Stitch. i fell in love with Stitch pretty much instantly, and Cleaner Sans is directly inspired by Stitch. i think they'd be good friends, Stitch cleaning up people's mental junk while Cleaner cleans up the rest! plus my boy needs therapy

fic under the cut!

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The clocks on the walls of Treatment Space clicked like several synchronous metronomes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Cleaner's boots tip-tapped on the wooden floor while he fiddled with his fingers and shifted in his seat on the couch.

Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

The florescent bulbs pulsated rapidly, likely imperceptible to anyone but Cleaner.

"You can stand and walk around, if that'd make you more comfortable."

Stitch sat in the chair across from Cleaner. Cleaner was hesitant to try therapy, but Ink kept recommending it. When he first walked into Treatment Space, Cleaner was pleasantly surprised at how tidy Stitch kept his space.

Cleaner took Stitch's offer immediately and stood. He walked around the room and took a greater stock of everything. The desk behind Stitch's chair was covered in various papers. The two doors on either side of the room both had small smudges. There was a bookshelf against one of the walls. None of the books had any titles on their spines, but they had varying colors and were all the same width and height.

"In your file you mentioned a pocket dimension? What is that like?" Stitch asked.

"Oh yes, the place I live in is pretty similar to this actually," Cleaner said, slightly absentmindedly as he was still analyzing the room, "I call it Safespace actually," Cleaner chuckled.

Stitch flipped another page on their clipboard. "You wrote that you struggle with eating? Would you like to talk about that?"

"No," Cleaner said, his tone as cheery as it was when he walked in, "I can eat just fine when I'm not in Safespace, it's not that big of a deal." Cleaner bounced up and down on his toes.

"When you're not in Safespace? Are you not able to eat in your own home?"

.

.

.

.

.

"You know just because there's books on these shelves doesn't mean the books don't collect dust," Cleaner walked over to the shelves and looked closely at the patterns of dust. Most of the books were absolutely covered, while some had less dust than others. Cleaner assumed that Stitch used those books more often than any others.

"I didn't know that, thank you."

.

.

.

"Whenever you're ready to answer the question we can continue."

"It wouldn't take much at all for me to whip these shelves into shape. I could do it in two shakes right now if you'd like."

"If that'd make you more comfortable."

A handheld feather duster materialized in Cleaner's hand, his trusty Dustarella, and he went to work clearing off the bookshelves.

.

.

Ten minutes later

.

.

Twenty minutes later

.

.

Thirty minutes later

.

.

Stitch looked around their office, patiently watching Cleaner work. The papers on their desk were put in very neat piles. The floor and the rug were both completely spotless. The picture frames had been wiped clean of any smears. The golden doorknobs sparkled.

Stitch had to yell over the din of the vacuum that Cleaner had manifested, "If you're almost done, we can get back to work."

The vacuum clicked off, "What was that?" Cleaner asked.

"Would you like to sit down and answer the question I asked you at the start of our session?" Stitch asked calmly, with the tiniest hint of irritation in their voice.

The vacuum disappeared in a flurry of pink bubbles. Cleaner plopped down onto the couch, "I'd like to ask you something first."

"Go ahead. I'm an open book," Stitch said.

"What was Nightmare doing in your office?"

.

"That falls under client confidentiality, I'm bound by code not to disclose anything about potential clients." Stitch said, looking down at their clipboard.

.

"Would you like to get back on track or would you like to end our session here?"

.

.

.

Cleaner moved to stand again so he could get back to work. Stitch interrupted him with another question, "How did you know Nightmare was here?"

Cleaner stated simply, "Stains under the rug, I'm guessing you couldn't get them out of the floor and moved the rug to cover them."

A spray bottle manifested in Cleaner's hand. The nozzle was purple and it had a lavender colored liquid inside of it. In the center of the solution sat a glowing yellow heart shape. "I could get them out for you next time I'm here, but I think our time is up."

The clocks chimed softly. Stitch's next patient was here.

"I hope I haven't been a difficult client," Cleaner said with sincerity in his voice, "Thanks Doc. Until next time."

Cleaner left Treatment Space.

This is going to be quite the treatment journey...

Thank you for reading!!! i'm hoping to do at least a few more of these, getting into Cleaner's mind, his history, and maybe helping him out a little bit!

[ariellewm]

Czar Agskaga Headcanon : A Modern Headcanon

....Mr. Czar Agskaga will be seeing you now...

You work for the Amber Lily Company, a large tea company well known throughout the world. They also run a multinational tea chain, Agskaga Tea House, and grow amber lilies and other tea plants not only for consumer consumption but for medical purposes as well.

Living in the bustling city you applied two years ago at their headquarters. Lucky for you, they hired you on the spot. The pay is good, benefits exceeding your expectations. You were finally able to pay off that college loan you've had since graduating. Even better, you got a new apartment of your own close by to your job.

Moving your way up at headquarters, you're given the role as executive assistant to the CEO. The former CEO had retired, leaving his nephew to run the company.

Before starting, Mr. Czar Agskaga wishes to conduct a final interview. Many have mentioned that this newer CEO was very...very appealing to look at. Nerves were setting in the night before.

You make sure to dress your best: a scarlet dress, black heels, hair tied up. You even wore your mother's golden charm necklace as a good luck charm.

The elevator doors open, making your way toward the large, long oak doors. Taking a deep breath, you push your way in walking down the hallway leading deeper into Czar's office. Deep wine and onyx wall printing surround you with framed black and white pictures of the Agskaga family. Achievements hung on golden frames and milestones the family has made over the years.

The oval office is large, luxurious. Bigger than any office you imagined. Gold and coal coloring with hints of mahogany. Sleek onyx marble flooring. High above the city the view is breathtaking. Skyscrapers close and far.

Closer to the back of the office was a vintage large sepia desk. The desk was scattered with documents, papers and a laptop flipped open. Next to that was a golden jeweled serpent figure coiled around a cup filled with ink pens.

You attention is immediately drawn to a dark figure leaning against the window overlooking the city. The very CEO you would be assisting.

Long sleek black hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail with some strands hanging loose. His skin tanned and glowing, even from the cloudy setting. Dressed in a black suit, intricate gold designs along the wide peak lapels. The cuffs, loose collar, even the tie, had the same mystical gold design.

He turns slightly toward your direction. His unique crimson eyes gazing at you as you approached the desk. A smile spreads across his face. For a moment, you weren't sure if you had seen small fangs as he grinned.

His movement was feline-like, graceful as he grew nearer. He extended his hand, decorated with silver rings. Nervously you introduce yourself, joining his hand with yours. His sophisticated, charming aura already drawing you in. You could even smell that rich coconut sandalwood coming off of him.

"My dear, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, have a seat." He gestures to one of the black armchairs before leaning against the sepia desk behind him, " This interview shouldn't be long. And my..." He glances at the golden necklace, the dress before meeting your eye's once more, "you look lovely this morning." You already feel a blush forming but you try to hold your composure.

The interview is going well. Czar learns a bit about yourself, your past, your education. He wanted to also know where you see yourself within the company in the future. Czar also tests your knowledge on the company, the teas, and their mission.

"I'm impressed darling. You know so well about the company. And yet you've only been with us for two years." He asks if you'd like something to drink, which you accept. After all, your nerves are causing your throat to dry. He returns back with two glasses of water, passing one to you. Your hand accidently touches Czar's, his warmth causes goosebumps to slither up your arm.

"There is only one thing left for you to learn, however." "And what would that be, sir?" You asked, taking a small sip of water. Despite his professional appearance, you are slowly growing entranced by him...and he can see as well.

Another of his charming smiles appears, his red eyes glowing, "Well, about me of course dear."

You go over your responsibilities, his preferences, etc. You are to be with him during executive meetings, tastings of new variants of tea and tea blends, and go over scheduling appointments. You'd also be joining him in luncheons and holiday parties. Of course, he'll give you time off if needed. He isn't that horrible of a CEO, and the company holds up to its standards in taking care of its employees.

He has an understanding about his employees, including yourself. Needing time away from the office to destress is number one if they need it. Your worried, but he tells you not to as he has known about how hardworking you are within the company.

As a new hire for the CEO, he sends you a special tea to your place. You've gotten to try a sample one time when you started two years ago. But being in a higher position, you were given a lifetime supply of the tea blend. It's a rarer variant of the amber lily, aged and mixed with other ingredients to help those relax.

You decided to brew some of the special tea before bed. You were able to get some much-needed restful sleep, and yet you still managed to make it on time on your first day as executive assistant for Mr. Czar.

[lustastarte]

♠of love and sex | giomis♠

genre: smut

mista convinces don giorno to take a vacation

published: 2020

written by request

Knock knock.

"Yes?" The blonde received no answer. "Come i-"

"Mr. Giovanna~," a sculpted man sang, suddenly behind Giorno.

"Mista. For the last fucking time. I can and will put a bullet between your eyes if you don't stop doing that every time you feel the need to talk to me."

The brunette mocked him. "No you won't. I'm the only one that runs your errands without mistakes."

Giorno sighed, rubbing his thumb and index finger just above his brow, moving them apart, extending his hand before rubbing it over his forehead and loosely tied up hair. "What do you even want?"

"I feel like you could use a break," the older began massaging his counterpart's shoulders.

The blonde scoffed, taking a long sip of his hot, dark beverage. "A break? I run the mafia, Guido. If I take a break, this whole thing crumbles. Besides, I can't go anywhere without my body guard, and I don't want to overwork anyone."

Mista tilted his head, a puzzled look spreading across his face and shining out of his eyes. "Giorno. I am a 24/7 body guard. I live with you as your full time body guard."

"... You live with me because we're engaged, you absolute deadshit."

Mista giggled, running his hand through Giorno's hair. He strolled over, thick wooden soles clicking on the pristine marble floor and sat down on the younger man's desk.

"Come onnn," the older whined. "You need a break... Please? Just for like three days."

Giorno stayed silent, thinking about the problems that would arise from him leaving for just a few hours, not to mention days.

"Fine," he answered defeatedly after a full five minutes of sitting silently, ignoring Mista's eyes.

Giorno's golden blonde hair whipped behind him as he basked in the sunlight and cool breeze generated by the speed of Mista's stolen convertible. Taking a deep breath, he surveyed his surroundings. The beach seemed to go on for miles, salty waves kissing the sand, driftwood and seaweed docked just above the tide as decoration. Directly across the highway stood a rickety, wooden, top-heavy dock house, a weather-beaten, mini cabin of pure, disintegrating mid-eighteenth century raised up on bowed, waterlogged, rotting supports for the purpose of enabling elderly ladies in tea dresses and floppy hats with ribbons to sit out on good afternoons to watch the sailboats tutting along the horizon at their work - a setting rendered completely imagined and unreal by the thick, suffocating saline air surrounding the coast. Waves repetitively crashed over the warm, sunbaked sand, spreading it's webbed foam like the edge of a nightgown. The costal wind blew in bitter gusts, temporarily sending chills down the blonde's neck. The salty, fishy air lay heavily on his tongue and aggressively filled his nostrils. A golden comforter outlining the shimmering, tropical teal sea, creating a picture perfect image. The large, blazing sun was perched high in the sky, shining like Elijah's fiery chariot to heaven. The sun beat down on the calm ocean as another, chilly gust of wind forced itself past Giorno. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the faint taste of salt on the breeze that was complimented by the godly, ambrosial aroma of the flowers growing around the rolling dunes of sand.

The seaside cottage has mortar walls like cold set oatmeal, painted canary yellow with window frames of birch and shutters of grey. Inside is the gentle whirr of the overhead ceiling fan, chairs relaxed in the sunlight outside. The old windows are mullioned, overlooking the garden of flowers and towering palm trees. The rickety little building hunkered low on the coastal moor like a child in a heated round of hide-and-seek trying to keep from being caught. The cottage looked as if it was straight out of a fairytale with a happy ending or a picture book for little kids. It was rusty, old, and quite dusty from the outside, but rather welcoming inside. The whole house was made of birch and mortar. A tiny stove, two small wooden chairs, a circular table, a full sized bed, and that was it. Quaint and calming. Succulents, tropical flowers, and so much more flora. A wrought iron gate with paint chipping and flaking off was the door to the property, leading onto a narrow sandy path with small shells and pebbles. There was a tiny tide pool with barnacles, starfish, urchins, sand crabs, tropical fish, anemone, algae, seagrass, and a few seagulls. The dune grass was green and yellow, scorched and toasted by the sun in the balmy Italian summers.

"See? Are you happy you took this break now?" Mista opened the door to the cottage, breathing in a briny mix of cypress, blood lily, hibiscus, and African violet. He dropped their luggage on the creaky birch floor, sending a cloud of sand into the air.

"Not yet. It's pretty, but I kind of have a really important job to do."

