#angelo parente smut

[morgana-larkin]

Okay hear me out. Ik this might be alot like another prompt from another author but i love it and wanna see ur spin on it. Pure fem! Reader and melissa just dying to corrupt her and have some fun.

Hi! I think I know the exact fic you’re referring too! I’m so happy that you want to see my spin on it. And here it is! So much longer than I expected but I don’t think anyone will complain. Due to me being stuck in bed with a twisted ankle, I’ll be able to write another fic! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: Due to a bit of confusion about who I write for, I will add to my masterlist who I write for. Also, since I will be starting to write for other characters, I changed my taglist to a Melissa and Chessy taglist. If you want to be on my main taglist for when I write for Marilyn, Misty and Moiraine, then let me know!

Italian translations:

Dio mio - oh my god

Mia angelo - my angel

Bella - beautiful

Amo il tuo corpo e voglio rivendicarlo - I love your body and want to claim you

Il Suo Angelo (Her Angel)

Warnings: pure innocent reader, horny af Mel, smut, lots of teasing, fluffy Mel

Words: 8.6k (have fun! 😉)

You walked in the break room and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Wow kid, if you went any faster I’d think you’re a speedster or something.” Melissa said and you looked at her and chuckled. And at that Ava walked in and walked to coffee machine but then stood by it and waited till you were done.

“Caffeine is my saviour lately, I’ve been so stressed lately.” You told her.

“Oh girl, what you need is to get you some. Then all the stress will disappear.” Ava piped up and you looked at her confused.

“Some what?” You asked her and Melissa glanced over at you.

“Some sex.” Ava said, blunt as ever and you blushed.

“Oh um, I don’t know. I want my first time to be special.” You told her.

“You’re a virgin?” Ava asked and you nodded. “Girl, look at you, how have you not had sex yet?” And you blushed and looked down at the ground.

“Um, I- I don’t know.” You said and took your coffee and sat down at a free table near Melissa and Barb.

“Hey kid.” Melissa says and you turn to look at her.

“Ya?”

“Are you one of those people that waits until marriage?” Melissa asked and you blushed.

“Uh no. Just um never got a chance to and wasn’t really a big discussion or something that was talked about in my family.” You told her.

“Are you saying your parents never explained sex to you before?” She asked and you blushed and looked down at the ground. Melissa got up and walked over to you, you saw her heeled boots and leather pants and looked up at her face. “Are you uncomfortable with talking about it?”

“A little bit.” You admit and she smirked.

“You don’t have to be kid. Just don’t talk about it with the students as you’re not a sex Ed teacher. But we’re adults here, and it’s fun to do.” She tells you and your eyes widen at that.

“Melissa!” Barb says to stop her.

“What? It’s not like you’re a virgin.” Melissa says to Barb.

“Well I know but no need to traumatise the poor girl.” Barb scolds her and Melissa sighs then looks at you.

“How old are you?” She asks you.

“Um I’m 27.” You tell her and everyone looks at you with wide eyes. “What?” You ask everyone.

“You’re 27, you’re a virgin and uncomfortable with the discussion of sex.” Melissa tells you and your cheeks go red.

“It’s also a bit hard to find dates when you like women.” You say and she smirks.

“Alright I’ll give you that, but since you’re new to Philly, I’ll just tell you that it’s a little easier to find dates with women here.” Melissa tells you, leaning down towards you a bit and you unconsciously lick your lips and stare at her.

Melissa walks back to her seat and goes back to her phone like nothing happened, while you go back to your coffee.

On the outside, it seems like Melissa isn’t doing anything different, but on the inside, in her brain is another story. She saw how you reacted to her and she finds it very interesting that you seem so innocent. Maybe she can have some fun with you.

At the end of the day, Melissa passes by your classroom like always and sees you sitting in your chair, writing something. She goes over to your door and knocks.

“Hi Melissa.” You say when you look up.

“Hey kid. Whatcha working on?” She asks and you sigh.

“I’m a little behind on grading.” You say with a small pout. “The lessons are a bit difficult for them so I haven’t had a lot of time to grade since I’m answering questions most of the time.” And she nods, then an idea pops in her head.

“Maybe I could keep you company?” She offers and you freeze.

“Wh-what?” You ask her and she smiles.

“I could keep you company if you want.” She offers again.

“Oh that’s really sweet but I don’t want to inconvenience you or ruin your night.” You tell her and she smiles softly at you, you’re so sweet and innocent she thinks.

“It’s not a problem hon. I don’t have any plans tonight and it was just going to be a boring night at home by myself on the couch.” She tells you.

“Well I won’t force you to stay or go, but if you want to stay then I wouldn’t mind the company.” You say with a sweet smile.

She grins at you and then grabs one of the students chair and brings it your desk to sit right across from you. Let the teasing begin, she thinks to herself.

“So” she starts, after about 10 seconds of silence. “How come your family never discussed sex?” She asks and you whip your head at her and blush.

“Oh um. I don’t know, it just wasn’t.” You tell her.

“Sheltered life then?” She asks you.

“I guess a bit.” You say with a shrug and then get back to grading. Melissa leans forward and puts her chin on her hands and smirks.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” She asks so casually. And you look up at her confused.

“Sorry, a what?” You ask and she tilts her head a bit.

“An orgasm hon.” She repeats and you look confused.

“What’s an orgasm?” You ask, and inside Melissa is beaming with mischief.

“An orgasm is a build up of pleasure when having sex.” She says and your face goes red. “And when it’s released, all the feel good hormones and emotions come with it.” She explains and you stare at her like a deer in the headlights. While she has your attention, she moves her arms down to be placed casually on the desk and leans forward. Her arms push her chest up a bit and with the shirt she’s wearing with a v-dip in the front, it gives you a nice view of her cleavage. Melissa pretends to be looking at the paper you’re grading, but she saw you glance down at her chest and lick your lips. “So you never touched yourself?” She asks and it takes a second for your brain to process that she spoke, and then another second to process what she said and you look at her confused again.

“What do you mean touch myself? Touch where?” You ask and Melissa is grinning.

“Touch yourself down there.” She says and points to in between your legs.

“Well I do when I go to the bathroom.” You say, confused to what she’s getting at.

“I meant, touch yourself… sexually.” She explains and your face goes redder than her hair.

“Wh-what? Why-why would I do that?” You say and sit up a bit straight.

“Because, it feels good.” She says with a shrug. “So you’ve never done that either?” She asks.

“No I haven’t.” You tell her and Melissa is beaming with excitement on the inside. Oh, all the ways she can corrupt you.

“So, your little innocent act isn’t an act at all. You’re actually a good girl.” She tells you and your eyes widen a little bit and Melissa notices the effect her words have on you. They say it’s the shy innocent ones you gotta look out for. And you are so innocent, it’s adorable, Melissa thinks.

Melissa stopped so that you wouldn’t be wondering why she’s suddenly curious about that part of your life…at least for today. She just carries on a normal conversation with you. Until the next day…

At the end of the day she stopped by your classroom again. “Still more grading?” She asks and you look up at her.

“M afraid so.” You say. “They’ve done 2 tests and a project in the past 2 weeks and I was starting to get behind but now I’m very behind.” You tell her and she walks in.

“Want some company again?” She asks and you glance up at her. You wanna say yes cause you are attracted to her but yesterday she asks a few questions and you’re wondering why it was on the topic that it was. But of course, your want for her to be close wins over.

“Sure, that’d be nice. Thank you.” You tell her with a smile. Instead of bringing a chair over, she sits on the desk closest to yours. You can’t help but stare as she sits with her legs slightly apart, a bit more than what is considered normal. And she’s also leaning back a bit with her hands on the desk.

“Have you been on dates? Been in relationships?” She asks and you let out a sigh of relief. Glad it’s not on the topic it was yesterday.

“Yes, I’ve been on a few dates. I’ve had one relationship but it didn’t last long. Like maybe 2-3 months.” You tell her.

“3 months and you didn’t have sex with her?” She asks and you groan very quietly.

“Why? Is that bad?”

“Well, not really. I mean it’s the people in the relationship that choose that. But typically people have sex within the first 3-8 weeks of a relationship.” She explains.

“She broke up with me because we didn’t have…you know. And because there was no discussion about it either.” You tell her. On the outside she was nodding in understanding, on the inside, she was smirking. You were so innocent you didn’t want to even say sex. God, she’s going to have a lot more fun with you. It helps that she’s attracted to you and you’re attracted to her.

Melissa got off the desk and leaned on your desk. “I’m not saying that you should have had sex with her, you know. It’s at your pace.” Even though she’s having fun with you, she wants to make sure that you don’t feel bad. You had a difficult time listening to what she was saying as her cleavage was right there. Melissa smirks as she catches on and she gets an idea. She goes to move her hands off the desk and straighten her posture but “accidentally” knocks a pen off your desk. “Oh sorry, I’ll get it.” She tells you and walks the 2 steps over and bends down. She makes sure to bend down so her ass was on display for you. When she bent down, she glanced very quickly at your reaction and you were staring right at her ass like she wanted. She stood back up and put the pen back on your desk. She wonders how else she can corrupt and tease you.

She does this for the next 2 days, just gives you little views of her cleavage, and ass if the opportunity presents itself.

On Friday is when she got a little more mischievous. She visits you in your classroom like normal as you're almost done grading all of the tests. She sits on a desk again and starts up a conversation with you. 20 minutes later and you finish grading with a smile.

“There! Finally finished.” You say and she claps.

“Congrats! Now they can stop pestering you.” She jokes and you laugh.

“Ya, first graders aren’t known for their patience.” You say and she giggles.

“Neither are second graders.” She jokes back with you and you laugh. You put the tests in a basket neatly to be handed back to them tomorrow and you stand up to get your things ready. Melissa gets off the desk and walks over to you without you hearing her.

Once all your things are in your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and turn around. You nearly bump into Melissa and you see her cleavage again. Melissa is smiling as she wore a push up bra and a shirt that makes her tits look amazing while still being appropriate for school. You tilt your head up and look at her. You then step to your left and try to psss by her but she stops you with an arm. She puts her hand on the board to stop you from leaving and she moves a bit so she’s in front of you with your back on the board. Your face goes red with the close proximity and you don’t know what to do.

“M-mel- Melissa? What are you doing?” You stutter out and she smiles.

“Nothing hon. Do I make you nervous?” She asks you and your cheeks turn pink.

“A little bit.” You admit nervously.

“Hmm, and why do I make you nervous?” And you don’t know how to respond to that.

“Um, well I - you… um. You just do.” You settle on that and she smirks at you. You then duck under her arm and speed walk out of there. Melissa isn’t at all disappointed that you found an escape, she’s finding it amusing that you basically bolted out of there while trying to be subtle.

During the weekend, you thought about how close Melissa was to you and then you for some reason felt a wetness between your thighs that only happened one other time before and you’re not sure what it meant. You googled it and most of them say it’s a result of getting turned on and you decide to ignore that fact and try to focus on other things. Try being the important word. Your thoughts keep shifting back to Melissa and her perfect cleavage, her perfect ass, the close proximity, her amazing smile and almost glowing hair that’s perfect for her. You rub your thighs together and then you freeze, why did you do that? And why are you wet again? All these thoughts keep your weekend busy. And then you wake up Monday morning and prepare for another week. Maybe now you won’t have thoughts of Melissa that makes you feel weird things. Oh were you wrong.

You went in the break room and there Melissa was, glasses on and she’s leaning slightly to the desk, writing something. Her perfect cleavage on display and she looks really pretty with glasses on. With or without glasses she looks pretty. You try not to stare at her and go to the coffee machine.

“Hello dear. How was your weekend?” Barb asks you and you turn to her. You go to answer and then you see Melissa smiling at you and your mouth stays slightly open for a couple seconds. And then you remember you were asked a question.

“It-it was good, just a relaxing weekend. Got all my grading done last week so I pretty much just enjoyed the weekend.” You tell her and she smiles at you. You then glance at Melissa and she winks at you, your cheeks turn pink a bit at that.

“That’s good to hear dear. You deserve a stress free weekend.” Barb tells you.

“Thank you. Ho-how was your weekend?” You ask her and she goes into explaining her day out with Gerald. She tried listening but you saw Melissa smiling at you, at some point she took off her glasses and put the tip of it in her mouth. And to top it off, she crosses her arms in a way that pushes her breast up and you lose all brain function. All of that happens in the space of 3 minutes but it feels like much longer. “What about you Melissa?” You ask her when Barb is done.

“It was good, hon. Like you I stayed home, and de-stressed.” She sends you another wink when Barb isn’t looking and you widen your eyes a bit.

After you go to your classroom and continue out the day. When all your students leave, you pack up your things and hear someone come in. Although you know who came in as you recognize the sound of her heels, Melissa.

“Hey hon.” She says and you turn around as she’s walking in.

“Hey Melissa. I don’t need any company today as all my grading is done.” You tell her, you were a littl disappointment, you were starting to like spending that time with her.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. It was a nice little routine last week.” She tells you and you nod. She walks towards you a bit more until she’s 2 feet away from you. “Want to know more about my weekend?” She asks with a deeper voice and you shiver a little bit. You think she didn’t notice as she didn’t react or say anything but she did notice.

“Um sure.” You tell her with a slight stutter.

“Well as I said I stayed home and de-stressed.” She began and you nodded. “Well want to know how I de-stressed?” She said and she walked towards you and you walked back a bit until you ran into the chalkboard. She pressed her body against yours a bit, leaned towards your ear and whispered the answer. “I imagined you in my bed, underneath me. Then I put my hand between my legs, I fingered myself and rubbed my clit until I had an orgasm. And I said your name when I did.” She tells you and then pulls her head back and looks at your face.

Your mouth is slightly open in shock, your eyes wide, cheeks flushed, your breathing deepened, and you rubbed your thighs together. Melissa is smiling at your reaction.

“Hmm, you know you’re cute when you react like that.” She tells you as she tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. Your still frozen in shock and don’t respond to her. She gently strokes down your arm with two fingers. “Hmm, you’re so innocent, hon. Do you like it when I think about you like that?” She asks, and your cheeks turn red.

“I-um…I-you… uh, um, like…” you stutter and she smirks at you.

“Oh hon, did I make you speechless?” She asks with mock sympathy. She knows exactly what she’s doing to you and how she affects you and she’s enjoying it. “Why don’t I make it up to you hm. How about on Friday after school, you come over to my place and I’ll cook you dinner.” She says and you’re speechless again. “You can nod or shake your head as an answer.” She tells you, deciding to take a little bit of pity on you. You nod your head and she smiles. “Perfect.” She tells you. She grabs her phone and presses a couple things then looks at you. “What’s your number?” She asks and you look at her confused. “So I can text you my address.” She explains and you gulp. You then muster up enough courage to give her your number. She then sends a text and your phone vibrates in your pocket with a notification. She looks at you with a smirk. “Hope that’s not the only thing you have that vibrates.” She says and you look at her confused. She decides to not explain it and instead reaches for your phone, she slides her hand down you a bit, sticks her hand a bit in your pocket and wraps her hand around your phone and tugs it out. She then slides her hand up between you both and hands you your phone. “You can look up what I meant. Search what vibrators are for.” She tells you with a wink and then she walks out with a sway in her hips.

You stare at her ass as she walks out, completely mesmerized. At home you look up vibrators and your face goes red at what it says they’re for. She said a sexual innuendo and it went right over your head with your lack of knowledge on the subject.

The rest of the week goes by normally. Melissa doesn’t have an opportunity to drop by your classroom as she’s busy. She still sends winks your way when she can. And she bends over for you to see her cleavage when you’re looking, especially in the break room. And when she walks away from where you are, she sways her hips more so you can stare at her ass moving. On Friday she stops by your classroom briefly at the end of the day.

“Hey hon.”

“H-hi Melissa.”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re still coming over tonight.” She tells you.

“Of-of course. I’ve heard great things about your cooking and wouldn’t miss the opportunity.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well good, you won’t be disappointed. A meal you won’t forgot.” She tells you with a slightly deeper voice and winks after. You feel your mouth dry and in between your legs get wet and you gulp.

“Do-” you squeak out then clear your throat as your mouth was dry. “Do you want me to bring anything?” You ask her and she walks closer to you and puts a finger under your chin.

“Hmm, just need to bring your pretty self.” She hums and you blush. You forgot how to English for a second and decide to nod in reply. She smiles at you and hums again. “Good.” She says and sways her hips as she walks out. She stops when she reaches the door, puts her hand on the doorframe and glances back at you. “Show up at 6, don’t be late.” She tells you and winks. She then continues walking to her car, leaving you in your classroom, stunned for a minute. Your body then remembers how to work and you walk to your car to get home to change.

You get home and strip out of your work clothes. You suddenly don’t know what to wear, she said it wasn’t a date but you want it to be a date, and want to impress her as you have a crush on her . You then decide to put a robe on and video chat your older sister.

“Hey you, what’s up?” She says when she picks up.

“Hey sis, I need your help. So I have a crush on a coworker. And she invited me over for dinner to her place. She never said it was a date but I still want to impress her.” You explain to her and she chuckles.

“So you need help choosing an outfit?” She asks and you nod. “Alright, show me what options you were thinking of and I’ll let you know if it’s a yes or no.” She says and you nod. You spend the next 20 minutes showing her your clothes as she said no to everything you were thinking of wearing. You then settled on an outfit you both agreed looks good. You then thank her and she makes you promise to tell her all about it tomorrow, and hangs up.

You then shower, blow dry your hair, and brush your teeth. You put on your outfit, which is a cute dark purple dress that stops mid thigh, with a small v-dip and black stockings, with small heels that are black, and a fancy black sweater to complete the look. You then quickly curl the bottom half of your hair then keep it all down. You then apply a bit of purple eyeshadow, some mascara and tinted lip balm. You realise it’s time to go and you grab your purse and head to her place.

You arrive at 5:57 and you take a minute to breath and calm your heart down and give yourself a small pep talk. “Ok remember y/n, she’s a coworker and friend. She may be your crush but try and keep all thoughts of kissing her out of your head.” You say, then let out another breath before getting out and walking to her door.

You knock on her door and she opens it with a smile. You should have added more to your pep talk then just thoughts of kissing her. As she’s wearing a low cut red shirt, that shows her cleavage more than the shirts she wears at school does. She also has on black leggings and her hair up in a ponytail with her bangs framing her face perfectly. You stare at her and forgot to say anything as your brain is busy processing the outfit.

“Wow, you look nice angelo.” She tells you, and if you paid any attention to her eyes you would have noticed her pupils are a bit blown as her eyes roam up and down your body.

“Th-thanks, so do you.” You say and she smiles.

“Thank you.”

“What did you call me?” You ask her

“Angelo, it means angel.” She says and you smile. “Come on in.” She tells you.

“Are you sure? Your mat says go away.” You say with a smile to show her that you’re joking and she giggles.

“That’s because I only let a few people come inside.” She tells you and you blush. You had no idea that you were one of the select few that she’s invited to her house. You nervously step inside her house and she closes the door behind you and you take your heels off.

“Wow, you have a lovely home. Not at all what I expected.” You tell her and she laughs.

“Oh ya? And what did you expect to see?” She asks you as she leads you to the kitchen.

“I don’t know to be honest. I haven’t figured you out yet. But I guess one that has a little less, homey feeling I suppose.” You tell her and she chuckles.

“If it makes you feel better about your expectation, I have about 5 bats hidden around the house.” She tells you and you smile.

“Now that does sound like you. I’m honestly less surprised you have bats hidden than I was about what your house looks like.” You joke and she giggles.

You enter her kitchen and you’re immediately surrounded with the smell of dinner and your stomach grumbles. “Now are you too innocent for wine or do you drink that?” She asks you with a slight smirk but she’s also curious.

“I do have a glass from time to time. Mostly at family gatherings. Which is about 4-5 times a year.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well is it alright if I pour you a glass?” She says and shows you the bottle.

“That’s my favourite!” You tell her and she beams.

“Really? Mine too.” She tells you and pours some in a glass for you. “I knew you must have good taste.” She says and hands you a glass.

“Thank you.” You tell her and you both clink your glasses together and then take a sip. Then the oven dings and Melissa puts down her glass and walks over to it. She slips on an oven mitt, opens the oven and takes out the food. You see the food and you have no idea what it is but it looks good. “Wow, that looks amazing! What is it?” You ask her and she smiles at you.

“It’s skillet chicken cacciatore.” She tells you and you smile.

“It’s Italian?” You ask her and she nods. Wow, Italian accent is beautiful, you think.

“You think I’m beautiful when I speak Italian?” She asks you and you realise you said it out loud and you blush.

“Did I say that out loud?” You ask her and she nods with a smirk.

“Is there a translation for the last word?” You ask.

“For cacciatore?” She asks and you nod. “Yep, it means hunter.” She tells you and you look at her confused. “I don’t know the story behind the name. That’s just what it’s called and you don’t ask questions.” She tells you as she puts some on 2 plates and you laugh.

“Alright then. No questions, got it.” You tell her and she tells you to bring the wine and guides you to the dinner table.

You two sit down and then you take a bite and you let out a moan at how good it tastes. You look over to see Melissa holding her glass with a smirk.

“What?” You ask her.

“I knew I would like how you sound when you moan.” She tells you then takes a sip of the wine.

“Where else would I make that noise?” You ask her.

“In bed.” She says so casually as she cuts up a piece of the chicken. “When someone or yourself is giving you pleasure.” She tells you and she slides her foot up your leg. You choke on the food as you swallow, from her foot touching you like that or her comment, you’re not sure. She leans back in her chair and takes a bite of the food with a smile on her face.

You watch as a bit of sauce is at the corner of her lips and she licks it off with her tongue. You stare and she smirks when she sees you staring. You realise she’s looking at you staring and you sheepishly go and cut up a piece of food and look down.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about staring at me. I know you find me attractive.” She tells you and you freeze. You were about to take a bite as your fork is right in front of your mouth and your mouth is open. The piece of chicken falls off your fork and lands in a spot with some sauce and some flies to your face.

“Ah.” You yelp as you were surprised and Melissa snorts.

“Here hon.” She says as she takes your chin and turns your head to face her. She uses her thumb to wipe off where it got you and it seems it got you a few times. She wipes off the spot underneath your eye, on your cheek and right under your bottom lip. Melissa freezes and keeps her thumb at your bottom lip and then she traces it. You have no idea what’s going on but you don’t stop her. You start breathing heavier and she pulls back and goes to continue eating. You don’t comment on it and just continue eating. Once you’re both done, you clear the table and give the plates a quick rinse as she puts the leftovers in containers and then puts them in the fridge. She closes the fridge door as you dry your hands.

“Thank you for dinner and the wine Melissa it was really go-” you’re cut off as you turn around and Melissa lips are on yours. You kiss her back after a second when your brain starts working again. She presses you into the counter and you gasp, Melissa takes the opportunity and slips her tongue in and tastes you. You put your hands in her hair and remember she has a ponytail and you whine. She pulls back and laughs.

“Are you upset I have my hair in a ponytail?” She asks and you nod with a pout. “Hmm, well you know, there’s an easy fix.” She tells you and she slowly slides the elastic down and then shakes her head a few times to put her hair in place. “There, better?” She asks you and nod. She smiles then goes back to kissing you. You immediately put your hands in her hair and she moans into the kiss and you pull back.

“Is that the kind of pleasure you were talking about for that sound?” You ask her and she chuckles.

“Oh hon, you have no idea the kind of pleasure I can give you that’ll have you moaning like crazy.” She purrs in your ear and you shiver. The wet feeling between your legs is back and you rub your thighs together and Melissa notices. “Are you turned on hon?” She asks and you widen your eyes. Oh so Google was right about what that means. You nod at her and she smiles. “If you want, I can help you with that.” She tells you.

“How would you do that?”

“Well it would require you to lose your virginity.” She tells you and you open your mouth in shock. “And before you ask, yes, that feeling between your thighs, your pussy is wet cause you’re turned on and it gets wet so it doesn’t hurt when something is sliding in there.” She tells you.

“Sliding in there? You mean like a tampon?” You ask and she giggles.

“You’re so adorable.” She says and boops your nose. “No, I mean like my fingers.” She tells you. “For straight sex, it would be that a dick slides in you.” She tells you and your eyes widen. “I’m not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. But my offer is still available if you want to take care of that feeling right here.” She says and taps on your pussy and you flinch and let out a small yelp. “Either me or your own fingers.” She tells you and you look at her eyes that are full blown. You cup her cheek and trace under her eye with your thumb.

“Where did the green in your eyes go?” You ask her and she smiles.

“My eyes are blown. It’s what happens when you get turned on and want to have sex.” She tells you and your breath hitches. “Your eyes are blown too.” She tells you and you blush. It takes you about 5 seconds to come to a decision about her offer. It took 4 seconds of being distracted by her face and then one second to come to a decision.

“I want you to help me with the feeling.” You said a little embarrassed and nervous.

“Oh hon, you’ll have to ask me properly.” She told you and you whined as she pressed herself against your body. “Come on, you can do it.” She told you as she gently bit your ear.

“I-I want to have…” and you paused. Melissa pulled back and looked at you.

“What is it hon? Why can’t you say the word?” She asked you.

“Because I grew up thinking that you shouldn’t think about it or say it.” You told her and she stroked her cheek.

“Oh hon, it’s not a bad thing to vocalise that you want sex.” She told you. “Come here.” She said and she lead you to her bedroom. “Go sit on the foot of the bed.” She says and you obeyed while she closed the door and then walked over to you. “Now I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, and I won’t touch you unless you want me too but I do want to show you what I look like under my clothes, ok?” She tells you, thinking maybe you’ll be more comfortable when you see another woman’s body naked. You nod at her and she smiles.

She pulls her top off slowly, exposing all the skin of her stomach and you stare at all the soft looking skin and can’t help but touch it. So you do. She lets out a yelp and you pull back thinking you shouldn’t have.

“No no, it’s ok baby. You just surprised me as my shirt was covering my eyes.” She tells you and puts your hand back on her stomach. You feel all over her and you want more so you stand up. You move your hand to the back and hover over her bra clip. “Go on baby. You can unclip it.” She tells you and you do and take her bra off. Then you pull back and look at her. And you’re surprised you don’t faint right there. She looked so, so…

“Sexy.” You slip out and she smiles.

“Thank you, baby.” She tells you and you don’t even care right now about your thoughts.

“Melissa.” You tell her and she looks into your eyes.

“Yes baby?” She asks.

“I want…” you start and she just looks at you, letting you take your time. “I want… I want to have sex with you.” You say and she smiles.

“Well ask and receive baby.” She tells you and she kisses you again.

She then travels down to your neck and starts sucking and you let out a moan. She then starts to slowly lift your dress up and then you pull back and put your arms up, allowing her to take it off. She then unclips your bra and takes it off and looks at you.

“You’re so beautiful, Bella.” She says, remembering you liked it when she spoke Italian. You let out a groan and rub your thighs together. “Hmm, is me speaking Italian a turn on for you?” She asks and you nod. She pushes you on the bed and straddles your lap. “Well then.” She says and smirks, then pushes you more on the bed. “Amo il tuo corpo e voglio rivendicarlo.” She says seductively while grinding on you and you whine. “It means, I love your body and want to claim it.” She says and you put your hands on her.

“I want you to claim me, Mel.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Mel hm, I like it.” She tells you and you blush. She attacks your neck again and you gasp. It feels incredible what she’s doing on your neck. She then trails down to your chest and leaves kisses all over it, worshipping your body as it should be. She then takes a nipple in her mouth and you see stars. She then remembers that you’ve never masturbated either, never touched yourself. So she thinks she should probably go easy on you so you don’t get too overstimulated. “If it becomes too much for you, then let me know, ok?” She says and you nod.

“Keep going please. It feels amazing.” You tell her and she smiles and goes back to your nipple. You continue to let out gasps and moans as she swirls her tongue around your nipples and sucking on them.

“I’m so honoured.” She says as she runs her hands all over your chest and stomach. “Not only will I be your first, but I’ll also be the first person to ever give you pleasure, and that includes yourself. I can’t believe you went this long without it.” She tells you and you buck your hips and whine. “Alright since you’ve never had it before, I won’t keep you waiting much longer. But just know, in the future, I will.” She adds and you look at her.

“So there’ll be more?” You ask her and she tilts her head and looks at you.

“I mean if you want.” She says cautiously.

“Of course, I’ve been attracted to you since I started.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“Good, cause I’m attracted to you as well.” She tells you. “I can take you on a date tomorrow if you want.” She offers and you nod. “Alright now, time to make you feel good.” She tells you and gets off the bed and takes your tights off. “You looked so innocent and adorable in that dress and tights. But I think you look better with them both off.” She then puts her fingers on your underwear and looks at you, you nod at her and she takes your underwear off. She then looks at you completely bare for her and she smiles warmly at you. “You look beautiful.” She says with a hum and you smile. “You look even more beautiful with a smile.” She adds and you blush.

She then gets on her knees, pulls your body closer to the edge of the bed, then does a big lick up your entire pussy. You gasp out and she moans at your taste.

“You taste amazing, mia angelo .” She says and licks your entrance while you gasp and moan at the amazing way her tongue is moving on you. You can’t help but grab her hair and run your fingers through her beautiful red locks. You keep bucking your hips so Melissa pins you down and then slides her tongue in your entrance and you let out a loud gasp and she smirks. She then goes to your clit after she slides her tongue in and out of you a few times. As soon as her tongue connects with your clit, you arch your back off the bed, causing her to use more strength to pin you down. You start grinding on her mouth and she doesn’t have the heart to stop you from doing that. She knows you haven’t felt anything like this before and knows it can be a lot the first time. Not that she remembers her first time as it was about 30 years ago, but considering how it feels everytime she has sex, she can imagine how it must feel the first time.

You start to feel a build up in your stomach and you don’t know why. “Mel, why do I have a strangle feeling in my stomach?” You ask and she smiles. She pulls her tongue away but replaces it with her finger and continues rubbing your clit.

“Remember me explaining the orgasm build up?” She says and you nod. “Well that’s the build up. When it’s at its capacity you’ll let go and cum.” She tells you with a breathy voice. She wants to make sure she doesn’t overstimulate you without skin contact so she goes on top of you and looks at you while slowing down the movement on your clit. “I’m gonna stick my finger in you, it’s going to hurt a bit but that’s because your body isn’t used to it. I’ll go slowly but if it hurts too much or if you want me to pause but don’t want me to pull out then let me know ok?” She tells you and you nod. She then gets you to lay further up on the bed with your head on a pillow and she leans down on top of you. “Alright, ready?” She asks and you nod.

