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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months ago

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The Malicious Daughter Is Back! -17

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Warning: Tragedy, Angst, Manipulation, Intimidation

A/N: I know we hate Victoria, but this is the saddest chapter I have ever written. I can't stop typing the angst. 😭

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Everything changed so quickly. One moment, Jonathan, Genevieve, and Victoria were standing on a cloud, looking down at the people beneath them. Now, they were falling from the sky, landing in the quicksand, ready to trap their feet.

The bankruptcy of Celestial Enterprises happened too fast. Investors and shareholders pulled their money from the company, causing a rapid downfall.

To save the company, many assets were sold, including the house they used as their primary residence. The house built by Ophelia—the one thing you thought would be impossible to get—was now yours. Bucky delivered the great news and handed you the house key.

Without hesitation, you drove to your childhood home. Though you only lived there for a while, it held precious memories of you and your mother.

Standing at the white door, you inserted the key and turned it. The moment you walked in, the emptiness hit you. Looking around the house, you realize there was no trace of your life with Ophelia back then.

Genevieve had obviously changed the house's decoration. You walked around the first and second floors and then to your room. It was apparent your step-mom hated you. The bedroom, once your sanctuary where you could be alone without seeing Genevieve and Victoria’s faces, was now a storage place.

“I hope you're happy now. You have ruined our lives,” Victoria suddenly made her entrance.

You smirked. “Fucking deserved it. You people did it first to me.”

Victoria was taken aback. “You don't even care about your own dad?”

“Care? That man didn't deserve pity from me the moment he married his mistress. He fucking killed my mother,” you retorted.

That was the last straw. Victoria hated it when you called Genevieve a mistress. “I will not let you do this to me!” she yelled, pointing her finger at you.

You saw her frantic, paranoid, and utterly different from the elegant persona she usually maintained. You chuckled, “It must be difficult for you seeing me win.”

“Fuck you,” Victoria spat as she slapped you hard across the face.

You responded by grabbing her hair, yanking it fiercely. “You bitch.”

The two of you erupted into a full-blown fight. Nails scratched at each other's skin, wishing they were sharp like knives. Hair was pulled, kicks were exchanged, and all the pent-up resentment and hatred came pouring out in a chaotic clash.

It was clear from the beginning who would win. You quickly overpowered her. Without any desire to prolong the fight, you landed a solid punch to her stomach, causing her to crumple to the ground.

“Urgh. Fuck you,” Victoria growled, clutching her stomach in pain.

You huffed, sitting down on the floor. Victoria refused to look at you, unable to accept that she had lost.

Both of you sat there, catching your breath. A moment of silence between siblings who had nearly torn each other apart.

“I always hated you,” Victoria said suddenly, covering her eyes with her arm.

“The feeling’s mutual,” you replied, hissing as you touched the fresh scratches on your skin.

“I hate that I always did my best but was still compared to you,” she admitted. “The sin of the daughter from the mistress.”

You stood still, your expression unreadable, but a storm of emotions brewed inside. You crossed your arms, a subconscious gesture to shield yourself from the raw pain in her words.

“Even though I was the smartest at school, it was never enough to satisfy my mother,” Victoria continued, her voice trembling.

Growing up, she always knew she had to be better than you. That's what Genevieve has told her. She wants to make her mother proud of her. And the recognition from Jonathan.

“What made it worse was that you didn’t even try to compete, but all eyes were always on you. They always saw me as the mole in your life,” Victoria said, her voice breaking.

When she left her old school and entered the new one where you studied, she was greeted by judging eyes. The status of being a ‘mistress’s daughter’ haunted her. Everyone saw her as the villain compared to you, the victim.

In truth, you and Victoria were both victims of the adultery. Both of you were innocent.

“As a child, you listened to your mom. But growing up, you could’ve made your own choices,” you said quietly.

“You could’ve realized what you did to me was wrong. But you didn’t stop,” you added.

“And then we’d become good step-siblings?” Victoria scoffed.

You sighed, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “As a teacher, I’ve met stepmothers and stepfathers who worried about a kid not related by blood but saw them as their own. And step-siblings who worked multiple jobs because they wanted their younger siblings to get the best education.”

Victoria stayed quiet, her face a mix of anger and regret.

“Yes. We could’ve,” you said softly.

Another silence fell, but it was broken as Victoria slowly stood up without saying anything. Before she left, you told her, “You could’ve made your own choice. Remember that.”

She didn't reply or look at you. She kept walking until she arrived at the entrance door. Her hand hung in the air before she pulled the handle.

Victoria turned and looked around the grand entrance. She remembered the first time she set foot in this house, feeling like a beggar turned into a princess.

It wasn't a prince who found her glass slipper, but her dad, picking her up in his expensive car and making her a princess.

She thought her life would have a happy ending. But no. It turned out she was the evil step-sister, and her mother was the evil step-mom. Just like the characters in Cinderella.

If only she had never hated you, if only she had never listened to Genevieve’s words. Could you and she have become real sisters who talked to each other, laughed, cried, and went shopping together?

Tears welled up in her eyes. Victoria scoffed, “Idiot,” she whispered to herself.

She looked at the family portrait of Jonathan, Genevieve, and herself. The three of them looked like a perfect family, but it was just an empty smile. Her own father was pushing her into a marriage with a man known for his violence.

Her mother, who she always counted on, couldn't object. She would rather send her daughter to marry a psycho to save face.

Her parents didn't fight for her at all, unlike you, who objected to Jonathan and Genevieve’s wedding. You caused chaos that made Jonathan send you away so you wouldn't ruin his second wedding. But then Cassandra appeared and humiliated the couple.

She had always been jealous of you for not giving up. Everyone, including herself, laughed when you vowed to take down the company.

But who had the last laugh now? It was you. You won. You got what was supposed to be yours.

Looking back, her life was much simpler and happier when they still lived in an apartment.

She removed her heels, climbed on the antique table, raised her hand, and tore down the family portrait. With her heels, she ripped the picture apart.

The perfect family was gone. No more.

After being satisfied with her work, she felt the chains were broken.

Victoria put on her shoes and left the house. After that day, nobody knew where she went. Even Genevieve couldn't contact her.

Without the bride, the wedding wouldn't happen. That meant the only lifeline to save Celestial Enterprises was gone.

It was official. The white flag was raised, and the company was finally sold. The buyer was Patrick.

All of this could have happened because Victoria left. Sometimes, you wondered where she could have gone. Each time you looked out the window or at the sky, you whispered, “Good luck...sister.”

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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starzoutlet · 11 days ago

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Beyond the Game

3. Glass Hearts and Heavy rain

Series masterlist

You and your friends stood in the doorway of Childe’s apartment. The sounds of cars zooming past outside mixed with the muffled bass of music vibrating through the walls. You stared off into the distance, tuning out the chatter around you. Aether had only recently informed you that this supposed “get-together” was actually a full-blown party. While Venti practically buzzed with excitement, you couldn’t help but feel indifferent about it all.

The last party you attended left you humiliated, and even now, the memory lingered like a bitter aftertaste.

Flashback

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the delicate fabric of your prom dress. It was short, white, and stopped just above your knees—simple but elegant. It had taken months of saving up for it, and Lumine had spent an hour teaching you how to curl your lashes and apply mascara without poking your eye out. For once, you felt pretty.

You checked your phone again. Scaramouche had posted about heading to another country to further his career. You couldn’t help but fantasize about a life like that—exciting, adventurous, free. With a sigh, you grabbed your clutch and opened the door as Lumine texted you to let you know she was waiting outside.

You tried to slip past your father unnoticed, but of course, you weren’t so lucky.

“Where do you think you’re going, Y/N?” His voice was sharp, like the crackle of thunder before a storm. You flinched, feeling your stomach drop.

Your voice wavered as you answered, “I’m going to prom, Dad. I told you and Mom last week—remember?”

He stood from his chair, towering over you, his eyes dark with disapproval. “You’re just like your mother,” he sneered, the words dripping with venom. “Dressing like a whore, always trying to get attention.”

You froze, every part of you recoiling as he leaned in closer.

“The next time you walk out of this house looking like that, don’t bother coming back. I won’t hesitate to throw you out—permanently. Now leave. Get out of my sight.”

You didn’t wait for him to say anything else. Your trembling hands fumbled with the doorknob, and you stepped outside, slamming the door behind you.

Lumine immediately noticed your shaken state but decided not to pry, giving you the space you clearly needed.

The two of you walked to the gymnasium, the thumping music already audible from blocks away. Students poured in and out of the building, laughter echoing across the parking lot. You tried to focus on Lumine’s excitement as she gushed over everyone’s outfits, but your thoughts were already unraveling.

The night started fine. Lumine danced and mingled with classmates, leaving you to linger by the snack table, sipping punch and trying not to feel out of place.

But then it happened.

You barely registered the shove until your back slammed against the wall. Becky and her group of followers cackled, their laughter piercing through the music.

“What’s wrong? Too scared to fight back?” Becky mocked, her voice dripping with cruelty. Before you could react, something cold and sticky splashed over you, staining your dress red. Fruit punch.

The crowd gathered, their whispers and giggles growing louder as Becky shoved you again, causing you to slip and hit the floor.

The music stopped. The lights turned on. And there you were—soaked, humiliated, and surrounded by faces you once called classmates.

Lumine came to your rescue, shoving Becky back so hard that she nearly fell. Without a word, she pulled you up, threw your arm over her shoulder, and led you out of the gym.

The night ended with you crying in her car, wondering why you ever thought you’d belong.

End of Flashback

You snapped out of your daze as Kazuha opened the door, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Hey, guys! Childe completely forgot to tell you it’s a party. Hope you don’t mind!” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

Venti immediately waved him off. “Are you kidding? This is even better!”

Kazuha stepped aside to let everyone in. The music blasted in your ears, and you instantly felt the urge to retreat. People were everywhere—dancing, drinking, shouting over the music.

Fischl pulled Lumine into a group, leaving you standing awkwardly by the kitchen. You didn’t blame her. She deserved to have fun.

Venti grabbed your wrist before you could turn back. “Come on! Let’s party!”

You barely dodged a couple making out against the counter as Venti dragged you toward the drinks. He disappeared before you could even pick one, leaving you to lean against the counter and scroll through Twitter.

A tap on your shoulder startled you. You turned to find Scaramouche standing there, two red cups in his hands.

“Here,” he said, holding one out to you. “The drinks were on the other side.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thanks.” You took the cup, your fingers brushing his for just a second.

He shrugged, leaning against the island counter across from you. “I’m surprised none of your friends are sticking with you.”

You blushed, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’m not really a big fan of parties.”

“Me either,” he said, taking a sip. “I’m just here for the drinks.”

Childe suddenly appeared, grinning like a cat who caught a mouse. “Aww, is Scara talking to his future girlfriend?”

“Will you shut up?” Scaramouche snapped, shoving Childe’s hand away.

But he didn’t deny it. Your heart soared at the thought—maybe you had a chance after all.

Later That Night

By 2 AM, you were tipsy, wandering the second floor in search of a bathroom. The noise downstairs was suffocating, so you leaned against the wall to steady yourself and breathe.

Voices drifted from one of the rooms.

You knew you shouldn’t listen, but you couldn’t help yourself. Peeking through the cracked door, you saw Scaramouche with Childe, Kazuha, Heizou, and Aether, passing around a blunt.

Childe spoke first. “So, how was talking to Y/N?”

Scaramouche groaned. “You already know how I feel. I despise her. I’m only being nice because we’ll eventually have to work together.”

Laughter erupted, but you couldn’t move.

“She’s annoying. Too needy. It’s exhausting even pretending to be interested.”

You felt your chest tighten as he continued to tear you apart.

“Come on,” Aether said. “She seems nice if you give her a chance.”

“I don’t care.” Scaramouche crossed his arms. “She’s just… pathetic.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you forced yourself to walk away.

You left the apartment without saying goodbye, stepping into the rain as it poured down on you. Thirty minutes later, you reached your building, drenched and trembling.

Ignoring your ringing phone, you peeled off your wet clothes and climbed into bed, tears spilling onto your pillow.

The ache in your chest didn’t stop until sleep finally pulled you under.

What did yall think for the end on act ONE. Yes this was just the prologue WILL BE MORE TO COME. How hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :3 don’t forget to send in asks about head cannons art or anything you wanna tell me ! Don’t forget to follow 😝

Series masterlist

Lumine and Yn have been friends since elementary!

Lumine was pretty popular before esports because she made videos before that.

Yn got bullied through out school but it got bad at high school.

Taglist 📩

#btg stuff #genshin impact #starz space ~ writes #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche smau #scara smau #scara x you #genshin scara #scara x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x yn

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thewritetofreespeech · 1 month ago

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Obey Me - Christmas

❆🎄⋆.ೃ࿔🎁*:・:*🦌 | ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ❆ ₊🎄⋆.ೃ࿔🎁*:・:*🦌 | ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ❆ ₊⋆

“Ahh~! The tree looks so pretty!” Asmo gushed as you all curled up around the 10 foot* fir in the common room. The House of Lamentation nearly dripping in good cheer ‘round it’s once dark dreary halls. “We did such a good job [Y/N]!”

“I just followed the schematic you laid out for me Asmo.” You remark cheekily, sipping your coco. The demon of love & beauty had a very specific vision on how he wanted the tree to look. Artic bliss in whites and golds, he called it. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had pulled out a level and protractor while you were decorating it.

“It’s nice and all, but it has no personality. You should have let me put my Ruri-chan ornaments on!” Levi bemoaned from the floor. In his brand new Ruri-chan Christmas pjs he’d also gotten with the ornaments. “I had them next dayed from Akuzon JP to make it in time to put them on, and you wouldn’t let me. How is that fair?!”

“Your silly cartoon characters would have ruined the beautiful aesthetic of my tree Levi.”

“Our tree.” You correct Asmo.

“That’s what I said.”

“Let’s not argue.” Lucifer stated, sitting in his armchair by the fire, and somehow looking very dignified with tiny marshmallows floating around in his cup. “Asmo and [Y/N] worked hard. And it does look very beautiful.”

“Lucifer~!”

“Next year we get to vote on what kind of tree we get in here.”

“Hmmm, perhaps the easiest solution would be to do a few smaller trees next year.” Satan remarked, a thoughtful fist pressed to his chin, at Mammon’s suggestion. “I doubt we would ever agree on one single concept to do. So maybe next year everyone gets their own smaller tree.”

“I don’t think-“YES!” Mammon, Levi, and Asmo all cheer unanimously. Drowning out Lucifer’s doubts.

“Oooh~! Then I could do the tree I actually wanted! A vintage 1960 tinsel tree with pink blown glass ornaments!”

“I can do a whole Ruri-chan tree! No wait, maybe a TSL tree! No no wait! An omake tribute tree to the forgotten heroes of gaming! Uggggh! I can’t decide!!!”

“We can do that creepy Christmas tree we talked about [Y/N]! With the skulls and bats. None of this frilly kids stuff! I bet Akuzon has black Christmas tree on sale now, since Christmas is almost over!”

“Stop!” Asmo, Levi, and Mammon with his phone in hand all come to an immediate halt at Lucifer’s roar. “Why don’t we try to focus on this Christmas before we set about planning for the next one?” He reasoned.

To which his younger brothers all muttered, “okay……”

“Why don’t we open presents?” You suggest, trying to get the light, cheery mood back. To which everyone agreed.

After a bit of squabbling, you convenience the brothers to let you give them their gifts first. They were all eager to give you your present, and open their own, but agreed on ‘ladies first’ for the occasion.

“Mammon, this one is for you.”

“Of course! Your first man always goes first.” The white-haired demon crowed, before taking the box offered and opening it. “MONEY!!”

“Don’t get too excited,” you caution Mammon with a giggle. “They’re not real gold coins, but chocolate coins. They’re more of a Hanukah tradition in the human word, but I thought they still fit the theme.” You unwrapped the one you’d taken out of the box during your explanation to unwrap it and show him the chocolate inside. “I couldn’t remember if you liked dark or milk chocolate, so I got you a mix from some fancy confectioner. I know it’s not real money, but I hope you like them.” You offer Mammon a bright smile, offering him the unwrapped chocolate, to which he blushed violently and muttered his thank-yous.

“Can I have one?” Beel’s voice rang out, breaking your moment, and Mammon clutched his present back out of arm’s reach from the hand trying to sneak into his present.

“Get your own Beel!”

“I suppose now is a good a time as any.” You remark with another giggle as you hand Beel his gift. Already having so much fun. “It’s a vintage candy box!” You explain after he ripped off the paper. “It’s filled with candy from decades long since past in the human world. Some of these they don’t make anymore. I couldn’t decide which one to get, so I just went with my birth decade for selection sake. Oooh! Look! I haven’t had these since I was a kid!”

Beel looked at all the candy, eyes shining like the lights on the tree, and smiled at you. “Maybe we can share this one together later. I’m excited to see why it’s your favorite.”

“Me next! Me next!” Asmo cheered behind you. Practically jumping up and down in his seat for his present.

“Ok. Ok. But you’ll have to calm down to get it. It’s very fragile.” You hand him his gift and wait for him to open it.

“Oooo~! So pretty~!”

“I thought you’d like them. They’re handblown champagne flutes.” You told him. “Some people call them ‘carnival glass’. Given that they’re hand blown they get this really neat color and shape to them, that normal, ‘proper’ glasses don’t get. So it makes them really unique.” You explained with a smile. “It took me a while and a few thrift stores to find them, but I knew Marie Antionette** was your idol so I had to get them.”

“Thank you! You went to all this trouble for little old me?? That makes me happy more than anything! I’ll treasure them forever. And we can drink out of them on New Year’s for cute couples’ pics!”