"Awww, Gio-Gio, come on," Mista whined, pulling the other man into his chest. "You know you like it here~"

The blonde's face began to heat up, but he tried to keep a poker face. Mista connected their lips softly, smirking as he ran his hands down Giorno's sides. Giorno shuttered, leaning into Mista's chest. What was this feeling?  He felt as though he needed to throw up, but instead of stomach acid, he wanted to throw up his entire heart. Heat pooled in his abdomen.

He was all logic, feigned, cool detachment until Mista touched his skin. Then, something primitive, something carnal not only stirred in him, but completely took over his thinking. The rest of the dull, drab world became an unimportant blur that was quickly banished into the far, compartmentalized recesses of his subconscious mind. The only thing that mattered to him was being touched even more by Mista, kissing his slightly chapped lips, surrounded by scratchy stubble, feeling his large, warm hands on his stomach, trailing to his legs. Mista tried to be gentle with Giorno's clothing, not having the slightest desire to replace a $10,000 suit, but it was so hard. Giorno tried to keep his breathing steady, but soon began panting, not quite sure if out of nervousness or arousal.

With the front door closed and locked, every former falsification falls. The façade the mob boss and his guard show the world instantaneously melts away and all Mista wants is to fuck every drop of life out of Giorno. Every kiss he gives has a raw intensity as he glides his tongue down the blonde's body - Giorno's breathing fast, but his heart rate's much faster. Before they know how it happened, the two are naked, skin moving softly and desperately together, like the finest of Mulberry silk. Giorno groans as he feels Mista's hand enter from below, one finger moving against his most sensitive parts, their tongues entwined in an aggressively passionate kiss. Then Mista has three fingers inside, changing Giorno's heavy, desperate breathing with every thrust, taking pleasure in hearing his moans, which were so perfectly timed to his body. All at once, he stops and kisses from Giorno's neck to his stomach, his greedy hands light; then, he's licking and using his fingers all at once, watching the blonde's reaction, feeling and laughing at how his spindly legs move, watching his body writhe with each brush against the deepest parts of him.

"I'm gonna make you beg for this, you know that?"

Giorno whined in response, unable to form anything intelligible.

In seconds, he's on Giorno again, fucking him hard, just long enough to intoxicate his mind before stopping completely.

"Please- Please- Guido, I-"

"You what?" Mista smirked at the blonde, tugging on his hair as he pushes just his head in. Giorno cried out in misery, needing to feel his fiancé inside him. "Hmm?"

"I need you! I need you to- to fuck me sen-senseless! Please," he wailed, never before having this feeling.

That was all it took for Mista to give in, holding nothing back as he slammed into the blonde. Mista's hands pinned Giorno to the bed, hair coming undone and toes curled. He left every part of the younger man untouched and as quick as the two started screaming, crying out for one another in the heat of the moment, it was over. Giorno arched his back, almost drooling out of pure pleasure, and Mista pounded into him, biting his neck and squeezing the headboard with one hand. The blonde screamed out, digging his short, manicured nails into the older man's tan back. Mista's thrusts slowed and he gently kissed Giorno's soft lips.

"Oh- Oh my god..."

"Was that a good first time?"

"I- Honestly, I think it's the best," Giorno giggled, panting and still shaking from pleasure.

"Happy you took the vacation now?"

"Oh, definitely."

[lelouchxl]

Devils Sonata

The Devil's Sonata  

Chapter 1

“Thus, the Lord regretted that he made human beings on earth, and his heart was deeply troubled,”

 Canzo said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Isn’t it such a fascinating passage, Vincenzo?” 

"Do you believe that God, as powerful as he is, could emanate such melancholy?" Canzo said softly, Vincenzo sighed, rubbing his nose. 

"It's as if the notion fashioned in thine image is undeniably true," he continued, prompting a taken-aback response from Canzo.

 "True as in what?"

 Canzo inquired,  surprised by Vincenzo's statement. "True as in God took pity on us, true as in God is merely a human being," 

Vincenzo remarked with a confident smirk.

 "This is blasphemy, Vincenzo," 

Canzo retorted, raising his voice and unintentionally standing up, escalating the tension between student and mentor. Canzo, attempting to diffuse the situation, forced a laugh and added, "You think God regretted making us because of himself?’ 

With a smile, Vincenzo said  “He claimed”, “Love has existed since he entered the universe, that is his essence. However, that does not guarantee the absence of the negative, It's as if despair overshadowed him; nothing is perfect, Canzo, perfection is only a maker’s flaw, and that's why we humans are so flawed, we continue to repent even knowing we’ll sin again, it's a cycle of imperfection that God gave us and if he gave to us then it is him who had first”, 

Vincenzo laughed and said I'm only speculating Canzo calm down.

Canzo with a red face got up and said 

“You fool” 

“Wait till I tell your father about this”,

 “My father” 

Vincenzo said laughing

 “Now that is a fool, a man with no love, only filled with hatred, my father should take notes from God, as he loved his children.” 

Chapter 2

The conversation gradually eased to the point where it was utter silence,  

 looking away from Canzo and slowly turned to the window, with a saddened sigh Canzo said 

“If it's freedom you want then leave, go far away Vincenzo, and explore the world” 

Holding one's head in one hand Vincenzo said to Canzo, 

“You know I can never leave right? I am bound to this house and the family name” “Foolishness Vincenzo”

 Canzo said with flashing eyes 

“this is your life Vincenzo Agosti you are your own man”. 

Vincenzo stared at Canzo with a strange look and said 

“Why the sudden change of heart Canzo, were you not going to tell my father of my blasphemy”

“ fear not Child it is just a shock of anger, Don't look so gloomy,”

 Canzo said, 

“My life was once similar to yours, freedom is hard to grasp, yet we have it by right” 

As those words echoed in his mind he left the room, the hallway to his bedroom was endless and had a profound melancholy that enwrapped all the wood, an endless walk to a cage with no lock, the wood on the walls were old and smelt like death, pictures of past ancestors hung on walls left and right, Vincenzo looked like a lost soul wandering around with chains shackled to the house, he finally got to his room, and slowly laid on his bed, and fell quickly to sleep.

Chapter 3 

 The heavy rain the following morning abruptly awakened Vincenzo from his peaceful slumber. Recalling his conversation with Canzo, he muttered "Blasphemy" with a vacant stare. He pondered aloud, 

"Isn't death too harsh a punishment for freethinkers?" 

The thought of death did not bring any closure to his mother's death. 

, Vincenzo dressed for breakfast amidst scattered music sheets and violin strings. Despite not being a prodigy, playing the violin brought him solace; he often improvised musical notes for pleasure. Adjusting his tie in the mirror, the twenty-year-old revealed his tall, lanky frame and unbuttoned black blazer over a brown shirt with a golden cross. Vincenzo's rugged appearance, with his once-patchy black beard and sunken eyes, contrasted starkly with his father's demeanor.

“Good morning,”

 one of the maids said to Vincenzo as he was approaching the door to the dining table, “Please come in Giana said” 

prompting her hand to the door, you look lovely madam, Vincenzo said, As he walked in he could see his father at the end of the table staring at him with a cold glare, Aldo Agosti one of the last remaining aristocrats in Italy, his family fortune stemmed from old artifacts. As Vincenzo entered the room, he took his seat at the opposite end of the table avoiding eye contact from his father. The maids, acting in perfect synchrony, brought out the food, and they commenced their meal in silence. After a while, Aldo cast a quiet glance at Vincenzo and spoke slowly,

 "I notice that my son enjoys questioning what he does not understand. God is not some human you can analyze”.

Vincenzo glanced around, searching for Canzo, but his father interjected,

 "Do not fret, son. I am aware of everything."

Aldo then introduced his proposition: an invitation to a prestigious European school, facilitated by his connections, in exchange for Vincenzo assuming the role of family heir, with Aldo arranging suitable matches for him.

"You desire freedom from this false dilemma; I offer it at a price," Aldo stated.

Confusion enveloped Vincenzo as he pondered the offer. Was it out of pity?

 "Why grant me a fleeting freedom only to ensnare me in a lifetime of corruption?"

 he questioned through gritted teeth.

Aldo, wearing a cold smile, asserted, 

"Because you are my son, and you will obey."

 With a snap of his fingers, a maid presented a plate bearing a key and an envelope containing money.

 "This is all I will provide: your dormitory key and limited funds,"

 Aldo declared. "The school is in Vienna."

In a state of shock and bewilderment, Vincenzo sensed a ploy. Why allow me to journey across Europe, only to expect my return?"I may not grasp my father's motives, as with those before him, and God whose cause do you serve?"

 he mused silently amid the melancholic echoes of the rain-soaked dining hall

Vincenzo abruptly excused himself, prompting Aldo to order, 

"Giana, ensure my son remains confined until he provides a definitive answer."

Chapter 4

 He strolled past the entrance of the study room, catching the familiar tune of Canzo's humming. Vincenzo recognized it instantly. As he entered, he found Canzo seated near the open window, engrossed in the writings of Thomas Aquinas.  Canzo, looking up, noticed a somber silhouette at the door. With a teasing tone, he called out, 

"Vincenzo, you fool! Are you spying on me?"

 "Ironic," Vincenzo retorted. "

Now, now," 

Canzo chuckled. 

"I never thought your father had rats, although I always suspected as much”.

“The freedom you sought after has arrived; all that remains is your response."

 Ignoring the question, Vincenzo swiftly remarked, 

"Mahler's Symphony No. 2 'Auferstehung'—the embodiment of resurrection."

 "Yes," 

Canzo replied, 

"the most poetic conclusion to a song that mankind has ever created.” 

instantly shifting the conversation Vincenzo said I think I'm going to decline my father's offer, he said to Canzo,

 “as you said I'm my own man, I don't need help from a man with no love in his heart.”

“So be it,” 

Canzo said. Vincenzo left while wanting to meet his father at his office, but he was hesitant, so much so that he waited for the rain to calm down, so he could venture off into the garden maze they have in the backyard.  It's been years since he walked around in that maze. 

It was a challenging one, he never truly grasped the route to its center, knowledge only his father possessed, despite his constant attempts he felt like he was walking around with no hope, it was just countless frustrating dead ends, but after ten minutes of walking back and forth he stumbled upon a small dent in the ground.

The end had a musical note on the floor with a small pressure plate on the left, it was a bass clef, he stood back confused about the fact that he had never seen this note during his youth. Vincenzo stepped on the pressure plate and the grass end in front of him opened up. 

Chapter 5 

The sun was beginning to rise, and while the water dripped gently amongst the foliage of the maze, one raindrop fell on top of Vincenzo's head, he looked up as the sun shined in his eyes. 

Slowly looking down, the passage was fully opened, and he took two steps in, looking left and right he saw no path, only the one in front of him, he saw a dark, sleek narrow pathway, the path in Vincenzo's eyes looked like the dark endless abyss. He began to walk down, eerie as it was, with no sound, but only his breathing and heartbeat, he had not known what lay at the end. 

He walked for almost five whole minutes, the pathway was covered from top to bottom with leaves that had the smell of an old cellar. The end was near, and the pathway followed a left corner with what seemed to be another long walk but light was at the end. He stepped into the light, finding himself amidst the maze. 

The center of the maze was spacious, featuring a conspicuous statue at its core. As Vincenzo approached, the figure grew increasingly shrouded in darkness. When he looked up, the statue's eyes seemed to pierce him with a haunting gaze, revealing sinister carvings that sparked a sense of fear. 

His gaze shifted downward, revealing long pointed toenails, and as he looked upward again, the statue's naked form stretched from toes to wings that, despite their angelic appearance, looked like something malevolent.

 In a hushed tone, Vincenzo murmured, 

"A demon statue in our yard, how could this be?"

 His eyes returned to the statue, now captivated by a chilling scene — the demon playing a violin and gazing down at the floor. 

Despite the absence of horns, the statue portrayed a melancholic expression with flowing hair. As he surveyed the surroundings, Vincenzo noticed a small passage beneath its back right foot, marked with the inscription, 

THE STAR THAT FELL WAS BEGONED AND BEGOTTEN BEFORE HIS FATHER. 

Vincenzo stepped back a couple of meters, walked back to the front, and realized who this was. Without hesitation, he turned around to find the passage, looking left and right hastily to leave the maze. As he walked near the middle of the dark pathway, his heart began to pound rapidly, then at a slow pace he started to run, the long narrow and dark path seemed endless, he took the left and saw the opening, running out he took deep breaths, he realized it was raining still, confused he looked up at his father's window, and he saw him staring at Vincenzo, as he quickly turned away closing the drapes. 

Chapter 6

His heavy breathing followed him into the back door, he found himself staring face to face with Giana the maid, 

“what's wrong Vincenzo does everything seem to be alright?” 

Giana said with a worried face  

“Yes” 

he replied while his heavy breathing subsided, walking away from Giana he left her by the door with wet shoe prints that followed. 