She then lines her finger up with your entrance and kisses you. She slowly slides the tip of her finger in and you gasp in the kiss. She then trails down to your neck so you can focus on her kisses on your body rather than the pain. She slides in more and sucks on your neck, you whimper a little bit but you don’t say anything so she keeps going. She slides it in all the way and she looks up at you while still sucking your neck.

“Do you feel pain mia angelo?” She asks when she pulls back and you nod. “Ok let me know when it goes away.” She kisses your neck and nipples for a few seconds and then you call her name.

“Mel, it went away.” You tell her and she nods. She then slowly pulls out then she slides back in again slowly. You gasp at the pleasure and you push her body closer to yours. She smiles at that and then goes a bit faster. You buck your hips to her body but can’t go very far as her body is pushed on yours, by you.

You end bending a knee slightly and accidentally put it between her legs, right up against her core, and the seam of her leggings touches her clit. She ends up doing a hard thrust by accident along with a “fuck.” From the pleasure and then asks you if you’re ok from the thrust.

“Can you do it again actually?” You ask her and your voice is very breathy at this point. She does a hard thrust again and you moan out at the pleasure. She then speeds up and does hard thrusts and your leg stays where it is. She grinds your leg a bit unconsciously and you notice and you smirk.

“Not so innocent now mia angelo.” She teases you when she notices your smirk to what you’re doing to her. She then pulls out of you completely and she quickly takes her leggings and underwear off. You go to whine at the loss of her finger when you see her strip in front of you then stare open mouthed at the sight of her pussy. She then goes back on your leg and sticks her finger back in. You moan out at the feeling of her finger, and then you feel her wetness spreading on your leg and you feel good knowing the effect you have on her.

“You feel very wet.” You tell her between moans and gasps.

“Yes mia angelo, that’s how much you turn me on.” She tells you and you smile. She puts her thumb on your clit when she feels her build up starting and knows it won’t take long. You say a little “aa” from her rubbing your clit and then she adds another finger in you slowly and you wrap your arms around her. You unknowingly press her down more on your leg and she moans out. The build up starts to get stronger and stronger in you and your legs start shaking and you’re breathing faster. “Just let your body do its thing and leg go when you need to.” She tells you when she feels your legs shaking. She’s close as well but wants you to come first.

A few seconds later you come with a high pitched gasp and she comes at the sight of you coming. She then stops and slowly and carefully, removes her thumb from your clit and pulls her fingers out. She then rolls over and lays down beside you, breathing fast. She then holds you in her arms while you shake as your body is trying to slow down your heart rate.

When your breathing slows down, you notice you put your hand on her boob unconsciously, then you squeeze it and rub your finger on the nipple. She lets out a whine and bucks her hip at that. You do the same to the other one and get the same reaction. She looks at you and sees you genuinely curious and interested in her boobs. You then go and lick one of her nipples and she lets out a gasp, you repeat the action and she moans softly. You then put it in your mouth and start sucking and licking. She bucks her hips and gasps. You pull back after a bit and you go to the other one.

“Mia angelo, what are you doing?” She asks before you get to the other one. “If you keep going you’re gonna make me want more.” She tells you and you put the other nipple in your mouth. You do the same thing and she moans and bucks her hips. “Angelo, please. I don’t think you realise how much you affect me.” She pleads and you look at her.

“Oh I do know actually.” You tell her and she looks at you going down her body and she whines. “You see, I felt you on my leg and how wet I make you.” You tell her and rub up and down her legs and feel how soft they are and you hum. “I also realised how much you teased me last week.” You say and kiss her thighs. You get close to where she wants you before pulling away and kissing her thighs again.

“Mia angelo. Stop teasing me.” She says and you look at her.

“Do you know how much I thought of you last weekend? Thoughts of you pushed up against me, and how wet that made me.” You tell her and she groans. You then slide up her body and come face to face with her. “I think it’s only fair that I do that to you.” You tell her and she whines. Of course, she thinks, they weren’t wrong when they say to watch out for the shy and innocent ones.

You then kiss her neck and she brings her hand down to touch herself. You notice it and don’t stop her. You kiss and suck on the other side of her neck and she slides a finger in herself.

“Are you making yourself feel good?” You question and she nods. You then grab her wrist of the hand that’s currently fingering herself and you make her pull her fingers out of herself. You then put her fingers in your mouth and you moan at the taste.

“Dio mio.” She gasps out as your tongue runs all over her two fingers. She definitely corrupted you, that’s for sure. You decide to finally give in and you move back down and put your mouth on her entrance. She bucks her hips as you connect your mouth to where she needs it. You then slip your tongue in her entrance and she squeaks out a moan. She starts grinding on your tongue and you moan. The sound vibrates on her and she gasps. “Dio mio, mia angelo. Your tongue feels so good.” She says and you smile. You then move to her clit and you slide a finger in her entrance. You move your tongue and hopefully you’re making her feel as good as she made you. She lets go of the sheets she was grabbing and grabs your hair instead. You add another finger in her and she screams out. You slide your fingers in and out of her and you love the way she feels inside, her wetness and warmth wrapped around your fingers and keeping you inside. You then feel her clench around your fingers and her legs start shaking. She then screams out as she comes but you don’t stop, too distracted by how she feels around your fingers and her taste. She continues grinding on your fingers and tongue as her build up is already starting again. She comes again not too long later and she then pulls you away. You pull out of her and climb up to lay beside her.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” You ask and she shakes her head.

“No no, that felt incredible.” She says, trying to catch her breath. You beam at her words and she smiles at you. “Wow, I can’t remember the last time I came 3 times during sex.” She says and you blush. She wraps her arm around you. “Come here mia angelo.” She says and you snuggle into her. The two of you spend most of the weekend in her bed.

On Monday morning you walk in the break room a little weirdly but no one mentions it. Well not until Ava comes in and sees a hickey that you couldn’t cover due to how dark it was.

“Damn girl, did you get laid on the weekend?” She asks impressed and everyone except Melissa looks at you shocked. Melissa just continues on her phone.

“Maybe, what’s it to you?” You challenge back and Melissa snorts. You then go and sit down with Melissa and Barb as Melissa told you that you could this morning. Barb looks over to Melissa and sees Melissa wink and smile at you. Barb then sees a hickey on Melissa and she shakes her head at the two of you.

Ava sees Melissa’s wink and smile as well and then sees her hickey. “Melissa, I didn’t know you were into the innocent ones.” She tells her and everyone looks confused.

“And?” Is all Melissa says and everyone grins. Melissa then pulls your chair right beside her and wraps an arm around your waist and you lean into her.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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@sleep-deprived-athlete

Let me know if you want to be added!

[elryuse]

Idol: An Yujin (IVE) Genre: Arranged Marriage, Mafia AU, Yandere (Kind of), Smut (If you want) Basically, the plot is about Y/N Angelo who is the son of the notorious and powerful Italian mafia of the Angelo Family and they go to Korea to send Y/N to study at a University to get a better view of the world. But then he encounters the popular girl... An Yujin she was a bully, gets what she wants and will do anything to get it.

Y/N tried to avoid her but she wouldn't stop then he thought how could things get worse? And of course, it does, one night, he would have a family dinner at a fancy restaurant and he was surprised to find An Yujin herself with her parents and Y/N's father would introduce them as the An Mafia family of Korea, the most powerful criminal organization in the country.

What terrified Y/N was that they agreed to an arranged marriage as a simple piece of paper of a contract wouldn't be legit enough to seal the deal with the two powerful families and Yujin would be delighted as she knew this would mean she could intervene in his private life as much as she wants and Y/N cannot escape as he must comply with the whole marriage and when they graduated from University, the wedding came.

During the honeymoon in Jeju island, it was just Yujin and Y/N but after time passed Y/N would soon get accustomed but would never break from her but Yujin wasn't one to back down from a challenge so she tries again and again even if it meant a lifetime. (As mentioned you can add Smut if you like and please don't feel pressured or rushed as I know I already submitted a request to you already)

THE UNWANTED ALLIANCE

YUJIN (IVE) X MALE READER

Y/N Angelo, the heir to the notorious Angelo Mafia, found himself in the bustling metropolis of Seoul, a stark contrast to the shadowy world he was accustomed to. His father, a man of unwavering power and influence, had sent him to Korea, a strategic move to broaden his horizons and provide a fresh perspective on the world.

However, Y/N's peaceful academic pursuit was soon disrupted by the formidable presence of An Yujin, the campus queen bee. Known for her sharp tongue and ruthless tactics, Yujin was a force to be reckoned with. She took an immediate interest in Y/N, her curiosity piqued by his enigmatic aura and aloof demeanor.

Y/N, accustomed to a life of solitude and discipline, was ill-prepared for Yujin's relentless pursuit. He tried to maintain his distance, but her determination was unwavering. She would weave her way into his life, disrupting his studies, and invading his personal space. Y/N was frustrated, but he knew better than to underestimate her.

One evening, Y/N was forced to attend a family dinner at a luxurious restaurant. As he sat at the table, he felt a surge of unease. His father introduced him to a family at a nearby table, the An family. Y/N's heart sank as he recognized the familiar face of An Yujin.

To his horror, his father revealed that the two families had agreed to an arranged marriage between him and Yujin. The news sent shockwaves through Y/N. He couldn't believe that his life had taken such a drastic turn. Yujin, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She saw this as an opportunity to have complete control over Y/N's life.

The following months were a whirlwind of preparations for the wedding. Y/N, though reluctant, knew he had no choice but to comply. The wedding was a lavish affair, attended by the elite of both the Italian and Korean underworld. Despite his reservations, Y/N couldn't deny the beauty of the ceremony and the allure of his bride.

Their honeymoon in the serene island of Jeju offered a temporary respite from the chaos of their lives. Y/N and Yujin spent their days exploring the island, indulging in its natural beauty, and trying to forge a connection. Yujin, however, was far from content. She yearned for more than just a peaceful honeymoon.

"You know, Y/N," she began one evening, her voice laced with mischief, "I've always wondered what it would be like to truly know you. The real you, beneath that stoic facade."

Y/N, taken aback by her directness, hesitated. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I mean," Yujin continued, leaning in closer, "I want to see the fire beneath the ice. I want to push you to your limits, to see what makes you tick."

Y/N was wary. He knew that Yujin was capable of anything, and he feared that she would use this opportunity to break him. But he also couldn't deny the thrill of the unknown.

"Fine," he said, his voice barely audible. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

From that moment on, their honeymoon took a dramatic turn. Yujin, with her insatiable curiosity, began to probe deeper into Y/N's past, his fears, and his desires. She challenged him at every turn, testing his limits and pushing him to his breaking point.

Y/N, in turn, found himself drawn to her intensity. He was fascinated by her boldness and her unwavering determination. He had never met anyone like her before, someone who could see through his defenses and challenge him in ways he never thought possible.

As their honeymoon drew to a close, they returned to Seoul, ready to face the challenges of their new life together. Yujin, ever the strategist, had already planned their future. She had ambitions for their family, for their empire. And she knew that Y/N, with his intelligence and ruthlessness, would be the perfect partner in crime.

Y/N, however, had his own plans. He knew that he couldn't allow Yujin to control his destiny. He had to find a way to assert his independence, to carve his own path, even within the confines of their arranged marriage.

The road ahead would be fraught with danger, betrayal, and love. Y/N and Yujin, two powerful forces, were destined to clash, to collide, and ultimately, to change each other forever.

The honeymoon phase was short-lived. Back in Seoul, the reality of their arranged marriage settled in. Yujin, ever the manipulator, began to weave her web of deceit. She played the loving wife, the doting partner, but her true intentions were far more sinister. She saw Y/N as a means to an end, a tool to further her family's power and influence.

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to reconcile his feelings. He was drawn to Yujin's intensity, her intelligence, and her unwavering belief in him. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something, that her love was conditional.

Their lives became a constant battle of wills. Yujin, with her cunning and ruthlessness, would scheme and plot, always one step ahead. Y/N, on the other hand, was a man of honor and integrity, a stark contrast to the world of deceit and corruption that surrounded him.

As their marriage deepened, so did the darkness that consumed them. Yujin's obsession with control grew, and she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. She manipulated situations, sowed discord, and even resorted to violence to maintain her power.

Y/N, caught in her web, was forced to make difficult choices. He had to balance his loyalty to his family with his love for Yujin. He had to navigate the treacherous waters of the underworld, where trust was a rare commodity and betrayal was the norm.

One fateful night, a devastating event shattered their fragile peace. A rival mafia family, seeking revenge, attacked Y/N and Yujin. The attack was brutal, leaving Y/N severely injured and Yujin traumatized. The incident exposed the harsh realities of their world, the constant threat of violence and death.

As Y/N recovered, he began to see Yujin in a new light. He realized that her love was not unconditional, but rather a tool to achieve her own goals. The facade of their perfect marriage began to crumble, revealing the cracks beneath the surface.

Y/N, determined to break free from Yujin's clutches, started to fight back. He used his intelligence and cunning to outmaneuver her, to expose her true colors. He formed alliances, made deals, and played the game of power.

The conflict between Y/N and Yujin escalated, leading to a series of dangerous encounters. They fought for control, for love, and for survival. In the end, it was Y/N who emerged victorious, but at a great cost. He had lost his innocence, his trust, and a part of himself.

Yujin, defeated and broken, was forced to confront the consequences of her actions. She had lost everything she had worked for, her love, her power, and her sense of self. As she watched Y/N walk away, she realized the true meaning of loss and the emptiness of a life built on deceit.

The tension between Y/N and Yujin had reached a boiling point. Their once passionate love had morphed into a toxic obsession, a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Each encounter was a battleground, their words sharp daggers, their actions calculated and ruthless.

"You're a monster, Yujin," Y/N hissed, his voice laced with anger and betrayal. "A manipulative, heartless creature."

Yujin, unfazed, met his gaze. "And you, Y/N, are a fool. A pawn in a game you don't understand."

Their arguments escalated into physical confrontations, their love turning into a destructive force. Y/N, driven by a desperate need to break free, resorted to drastic measures. He exposed her secrets, her lies, her manipulations.

Yujin, cornered and desperate, retaliated with a ferocity that shocked even herself. She unleashed a torrent of pain, using his vulnerabilities against him. She toyed with his emotions, pushing him to the brink of madness.

Their love had become a twisted, dangerous game, a dance with death. They were both victims and perpetrators, caught in a cycle of destruction.

One fateful night, their conflict reached its climax. A confrontation, fueled by rage and despair, led to a tragic accident. The consequences were devastating. Y/N was forced to make a heart-wrenching decision, a choice that would forever haunt him.

As he walked away, leaving Yujin behind, he felt a profound sense of loss. He had lost his innocence, his trust, and a part of his soul. The love he had once cherished had turned into a toxic obsession, a destructive force that had consumed him.

Yujin, left alone, was consumed by regret and despair. She had lost everything she had ever wanted, her love, her power, and her sense of self. The emptiness she felt was overwhelming, a void that would never be filled.

As she watched Y/N disappear into the night, she realized the true cost of her obsession. The love she had craved had turned into a nightmare, a haunting reminder of the destructive power of desire.

The aftermath of their confrontation left an indelible mark on both Y/N and Yujin. The love they once shared had been shattered, replaced by a toxic mix of anger, resentment, and a lingering desire.

Y/N, though scarred by the experience, had managed to break free from Yujin's grasp. He had found solace in his work, immersing himself in his studies and building a new life. But deep down, a part of him still yearned for the woman he once loved.

Yujin, on the other hand, was a prisoner of her own obsession. She had lost everything she had worked for, her love, her power, and her sense of self. The emptiness she felt was overwhelming, a void that consumed her every waking moment.

As time passed, Yujin began to realize the true nature of her feelings for Y/N. The love she had once dismissed as a mere game had evolved into a deep, all-consuming desire. She yearned for his touch, his voice, his presence.

One day, fate intervened. A chance encounter brought them face to face, their eyes locking in a silent battle of wills. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of love, hate, and longing.

"I'm sorry," Yujin whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was wrong."

Y/N, surprised by her confession, hesitated. "What do you want, Yujin?"

"I want you," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I want us."

Y/N was torn. He knew that Yujin was capable of great harm, but he couldn't deny the love he still felt for her. He knew that their relationship was a dangerous gamble, but he was willing to take the risk.

They embarked on a journey of healing and redemption, a path fraught with challenges and setbacks. They had to confront the demons of their past, the pain, the betrayal, and the broken promises.

But through it all, their love endured. It was a love forged in fire, a love that had survived the test of time and the trials of adversity. They learned to trust each other, to be honest, and to forgive.

Their love story was a testament to the enduring power of human connection, a reminder that even the darkest of hearts can find redemption.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

To Find You Again

by sakusakeiji “ill fight the gods till ends time just to see you again” “Those are some big words for a retired hero”   A Found Family Au Crossover Words: 1681, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Danny Phantom Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Danny Fenton, Nico di Angelo, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Damian Wayne, Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Vlad Masters, Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Thanatos (Percy Jackson), Hades (Percy Jackson), Leo Valdez Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Danny Fenton, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Nico di Angelo, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danny Fenton, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Jason Grace/Leo Valdez, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Demigods (Percy Jackson) Additional Tags: Danny Fenton Is Danielle "Dani" Phantom's Parent, Danny Fenton-centric, Danielle "Dani" Phantom is Called Ellie, De-Aged Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Nico di Angelo is Danielle Phantom’s Parent, Vlad Masters Being an Asshole, Evil Vlad Masters, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Hurt Danny Fenton, Adopted Danny Fenton, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Danny fenton is a demigod, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Character Undeath, Hurt Nico di Angelo, Batfamily (DCU), Trauma, Multiple Crossovers, Slow Romance, Parenthood, Overpowered Danny Fenton, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Family Issues, Dark Past, retired hero, Existential Crisis, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Trust Issues, Eventual Smut via https://ift.tt/wimnoJg

[youwouldntlietopapa]

When Everything's Dark

Contains: Primo x Reader, fluff, domestic fluff, insomnia, family worries, anxiety, etc. No smut in this one, just Peepaw getting some affection and care.

Also available on AO3

____________________________________________________________

The ache in Primo’s back had started to spread. One more telltale sign he’d been awake too long. Pacing or fidgeting in his seat or sat at his desk trying to find solutions to the mountain of problems that he could feel looming over him. All the things that he was supposed to be finished with when he retired. Budgets and Siblings and Ghouls and Ministry bullshit. Instead, it was obviously going to be another sleepless night. Up worrying himself sick. Again.

Even if he could forget the Ministry business, his brothers were still at the forefront of his mind. Secondo, still grieving the loss of his title. Terzo, overwhelmed by the onslaught of responsibility. And Primo was left to try and keep the whole thing from falling apart. Maybe it should have felt routine after a lifetime of playing parent to them both. But, he was ashamed to admit, even after all this time there was a part of him that was angry at how long he’d been expected to pick up after their father, how much of his own life had been set aside to protect them from his negligence. Another night burned at the altar of that man’s selfishness. Another headache blooming behind his eyes. Another barely contained urge to scream.

...

“Please, my love, come to bed.” You’d asked half a dozen times and you’d keep on asking, begging, pleading, whatever it takes to get him to rest. But, again, he shakes his head and gently shoos you back toward the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, fiore mio.” He sighs, patting your hand. His smiles, small and forced. The weight of his troubles and the drag of his exhaustion stoops his shoulders and threatens to crush him. “Rest will come when it comes. For now, it is too loud to sleep.” Primo tapped his temple.

But your grip on his hand is insistent and the gentle tug for him to follow unmistakable. “You know I can’t sleep without you.” In all the time you’ve known him, he’s never been any good at denying you when you look at him with those big, sad eyes. Stepping closer again to tease your fingers through the chest hair poking up past the collar of his bathrobe. “Will you, at least, take me to bed and stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?”

You can see it in his eyes and in the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Both of you know that he is too clever and sees too clearly to fall for such a thin attempt at tricking him into sleeping. What matters, however, is less the attempt than the reason behind it. You’ve asked before and you’ll ask again, because you worry and you care. Because that’s what you do for the people you love most. He can stay up pacing, worrying over his brothers, but he can’t do that without knowing you’ll be awake with your own worries over him. His forehead rests against yours and his eyes slide closed.

“Until you fall asleep.” Primo nods, all too aware that it will be just that. He’ll wait until you are fast asleep and then slip back out, away from where he might disturb you. “Anything for Angelo mio.”

Relinquishing control, he lets you lead him without resistance back to the big, warm bed that you’ve been sharing for a little more than a year already. Routines that had been established even before you’d given up your own quarters entirely made the shift from spending the night to staying forever an easy one, and once Primo sits on the edge of the bed, you fall into the comfort of those routines without giving him much of a chance to protest.

“Sleep or not, will you let me take care of you? You’ll already be exhausted in the morning, why be in pain as well?” You press up against his back, hugging him from behind, and kiss his neck. Your fingers find the end of the tie holding his robe closed, carefully pulling the tie loose.

His warm hands rest softly on yours and he leans back into the pressure of your body behind him. “Ti prendi sempre cura di me.” Primo says softly, lifting one of your hands and kissing your fingers. “Besides, only a fool would try to stop you when you are determined.”

The robe slides off his freckled shoulders without any resistance, and he tosses it onto the chair next to the window. The glass pot of muscle balm he made himself is still sitting on the bedside table where you left it and you scoop out a dollop with one finger. It smells of herbs from the garden, an undertone of lavender, and beeswax. Warming it between your hands, the short wait is filled with soft kisses to the back of his neck and across his shoulders.

“Will you tell me what has you so upset?” It never feels right to pry. Not with him. Primo is and had always been open and honest about most things. Too much experience with silence to care for keeping it any longer. When there were things he kept to himself, it was simpler and typically correct to think he had his reasons. But this had become disruptive beyond the typical.

He lets out a deep breath and the faintest moan when your hands work the balm into his shoulders and down his back. Massaging the balm into his tight muscles. The ache radiating from his lower back finally starts to let go. “The same things as many times before, fiore mio.” He says with a dry smile. “Work, the Ministry, family. But I don’t want you to worry, si? It will pass.”

“Your usual worries don’t keep you up night after night.”

Primo glances back at you over his shoulder, trying to decide if it’s better to accept the truth of that statement or to deny it. “… My usual worries are for my brothers. Not a former Papa and the new Papa.” His shoulders droop and he shakes his head slowly.

“You do know a little something about being both, my love. More than most others ever will.” You offer gently.

“I didn’t take the position from my brother, and I left on my own terms. They are both… così lontano da dove mi trovavo. Ed entrambi troppo testardi per il loro bene.”

“But you do have experience, with more than a little, and with both of them. You have always had their best interests at heart, and they both love and respect you. Perhaps that’s what they really need, just to know that you’re here and that you love them both dearly. That they are always welcome to talk to you.” With the balm worked in, you take a minute to try and loosen the knots in his neck. “You don’t have to have all of the answers, all of the time, you know.”

“No?” He chuckles humourlessly. “Perhaps you tell everyone this. I don’t think they hear the news.”

Any other time, in any other mood, you would have teased him and tried to make him smile. But, right then, all you can think is... he’s right. It’s not just his brothers, it’s everyone. The overwhelming assumption that he will have the answer, that he can fix things, that he will handle it all. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right. If anyone ever deserved a peaceful retirement, it’s him.

“They are both still your brothers. Papa or otherwise. Just as they were when you were Papa. Still Primo. Still Secondo and Terzo.” You lean in close and kiss just below his ear. “That’s who they need, my love. You. That’s all.”

“You’re telling me I overthink too much.” He turns his head just enough to see you.

“It is something you’re very good at.”

He huffs a laugh and tips his head to rest against yours. “Sii gentile con questo vecchio, dolcezza. È da molto tempo che mi preoccupo in questo modo.”

“Allora sembra che sia giunto il momento di lasciare che qualcun altro aiuti a portare quel peso, no?”

Slipping your nightshirt over your head, you toss it past him, on to the chair with his robe. For a long moment, Primo stares at it, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Marvelling at having someone who gives him such consideration, such care, and such gentleness. Up half the night and listening to his troubles. Still using every little trick short of physically dragging him to get him to rest. When he turns to look at you, you’ve already scooted back onto your side of the bed, propped up on an elbow and holding the covers back for him.

“Hai paura che non mantenga la mia promessa?” He teases, sliding into the bed beside you and pulling you closer.

Not that there is any resistance from you, already pressing closer. From the beginning, it had been a habit to settle against his chest. Letting the steady rhythm of his heart lull you to sleep. To hear his voice rumbling in his chest like distant thunder. Safe and warm, wrapped in his arms. But, on nights like this, when his thoughts are raging and his body is tense, you shift up higher. Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him protectively. His arms circling your waist with silent understanding and his own private appreciation for the efforts to let him keep his pride.

“You always keep your word, my heart.” You keep your voice soft, stretching to turn off the bedside lamp and letting the darkness envelope you both. “But the bed feels empty without you here beside me. Sometimes I think about the days when you were still touring. I don’t think I could have faced it. Months without you.”

His head tilts just so, pressing kisses against your warm skin. “I take you with me, amore, or I don’t go at all.”

Your leg hooks over his hip, not looking for anything more. Just the comfortable, uncomplicated closeness that you share. A way to keep him grounded while his thoughts are trying to carry him away. The silent mantra behind everything between you. I’m here. I have you. You are safe. You are loved. You are not alone. One hand trails down his back, tracing meaningless shapes, and the other slides up into his hair. Silver and gold spun into the finest silk. Slipping through your fingers like a whisper. Your nails scratching softly over his scalp. Your own personal magic trick to put him to sleep. Primo practically purrs, melting into your touch.

“Once things are more settled, maybe we should go, hmm?” You whisper softly, lips brushing against his forehead before kissing him again.

“On tour?” Even in the dark, you can still hear the smirk in his tone.

“On vacation.”

“Mmmmm… Somewhere warm, si?” Primo’s slow, gentle kisses trail along your collarbone. “With a beach maybe?”

You can’t help laughing quietly. “Is that your way of saying you’d like to see me in the swimsuit you got me?”

“Or less, tesoro.” He holds you a little closer, running his hands over your back, one stopping to rest on your backside. His words coming slower, half slurred as he finally lets himself relax. “A private beach. Just for us.”

“I’d like that.” The soft sound of your nails scratching gently through his hair follows the rhythm of his breath. Even as it slows and deepens as sleep finally comes to drag him under. The rumble in his chest turns into a soft snore and you’re glad he can’t see the smug look on your face at your victory over his insomnia and anxieties.

He stirs lightly, mumbling, not fully awake. “Don’t worry, amore. I stay until you fall asleep.”

You smile to yourself and say a silent prayer of thanks to the Old One for everything you’ve been blessed with. Holding Primo a little tighter, pressing a kiss to his brow, you close your eyes and let yourself follow him into the peaceful embrace of sleep.

“Dormi bene, mio principe. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Sei il mio tutto.”

__________________________________________________________

Fiore Mio = my flower

Angelo mio = my angel

Ti prendi sempre cura di me. = You always take care of me.

così lontano da dove mi trovavo. Ed entrambi troppo testardi per il loro bene. = so far from where I was. And both too stubborn for their own good.

Sii gentile con questo vecchio, dolcezza. È da molto tempo che mi preoccupo in questo modo. = Be nice to this old man, sweetness. I've been worrying like this for a long time.

Allora sembra che sia giunto il momento di lasciare che qualcun altro aiuti a portare quel peso, no? = So it seems like it's time to let someone else help carry that burden, no?

Hai paura che non mantenga la mia promessa? = Are you afraid that I won't keep my promise?

Dormi bene, mio principe. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Sei il mio tutto. = Sleep well, my prince. I love you with all my heart. You are my Everything.

[galaxyedging]

Angelo (OMC) x f!reader, tiny bit of Nico x reader.

WC:3.4k

Summary: After some time apart, you and Angelo catch up. A purely self-indulgent fic set in the Kitten Universe.

Warnings: Smut. Rough P in V sex. Dirty talk. Daddy/Papi kink. Vaginal fingering. Mentions of M/M sex.

Angel

"Hey, Sweetie. How are you?" It has been a few weeks since you had seen Angelo. He and Owen had welcomed a new addition to their happy home. They'd adopted a slightly timid Boxer Terrier.

For the last ten nights, Angelo has slept in the living room while his new baby, Oisin, adjusted to his surroundings. Owen had doted and fussed over Angelo, making sure the anxious new parent was comfortable and actually sleeping. Rather than watching their new baby sleep.

"I'm freaking out. Owen wants me to meet Lily." Lily was the apple of Owen's eye, his granddaughter.

"Why are you freaking out? You've met his kids. They love you."

"Yes, but they are adults. Kids are brutal. They have zero filter."

"You mean they're honest, and she will honestly love you."

"But what if she doesn't. Now that we live together Owen wants her to stay over. What do four year olds even do? How do you even talk to them?"

"Angel, you're spiralling."

A deep breath blew down the phone. "Can we go out for lunch? A little retail therapy?"

"I suppose I could be convinced. I do have some good news to celebrate."

It was a warm day. The breeze blew pleasantly across your skin as you waited for Angelo to return from the bathroom. As he walked over, you couldn't help but admire the flash of his muscular legs under his skirt. The leather swished from side to side with the swish of his hips, giving you a tantalising glimps. 

"So you had good news?" He sat back in his seat, bringing another piece of his vanilla crown to his lips.

"Yes. I didn't mention it before because I thought it was such a long shot and I don't understand all the legalities but I'm going to get a settlement from all the work I put into my family's business."

Angelo's breath hitched in delight. "Oh, that is wonderful. Congratulations."

"Thank you. I can finish my degree. Afford a new place…."

"With Nico?" 

"Maybe." You grinned at the thought of the man you loved. "Not yet though."

"Oh?"

"We've decided to take things slow."

"Sure, you don't want to rush things with a man that has already violated you in every way imaginable." He added a pastry muffled 'twice'.

"Funny." You rolled your eyes mockingly. "We're taking things slow to build a strong foundation. We want this to last. You know beyond the really hot violation of each other's bodies. Twice." You weighed up adding the next part for a moment. "We started to see a couples therapist."

"Really? How's that going?"

"We're only two sessions in. I think we've overwhelmed the poor man. He's mainly given us tips for communication."

"Well, good for you. I'm glad you guys are planning for the future. You both deserve to be happy."

"Thank you." It warmed your heart that Angelo meant that with all of his. "So Lily?"

"Lily. I'm thinking bribe her with presents and use Oisin as a social buffer."

