#The Devil's Daughter Chapter Seven

[camillelespanayesbtch]

Seven Devils All Around Me (18+)

Content: Eventual smut, graphic depictions of murder and violence, character death, power imbalance, manipulation, addiction, grief, discussion of sexual violence (r receiving) (I will add more as I think of them)

Chapter Content: Funeral, men being violent, fire

Word Count: 3942

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Chapter Two

The embers had long grown cold by the time you found it in yourself to lay your mother down so you could prepare her grave. It would take a while to dig the hole, but you didn’t want to rush it as the walls would cave in. You could tell the soil was good, it was dark and fluffy, worms wriggling around in the pile to the side of the hole as you add another shovel load to it. This is what your mother had wanted from you all along, to ensure that the soil that provides you with food had enough nutrition to continue providing, to not starve and sap life from the plants that called the earth their home. The earth, this soil would now be your mother’s home, and you hoped that the insects and bugs would treat her as kindly as she had them.

You wipe the sweat and tears from your face onto your sleeve, smearing the dirt that had got on your clothes onto your face. You lean back against the wall of the grave, tilting your head up to look at the night sky above. The stars were twinkling brilliantly, some even dancing across the sky and kissing the moon as they pass by. You reach your hand out, hoping to capture one of them because where there was light as bright as this, there was life, and maybe just maybe it would be enough to bring her back, but just like when you were a child trying the same thing- the stars were out of reach for they were meant to be untouched, their purpose is to be free, to guide us should we need it. A soft sigh leaves your lips, watching the way the light from the moon reflects off your nails and for a moment you could trick yourself into believing you had the stars at your fingertips.

You turn your head to look at where your mother lay, the light of the moon shining down on her made her body look silver instead of like a body from Pompeii. You plant your hands on the ground above the grave and pull yourself out, taking the shovel with you and stabbing it into the mound of dirt. There was a brief moment where you wanted to keep stabbing the soil, as if to punish it for what had transpired that day, but you had already disappointed your mother while she was living, you did not need her spirit to feel that way too. Your shoulders slump, more sobs wracking through your body, and you would have let yourself succumb to despair had you not been worried the beasts of the night would take to her body. You force yourself to turn around and go to your mother’s body, using your powers to lift her up, the tendrils of red carefully wrapping around her as you guide her into the grave. You lay her gently in the cold dark earth, leaning down to place a bouquet in her hands, hoping it would protect her like the flowers she had woven into your hair did. You stare at her a moment longer, although she no longer had her icy-blue eyes or soft features, you could still tell it was her because there were lines on her face that weren’t burnt- paths created by her healing tears as she cried for you, for herself. No one cried for you as much as she did.

You were careful piling the dirt on top of her, your last act as her caring daughter, perhaps even penance for inflicting so much suffering upon her. She had always told you to be respectful of the dead, be it an animal or human, their body should be cared for just as much as you would have cared for them while they were still alive. A proper burial is essential, each stone placed gently as to not wake the dead. Then the flowers, ones that they loved, ones that will protect them on the other side.

You scatter the last shovel of dirt on the grave before putting the shovel to the side to start placing the rocks. On the underside of each one was a rune, carved into it with your knife, and although you weren’t a protection witch like she was, there was still the possibility they did something- there is still the possibility it will stop the other members of the coven from desecrating her grave. The last stone was her headstone, you carve her symbol into it, a lotus, the representation of the cycle of life. The sound was harsh on your ears, metal scraping against hard stone shouldn’t ever happen like this, and usually it wouldn’t, would it? Nobody would willingly sit on the wet earth under the night sky and carve runes and symbols into rocks to mark a loved one’s grave, they would sooner do everything they could do to ensure their family survives than this. Why hadn’t you done that? Selfish girl. Monster.

You stand up, gathering the last of the flowers and laying them over the stones, “Everything returns to the earth with which we came,” you murmur. You wipe your face again, a terrible aching in your chest as the weight of the evening finally settles in your bones. You understood that there were people out there that lost their mother younger than you, and there was no doubt that was incredibly painful, but tonight- tonight you had lost yours. Then again, those children, those teenagers, they were not the reason their mother died, but you were. You are. Were you really burying her to protect her? Or were you doing that to assuage your own guilt? This was the most genuine thing you have done for your mother in a long, long time. Do not kid yourself, the flowers you gave her, the false apologies that left your lips as easily as milk flows from a cow’s udder, those were not sincere, those were not genuine. You are, and always will be, nothing more than a selfish, evil little girl that you heard your mother call you one meeting.

Just like it had earlier that day, the same darkness settles onto you, and while your cheeks were stained with tears, no more threatened to fall. The switch had flicked in your brain, and as you head back to the house you’d once called home, the bodies of the other witches go up in flames once more. If you closed your eyes, you swore you could hear them screaming and oh how that sent a shiver down your spine. Those women had it coming, always treating you like an outcast, a miscreant, and whispering in your mother’s ear about how you should have been left in the woods as a baby to be torn apart by wolves. You hum to yourself as you walk, your fingers moving down by your side as though you’re conducting a choir, the gesture soothing to you even as you feel the spark of magic jumping between fingertips. Maybe you should burn this town to the ground, get the few good people out with a warning sent on the wind, then sit back and watch the fireworks begin.

The front door was still open when you get back, a few leaves from outside having blown in on the breeze but other than that, there was no evidence of anyone damaging the property. You shut the door behind you, your eyes landing on the chair your mother had sat in, a few petals from flowers scattered around it, the color drained from them. You let out a bark of a laugh at that, pushing off the door then heading upstairs, each footstep hitting the floor with a heavy thud, the wooden steps groaning under the force. You didn’t know what to put in your bag, obviously you needed underwear- you had gone commando once or twice and the sensation was thoroughly unwelcome. But should you pack your laptop? Makeup? It seemed silly, really, to bring those things along with you. You couldn’t take your phone charger because you didn’t know when you’d next be in a building with a plug, maybe you could get one of those solar chargers on your adventure. You toss a few clothes into your backpack before going to your bed where you pick up the soft toy you’ve had since you were a baby, it had definitely seen better days, but it still provided you comfort. You stare at its black beady eyes, able to see your reflection in them and you looked so small in those little eyes, the black exaggerating the filth that you were covered in. Should you shower? It seemed rather pointless to wash the dirt and grime from your skin when you were about to spend lord knows how long wandering the great outdoors. You didn’t want to catch ubers to other towns as it meant waiting around for them to arrive which gave ample opportunity for the rest of the coven to lynch you.

You hug the toy close to yourself, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mother’s perfume that had been sprayed on it. The toy provided such comfort to you, your heartrate slowing down as you continue to take deep breaths, and if you let your mind wander you could almost feel your mother’s arms wrapping around you, her soft voice in your ear “You are kind. You are smart. You are my beautiful little girl. Never forget, mama loves you.” You wish you hadn’t heard that last part because how could she say she loves you then cast you aside to burn? How could she have admitted to the other members of the coven that she knew you were evil, agreeing with them when they said she should have left you in the woods then come home to you and profess her love? You didn’t understand. You grab the toys head with one hand, your other hand gripping the body and you start to twist it, the fire returning to your eyes, “If you want me to burn, then I’ll burn everything that once was mine.”

Try as you might, the threads holding the toy together did not budge, no fabric tears as the head twists three-sixty. You swear loudly, going to throw it on the ground when a glimmer catches your eye- only when you look closer could you see that the thread was gold. Of course, you think bitterly, of course. Your mother must have known from the moment you left her body that you would be an angry girl, that no amount of love she pours into you would make you calm like she was. No amount of food laced with calming herbs, nor drinks brewed with nothing but love would dull the volcano that bubbled deep within you.

You feel your hands warm up, not bothering to take deep breaths to calm the impending combustion, and soon enough you were holding the toy as it starts to burn- the flames licking up its sides, wrapping around the toy in a cloak, the smell of burning cotton hitting your nose. It was frustrating, watching it clearly on fire yet none of the fur was turning black, the beady eyes did not melt, and if you were being honest, that made it worse than actually destroying something that had once provided you such comfort all those years ago. “Why won’t you just die?” You ask it, voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames, “Just break. Break. Break.” Please.

You toss the burning toy onto your bed, gathering the last few items you wanted and stuffing them into your backpack before zipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. The smell of burning fabric fills the room along with thick black smoke, the substance staining the white walls until they too were consumed by flames. There was a strange comfort in the warmth of the fire as they lick at your skin like snake tongues, tickling what skin was available to them and threatening to further ruin your clothing. You reach out, your hand hovering above the flames, your fingers moving as though you could make the fire dance the way you want it to. The heat stung, were you anybody else, your skin would be threatening to blister, filling with liquid then bursting, or perhaps it would melt off like it did those men. Part of you hoped that it would, maybe then you would understand why your mother had begged for you to stop, why the men had screamed so loudly with the echoes of all those that had perished before them. Maybe you did deserve to burn after all.

You let out a laugh and shake your head, don’t be so foolish. You did what you had to do, didn’t you? So what if a few men got hurt in the process, how many thousands of women have been hurt because of them for no reason? They had it coming. They only have themselves to blame. You leave your room, humming to yourself as you make your way downstairs, the burning inferno surging after you, spilling down the steps behind you and reaching out to wrap around your feet. You and your mother were the only ones to sing this song in your coven as the elder-witch had forbidden it, claiming it had been used for centuries to lure witches to their demise. How could a song do something like that? All songs have stories to them, it didn’t make them true. Yet, whenever you hum the tune, the ballad, you could feel your magic crackling under your skin, at the tips of your fingers like electricity- whoever created it knew what they were doing, and deep down, you didn’t blame them for using it to their advantage. People hate to see a woman succeed.

“You can burn the place to the ground, but it won’t hide what you’ve done,” a gruff voice says, a husband of one of the women whom you had killed at your attempted execution. He was holding a crossbow up, the sharp tip of the arrow pointing at you, the steel reflecting the fire that was starting to creep along the ceiling towards the only exit, the beast starved for oxygen. He narrows his eyes at you when you don’t flinch, instead, holding your head up higher, your fingers twitching by your side as the tips begin to glow. “You killed my wife,” he continues, “You turned my daughter against us. There is no space in this coven for someone like you.”

You run your tongue over your teeth as a smirk tugs at your lips, shaking your head slightly you then suck in a breath, “Me?” You ask innocently, putting your hands behind your back and shifting your body slightly like a child would when trying to get out of trouble, “Little old me?” A chuckle rumbles from your chest before escaping from your mouth, quickly turning into a cackle that makes the man step back, his crossbow wavering, “It’s not my fault your daughter saw you two for the sad, weak, pathetic little witches you really are.” If you twisted the knife a little deeper, he’d soon cave in to his base instinct, all men do and that made them terribly predictable. “Heaven forbid I treat your daughter better than any man could. What? Can’t handle another maiden treating her right? Is that because you were busy the next town over fucking someone her age? Tsk, twenty-three is a bit young for you, don’t you think?”

“You little bitch!” He yells, tossing the cross-bow to the side as he storms up to you, his hands coming up to wrap around your neck like a noose. His thumbs press into the center of your throat, his fingers squeezing and cutting the flow of blood to your head. He doesn’t even realize that your eyes fill with burning flames, nor does he swat your hands away as the grip his head, his anger fueling him to keep going even as your thumbs start to press into his eyes. “You can’t kill all of us,” he growls.

Your head was starting to pound, your face growing hot as you start to feel the effect of lack of oxygen, but as that happens, the build up of energy in you only grows. Your hands were burning, leaving handprint burns on his face, the heat traveling throughout his body and starting to boil him. Only then, only when his insides start to turn to soup does his grip on you disappear, the man clawing at his clothes and stumbling back as he tries to escape his fate. “You can’t-“ He falls to the ground, writhing in pain, “You can’t- You can’t escape what you are-“

You stand over him, your chest heaving as you grapple the overwhelming magic trying to find balance in your body, “What I am?” You laugh, the sound drowning out the crackling of wood and shattering of glass from the heat. “What I am?!” You crouch down, grabbing his jaw roughly with your hand and watching his eyes grow redder as his capillaries burst, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you murmur, a feral look on your face. You push his head away before standing up, watching as his body is engulfed by flames.

You rub your throat, hissing as your fingers press against the bruising. How long would it take for them to fade? Your mother would have healed them, the skin looking perfect once more, but she was no longer here. She wouldn’t ever return. You didn’t know how long it would take for it to naturally go away. Would it be gone tomorrow? Or would it take longer? Maybe you could Google it, although that in itself was a bad idea. You adjust your backpack then hold the straps as you walk out the front door, the house caving in as its framing yields to the hungry inferno. You had no idea where to go, but you knew you couldn’t stay here. If he found you, it wouldn’t be long before others joined.

Long after the fire had burned, leaving behind smoldering embers of the house, only then did the witch dare to step out from where she had been lurking. She took a few tentative steps, looking around to see if there were any onlookers but thankfully, for their sake more than hers, there were none. She rolls her shoulders back, tilts her chin up then saunters towards the coals, each foot placement careful because she certainly didn’t want her shoes to get dirty, and this place was a tip. Why hadn’t you tidied up a little bit, hm? Your mother would be so disappointed, and besides, it’s not like you had anything better to do with your time. Ha! Oh, she makes herself laugh. She is terribly funny, a comedienne if you will.

She uses a stick to poke around the in embers, letting out a huff every time she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. She isn’t a very patient woman, and this is certainly testing every single ounce of patience she has. She was close to giving up, even though she would never actually admit to it, when she sees a glimmer of gold, “There you are,” she murmurs, flicking her coat out as she crouches down to pick the sooty toy up. She dusts it off with a grimace, the ash falling off with ease until the toy looked normal again. The beady black eyes stare into hers, a chuckle rumbling from her chest, “Take a picture, why dontcha? Get my good side.” She turns her head before laughing, “Oh who am I kidding? Every side is my good side, you flirt.” She winks at it before making her way off the rubble, dusting herself off and letting out a sound of disgust. Why did everything involve so much fucking dirt??

The witch looks at the toy once more, she could feel the protection spell emanating from it and she, better than anyone else, knew that it comes from the purest thing out there- a mother’s love. It made her sick. How could someone claim to be a good mom and do what yours did? So what if you were a little- psychotic, all the best women are! There’s nothing wrong with a little murder every now and then, it’s what makes life more interesting. And so what if you got a little pep in your step after because their energy is intoxicating? More power to ya! She loved a little energy drink too, and she certainly isn’t talking about redbull. There she goes again, making herself laugh. Her humor never ceases to amaze her.

“Who are you?” A voice asks her, making the witch whip her head around in the direction it came from. “You’re not from here. I know the faces of all the women in our coven- Well, the ones that remain, and you’re not one of them.”

A young little thing, how sweet. A little bit too big for her britches though, brazen in asking the [Redacted] who she is. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, little girl?” She asks the young woman, her eyes running over the figure before looking at her once more. “Don’t tell me… Your mother was burnt like an over-cooked chicken wing, huh? Maybe if you add a little hot sauce she’ll come back, the little zing might just-“ she gestures with her hands like she was shocking someone, “Zing her back to life.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” the young woman bites back, clenching her fists beside her. She knew the risk her mother faced because she had pleaded with her not to do it, but there are laws in covens and they need to be followed, no matter the personal cost. “You can’t be here. You need to leave.”

“Aww, did I touch a sore spot, hm? Maybe I should have called her one chicken nugget from the pack of- what, seven? Did the McDonald’s workers toss an extra one in for good luck? And where’s the sweet and sour sauce?” Her own fingers were twitching by her side, the toy now safely in her pant pocket. "What is a little thing like you gonna do about it? You’re no bigger than a French-fry.”

“Stop!” The witch screams at the unknown woman. She takes a few breaths to calm herself, letting out a sigh after, “My mother told me about witches like you. I won’t let my anger make me a victim. You’re not welcome here. You must leave before the men find you, they don’t take kindly to strangers.” She takes one more look at the mystery woman before turning and heading back to her home, she would tell her father about this if she remembered.

The mystery witch lets out a frustrated groan, stomping her foot, “Ugh!” What is it with people being taught how to regulate their emotions these days!? What was wrong with the good ol’ pure unadulterated rage!? Pathetic. She rakes her fingers through her hair, the gesture soothing her before she heads on her way, the toy heavy in her pocket. It wouldn’t take much for her to find you, just follow the ashy road. Maybe she could make a song about that- follow the ashy road. You’re off to see the- the… fuck. Who were you after? Ugh.

[chiffxna]

A Love Too Dark (01)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 01 - A Deal With The Devil

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 02

"I have to go now, mom," Yn Ln announced to her mother.

Upon hearing her say that, anyone would envision her saying that as she prepared to leave the house and informed that to her mother who was probably cooking in the dining room or handling house chores. Her father was probably napping or watching the television. The usual situation to a healthy family with a normal life, I bet one would say.

But no. It was the complete opposite.

Yn got up from the chair and put it back under the table where she had taken it previously. She glanced at her mother in the hospital bed. The older woman was quietly watching her with a pair of tired eyes, but upon realizing her daughter was looking at her, she put on a weak smile and said, "Be careful on your way home, dear."

Yn stepped closer to her bedside and grasped her hand. She regarded her mother with a sympathetic smile, "It'd be nice if you could come back home too."

Her mother tightened her hold on her oldest daughter's hand and replied, "Soon enough, honey. Soon enough. I just need to stay in the hospital for a long while. The doctors will do their best for me, you know. Then we can go home together."

Her mother was always an optimistic person and very patient. Her kindness knows no bounds and it's what kept her going through all the pain and suffering she had to endure. It hurt Yn so much to see her lying in that hospital bed, weak and frail. Her illness had taken a toll on her body and Yn wished there was some easy, quick way to make her better, but she knew the only path was through the expensive medical treatments needed for her recovery.

As Yn let go of her hand, she gave her a small peck on the forehead and whispered, "I'll visit you again tomorrow. Take care, mom."

Yn stepped outside the hospital and called for a CarRyte. She glanced at her wristwatch, realizing it was already seven in the evening. Her worry started to grow; she had an eight o'clock shift at the casino and she needed to be punctual, knowing her employer was particular with timeliness.

Soon enough, her ride arrived fast enough for Yn. She got into the CarRyte, breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in the seat. She closed her eyes and tried to relax but her mind was racing. She was worried about her mother and the mounting medical bills. Since her father had long deserted them, Yn was the one who had to take care of the family and was responsible for collecting enough money for her mother’s treatment.

Upon arriving at the casino, she went straight to a door on the side of the building. A notice with "No Entry" was glued to the door, though she did not heed it since she knew it was actually a door for the casino's staffs only. She then entered an empty corridor and headed straight for the staff's changing area. She was welcomed by her female co-workers who were all wearing a seductive black bunny outfit with bunny ears atop their heads. Each one had applied makeup differently - some went for a lighter look and others had gone for heavier makeup styles.

As she sat down at her table, a woman in her late twenties - already dressed up in their uniform which was the seductive black bunny outfit - approached Yn and said with an urgent tone, "Oh, Yn! Thanks God, you're finally here!"

Yn glanced at her with surprise and inquired, "Emily! What's the matter? Something happened?"

Emily suddenly placed a set of the bunny outfit on its hanger and hung it beside Yn's makeup table. Her actions were hasty and hurried which caused Yn to watch her with puzzlement. Emily paused as she gazed back at her best pal, then proceeded to shake her head in confusion before uttering, "Well? Get ready, girl! Mr. Malone told us all to finish up as soon as possible!"

That got Yn to immediately start her skincare routine while asking with urgent tone, "Oh, he did?! Why?!"

“Oh dear, you didn’t check your phone again, did you?” Emily shrugged as she hurriedly dragged a chair to sit beside her friend. She replied, "I don't know why but he did say there's something he's going to tell us. He wants us to be ready thirty minutes earlier than usual."

"Don't tell me he's going to scold all of us again," Sophia, one of their coworkers, who was sitting at her makeup table which was located next to Yn's, spoke up, apparently overhearing Emily.

"What did we do, though?" Emily said, rolling her eyes, as she began helping Yn in her makeup. She continued, "He praised us for our excellent work last night."

Emma, another coworker, stated, "Maybe he had checked the CCTV and saw Sophia sneaking a drink from behind the casino."

Sophia scoffed in response, "I wasn't sneaking! I was just taking a break and having a sip of... water."

The rest of the girls laughed in unison, knowing that Sophia just blatantly lied since there was a delay in her answer, a crystal clear sign that she was lying. Plus, she was notoriously famous among them - even Mr. Malone knew - for taking sips of alcohol behind the casino during her breaks. Yn hurriedly put on her light makeup with Emily’s help, still worried about what Mr. Malone wanted to tell them. She knew he was a strict employer but she didn't want to disappoint him, not when this was the highest paying job she'd ever gotten. Not when her mother's life depended on it.

Once Yn had done her makeup and slipped into her bunny costume, she stepped out of the staff's changing area with the other girls. They all then assembled in the casino, still devoid of customers since they hadn't opened yet.

There they saw Mr. Malone talking on the phone, seemingly anxious over something. Once he saw them, he hung up the phone abruptly without saying goodbye to whoever on the other side of the call. It was his habit to hang up curtly.

"Took y'all long enough," Mr. Malone began, "Right. I'm gathering you all here to tell you that tonight we will have a very important customer. A VVIP. A very, very important VVIP. He's rich, important, and very influential."

Some of the girls behind Yn tried to restrain their grin after hearing what their employer said. They were very much interested in this VVIP in an instant upon knowing it's a male and that he's rich. The latter added, "I want you all to cater to his needs and whatever he wants. Give your two hundred percent of excellent service for him!"

Then his voice dropped to a dangerous tone. The others knew this as a warning tone for them. He said darkly, "If I hear even one word of complaint from him about one of you, whoever it is will be fired on the spot."

Every girl instantly tensed up. Yn felt a lump form in her throat. She knew how high the stakes were. This job meant everything to her, and if she were to lose it, she wouldn't have anything to fall back on. She clenched her hands together, determined to give her best performance. She glanced around at her coworkers, who all seemed to share her anxiety. They all knew how strict Mr. Malone was, but this felt different. This felt like their livelihoods were on the line.

Mr. Malone stated, "I believe having one bunny-girl to accompany him tonight is crucial to ensure perfect service, so... Yn, would you be up for it?"

Yn was stupefied. She sensed all eyes were locked on her as she remained speechless. Mr. Malone noticed the startled look on her face and commented, "What? You accompanied a VIP last night and received nothing but praises from him. You could do the same for this VVIP tonight again, ain't cha?"

He made it sound so simple. But Yn was uneasy this time, aware that a mistake or unlucky accident might lead to her dismissal from the job she had done so well for months. Yn hesitated, unsure if she could handle the pressure of catering to a VVIP. She thought about the high possibility of losing her job and the fear of not being able to provide for her mother if she gets fired.

Suddenly, Amelia, another coworker of hers, put up her hand and spoke up, "Mr. Malone, I volunteer to accompany him, please."

All eyes, including Yn's, were thrown to Amelia. All of them were astounded and in disbelief. Mr. Malone looked at her skeptically, "Are you sure, Amelia? You've only been working here for a month. I'm not sure if you're ready for this level of service yet."

Amelia replied with confidence, "I'm sure, Mr. Malone. I'd love to take this opportunity."

Mr. Malone thought for a moment before nodding his head. "Alright then, Amelia. You'll be accompanying the VVIP as his bunny-girl tonight. The rest of you, all the other customers also deserve the best service from you. Got it?"

The girls all nodded their heads in agreement, relieved that the decision had been made and that they were not holding a huge risk of being fired above their head, though they were still under the risk if the VVIP even muttered a word of complaint about any of them.

Mr. Malone said, "That's all. Remember. Two hundred percent of excellent service. No complaint from him. Oh, and don't forget your mask, ladies."

All of them dispersed to prepare for the opening. Yn headed to the table behind the main casino and opened the first drawer. There she saw a bunch of new, plain black masks and grabbed one. Once she put it on, Amelia came up to her and said with a smile, "Hey, Yn. Could you get another one for me?"

"Sure," replied Yn as she picked one and gave it to her.

Amelia thanked her and put it on. She looked back at Yn and heaved out a sigh, saying, "Gosh, I'm nervous. I'm starting to regret volunteering."

"Hey, don't be nervous," consoled Yn, "You were confident to take on the job. Get that confidence back. You can do it, Amy."

Amelia smiled, though she could not hide the anxiety gleaming in her eyes. She then turned her body fully to face Yn and, with a soft and low tone, she said, "Umm, sorry if it seemed abrupt... like I'm taking that opportunity away from you. I just want to..."

Yn raised both of her eyebrows, awaiting Amelia to finish her sentence. The latter appeared at a loss for words, pondering on what to say next, that it gave a short delay in her sentence and made her feel awkward.

"I just want to prove that I could handle VVIPs," disclosed Amelia to Yn, "I know that Mr. Malone thinks less of me because I'm new. So I want to show him that I can do this."

Yn put her hand on Amelia's shoulder as a gesture of comfort and the former said with a soft smile, "Amy, don't overthink like that. As strict as Mr. Malone is, he is patient and he wants you to take all the time you need to improve. That's how he treated me before. He let me handle the easy tasks, then one day he suddenly said I'm ready and he told me to be a VIP's bunny-girl that night. You need to trust him and the process."

Amelia smiled at Yn, feeling a bit self-assured, though she ended up asking her, "Is it too late to back out now?"

Yn squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and responded, "Perhaps not too late, but hey. Try this opportunity first. Maybe the VVIP tonight is a good customer. You may never know."

Amelia took a deep breath, clearly attempting to soothe herself down, before she put on the mask. Yn also did the same, properly donning the mask, covering her nose and mouth with it, before she looked back at Amelia.

"You're wearing it tonight?" inquired Yn.

Amelia sent her a sly smile and said, "Yeah. Mr. Malone didn't exactly tell us who the VVIP is, so I'm wearing it just to be safe. Wouldn't want an elderly man groping me even though he's a billionaire."

Yn chuckled, "That's true. Anyway, I have to go and set the mask signs near the entrance. Good luck, Amy!"

Amelia replied back with a chirp, "You too!"

Yn went to grab a few stainless steel signage stand which depicted the mask system in this bunny casino. The signage plainly showed that there was such system here in the casino to protect the staffs and bunny-girls.

Yn brought the stands to the entrance and placed them on either side of the entrance door. She sent a smile to the casino bouncer before she looked back at the stand and read it:

Bunny-girls with mask, do not harass them in any way.

Bunny-girls without mask, may be propositioned for private rooms and physical contact with consent and tipping.

Yn took a deep breath and adjusted her bunny ears and the mask on her face, ensuring it concealed her nose and mouth properly. She then walked into the casino and helped her coworkers in preparing for the opening. Eventually, Mr. Malone opened the main door of the casino and announced its opening to everyone. Almost instantly, customers began streaming in as the music blared and the bunny-girls started attending to guests' needs.

As the night wore on, Amelia found herself concentrating deeply in her duty. She had become so preoccupied that any thought about the upcoming mysterious VVIP eventually faded from her mind. As she glanced around and checked on her fellow colleagues, it appeared that they were also busy serving and tending to the customers as well. The sense of responsibility was shared by everyone present.