He walked straight to his room, but on the way, his head started to ache, some horrifying sound came into his consciousness, like someone playing the violin backward, it was ringing so loud his ears were about to pop, and he fell to his knees holding both his ears, looking down he saw a shadow walk close to him, the shadow grabbed both his hands and pulled Vincenzo up, a snap in his head went off, and the sound went away.

 He saw that it was Canzo, who was lifting him, 

“what in God's name is happening”

 Vincenzo said loudly,  frustrated as he was, he asked Canzo 

“Help me to my room mentor, there's something I need to tell you”. 

Canzo laid Vincenzo on his chair near the window, Vincenzo quickly looked outside at the maze, but it was too tall for his house to even see the middle. 

Looking back at Canzo, he hastily grabbed his hand with strength pulled Canzo near his face, and said, 

“Don’t lie to me for God is my witness Canzo but why is there a statue of the fallen angel in the center of our maze” 

Canzo stepped back pulling away from Vincenzo's hand looked at him and said, “Is this some kind of jest” 

“Does it look like I'm joking Canzo” 

Vincenzo said while looking into his eyes.

“I'm going to find my father”, 

leaving the room. Canzo walked towards the window looking at the maze and saw that there was nothing there, only a small garden with a cellar entrance to the right. Canzo said to himself while looking at the door that Vincenzo walked out of  “We never had a maze”. 

Chapter 7   

His head still echoed with the haunting melody of the shattered violin, producing an eerie and malevolent sound. 

The paintings adorning the walls of his father's room depicted ancient ancestors, resembling those he had near his bedroom.

 As he walked through the hallway, he cast glances in both directions, the feeling of being observed was haunting him sending shivers down his spine. The sensation persisted, as though unseen eyes tracked his every move, with the instinct to quicken his pace. 

With each step, the corridor seemed to constrict, its walls shifting in tandem with the peculiar ambiance of the mansion. 

Determined to synchronize with this otherworldly phenomenon, he began to walk at a steady pace. Wiping sweat from his face, he approached his father's room, its presence was insufferable. It stood with a  black door, and a small knob featuring an intricate knock mechanism adorned with angelic facial features. 

As he extended his hand to knock, a sound caught his attention. He halted, listening intently as footsteps approached the door. 

To his surprise, it swung open of its own accord. 

He entered the room to find his father gazing out the window into the garden. 

Taking a few steps inside, Vincenzo glanced to his left, expecting to see the source of the mysterious door opening, only to realize it was a mere maid. She respectfully lowered her head and withdrew, leaving father and son alone. 

Aldo turned around looked at Vincenzo with a smile and began saying 

“My lost son returns with an answer, what shall it be? 

Looking at Vincenzo with glaring eyes of fire, Vincenzo sneered and said, 

“As Satan himself tempted Christ and failed, I shall do the same, your presence is only that of an ill omen, your offer is meaningless, and your temptation has failed” 

with a glance of an eye, Vincenzo caught the tip of a piece of paper underneath his father's bookshelf. 

He looked back at his father for a response, but only exchanged glances Aldo broke the stare by saying  

“So be it, for the last twenty years you've stayed locked in this mansion, and you’ll stay for another twenty, you've been an insolent child, a spawn of the devil ever since you were born”

 Aldo said with an anguished look, 

“I'll be gone for three days on a business trip, the last thing I want to see is your face, leave me be” 

Vincenzo looked back at the paper, walking backward near the door, and turned around and left, leaving the door open, as he walked down the hall he felt his father's glaring eyes following him. 

Chapter 8 

It continued to rain the next day, as his father left early around 5:00 am, the mansion felt quiet and clear of any evilness that surrounded the halls, it was like a fresh breeze of clean air that hit Vincenzo's face. 

He got up and quickly dressed, for he felt a good day would be at hand, three days of complete freedom he thought, no eyes or ears, just him and his mind.

 Vincenzo walked past the library and saw Canzo reading near the window again, the spot he adored because the sun would shine on the book. 

Canzo looked up and saw him pass by, but paid no attention to it, Vincenzo walked down his father's hall and again saw his black towering door, he stared at it for quite a while, and then proceeded to open it. 

As he walked in a cold breeze brushed his face, and instantly turning toward the paper from before which had still laid there without notice, he walked towards and picked it up, looking at it he realized it was a music sheet of an old song, without reading further, he swiftly stashed the sheet into his pocket and slipped out of his father's room, as if no one had never been noticed. Walking back to his room he passed by the library, Canzo still sitting there called out to him, 

“Has one been engulfed with happiness, or is this the morning doing its wonders” 

 Vincenzo popped his head back in the room and said 

“God has given me peace it seems”

 he smiled and walked away. He entered his room, walked to his chair by the window, sat, took out the sheet of paper, and began reading it. He was puzzled for some time, he sat there until the afternoon. Canzo walked by his room and saw him sitting there in deep thought, and knocked and said 

“Vincenzo you missed breakfast, and soon brunch”

He walked in and glanced at the notes on the paper, grabbed it from Vincenzo's hand, and said

 “once a fool always a fool, it seems the music sheet of notes is reversed”,

 “but why”

Vincenzo said 

“ It seems someone was playing around with the song for fun, the song is the Devil Trill Sonata”, 

Tartini Vincenzo said with a puzzled face, 

“yes,” 

Canzo said but it's only showing the ending of the song. Canzo looked at Vincenzo and said 

“It was stated that the devil visited Tartini's dream and played this song to him, some say it was a deal, others say it was only a silly dream, but the notes and difficulty of the song were not man-made” 

and who said that Vincenzo said

“I did”  

Canzo said. Canzo walked away and said 

“Don't miss dinner”

closing the door and leaving Vincenzo by himself with the notes of the devil.  

Chapter 9

A gloomy shadow rained over the mansion with a cast of doubt that washed through the halls leading to Vincenzo's room. He grabbed his Violin near the window and began playing the song in the correct version until he reached the altered part, he grabbed the sheet and played it, he played it so well that it rolled off his fingers with ease, and the sound was dreadful, bitter, but his mind and soul loved it, he felt happy for a moment, but then he realized it was the same sound that brought him to his knees, but for some reason it didn't bother him, and at that moment his conscious fell back to the abyss, he saw his eyes inside his head, he was flying away from his eyes, the visions of life was fading away. At that moment he heard a voice, the voice was soft and sad, yet it felt wicked, it was his voice, a shock came over him, confused, but he could not speak, his voice was taken from him, and given to the other. The other said 

“It seems you've played it again” 

Then laughing he said, 

“Your father is clumsy”. 

As the other was fading, he said to Vincenzo 

“She tried to kill you once, but failed miserably, as I stabbed her heart repeatedly, and the last thing she saw was your face, I shall leave you in this cage of despair child, and watch again as life fades through your eyes”.

 Canzo came by to remind Vincenzo that brunch was ready, he knew Vincenzo wouldn’t come, so he came himself. He saw Vincenzo sitting by the window with his violin in the playing position, Vincenzo said to Canzo with a voice of surprise 

 “Mentor you look like death has sat upon your shoulder” 

he walked towards Canzo's shoulder placed his hand on it, and said 

“Let us go eat before the cold engulfs it” 

He walked out down the hall and disappeared. Canzo walked towards the chair where he sat and saw the music sheet, picked it up, and put it in his pocket.

Chapter 10 

The house reeked of death and hopelessness for the past three days since Canzo last spoke to Vincenzo at the dinner table, these three days Canzo read by the window until the last day it had rained before Aldo came home. Canzo greeted him by the door and said “How was your trip, sir” 

Aldo said with a cold stare 

“ it was fine, though I found the violin performance after my meeting to end my day perfectly” 

at that moment for some odd reason, Aldo felt a chill down his spine like before, Canzo looked at Aldo confused, and said 

“Is everything alright” 

 “where is Vincenzo”

 Aldo said to Canzo,

“He’s somewhere in this house I think, he's been gloomy the past three days “ 

Aldo looked at Canzo and stared at him for one minute straight, and then quickly turned left and ran to his room. Canzo has never seen his master act like this, he’s only been with the family for ten years, but Canzo followed himself as well.  Aldo ran into his room searching everywhere for something, Canzo followed in and asked 

“ what's wrong sir” 

but he ignored him, Aldo turned his room upside down, then yelled at Canzo saying

“Has Vincenzo entered this room, and don't lie to me” 

“ No sir………”

 but then Canzo remembered Vincenzo walking away from the direction of his room when he was reading in the library.

“Sir he might have, he had this music sheet with him, it was the Devil's Trill Sonata, but the notes near the end of the song were changed” 

“ Does he still have it?”

 Aldo said with a scared voice,

“No”

 Canzo  pulled the sheet out of his pocket and gave it to Aldo 

Aldo held it in his hands looked up at Canzo and said 

“ Canzo listen to me carefully and don't disobey me” 

“ Yes master, of course, anything” 

Aldo said “ Vincenzo is not the person you think he is”

 Canzo was about to speak but Aldo cut him off with a cold glare 

“ The Vincenzo that walks around the house is that of the devil himself, and none of us can do anything about it” 

Canzo was confused, but they heard someone coming up the stairs down the hall, Aldo quickly said, 

“Hide in the closet, my life Canzo is at an end, I have a pistol at the dining room on display, you must take it”. 

Vincenzo walked in and said 

“has my father gone insane, talking to himself now, how pathetic” 

Before Vincenzo could say another word Aldo said 

“it seems my son has played the song, though I will never see him again, I will trust that my hate is not something he dies with”   

Vincenzo walked close to Aldo thrust a stab in the stomach and pulled a knife up to his heart, leaving his heart exposed to air, Canzo watched everything through the closet door openings, as Aldo fell to the floor, The other got close to Aldo’s face and said 

“Isn't it beautiful, how life in the eyes slowly fades away, I pray that you are watching Vincenzo”

 He got up looked around, and left closing the door. Canzo waited ten minutes before leaving the closet, he walked to Aldo's dead and cold body and closed his eyes. As he prayed to God, beads of sweat formed on his brow, and his trembling hands made it difficult to speak.

Chapter 11

Canzo left the room, gently closing the door behind him. He briskly strode down the hall until he encountered a maid carrying a tray of food for Aldo. 

"Hold on, miss, I'll take that," 

Canzo said quickly. 

The maid bowed and departed as he hurriedly put the food in the library. He needed to ensure no one approached the room at any cost, but he somehow needed to get that gun, at this point, he thought it was no use, the gun was most important. He walked into the dining room and saw it cased in the glass above Aldo’s seat. Before he could contemplate retrieving it, Vincenzo entered the room. He saw Canzo near Aldo’s seat and said 

“Mentor God himself has blessed us to meet, I pray your day has gone well”

“My day has been interesting” 

As his heart started to pound heavily he said to Vincenzo 

“What brings you into the dining room in the morning, you rarely eat breakfast” 

“Very true Canzo, I shall leave you be then while you eat by yourself, oh I forgot to ask I changed my decision I'll be leaving for Vienna, my father has inspired me so much, the last few days of silence gave me peace of mind”

Canzo bowed his head to Vincenzo and said 

“The changed man has truly changed” 

Vincenzo walked away, leaving Canzo alone. Canzo waited for a moment before his gaze settled on the glass case. He opened the hatch on the left and retrieved the gun, it was a weathered American Colt Navy revolver. Leaving the dining hall, consumed by the urgency to confront Vincenzo, Canzo scoured every corner but found no trace of him. As he made his way towards the main hall, a chilling sight caught his attention, a pool of blood near the jacket closet. Opening it, he discovered four maids lying lifeless, their throats gruesomely slit from one end to the other, he quickly closed the door and at that moment he heard a violin being played, Devil's Trill Sonata was echoed from the library, he slowly walked to the door and saw Vincenzo playing seated and faced to the window, Vincenzo said to Canzo as he walked in

 “ just like the dream, you and Tartini both gave me a face of disgust” 

He slowly walked to the chair and pointed the gun at his head while still playing the violin, Vincenzo said 

“It seems my tim

The Devil's Sonata  

Chapter 1

“Thus, the Lord regretted that he made human beings on earth, and his heart was deeply troubled,”

 Canzo said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Isn’t it such a fascinating passage, Vincenzo?” 

"Do you believe that God, as powerful as he is, could emanate such melancholy?" Canzo said softly, Vincenzo sighed, rubbing his nose. 

"It's as if the notion fashioned in thine image is undeniably true," he continued, prompting a taken-aback response from Canzo.

 "True as in what?"

 Canzo inquired,  surprised by Vincenzo's statement. "True as in God took pity on us, true as in God is merely a human being," 

Vincenzo remarked with a confident smirk.

 "This is blasphemy, Vincenzo," 

Canzo retorted, raising his voice and unintentionally standing up, escalating the tension between student and mentor. Canzo, attempting to diffuse the situation, forced a laugh and added, "You think God regretted making us because of himself?’ 