"You're a very successful doctor, who makes life or death decisions, and you are terrified of meeting a child."

"Damn right. Medicine I know. Growing up with my cousins I was the little effeminate kid who read, while they were all rough and tumble outdoor kids. Until I was twenty-nine I was a gold star gay. I was in two long term relationships with men who didn't want kids. I wasn't good with kids when I was a kid and I never thought I would have to deal with them as an adult…."

"Spiralling…" you reminded him as you stirred more sweetener into your coffee.

"You're right." He lay a hand on your arm in thanks.

"Out of curiosity, what happened at twenty nine?"

"A post break up dry spell, coinciding with the farewell party of a beautiful colleague who was going back to Germany and a few too many two for one cocktails."

"So I have Appletinis to thank for having you in my life?"

"First of all, it was Cosmos. Second of all, no, you should thank Dr Meyer for showing me what I was missing. The alcohol just got me over my nerves."

"You? Nervous about sex?"

"Not exactly about the sex. I was living as an openly gay man. I had the odd crush on a woman but I'd never acted on it. It was the whole ramifications of if I liked it. It would open up a whole new side to explore, and as you know, with new things in my personal life, I tend to…"

"Spiral. I know."

"Well I'm glad you explored that side." You leaned in to kiss him. He hesitated to meet your lips. "What?"

"I'm just thinking about the couples therapy. Is this still okay? Us?"

"Yes. That part he was surprisingly chill about. It was more the self delusion and lying that he had a problem with."

"Well, in that case." He shuffled closer to lean in conspiratorially. "After we finish stocking up on bribes for a four year old, you wanna come back to my place?"

"I'm not a hundred percent on board with bribing a child."

"Please. Bebita. I need help to choose the right things."

Angelo pulled you into a half hug. As he did, your hand grazed rather high on his thigh.

"Are you not wearing anything under there?"

"What do you think?" His low tone and warm breath in your ear sent a shiver through you.

"That we'd be better going to the toy store on Third. There's a stationary store next door too. Kids love crayons."

Angelo's eyes creased adorably as he laughed. The two of you quickly gathered your things and left.

On the way home, Angelo ran a scenario that he was eager to try past you. As you entered the apartment, shoes were kicked off, bags were left in the hallway. Angelo pulled you lightly along to where he wanted you. Past the dog bed near the living room. "Puppy school." He offered as an explanation as to it being empty.

The balcony wrapped around their penthouse apartment. They shared the floor with one other apartment. A thin wall separated the individual parts of it. It provided a little privacy but not much. Voices would easily carry to the next apartment. When you were in reach, Angelo promptly pushed you up against said wall. His hands skimmed along your thighs, worrying the hem of your dress. His lips left red hot kisses on your neck.

During the last couple of weeks, you'd missed Angelo. You'd missed the easy, carefree relationship you had. He was your best friend here. Actually, he'd become your best friend, period. The new person you had become this last year didn't have as much in common with her old friends. She still loved them dearly, Angelo was just a better fit for the new you.

"Are you sure they're not home?" You asked nervously. Public sex was never your thing. The idea of accidentally violating someone like that if they caught you was a turn off. They'd be one time with Nico but that was more about the rush of being with Nico. The attraction and the power you had over each other. So desperate for each other that you didn't care who saw.

"You sound like Owen. I told you they are away for the week at the same conference. That's how Owen found this place. He works with the neighbour." He pressed a reassuring kiss to you temple.

"Come on. I'll keep the skirt on. I saw how you've been looking at me." He twirled his hips for effect, the fabric swishing from side to side, inching up to show more of his toned flesh. "I've been thinking the same about that little sundress." The flimsy sundress nearly burned off your body under the heat of his gaze. Those soft brown eyes turned predatory. "Do you have underwear on?"

"Of course." You laughed. The material was light, a good gust of wind would leave you exposed if you didn't.

Angelo sat himself down. "Take it off. The panties then the bra. Slowly."

"The bra?"

"I want to see if I can fuck you so hard that they bounce free."

Something about that tickled you and a laugh bursted from you.

Angelo laughed with you. "You're laughing? Don't you think I could? Come here…." A tug on your arm set you off balance until you landed in his arms. His large hands tickled just under your ribs. "Angelo!" You couldn't help but giggle. Angelo was always warm and playful. It was hard to imagine him at work being the very serious doctor man. To you, he was your sweet Angel. There were times when his intensity bled through but with Nico there, Angelo usually fell into a sub role. That gave you an idea. 

"Well, what if I want to fuck you in your pretty skirt instead?" The nudge of his rapidly swelling cock against your thigh told you he was more than okay with that. "Would you like that, Baby?" You rolled your hips, grazing his dick. "I'll fuck you so hard that my tits bounce out of my dress."

"Fuck the dress." Angelo did his best to strip it from your body. The top of it ended up hanging around your waist, he completely abandoned it at the sight of your delicate chiffon bra. His fingertips traced your nipples through the sheen fabric. As your nipples pebbled his tongue darted out to wet his soft lips. Before he could lean in and capture one in his mouth you stopped him with your hand in his hair. A sharp tug on his tousled curls stopped him in his tracks. The shift in the energy between you showed in his eyes.

"You didn't even ask, Angel. You should remember your manners." You chided. 

A shallow breath rattled in his chest before he spoke. "Please?"

The quiet desperation in his voice made you clench around nothing. The well toned muscles under his shirt strained under your palm as he waited for your answer.

"Go ahead." 

Suddenly, his lips sealed around one of them. His firm sucks drew out your moans like he was nursing on them. His thumb made sure the other nipple wasn't neglected before he swapped over. It took no time at all for your panties to be as wet as the sodden bra covering your nipples. While your nipples ached from over stimulation, your pussy ached from lack of attention. 

Another tug on his glossy curls was followed by an order. "Go sit down."

"Si, señora." He folded himself down into one of the large sofas. Stripping his shirt off in one move as he did. It was tossed to the floor where your panties soon joined it.

Angelo's well defined legs dropped open under his skirt. The leather rode up to mid thigh as they did. The sight has you on your knees and pushing the skirt up around his waist in seconds.

"Hmmm. I've missed this pretty cock." You told him before traces the thick vein underneath it with your tongue.

"Oh, fuck, yes." Angelo's head rolled back only to snap back to you when you stopped. "Wha..?"

"You don't get to be inside me, in any way, until you make me come."

"Easy." He pulled you into his lap. His large hands spread your legs either side of his before one of them came to your folds, only to be stopped by you.

"Not like that."

"How?"

"Talk to me." You lowered yourself against his hard length, letting his thick shaft rub against your clit.

"Oh, I can do that. I can tell you how much I've missed you on top of me. I've missed your curves under my hands, the warmth of your pussy as it drips all over me."

"Mmmm. What else?" Your hips sped up as much from his words as from your needs for more friction.

"I can tell you that just from the thought of seeing you today, I had to jerk off this morning."

"I bet you looked so good doing that, Baby."

"I was naked on our bed, I came so hard at the thought of fucking you I painted my stomach with it."

There was something about watching your boys jerk off that just did it for you. Maybe it was the added naughtiness of viewing what could be a private moment. Or the fact that they could take themselves apart so easily, you were rewarded with the sight of them coming so quickly. The thought of his naked body glistening with his creamy release pushed you closer.

"Love watching you touch yourself."

"Maybe you could ride my thigh instead and you could watch me now?"

"Look at you trying to turn the tables by offering what I want. Naughty boy! I'm still in charge, you stop if I tell you to."

"Of course, señora."

With a little adjustment you were soon riding his thigh and getting closer than ever watching his large hand be dwarfed by his even larger member. His strokes were slow and firm. There was something so debauched about watching his first his cock that was peeking out of his skirt. It was a mystery to you how even after all these months of filthy, no holds barred sex that some things could still give you that type of thrill.

"Tell me how it feels?"

"Not as good as when you do it. Or when I sink into your pussy."

"I'll let you have it soon, I promise. Just be good for me. Keep talking to me."

"You know, the last time I sat in this chair Owen was sucking my cock." The lewdness of his confession made your hips stutter. A smirk played on Angelo's pretty lips. "He wouldn't let me fuck him out here though. He was too afraid of being caught. I wouldn't give a shit. I want the world to know how good he makes me feel. I had to settle for fucking him up against the window there. I took his ass while I pumped his cock. I talked so dirty to him I had him whimpering for me. He came so hard I had to clean the whole window." The mental image had you on the edge. Angelo could feel you tensing against his thigh. "So, señora, do you still want to be in charge or do you want me to fuck you hard?"

Being so close to climax had you needy and weak for him. "Fuck me."

"Oh, Cariño, you can ask nicer than that."

"Please, fuck me. Please."

The hand that had been around his cock, wrapped around your throat. "Who do you want to fuck you?"

"You…" A squeeze of his hand prompted you to remember. "You, Papi."

"Buena niña." His hand remained at your throat as he kissed you deeply. The passion that you had missed from him had his tongue swirling around yours like he was trying to lap you up. The entire time he guided you across the balcony, his lips barely left yours. When they did it was to spin you abruptly. When he stopped your hands automatically braced yourself on the brick wall of the balcony. The height of it allowing you enough cover to protect your modesty but your head and shoulders peeked above it, giving you a view of the city.

"Do you think people can see you from up here? Do you think they'll be able to tell that you are taking my cock in your tight little cunt?" He filled you as he spoke.

"Angelo!" He was pushing as deep as he could, making you take everything he had. 

"I want you to be completely full of me when you come. I want to feel every excited twitch of this sweet pussy." His fingers strummed your clit as kept himself pressed deep inside.

At this high you wondered if people heard your scream as you finally burst apart around him. 

"Sucia. Look what a mess you've made of me." His words didn't register as you were too gone from your orgasm. Absently, you let him turn you and push you down to your knees. He bunched his skirt up in his hand at his hip. "Clean me up."

Your tongue made quick work of the sweet fluid glistening in the hairs as the base of his cock and the top of his thighs before you moved onto his length, taking as much as you could into your mouth. "I said clean it, not enjoy it. Get up." His fingers caught in your hair. Dragging you up, he bent you over the balcony wall again. 

"Fuck!" He bellowed as he slid back into your now drenched pussy. "You've made it too easy to pound the fuck out of you." His hips moved languidly, teasing you with the ease of his movement inside you. "Papi is going to use this little cunt until he fills it. You are just going to take it. I don't want to hear you holding back any moans. I want to hear all of it. ¿Comprender?"

"Yes." A sharp slap to your chest served as a reminder. "Yes, Papi."

After that point, any thought of anything but Angelo left your mind. The tip of his cock slamming impossibly deep. The girth of him stretching you out. His fevered mutterings in Spanish and English, all of them undoubtedly filthy no matter what the language. The caress of the soft leather of his skirt against your ass. Your arms strained with effort to stop your delicate skin pressing into the rough wall. When he realised this, he pushed you face first onto the nearest sofa. The wood groaned under the plush cushions as he rutted into you hard and fast. Another orgasm swelled within you, it didn't come to fruition before Angelo's cock swelled inside you, pumping out every drop he had to give you. 

"Yes. So good for Daddy. Love this perfect cock sleeve." He babbled as he finished inside you.

After pulling out and wiping the sweat from his brow on his forearm he turned his attention back to you. "You were close for me. Let me see if Papi can finish you off while I stuff all my come back inside of you. I want to be so deep in you that Nico can still taste me later on."

Three fingers scooped his seed back up and rammed it back inside. You whined at the sudden intrusion. "Shhh, Bebita. Just take it like you took my fat cock. Come on, come for me." His thumb gently coaxed you towards your end as his fingers pumped his spend in and out. He could feel you close on his fingers. "That's it. You took me so well. Let me use your perfect hole to come. You deserve another orgasm. Come for me."

His sweet words pushed you over the edge. This time was even more intense. Your whole body lit up with it, chasing his touch. "Oh, Ang…Papi!" 

A satisfied smile played on Angelo's lips. "That's it, come for Papi." His fingers worked you until you begged him to stop. 

Happily exhausted, Angelo flopped down next to you, cuddling into your side. He intertwined his legs with yours, his softened cock pressing into your hip.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" The softness returned to his eyes.

"I'm fine…Papi." You smiled.

"I know. It's such as fucking cliché but it gets me going."

"Everything gets you going! Why Papi in particular?"

"I don't know. You think young women are the only ones that can have daddy issues?"

"Maybe you should speak to someone about them? Our therapist suggested bringing you along."

"Therapy with you and Nico? I would do anything to get out of that."

"Anything?" You closed the gap between your faces. Stopping just before your lips touched.  "Then try talking to Lily before you try to bribe her. She will love you like we do."

"I love you too." A tiny kiss was pressed to the tip of your nose. "Well, come on then."

"Where?"

"I'll need your help to hide all the gifts before she sees them."

The gifts were hidden, Oisin was picked up from school, and the three of you spent a quiet night in.

Owen arrived home mid-afternoon. After Angelo and Oisin welcomed him home, with matching puppy dog enthusiasm, he exchanged pleasantries with you before he ushered you towards the door. "I know you want to get home to him. He did great. Take care." He gave you a warm hug before calling the elevator for you.

Owen's words repeated in your head. Nico had been so nervous about starting at a practice again. The conference had been his first big step. Oddly, it was nice to be the one being leaned on for a while. Nico had done so much for you even if he didn't realise it.

Before you knew it, you were home. "Hi." Nico beamed at you from behind the counter.

Freshly chopped herbs scented the air. Quickly washing and drying his hands, he came around to pick you up into a hug. "I've missed you. How was the weekend with Angelo?" He set you down but kept you close to his chest, rubbing circles on your back.

"I shopped. Played with an adorable puppy. Let Angelo fulfil his desire for outdoor sex by fucking me roughly. Watched a movie. Then, this morning, we went for a run. Showered together, and just before I left, he made sure to make an absolute mess of me for you to clean up. The usual." You casually remarked.

Nico responded by walking away and turning off the pans in the kitchen. "Let's go." He pointed in the direction of your now shared bedroom.

"What? But food! It smells so good."

"Oh, I'm still going to fed you, Kitten." He smirked as he spanked your ass.

Tags: @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance @its-nebuleuse

[salaciousdoll]

✩˚｡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Reflection and invisibility ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡✩

･˳ . ⋆ Featuring Risotto Nero x La squadra!Fem!reader ･˳ . ⋆

୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Be advised to the warnings of Risotto and Reader both being Assassins in Passione, Boss!Giorno, Au where everyone is alive and thriving, smut, hardcore fucking, katoptronophilia( fucking in front of mirror), body worship, reader is a stand user but it’s not used( none of their stands are except illuso, voyeurism, dirty talking, degradtion kink up 1000 in here, there’s praise here and there, dick drunk reader and pussy drunk Risotto, backshots, reader has a voice kink, Risotto cracks subliminal jokes here and there( he’s a little jokester when he was fighting doppio in the anime), pet names in Italian( I really tried here but pet names such as bunny, slut, beautiful, doll, Angel, etc.), your ex is Bruno, Risotto has dick piercings( frenum ladder), Risotto makes you count the amount of thrust he gives you, edging, and mention of somnophillia at the end. Oh and Dark content. Wc: 2.7k

Minors do not interact, 18+ Only!

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: This is my first time writing for JJBA as a whole and my first time writing for Risotto as well… I really hope you all enjoy this fic even if you don’t watch jjba, hope I can convince you babies to watch it with this fic. If you know Italian please tell me if the words are wrong. ‘Grazii assai mia bellissima, bambola’= Thank you very much, my beautiful doll, ‘Angelo’ = Angel, ‘ coniglio’ = bunny, ‘Bambola’= doll, ‘sudicio’ = dirty , ‘troia’= slut

Salaciousber Masterlist

Risotto Nero was a man everyone either heard of or came into contact with. Both encounters could build up the emotion of fear and the feeling of danger, nothing else. The man could kill without a blink of an eye or a movement of cringe. To everyone else, he was a man who they feared just by either his tall stature or his black sclera eyes combining with the red pupils to compliment them.

Risotto was the scary man , your parents warned you about when you were younger, yet when they always told them stories, you never believed them. You had to see the boogeyman yourself in order to actually be scared. Those thoughts lead to your failures and success in the underground world. The failures of almost meeting your end and the success of getting to see Risotto— being able to keep him between your white manicured fingers. Risotto grew to be obsessed with you just because of your beauty and perspective of him. You didn’t judge him by one look of his eyes, not that he cares what other people think. He only cares when he thinks of the person as a colleague or more. You were more. His love, he adored since you came to his team after transferring from Bruno’s gang.

Bruno Buccirati was your first love but wasn’t your last. Risotto may be the last man you fall in love with, especially since you’ve been in a relationship with him for three years now . At first, you didnt talk with one another outside of missions and the missions he assigned. He wasn’t the one for small talk and you weren’t either, the lingering ghost of love you had for Bruno was in the air everywhere you walked and every mission you did. You couldn’t get him off your mind and the rest of La squadra were fed up with your closed off personality, so they complained to Risotto about you. In response to their concerns over the total of two months you were there, he had no choice but to make the first move.

It wasn’t easy for the both of you to talk to one another since he made it clear that you needed to get your shit together and perform your best on missions, otherwise he might as well start planning a funeral for you now. “ Do you want to die?”

You stared at him with wide eyes because that was the first thing coming out of his mouth after calling you in. You shook your head and looked away. He stared at you even more and under his dangerous but alluring eyes, you couldn’t help but to get a little aroused and nervous. A bad combination of feels to have, especially in front of your boss..

“ No, boss.”, You say to the wall and he didn’t like that one bit.

Risotto's deep voice said your name with malice in his tone, “ I didn’t know I was a wall.” You wanted to laugh because you didn’t think he had humor, yet he proved you wrong so maybe you’ll open up a bit more. When you didn’t look at him at all, he took it as disrespect. “ Look at me when I talk to you. You’re supposed to respect your superiors, did Bucciarati not teach you that. Maybe the perception of Bucciarati being painted as a noble man was another lie he shown everyone because no noble man would allow their colleagues to disrespect an su-”

“ Excuse me, Capo… I would rather not talk about Bruno right now. And I’m just nervous, so forgive me for disrespecting you. It’s not my intention to do this unforbidden action.”, You say to Risotto, who raised a pale blue eyebrow at you. You didn’t want to hear Risotto talking about Bruno like he doubted his existence or portrayal of his existence to the people who adored him— you being one of the people who adored him. The more Risotto stared at you, the more he could see that you were obedient and respectful after all. You two stared at each other a bit longer than usual taking in each other's features. You noticed his beautiful and unique eyes, his full lips, the creases under his eyes from the lack of sleep probably or just a result of getting older, his nose, a nose you see yourself riding any moment if you continued staring. He noticed the shape of your eyes, how your nose looked, eyebrows, big cheeks, and finally your lips. Your plush lips with the perfect shape to them. He loved how thick and full they were— always shiny with lipgloss he sees you apply every 2 minutes also. He wanted to bite them but that’ll have to wait now.

He cleared his throat, “ I asked that question because it seems your head is in another place on missions with your squad members, some of them voice their concerns and I’m here to let you know that you can’t slack off into dreamland unless you want to die. Your stand is powerful and you are powerful, so I need you to start showing me that you're powerful and useful as they say. Don’t let it happen again, understand?”

You nodded your head and he huffed before speaking, “ You’re dismissed and { reader’s last name}, you’re going on a mission with formaggio to shake up Riccolo— Boss orders. So get prepared to leave with him in 15.” You nodded your head and left the office.

You used to hate that Giorno moved you to the team you decided to save just because you knew formaggio from a one night stand. That night was fun especially since you just moved from your home country to Italy with your sister two weeks before. You were a foreigner and it was visible yet Formaggio didn’t care unlike half of Italy would. Bare minimum really but that’s not the reason you fucked the man. He charmed his way into your panties and you had him wrapped around your finger even before you gave him some, basically the first time he saw you He was a good fuck, but not as great as Bruno or your Capo now.

Now, though, you were on top of the moon from moving teams, even after four years, because you were too busy getting bent over in front of the mirror by your Capo. His rough hands were squeezing your stomach making some of your tummy melt in between his long, thick fingers, “ Give me one more, bambola. One more for me.”

You couldn’t hold on for dear life. Your left boob was massaged softly as he pounded into you from behind. The feeling of his red eyes was enough to make anyone fold and you were long gone. You folded as soon as he kissed your neck while you were standing in front of the mirror with your new bra and pantie set you got from your favorite lingerie store. “ I— I can’t, Ris’ pleaseuhhh.”

Your moans mixed with your cries of pleasure as he rolled his fat and long cock inside of you. His frenum ladder piercings were adding on to your pleasure because of the cold metals grinding against the walls of your dripping pussy. You felt every vein of his cock as he fucked into you like he’s never gonna see you again. He couldn’t help bending you over to pound inside of your sweet fat cunt because of how amazing you looked in that set. He loved worshiping and showing appreciation for you and your body. Your body was his favorite piece of art— he could stare at it for hours. Your a live painting that he could worship and fuck anytime he wanted.

“ Fuck, coniglio, you’re pussy is taking me so well. My perfect girl. Gonna squirt for me.”, Risotto grunt out his response as his hips snapped into your plump ass creating ripples, which was his favorite thing to watch. He loved watching any part of your body shake or jump. Fuck, you are his heaven. The heaven he will never get to see since his hands were tainted with hundreds of people’s blood.

The wetness of your pussy and the slaps of hips meeting was heard so loud in the room as your eyes rolled back into your head, “ You’re tearing me apart, Ris’ please slow down~” he loved how you stretched the word down out. It shows how brain dumb you are right now for him. Brain was filled with nothing, becoming nothing but mushiness. Just the way he liked you.

“ Slow down you say?” Risotto slowed his hips down and watched your expression in the mirror prior to turning himself invisible. “ Want you to look at yourself being stretched and fucked dumb on my cock in any pace. Whether it’s fast or slow, you still couldn’t, guhahh— you naughty little slut; You dare squeeze me that tight after I told you to loosen up for me.”

Risotto dropped his hands from holding you and bunched up the hairstyle you had in your hair before long stroking your pussy— deep and slow. He let out a wicked chuckle, “ Look at you… shaking all because of my cock, right my little angelo. Look closely in the mirror for me and then I want you to, shit! Your pussy is trapping me inside.” He couldn’t focus on what he was trying to say. Risotto was only this vocal with you. His deep voice was everything you needed to hear in your ear. Voice was sending a strike of thunder inside the blood in your body, allowing you to become even more turned on. His voice alone could get you off, so this act being an add on is what your dreams are made for. You brought his dirty talking and surge of pleasure out of him, none of his past hookups got an inch of words from him. Only moans and that’s if they pulled it out of him.

Risotto slapped your ass causing you to move forward into the mirror. Your fingerprints were imprinted in the big 83’ tall and 48’ wide mirror in your room. You were so glad you brought this mirror. You can use it for this exact reason. Risotto yanked your head back enough for you to see you and his invisibility in the mirror. It was like you were getting fucked by a ghost, spooky and freaky. Such a wonderful feeling.

“ Pay attention to the mirror, tesoro. Now choose a number, any number.”, his groans were heard right after he finished his sentence. You moaned when you saw his eyes staring at you through the mirror. You couldn’t even form words because of how slow and dragged his cock was going inside of your sobbing pussy.

Your fingers bunched up on the mirror and you knew you were close to squirting on this mirror. As his cock dragged in and out of you, you tried to form an answer to his questions. Nothing but moans and fumbling words in between were heard. You were really fucked out and he wanted to cherish the sounds forever.

Risotto continued fucking you with groans in your ear prior to biting your ear lob causing you to scream, “ Do you want me to ask the rest of your teammates? They’re watching, you know. Watching how you come apart on my cock, watching how your tits bounce back and forth as I fuck you like the sudicio little troia you are.” Your eyes widen at that information and his words. You finally took a deep look into the mirror and there stood every last member of La Squadra staring or smirking at you through the mirror, damn you illuso and your fucking stand. You shouldn’t have gotten turned on at being watched, but you couldn’t help it.

Risotto felt your pussy grab his cock like she never wanted to let him go. He hissed when he felt you squeezed tighter, stopping his movements all together. You whined and looked back at him to see his eyes looking at you with lust and anger. “ Number.” You tired to fuck back into him, but his finger nails dug into your hips causing you to bite your lip letting out a short muffled scream.

Your lips quivered as you answered him, “ 10! Ris’ please fuck me. I need to cum.” Risotto smirked at you, yet you couldn’t see it due to his invisibility. You only saw his eyes, which was more than enough for you. Risotto then dragged your back to leave a little space before the mirror.

He bent you over to a 90 degree angle and gripped your wide hips with his big hands, “ Count every thrust I give to your sweet pussy, 10 counts for two rounds. Two rounds because how much I’ve had to repeat myself with you.” Tears started to pour out of your pretty eyes as he grabbed your hair in his hands and snapped his hips forward causing a huge ripple on your ass.

“ Fuckkk! One.”, Your moan was so loud that you didn’t even care if someone delivering your packages for today heard you as you heard the house doorbell ring or was that ringing in your head from how hard he thrusted inside of you.

Risotto pulled out of you leaving the tip in, snapping his hips inside of you again, “ What’s the number? I seem to forgot already, bellissima. Help me remember.” You hated how he teased you as he rolled his hips around, mixing your juices inside of your pussy in the process. His piercings was a foreign feeling inside of you, no matter how many times you two fucked or made love, the metals felt so good inside of your pussy and you will always tell him that whenever you want sex or just wanted to compliment him to catch him off guard.

Risotto repeated this technique for two times in a row with the count of ten each time so it was twenty in total. He made you squirt on the first round at the number 5. He did nothing but chuckle at your pathetic display of shaking, “ So pathetic, can’t take this but was surely running your mouth the other day about how you can take me. You know what you are right now.”

He grabbed you up by your hair— your sweaty back was to his sweaty abs as his arms were now wrapped around your tummy. He whispered in your ear as his team looked on from a distance inside of the mirror at your pathetic attempt of holding on, “ A rookie. You know how much fun I like to poke at rookies.” He threw his head back at the feeling of your pussy and you wished you could see his facial expressions, “ Brace yourself.”

Risotto gripped your body like a mad man and fucked you like a caveman. Pussy was squirting non stop as he slammed into you over and over until he came inside of you with a loud groan.

“ Aughhh, good fucking girl. So good. Shit!l have to get you pregnant. Have our children run around our new house I buy for us, away on the, hahh!, countryside, away from everyone. Just you and me.” , He moaned as he snapped his hips inside of you three more times. His warm cum fills you up so gloriously. You couldn’t do anything but lay limp in his arms— still standing up with him. Your body did shake in his arms so I guess that was doing something. Risotto smirked and turned himself back to his visible self, kissing your head prior to looking at his teammates with his famous death glare. Basically telling them to fuck off and leave him and his lady alone. They obeyed his silent order all due to Prosciutto understanding what Risotto is saying.

“ Grazii assai mia bellissima, bambola”, Risotto whispers to your passed out figure in his arms. His dick always made you pass out from the length, piercings, and girth. He massaged your stomach as he walked to you to bed, carefully laying you down and going to get a towel to clean you off, can’t have you sticking in stickiness and wetness, otherwise he’ll fuck you in your sleep. You already granted him permission to perform somnophilia a few days ago too. Maybe he’ll try it out later.

ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟTagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @angelshub @bxrbie1 @sylisan @lilvampirina @deftrow @uzxotic @tayler17-84

ﾟ•┈© all right reserved to salaciousdoll, she does not give permission to steal, plagiarize, and translate.

[allthosefanfics]

If someone tells you that you're too fat, too ugly, too stupid, not good enough, or calls you a faggot, you take that middle finger, you put it in their face and you tell the to 'go fuck yourself'

CHRIS ‘MOTIONLESS’ CERULLI

[writingismyhappytime]

Good Little Witch (Part 13): Epilogue

Angelo Parente x reader ​​​warnings: language, smut, extreme violence and torture, magic, mention of human trafficking

(Part 1, Part 2,   ​Part 3​​,​ Part 4​, ​Part 5​,​ Part 6​, ​Part 7​  , ​​Part 8​, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12)

You wrinkle your nose as you wipe the crimson blood from your hands on a towel, disheveled.

That had admittedly been very fun.

However, cleaning up the mess is not!

"You could have warned me!" You snap over your shoulder as you hear the door open. You half turn, watching through narrowed eyes as Angelo steps into the main room of the cabin, dragging the dead warlock behind him over the threshold.

He'd remembered you wanting to hunt down Alexander, the warlock who'd come snooping around for information over a year ago. As a treat, and for what you consider an unofficial anniversary present, you'd both hunted him down and killed him, along with the other two warlocks who'd tried to stop you.

You've been together for an entire year now, and although Angelo won't admit it, he knows it's the anniversary of you two being together. Why else would he drag you all the way to the outskirts of Costa Rica?

The country is pretty, very jungle-y, very hot. You dislike the weather intensely, you're from a colder country and you're not used to sweating even during the night! You're completely dressed incorrectly at that, which doesn't make anything better!

"Warned you about what?" Angelo sounds annoyed himself, blood splattered across his white dress shirt. "You're the one who popped that warlocks head off like breaking a cookie!"

"He tried to impale you with a butchers knife!"

"I very well had it under control!"

"That's just what you thought," you huff, tossing the stained towel down as you whirl to face him. Adrenaline is still running through both of your systems, and you feel edgy. "That warlock had you just like that old one did a year ago! You were just casually dangling on the wall!"

"I knew what I was doing!" Angelo snaps, irritated. "I certainly don't need saving."

"You do when you're the damsel in distress."

"Says the woman I literally rescued from a dungeon."

You glare at him reproach fully, your bloody hands going indignantly to your hips before you realize it. You freeze instantly, jerking them away, but the damage has been done.

Your sweater!

"Oh, don't look upset. I'll just buy you a new one," Angelo drops the dead warlock in the floor of the wooden cabin you're in, unconcerned with the bloody trail he left behind. "You have a dozen of them back home."

"But not like this one!" You say in distress, looking down in dismay. "It's my favorite."

Angelo rolls his eyes. He's a little put out the hunt didn't go as smoothly as he'd planned, he hadn't figured Alexander stupid enough to actually fight back, let alone have associates who wanted to defend him.

Sure, it had been successful, no one can defeat a blood witch and a demon working together, but still.

He's a little pouty over it.

And now you're being a bitch again!

He can't do something nice and you actually appreciate it anymore!

"I can literally hear the negative thoughts you're having about me."You grunt, using a wet rag to wipe at your shirt. "You can stop being an asshole at any time."