“What are the rest of us going to drink out of?” Belphie asked from the floor.

“Old boots for all I care. Stop stepping on our moment!”

“Belphie,” you remark, breaking up the tension yet again by hanging him his gift, “this one is for you.”

“It smells.” He commented. Holding the gift in his hand and stiffing it with more intent now that he’s decided it’s a scratch-and-sniff present.

“Just open it Belphegor.”

True to his sin, Belphie opened the package slowly and found several small bundles inside. “Are these drugs?”

“NO! Gosh Belphegor! They’re herb satchels to help you sleep!”

“I don’t need any help sleeping. I sleep all the time.”

You growl a little under your breath, but try to remain calm because it’s Christmas as you explain. “They’re supposed to help you sleep better. I read in one of the herbology books they gave us at school that lavender, rosemary, rose, and chamomile help people to sleep and have good dreams.” Which was the point you were getting at. “You stick it in your pillow and it should help you get a better night sleep. Also they smell really nice.”

The youngest demon seemed to understand the point you were trying to make. That you had given him a gift not just for his sleep, but mental health; having confided in you that his dreams were not always peaceful. He clutched one of the small purses to his chest and pulled his knees up to his chest as well with a small smile. “Thank you [Y/N]…..”

You offer him a soft smile, still a little annoyed at his irksome behavior before, but knowing it’s not all his fault. You move on to the next gift.

“Satan, this is for you.”

“For me?” The blonde replied, seeming genuinely surprised. He set down his drink and took the gift in hand. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” Unwrapping it, he found a beautiful leather-bound book behind the colorful paper.

“It’s a journal.” You tell Satan as he flipped through the blank acid free pages with a confused look. “You have so many books written by other people, I thought it would be nice for you to write something of your own. Or just a place to keep your thoughts. Maybe you’ll have a best seller one day like Simeon!” He seemed fascinated by the idea. Curious, even, on what he could put on the blank pages to make them his own.

“Levi, this is yours.”

“M-M-Me?! I-I can’t believe you got me something for your normie holiday.” The blunette stammered. He pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and pulled the small, handheld gift out. “What is it?”

“It’s Ruri-chan.” You reply. A little miffed that he couldn’t tell what it was. You didn’t think your final product was that bad. “I couldn’t find anything you didn’t already have; within reason of the price limit we set. So…I found a tutorial online for how to make crochet anime figures and they had one for Ruri-chan.” It took you forever to find one, but God bless the internet.

Levi looked up from the small doll in his hand. His eye sparkling like a character in one of his animes. “You made this for me?!?!” You give him a nod and the demon turned about as hot pink as Ruri’s cap, clutching the doll to his chest. “I’ll treasure her forever! My forever 2-D girl made just for me by my forever 3-D girl! It’s a dream come true!”

“It’s not that serious Levi….” You tell him with a chuckle. However, he’s already gone. Babbling to himself about where he’s going to put crochet-Ruri-chan in his room. You just give a soft sigh. “Lucifer, this one is yours.”

“Saving the best for last I see.” The eldest brother remarked with a cheeky grin before taking his gift. He opened it calmly and delicately. Barely ripping the paper at all compared to his brother’s. It finally came free though, and Lucifer held the picture frame up in his hand with a surprised sort of look. “This is….”

“It’s the picture we all took in front of RAD last year.” You know he knew what it was, but still beam up at him from the floor as he held the picture.

It was taken on the last day of the exchange program. Lord Diavolo had insisted that you all take one before you all left, to commemorate the occasion and completion of the program. A happy, but sad occasion for most of the people in the picture. It was also the day that you told the brothers that you weren’t leaving. That you had decided to stay, and wanted to be with them. That you couldn’t go because your life and your heart was here now. That got a much better picture the second time around.

It might be the only photo in existence where all of the brothers were happy and smiling. Where they all seemed content, and excited for life for a change. It’s also the only photo, that you can think of, where all of you are together. “I thought you could put it on your desk in your office. The frame isn’t very fancy, but I thought it looked nice.”

Lucifer just continued to stare at the picture. Then he calmly, carefully, sat the frame down on the side table to his left, stood up, and took the two steps between you. You only had time to blink once before Lucifer had you up on your feet and wrapped in a tight hug.

“Ah~! No fair! I wanna hug [Y/N] too for my gift!” Asmo bemoaned. Already bounding over to wrap his arms around you from behind.

“Oy! Don’t crowd around [Y/N]! I should get my hug first because I got my gift first and I’m still her first guy!” Mammon protested. Coming over as well to shove Asmo and Lucifer’s arms out of the way to wrap around you from the side.

“Group hug!” Levi cheered, joining in.

It was all very nice. Then there was another strong squeeze, seemingly around all of you, and the group made a collective weird noise as they came off their feet. “B-Beel! Oy, Oy! Put us down!” But it was too late. And even though Beel’s strength was enormous, his balance was not. You all quickly end up on the floor in a heap; moaning quietly over the fall on hardwood.

“This is why I don’t participate in group activities.” Belphie muttered.

“Sorry everyone. I guess I don’t know my own strength…..” Beel apologized. Rubbing his head both in embarrassment and to sooth the small bump forming on the back of it.

“That’s ok Beel.” Belphie assured. Being remarkably understanding for someone who wasn’t just dropped. “You meant well. You just get over excited with those big muscles sometimes.”

“Try to drop us somewhere softer next time.” Mammon grumbled. His back cracking as he tried to straighten up from where you and Asmo landed on him. You’d feel really bad for him if your own butt wasn’t throbbing at the moment.

“Why don’t we all take this opportunity to watch a Christmas movie?” Satan announced, in an attempt to bring back the holiday cheer to the party.

“Ooo~! Let’s watch White Christmas!”

“Boring!” Mammon bemoaned. “We should watch Die Hard.”

“Mammon! Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie!” Asmo argued with a frown.

“It takes place during Christmas. Therefore, it’s a Christmas movie.” The silver haired, silver tongue demon reasoned with a smug look.

“Compromise: we should watch Home Alone.” Satan reasoned. Again, trying to be the voice of reason.

“No! We should watch something animated. Like Tokyo Godfathers!”

“I like Rudolph.” Beel commented quietly. Building off Levi’s animation suggestion, but in a different direction.

“We’re never going to make a decision like this…..”

“Agreed,” Lucifer stated to Belphie’s complaint. “[Y/N], you decide. What do you want to watch?”

You think about it for a moment, and then make a decision out of the choices provided for what to watch. The ‘losers’ all groan at their defeat; the one winner crowing happily. You all pop the movie in a settle in as the opening credits start; snuggled up together with blankets and brothers. The warm lights from the tree tinkle behind you, and you know it’s a cliché, but this is the best Christmas ever.

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 1 year ago

Text

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 6

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 6.2k words

Warnings: Violence, Cursing

A/N: GUYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. But it is finally here. After this we only have one more chapter, so y'all I'm just so emotional. Thank you all for your patience and all the love you have shared. I'm so grateful. Special shoutout to @hoodeddreams13 for letting me chat them up to discuss this chapter because I was STRESSED. Anyway, sending all my love to you guys. Enjoy! - Mo

Alfie had convinced himself that he was doomed to hell for all of his evil deeds in life. The lying. The bloodshed. The rage. But perhaps he had done something good in this life. Maybe God finally took pity on Alfie Solomons. Perhaps the Angel Gabriel had put in a good word for him. He must have, because there was no other reason that he got to have the blessing of you nestled in his lap, face buried in his neck, small hand tangled in his unruly beard. He had dreamed of this forever, and now it was finally true. He never thought that he would get to have this. Warmth. Love. Safety. "Alfie? Darling where is your mind at?"

He felt your lips at his neck, and sighed, "Nowhere sweet. Just enjoying your company."

"Hmm… Alfie, I wish every moment could be just like this. I don't want to be anywhere else but here in your arms."

He shifted beneath you, to bring your face to his. Nose to nose, breathing in one breath. "My sweet girl, whatever you wish, you shall have yeah? You can stay here, right next to me. And we'll never leave this spot."

"We'll grow old here in your chair. I on your lap. Till the ages go by. And the vines and trees grow around us. And all of Camden will fall away and here we will be together."

"Exactly right my pet. Exactly right."

As if the Somme had suddenly emerged, Satan's army came hurtling through Alfie's door, with Sabini at the helm. The gun fire lit up the room, and all Alfie could hear was your screams of agony. In his arms you were no longer there. The silken white dressing gown he had just been caressing was stained crimson, and the color in your face had turned to ash. Alfie, who has never been lost for words, who has always had something on the tip of his tongue, had nothing come from his mouth but horrified screams. He kept shaking your shoulders, hoping to God that you would wake up, but your limp limbs gave nothing to life. He screamed and screamed your name, until his lungs gave way.

In a sudden jerk, Alfie sat up in his freezing room, his bare chest covered in sweat. The room was bathed in a light blue from the bright moon outside his window. He was alone, save Cyril on the floor by his bed. The house was quiet, and he was alone. You weren't there. Your lifeless body wasn't there. It wasn't real. None of it was real. The fear that took over his body from the dream shouldn't be so potent anymore. He'd had the same dream every night for the past week. And every night he woke up with his heart coming out of his throat and tears streaming down his face. And every night he would stop by the house you were put up in, patrolling around it with the man stationed there, ensuring that every door was locked.

The plan Tommy and Alfie had concocted had become a bloody mess across the city. Tommy’s men had marked every business and alcove the Sabini’s even had minimal connection to. One by one, they were blown up, burnt to the very foundation. Alfie’s boys had been performing psychological warfare as well. The major Sabini players had been followed by phantoms, never being truly alone, until they were slaughtered in their beds, door frames set ablaze. Everyone in Camden was talking about the horrific curse that befell the Sabinis. How it would soon overtake all of them. The city was simmering, about to burst through and explode. Though the Shelby and Solomons boys were making headway, Alfie couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop.

This war was killing him. The business was killing him. He felt it. And you were seeing it. He was drinking more. Eating less. Even when you tried to touch his cheek, to remind him of the moment you two shared and the fact that you were still here and alive, he huffed and moved away from your caress. Your touch brought back the visions of his nightmares and the smoldering tailor shop. It was killing him. It was killing you.

Alfie had created a moat around you, keeping you at a distance and protecting you from him. You had been relegated to simply his secretary. No more. No less. No longer his confidant. No longer his support. No longer the sweetness or the warmth to his day. And while you knew that he was doing this out of fear and out of wanting to protect you, you couldn't help the feelings of rejection from rising in your stomach. You couldn't shake off the feeling that he saw you as a child. As a small ceramic doll that needed to be shielded and held in a box. He didn't look at the sketches you had drawn up for the club. He wasn't even letting you in on the meetings anymore. It was no longer just hurting you. It was now irritating.

On a cold and wet morning, you had enough. This could not stand. You were more than just a desk girl! You were not a girl who needed to be shielded damnit! During an hour you knew there was not going to be any meetings or meddlings, you knew you had your time. You pulled your sweater tighter around you, and pushed in to Alfie's office. "Alfie, we need to talk."

Alfie didn't even look up from his desk and the accounts he was checking, "Not now Ms. Abraham, I am currently checking your math. Tomorrow yeah?"

You pulled the chair out to sit, "No Alfie we need to speak right now."

His broad shoulders slacked down like weathered masts of a ship, and the breath released from his lungs was low and slow. His eyes pressed together as he scrubbed his face. Looking out the window of his office, rubbing his unkempt beard, "What could possibly need discussing now? You already finished all the work I gave you. And there are no more meetings. You can go home."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the room freezing but your neck hot, "That's exactly it Alfie. You are treating me like a simple secretary."

"You are a secretary love."

"Let me rephrase for you. You are treating me like an idiot. An idiot secretary. You're treating me like a child."

Alfie just stared at you, eyes smoldering like kindling in the stove. He stayed silent, lips tight, you couldn't even tell if he was breathing. If you didn't know him you would think that he was going to fire you. But this was just Alfie. He was thinking. Plotting his next move in this eternal game of chess. Maybe if you were a more ruthless and emotionless player you would have kept you mouth shut. But who cares about winning a chess game when your heart is being chipped at slowly and painfully.

"Alfie, You shut me out. If... if what happened in the jewelery shop was a mistake -"

"It wasn't a mistake."

You paused, staring into his eyes, but he merely nodded at you to continue. "Alright. Well... if it wasn't a mistake. Why are you shutting me out? Why aren't you... letting me be your secretary like I have been all this time. Who does this benefit Alfie? Because you look even worse every day and... well Alfie I feel alone. I feel alone Alfie. I'm scared. I don't know what is going on. I feel lost. And you aren't sharing with me what I need to know. Do you think i can't do this job anymore?"

Alfie stood up, going to the window, looking out at the rain tapping the window and stones below. Though you were screaming inside for a response, you knew this movement. He was thinking, calculating. Trying to figure out the right thing to say to you in this moment. He turned to you, then walked to the door of his office, "Tea?"

It was so odd watching him make his and your tea. Frankly, you didn't even know that he had remembered how you took your tea. It was perfect. Though it was the perfect cup, and the atmosphere should have made a comfortable and relaxing time, your brow was still furrowed, confused as to what Alfie was playing at. He was drinking his own tea, staring at you in between the breaks of his scribbling in the notebook.

After what seems like hours, he finally paused, "Alright treacle. Let's talk business."

"Business?"

"Yes my dove, because what we have here yeah, is quite a bit of a conundrum so to speak."

He took a long drag of his tea before setting it back down and beginning again, "Now...treacle. Like I said yeah? We have a great conundrum. Because you... my viper... have performed a feat like none other. You yeah, have become two people at the same time."

"What are you talking about?"

“Just listen alright? Now, not only are you a damn good secretary… a very damn good secretary; but you are also someone I have grown rather… fond of.”

"Just fond?"

"Actually a third thing too, a pain in my ass. Damn woman I am trying to talk to you! Shit! Listen! I... may... feel quite fond of you. And in this business.. it is very dangerous to have people who you are fond of. Much more dangerous to have people know about your fondness for others. Now... do you understand what I'm saying treacle?"

Eyes wide, playing with the loose string on your sweater you nod and Alfie grunts in assent. "So you see my dove, I am very very fond of you. In fact it makes me absolutely sick. But... I don't want my fondness for you, to affect your safety. You understand? So that is why I have been... more reclusive."

Alfie watched you nod, your eyes wandering to the corner of the office where some spiders had begun building the foundation of their new home. He watched the quirk of your lips, and waited. You weren't about to agree. "Well... Alfie... what if you weren't the only one who was deeply fond of someone? Hmm? What then?"

"Well that would be a problem right? Because that would be a mutual deep fondness and it would be highly innappropriate."

"Why?"

"Because you are a good girl and I am a bad man."

"I don't care."

"Well you should."

"I don't."

"Well fuck treacle it is entirely out of the fucking question. It doesn't matter who is fond of who it does not matter. What matters right? What really matters, is that I keep you safe, and you get to walk out of this office and find someone your age and who is not damned to the fucking gates of hell!"

"I don't care! I don't fucking care! Because even if you are damned to hell, I have been living in one! You think you keeping me in a box will keep me safe and make me happy? I'm alone! I'm scared! And the one person in this whole fucking world who makes me feel safe is keeping me at a distance!"

Tap

The large drops of soft rain trickle down the steamed up window panes like tears from God. And soft blue light of the covered sun illuminates the storm brewing behind Alfie's eyes and the gale force winds sighing from his lungs. These past few weeks you have felt like one of those palm trees you saw in a painting in your childhood books. Swaying in the wind of Alfie's hurricane. You were in the eye of it. You were the eye. The small bit of calm in the center of the madness. But one move to the left or right would put you in the throws of it, threatening destruction and death. Yet it was suffocating in the center. No where to move. All the oxygen being sucked out.

"Alfie... don't keep me away. I can't stand it."

Alfie never took his eyes off you. In his stomach he felt as if rocks had taken up residence. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to do. He loved you. He loved you and he couldn't say anything about it. He couldn't for a million and one reasons and yet it was cutting him up inside to hold in this declaration. He loved you more than anything in this world, and he would absolutely evaporate if anything happened to you. And that is why he couldn't love you. That is why he couldn't say anything. But God did he want to take your tears. To hold you in his chest, to kiss you and tell you that everything was going to be ok. That he would kill every person who even looked at your house or you. That he could do it. That he could change the tides if it meant you were happy. If he could have you... you would never want for anything again.

But that's not what is best for you is it?

With a grunt Alfie stands up, motioning for the door as the clock struck 2, "Come on darling... let's get you home. "

Alfie's heart cracked into two pieces when he saw that first rivulet fall down your cheek. Silent tears that never ended all the way home. He thanked God that you let him walk you up to the door, but was not shocked when you walked in without another word. As Alfie turned back around to head back to the car, your father stopped him, "Mr. Solomons... won't you come in for something warm?"

Alfie had this house furnished and ready for the family in the wake of the fire. But your family brought another level of color and warmth that could never be bought, and it brought back memories of his mother so vividly in his mind. It was warm and rich, and the tea provided by your father was strong and invigorating, much like him. Alfie hadn't noticed how much Esther favored your father. The crease in the brow was carbon copy, and Alfie had to supress a smile on his lips when he made the realization. After the formalities often afforded to business associates, your father spoke, "Mr. Solomons... I will be candid... I know that my daughter works as your secretary. And I know that Eli works in your shops."

Alfie slowly blinked. Nothing could be said, and he had prepped already for this exact scenario millions of times.

Leaning back, letting his hands rest on his stomach, your father continued with a sigh, "And...man to man... I know that my daughter not only loves her job... but also Mr. Solomons... loves you. And I suspect, that you have loved her and do now. Yes?"

This was not something Alfie had prepared for.