With a smile, Vincenzo said  “He claimed”, “Love has existed since he entered the universe, that is his essence. However, that does not guarantee the absence of the negative, It's as if despair overshadowed him; nothing is perfect, Canzo, perfection is only a maker’s flaw, and that's why we humans are so flawed, we continue to repent even knowing we’ll sin again, it's a cycle of imperfection that God gave us and if he gave to us then it is him who had first”, 

Vincenzo laughed and said I'm only speculating Canzo calm down.

Canzo with a red face got up and said 

“You fool” 

“Wait till I tell your father about this”,

 “My father” 

Vincenzo said laughing

 “Now that is a fool, a man with no love, only filled with hatred, my father should take notes from God, as he loved his children.” 

Chapter 2

The conversation gradually eased to the point where it was utter silence,  

 looking away from Canzo and slowly turned to the window, with a saddened sigh Canzo said 

“If it's freedom you want then leave, go far away Vincenzo, and explore the world” 

Holding one's head in one hand Vincenzo said to Canzo, 

“You know I can never leave right? I am bound to this house and the family name” “Foolishness Vincenzo”

 Canzo said with flashing eyes 

“this is your life Vincenzo Agosti you are your own man”. 

Vincenzo stared at Canzo with a strange look and said 

“Why the sudden change of heart Canzo, were you not going to tell my father of my blasphemy”

“ fear not Child it is just a shock of anger, Don't look so gloomy,”

 Canzo said, 

“My life was once similar to yours, freedom is hard to grasp, yet we have it by right” 

As those words echoed in his mind he left the room, the hallway to his bedroom was endless and had a profound melancholy that enwrapped all the wood, an endless walk to a cage with no lock, the wood on the walls were old and smelt like death, pictures of past ancestors hung on walls left and right, Vincenzo looked like a lost soul wandering around with chains shackled to the house, he finally got to his room, and slowly laid on his bed, and fell quickly to sleep.

Chapter 3 

 The heavy rain the following morning abruptly awakened Vincenzo from his peaceful slumber. Recalling his conversation with Canzo, he muttered "Blasphemy" with a vacant stare. He pondered aloud, 

"Isn't death too harsh a punishment for freethinkers?" 

The thought of death did not bring any closure to his mother's death. 

, Vincenzo dressed for breakfast amidst scattered music sheets and violin strings. Despite not being a prodigy, playing the violin brought him solace; he often improvised musical notes for pleasure. Adjusting his tie in the mirror, the twenty-year-old revealed his tall, lanky frame and unbuttoned black blazer over a brown shirt with a golden cross. Vincenzo's rugged appearance, with his once-patchy black beard and sunken eyes, contrasted starkly with his father's demeanor.

“Good morning,”

 one of the maids said to Vincenzo as he was approaching the door to the dining table, “Please come in Giana said” 

prompting her hand to the door, you look lovely madam, Vincenzo said, As he walked in he could see his father at the end of the table staring at him with a cold glare, Aldo Agosti one of the last remaining aristocrats in Italy, his family fortune stemmed from old artifacts. As Vincenzo entered the room, he took his seat at the opposite end of the table avoiding eye contact from his father. The maids, acting in perfect synchrony, brought out the food, and they commenced their meal in silence. After a while, Aldo cast a quiet glance at Vincenzo and spoke slowly,

 "I notice that my son enjoys questioning what he does not understand. God is not some human you can analyze”.

Vincenzo glanced around, searching for Canzo, but his father interjected,

 "Do not fret, son. I am aware of everything."

Aldo then introduced his proposition: an invitation to a prestigious European school, facilitated by his connections, in exchange for Vincenzo assuming the role of family heir, with Aldo arranging suitable matches for him.

"You desire freedom from this false dilemma; I offer it at a price," Aldo stated.

Confusion enveloped Vincenzo as he pondered the offer. Was it out of pity?

 "Why grant me a fleeting freedom only to ensnare me in a lifetime of corruption?"

 he questioned through gritted teeth.

Aldo, wearing a cold smile, asserted, 

"Because you are my son, and you will obey."

 With a snap of his fingers, a maid presented a plate bearing a key and an envelope containing money.

 "This is all I will provide: your dormitory key and limited funds,"

 Aldo declared. "The school is in Vienna."

In a state of shock and bewilderment, Vincenzo sensed a ploy. Why allow me to journey across Europe, only to expect my return?"I may not grasp my father's motives, as with those before him, and God whose cause do you serve?"

 he mused silently amid the melancholic echoes of the rain-soaked dining hall

Vincenzo abruptly excused himself, prompting Aldo to order, 

"Giana, ensure my son remains confined until he provides a definitive answer."

Chapter 4

 He strolled past the entrance of the study room, catching the familiar tune of Canzo's humming. Vincenzo recognized it instantly. As he entered, he found Canzo seated near the open window, engrossed in the writings of Thomas Aquinas.  Canzo, looking up, noticed a somber silhouette at the door. With a teasing tone, he called out, 

"Vincenzo, you fool! Are you spying on me?"

 "Ironic," Vincenzo retorted. "

Now, now," 

Canzo chuckled. 

"I never thought your father had rats, although I always suspected as much”.

“The freedom you sought after has arrived; all that remains is your response."

 Ignoring the question, Vincenzo swiftly remarked, 

"Mahler's Symphony No. 2 'Auferstehung'—the embodiment of resurrection."

 "Yes," 

Canzo replied, 

"the most poetic conclusion to a song that mankind has ever created.” 

instantly shifting the conversation Vincenzo said I think I'm going to decline my father's offer, he said to Canzo,

 “as you said I'm my own man, I don't need help from a man with no love in his heart.”

“So be it,” 

Canzo said. Vincenzo left while wanting to meet his father at his office, but he was hesitant, so much so that he waited for the rain to calm down, so he could venture off into the garden maze they have in the backyard.  It's been years since he walked around in that maze. 

It was a challenging one, he never truly grasped the route to its center, knowledge only his father possessed, despite his constant attempts he felt like he was walking around with no hope, it was just countless frustrating dead ends, but after ten minutes of walking back and forth he stumbled upon a small dent in the ground.

The end had a musical note on the floor with a small pressure plate on the left, it was a bass clef, he stood back confused about the fact that he had never seen this note during his youth. Vincenzo stepped on the pressure plate and the grass end in front of him opened up. 

Chapter 5 

The sun was beginning to rise, and while the water dripped gently amongst the foliage of the maze, one raindrop fell on top of Vincenzo's head, he looked up as the sun shined in his eyes. 

Slowly looking down, the passage was fully opened, and he took two steps in, looking left and right he saw no path, only the one in front of him, he saw a dark, sleek narrow pathway, the path in Vincenzo's eyes looked like the dark endless abyss. He began to walk down, eerie as it was, with no sound, but only his breathing and heartbeat, he had not known what lay at the end. 

He walked for almost five whole minutes, the pathway was covered from top to bottom with leaves that had the smell of an old cellar. The end was near, and the pathway followed a left corner with what seemed to be another long walk but light was at the end. He stepped into the light, finding himself amidst the maze. 

The center of the maze was spacious, featuring a conspicuous statue at its core. As Vincenzo approached, the figure grew increasingly shrouded in darkness. When he looked up, the statue's eyes seemed to pierce him with a haunting gaze, revealing sinister carvings that sparked a sense of fear. 

His gaze shifted downward, revealing long pointed toenails, and as he looked upward again, the statue's naked form stretched from toes to wings that, despite their angelic appearance, looked like something malevolent.

 In a hushed tone, Vincenzo murmured, 

"A demon statue in our yard, how could this be?"

 His eyes returned to the statue, now captivated by a chilling scene — the demon playing a violin and gazing down at the floor. 

Despite the absence of horns, the statue portrayed a melancholic expression with flowing hair. As he surveyed the surroundings, Vincenzo noticed a small passage beneath its back right foot, marked with the inscription, 

THE STAR THAT FELL WAS BEGONED AND BEGOTTEN BEFORE HIS FATHER. 

Vincenzo stepped back a couple of meters, walked back to the front, and realized who this was. Without hesitation, he turned around to find the passage, looking left and right hastily to leave the maze. As he walked near the middle of the dark pathway, his heart began to pound rapidly, then at a slow pace he started to run, the long narrow and dark path seemed endless, he took the left and saw the opening, running out he took deep breaths, he realized it was raining still, confused he looked up at his father's window, and he saw him staring at Vincenzo, as he quickly turned away closing the drapes. 

Chapter 6

His heavy breathing followed him into the back door, he found himself staring face to face with Giana the maid, 

“what's wrong Vincenzo does everything seem to be alright?” 

Giana said with a worried face  

“Yes” 

he replied while his heavy breathing subsided, walking away from Giana he left her by the door with wet shoe prints that followed. 

He walked straight to his room, but on the way, his head started to ache, some horrifying sound came into his consciousness, like someone playing the violin backward, it was ringing so loud his ears were about to pop, and he fell to his knees holding both his ears, looking down he saw a shadow walk close to him, the shadow grabbed both his hands and pulled Vincenzo up, a snap in his head went off, and the sound went away.

 He saw that it was Canzo, who was lifting him, 

“what in God's name is happening”

 Vincenzo said loudly,  frustrated as he was, he asked Canzo 

“Help me to my room mentor, there's something I need to tell you”. 

Canzo laid Vincenzo on his chair near the window, Vincenzo quickly looked outside at the maze, but it was too tall for his house to even see the middle. 

Looking back at Canzo, he hastily grabbed his hand with strength pulled Canzo near his face, and said, 

“Don’t lie to me for God is my witness Canzo but why is there a statue of the fallen angel in the center of our maze” 

Canzo stepped back pulling away from Vincenzo's hand looked at him and said, “Is this some kind of jest” 

“Does it look like I'm joking Canzo” 

Vincenzo said while looking into his eyes.

“I'm going to find my father”, 

leaving the room. Canzo walked towards the window looking at the maze and saw that there was nothing there, only a small garden with a cellar entrance to the right. Canzo said to himself while looking at the door that Vincenzo walked out of  “We never had a maze”. 

Chapter 7   

His head still echoed with the haunting melody of the shattered violin, producing an eerie and malevolent sound. 

The paintings adorning the walls of his father's room depicted ancient ancestors, resembling those he had near his bedroom.

 As he walked through the hallway, he cast glances in both directions, the feeling of being observed was haunting him sending shivers down his spine. The sensation persisted, as though unseen eyes tracked his every move, with the instinct to quicken his pace. 

With each step, the corridor seemed to constrict, its walls shifting in tandem with the peculiar ambiance of the mansion. 

Determined to synchronize with this otherworldly phenomenon, he began to walk at a steady pace. Wiping sweat from his face, he approached his father's room, its presence was insufferable. It stood with a  black door, and a small knob featuring an intricate knock mechanism adorned with angelic facial features. 

As he extended his hand to knock, a sound caught his attention. He halted, listening intently as footsteps approached the door. 

To his surprise, it swung open of its own accord. 

He entered the room to find his father gazing out the window into the garden. 

Taking a few steps inside, Vincenzo glanced to his left, expecting to see the source of the mysterious door opening, only to realize it was a mere maid. She respectfully lowered her head and withdrew, leaving father and son alone. 

Aldo turned around looked at Vincenzo with a smile and began saying 

“My lost son returns with an answer, what shall it be? 

Looking at Vincenzo with glaring eyes of fire, Vincenzo sneered and said, 

“As Satan himself tempted Christ and failed, I shall do the same, your presence is only that of an ill omen, your offer is meaningless, and your temptation has failed” 

with a glance of an eye, Vincenzo caught the tip of a piece of paper underneath his father's bookshelf. 

He looked back at his father for a response, but only exchanged glances Aldo broke the stare by saying  

“So be it, for the last twenty years you've stayed locked in this mansion, and you’ll stay for another twenty, you've been an insolent child, a spawn of the devil ever since you were born”

 Aldo said with an anguished look, 

“I'll be gone for three days on a business trip, the last thing I want to see is your face, leave me be” 

Vincenzo looked back at the paper, walking backward near the door, and turned around and left, leaving the door open, as he walked down the hall he felt his father's glaring eyes following him. 

Chapter 8 

It continued to rain the next day, as his father left early around 5:00 am, the mansion felt quiet and clear of any evilness that surrounded the halls, it was like a fresh breeze of clean air that hit Vincenzo's face. 

He got up and quickly dressed, for he felt a good day would be at hand, three days of complete freedom he thought, no eyes or ears, just him and his mind.

 Vincenzo walked past the library and saw Canzo reading near the window again, the spot he adored because the sun would shine on the book. 

Canzo looked up and saw him pass by, but paid no attention to it, Vincenzo walked down his father's hall and again saw his black towering door, he stared at it for quite a while, and then proceeded to open it. 