Just then, Mr. Malone's voice echoed through the casino, "Attention all bunny-girls! The VVIP has arrived. I repeat, the VVIP has arrived. Please prepare to greet him at the entrance."

Yn's heart raced as she made her way to the entrance, joining the other bunny-girls as they all left the patrons they were tending to and lined up on both sides of the red carpet. She could feel the nervous energy in the air as they all waited for the arrival of the VVIP.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps growing louder against the marble floor caught Yn's attention. She glanced towards the entrance, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw a man with his bodyguards entering through the entrance.

He was tall with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. Adorned in a dashing all-white three-piece suit which was impeccably tailored to his muscular frame, accentuating every inch of his chiseled physique, he exuded an air of confidence and power that commanded attention from everyone in the casino. His piercing cold eyes looked straight ahead, briefly scanning the line of bunny-girls, including Yn.

For Yn, she was visibly transfixed and speechless at how gorgeous he was. Her mouth opened slightly as she gaped at the tall man in white. Her eyes widened and her gaze lingered on him for several seconds, unable to look away. His chiseled features and commanding presence had a captivating effect on her. The way he moved with confidence filled her with admiration and awe.

And she could tell that she was not the only one feeling the same.

Some of the bunny-girls in both queues visibly inhaled in complete awe of his stunning irresistibility. Very few even exchanged knowing glances and smiled in elation at the fact that they got a very charming customer.

"Goddamn, he's hot as fuck," whispered Emily.

Sophia joined in the hushed conversation, "Amelia is one lucky bitch."

"I know right," replied Emily, "If I knew he would be this sexy, I would have volunteered as tribute right away."

Emma chimed in a whisper with a dreamy gaze towards the VVIP, "I want to make out with him."

Emily added, "Bitch, I wouldn't just make out with him. If I have nothing to lose, I would've have knelt down in front of him by now, you know what I mean."

Those who heard her tried their hardest to refrain from chuckling. That's when Yn realized something. Most of the bunny-girls started to sneakily remove their mask. When some of them caught each other doing the same thing, they merely grinned mischievously and hid away their cloth. They were obviously hoping that they would catch the interest of the captivating VVIP.

Yn then cast her eyes onto Amelia who was supposed to be the attractive VVIP's personally bunny-girl. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of Amelia's fully revealed and blushing face. She had already removed the mask as soon as she laid her eyes on her customer. Yn chuckled inwardly in amusement.

As the VVIP strode closer to the end of the red carpet where stood Mr. Malone and Amelia, the former bowed respectfully to him and said, "The Marquis de Gramont, welcome to the Bunny Club Casino! I'm Adrian Malone, the owner of this establishment. Allow me to personally welcome you on behalf of the entire staff. If there is anything my humble establishment can provide for you, please don't hesitate to ask. This way, please."

The Marquis did not utter a word. Instead, he merely nodded his head in acknowledgment and let Mr. Malone lead him towards the luxurious VIP room. Amelia followed suit with the VVIP's bodyguards which was all clad in dark suits.

"Good luck, Amy!" Emma shouted in a whisper to Amelia, "You'll definitely need it!"

Amelia turned her head around to look back at her colleagues and sent them a thumbs-up and an excited grin, evidently feeling enthusiastic at having such dashing customer as her first personal client. She then entered the VIP room with the rest of them, disappearing from the others' view.

Yn smiled warmly, hoping that the new girl would have a great experience. She needed something to help her grow, and maybe the fact that the VVIP was quite attractive could give Amelia's self-esteem a much-needed boost.

"But oh my God!" Emily chirped to the rest of the bunny-girls, "He is the Marquis! Oh my God! The Marquis!"

"What's a 'markis'?" Emma asked innocently.

Emily sent her a silly deadpan stare and corrected her, "It's Marquis, you innocent goof. Marquis."

"That's how I said it, right?" said Emma, "Markis."

"It's Marquis," Emily then proceeded to spell it slowly for Emma. Once the latter got it, Emily added, "Anyway, a Marquis is a nobleman. And not just any nobleman, he's one of the most influential and powerful figure in all of France. It's like he's practically royalty. That means he's got the wealth, power and connections! And he's here, in our casino!"

"Yeah, no wonder Mr. Malone warned us to do our best service. It's because the VVIP is a Marquis," Sophia interjected, suddenly sounding grim out of the blue, "But hey. Now that we know who he is, I heard he's a powerful French aristocrat but he also seems to be involved with the underworld, you know. He is dangerous."

Yn was taken aback by Sophia's sudden dark comment. She had never heard anything about the Marquis. This was her first time learning and meeting him and she'd already heard of unsavory rumors about him. Sure, it's just rumors. But Sophia was known to be well-informed about the latest gossip in the casino. She couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to her words.

"Woah, that's crazy. Is that true?" Emma asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Sophia shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't know. Just rumors, I guess. But he's not someone to be messed with, that's for sure. Just be careful, girls."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Don't start with the scary stories, Sophia. It's probably made by some geezer who is jealous of him. Sure, he's rich but that doesn't necessarily mean he's dangerous and is involved with crime. And we all know that not everything that people talk here is true."

Yn nodded in agreement. She didn't even want to think of any possible risk of danger tonight. Not when Amelia was with the man in question.

"Well, if Mr. Malone allows such man walk into his casino, I'm sure everything will be fine," Yn said, trying to change the subject, "In the meantime, let's focus on our duties. We don't want to keep any of our clients waiting."

The others nodded in agreement, and the bunny-girls dispersed around the casino floor, tending to the needs of their customers who were enjoying with everything the casino had to offer.

Approximately thirty minutes had passed and every staff was fully focused on their task, living up to their boss' expectation and ensuring that the customers had nothing but the best experience at the Bunny Club Casino. Yn was in the middle of serving a round of drinks when Emily appeared next to her and whispered, "Hey, you notice that Mr. Malone hasn't come out of the VIP room yet?"

Yn threw a quick glance at the door of the VIP room before she looked back at her close friend and replied, "Maybe he's discussing about something with the Marquis? He is not going to let someone as important as that getting away."

Emily snorted, "Maybe he wants to make another casino in Paris? Well, that does sound like him. But aren't you curious why the Marquis came to our casino in the first place?"

"Maybe he wants to enjoy it while he's staying in our country," Yn guessed as she picked up the glasses and used plates from a table which a bunch of patrons had just left.

"But fishy, you know," commented Emily, "But Amy is one lucky girl. Even if the Marquis is shady, he's practically sex on legs."

Yn couldn't argue on that. The Marquis was undeniably attractive. But she didn't want to think too much about someone who was way too good for her or someone who’s going to stay a stranger to her. That was how she evaded being attached to any man whom she saw no future with.

Suddenly, Emma rushed towards them, looking panicked, "Guys!"

Yn and Emily's eyes widened in surprise at her unforeseen appearance. Emma gasped out in panic before she told them, "Amy's crying! She's in the staff's changing room!"

Yn's heart sank at the news. She knew in an instant that something terrible had happened in the VIP room and unfortunately the victim of the situation was Amelia. Yn and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances before the three of them rushed towards the changing room.

As they got closer, they could hear the sounds of Amelia's sobs getting louder. Yn's heart raced as she pushed open the door to the changing room and found Amelia sitting on a couch with tears streaming down her face. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was a mess. Sophia was already by her side, consoling her to no avail apparently. Upon hearing the door opening, Amelia looked up and noticed the three girls, her eyes puffy and red.

"What happened, Amy?" Emily asked, her voice laced with concern.

Amelia sniffled and wiped at her eyes before finally speaking up, "It's the Marquis..."

She delayed as she took a shaky breath, somehow not breathing properly due to her crying fit. Sophia started rubbing her back up and down as Yn, Emily and Emma stayed standing before them.

Amelia's voice was scratchy and strained, broken up by her gasps and sobs, as she tried to explain, "I was standing by the sofa while he was talking with Mr. Malone. Then... he saw that huge wall painting in that VIP room. You guys know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Emma, "There is a huge abstract art in that room. Yn actually brought that."

Yn nodded her head, recognizing which painting that was and wordlessly admitting that it was that same painting she had given Mr. Malone one month ago.

Amelia spoke up, "Yes, that. The Marquis stared at it and he didn't even listen to Mr. Malone's offer to collab together. Then he spoke about how that abstract painting is full of meaning and whatever it is. And I laughed. Suddenly, he looked at me but he seemed angry. It's like I offended him but I didn't! I just snorted!"

She continued, "Then, while he's glaring at me as if I'm a cockroach, he said to Mr. Malone that a collab with this casino would be stupid since he's hired someone uneducated like me to work here!"

Amelia's face crumpled in fresh tears as she buried her face in her hands. Her sobs intensified as she recounted the Marquis' words, causing Sophia to rub her back even harder. The rest of the bunny-girls in the room were speechless.

Yn felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about the Marquis' arrogance and his ability to make Amelia feel so small. She knew that the Marquis was a powerful man who had a reputation for being difficult to deal with, but she never thought that he would be so cruel to someone who could not control herself from laughing.

Emily moved to sit next to Amelia on the couch and put her arm around her, "Don't listen to him, Amy. He's just a snob. You're talented and smart. You don't need his approval."

"But... but..." Amelia stammered while sniveling, "What about Mr. Malone? The Marquis ridiculed me. He complained about me. Mr. Malone would fire me! I don't want to lose this job! Even if I have to dress in this sexy bunny costume, it pays well! We get tips every day! I can't lose this!"

Yn's heart sank as she watched Amelia break down further. She knew how desperate Amelia was for this job and how much it meant to her. Like Yn, she also came from a family with financial problem. Yn couldn't let the Marquis' rude behavior ruin everything for Amelia.

"We won't let that happen, Amy," Yn said, her voice firm and full of conviction. "We'll talk to Mr. Malone. We'll make sure he knows that the Marquis was the one out of line and that you don't deserve to be treated that way."

Amelia looked at Yn with tear-filled eyes, hope shining in her gaze. Sophia nodded her head in agreement and Emily joined in saying, "Yeah, forget about him. He's a fuckwad! And we'll convince Mr. Malone for you!"

Yn, Sophia, and Emily exchanged determined glances, all agreeing to help Amelia in any way they can. Without even discussing it properly, they knew with a glance that they would altogether rush into Mr. Malone's office and persuade him forcefully. Seeing the overwhelming support from her friends, Amelia wiped away her tears and smiled warmly at them, the first one in a while.

"Thank you..." Amelia said, her voice filled with sincere gratitude, as she looked down and wiped the dried tears on her cheeks.

Yn smiled back at her, "We are here for you, Amy. You may not get to see Anita. She recently quitted as a bunny-girl but she kept telling us that bunny-girls stick together and help each other out. That's exactly what we're going to do."

Amelia's smile widened as she stared at Yn. The dense, oppressive atmosphere in the room suddenly dispersed, replaced with an uplifting sense of camaraderie and support as they all shared a moment of unity and solidarity. They all knew that no matter what, they would always have each other's backs.

Suddenly, the door to the changing room was pushed open. They looked to see it was Rachel, another bunny-girl who was not close with them. Rachel observed them for a moment, sensing that some drama had transpired. She then noticed the puffy and red eyes of Amelia and her smudged makeup. Understanding dawned in her head, knowing that something bad had happened while Amelia was serving the VVIP.

She didn’t ask for any detail. Instead, she turned to someone else and informed, "Yn, Mr. Malone called for you at the VIP room."

With that, she spun around and left the dressing room. Everyone was quiet after her statement, taking some time to process what they had heard. A nervous energy filled the air.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open again and Rachel came in halfway, looking at them. She then added, "Now."

That seemed to snap everyone out of their trance and Yn glanced at her friends, noticing the uneasiness on their face. Amelia seemed particularly worried for her. Knowing there was no escape from the predicament, Yn took a deep breath. She then excused herself before heading out with Rachel away from the changing room.

Once they arrived at the door of the VIP room where bodyguards were stationed, Rachel left, leaving Yn to prepare herself for what's about to come. The latter took a moment to compose herself, even checking if the mask on her face was properly put on, before pushing open the door and letting herself in quietly.

Black and gold furniture dominated the room with velvet sofas and chairs; a grand chandelier hanging in the center. Gleaming golden accents adorn the walls and luxurious rugs ran across the floor. The whole ambiance was regal, hinting at sophistication and power; the lighting was dimmed, creating an intimate atmosphere.

There she saw the Marquis de Gramont, standing in front of the huge abstract painting. Even the way he stood screamed power and confidence. His eyes were fixated on the gigantic wall art as if it was an entity he wanted to understand. It was that moment Yn figured that the Marquis was a person who truly appreciated and cherished art which explained why he spoke lowly of Amelia for laughing at a painting.

"Psst!"

She threw a glance at the source of the sound and realized it was Mr. Malone. He gestured for her to come closer to him. Once she did, he whispered at her with a reprimanding tone, "Yn, take over Amelia's place! She couldn't keep her mouth shut and the Marquis is pissed! Now do your job and get his desserts from the kitchen!"

In an instant, Yn rushed off to the kitchen to get the desserts which the Marquis had requested. The delicacies were ready to serve by the time she arrived so she wasted no time, snatching them up from the counter before scurrying back to the VIP room.

As she opened the door, she heard multiple voices in the VIP room. It was the Marquis and Mr. Malone conversing and the subject was apparently about more paintings in the establishment.

"Yes, I agree!" Mr. Malone sounded enthusiastic of the idea, but for those who knew him well like Yn, she knew it was just a facade to make the Marquis happy. Mr. Malone continued, "That's an amazing idea! Aesthetic paintings all over the casino would surely liven up the space! If you want, you could recommend suitable paintings for my humble establishment!"

The Marquis turned around after staring at the abstract painting for so long. He strode back to sit down on the black and gold sofa. Yn took another deep breath before she approached him with a tray of desserts in her hand.

The Marquis didn't even look at her when she approached him. He was too engrossed staring at the abstract painting again while absentmindedly listening to Mr. Malone who was trying his best to flatter the Marquis and keep him happy. Yn surmised that he was a man of refined taste and didn't like to be disturbed when he was deep in thought so she took extra care not to make any noise as she set the tray of desserts down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Art evokes emotions and enhances the atmosphere," the Marquis spoke up, rendering Yn speechless as this was the first time she heard him speak. His French accent was clear and distinct. It actually made him sound intelligent and intimidating. He added while Yn was carefully placing his desserts on the table, "It's crucial to display more paintings in a casino. It creates a captivating and immersive environment for patrons to enjoy."

"Such beautiful words, sir!" crowed Mr. Malone, "I see that you really appreciate art and beauty, and I couldn't agree more. I am honored to have you see my establishment!"

The Marquis didn't respond. Instead, while Yn was arranging the placement of the desserts on the table, he reached out to grab one of them without glancing at her. He took a small scoop, savoring the flavor.

Yn got up to her full height and walked away to stand by the side of the sofa the Marquis was sitting on. That's when he gestured to the abstract painting which he had been staring non-stop and inquired Mr. Malone, "I like this. Where did you buy this?"

Yn tensed up and Mr. Malone stuttered, a bit taken aback by the sudden question. He sneaked a glance at Yn and responded, "Umm... I did not buy it, sir. My staff here, Yn, actually handed this to me for my birthday."

He even gestured to Yn as he disclosed how he had gotten the painting. Suddenly, the Marquis lifted his head and looked at Yn properly for the first time. She stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She stayed mute, choosing to stare at the floor to not make eye contact with the Marquis so as not to offend him. She could feel his piercing gaze on her as he looked her up and down, taking in every detail about her.

For a moment, the Marquis said nothing. He continued to stare intently at Yn, making her feel uneasy. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and it made her skin crawl.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Marquis spoke up, "Yn. And your last name?"

Yn's heart skipped a beat as the Marquis addressed her. She took a deep breath before responding in a low voice, "Ln, sir."

The Marquis nodded slowly in response, his eyes still glued on her figure. The deep resonance of his voice seemed to linger in the air as he enunciated her full name as if savoring the taste of it on his tongue, "Yn Ln."

Yn subconsciously looked at him as her whole name was mentioned. She then made eye contact with him. His eyes were deep pools of darkness that seemed to drink in her very soul. It was an intimidating yet mesmerizing sight and she felt as if time had stopped and all was silent around her.

Then, as if feeling shocked and in disbelief at what she did, she swiftly looked away, staring hard at the floor as she prayed inwardly that she did not screw anything up.

The Marquis smirked to himself, amused by Yn's reaction. He then took another bite of the dessert on the tray and leaned back on the sofa, his eyes still fixed on her.

His voice was smooth and velvety as he said, "That painting is impressive. Who is the painter?"

Yn could not help but feel like he was testing her and what she knew of the painting. She cleared her throat before responding softly, "It is Wassily Kandinsky."

The Marquis nodded thoughtfully, still staring at Yn intently, "Ah, Kandinsky. I figured. I've always found his work to be intriguing. The use of color and shape to evoke emotion is quite remarkable."

He finally tore his gaze away from Yn, shifting them to Mr. Malone who was standing anxiously next to the sofa the Marquis was occupying. The latter told him with an air of authority and power, "I want more paintings like this in the casino. Find me more of Kandinsky's works or any other abstract art that you think would fit the atmosphere here."

"Certainly, sir," Mr. Malone responded, "Does that mean you agree to have my business under your wing? Twenty percent cut for you?"

Yn's eyes widened as she silently observed. Hearing that, she then had an inkling of the true purpose the Marquis came to the casino.

The Marquis suddenly stated with a small smirk, "Forty for me."

Mr. Malone's face fell in disbelief at the Marquis' counteroffer. "Forty? But sir, please reconsider. This casino-"

The Marquis leaned forward on the sofa with his hands still holding the desserts, his eyes turning sharp and cold as he spoke in a low, menacing tone, "Do not question my terms, Adrian Malone. If you want my protection, forty it is."

Mr. Malone was nonplussed. The VVIP stared at him with a smug look before he added, "Unless you want to increase my cut to fifty."

Mr. Malone swallowed hard, knowing that he had no choice but to agree. "Of course, sir. Forty it is."

The Marquis leaned back on the sofa, grinning smugly, feeling satisfied with Mr. Malone's compliance, "Then we have a deal, Malone."

He turned his attention back to his delicacies and scooped a spoonful of ice cream. He closed his eyes and savored the sweetness, relishing the taste as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Yn watched him silently. There was a certain air of mystery surrounding him that screamed danger. She couldn't help but feel intimidated and scared of him, even though he was tasting the desserts like a child.

Suddenly, the Marquis opened his eyes and looked at her. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he caught her staring. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile as he said, "Would you like some?"

Yn averted her gaze meekly, feeling her cheeks flush, as she shook her head, "No, thank you, sir."

"Are you certain?" the Marquis asked, his French accent thick and his voice holding an amused tone.

Yn swallowed hard, looking at him through her eyelashes shyly. She could feel his piercing gaze on her and it made her feel uneasy.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Marquis chuckled softly as he stared at her unwaveringly. All of a sudden, he rose to his feet with his desserts still in his hand. Then he began to make his way towards Yn, causing the bunny-girl to be alarmed and anxious. His gaze was deep and sharp as he strode towards her slowly, taking his time while exuding an air of power.

Yn stared at the floor, feeling a huge sense of unease wash over her, as she heard his footsteps growing louder towards her. Soon enough, he stood in front of her. The height difference between them was huge since he was a very, very tall man.

She was no longer staring at the floor. Instead, it was his chest and his dashing three-piece suit. The fabric hugged his figure perfectly, making him look even more imposing. She kept her gaze on his chest, not wanting to meet his gaze and make eye contact.

The Marquis then bent down, leaning his head downward that his face ended up entering Yn's view. Her eyes widened in shock and terror as she couldn't help but look up to meet his gaze. He was bending his head down to have her look at him directly. His tall, powerful figure loomed over her as his head dipped down, head-level with hers. His face was stern, unflinching and demanding her attention. His expression conveyed a sense of power and dominance over her as if he was expecting her to obey his commands.

With his face close to her, he smirked and said, "Finally, you look at me."

Yn was transfixed by his gaze, her wide eyes unmoving as she observed his face. His expression was firm and fierce, yet at the same time there was a hint of smugness and confidence in his smirk as he studied her. His deep eyes seemed to bore into her and she could feel the power emanating from him. His close proximity to her made her feel vulnerable. She was speechless under his gaze, unsure how to respond but it seemed that he was fine with her making eye contact with him.

While he fixed his deep gaze on her, he addressed to someone else, "Malone, explain to me about the mask system here."

That caused Yn to register that she was still donning the black mask, concealing her nose and mouth effectively. Mr. Malone was taken aback by the sudden question directed at him and he explained, "Umm... To protect the bunny-girls, I establish the system that the girls with mask are off-limits. Customers are not allowed to harass them or touch them in any way without explicit consent. However, the bunny-girls without masks can be asked for a private room and physical contact is allowed within limits."

The Marquis nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Yn's face, "Interesting."

Mr. Malone breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the Marquis seemed to approve it. However, the Marquis wasn't finished with Yn as he asked her with a smirk, "So, Yn, remove your mask for me."

Yn's heart thudded in her chest as she stared at the Marquis, her body frozen in place. She knew she couldn't take off her mask, not now, not ever. Taking the mask off would reveal her true identity to some stranger and would bring danger to herself.

"I-I can't, sir," she stuttered out, her voice barely audible.

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, his smirk remained as if her denial was a joke to him, "And why not?"

Yn bit her lip, her mind racing. She had to come up with a plausible excuse, and fast. "It's uh... I feel much safer wearing a mask."

The Marquis gave a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. His lips then parted to let out a deep and throaty chuckle. But then, in the blink of an eye, the smirk fell and his features hardened. His voice deepened as he spoke with an undeniable authority, "Take off your mask."

Yn's eyes widened with fright as she stared at the Marquis, her gaze only broken as she shifted it towards Mr. Malone in hope for help. However, instead of support, she found only his hard frown and stern gaze, conveying his lack of help. Yn's heart plummeted and she knew there was no escape from the situation.

Trembling with fear, Yn slowly lifted her hand to remove the elastic strap that held the mask in place. Her fingers fumbled as she struggled to undo the clasp. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to remove the mask and reveal her face to the Marquis.

For a moment, he stared at her intently, his gaze scanning her features with an intensity that made Yn feel exposed and vulnerable as if she was standing naked in front of him. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his intense stare.

"Hmm," he harrumphed thoughtfully, his voice low and husky that way.

Yn felt her cheeks flush, feeling somewhat embarrassed at how he judged her. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply stayed mute, keeping her gaze on his chest.

That's when she saw him scoop a spoonful of ice cream and neared it towards her mouth. He dipped his head down again, letting his face enter her vision, before he said with a smirk, "Open your mouth."

Yn hesitated for a moment but the Marquis stared at her expectantly, the spoon still held up to her lips. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, allowing the Marquis to feed her the ice cream. The cold sweetness of the ice cream flooded her senses as it melted within her mouth.

The Marquis watched her carefully as she savored the treat, his eyes glinting with amusement. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction, relishing in the power he held over her. Yn felt the intensity of his gaze and it made her feel both intimidated

He slowly withdrew the spoon from her mouth and looked her in the eye with an intensity that made her feel exposed. His eyes glittered with amusement as he then licked the spoon, savoring the melted ice cream on its surface. The whole sight caught her off guard and she quickly looked away in embarrassment. The act seemed almost dirty and sinful and she couldn't help but feel intimidated by the power the Marquis held over her.

A smirk curved his lips before he suddenly turned and walked away from her. He put away the cup of dessert and strode towards the door of the VIP room while saying, "I'm delighted to have come to an arrangement with you, Malone. As a result of our meeting, it is established that I am the new owner of this casino. And you shall remain in charge as the managing director."

As he arrived at the door, he spun around and gave a pointed look at Mr. Malone and asked firmly, "Am I right?"

"Yes, sir!" replied Mr. Malone, seemingly hesitant to say it, "I will tell every staff about this."

The Marquis tilted his head with a smug smile, "Good. And as for you, Yn..."

Yn became alarmed once again. He turned his gaze back towards her and wore a smirk on his face as he said with his voice low and velvety, "Merci et à la prochaine fois, ma dame."

Yn felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, not understanding what those words meant. The Marquis then stepped out of the VIP room and he was quick to be joined by his bodyguards who were waiting for him outside the door. Yn was then left alone with Mr. Malone.

As soon as the Marquis left, Yn quickly put on her mask and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Mr. Malone looked at her and gave out a huge sigh and said, "Well, at least that went well. A deal is secured."

Yn nodded, still feeling a bit shaken from the encounter. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Yeah, but he's… intense."

Mr. Malone chuckled, a twinkle in his eye, "That's the Marquis for you. He's not one to be trifled with."

Yn looked at him, confused, and she inquired, "But that man, the Marquis... I've never heard of him before."

Mr. Malone's expression turned serious, "The Marquis is not someone you want to cross, Yn. He's a powerful man with connections in all the wrong places. Even if he's from France, he could find you and ruin your life if he wants to. You should be careful around him. But, now that he has agreed to have us under his wing, this business would be well-protected in finance and safety."

Yn slowly nodded, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in her stomach but she knew that there was no turning back now. The deal was done and they were now under the Marquis' protection.

But, working with the Marquis would be dangerous, she mused. And she did not want to see him anymore for the rest of her life but it seemed like she didn't have a choice. As Mr. Malone stood up to leave, Yn couldn't help but feel a pang of consternation as she watched him go. She was alone now and the Marquis's words were still ringing in her ears.

"Merci et à la prochaine fois, ma dame."

She didn't know what those words meant but they sounded sinister. Yn shook her head, trying to push away the fear that was gripping her. She stood up and started cleaning up the room and leftover desserts.

NEXT : Chapter 02

Story Masterlist

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[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 3

TW for the chapter: self-harm, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, masturbation, problematic mom-daughter relationship

After spending forty minutes on the tube and another twenty squeezed onto a bus with sweaty, boundary-ignorant strangers, you finally got home from your coffee date with the devil. 

In that time, you had more or less come to terms with the fact that you had truly lost it.

This left you with three options: First, you could go to a psychiatrist (how do you find a psychiatrist?) and tell the truth. Your laptop is talking to you, a devil is stalking you with the clear intention of fucking you and taking your soul, in no particular order. They'd chalk it up to psychosexual mania, Freudian theories of repressed desires and frustrations. Prescriptions for anti-psychotics and anti-hallucinogens would follow while they dug into your very much fatherless past.

The second thing a person haunted by the devil might do is go to a priest. The last time you set foot in a church was when your mother could make you go, so it would be as much a surprise for the priest to see you there as it would be for you to do so again. Also, you can't help but imagine walking into a confessional only to find Raphael smirking back at you from behind the lattice screen, which brings you back to option one.

The third option was to accept your madness and play along with it. It had already made the last week of your life more exciting than the entire preceding twenty-seven years combined.

It wasn't a difficult choice.

Since your arrival at home, you had not let your phone leave your side for a single second, not in the shower, not on the toilet. Meanwhile, you had begun your preparations for the rendezvous, and you had begun by scheduling your torture for the very next day. 

Your tormentor was a petite Vietnamese girl who promised her methods would not hurt, and the execution chamber was a rundown salon down the street that definitely condoned illegal employment practices. 