"Please do not deny Mr. Solomons. Though you are a gangster you are a man and I have seen many a man fall over their feet for my eldest but you," pointing his finger at Alfie, "you have done more than trip over feet. You love her. Do you deny it?"

"No Mr. Abraham. I don't."

"You want to ask me for her hand in marriage?"

"Fuck me."

"Please Mr. Solomons, Mrs. Abraham will have a fit if she hears that talk. What do you want with my daughter? She will not be made a fool."

Alfie waved his hands in the air, trying to clear out the fog in his mind, "No Mr. Abraham I- yes. Yes Mr. Abraham, I love your daughter very much. More than I should. More than I deserve. If I were a better man I would... I would have married her weeks ago. Proper marriage. Proper ceremony. Or whatever she wanted it doesn't matter to me. She... she's the best moment of my day and the worst is when she leaves. She gives me a headache every time she argues with me but makes me feel better than I have since I was boy right? But I can't love her proper. I can't give her the life she deserves Mr. Abraham because of the nonsense that I bring. Mr. Abraham I'm man enough to say that I don't deserve her. But I'll protect her and your family until a better man comes along."

Your father hummed, looking into Alfie's eyes, as if reading all the other words that Alfie couldn't say. "You know... Mr. Kahn... he told me when I was a young man... that it is often the people who are most deserving of love who think that they don't deserve it. It is the most bravest people who think they are not brave. And the best people who think they could be better. And I wonder... Mr. Solomons... if you have forgotten that love is not a token something to be earned, but rather a gift which is freely given. It's there whether we think we deserve it or not."

Your father put a finger up to Alfie, and tip toed to the cabinet to pull out a clandestine box of cigarettes and match. Handing one to Alfie he says, "Mrs. Abraham has been trying to get me to quit for 30 years and I can't shake it. Indulge with me won't you?"

Alfie greedily sucked in the smoke, as if sharing a secret with a classmate. After a few moments puffing in silence, your father spoke up again, "My daughter is very stubborn as I'm sure you know. My wife and I know she loves you but she cannot say it to herself. She's never been good with admitting a vulnerability like that. But she will. But she won't if you keep pushing her away Mr. Solomons. And I'm sure the last thing you want is for her to be far from you yes?"

Alfie nodded in assent, reeling from this conversation. Your father's large cheeks raised in a smile, nearly concealing his eyes, "Good then. Now Mr. Solomons. regarding your shirts, Eli will be by your house at 8pm with a pack. And I’ve taken the liberty of adding a more secure button and stitch pattern.”

As he turned away he added, “I think you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for Mr. Solomons. Don’t let fear get in the way of life. We’ll all be ok.”

Alfie nodded once again, placing his fingertips on the ornate mezuzah on the doorframe. Feeling a strange peace wash over him as he touched his fingers to his lips. On the drive back to the office and the drive back home, he thinks about what your father said, the way he was welcomed into the home and table. Maybe this could work. Maybe… maybe this war could end. And he could keep you safe. And he could make you happy. Maybe… maybe it will work.

The next day when you came to work, Alfie was already in, talking to Ollie and Ishmael, maps and ledgers all over the place. The fire in the stove by your desk had already been lit and brought to vibrant life. A small bouquet of lavender and baby's breath was at bright attention in a chipped cup on the desk, right next to a blueberry scone and a little note reading 'Can't do this without you' in large and jagged neat script. "Ah treacle! Shalom. Ollie, Ishmael that will be all, get to it yeah? I want proof of death by this evening. Treacle come in please?"

You walked in tentatively, nodding and saying good morning to Ollie and Ishmael as they left. As you take you seat, Alfie is pouring out your tea and putting out the cigar he had been nursing all morning. "Here you go love, drink that down. Listen... I've been doing some thinking... and as much as it stabs me in my cold rotten heart... I do believe you are right, and I'm in the wrong."

Your tea must have been poisoned, because you spluttered at Alfie's admittance, "Alfie? Are you not well? Are you dying?"

Alfie rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small chuckle that spilled out, "No I'm not dying you vile woman! I'm apologizing! Wipe your mouth darling you'll drip on your nice dress. Like that by the way, is that new? Anyway treacle. I have been keeping you away from things. I am fond of you I worry about keeping you safe and away from the mess. I know you ain't a child, but I can't help but feel rather responsible for you. Especially now that your family knows that you're working for me."

"He told you?"

"Yeah, yeah he did treacle. Real shit espionage on your part dear, you will not be given any jobs that require being discreet love I'm sorry, but frankly you cannot lie worth a damn."

Your nostrils flared at the dig at you, but you couldn't help the smile at the corner of your lip due its' truth. Alfie continued on, "This war love, it ain't nothing new to me. And it is necessary for both me and the Shelbys. The Sabinis are right rats and I'm quite sick of their activities. If I am too... rough in my handling of you I am sorry, I do want you in this, and I can't do it without you. But I need you safe. Understand?"

Your eyes bore into his, and he was teetering on the thin line of relief and vomiting due to his new found vulnerability. "So you won't send me home early anymore? We'll go back to business as usual?"

"Yeah... If you'll have me."

You bit your lip, trying to hide your happiness and relief, "I think that is amendable to me."

You shook hands, and shivered slightly at the renewed contact that you had secretly craved for weeks. With a quick release of breath and a final firm squeeze of your hand, Alfie released reluctantly, "Beautiful. Get your little notebook and get comfortable love. We have a lot of business to attend to."

Did you ever. You had mistakenly thought that though Alfie had been sending you home, he was handling everything swimmingly. However, Alfie was actually about to collapse under the amount of plates he was spinning. You reorganized his calendar. Argued at length about the numbers and the accounts until they were perfectly balanced. You reviewed the designs for the gaming club, now named Crown and Horse, and chastised Alfie for failing to choose the wallpaper despite opening night coming in three weeks. More had been accomplished in a single day than had been done in the past week, and you both were abuzz. Alfie could not deny the fact that he had felt better than he had in weeks having you back in his atmosphere. He felt lighter. He laughed easier even if it was at his own expense. Looking at the way your eyes danced along the pages and listening to the ringing of your voice as you hollered and laughed brought him more bliss than any rum or draught that could be cooked up.

As the weeks went by, more and more Sabini strongholds and hiding spots were blown to pieces. More and more Sabini men and soldiers were driven mad by the dark spectors haunting their steps, until they were quietly taken in the night. You were aware of it all, through the whispers in the street and the information Alfie shared with you. The tailor shop was nearly finished, but business was booming more than it had in years. Whether it was due to people feeling sorry for the fire or due to peoples new found respect in the family's tie to Solomons, you couldn't tell. But your father looked more settled than he had in ages, and that was enough for you.

Opening night of the gaming club was to be a grand affair. The Shelby boys had opted to hire a band to play, and gaming tables were to be pushed to the sides to keep room open for dancing. Despite protestation from you, snow would be available along with good drink, anything to keep the crowd raucous and loose lipped. “The only difference between high brow and low brow people treacle, is how willing they are to get their good clothes dirtied up.”

Alfie had asked to escort you to opening night, you tried to decline, as you had nothing quite so suitable for an event. But Alfie scoffed, suddenly producing a wine red evening dress, with nearly black beads dotting the dress, catching the light to look like the night sky. Of course, you scolded him harshly, it was not in the budget you had set for the opening. Alfie smirked, touching the gold locket,that he refused to take back, on your neck, “There’s always room in the budget. I’ll pick you up in the car. 7. Make sure that locket stays on yeah?”

The last ‘date’ you had been on was a abject disaster. You were 17, and your date reeked of cigarette smoke and paint thinner. He took you to the pictures, where he proceeded to kiss a girl who sat next to him on the other side. To add insult to injury, Eli sat behind you to see the entire thing, and swiftly began to punch the living daylights out of your date. Eli did win, but did sport a black eye for a good while, and teased you about him for years to come.

Not that this was a date! This was not a date! This was merely a business event. A business event with your very handsome boss in a dress that he bought that just happened to be the perfect fit.

Or so you argued with Eli as he teased you from your doorway watching you pin your hair up. “Uh-huh of course. So do you think that Alfie will propose to you tonight? Or is the little locket the sign you’re using for your betrothal?”

“Get out! God don’t you have anything better to do?!”

“Mmm no Im off today. Watching you put more effort into your appearance then you ever have in your life is amusing to me.”

You spun around, “I look terrible don’t I? I look ridiculous! Oh damnit that’s it when Alfie comes you will have to tell him I caught a pox or something!”

Eli threw his head back hollering in laughing, throwing himself on your bed, “Oh my gosh!! Dear heart you don’t look ridiculous!!! You look nice!! Like a regular star! I’m only teasing you. Please please you must go. I don’t think a pox lie would keep Alfie from pushing his way into the house to get to you anyway.”

Watching him from the mirror you said, “You don’t think so?”

“Alfie? No nothing. And I don’t think it’d keep you from seeing him either. Am I wrong?”

Your head fell on the desk, “Eli… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if… I’m allowed to feel… the way I do.”

“Well you have to say it in order to know if it’s right.”

You turned to face him, “Eli,.. I feel… home. I feel like I’m right where I need to be when I’m with him. And I want to be next to him all the time. I don’t like not being near him. It feels like… I’m missing my favorite book. I’m still me if I’m not with him. But I’m always searching for him.”

With a soft smile Eli responds, “and why wouldn’t you be allowed to feel like that?”

“Because… well… I don’t want him to feel responsible for me. He has enough to deal with.”

Eli looked around the room, waving his hands, “Well… he did all this… and had only asked that you don’t quit. So… not that I don’t think you’re smart… but I don’t think you’ve really thought it through… it seems… like you’re looking for a reason to not love him so that you don’t feel vulnerable… am I wrong?”

Chewing on the nail of your thumb, a persistent habit you've tried to kill for years, you mumble out, "I hate it when you do that."

Eli merely smirks, mirth glittering in his eyes, "What is a brother for if not to see you past your walls? Now!" Eli stands grandly, as if finishing a fabulous routine for a crowd, "It's nearly seven mouse. Finish up so Mr. Solomons isn't kept hostage by Esther for too long."

You waived him away giggling as the memory of Esther attempting to put fake rouge on Alfie glimmers in your mind. Eli was right. He usually is, as infuriating as it is. While you had lulled yourself to sleep with fantasies of loving Alfie fully and replayed the moment in the jewelry shop every quiet moment you had and felt Alfie's breath on your neck with every whisper of the wind... you never allowed yourself to truly imagine and consider love. Never allowed yourself the pleasure of the thought of him loving you. But.

If he does.

If Eli is right.

If Alfie Solomons loves you.

And you love Alfie Solomons.

Who is to say that you can't be together.

What is to keep you apart?

What is to make love unsafe?

Your reverie and final touches are interrupted by sweet Esther bounding in joyfully, "He's here!! Mr. Alfie is here!"

She pauses at your seat on the vanity, mouth agape, teddy dragging on the floor from where it hung from her grasp, "Wow... you look like a princess..."

You laughed out, gathering Esther in your arms to carry her downstairs, "Well thank you my sweet girl. But surely not as beautiful as you."

She sqeauled and giggled as your pressed kisses to her chubby cheeks, dark red lipstick smudged on. Alfie's eyes were drawn away from Eli's story to land squarely on you and Esther. It was as if everything melted away. You were always beautiful. Always. Not a single moment was different. But in this moment you were otherworldly. Your beauty was only enhanced and amplified with the fine clothes and extra time put into your makeup and hair. The smile you had on your face was radiant and true. The love in your heart shone out adding a glow around you. Alfie wanted to live in that glow forever. Eli stopped talking and smiled at you as he watched Alfie walk towards you like a man in a trance. When you finally set Esther down, you turned in a circle, letting Alfie get a full view, "Is this ok Alfie? You don't think it's too much?'

Alfie shook his head, motioning for you to spin again, "It's absolutely perfect. You look like a right star. Every man will want to dance with you sweet."

You chuckled, "Well they'll be disappointed won't they? I only dance for one man."

For the first time in his life, Alfie felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He had never been flustered before. Silently, he grabbed your hand and pressed a whiskered kiss to your knuckles before leading you out. You waved by to Eli and Esther, excited for the evenings festivities.

You were shocked that the floor hadn't broken underneath you. It was packed. It was alive. It was proving a success. The band John Shelby had booked was relatively new but had shown the crowd the best time they would ever have. The dance floor was vibrant with sequined and bejewled bodies. Gaming tables were sending men to the grave and to Olympus in equal measure. Drinks were flowing like a river, and no one was exempt from its effects. When the Shelby boys whisked Alfie away for drinks and business, you were quickly adopted by Esme, Ada, and Polly. And though you knew that the Shelby - Solomons relationship was at some moments rocky, you felt immediate connection with the women, and knew in your heart that a friendship with them would be more than just business. Your face was hot and your body was buzzing from the energy in the room. You and Ada became fast friends, dancing and twirling like silly girls in the playground. Soon enough you collapsed into barstools laughing and whispering about the scenes surrounding you. But soon enough, your conversation with Ada was cut short by a warm and calloused hand on your shoulder. Looking up you see Alfie's glowing eyes and flushed cheeks. Ada smiled and slipped away as Alfie leaned in to your ear whispering, "Dance for me?"

You nodded, allowing yourself to be pulled from your seat to the center of the dance floor. You felt weightless as you were sucked into Alfie's embrace. A slower number was being played by the band, and though you were surrounded by couples, you would never have known. All you could sense was Alfie around you. In any normal circumstances you would have scolded Alfie for holding you so possesively in a public setting, it was improper. But you couldn't care. How could you, when your body was wrapped in Alfie's strong arms, your fingers raking through his hair, and his beard scratching against your cheek. How could you care when you were living in heaven.

"Are you having a good time my sweet girl?" Alfie husked in your ear.

You smile, bringing his nose to yours to whisper against his face, "Yes, now that you're here. Only one thing could make it better Alfie."

"What's that?"

You force your eyes to meet his storming ones, letting your hand run through his beard, "A kiss."

Alfie's large hand slides to the back of your head, making a mess of the pins holding your hair. His face came to yours, kissing you fiercely, and all the months of waiting, debating, and worrying finally melted away. You let your hands rush into his hair, mussing it as you have longed to do for nights and nights and nights. Sweet and tender and hungry and longing, Alfie's lips against your own was the only thing you could understand in that moment. It was the only thing you could comprehend. Pulling away, Alfie huffed out, "Fuck..."

You laughed at his toussled visage, "Is that all it takes to make you silent Mr. Solomons?"

His eyes grew dark, and you suddenly felt a thrill in your stomach, "Careful treacle might just have to do that again."

Alfie was reaching for you again when a commotion began at the bar.

On top of the crowded bar was Sabini, with a gun pointed directly at you. You could see Tommy pushing people out of the way telling them to get out, trying to get to Alfie. John and Arthur and other Peaky boys were fighting men off, trying to pull down Sabini

"SOLOMONS! You think this is how business is done?" Sabini howled from his place on the bar. "You think you can do this to me? You think this is how you kill a Sabini? You think I'll let a bitch destroy this business? I'll kill you all!"

Bang. Bang.

You fall to the ground. The smell of smoke and iron filled the air. You felt warm liquid on your body, and the sound of people screaming and running fill your ears.

But no pain. No fading and no light coming towards you. A heavy weight is on you groaning out your name. It takes a few moments to understand what was on you.

Alfie.

Your body suddenly awakens. Sabini was on the ground, pale and being carried out by his men leaving a trail dark blood in his wake. Alfie had pushed you to the ground to take the shot meant for you, covering your body with his in his fall. You pushed yourself out from under him, holding his face in your hands, screaming above the crowd, "Alfie! Alfie look at me!"

His eyes were searching for you, "Treacle... treacle you alright love?"

"Alfie you stupid stupid man why did you do that! Alfie please!"

He smiled weakly, "It's alright sweet girl. Old Alfie's alright. Barelt a scratch on me love. Couldn't let my best girl get hurt yeah?"

You looked down at his stomach, a sickly red bloomed on his crisp white shirt. Not a scratch. Not alright. You felt the tears streaming down your cheeks, "Alfie we need to get you to a doctor. We need to go now."

Alfie shook his head, raising his hand to your trembling face, "Nah... I don't think so sweet girl. Just give me a moment. Just let me look at your sweet face for a little. Just give me a moment."

Alfie's eyes fluttered shut as he passed out. Shaking, you began screaming his name, "Alfie... Alfie! Alfie wake up!! Ollie!!! Ollie fuck get over here! Somebody help!!! Somebody please help!!!"

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #Interviews for New Beginnings

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bertinworms · 10 months ago

Text

I Wish You Would

Pairings: Tangerine x gn!civilian!drunk!reader

Tags/Warnings: cursing/language, alcohol alcohol consumption, drunk character, mention of gambling/betting, bar atmosphere, kissing/make out, mentions of fire arms/weapons

Word Count: 5.3K

Summary: You are drunk. Not “black out and forget the entire night “ drunk, but white girl at the club with her friends drunk. One of your bestest friends is getting married soon and tonight you and the rest of your eccentric friend group are club/bar hopping to celebrate the engagement! Your friend group told you to think about it like the bachelorette party before the bachelorette party. Whatever that means… The group isn’t a big group, only about seven people, but the seven people all come from various backgrounds. Three of your friends come from pretty well off families and happened to be in university for law school. One of your friends works for some huge tech company with something to do with security. One of them comes from a line of surgeons and happens to be in residency for surgery. Your best friend and bride-to-be comes from an extremely wealthy and famous family, you aren’t really sure what for, but you know it has to do with tycoons and business and yada yada. And then there was you. You were in university too, at the same establishment as the rest of the group, but you didn’t come from lines of money. You were in school for education.