As he walked in a cold breeze brushed his face, and instantly turning toward the paper from before which had still laid there without notice, he walked towards and picked it up, looking at it he realized it was a music sheet of an old song, without reading further, he swiftly stashed the sheet into his pocket and slipped out of his father's room, as if no one had never been noticed. Walking back to his room he passed by the library, Canzo still sitting there called out to him, 

“Has one been engulfed with happiness, or is this the morning doing its wonders” 

 Vincenzo popped his head back in the room and said 

“God has given me peace it seems”

 he smiled and walked away. He entered his room, walked to his chair by the window, sat, took out the sheet of paper, and began reading it. He was puzzled for some time, he sat there until the afternoon. Canzo walked by his room and saw him sitting there in deep thought, and knocked and said 

“Vincenzo you missed breakfast, and soon brunch”

He walked in and glanced at the notes on the paper, grabbed it from Vincenzo's hand, and said

 “once a fool always a fool, it seems the music sheet of notes is reversed”,

 “but why”

Vincenzo said 

“ It seems someone was playing around with the song for fun, the song is the Devil Trill Sonata”, 

Tartini Vincenzo said with a puzzled face, 

“yes,” 

Canzo said but it's only showing the ending of the song. Canzo looked at Vincenzo and said 

“It was stated that the devil visited Tartini's dream and played this song to him, some say it was a deal, others say it was only a silly dream, but the notes and difficulty of the song were not man-made” 

and who said that Vincenzo said

“I did”  

Canzo said. Canzo walked away and said 

“Don't miss dinner”

closing the door and leaving Vincenzo by himself with the notes of the devil.  

Chapter 9

A gloomy shadow rained over the mansion with a cast of doubt that washed through the halls leading to Vincenzo's room. He grabbed his Violin near the window and began playing the song in the correct version until he reached the altered part, he grabbed the sheet and played it, he played it so well that it rolled off his fingers with ease, and the sound was dreadful, bitter, but his mind and soul loved it, he felt happy for a moment, but then he realized it was the same sound that brought him to his knees, but for some reason it didn't bother him, and at that moment his conscious fell back to the abyss, he saw his eyes inside his head, he was flying away from his eyes, the visions of life was fading away. At that moment he heard a voice, the voice was soft and sad, yet it felt wicked, it was his voice, a shock came over him, confused, but he could not speak, his voice was taken from him, and given to the other. The other said 

“It seems you've played it again” 

Then laughing he said, 

“Your father is clumsy”. 

As the other was fading, he said to Vincenzo 

“She tried to kill you once, but failed miserably, as I stabbed her heart repeatedly, and the last thing she saw was your face, I shall leave you in this cage of despair child, and watch again as life fades through your eyes”.

 Canzo came by to remind Vincenzo that brunch was ready, he knew Vincenzo wouldn’t come, so he came himself. He saw Vincenzo sitting by the window with his violin in the playing position, Vincenzo said to Canzo with a voice of surprise 

 “Mentor you look like death has sat upon your shoulder” 

he walked towards Canzo's shoulder placed his hand on it, and said 

“Let us go eat before the cold engulfs it” 

He walked out down the hall and disappeared. Canzo walked towards the chair where he sat and saw the music sheet, picked it up, and put it in his pocket.

Chapter 10 

The house reeked of death and hopelessness for the past three days since Canzo last spoke to Vincenzo at the dinner table, these three days Canzo read by the window until the last day it had rained before Aldo came home. Canzo greeted him by the door and said “How was your trip, sir” 

Aldo said with a cold stare 

“ it was fine, though I found the violin performance after my meeting to end my day perfectly” 

at that moment for some odd reason, Aldo felt a chill down his spine like before, Canzo looked at Aldo confused, and said 

“Is everything alright” 

 “where is Vincenzo”

 Aldo said to Canzo,

“He’s somewhere in this house I think, he's been gloomy the past three days “ 

Aldo looked at Canzo and stared at him for one minute straight, and then quickly turned left and ran to his room. Canzo has never seen his master act like this, he’s only been with the family for ten years, but Canzo followed himself as well.  Aldo ran into his room searching everywhere for something, Canzo followed in and asked 

“ what's wrong sir” 

but he ignored him, Aldo turned his room upside down, then yelled at Canzo saying

“Has Vincenzo entered this room, and don't lie to me” 

“ No sir………”

 but then Canzo remembered Vincenzo walking away from the direction of his room when he was reading in the library.

“Sir he might have, he had this music sheet with him, it was the Devil's Trill Sonata, but the notes near the end of the song were changed” 

“ Does he still have it?”

 Aldo said with a scared voice,

“No”

 Canzo  pulled the sheet out of his pocket and gave it to Aldo 

Aldo held it in his hands looked up at Canzo and said 

“ Canzo listen to me carefully and don't disobey me” 

“ Yes master, of course, anything” 

Aldo said “ Vincenzo is not the person you think he is”

 Canzo was about to speak but Aldo cut him off with a cold glare 

“ The Vincenzo that walks around the house is that of the devil himself, and none of us can do anything about it” 

Canzo was confused, but they heard someone coming up the stairs down the hall, Aldo quickly said, 

“Hide in the closet, my life Canzo is at an end, I have a pistol at the dining room on display, you must take it”. 

Vincenzo walked in and said 

“has my father gone insane, talking to himself now, how pathetic” 

Before Vincenzo could say another word Aldo said 

“it seems my son has played the song, though I will never see him again, I will trust that my hate is not something he dies with”   

Vincenzo walked close to Aldo thrust a stab in the stomach and pulled a knife up to his heart, leaving his heart exposed to air, Canzo watched everything through the closet door openings, as Aldo fell to the floor, The other got close to Aldo’s face and said 

“Isn't it beautiful, how life in the eyes slowly fades away, I pray that you are watching Vincenzo”

 He got up looked around, and left closing the door. Canzo waited ten minutes before leaving the closet, he walked to Aldo's dead and cold body and closed his eyes. As he prayed to God, beads of sweat formed on his brow, and his trembling hands made it difficult to speak.

Chapter 11

Canzo left the room, gently closing the door behind him. He briskly strode down the hall until he encountered a maid carrying a tray of food for Aldo. 

"Hold on, miss, I'll take that," 

Canzo said quickly. 

The maid bowed and departed as he hurriedly put the food in the library. He needed to ensure no one approached the room at any cost, but he somehow needed to get that gun, at this point, he thought it was no use, the gun was most important. He walked into the dining room and saw it cased in the glass above Aldo’s seat. Before he could contemplate retrieving it, Vincenzo entered the room. He saw Canzo near Aldo’s seat and said 

“Mentor God himself has blessed us to meet, I pray your day has gone well”

“My day has been interesting” 

As his heart started to pound heavily he said to Vincenzo 

“What brings you into the dining room in the morning, you rarely eat breakfast” 

“Very true Canzo, I shall leave you be then while you eat by yourself, oh I forgot to ask I changed my decision I'll be leaving for Vienna, my father has inspired me so much, the last few days of silence gave me peace of mind”

Canzo bowed his head to Vincenzo and said 

“The changed man has truly changed” 

Vincenzo walked away, leaving Canzo alone. Canzo waited for a moment before his gaze settled on the glass case. He opened the hatch on the left and retrieved the gun, it was a weathered American Colt Navy revolver. Leaving the dining hall, consumed by the urgency to confront Vincenzo, Canzo scoured every corner but found no trace of him. As he made his way towards the main hall, a chilling sight caught his attention, a pool of blood near the jacket closet. Opening it, he discovered four maids lying lifeless, their throats gruesomely slit from one end to the other, he quickly closed the door and at that moment he heard a violin being played, Devil's Trill Sonata was echoed from the library, he slowly walked to the door and saw Vincenzo playing seated and faced to the window, Vincenzo said to Canzo as he walked in

 “ just like the dream, you and Tartini both gave me a face of disgust” 

He slowly walked to the chair and pointed the gun at his head while still playing the violin, Vincenzo said 

“It seems my time is up, but my mark will stain your life forever” 

As Canzo pulled the trigger in that split second The Other swapped, and Vincenzo cried out, his voice strained and barely audible, as if someone had ripped out his vocal cords. "No, Canzo," 

he managed to utter in a choked whisper."

 but the bullet was already discharged and Canzo did not hear the crying voice.  

The End 

e is up, but my mark will stain your life forever” 

As Canzo pulled the trigger in that split second The Other swapped, and Vincenzo cried out, his voice strained and barely audible, as if someone had ripped out his vocal cords. "No, Canzo," 

he managed to utter in a choked whisper."

 but the bullet was already discharged and Canzo did not hear the crying voice.  

The End 

[casspurrjoybell-31]

The Consort - Chapter 17 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

"We're here, human. Wake up."

Cool mint washes over my face.

It's a decadent smell, the type you remember no matter how much time has passed.

It ranks above freshly baked cookies or even freshly cut grass before a summertime barbeque.

My eyes flutter open and Brayden's red eyes peer into mine.

He doesn't set me on the ground, though.

He holds my gaze, the intensity making my stomach bottom out.

"Th-that's good," I say breathlessly.

"Were there any problems along the way...?"

Brayden's lips crash against mine.

My mind goes blank. All I can hear is rush of blood pounding against my eardrums.

What's going on?

Maybe this is a mistake.

Or a dream.

Yes this must a dream and any second now he will pull away from me and I'll wake up.

Brayden's tongue slips into my mouth.

It slides and pushes against mine, lightly fighting for dominance.

Without breaking our kiss, his hands move along my back to guide me back on my feet.

My legs whine in protest and the aching stiffness in my joints is all the proof I need that is real.

I steady myself against his shoulders, sliding my arms around the nape of his neck.

Every inch of him is chiseled perfection.

His hand moves against the side of my face.

It's a cool and formal touch but there's a softness to it this time that makes it feel more real.

His index finger settles beneath my chin,and he angles my head to deepen our kiss.

Every one of my senses is heightened.

It's like I'm hyper aware of everything, including Brayden's free hand which is now settling around my hip.

His fingers dig into my skin and I moan softly at the pain.

It's a possessive and demanding type of touch and I can't get enough of it.

My hips reflexively rub against his.

The bulge straining beneath his pants is big enough to put mine to shame.

Brayden lowers his other hand to my waist.

He pushes my back against the wall and pins me there.

I struggle to breathe against the weight of his body, his kiss overpowering and never ending.

I'm too wrapped up in the moment to realize my next mistake.

I break the kiss and gasp for a breath of air.

My fingers intertwine with a fistful of Brayden's hair and I guide his lips to the base of my neck.

Like the other men who have kissed me here before, I expect to feel his lips gently run along my tender flesh.

Instead I feel the tips of pointed teeth grazing against my vein.

My eyes snap open and I try backpedaling but there's nowhere for me to go.

What was I thinking? I'm trapped.

My breathing becomes choppy and erratic.

I should be pushing him away from me.

I should be fighting what's about to happen with every bit of strength I have to offer.

But I can't.

It's almost as if the portion of my brain that registers fear is frozen.

I can feel the emotions but I can't act on them.

Even though I know I should try to escape, having him this close to me is intoxicating.

My mind is woozy from his smell. From his taste.

On some dark, macabre level, I want him to do it.

I want him to feed from me, to taste me and become consumed by me just as much as I am consumed by him.

His teeth press deeper against my skin.

I wince at the pain but don't stop him.

He's so close to breaking my flesh and tapping my vein... But then he's gone.

I blink in confusion, glancing around the foreign room and trying to catch my breath.

We're in a modernly decorated living room, one that reeks of overpriced, stale perfume.

Picture frames line the walls in an elaborate pattern but all of them are empty.

There are no couches or chairs.

Instead there's a fancy throw rug that takes up the majority of the floor.

It's a plush purple with golden tassels all along the edge.

A few throw pillows are gathered near the middle, each of them matching the color scheme of the rug.

"B-Brayden?" I whisper.

Silence.

I shiver and take a step away from the wall.

The feel of his hands and his kiss still dance across my skin, now just whispers of a stolen moment.

Silence.

I shiver and take a step away from the wall.

The feel of his hands and his kiss still dance across my skin, now just whispers of a stolen moment.

"I told you not to push me, human."

My head whips in the direction of his voice but he's still nowhere to be seen.

The double timbre of his words echo throughout the vaulted ceilings.

I swallow hard and my eyes dance to the stairs, trying to find where he is.

"I'm sorry," I say hesitantly.

"I wasn't trying to push you. I just wanted more."

More silence greets my confession.

I can't hear his breathing or his movement.

I can't even feel his eyes on me.

I don't feel anything.

My legs give out and I slump down to the ground.

It was stupid to let him kiss me.

He warned me not to push him,and there I was, just adding more fuel to the fire.

"Brayden?" I whimper. "Please."

'I'm scared'.

Normally when Brayden is around I can feel his presence.

Now I can't feel anything.

I lick my lips, looking around the room in desperation.