Not like you could afford anything nicer anyway.

You could barely scrape together enough cash for waxing (damn inflation), but imagining that Raphael had watched you straddle a Bad Dragon dildo all natural- unshaved legs and the rest - was way more mortifying than the idea that the devil himself was watching.

After the Vietnamese girl ripped hair from your most sensitive areas, you felt prepared for any infernal punishment. When questioned if it hurt, you lied through clenched teeth.

The rest of the Sunday was a shopping blur. The last time you went on a date was some nine months ago (prior to BG3 coming out), it lasted an hour but left enough of an impression to delete your profile from Bumble, so you were completely out of stock of anything half-way decent, not to speak decent enough for a date with Raphael.

You consulted with the Devil's Den about what to wear and what lingerie Raphael would prefer, which didn't help much as everyone had their own interpretation of his preferences, ranging from none at all to him wearing lingerie himself.

At the start of the working week, your bank balance had dropped by four hundred euros and you still hadn't received any calls on your mobile phone. 

Wasn't there a rule about waiting three days? Whoever came up with this shit should spend his afterlife as a lemure.

You went through the motions at work, barely awake during two team conference calls, only to be told you looked "exhausted". This, despite having spent the entire previous day in a facial mask. To add insult to injury, you were scheduled for a "personal development" meeting next week.

In between the conference calls, you took the time to write two essays on Tumblr. The first was about how Raphael would easily conquer the Nine Hells and anyone who doubted that was an idiot (you didn't actually write that, but you certainly meant it). 

The second was about how Tav was the real villain for robbing Raphael. Maybe these posts would flatter Raphael enough to prompt him into calling you. Both got a decent amount of likes and reblogs, but not the attention you were hoping for.

On Monday night, you spent a good two hours staring at your phone, desperately waiting for some strange email, some kind of notification, however unsettling it might be.

It's not like Raphael actually works for that bloody law firm, is it? 

Or maybe, for devils, the usual waiting time for a call is a couple of years. After all, Raphael was angry for a dozen years that one time.

when you remember you have a mother call me hope you have a nice day

Well, you asked for a disturbing notification, and now you've got one. Your mother had an uncanny ability to make you feel guilty with just one precisely aimed message. Despite being well acquainted with her tactics (which she vehemently denied having), they managed to hit their mark every time.

She wasn’t a bad person, no, far from it; God knows she had enough problems as a single mother in a small and predominantly Catholic town an hour's drive away. 

She was the first in her family to go to university, but had to drop out when she became pregnant with you. Went through several terrible relationships, which she ended for your sake. You were her walking shattered dreams. 

It hadn't been that long since you'd last spoken on the phone, maybe a week? 

OK, a week was long. 

“Hi mum," you sighed into your phone. "Sorry, I've been busy."

"With what?" her voice fizzed over the line, laced with a scepticism only a mother can muster.

A solid start.

"With adult life?" you said.

"Adult life is juggling a full-time job, a child and a house that needs constant attention, Anya. You don't have any of that."

"I have a full-time job, Mum, remember?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I know how 'busy' you IT people are. Anyway, I called to tell you something very important".

You were not IT people, you worked for an IT company, but for you mum, you were IT people and therefore by definition overpaid and underworked. 

"I was at Nadine's", she said, and made a dramatic pause.

Oh great. Nadine, the human drain on your mother's savings, which were far from abundant. How your mother reconciled her devout Catholicism with regularly going to a fortune teller (and with getting pregnant at twenty out of wedlock) was one of the things that defied your comprehension. She had an intricate system, which only she would call logic, to justify these contradictions; you gave up trying to understand it long ago.

"Don't get upset - it wasn't about you or anything”, you mum said. “Your name just came up in conversation and we ended up doing a reading - just ONE reading, but it was... enlightening."

As every single reading so far. 

"Yes?" you asked, not bothering to fake enthusiasm.

"Well..." She drew out the word. "The cards say you're going to meet someone special soon. A King of Pentacles, imagine! So, mature, financially secure, gallant…"

A gallant gentleman would not keep a lady dying for his call.

“There is more, Anja. There was also the Devil in the spread. Do you know what that means?"

You paused. "...the Devil himself is interested in me?"

Your mother let out a joyous laugh.

"Anya, sweetie, I love you, but I don't think THE Devil would be interested in you. Not this way, anyway”.

That stung a bit. After all these years of him supposedly seducing you into premarital sex and drugs, succeeding at the former and barely scratching the pot surface with the latter, and now he was suddenly not interested in you.

Well, that’s where you are wrong, mum. Hopefully.

"No, that means... Now I'm quoting Nadine here, Anya... Negative forces holding you back from reaching your full potential. NEGATIVE THINKING! That's what I've been saying all along!"

“Ah”, you said. “Right”.

You checked out and let the phone rest on the table on loudspeaker, allowing your mother to continue her monologue of small town gossip.The right-side neighbour was fooling around with someone else's wife, neighbour to the left doesn’t mow his lawn. You surfed on your laptop in the meanwhile.

queen-of-the-bored: now did you read that Raph smut I sent you

queen-of-the-bored: that one

You were hoping to get out of reading smut with Raphael and into living it. Ah, hell, maybe that would draw him out somehow. Maybe this would be about him and you, some meta stuff, a special surprise he wrote himself for you. 

You opened AO3 and began to scan the warning triggers that preceded the chapter. "Non-con", "pillory confinement", "rough anal sex", "face fucking" and "forced urination", and that was just for starters.

No.

Absolutely fucking not. 

“Holy fuck”, you said, and promptly closed the web-page.

"Anya! Watch your mouth! But yes, you are right, of course”, your mom said . “All these years acting like she is the holy and mighty and knows best… ”

you: are you ok recommending stuff like that?

queen-of-the-bored: what queen-of-the-bored: come on now queen-of-the-bored: dude this you?

She sent a screenshot of your Tumblr post with five hundred likes and forty-one reblogs:

"I don't get Hope, I personally would LOVE Raphael to lock me in chains in his basement and do whatever he wants to me <3".

That was undeniably you. Was that what attracted Raphael to you? Is that what he came for?

A sudden epiphany dawned on you: you were far more vanilla than you had let on. Especially on the first date. You didn't want it to turn into a basement horror story. Well, maybe you did, but only if it went exactly according to your script (which categorically did not involve non-consensual rough anal sex), in the kind of basement you liked (stylishly infernal rather than Josef Fritzl one) and with thorough aftercare and lavish praise. 

You weren't entirely convinced that this vision was in line with Raphael's preferences. You were not entirely sure what those preferences truly were, for that matter.

You scrubbed all traces of the fanfic from your browsing history and briefly toyed with the idea of posting something along the lines of 'GET THERAPY YOU SICK FUCK' in the comments - just to make sure Raphael knew exactly where you stood on the matter. 

What you need to do is search for fanfics tagged with phrases like "Raphael spoils Tav with gifts and sweet nothings", "gentle" and "teeth-rotting fluff".

"And then she said, Anya... guess what, she said..."

***

Tuesday was the third day without a call. 

If he did not call today, you decided, you would go to that bloody law firm to drag him out of a conference room and if he was not there, well... you might do the unspeakable.

You might rob the House of Hope for the first time in your life. A woman who has not been called by her favourite devil for three days in a row is a woman in severe mental crisis.

After spending some time day-dreaming your revenge, you finally reach for your phone while still lying in bed.

There were notifications waiting for you, not the ones you wanted. The Raphael romance petition (which you’d passionately signed thrice, using different IPs) had triumphed. The new update included a post-credits dinner and something extra.

The fandom was thrown into chaos upon hearing this announcement (though, truthfully, any news tended to do that). Fans heatedly argued about whether it was pandering, too much fan service, whether it trivialized victims of sexual assault or if it was simply bad taste.

The discord channel buzzed with chatter about that new scene - some dismissed it as too vanilla; others lamented that Larian backtracked on Raphael being a bottom; while some celebrated it as the best thing since Andrew Wincott had cooed "good girl" on a live stream.

In different circumstances, you would be overjoyed and congratulating dmgdgoods for the success of the petition. But now? It felt like cold leftovers in comparison to what you truly craved - seeing Raphael in person, feeling his touch and his breath against your skin.

Regardless, you decided to get ONE bloody dinner you had been promised.

To your dismay, your boss chose today, of all days, to make you work and make you hate your work. You had four useless conference calls during eight working hours, each one an hour apart. 

The clock on your computer seemed trapped within some diabolical time warp.

You’d bring an audience with you, you thought as you absent-mindedly typed emails. That’s right, you’d bring an audience. 

If Raphael decides to talk to you through the screen, well, there would be your solid proof you were not crazy - and a digital trace - and a message to the whole world that it was you, you, who were his special mouse among the thousands that would rush to House of Hope tonight.

If he doesn't, well… he isn’t calling you either.

You dropped everything the minute the clock struck five, and lectured the rest of your remaining team about the importance of work-life balance and the toxicity of corporate greed. 

Then you fired up Twitch.

The witnesses, a twenty-strong user mob, were summoned from across the communities you were in; some you knew, some you guessed who it might be, and a couple of random users.

The House of Hope stood ready. 

In the main hall, a table was set for two, draped in red velvet with silver candelabras and a centrepiece of blood-red roses; Larian clearly knew their audience - those who craved Raphael Romance would also enjoy a side dish of gothic horror.

This notion you would subscribe to.

"Ah, my little mouse," Raphael's voice crept into your ears the moment Tav teleported into his domain. "I've been expecting our rendezvous."

His tone was molten honey and made you forget for a moment your annoyance at his lack of calls. 

Archdevils Supreme were, after all, notorious workaholics.

Raphael was in his cambion form, which you liked, but preferred the human one. Like this, he would barely fit into your room - how tall was he? Two ten? Two twenty? Your ceilings were two twenty. One flap of those wings could destroy your bookshelf. 

The Twitch chat room was quiet; you threw out a test message that elicited a few half-hearted responses. Still there, good.

"I owe you, little mouse," Raphael continued in that rich baritone that brought back memories of the coffee shop. "I owe you your unwavering loyalty. Your commitment. Your trust."

Raphael paused for dramatic effect before adding: "I appreciate those who deal fairly with me, because I have only dealt fairly with you."

His words eerily echoed a recent essay you'd written; it brought a smile to your face as you reached out to touch him.

cross_my_heart: are you touching your screen? cross_my_heart: jeez man cross_my_heart has left the chat

Your Tav, a drow warlock (whom you imagined as Raphael's personal warlock), was wearing her most "why-am-I-here" expression, arms crossed over her chest. It drove you mad, that standard #2 emotion.

Then they ate; clunky, clearly afterthought animations rehashed from Karlach's date dinner. The food they were served (meat, meat, lots of meat) made your stomachs ache (you had been on a crash diet in the irrational hope of slimming down for the rendezvous).

"You were the one who gave me the Crown of Karsus. You gave me the power to claim worlds, my little mouse, even your own." He paused before adding, "You hung on my every word, spread my vision... Every time we played, you offered the crown. My most loyal little acolyte".

A thrill of anticipation ran through you; he must be deviating from his usual script. He was now speaking directly to you.

luxaeterna: haha cool meta stuff luxaeterna: the game is probably checking to see if you have any save games where you killed him luxaeterna: and judging by the way you just stroked the screen (lol) you don't

"Come, my little mouse," Raphael beckoned. "Come and claim your reward. What is it that your heart desires?"

Your eyes scanned the four options presented to you:

1. Wealth beyond measure.

2. Godlike power.

3. Eternal youth.

4. You, Raphael.

"Well," you said aloud with a smile as your cursor hovered over option 4 (the only logical choice), "I'm not sure about immeasurable wealth, but an extra grand wouldn't hurt.” 

You wouldn't know what to do with godlike power anyway, and you were too young to dream of eternal youth.

A message appeared in the right-hand corner of your screen: GUESTUSER43214 donated €1,000.

You gasped. 

Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. 

He was here. Raphael was watching you play with Raphael, which was the most Raphael thing that ever happened.

And he'd just given you a damn grand for nothing, with a simple click of his fingers - virtual numbers to him, but very real to you. 

You licked your lips with excitement. Easy money. The easiest money ever, for a joke and a smile. Tax free too. Is that how the girls at OnlyFans feel? 

papa johnes: holy fuck why didn't you ask for a million papa johnes: reload and ask for a million! DEVIL CREAMPIE: WOW WOW WOW  luxaeterna: is this a prank?  DEVIL CREAMPIE: SUGAR DADDY DEVIl

Would he give you more if you asked for it? Perhaps. Perhaps more than you could possibly imagine, enough to make all the worries disappear, but all in due time; that was not what you were craving from him at the moment.

luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 are you Raph are you Raph Raph is it you? luxaeterna:@GUESTUSER43214 I can also stroke the screen for a thousand where do I sign up?

The user did not reply, but Raphael in-game did as soon as you clicked on "You and only you".

He walked up to your Tav and embraced her; tenderly, carefully, his clawed hands tracing the back of her spine. She looked frightened. 

Well, she only had so many expressions.

"You've always had a knack for making wise decisions," he purred in her ear. "It's one of your many talents, my dear. And once again you've chosen wisely. Now, how may I indulge you?"

papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION 

1. Fulfil my every dark fantasy. 

2. Let me put you on a leash and show you what pleasure is, devil.

3. Aren't you only bedding Haarlep?

4. Thanks, I'll pass. Haarlep has told me I’d be well advised to indulge elsewhere.

luxaeterna: Fulfil my every DARK fantasy lol who wrote this stuff a horny intern on her lunch break papa johnes: ASK FOR A MILLION GODDAMNIT

You briefly contemplated if you wanted Haarlep to join and thought that’s something you would save for later, so you went for the horny intern option.

"I will make all your fantasies come true," Raphael promised, as he stood up from his seat and approached Tav. "The ones you're aware of and those yet to be discovered. But for what comes next, little mouse, I prefer us to be alone. No prying eyes."

The game gave you three options to choose from: 

1. Yes, Raphael

2. Yes, Master

3. Yes, of course

luxaeterna: I think there might be an option missing  DEVIL CREAMPIE: lol any colour you like as long as it’s black right Raph

You nodded, chose “Yes, Raphael”, and got an immediate response:

Connection to Twitch lost. You clicked around, but the servers seemed to be shut down. Huh, you thought, Raphael can control Twitch servers. He could use it as a tool of mass indoctrination.

A deep sigh slipped from your lips. 

It was just the two of you now. 

But you wouldn't leave without proof. You pressed escape and positioned your phone camera on the highest shelf, angling it to capture everything that transpired on screen.

Raphael pulled Tav in a kiss the moment you resumed the game, something clearly modelled after Ascended Astarion kiss, with him standing, her seated, looking tiny in comparison to him. His clawed hand grasped her ebony neck and gave it a light squeeze. His expression was perfect - possessive, dark, animalistic, hers was screaming “I am about to shit myself” and completely out of place.

You are a Lolth-Sworn and a Bhaalspawn, Tav! What the bloody hell are you scared about? He should be scared of you!

"You taste ambrosial, my little mouse," Raphael whispered into Tav's ear. "I've lived thousands of years and never tasted anything better."

She doesn’t, you thought bitterly, she tastes like nothing but code, but I do, I do! 

Your hand traced up your neck mimicking Raphael's touch on Tav's skin and squeezed lightly. The pain made you aware of the bitter resentment against your own avatar - Raphael invited her, dined with her, was about to fuck her, not you, and it could be you now, should be you, not some character you cooked in an hour in the character creator. 

She didn’t do shit but follow your orders. It was you who ordered her to give him the Crown.

Next, Raphael shoved the dishes and the cutlery to the floor and gently laid Tav onto the dining table, positioning himself between her thighs. At first glance, it looked like they'd used Halsin's animation from a different angle until you saw his forked tongue glide across Tav's pixel-perfect hairless pussy, sliding in and out of her.

She did one of those high-pitched, perfectly fake screams that made your blood boil and that was exactly the reason you never watched mainstream porn. 

The very next gameplay your Tav is jumping off a very high cliff.

Tav threw her head back and moaned, the hair that should have fallen down remaining perfectly in place in her braid. It made it look fake the way video game sex sequences look fake, plastic dolls smashed against each other.  Every woman in Faerun and Earth would grab his horns and hold on tight, but no, Tav was not animated to do so.

At least Raphael looked real, every second more so, so you focused on him, and his eyes, and his face glistening in candlelight and Tav’s juices.

There was no way Larian would make it so explicit, a thought that floated in the back of your mind. Can’t be right. The moans, the animations, the visceral, explicit arousal - his and hers. Can’t be right. 

No way you’d be stopping to cross-check, either.

So, you watched Tav writhing under the devil's tongue, slipping your hand under your t-shirt, pulling aside the black lacy bra you'd recently bought for him and caressing your hardening nipples. 

You couldn't help yourself.

You wanted him, his lips on your pussy, your hands around his horns, you wanted to come onto his mouth, to grind around his cock like a fish caught on a hook.

But all you could do was stare, the pulsing of your clit in perfect rhythm with your heartbeats.

Raphael was looking at you, at you specifically, just like in the cafe. He grabbed one of Tav's legs by the ankle and lifted it high into the air as she arched her back in pleasure. The other leg was slightly spread, offering a view of your avatar's glistening pussy, which you couldn't care less about, unlike the ribbed, red, engorged cock between Raphael's legs, impressive enough to both arouse and frighten. 

He must taste so good. The very thought made your mouth water.

You shoved your fingers under your jeans, feeling the zipper scrape against them till it hurt, but you couldn't care less.

Fuck her, you muttered aloud as you rubbed yourself. Or better still, call me and fuck me. 

As if he could hear you (he could he could he definitely could), Raphael hoisted Tav’s ankles onto his shoulders and rammed into her with the force that would have been painful in reality but looked mesmerising on the screen. 

Hard, sure thrusts, sliding in and out, looking at you all that time, his mouth tightening in a sardonic smile. The promise in his eyes. The promise of all he could give and the promise of a hell of a price to pay. Despite all your fear for him, and because of it, you wanted him even more.

Tav screamed her cry again, exactly the same vocal line, her symmetrical, round, cookie-cutter breasts bouncing to the rhythm dictated by Raphael.

It’s me next time, you pleaded. Make it me. I deserve it. I’ll make it worth your while. Please.

Raphael moaned, loudly, like no man you've ever been with moaned - no man you've ever been with could pull off a moan like that - wild, lustful, deep, shameless. You have to talk like him to pull that off. You have to look like him.

You have to be that silver-tongued devil.

"You are mine. I owe you, my precious little mouse" Raphael said to Tav, hovering over her, folding her in two (would you be that flexible?).  "Be my good girl and say it." 

This is exactly the kind of talk you wanted from him, exactly the kind of talk that made your pussy throb, that made you click on everything with 'maledom' in it in a split second.  Such a shame you could see so little, had to imagine so much, their parts were barely visible in this position.

"I am yours," you whispered breathlessly, pinching your nipple as you plunged your fingers deep inside you. "I am your good girl. I am your little mouse. I am!”

Tav said nothing and Raphael raised his hand over her face. Slap her, you urged, hurt her, slap her hard, but he didn't, instead running his fingers through her snow-white hair and you moaned in frustration and pleasure.

This man brings out the worst in you.

Your pussy clenched around your fingers, a little moan escaped your lips and you bored into them, pretending it was his cock ramming into you. You would get the Devil's Dick from under the bed if you could just tear yourself away from the screen for a moment. 

You were right on the edge, so close, closer. Your eyes were fixed on Raphael's face, desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of his cock as he thrust one final time before the screen slowly faded to black.

"NO!" you screamed in frustration. "COME BACK! I'M NOT DONE YET!"

The scene changed to both of them lying on a crimson bed. You closed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth.

Of course, you could have used your imagination to fill in the rest, but you were tired of pretending. You craved the real thing - flesh against flesh, hot breath, his scent, beads of sweat, and taste of saliva, his saliva. Not just porn or smut or audio recordings – the actual physical experience. Sex that you had never had because all you knew was awkward fumbling and elbows tangling in your hair and ‘ugh do you really want me to talk dirty this is so weird’.

You would do anything to fuck him now. Bring me that damn contract, I'll sell my soul for a good fuck. Give me the fucking paper, Raphael, give it to me now.

You reluctantly pulled your sticky fingers away from your aching pussy and cursed under your breath. How many times did Raphael ruin the mood already? Cruel, sadistic, cold-hearted fiend, damned hellish beast. 

You wanted a different kind of torment.

"Raphael, you better call me," you growled at the screen. "Or I swear I'll come to your house, snatch your hammer, end you and..."

Your threat was cut off by a ring of the doorbell.

"Metaphorically speaking," you hastily added as the doorbell chimed again, more insistently this time.

The memory of blood blisters on guy's lips for lesser offences was still fresh in your mind.

"You promised you'd knock on my door, not ring," you muttered to yourself, feeling a tinge of fear run through your body. "And again... metaphorically speaking!"

The doorbell rang once more, louder and angrier than before. You wiped your slick fingers on a napkin and quickly adjusted your clothing before cautiously approaching the door.

A quick glance through the peephole revealed something red outside. But you didn't dare take a second look.

Your palm found its way to the cool metal of the doorknob. This was it, wasn't it? The moment where a stupid girl opens the wrong door at the wrong time and gets clawed to death.

Behind the door stood a teenage boy, around fourteen or fifteen years old, with acne and an ill-fitted t-shirt, casually chewing gum. He looked at you as if you were the one disturbing his peace all along.

"Why the hell were you buzzing my door like a maniac?" you asked.

He thrust a bouquet of red roses towards you without much ceremony. It was heavier than you thought. 

"I have a special delivery for you, ma'am" he announced.

"Why did you buzz my door like that?" you asked again, irritated.

"I get an extra hundred if I deliver these today. I was pissed that you weren't home," he replied with casual indifference.

"You can't just do that to people, you little shit," you shot back.

"Whatever, sue me, bitch," he retorted before walking away with a shrug and one last jab: "And zip up your fly."

You flipped him off, your fly still splayed open. It was funny how not too long ago, such a comment would have mortified and flustered you.

But now, being a bit (okay, a lot) crazy has its perks.

The bouquet he gave you was exactly the type that you used to mock in high school when the popular girls would flaunt their dozens of roses on social media. Over-the-top, showy, just plain vulgar in its excessiveness. How many were there? A hundred? At least. 

You absolutely loved it.

You loved the note attached even more. 

"Apologies for my silence. Had urgent matters to attend to. I promise to make amends and cannot wait to see you again -R."

Oh, and a box of Ladurée macarons which you never tried but you couldn't take your eyes off of them through the window of the shop! 

As if on cue, an incoming call lit up your phone screen. No Caller ID. You clutched the bouquet tighter and hurriedly answered.

“Thank you so much”, you said, momentarily hating the simpering, saccharine voice you adopted. “What a coincidence, just received your flowers”.

"It's hardly a coincidence," Raphael replied calmly. "They sent me an email notification."

You let out a small laugh at the mention of the "e-mail". It seemed like Raphael was still playing the “no, no, it’s not me Raphael the cambion, I just look like him” game. Whatever the hell for?

"You've had my home address this whole time, haven't you, Raphael?" you asked. "Why did you ask then?"

There was a moment of tense silence on the other end of the line, and you could sense Raphael's anger without even seeing him. 

One wrong sentence and everything could shift between the two of you in a split second. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he responded with firmness in his tone:

"It’s one thing you didn’t ask for my name - which I found impolite, but I can forgive a beautiful woman many things. Calling me another man’s name? That's something I will not tolerate."

You blinked in confusion as you read the note in your hand: "I cannot wait to see you again. -R".

"I'm sorry," you stammered, "Your note..."

He laughed. Soft, charming laugh of a rich and successful man perfectly content with his life. 

"Raul, at your service. Raul d'Avergni, if you're interested in doing some research in your free time."

"Raul?", you asked. It was not an ugly name, but it was foreign, mundane and not diabolical enough for your taste. It made you think of a Spanish soap opera, not of Avernus.

"That's right," he replied calmly. "Italian, in case you were wondering. From west of Pozzuoli. Not exactly a place you would be familiar with."

You couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the comment, even though you indeed had no clue where Pozzuoli was.

"Oh," you replied. "I hadn't noticed an accent."

"I would hope not, considering how much my father spent sending me to Eton," Raphael (you won’t call him otherwise, no) joked, although his voice tensed up at the mention of his father. 

Great, now Mephistopheles is here too? Did you accidentally invite all of Hells?

"I will be there by eight to collect you," he said very matter—of—factly.

You checked your Apple Watch and saw that it was only an hour away.

"Tonight?" you inquired.

"Do you have any other arrangements?" 

No, of course not. I've been waiting for your call this whole time, you wanted to make a joke before you realised it was no joke and therefore not really funny.

"No... none," you admitted. "Where are we headed tonight? Should I dress up?"

Or it wouldn’t matter because I would end up in a garbage bag and a “missing” poster?

You could hear him smile on the other end of the phone.

"You definitely should dress up," he said, his tone flirtatious again. "We are heading somewhere special. It might be a little unconventional for common taste, but I assure you, you'll love it. See you very soon."

He hung up before you could ask for more details on what kind of unconventional thing he had in mind. As you tried to calculate your chances of survival for this unconventional event and what exactly was considered unconventional by infernal standards, the odds seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

Would they even find your body?

It suddenly struck you that 'Raul' never bothered to explain how he knew where you lived, and you still didn't have his phone number to call him back. This realisation prompted you to do something you hadn't done since childhood: call your mum twice in one day.

The only person you could trust to hunt down a devil.

"Mum? I have plans tonight. I'm going out with a man named Raul de… de… oh, God, Avergni or something. Yes, write down his name and look him up on Google. If I don't call you until tomorrow..."

"What do you mean by tomorrow?" your mother interrupted sharply. "Are you planning on spending the night with him?"

You were hoping to spend the night with him!

"I'm twenty-seven, Mum."

“Anya, you know better than to sleep with a man on the first date. Men are hunters, and if you give in too easily, they will lose interest. Trust me, I've been through it all before…”

You clench your jaw as she continues to lecture you on how to catch, tame, and keep a man.

"Mum?" you interject.

"Yes?"

"Did it work with my father?”

Your mother let out an exasperated sigh and switched to her "I have the worst daughter in the world" voice.

"I hope you have a nice evening, but please remember to call me when you get home TONIGHT."

As you showered, dressed, moisturised your face and hands and tried to style your hair, you couldn't help but think of Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic. After all, she looked good dead, so you should too.

The marks of your own fingertips were still visible on your neck. You quickly covered them with concealer and briefly recalled a distant memory of cutting yourself as a teenager.

Why had you cut yourself? The reason was foggy in your mind, as was the pain, but you remembered the bitterness and loneliness. You didn't want to die, but you wanted something else - something you didn't have, or someone who could give it to you.

Being suicidal must be a package deal with being crazy. 

Your phone buzzed. The thing with your mother, she gets distracted too easily to remain offended for long. And you provided her with excellent food for distraction.

is he the managing partner of the law firm?

oh my god

ANYA, THE KING OF PENTACLES.

they write “not married” on the website, god bless

he must have so much money, Anya, so much money.

so handsome

no offence love but how on earth did you manage it

(ah that’s why you were cutting yourself)

we can live with him being Italian, I think.

at least he is Catholic.

please wear black, it suits your figure.

remember POSITIVE thinking.