Various backgrounds or not, your bestie for the restie wants to go absolutely ballistic and celebrate her girlfriend finally popping the question, so of course your study buddy group just has to go out! With the intentions of bar and club hopping, you all end up at an arcade? Or a bowling alley? You aren’t really sure, but the place has heaps of alcohol, arcade games, a place to bowl, mini golf, and also some cute patrons….

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You honestly could not believe that you had agreed to this. You had been friends with your group for almost five years and you had always said you would do anything for them, but you never thought it meant being out since about 7:00 PM celebrating Ava May’s proposal. When you had gotten the notification that afternoon with an image attached, you were hoping that her partner, Jordan, had finally popped the question and you were right. And of course the groupchat had blown up.

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“Girls, Gays, & Daddies $$$”

Leoni: SHUT THE FUCK UP DID THEY REALLY PROPISE THIS TIME!!>>??!>!? Mateo: here comes leon with the typos 🙄 BUT OMG CONGRATS AVA!!!!!!! Camilia: HOOOOOOLYYYYY SHIT!!!!!!! FINALLY!!!!! THEY HAD THE FUCKING BALLSSSSS You: OMG YESS!!!!! WHEN’S THE WEDDING!!?? Elijah boo: FORGET the wedding!!!!! bitch, when are we CELEBRATING!!!!!! Naomi: omg can we PLEASE go out tonight!!!!??? Wrenster: omg ava congrats!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it took them long enough!!!!!! Ava Bear: omg y’all already KNOW we’re going out tonight!!!!!! b @ my house 5pm SHARP troops 🫡

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Of course five o’clock came, and everyone in the group chat was at Ava’s house. You all got to congratulate Jordan and Ava on the engagement, and say hello to both their family’s, but quickly carried Ava away to party the night away. That was of course after all seven of you pregamed getting ready.

The group was a close knit one. You all were giggling and laughing and dancing around each other while getting ready, raiding Ava’s closet and her accessories and checking yourselves in the mirrors. Everyone had gone for outfits that made them stand out, but complemented their features. You had ended up in some brightly colored crop top that Ava had shoved into your hands, your sneakers, and some designer jeans that Mateo had said would have your ass looking like you did 500 squats a day. You had laughed and rolled your eyes at that. You were pretty sure Mateo just wanted you to feel sexy.

The rest of the group had picked similar outfits. Some exposing skin, other’s exposing less skin but featuring skin-tight clothing pieces. Some had added accessories to their hair, their neck, their wrists and more. With six other bodies dancing around, you honestly hadn’t gotten a great look at everyone’s outfits – but you figured it didn’t matter anyway because by the end of the night most of those outfits would probably look a lot different from how they looked currently. And once everyone was ready, you all headed towards Ava’s car where a driver was waiting. And you all climbed in and pregamed some more.

Half of the group tended to be “partiers”not crazy party goers, but they liked to spend time when they could out having a good time. That didn’t really happen to be up your alley. You were a little more introverted than your friend group, especially since you didn’t necessarily have the same funds your friends did. The group loved paying your way through parties though and always made sure you were included, but the combination of feeling bad and not loving the party scene meant you didn’t go out with them as much as they probably would’ve liked you to. But this night was different. Everyone in the group had already sternly told you that tonight you and Ava were not spending a dime on anything. Mateo telling you that tonight that they were celebrating Ava’s engagement and also the rare occasion of you going all out tonight with them.

You didn’t disagree.

And that’s how you and your friend group ended up at some club? Arcade? Bowling alley? Bar? You weren’t sure what to call it, but the place seemed to have it all.. There was a bar with many-a-drinks, bowling alley lanes, an arcade, neon minigolf, laser tag, and televisions everywhere, each featuring a different sporting event which you assumed was for people betting on games.

It was loud, and dark, but also brightly lit all at the same time. You were cold, but kept comfortable with the warmth of your friend group buzzing around you. You were very out of your element. You would’ve been slightly uncomfortable if you hadn’t already had about seven? No, you think eight? You weren’t sure, but you and the rest of the group had a fair amount of alcohol in you.

Right then, everything seemed a little fuzzy. You had glanced at your phone and thought you had read some time around 11:00 PM, but with Rihanna blasting over the speakers in the building, it was a little hard to concentrate.

The group was currently at a bar-like table. Mateo, Elijah, Ava, and Naomi were currently on their fourth round of bowling with Ava still somehow in the lead. Leon, Wren and Camilia had snuck away from the group either to get more drinks or maybe to play mini golf, you really couldn’t remember.

Your glossed over gaze was disturbed by Mateo standing up and stretching as long as he could, his arms reaching up a little revealing a bit of his stomach.

“Okay, I am going back to the bar to get another drink, anyone else coming?” He said, eyes bouncing around the faces at the table. Nobody responded as they all seemed to be involved with something else at the time, so you stood up quickly.

“Mmmmmmm, I’ll come with Matty!” You smiled and trailed after him as he led the way to the bar.

“You know there’s some cuties here, you should try and chat one up.” He says, side eyeing you as you both arrive at the bar to look over what you want.

You roll your eyes and playfully push his shoulder. “That would be a grand idea except I’m drunker than a skunk currently and we’re here to celebrate Ava, not find me a date.”

Mateo rolls his eyes as he orders both of your drinks and collects them.

“Okay, yeah we are celebrating Ava, but you know good and damn well if I told that girl you saw a hot guy looking your way that she would jump on the idea of you making a move tonight.” Mateo chuckles as he finishes his sentence and starts walking you both back to the table, curving through the different people.

“I know, but tonight I’m just hanging out with you guys. I’m honestly shocked that nobody has attracted any spare wild men to the table with how loud and obnoxious we’re being tonight.” You laugh, a tiny hiccup slipping out of your mouth.

As you and Mateo round the corner to your table, Mateo sees the group before you and busts out into laughter. “Oh my dear, have you truly jinxed yourself tonight.” He walks the few steps to the table, puts the two drinks down. “Hellooooo boys!”

When Mateo steps aside, you're greeted by the eyes of two men who look like they don't belong here. They both are extremely attractive, but both appear to be in suits. Like suit suits. Like they could be working at the bank. You recognize the two as workers for Ava’s father. Bodyguards. Or honestly the word babysitters fit the situation too. ‘Babysitters with bullets,’ you think to yourself as you look down at one of the men’s waists, catching a glimpse of a not-so-hidden weapon.

Your thought is cut off by that said man speaking and your eyes trail from his waist to his face. He holds eye contact with you before speaking. “Sorry to crash this here lil shindig, but you lot should be wrapping all this,” he twirls a finger around in the air, referencing the group, “up pretty soon. It’s getting late.”

Once he finishes his sentence, it’s now his turn to look at you. You watch his eyes look up and down, scanning what felt like every inch of your body, before he looks back to Ava as she begins to speak.

“Oh my god! Look, I know Daddy sent you two to “look after me”’ Ava uses huge air quotes, “but I’m old enough to make sure I don’t get fucking dragged off drunk off my fucking ass. We’re just celebrating, just chillax, yeah?” Ava lets out a giggle as she clearly slurs her words and then playfully slaps the shoulder of the man that hadn’t spoken yet.

“Come on Tangerine, just let them be, yeah? They’re not doing any harm and they're all in one spot.” The man says, putting a hand on Tangerine’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze and shake. If you remember right, you’re pretty sure he goes by Lemon. Or that’s what you’ve heard Ava’s father call him.

“Yeah Tangerine! Just let us chilllllll” Naomi drags out the last word as she tries to put a hand on his chest. He takes a step back away from her, his face slightly puckering up as it seems like he stifles a face of annoyance.

You sit down next to Ava, across from where the open seat in front of Tangerine is.

“Look. Ava’s father gave clear instructions to make sure she doesn’t make any fucked decisions tonight. And seeing as sh–” Tangerine’s speech is cut off once more, this time surprisingly by Elijah.

“Look man, if your concern is making sure Ava isn’t dead in a ditch, why don’t you two just pull a seat up at the table. It isn’t like we’re going anywhere else tonight, just fucking sit and relax. Have a drink!” Elijah almost barks this out before returning to the game of bowling. He’s currently in second place, behind Ava and you know he’s dying to beat her.

Lemon gives a nod before sitting down at the bar, grabbing Ava’s half finished beer and taking a swig. Tangerine on the other hand reluctantly takes a seat in front of you. You watch his demeanor once he’s sat. It seems like he’s avoiding your gaze, and you’re not sure why. You watch his face as he observes the people around you. You can’t tell if he’s just surveying the place or if he’s just uncomfortable. His body language looks stiff and his hands are clasped on the table in front of him.

“You have pretty eyes…” The sentence slips out of your mouth as you stare at him, rubbing your own eye as you feel yourself getting a little tired. You were hoping to break the silence. “Also pretty arms.” You let out a little giggle as you prop your head on your hand, continuing to stare at the pretty man sitting across from you.

You talking seems to bring him back to the group at hand. Or at least brings his attention to you. He gives you a weird look, seeming to calculate what to say. “And you seem pretty drunk, love.” He reaches across the table, grabbing your drink and taking a sip from it before returning it to you. “And that’s a pretty strong drink you got.”

You give yet another giggle, reaching for your drink and taking a sip. You were drunk all right, but you needed more liquid courage if you were going to be in the presence of this man. Your brain had fallen quiet and your friends seemed to not be coming to your rescue in this one.

You recall a comment from Mateo earlier in the night about ‘letting you do your thing if you ever came across a hot ass man tonight.’

You had been around Tangerine and Lemon before. From what you could recall, they weren’t truly employed by Ava’s father. You’re pretty sure it was more like a freelance thing? They weren’t always around Ava and her family, but they were hired common enough for you to know exactly who they are and remember Tangerine.

The first time you had ever met the two, the group was at a soccer game in the city. You were in Ava’s family’s suite at the game having a blast. You remember spotting Tangerine and asking Ava just who the tall man was exactly. After that, any time Tangerine and Lemon were hired to babysit Ava, you always basically gawked at the man. After Tangerine and Lemon left for the room, your friend group, especially Ava liked to tease you. Ava and Mateo knew you had a thing for Tangerine. Ava liked to get her father to hire the two as much as possible, especially if you were present. It meant you saw him often. It meant you thought about him often. You thought his curls were pretty and you could imagine what it would feel like to run your fingers through his beautiful hair. You could recall the accent he had. You thought the tattoos he had were attractive, or maybe it was just because they were on his arms. And god did he have pretty arms.

You’re once again brought out of daydreaming, this time by Naomi sitting down by Tangerine and placing a hand on the back of his shoulder, and one hand on his chest. You don’t listen to what she’s saying, but by the look on their face, you know she’s flirting. And hard. You hear her let out a giggle as she makes some sort of comment about the man before you swap from sipping your drink to straight up downing it.

You slam the cup down on the table and shoot up. “I’m off to get another drink..” You twirl around, maybe a little too fast, and begin heading for the bar.

You know the announcement of your departure was a little stern. You don’t know why, but it almost got on your nerves that Naomi was making a pass at the man. You let the jealousy stay for a second before rationalizing the thought.

‘I’m not actually jealous. It’s late and I’m drunk, it isn’t that big of a deal, I’m just being silly.’ You think to yourself as you arrive at the bar, propping both elbows up onto the ledge and waiting for a bartender to notice you. You wipe your face hoping to clear your mind.

While waiting your eyes slowly are drawn to one of the television hung above the bar – some wrestling match was going on. You notice the other people at the bar, their eyes glued to the screen. ‘I don’t understand why they are so invested.’ You think to yourself as you turn your attention back to in front of you, looking at the drink choices before noticing a man standing to your right. You turn your head and are happily met by the pretty blue eyes of a curly headed man.

You grin.

“Tangeriiinnnneeeeee” You draw out his name. You aren’t quite sure if it is on purpose or if you’re just drunk, but it didn’t matter as you watched the man’s lips twist into a smirk itself.

“Interested in the match, are we?” He asks, nodding back to the television.

“Mmmmmm, not quite. I’m not much of a sports fan.” You give a glance at the match before turning your attention back to him, noticing his shirt. He usually had it buttoned up all the way, as professional as you can get. But tonight, you notice at least two, maybe three buttons that seem to be open. You can see a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt. You take a deep breath before your eyes return to his. He had watched you check him out yet again.

You clear your throat before asking, “Are you a fan?”

He doesn’t break eye contact. “I am tonight.”

A noise escapes your throat, almost a hum. He still hadn’t broken eye contact. Maybe it was just you, but it seemed like it had gotten hard to breathe. You felt like you hadn’t taken a breath in ages. “And why’s that?” You ask, still looking at him and still maintaining eye contact.

In the moment you felt like the only thing in the room was him.

“Got money on the small guy. Everyone likes an underdog story, yeah?” The smirk returns to his face.

You nod your head in agreement. Once again, your brain has gone blank. The sudden movement of his lips catches your attention as your eyes quickly dart down to his lips, and quickly dart back up to his eyes. He had watched that happen too.

As your eyes meet, your body forces you to take a deep breath. You notice he does the same. Maybe his breath had also been caught in his throat. You realize the sound of the world around you also comes back to you.

You’re brought back to the real world completely as a bartender greets you and Tangerine, asking what you two will have. But before you can answer for yourself, Tangerine speaks for you.

“Water for this one, and whisky for me.” He says before telling the bartender exactly what he wants. As soon as the bartender turns to go grab the materials, you turn back to Tangerine.

“I can’t order for myself now?” You jokingly ask, your voice getting a little higher in disbelief as you raise both your eyebrows in fake disbelief.

He looks at you and gives a scoff. “You can, but I don’t know if you should be at this particular time darling.” He gives you a sly smile, one probably meant to comfort you.

And you lose your breath again and you avert your eyes. You thought you had gotten confident, but you weren’t expecting him to call you that. You clear your throat. And start to mess with a laminated menu on the bar.

“So why exactly are you here tonight? You know this isn’t the first stop we’ve made, right?” You ask, trying to change the subject. Or at least to get him talking.

“We’ve been hanging back most of the night. Nothin’ suspicious has happened, but a few o’ you idiots are getting a little too far gone. Ava’s father sent us specifically to watch her. The rest of the group is just an added bonus. Don’t wanna make any rich parents mad, do we?” He asks the last part rhetorically.

This time he’s the one looking away. He takes a drink while looking off. You can’t read the expression on his face, but it isn’t quite neutral. He looks like something is on his mind.

“You don’t seem all that excited to be babysitting a bunch of adults. Why do you even take the jobs offered by Ava’s family? I assume there’s other things you could be doing.” After speaking you realize your tone seemed a little snippy. You hadn’t meant for it to come out rudely, but it did just a tad. You really were on a roll tonight.

You didn’t want to necessarily influence the man to stop taking the jobs, but you were curious. You could tell by what he was wearing that he had money. In previous interactions, you had drawn the same conclusion. You weren’t extremely up to date with the latest fashion trends when it came to wealth, but you did know that the watch on his wrist looked very similar to one that Elijah had. And you knew it wasn’t cheap. Plus the extensive wardrobe the man seemed to have also led you to believe he was pretty well off for himself.

He half turns his head back to you, side eyeing you with a scrunched eyebrow.

“A little touchy on the subject are we?” He asks you before setting his drink down. He rubs his chin before turning his face to yours.

“Ava’s father pays well. The jobs easy, quick and usually clean. Easy money.” He pauses and you watch his eyes move down to your lips and back up to your eyes and then down to the drink back in his hand. “It's an added bonus that sometimes you idiots can be entertaining.”

“Well. I’ll agree that they – we – can be quite entertaining. I can imagine it can be a little obnoxious at times.” A few times come to mind.

Like this year's New Years Eve party held at Ava’s. Camilia had drunk way too much champagne and had eaten quite a few shrimps. She was in the midst of a nasty break up with a pretty popular actor and had seen the reports of him attending a party that night with his co-star. A smile comes to your face as you remember the look of absolute horror on Tangerine’s face when Camilia had thrown up on him. You remember Lemon’s gasp.

Or the one time you, Ava, and Leon had somehow ran into one of Leon’s father’s old clients who had recently gotten out of prison. You three had been out shopping at the beach when the man confronted the group. Calmly at first, but very quickly drew a gun and began yelling at you three. Tangerine and Lemon had resolved the situation as quickly as the man had appeared.

Or one of the most recent events. For Ava’s birthday, she had thrown a huge, fancy party out of the country. Some place in Ireland, with almost a Bridgerton theme. Somehow you and Tangerine ended up in a room on the outskirts of a castle while the party was booming in the distance. You remember how close he had gotten to you. How close his face had gotten to yours. How he had stared at your lips for what felt like ages as you spoke. You remember the silence that happened after you had finished speaking, and the way his eyes darted quickly back to your eyes to just as quickly return to your lips. You also remember the way he had drawn away from you as Jordan had busted into the room looking for Ava. You weren’t one hundred percent sure, but you were pretty confident that if she hadn’t done so, Tangerine would have kissed you.

“I wouldn’t say ‘obnoxious’. Not all of you at least.” Tangerine says. He seems to have a distant look in his eyes. You wonder if the memory of you two alone in Ireland had come to mind. You hope it had.

Eventually you and Tangerine began reminiscing on some of the funnier moments that had happened while him and Lemon had been present.

You two had moved from the bar to a small table in a corner. Tangerine was still able to see the rest of your group, most importantly Ava. Even then, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways as Ava had convinced Lemon to join the current round of bowling. The group didn’t seem like they were going anywhere and neither did Lemon.

The place was still as loud as ever, but in the corner it was a little easier to hear each other. The neon lights that were reflecting off of most everything in the building was giving Tangerine a glow. The lights were giving his hair a darker complexion than normal, while highlighting his blue eyes. If you weren’t sitting so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed the details. But fortunately for you, you were.