From the corner of the room, a sullen shadow slowly emerges.

I take a step forward in relief but then stop.

The vampire moving towards me looks possessed.

His eyes are black and glow with an unearthly type of darkness.

Elongated fangs glisten against the overhead light.

The desire pulsing through me turns to dread and after another beat of silence passes, the vampire lets out a sinister laugh.

It's not Brayden.

It's the vampire from the University.

He strides are long and purposeful.

I stutter out Brayden's name, wondering how I heard his voice just a moment ago but now he's gone.

Did he set me up? Is that why he brought me here?

Tears sting my eyes and I watch in horror as the menacing vampire approaches me.

There's nowhere to run.

There's nowhere to hide.

His hard fingers slide around my wrist, tightening like a sinister vice.

Memories from the day of the attack flash before my eyes, the way he sucked the life out of so many humans.

The fresh, bright blood staining his lips and teeth.

He smiles down at me, tilting his head in satisfaction.

"Hello Nirv," he whispers. "We meet again."

[zablife]

Reb, you have no idea how relieved I am that Nina isn't being forced to marry Stefano! (I'm not exactly sure what their history is, but I'm not getting good vibes from him 😡) She's lucky she has such an understanding father and that he's willing to put her happiness above everything else. It's still upsetting to read how unfulfilled she is in her day to day life tho, knowing she can't contribute the way she'd like.

Moving on to her budding relationship with Tommy, I'm getting nervous for both of them. The secret glances, the brush of hands and the late night chat are making my heart beat out of my chest!! Not only bc it's utterly romantic, but also bc Tommy has declared his intention toward Agnese and these two are going to start a war if they have a secret romance. With that being said, can we pls have more of that?? I'm ready...let's gooo!!

Their personalities are so well suited to one another. I loved the bit about both of them being able to lay curses! (So clever of you to add that btw. I was squealing when I read it.) And I think even Winston approves considering he didn't bite or scratch Tommy yet!

This series is so well-written it's impossible for me to quote every line I've stopped to read twice, but the stand outs are Tommy getting physically and emotionally closer to Nina in these two excerpts:

Her brown irises shone with a golden hue in the sunlight, and were framed by long, thick lashes. She had pulled her long black hair into a braid, exposing her delicate neck. Her tanned skin seemed soft, even velvety, and some irrational part of him wondered how it would feel to brush his fingers against it. The detail here is exquisite, I can picture her perfectly as they walk along together! It also feels like a true awakening in Tommy as he is allowed a closer look.

And the way you describe the late night conversation in the kitchen here:

late nights were made for bringing down walls and sharing secrets that couldn’t see the daylight. Maybe it was because it is only in the deepest darkness that one’s true self can no longer be hidden. This is poetry, Reb! It captures the feeling of magic happening as these two get to know one another. Amazing work!

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART III

Summary: Tommy makes up his mind about who it his that he’s going to marry. An unwanted encounter rattles Nina, and leaves Tommy with questions.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, drinking, smoking, mentions of drugs, mentions of violence, English is not my first language.

A/N: here’s the third chapter! I got a bit carried away with this one, and I hope you’ll like it. Here and there in the series there will be some sentences taken from the show. At the end of the chapter, you’ll find the translation of a few Italian sentences. Feedback is always appreciated☀️

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The first few days following Tommy Shelby’s arrival were probably the busiest the Ferrante family had ever lived. Among lunches, dinners, nosy relatives and business meetings, no one had a moment’s rest, not even Tommy himself. The guest had been occupied by countless meetings with Vincenzo and Mario Ferrante, aiming to draw up a plan of action to take down Sabini. However, he had not openly declared his intention to court one of the girls yet, keeping everybody on edge. Nina had a suspicion that he took pleasure in keeping them waiting, enjoying that bit of control. Or maybe it was part of some kind of plan. Whether it was strategy or pure entertainment, it was working.

Sitting at the breakfast table, she tried to capture fragments of the conversation that was going on between Tommy Shelby and her father in the next room, but their voices were too low for her to pick up their words. The rattles of pots and pans caused by her mother surely didn’t help. After an indefinite amount of time, they made their way into the kitchen, apparently ready to go out.

“Nina,” her father addressed her, making her raise her head from her breakfast. “Mr. Shelby is coming with you and your mother to the city.” He announced, gesturing towards the guest. “He has something to do, and he’ll need someone to translate for him.”

Nina had to hold back a snort at her father’s words. She had totally forgotten she had promised her mother she’d go to the city with her to help her with the groceries, and now that she had to be Tommy Shelby’s personal translator, she wanted to go even less. However, she nodded in agreement, knowing all too well there was no point in protesting, especially with her father.

Satisfied by her answer, Vincenzo walked up to her to place a kiss on her head. “Grazie. Ci vediamo dopo, vado a parlare con zio Mario.” (“Thank you. I’ll see you later, I’m going to talk to uncle Mario.”)

Her gaze followed him as he said goodbye to her mother and moved to leave the room, but not before whispering something in the gangster’s hear. Once her husband was gone, Maria Ferrante smiled and gestured towards the table, encouraging Tommy to have breakfast, her lack of English making it impossible for her to formulate a single sentence. He nodded in thanks and sat on a chair, opting for a cup of coffee. Silence fell in the room, only broken by the clattering noise of the utensils. Nina couldn’t help but notice how neat he looked, even in the early hours of the morning, already dressed and freshly shaved, and she suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious about her disheveled hair and house clothes. It wasn’t like she cared about what he thought of her, but showing herself like that made her feel like she was at something of a disadvantage. Off guard, even.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her mother glancing at them from time to time, unsuccessfully trying to be subtle as she waited for them to interact in some way. A sigh escaped her lips as she poured herself some coffee, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the situation.

She was well aware about her mother’s hopes and wishes. The prospect of having an unmarried daughter was terrifying, not only because marriage was a woman’s duty, but also because women didn’t get far in life without a man taking care of them. Moreover, the village was starting to talk. Older women speculated about Nina’s behaviour, about the reasons behind it, about where her fierceness would lead. If word about a possible dishonour spread, the whole family would be ruined. But it was also a matter of pride. If Tommy Shelby chose to marry Nina, it would be a victory against Aunt Rita and her beautiful, perfect daughter.

Just as she was about to get up to go and get ready, a dark shadow whipped past her head from above and landed softly on the ground without a sound. Tommy’s head snapped towards the spot where the shadow had landed, and Nina almost chocked on her coffee, already knowing that all hell would break loose as soon as she saw her black cat standing in the middle of the room. She was quick to put her cup back on the table, but before she could intervene, her mother let out a scream, waving the rag she had in her hand against the animal, a long series of Italian curses leaving her lips. Nina placed her hand in front of her mouth, trying her best not to laugh as the cat stared at the woman with his bright yellow eyes, an imperturbable look on his little face, but as soon as she caught sight of Tommy Shelby’s stunned expression all of her efforts to suppress her laughter failed.

Her mother glared at her, crossing to her to hit the back of her head with the rug. “Fai sparire quella bestia.” She spat out, before turning on her heels and leaving the room.

Winston had a habit of snuggling on tall cabinets, in the dark, where no one could see him, just to jump out at the least suitable times - that is, when Maria Ferrante was there. That cat terrified her, not only because she was scared of cats in general, but especially since he was a black one. When her daughter years prior brought that bad omen inside her house, she even threatened to leave. Sometimes, Nina wondered if the cat was doing it out of spite, somehow sensing that her mother hated him with all her being.

Nina watched as the Winston sat next to the table, starting to lick his paws as if nothing happened, then she glanced at Tommy, who had seemingly recollected himself after that burst of chaos. He stretched his hand out to the cat, which stopped his movements to follow him with his eyes, his little body slightly stiffening.

For a moment, just for a moment, Nina considered staying silent and let him risk his fingers, but her good nature took over. “He’ll scratch you.” She warned him. “He only lets me pet him.”

Tommy withdrew his hand, furrowing his brows. “It didn’t seem like he wanted to scratch.”

That’s the point, she thought to herself as she grabbed her cup again and leaned with her back against the chair. “Don’t trust him. He lets you get close and, when you least expect it, he attacks.” She explained, shifting her eyes in the direction of the cat. “He seems cute, but he’s feral.”

“Reminds me of someone.” He quietly murmured, and if the room hadn’t been so silent she wouldn’t have even heard him. But she did, and she was struck speechless by his statement. His eyes shined with amusement at her baffled face, clearly proud about the fact that he had finally managed to dumbfound her.

Was it a compliment? An insult? Was he just having fun? Nina couldn’t read him, and it only made her more nervous. But she quickly regained her composure, unwilling to give him too much satisfaction. She emptied her cup and put it on the table, clearing her throat. “I’ll get ready, and then we can go.” She changed the subject, getting up from her chair.

Tommy mirrored her action, and before she could leave the kitchen, his voice stopped her. “Do you have whiskey?”

She turned around, shifting her gaze between the clock on the wall and the man in front of her. She opened her mouth to say something, astonished by his peculiar choice of breakfast, but again, words failed her. Deciding that it wasn’t her business, she took a bottle and a glass out of a cabinet and placed them on the table, before walking out of the room.

Tommy Shelby undoubtedly wasn’t an ordinary man.

Tommy wasn’t so sure that the place where the Ferrante’s personal driver had taken them could be actually called city. There were a few shops, and even a public square with a small church, but it was kind of empty, and it was still within the limits of the village. He figured that “city” was probably their way of referring to the area outside the outskirts, where the whole family lived to keep a low profile while conducting the business in the big cities.

Walking next to Nina, Tommy took advantage of their proximity to take in the details of her face. She had an interesting kind of beauty, her features were sharp, but harmonious as a whole. Her brown irises shone with a golden hue in the sunlight, and were framed by long, thick lashes. She had pulled her long black hair into a braid, exposing her delicate neck. Her tanned skin seemed soft, even velvety, and some irrational part of him wondered how it would feel to brush his fingers against it.

He pushed back the thought, shifting his gaze just in time for her not to notice that he had been observing her. He had to admit that Nina aroused his curiosity, for one reason or another, and he would have sworn that she felt the same way about him. He was not unaware of the glances she stole him from time to time, when she thought he wasn’t looking. She studied him just as much as he studied her.

“What is it that you have to do, Mr Shelby?” Nina’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts, her question reminding him that it wasn’t her the girl he was supposed to keep his attention on.

Tommy sucked in a breath, the words he was about to say felt heavy on this tongue. “I need to buy a gift for your cousin. Today I’ll start courting her.”

Saying it out loud made it even more real. Until that moment, that marriage had felt like something that wouldn’t happen to him, like something he was setting up for someone else. Now Tommy was starting to realise how much his life was going to change, and that thought was almost suffocating.

“It’s about time.” She raised her eyebrows, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Finally we’ll be able to sleep at night.”

“What, you were so scared I’d choose you that you couldn’t sleep?” He squinted his eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face.

“Yes, I was terrified.” She nodded, taking on a fake serious tone.

He was about to retort, when Maria Ferrante called her daughter from behind, making them stop in their tracks. Too caught up in their bickering, they hadn’t noticed that Nina’s mother had fallen far behind. A guy Tommy had never seen before was now walking next to her, amiably allowing her to lean on his arm.

“Nina, guarda chi c’è.” She slightly raised her voice, motioning her to get closer.

Tommy watched in confusion as Nina’s expression changed, the slight clenching of her jaw hardening her features, her whole body tensing. She didn’t obey to her mother’s request, choosing to wait for them to approach her instead. She kept her gaze fixated on the young man, staying silent even when he came close to them, Maria still on his arm with a big smile on her face. She told them something in Italian, sending a meaningful glance to her daughter, before leaving the three of them alone to walk into a shop.

Tension filled the air as Nina glared at him, visibly annoyed by the grin on his face. An unmistakable glint of malice sparkled in his dark eyes, mixed with an emotion that Tommy couldn’t quite recognise. And it seemed that the more she scowled, the more his grin widened. Tommy was already familiar with the hostility Nina was capable of, but the look in her eyes was nothing like the one she had given him the day they had met, or the ones she reserved him when he said something she didn’t like. It wasn’t simple distrust, or suspiciousness. No, it was much more than that. It was personal. She seemed repelled by his presence.

And Nina was repelled. Because she knew that behind the pleasant face, the charm and the good manners, Stefano Spinietta was a disgusting person. He was the son of one of her father’s business partners, the boss of another mafia family, which operated both in Sicily and in New York. In the last few years, Stefano had been very clear about his intentions towards Nina, and he had taken too many liberties with her, to the point where she had found herself in the position of putting a knife to his throat. But the threat didn’t have the intended effect; if anything, it only made him more relentless.

Stefano looked at Tommy as if he had just noticed his presence, before turning to her again. “Non mi presenti?” He asked, leaning towards her.

“Non parla italiano. Vattene.” She said shortly, eager to put an end to that encounter.