(Laura Palmer wrapped in plastic)

send me a picture when you are ready. OK? love

wear a cross too 

A cross? You let out a laugh. Unlike your mother, you were consistent in your beliefs. Catholic school was the perfect environment for raising atheists. Ever since you were a teenager, you had been against that rotten, bloody institution, full of pedos, crooks and who knows what else. 

If this was God's team, then you proudly allied yourself with the devil.

As you ranted internally against the church, you suddenly remembered that you now had some freshly made solo porn on your phone that needed to be deleted immediately. 

Not before you give it a little watch.

You wish you hadn't, you thought as it started to play. A high-quality video of you choking in front of a black screen, your hands clutching your throat with a fervour you didn't even know you possessed. A reflection of your face on the laptop: possessed, sickly, rapt. Moans escaping your lips as you pant, hands roaming all over your body, little tremors of excitement... at nothing.

A black screen.

You immediately deleted the video from your phone. If it proved anything, it was that you were gone. Far gone. Off the deep end. The way you moaned, salivating at the mouth, Christ almighty (Christ had nothing to do with it)...

Knock-knock.

Well, that was Raphael. You could tell by the simple knock. It was soft and polite, modest yet assertive; but he wouldn't wait long for you to open the door, so you had to be quick.

Knock-knock.

Your gaze drifted to the ornate golden cross, the crucifix in the centre; suffering, redemption, salvation, deliverance from evil and all the shit you did not believe in. 

In fact, you didn't believe in devils either. 

Besides, a cross won't help against the devils of Baator.

Then again, it wouldn't hurt.

Next: Chapter 4, In Which You Attend A Very Special Event

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 15

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Raphael continues showing Tav his true colors. The 24 hours are coming to an end and Tav must soon make a hard decision, that only seems to grow more and more difficult, the more she learns.

(AN: You are in for a ride, my dudes. Also, I think we have two chapters left until this whole thing is wrapped up. Read the full notes on AO3 for more info)

WARNINGS: Gore, Blood, Abusive Behaviour, Mention of Death, Mention of Child Abuse, Mention of Child Death, Mention of Domestic Abuse, Torture

Raphael woke her up way too early for her liking. He let her eat breakfast before they went anywhere. She was quiet while she ate, trying to wake up and keep her eyes open, much to Raphael’s amusement. He had the servants bring her a strong cup of tea, which did help a little.

“Can you reveal what we are doing today?” she asked and sipped the tea. “Or is it going to be some kind of horrible surprise?”

“I can reveal what we are doing in a moment,” he said. “Though I will ask you to remember our agreement when I tell you. If you interfere, you will be sent back to Baldur’s Gate.”

She looked at him over the cup with tired eyes.

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” she sighed. “But fine…”

“We will meet a potential client of mine. Unlike the woman you met yesterday, this man is a noble, though he is just as desperate for my help.”

The mention of the woman they met the day before made her stomach churn. She would most likely already be dead. Her children would soon find her lifeless body in her bed and their lives would change forever. Tav had to push the thought aside. Though she was an adult when it happened, she clearly remembered the day that she became an orphan herself. It hurt too much to think about.

Raphael continued explaining.

“He is a lord who has lost his wife and his only heir. The other noble houses of Athkatla refuse to marry any of their daughters to him. Without a new wife and an heir, his house will perish.”

Tav nodded.

“There is some awful detail that I’m missing, I’m sure of it,” Tav said and narrowed her eyes at him.

“It is said that Lord Ophal beat his former young wife to death in a fit of rage,” Raphael explained with a smirk. “The same fate befell his son shortly after, who was only ten years old at the time. It is said the child cried after the death of its mother, as children do. Lord Ophal beat him regularly and had healers on hand for that reason, but it seems that he went one step too far due to his irritation at the child’s crying. Or so the rumors say.”

Tav’s jaw fell, and it felt as if she had been stabbed in the heart.

“And what will your role in all of this be?” she asked quietly, though she had already guessed the answer.

“To procure him a new wife, of course,” he answered casually. “I happen to know a few of the noble families in Athkatla, and if he does sign, I will pull a few strings to ensure that one of those families will happily hand over their young daughter to him.”

Tav was staring at the table in front of her with an empty stare.

“This is too personal to be a coincidence, Raphael,” she muttered. “Are you really so eager to get rid of me that you will make me watch as you help a bastard that is just like my father? He won’t stop. He’ll do the same to his new wife and children.”

“Indeed, he will,” he answered with a chuckle at her naïve statement. “But he won’t do so before he has handed me his soul, which is all that matters, really. I am not eager to get rid of you, I am simply showing you the reality of what I do and who I am.”

Tav went quiet again. She shook her head and breathed deeply.

“Will he suffer?” she asked. “When he dies, I mean.”

“Of course.”

She nodded. In a way it did not matter. This would have happened even if she was not there. It did not make it easier in any way and a part of her did hate Raphael for it in that moment. On the other hand, by Raphael doing this, the man would face certain suffering in his afterlife. A fate that might not be ensured if he did not sign the deal. Men like him deserved to suffer.

“Shall we go?” he asked and held out a hand to her.

She reluctantly took it.

They appeared in a large ornate room with a big table in the middle. At the end of it sat a heavyset man with a red face, stuffing his face with food the way that only people who have never lacked it do. He stopped chewing only for a moment to look up at Raphael and her. His eyes lingered at her.

“Lord Ophal,” Raphael greeted with a charming smile. “This is a business associate of mine. Please do not mind her.”

“Raphael,” the man greeted back. “Business associate, eh?”

The man licked his greasy lips as he looked her up and down. Raphael’s grip tightened around her waist.

“Good for you, devil,” Lord Ophal said with a laugh. “She is rather pretty, I suppose. Except for those scars on her face. Play a little rough with her, eh? I don’t blame you. The pretty ones are always the mouthiest.”

Tav took the deepest breath of her life to not throw a fireball at his face. She also knew that despite Raphael’s outward appearance of calm, he did not take kindly to the comment. She could feel it in the way his breathing changed and the way his grip tightened even more around her.

“I would advise you to remember who you are speaking to,” Raphael said with eerie calmness. “Let us focus on business.”

“Apologies Saer,” the man grunted and continued stuffing his face. “Did you find me a new wife?”

“There are a few potential candidates, to go through,” Raphael answered and sat down beside him.

The two men talked for a while. Her dislike for Lord Ophal only grew with the way he was talking about those young women as if they were objects for his amusement. It took everything for her to bite her tongue, and especially at the hungry looks the lord looked at her with every now and again.

In the end, the lord decided to sign the deal. Raphael was smiling like the cat that got the cream as he did.

“And from the moment that you are a married man, our deal is in effect,” Raphael explained.

“You are invited to the ceremony if you have the time, Saer,” Lord Ophal said with a bright smile. “You can bring your little woman there too, if you please.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my lord Saer,” Raphael said and smiled widely.

Lord Ophal might not have detected the hint of a threat in his voice, but Tav did.

He snapped and they were back at the House of Hope.

“My apologies,” Raphael said, he was still calm but there were anger and disgust hiding just beneath the surface. “Had I known that the imbecile would disrespect you and I in such a manner, I would not have brought you. I will remember this little show of disrespect once I get my hands on his soul.”

Tav knew better than to speak to him when he was in a mood like that. The line was drawn at personal insults…not child murder, or wife killing, apparently. She sat down as she waited for the storm to pass. She thought as she watched him.

Raphael was enabling murderers and abusers, and that was still difficult to feel at peace with. On the other hand, they would also one day get what was coming to them, delivered to them in tenfold. The problem was that such was also the fate of desperate innocents, such as the mother she had met the day before.

There was a part of her that had a difficult time blaming Raphael alone though. These people had all made a choice. A horrible and unfair choice, but a choice regardless. Raphael had never forced anyone, and as he had said the day before: if he did not help them, then who would? Tav was not sure what to think.

Raphael eventually calmed down, though she could still feel that he was irritated. He took her hand to lead her somewhere. When she realized that he was leading her to the hatch that led down into Hope’s old cell, her blood ran cold. They were going to visit Cassius...

The room was dark and damp. She could only see the faint outline of something hanging in the middle of the room. Raphael led her by the hand to a chair. He sat down first and wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her to his lap. He ran his hand up and down her side in a comforting manner, though nothing about it was comforting. She felt like a lamb being calmed before slaughter.

When he lit up the room with a snap, the hand held her in a grip so that she could not run. She did feel like running when she saw him. Cassius was suspended in air by his Infernal chains. In contrary to when they saved Hope, the injuries that he had inflicted on Cassius were very apparent.

The chains had ripped up his arms, as it looked like he had been struggling to get free. There were wounds underneath the chains that flies buzzed around, eating at the dark rotten-looking flesh. He stared emptily at nothing in particular with his wide eyes. His mouth was open, but no screams came out, just wheezing. Blood was dripping in a steady stream from his mouth.

It was a horrifying sight. She instinctively looked away.

“You see, right here,” Raphael said calmly and put his free hand on her throat to feel for where her vocal cords would be. “When you speak, your vocal cords constrict to form sounds. Cassius’s are currently pried open by a very small and very sharp device. He is also experiencing his worst nightmares over and over again in his mind, more vividly than ever, while he cannot scream without injuring himself.”

Tav’s breathing had gotten faster, and she looked at Raphael’s face.

“I don’t want to see this,” she said quietly.

“But you will,” he answered with a smile. “We had a deal, did we not? Do you feel sorry for him? The man that almost got your friends and you killed.”

Tav didn’t answer. She could still hear Cassius’s wheezing breaths and she did not dare to look at his dead and empty stare again.

“I suppose feeling some sympathy is only natural,” Raphael mused. “You and him do have one thing in common, after all…”

Raphael put a hand behind her head and turned it to look at Cassius. She tried to turn away, but his grip did not allow it.

“Stop…please,” she pleaded.

Something was going on in Cassius’s mind that made him squirm in his chains. She saw him trying to pull his arms to himself and escape. She saw the flesh of his right arm rip as he pulled, and the bone was exposed underneath. His eyes were panicked, and the blood flowed faster from his mouth as he tried to scream. She closed her eyes.

“Open your eyes, or I will send you back,” Raphael said and placed his chin on her shoulder as he kept her close to him in his grip.

She had started to tear up, but she did as she was told.

“Good girl,” Raphael said. “As I said, the two of you have one thing in common. Cassius loved me too, the naïve boy. Were it not for his jealousy, none of us would be here at this moment.”

She could not tear her eyes from the way his arms were tearing at the chains. She could not imagine the level of fear one would have to experience to do so much damage to one’s own body just to escape.

“I humored him of course. He was a decent replacement for Haarlep for a while and I found his puppylike infatuation with me somewhat endearing. His main mistake was not getting out of the way once my interest in him faltered.”

Tav yelped as Cassius pulled one of his arms free. His hand fell to the floor, mostly degloved and only a stump of bone was left where his hand had been. He was choking on his own blood as he tried to scream, with the same empty panicked look in his eyes.

“He was stubborn, naïve, and so certain that if he only tried hard enough, he could make me love him back. A foolish endeavor, really.”

There was a flash of magic, and Cassius was back in his chains, healed and put together just enough that he would not die. Tav looked on in horror.

“Please stop—"

“Though you know all about foolish endeavors, don’t you, my sweet?” Raphael continued, ignoring her pleas. “The two of you are the same. The only difference is that I do love you, in my way, and I never cared much for poor Cassius. However, who can say for how long? My interests are ever fleeting and even when I might change my mind someday, you will still be mine.”

Tav began struggling against Raphael’s grip and there was no doubt that he could feel it. Instead of letting her go he simply tightened his grip and kissed her neck and shoulders lazily.

“You can ask Cassius how much loving me is truly worth then,” he whispered cruelly in her ear.

“Please…let this be over.”

Tav had seen many horrible things throughout her adventure, but never so up close and never had she been so unable to do anything about it. It was also different because it was someone, she knew who was getting tortured. She didn’t like Cassius, but he never deserved this. No one did.

“It will be over soon,” he said and rubbed the part of her neck that he was holding in a soothing motion. “Though I think it would only be fair that Cassius greets his guest himself.”

Raphael snapped and Cassius seemed to leave the trance he was in. His body went slack in relief. His head fell and his chin rested on his chest. He finally closed his eyes for a moment. He was breathing more normally now, and a whine left his lips, so Tav gathered that the device between his vocal cords had been removed.

“Look who came to see you,” Raphael called out to him. “A familiar face that isn’t mine for once.”

He flinched at Raphael’s voice. He slowly looked up. His expression reminded her of a scared animal that is expecting to get a beating. When his yellow eyes finally locked unto hers, they turned from fear to pure unadulterated hatred.

“You,” he said in a barely audible hoarse voice. “Of course it’s fucking you.”

Tav hesitantly opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off.

“This is your fault…” he said with anger, his hoarse voice cracking. “You ruined my life…”

He was not wrong, though Tav had no other choice when it happened. She had handed the blame to him when Raphael had come home and confronted her and her friends. Cassius was to blame, but if she had known this would happen to him, she might have…

She wouldn’t have. She knew that was the truth. Had it happened now she would have done the same thing, though she loathed to admit it. She still felt pity and guilt when she looked at him.

He was just a young man, perhaps a few years younger than herself. The fool had had been in love with his patron, and he had done stupid things because of it. If that wasn’t something she could sympathize with, then what was?

“I’m…” Tav began. She knew there was no way any words could make up for it. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassius narrowed his tearful eyes at her in disgust. Raphael chuckled behind her.

“Are you now?” Raphael said. “Are you truly sorry that you saved your friends? Would you rather that it be you in his place?”

“I’m sorry about what you have done to him. I didn’t want this,” she said quietly. “You would not have treated me this way. Don’t act like you would.”

“No? Perhaps not,” Raphael purred in her ear. “Though I think you would be surprised the lengths I would go to when someone hurts my feelings. Did you think that it did not anger me that you wanted to leave? After everything I did for you. I was furious. I burned down half of the house in rage after you left.”

Tav had heard that from Korrilla too.

“I took out my frustrations on poor Cassius after. What he had done was no doubt stupid, but had the circumstances been different, I would not have punished him as severely as I have. Mistakes happen. The poor boy only tried to help, after all…I think I must have brought him back from the brink of death and healed him over a hundred times that night you left…”

Cassius was listening to what he was saying too. He was thrashing against his chains while he looked at Tav like a man with murder on his mind. There was nothing but hatred in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you if I ever get the chance,” Cassius said with gritted teeth. “I’LL KILL YOU LIKE I SHOULD HAVE DONE THE FIRST TIME YOU—”

Raphael snapped his fingers and Cassius went quiet and limp against his chains. Raphael finally let go of his grip around the back of her neck. She looked away immediately. She was shaking in his arms. When she looked up at him, she could see that he was enjoying the whole situation.

She was quiet. She had nothing to say to him. The whole room had turned quiet after he had put Cassius to sleep. She felt an emptiness in her chest. She felt sadness and anger at how everything had turned out. Most of all she felt exhausted, emotionally and physically after what she had just experienced.

“So,” Raphael said through the sudden quietness that had fallen upon the dungeon and brushed away a strand of her hair. “Will you want to scurry back to Baldur’s Gate immediately, or will you want to use the last couple of hours to consider your decision before you do? I suspect that this day has at the very least made you hesitate with your firm decision of staying. Am I wrong?”

Tav felt that familiar hatred of him boiling up inside herself again. Obviously for what he did, but also for how he was acting about this whole thing. How aloof he was. How little he seemed to care about everything, when she had seen with her own two eyes that he was capable of caring. She hated how that part of him was always hidden behind all his pride, his games, his bullshit…

That hatred made her see clearly for a moment. She had a realization. That was it. She knew exactly how Raphael worked: he played games. She was going to use her hatred for all it was worth.

“No,” she said coldly and wiped her tears. She could see something in his eyes change, just as she expected. “No, you might be right. I was too naïve to see it…You are an awful person. A monster who is incapable of love…And perhaps also undeserving of it.”

He was holding his perfect façade of calmness, but she could see the slight panic in his eyes. She was going off-script.

“Perhaps it was not only me who was in the right place before I took the stupid decision to come here,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Perhaps you were as well. Rotting in the Hells, alone, as you always have been, with your only company being the shadows that you look for over your shoulder…forever waiting for the next one of your kin to try to kill you, while you grasp for some semblance of control by playing with the lives of people like Cassius and I.”

His eyes narrowed at her when she got up from his lap to walk away.

“Even if I might not be able to love you, I always will pity you, Raphael,” she said quietly. “Now, I think I’d like some privacy to think before I make my decision.”

“As you wish,” he said curtly.

His short response surprised her. She had at least expected a clever retort. She threw him one last glance before making her way out of the dungeon. She caught him swallowing hard and averting his gaze to the floor when she looked at him. She knew that her words had an effect on him, though he did everything to hide it from her. She left him there and went upstairs.

He had detected no lies in what she was saying, because all of it was truth. Perhaps it was only convenient truths, in the same way that he himself liked to deceive people, but still truths. Although all of what she had said did not necessarily mean that she did not still love him.

Her realization had been correct, and she had just proven it: he was bluffing. He did not want her to leave, but he was trying to use her stubbornness against her. He had once done the same when he tried to convince her that it would be the end of the world as we knew it, if a certain orthon escaped the temple of Shar. She fell for it back then, but she would not fall for it now.

Raphael was not a stupid man by any means, but he was awfully predictable once someone had learned all his tricks. He wanted to show her the worst version of himself and then have the cruel victory of her still choosing him despite of it.

She truly was not sure what to do after everything she had seen, but she would be damned if her decision was going to be dependent on what he wanted her to do.

It would be her choice in the end, no matter what.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

✧*̥˚ my muses, acquired like bruises *̥˚✧

a collection of my fics inspired by taylor swift songs/lyrics, in honor of the release of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

JOEL MILLER

cruel summer | au | explicit | chapters: 6/6

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise. He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

↳AO3 | Tumblr: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6

crimson red paint on my lips | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

Joel Miller is an asshole. You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red. Connected to me and the devil and marked me like a bloodstain

↳AO3 | Tumblr

marked me like a bloodstain | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

You save Joel’s life when the two of you are attacked on a smuggling run. He has an interesting way of saying thank you. Connected to crimson red paint on my lips and me and the devil

↳Tumblr

karma is my boyfriend’s dad | au | explicit | connected work

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him? His dad, Joel Miller. And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

↳Tumblr

in a feud with her neighbor | au | explicit | connected work

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

↳Tumblr

bonus scenes: in a feud with her neighbor | au | PG-13 | connected work

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

↳Tumblr

toyin’ with them older guys | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder. But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation. Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

help me hold onto you | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel always tries his best to keep his mind from wandering to its darkest corners, but occasionally, the frayed threads holding him together with sloppy stitches start to unravel. Sometimes you need to give him something to hold onto.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

seven | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has spent twenty years pushing the grief and guilt surrounding the death of his daughter, Sarah, to the darkest recesses of his brain in favor of survival. Living a more quiet life in Jackson means the ghosts of his past have returned to haunt him. He finds his solace in you, the town librarian.

↳Tumblr

the last great american dynasty | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up. He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream.

↳Tumblr | AO3

TOMMY MILLER

wrong place, right time | pre-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

What if Joel didn’t answer Tommy’s call from jail? And what if the waitress he’d been defending that night bailed him out instead?

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JAVIER PEÑA

i can see you (javier peña's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

When Javier Peña takes credit for your lead, you take revenge. Good thing you know Javier can't resist a girl in red lipstick.

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FRANKIE MORALES

my tears and my beers and my candles | au | explicit | one-shot

It’s been a bad week and you just need to have a good cry. You didn’t expect Frankie Morales, best friend and unrequited crush, to crash your pity party. He’s got some interesting ways of making you feel better. Maybe it’s not so unrequited after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

invisible string | au | explicit | one-shot

After fifteen years, the invisible string that ties you to Frankie Morales pulls you back together

↳Tumblr

MIGUEL O'HARA

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man. But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

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EDDIE MUNSON

the mark you saw on my collarbone | vampire au | explicit | connected work

A snippet of life with your human and your monster. A oneshot in the bat out of hell series

↳AO3

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 5

He seemed distant all day, and you didn't know why. “Hey, Lucifer, what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself.” He had been looking out a window at the city, it seemed more on fire than usual.

 

“Hm? Oh, nothing nothing, everything's fine!” He tried to smile at you, but it felt fake.

 

“Does it have to do with whatever that ‘extermination’ thing was last week? What even was that? And why couldn't I visit?”

 

“Wait, you… you don't know about the exterminations?” He was shocked. “The yearly massacre heaven conducts on Hell.”

 

“The what?!” You look shocked and horrified. “No, no one's ever said anything about that!”

 

“Oh fuck. So they just keep all the rest of you in the dark when Adam runs his little slaughter brigade every year?”

 

“Adam runs it?! Oh God, that makes so much sense. That fucking dickbag. I've got to tell everyone! They have to know what he's been doing!”

 

Lucifer suddenly grabs your shoulders, “whoa, whoa! Slow your roll there. That's not a good idea! You could get actually kicked out of heaven for telling anyone! Then… then you'd be stuck here with me. Forever.” His eyes filled with hurt, “I could never do that to you.”

 

You take his hands from your shoulders into yours, “What if I wanted to stay here with you?”

A blush spread across his face, “wha- Becca, I'm married, remember?”

 

“And she's been gone for seven years without a word! Is she really coming back? Besides, you need a friend you can rely on. Someone who's got your back no matter what.” You held his hands a little tighter. He sighed and squeezed back.

 

“I should push you away for your own good… while I still can. But… honestly I'm tired of being alone. So if you really want to stay as a friend , you can. I'll take responsibility for you and you can stay here in my palace.”

 

“Thank you. I'll just have to go back once more and get all my stuff. Next week, I'll move in, and our weekly hangouts can be daily.” You smile and he can't help but smile back, 

 

“yeah, that sounds… that sounds nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone rang and he pulled away, “augh, that ringtone.. sorry this one's important. Work stuff.” He looked at his phone contact and grimaced at it. “Hooo, okay… you can do this, just the biggest idiot you've ever met, and your eternal beloath-ed.” He took a deep breath and answered the call. “Adam. What? You literally just finished. What could you possibly- a fucking meeting? You can't just say what your ugly- HE HUNG UP ON ME?!! THAT BITCH!!” Suddenly Lucifer grew horns and a tail, a little fire lighting above his head. You squeak and jump back a bit. His devil form was out and… you know… the more you looked at it, the less scary and the more… attractive it actually was.

 

After he was done cursing the phone, he turned and looked at you, confused by your staring till he realized his horns were out. “Ah… uh, sorry. This happens when I get too angry.” He returned to his normal form. “I didn't scare you, did I? I promise, I'd never hurt you, I'm not that kinda guy.” He held his hands out in front of himself, pleading with you.

 

You shook off the shock and stepped closer, taking one of his hands. “No, no, I'm fine. I just… that form looks really nice.” You're blushing, you can feel it. And he sees it too.

 

“Oh! Oh. A heh… Well, thank you for thinking I look nice! That's a nice ego boost coming from someone as pretty as you.” He then realized he said that out loud! “I mean I um, hey excuse me a minute while i call my daughter!” He then ran off to hide from you in the palace.

You roll your eyes, well, at least he thinks you're pretty. That's a good first step. Probably the most important step will be getting him to accept Lilith's not coming back… but that would be a hard one. Ten thousand years they were together for… just taking 7 years apart for a break was a drop in the bucket for that long of a marriage. 

 

Regardless, the next step was to move in and act naturally. Get him comfortable around you, enough to introduce you to his daughter. That was something you only do when fully committed to keeping someone in your life. Plus, maybe Charlie will help with the “get over lilith” campaign you were going to eventually need to run.

You decide to wander the palace and see if you could find where Lucifer had disappeared to.

 

It took an hour before you found him curled up in his bed.

“Lucifer? What's wrong?”

“I- I'm a bad father…” He was trying not to sob, tears in his eyes as his head peeked out from a burrito of blankets.

 

“Hey now, what makes you say that?” You walk over and sit on the edge of his bed.

 

“I called her and asked her to talk to Adam for me! I can't even take care of my own shit!” You sigh and lay next to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh you silly burrito… there, there.” You pull the blankets back enough to free his hair and play with it. Eventually the waterworks stop and he starts to calm down, looking sleepy. You can't help but giggle a little, “Uh oh, is it nap time for hell's king? Come on, let's get you back up on the pillows at least.” You adjust him back up with ease and get him comfy before draping one of your own wings over him. He actually starts purring as his eyes close.

 

“Hm… you'd make a great mother.” He said sleepily, and your eyes tear up. You can't help it, and you keep playing with his hair. 

 

“Thank you… I tried very hard in life.” His eyes open back up, and he looks at you in a moment of wonder and curiosity, but decides not to bring up something that might cause you more pain. You two just enjoy a peaceful moment in each others company till you both fall asleep. 

[radiaurapple]

Lucid Dreams of New Orleans: Chapter 8

CHAPTER SUMMARY: IN WHICH Alastor goes for a swim.

The last time Lucifer saw his father, he was granted a fragment of His divine power — a punishment in the guise of a blessing — that he might serve as steward of the wayward souls cast down into Hell. It is a cruel gift, designed to ensure that he will always be haunted by his mistakes; Lucifer has endured the past seven thousand years by avoiding its use at all costs. But in the aftermath of the fight with Adam, Alastor’s worsening injury threatens the foundations of his daughter’s dream. Lucifer does what any good father would do: he uses his long-forgotten power to deliver Alastor’s soul from the brink of destruction. In turn, knowing Alastor — with all his sins, past lives, and heartbreaks — teaches Lucifer a little more about what it means to be human.

[AO3 LINK]

Another Saturday means another chapter + another promo art attempt!!! it's human Alastor and Lucifer on the subway!! Next chapter coming next Saturday, chapter preview below! 📻🍎

Alastor returns the next three nights. Lucifer brings him first to Victorian-era London, where they explore the rainy streets under a conjured umbrella. The following night they visit a speakeasy in Chicago — the next they spend wandering the streets of modern Tokyo. 

It is nothing like those nights, so many years ago now, when Lucifer would seek out Lilith’s warmth on the other side of the bed. When he and Lilith touched, they almost always ended up somewhere sleepy and serene — a meadow in the midst of Eden’s enormous, ancient trees, or a breezy morning on the deserted Mongolian steppe, in one of Lucifer’s memories of the age before humans spread across the Earth. Perhaps it had reflected a love built more on companionship than actual desire — the love that would bind any two souls alone at the desolate edge of the world. The love that hadn’t been strong enough, in the end, to hold them together — that had instead flickered out over the years into a warm but lonely friendship. 

This is different. 

The doors of the F train slide shut and the train lurches into motion — Lucifer glares up at Alastor, both of them gripping the pole in the center of the car. 

They’re in New York in 2019. Alastor’s visit today was an unexpected surprise on a lazy morning with no meetings and nothing to do; they’d arrived here just before sunset and spent a while exploring the Lower East Side before they hopped on the train at 2nd Avenue.