You were close enough to him to smell his cologne. He smelled almost like citrus. Or maybe like sandalwood? Or maybe like the inside of a linen closet? You weren’t exactly sure of the scent profile, but he smelled good. He smelled familiar.

“Do you remember Ireland? That birthday party was insane! I don’t know how you two kept up with Ava that week, it felt like every ten seconds we were going somewhere new!” You let out a small laugh remembering just how crazy it had been.

Tangerine rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. “You honestly think I would forget? I felt like I needed a leash on that girl. I wish she would have stayed around me or Lemon like you had during the trip.” His eyes light up a little as he scans your face.

You hadn’t realized you had been so obvious on that trip. Most of the friend group had paired off in Ireland and you remember hoping to talk more to Tangerine on the trip. You hadn’t made it your priority of course, but during down times or sightseeing activities you had hoped to hear his thoughts.

The air got thin once more. You realized that you both were leaning in towards each other. You were sitting in your chair sideways. Your right elbow propped on the table, with your hand propping your head up turned towards Tangerine, your back turned to the group’s table. Tangerine was turned towards you, almost leaning into your space with his right arm draped over the back of your chair, his hand hung in the open air between the back of your chair and your side. His left arm draped into his lap. Your legs sandwiched in between his.

You hadn’t realized just how physically close you too were. Talking with him and drinking water seemed to have sober you up some. Realizing how close you were to him also helped to sober you up in the moment. Your eyes trailed to his lip as you went to speak.

“Well, I’d never pass up the chance to be around you all day.” You say, a little softly as you had grown even more distracted by each and every centimeter of his face. You think about how soft his skin would feel in your hands.

You readjust yourself, trying to redirect your thoughts. You sit up a little straighter and let your hand that had been previously holding up your head fall into your lap. It unintentionally brushes Tangerine’s knee and you watch it slightly move, almost shocked by the touch. Sitting up like you were now meant that your face was even closer to his. You really hadn’t realized how much you two were leaning into each other.

You're staring at Tangerine’s lips when your eyes rush back to his as he places a hand right above your knee. You watch as he begins to lean in, his eyes on your lips. Before you can even process that his hand is practically on your thigh. He stops an inch away from you, his eyes moving up to meet your glance. His eyes meet yours for only a second before they move back down to your lips, and once again back to your eyes. You could feel him let a breath out, nearly a scoff.

“You’re extremely drunk.” He says dryly. and goes to pull away from you.

“I was dead sober in Ireland.” You quickly remark before retaking the distance he had put between the two of you. You plant a quick kiss on his lips.

“I haven’t forgotten about Ireland either.” You say softly as you move one of his curls behind his ear that had fallen when you kissed him a little too forcefully, the fear of missing another chance had brought some adrenaline into your system. Your hand makes its way to the back of his head as you begin to play with his hair. “I’ve been hoping you would be around more after that trip. Especially after the party.”

The hand Tangerine had set previously on your knee quickly moves to your face as he gently goes to hold your chin before lifting it up. This time h initiates the kiss. He’s more gentle than you were.

You grin into the kiss, only slightly thinking about how contrasting the situation was. The harsh man kisses gently, yet you, a more soft person kissed him like you were a thirteen year old kissing their crush at the school dance, afraid to be seen.

His hand moves from your chin to hold your head as he pulls you in more. Once he’s pulled you in as close as he can, his hand trails to your waist where it rests. Both of your hands quickly move back to his head where you pull him in closer.

His mustache tickles you, but you don’t care. All you could think about was how his head felt in your hands. How you wanted to be closer to him. How his hand was pulling your waist in. How his lips felt against yours. How you felt like you were breathing for the first time this entire night.

Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers dig into your waist. You feel yourself becoming warm as your attention is drawn to the fact that his skin is touching yours. Both of Tangerine’s hands are now holding on to your waist, pulling you in even more if it’s possible. One of his hands begins to trail up your back. It feels like he’s trying to find a better way to pull you closer to him, but at this point if you two got any closer you would be in his lap.

You accidentally let out what you think is supposed to be a gasp as one of his hands runs back down your spine, returning to your waist once more. This doesn’t faze Tangerine as he takes the short break from your lips to move both his hands now to either side of your head as he pulls you back into the kiss, not without a short and breathy ‘shit’ that escapes his mouth.

You aren’t sure who initiates the harsher kiss, but you didn’t care. As Tangerine bites your lower lip, you let out a breath and you grab onto the neckline of his unbuttoned shirt. Tangerine plants one last hard kiss onto your lips he pulls away, and leans into your ear before.

“I’d slow your breathing down, we’re about to have a visitor, yeah?” He plants a kiss on your cheek and pulls his head back to look at you before wiping your lips to get rid of some spit that had been left from when you two had separated. “Gotta make sure you look good too, dear.”

He takes a deep breath in, clears his throat and seats back against his chair, while running both of his hands over his head in an attempt to put his hair back in place after you had tussled it. He then leans back in his chair, giving a smile at the unwelcome visitor.

You wipe your hands over your face, and then over your own hair in an attempt to self soothe. You take a deep breath yourself as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. You wipe your hands down the thighs of your jeans before turning to meet whoever was coming towards you.

“Hey, you guys ready to go? Lemon is rounding up the rest of the group now. Ava and Elijah finally got bored with bowling.” Naomi says before finishing the drink she had in hand.

“Right. We’ll be over shortly.” Tangerine says, raising his eyebrows at Naomi and turning his attention back to you. You give her a smile and a nod to acknowledge her. As she goes to walk back to the table, you turn yourself back towards Tangerine.

“Glad we weren’t interrupted before this happened. Hope it was worth the wait.” Tangerine says giving you a sly smile.

You let out a half hearted laugh. If you thought nothing was in your brain beforehand, it was even more empty now. All you could think of now was when you would be alone with him again.

“How long did you say you and Lemon were staying this time around?” You manage to get out, looking up at him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you also wanted to do this again.

Tangerine chuckles as he fixes his shirt from where you had grabbed it as he goes to answer, “I’m in the city for a couple of days. Off work too.” He tucks a curl behind his ear. “You have something in mind that could keep me busy?”

You nod your head as you give out a short laugh. “Ask me out to a proper dinner and I think we could figure something out."

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A/N: hey home slices, so here's this. i recently rewatched the movie, and am about to read the book and thought i would write something. who knows if i'll write more, but it was fun lol if you liked this, check out my master list! --> HERE

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago

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Keeping Vigil

The little clinic on Pabu isn’t much, but you won’t leave it until he wakes.

Pairing: Tech x gn!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: kinda sad, kinda angsty, but also a little comforting, Tech is unconscious, reader is in love but our nerd has been oblivious, mentions of death/thinking someone had died, references to canon typical violence, ends on a hopeful note

A/N: this idea has been rattling through my brain for a while, and I refuse to believe he’s gone, so…. #TechLives

The small private room in Pabu’s only clinic exuded an air of tranquillity. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting a gentle, dappled pattern on the white walls. A warm breeze carried with it the sweet scent of exotic flowers and sea salt, filling the room with a sense of calm that seemed to soothe even the most restless souls.

Curled in a small chair, your eyes were fixed on the swaying palm trees visible through the open window. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the nearby shore provided a comforting backdrop for your thoughts.

Hand resting on your chest, where your heartbeat drummed steadily, the faint hum of the nearby bacta tank was the only interruption in the otherwise quiet room, and it reminded you of the fragility of your existence.

Four weeks ago, you’d finally stormed Mount Tantiss.

Eight weeks ago, he’d enacted Plan 99.

Casting your gaze to the horizontal tank, you take in his prone form, following the jut of his nose, the curve of his lips, and down across his chin. Bones had been reset, bruises fading, and cuts stitched up, but you had no idea what the lasting damage would be. And you wouldn’t until he woke.

You hadn’t anticipated finding him, not after Hemlock had so callously thrown you his shattered goggles and declared it was all they could ‘salvage.’

Turns out Hemlock had been lying.

You’d never been more grateful for your terrible sense of direction. One wrong turn as you’d been searching for Omega and Crosshair had led you into a room full of bacta tanks, each housing a clone, but one had not been like the others…

You’d called for backup, Howzer and his men finding you a few minutes later. As a team, you’d drained the tank and pulled him free. A hasty job had been done to stabilise and get him to the waiting ships. But it had been enough.

The rest of the rescue had been a success – the Empire hadn’t anticipated a well-connected network of highly skilled clones to storm the place. All the clones taken had been saved and transported away in a small fleet of ships. Hemlock had met his end from one of Crosshair’s perfect shots, and once everyone had been clear, Wrecker had blown the place to smithereens. But not before you’d grabbed every scrap of information available from the place. The small pile of data spikes you’d handed over to the fledgling rebellion would hopefully help.

“The sun is out today. The storm I told you about the other day has finally cleared.” You spoke a little louder than usual. The doctor had suggested he might be able to hear you, and that thought is partly what kept you tied to the room – to the chair. You didn’t want him to be alone, to risk him waking with no one by his side.

That and you needed the reminder that he was still here. That the memory of him shooting the rail track and plummeting thousands of feet wasn’t the end. Loving him from a distance for years had been hard, but believing that you’d never gotten the chance to tell him had been devastating.

“I kind of miss it. The storm reminded me of Kamino.” You continued, letting out a soft sigh. Your fingers crept upwards, wrapping around his broken goggles. You’d carefully removed the glass and slipped them around your neck after Omega had been taken, and they’d rested there ever since.

“Remember that terrible storm, the one that knocked out the power when you were trying to fit my bracelet?” You reminisced, tearing your eyes away long enough to look at the band of silver around your wrist, which had been locked into place with one of his many screwdrivers. It had been a gift from them all six months after you’d joined as their handler. A comms unit and tracker had been embedded, and a small ‘99’ engraved into the metal.

“None of the torches were charged, so we’d had to borrow the one from Crosshair’s rifle. I can still remember the look on his face when Wrecker had reached for it.” You chuckled at the memory. Things had been so much simpler then.

A bird squawked outside, a reminder of how life was continuing on beyond the four walls of the clinic. The boys had come to see you and him a few times. Omega usually swung by after school with her homework, and you’d help her finish it. They brought you food and news from the rest of the island, and they’d leave with the same sad look on their faces – sympathy painting their matching brown eyes. They weren’t blind and had known for some time that your feelings for their brother went far beyond friendship.

Phee had visited once, too, having finally put the pieces together. She’d vowed to back off, to not tread on your toes, and while you’d appreciated it, you couldn’t help but feel bad. He wasn’t yours – he didn’t know how you felt. Who were you to say who could or couldn’t pursue him?

“I’m glad I found you. I thought for a while I’d truly lost you.” You confess, forcing volume into your voice even as it cracks a little. “As much as I despise Hemlock, I’m glad he found you, that he saved your life.”

“If I ever come across Saw Guerra, though, it’s on sight…” There was no point concealing your anger. The blame for Tech’s fall lay solely at Saw’s feet, and that man was fortunate you weren’t already on the warpath.

Silence lingers again, the breeze outside picking up a little, making the curtains rustle. “I’ve been trying to fix your helmet, too.” You state, turning to look at the mess of equipment on a small side table. “I found it in a million pieces in one of the labs on Tantiss. I think they were trying to access your files on the Republic. They just didn’t account for how smart you are.” A smile crosses your lips as you shift in the seat, reaching out like you had done hundreds of times over the last four weeks to press your hand to the tank glass. You loved that exceptional mind of his, how he solved complex calculations on the fly and picked up new skills and information in an instant. It was incredibly attractive.

“With how many pieces it’s still in, I don’t think I’ve accounted for how smart you are either.” You chuckle before taking a deep breath. “Maker, I miss you, T.” You whisper, slipping into the small nickname you’d given him shortly after joining the squad.

The silence over the last four weeks in the clinic had given you plenty of time to think. You weren’t sure when he woke if you’d share your feelings openly, but you certainly wouldn’t conceal your affection so much anymore.

“I miss your voice and your info-dumping.” You add. “But you’re going to get better, and you’re going to wake up.” You try to look at the bright side.

You took another deep breath, embracing a sense of hope that lingered in the air. With a tender smile, you felt the weight of the last few weeks finally lifting off your shoulders. “When you wake, I’ll be here, ready to help you, to share every moment, and every bit of affection that I’ve kept buried for so long. The quiet, safe life we’ve all yearned for is just around the corner. You, me, and your siblings, all back together again.”

Lost in the darkness, Tech’s mind had desperately clung to your voice over the last few weeks. And this time, as he listened, his fingers finally twitched.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tech x you #the bad batch tech x reader #tech tuesday #tech bad batch #star wars clone wars #star wars #tbb tech x you

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queenofbaws · 4 days ago

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hi hi 👋 icyqueen I love your jossam fics on ao3 and am simply blown away by how you bring the characters to life, especially the crepes. Your dialogue is always so entertaining. Like how do you write them so well.

anyway, I’m hope you’re still doing requests cause I was thinking about that lovely wonderful fic “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” that I yelled to you about on ao3 and how I really enjoyed reading josh flip his shit over sams safety. So in that same vein, I was wondering if you could write about the until dawn final scene/flipping the switch but in Josh’s perspective. And how he would react to Sam being the who has to stall, face handigo and risk her life saving everyone.

The high school rumor mill didn't have shit on whatever it was the hospital had going on. Everywhere he went, there was another murmur, a whisper only half-hidden behind an out-of-date magazine - "They said..." or "Well, I guess..." or "What I heard..." - a piece of a puzzle he hadn't even known he'd been putting together, and high holy shit, he had never wanted to know the ending of a story less.

But he'd grown up in a house where plots were discussed at the dinner table; where twists were dismissed as too predictable or not predictable enough. Just because he didn't want to know how this one went didn't stop the knowing from happening.

So he waited until she came to do her usual round (visiting Jess as her stitches healed, visiting Mike as he worked his way through PT, visiting him as all the king's horses and all the king's men tried to put his ass back together again). And then he asked.

"What's this I keep hearing about a light switch?"

Sam watched him for a second, maybe two, maybe a hundred and thirty-seven for all he knew, then blinked and shrugged as if he'd asked about the weather. "I don't know. What do you keep hearing about a light switch?"

And there it was: The Impasse. The one they'd been sidling along since he'd been dragged out of the mines, his eyes too sensitive to open in the sunlight. Most days they just sort of crept towards it, talking pleasantly enough without actually approaching the edge; today it seemed they'd decided to jump in headfirst, not bothering to check for handrails or safety nets before careening towards the dark, spiraling pit that was This Conversation.

Sam watched him. Sam blinked. Sam waited, and waited, and waited, and if her goal had been to show him how it felt, being appraised and goaded and puppeteered at his most vulnerable, well...he couldn't say it didn't work. A little, anyway. He had to figure it still wasn't quite the same - she'd had that nice, fluffy towel after all, and the only thing he had was a flimsy old hospital gown.

"Rumor has it," he started again, fighting to keep his tone blasé (or, at the very least, level), "you weren't exactly conforming to air safety rules the other night." When it didn't get a response, he sniffed and explained the joke, "Y'know. Help yourself before you help others. Attach your oxygen mask first."

She sat on the visitor chair and watched him. One ankle folded over the other, and as the hem of her pantleg rode up, he could see the bandages wrapped beneath. Still white. So there was that.

"You just, what, pulled a Scooby-Doo? Ran around, clapped your hands, hid under furniture, that kind of thing? Where'd that athlete's spirit go, huh? Where'd miss 'Oh-don't-worry-about-it-I'll-just-fucking-CLIMB-out-of-this-mineshaft-barehanded' go? Don't tell me I took it out of you down in the basement, because we both know you barely broke a sweat at that, so - " He realized his face was getting hot and stopped. His chest had gone tight too, but there were a million reasons that might've happened, so he didn't bother looking the most obvious in the face. Instead he swallowed hard and forced himself to mimic himself, pressing his mouth into a slash a passerby could've mistaken for a smirk. "What gives?"

Sam shrugged. She didn't seem interested in doing much else. Maybe she was worried there was still something wrong inside of him, something inhuman, something that would pounce if she stood or shook her head or tucked her hair behind her ear; maybe she just didn't care. "Someone had to be the last one out," she explained, and again, her tone suggested something about the weather.

"But why you?"

"It had to be someone."

"But why you?!" And fuck, maybe there was something still wrong inside of him, because suddenly his vision was blurred and his lungs ached like they'd been squeezed. His face prickled, his stomach twisted, and none of it was normal - none of it - none of it was right. The room was too small and too bright and too fucking sterile, leaving him nowhere to hide.

"You could've died!" he found himself saying (though he guessed he might've just imagined it, the ringing of his ears so high and shrill). "You could've fucking died, and for what? For who?! For them?! What if something had happened to you - what if you'd gotten hurt? What if - " I was alone, his traitorous mind finished for him when his voice shattered and broke, What if I'd woken up in this awful fucking place without my sisters AND without you? What if what if what if...

It wasn't until he dropped his head into his hands that he heard her leave her chair; it wasn't until he felt the shitty mattress pad dip beside him that the tears came. But by then her arms were around him and she'd somehow saved him too, her skin so warm against his she might as well have just stepped away from the fire.

The hospital rumor mill would have a field day with this one, he thought, but that would be fine. He didn't have the first clue how this story was going to end - only how he wanted it to. He'd take all the help he could get.