“Ah.” He said, as if he had finally understood something. “È il gangster.”

Nina was about to speak, but the words died in her throat. She didn’t want to fuel the conversation, and there was nothing she could say that would convince him to just leave. And Tommy’s piercing gaze kept her from being too obvious about how upset she actually was. Stefano wasn’t doing anything improper, after all, and she didn’t want to make a scene for nothing.

The sound of a clacson made them turn their head to the road. Stefano’s brother stopped his car next to them, leaning out the window. “Sali.” He gestured towards his brother, and Nina had to restrain herself from exhaling a sigh of relief. Giving them one last look, Stefano jerked his head in goodbye and got into the car, before disappearing down the road.

Probably sensing her irritation, Tommy took his case out of the pocket of his jacket, offering her a cigarette. Being an occasional smoker, she hesitated at first, but then she placed one between her lips, hoping that it would soothe her nerves. Tommy took a match and lit it for her, before lighting one for himself. She took a long drag, and although she wasn’t really used to the taste, it did help a bit.

Tommy puffed out the smoke, asking the question that had been burning on his tongue for a while. “Who was that?”

“No one important.” She shrugged, flicking the ashes.

He nodded, understanding that it was her way of telling him not to inquire further. But although it wasn’t his business, he couldn’t help but wonder what could’ve possibly made her mood darken like that. Being a man, he knew the look on that guy’s face all too well, but he could tell there was something more to that.

Nina suddenly threw her cigarette away, regaining her composure. “Don’t you have a gift to buy?”

That same day before lunch, Tommy Shelby gave Agnese the beautiful, expensive necklace he had bought for her, and the whole family knew he had made up his mind. She wore it proudly, with a radiant look on her face, well aware that this was only the beginning. Now they would start to get to know each other, to spend time together, albeit always accompanied by some of the female relatives. Then, when the right time came, a proposal would come, and she’d have what she had been wishing for all her life.

At the lunch, she sat next to Tommy, under the delighted eyes of her mother and aunts. They hadn’t had the chance to talk much until then, but Agnese could already tell she would’ve grown to care for that man. He was handsome, charming, he had decent manners. Despite his reputation, he didn’t seem cruel and he had been respectful towards her in their few interactions.

As for Tommy, Agnese’s beauty hadn’t left him unimpressed. She was a beautiful young woman, and more than once he had to scold himself for letting his eyes wander over the soft, generous curves. Her full, rosy cheeks were particularly pretty, especially when they took on a red shade of bashfulness. She gave the impression of being a gentle and sweet girl, and although he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to love her, with time he might learn to feel some kind of affection towards her.

He glanced over at Nina, who was playing with the food in her plate, scarcely paying attention to conversation going on around her. The light breeze of the garden stirred the few strands of hair that had escaped from her braid, making them brush delicately against her face. She extended a hand in the direction of a bottle of red wine, but it was out of her reach, and she struggled to grab it among the great number of plates, bowls and bottles laying on the table. Apparently being the only one to notice her difficulty, Tommy handed her the bottle, their hands accidentally brushing in the process. It was the smallest touch, barely perceptible, but it was enough for them to lock eyes. He let his fingers linger against hers for a moment, a brief moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, then, as if they had burned themselves, they both retired their hands abruptly. He cleared his throat, bringing his attention back to Agnese, hoping she wouldn’t notice he hadn’t been listening to what she was saying.

Nina poured herself a glass of wine, wishing the alcohol would numb the turmoil of emotions going on inside her. The encounter with Stefano, her aunts’ and cousins’ judgmental stares, the empty conversations, the way everybody acted overjoyed as if they hadn’t been on the brink of a war until just a week before with the very man they were welcoming into the family. Everything was becoming too much, and the only thing she wanted to do was to get up and run to the safety of her room. But she took a deep breath and stayed where she was, knowing that it would ruin the mood. She didn’t need to give her family yet another reason to resent her.

So she was patient, and sooner than she though the lunch was over. The routine was always the same - the women cleaning up, the men smoking, discussing business, and playing cards -, but this time, Nina didn’t even bother to get angry about it. She didn’t have the energy to deal with another negative emotion. She’d help around, and then lock herself in her room, or maybe go for a walk. It was a happy day for Agnese, and she didn’t want to spoil it with her sulking.

In the afternoon, when Tommy and Agnese went out for a walk, with the women of the family walking a few steps behind them, Nina took refuge in her father’s office. It almost felt like a sanctuary, sacred and untouchable, but even though no one was allowed in there without his permission, she never really cared to follow that rule. She found comfort in the dim light and the mahogany furniture, in the smell of books and cigars, in the ticking of the old pendulum clock standing in a corner of the room. It reminded her of a time when she used to sit at her father’s desk, drawing or doing her homework as he read through his papers, and they just enjoyed each other’s presence. It was a simpler time. Or at least, it was for a while. Because even then, she had to face the scourge of being a woman. Because she was seen as a girl before being seen as a child. And she could never understand why she had to fight to stay at school, why her, her cousins and her female friends were expected to retire after elementary school to stay at home and learn how to take care of the house. Why her brothers never had such problems. What she was quick to understand, was that the world wasn’t kind to women, that somehow being a girl meant being less smart, less strong, less capable. That gentle and nurturing were the only things she would ever be allowed to be.

Her father giving her permission to finish school had ignited a spark of hope inside her, hope that things might be different for her, that she could have something more than a family and a house to take care of, that maybe being a wife and a mother wasn’t everything that a woman was fit for. But that spark had been extinguished when she wasn’t allowed to get into university, or to have a part in the family business, not even in the legal side. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to despise her father, the deep affection she felt towards him was stronger than any kind of resentment. He had always loved and protected her, and he still did.

Sitting on one of the soft chairs with a book in her hands and Winston curled up in her lap, Nina found it hard to concentrate on the words she was reading. She blankly stared at the pages, her mind wandering somewhere else. The sound of the door opening cut through her thoughts, making her raise her head from the book.

Her father stopped in the doorway, putting on an expression that meant to be reproachful, but that was made useless by the softness in his eyes. He actually expected to find her there. His daughter didn’t move from her spot, knowing all too well that he wouldn’t kick her out. He had never done that, and he wouldn’t start now. It was not a secret that Vincenzo had a soft spot for that daughter who was so much like him, which made him overlook behaviours that most fathers wouldn’t accept from their daughters.

He sat on his chair behind the desk, folded his hands in front of him and looked at her, with the air of someone who wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Nina stroked the cat, tension rising inside her as she waited for him to speak.

“I talked with Spinietta.” He started, distractedly rubbing his hands. “Actually, I also talked with his son, Stefano.”

Nina gritted her teeth at the sound of his name, hoping that her father would stop beating around the bush and tell her what was going on already.

Vincenzo exhaled the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding, before straightening his back and going straight to the point. “He wants to marry you.”

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach at his words. She blinked, trying to process the words he had just told her, hoping that she had heard wrong, or that it was a misunderstanding. Before she could formulate a coherent sentence, her father spoke again.

“I told him no.” He reassured her. “That at least for now, you don’t want to get married.”

“Good, because I have no intention of marrying-”

“Let me finish.” Her father sternly interrupted her, making her clench her jaw. “I told him no.” He repeated, his tone getting softer again. “But I think you need to start thinking about your future.”

Nina shook her head in disbelief, feeling the heat of anger rising to the back of her neck and spreading on her cheeks. She knew that this moment would come, but a part of her was starting to believe that at least her father would leave her alone.

“It would be good for business, Nina.” He leaned back in his chair, speaking to her as he would to a child. “And he’s a good guy.”

She scoffed, putting the book aside as she got up from her chair. Winston mewed in protest after being dropped so harshly on the ground, and if Nina hadn’t been so enraged, she would’ve felt guilty for forgetting about him. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking her father straight in the eyes. “I am not marrying him.”

Vincenzo nodded, knowing that trying to reason with her would be of no use in that moment. He would wait for her anger to wear down, then he would try to compromise. He didn’t want to fight with his daughter, and he didn’t want her to think he was trying to control her because he wanted her out of the house. They would talk again, maybe after his niece’s marriage, when everybody would be calmer. She would understand that he had her best interests at heart.

Nina walked up to the door, eager to leave that place that had become hostile to her.

“You don’t have to decide now.” Her father’s voice sounded behind her. “Just think about it.”

Laying in his bed, Tommy stared at the ceiling above him, taking deep breaths. The moonlight shining through the open window dimly illuminated the room, casting shadows on the walls. He closed his eyes, hoping that the night breeze would lull him back to sleep, but the shovels wouldn’t stop banging against the wall, keeping him on edge, threatening to break through. Green eyes hunted his dreams. Murderous green eyes, ferocious green eyes, scared green eyes, dying green eyes. A grey man with green eyes, coming for him. It was a matter of time.

He sat up, rubbing his face. On nights like those, he regretted not having opium or whiskey in his room to help him get through them. His throat was so parched it almost burned, and he found himself in an urgent need for water.

He silently exited the room, trying not to make any sound as he went down the stairs in the darkness. A strange noise came to his ears as he got closer to the kitchen, and from the living room he was in he could see that the light was on. When he walked through the door, Nina was facing the counter, fumbling with a kettle. Before Tommy could make his presence known, she turned around, flinching and dropping the knife she was holding.

“Shit.” She hissed, picking up the knife from the floor. She raised her gaze on him, her pupils still flaring, but she relaxed as soon as her brain registered who it was that was standing in front of her. “You scared me.” She mumbled, throwing the knife in the sink.

“I’m sorry.” He held back the smirk threatening to make its way on his face. “I just needed some water.” He explained, walking further into the room.

“Help yourself.” She took a glass from the cupboard and handed it to him, before pointing at the jug on the table.

Tommy poured himself a glass of water, and sighed with relief when the liquid ran down his burning throat. It wasn’t whiskey, but it was better than nothing.

“I was making myself a cup tea, do you want some?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Do you always drink tea at this ungodly hour?” He teased her, taking a seat at the table.

“Only when I can’t sleep.” She replied, grabbing two cups nevertheless. “Are you always up that this ungodly hour?”

“Only when I can’t sleep.”

The room was filled with silence as Nina put the kettle on. The events of the day had troubled her so much that her mind wouldn’t let her sleep, racing without cease. Even though she’d never admit it to herself, a part of her was glad that Tommy was there, that she wasn’t alone with the thoughts inside her head. She sat on a chair in front of him as she waited for the water to heat, resting with her chin on her hand.

After pondering for a few seconds, Tommy squinted his eyes, pointing at her. “I spoke to your cousins, today, and they said some interesting things about you.” He leaned with his back against the chair.

“They do like talking about me.” She joked, mimicking his movement and crossing her arms over her chest. “What did they tell you?”

“That you’re a witch.” He revealed with a mocking tone in his voice. “And that I shouldn’t get on your bad side.”

A look of surprise crossed Nina’s features, mixed with something that Tommy couldn’t quite read. She shook her head, and an incredulous laugh escaped her lips. “So they still think that.” She said, more to herself than to him.

“Why is that?” He furrowed his brows, an amused smile appearing on his face.

“When I was a child there was a girl my age, in the village, we didn’t get along really well.” She started to explain. “She even pulled my braids, once. One day, while she was running around the school courtyard, I stood there whispering to myself: ‘fall, fall’.” She whispered the last two words, the corner of her lips slightly turning upwards. “She actually fell and scraped her knees. My cousins and some of their friends heard me, and word started spreading around that I could lay curses. When a few years later I found Winston, they just came to the conclusion that I was a witch. They thought he was sent by the devil or something.”

If there was one thing that her whole family believed in, it was superstition. For the first few weeks after Nina had taken the black cat in, her aunt Rita wouldn’t even enter their house. But now, calling her a witch was probably the only way of explaining to themselves her behaviour.

“They used to say the same thing about me when I was a boy, you know.” Tommy confessed, seemingly getting lost in some distant memory. “That I had the power to lay curses.” His blue eyes rested on her, shining with a mischievous glint that broke through his ever-unmoved expression. “Only that I didn’t go around with a black cat, but with a screwdriver and a blade.”

For the first time since Nina had met him, Tommy Shelby seemed human. He was always so cold and unfazed that one could hardly tell that he had any emotion at all. That childhood memory seemed to have awakened something in him, but it was something so ephemeral that it went away as quickly as it came, and soon it was as if it was never there.

She got up to turn off the stove, then proceeded put some tea leaves in the cups. “How do you drink your tea?”

“Black.”

“Of course.” She teased him, not really expecting a different answer. She carefully poured the water into the cups, trying not to burn herself in the process. She could feel Tommy’s gaze on her, and it surely didn’t help. Sometimes it felt like he could stare right into her soul.

“So what can I do to get on your good side, eh?” His husky voice broke the silence again.

Nina grabbed a lemon from the basket on the counter, then she placed it on the table along with a knife. “You can start by making yourself useful.”