“You are fucking unbelievable,” Lucifer says, too loud — a father seated between his two children casts him an affronted glance over the top of his phone. Lucifer continues at a whisper: “How the Hell can you be so sure this is a downtown train? You’ve never even been to New York.”

“I can be sure because I have made use of an advanced technique known as observation of our surroundings. I highly recommend it.”

“Okay, well, you’re wrong. I’m getting off at the next stop. Asshole.” 

“This is a downtown train,” says a voice behind him, not unkindly — Lucifer turns around to find an elderly woman watching them, leaning her forearms against a cart of groceries. She inclines her head above her, at the monitor that lists the upcoming stops. “See? It’s going to Brooklyn.” 

“Oh,” Lucifer says. 

He shifts his weight on his feet as the train slows to a stop. The doors slide open; Lucifer stares out at the pillar reading Delancey/Essex and fights a losing battle against the flush rising on his face. After what feels like an eternity, the doors close again and the train accelerates out of the station.

“This is my first time in New York,” Lucifer says to the woman, as if it will in any way improve this situation. The woman glances up at him again and offers him a smile, but says nothing.

“No, it isn’t,” Alastor says behind him. “He’s been here many times before. He is the Devil, nearly as old as time itself — unfortunately he is notoriously absent-minded and plagued by the regrettable belief that he is always correct.”

The woman blinks at Alastor. The silence is broken by the deafening screech of the train’s brakes as it slows; the doors slide open before an enormous sign that reads East Broadway. 

“Ah — this is our stop. Thank you for your assistance,” Alastor says. He steps fluidly off the train and turns down the platform, toward the exit.

Lucifer stares after him in shock for a long moment, then jolts forward. “Hey!” He trips off the train, quickly rights himself — “You can’t just tell people I’m the Devil!” 

Alastor’s laughter echoes down the platform like music. 

[AO3 LINK]

[morganeactually]

The witch trial themes in Florence and the Machine's music

Hi everyone,

As requested, my week's post is about my research pre-project focusing on the witch trial themes in Florence and the Machine's music. Florence and the Machine is an English indie rock band formed by the vocalist Florence Welch. I discovered this band thanks to their debut album Lungs. While listening to their songs, I noticed that they tend to incorporate witchcraft symbols, supernatural and mystical elements, and a narrative of accusation and persecution echoing the 1692 Salem Witch Trials.

The primary sources I will use to prove my point are :

the cover of their albums Lungs (2009) and Ceremonials (2011) and their notes,

their songs "Which Witch", "Seven Devils", "Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)", "Cosmic Love" and "Shake It Out",

the music video of "Shake It Out",

their live performance of "Which Witch" during their How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful Tour in Milan, in 2015,

Florence Welch's book Useless Magic.

My first secondary source is the chapters of Keith Negus’s book Popular Music in Theory, dealing with :

Histories: to show how the historical context of the 1692 Salem Witch Trials has inspired some Florence and the Machine’s songs.

Identities: to examine how the misogynistic accusations of being a witch had consequences on women’s identities.

Mediations: to explore how the witch trial themes are portrayed through clip and album cover aesthetics, lyrics resembling spells, choreographies, entrancing vocal performances, etc.

Politics: the themes of oppression, power and resistance resonate with feminist movements and contemporary discussions about gender, justice and authority.

My other secondary sources are :

The article "Florence Welch Started a Witch Coven and Nobody Knew About It - VICE" explaining how her interest in magic and mystical practices which began in middle school has found expression in her music and stage presence. Her personal experiences such as her readings of Greek mythology and her visits to historical church have significantly shaped her artistic vision. The article also illustrates how Florence Welch's engagement with these themes is not only a stage persona but a real part of her identity.

Smithsonian's article "A Brief History of the Salem Witch Trials" exploring the various social and cultural factors, including xenophobia, religious extremism and social tensions, that contributed to the Salem witch trials. It emphasizes the role of displaced refugees and the strain they place on Salem's resources but also the influence of the accusations of Reverend Samuel Parris's daughter and niece which led to the trials. Thus, these events became emblematic of paranoia and injustice in society.

The article "They weren’t witches; they were women: The witch-hunts and their repercussions" - Open Access Government examining the historical feminicide during witch-hunts and its consequences on women's identities and societal roles today. It highlights how women were disproportionately targeted because of unfounded rumors, superstitions and personal grudges. The article discusses the reinforcement of patriarchal beliefs that women were inferior and should not have access to power or authority through witch trials.

https://www.jstor.org/stable/25096805

The article "Examination of the Records of the Salem Witch Trials" by Margo Burns and Bernard Rosenthal provides a detailed analysis of the legal records from the 1692 to 1693 witchcraft prosecutions in Massachusetts. By highlighting the roles of various individuals involved in recording the trials, the article indirectly shows the social dynamic and hierarchies within the community. This detailed examination whose primary focus is on the records' accuracy includes personal records which can help understand the impact on individuals involved in the trials.

Thanks to these sources, I will confront myths and superstitions with reality.

Feel free to share your thoughts on my research pre-project and let me know if you are also a fan of Florence and the Machine.

[sparkbeast20]

My thoughts of Chapter One: Pt 1 (1-2 and 1-3)

I decide to not include the prologue, since we have that in the official YT in PrettyBusy.

1-2 "The Death of Belial...?" aka what the fuck is this title XD

The story start with us opening our eyes and seeing Sitri and Ppyong kneel

Goddamn!!! Look at that arm- *Cough*

I like that MC was really awe at Sitri and it took Ppyong greeting Satan to snap MC out of it

Now, I was so happy that Ppyong isn't one of those annoying characters. He manage to be right spot of being cute and smart... More that later.

So, of you unlock part 1 of Naberius' comic and part 2 or 3 Leraye's comic. It has said that Ppyong and devils like him are lesser devil.

It finally sink in to MC that Satan is what he said.

And that where MC and Satan is right now is Gehenna

Now, I want to talk about this. So Ppyong only mention the four region and not all seven, which made me wonder why?

I wanted to counter this with, "well technically we do have called hell all does names, is just within different languages XD"

Again... why not mention the other three region?

Also, through out the story you'll see that all these devils are bias for their home region. I see this as like a sports fan screaming their home team XD

Tho, this makes me wonder about characters that weren't originally from the region they are currently staying at. Like Buer and Bathin.

Bathin was originally from Paradise Lost and Buer was from Tartaros.

I think that they'll show more loyalty to the kings instead of the region.

What makes it sad that Bathin's Homescreen dialog.

Next, Satan asked the two where is Belial.

It ends with Sitri telling Satan that he and Belial was ambushed by angels. And both Satan and Sitri think that Belial is dead...

1-3 "Sitri's kiss"

So... Satan is dumb

Hell, Ppyong is the smart one here

But... Sitri is a yes man

And Ppyong is so done with them

This made me love Ppyong, while he can be loyal to Satan, and the nobles, he has his own thoughts.

After this, Ppyong ask who we are.

After getting a little nervous with all eyes on you, Satan answered

This is really important later, that Satan mention our name first rather calling us Son/Daughter of Solomon.

Then, he show Sitri and Ppyong the brand

After getting some... thoughts about Satan and our situation, Satan notice and tease us

Sir, stop!! I'm getting hot and flustered 😳

Then Sitri and Ppyong saw and reacted shock upon seeing the brand

Satan made sure to mention that it was a Seraphim that branded us.

Which... After seeing the other two Seraphim in the event, yet... It's a good idea to mention that its a Seraphim that did this.

Sitri is in disgust upon hearing it and start grinding his teeth like Satan, which is rare. He is mostly calm... Passive aggressive, but calm.

Then he asked why did a Seraph brand us.

As soon as he mention Solomon, Sitri was suddenly happy to the point he was in tears.

He rushed towards us and kissed us either on the lips or cheek it wasn't clear, it only describe the feeling of the kiss.

There was a moment where Sitri was crying and MC can either pushed him away (Who would do that!?!?) Or wipe away his tears.

Then Satan kicked him and yelled

Now, here's my hot take. I think that Sitri didn't do this with Solomon like what he did here with MC, and people would like to bring up that Satan kissed Solomon in that one comic. But that wasn't Satan.

The clothing is different and the horns are different, and this devil is wearing a earring, plus Satan's eye brows are red not the same hair color.

I do see Satan and the others kissed Solomon on the cheek when greeting him, but people saying this is Satan is wrong.

And the story ends with Ppyong asking Sitri why he kissed MC and he's responds is.

Now... I could admit that maybe Sitri did have feelings for Solomon, but I see that as a one sided love turned into (unrequired love) thing and he knew that he is just happy that he can see Solomon.

Tho that's all speculation. And seeing that this is a Otome game, I'm not holding my breath.

However, I'm hoping on a Sitri arc where he stops calling MC as Solomon when he can finally move one. Maybe in the future.

That's where I end this post (More so I'm limited with 30 pics XD)

[featheredclover]

Orphic

Epilogue

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Seven>

A burst of champagne bubbled out, glinting against the shine of the beautiful chandelier. That shine still dimmed against the glow Khushi was brimming with.

Her hand firmly ensconced in his, she looked at the happy faces across the hall and let out a sigh of relief.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I am glad we had a small engagement party “

He smiled.

“Yes well, Garima aunty agreed to let go for now. But the wedding is going to have all of Lucknow and Delhi and some more.”

She groaned, “Just when I thought I had to deal with less people! “

“Less people?”

Khushi jumped as her mother joined them.

“My only daughter is getting married. It will be a wedding Lucknow couldn’t have dreamt of witnessing!”

“Of course aunty. Anything you wish”, Arnav said with an endearing wink.

“Traitor”, she muttered under her breath.

And one look at his smug face, she knew he had heard her.

“Come Khushi, you have to greet some of our friends” 

And with that she was stirred across the hall.

—————

“K! This house is massive!”

She smiled at Preetika.

“I don’t even know when Arnav bought it!”

Payal laughed, “Engagement present from Junior Raizada hah?”

“I guess”

“Ladies” Noah greeted them, placing a kiss on Preetika’s blushing cheeks.

With raised eyebrows, the girls coughed away, sharing a meaningful look.

Khushi saw Akash saunter up to them with flutes of champagne held precariously in his hands.

Preeto, not letting the spotlight rest on her, said “So, Akash you have been dating Payal for three years and here Arnav is on the way to be hitched after just a few days! Where is the ring, man?”

“Preeto” Payal warned her with a sharp glance.

To their surprise, Akash instead of his ever ready practical response flushed and took a clumsy sip from his glass.

“Here comes the man of the hour” Noah announced.

“Hello” Arnav slipped an arm around her waist, his eyes flitting over others.

“Nice house Raizada “ Preeto whistled.

“Yes Arnav, it's really beautiful. When are you giving us a tour?” 

“Thank you. Um…the house is not finished yet. Even this drawing room was done up just in time for today”

Khushi glanced up at him curiously. She also hadn't seen the rest of the house. It felt strange. To know that by the end of the year, they’ll live here as man and wife. He will belong to her.

Whirlwind romance was too tame a term to describe their tale, she thought with a secret smile.

“Come with me” his whisper flooded her senses.

“Where?” she whispered back.

He said nothing. His eyes seducing her against her sense of common propriety.

Escaping? From their own engagement party?

——————

They stood in front of a beautifully embossed door. 

“Are we going to go in or….”

“Shush” he took out a set of keys.

He picked one and opened the door, motioning for her to go in first.

She stepped in. Her gasp echoed across the room.

A beautiful oak wood table dominated the room. Shelves and shelves lined with books. The curtains in her favourite shade of green. 

And the best of all, a magnificent velvet red chair.

“You didn’t!”

“Do you like it?”

She turned around to see Arnav look around, his hands in his pocket, the firm set of his lips giving his nerves away.

She smiled and turned towards the shelves.

“You bought these?” she asked as she ran a hand along the binding of ‘ Interior designing: The Bible’.

“I had a little help from your aunt”, his eyes wide, seemingly still searching for her approval.

She walked towards the chair. She settled herself, crossed her legs and flashed him a smile.

“Khushi,” he warned.

“What? No whiskey tonight?” She giggled.

Her smile dipped for a moment, as Arnav reached for a desk behind him.

Flashing a beautiful gold whisky flask at her, he poured down a glass.

“You are indeed a devil!” 

He raised a perfect eyebrow.

“A devil?”

“Yup” she said with much glee.

“So that makes you an angel, hah?” He handed her the glass, “An angel who trapped the devil”

She took a sip, feeling the burn down her throat, warming her chest.

“It’s the other way around Arnav”

“Really?” He bent his head down to take a sip from the glass, locking his eyes with hers.

Khushi swallowed. 

Damn him

He rested his arms on the chair’s edge and took her lips in a rough kiss. He tasted of their shared whiskey and something more. Something inherently Arnav.

She melted against him, her lips moving softly against his pressure. He slowed the kiss down, taking her breath away.

Blinking, as he kissed her forehead.

“This is your new office “

“New office?”

“Yes, my gift to you. And well with your aunt's blessings.”

“You are giving me an office” she cupped his face as the implications of the gesture sank in.

Her own office 

She gasped as she was lifted off the chair into his arms.

“Arnav” she admonished as her arms winded around his neck.

“I am going to be your husband Khushi, and it’s my duty to know every little dream. Every little wish of yours”

She gave him a watery smile, her heart marvelling at the man she had fallen in love with.

Planting a soft kiss on her cheek, he mumbled into her ear, “Let’s head back before they send the CBI behind us, shall we?”

She laughed, her eyes filled with love.

“Let’s “ she said solemnly .

Arnav grinned. And she was lost once again.

The End

Thank you for reading 'Orphic'! Inspired by the era of vintage mills and boon romances, it's a story I really enjoyed writing! Let me know what you think of the story (and also any suggestions to improve my writing) !

Tagging: @arshifiesta

@hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 26: Seven Devils All Around

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: When you arrive at your apartment, you notice that the door isn't locked. You make the mistake of entering without calling the police first, and you pay dearly for your recklessness.

Warnings: ANGST, blood, violence, break-in, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: It took me a while to get this done because I just wasn't happy with it, but I finally got it done. We're starting to get knee-deep into the next angst arc, so I hope you're prepared for some tension, twists, and turns!

The view behind the windshield blurs through your tears as you navigate the streets of Dublin, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

You push your foot down on the gas. You want to go home, but you also don’t. Your apartment hasn’t felt like home in a very long time. After meeting Michael, and everything was still somewhat okay, he became your home, but even that seems like a distant feeling now. Your feelings toward him haven’t changed, of course, but the pile of shit you have to deal with keeps getting bigger, and you can’t catch up. You don’t know what to do. The helplessness adds to the pain of being in love—of worrying about the man you love and the family he was born into who seems to only want the worst for you and him—and that makes feeling at home a sheer impossibility. 

The motor of your car roars, but you keep going at a speed that might cost you your license until you pull into the dark street of your neighborhood and finally manage to park the car before you break down. 

Your sobs echo through the small space. Every hiccuped intake of oxygen rumbles in your chest, burning through every quarter of your lungs. It’s getting significantly harder to breathe. 

Leaving was a spur-of-the-moment decision that seemed right at the time. You had to leave. You were drowning, but the hand Michael offered was too far away and too high up to reach. Miles stretched between you; if you had tried swimming toward him, you would have never reached the end alive. You had to save yourself. 

Leaving was the right thing to do—at least that is what you kept telling yourself on the drive home. Now, though, you're starting to question what you were thinking, breaking apart at the seams after desperately clinging to a life buoy of paper. 

You used to be such a rational person. Perhaps it was the constant ignorance of reality—the lying to yourself and pretending all was well—that made everything easier. You became complicit with your trauma’s need to forget everything and move on because facing the truth was just too painful, and you tried telling yourself that you could barely remember most of it, anyway. The things you could remember, you swore to take care of once you had it figured out, but that was a foolish lie you concocted for the sake of your peace of mind.

After meeting Michael, reality only started seeping in again. Because his reality and your reality have both turned out to be brutal in their essence. Though after all this time of pretending and being eaten alive by the things you knew and couldn’t share—didn’t want to share, even because you knew the consequences could cause your entire life to fall apart—reality has become a weight you forgot how to carry. Now, your world is falling apart anyway, and there seems to be no way out. 

You knew this would happen, but you didn’t want to face the truth. That is the problem. And that is, you think, on you entirely. You should have been more careful, knowing your delusions would become your downfall eventually. 

And you can’t blame Michael, no matter how badly you want to. You can’t hate or degrade him, not even in your mind. He was worried, he was upset, and he was angry because he had to find out that even after trying so hard to stay on the straight and narrow, his chances of getting custody of his daughter would remain lower than the deepest parts of the ocean. He ran against an invisible clock and still lost, even after making it on time. You tried to help him, and he tried to help himself, but your attempts were futile. Now, after everything, he is scared of losing you, too. 

He gave you one condition; stay home and don’t do anything stupid. You couldn’t even do that, and the worry made his fuses blow. That’s not his fault. 

You don’t know why you did it. The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave you alone, and you acted on your feelings rather than common sense. You were angry at the world; Frank coming over and confronting you with the pictures that weigh heavy in the pocket of your jeans was merely your last straw in a game you felt like you were going to lose right this second if you didn’t do something other than sit around and wait. 

You faced your fears today and hated what you saw. You couldn’t stay, not when your lives are starting to pull you in different directions. Sticking together is a dangerous game, one you no longer know how to play without either one of you—or those around you—getting burned. You’re no good for each other, especially not now, and maybe you have never been. 

You couldn’t stay, but right now, crying alone in your car as you’re falling apart, you can’t help but wish Michael was there to hold you through the earthquake that takes you under. 

Pushing people away is your defense mechanism as much as it is Michael’s. You should never have let him this close in the first place, knowing the past you’ve been hiding from the world. You were so focused on yourself, playing down the risk behind it that you turned yourself into a fool. 

You can put a butterfly bandage on his forehead; you can love him, and you can accept the love he can give you, but none of that will fix something that has been broken from the start. None of that can fix your broken family or bring your sister back to you. 

Love, bandages, not even a nail could solve the issue you have been grappling with for years, and it won’t magically condemn your father to a lifetime of torture like the one he subjected you to. Saving yourself comes at a cost, and sometimes the leftover debt becomes too high to pay with an empty bank account. What do you do then? What do you do if you don’t have the means to pay the cost, not even to fight? 

You slam the car door, locking it with the press of a button. You’re not thinking straight, you try telling yourself, but your body has a mind of its own. 

The stairs leading up to your apartment creak under your footsteps. You take two at a time. Last-minute flights are more expensive, but you have some emergency cash stashed away in your wallet; that should be enough to pay for a flight to London. This is wrong. This is beyond reckless, and if Michael knew, he would move mountains to make sure you would never make it to the airport without opening your eyes and rethinking your decision, but it’s not rationality that drives you. 

Every time you breathe, the hourglass loses another grain of sand. Every time you move without a purpose or care, another second is wasted into oblivion. You can’t run fast enough, but you have to try. 

Hot tears continue to stream down your cheeks, staining your skin with a mixture of sweat and salt. When you finally reach your floor, you search for the right key on your chain with shaky fingers. It has to be somewhere. 

You approach the lock. When you left, you locked it. You know you did. You wrote a note in your phone, just in case you were to wonder if you turned off all appliances and locked the door on your way out. You can never be too careful. Michael’s family plays a huge part in your newfound care. It’s no secret that monsters are no longer just lurking in the dark shadows of an alleyway or under your bed. They are in your head and the people around you, and they are even part of your family—your own flesh and blood. Monsters are everywhere but in the places you expect them to be.

You insert the key, and you stop breathing. The door budges under your touch. You locked the door when you left. You closed it. All windows are shut, and one of your neighbors would have noticed if you had accidentally left one open. They would have called you about any suspicious activity because the old lady in the apartment above yours likes to watch. You’re certain you took the necessary precautions, and yet you push against the wood once, and your door opens completely. 

Your ribs are starting to hurt from how hard your heart is pounding against the sturdy bone. “What the—” you mutter under your breath. It’s a warning sign you expertly ignore.

Anyone else would have called the police at the first sign of foul play, but you can’t bring yourself to pull out your phone. If someone played with the lock, or if someone broke into your apartment, there are many things they could have taken, and you have never felt so sick to the pit of your stomach—not even when you were beaten senseless or had to confess to your father that you got a bad mark on a test, knowing he would make sure the injuries no one could see would hurt a few days longer, perhaps even scar so you could never forget what he did to you. But even without the scars, the memories are fresher than daisies on a spring morning. 

The floorboards creak. Blood rushes to your cheeks. You reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around the small bottle of pepper spray you ordered online one night after a few glasses of wine and a scary encounter with a stranger on your way home from work in the dead of winter. You clutch the small bottle so tightly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you end up spraying yourself. 

The silence is deafeningly loud. It screams into your ear. You’re met not with darkness but with a faint string of light streaming into the hallway from the direction of your living room. You should call the police, you really should, but you don’t. Instead, you breach the doorway and step inside. 

Documents line the floor like a thin carpet. Some pieces are torn while others are still held together neatly in the corners by fragile paper clips. 

You swallow. After Michael accidentally found the file in one of your drawers, you learned from your mistake and hid them somewhere they couldn’t be found. You thought you did because, between the two of you, you are the only ones aware that it even exists. You tried everything to make sure something like this wouldn’t happen. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but nothing could have prepared you for this. 

The blood freezes in your veins. Your hands run cold. Your desk is tipped over, and your couch has been ripped apart at the seams, probably by a sharp blade that cut into the fabric to check the filling inside. You don’t keep any money in the apartment, but the paper trail tells you instantly that whoever did this was not looking for valuables. 

Only a handful of people would profit from that file: those who want to hurt you, and the one person who would take it to protect himself—the Kinsellas and your father. 

Tears spring to your eyes. The fear that spreads through your body at a speed faster than lighting works as a paralytic.  Your father isn’t a criminal mastermind, but he’s ruthless and who knows what he would do if he found out what you are doing behind his back. He wouldn’t just let out all of his anger and frustration on you, he would kill you. If only he knew what you were doing, he would make sure another gravestone would be added next to Ellie’s. He is that kind of person, but not the kind of person powerful enough to orchestrate this. At least that is what you would have believed a few days ago. Now, you’re not so sure anymore what to believe.

The Devil likes to hide in plain sight.

You can only stare and pray to the heavens above that you’re just dreaming. That this isn’t real. That you’re not standing in ruins. You were so careful…

Again, the floorboards creak, but you didn’t take a step this time. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your skull burns as though someone is glaring daggers into the bone. You can feel another presence in the room, breathing down your neck. Your thumb brushes over the trigger. 

The light switch on the other end of the room cracks under the weight of a heavy fist. This is it, you think. You’re going to die. But—and even if it’s just for a moment, it still crosses your mind—maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Your ragged breaths break the silence in the sudden darkness. Without warning, a pair of strong arms wraps around you from behind. You cry out, but a gloved hand finds its way over your parted lips. The taste of the leather makes you gag. 

Fear takes over in a storm, but your mind refuses to let you curl up and die. You throw your head back, arms flailing as you scratch at his forearms. DNA is crucial, and no matter what happens, you must fight back. 

You fight back with every ounce of strength left, but it's like struggling against a force of nature. The masked man is relentless as he crushes you against the wall.

With a deafening crash, the wooden shelf next to the still-open front door topples over as he backs against it with you pressed to his sturdy chest, sending shards of glass and ceramic crashing to the ground. 

The pain explodes like a dirty bomb at the side of your skull. He smashes you against the bricks that hide behind the white wallpaper you chose not to paint over after moving here. In the darkness, you can’t see the crimson stain that forms underneath, but the shadow glistens in the moonlight. 

You hit the floor hard, the man tossing you to the floorboards. The impact pushes all the air from your lungs. You gasp, and it burns, but you can’t get the oxygen back where it needs to. 

Desperation claws at your throat as you reach out, grasping for anything to defend yourself. You are okay with dying, but not without putting up a fight. And is the easy way out really what you want to take to your grave after making it so far? You doubt that. Survival moves to the forefront of your mind. Before you can even muster a coherent thought, the masked stranger is on you again, hands locking around your throat. 

You choke, trying to pry him away, but it’s useless. You kick your feet up and forward, desperate for air, and finally knock him off balance. With a growl of frustration, he releases his hold on you.

In the dim moonlight, you catch a glint of porcelain on the floor next to the scattered shelf. It’s the vase that held the flowers Michael gave you on your first date. You didn’t throw them away when they started to wither because you wanted to hold onto that sliver of happiness for a little longer. The sharp piece scratches the inside of your palm, but you continue to reach for it, your teeth gritted as you struggle against your attacker. Eventually, your fingers wrap around the sharp edges, and you try to jab it into his bicep. 

The man leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. “Just stop…fuckin’ fighting,” he hisses. You don’t recognize his voice. It doesn’t even cross your mind to try and do so; your only motivation is to get out. 

He catches the shard before you can hurt him though. You half-expected him to keep choking you until you pass out or die. Instead, he turns your makeshift weapon around on you. 

Time slows to a crawl. With a primal scream of defiance, you lunge forward, trying to get it back. Yet, it's too late.

The glass pierces your flesh, tearing a gash into your side. The pain knocks the remaining air right out of your lungs. You can’t scream. You can’t cry. 

Blood wells up against your skin. With a final, vicious twist of the glass, the stranger wrenches the shard free from your body. The walls start caving in. You’re trapped in a box, and the water is rising in your lungs.

The floorboards from the apartment above that make up your ceiling start to creak, and the man sits back on his heels, chin tilted up. He curses under his breath. 

You try to catch a glimpse of his face, but the darkness is overwhelming. Again, the floorboards above creak. You want to beg for mercy, maybe even scream for help, but nothing wants to come out. 

The weight on your chest disappears. Your eyes flutter, but you force them to stay open, patting along your trousers. Where is your phone? You hope to God you didn’t leave it in the car. You should have called the police. You should have…

It was foolish to think you would stand a chance against an intruder with a mere bottle of pepper spray. It seems as though he was trained for this very moment. He destroyed your apartment, and now he is reaching for what you were trying to preserve. You don’t know who he is, but he seems to know exactly where to find your little secret, and that makes you sick. The pain makes you sick.

How did he know?

Through blurry eyes, you see the masked figure playing with the file in his hand. He passes by you, the mask moving where he’s smirking. 

“No,” you choke out. “Please…”

He sighs a condescending breath. “Little girls shouldn’t stick their noses into issues that don’t concern them.”

‘What does that even mean?’ you want to scream back at him, but the only sound that passes your lips is a gurgled moan as the tip of his steel boot starts to dig into the wound on your side. 

You reach for him, but he disappears as soon as the light outside turns on and the stairs creak under the weight of your upstairs neighbor—the old lady who once introduced herself as Lilian after you helped her carry her groceries. 

The invisible noose around your neck tightens. You haven’t been this scared in a very long time. If you’d stayed; if you and Michael had talked it out, and if you’d tried to be more rational instead of letting your heart take over, this wouldn’t have happened. 

You fumble for your phone, your fingers slick with your blood. They tremble against the surface of the screen, leaving crimson fingerprints behind. The screen doubles and distorts before your eyes, the numbers dancing mockingly out of reach.

You manage to hit the speed dial for Michael—yes, him, not the police, and that little voice in your head is baffled that you continue making such bad decisions. Your voice is a hoarse whisper as you plead, “Please pick up, please pick up, please…” But there's no answer.