"I will when you stop being a cunt."

Oh!

You hate that word!

You bristle, glowering at him from across the small room. You're not very impressed with the rinky dink shack, as it should be called. It had four walls, a table that was broken in half with no chairs, a small kitchen area you're sure is from the stone ages, and one couch that sunk down in the very center.

This isn't what you imagined the "spot" he talked about would look like. Maybe it's because you're used to the finer things now thanks to Angelo's spoiling, but you definitely have no intentions of staying another moment in a dirty shack!

You want to go home, now!

"Don't fucking call me that!" You snarl, hurling the bloody rag at him and hitting him directly in the face. "You know I hate that."

Angelo doesn't immediately respond, his eyes closed as the rag drops to the floor. He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he tries to control his temper.

He tries to do something nice for you and look where it gets him!

Bitching!

"You're always Bitching at me!" He hisses, suddenly unable to hold the words back. "What the hell is your problem lately!?"

"My problem!? You're the one who keeps fucking off!"

"How the hell am I fucking off?"' He demands, kicking the body he's recently dropped out of his way, disliking the pool of blood left behind. "I literally helped you hunt down a man halfway across the world because you decided you were bored."

"I am bored!" You shuffle. "You leave me in that dank ass castle by myself all the time!"

"Well excuse me for having a business to run." He retorts, crossing his arms defensively. "Usually you're off gallavanting with my brother, you're hardly ever there!"

"I'm trying to help with his bar thing ---."

"Which you've been so focused on you're hardly at that castle, so why should I?" He demands, clenching his hands sulkily; he honestly didn't like being in the castle by himself anymore, it didn't feel right.

You've been so focused on Richard you haven't been paying Angelo any attention, and he wants you all to himself again! It's not fair that little baby is getting all your ---.

"Are you serious!?" You huff, sensing what was suddenly the problem. "You're jealous?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous, why would I ---?"

"You're jealous of Horror, aren't you? Is that the reason you brought me out here to this dump?" You stare at him, your eyes narrowing --- you want to be upset, cry a little, maybe break a few windows. You'd thought he brought you out because of the one year, because of your anniversary and because he cared --- but no.

It's only for selfish reasons!

You're not sure why you're even surprised, he's a self centered demon after all! An egotistical, ignorant, self -satisfying baboon!

Ugh!

"I want to go home!" You demand, hearing glass cracking. You're on the verge of losing your temper with him, you're a little hurt after all. You'd wanted him to be a little romantic towards you, not this!

This is stupid!

"Why are you pitching such a little bitch fit?" Angelo demands, his eyes running over your smaller frame. You have blood on your clothes where you turned one man into a sprinkler, and it stains a majority of visible skin. Your red hair is messed and flying errantly, and your eyes are spitting fire.

You're incredibly upset with him and he's not sure why.

You've only been together a year, surely the bond and relationship you two have will last longer then that! He'd expected centuries, not just a single digit!

"What the hell are you upset over?" He asks, near exasperated. "We caught the damned warlocks, like you wanted, we killed them!"

You send him the most vile look, as if he'd just kicked your pet hamster out a window. Your pale lips press into a thin line, and suddenly you're making a beeline for the front door.

If he won't take you home, you'll go yourself! You'll find a way back without his help!

Screw him!

"Where the hell are you going?" Angelo stares, startled. "Red!"

"Away from you!" You snap over your shoulder, the door flying open before you ever reach it. You storm out into the darkness, immediately hearing the native animals quiet. You haven't heard much of them, they seemed to sense evil and go silent.

Not that you're evil.

Angelo is.

But you're not.

You're just temperamental and spiteful.

You step out onto the dirt, glancing around at the lush jungle surrounding you. You're sure it's a beautiful place in the sunlight, but at night it holds a totally different allure.

You're not afraid, though. At this point in your life, you're not scared of anything. You can hear the rush of water from a waterfall in the distance, the rumble as it fell hundreds of feet.

Maybe you'd visit it in the daylight some time, alone, without your prick of a boyfriend!

"Don't you fucking walk away from me, (Y/N!)"

Speak of the bloody, clingy devil!

You feel Angelo's cold hand close around your arm, wrenching you around so quickly you nearly fall. You tense immediately, your fiery eyes meeting his as you look up.

"Get your hands off of me!"You snarl, jerking against his hold. "Fuck you, Angelo!"

"Get ahold of yourself!" He snaps, shaking you the slightest bit. You know you're not physically strong enough to pull away from him, but you're about to set him on fire if he doesn't let go!

"Angelo ---!" You sound as frustrated as you feel, but the next few biting words never leave your lips.

Angelo's free hand suddenly tangles in your long hair, locking in and dragging your head around forcefully. His lips find yours, and even though you give an angry shriek against his lips, shoving furiously at his chest, he doesn't move, it's like hitting a brick wall with your bare hand.

You're so mad at him, you don't want to kiss him!

You want to punch him in the throat!

You dig your nails into his chest, so deeply you know it cuts his skin. His grip in your hair tightens painfully as a result, so hard you feel your roots protest.

You take a deep breath, taking a step closer, pressing your body up against his. You're so frustrated with his arrogance and his complete idiocy! Why can't he just think?

Be a little romantic!

You grab his red-stained dress shirt, finding the blood still warm from his recent kill. You draw him a little tighter, his hand now around your hip, beneath your ruined sweater.

Angelo deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips and finding yours. He doesn't let you have control, he fights you for it, intent not to let you win.

There wouldn't be any fun in that.

"I'm so mad at you!" You hiss against his lips, feeling a new kind of rush slip through your body. A mixture of anger and desire makes your blood boil, and you find yourself jerking on the front of Angelo's shirt, ripping it completely in half.

Angelo smirks down at you, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. He releases your hair, both hands slipping to cup your ass instead. You huff as he lifts you up, your legs winding around his waist as he carries you.

You suddenly feel the nearest tree against your back, the tangle of its roots at your feet as he sits you down. The trees in Costa Rica are tall, with thick trunks and vines falling down. You're sure there's an errant snake or two making the tree it's home, but even they could sense to stay far away you hope.

You inadvertently groan as Angelo's hands roam higher beneath your shirt, cold fingers cupping your breasts.

You're so warm, Angelo loves that about you. He kisses you fervently, squeezing your full breasts in his hands. He's going to fuck you so senseless you never back talk him again!

Your nails scrape down the back of his neck, and you bite his lip impatiently, feeling a sudden urgency. He hisses against your mouth, and you get the faintest taste of his black blood with a heavy moan.

His blood is still intoxicating to you, it makes your skin feel likes it's on fire! Already you feel the burn sweeping across your skin, your body reacting to his touches immediately.

You arch into his grip, losing all reservations, momentarily forgetting your anger. Your hands rove his shoulder, pushing his ruined shirt off quickly. His grip tightens on you for a brief second, his fingers pinching and toying with your nipples almost painfully.

"Angelo," you breathe against his bloody lips, your head suddenly falling back in pleasure. Your body is humming, it's absolutely glorious. You'd forgotten the slight high you get off his blood.

He bites sharply at the curve of your neck , making you gasp. He presses into you, holding you into the tree as he gets his own taste of your blood, not going to let you get away with that little bite.

You grasp desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck, holding onto him, feeling your blood seep from the wound and into your clothing. Angelo groans against your skin, slowly lifting his head, dark eyes dilated as his tongue runs across the wound.

You taste amazing, his body begins to feel warm almost instantly. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, tilting his head back as he enjoys the taste of your blood on his tongue.

His black hair falls back from his face, and you press your lips against his chin, feathering kisses against his jaw until you return to his lips.

You press your hips eagerly into his, your body excited for his touch. You're impatient to have him, and you know he feels the same --- you'd almost forgotten what ingesting the blood of another does, how it connects you to them, let's you sense what they feel, what they want.

Angelo wants you.

He's already pulling at your sweater, grabbing it by the collar and completely shredding it in too, revealing your bare chest to him, stained the lightest pink from a warlocks blood.

You're his vixen, his fury, his harpy. You kill and maim just as well as he does, and he's never been more attracted to you then after a bloody fight.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, tugging roughly. He fights them down your shapely hips, letting them pool at your feet, watching as you step out of them quickly.

Your fingers waste no time going to us zipper, jerking it down and hastily unbuttoning his black trousers. Your eyes flick to his as you shove them down, feeling his length graze your body as it rises, finally free from its confines.

Covered in blood, eyes dilated and lips parted, you're the hottest Angelo has ever seen you. His hands cup your face as he kisses you, pushing you back against the rough bark of the tree and vines. You kiss him back earnestly, running your hands down his body, your nails lightly raking against his tender flesh.

Hell, he wants you! His cock throbs with the need to be inside you, making you cry out as he claims you again. He's pissed at you for your ungrateful attitude, and he wants to make sure you know it.

You moan as he slips a finger through your entrance, making slow circles against your walls and hitting all the right spots. He smirks as he realizes how wet you are and he's not even touched you, how your hips immediately push down against his hand.

"Not too mad at me now, are you?" He teases, earning the slightest of glares. You pinch his shoulder between your nails, your teeth abruptly digging into your lower lip as he adds a second finger, his thumb lightly brushing your clit, tantalizing you. He's not going to let you cum, you're going to have to work for it this time. He's going to work you up --- and then deny you what you want most.

Or, that's what he's going to try to do. Your hand is already on his cock, and you know how much he loves it when you --- oh fucking hell.

Angelo can't deny you anything! He fucking wants you too badly himself!

He swats your hand away, his own going to lift your hips. Your fingers curl around the vines behind you, the tree bark pressing coldly into your back.

You're so wet, there's a fire in you only Angelo can help. You want him to be rough, you want the sex to be so memorable that you won't forget in a hundred years.

And neither will he.

You reach forward, gripping his hair and jerking his lips to yours as you wind your thighs around his hips. You can feel his head at your entrance, and your body is completely welcoming.

You moan into his mouth as he slowly pushes forward, his cock finding the warmth it was seeking. You clench your hand around the vines as Angelo begins nibbling on your neck again, finding his rhythm. You practically bounce back against the trunk of the tree with every thrust, feeling it scratch your back. His hands are clamped so tightly on your hips you know they're bruising, but you're loving every moment of it!

He’s rough, making your breath hitch with every thrust, wrenching uncontrollable moans from your throat. Sweat gleams on your skin, mixing with the blood that's now smearing both of your bodies.

Angelo takes one of your breasts in his grip, teasing your nipples and sending an electric sensation surging through your whole body. Your hips thrust forward of their own account, meeting his and making both of you groan. You're already starting to clench around him, your tight muscles clinging to his cock.

His eyes are already that frightening black, the one that let's you know he's enjoying himself.

Your lips are permanently parted at this point, soft gasps constantly leaving them at every thrust. Your back is going to be bruised after this but you don't even care!

"You're still an a-ass!" You manage, clinging to the vines, your sweaty palm wanting to slip.

"And you're a cunt," he grunts, feeling you finally tense up. You're on the verge of cumming, your head falling back in absolute pleasure --- until Angelo slows his rhythm.

Your eyes flash open, seeing the smirk on those devilish lips.

"You've not been nice to me today," he informs you, beginning to move again when he'd completely paused. "Why should I give you what you want?"

"Angelo!" You scowl at him, hearing his faint chuckle before he thrusts forward so deeply you gasp, unprepared. Your toes curl in pleasure as he fills you, grinding his heavenly hips into yours until you're shaking, his thumb kneading your clit.

You shudder, letting go of the vines completely as you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging desperately to him as you whimper, your thighs held in his grip as he takes over. You let him have his way, pressing your face into his neck.

You're tightening again, you simply can't help it. You know Angelo isn't going to deny you pleasure a second time, he quite frankly doesn't have it in him! You can tell by his flexing touch and his breathing he's getting close himself.

"Angelo," you whimper, kissing his ear, your heart hammering in your chest. There's that feeling again --- a hot, writhing heat in the pit of your stomach that's making your slick skin flush, making your taut muscles quiver.

You kiss him just as you finally cum, Angelo groaning as you squeeze his cock, your clenching muscles making him feel right at home as he rams you into the tree, his legs starting to shake.

He sighs against your lips, holding you up against the tree, finding his own release inside of you.

It's like all the anger drains from your bodies, and you feel much more content now. You're fine with snuggling into him, letting him hold you for a few moments as you play with his black hair.

"Mmph, jungle sex isn't bad," you finally mumble after a while, feeling his silent chuckle.

"Your idea of jungle sex is different from mine," he mumbles, leaning back slightly so he can look at you. "We'll find some thick vines and then I'll show you jungle sex."

"Mmm. You going to go all Tarzan on me?" You tease, you mood lightened now that you're wore out. You're not frustrated now, Angelo had helped you vent that all out.

"I have no idea who Tarzan is."

You sigh; should've figured Angelo didn't know his movies.

You're still working on that.

You've cooled off a little, but your skin is still clammy from the heat. Considering you're a supernatural creature, it doesn't bother you as badly as it would a human, which is a plus, you guess.

You grimace as Angelo shuffles, your legs protesting as they're forced to straighten. You sigh as you notice the remains of your sweater, tugging it together the best you can.

"You destroy a lot of my clothes, you know."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't wear any at all," Angelo merely responds, zipping his jeans back up. You hide your smile, taking the hand he offers you.