Tommy frowned, looking at her in confusion. “What’s the lemon for?”

“The tea.” Her eyebrows furrowed as well, his perplexity leaving her as confused as him.

“You put lemon in your tea?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I drink it with an awful lot of lemon and an awful lot of honey.”

“Sounds terrible.” He murmured.

“You have whiskey for breakfast.” She raised her eyebrows. “You’re in no position to judge.”

“I guess I’m not.” He conceded, tilting his head. He watched as she turned her back on him again, walking towards the counter. She had a quick wit, he had to give her that. He rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt, then he grabbed the knife and started cutting the lemon in half for her, grinning to himself.

In front of their steaming cups of tea, Nina and Tommy found themselves talking about anything and everything, not even fully acknowledging the time going by. Conversation flowed easily between them, and it helped them forget the very troubles that had kept them awake and brought them in that kitchen, even if just for that night. Maybe it was because they both needed it, or maybe because late nights were made for bringing down walls and sharing secrets that couldn’t see the daylight. Maybe it was because it is only in the deepest darkness that one’s true self can no longer be hidden.

But eventually, their night had to come to an end. Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, they exchanged the last few words. Nina’s face suddenly got serious, and she hesitated a bit before speaking again. “Just… be good to her, alright?” She asked him, her voice laced with worry.

She didn’t need to say the name for Tommy to understand who she was referring to. He nodded, and when his eyes met her brown irises, everything became clear. She never hated him. All that time, she had been trying to protect herself, and the people she loved.

As if scared by her own vulnerability, Nina recollected herself, her gaze hardening again. “Yeah, you better do, ‘cause if you don’t, I’ll come all the way to fucking Birmingham to kick your ass.”

Tommy held back a smile, still impressed by her boldness. “You have my word.”

“Good.” She nodded, taking a few steps back. For a few moments, neither of them said anything, waiting for the other to be the first one to go. Deciding it was time to go back to bed, Nina glanced at Tommy one last time. “Goodnight, Mr Shelby.” She said, making to leave.

“Nina,” he called to her, and the sound of her name rolled off his lips so naturally that it was hard to believe he had never pronounced it.

She stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him again.

“Call me Tommy.”

“Fai sparire quella bestia”: “take that beast out of my sight.”

“Nina, guarda chi c’è”: “Nina, look who’s here.”

“Non mi presenti?”: “you won’t introduce me?”

“Non parla italiano. Vattene”: “he doesn’t speak Italian. Go away.”

“È il gangster”: “he’s the gangster.”

Heart, body and soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

Regular tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[michelleleewise]

Art in Motion

Pairing: Loki x reader (established relationship)

Warnings: all the smut, 18+, really that's all this is, oh with some plot, and fluff...lots of fluff....hehe

Summary: you are an aspiring photographer, and your boyfriend decides to inspire you...

**so I edited this pic and got....inspired....and this happened.....hehe

You climbed up on the counter, arranging the fruit in the bowl just so before snapping the pic. "Darling, what are you doing up there?" Loki asked walking into the kitchen "what do you think of this?" You asked turning the screen towards him "Mm very nice." He said kissing your temple. "Oh! I have an idea!" You rushed pecking him on the lips you jumped off the island running to the living room hearing him laugh. You pulled a small box from the closet setting it on the coffee table and got to work.

You straddled the table, setting everything up just right. You smiled grabbing your camera as you laid on your stomach snapping the pic. Sitting up your back met a wall of muscle, an arm wrapping around your middle "Darling, you simply must tell me what this is." You heard him laugh. "Well, its my lego collection, and I pose them to take a picture see." You smiled showing him the screen. "I..is...that me?" He asked pointing to the tiny lego Loki in his golden horns. "Yup..." you said "and I built you a throne and everyone is kneeling....my king" You smiled turning your head seeing him smile, kissing his jaw his stubble tickled your nose.

"Have I told how much I adore you?" He asked smiling "yes...but I'm not adverse to hearing it again." You smiled back. He cupped your cheeks with both hands "i...kiss...adore...kiss...you" he said peppering kisses along your face. "Oh that's what they all say." You said laughing "they?...whose they Darling?" He purred digging his fingers into your sides making you freeze "no! No tickling sir!" You tried grabbing his wrists. "Well then you had better explain yourself..dear." he growled in your ear twitching his fingers. "AHH..NO NO I...HAHA STOP!" You yelled trying to pull his fingers off you "what was that? I couldn't make it out." He feigned digging his fingers into your ribs making your leg jerk and kick Lego Loki.

"L..LOKIII.....WWAAIII....hahaha!" You laughed "and now you've dethroned me! Brought down by the woman I love.." he sighed dramtacally placing a hand on his forehead, the other traveling to your arm pit digging into the sensative skin. "IM...IM SSSS....SORRRYYYY...HAHAHAHA....NO MORE!" You yelled, tears rolling down your cheeks "I think you owe mini me an apology y/n." He said picking up the tiny Loki. "I..im sorr...hahaha sorry little l...llloookiii." you laughed bringing your knees up. "I believe he deserves a kiss from his queen." He said holding it up. You smiled, leaning forward you pressed a kiss to the little Loki before kissing your Loki "there is only you my king." You said cupping his cheek. "What am I if not benevolent darling." He smiled placing little Loki in your hand. "Carry on love." He smiled kissing your forehead he stood up going to the bookshelf.

You looked over at him, taking in every detail. He was a work of art and you couldn't admiring him. Starting at his pristine white socks your eyes moved up his powerful legs, past his strong calves to his muscular thighs that could snap someone's neck In an instant, seeing the muscles shift as he leaned to look at which book he wanted. Your eyes traveled further up watching him stand back up, his cheeks flexing "did he just thrust?" You asked yourself licking your lips, the tan pants he was wearing hugging every inch of him to perfection. He turned to the side, pushing his hair behind is ear, a few strands escaping and hanging In front of his beautiful face. His white button up hung loose around his frame, but you were able to see a sliver of his toned chest at the top where he unbuttoned it a bit. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing those sinful forearms as he flipped the pages back and forth.

You watched his long slender fingers go to his lips, his tongue poking out licking them as they returned to turn the page. You felt the heat pooling in your stomach remembering what he's done with those fingers, that...tongue. You pressed your thighs together remembering where that tongue had been just last night. "Like what you see love?" He asked, snapping you back to reality "you know I do." You winked "but, I don't think my little Loki here would appreciate me ogling someone else." You purred holding up the Lego Loki. "He does seem rather ruthless darling, you best...behave." He growled leaning over you. You got to your knees looking up at him "what if I don't want to..." you trailed off, bumping your nose against his. "Well, I heard rumor he has no issue punishing....bad girls." He purred, his green eyes boring into you.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes inhaling his scent letting it wrap around you. Hints of sandalwood and pine, of forests and winter mixed with leather seeped into you. You opened your eyes seeing him smile "your distracting me mister." You said staring into his eyes "my apologies my lady, I shall leave you to your...fun." He purred, rubbing your nose with his as he stood up, walking over to the large wicker chair you had in the corner. You watched him sprawl out, spreading his legs wide as he settled down, his thighs on full display. You just wanted to sink your teeth into them. You cleared your throat placing your little Loki back on his throne picking up your camera you snapped a few more pics before your eyes trailed back to the God of a man in the corner of the room, watching his finger run the length of his lips. His concentration focused on what he was reading.

You slowly slunk off the table onto the floor, kneeling down you held your camera up snapping a pic of him. "Darling.." he said not looking up. "I didn't do anything." You rushed out looking around. "So you did not just take my picture?" He asked snapping his book closed "umm....nooooo." you smiled watching him shake his head. He set his book down, adjusting himself in the chair unbuttoning a few more buttons on his shirt "now you may take my picture." He said leaning his head on his arm looking at you. You stood up, shivering as you looked into the screen snapping the picture.

You moved to the side, his eyes following you as you snapped a few more, kneeling down by his knees to get another. "May I see?" He asked holding his hand out. You walked closer, yelping as he pulled you into his lap making you straddle him. "These turned out pretty good yes?" He asked going through them. "Well it's easy when your beautiful." You said grabbing the camera looking down feeling your face flush. "Well then I will need some of you then." He said taking the camera back. "No! No loki I don't take good pictures, I'll look terrible." You said trying to grab the camera "nonsense darling...let me show you what I see." He purred. He laced his fingers through your hair, gently pulling your to him pressing his soft lips to yours. You turned your head deepening the kiss, moaning feeling his fingers slide up your shirt slowly unbuttoning it.

You felt his tongue slowly glide across your bottom lip, asking for entry. You parted your lips, allowing him in feeling his tongue caress yours. You felt his hand slide down your neck, dipping under the collar of your shirt sliding it down your arms. He slowly pulled back, sucking your bottom lip as he looked up at you. Your cheeks flushed, your lips puffy and red "beautiful.." he breathed, picking up the camera snapping a picture. "Loki!" You yelled trying to grab the camera "ah ah...it's my turn love." He purred, flicking his wrist making the camera disappear. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you flush to him latching his lips to your neck, gripping his shoulders you felt his fingers travel up your back to the clasp of your bra, flicking it sliding the straps down your arms tossing it aside as he nipped and sucked your collar bone.

"Aahh...loki..." you breathed, feeling his tongue glide down to the valley of your breasts, kissing and sucking. You rocked your hips against him, feeling him harden beneath you. "Mm...y/n..." he breathed, cupping your breasts massaging them. You leaned back, placing your hands on his knees pushing your chest out, throwing your head back feeling his tongue circle your nipple. "Aahh....Loki..." you moaned as he sucked it onto his mouth, the pad of his thumb rubbing your other one. "L..loki...please..." you moaned, rocking harder against him. He pulled off with a pop smiling up at you "yes love?" He asked running his hands up your chest. "I..need you Loki...please..." you breathed looking down at him. He looked at his work along your chest smiling, flicking his wrist he conjured the camera, quickly taking a picture. "Lookkkkiiii." You whined. "Patience love." He smirked vanishing the camera.

He reached up engulfing your lips with his, kissing you passionately as his hands slid down cupping your ass as he stood up making your yelp. "Loki!" You yelled gripping his shoulders. "I have you don't worry." He smiled kissing you again. He walked to the couch, laying you down pressing his chest to yours. He closed his eyes, feeling your skin tingle you looked down seeing your were both bare, his cock firmly pressed against your thigh. "Arms up darling." He purred. You reached up grabbing the armrest watching him lean back on his knees. You spread your legs wider, placing one foot on the floor you watched him reach down pumping himself a few times as he lined himself up, slowly pressing into you. "Aahh fuck...y/n..." he moaned conjuring the camera you watched him aim it where your bodies met taking a picture "You need to see how well you take me....how fucking hot you are..." he growled, snapping his hips into you bottoming out making you cry out.

"Fuck...Loki..." you moaned feeling every inch of him stretching you. "You...feel soooo..good..." you breathed, feeling him pull out to his tip, slamming back in. "Norns y/n....ahh you are....perfect..." he panted. His pace was hard, jolting you up the couch with each thrust. "L..loki...I'm gonna..." you cried out digging your nails onto the armrest. "Come y/n...let me feel...ahh fuck...I need to feel you.." he groaned, throwing his head back hooking his arm under your leg he lifted it up, angling your hips to hit that soft spot inside you. "Gaahh...Loki!" You cried out feeling the coil in your stomach tighten "come now y/n...aahh gods..." Loki yelled out. Your orgasm slammed into making you arch off the couch as Loki thrust into you holding himself there releasing into feeling him throbbing inside you making you shiver.

Loki collapsed on top of you, propping himself up on one elbow gently kissing you "you are exquisite love." He smiled pushing your hair back. "Your pretty good yourself." You said smiling. "Oh..just pretty good?" He asked laughing "yeah your alright." You winked reaching up kissing him. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He said slowly sliding out of you he headed to the bathroom. You closed your eyes basking in the afterglow of passion your lover always gives you when you felt his fingers on your knee "open for me." He said reaching down cleaning you up. He tossed the cloth aside, joining you on the couch conjuring the camera "care to see.?" He asked smiling. He flipped through the photos, stopping at the one of your chest "I love seeing you covered in my marks." He growled flipping to the next one "this I think is my favorite." He said, you felt your face heat up seeing it was him entering you.

"Oh, and this.." he trailed off showing you the last one. You were spread out on the couch, one arm over your eyes smiling. "You truly are beautiful love." He said smiling setting the camera down. "How did I get so lucky?" You asked pressing your ear to his chest hearing his heartbeat "I ask myself the same thing." He said hugging you tighter. "I love you Loki." You whispered, closing your eyes. "And I love you y/n." He said, conjuring a blanket he draped it over you "sweet dreams my Love." He whispered kissing your head. He closed his eyes, deciding he would definately need to get copies of those pictures......

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