Panic claws at your chest. The phone slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor beside you, into a pool of blood and the remaining shards of the vase. 

Lilian calls out from the other side of the door, her footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

With a last, desperate surge of strength, you reach out, fingers brushing against the cold floor. “Help,” you croak. Your head pounds. It sounds as though you’re screaming.

The door doesn’t budge. Didn’t she hear you? You press the call button again, desperate, but again, Michael doesn’t pick up. You can’t hold your eyes open much longer. You can’t…

The world spins dizzily around you, the darkness threatening to claim you and drag you toward the light. 

You sob, reaching for the throbbing wound in your side. It’s time to accept it for what it is, you figure. Lilian pounds on the door, but the sound is starting to fade as your heartbeat pounds harder and faster against your ribcage and your throat, trying to catch up. You realize it won’t. Not in time. Your heart will grow weak soon. 

You’re unsure how long you lie there, floating in a weird middle space between consciousness and a depth you have never been in before. You dip in your toes, but it won’t quite accept you just yet. You want to jump in. You want to learn to swim, even if you have to drown first. The pressure is taking you under. God, you want it to end. It’s too much, and you hate that you can’t do anything.

Denial works until it doesn’t. 

The door breaks off its hinges. It couldn’t have been Lilian. You feel a hand on your cheek, and the man it belongs to slaps your skin rather roughly. Your eyes flutter open, weak and sensitive to the light.

The old lady must have alerted your other neighbors. Their voices overlap, grow louder, and then disappear. You can only hear your racing heartbeat in your throat. 

Someone applies pressure to your wound, and you cry out. At least you think you do. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the man’s arm. He’s looking at you softly, trying to keep your attention on him, but it’s not him you care about. 

Michael.

It comes out as gibberish. 

“Save your strength,” your neighbor says. “Help is on the way.”

But you fear that the help he mentioned might not make it on time as your eyes close and you decide to succumb to the darkness. You put up enough of a fight for one day. You’re tired, and so you decide to let your eyelids flutter shut and fall into blissful oblivion. 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight @ebathory997

[litnerdwrites]

Clandestine Affairs (III)

A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I have some big exams in a little less than a month, so fics are gonna be scarce. Good news, though, is that this is the last bit of set up I need for things to really get going. Expect the plot to really get going after this. Also, I've decided to start migrating some of my works to AO3. I still post here, but I'll be uploading there too, if that's something you prefer. So far, I only have the first chapter of Clandestine Affairs up, with some slight edits, but nothing major. Just some fixed typos and a couple extra lines to make the dialogue flow better towards the end, and yes, the tumblr post has been updated to match it. Two will be up either today or tomorrow, since it's getting late where I am. As always, enjoy the chapter, and feel free to comment, request, or even if you want to be tagged when I upload any fic, or just this fic.

WC: 2603

TW: Canon typical violence, blood.

Kingdom of the Wicked Masterlist

Clandestine Affairs Masterlist

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (You are here) Chapter 4

Amara didn’t respond to the note.

Nor did she respond to the one she found the next morning. 

Or the next. 

Or the next. 

A week goes by with her ignoring each note that finds its way to her.

Luckily, she didn’t find herself needing to find alternative sleeping arrangements that week, although she knew it would only be a matter of time. Especially as the days grew colder, she wondered if she’d be able to resist a bonfire and a warm body should she find herself in the streets for a night. Had it been any other person, she would’ve jumped at the opportunity, but this wasn’t a normal person. It wasn’t even a human. It was one of the Malvagi. 

Her mother had told her of them, of the seven wicked Princes of the Underworld. She told stories of their icy skin, red flecked eyes, and that once you catch their attention, you’ll never escape. It had been a century since the Malvagi stepped foot on earth, with the only indication that they might one day do so again being a warning the coven elders had received; When witch blood spills across Sicily, take your daughters and hide. The Malvagi have arrived. 

Before, Amara wasn’t sure how much she believed in The Devil or the return of the Malvagi, but the recent murders taking place, along with her encounter on the beach, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Still, none of the coven elders had given any indication that something was amiss. Were they unaware of the Malvagi’s return, or, perhaps, did they simply not wish for the covens to begin panicking, possibly leading to discovery by either the brotherhood or the Malvagi. 

Amara’s shoulders slumped as she let out a sigh, head turning to gaze at the clouds instead. A basket of groceries on her arm. There wasn’t much she could do about the situation, regardless. As things stood, the coven elders didn’t trust her, and the other witch families in Palermo chose to keep to themselves to avoid discovery. If she caused a stir about it now, it could lead to more trouble, which, given her circumstances, is the last thing she needs. 

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the leftover coins she’d been given, silently calculating her remaining expenditures as a chill ran down her spine. She shoved the coins into her pocket, and scanned the street ahead, as though she were plotting the rest of her shopping route. Her eyes lingered on alleyways and store windows, and other shadowed street corners or alcoves she could find. 

Her heart thundered as she took another step up the street. Then another. 

She forced her brows not to furrow, and her lips to twitch upwards. She chatted with vendors, haggled over the price of produce, and had just enough left over to buy a shawl. Still, the pin pricks against her neck never once faded, no matter how quickly she darted through the market, dodging shoppers and vendors as she attempted to ditch whoever had been stalking her. Yet, despite her efforts, the presence persisted. 

Amara had been followed before, be it during the day or night. Sometimes men with unsavory plans for her, others were simple thieves. She’d even had an admirer or two follow her before, but none were this relentless-

Her mind stuttered to a stop, even as her feet pressed forward. 

Perhaps her stalker was no mere man. 

Given what she recently learned, it was quite possible. Especially if what she’d been told about the Malvagi was true. Had The Prince of Lust grown tired of her refusal and decided to seek her out? If he had the chance, would he attack her in public, around so many people? No human here could stop him, surely. If not he, then perhaps it was a subordinate of his?  

The idea that he was stalking almost had her shivering in fear, but she was saved from having to try and force down her fear when she felt her body collide with something. 

Well… Someone. 

“Are you alright?” a softer voice calls gently. 

“I- I’m sorry,” she muttered, holding a hand to her chest, and keeping her eyes down. 

“That’s not what I asked,” the voice said again, right as a soft hand appeared in front of her,“Are you alright?” 

Shakily, Amara glanced up. The woman before her had short, dark hair, in beautiful curls, and her dark eyes shone with a warmth she had missed. Gently, Amara reached for her hand, and let the girl pull her up. 

“I- I’m fine, thank you,” she muttered, after realizing she hadn’t responded. 

The woman cocked her head to the side, observing her. 

“You don’t look alright. You’re still trembling, and pale,” she responded. 

Amara flinched at her words. 

“I- Sorry,” she muttered. 

The woman’s brows furrowed, taking in the state Amara was in. Her brown hair stuck to her clammy skin, and the blood seemed to have drained from her warm, bronze face. Despite her best efforts, her entire body trembled as the pinprick sensation grew closer. Clearly, the woman notices, given the way she glanced behind Amara, trying to discern if anyone or anything had been the cause of her distress. 

“My name is Claudia,” she gently introduced. 

“Amara,” 

“Oh, Amara Willows, yes? Aurora Willow’s daughter?” Claudia asked, eyes wide. Amara flinched at the mention of her mother, and Claudia seemed to notice, wincing as well. “I’m sorry. I understand that her loss must be hard on you,” she tried to sooth. 

Amara merely nodded, not having the strength to indulge in that conversation. Instead, she changed the subject. 

“And you are… Are you like her? My mother, I mean. Are you like me?” she asked carefully. 

Claudia nodded with a smile. 

“You still seem awfully pale. Shall we talk over a drink? My treat,” 

“You don’t have-” 

Claudia held up her hand at the start of her protests. 

“I insist. Let’s talk, one woman to another. Besides, it’s the least I owe after the way I brought up your mother. It wasn’t my intention to be rude, so let me make it up to you,” 

Amara wanted to refuse, but anxiety gnawed at her, and the prickling feeling had yet to let up. She couldn’t risk leading it to her home, but the thought of being alone made her stomach turn. Reluctantly, Amara merely nodded, ignoring the holes those eyes continued to bore into her, and followed Claudia through the market. 

_____

The cafe Claudia had brought her too was a quaint little place, out of the way of the main market, with the seating area and kitchen on the first floor, and what’s likely an apartment above. Multiple small cabinet shelves were dotted around the room, lined with books of various genres, different kinds of plants, as well as other little trinkets. Garlands of leaves and flowers were draped over the shelves, tabletops and even hung down from the support beams. Natural light flooded in from large windows in the back, giving the place a soft, inviting glow. 

Amara shifted in her seat as Claudia returned, drinks, and even some pastries, in hand. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, wrapping her hands around the cup. 

“Drink. It’ll warm you up,” she encouraged. 

“I’m not cold,” 

“No?” Cluadia’s head cocked to the side, “Then is there another reason you were so pale, and shivering as though you’d wandered through a blizzard?” 

Amara stiffened, having no response. 

Blessedly, she no longer felt the prickling sensation, or presence that seemed to follow her. Part of her wondered if it was truly fine to let things be, and forget about it… But with the murderers… 

“Do you- Do you think the recent murders have something to do with witch hunters?” Amara blurted, voice low. 

Claudia raised a brow. 

“Hm, perhaps,” she took a sip of her own coffee, “But they like to make examples out of their victims. Publically,” 

Amara hummed, taking another sip. 

“Then you think it might have, possibly, been something else?” 

Claudia turned to the window, eyes far as she gazed out at the street, where parents walked with children, or servants ran simple errands. 

“I wouldn’t rule them out, but given what we are, it’s not out of the question to suspect more unusual culprits. Especially when our people are seemingly being targeted,” she explained, quietly. 

Amara nodded.

“I see,” 

“Is this about your mother?” 

She flinched at the question, but didn’t answer. It wasn’t about her mother, but perhaps that was selfish. Her brows furrowed at the notion, heart seizing, the way it did right before the news was delivered about her mother’s fate. From beneath her bangs, she caught Claudia nodding, likely thinking that it was about her mother. Amara wouldn’t correct her. 

“I- If not human, then who- What do you think did it?” 

“Werewolves? A vampire infestation? Perhaps even a demon,” Claudia listed, “Some of the coven elders believe it’s related to the Malvagi themselves,” 

Amara stiffened at the mention of the Malvagi. 

“Is there a reason they think that? Or is it just a guess?” she asked, taking another tentative sip. 

“Apparently there was a warning they received some time ago, stating that when witches started dying, it would be a sign of their return,” 

Amrara gave a stiff nod. 

“But they don’t have any other reason to think the Malvagi are involved, do they?” 

“Not that I know of,” she confirmed. 

Amara felt Claudia’s gaze on her as she took a bite of her pastry, but when she gained the courage to actually meet her eyes, she fought back a jolt of surprise. Something older, wiser, stared back at her, as if truly seeing her for the first time. She fought the urge to audibly gulp. Eventually, it seemed, Claudia snapped out of her… Whatever that was. 

“One of my friends fell victim to the killer too,” she continued, turning to the window, as a note of something somber made its way into her voice, “Vittoria Di Carlo. Her sister, Emilia, has been searching for the culprit too,” 

I nodded, knowing exactly who she was talking about.

“I know,” she muttered, “Or, I know about Vittoria anyway. And, I’m sorry. It’s never easy to- to lose someone,” 

Claudia nodded. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss too,” she offered. “If I may offer some advice, from one Strega to another?” 

“Of course,” Amara nodded. 

“Be careful. Especially since I know you like your late night walks,” Claudia all but implored, “Be it hunters or Malvagi, it isn’t safe to wander at night,” 

Her grip tightened on the cup, and her stomach began forming knots. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Claudia the truth, or to even insinuate that she went out at night for any other reason aside from her preferences. She wouldn’t be able to take it if she did. The pity, the shame. No. Amara could handle it without worrying anyone, or needing charity. 

“I’ll do my best, thanks,” 

The two girls chatted a bit longer, as Amara came out of her shell somewhat. Soon, they even gushed over some of the books in the store, until there was no way she could stay any longer. The sun would begin to set soon, and Amara had to get dinner started. She gave Claudia a hug goodbye, thanking her for another ‘be careful’ warning, before she walked away from the bakery. 

Something about that encounter left her feeling lighter. She practically skipped through the streets of Palmero, as vendors began putting away their stalls and businesses began shooting out any strays that lingered a bit too long. Bar keeps and tavern owners began lighting lanterns and setting out their menus, some even switching to their open signs.

All of them were also signs to her that she was running a bit late. Usually, such thoughts would have her sprinting through the streets to make it home before the bookstore closed, but after the day she had, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of that light feeling. She couldn’t force herself to hurry back to the cold bookstore, where she’d force herself into a hot kitchen, trying to make sure dinner, a dinner she hadn’t even thought of yet, was completely perfect. 

Amara’s blood went cold, and her face blanched again. All of a sudden, she felt every ounce of joy drain from her body, and an icy chill replaced it. The hair at the back of her neck stood and the pricking, the same one from earlier, ran all the way down her spine. The sun had just about set, and shadows crawled out from the darkness. Suddenly, she noticed how dead quiet it was. An unnatural quiet. The kind where not even the sound of nature could reach her. 

She took an uneasy step back, eyes already darting around, searching for danger. This was the route she walked many times before, and yet, now, a tugging in her gut pulled her back. It was telling her to run. 

She spun on a heel, only to feel a grip on her upper arm, so fast, so sharp, she barely registered it before she was tugged back into the darkness. 

Her heart pounded, and she began swinging her basket, trying to hit whoever grabbed her.

Icy fingers latched around her wrists, stopping her attempts in their tracks. A sharp pain exploded across her back and head. 

Then her vision became spotty. 

As it cleared, she noticed the toned chest that pressed her to the wall. Soft, dark hair tickled her forehead as her attacker leaned over her. When she finally met his gaze, pale blue eyes stared back. 

Amara’s eyes widened further when she noticed the tips of the elongated canines that peeked out from beneath his upper lip. 

Her mouth fell open to scream, but icy fingers clamped around her face before any sound could escape. 

Tears lined her own, slightly darker blue eyes, and the man’s mouth twisted into a pleased grin, before he brought his lips closer to her. His breath brushed her ear, and she shivered. Amara forced her eyes shut, body trembling against the wall, wrists still in the man’s hold. He let out an amused chuckle, then brushed those elongated fangs against her ear. His voice was like silk, as he purred into her ear.

“Do you know what I am, Strega?” 

Eyes still clamped shut, she forced her head to nod. The man- creature- cocked its head to the side.

“Are you sure, little witch?” he asked, hand lossining around her mouth enough that she could make faint sounds. 

“V-Vampire,” she whimpered. 

His eyes danced with glee and his grin turned sadistic. 

“Very good. Such a smart witch,”

“Please,” she whimpered, only for his hand to tighten again. 

“Now now, little witch,” he tutted, “Show some gratitude. I come bearing a gift,” Amara’s heart raced faster, and she shook her head again, only for him to tighten his grip to the point it was painful. “Don’t be ungrateful now, It’s rare for a human, or even a witch to receive such a gif-agh!” 

Amara’s eyes shot open at the vampire’s pained gasp. She registered the blood dripping from his mouth, and how his eyes widened in shock. She forced her eyes to trail down, only to let out a muffled shriek when she saw it. A blade had pierced the vampire's abdomen. 

“I’m quite certain that the lady is wholly uninterested in whatever gifts you, or your kind, have to offer, leech,” 

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 14

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav joins Raphael as he goes to get the signature of a new client. They quickly fall into old patterns as she goes back to the House of Hope.

WARNINGS: Starving Children, Depictions of Poverty, NSFW

After Raphael had snapped his fingers, they appeared in what looked like the inside of a very rundown cottage. Tav looked around. Raphael’s hand slipped from hers and went to her waist instead. He pulled her closer and spoke into her ear in a lowered voice.

“You will not interfere with anything you see today,” he said and ran his hand up and down her side in an almost soothing motion. “You will want to, but you will refrain from meddling in my business, or I will send you back home and the deal is off. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Very well,” he said and then called out to someone. “Clarissa!”

A scrawny woman with hollowed out cheeks entered the shabby room they were standing in a moment later. Raphael greeted the woman warmly with all the charm that Tav had remembered from meeting him those first couple of times.

The woman smiled at Raphael with an expression of relief, showing that half of her teeth were missing. Behind her followed a young man who Tav guessed was her son. He was just as skinny as his mother and his ribcage was showing under the tattered shirt he was wearing.

The son was looking at Raphael with the skepticism his mother’s expression lacked. The woman’s eyes went to Tav, and it was clear that there was a question in her eyes as to who she was. Raphael caught it immediately.

“An associate of mine. Don’t mind her,” Raphael explained. “Have you come to a decision?”

The woman’s eyes went back to Raphael, and she quickly nodded and lowered her head. It was unmistakable that the way that she acted around Raphael was exactly the same as lowborn usually did around nobles. She gestured to two chairs.

“Please sit, Saer,” she mumbled with her lowered head. “If it please you, of course.”

Raphael smirked and sat down. He gestured for Tav to do the same. She could see in his eyes that he was enjoying every minute of the interaction. The woman and the son kept standing out of respect, though it looked like they were barely able to. It looked like they had not had a meal for weeks.  

“I will sign,” the woman said. “In exchange for what we agreed on last time.”

“Splendid,” Raphael said and with a snap of his fingers, a contract appeared. “We will go through the terms together one more time.”

Tav zoned out when she noticed two small children playing outside. They were skin and bones, though slightly less so than their mother and their older brother. Tav would never get used to seeing children like that.

She came from a small village herself and though they were not well off by any means, no children there ever went to bed hungry. When she came to the Gate they seemed to be around every corner, especially between those that lived on the street.

There was something harrowing about how it looked like their eyes took up too much space in their boney little faces that lacked the puppy fat that all children should have.

“My associate has a tendency to let her mind wander,” Raphael said and managed to break her out of her trance. “Tav, dearest. You may be interested in focusing on the matter at hand.”

She turned towards the woman.

“Apologies,” she said to her. “I just could not help but admire your young son and daughter outside. You have beautiful children.”

The woman gave her a wide genuine smile.

“Thank you, milady,” she mumbled.

“The terms…” Raphael said in a slightly louder voice to pull the attention back at the contract. “You will receive enough gold to feed your children and your eldest will be granted an apprenticeship at the most prestigious blacksmith in the city. In return, your soul will be mine upon your death. Do we agree?”

“Yes.”

“Mother, please don’t—” her son said.

“I won’t hear it, Ben,” she said to her eldest son in a stern voice and turned to Raphael again. “I will sign, Saer.”

“Wonderful,” Raphael said and summoned a quill. “Whenever you are ready.”

Raphael leaned back in his chair as he waited for the woman to sign. Tav glanced at her eldest son who looked miserable at what was going on. She noticed that the woman blinked a lot, trying to focus her eyes on the contract and where she would be signing. When she did sign, it was with a messy script as if she could barely gather the strength to do so.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Clarissa,” Raphael purred, and the contract disappeared in smoke. “Young Ben will start his apprenticeship immediately and the gold will arrive to you on the morrow.”

The woman grabbed and shook Raphael’s hand in gratitude. There were tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Saer,” she said.

“You are very welcome, my dear,” Raphael replied with a smile and put his hand on her shoulder.

He held out his hand to Tav who took it, and he snapped his fingers.

They appeared on a bench in the middle of nowhere. Tav realized she could see the small cottage they had just been in out in the distance. She could see the shape of the two young children playing outside. They were surrounded by fields and there was a small cluster of houses in the distance.

“Any questions?” Raphael asked and leaned his arm on the back of the bench behind her.

“Will they be alright?”

“The children, yes,” he answered. “Her eldest son will soon be able to take care of them.”

It was a slightly confusing sentence because of the way he phrased it.

“Them…meaning his mother too, right?”

Raphael looked at her and smirked.

“You saw the state of her,” he said and gently brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You may be surprised to learn that in circumstances like this, it is very rarely the battle of staying alive that kills those like her, but rather the relief that the battle is over. She will fall asleep tonight without worrying about her family for once, and in that relief, she will stop struggling and her body will as well. Death will take her, and Clarissa will not wake up tomorrow morning…”

Tav felt her heart sink.

“And you knew that from the beginning, didn’t you?” she said.

“Of course,” Raphael said and shrugged. “I have seen it a thousand times before. People like her are such easy investments. Her soul is not worth much in truth, but the promptness of delivery makes it worth the trouble.”

Tav turned her head to look at the children playing in the distance. The children who would wake up the day after and find themselves orphans.

“How much money did she gain from this deal?” she asked.

“Two thousand gold.”

Tav’s jaw fell.

“You bought her soul for a measly two thousand? How long will that last them? A couple of months?”

“She would have sold her soul for one thousand, but I was feeling rather generous,” Raphael said. “If it is her children you fear for, their older brother will take care of them with the gold he will earn through his apprenticeship. They won’t have a lavish life by any means, but they will survive. Most likely they will grow old enough to end up as their mother, and I might be inclined to pay them a visit as well one day.”

“You are a vulture…” Tav muttered.

She saw Raphael smile in the corner of her eye.

“I simply helped a woman that no one else wanted to offer their help to.”

“What will happen to her?” she asked. “When she dies, I mean. Will she suffer?”

“Of course she will,” he answered. “Our dear Clarissa will experience her children starving to death in front of her eyes for the rest of eternity.”

That was a knife in Tav’s heart.

“The Hells were meant to be a place where evil people suffer,” she said with anger in her voice. “A mother wanting to feed her children is not evil. What else was she supposed to do?”

“She made a deal with a devil, fully aware of what I was,” Raphael said with a sigh. “It is people like her that makes the economy of the Hells function. She is consciously contributing to what you mortals would consider evil. That is enough to doom her.”

Tav looked back and forth from him to the children playing in the distance in disbelief. It wasn’t fair. Raphael was studying her face with complete calmness. It even looked like he was enjoying her reaction.

“It upsets you, doesn’t it?” Raphael said and ran his fingers through her hair. “If it is any consolation to that soft heart of yours, had Clarissa decided not to sign, they would all be dead within a couple of weeks.”

Tav knew he was right. No one helped people like them. She wanted to, now that she knew their fate, and she wished that she could turn back time and be the one to give them the gold so that they could survive. She also knew deep down that she had passed countless of people like them on the street without even sparing them a second thought.

It wasn’t her business. That had always been her philosophy. It wasn’t her business, and it wasn’t her problem. She had enough to deal with. This was not her business either, but by the gods, if it did not hurt to see the suffering up close instead of closing her eyes to it.

The sun was setting as they were sitting there. Tav was lost to her thoughts, as she just kept staring at the little house in the distance and the children outside. Raphael ran his warm hand over her bare arm and then he put it on her cheek.

“You are getting cold, my dear,” he mumbled into her ear before getting up from the bench. “Let’s go home for the day.”

She took one last glance at the house before taking his hand.

Raphael poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her before sitting down beside her. She still felt a little off, but there was something almost therapeutic about being back in the House of Hope.

It really did feel like home to her for some reason, and what an odd thought that any mortal should feel at home in the Hells. She suspected it had more to do with Raphael than the house itself.

“I never asked,” Raphael purred. “Does your friends know that you are here?”

She shook her head and sipped the wine.

“I am curious as to what exactly you have told them about your time here?”

“Not much,” she admitted. “Not to all of them at least. I talked to Astarion about it all, or most of it anyway.”

She caught his nose wrinkling in disdain for a moment.

“Yes, so I’ve heard,” he said.

She paused for a moment as a realization hit her.

“Scrying spell?”

Raphael smiled at her.

“Clever as always,” he said. “Curiosity got the better of me, I have to admit. It is below me to pry in such a way and it should not have happened.”

Tav thought about the two moments it happened: when they held hands and when he fed on her. It could not have been interpreted as anything else but him being jealous or at least possessive of her.

“We’re just friends, you know.”

“Please,” Raphael said and brushed it away. “Even if that was not so, it is your own business who you sleep with. I never expected that you should live in celibate for the rest of your life, simply because of your time in my bed…though, of course, I would not mind if you did…”

He gave her a teasing smile, though she knew him well enough that he was only half-joking. He did not like the idea of her sleeping with anyone else and it was as clear as day. She smiled back at him, and it was genuine.

It was as she had already forgotten everything he had shown and told her earlier. She did not care about it for the moment. It was nice to just be with him again.

“How have you been?” she asked him.

“I’ve been busy,” he answered and quickly turned it on her. “And yourself? Korrilla tells me you have been quite miserable.”

Tav put on the act of pretending she was surprised that she had been kept an eye on.

“Korrilla has been watching me?”

Raphael chuckled.

“Don’t play dumb, dear,” he said. “The two of you are not half as clever as you think you are. I know you have spoken to her and not just this one time. This house has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Tav went quiet. She did not want to confirm or deny because she did not want to see Korrilla in trouble.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “I won’t hurt her. I was well aware of her loose lips even before I made a pact with her. I could not ask for a more loyal servant, so I am inclined to overlook a little slip here and there.”

She thought for a moment. It could not hurt to ask, and she was curious.

“Did you also know that I spoke to Hope while I stayed here?”

“Was I aware of your clumsy attempt at finding the hammer?” Raphael asked with an amused expression. “Even if I was not, you were not exactly subtle, dear. I found you trying to break into my vault, remember?”

She did. Even then she knew that he was not convinced that she was trying to break into it ‘for enrichment’ as she had lied back then.

“You never answered my question,” he said. “How have you been? I want to hear it from you.”

She thought for a moment and then sighed softly. She might as well be honest with him.

“It’s been hell,” she said. “So many conflicting feelings. Relief in the beginning…confusion, disbelief…grief. I found no comfort in my companions because they did not understand what was going on. Neither did I, really. I was just alone for a while, thinking of everything. Stewing in my own sadness. The fact that you returned my book and the message you left did not exactly help either…”

“Did you like it?” he asked with a small smile.

“It was wonderful,” she said. “It just broke me even further though, along with all the memories of my time here. I missed you but I would not admit it to myself. I would not admit that I was that stupid and self-destructive. By the time I found Korrilla, I had decided to lay it all to rest. To forget about you and move on.”

“As you should have.”

“As I should have,” Tav agreed quietly.

Raphael caressed her shoulder and smiled at her.

“This will most likely be our last night together,” he said. “Let us forget it all for a moment and not speak of such grim matters.”

“You are so certain I won’t stay,” she said. “How can you be so sure?”

“Call it a ninth sense,” he said. “We still have tomorrow to get through, and I saw the look in your eyes earlier. I know that it affected you. You felt grief for that woman’s children, and you felt that I wronged them. Love and sympathy for someone can only extend so far when you realize that the other person is incapable of those same feelings.”

She sighed and leaned up against him. She rested her head on his shoulder. She felt him tense up for a short moment before resting his cheek on her head.

“Who says I love you?”

“Mm,” he hummed and kissed her head. “Yes, my mistake. You said you hated me, isn’t that so? You do have a rather odd way of showing it, my dear.”

“It’s all a ruse to confuse the enemy, I can assure you,” she said stubbornly and wrapped her arm around his waist.

He chuckled.