#alwaysrunningoutoftime #six sentence weekend #until dawn #jossam #queenie writes supermassive #hehehe omg hiii!!!! :D i am so so sorry it took me so long to get to this - ahhhh!!!#and youre too kind!!! T_T i'm so glad you enjoy my stuff!! lskjdfklsdjf honestly it means the WORLD to know you're having fun with it!!! <3 #hope you don't mind a lil angst in this one ;)c hehe

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pollymorgan · 5 months ago

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Ex-Husband Negan Part 11

It was naturally impossible to keep the renewed relationship with my ex-husband a secret from our daughters. How could I? After all, we're talking about Negan, whom I had once again gotten involved with.

At some point, he showed up at our doorstep to surprise us. And it was with a trip to Mexico for the four of us. I had no idea where he got the money from again. But our girls were thrilled, and I knew we would never be able to hide our relationship for 10 days. So I was honest with them and hoped that this time it would really work, even though I was more than skeptical myself.

The hotel was stunning, a beautiful property with a huge spa area, and even the flight there was incredible fun. There's just nothing better than watching Negan make our daughters laugh. So I decided not to be a party pooper anymore and just enjoy this vacation with my family.

The first two days were spent soaking up the sun, enjoying the pool and the beach, and eating delicious food. Everything was perfect, and life felt so easy after everything that had happened in the past few weeks. The breakup with my ex-partner, the dispute over our shared house, the terrible atmosphere at work because Steve and I are colleagues on top of everything else, and finally the self-doubt I had for getting involved with Negan again. I often wondered, shouldn't I know better by now? But right now, those thoughts and worries were blown away, and it did wonders for my soul.

On the third day of our vacation, Negan wanted to go diving with Lizzie and Gracie. The mere thought of being dependent on a small oxygen device underwater terrified me. So I decided to stay at the hotel and treat myself to a day of wellness. My family tried to convince me to at least come along. After all, the trip was planned for the whole day, and they wanted me to overcome my fears. But all their coaxing didn't help. I was determined that nobody could get me to put my head underwater.

So I bid farewell to the three in the morning when they were picked up in front of the hotel, feeling a bit uneasy. But I knew Negan would take good care of our girls. He always had, without fail.

I made full use of all the spa offerings at the hotel throughout the day: massages, pedicures, manicures, facials... the whole shebang. It felt heavenly. When I got ready for dinner in the evening, I felt completely comfortable in my skin. I slipped into a short blue dress with white stripes, one shoulder bare. I styled my long dark hair slightly wavy, even though I knew it was probably futile due to the humidity and they would probably not look the same after five minutes.

After dinner, I decided to sit in the beach bar for a while and end my "me-day" there until my family returned.

I sat directly at the bar on a stool because I didn't want to occupy a whole table by myself. As I took a sip of my admittedly strong Caipirinha, I was glad I had eaten well beforehand. Otherwise, the drink would probably have gone to my head even faster than it already had. I took out my phone from my bag to sort through some vacation photos. I felt like I had already taken 1000 photos in the first two days. So I edited, deleted, and moved the pictures on my screen while enjoying my cocktail, lost in thought. When I came across a candid shot, I swiped as quickly as I could. Still, I glanced around quickly to see if anyone had just looked at my phone. Luckily, no one did, but my cheeks still heated up even more, from the alcohol and the heat.

Negan had taken a photo of me last night, giving him a blowjob. And I was so sure he had deleted it again. This guy! What was he thinking? After all, it was not unlikely that our daughters would also look at the pictures. Still, I couldn't help but smile.

Next to me at the bar sat a very elegantly dressed couple around my age. They caught my eye from the start, just like probably everyone else. Their light-colored clothes were perfectly coordinated and looked like they were from a fashion magazine. It wasn't over the top, just elegant and stylish. At some point, the lady left her place, and I looked up in surprise when I noticed the man moved a stool over after a few minutes and now sat next to me.

When I looked at him, his bright blue eyes met mine directly, surrounded by small laugh lines on his tanned skin. He raised his glass and toasted me. What a damn jerk! His wife had just left, and he was already flirting with the next person, and I thought, only one could be so bold...

So I tried to ignore him and focus back on my phone.

"So grumpy in such a beautiful place?" he suddenly asked, his voice sounding like that of an audiobook narrator. Was he actually one? An audiobook narrator? It somehow seemed fitting, but what do audiobook narrators typically look like? You don't see them often... Stop, why was I even thinking about this random stranger, about whom I knew nothing, except that his eyes resembled the ocean and he seemed like quite the jerk...

As a light breeze passed by, I caught a whiff of a woody, exotic scent of patchouli. The man not only had a great sense of style but also knew his perfumes.

"If the drinks weren't all-inclusive, I would have liked to invite you for one. Maybe..." I quickly interrupted him, "Sorry, I think you should find someone else or go back to your wife..."

He looked completely baffled. "My wife? I don't understand... Oh, you mean my sister Claire?! Who was just sitting here..."

I shook my head in annoyance. Sister? What a bold lie. Had Negan ever pulled something like that too? Passing me off as his sister...? The thought didn't seem too far-fetched.

The man beside me immediately sensed that I didn't believe him. "Claire and I are twins. We're here in Mexico because her daughter is getting married... My wife, well I mean... I've been a widower for almost a year. That's probably why my flirting skills are so rusty. Please excuse me!"

I saw his clear eyes slightly mist up in an instant. Oh man, how insensitive had I been? Had Negan's behavior already damaged me to the point where I saw the worst in every man? Feeling embarrassed, I turned to the stranger and apologized meekly. But luckily, the man didn't seem to hold it against me and grinned at me. I noticed how he subtly scanned me from head to toe in seconds. He did it skillfully, but I didn't miss it. However, it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, it even boosted my ego a bit.

He introduced himself as Jacob, and after ordering another drink, we decided to take a seat at one of the tables to have a better conversation. What did I hope to gain from this? Nothing! Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. He just seemed like an interesting, open person, and I wanted to know more about him. After he had shared a bit about himself, without sounding arrogant, he asked me if I was here alone. I don't know why I hesitated for a moment before answering, but then I said, "No, here with my family..."

His face momentarily hardened, but then he smiled again, albeit not as naturally as before. "So, married...?" he inquired, leaning back in his chair to create more distance between us.

I looked at him thoughtfully and truthfully replied, "Well, it's complicated..."

He nodded as if he understood what I was trying to convey, even though I didn't quite get it myself. "Kids?" he asked instead.

"Two wonderful daughters and you?“ I grinned.

"A not always so wonderful son..." he laughed honestly and told me about some escapades of his offspring, which were all more or less harmless but damn funny.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder that grabbed me somewhat roughly. Startled, I looked up and met Negan's dark eyes, which were glaring at me.

I felt caught, but caught at what exactly? After all, I was just having a conversation. Still, I automatically held my breath.

"Wow, looks like you're having a lot of fun... What's so funny here, my love? I want to laugh too..." he said, and his voice sounded even deeper than usual, sending a slight shiver down my body.

Jacob tried to say something to defuse the situation, but Negan immediately cut him off. "I'm talking to my wife, not with a George Clooney Double for the visually impaired..."

"Negan!" I scolded him sternly, although I had little hope that it would do any good.

Unfazed, he took a seat at the empty chair at our table, and I knew this whole situation was not going to end well...

I have a question. In what situations or flashbacks would you still like to see the two of them? Please give me some inspirations. Thank you for your feedback!🥰🤗

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speedycoffeedelight · 11 months ago

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An Animalistic Disaster

Summery: Where you remember some bad memories and almost get into an accident.

CH-4: Bad memories and a deery situation

TW: Truma flashbacks and strong languages. Though Angel being here means there's gonna strong language every chapter.

Wait you guys?!? What the fuck happened? please tell me I'm just hallucinating from my drinks!'Angel practically screamed as he frantically looked around at the animals around him which sounded like his friends. Charlie looked at Angel sympathetically. Angel was now a white furry spider with a big pink heart on his back with two of his big mismatched eyes and six small pink eyes.'Clam down angel, we'll explain everything' Charlie said, preparing to tell the tale of her mistake again.

Angel's mind was practically blown after he heard Charlie's story. 'What the fuck do we do now?? I was just wondering where the hell everyone went since the hotel was feeling empty. I never imagined get sucked in a book like this' Angel freaked out more. 'And worse looking like this!'

'Clam down angel.. we'll figure something out.. eventually..' Charlie cringed mentally as she said that since all of this was practically her fault. If she had only listened to Vaggie back then, this wouldn't happen. Meanwhile while they were talking Niffty went around the house looking for something to clean with. This place was rather filthy in her opinion and she wanted to clean it. But she had to find something of her size to clean with. After some searching she came across a small brush perfect for cleaning and she could hold it in her mouth. Cleaning with brush in her mouth was much harder then she imagined, but she was determined to make this place squeaky clean.

Meanwhile you reached the city soon enough, parking your car, you quickly headed to the nearest super market. You finished picking your stuff soon enough. Making sure to get enough dog foods and treats.You bought enough to last a week.

Since you live alone now and you didn't really want to drive for over an hour total everyday to buy foods. After completing the purchase, you picked up the bags in both hands and headed towards your car. While walking, someone suddenly called you.

Looking back you saw some man with shit eating grin checking you up and down. "Hey doll~ need a man's help carrying that many bags?" You internally gagged at his words. But you forced a tight smile on your face. "No, it's quite alright my good sir. These little bags feel nothing to me!"

To emphasize your point you pulled the bags higher and twirled around a little. "But I do thank you for your most gracious offer" with a fake smile you turned around and started walking again. The man was quite shocked at your strength. Even he could tell the bags were quite heavy.

While walking, some angry shouts reached your ears. Looking at the source of sound, you noticed it was a couple nearby who were blaming each other for something. You became tensed and uncomfortable at their screaming and started to walk faster. You desperately wanted to drown out their screams as soon as you could before...oh..

'You are a disgrace to our family!'

'You are a bad example for our daughter, we don't want you near her!'

'I really hope you won't turn out to be a disappointment like your mother!'

'You lying bitch! My son did nothing wrong!'

'Can you do anything right?!'

'look at me when I talk!'

Tears strung at your eyes and memories started to storm through your brain. You desperately tried to forget them as much as you can. You really hated screaming or being screamed at. It made you want to rush to a quiet place,and blast music in your ears till those screams were drowned. You bit your cheek and held your tears in. When you reached your car, you quickly put down the bags and just sat on seat, trying to collect yourself and your thoughts. 'alright I can do this, you're a big girl now (y/n) and they aren't here anymore, collect yourself.' you told yourself as you as you started the car and wiped your eyes.

The rest of the journey was going rather smoothly. You were humming alongside your favourite songs playing in the car. You were close to your cabin. You looked down for a second to change a song as no other car was in the road. But when you looked up at the road, suddenly there was a deer, standing right middle on the road, looking straight at your car. Panic took over your mind as you pushed the break as fast as you could. A bad screeching sound was heard as your car stopped meters away from the deer.

It felt like the deer suddenly came into life. Your (e/c) eyes locked with the deer's red eyes for a split second before the deer sprinted away within the forest beside the road. You gripped the steering wheel hard, breathing heavily from what just happened. Your shopping bags were now on the floor of the car. You were sure some of the eggs you bought broke. You just hoped all of them didn't. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clam yourself down. This day was just going great.

You put the bags up and started driving again. This time, a lot slower then before. You finally reached your home, parking the car, you took out the bags and went in front of the door. You quickly opened the lock of the door, pushing the door inside. "Home,sweet home" you mumbled. The puppy ran straight at you holding your detailing brush..? In her mouth? Crouching, you put the groceries down and picked up the puppy as it let go off the brush and barked at you happily. You were largely unaware of a pair of red eyes watching you from the distance.

Walking inside and closing the door, you noticed your floors looking a lot...cleaner then before. You looked at the fallen brush which now had dirt on it and then at the puppy. "Did you do this darling? Did you clean my room while I was gone?" You only got some small barks in return. Looking ahead you saw the sheep coming out of your room with the moth on its head as usual. You crouched down again, holding the puppy with one hand and extending the other. "Come here little ewe, I need you guys a bit" The sheep somehow understood what you meant as it came into your arms. The moth again flew to your hair. You held both the puppy and the sheep close in a warm hug, feeling today's fatigue slowly fading away.

"Thank you guys.." you mumbled. In reply the sheep nuzzled into your neck a bit more, the puppy licked your cheek a little and the moth buzzed a little on top of your head. You slowly let go off the animals as you stood up. "Welp,there's no use moping around, let's get you some food puppy!" you took the groceries inside and pulled out the dog food. You picked out a bowl and poured some of the food inside and gave it to Niffty. Niffty began to eat as soon as you put down the plate which startled you. "Guess you were really hungry huh?" You said smiling.

You decided to properly sort through the groceries later. For now you choose to just put the perishable foods like meat and milk inside the freeze. You wanted to begin working as soon as you could so you could distract yourself for a bit. You went into your room to change. After changing into more comfortable clothes, you sat on the chair and turned on your laptop. You were an online newspaper editor. It was your job to make sure there are no typos or mistakes and everything was written well. You would change the narrative of some lines to make them appear more 'exciting' to read, without changing the truth of course.

While waiting for your page to load,you absentmindedly looked around your room. ' Hmm..i should probably get some paintings for the wall, it looks rather empty. Oh look there's a big spider on one corner watching me. As for pillows, I should buy some-'

'THERE'S A BIG SPIDER??'

A.N:(Please read) Just wanted to let you guys know, English isn't my first language. So if y'all find any grammatical errors, I'm really sorry. I'll get back to editing again once my exams are over :')

Also our reader is going to be a physically strong girl, not too much, but stronger than average. So yes she has a bit of muscle. It'll be explained later.

Also reader is a big fan of hazbin hotel:). I wasn't sure to make them a fan or not but think of all the fun scenarios of the characters going through your fanfic history and your thirsty posts about them. Wouldn't that be a sight to see ? :)

*Sips tea cutely*

Author out✌️

Master list

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thdrama2 · 2 months ago

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Miorjah hasn't been brought in a while, so I hope it's okay to mention them. If not, feel free to delete this, Mod Jesus.

Anyway, I thought I should let everyone know that Miorjah is attempting to LEASE, not sale their unicorn Miorjah character. As stated in their bulletin, Miorjah is worth $30,000 from their art that they've drawn (not commissioned), they're going to need your legal first and last name as well as your address when you sign the agreement, and they're keeping ALL of the commission, gift, and other version artwork of the character of the same name.

What kind of horse shit is this? I get that people need money and whatnot, but this seems like a full blown scam. Someone in the comments asked if the payments stop, does that mean that the character can be revoked? $30,000 is a literal brand new car, boat, RV, or house in some places and you'd have to be the biggest fool on the planet to fall for something like this.

You will never truly own this character, who let's face it, is just a direct rip from The Last Unicorn. Miorjah is still going to be using, making money off of, and commissioning art of the character despite you owning (if you ever even get to that point) half of the character.

And considering Miorjah's history of having unhinged fans/friends, they could potentially dox this person in their Discord servers if they ever come to a disagreement.

Proof Link: https://toyhou.se/~bulletins/2269861.miorjah-up-for-co-ownpartial-sale

Linked.

Miorjah isn't exactly all "there" and believing that anybody would truly be willing to doxx themself for the ability to just make and commission art of a horny white unicorn is only further proof of that.

Then again. There is one person in the comments who insinuated some interest.

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munchkin1156 · 20 days ago

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Secret Santa!!!

(@gt-jar, I sent the ask to drafts and it disappeared, completely gone, nowhere to be found, so I'll just tag you now so you know I've done it)

@space-hiboux!

HEY NIFTY!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

It was me. I was your Secret Santa. Surprise!!

This was a lot of fun to write, and the world they’re in is so cool! I hope the characters aren’t too off… Anyways, please sit back, relax, and enjoy!

Word count: 1953

. . .

The snow fell softly upon the town. It covered the streets and the houses, as well as the surrounding forest. Icicles hung from the branches, and the usually cheerfully running creek was completely frozen over, the bubbling water silent.

No sun had risen yet, and not a soul was about, everyone preferring to stay inside in the warmth rather than the bitter cold that came with winter.

Well, there was one exception.

Emylia pulled her hood tighter over her head, regretting the split second decision she’d made to not wear warmer clothing. Instead, she had put on the same white hoodie she always wore. The soft looking snow crunched satisfyingly under her boots, and her breath hung in the air, before it was blown away by a chilling wind.

In a way, it was beautiful, the street lanterns lighting up an otherwise bleak world. They did a job the sun couldn’t. Almost magical, it felt, the swirling white glowing ever so slightly golden. If it had been a few months back, Emylia knew she would’ve claimed that’s what it was. Some otherworldly power creating an enchanting moment for her eyes and her eyes alone. Why had that changed, again?

Oh, right. Because she’d seen real magic now, and it was so much more. That other place, that other realm… That’s where she was currently headed. Why she was out and about at this hour.

Nearly ten months prior, Emylia had stumbled into this ‘Other World’ as she kept calling it. A world full of fantasy, of colour, of, well, magic… It was an amazing place, everything she’d ever imagined. Where if all she ever wanted to do was climb trees or play her violin, there was nothing stopping her!

That is, except for the bit about her height.

Everything there was massive, towering far above. It could be terrifying, and especially dangerous for someone like her, who was ridiculously small in comparison.

Luckily, soon after she’d first entered, she’d been found by two of the inhabitants of that world. A Taran and a Siron. Basically, a mini giant, and a literal giant. Things had happened, they had talked, and she had ended up staying the night at their place, on the basis that she had had no idea how to get back. And now back in the present, they were best friends!

…She’d forgotten to mention their names, hadn’t she?

There was Rachelle, the Taran, who was kind, and funny, and could be really sweet sometimes. Even if she got really annoyed every now and again.

And then there was Jeremy, the Siron, wbo was awesome, and nearly always on board with her ridiculous plan. Could also be known as a living heater.