You'd told him that numerous times.

~~~~~

"Now why couldn't we have come here first?" You sigh, stepping out onto the balcony of the resort. The tile is cool on your bare feet as you walk to the white painted railing, gazing out at the ocean not too far away. The breeze catches the end of your silk robe, tossing the ends into the air behind you.

"This is a treat," Angelo responds from the room, using his phone with a frown as he leans against the bed, a white towel wrapped around his waist from his recent shower. He's been working since the moment he entered the resort, his hell hounds carrying all the luggage.

You look over your shoulder at him, your red, wavy hair trailing down your back. He's just standing there, hair damp, the black curls on his chest gleaming in the dim lights from the chandelier.

You have to admit, this has been the happiest year of your life. You'd spent so long running for your very existence, it's been a big change. You adore Angelo, you're very much in love with him and he knows it.

You're still not quite used to the very rich lifestyle he leads, especially when he's away from the castle. He enjoys his lavish amenities, that's for sure.

You turn away, gazing back at the ocean. It's quiet, which you like, and you let yourself enjoy it. Peace is absolutely intoxicating, and it's to a point now you're not constantly looking over your shoulder for trouble. It's a habit you've finally broke.

"You know, we could get a place out here if you like," Angelo says, closer then you realized. His hands slip around your waist, drawing you back to lean against him. "A nice little tree house or something."

"Where we can have all the jungle sex we want?" You chuckle, knowing he's grinning.

"Something like that."

"I'm pretty content in the castle," you shrug your shoulders. "It's too hot here."

"You are pretty cold hearted, I'm not surprised you like a chillier place."

"Don't be mean!"

He chuckles, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. He shuffles a moment, and you glance down as you feel his hand move. You blink, staring at the black velvet box he's suddenly holding.

"That's not someone's finger bone is it?"

Angelo snorts, caught off guard. "No, but that would have been a good idea, if I'd thought of it first. Open it."

You hesitate, then reach for the box. It looks like it belongs to a ring, so that's what you assume it is.

But what kind?

Why is he giving this to you?

You're suddenly nervous!

Your fingers box on the box lid, hovering for a few moments before you force yourself to open it.

You blink.

Oh!

"It's so pretty!" You gasp, staring at the  gold band, a ruby set in the center surrounded by smaller ones. The ruby  is a deep red, almost reminding you of blood, which is fitting you suppose.

"I thought you might like it," he says, relieved. "Happy anniversary."

"You remembered!" You gasp, whirling around so quickly you nearly drop the ring off the balcony. You clutch it tightly, looking up at him. "You ass! Why didn't you say something!?"

"Of course I remembered," Angelo rolls his eyes as he takes the ring from you, not wanting you to drop half his fortune into the ocean. "I brought you out here to celebrate. How could I forget the day I slept with a blood witch?"

You quirk a brow at him, knowing he's playing and trying to stop the urge to punch his tattooed shoulder.

"You can be so infuriating." You merely reply, watching as he takes your left hand. You've never been one much for jewelry, you don't even know your own ring size.

You're pleased when the expensive ring, a testament of Angelo's feelings for you, glides easily onto your ring finger. You lift your hand up, gazing at it.

It's a little big in your opinion, but you adore it because it's from him. You turn, giving him a brilliant smile you usually reserve for special moments.

Angelo returns it, cupping your face and lightly kissing your lips. You can feel his love for you, a big warm spot in your chest. You return his affection, wrapping your arms around his neck contentedly.

He'd given you a promise ring, as you think of it. You doubt a demon can marry, that's incredibly unorthodox, especially since they live forever.

So this is the next best thing.

Things might not always be great with Angelo, he can be a pushy bastard, but you take the good with the bad. He'd done so much for you, even when he didn't have too.

"I love you," you murmur against his lips, feeling him smile.

"I love you, too."

Tags: I @isaxhorror   @lucifersnudes (anything miw)@allthepeppercorn. @iknightwriter. @miss-mcbotty.  @my-gothic-doctor.  @imaginemiw @little-h0rr0r

[wtfwriter]

REQUESTS, RULES, & INFORMATION

Hi! I'm Slumpy and I've rediscovered tumblr for the billionth time and that i can post on here and stuff 😌

I can write x readers or ships - more info on this below :]

I'll add more to this list as I see fit

MASTERLISTS

Fandoms & the People/Ships I'll Write For:

Percy Jackson: Book Series

Characters!

Clarisse La Rue (P or R)

Percy Jackson (P ONLY)

Annabeth Chase (P ONLY)

Grover Underwood (P ONLY)

Luke Castellan (P or R)

Thalia Grace (P ONLY)

Nico Di Angelo (P ONLY)

Ships!

Percabeth

Do Not Ask For:

Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Thalia, or Nico as romantic (I am far too old to write about these characters in that way, nor do I want to... outside of Percabeth bc they're adorable)

I won't write Thalia romantic because I also feel weird disrespecting her Hunter status... idk it's one of my things even if it's not a male reader

Percy Jackson: Show

Characters!

Clarisse La Rue (P or R)

Percy Jackson (P ONLY)

Annabeth Chase (P ONLY)

Grover Underwood (P ONLY)

Luke Castellan (P or R)

Ships!

Percabeth

Do Not Ask For:

Percy, Annabeth, or Grover as romantic (same as before)

Unfortunately, I haven't read Heroes of Olympus so please do not request anything with spoilers. I will get to it eventually :(

The Last of Us Part I & II

Characters!

Ellie Williams (P or R; F! or NB reader ONLY)

Dina (P or R)

Jesse (P or R)

Joel (P ONLY)

Ships!

Elliedina

Do Not Ask For:

Ellie w/ a male reader -- She is a lesbian.

Joel as romantic, I just cannot see him as anything but my dad I'm sorry... (excuse the daddy issues)

I will write:

Angst

Fluff

Hurt w/ or w/o comfort

AUs (depending on what it is)

Smut - I'm a minor and so I'm uncomfortable with writing smut in general. Also, some of these characters are also minors and so shouldn't be written in smut anyways.

People/ships not mentioned - If there's a person or ship that isn't mentioned above, feel free to ask me if I'd be willing to write them! As long as they do not go against any of the rules I've set, there's a chance I'd be willing to write it :)

PJO - Godly Parents: I will do any godly parent, just make sure if you are requesting something, it is stated or else I will write it as a general/unclaimed reader

MCYTs - I'm not writing for them anymore, sry homies :( Especially with some of the things that have happened, I simply cannot support some of these people and I'm also just not into them anymore.

PLEASE send me asks/requests I’m very bad at being creative and writing something I know others will enjoy makes me incredibly happy :)

[aldakat31415]

So I've decided to start writing for the PJO and HOO characters.

I will be writing for the show as well, just none of the younger characters.

Requests are open.

Characters I will write for:

Book Percy Jackson (HOO only) or platonic

Book Grover Underwood (HOO only) or platonic

Book Annabeth Chase(HOO only) or platonic

Book and Show Luke Castilian (Au where he doesn't die for HOO?)

Book Clarise (HOO only) (is she alive in HOO?) or platonic

Book Nico Di Angelo (After events of HOO) or Platonic

Book Will Solace (After events of HOO) or platonic

Book and (eventual show?) Leo valdez

Book and (eventual show?) Jason Grace

Book and (eventual show?) Piper Mclean

Book and (eventual show?) Frank Zhang

Book and (eventual show?) Hazel Levesque

Lester popodopolous (aka Apollo)

Reyna

Octavian

Calypso

Bianca Di Angelo (After events of PJO) dead or alive au

Characters I will not write for:

Children. Unless platonic. So none of the cast of the show unless it's platonic. (Excluding luke)

Any child x adult unless platonic

Characters I don't know. If I dont know how to write them I'm not going to.

Things I will not write:

Smut

Limes

Lemons

Anything pornographic. My blog may not exactly be family friendly, but I don't write that stuff on here myself.

Incest

Non-con

ABO, even when its not nsfw still too close..

Children x adults. Either reader or character.

Anything racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, xenophobic, abelist, ect..

Anything I as the owner of the blog deem innerpropriate content for my blog. Thank you.

Things I will write:

Fluff

Angst

Friends to lovers

Enemies to lovers

Enemies to friends to lovers

Tsundere x reader

Poly x reader (sfw)

Tsundere reader x character

Anything specific is fine, just don't go too overboard.

Reader with power or specific godly parent.

Au's, but again, don't go too overboard. These are typically one-shots unless I get bored.

If you want a multiple part fic thats fine, just do realize it's going to take more time than usual. Please state how many parts your looking for, and try to make your request synopsis enough length to do multiple parts. I will just make a one part if theres not enough content.

Cussing is allowed

Mention of explicit topics without being explicit is allowed if I feel like it.

If you wanna bully your favorite character, like all us writers do, with terrible situations go right ahead, I won't judge. But nothing too crazy.

If you do request something that may be triggering I will put content warnings or not do it at all depending on the context. Thank you.

Your author is pleased to write for you and I hope to get alot of fics out for your enjoyment. All requests are free, but the fic is still mine, please don't plagiarize or steal even though I'm not sure there's much I can do about it. Be nice. This is a safe place for those of any marginalized community or from a non marginalized community, as long as you're not a dick.

If you are from a certain community and you find any of my works to be racist, sexist, xenophobic, ect.. please message me to see how we can work things out to make the fic better for everyone. Trolls will be deleted.

I don't have conversations in asks, if you wanna chat that needs to be in a public area of tumblr. Asks need to remain purely professional. This is for the safety of myself and you, thank you. Always remember internet safety.

Thank you for your time and requests can either be asks or comments down below. Remember that I'm far more likely to actually see an ask though, and it's up to your own personal call of what you feel is the better way.

All fics on this blog are gender neutral, I will not write a gendered one so that all readers can enjoy.

If I am overloaded on requests I will either reject your request or put in on hold. Requests are first come first serve. Thank you.

I may make another ask page for the other riordan series. It's just been a long time since I've read them and I'd like to refamiliarize myself with the books to write for the characters.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

To Find You Again

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wimnoJg by sakusakeiji “ill fight the gods till ends time just to see you again” “Those are some big words for a retired hero”   A Found Family Au Crossover Words: 1681, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Danny Phantom Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Danny Fenton, Nico di Angelo, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Damian Wayne, Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Vlad Masters, Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Thanatos (Percy Jackson), Hades (Percy Jackson), Leo Valdez Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Danny Fenton, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Nico di Angelo, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Danny Fenton, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Jason Grace/Leo Valdez, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Demigods (Percy Jackson) Additional Tags: Danny Fenton Is Danielle "Dani" Phantom's Parent, Danny Fenton-centric, Danielle "Dani" Phantom is Called Ellie, De-Aged Danielle "Dani" Phantom, Nico di Angelo is Danielle Phantom’s Parent, Vlad Masters Being an Asshole, Evil Vlad Masters, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Hurt Danny Fenton, Adopted Danny Fenton, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Danny fenton is a demigod, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Character Undeath, Hurt Nico di Angelo, Batfamily (DCU), Trauma, Multiple Crossovers, Slow Romance, Parenthood, Overpowered Danny Fenton, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Family Issues, Dark Past, retired hero, Existential Crisis, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Trust Issues, Eventual Smut read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wimnoJg

[aurorarevenclaw1927]

Fandom/Character List & Rules

Edited-28.10.2021

Edited-21.11.2021

Edited-13.10.2022

WHAT I WILL WRITE

Fluff

Any type of reader

Any gender reader

Sexual  tension

Platonic relationships

Gif imagines

Crossover

Smut

Song inspired

Prompts

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE

Incest (step siblings and step parents include)

Pedophilia

Any phobias

Rape

Character match-ups

Homophobic

Racist

American Horror Story

(I’m still watching 1984.And i skipped half of the Freak Show and Cult whole season.I’ll add more characters in future)

Murder House

Tate Langdon

Violet Harmon

Ben Harmon

Asylum

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Grace Bertrand

Dr.Oliver Thredson

Coven

Zoe Benson

Cordelia Goode

Madison Montgomery

Kyle Spencer

Freak Show

Dandy Mott

Jimmy Darlin

Hotel

Donovan

Sally

Tristan Buffy

James March

John Lowre

Liz Taylor

The Countess

Rudolph Valentino

Will Drake

Roanoke

Shelby Miller

Edward Mott

Matt Miller

Sidney James

Audrey Tindall

Rory Monahan

Cult

*I skipped this season.Will write about it after I watch it.*

Apocalypse

Michael Langdon

John H. Moore

Mallory

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Oliver Wood

Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Ron Weasley

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

James Potter

Cedric Diggory

Neville Longbottom

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Narcos

Javier Pena

Steve Murphy

Horacio Carillo

The Sandman

Morpheus

Johanna Constantine

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Crowley

Jack Kline

Adam Winchester

Michael!Dean

Michael!Adam

Michael!Young John

Charlie Bradbury

Rowena Macleod

Teen Wolf

Scott McCall

Stiles Stilinski

Isaac Lahey

Derek Hale

Liam Dunbar

Theo Raeken

Mason Hewitt

Corey Bryant

Nolan Holloway

Brett Talbot

Jackson

Jordan Perrish

Peter Hale

The Vampire Diaries 

(I’m still in season 3.I’ll add more characters in future)

Damon

Stefan

Tyler

Katherine

Klaus

Elijah

Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson

Luke Castellan

Nico Di Angelo

BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes

John Watson

Mycroft Holmes

Inspector Lestrage

Professor Moriarty

BBC Merlin

Arthur Pendragon

Morgana Pendragon

Geneviev Pendragon

Merlin

Knights of the round table

The Mandalorian

Din Djarin

Cobb Vanth

Luke Skywalker

Ahsoka Tano

° Request Only°

Fear Street 1994,1978,1666

Scream 1,2,3,4,5

Final Destination 1,2,3,4,5

My native language is not English .So,forgive me for my mistakes. Feel free to send me requests.You can also ask me if I write for something not listed. PLEASE tell me the series/movie/etc. the character is coming from.

My Bloody Valentine 3D (2009)

Triple Frontier

Oz the Great and Powerful

Love and Other Drugs

Aladdin

Warm Bodies

Star Wars

Now You See Me 1,2

Jennifer's Body

Jumper

Malignant

Prince of persia

The Bubble

The Interview

Bloodsucking Bastards

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Home

A great big special thank you to @peachy-mags for the full version of the fantastic companion artwork for this piece! (https://peachy-mags.tumblr.com/post/654049235542622208/)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 13.2k

Warnings:  Smut, Swearing, Canon-typical violence

Summary: After years of service to Angelo Bronte, who would have thought that the arrival of little Jack Marston could change your life forever?

Notes: My submission for @rdrbigbang! Be sure to check out the AMAZING companion art for this fic from @peachy-mags!

-----

Another beautiful morning in Saint Denis. You breathed in deeply, reveling in the calm peace that so rarely enveloped the town. There was a slight nip in the air that you knew would fade away as the morning drew on, the sun rising and casting everything in a pale-yellow light, before the city itself awakened. It was your favorite time of day.

A cup of coffee steamed in your hands as you slowly made your way through the gardens at Angelo Bronte’s mansion. One of the perks of being a live-in servant, you supposed, was unfettered access to the (admittedly slightly ostentatious) statue garden out back - given that Signor Bronte himself wasn’t occupying the space. After a few minutes of slow, calm pacing, you found yourself standing in front of a marble statue of some Roman goddess, Aphrodite?, and taking a sip of your coffee. 

It was hot and bitter, the perfect juxtaposition to the cool morning that you would allow yourself to enjoy for a few moments longer. Soon, you would need to make your way inside and ready the table for breakfast, but for now you could enjoy this moment. This peace.

Unfortunately, that peace was almost immediately broken by the sound of terrified cries coming from inside the house. It was not all that uncommon to hear screams and sobs from inside the building, due to the scrupulous nature of your employer, but these sounded different. Almost childlike.

Curious, you made your way back indoors, trying your best to steady your pace so as not to draw unwanted attention. Setting the coffee cup in the kitchen next to the large washbasin, you nodded to the cook, Giovanni, before opening the door to the servant’s stairwell. 

The crying was louder here. Anguished and frightened sobs broken only occasionally by cries for “Mama”. 

So it was a child?

Quietly, you crept up the creaky stairs to the hallway, where several of Bronte’s more scrupulous henchmen, Gene, Alfonso and Irvin, were gathered around a door. The crying was even louder now, and most certainly coming from the room where the henchmen were standing guard. Above the desperate sobs, you could just make out the sounds of your employer trying to shush the child, albeit unsuccessfully.

“Now, now, my boy,” he soothed, his accent unmistakable. “There’s no need to be upset, I’m sure your family will come after you soon enough.” The boy continued to cry for his mother in between sobs. Signor Bronte’s tactic wasn’t exactly working.

The men standing guard had spotted you, and closed their ranks tighter. You knew how this went - you were never allowed to see Bronte’s victims. In fact, as far as you were supposed to know, Bronte participated in no underhanded dealings whatsoever. Which was, of course, completely wrong, and you had figured that out long ago. But for the most part, you tried your best to ignore the dealings - for the sake of keeping yourself alive.

But this was a child.

You had to do something. 

Carefully, you moved closer to the line of henchmen standing in front of the door. They were larger than you, Signor Bronte had a habit of finding and employing practical giants to act as his henchmen, but they were also silent.

“Signor Bronte?” you called, standing nearly face-to-chest with one of the large men. “Is everything alright? Can I be of service?”

The men in front of you reddened, irritated at your immunity to their intimidation tactics. They stayed silent, however, and maintained their position as a wall of flesh between you and the crying child in the room. 

After just a few moments, you heard your name being called with a familiar Italian lilt . “Come in, come in. We could use your help,” he hailed for you over the steady sobs from the room. 

The three men at the door reluctantly parted to let you enter the brightly lit room. A fire was burning low in the hearth, likely more of a symbol of comfort than to actually provide any heat, and your boss sat on the side of a large, gaudy bed. 

The boss of the largest crime syndicate in San Denis was a feared man, but if you met him in the street, you would never know. He was small, with a prominent nose and dark eyes that never overlooked anything. At home, his dark was hair slicked back under a floral headband, and his red housecoat opened in the front to reveal an unbuttoned white collared shirt. To anyone who didn’t know him, he could have passed as any rich, european immigrant.

But you knew better. In the middle of the luxurious home, beneath the extravagance of his clothing, sat a cunning, intelligent man who had clawed his way up from hell itself. He was cutthroat, manipulative, and would not hesitate to sell out his closest comrade for a step up the ladder. Knowing this, it didn’t surprise you to see a small boy curled up on the large, gaudy bed, his clothes muddied and his light brown hair in tangles. He couldn’t have been older than four or five, and was screaming adamantly for his mother. 

Instinctually, you rushed to the bed and sat next to him, taking the spot that had been occupied by your boss. “Now, my dear,” he said as he stood, clearing his throat and adjusting his housecoat, “this young man is Jack, and he will be staying with us for a while.” You looked sympathetically at the boy, still sobbing and curled up in front of you, before giving your boss a solemn nod. 

You hated this; seeing the boy in such a familiar state. A state that you, yourself, had been in for years upon your arrival in San Denis. Hopefully his parents, unlike yours, could pay off whatever debt they had soon. “If you could stop his screams, I would appreciate it. He’s giving me a headache,” Signor Bronte continued, reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose with one hand as he headed toward the door. “Get him some breakfast. I’m sure he hasn’t been fed since those hillbillies in Rhodes took him.”

Without another word, he walked from the room and the three henchmen followed closely behind him. As he entered the hallway, you could hear him speaking to them in Italian, “Let’s hope these bastards come for him soon. I want to have the little shit out of here as soon as possible.”

The door closed behind them, and you were left in the room with the poor, frightened child. You sighed and slowly moved closer to the curled up figure on the bed. Making sure you were as gentle as possible, you reached out to place a hand on his tiny shoulder. “Jack?...” you said his name, low and calm, as if you were trying to tame a spooked horse. He curled even further into himself, but you noticed his sobs had started to die down to exhausted whimpers. “Jack?” you tried again, pulling your hand back to yourself and placing it in your lap. Calmly, you gave him your name before continuing, “I’m very sorry about all of this, Jack. I know it’s very scary…. I-”

What could you tell him? That you had been in the same situation when you were just a few years older? That your parents had never been able to come back for you? That you had spent the majority of your life in service to Angelo Bronte, notorious mafioso, in order to pay a massive debt that had been racked up by your father when you were eight?

No. He didn’t need to know those things. He didn’t need to know the likely reality of his situation.

It was rare that Signor Bronte dealt in child kidnappings, but when he did? The poor kids were lucky if their parents were able to retrieve them.

“I’m sure your ma and pa will show up for you soon,” you soothed, hoping it was the truth.

The poor boy, whose sobs had now turned into quiet sniffles, stayed curled up with his back to you, unmoving. You reached out a hand gently, brushing his dirty hair away from his forehead, only for him to flinch from your touch. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Alright, Jack,” you said quietly, standing from the bed. A nearby armchair held a throw blanket that you spread gently over him. “Why don’t you get some rest, I’ll bring you some water and some soup in a bit, I’m sure you’re starving.” The floor creaked beneath your feet as you made your way to the door. He didn’t move. He didn’t look up at you. He just stayed on the bed, a shaking, sniffling bundle. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Sighing, you stepped out of the room and into the hallway, making sure to lock the door behind you. You didn’t think he would run away, he seemed far too exhausted and overwhelmed for that, but you have seen desperate people do crazier things. The least you could do was make sure he wasn’t accidentally hurt trying to make his way past Gene, Alfonso and Irvin trying to escape.

You made your way quickly back to the servants stairwell and down to the kitchen, where Giovanni was waiting for you with bated breath. A joyous, loving man, an immigrant from Italy alongside Angelo Bronte several decades ago, Giovanni was one of your closest friends - possibly the next thing to family that you had had since coming here. Over the years, he had taught you as much as he could about Italian cuisine, all the while boasting about the restaurant that he would surely open one day. 

At first, you had scoffed. Hardly anyone in Angelo Bronte’s service managed to leave and start their own life. And, with as much as Signor Bronte boasted about Giovanni’s food, it wasn’t likely that he would be let out of his repayment contract that easily. 

Hardly anyone actively sought out Angelo Bronte as an employer. In fact, you suspected that the only actual well-paid employees were the contract killers he sometimes took out to keep his hands clean - but again, you weren’t supposed to know that. The rest of you were given room and board and a pittance of a salary, in exchange for paying off whatever debt was owed to Signor Bronte. For you, it was your father’s sizable gambling debts. For Giovanni, it was the cost of keeping his nieces and nephews alive after their father, his brother, had suddenly passed. Bail, loans, gambling - every one of his employees had a past, and every single one of them owed their future to Angelo Bronte.

“And, my dear, what is the news?” he asked, turning from the freshly baked bread that he had just taken out of the oven to face you. 

You gave him a somber smile and picked up a slice of tomato from the cutting board in the center of the kitchen island. “A boy,” you explained, leaning against the island and taking a bite of the vegetable. You glanced over at the washbasin and saw your coffee cup had been cleaned. Giovanni was a saint. “Maybe four or five? Small, either way. I…” you trailed off, but the both of you knew what was going through your mind. You felt bad for him, you didn’t think he deserved this.

Giovanni nodded, and turned to the stove. “Well, my dear, let’s give the boy a warm welcome, shall we?” he responded before pulling a large pot from the back of the stove and looking inside. “We have some leftover minestrone from yesterday, why don’t you warm some up for him while I finish Signor Bronte’s breakfast? There’s some stale bread in the pantry you can add to it. I’ll call in Anne to set the table,” he handed you a wooden spoon and was out the kitchen door, where you heard him calling for the older woman.

Your smile was significantly less downtrodden after speaking to the man, but you still could feel anxious, worried butterflies in your stomach as you collected a bowl, spoon and glass. After a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was watching, you also slipped a small chocolate bar into your apron pocket, hoping it would help cheer the boy up, even a little. Within just a few minutes, you were headed back up the creaky stairs to the room where Jack was housed, hot soup and cool water in hand, and armed with a secret chocolate bar.

Quietly, you opened the door, balancing the soup and a glass of water with your left arm as you entered. The room was silent now, except for the low breathing of the boy on the bed. If it weren’t for his red-puffy eyes and the chapped rings around his nostrils, he would have seemed peaceful. Like nothing was wrong at all.

You stood for a moment, looking at the poor boy. Should you wake him? He was bound to be starving, but you were sure he was exhausted as well. You hesitated, but decided against it. You could leave the soup and water on the bedside table and check on him throughout the day - he deserved his rest.

Slowly, quietly, you crept across the room to the side of the bed and set the soup and water down, followed by the chocolate bar. You glanced quickly at him, relieved he didn’t wake, before making your way back to the door.

Just as you were about to leave and go about your duties for the morning, you heard a small cough and a hoarse, timid voice from the bed. “Wait…” he said. You turned to see the boy propped up on his arms, looking at you with puffy, shining eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

Looking at him made you want to cry. How could anyone hurt someone so small, so fragile, so helpless? How could someone be so cruel as to take him away from his family and thrust him into this god awful world?

He was already so exhausted, so frightened, so sad, you couldn’t leave him to sort his feelings out on his own.  You could convince Anna and Giovanni to take your duties for the day. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded at him and moved back toward the bed to sit with him. “I won’t.”

---

Slowly, Jack began to settle in. Although he was still obviously upset, the boy proved to be far more flexible and resilient than you had expected from someone so young. Whether from his natural resilience or from your constant reassurance that his parents must be doing everything in their power to get him back, you weren’t entirely certain. You spent plenty of time with him, making sure he was doing alright, and eventually he chose to sleep on a small cot in the servants quarters, next to your bed. 

He was prone to constant chatter during the day, and you soon learned quite a lot about him and his family. He apparently had plenty of aunts and uncles, who all moved together around the country. They had been down near Blackwater for a long time, where Jack had apparently left his favorite storybook, but then something brought them north to a small ghost town “with lots of snow, it was real cold!”. Luckily, they hadn’t been there long before heading south again to “a place by a river with lots and lots of trees” where, notably, his Uncle Arthur had taken him fishing. Most recently, they had moved down to Lemoyne, once again near a river, but this time Jack described it as “really hot and nothing ever dries and it always smells like fish.”

An accurate description if you had ever heard one.

In the meantime, although he wouldn’t talk much to the others, most of them couldn’t help but dote on him. Giovanni had a habit of slipping him sweets throughout the day. Anna and the other maids would occasionally bring him books or toys that they had found around town - he was amassing quite a collection. And from Signor Bronte himself, Jack received a brand new outfit made from the finest cotton. You suspected it was most likely to keep the worn rags out of the man’s sight than to actually please Jack.

But, despite the gifts and the treats from the others, Jack clung to you. On laundry days, he would help sort and fold. When cooking, he would clean the vegetables without a second thought. During cleaning, he happily carried supplies around after you, handing you what you needed whenever asked. Although you had told him multiple times that he was more than welcome to sit and read his new book, he preferred staying by your side. 

Almost as if he was afraid that, if left alone, he would be taken again.

And at night, it always came to a head. In the dark and left with no distractions, you could hear his whimpers from the cot next to yours. You could hear his murmurs and quiet cries for “Mama” as he dreamt. And it hurt. You couldn’t bear to see him so miserable.

After the third or fourth night, you reached down and brushed the hair from his head. “Jack?” you whispered, looking at the small boy with all the affection of a loving mother. “It’s going to be alright, I promise.”

He didn’t wake. Instead, he sleepily lifted his hand to yours, and held it in his until the sun rose.

--

The first few weeks went by similarly. Working during the day, with Jack at your side, helping you out as much as a child could, and comforting the poor child during the night with reassuring words. Soon, the reassurance and affirmations turned into stories -  tales about dragons and castles, about magic and the sea. 

About two weeks into his stay, you spent the day preparing for a large feast alongside Giovanni, Anna and with plenty of help from Jack. 

“You didn’t finish your story last night,” he said, pounding away at a ball of bread dough with his tiny fists. 

“Oh yes I did,” you teased, looking the boy dead in the eye with a grin. “You were just too sleepy and fell asleep before the end.” As you joked, you set down the knife and pushed aside the tomato you had been chopping to poke him lightly in the side.

His joyous laughter lit up his face. “Hey!” he whined in between bouts of giggles. “That tickles!”

“I know, silly,” you returned not relenting your tickle torture. “That’s the point!” You did acquiesce after just a few moments though, not wanting to actually cause him any pain.

“Alright you two, calm down, now,” came Anna’s voice from across the room. She was a lovely, portly older woman, with graying hair and a smile to light up a room. If Giovanni had been your father figure since coming here, she certainly took the place of your mother. “We’ve got plenty to prepare for tonight. Signor Bronte is having the Mayor over to talk about his party.”

You let your giggles die down, and nudged the red-faced child next to you. “Now look what you’ve done, Jackie,” you teased softly, ruffling his hair before going back to chopping vegetables.

“Nuh uh,” he responded, giving the bread dough a thorough punch before looking up at you again with a childish grin. He had lost a tooth recently, which only made it all the more adorable. “Can you tell me the end of the story?” he asked after another moment, turning back to the mound of dough on the table. “It was so good, I wanna hear the end. Pretty please?”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Alright, alright,” you chided, picking up yet another tomato. It wasn’t a particularly good story, just a thinly veiled version of… well, you didn’t want to dwell on that, but if he wanted to hear it, you would oblige. “Where were we?”

“Hmmm…” he mused, stopping kneading the dough for just a second to recall. “Well, the king and queen had just sent the princess to talk to the mean dragon, and then he caught her in a trap, remember?”

“That’s the beginning of the story, Jack.”

“Well, that’s as far as I remember,” his giggles echoed through the room and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, fine,” you feigned irritation that he definitely could see right through. “Well, the princess had been caught in a trap by the mean dragon, but he didn’t hurt her. He… he just wouldn’t let her go home. He wouldn’t let her see the king and queen again so she could be happy.

“‘Your king and queen need to send a knight to come get you,’ the dragon told the princess. ‘Little girls cannot roam the forest on their own.’

“And so, the princess waited, and waited and waited and waited. She learned to read, and write, and she even learned to speak Dragon, which were talents unheard of for princesses in those days. 

“She had lots of friends who came and went, and even though she couldn’t go back to the king and queen, she... she wasn’t so lonely… and she learned to find happiness in the small things, like the smell of coffee in the morning, or turning the page of a brand new book, or even the glow of the sunrise on spring dew. 

“After a while, she finally realised that she didn’t need the king and queen to be happy. She could make her own happiness… And she did…” you trailed off at the end, returning your focus once again to the vegetables. The other two adults in the room remained silent. You couldn’t have been more blatantly obvious. “The end.”

Jack was quiet for a moment as well, hands stilled on the dough as he looked at the ceiling in thought. “That wasn’t a very good ending,” he said quietly, looking up at you.

You had been caught.

“The princess should have run away, or she should have asked one of her friends to take her when they were leaving,” he continued, determined.

You chuckled solemnly. “You’re probably right, Jack,” you murmured. “I think she was just… scared. The world was dark and scary for her, and she weren’t a very brave princess, and she was worried about what would happen to the king and queen if she left.”

“But that’s not true,” he interjected, throwing one final punch at the bread dough before Anna came to collect it from him. “She was real brave! She lived with a dragon! And dragons are real scary!” He was handed another mound of dough which he immediately proceeded to punch with all his might. “And maybe some of her friends come back to save her! Maybe she helped lots of people while they were living with the dragon, and then they come back to help her! That would be an even better ending!”

Another chuckle. He was far too adorable and far too naive for this house. “Maybe, Jack,” you responded, plastering a knowing smile to your lips. “That would be a good ending.” Clearing your throat, you wiped your hands on your apron and turned to face the small boy. “Alright now, you. Finish up with that bread and then we can get cleaned up for lunch. I think Giovanni is making us spaghetti.”

---

The hot water splashed out of the bucket, spraying suds across the floor. Jack giggled and picked up a handful, blowing it in your direction.

You couldn’t help but laugh. The kid sure did know how to make even the most boring of chores into a game. Looking around first to make sure no one caught you messing around, you picked up a handful of bubbles and plopped them onto his head. This brought out a shrieking laugh from the boy. He really was settling in. For better or worse, at least he seemed to be happier. 

Finally, you told him gently that you needed to finish the laundry, and then the two of you could go outside for a walk. This, somehow, convinced him to calm down, left playing with the bubbles and giggling to himself until he was interrupted by a voice calling your name from the hall.

Signor Bronte.

“Get these men drinks,” you heard, his spoken Italian echoing across the hall.

Immediately, you put the wash down and wiped your hands on your dirtied apron before hustling to the liquor cabinet. “Wait here, Jack. I’ll just bring the whisky out and be right back,” you instructed, quickly gathering six whisky glasses and a serving tray.

This had been your job for years, you could practically do it blindfolded. As one of the youngest servants in the house, Signor Bronte tended to like to have you wait on his more esteemed guests. It was degrading, but it kept you in his good graces. You had seen enough servants come and go to know that complaining about your role would get you nowhere. Or worse.

Quickly, you pulled a decanter from the cabinet, and left the room with the tray full of glasses in your hands. Already in the hallway, you could hear the conversation between the men in the room. “Dutch van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, John Marston,” introduced one of the strangers, his voice confident.

You brushed past Irvin, who was standing guard at the entrance, into extravagant parlour. Upon entering the room, you could immediately see that these were not the typical guests that Signor Bronte would waste his good whisky on, but you hardly had time to look at them individually. They seemed dirty, rough, and completely out of place in the richly-decorated parlour. 

“The pleasure is mine, all mine, please,” he said, summoning you forward. You warily step between the chairs to place the tray on the table and pour the glasses, handing them to each man in turn. First, to a tall, thin man with dark hair and a frustrated scowl etched into his face. Next, a muscular man with light brown hair and bright teal eyes, and finally, another dark-haired man, his hair slick with pomade and dressed in clothing that looked like it used to be expensive. 

“So, can my friend have his son?” says one of the men - the one who had introduced them all earlier. You nearly froze. Can my friend have his son?

Jack. 

It took you just a moment to gather your wits before you turned to your boss, handing him the last glass. He took it with a nod to you and a chuckle, before looking back at the men in front of him. “Of course, of course!” he grinned, taking a sip of the whisky. You immediately got yourself out of the way, standing behind the couch in case you were needed for anything else, as you had been taught. “But… should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding? Of course I know you would not want that…”

“No,” answered the man, slightly reluctantly. You noted that none of the other men had yet spoken, this must be their leader.

Bronte seemed satisfied with their response, choosing to ignore the reluctance with a jovial laugh. “No, no no. So, how about this? You perform a simple job for me and you get your son back,” he explained, rubbing his hands together like the villain he was.

Finally, one of the other men spoke.“What is it?” the larger of the two groaned, beginning to stand up, as if he knew he would be assigned to this task.

Bronte, of course, made light of the situation, waving his hands through the air as he spoke, “A couple of people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery.”

“That is a fine place for it, the best,” joked the leader. You cringed, but Signor Bronte seemed to enjoy it.

Your boss burst out laughing, from the gut this time. “I love this guy, don’t you love him?” he laughed, looking at you. You nodded, plastering a smile to your face until he turned back to the other man. “I love you!” He paused for a moment to pour himself another glass of whisky before continuing his explanation. “See they’ve taken not only to desecrating the dead, but they've done so without paying a tribute to the living. Thing is, they see my men, of course, they run a mile. So maybe you two head off, huh?” he said, indicating to the men on the couch before pouring yet another glass of whisky and handing it to the group’s leader. “And you, Mr. Van der Linde? Why don’t you tell me more about my manners?” he finished speaking and held up the glass to the other man, Mr. van der Linde, for a toast as the other two men stood to leave the room. “Salute.”

“Salute,” parroted Mr. van der Linde, clinking his glass with your boss’s. The other two men exited the room, as your boss and Mr. van der Linde continued conversing. Their laughter was real, but something in the room was tense, fake. Two men cut from the same cloth, both trying to one-up the other without making it completely obvious.

You had seen this enough times to know that this would only end badly for at least one of them - if not both.

The hour dragged on, as you stood in the corner, ready to jump into service if need be. Your mind drifted to Jack - now sitting alone in the washroom - and that you would soon be saying goodbye.

It was bittersweet, this feeling that came over you. You wanted him to be happy, to be home with his family, of course, but over the course of the last few weeks, he had wormed his way into your heart. He was the family, the son, that you would never have. And it broke your heart to have to let him go.

But you knew better. You couldn’t keep him here. Not for you. It was better if he were able to go home, to see his mother and his family, to see his dog that he missed so much. That was the life he needed, the life he deserved.

You felt the tears well in your eyes as you stood, waiting for your orders. A little over three hours had passed, and the men were still away. Signor Bronte and Mr. van der Linde were well into their cups, and you were not surprised in the least when your boss stood and unceremoniously sent his guest on his way.

“And the boy?” asked Mr. van der Linde, standing from his position on the couch and reaching out a hand to shake.

Signor Bronte took it, gave it a quick shake and began to stagger out of the room. “Yes, yes,” he slurred, turning to you on his way. “Bring him down, would you?”

“Yes, Signore,” you nodded, looking from your boss to the other man. It was really happening. It was really time to say goodbye.

--

To say Jack was excited at the news was putting it lightly. He had nearly bounced with joy when you had told him that his Pa was here to pick him up. You had led him down the stairs and out the front door to where Mr. van der Linde was waiting patiently. Jack nearly tackled him to the ground in his excitement.

“Uncle Dutch!” he called, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. 

A loud, barking laugh left the man as he patted Jack’s head. “Well hello there, son,” he said, a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again. We’ve missed you around camp.”

You smiled, looking at the two of them. This was the right thing to do. But then, Jack did something wholly unexpected. He led Dutch to you, and introduced you.

“She’s been real nice since I got here,” he explained to the older man. “She told me stories and brought me candy, and today she even put bubbles on my head!” his excited giggles echoed across the yard.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dutch said, looking you up and down before reaching out for your hand, which he then pulled to his lips in a theatrical show of chivalry. “And thank you so much for taking such good care of our boy.”

You plastered another smile to your face and gently pulled your hand away, wary of potentially offending the well-armed man. “Of course,” you responded. “I was happy to-” you were cut off by the well-timed sound of horse hooves on the cobblestones, and a loud, rough voice ringing in your ears.

“Like I said, we’ll see where we’re at once we got Jack,” said one of the men from earlier as their horses came to a halt in front of the gate. They dismounted and were immediately let in by one of the front guards. 

Upon their arrival, Dutch seemed to immediately forget your existence, instead striding towards the two men with an exasperated, “Well, you took your time.”

And then there was Jack, nearly bursting with excitement at the sight of the men, he couldn’t wait until they were through the gate before he ran to them with a cry of, “Pa!”

The sight warmed your heart. Jack was quickly picked up and clutched to the chest of the taller, dark-haired man as the other moved past you to hand something to the guards. “I’m so glad to see you!” he said, rubbing the back of Jack’s head and holding him close. 

However, Jack, completely oblivious to the nature of the situation, wiggled free of his father’s arms and, instead, grabbed his hand and pulled the man in your direction. “Pa, come here, come here, you have to meet my friend!” he said, voice loud and excited, as he introduced you to his father. “She’s been helping me since I got here. She tells the best stories!”

The man looked down at Jack with a loving smile and then up to you. “That so?” he asked the boy, reaching out to shake your hand. “John Marston.” 

You took his and introduced yourself as Jack rambled on, “Yeah! And she taught me how to make bread real good, want to see?”

“Sure, you can show us when we get back to camp,” John acquiesced, still holding tight to the boy’s hand, who then proceeded to drag the two of you over to the one man you did not yet have a name for.

“Uncle Arthur!” he called. The man, having dropped off whatever he had needed to give Signor Bronte, was leaning against a column and smoking. “You have to meet my friend too.”

“Is that right?” he said, smiling at Jack. He pushed himself off the column and snubbed his cigarette on his boot, moving toward the three of you. “Nice to meet you, miss,” for the third time that night, a hand was held out.

You shook it and introduced yourself, “It’s nice to meet you too.” 

John, looking both relieved and exhausted, heaved Jack back into his arms. “Thank you for taking care of him, I-”

Immediately, you stopped him. “It weren’t no problem, really. He’s a lovely boy,” you explained, once again trying to stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. Taking care of Jack had easily been one of the highlights of your life. Having someone need you, someone that loved talking to you, someone who was simply excited to be around you - it was such a drastic change from how you had lived for so long. And, even if you would never experience it again, you wouldn’t trade the last few weeks for the world.

John nodded, you didn’t have to explain any further. “Comeon, Jack, your ma’s been worried sick.” Jack nodded to his father enthusiastically, a grin on his face, before turning and surprising you with a big hug.

You bent over to hug him back, patting him on his head when you heard your name. “You’re coming with us, right?” he asked, his tiny face buried in your dress. You looked around at the others, Arthur had paused in his tracks, John was frozen in place, Dutch was stopped near the gate. No one said anything for a moment.

You don’t know how to break it to him.

So, you pull his face from your skirt and kiss him gently on the forehead, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “I’m real sorry, Jack,” you say, looking him in the eye, “but not this time.” You felt tempted to say something like I promise I’ll write or You can come see me any time but you knew both of these things weren’t true. He would get home to his family, and in a few days you would just be a stranger from his childhood. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stood again, ruffling his hair and turning him to face his father. “Now, you go on back to your family, alright? Teach them how to make some good bread, like I showed you.”

His head was shaking as he looked back up at you, tears welling in his big brown eyes. “But…”

This hurt. More than saying goodbye to a child you had only known for a few weeks should. “I know, but…” you started, still not entirely sure how to explain yourself. “I have to stay here. This… this is my home.” You pull him to you once again in a tight hug and place a kiss on the top of his head. “You be good for your parents, alright?”

You can feel him nod under your chin, but he does not respond. It’s easy to tell that this is a new feeling for him - being so happy and so sad all at once. You wished you could tell him that its only temporary, and he will never have these conflicting feelings again. You wished you could have gone with him, broken free of Angelo Bronte and this life. There were so many things you wished you could do at that moment, but you couldn’t. Or you wouldn’t.

With a light sob, Jack wraps his arms around you one final time until he is gently pulled away by his father. “Comeon, son. We should get going.”

They walked to the gate together, John’s hand on his son’s back, leading the way. Jack was hoisted high onto a horse, and you could vaguely hear them talking to him, trying to cheer him up. “We have a new camp set up, Jack, you’re going to love it,” says Dutch before they ride off down the street.

Finally, you allow your tears to fall.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

---

The days pass slowly after Jack’s goodbye. There is little entertainment to pass the time. No dumb jokes, no begging for stories. It was exactly as it was before. Still, it felt like something was missing.

Early in the morning, a few days later, you walked around the house as usual, coffee in hand. You mused over the tasks for the days ahead: the Governor's garden party was in about a week, so it was time to start preparing. Clothes needed to be pressed, shoes to be shined, and, most importantly, mounds of food needed to be cooked.

Giovanni’s cooking was, although rarely shared outside of Signor Bronte’s home, lauded as some of the best in town. So, of course, Angelo Bronte’s personal chef would be graciously catering the meal.

It was supposed to be a sign of generosity, you theorised, but in reality it was all a show to keep Signor Bronte in the San Denis elite’s good graces - and to worm his way into another favor from the mayor.

You chuckled lightly to yourself as you paced slowly around the perfectly manicured gardens. Marble statues, imported from Italy, gazed down at you, unmoving. Quietly, you began to hum a short tune, not noticing the figure at the fence across from you. 

“Mornin’,” he called, his voice low and gruff, just as it had been when you had first met him.

You look up from the grass to the man, in surprise. He was leaning aginst the fence, patiently smoking a cigarette, and waiting. For you? “Ah, good morning, Mr. Morgan,” you call, making your way to him. He stubs out his cigarette on his boot and turns to fully face you. Only now, in the morning sunlight and away from the stress of Angelo Bronte, do you notice how attractive he is. Light brown hair framed an unshaven face, a strong jawline, light smattering of chest hair showing through the top of his unbuttoned collar. “It’s lovely to see you again. How is Jack doing?”

Arthur smiles at you, and the sun suddenly seems slightly brighter. “Boah’s doin’ good,” he says, leaning forward on the fence, one arm above his head to balance himself. “He’s happy to be home.”

You shoot him a small, bittersweet smile before turning your gaze to your coffee. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Misses you, though,” he continues, once he realises you aren’t going to say anything more. You look up at him, and notice he is fishing something out of his satchel. A small, folded piece of paper is passed through the bars of the fence, and you gently pluck it from his hand. “Sent this. Special delivery.”

You gently unfold the paper, and see a row of several stick figures, several people and what looks to be a dog, standing in front of some trees under a sunny sky. Under each of the figures, you can see several names scribbled in an adult’s hand.

Pa, Ma, Jack, Cain, Uncle Arthur… and you.

“Been told to tell you,” he continues, reaching through the fence with the hand that had been keeping him balanced and pointed at the figures on the paper. “That’s you… with us…”

You laugh lightly, glancing from the paper to the eyes of the man in front of you. A handsome teal, complimented by his, admittedly dirty, blue shirt. How had you not noticed him before? “This is real sweet of him, thank you,” you breathe, slightly softer than you had intended. You turn again to look at the drawing, hoping he didn’t notice the blush that had suddenly stained your cheeks.

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the sun rise above the horizon. “You could come with us, you know,” he said after a minute, pulling another cigarette from his satchel and lighting it. “The boah would shoa be happy to have you ‘round.”

You smile at the thought. Waking up in the fresh air, telling Jack stories, getting to know his family. It would be lovely. But at the end of the day, it was easier said than done. “That… that’s a nice dream,” you told him, smiling. 

He huffed, and took a long drag from his cigarette. “It’s true,” he tells you, leaning against the fence once more. “The life… well it ain’t pretty. Sure as hell not as pretty as livin’ in a mansion. But it’s free. You ain’t gotta answer to no one you don’t want.”

You scoffed and found yourself kicking at the grass beneath your feet. It would surely be better than what you had here. Hell, it would be easy enough to walk through the gates with the intention to never come back. And, what was even keeping you here? Your family? You hadn’t seen them in years. Giovanni? Anna? They would both leave if they could. 

But, you knew it wasn’t possible. You’ve seen this kind of thing before. One of your fellow servants found a means of escape, only to be back within a week. If they weren’t found and killed onsight. Angelo Bronte had eyes in every corner. Flies on every wall. He would find you.

“I… I wish I could.”

--

You went to bed late that evening, your conversation with Arthur resounding in your head. You could come with us, you know. The boy would sure be happy to have you around. The thought had even permeated your dreams, enveloping you in a fantasy world. A beautiful campsite by a river, a group of people, happy, laughing, free. Jack and Arthur and John and Dutch, and even Giovanni and Anna. They were all there, and they were all happy.

But, of course, the threat lingered. What had started as a beautiful dream quickly turned sour as Angelo Bronte entered the scene, scaring away your friends, capturing you and dragging you back to San Denis, into a mansion that looked more like a prison with every step. You would never escape him. You could never be free.

You had woken early in the morning, covered in sweat and sheets kicked from the bed. Breathing heavily, you glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. It was early, but not early enough to warrant going back to sleep. Groaning, you stepped quietly from your bed and pulled on your dressing gown. Your morning ritual would begin earlier today.

The air was crisp, but your coffee was hot - the perfect combination for waking a person up in the morning. The birds sang in their early morning chorus as the slowly rising sun cast everything in a calm, light blue. It was earlier than you had been up in ages, and you were fully prepared to sit in the garden, alone, and bask in the peacefulness. 

To your surprise, however, the increasingly-familiar smell of cigarette smoke and campfire reached you. You turned to the fence, the same place as the day prior, to be greeted by the rugged cowboy, leaning casually against the railing. Tired as you were, you couldn’t keep the smile from lighting up your face. 

“Good morning, Mr. Morgan,” you say, making your way over to him, coffee cradled in both hands. You took a sip, thinking that you may need to start making two cups if this becomes a habit. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon. How’s Jack?”