“You have certainly succeeded in fooling me then,” he mumbled against her scalp. “No matter. A clever woman like you will see reason eventually.”

Raphael was on her the second they got into bed. His hands were touching every inch of her body, as if to commit it to memory. He was taking it slow with her but the tenseness of his body and the way he kissed her told her that he wanted nothing more than to devour her in that moment.

He was kissing, biting, and licking his way slowly down her body. Her breathing was getting shallower. Gods, she had missed this. Missed him.

“Raphael?” she murmured.

“Mm?” he growled against her skin.

“If this is our last time as you claim, then I want you in your devil form. Your true form.”

He looked up at her and chuckled against her belly. He changed into his other form at her request.

“No need to pretend to be romantic,” he purred. “I won’t be offended if you say that you prefer my tongue in this form.”

That was in fact not what she meant, but when his head dipped between her thighs, she remembered that that was another advantage of sleeping with him in that shape. She gasped and grasped the sheets when his long and forked tongue entered her. He did not miss a thing when it came to her reactions, as his eyes were locked on her as he did it.

He held her legs open to make sure she did not hurt herself on his horns. She did feel the urge to close them because the pleasure was so overstimulating. He did not move away or stop before she had already come undone once.

He leaned over her. He was more careful this time when he slid his length inside her. It was much bigger in that form and the first time they had sex it had hurt, but his patience and attention made it completely painless this time.

He made an effort to keep his pace down as he moved inside her and she could feel that it took everything in him to reel himself back. He was all but shaking. When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his lips and tongue. He had missed this as much as her.

When she was well on her way to her second orgasm, she heard a noise in the distance. It made Raphael pause his movements for a moment. It sounded like someone was screaming. Raphael thrusted into her again, making her moan, though the scream had thrown her off a little bit.

“It seems that Cassius has finally woken from his unconsciousness,” Raphael said against her lips, as if it was a completely normal thing to say.

He snapped his fingers and kissed her deeply. The second he snapped, she heard the scream abruptly stop. She kissed him back, but she could not let it go.

“What did you…do?” she asked breathlessly.

Raphael’s slow pace quickened slightly as he smiled against her lips.

“Cassius lost his right to his vocal cords for the night,” he said and kissed her softly, which was a stark contrast to the brutality of his words. “Don’t worry, my sweet. He will get that attention he so desperately desires tomorrow when we pay him a visit.”

She wanted to say something, to protest, but the pleasure Raphael was giving her quickly took over her mind instead as he quickened the pace of his thrusts further. His hand slipped between them to rub her clit and only a few moments later she fell over the edge once again. Raphael followed shortly after with a deep groan.

They got comfortable to fall asleep the same way they always had, with Raphael’s arms around her, holding her close. He kissed her neck before burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her scent.

She felt safe and more content than she had been for weeks. She found herself ignoring the intruding thoughts about Cassius and the things she would experience the day after. In that moment, she did not care.

In that moment she did not care how many people would have to suffer or die for her to never leave his arms again.

[riaarivic]

HATE 9: DANGER (M) I MYG x F!reader

🌙 Pairings YoongixReader

🌙 Genres Mafia!AU, Smut, Angst, Action, Thriller, Enemies to lovers

🌙 Rating 18+ minors DNI

🌙 Summary  You were an INTERPOL Agent assigned to infiltrate the depths of the most powerful Gang in South Korea: The Seven Moons. Your objective: to impersonate the daughter of one of their leaders and destroy the operation from within. That is, if they don't discover you first.

And Traitors won’t have the mercy of a quick death

🌙 Warnings For this chapter: mentions of death, drugs and vioence, foul language, mentions of organized crime. Smut (yes, finally) explicit sex scene.

🌙 A/N At no time do I (the author) encourage this activity in life, it is important that you know that the criminal acts in this book are that, a crime, as well as harmful to health and should not be romanticized. This is all a work of fiction for entertainment.

Love, Ria

🌙 Chapter wordcount 5k (the longest one yet)

🌙 Series Index

1  2 3 4  5 6 7 8 9 10 11

HATE 9: DANGER (M) I MYG x F!reader

You don't have me, but I'm so full of you I'm going crazy So why are you doing this to me? Why are you making a fool out of me?

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

The more you fuck around… 

The more you’ll find out. 

Your grandmother used to tell you that everytime you got in trouble and in the Seven Moons’s case: They’ve been fucking around for too long. 

The Seven Moons’s history went way back to the first kkangpae during the Japanese occupation and the fights against the yakuza. They smuggled guns to the country during the military run in the 80’s. And of course were the Drug Kings during the clan wars 20 years ago. Every time a new leader rose, the clan had a new name and the member deleted every piece of evidence that linked them to their previous organization.

A clean page to start over. 

And in the end if there’s no body, there’s no crime. 

That is why they were yet to find out. 

The Seven Moons under Kim DoHan’s rule, were untouchable. Every crime committed by his orders was untraceable to him and his sons; they always made sure that someone else got their hands dirty and in the case they did finish a job they had enough people in power to make sure no one would ask questions. 

All of the seven young leaders' criminal records were so squeaky clean they could run for office. You were surprised you didn't see any pictures of Kim Namjoon or Kim Seokjin kissing babies on their files.

You could do a lot of fucking around if you were sure you’ll never get caught. 

That was the reason you were sent to Seoul in the first place.

And for the past 3 days you learned one thing. 

Kim Dohan and his seven moons were very fucking good at fucking around and not finding out. 

But pride was the cardinal sin of the powerful and more often than not, the reason for their demise. All you needed was to find an opening on The Seven Moon’s arrogance. 

And the best one you found. 

Was finding your way to Suga's bed. 

You weren’t really proud of it. But you have to do what you’ve got to do. 

“By any means necessary” were the exact words of the Lieutenant and sitting on the Shadow’s face on your second night in Seoul fell into that category. 

Not that you had other motives for it. 

The sun was about to rise in the sky when you finally reached your bedroom in the mansion and you knew you could not sleep tonight, not after what you saw at Jhope’s warehouse. 

You’ve witnessed violence, you served in the military, you’ve been in a war. 

But you’ve never seen something so cruel…

It was pure evil, the way those bodies piled up. 

And the message. 

“This is how the devil pays for your loyalty” 

Written with their own clansmen blood. 

Releasing a tired sigh you sat on your bed and took out a small digital recorder in your pocket. 

You had placed the device inside the meeting room earlier that day during the office tour. Hoping to catch some valuable information from the clan leaders. Now, as you got your laptop on your lap, you plugged in your earbuds and listened to the recording, your heart pounding with anticipation.

At first, the voices were barely audible, as if the speakers were deliberately trying to keep their conversation from being overheard. But your trained ears picked up snippets of words and phrases.

It was a conversation between Kim Dohan and Mr. Lee “your father” 

"...the heir is a liability..."  said Kim Dohan in a tone that made your blood run cold.

"...we must eliminate… before they gain too much power..." responded Mr. Lee and you made a mental note to find out who they were. You suspected they were talking about the Jade Dragon.

"...make it look like an accident..." Your hand shook as you rewound the recording and played back the crucial part. 

This wasn’t exactly what you had been waiting for, a piece of evidence that would help you bring down the entire clan. 

But it was a death sentence for the clan’s heir, who was unaware of the plot against him.

It had to be Kim Namjoon. 

You wondered what drove Kim Dohan to decide to get rid of his only biological son. You had to act fast. You couldn't let them carry out their plan. But how could you warn Namjoon without blowing your cover?

If they killed him and then wiped out the clan’s record there was no chance for you to find any evidence.

And without any evidence, you were done. 

Mission Failed.

Fuck. 

You needed to rest. 

You closed your laptop and stared at the ceiling, your time was running out. And this piece of information was a drop of water compared to the sea of lies that existed around the Seven Moons clan. 

You needed something more, something bigger. 

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The next morning on the Seven Moon's diningroom.

Awkward was not a good enough word to describe how everyone at that table was feeling.

Namjoon had a black eye.

Suga had a split lip.

No one knew how Jungkook had ended up with a hickey on his neck.

Jimin was still furious with everyone for making such a fuss in his club.

Jhope looked like his cereal was made of rusty nails and he had to swalow them whole.

Taehyung was looking at you as if he wanted to kill you…

Although that was nothing new.

You looked exactly how you felt.. like shit. 

Jin was the only one who seemed to be calm.

And as if the tension at that table didn't feel like it could be cut with a chainsaw. The clan’s Leader joined you for the first time at breakfast.

“Miss Nari, you have been in my house for a few days now and we have not had the opportunity to talk” Kim Dohan's deep voice crossed the dining table and his tone of authority made everyone present stop what they were doing “I hope you are adapting well to life here in Seoul, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to let me know” 

“Thank you very much, sir” You answered him looking at him from afar feeling like his gaze could pierce through any lie, even for you, a trained agent looking at Kim Dohan was like looking straight in the devil’s eyes “I have everything I need, you are very kind” finished your phrase with the most convincing smile you could give. 

“Everyone can tell you have more than you need” Taehyung muttered quietly, just enough for you to hear him and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. You weren't quite sure if it was anger or embarrassment you felt.

“If you want to say something at my table, Kim Taehyung, I hope you'll say it loud enough for all of us to hear” The Leader pounded his fist on the table making everyone jump a little out of their seats.

“Oh, Father, I was saying that Miss Nari seems to feel very comfortable at home. That is so great, because by the end of next month this will be your house  too. When she marries one of us” The young gangster replied with a shit eating grin.

You little shit.

Oh, how you wanted to wipe the smile off his face!

After the awkward breakfast was over, you felt like you were about to poke Taehyung with a toothpick right in the eye. When one of Kim Dohan’s bodyguards approached you quietly “The Leader wants to speak to you privately”

Your blood froze on your veins, if there was something you did not want to do was to be in the same room as Kim Dohan… alone. You looked at Suga who was on the other side of the room and he gave you an understanding smile. 

If the leader wanted to speak to you alone, he will have it his way.

You took a deep breath before opening the doors to The Leader’s office. The devil sat behind his massive desk, his piercing gaze fixed on you as you approached him. "Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the chair opposite him. You sat down, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You know that you are playing with fire, don't you?" Kim Dohan said in a low voice. "You may have fooled my men and my sons, but you can't fool me."

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing. Have you been discovered? Did Kim DoHan know that you were an undercover agent?

"I know about you and my son," Kim DoHan continued, his eyes narrowing. "Don't think that anything happens in my house without me knowing. You're lucky that I respect your father so much."

You felt your heart sink. 

Out of all the things you thought he could have discovered. That was the less awfull. 

But you could not be at ease. Now that you knew he was onto you.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammered, trying to stay calm.

"Oh, pretty lily. That was your first and last mistake. Do not lie to me," Kim DoHan said, his voice rising and his gaze darkened. "I have eyes and ears everywhere. This is my home and my kingdom to rule. You think you can deceive me, but you can't. You're playing a dangerous game, flower. And if you're not careful, you're going to get burned."

You noticed Kim Dohan kept calling you flower.

Just like Suga did. 

And that made you wonder if he was involved in this. 

You felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. Kim Dohan's words were a clear warning, and you knew that you had to be more careful than ever. You nodded, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor.

"I understand," you said softly. "I won't let it happen again."

Kim Dohan leaned back in his chair, his expression inscrutable. "See that you don't. I won’t say I don't understand young love, but I really do not appreciate two of my sons fighting in a dark alley like hormonal teenagers over a girl. " he said, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.

You rose to your feet, your legs feeling weak. You knew that you had narrowly escaped a dangerous situation, and that you had to tread carefully from now on. As you left Kim DoHan's office, you knew that the stakes had just been raised, and that the game had become even more deadly.

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Later that day...

You were lying on your bed trying to process all the information you had gathered over the past days.

The realization dawned on you, it became clear that the Jade Dragon, the Chinese triad with a dark history, had resurfaced and were seeking retribution. The ability to send a message to the clan's secret hideout suggested that they had a mole within the organization.

And not just anyone had access to that place, it had to be someone with power.

You had enough reasons to suspect that Kim Namjoon was into some shady business, and you were determined to uncover the truth. Your gut suggested that it may have something to do with his father's plans to eliminate the heir.

With everything that happened so far, you were aware that time was running out, and you had until the end of the following month to compile all the evidence you could. 

This was your only opportunity to bring the clan to justice.

The moment the new heir was appointed, the clan would be rebranded under a fresh name, and all traces of their previous identity would vanish.

To make everything fucking worse, you had a hint that Kim DoHan was aware of your true intentions.

And early today he wasn’t just talking about you fucking his son.

Tap, Tap, Tap

Someone was tapping quickly on the balcony window in your room.

Ah, yes...

You weren't thinking about your main problem.

And said problem just hauled himself over the balcony railing with ease, his lean muscles rippling under his black shirt. He stood before you, an inscrutable expression on his chiseled face. In the moonlight light filtering through the curtains, his features seemed even more striking - the sharp jawline, the piercing obsidian eyes, the faint scar on his left eye that only added to his rugged appeal.

“Good evening Little flower. Can you let me in?”  he said in his low, melodic voice. He took a step closer. You could smell the heady, sandalwood scent of his cologne, feel the warmth radiating from his body. Your heart thudded in her chest.

“What are you doing here Suga?” you asked as you opened the window, the cold night breeze made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

"I've been trying to figure something out,besides, I thought it was funny that we both used each other's window as an entrance,” he winked at you “your room smells like Lilies Is that on purpose?” 

“Suga, what are you doing here, are you on drugs?” you let out an inpatient sigh and the black-haired man stopped in front of you and took a lock of your hair still smiling at you “I'm clean as a Russian athlete before the Olympics. Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name, when we were alone, did you forget it?” 

“No, I didn't”

Of course you hadn't.

You had imagined calling him by his name when you kissed him again.

But that couldn't happen again. A flash of your conversation earlier with Kim DoHan passed through your mind.

It won’t happen again.

“What are you trying to figure out in the middle of the night in my room, Yoongi?” If you thought that man was close to you before, now Suga was almost completely attached to her body.

"I need your help."

You swallowed hard. "I don't know how I can help you."

He smiled, a slow, dangerous smile that made your knees weak. "I think you do. I see the way you look at me. The way your breath catches when I'm near you," He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers trailing along her skin and igniting sparks beneath her flesh.

“But this is not about that. Although, we could talk about it later” he said.

Your heart raced. You knew after that conversation with Kim DoHan that you were flying too close to the sun, seeing Suga behind his father's back. But you couldn't deny the attraction you felt for him, the way his eyes seemed to look right through you right now.

"What do you need my help with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It's about what you saw last night at Jhope's warehouse," Suga said, pacing back and forth across the room. "Can you tell me everything?."

You felt a surge of adrenaline. This was exactly the kind of opening you were looking for. If Suga trusted you enough to ask, you’ll make him trust you enough to speak. 

"It was awful," you said. “I’ve never seen something like that before.”

"I know, pretty flower, but I really need you to tell me what you saw," Suga said, turning to face you. "I need you to find out what is happening, before it's too late."

You sighed as you began to recall everything you could remember while Suga listened carefully. That man's gaze was the only thing that could terrify her and make her want to run straight towards him at the same time.

"Thank you" he says, taking a step closer to her. "I can’t tell you right now how much you’ve helped me today. But I promise you, it's important."

You feel your heart skip a beat as he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from your face.

"I don't know if I can trust you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He takes another step closer and looks deep into her eyes. "You can trust me," he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

For a moment, you stand there in silence, the tension between you palpable. Then, he leans in, taking the lollipop out of his mouth and presses his lips to yours, and you felt yourself melting into his arms.

As you break apart, you realize that you’re in too deep. 

Suga made you feel as if you were running directly towards a cliff.

Ready to jump to the abyss. 

Fuck the consequences. 

“I actually came to figure out something else. You see, last night you were high and I’ve been told not to trust drunken truths. Bu you said you like me-” 

“I don't like you.”  You interrupted him trying to sound as convincing as you could, but Suga could see right through you. He smirked and took the lollipop between his fingers and tapped it to your lips. You understood what he was asking immediately.

You licked the lollipop looking right into his eyes. 

Sweet.

He took it again and put it in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue.

“Good girl. But you taste like lies.” The man ran his thumb delicately over her lips and brought his mouth close to your ear. “If you don't want me to kiss you again, tell me and I won't touch you again” his voice sounded almost like a growl “But if you'll give me your permission, I want to check a second thing”

Flying too close to the sun.

That was exactly what it felt like to kiss Suga.

“What thing?”

“If I really like you enough, that I don't give a fuck about all the trouble you're going to get me into” Now you the one who kissed him this time.

Oh, you were going to burn.

Suga bit your lower lip so that you would open your mouth a little and his tongue could roam freely over yours. His hands moved down from your face and over your neck, shoulders, breasts and hips.

Tonight, it felt different than the first night in his bedroom.

Tonight Suga was a man on a mission. 

His plan was to leave no corner of your body unknown.

Between the haze of desire that you were feeling, your mind came to its senses. 

As an undercover agent, you knew the risks of getting involved with the son of one of Seoul's most powerful mafia leaders.

Kim DoHan had fucking warned you less than four hours ago.

But when he dropped you onto the luxurious bed of your bedroom in the Mansion, you couldn't deny the attraction between you. As his intense gaze swept over your body, you felt a rush of excitement mixed with fear. 

As he leaned in to kiss you, you couldn't help but wonder if this was all part of his plan. Was he using you or did he genuinely want you? You pushed those thoughts aside and surrendered to the pleasure, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

“Yoongi.” you sighed between kisses, and to him his name sounded like the best melody he had ever heard in his life.

“Oh, little flower you're going to be the fucking death of me.” he growled lowering his lips to her neck to bite her and she let out a moan. 

That was the last remaining thread of control for both of you.

Yoongi drank your body like a man finding water in the middle of the desert, and when he undressed in front of you, you thought you forgot how to breathe.

The first night, he didn’t take his clothes off. He focused on you, and your pleasure. 

But tonight it was different.

His muscles flexed under his smooth white skin that glistened every time the moonlight landed right on the beads of sweat that ran down his body. Yoongi was covered in small and large scars that danced among the black ink that adorned his body. He had the clan tattoo right on his chest and you wanted to run your fingertips over all his markings and then, then you would kiss them.

As you took him in, your eyes rested for a second on a path of dark hair trailing down his belly inviting you to look just a little lower. You held your breath when you saw him in all his manhood.

He smiled at you, like someone who is about to commit a crime and has absolutely no regrets

“Everything you see is yours. All you have to do is ask nicely” he said, voice deep and musky.  

“I don't beg, ever” you said. He sat on the bed between your legs; both hands caressing the skin behind your knees.

“There's always a first time, flower” he said, not breaking eye contact, and you felt that all the heat of your body traveled to your center. Your skin vibrating with the low purr of Suga’s voice. You realize now the size of him and you wonder if he could fit inside. 

Just like the last time he savored every second, and you realize something about Suga:

He’s a tease.

He wants to bring you close to the edge, just enough you can graze the delicious feeling of the fall; to take you away from it. 

He’s like a cat you think. He is playing with his prey before he finally eats it. 

“Fuck, Yoongi” you whimper when he cups your panties with his hand, applying enough pressure to make you roll your head back and close your eyes. 

“You don't like me. You say. But look how wet this pussy is, and I haven’t even touched you” He’s right, you are arguably the most excited you’ve ever been in your life, and you’re embarrassingly soaked. 

“I never thought Miss Lee NaRi would be a liar” you wanted to pretend that sentence didn’t stroke a nerve in your heart. 

If only he knew.

You can only stare as he lowers himself to lift your shirt inch by agonizing inch. Slowly, he revealed your soft skin. And you had to bite your lip to prevent you from begging him to touch you. 

Luckily he wasn’t in the mood to make you wait any longer as he roamed his hands through your body. “Fuck, flower. You are beautiful,” he said more to himself than to you. But you can’t help but feel happy as you realize that you have the same effect on him as he has on you.

“Can I?” you realize he’s looking at your breasts, and when you nod, he dives down to take one in his mouth, sucking a nipple through the lacy fabric of your bra. You moan, threading your fingers in his dark hair, and you hear the little moan that escapes his mouth encouraging you to pull harder. And without thinking you do. 

Another husky moan leaves his chest as he languidly rolls his tongue over your skin. Reaching behind your back you unclasp your bra and he pulls it off your body to toss it somewhere around the room. 

He looks back at you and the sight that meets his eyes is sinful. Your hair sprawled between the satin pillows and your pupils blown with desire. 

This time you don’t have the effects of the drugs to blame. 

This is all Suga’s work. 

And He knows it.

“How do you want to come, flower? My tongue? My fingers? or…” His gaze trailed down to his member that stood proudly between you two “Or do you want me to fuck you and ruin you for everyone else?”

Your entire body clenches at the last question, and for some reason you agree that fucking Yoongi will, in fact, ruin you. 

“Fuck me” you said half a whisper half a moan. 

“What did you say, pretty flower?” you rolled your eyes at him and before you could bark any answer he slid his fingers between the lace of your panties. Playing with your opening and finding the exact destination with a long stroke. Head snapping back you mean loudly “Do you want me to fuck you? Hm?” his middle finger caressed your clit in circular motions dragging you closer and closer to the climax of your own pleasure. 

“I need your words.” he growled 

“Please fuck me, Yoongi” you moaned his name and he smiled wider. 

“Good girl. Everything you ask for, I’ll give it to you” He hooks his fingers to the elastic band of your underwear and takes it off your body. You assume it fell somewhere close to where your bra landed. “I’ll fuck you. I’ll ruin you for everybody else. But first, I’ll have to stretch you.” he pants as he enters two of his fingers on your cunt “You’re so fucking tight, flower. So fucking perfect for me.” 

You gasp as you feel the delicious stretch of a third finger entering you slowly, his other hand holds you tight by the waist. He leans over your body to kiss you once again and this time you feel like you’ve lost your sense of reality. 

You can still taste the sweet taste of the lollipop on his tongue as you suck on it. Kissing him like you want to take all you can until everything is inevitably taken away from you. 

“I- I fucking hate you” you shudder feeling flustered under his gaze as he moves back to look at you. 

“Don’t start lying to me again” He steps back just enough to lift one of your legs and rest it on his shoulder. You feel your body tremble in anticipation. He slowly rubs his full girth on your swollen clit, that’s when you realize he’s teasing you again. 

He starts moving at a maddening pace. Slowly rubbing himself in wet circles, without breaking eye contact “Lie to me again and see what happens” 

You swallow hard and you can’t help but think you have done nothing but lie to this man.

From the very first day.

 

You planted a mic in his bedroom. 

You are using him to get information so you can bring his clan…

His family to ruin. 

If only he knew, this morning you sent a message to the base with the exact day the clan is planning to announce the heir.

You just gave the Seven Moons away to INTERPOL.

But as he slowly enters you inch by inch and you scream his name you also realize one thing

You are also lying to yourself.

And you don't want to discover how.

“There.” You plead as he pushes his final inch inside you. You whimper and shiver at the delicious feeling of having him fill you to your limits. “Oh my God Yoongi”  

“I think I heard a pretty girl say she didn’t beg” 

“Shut up, and fuck me” 

In one swift motion he pulls out only leaving his tip, just to slam himself back so hard you hear the bed bang against the wall. He starts thrusting hard and you start seeing stars as you forget your own name. 

The slow torturing pace which he touched you is long forgotten as he enters you fast and hard. He’s unforgiving. Raising your hips so he can hit the right spots at the right angle. A moan chokes in your throat as he leans down again to kiss you. 

This time you can feel the cold feeling of his chains against your bare skin. 

“Yoongi” you cry, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks.

“It's okay, flower. I’ve got you. Let go” he grunts as he starts picking an even faster and harder pace. His hands move from your legs to caress your clit moving in rapid circular motion. And the devilish spark that lights on Suga’s eyes tells you he’s onto something. You don’t have to wait too long when he presses his hand down your lower belly to feel himself inside you.

You think you’ve lost your mind, whimpering, moaning and crying of pleasure. 

Suga was right, he just ruined you.

Your body shocks as a white hot wave of pleasure runs through it. Your orgasm hits you hard and he continues to fuck you through it as he gets closer to his not long after. You hear him gasp as he comes feeling the hot ropes of his cum land on your skin. 

“Let me clean you up. Pretty flower, stay here” he pants still not able to regain his breath. As if you could really move. 

He brought a wet towel from the ensuite bathroom to clean you up, and he didn’t leave it until he made sure you were thoroughly cleaned. 

That night Yoongi took you again.

Several times.

You knew you were playing with fire. 

And if you weren’t careful enough.

You will get burned.

But even if you knew you were both risking your lives.

Suga visited your balcony every night for the rest of that week.

And fuck the consequences.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

One week later.

You were in one of the clan's armored vans on your way to meet Anya. You had talked earlier that day on the phone and agreed to meet at her apartment. You managed to convince Namjoon to send you with only one bodyguard.

Now, that was a mistake.

As you exited the freeway and slowed down to cross to the narrower streets the car you were in was rammed by a black SUV.

You felt yourself spinning around in the air.

Shards of glass flew everywhere.

You could only hear the screeching sound of metal hitting the ground.

Ten armed men got out of the cars that surrounded you.

You heard a shot.

Blood.

You were not sure if it was yours or the driver's.

Someone forcibly pulled you off the roof of the car that was now on the ground.

Your head hurt too much.

You wished you had listened to Namjoon about taking more bodyguards.

You closed your eyes and could see Suga's smile the night before, when you were talking in his room.

Yoongi.

Come and save me.

The more you fuck around,

the more you’ll find out. 

And now, you were about to. 

“Make it look like an accident” 

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Well, ahem..... Hello?

You guys know there's always a chapter you would never read out loud I think this is mine. This is actually the first time that I write full on smut... and it was something.

Anyway, how are you guys? I hope we're all doing well, satying healthy and surviving this tour because... Min Yongi is a fucking menace. LIKE!? The rapping? The HAIR??? The whiskey drinking? The "You guys listent too well" UMMMM EXCUSE ME SIR BUT THAT IS ILLEGAL!

And HAEGUM, when i watched the video i giggled and kicked my feet because that is Hate! Yoongi. What a beautiful time to be writing a ganster au.

Ps. Thank you SO MUCH for liking and I have to thank each an every one of you for reblogging Hate! I really, really appreciate it.

From the bottom of my chicken heart,

Thank you.

Love,

Ria 🌙

Tag List @drunkzseok @allamericanuniverse

If you want to join the tag list. You can coment this post or send me an ask!

[felice-jaganshi]

Made With Love

Radioapple

Chapter 3: Venison

(The song used in this chapter: May I Have This Dance)

Many years went by, with Lucifer doing his best to care for Charlie despite his relationship with Lilith deteriorating to the point she moved out, and took majority custody of their daughter. But that was decades ago now. All the while, he'd listen to Alastor's radio shows, and keep an eye on him through his bow. Just admiring him from afar…

Today however… something went wrong. As we started up his spell to watch Alastor, he saw he was in the middle of a fight against a pair of other demons. Oh shit, Alastor was bleeding!

Luci looked around through the spell best he could to figure out the location before shape-shifting and running off in disguise to get his deer!

____________

Alastor woke up in pain, he opened his eyes to see a canopy over head. Well, certainly not his bedroom. Nore that silly picture box's tastes… so where was he?