Together, they ran a potion shop near the edge of town. Emylia tried her best to help, but being human meant she was in fact tall enough for it. Today wasn’t about that though. It was about gifts.

In the other world, they didn’t have Christmas, which made sense, considering it was a human tradition. Still, she wanted to get her friends a little something. Something self made. A nice… surprise for them.

A surprise… That wasn’t such a bad idea. That could work.

She grinned as she walked down the winding path through the woods, before coming to a stop. It was around here. The entrance to where she needed to go.

Not a portal, but more a subtle shift in the air. You didn’t notice the change until it happened, and by then people usually started panicking instead of trying to step back. Emylia had done this a million times by now. If it was up to her, she’d be living there full time.

But it wasn’t up to her. Not really anyway. Not if she didn’t want to appear on missing posters, even if it would take a bit before they noticed she was gone. Not if she wanted to keep the world hidden, because then they might find it.

A blink, and suddenly, everything changed. Emylia breathed in, filling her lungs with the cold, clean air. Since there was hardly any talk of pollution, air felt so much fresher. You wouldn’t even know how different it was until you felt it.

Another fun thing about where Rachelle and Jeremy were from: So. Much. More. Freezing.

It might not be a lot for her two ‘giant’ friends, but for her the snow was nearly knee deep. She needed to get where she was going fast. Now, where was that, exactly?

Emylia glanced at the trees around her, reaching to what seemed infinitely upwards. To her left was the long, hidden path to her friends’ home, one she would’ve taken any other day.

But that wasn’t her first location in mind. Instead, her eyes darted to what must be the very large equivalent of fox tracks. Old ones, half buried by the snow. Usually, Emylia would never go near them for the life of her, especially not without one of her friends keeping an eye out for anything that might be trying to eat her.

The reasons she was going by herself were simple. Because what she was making was a surprise, and these particular tracks led to the perfect place to create it.

Magical worlds meant magical things inside them. Or, in her case, a magical tree. About ten or so minutes walking in that direction, and you would find the highpoint of the forest. Literally.

All year round, leaves and flowers and vines grew on it, radiating summertime and warmth. Snow melted when it touched the branches, dripping to the ground lukewarm. If there was one place in winter where you definitely couldn’t get hypothermia, it was here.

With any luck, she’d have a good hour or so before Jeremy and Rachelle came looking for her. A good hour to get high up and finish the gifts in peace.

Tree climbing was easy, after all. And with everything being so much bigger, grips were easier to find.

What could be different about this one?

. . .

“Hey, J?”

Jeremy turned away from the potion he was working on. “What’s up, Rach?” He asked with a smile. From where he was sitting, it was hard to tell what Rachelle’s expression was, but from her tone of voice, she sounded concerned.

A sigh was heard, followed by a groan. “It’s nothing, really. I mean…” She made her way over to the desk he was at, using a conveniently placed box to pull herself up onto the table. Living in a house with someone who was a different species could be inconvenient at times. “Doesn’t Em usually show up around now?”

He frowned. “You know, I think you’re right.” Rachelle rolled her eyes. “I know I’m right. But I don’t know why she isn’t here…” Her eyes widened. “Do you think something could’ve happened to her!?” Jeremy shook his head. “Let’s not assume the worst. Maybe she got distracted? We can go look for her, if you want.” The Taran hummed in agreement.

“Right you are. Let me grab my cloak, and we can get going.”

. . .

It had taken only a few minutes to climb far enough up the tree, since there were grip holds and flowers and vines to cling onto, and now that she was up on a sturdy enough branch, Emilia adjusted her position slightly so she was leaning against the trunk. The magical warmth swept through her, and she sighed in relief.

Winter was lovely and all in its own right, but not much could beat the feeling of sunlight and fresh nature. And though it felt like spring, it was still Christmas time, with presents that had to be made.

Taking the materials needed out of her bag, she got to work.

Rachelle's and her own were quite small, and therefore easier to make, so those were the two she began with. Emylia hummed softly as she worked, small slices of wood fluttering down and nestling nicely between the leaves.

Being completely focused in her work, Emylia only noticed how much time had flown by once she’d finally started on Jeremy’s. The sun was shining cheerfully on the snowy world below her, and she smiled. It wasn’t going to be long before familiar faces turned up.

"Em? Is that you up there?”

Emylia looked down, and her eyes widened. Not because it was her friends down there, but because of how far down her friends were. Rachelle and Jeremy, unsurprisingly, were standing below, but even with outstretched arms, neither of them could reach her. That sounded like she wasn’t that high up, but for her, it was.

In this case though… That was perfect.

“Oh, hey guys! What’re you doing here?” She shouted, knowing it was going to be hard for them to understand her if she didn’t. Even from up here, she could feel the eyeroll Rachelle made when she asked.

“You know why we’re here! The real question is, why are you!?”

She sighed loudly, and sneaking started continuing the final gift, the final piece in a set of three. “Just…” Her voice faltered a moment, watching as Jeremy jokingly tried (and failed by a good several meters) to reach her. “Just give me twenty!”

Annoyed mutters floated up through the treetops, but Emylia knew they just masked worry or concern. “Okay, fine… But that doesn’t actually answer the question!” Jeremy pointed out, scoffing slightly. There was only silence in response to that.

Soon after realizing she wasn’t going to spill anything about… Whatever she could possibly be doing up there, they… Talked. After all, they were good friends, and it’d be awkward to sit there in silence for nearly half an hour. It was easy to slip into the familiar banter, chatting away over everything and still some. Emylia hadn’t even noticed how quickly her work was going until she was carving the last couple details.

Right. Now it was time for the more nerve wracking part- giving her friends what she’d made.

“Okay! I’m, uh… I’m coming down now!” Swiftly, she scrambled down, with no regard for her safety. Excitement could do that to a person, after all. As soon as her feet touched the ground, Jeremy grinned, offering her a hand to climb onto. Emylia took it without hesitation, wobbling a bit, before sitting down.

Snow was falling again, lightly, and she found that, while she was freezing cold once again, it made for the perfect atmosphere. Anyway, when Jeremy lifted her higher, so that she could be at face level with them, none of it really mattered. They could’ve been in the middle of a desert for all she cared, as long as it was with those two. “Welcome back to surface level!” Rachelle greeted enthusiastically. “So, why, precisely, were you up there for so long?”

Emylia laughed. Reaching for her bag, she grinned, eyes twinkling.

“Well, there’s this thing called Christmas…”

. . .

WOOOOO!!!! Fic done!!!! Again, this was a lot of fun to write! I enjoyed it a lot, and tried to include some of what you told me about the world!

What were the presents Emylia gave? …Who knows? I like to think it’s part of the mystery :)

Sorry it didn't contain as many character interactions as I'd hoped, got a little invested writing and perfecting the beginning parts, and then making that really cool drawing of her climbing the tree-

Have a lovely rest of your year!

-Munchkin

(P.S. To whoever’s my secret santa, if you read this, I am so sorry I have no information whatsoever about my characters. I swear I’ll fix that next year!... Probably)

. . .

Tag List (If you want to be added, TELL ME!): @i-am-beckyu, @brick-a-doodle-do, @da3dm, @faeiyn-cant-write, @boiled-ginger-ale

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let-them-read-fics · 2 years ago

Text

In Your Dreams

Pairing: Yoohyeon x Fem!Reader

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut

Word Count: 2,273

Summary: When a 2AM knock came at your door during one of the season’s most torrential downpours, you never expected to find her, of all people, standing on your porch and looking so desperate.

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait, but here’s the Yooh smut I promised :) Siyeon is next, so keep an eye out for that <3

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

“Yoohyeon?” You gaped, shock evident in your tone as you lowered the television remote in your hand (which you had been fully prepared to use as a weapon, had she been anyone else). You quickly sat it down on the table by the door and peered at her, full of concern.

Her clothes were completely sodden – every fiber of them packed full of chilly rainwater as they clung tightly to her – and you had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the expanse of skin that her partially unbuttoned shirt exposed.

The dark cover of night behind her was disrupted by the house lights of the neighborhood – all switched on, acting as little beacons of hope through the raging storm. A large flash of lightning came, too, streaking sharply against the brooding clouds above.

“What are you doing here?” Your wide eyes darted across her features, searching for an explanation, but she shied away for some reason and failed to utter more than a quiet word here or there.

When a clap of thunder rang out mere seconds later, she tensed slightly, still shivering from the cold.

You shook your head at her odd behavior but reached out, nonetheless, and pulled her inside.

Perhaps a little shelter from the elements would open her up.

Water cascaded freely off of her, dripping down onto your floors and filling your foyer with its quiet sounds as you quickly shut and locked the door. You approached her again and moved her closer to the nearby vent that blew wondrous, warm air into the open space, silently hoping that it could work some magic.

But even once you gave her time to acclimate and returned your gaze to hers, she continued to avoid it.

Curious, you took it upon yourself to reach up and cup her cheeks, coaxing her into letting you see her.

When you did, something clicked. Only then did you really take in the full sight of her.

A vibrant blush painted her cheeks, and her pupils were blown wide as she peered back at you. Beneath the mussed, white, now practically see-through button up she had on, a set of dark lingerie showed, complimenting her tanned skin beautifully. One of the lacy straps of it had long ago fallen off of her shoulder, and her breast was close to showing because of that. The lines of her abs were visible as well, and every movement she made was full of some kind of alluring, restrained tension.

Like it was killing her not to reach out and touch you.

Her bottom lip was rosy and swollen, due to her habit of biting it when she gets aroused.

“I had a dream about you,” she admitted, like she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her breathing was a bit quicker than normal – less stable.

You were her best friend; she couldn’t believe she was about to do something like this.

Her drenched clothes, paired with the warm air that felt its way up her body, created a tantalizing mix of sensations that caused goosebumps to arise; and your hands on her only multiplied them even more. She almost couldn’t stand it.

“And you drove all the way here because of it?” You wondered aloud, quirking a brow.

Though you weren’t totally oblivious to the implication behind her words, incredulity overtook your mind and tone. Even if she had had a wet dream about you, you were sure she would just laugh it off like everything else. Like every other charged interaction you’d ever shared, that danced precariously along the border of platonicity and attraction.

There was no way she planned to do something about it.

…right?

She swallowed, taking a second to decide if she was prepared to cross this boundary with you. You’d both tested the limits of your “friendship” before, playing with fire, toying with the line and pushing things to get a rise out of one another – but neither of you had had the courage to follow through completely.

At least not until now.

Her head nodded sheepishly, sealing your fate.

“I tried to take care of it myself, Y/N/N, but nothing felt as good as you did in that dream. Will you help me?” The soft plea in her voice bordered on a whine, and it ignited something in you that you had never fully considered with her before.

Drip, drip, drip

Water pooled at your feet now, resembling the mess that you had inadvertently made in her panties.

She wanted to take you right here on the floor, or up against the wall that stood behind you. She wanted to rip your clothes off and hear the beautiful timbre of your voice as you came undone, moaning her name.

But she didn’t. She waited, doing her best to ignore the throbbing of her center and the curious way your eyes kept returning to her body, dropping lower and lower. She waited on you to make the next move, needing to know you wanted her just as badly as she did you.

“Kiss me, Yooh.”

That simple request set her in motion, and she had you in her arms in a second. The subsequent gasp that resounded in your throat at the coldness of her clothes was muffled by her lips before it really had a chance to escape.

Desperation took on human form as she backed you up against the wall, stripping out of her shirt and slipping her shoes off all the while.

You moaned into her mouth when she hastily unzipped your pants, nearly breaking your zipper in the process.

Her frigid fingers slid past your panties with no further warning, and she whimpered quietly when she felt how wet you already were.

“Y/N…”

If there was any chance left of her restraining herself, it would have to be now. She was teetering on the edge of no control, and each second that she spent with you loosened her grip on the reins more and more.

“Keep going,” you breathily instructed, allowing your head to loll back against the wall. “I’m all yours.”

She shuddered, both out of excitement and chill. A new kind of darkness eclipsed the usual innocence of your eyes, and she didn’t quite know what to do with herself because of it.

“Please tell me this is real…”

You chuckled at her earnesty. Even now, in a moment like this, she was capable of making you laugh.

When you leaned forward and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her neck, she melted into you. You reached down into her pants to cup her with one hand, feeling the warmth that radiated from her cunt even through the lingerie, while the other wrapped around her, tenderly kneading the supple skin of her ass.

She rocked against you out of instinct, vying for any bit of relief you would possibly award her; the needy movements pushed her own palm harder against your clit, causing you to moan softly.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound.

“Does this feel real enough, baby?” You asked against her pulsepoint, just as your teeth lightly trailed across her sensitive skin. The taut muscles of her neck jumped as she strained helplessly in response.

“Fuck,” she whined, embarrassed by how much of a mess you’d turned her into. She could feel your smile grow, and it made her walls pitifully flutter and clench around nothing.

“I know you can answer me better than that,” you teased.

You pushed her lace to the side and easily slid two fingers inside of her dripping heat, resolving to get your answer that way instead.

“Ah!” She moaned at the intrusion, high pitched and broken as she was caught off guard. She looked down between your bodies, watching your fingers rhythmically disappear and reappear at her entrance as you fucked her. A new rise of blush made its way up to her ears at the sounds that she produced – none of which she had any semblance of control over.

“Yoohyeon…” you warned, still waiting.

“Yes, Y/N,” she replied, aware of her mistake – though, truthfully, she would make it again a million times over if it got you to touch her like this every time. “It feels so good. Please,” she stressed, fully aware that she wouldn’t survive if you left her without release now, “...don’t stop.”

Her wish was your command.

Encouraged by her words, you hiked one of her legs up around your waist and settled closer to her. The new position enabled you to easily reach her g-spot, and her resulting, guttural moan confirmed it.

You wasted no time in exploiting that in the best possible kind of way.

The ache between her thighs mingled with pleasure, both in equal, overwhelming doses. A tingling sensation was creeping its way up her spine, and the butterflies in her stomach only grew more untamed.

“Just like that, jagiya,” she begged into your ear.

Her hips stuttered, jerking messily as she bucked into you over and over.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you praised, admiring the flush of her skin and the way she trembled in your arms. Her weak legs squirmed, shaking as she used what strength she had left to hump a little faster.

You added another finger as a silent way of rewarding her, and the resulting rush of warmth you felt around them made you smile. Her walls pulsed, eagerly stretching to accommodate the change, and beckoned you back inside with every pump you delivered.

Even her pussy was greedy for you.

Both of her hands went to the back of your neck as she pulled you forward and sealed her lips against yours in the dark. She didn’t waste much time with demurity; her kisses were messy and full of need as she tangled her fingers in your hair and roughly tugged on it.

She swallowed up the subsequent sound of shock that you let out and used the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

It was warm and inviting, just like the rest of her – so eager to please you. She stole your breath away when her kisses grew harsher – more possessive; the tell-tale clenching of her walls around your fingers told you she was getting dangerously close to release, and the small, staccato breaths she let out through her nose made you smile lightly.

She was so precious, like that. Such a slut for you that she drove all the way to your house in the pouring rain at 2AM, and yet she still clung to her habitual shyness in a few small, undeniable ways.

Knowing that she had it so bad for you boosted your ego majorly.

Lightning flashed close by outside, and the bright pulse of it highlighted your combined, desperate movements against one another. She pressed further into you, and you knew she couldn't hold out any longer.

Her pitiful shaking brought out the more merciful side of you.

“Show me what you can do, Yooh. Cum on my fingers,” you commanded, pulling away just enough to rest your forehead against hers. Her arms tightened around your neck, tethering you impossibly closer.

The snap of her hips grew messy and rough – more primal as they worked to match the rhythm of your hand – and with a succession of filthy moans and whines, she hit her high. Her raised leg tightened around your waist, flexing to keep you in place. She cried your name out and clung to you, digging her nails into your shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

You grimaced at the sting, but knowing you’d been the one to make her feel so good made the pain insignificant.

She buried her face in your neck, peppering slow, grateful kisses there, and you held her close until her breathing began to even out again.

When she eventually pulled away, you expected her to take a break. You gently lowered her leg and smiled at her, prepared to help her over to the couch so she could recover.

But her release merely seemed to reenergize her, somehow, and she had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

She dropped to her knees in front of you and slid your pants down your legs in one motion, taking you by surprise.

“It’s your turn now, baby,” she smirked up at you, tilting her head as a mischievous gleam showed in her eyes. Yet another flash of lightning came, outlining her striking features amid the darkness; she was a vision to behold in every way.

Her lips easily found your v-line and felt their way across it, leaving kisses and little nips in their wake. Your head lolled back again as the promise of what was to come sank in.

Along the backs of your calves her hands skimmed, trailing upwards and paying attention to every inch of you that they could touch. Desire led them – a fact evident in the wanton way they groped you.

“God, I can’t wait to taste you.” She sighed the admission against your skin as if she’d been starved for a year and you were the first bit of food she had laid eyes on since.

The conviction in her behavior made you blush, wondering how you’d ever survive whatever it was that she had in store.

How you'd managed to survive so long without it stumped you just as much.

Your body hummed in silent, aching anticipation. Like a band pulled tight, ready to snap at any moment.

It seemed to set something off within her.

“You’d better choose a safe word now, Y/N,” she warned.

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 11 months ago

Text

Morning After - a Malevolent fic

Nothing like the morning after a Rite to untangle a puzzle.

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis.

AO3

-------------

CHAPTER ONE: Nibbles approves of the new guest. Now, if only he could stop being so scared…

Oh, Nibbles was not pleased.

Faroe had refused the yearly girls trip this year, and while Nibbles understood why, she was not pleased with it. She did not like being cooped up in this castle with so many potential enemies intoxicated (and fornicating) around, regardless of how good the protections on Faroe’s door were, and regardless of how powerful and sleek she felt after absorbing some of that magic dedicated to Mother.