Arthur’s grin immediately made your stomach flip. “Mornin’, miss,” he responded, tipping his hat to you. He lazilly flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground before leaning against the fence again, his arm above his head, like he had done the day before. “Boah’s doin’ good. Still talkin’ ‘bout you.” His grin never left his face as he looked at you. 

You cleared your throat and maintained eye contact even though you were sure you could feel the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Well, ain’t he a sweetheart?” you tease, only partially talking about Jack.

He chuckled and reached into his bag, mirroring his actions from the day prior. “I been asked to deliver this,” he said, pulling out a string of slightly crumpled red flowers from his bag. They were strung together, tied at the stems, into a long, vibrant necklace. 

You gingerly took the necklace from him with a smile, examining it. Wild yarrow.  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” you respond, pulling it over your head before striking a cheesy pose for the man in front of you. “How do I look?”

God, you could look at his smile all day. “Gorgeous,” he responds, only slightly teasing, and you are suddenly struck with a feeling of giddy embarrassment. It was rare that you got on with someone this well, this quickly. But with Arthur Morgan, despite his rough exterior, you felt strangely comfortable. 

The two of you stood together, talking through the morning sunrise until you were very nearly late for work. When the sun was almost fully above the horizon, you found yourself giggling and dashing into the house, with one last glance to the cowboy at the fence, eyes shining.

And so it went.

For the next week, like clockwork, you would wake, go for your walk, and meet Arthur Morgan at the fence. Gifts, supposedly all from Jack, were exchanged - a nice rock, a beautiful notebook, a seashell, a fountain pen - and you sent your fair share of notes back, including candy for the boy, and a (stolen) flask of good whisky for your postman.

Soon enough, you found yourself gladly waking earlier in the morning - butterflies in your stomach as you made your way outside to greet him. Your mood was better, despite Jack’s farewell only a week ago, and even your colleagues had taken notice.

“What’s got you walking around here all smiles lately?” Anna had asked on the morning before the Mayor’s garden party, as you sat together, adding finishing touches to several large pies that were to go into the oven. 

You scoffed, still unable to wipe the smile from your face, and looked at her over the stack of pans in front of you. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you responded. “Now don’t distract yourself with me, we need to get this all ready to take this afternoon.” Your chiding didn’t deter her, as she continued pestering you the rest of the day.

Her teasing had very little effect on your mood, however, despite the large amount of work ahead of you. And, so, the day passed quickly, in anticipation of the coming evening. It was well known throughout San Denis that Angelo Bronte had one of the best chef’s in town under his employ, so the household staff was asked to provide a portion of the catering. It was a massive, and time consuming project, but it was well worth the work. 

You finally had the opportunity to get out of the house, even if it were for just an evening, which would be an incredible change of pace. Almost before you could even gather your bearings, you were slipping into your best uniform, and were on your way to the even larger home.

You had been to the Mayor’s home a handful of times, but it still left you in awe. If you had thought that Angelo Bronte lived in the lap of luxury, but this home was somehow even more opulent. Marble pillars, statues lining the hallways, mahogany floors, golden chandeliers, art on every wall. You had to make a conscious effort to not allow your jaw to drop as you walked through the hallways to the kitchen. There was no time to dawdle, guests would be arriving shortly.

With an unintentional grunt, you hoisted the box of chopped vegetables you were carrying onto a table, and got to work helping Giovanni finish up a large pot of étouffée. It took some time, but after some significant effort from yourself, Giovanni, and Anna, as well as plenty of help from the Mayor’s own servants, the food was served and guests were mingling in the garden.

You leaned carefully against a counter and wiped sweat from your brow. Cooking for upwards of 100 people was exhausting, not to mention that the kitchen was absolutely scalding. You could use a large glass of water and a breath of fresh air.

Nodding at your colleagues, you told them as much before stepping into the hallway and taking a deep breath of the cooler air. If you were lucky, no one would be on the upstairs balcony, and you could head out and watch the fireworks for a few minutes. As you made your way to the back staircase, hoping that the balcony would be empty, you spotted a flash of a black tuxedo and familiar light brown hair in front of you.

Arthur Morgan. Now what was he doing here?

With a smirk, you carefully followed him up the stairs, catching a further glimpse of him as he entered the first door on the second floor. You hadn’t been up here before, but with the way he was walking, you could be sure that he wasn’t sneaking off to the toilet.

Glancing around, you saw no one else in the hallway. 

Good. 

Slowly, carefully, you pushed open the door to what appeared to be an office. And there, in all his glory, was Arthur Morgan, rummaging through the Mayor’s desk. As you snuck in and quietly closed the door behind you, he slipped a small stack of papers into his tuxedo jacket. 

You took a moment to look over him. Damn, he cleaned up well. A recent haircut, clean shaven, and a brand new tuxedo made him look like an entirely new man. Not that you had any problem with the bearded, dirt-covered version of him that had been meeting you all week.

“You ain’t supposed to be here,” you said quietly, startling him. He turned to you, wide-eyed, his hand instinctively flying to where his pistol was usually holstered. He was red in the face, adrenaline pumping, and you had to admit that it was a very good decision to not allow weapons at this party.

Upon seeing you, however, he noticeably relaxed. Face still red, he glanced quickly around the room before moving toward you, a predator stalking its prey. “Could say the same to you,” he whispered, voice low, as he backed you slowly toward the door.

That familiar feeling of butterflies in your stomach rose again as he neared, but you held your chin high in defiance - and then you did something even you didn’t quite expect. You kissed him.

Lunged would be a more accurate description. You closed the distance between the two of you in a second, lips crashing with his. You had only known him for a week, but somehow it felt like you had been wanting to do this your entire life. 

After a moment of shock, he returned the kiss, lips frantically moving with yours as he wrapped his hands around your body. He was warm and strong, and smelled of campfire and cologne and you wanted to get lost in him. You wanted to lose yourself with him. Reaching up, you ran your fingers through his hair until you reached the base of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

He moved with you, slowly, steps matching yours, until your back was flush against the door. For only a moment, he pulled away. You heard the light click of a key and he was on you again, hands fluttering over your hips as he began to work his lips down your jawline. You had to swallow the moan threatening to spill from your lips as you pulled him impossibly closer, fingers toying with the ends of his hair. Then you pulled.

He leaned back with a guttural groan, following your hands as you gently pulled at the hairs on the nape of his neck. His cheeks were flushed, hair mussed, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. You couldn’t help yourself as you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips to his.

The taste of him, the feel of him, it was overwhelming and you wished you could be surrounded by him like this for the rest of your life. Silently, lips still on yours, he turned the two of you so that your back was against the nearby bookshelf. You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his, grinding into him without breaking your kiss. 

Before you knew what was happening, his hands moved from your hips to pull up the skirt of your dress and finger the waistband of your bloomers. A nip at the bottom of your lip brought out a groan from you as he slowly made his way into your underclothes, exploring until he found your core. 

Gently, he toyed with your lower lips, ghosting his fingers along the outside teasingly. If you were in any other state of mind, you would have been embarrassed about the way your hips began moving - wantonly, desperately, trying to maneuver his exploratory fingers exactly where you wanted them.

But Arthur Morgan was apparently not feeling cooperative. He pulled away from your kiss and brought his hand out of your bloomers at the same time, leading you to throw your head back against the bookshelf with a desperate groan.

The twinkle in his eyes matched the mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you, your breathing heavy, cheeks flushed. The cocky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying this. This torment.

 With a sudden burst of courage that you didn’t know you had in you, you found yourself pushing him backward. Hands on his chest, you led him roughly to the mayor’s desk, and lunged. Lips crashed once again with his, the taste of whisky and tobacco overwhelming you once again. Your fingers toyed with his tuxedo jacket before slipping underneath and sliding it from his shoulders.

As good as he looked in this outfit, he was far too clothed for your taste.

Next came his vest, unbuttoned with help from him as you both lost your patience. You peeled his suspenders off until they hung loosely at his sides, and finally all that stood between you and his bare chest was his shirt. He yanked it roughly from his pants, the two of you unbuttoning it as quickly as your shaking fingers allowed, and flung it across the room before leaning in for another desperate kiss. 

As his lips met yours once again, you felt him push you back toward the bookshelf as he untied your apron to pull it over your head. Next, his fingers unbuttoned the high collar of your dress, quickly followed quickly by his lips as he placed kisses and nips on your flushed skin. He trailed ever downward - to your collarbone, to your cleavage - drawing moans from your parted lips.

Desperately, you reached for his face and pulled him back up to you, caressing the smooth shaven skin as you kissed. Once satisfied, your hands wandered downward, toying with the hair splayed across the hot, hard panes of his chest. Slowly, teasingly, you followed the path of his hair with your fingers until you reached the top of his pants, and his breath hitched in your mouth. 

Your kiss slowed and turned into a peck as you undid the button and pushed his pants down, revealing muscular thighs framing a growing bulge hidden under his underclothes.  Pushing down the thin cotton finally revealed his swollen member, which you took gently into your hand as you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

He groaned into your mouth, growing impossibly harder with each stroke, until he pulled away to look you into the eye. His face was flushed, his hair in shambles, and you swore you had never seen anything so beautiful in your entire life. You nodded, and allowed him to hoist up your skirt and slide into you through the slit in your bloomers.

In unison, groans left both of your mouths. You were balanced precariously on a bookshelf, your leg wrapped around his waist as he sank into you, head thrown back in pleasure. Once he gathered his bearings, he slowly, torturously slowly, began to move. 

He thrust in and out, in and out, his face buried into your shoulder. Each thrust was paired with a small grunt and a gasp from you. You reveled in the feeling, the warmth, the intensity. 

His hands gripped your hips through the fabric of your dress, pulling you closer to him with each thrust. You wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him up to you. Your lips met, tongues entangled as tiny gasps swelled up from your throat. It was all you could do to keep in the loud moan that was threatening to spill from your lips.

With each thrust, the bookshelves shook, sending a few trinkets to the carpeted floor with a light thump. You should be more careful. The thought echoed in your mind for only a second before it was whisked away by another thrust that shook you to the core. 

As he grew closer and closer to completion, his thrusts became faster, more frantic, and you found yourself clutching the edges of the shelf for balance. 

Finally, he pulled one of his hands from your hip and wormed it between your bodies to find the place where he had teased you so well before. And then he pressed. And rubbed. And stroked. And finally, in a glaring flash of white before your eyes, you found yourself biting down on his shoulder to keep from screaming his name. Your body shook, your breathing came in harsh gasps, until you could finally open your eyes.

Not a second later, Arthur took a few final thrusts and pulled out of you, stroking his member once, twice, and then spilling himself on the floor with a series of loud gasps. A shaky breath followed as he fell onto you, his head balancing on your chest to catch his breath.

Finally, there was silence, only broken occasionally by a heaving breath. The two of you huddled together against the bookshelves, clinging to each other until you could regain your balance.

You found yourself leaning hard against the shelf behind you, running your fingers through Arthur’s mussed hair. “Those last few gifts… the journal, the pen… those weren’t from Jack, were they?” you asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

A low chuckle came from Arthur, still bent forward with his head balanced on your chest. “I s’pose I’ve been caught again…”

--

The party ended with a spectacular fireworks show, which you and Arthur watched together, now fully clothed and hidden from sight on the empty balcony. Shortly after the last firework had lit up the night sky, he left you with a lingering kiss that you swore you felt on your lips for the rest of the evening.

To say your head was in the clouds would have been putting it lightly. You would have never expected such a rough, dirty man to be your knight in shining armor, but here you were. 

Your good mood carried over through the party cleanup, into the night, and even on into the morning during your daily walk. Glancing at the gate where he usually stood, you were slightly disheartened to see his spot empty. Your smile faltered for just a moment, before you reasoned with yourself. He was probably just tired, or hungover, and just because he had showed up every day for the last week and a half did not mean he could keep up that habit forever. 

So, you sat and waited for nearly a half an hour at your normal meeting spot, before heading back inside only slightly disheartened. He had a life outside of meeting you, you reminded yourself, it was unfair to assume he would be there every day when he had never promised this.

Despite your disappointment, your good mood persisted through the day. Through stained laundry, through dusting and mopping, through cleaning a massive pile of cooking dishes from the night before - you couldn’t have wiped the smile off of your face.

And then he didn’t show up again. And again. And again.

For over a week, you missed Arthur’s presence on your morning walks. You found yourself waiting at the fence each day, coffee and the morning paper in hand to pass the time, only to end up disappointed once again. At the very least, there seemed to be a lot of dramatic news to report that week - a trolley station robbery ending with a crashed trolly on main street, a wealthy man on a steamboat robbed for all he was worth - but that information only helped pass the time you spent waiting for him.

Outside of your morning walks, your mood slowly soured. Maybe Arthur had gotten what he wanted. Maybe the dirty, lecherous outlaw’s only goal was to bed you and be on his way. Maybe Jack had forgotten you completely, and with nothing new to deliver, so had Arthur.

You took to writing angrily in the journal he had gotten you, having no other reasonable outlet for your emotions. Originally, you had wanted to toss the damn thing into the fire, but - without someone to vent to, without someone who could understand the depths of your frustration - it seemed like such a waste. Instead, you chose to use the gift for its intended purpose, and wrote down all of your frustrations toward the man who had gifted it to you, before stuffing it underneath your pillow and falling asleep for the night.

There it lay, throughout the day and night until you finally did see Arthur Morgan again. A loud crash, followed by gunshots and yelling in Italian and English from the back gardens, met your ears as you cleaned up after dinner with Anna and Giovanni.

“We’re comin’ for you, Bronte! Send out every man you got!”

The three of you had no guns, and even if you had it sounded less like a gunfight and more like a massacre. Quickly, you locked the doors, hoping that it would be enough to deter the intruders. And then, huddled together out of sight with your friends, you waited.

The back door was kicked open with a gunshot and a loud bang. More gunshots, screams, and crashes echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen. You heard the yells get closer, before the kitchen door was shot and forcefully kicked open. 

This was it, this would be your end.

Only, it wasn’t.

Standing in the doorframe was none other than Arthur Morgan, shotgun in hand, eyes frantic… until he caught sight of you. 

“Comeon,” he said, rushing over to where the three of you were huddled together and pulling you up by the arm. “You three gotta get outta here,” he ordered, gruffly, hurriedly, as he opened one of the larger windows. “We only came from the back, so head to the front and go somewhere safe.”

Giovanni and Anna looked from each other to you, and then to the open window, hesitant. Another volley of gunfire reached your ears from inside the house. There was no time for debate. “Go ahead,” you told them. “We can trust him.” 

That (plus another few rounds of gunfire in quick succession) was all it took. Giovanni nodded to you, grabbed Anna by the forearm, and they were out the window and running across the lawn to safety. You breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to Arthur. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to ask, but there was no time. 

As if sensing your hesitation, he took you by the shoulders and pulled you in for a hug. “Go,” he said, face buried into your hair. “Get to the Fontana, I’ll meet you there when this is over.” You could have sworn you felt a light kiss atop your head before he pressed a crumpled ten dollar bill into your palm and lightly pushed you in the direction of the open window. “Get outta here.”

You nodded, mouthing a quick “thank you” before climbing through the window. In the distance, you could see Anna and Giovanni, silhouetted against the night sky. They were running as fast as they could, to safety, and you felt a pang in your chest. They had been the closest thing you had had to a family for so long. The three of you had been forced together by fate, and had come out a team. But… where would you end up if you followed them? 

Likely back in the service of another rich man. But, maybe it would be better. Maybe the freedom you found yourself longing for was to be found in the familiar, the known. Could you really abandon your friends, your way of life, for the promise of a man you had known for little more than a few weeks?

Quickly, you glanced in the opposite direction, toward the city. Toward the Fontana. Toward the promise of freedom. The clock was ticking, you needed to decide. Now.

Torn between what was and what could be, you took a deep breath and took the advice of a child who was far too wise for his age. You ran toward the Fontana. You ran as fast as you could to a new life.

The sound of gunfire and screams followed you to the gates, where it then became overwhelmed by the shouts and sirens of incoming police. Luckily, you were able to slip outside of the gate and get partially down the street before they stopped in front of the house.

Bowing your head, you quickly made your way down the cobblestone street and into the city, away from the violence. By the time you reached the Fontana Theater, the gunshots had all but faded into the hustle and bustle of the city center, and you became acutely aware of how much you didn’t belong. It had been years since you had been anywhere outside of Signore Bronte’s mansion other than the grocery and occasional trip to the tailors. It had been even longer since the last time you had been to a Magic Lantern Theater. And you knew, with your hair mussed and maid’s uniform, you must stick out like a sore thumb.

Luckily, if your memory served, the theater should be dark enough that no one would notice. You slowed your pace, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, and proceeded to the ticket counter, purchasing one ticket to the three upcoming shows. That should be more than enough time, you hoped. 

You entered the dimly lit room and practically collapsed into one of the seats. Now that you had managed to escape, now that you were in relative safety, the adrenaline you had felt earlier had completely vanished. You were exhausted. You were confused. You were scared. 

Now, you could only wait, and hope that Arthur would be back for you as promised.

In front of you, the film started with a flicker. The recorded voice of a man telling the story of several forest animals as a series of images were projected onto the screen. The room was silent, except for the recording, and you found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open.

What must have been a few hours later, you were shaken awake by an unfamiliar man. You were startled for only a minute before you realised that he was the same man who had sold you the tickets earlier. “That’s the last showing for the day, miss,” he was saying, quietly, pulling his hand away from your shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be on your way, now.” 

You blinked and looked around the room, now flooded with light. It was empty except for the two of you. “What… what time is it?” you stammered, voice cracking lightly.

“‘Bout 11:30,” he responded, looking quickly to his pocket watch to confirm. You had been asleep for a solid 4 hours, and Arthur hadn’t yet arrived. “You should get on home.”

Home. Where was that? 

You stood, nodding abashedly at the man. “Thank you,” you murmured before making your way out of the theater and into the dark streets. 

It was quiet, the same kind of quiet you had grown so used to on your morning walks. However, instead of finding it calm and refreshing, you found yourself longing for the noisy streets. The hustle and bustle of San Denis that would overpower your thoughts, that would drown out your anxieties. 

Instead, you were alone, left to mull over your current situation on the steps of the theater. The long, dark tendrils of doubt crept into your mind as you waited. Did you make the right choice? Did Arthur abandon you? Was all of this some horrible trick? Tears spilled silently from your eyes as you waited. Exhausted. Frustrated. Sad. The only thing to break you out of your thought spiral was the occasional drunk would wander by, heading home for the evening.

Eventually, the ground where you sat grew cold, and you found yourself falling asleep against the wall of the theater, huddled up like an abandoned animal. You could sleep here tonight, in case he did show up, and head … somewhere … in the morning. A hotel, maybe? A workhouse? You didn’t know where, but that was a thought for the morning.

It was only when the steady clip-clop clip-clop of horse hooves made their way down the dark street that you willed yourself to look up. Coming slowly into view through the darkness was a lone rider on a horse. He looked exhausted, frustrated, as he stopped his horse in front of the theater and dismounted, glancing around the area until he spotted you.

You stood on legs that were strangely both stiff and shaky and made your way over to him, where he pulled you into a tight hug. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, once again burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to leave you so long.” You nodded against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt as tears of relief threatened to spill. “Let’s get you home.”

--

The ride went by in a blur. Not that you were moving fast, but rather because you were so exhausted that everything was a bit of a haze. You must have arrived at the large, dilapidated mansion early into the morning, before anyone was up to disturb you, because you could not remember the journey into Arthur’s bed for the life of you.

There was no crunch of the grass as you slid off the saddle, no creek of the stairs, no groan of the bed as the two of you lay down together. Nothing. All you could remember was that you were here. You were safe. You were home. 

You awoke around midday, sunlight streaming through the broken windows of a small-rundown room overlooking the swamps of Lemoyne. It was sweltering hot, but you found yourself cuddling closer into the strong arms that were wrapped around you. The scent of the swamps mixed with whisky and tobacco, campfire and gunsmoke, as you nuzzled into his chest.

He was breathing deeply, soundly, as you lifted your head from his chest to look around. The room itself was old and dilapidated, it would barely serve as a shelter during any storms that may strike. In the far corner stood an old shelf, filled with photos and trinkets. Next to it, a small table with a map, and across from that, a larger table, stacked to the brim with weapons and ammunition. 

Arthur’s room. 

You stood, intending to make your way over to examine the trinkets across the room, but were instead gently pulled back to bed by the man behind you. “Mornin’,” he grumbled, not bothering to open his eyes as he held you close.

You acquiesced, leaning back into him and basking in his presence. “Mornin’, Mr. Morgan,” you whispered back to him, gazing over his face. His eyes were still closed, but he couldn’t keep a small smile from forming as you spoke. Gently, you brushed hair away from his forehead and planted a light kiss to the revealed skin. “Thank you.”

He chuckled, finally opening his eyes to look at you. You could have melted in the soft, loving look that came your way. “Nothin’ to thank me for,” he said, reaching up to run his thumb along your cheek in admiration. “Just needed to get you out alive, is all.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I feel like that deserves thanks.”

A scoff came from the man beside you. “Nah, it was all selfish, really,” he explained, his gaze travelling over every inch of your face as if he were committing it to memory. “I just wanted to keep you ‘round.” With that, he planted a quick kiss on your lips and sat up, turning to his satchel that had been tossed to the floor by the bed. “It weren’t pretty last night… ‘n’ I’m glad I got to you before it got worse.”

“What happened?” you asked, watching as he pulled the satchel to him and began to rifle through it.

“Bronte… well he done his best to screw us over,” he explained. “Set some traps for us… ‘n’ Dutch made sure he paid for it.” You figured you knew what he meant, but let him continue anyway. “Bastard’s dead - some poor alligator’s breakfast.” 

To your surprise, you felt incredibly conflicted. The man had essentially kept you hostage for the last few years, but he had at least taken care of you. He had by no means been a good person, but… you had grown some sort of strange affinity for him over the years. And yet, you didn’t find yourself shedding a tear for him. If anything, it was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, like you could finally breathe freely after so long. 

You didn’t know what to say.

“I did manage to get hold of these, though,” he said, pulling several items from his satchel. You gasped when you saw them, and felt the tears that wouldn’t fall for Bronte begin to well up. In Arthur’s hands were a child’s drawing, a flower crown, a very special rock, a beautiful journal, and a fountain pen. 

Now, the tears did fall as you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you, Arthur,” you said, burying your face into his neck. “Thank you so incredibly much.”

With a small chuckle, he set the momentos down on his lap, and wrapped his arms around you as well. “‘Course.”

The two of you stayed like that, reveling in each other’s embrace, for a few perfect, blissful minutes. So this is what it felt like to be wanted. This is what it felt like to have someone really, truly care about you. This is the feeling you had been waiting for for so long.

It wasn’t a minute later before there was a tentative knock on your door, and Arthur pulled himself away from the hug. “I think someone might be excited to see you,” he said, nodding toward the door.

You looked over, calling for the visitor to come in. As the door swung open, you were greeted with the sound of your name excitedly being called, and the sight of a child, red with excitement, standing in the doorway. Jack. “You’re here! You’re really here!” he exclaimed, darting over to you and jumping into your arms. He was followed by a smiling, dark-haired woman, and a man who you recognised as John. “I knew it! I knew you would come live with us!” 

“Of course, Jack,” you childed, squeezing him tight. “I could never leave you.”

He squeezed you back, before pulling away and grabbing your forearm to lead you out of the room. “Come on!” he said, leading you forward. “You have to meet the rest of our family!”

[dreamingofcrows]

Top Five Ships + Fav Ao3 Fics

My Top Five Favourite Ships + My Favourite of the their Fics I’ve found on Ao3 

in no particular order: 

1. Adam Parrish/Ronan Lynch + Man of Masks 

Man of Masks by EtoileGarden 

Rape/Non-Con, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish, Joseph Kavinsky/Ronan Lynch, Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish, Joseph Kavinsky, Richard Gansey III, AU Aged Up, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, dubious bdsm practices, Under-negotiated Kink, D/s, the catholic church does be traumatising, Guilt Dom Ada,m adam is not the one involved in the non-con jsyk, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Not Actually Unrequited, Love, Sex, explicit - Freeform, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, People are Assholes, Anal Sex ,Fingering ,Discussion of sexual assault, role-play

I have no idea what I love so much about this fic. Probably the 10/10 pining, Adam’s quasi- nonchalance about the whole affair and Ronan healing. I also want to shoutout my own pynch fic, bc it’s also one of my favourites

2. Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck + The Face Behind the Phone 

The Face Behind the Phone by Feriku

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey, Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Nina Zenik, Matthias Helvar, Jan Van Eck, Colm Fahey, Alys Van Eck, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, Texting, Dyslexia, Panic Attacks, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Jan Van Eck is awful, wesper

This fic is so good for so many reasons including but not limited to the fluff, how Wylan uses texting w/ his dyslexia, there’s no trying to ‘fix’ Wylan’s dyslexia just making accomodations for it, the mistaken/ hidden identity is *chefs kiss* and the way the author used Jan Van Eck against himself, which gave me the idea of how to stop Van Eck in my own fic

3. Magnus Bane/ Alec Lightwood + darling, your love is worth its weight in gold

darling, your love is worth its weight in gold by rebel_ren

No Archive Warnings Apply, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood, Rafael Lightwood-Bane, Max Lightwood-Bane, The Lightwood-Banes, Established Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood,  Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood,  Human AU,  Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Fluff, Happy Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Married Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Parents Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood First Meet, Mundane Magnus Bane/Mundane Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane Loves Alec Lightwood, Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Lightwood-Banes Being a Family, Cute, Max Lightwood-Bane 

just a fluffy slice of life fic, one of the best integrations of song into a fic I’ve seen 

4. Crowley/Aziraphale + Free Trial Boyfriend

Free Trial Boyfriend by angelsnuffbox

Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe – Human, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), I mean seriously crowley has it BAD, Swimmer Crowley, Demisexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), Best Friends to LoversL, ove Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor ,Romcom feels, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Human AU, Getting Together  

I am an absolute slag for demisexual/asexual/ gender nonconforming Crowley/Aziraphale so I loved this au fic making that a huge part of it. Crowley as a swimmer is also great.

5. Percy Jackson/ Annabeth Chase + The Roommate Agreement 

The Roommate Agreement by Knuffled 

Friends With Benefits, Smut, Shameless Smut, Percabeth , smut, percy jackson – Freeform, Annabeth Chase – Freeform, Percy/Annabeth – Freeform, Heavy Angst, Character Death

Entirely just because I love slow burns and friends with benefits situation, the angst is real

Honourable mentions: Richard Gansey III /Blue Sargent/Henry Cheng,  Carmen Farooq-Lane/Liliana, Will Solace/Nico Di Angelo,  Magnus Chase/Alex Fierro,  Will Herondale/Tessa Gray,  Hearthstone/Blitz, Renya/Lester

[allthosefanfics]

Put your teeth to the curb, 'cause right now I'm gonna stomp your fucking face in I hope you drown in all the cum you fucking swallow

MOTIONLESS IN WHITE

[writingismyhappytime]

Good Little Dreamer (Part 12)

Chris Cerulli x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, Smut

You're terrified.

You don't know where you are, you just woke up in this place, and it's dark. You vaguely remember falling asleep after your bath, but that's it.

Where are you?

Where's Gretel?

What the hell are you wearing!?

You frown down at the black dress you're wearing, it cinches much too tightly at the waist and it's itchy --- you weren't wearing this before. It's definitely not a dress Christopher would pick, he has much better taste.

You twist, realizing you're sitting on a cot of old blankets on the ground, and you can hear dripping water from somewhere. There's a horrid smell, like a room that hasn't been opened in a long time, or hasn't seen fresh air either, and it's cold, you're shivering.

Your eyes flick over to the candles sitting in a basket, giving off sad amounts of light, just enough to see by. There's a gimpy chair beside them, the seat cracked and splintered, but that's the only furniture in the room... which is incredibly claustrophobic. The walls are gray, like concrete, and there's just a door that leads out, no windows or anything.

You shift nervously, slowly getting to your feet, your hair falling into your eyes. This place seems oddly familiar, but you can't place it, which you might honestly be grateful for. It makes your skin crawl, and it's so small!

Hmm.

Should you try the door?

You know you're not dreaming, you can obviously tell the difference between that world and reality, which makes it more disconcerting.

What should you do?

Your eyes flick up, but you don't see your shadow. That's odd, it usually never leaves your side. Well, wherever it is, you hope it finds Christopher and leads him to you, or Gretel! Either one of them would be nice about now!

You feel safer when they're around.

You curl your arms around yourself against the cold, rubbing the black sleeves made of cheap material, very rough as well. You're used to your soft dresses at this point, his silk sheets and soft pillows.

Not this.

Whatever this is.

You tense as you hear a sound, as if a lock is being opened, and you take a hasty step back as the door begins to swing into the room. You press your back against the wall as a woman steps into the doorway, her black hair done in a braid over her shoulder, face very plain and weathered; she's wearing a black dress similar to yours, the end reaching the floor, covered in dust and grime. There's something about her eyes, though, the yellow color reminding you distinctly of Gretel's.

And Roma's?

Who is this woman?

"You're awake. Roma is waiting for you, come." the woman gestures with her hand for you to follow her, but you'd rather jump out of a window then go anywhere to Roma.

Oh.

Oh does this mean you were kidnapped!? Oh no! What about Gretel? Did they take you while you were asleep? This is why you shouldn't sleep anymore!

"Girl, come." The woman gestures much more forcefully this time, the skin around her eyes creasing as she huffs at you. You hesitate only for another second --- what's the point of disobeying? What's that going to get you? Maybe if you just comply, you'll get through this.

You hesitantly take a step forward, and the woman looks satisfied before turning sharply, starting down a long hallway. Her hand is raised, emitting light, but there's no candle or flashlight, it's just --- bright.

Well that's cool, can you do that?

Your eyes flick back and forth, and you notice that the concrete walls are lined with other doors made of metal, and it's absolutely freezing! Why are there no windows? Without the woman, it would be completely dark, you wouldn't be able to see anything.

Why does it smell like dirt?

The woman doesn't speak to you as you walk, she just leads you down what seems like a labyrinth of halls and rooms, lifting her skirt as she takes a curving stairwell up to another level, the metal loud beneath every step. You cringe as you follow her, trying hard not touch anything, to make yourself as small as possible.

Christopher.

Where is he? Why did he let this happen? What if they hurt him? What if he's stuck in a dream, and can't wake up? These are dreamwitches, they're supposed to be his weakness --- this is all your fault. He'd be perfectly safe if he hadn't gotten mixed up with you!

The woman glances over her shoulder at you, and you notice the gray inching through her roots when you step close, the lines around her lips. Your eyes trail to the exposed part of her neck, noticing the white scars that dip into her collar, but they seem unnaturally straight. How did that happen to her?

The woman opens a door in front of her, and you can hear the screech of the hinges as it opens inward, revealing some kind of office. You notice dented metal filing cabinets, a silver desk, bookshelves lining the walls. You can hear the dripping sound again, there's a bucket in the corner to catch water, and the cold seems even worse in there!

You take a step back with a shiver, holding yourself tighter.

"Go inside and wait."

Uh, no thanks.

You shake your head, eyeballing the room; it looks like a disaster zone, and there's no telling what mold might be growing in there! Where is that leak even coming from!? And again, no windows!

You yelp as the woman grabs your shoulder roughly, apparently not in the mood to bargain as she shoves you forcefully into the room, slamming the door behind you.

You stagger into the desk, causing the cheap metal to move a few inches across the floor with a horrid screeching sound. You can hear a lock being closed, so apparently you're not going to be able to leave the room, either.

You scowl as you glance back, straightening slightly.

Yep, it's frigid.

And you're freezing.

Can you see your breath? It's too dark to tell.

There's a single lamp on the corner of the desk, one of those that you can bend in all sorts of directions, with several layers of dust. It's giving off enough light to see by, but the room mostly just looks abandoned and unused. There's not even a chair to sit in, and the furniture is just junk.

Christopher would never allow his home to look like this, he has more pride.

You hope Roma doesn't take forever, you'll freeze to death.

You rub your hands together as you move to one of the cabinets, gingerly pulling on the metal handle. It comes open, but it's empty, as are all of the other ones. The desk doesn't have any drawers, and the papers on it are waterlogged or actually sticking to the surface, the writing illegible --- does anyone even use this room?

There's nothing of use in it.

Not even a pencil.

And why is it so cold!?

Your fingers are beginning to ache with it, no matter how hard you rub them or hug yourself, but you're hoping this is as unpleasant as it gets. You're just hoping Christopher finds you before too long, that he comes roaring in on a big black hellhound like an anti-knight in shining armor and saves the day!

Because, well, if you're being honest, you don't even know how to save yourself. Your powers are laughable, even with your shadow, you have amnesia, and you've been pampered from the moment you woke up. You don't know how to even defend yourself in a fight! How do you punch someone? Are you supposed to tuck your thumb in your hand? Or not?

You exhale heavily in aggravation.

You know you should be more frightened, that you should be shaking in your bones out of fear not cold, but, well, you're just annoyed. Maybe that's your tactic of not letting the situation get to you. You don't want to acknowledge that Roma might hurt you, kill you, imprison you and never let you out, you might never see Christopher again ---.

You turn as the door behind you opens, your eyes zeroing in on the slim man walking through it.

He looks like a hobo.

Roma's black hair falls around his shoulders, but it looks freshly washed, his jaw stubbled. His eyes are that freakish yellow color, and he's wearing a green, patched coat that looks more appropriate for someone living on the street. His brown shirt and dark jeans have also seen better days, and the more you look at him, the harder it is to believe he's someone to be afraid of.

"Ah, (Y/N)!" Roma says brightly as he sees you, his voice the same as it is in your dreams. "You're awake, good."

Ahuh.

You narrow your eyes at him as you turn to face him --- he's shorter then you in reality, which for some reason gives you satisfaction. You can look down at him, even if it's just by a few inches.

"Right, you barely remember me," he sighs, his gloved fingers sinking into his pockets. "I know this must seem as quite a shock to you, dearest niece. That demon was showering you in presents and had you imprisoned in his home."

You weren't imprisoned.

You could always leave if you wanted, right?

"Well, still not the talkative type? You never were," he clucks, pacing forward to the other side of the desk. You don't answer, just watch him. "You must have inherited that from your father, whoever he was. As well as your height." he glances up. "Nevertheless, you're still one of us. Do you remember being raised here?"

You shake your head.

Nope.

"Your mother really did a number on your mind. Always such a clever, spiteful... witch," he grumbles, and you have the sense that's not the word he wanted to use. He leans his hip again his desk, gazing at you. "I know you must be worried, being brought here so suddenly. Sorry about that. We just couldn't let that demon make a whore out of you, it looks as if he hasn't bitten you anywhere, so that's a relief."

You frown.

Did they... inspect you or something?

Your cheeks heat; well that's embarrassing.

"I should've known he would have you all these years, the bastard. He decimated our kind, you know, to destroy our magic because we were a threat to him," Roma scowls, his face darkening --- he looks so young, probably in his early twenties, but there's this air about him, something that lets you know he's much, much older. How did he manage to stay so young for so long? Is there magic for that --- well, Gretel does it, so of course there is.

But why do their eyes turn yellow?

"We've been hiding underground for a while now, at least the last century. Americans became so worried during their last world war, built tons of these things underground in case of bombings. Came in quite handy for us," the warlock glances around fondly. "Not much to look at, but keeps us safe and that's all that matters. Demons wouldn't think to look for us here."

Demons didn't care enough to look, actually, but whatever.

How do you get out of here?

"Why am I here?" You finally ask, growing impatient. He's getting on your nerves, you're growing restless --- you want to go home!

Roma raises his brows. "You're here because you're one of us, you're my niece. This is where you belong."

You don't like that answer. You're not going to stay where it's cold and damp and toxic fumes permeate the air constantly! Underground bunker your ass --- it's more like a tomb!

"I know you think this place must be bad, but it's not. It's better then being a whore to a demon."

"I am not a whore!" You say indignantly, your hands curling tightly. "Christopher isn't ---."

"He's poisoned your mind, he took you from us and kept you as his. He destroyed our culture and now he was keeping you as his pet."

Oh he fucking did not.

"I am no one's pet," you snap, shifting. "It was never like that. He took care of me, he did everything he could to make sure I woke up from a coma, he ---."

"Made you complacent, and then fucked you, right?" Roma interrupts you, catching you off guard as he stands. You take a step back as he approaches you, his gold eyes glittering. "He fucked you, made you think he cared about you, but you don't exactly see him coming after you now, do you? Why isn't he here, beating down the door to save you? He's a demon, (Y/N), he doesn't give a shit about you!"

(Y/N)? Is that your name? You almost like Esme better.

"You don't know anything!" You retort, standing your ground when he stops in front of you. "All you want is that stupid shadow thing that I have! You don't care about Christopher, or even me! You just want more power!"

You're not sure why you say the words, it's as if you can't stop yourself.

Roma gives a humorless laugh. "You've got quite a mouth on you, does the demon like defiance? Must make it more interesting. And yes, I do want your shadow, not that it's addition will make much difference considering how little power you have yourself --- you took more after a human then you did us."

You glare at him.

Why does everyone have to keep rubbing that in?

"Pity, really. When it was your mother who wound up pregnant, I was most surprised. She was always so against expanding the clan until we knew we were safe." Your uncle shrugs. "Whatever. She should have just let me take your shadow when you were a child."

You're glad she didn't.

You really want to kick him in the balls, you suddenly have an overwhelming urge to do so and then make a break for it. Would he really expect it? Probably not.

Your eyes flick to the door, which he left wide open, so you know it isn't locked. You're not sure where you could go, but there has to be somewhere to hide, right? Is there like some secret hatch you could throw open and find some sunlight? Like in one of those spy movies Gretel likes? She's let you watch a few of them, but they always seem overly violent and dramatic in your opinion.

"You're the reason I was in a coma for ten years," you say after a moment, turning to look down at Roma again, glaring. "She put a curse on me to keep me away from you."

"Yes. Rather dramatic, isn't it? She was always one for flare. Doesn't seem like it did you any good, you're still here now, aren't you?" He smirks at you, satisfied; to finally get back at that bitch of a mother you had, it pleases him to no end. "I'm still going to get what I want, and she's dead."

Dead.

Right.

"Did you ---?"

"Kill her? Yes. I found her in some shitty town, I tried to get your location out of her, but she wouldn't tell me. Probably didn't know, now that I think about it," he rubs the back of his neck. "She probably ditched you somewhere, in your coma state, thinking you would be safer that way. Either way, she failed. And she's dead, which is unfortunate."

You think you're going to be sick. How can he talk so casually about murdering your mother in front of you? He's talking about it like it's nothing, like torturing his own sister and killing her is just another Tuesday.

How can he be like that?

"What is wrong with you?" You demand, horrified. "How can you ---?"

"How can I be this way? Why don't you ask your goddamn demon lover." He snaps, startling you with the vehemence of his tone. "How he fucking hunted us for centuries, made us loose our culture, our history, turned us into rats scurrying to find sanctuary! I lost everything because of that fucker and his family, and I've not survived this long to let him get the upperhand now. Do you know how many years I've been alive, (Y/N)?"

You don't like that name at all, you decide.

"Centuries, almost as long as he has. I was just a kid when he started hunting us, and our kind has been running from him for nearly seven hundred years. Him. That very creature you've been spreading your legs for, (Y/N). You have no idea how angry I was when I realized he had you," you tense as his fingers suddenly brush against your cheek, closing around your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"You can act belligerent if you wish, he's probably brainwashed you at this point, made you feel bad for him. Doesn't matter. All I want is your shadow." Suddenly he seems more intimidating, the more you look into those vile yellow eyes of his. You try to strain away from him, but he won't let you, and instead you find yourself backed into the dusty wall, shrinking away --- it's automatic for you to cower from him.

How awful was he to you as a child for you to still feel this way?

"What use is my shadow to you?" You strain away from him the best you can.

"Shadows are messengers, the conduits we can use to amplify our magic. With most of our kind dead, they've turned rabid, become lost in the world and therefore useless. Your shadow, however, is still able to be used. If I have it, I'm much stronger, I can fight the demon."

Fight the --- goodness gracious.

"Christopher wouldn't have come after you if you'd just left us be," your hand closes around his shoulder, shoving him away from you and causing him to stagger. "He doesn't care anymore."

"Well, he should. Does he think after what he did to us we'd just let it go?" your uncle glares at you. "Do you think we've forgotten!?"

Well, apparently not.

You don't know what to say.

"I'm going to get your shadow, and you can either relinquish it to me, or I can take it from you. And if I take it from you, it's not going to be pleasant."

Like... painful?

"I don't even know how to give you my shadow even if I wanted too," you mutter, trying to keep a fair difference between the two of you."I don't even know where it is!"

Roma snorts. "Pathetic. You don't even know how to control your own magic, but I suppose that does come with memory loss." You cringe as his fingers wrap around your arm. "We'll draw it back then, one way or another. It always comes running to the witch when it thinks she's in danger."

Danger!?

Your eyes zero in on his face, and you refuse to budge when he pulls on you. You're not going anywhere with him! Is he going to torture you? Hurt you? What exactly does he mean by danger!?

"Don't be a difficult child, (Y/N)." He warns you, but you cut your eyes at him. Yep, you definitely don't like that name at all, it's horrible and you're not even sure you can pronounce it right. Romanian you suppose, considering that's where your clan is from.

Ironically you don't even know how to speak the language. All of that is lost to you and you honestly don't care to recover it. Perhaps it's a good thing your memory is gone, maybe your mother gave you a blessing instead of a curse.

"I am not a child." You say flatly, digging your heels into the cold concrete. It makes sense that you're underground, the dampness, the chill of the air, how there's no windows --- your clan really is living like rats, and that can't be pleasant. They shouldn't have to live in fear, they shouldn't be lead around by some dickhead like your uncle!

No wonder your mother left.

"You are in years, (Y/N). I am ---."

"A thousand years old, I got it. You're ancient, and bitter, and a freaking asshole. Do you really think bullying is how you're going to get your way?" You demand, bristling. "When Christopher and Gretel get here ---."

Roma snorts, his lips twisting. "Gretel's not coming for you, my dearest, and neither is that demon. They'll never find this place."

"Yeah? You wanna bet? Do you really think as powerful a demon as Christopher is ---?"

"Do you really think a demon like that gives two shits about you, some girl he's only had the pleasure of fucking for a few weeks? No, you overestimate how important you are."

"No I'm not!"

"Pine after him as you will, he won't find you, he never bit you. You're mine again, (Y/N), and this time I'm not going to let you go." Roma's grip tightens until it hurts, his fingers digging deep into your wrist. You take a step back, but he jerks, forcing you to stagger forward --- he's strong to be so little. "I'm going to take your shadow, and I'm going to use your magic. You don't have a choice!"

Like hell!

You scowl at him, your fingers curling into fists --- again, you wish you knew how to punch where you wouldn't hurt yourself. That would really come in handy about now!

"Besides, it's been two days. If your demon hasn't come for you yet, he's not going too. He's probably relieved someone took you off his hands," Roma sneers, just to rub it in worse. Actually, from how the demon sounded over the phone, he was enraged to learn you were gone, but you are his pet. Demons are all known to be incredibly possessive and jealous, they prefer to break their toys before letting someone else have them.

You are no exception.

You've grown up well, you're a pretty young woman, you have your clan's black hair and glittering eyes --- well, eyes they all used to have, before they had to find ways to retain their youth so their culture didn't die. Roma is tired of having to make sacrifices every fifty so odd years just so he can stay young, but he thinks with enough power he can retain his immortality indefinitely, without any extra effort on his part.

There used to be a witch clan who knew the magic to retain youth indefinitely, but they disappeared decades ago, along with their books. If he could find one of their descendants, he could probably find the books, but it's as if all record of them has been wiped --- irritating.

So now he's stuck with you, the spitting image of his sister in her prime. Oh how just looking at you brings back memories, and the urge to wring your neck. Well, maybe he'll get the opportunity, you do need an attitude check.

"He's coming for me and I know it." You say firmly, refusing to believe otherwise. Have you really been gone two days? How long were you asleep? You find it odd you didn't dream at all, that it was just darkness for you. Is that why Christopher couldn't reach you? Or does he have to be touching you to feed?

You've never asked.

"Well, if he wants you so badly, it's because of your pretty face." Roma says thoughtfully, and you press your lips tightly together as he cups your jaw, studying you. "Maybe by the time he gets here, you won't be so nice to look at. He can have you back so long as you give me your shadow, but if you can't even call it back, we'll have to force it."

"Force it?" You don't like how that sounds.

"Mmm. You'll see. Now be a good girl and follow me."

"No way!" You try to wrench away, making a lunge for the door, but his grip is like iron. He snorts as he jerks you back, slinging you so hard you hit the filing cabinets, knocking them over as you fall.

"Such a brat," he grumbles as his fingers curl through your long hair, and you gasp in pain as he wrenches your head back, pain thudding in your knees where you fell on them. "Am I going to have to teach you how to behave all over again? Tsk tsk. You need a lesson in obedience. You seem to have forgotten."

"Fuck you!"

Your head turns with the force of his backhand, and you feel your lower lip split instantly. Your hands immediately rise to your face in horror, tears welling in your eyes --- shit! He actually hit you! But why are you surprised?

This used to be your life, didn't it?

This was the life your mother tried to take you from.

This is the life that found you again.

But no, no you don't want it! You don't want to live like this again, you simply refuse! You won't go back to this, you'd rather die!

You thrash as Roma tries to grab you, shrieking. He growls as he fights you, trying to get you under control but failing. You manage to crawl away from him, backing up on your hands as quickly as you can as he stalks after you. You hold you breath as he grabs you again, but you bring your leg up sharply, catching him right in the special bits.

Roma curses immediately, instinctively letting go of you to grab himself in pain --- did you really just kick him in the balls!?

Jesus that fucking hurts!

You're pretty sure Gretel told you to do that once, that it would even work on a demon, if even then just to stun them for a couple seconds. You scramble to your feet, staggering as you make it to the door. You grab it, dragging the heavy metal behind you and slamming it shut, trapping Roma in the room.

Your heart is beating so hard it's as if it's going to jump from your chest, there's a roaring in your ears that makes it impossible to hear anything else! You have to find a way out, you have to hide, you have to get Christopher --- you have to do something!

You won't belong to anyone, you won't let them hurt you or make you suffer anymore pain, you refuse! You're going to get out of here if it's the last thing you do!

Roma won't get your shadow, and he won't get you either!