He sat up and immediately shut his eyes, hissing in pain from his wounds. He clutched at his abdomen, only to realize his shirt was missing, and he was bandaged up.

“Careful.” The voice made him freeze, eyes shooting open and searching the room. “Move too fast and you'll rip the stitches back open and I'll have to start all over.” His eyes finally landed on Lucifer, sitting in a chair next to the bed in the same form he'd seen before in his mother's house.

“My liege… it's nice to see you again.” Honestly nicer than Alastor expected it to feel, but he'd pocket that for analysis later.  

“Yeah, nice to see you too. You've been gone for a long time Al… I was worried when you stopped summoning me, as breaking a deal with the devil has consequences.” He stood from his chair. Hands on his cane in front of him.

“But then I realized you'd just died! And decided to grant you some leniency till you got comfortable in your new home… However, it's been a hundred years, and you still haven't come to visit. So I'm gonna need something as repayment for ignoring our deal.” 

Alastor's ears drooped, even as the smile never left his face, and Lucifer found it so cute! 

“Oh, don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you, we're friends, remember? I have a very simple solution. I've done the math and basically if we have dinner together every other night, we should be caught up in about seven years. How does that sound?”

His ears slowly perked back up, “Is.. that all, Sire? I was… expecting more.”

“Do you want more?” He looked at Alastor with an intense hunger in his eyes. It reminded him of how Rosie tried to make a literal meal out of him when she invited him to her shop for lunch!

“No, no! That's quite alright! I appreciate your kindness and generosity, Sire.” He tried to bow to his king, but failed due to his injuries.

Lucifer frowned, “Ah, that's no good… here, let me help.” He then created a cane for Alastor with a radio mic at the end. He offered it over, and as soon as Alastor took it, he felt a surge of power flow through him and his wounds healed almost instantly.

He raised an eyebrow, “If you could have healed me like that, why didn't you do it from the start, rather than undressing me?” Lucifer blushed before looking away.

“Uh because…” He smiled and held up a finger as an excuse hit him, “Because I needed to make sure you couldn't run away till you had agreed to the new conditions of our deal!”

Alastor looked unconvinced, but also couldn't see any other reason for any of this… so he had to go along with it. He got up from the bed, “Well, if you'll pardon me then, I must resume my skirmish with that rude picture box with this new power boost you've granted me. Which I am ever so grateful for, my liege. I'll be back later tonight for our dinner.” He started to walk away, when a golden rope wrapped around him and dragged him into the chair Lucifer had previously been sitting in. He tried to struggle free, only to find himself completely powerless, he felt like he did before he had ever made his deal with Lucifer.

“M-my lord?! What's the meaning of this?” He felt nervous, was the previous talk all just a charade?! Was his real punishment the loss of his powers?! No, no he couldn't have that!

“Well, it's already evening, Al. So I can't let you just run off like that.”

Lucifer circled Alastor. “Honestly, you should have come straight to me when you manifested in Hell, my pet. I'm rather put off with how long you've kept me waiting.”

“M-my king, I can explain.” His smile held fear, this was The Devil , after all. And the owner of his soul.

“No need, you wanted to amass Power and become an Overlord. Now there's only three reasons I can think of for you doing that.”

He stood behind Alastor, leaning towards his right ear, whispering in a warm tone. “You desire to serve and protect me, but need to be stronger to accomplish such a feat.” He dragged the back of his gloved hand across Alastor's cheek. “Like the good boy I want you to be.”

He moved to his other ear, a hand gently closing around Alastor's throat, voice taking on a reverberating growl. 

“Or, you wish to attempt to break free of our arrangement and kill me. To take my throne.” 

Alastor swallowed around the lump in his throat, his pulse quickening, and Lucifer felt it all. That fake smile he stitched onto his face wouldn't fool The Great Deceiver. Oh no, not when his body still betrayed his every thought. 

Hm, speaking of body… Lucifer couldn't help his thoughts from wandering, gazing down Alastor's shirtless body from over his shoulder, such a nice view from this angle. Those pants were annoyingly in the way though…

“Th-the third option, Sire?” Alastor's voice was barely there, afraid to say anything that could end his existence. 

“The third option, my deer .” He chuckled at his pun and pulled his hand from his throat. Alastor took a deep breath in relief before he felt something wet on his neck. Was that Lucifer's tongue?! Alastor felt his blood run cold, and Lucifer saw the goose bumps forming.

“Is that you just can't help yourself. You're addicted to the feeling of Power, and want more, more, more. But, my pet, I can give you all the Power you could ever desire, if you'll promise to stay by my side. Or does your desire to be a ‘self made man' keep you from me? Hm?” He wrapped his arms around Alastor's shoulders and rest his chin on his shoulder. “Tell me, love. Which is it? I won't get mad, promise.” He undid the rope holding Alastor in place, but the demon didn't dare to move. Didn't dare to speak a word. He felt like prey, a rabbit being eyed down by a wolf.

“You know… I think I'm in the mood for venison tonight.” He bit Alastor's neck, sucking and ravishing his tongue over the spot.

This jolted Alastor out of his shock! He stood quickly and started running through the palace. Lucifer chuckled darkly, and the sound echoed through the silent, empty building. 

“Run all you like, my pet. I love to chase.”

Alastor ran through the labyrinth of rooms, Lucifer's magic keeping him from just teleporting out with his shadows. He could hear his dark laughter, and… Singing.

“I'll give you one, two, three, a head start~, four, five, six, your fears intoxicating.”

Alastor ducked into a side room, hiding behind the door.

“I don't know if this is a fair game, but you smell so good, so it's you to blame.” He was right outside the door, tapping his fingers on it to the melody he was singing, “You can try to run, it makes all the more fun when I finally catch up to you.” Lucifer then kept walking down the hall, humming. Alastor let out a sigh of relief 

Till he felt a breath on the back of his neck instead. 

“Say little rabbit, do you dance~?”

Alastor sprinted out of the room at full speed, fear fueling his every move. Is this how his prey felt? Being hunted so viciously? No hope of escape, just prolonging The Inevitable?

He stopped in front of a full length wall mirror, finally seeing the mark on his neck from Lucifer's earlier bite. 

“Fuck… I can't leave here like this, what would the papers say? My reputation…” He covered the mark with a hand and couldn't stop the mortification that overcame him as his cheeks turned red.

His ears laid flat as he watched Lucifer's unhurried steps in the mirror, slowly coming up behind Alastor to stand beside him.

“It's a pretty mark, isn't it?” He placed a hand on Alastor's side, making him flinch and pull away.

“I don't like touch, Sire. Especially not a man's touch.” He growled, trying to reject the devil's advances. There was no more running to be had. To the death then! He wouldn't let Lucifer have his way without a fight!

“Oh? Hm, well that's fine. I can still admire your beauty without touching you.” He smiled and leaned on his cane, giving Alastor a syrupy look.

Alastor took another step backwards, “Why? Why are you suddenly like this?!”

“Hm? Oh I've always wanted you. Ever since our first date, when you made me that beautiful lamb. If I thought you'd say yes, I could have taken you to bed right there and then!” 

Alastor felt sick to his stomach, “Not interested. I didn't realize the devil was a lecherous pervert! How disgusting.” Yet, hadn't Alastor himself found the masculine form attractive on more than one occasion? No, no! That was purely acknowledging fashion! He- he wasn't. No!

He shook his head aggressively to rid himself of his thoughts. They were a distraction when he needed to focus!

Lucifer shrugged, “I can shapeshift if you'd rather I not have a dick in bed. Y'know, if that's the real hang up here. And like, no need to worry about what's considered a ‘sin’ or ‘unnatural’ by the church, you're already in hell. And, for the record, that shit isn't what sends people here. Plus, I'm not technically a man, I'm an angel. We don't play by the same gender and sex rules as humans biologically.”

“I'm still not interested!” Alastor's antlers grew and his claws extended, feeling the need to defend himself in case Lucifer wasn't going to take his “no” seriously. 

Lucifer just held up his hands, “Hey, hey, I thought we were having fun with that little chase. I see now I misread that. Okay, I still gotta court you properly. I get it, it's okay. I'm not gonna force myself on you.” He snorted, acting jovial and light about the whole ordeal, “I'd be no better than Adam back in the garden if that were the case.”

The glint of gold on his hand caught Alastor's eyes suddenly, “Is that a wedding ring? Are you making advances on me when you already have a partner?!” He was appalled!

“Oh? Well, n- uh. Hah, that's complicated. She and I are separated, we just co-parent our daughter and act as friends! I swear, she's aware of how I feel for you, and doesn't care one bit.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, “I'll believe that when I hear it from her own mouth. Now I'd like my shirt back so I may leave.”

Lucifer sighed and snapped his fingers, Alastor's clothes reappearing on his body, cleaned and repaired. He also released the restraints he'd placed on Alastor's powers. “There, but you will be back in three days for our dinner. I'll have a fully stocked kitchen for you to surprise me with whatever you'd like to make me.” 

Alastor didn't answer as he left through the shadows as quickly as possible. 

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Immortal Beloved - Chapter Seven.

Last update until after Christmas, guys. I guess this gives anyone wishing to catch up a chance to do so, but I must confess that if reads and engagement are still dwindling, the story will likely be discontinued. I don't want to do that really, but I'm not being left with much choice. Working hard on creating something that went from a lot of initial interest to barely any at all is soul destroying for a writer. I appreciate the few people who are committed to it enormously, though.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,739

Warnings - 18+ only. Adult themes + vampire content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Well, it looks as if the roads are quite passable now.” Looking at John, she snorted a laugh. It was not the news he’d been hoping to hear.  

“Can’t you go and, I dunno, move a load more snow over ‘em, so we don’t have to go anywhere?”  

Oh, the bubble they had fallen into over the past few days. Neither truly wanted to burst it by venturing out from within the four walls of Georgian House. They’d spent most of their time naked, either enjoying one another on a sexual level, or simply warming themselves at the fireside while they’d talked for hours on end. Reality, though, it had to come knocking eventually. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she raised a curious eyebrow. “What, I am to go out there and shunt the snowbanks back into every single road running through Birmingham?” 

“Yes,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the front door. “Go on, hop to it.”  

Her laugh filled the hallway, curling her fingers at his neck. “You do amuse me, my darling. There is nothing to stop us from coming back here later on. I would like another night with you until my rescheduled work engagements fill up the rest of my week.”  

“Yeah,” he breathed, kissing her forehead, “I’m gonna have all that to focus on an’ all. All the races will have been cancelled cos’ of the weather, but we have other things going on I’ll need to be about for.” Those things included words he hadn’t wanted to let into his mind for the last four days since his arrival in Little Aston, such as the Rasmussen’s, and his taking Bryn back to Small Heath to introduce her to his family in order to discuss her own difficulties with them.  

“Come, let us depart, then.”  

His face was not in agreement with those words. “Do we have to leave right now?” 

“You called your brother, and he is back from Warwickshire, yes?” 

“Yeah, he is.” 

“Then we should not keep him waiting. It is rude, and I pride myself on being polite.” 

He grumbled in protest. “I wanted to do something before we did.” He watched her cock her head slightly, his hands wandering over the contours of her body through her long, black skirt. “I really fancy burying me face between your legs for so long, you forget what I look like.”  

He winked, and she felt her stomach flutter. “I could never forget a face so handsome, but by all means, you may do that to me later on.” 

Biting his lip, he smirked, eyes touring her. “You sure not now?” 

The devilment within him. It would be the death of her, if she were not dead already. “Coat and boots. Now. Your family already distrust me. I am not about to give them another reason to stack against me before I have even crossed their threshold.” 

That threshold was reached at just past 6pm, Bryn stepping from the car as John took her arm, reaching to open the front door. His arm pulled from hers as he stepped inside, her body rooted to the spot.  

Polly’s words the previous week returned to him in an instant. “Ah, yeah I have to invite you in, don’t I?” She nodded. “Won’t you please come in, you ridiculously beautiful woman.” Stepping into the small house, it had a very cosy feel to it, the fire crackling away, evidence of someone having been sitting there, that someone coming hurtling in from the back room.  

“Daddy!” 

“Hello, pige.” Scooping his daughter up, John kissed her cheek, Katie cuddling up to him tightly as her eyes took in Bryn, who beamed brightly. “What’s this you’ve got on your head, eh?” Gesturing to the wire hanger that had been fashioned, little sequins wrapped around along with paper flowers, he laughed when she batted his hand away with a scowl. 

“It’s my crown!” Her finger then pointed at Bryn. “Daddy is this your new lady friend?”  

He grinned, nodding. “Yeah, pige. This is Brynhild, but you can call her Bryn, like I do.” 

Immediately, she scrambled from his arms. “Hello, Bryn! My name is princess Katie.”  

Bryn took to her like a duck to water, placing a hand to her chest with a small gasp. “What, you mean to tell me I am meeting the princess Katie of Small Heath?” The child nodded, tucking her chin a little shyly for a moment. “I am thrilled to make your acquaintance, your majesty.” Katie looked thrilled as Bryn bobbed in a neat curtsy, giggling before launching herself to hug her legs, the vampire lifting her into her arms. “This is a very, very pretty crown.” 

“Thanks! I made it, aunt Polly helped but then she got glue on her skirt and said it was a bugger, so I did the rest.” 

“Oi, you want smacked legs?” John admonished, pinching her cheek. “Less of the swearing, eh?” 

“But Polly said it!” Turning then, she found interest in Bryn’s tattoos, her fingers trailing the lines. “Did you paint these on? Do they come off?” 

“No, little princess. I did not paint them on and no, they do not come off.”  

“Is it like what uncle Tommy has on his arm? A two two?” 

“A tattoo, yes,” she softly corrected, Katie’s fingers reaching to begin playing with the strings of pearls around her neck. 

“Where are you from? Your voice is all funny. You don’t talk like we do.” A little more pearl playing went on, Katie studying her intently. “You’re very pretty.” 

“Why thank you. Such a compliment, and from royalty too, no less. As for where I am from, I come from a country called Norway.”  

Her little head of blonde curls swung around to view her father. “Can we go one day, daddy? Can you drive us there?”  

He laughed, taking her back from Bryn. “Not unless cars can suddenly cross water, pige. Now let’s get you off to bed.” 

“But I want to say up and talk to Bryn!” Ahh, he knew she’d probably be difficult, confronted with a new person. She likely already had designs on bringing down her doll collection to proudly show off. 

“I will come and see you again soon, princess Katie. This I promise.” Bryn vouched, rubbing her nightdress covered thigh affectionately. A few more protests were given before John took her up, coming back to walk Bryn through to the backroom, where there waiting were Tommy, Arthur and Polly.  

“Everyone, this is Brynhild. Bryn, this is Arthur, Tommy and Polly.”  

Studying them, she made her usual quick assessments, walking first to Tommy. He looked a little stiff, but was certainly the least frosty of the three.  

“A pleasure.” She offered her hand, Tommy hesitating only for a second, the echoes of screams that had sounded long ago sharp again within his mind before he shook it. He noticed it as soon as his skin pressed to hers, the ancient power that radiated from her.  

She seemed confident and polite, a civilised woman. It did not mean she truly was, though. Whatever sorcery she’d obviously worked on John, he wouldn’t be so quick to succumb, but he would give her a fair chance all the same.  

“Polly, hello.” Here she was met with much more coolness, the matriarch of the family lifting her chin as she took a step back, Bryn hearing her heartbeat escalate. She withdrew her hand after a few moments, certain it was not about to be shook. “I am not what your grandmother told you we are.”  

“You’ll keep my grandmother’s name out of your mouth, if it’s all the same to you.”  

“Pol, knock it on the head,” John warned, his brow creasing. 

“No, I bloody won’t,” she protested, although her eyes did not leave Bryn for a second. Her jaw clenched as she swallowed hard, trying to remain rocklike in the presence of a creature she’d been warned never to trust, no matter what. Bryn saw it, though, the way the curls framing her face gently fluttered from her trembles. “But I will at least listen to what she has to say.” 

“Well, I flamin’ won’t,” Arthur began, brandishing a large, silver knife as Bryn turned to him. “Don’t you fucking come anywhere near me!”  

“Arthur, put the knife down,” Tommy spoke, his tone quiet yet strong.  

“I will not.” 

Bryn turned, moving to take a seat at the table beside John. “If he wishes to arm himself for his own peace of mind, then I shall not object.”  

“Ain’t like you couldn’t take it from him faster than he could blink,” John snorted, resting a hand to her thigh, remembering how she’d done the very same to him. While Polly studied the ease he displayed while interacting with the shadow walker, Arthur was becoming tighter wound by the second.  

“I suppose if you’re fine with it,” Tommy began, lighting a cigarette. “Now, let’s get right to business, shall we? You want us to offer you protection in the daylight hours from the Rasmussen’s, should they ever get wind of your whereabouts.” 

“That is correct,” Bryn confirmed. 

“And what do we get out of it, apart from monetary recompense?” Taking a drag on his cigarette, his eyes narrowed a fraction. “The Peaky Blinders aren’t exactly short of a bob or two already, so I want to know what else it is that you can provide me with, in the interests of making it worth my while to trust a shadow walker.” 

John had mentioned how shrewd he could be. “It would be a regular, large sum of legitimate cash, for one thing. Bodyguarding services do not need to be hidden from the books, or laundered by other means as I know you have to with some of your more, ah, shadowed activities, shall we say. Then there is the fact that the Rasmussen’s do not play fair when it comes to a fight. I could give you the means to not just level the playing field, but level them, also. You know what they are, I am correct in thinking?” 

He nodded singularly. “Vampire hunters. John told us, yes.”  

“And you know why specifically they are hunting me?” 

“I do, for your blood. Somewhat hypocritical, if you ask me. Trying to wipe out your kind, but only too happy to drink your blood in order to harness a little of your strength for themselves.” 

Her mouth upturned, a smile spreading. “I have often thought much the same. In light of this, know that in physical combat, you shall never beat them as it stands. Outwitting them too shall prove difficult, for the advantage they hold. What I can offer to you is what they seek. My blood.  

“It will sharpen you both mentally and physically, far more than they. Whatever vampire they have within their clutches at present whom they are using for their blood source, they are nowhere near as old or strong as I. If you have that, Tommy, you have everything. The advantage will be yours.”  

His eyes widened a fraction at the suggestion, Bryn turning to John. “Show him, darling.”  

He stood, placing his hand beneath her chair before lifting it clean in the air above his head, his arm not even wobbling, no sign of any strain upon his face.  

“Holy shit,” Polly exclaimed, her eyes snapping from the sight to Tommy, who’s interest had just piqued by several notches.  

“And why the fuck have you been doing something so fucking vile as drinking her blood, eh? That’s fucking disgusting. Shame on ya!” Arthur raged, watching as his brother set the vampire down again neatly.  

John sniffed casually, looking at Bryn with a wink. “I had my reasons. I could tell you, but you’d probably shit a lung in disgust.” Being able to fuck for hours on end. Having the feeling of a million stars shooting through his bloodstream. Orgasms that rocked his foundations to rubble. Being able to feel her there connected to him, on a level that went beyond what they as mere humans could otherwise comprehend. No. Arthur likely wouldn’t take fondly to hearing such candid verbatim.  

Tommy cleared his throat. “And how much did you have in mind, monetary speaking?” 

“Are we just going to fucking sit here and ignore that this... this... evil witch creature has our bloody brother under some kind of spell, or what?” Arthur raged, thumping his hand on the table before the chair screeched out from under him, rising to his feet rapidly.  

“I am no witch, Arthur,” Bryn commented softly.  

John snorted with laughter. “Could’ve fooled me, bab.” The wink he directed at Bryn left nobody in any doubt over exactly what he alluded to. 

“Shut the fuck up, John! Just because you’ve decided to start shagging the fuck out of a corpse, it don’t mean we’ve got to be alright with it!” 

The mood in the room changed drastically, John shooting his eldest brother a dangerous glare. “The fuck did you just call her?” 

“Technically he’s right,” Bryn spoke casually, looking over at Arthur with a small smirk. “However, you shouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it. If there is one place we truly come alive, it is in the bedroom.” She then winked at John, feeling his temper deflate in an instant. He did nothing to hide his grin and snort of laughter, his reaction only further exasperating Arthur.  

“Revolting,” he began, swinging his pointed finger then towards Bryn. “And you, you fucking vile piece of filth, are a goddamned abomination!” 

Bryn was prepared to take a lot in order to help her cause, also to smooth any tensions that her love’s family might’ve still harboured now that she was involved romantically with him. Being called an abomination was where she drew a definitive line, though.  

Her growl rattled through the room, every person bar John feeling the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. “You will never call me that again.”  

“Listen to it, listen!” he raged, gesturing with both hands, his eyes widening. “Fucking growling, like the beast it is!”  

“Arthur,” John warned, “don’t bloody push her. She’s gentle as a sparrow, but if you light a match under her fucking temper, I ain’t putting myself between you and the explosion.”  

His mannerisms became jerky as anger and fear flooded his blood, thrusting a pointed finger in Bryn’s direction. “I will not share air with that fucking devil creature!” 

“That is fine, Arthur. For I do not need to breathe.” She was hanging onto her desire to exit her seat and pin him to the nearest wall, fangs bared, by the skin of those very teeth. Out of respect for John and nothing more, she remained seated. John, her darling, he who had just broken the tension in the air somewhat by snorting with laughter at her words.  

“John boy, this ain’t funny!” 

“Oh, it fucking is though, Arthur. You ranting and raving like a bloody lunatic about how vicious and murderous she’s supposed to be, and she’s just sitting there quietly, taking every ounce of your shit while you show yourself up good an’ proper.” Leaning back in his seat, he shook his head, still rumbling with his chuckles. “Give it a rest, eh?”  

“Give it a rest?” His spat statement was accompanied by a fine mist of saliva sprayed into the air, his hair becoming unruly as he dragged his fingers through it. “Oh ar, yeah let’s all give it a rest and let her think we’ve dropped our guard. Then she’d bring her friends along and it’ll be the Black Patch all over again!” 

John remained calm, chewing his toothpick with nonchalance. “You’re going to give yourself a funny turn, you are.” 

“You didn’t see it, John boy! You didn’t see people ripped apart, their throats torn out, you didn’t...” His words trailed off, eyes snapping to Bryn as she stood, making a start to walk towards him. “Don’t you bloody come near me! Don’t you...” He reached for the knife, but in his haste sent it clattering to the floor, Bryn upon him before he had chance to retrieve it.  

“Shhhhh,” she soothed, reaching for his face, clasping it between her hands, Arthur struggling. 

“Get your fucking hands off me!” 

“Shhhhh, Arthur. Come now.” She’d been pushed to anger before by his verbal tirade, but looking at him, really studying the man whose face she held, thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, she saw it. His outburst was not prompted by any hatred. It was all fear. He was terrified of her. Just like she had done with John upon their first meet, Bryn held his face, transmitting her energy to him, soothing him. He fought against it, though. 

“Get off, stop it. Fucking stop it!” 

He began to crack, embarrassed, frightened tears pooling his eyes, Arthur ashamed to let her witness them sliding down his cheeks. He remained rigid as she pulled him close. “There, there. You are not that frightened little boy any longer, Arthur. You are a strong man, a capable man, one who fought for king and country. There is no need for all this anguish. I do not seek to hurt you.” 

At last, she felt his muscles slacken, surprised to feel his arms wrap around her as he sobbed silently into the soft pelt of her coat. It took him by surprise, the feeling of sudden waves of calm pouring into him, there in the arms of the creature he had considered to be nothing short of the purest evil to ever exist. She fed upon the blood of the living, a shadow residing beast of unimaginable power and darkness, but there in her arms, Arthur felt the kind of safe comfort he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.  

He couldn’t discount that. 

The whole room remained silent, John raising an eyebrow and nodding at the scene as he and Tommy exchanged glances, the former mouthing ‘told you’ with a satisfied grin. Where Tommy looked to be more accepting of the sight before him, Polly remained stern, her face not cracking whatsoever.  

“Are you composed now?” Bryn asked, pulling back to wipe Arthur’s tears gently with the backs of her fingers.  

Nodding, he took a deep breath, straightening his stance. “A bit, ar.” He still felt embarrassed, excusing himself as Bryn returned to her seat. Immediately, John reached to cup her face, thumb stroking her cheek. She turned her head to kiss his palm, covering her hand with his for a moment. Tommy raised his eyebrows, looking to Polly. Neither had ever seen him really express affection like that for a woman so openly, but both saw it quite clearly.  

Their precious John was in love with a vampire. 

“Now, before Arthur became distressed, you mentioned to me a monetary figure. How is five hundred pounds?” 

“A month?” Tommy asked, surprised. 

“A week.”  

Good god. Just how rich was this woman, to be able to offer five hundred pounds a week? It was a sum he had not expected at all.  

“I think that can be arranged,” he began, stubbing out his cigarette, “but the blood offer I shall have to give some consideration to.”  

“Good enough.”  

“Before anything is decided, I have some questions I’d like to ask you,” Polly began, leaning forward in her seat a little. “How do we know we aren’t about to be set upon by a group of your kind and slaughtered, like what happened up at the Black Patch? We have no bloody assurances here, Brynhild.”  

Bryn nodded, clasping her hands together upon the table. “Polly, the only assurance you need is that if I wanted you dead, you would be.” Clicking her fingers, she smirked. “Faster than that. You would not even see it coming. If I were as feral and bloodthirsty as you assume, it would happen before you knew it. I have no long game to play here, there is no merit in the Shelby’s ending up exsanguinated. I have no need for your money, merely your protection during the daylight. After telling you that, now you tell me what purpose I could possibly have in being duplicitous?” 

Her response was sharply delivered. “The Black Patch massacre, as I just said.” 

Bryn truly hated when humans did not listen. “You would be dead already, as I just said. Besides, it was not my fight.”  

“So you wouldn’t take the side of your own kind over a betrayal?” 

“If a gypsy family whom were not of your blood fell out with others, would you immediately take their side simply because they were gypsy?” 

She lit a cigarette, feeling nervous that the vampire so swiftly had her on the back foot. “That would depend on the circumstances.”  

“If that is so, then why can the same not be applied to me, hmm?”  

Polly did not enjoy witnessing her argument so flawlessly picked apart, feeling as if the neat stitches had been dropped from the needles she had knitted her opinion upon all too easily. “I see.”  

“No, you don’t,” Bryn challenged, reading her like a book. “You are prejudiced against my kind because you lost your kin at the hands of vampires. I knew those responsible, this much is true, but I had no part in what happened. Furthermore, I wanted no part. I have lost too, Polly. Because of the Rasmussen’s, I...”  

John felt it flare within him, a wave of distress burning through her blood, his hand reaching for her. “You alright, sweetheart?”  

She swallowed hard, nodding as she turned to him. “There is something I did not reveal that happened during my incarceration at the hands of the Rasmussen’s. I do not speak it because it brings me too much pain. Pain I can barely comprehend, even after all these years.”  

In getting the family to truly trust her, she knew she had to relive it in revelation. The three humans sitting at the table all waited with bated breath to hear it, just what could make an ancient vampire the likes of her suddenly become victim to her emotions. They would be the first outside of her own kind to know what had happened, too.  

That spoke volumes for a vampire as guarded as Bryn had been forced to become.