~~~~~~~~~~~

"She's hurt." Christopher worries. He stands in Angelos castle, staring down at the map. He knows exactly where you are, but not how to get to you.

His suggestion to have the hellhounds just start digging didn't go over well.

"Well of course she is." Ghost is annoyed. Where is his obnoxiously calm and collected brother? Christopher is known for his coldness, and it's quite irritating he's getting so panicky.

"I found the blue prints for the bunker they're in, it was built during the sixties by some paranoid nut. Two ways in and out, here and here," he gestures at the table where the blue plans are laid out, calculating. "We can each pick an entrance, swarm it, let the hounds go in first."

"You boys always let the hounds have all the fun, don't you?" Red grumbles where she stands beside Angelo, his arm absently hooked over her shoulder.

They're all downstairs in Angelos office, gazing over the plans. Red refused to be exempt, and Angelo simply didn't want to do anything but she insisted --- she might not like Christopher, but your situation sounded painfully similar to hers and she's determined to help.

Horror is resting upstairs oblivious, his fairy at his side. Ryan and Joshua agreed to stay back just in the event and hold the castle, which Angelo doesn't think is necessary.

He also doesn't want Red leaving, but he's not sure if he can convince her to stay. In her condition, it's too dangerous, what if something happens? He couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

Not again.

"Do you have any suggestions then?" Ghost addresses the witch with a quirked brow, crossing his arms; she distinctly doesn't like him either, although he reminds her of a world old scholar trapped inside a twenty-something's body. She heard he used to be quite a dickhead, going through pets until they were used up, flaunting his money and laughing as he snapped necks --- until he found his mate and suddenly was grounded.

"Why not cause a distraction, draw them out of their compound?"

"Who's to say that won't drive them deeper?" Christopher frowns. "They'll know it's me coming for her."

"What's so special about this girl, anyhow?" Angelo complains, piqued. "What makes you want her so badly you're willing to do this? She's just a pet, isn't it? A pathetic excuse for a witch?"

Ghost glances at Christopher under his lashes; he hadn't mentioned you're a dream witch to anyone.

"She's mine, and no one else can have her," Christopher says flatly, clenching his hands. "So I'm going to destroy every goddamn person in that bunker, and none of them are to come out."

"What if there's children?"

"Not even then," Christopher can't let another dream witch live, he just can't. What if they keep coming after you because you're one of them? No, he'll never find peace if they live, he has to kill them, all of them, in case they want revenge. He'll never be able to let you enjoy the world if one of them is still alive, not where they can haunt your dreams or his.

He wants to take you out and show you the world, it's what you deserve.

Red looks horrified, stiffening under her demons arm. "You can't kill children!"

"I won't allow any of their kind to breathe another breath," Christopher returns, not about to be swayed. "They won't stop until they have her, they'll hunt her, there'll never be any peace," he mutters, more to himself then anyone else at the table. "We'll never be able..."

Red frowns; is Christopher losing his mind? What's this mumbling?

Christopher turns away, running his fingers through his hair as he begins to pace. Worry is gnawing and eating at his bones, and he's not resting, he can't focus --- until he has you in his hands again he won't!

Is this guilt? Is that what he's feeling?

"Send Christopher in first, since they are expecting him," a new voice wheezes, and everyone looks over.

"Oh, you're finally alive again," Angelo comments, and Gretel sends him a vile look as she hobbles into the room.

She's died a few times before, each time unpleasantly, but so long as she's not beheaded, she'll come back. It's just each time takes a little longer, her body doesn't recover quite as easily. She's not as sturdy as a demon after all, she wasn't meant for this, but she's not going down easy, either.

Blood magic is so useful.

Every time she renews her youth, she ties another's life to hers --- should she bite the dust, the other life takes her place, letting her come back. It's not perfect or humane, but she doesn't intend on greeting Hell wide open just yet.

"Send him in, let them be focused on him and the hounds, then the rest of you start," Gretel says in a raspy voice, her hair looking dull as it hangs on either side of her face. She just now got her vocal cords straightened back where she could speak, she hates it when someone breaks her neck --- fucking Roma, thinking he's the shit all the time. She remembers seeing him around in the witch world, but she never realized what he was.

Oh she's going to kick his ass.

"You don't think they'll expect the rest of us?" Ghost asks, and Gretel shakes her head, tying her red hair up into a bun, cracking her knuckles as she stretches; Red eyeballs her curiously.

"No. Why would a demon put so much effort forth for a pet?" Gretel shrugs. "Roma won't be expecting it. It's been two days, he's probably getting relaxed now."

"Esme just woke up, maybe forty five minutes ago," Christopher offers, his hands slinking into his pockets nervously. "We need to take that compound tonight before they do anything to her."

"Why do these witches want her so badly?" Angelo inquires. "Did you steal her from them?"

Ghost looks at Christopher; they can't exactly keep it from Angelo forever. Gretel quirks a brow as she crosses her arms, not about to spill the beans, that's on the old demon.

There's an awkward silence.

Red looks around curiously, then, "Is she a blood witch or something? Is that why you want her?"

What other kind is there that is so hated? But with how the older demons attitude is towards that type of witch, Red can't imagine him caring if she lived or died.

So.

What gives?

"No." Christopher answers after a moment. "She's not a blood witch. She's a dream witch."

Red has no idea what that is. She looks blank as Angelo riles at her side in disbelief.

"What!?"

Ghost chuckles, leaning back on his heels.

"Some of them survived I supposed. They took Esme." Christopher shrugs, tapping his fingers nervously. "I need to finish killing them all before they take their wrath out on her."

"But she's a dream witch?" Angelo is incredulous. They spent centuries hunting those witches to supposed extinction! It was a wonderful bonding experience for the older three, actually, probably why they have such a, well, did have such a decent relationship.

Why would Christopher take one as a pet? An accident?

"... yes. But she's mine, she doesn't have a harmful bone in her body." Christopher defends you, frowning. He's taken care of you and dotted on you for the past ten years, you adore him and you'd never intentionally hurt him; maybe accidentally set him on fire because you can't control your powers, but that was only his sleeve.

"She's quite meek," Gretel agrees as she rubs her neck. "But we need to get to her quickly, she'll say something Roma will not like."

No doubt.

"So I storm the place then," Christopher sort of liked the sound of that plan. "I distract them with the hounds. Once I'm inside, you guys come in."

"Why should we?" Angelo grumbles, earning a pinch from Red.

"Shut up, Angelo, we're going."

"We?" The demon looks miffed. "There is no we. There is me. You're staying here."

"What? No way! You'll need my magic!

"We have Gretel." Angelo smirks at the ancient witch, who merely glares at him. She still hates him.

"She doesn't have magic like I do," Red says stubbornly, crossing her arms as she steps away from Angelo to stare him down, annoyed. Her dark red hair frames her face, and her eyes narrow.

Well.

Gretel purses her lips, and Christopher glances at her.

"We might need powerful magic, considering our opposition," Ghost says carefully, knowing it'll infuriate Angelo but not caring. "She'll be perfectly safe."

"No!" Angelo simply refuses, she's in too fragile a state! She has to stay in the castle where she's safe or he'll lose his mind the entire time worrying about her! He won't be useful at all! Actually, he refuses to be useful if she's in any danger!

"She won't be any safer here, Angelo. Once Roma realizes we're all at the compound, it's very likely he'll come after her --- especially if she sleeps," Christopher adds cleverly, Angelo's face darkening. "She must come with us. It's all or nothing."

"This is such bullshit." Angelo grumbles, but drops it at that.

"Good, so we have a plan." Gretel rubs her throat, her voice starting to return to normal. She's a little woozy, but vengeance gives a great adrenaline rush. "We know where they are, there's a portal only a few miles, but it's heavily used by demons, so they'll notice our arrival."

"Let them," Ghost dismisses the concern. "It's no business of theirs anyhow."

"But don't you think they're going to wonder about witches at your side?"

"Well, I'm fucking one of them, so no." Angelo rolls his eyes, his hand absently going to press against Red's back, as if just to make sure she's still close to him. "It's clear who our lovers are."

"Well, you don't exactly hide it, that's for sure." Ghost snorts, earning an ill look. "You always have to be the most dramatic, don't you?"

"Fuck off, Devin."

"Don't tell me to fuck off, you ---."

"Now is not the time!" Christopher scowls, both younger brothers quieting. He's so very tired of their squabbling! If it was possible for him to have gray hairs, that's all he would have! He leans forward, pressing his palms flat against the surface of the table where their plans are laid out. "We're all going, and that's that."

"Well, what's the plan when we get there?" Angelo demands, Red's hand slipping through his, as if it to remind him to hold his attitude in check. "We get in there and start slaughtering everyone, how do we even know what your witch looks like?"

Christopher hesitates; he hadn't thought about that. He doesn't have a photo of you to share, he's never worried about things like that with his long memory. Ghost has seen you, but Angelo ---.

"She's very tall, long black hair," Gretel describes you in detail. "Her height gives her away."

"Oh, so just don't kill any tall witches with black hair, got it." Angelo rolls his eyes. "Now how long is this going to take? I don't have faith Joshua nor Ryan have the capabilities of not burning my castle to the ground while I'm gone."

"It shouldn't take long," Christopher just wants you, he doesn't care about anything else. He can sense your fear, it's doubling each second they waste, gnawing at the edges of his mind. It's like he feels it, but he knows it isn't his, that pinching in his chest, you're so afraid you can hardly make yourself go.

What are they doing to you?

Trying to strip you of that shadow, useless as it is?

Is Roma hurting you? What would he do to his own niece?

What he did to his sister? Blood obviously means nothing.

"These witches are old," Gretel says after a moment, yellow eyes flicking about the room. "They make sacrifices to stay young, keep their youth through the centuries. Roma dates back to the original time before their slaughter, so they're going to be powerful, him most of all. You need to watch your back, be careful. If they get in your head, it's going to be very difficult to fight them."

Ugh, Angelo remembers, they suck.

Christopher straightens, half turning as he senses ---.

"Well! Look at all of my boys, gathered under one roof," their father says brightly as he enters the room gracefully, his eyes curious. All of his sons stiffen, staring at him as if he's unwelcome, how rude. "It's been a while since I've seen all your faces at once."

"Father, what are you doing here?" Ghost frowns as David comes to stand beside him. David grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the room. His blonde hair is brushed and styled like he's back in the eighties, with thick makeup around his eyes, gold rings in his ears. His lavender jacket is long and sweeps around his ankles, making his entrance very dramatic, and, Red thinks, overly done.

She doesn't like him anymore than Angelo does, he's so flighty and he doesn't care about his family so long as he doesn't have to bother with them. Ghost is obviously his pick out of all seven of them, but that's because Ghost is also an energy demon and telekinetic. She just... David just doesn't look anything like his boys, although Horror did inherit his blue eyes from him where all the others have such darker colors.

"Well, I've come to help." David replies, crossing his arms. He looks very proud of himself, which is of course suspicious. "My sons need me, don't they? Well I'm here."

"But you're... never here."

"You boys are always getting yourself into one mess or another," David dismisses, waving his ringed hand in the air. He looks at Christopher. "And your big brother cleans it up. I'm never needed."

"But you think you are now?" Angelo is incredibly annoyed, why does his Father look like an eighties throwback with huge hair and overly colored clothing? The demon hated that era, all the humans tasted like hairspray!

"For Christopher, yes," David tilts his head slightly. "Plus, I like his girl, she's so..."

"Don't even say it," Gretel snaps, glaring openly at him. "You have your own motives, don't even pretend you're here because it's out of the goodness of your black heart. What do you want?"

"You should watch your tone with me, witch." David says lightly, spearing her with his different colored eyes. "Lest your spells stop reviving you."

Christopher doesn't care why David is there, but his help... unfortunately, his help will be appreciated. Christopher is honestly nervous going up against that type of witch again, he remembers how weak and pathetic he was under their control before. David saved him then, when his son needed him most, and at least he's here now.

"This is our plan," Christopher says before anyone else can start arguing, gesturing at the map on the table. David looks interested, tapping his lips thoughtfully.

"So you're just going to storm in and start killing everyone?"

"Basically. Except anyone who's tall and black haired." Angelo snorts.

"Oh, she's very pretty, very young. You'll know her when you see her, she reeks of Christopher," David shrugs his shoulders, causing all eyes to go on him.

"Wait, you've seen her?" Angelo huffs; is he the only one who's been left out? Red squeezes his hand painfully tight, and he sends her an ill look. Why is he always getting left out of things? Of course David would come to Christopher's fucking rescue, but he never helps Angelo, he wouldn't help him save Red! Of course, Angelo never asked him for help, but if David knew he didn't show up to offer assistance either!

"So how is Richard doing?" David asks, momentarily distracting from the rescue plan. He glances upward, he can feel his sons pain, it's actually one of the reasons he came. "Is he going to make it?"

"He should be fine. A few days of recuperation, TLC, he'll be on his feet." Red answers when no one else does. "Joshua and Ryan are staying with him while we go."

"We?" David sends her a curious look. "In your condition?"

"What condition?" Ghost frowns, seeing Red actually whiten. What's going on there?

"Can we focus?" Christopher demands, clenching his hands against the table. How can he save you with this band of argumentative misfits? They can't get along well enough to accomplish a single thing! He's going to have to do all of this on his own!

Useless!

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, boy, we'll find Esme." David pats his shoulder in an attempt to lightly soothe. "Why don't we all get going if the plan is complete?"

Yes, let's.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You hide behind a large concrete beam, scrunching yourself down as small as you can manage. So far this hiding place is sufficient, everyone searching for you has walked past and not noticed you. You're so very cold, though, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you shiver continuously. It's dark, and damp, and that rancid smell of mold and mildew is making your nose burn.

You've been here for hours now, waiting and waiting, hoping Christopher is coming for you. You don't like the damsel in distress idea but you don't have much of a choice, either. You can't get out yourself, they'll kill you after they get your shadow and you just woke up!

It's not fair!

You shudder, curling your knees tightly to your chest; it doesn't help you're pressed up against the cold walls, either, and you could really use a blanket before you get pneumonia. This is probably the worst experience you've had since you woke up, it's really not cool.

Or it's too cool, actually, but whatever.

Christopher, where are you?

~~~~~~~~~~

Christopher frowns, staring down at the metal door in the solid earth that's keeping you from him. It's several inches thick, made of steel, as if that's going to be an obstacle.

Of course the compound is located in the middle of the woods, thick trees make it hard to navigate, and it's pitch black outside, clouds obscuring the moon. Christopher isn't sure if there are magical alarms, if the witches have set up any kind of defense, but that doesn't matter; he's going to tear it all down.

He glances over as a hellhound pads silently to his side the red veins of its body glinting beneath its thin black fur. It's moves towards the steel door, the rest of the pack prowling through the forest, slinking through the trees, long talons digging into the earth as they patrol.

Christopher can already sense thoughts, those of his brothers, his father, Gretel where she stands loyally at his side. She does seem genuinely worried about you, he supposes after taking care of someone for ten years you get a little attached.

He wonders if she's ever been attached in her entire life.

"Can you sense her?" Gretel asks, her red hair pulled back on her head, gray hairs starting to form in the long strands. Dying takes a lot out of her magic, and she'll start aging again rather rapidly; once this is all over she'll have to go make another kill. "Is she close?"

"No, the earth is too much." He can't find you just yet. "Once we're inside, I'll be able to locate her easily enough."

He shifts, and the hellhound at his side moves toward the door at the silent command from its master. Gretel winces at the sound of bending, shredding metal as the hound starts tearing at the steel door with its talons, ripping and peeling it back.

"You could have just opened it with the handle," she grumbles, and Christopher shrugs.

This way sounded more intimidating.

He wonders if the witches can hear the door being torn apart, if the sound echoes beneath the ground, he really hopes so; that was the effect he was going for.

He watches impatiently as the hellhound finally manages to rip the door from the ground, sending it sailing into a tree and snapping it in half. He barely hears it crash onto the forest floor, his eyes gazing down into the darkness below him.

"Well," he says, "I like the fact they've already put themselves underground."

"And we don't have to do it for them." Gretel chuckles, cracking her knuckles. Christopher gestures with his hand, and the hellhounds begin slinking down the hole, their talons tip tapping against the metal floor below. Christopher peers down curiously, his eyes easily adjusting to the darkness.

"Well, there's a ladder, and --- screaming." He's pleased. So his hounds found someone already! How satisfying. "Shall we?"

"Age before beauty."

The demon rolls his eyes before taking a step forward into the darkness, not bothering with the ladder. He lands easily, and turns, catching Gretel and effortlessly sitting her down beside him.

She frowns into the darkness, her yellow eyes gleaming; she can't see a damn thing.

"It smells awful," she grumbles, disliking the earthy, musty smell assaulting her nose. She hears a slow drip of water from somewhere, the faint sounds of a hellhound casually tearing into flesh, some errant screams.

"Where is Esme?" She asks impatiently, wanting nothing more then to get you and get out. She feels trapped like this.

"This way," Christopher begins moving forward, Gretel following him curiously. She glances at the metal walls, frowning as the scent of blood hits her nose.

"Roma probably anticipated you coming, he might be prepared." The witch reminds warily, stiffening. "Hexes, traps, he's not down here just for shits and giggles, this place is warded to the nines."

"Not against my hounds apparently."

"No, especially against your hounds." Why are demons so conceited and arrogant? "They've not gotten past the first few halls, they're just prowling back and forth." Gretel can sense the enchantments, they're done in blood along the walls, fresh too. "Follow in my footsteps."

"Follow you?" Christopher scoffs as he looks down, eyes narrowing. "You don't know where we're going."

"Then you tell me. But hell, if you want to go in front, be my guest." Gretel gestures forward in annoyance. "Step right into the fucking spike pit for all I care, but don't say I didn't warn you first."

Christopher seethes a moment, then relents, taking a step back. Gretel's right, he can't be foolish about this. He needs to let her go first, that way he doesn't make a mistake, he can't be impulsive, he's not that kind of demon anymore. He's learned to restrain himself, to be calm and calculated, and he can't let that crack. He needs to be that way for you, so you can be safe.

Gretel steps forward, seeing a hellhound at the end of the hallway, scratching at the walls uselessly. She hates the way they look, their skin like molten lava, as if the fire is just begging to burst to the surface and consume everything. Their talons are sharp, but not near as bad as their teeth --- they're pieces of hell made solid, controlled only by demons, or those whose blood they've ingested.

They're frightening, but they're still animals, of a sorts.

"Well?" Christopher demands when the witch in front of him doesn't move, and she scowls at him over her shoulder, her black shirt clinging tightly to her skin as she raises her hand, already starting to look wrinkled.

She snaps her finger.

Lights immediately envelop the hallway, and Christopher flinches away from the brightness, raising a pale hand. He squints, suddenly able to see every magical seal on the walls in bright red, and they pulse bright before going dark.

"Well, I disabled the hexes in this hallway, but it's going to be a trying process going all the way through." Gretel states, slightly worried. Of course she made it look easy, but she's weak, she's not sure if her magic is strong enough to get her all the way through the compound if every hall is like this. She'll turn into an old prune and have to hobble, and that'll just make her a liability. She wants to save you, you're too pure and precious and she doesn't want the world to take that away from you.

But how can she do it if she's ninety-nine years old?

"We brought Red along for a reason," Christopher says after a moment, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. He doesn't have to worry about mortality, but he supposes the ever looming threat of death coming at you as your body withers must be concerning. "Can you teach her how to disable the traps?"

"Of course I can. But she's on the other side of the ---."

"I'll text Angelo, tell him to bring her here. Conserve your strength for the big fight." Christopher admittedly is rather fond of Gretel, and she has genuine worry for you, which makes him not want her damaged either. Besides, you're very fond of her as well, it would break your heart if she's hurt and you'd be upset with him.

He doesn't want that.

~~~~~~~~

What's all that noise?

You hunker down even deeper behind the pillar, terrified as you hear screams erupt throughout the compound. Not typical, surprised screams --- no, these are absolutely awful, gut-wrenching, pain-filled screams that make your stomach queasy and your head roar. You've never heard such terrible sounds, and you never want to again!

Your hands clamp against your ears, and you press hard, trying to keep the sound out. What's going on? What's happening?

You sniffle, your cheeks hot with tears you couldn't hold back. You're shaking from the cold, parts of you must be frozen, and you don't know what to do! You don't have any sort of direction down here, you don't even know where to start to look for an escape!

It just makes you want to cry more!

Where's Christopher!?

You suddenly hear laughter, dark, merciless as it echoes against the wall. You don't recognize it, and you flinch as you hear something slam against the metal walls, some kind of strange tip tapping.

Tip tapping?

Hmm?

You stiffly lean slightly, just enough to see around the pillar.

A hellhound!

Oh, a beautiful, beautiful hellhound!

You've never been so happy to see them in your entire life!

If a hound is here, that must mean --- Christopher!

Relief swamps your body immediately, your fingers dropping to curl around the pillar as you start to rise. You hesitate, but the moment the hound sees you, it's at your side. Heat billows off its black fur, and you look down, seeing its red veins and muscles pulse beneath the skin, its soulless eyes gazing at you for a few seconds before turning away.

Oh so warm!

Like being near a furnace!

You'd never noticed their warmth before!

"Ah! Is that another one?" someone asks in an amused voice, and your head turns.

Wait.

"Angelo?" You say in shock, staring at the black haired demon as he prances down the hallway. He recognizes you instantly, two hellhounds flanking him, one limping. He tilts his head a little, his finger rising.

"Oh, I do know you," he says, looking annoyed. "You're that witch Christopher said he was training with Gretel. Are you the precious one we're here to get back?"

"Christopher is here?" You gasp, your face brightening. You step forward, your black dress dragging through the damp behind you. "He came?"

"Well, yes, obviously. Why the hell else would I be in this tomb?" The pale demon shrugs, black eyes glancing around. You're grateful to see him, although you're still wary around him. His pale skin is inked so heavily you can barely see the color, and the white shirt he wears is open at the collar, sleeves rolled up but splattered with red.  

"Damn. Welp, I told him I would find you first." Angelo looks smug, the flickering lights glinting off his silver rings as he tugs his phone from his shirt pocket. "Now he owes me one. You know you're a lot of trouble, girl."

"Esme." You correct him, looking down the hallway and not seeing his frown; no one corrects him! "Where is Christopher?"

"On the other side of the compound, of course. Where he's useless." Angelo leans back on his heels. He's impervious to this witchy magic, he just keeps letting the traps on the walls go off to see what happens. It's been drawing all the attention his way, which he supposes is a good way to keep the witches occupied.

He let Red go with Christopher to help on that end, she's probably safer that way anyhow. He's worried about her, her condition, what they're going to do. He's pleased of course, but he never really thought it would happen, or what the consequences would be, of what he's done. Well, they've done. Okay, so it takes two to tango of course, but really, Red is always so eager in bed and he just can't keep his hands off of her, it's no wonder that she's ---.

You eek suddenly, flinching down and covering your head as the wall above you explodes in a shower of stone and earth. The hellhound is immediately snarling, covering you with its body and taking the worst of the blows before it makes a mad dash down the hallway, it's growls echoing off the walls as it attacks.

Angelo reaches for you, grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you to your feet, not caring if you trip over your stupid, ugly dress. He holds you beside him in annoyance, tucking his phone away.

"I'll take you to Christopher and we can get the hell out of this place. I hate being underground." He grumbles, noticing your red cheeks and bloodshot eyes; have you been crying and hiding behind that pillar the entire time? You're not much of a fighter, are you, not like his Red.

When he went to her rescue, she was already killing her captors.

You just sat around and waited for rescue.

You hastily wipe at your eyes, and he notices the bruise on your cheek, Christopher won't be pleased about that.

"Well, let's go this way," Angelo tugs in the direction he came, seeing the hellhound currently trying to nip at the ankles of a stubborn witch. "Keep your eyes down, don't look up. These witches like to get in your head."

He remembers now why he liked killing them so much.

You do as told, letting Angelo drag you behind him, his grip never laxing on your arm. You struggle to keep up with his longer strides, shivering still, able to see your breath. You can hear fighting, your heart races at the sound, your palms are damp despite your chill --- did Christopher call in the entire cavalry?

You glance over, seeing your shadow is suddenly clinging to your shoulder. Oh, there it is! You were wondering where it was hiding, you haven't felt its presence. Did it manage to find you thanks to the demons? Was it locked out? You wish you knew how to utilize it properly!

You feel so useless.

"And --- well." Angelo stops so abruptly you walk into him, staggering as you try to keep your balance. You stare down the hallway, noticing there's a gaggle of witches this time, all of them looking very angry. "So we should go right."

You start to go, but Angelo is suddenly hissing.

"Fuck," he snarls, finding he's trapped to the spot. He grinds his teeth, seeing the hex on the floor too late, and now he's bloody well unable to move! He struggles against it, but it's going to take a few minutes to break, and those witches are steadily approaching with vengeance in their eyes. He hopes they get close enough so he can rip them out.

"Keep going!" He barks at you when you hesitate, unsure. "Two lefts and four rights, that's where you'll find him. Well, don't just stand there, you useless girl! GO!"

You flinch as he yells at you, but you do as told, gathering your stupid skirt in hand as you make a mad dash down the hallway, one hellhound staying at your side. Your black hair flows behind you as you run, your chest constricting. You take a sharp left, and then another, your heart beating so hard it makes your head rush!

You almost feel dizzy, no, you are dizzy! You stagger, falling hard into the wall, a weakness suddenly overtaking your limbs and causing your legs to fail. You sink hard onto your knees with a gasp, your hair flowing forward to curtain your face.

What the hell ---?

There's suddenly a sharp pain against your temple, so unexpected you shriek in pain, your hands rising. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize your sight is going, that everything is turning black, you can't see, you can't move, you, you ---!

~~~~~~~~

Christopher breaks the witches neck before she ever sees him, letting her corpse fall to the ground. He steps over her, his eyes flicking through the empty rooms he passes, prowling the halls.

He separated from Gretel and Red, left them back a few halls ago, they were too slow! Angelo said he found you, and Christopher can't keep waiting for them to disarm every single trap! There's no time!

You're in pain again, something must have happened!

He can feel his skull throb, and his pace increases until he's nearly a blur, weaving his way to you. He has your blood, he knows exactly where you are, if he's just a little faster --- his speed is enough to keep the hexes from getting him, and he can feel them go off behind him, if he's any slower he'll be wounded.

It's just a chance he's going to have to take for you.

He pauses abruptly outside one solid door, his black eyes zeroing in on it. He can smell you, your blood, it calls to him. No, really, he can smell your blood, you're bleeding. Whoever hurt you is going to pay dearly.

His pale hand rises, and he lightly pushes on the door, the hinges screeching as it slowly begins to swing open. The lights above him are flickering, buzzing, irritating his senses, but that's just because he doesn't like flashing lights, he hated disco.

"Roma," the demon spits the name as if its acid, thoughtlessly stepping forward into the room, not caring when the door slams shut behind him. This room is the largest he's seen, very long, with tables and chairs that are pushed against the wall, easily able to fit fifty people inside.

Which Roma, apparently, has. Witches line the walls, males and females, and the demon notices that he hasn't even seen a child, not a single one since he's been inside the bunker. All the witches are washed out, probably due to not seeing the sun in so many years, with sunken eyes and haggard faces.

Roma stands at the far end of the room, his hands in his pockets, looking like he's just crawled out of a dumpster. Everyone in the room has yellow eyes, they gleam just like Gretel's, so it's useless to guess any of their ages. They could be as old as he, sacrificing others so that they might live. Christopher doesn't doubt that Roma doesn't have safeguards in place should his life end, so he's going to have to make sure he decapitates him, removes his heart, makes it impossible for him to reanimate.

He cracks his knuckles.

"Give me Esme." Christopher demands, black eyes centered. "Give her to me!"

"You want my niece so badly? You can have her, once her shadow is mine." Roma replies, smirking. "Although she won't be so pretty when I'm done with her."

The demon seethes, his entire body bristling at the words. He grinds his sharp teeth, clenching his fists as he starts forward furiously. "You keep your goddamn hands off of her!"

"Ah, ah! Not so fast!" Roma clucks, black, dirty hair framing his face as he twitches his finger back and forth in a mocking manner. "Do you really think I wasn't prepared for you to find us one day?"

"I don't care!" Christopher growls, but he finds he's slowing down, as if something is holding him back, or he's having to push forward. He fights against the hold, his eyes flicking up the tiled ceiling, noticing the line of hexes and curses drawn in fresh, dripping blood along every crevice. Roma had his witches redecorate, eh? Well, Christopher will make sure every wall is decorated in their blood before the night is over.

He curses as he's forced to come to a stop, just far enough away where he can see you but never touch. You're slumped on the cold tile floor behind Roma, your black hair hiding your face, but there's blood staining the delicate strands. He's not sure what awful dress you're wearing, but you're hurt, you need him! You're also conveniently unconscious, but your shadow is hovering at your shoulder, flicking back and forth so quickly it's hard to see.

It's panicked.

Roma looks at the demon curiously before glancing at you, the niece he never expected to have. You look just like your mother, and your eyes make him nostalgic for the past, before they all had to do what was necessary to keep their culture alive. All these witches rely on him to keep them safe from the demon, to keep them living, and everyone has had to make sacrifices for their cause.

Perhaps if he kills Christopher now, it'll be the end of it.

But Roma is no fool, he knows two other brothers are with the demon, frolicking through the compound and setting off all the traps. The witch doesn't expect that to hold them, just slow them down long enough for Christopher to die.

It's not easy to kill a demon, only true decapitation will do the trick, but Roma isn't afraid of gore. He does want to make it slow, however. Perhaps he should hurt you first, make the demon watch as you scream in pain --- taking your shadow is only the first awful thing he's going to do to you.

"How long before his brothers reach us?" He asks of one of his witches.

"They're both trapped in the south wing." someone replies, their voice weak and breaking. "The wards are holding."

Good.

Pleased, Roma stretches, sighing happily.

"I've waited centuries to see your face again, Christopher." he says, sulfur eyes focusing on the demon as he thrashes against his invisible hold. "Now I want to see it in pain."

Christopher curses as he feels chains wrap around his wrists, although he can see nothing. His arms lift until it hurts, stretching out straight from his shoulders. He strains against them, flexing his hands into claws as he bears his teeth --- he'll rip through Roma's throat!

"Ah! Now, let's not get too excited." Roma shakes his head, clucking. "You're not going anywhere, not until we're down. My witches also want to take a little out of you. You see, you've made us rats, scurrying around below the earth. None of us are very happy with our way of life." he paces slightly, glancing at all the unhappy faces. "Want their pound of flesh, for lack of better wording. You don't mind, do you?"

Yes.

Christopher very much minds.

"I don't care about them or their goddamn suffering," he snaps, wrenching hard on one side and feeling the invisible ties give slightly. "I just want Esme!"

"Well, there she is," Roma tosses his hand in your direction where you lie, unmoving. "You want her so badly, get her. Go to your whore."

Motherfucker.

How dare he call you that!

Christopher glowers, his eyes completely black and reflecting the room around him. He thrashes wildly again, but it doesn't seem to do any good, just tires him! He's never felt a hold like this before, and he vaguely wonders if it's just in his head, if the witches really have anything holding him back. He glances around, but all of their thoughts are guarded from him, he can't ready any of them, not like he can you.

"If you give me Esme, I will leave." He forces himself to speak, hating that he even has to say the words. "All I want is her, I won't take another life. But if you don't give her to me, I promise you, I will personally rip every throat out of every man and woman in this room and bathe in their blood. You can listen to their screams."

"How predictable. You think threats will do anything at this point?" Roma scoffs, although he does notice the ripple in his people. No one really wants a fight, they just want to be left alone, but he can't pass up this opportunity, it'll never happen again! "After all you've done to my kind, what makes you think we believe you?"

"A demons promise is final. I cannot break it." Christopher says, exhaling heavily. His wrists are aching now, his skin feels as if it's burning, but he still can't move! His gaze is on you again, seeing you stir just the slightest, and you seem to be alright except your head wound. He wishes he could heal you, kiss away your tears and feel you in his arms.

Until he can hold you, he won't be content.

"No, I don't believe you. I'd much rather torture (Y/N) and make you watch then make a deal." Roma shakes his head, dirty hair flying. "And look! Sleeping Beauty awakes!"

You feel sick, woozy, like you're going to throw up at any moment! Your entire body is aching and you're not sure why, you can't even push yourself up off the freezing floor!

Roma chuckles as he kneels beside you, roughly shaking your shoulder until you groan, rolling over onto your back. He tugs on your hair before cupping your face, fingers digging into your cheeks.

"There, there, sweet girl. If you just give me your shadow, we could avoid all this pain you're going to feel," he clucks. Did he forget to mention he's already started that process? How convenient the damned thing showed up finally, now he doesn't have to chase it down, or risk losing it into the void. He can absorb it, but you have to be on the brink of death first, your connection has to sever with it.

Your eyes flutter, and you're so pale, there's no color in your cheeks.

"Esme!"

Christopher?

Your eyes focus, and they immediately find the demon fighting to get to you. He looks so angry, his teeth bared, black eyes and blood splattered across his clothing. Oh, and that's your favorite shirt on him too, the color compliments his normally hazel eyes.

You thoughtlessly reach for him, struggling to get up, to move, to ---.

Roma catches your wrist, amused. Look at you, struggling up against his magic like you're going to stand a chance. You're more human than witch, he would have discarded you years ago if he'd had you in his care, you're of no value to him.

Perhaps also one of the reasons your mother hid you, hoping you would at least live.

Stupid woman.

He hopes she knows what she's done to you by trying to help you live. He shuffles, reaching into the inside of his coat, producing a tiny blade. He hums to himself as he turns your arm over, listening to you cry out in pain absently as he draws the knife down your wrist, slicing open your vein easily.

You're shrieking, and your blood immediately begins to splatter against the floor in a pretty waterfall effect, your hand spasming. Well, he think he might have caught a few nerves there, oh well.

He lets your arm drop back to the floor, and you immediately curl on your side, big alligator tears in your eyes as you start to sob. Your hand closes against the wound, as if that's going to make a difference, and your uncle rises to his feet in satisfaction.

There, that'll speed the process.

"You see, Christopher, I don't need her alive. And I never necessarily said you could have her back with her heart still beating, either," Roma turns, brandishing the blade stained with your blood at the demon. "That's no fun. Besides, all of this is completely avoidable."

"I'll rip your fucking head off!" Christopher bellows, feeling heat explode through his veins, his vision going red around the edges. He can feel your pain, sharp and horrid in his wrist, and it's starting to feel like there's needles in his mind, pressing against his skull, trying to break him. The witches are chanting, their voices are in unison, but he can't make out the words, he never can with magic. He's growing tired, it's draining him, how the hell are they keeping him from you!?

He's never felt power like this, never encountered it!

Perhaps it's the fact there's so many witches, that their ages rival his own and therefore their power is impressive. He refuses to think he doesn't stand a chance, he refuses to think he can't save you!

"Oh, hear her crying?" Roma taunts, boldly strolling forward; the demon hasn't been able to break free yet, so he's feeling much more confidant then before. He's been perfecting that holding spell for centuries, he's pleased to know it works so well, especially when his finest are chanting it repetitively. "Don't you wish you could stop it?"

"Fuck you!"

Roma laughs, and it's such an ugly sound.

Christopher's eyes narrow as Roma stops a mere inches away from him, his face tilting as he looks up.

"You killed my parents, did you know that? I watched you twist their heads like bottle caps. I was only fourteen." Roma comments, thoughtfully twisting the blade in his hand. "My cousins, my aunts. Others of my caravan. We never bothered you, you had no reason to come after us."

Christopher had every reason.

"No, you are a coward, as all demons are." Roma decides, not impressed with the sight he sees. Christopher's face haunted him for a long time, made his mortal sleep a nightmare. It doesn't hurt anymore, he's just angry, there's a deep, bitter rage inside of him that has only grown more gnarled and blistering as the years go on. Anything Christopher has or wants, Roma will destroy it, he will torture the demons mind until he's nothing more than a shell of himself.

Death is too kind.

"Christopher," you rasp in pain, finally managing to sit up. Blood is pooling in the floor around you, you can feel it drain out of you. Is this really how you're going to die? In this ugly dress and in this dirty floor? Your eyes focus on the demon you care about so much, unable to even feel your own fingers.

I'm so sorry.

You're sorry you got him into this mess, that you've caused him so much trouble. His life was probably okay before he found you. He was... he was...

Your eyes flick around, seeing no one offers to help you, that their lips just keep moving. You're one of them, you were raised with them, and they don't even care what's happening with you. Why don't they challenge Roma? This isn't right! You're an innocent, you've never done anything wrong to them!

You're supposed to be part of their clan, aren't you?

How could they be such cowards?

You hate them, all of them! They deserve to suffer! They all deserve what's coming to them!

You're having a hard time breathing for your tears, and your quivering has nothing to do with the cold. Blood stains your temple, trails down to your cheek, your hair drying against your skin. You're going to die of bloodloss, of all damned things.

Christopher looks at you helplessly.

He gasps in surprise as pain suddenly assaults his shoulder, black blood oozing against the silver blade buried in his flesh. You shriek immediately as Roma stabs him, as if that does any good.

"Why don't we see how you look with a thousand cuts, hmm?" Roma's eyes are bright, he's enjoying himself. "How does Mr. Cerulli look when he's cut all to pieces? Will every cut heal, or is it going to scar? I'm curious. Why don't I slice every inch of flesh for every life you've taken from my kind?" the witch demands through his teeth, the blade cutting cleanly against Christopher's cheek and causing him to hiss. "Starting with this face of yours."

"Stop it!" You gasp, trying to move, trying to get to your feet! No! No, they can't hurt him! "Don't ---!"

"Hush!" Roma hisses over his shoulder, you're not going to ruin his fun! "Or I'll do worse to you, you little bitch."

You suddenly choke, your blood soaked hand rising to your throat in surprise! Your eyes widen in horror as you begin to cough, crimson decorating your lips before splattering against the floor.

"Esme!" Christopher cries, barely noticing the next slice against his arm, the sharp jab in his ribs. He's horrified as he looks at you, as he feels your weakness, he doesn't even notice his own pain! He doesn't feel the cuts, he doesn't give the black blood any attention as it soaks into his clothing, splatters across the tiled floor below him.

His entire focus is you.

You're dying, your blood is seeping out of you so quickly, what if he can't save you? What will he have to do to make sure that you live? He will give his life to Roma if he thought he could ensure your safety! But he knows Roma won't make a deal, no matter what it could give him. He's too set on torture, but you, you're innocent, you're his family!

You want them to stop hurting Christopher! You have to make it stop, you have too! Even if you die, you don't care! You can barely take a breath, you can barely inhale, there's such a pain, a burning in your lungs you don't understand! You're choking on your own blood!

Your eyes flick to your shadow, at its frantic dance around you. It's so small and dainty, and you almost feel bad that you're going to die and it's going to lose you all over again? Would it mind doing something for you, though?

Can it save Christopher?

You have a tendency for heat, don't you?

If you can only ever do one spell, let it be this one!

Your eyes focus on Roma suddenly, and the shadow stills behind you. This is all your fault, and you won't let anyone hurt your demon, not ever again! Even if it kills you, you're going to stop this torture! You hate being the damsel in distress, you hate being weak and useless, you hate being unable to even defend yourself!

You hate Roma!

You hope he burns.

Roma bellows the instant he sees the flames ignite up his sleeve, the force of the spell taking him by surprise and causing him to stagger. He furiously tries to pat it out, but it's burning a bright orange, unrelenting as it makes its way up his shoulders, the scent of burning hair assaulting his nose. He turns enraged eyes on you, seeing your shadow has almost tripled in size where it hovers behind you, multiplying your power threefold.

Dammit!

"You fucking bitch!" Roma barely manages to get out of his jacket, tossing it to the ground. "I'm going to break your neck!"

You give him a red-stained smirk.

You've never been so satisfied to burn someone alive before, but at least... at least you got one good spell out. You're starting to feel woozy again, and the edges of your vision are so blurry. You're very tired, and so cold, you just want to lie down and close your eyes for a few seconds, your surroundings don't matter anymore.

"Esme!" Christopher thrashes wildly, angrily, and the hold gives just the slightest again, some of the witches stuttering in their chant. He can't let this go on a single second longer, he could lose you! You're weeping openly, suffering, and it's his fault! He has to save you, he has to get to you, you're the love of his life!

It's as if something shatters in his mind, as if someone breaks a mirror and the pieces scatter.

Christopher's bellow shakes the room as he wrenches free of his bonds, as he frees himself. The witches shriek as piece of the walls and ceilings threaten to collapse, as they lose all control over the demon, the enraged sound echoing throughout the entire compound as he moves.

Roma only has time to turn in surprise before Christopher's hand is reaching through his chest, his hand clamping around the beating heart. Roma gives a strangled gasp, his yellow eyes going wide.

"You're going to suffer for what you've done," Christopher breathes, black blood coating his lips, his eyes reflecting Roma's expression back at him. "But for now, I need you out of the way."

Christopher squeezes, the witch's heart exploding inside his chest. He gargles for a few seconds, his blood pouring past his lips before the demons discards him, letting him fall to the ground, interest lost. Roma twitches for only a few seconds before he grows still, his eyes still wide in shock.

Bastard.

He doesn't spare any of the other witches a look, he just goes straight for you. You've fallen over onto your side, and your eyes are open but there's no spark in them, there's no glitter.

"No, no, no," he gasps, falling to his knees beside you. He gathers you up into his arms, your blood already soaking into his clothing. He grabs your wrist, his lips thoughtlessly sealing against your flesh. He runs his tongue across the open wound repeatedly, not tasting your blood, just trying to stop it!

"Esme!"

~~~~~~~~

Gretel is horrified where she stands.

Angelo and Ghost together manage to pry open the door to the room where the eldest brother is, he wasn't hard to find considering they heard his rage probably all the way into the next state! Ghost has never heard such a primal sound before, filled with so much anger that it makes even his heart beat faster!

They know Christopher is hurt, they can feel it, and both brothers strain before the entire door comes off its hinges. Ghost tosses it out of his way, and he strides purposefully into the large room, his hounds flanking him.

Hmm.

Witches all over the place, one dead in the floor bleeding out, and there's Christopher leaning over someone.

"Esme!" Gretel gasps, and she shoves past the demons, making a break for where you lie. She runs to where you are, her silver hair falling loose of its bonds; she's used so much magic, she feels ancient, and if she doesn't rejuvenate soon her age will catch up with her! Her face still looks mostly young, just wrinkles around her eyes, she noticed earlier with dismay, but that's a price she's willing to pay to get you back.

Red comes to Angelo's side, her hand curling nervously around his arm.

Well.

She, Angelo, and Ghost stand in the doorway, a large amount of witches flanking either side of the room, and she's not exactly sure what to do next. Should they kill all the witches? She didn't expect so many of them to still be alive, not with how many they killed outside!

And where the hell is David?

She saw him only once earlier, but he's disappeared, completely useless!

Bollocks.

"What do we do?" Red whispers, pursing her lips. "Should we kill them all?"

"Not unless they attack us." Ghost replies, crossing his arms. The hellhounds are already flooding the room, snapping at witches, some of them whimpering or shrieking in fear as they cower away. None of them look like they're in particularly good physical condition, shake too hard and their bones might snap. "Just make sure none of them use their magic."

"Easier said then done." Red grumbles. She can see the oldest brother across the room, kneeling on the floor with Gretel. He keeps repeating your name over and over in the most heartbroken tone Red has ever heard, and she's more than surprised to hear it from him.

The most calm and collected, the one who always seems like he knows the answer to everything.

"He loves her." Red says after a moment, her throat tightening. It's obvious, although his brothers are too stupid to see it. Why else would he go through so much to save you? He literally hid you away as a secret for a decade, abandoned his own family for you --- there's no other explanation.

"What?" both brothers gasp, turning to stare down at the witch between them.

"Christopher doesn't love anyone, he doesn't know how." Angelo disagrees instantly, curling his lip. "He's just possessive."

"Don't be fucking moron, look at this." Red gestures with her hand. "He's ---."

"Heartbroken." Ghost nods his head, his hands slipping into his pockets. "She's dying."

"She seems dead to me," Angelo pretends to not be interested, but... fuck. Everything is suddenly so complicated! It makes complete sense why Christopher was so adamant about getting you back, you're probably the only person he's ever cared about in his thousand years of life.

And now you're gone.