Now in the light of morning she felt strong and surefooted and like she could outrun and outfight any foe who challenged her, a far cry from what many of Hastur’s guests (and probably Hastur himself) would be feeling. She felt full of life, full of power, and it felt good.

Not good enough that she wasn’t grouchy about the wait before all of the celebrants got out of her bloody house.

Faroe woke up at her usual time, stretched, did some small exercises that Dis had recommended to her in the morning. A Dancer came by with a light breakfast, and Nibbles could smell on the air that people were still here. She settled herself in front of the door and huffed, and Faroe lay against her and played her kalimba, and it was good.

Finally, finally everyone was gone, just in time for a very late brunch, and Nibbles stepped out into the hall again, taking in the old scents and new with big huffs through her nose.

“I hope everyone had a good night,” Faroe said, one hand on Nibbles’ long neck. “Do you think Dad is going to put together a birthday breakfast?”

Nibbles ruffled her hair with her nose—but something smelled off. Different. Someone was still here—

But it was familiar.

Nibbles sniffed the air again. Good familiar.

“I know we kind of celebrated my birthday already,” Faroe was saying, and Nibbles felt bad for not listening fully (but there was that smell). “But you know how Dad gets, and after what happened… I dunno.”

They walked by a sconce of blown out candles and their burnt-carbon-y tang, and suddenly Nibbles understood.

She stopped dead. Stomped her foot, once.

“Nibbles?” Faroe peered up at her.

And Nibbles jumped, legs kicking out behind her as she just leapt into the air and bounded in a circle around her Faroe, who looked utterly bewildered.

Nibbles did not care. She made a quick loop behind them and did a playful charge, head low, enough to encourage Faroe to swing up onto her back—and once seated so, Nibbles charged through the hall, joyful, excited, and the scent got stronger as they came closer to the dining room.

“Trust me,” Arthur was saying, his voice low and kind. “Once Hastur knows who you are, you’ll be just as safe as I am. He’ll want to reward you.”

“I don’t need any rewards,” said another voice, a tenor to Arthur’s baritone, and Faroe gasped. “You’re sure I’m… safe?”

If he was going to do something, he would have done it already, came John’s groggy bass, just as Nibbles rounded the corner.

He looked different than he did over a year ago, white shock of hair gleaming like fresh snow and charcoal skin free of the dirt of the road. He stood differently, tail sagging and half-curled next to his feet where he faced Arthur, expression tired, concerned. Why would he be concerned? Nibbles didn’t know, and she did not care.

“Odd?” Faroe said, voice low and full of wonder.

The man turned, eyebrows shooting upward.

Arthur grinned at them. “Look who it is,” he said, voice warm from excitement. “The birthday girl!”

Odd wasn’t in traveling clothes; he’d dressed himself in a shirt with nice embroidery at the collar and some soft woolen pants, clearly a bard’s clothing, if missing the leather jerkin Nibbles remembered. Faroe slid off her back.

“Lady Guinevere,” Odd said, his face breaking into a relieved, easy grin. “It is so good—oh, where are my manners?” And he swept into a low, courtly bow, and Faroe laughed as she ran to him with tears of joy springing to her eyes as she outstretched her hands.

He swept her up in a hug, his own eyes getting watery. “Knew that wasn’t your real name,” he laughed, picking her up off the ground for a brief moment with the force of the hug.

“Odd,” Faroe said, voice half a sob as she buried her face in his shirt.

“She still has your sweater, you know,” Arthur said, hooking his hands into the pockets of the ridiculous yellow outfit John had picked for him today.

Nibbles did not care. She tapped her hooves happily, pleased at the upturned curl in Odd’s tail, pleased at his tears.

“You kept that? I’m glad. It was my favorite,” Odd laughed, and reached up to ruffle her hair. “I told you, y’know. I said you’d go home, didn’t I?”

Faroe sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Yeah,” she said. “I… I did. Are you here for my birthday?”

Odd’s smile was tight. “I’m happy about the timing. How’s that?”

She hugged him again. “You were right.”

“Fuck, Guin, I was so worried,” he said, setting a hand on her shoulders as he got on one knee. “I thought about you all the time. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” she said, smiling. “I’m… I’m Faroe. Call me Faroe.”

“Faroe! It’s also a good name. Well, then, Faroe: happy birthday.”

“And that’s—that’s my dad. Arthur.”

Odd’s voice dipped low, conspiratorial. “I know. Nice guy.”

Faroe giggled. “He’s pretty great. What are you doing here? If you’re not here for my birthday, did you come here for the Rite?”

Nibbles recognized Odd’s expression immediately, those pinned ears, that faint, sour tang of fear.

“We’re not sure,” Arthur said, voice gentle. “We’re going to find out over breakfast.”

Lunch, John offered, just to be contrary.

“Brunch it is,” Odd finished; that lingering anxiety remained, but he put a smile on his face anyway. “Put in a good word with your other dad for me?”

“Will you sit next to me?” Faroe’s eyes were huge. “Please?”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Odd said, and let her take his hand.

They turned, and there was the King in Yellow.

How a big fucking squid god could move so quietly was a mystery for the ages, but there he was—and unlike last night, he’d hidden himself somehow, hidden his presence, so that they would not feel it (and his attention) washing over them until they all realized he was there. Nibbles huffed.

“Dad!” Faroe cried, abandoning Odd to leap into those tentacles.

Nibbles bounded around his tentacles, one eye trained on the bard.

Odd… Shrank. His tail went tight against his legs, ears pinning, and he edged backward, like he was going to try and hide behind Arthur.

It was a funny idea, Nibbles thought, since Odd could easily see over the top of Arthur’s head, and also Arthur was his favorite.

That mask didn’t move. Those many eyes fixed on Odd, and Odd seemed to feel every single one.

“Hi,” said Arthur. “We really need to figure this out.”

“There was a note,” said the King in Yellow, the Lord of Interstellar Spaces, the thief of creatives.

“There was?” Odd’s voice was tight, and he smiled like someone had put a knife to his throat and told him to act happy. “Did you find it… Illuminating?”

“No. We will discuss it later.”

Faroe popped out of his tentacles like she’d been mountain climbing. “Dad, this is Odd. He’s the one who helped me on the road.”

Nibbles understood that Hastur’s full attention had weight. That was the way of it with these little gods, especially such penetrative beings like Hastur, who dealt with the mind.

Poor Odd trembled. He probably felt like he needed to kneel, or something. She trotted forward and butted her head into his chest, encouraging.

Odd man swallowed, shrank further, took an oblique step backward. “Thanks,” he whispered. “Nice to see you, Nibbles.”

“A fucking note?” said Arthur. “From who?”

“Later.” Hastur sounded grim (but Nibbles knew he was just hungover).

“I can,” Odd mumbled, hands clutching his shirtsleeves tightly, “I can… go back to the composer’s room. He thought I should come, but I can—I can go.”

“But…” Faroe stopped herself, and blushed.

“Why would you want to go, friend of my daughter?” Hastur rumbled in a voice like velvet under skin.

“Stop that,” said the composer. “He’s scared enough already.”

Faroe looked back and forth, visibly confused.

Odd looked to Arthur.

Nibbles decided her input was necessary. She gently pressed her head into his chest and whuffed happily, tail a blur.

“Ah,” he said, arms coming up instinctively; he gave her several nice pats on the neck, and then busied himself scratching the base of her ears, because he was a very smart man. She let him ground himself with her presence, steadfast before the power of the King, and the fact that he was giving her scritchies made it all the better.

Nibbles bleated.

“She wants you to come to brunch,” Faroe said, correctly.

“If I’m not…” He looked back toward Arthur, and at John who was watching the scene intently. “If I’m not intruding? Really?”

“You’re not intruding.” Arthur might not—he swore—be some kind of lover of the King in Yellow, but he definitely had pull.

Hastur sounded amused. “I am not in the habit of ravishing breakfast guests in front of my daughter.”

Arthur’s face went long.

“Dad.” Faroe lightly swatted him.

Odd let out a deep, fully awkward laugh. “I, ah… I didn’t realize that was… a consideration.”

Hastur’s tentacles moved slowly, undulating, the weird grace of deep-sea things. “Nor am I in the habit of harming those who have helped my daughter. Come as she wishes. Let us speak. Later… we will speak more privately. I have questions for you—but you are in no danger. On this, you have my word.”

Nibbles snorted, but she knew Odd would be safe; unfortunately, the poor man needed some extra reassurance. She gently pulled herself free of Odd’s grip, gave herself a vigorous shake, and put herself between Odd and Hastur.

“Is that so?” he murmured, just to her.

Nibbles ruffled his hair with a snort from her nose. He may not get it, but at least he appreciated her.

“If you insist,” Odd said, louder this time, like he was agreeing with both Nibbles and Hastur.

“I do.” Graciousness was nice, but he was King here. And he gestured with about eight-dozen limbs. “This way, please.”

Faroe wriggled down and reached for Odd’s hand. She was fearless with the king of madness. Hopefully, Nibbles thought, that would help. His heart was beating fast, his fear so sour in her nose.

Hastur waited.

Odd took Faroe’s hand and let her lead him on.

“You’re pretty hungover,” Arthur murmured.

“Yes,” said Hastur simply.

Yeah, Nibbles already called that. She trotted with them, pleased at Odd’s presence, pleased that Faroe’s friend had come to join the gang.

------

CHAPTER TWO: A serious talk. A lot of questions. A few things revealed that ought not be.

Odd let Faroe lead him into the dining hall, the table long and clearly made for many more people that were attending; she tugged him over to the left side, guiding him to sit two seats down from the head of the table. It was still a bit too close for comfort, but he sat, and felt maybe a bit better when Nibbles settled over his left-hand shoulder, and Faroe sat next to him.

The place setting look like it cost more than his instruments; hell, the forks alone looked like they cost more than his instruments. He’d traveled in some minor kingdoms before, sure, but nothing like this.

Directly across from him Arthur sat, with surprising ease given his blindness and with John being too hungover to be a phenomenal guide. The man reached, fumbled with his napkin, and smiled blindly in Odd’s direction as John’s eyes sluggishly roamed across the table.

It was wild to watch. Deeply.

It was also a bit reassuring to know he wasn’t the only one hungover at this table, though Odd certainly was hiding it better than John was. Perhaps it was his pride warring with the leftover dregs of magic, but he could have sworn he was hiding it a bit better than the King, too.

A door creaked and another man walked in, wearing just ordinary clothes—no fancy Carcosan splendor—and sat down. And something about him was… familiar. Dark hair, an Asian cast; handsome, but there was something…

John sounded like he was trying to do the velvet tone Hastur had just done in the hall. Good morning, gentlemen.

Arthur snorted at him.

The man yawned. “Morning,” he said, his accent thick and sleepy as he pulled the chair to Arthur’s left out and sat.

Good morning, everyone. Who is this? Another voice, another echo of Hastur’s, spoke. There was a flash of gold in the man’s mouth as he did.

Arthur paused to see if Faroe wanted to do it.

She rose, clearing her little throat with pride. “Since everyone is here, I’d like to formally introduce Odd the Bard. He came to my aid after the great storm and showed great nobility and honor to me when I was in my greatest need.”

Odd blinked, cheeks darkening. “That is… Completely unnecessary, Princess,” he said with a laugh.

“Please, call me Faroe,” she said, her grin bright.

Arthur reached blindly out to the man next to him, patting his arm, gesturing towards Odd. “You remember that sweater? This guy.”

Hastur had settled in during this without so much as a sound. His focus stayed on Odd.

“Oh, shit,” the man said. “I’d shake yah hand, if not for the whole table in the way.” He grinned, an easy motion that was deeply charming, and held a hand up as if offering it anyway. “Pahkah Yang, and my pahtnah here I imagine’d like to introduce himself.”

I’m Sunny, said the voice that flashed gold inside the man’s mouth. Odd could see where he got the name, if he always sounded that warm and friendly. Faroe has talked a lot about you. We’re happy to meet you.

This charming introduction did not distract him from the fact that this was, without a doubt, one of the wildest things to happen to him. No fucking way. Odd stared at the man and his passenger, blinking dumbly. “You’re Pahkah Yang?” he managed at last, pushing his hair back from his face.

Parker blinked.

It’s Parker, Sunny corrected with a gentle chuckle. His accent is enchanting, though.

Arthur’s brow knit.

“Yeah?” Parker said. His face told a story of gentle suspicion and caution. “You know me from somewhere?”

“Me and half the Dreamlands,” Odd blurted. “You’re the Saint with the Golden Tongue.”

And with timing Kayne himself could not have directed, another man stepped into the room. Slight, almost too fine-boned to be handsome, too sneering and proud to be pretty. Blond-haired and chin-bearded, he stopped and stared.

In the span of a few seconds, wordless, he communicated several things. One: this man hated Parker Yang. His gaze locked onto the Saint’s back with an instant and virulent rage, reddening his cheeks, as if insulted to find him here at all.

Two: Odd might be in the man’s seat. The startled blink at finding him there was a genuine doubletake.

This guy wore finery. No casual clothes for him, and he’d swept in here as if expecting a standing ovation. He stared at Odd. “What the fuck is that?”

Odd’s ears flicked.

“Fuck you, too,” Parker said without even turning around.

Faroe stood. Her cheeks were slightly red. “Care to say that again, Mister Larson?”

Arthur’s face went long.

Hastur’s laugh was so low, so quiet, that it was more felt than heard.

So this terrible moment was even more awkward than the hall. This man—Larson, apparently—cleared his throat. “I mean to say, your highness, that there is a… being … in my seat.”

Arthur, I think she’s gonna lose it, John whispered quietly, but not too quietly.

“This is my friend, Odd,” said Faroe, eyes locked on Larson. Her cheeks were so red, and her eyes gleamed like knives.

Arthur reached, hesitated, put his hand down. His left hand took it.

“I’m sure he is,” Larson drawled coldly. “He is in my seat.”

“Was Parker in your seat, too?” said Faroe.

Arthur’s mouth fell open.

Parker’s eyebrows rose.

Larson didn’t move. He must have had more backbone than his size indicated. The muscles in his jaw worked a few times, and he kept glancing toward Hastur as though expecting rescue.

Rescue never came.

“Your highness,” he finally said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As if to prove a point, Nibbles set her chin on Odd’s shoulder and let out a small bleat that Odd was convinced was smug.

“I’ve had some time to do some research, Mister Larson,” said Faroe, and this was not the trembling little girl who had sat at Odd’s fire. This was the daughter of a god, and nothing coming would be good. “That phrase you used—’yellow peril.’ Like it was a joke. It wasn’t a joke. Was it?”

Again, Larson glanced at Hastur.

Again, rescue did not come.

Arthur’s eyes went absolutely huge. Red flooded his cheeks, too (identically, so how could anyone miss they were related?) and he started to stand.

Parker put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and kept him down.

Faroe did not need help. “Well?”

“I… meant it as a joke, your highness, shared between us, once denizens of Earth, and intended no true harm.” Larson executed a delicate bow. “I offer my apologies to you.”

“To Parker.”

Oh, the twitch across that face; that, right there, was why he would never be a beautiful man. It was a sneer; it was rage; it was disdain. “I apologize, Parker Yang, for what was evidently an unwise joke.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t accept it,” said Parker. “Up yours.”

Larson’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “You arrogant little—”

“Mister Larson,” said Faroe. “I know I am young. But you insulted him right in front of me for days, and you thought I wouldn’t notice. I’m young. I’m not stupid.”

“Ha ha ha ha,” Hastur breathed, a rumble in the floor, and stroked her back with one tentacle, proud.

Arthur, at this point, looked like Parker might be physically holding him in his seat, gripping his arm.

Larson finally sounded serious. “I certainly never intended insult toward you.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” said Faroe. “Nevertheless, you delivered one. Parker? How many meals did you miss with us?”

“Fuck, I dunno. Couple weeks?” said Parker.

“Mister Larson, I will ask you to abstain from our family meals for two weeks of time. Consider it penance. And I also expect you to be civil when you return. Is that clear?”

Larson stared.

Larson stared .

He turned bodily toward Hastur. “Does my lord, the King of Carcosa, find this acceptable?”

“I do,” said Hastur, calm. “My daughter is learning to take care of her people. Wouldn’t you agree she’s doing very well?”

Parker shook. He was clearly trying not to laugh.

Faroe spared her father a tiny, pleased smile, then looked at Larson again.

Larson had to do some quick calculations. “Of course, your highness. I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I’ll join our little get-togethers again in two weeks, and fulfill the rest of my duties in the meantime. I live to serve and to please.” He bowed low. Then—clearly knowing his game piece was out of moves for the moment—he left.

Faroe sat back down like nothing had happened. But then, she peeked at Parker.

Arthur! John whispered.

“I heard, John,” Arthur whispered back.

“Thanks, kid,” said Parker. “Appreciate that. Don’t got too many folks in my corner, but you’re a good one to have.”

“I apologize I didn’t catch what he was doing sooner,” said Faroe, and then gave up all pretense of adulthood and leaped out of her chair and flopped into her father’s many tentacles. “Did I do all right?”

“Brilliantly. My precious one,” Hastur rumbled, a low and constant sound like a purr from an elephant. Or a god.

Several things became very clear to Odd at this moment.

One, he had been thrust into the middle of a very complex situation with no information, no backup, but with allies if nothing else.

Two, he could relate to the Saint (Parker, he corrected himself) deeply. How often had “full” humans muttered ‘half-breed’ under their breath as he walked by, stepped around him like he would ‘infect’ them with his presence?

Three, he knew exactly how to handle this Larson fellow, and he would do so with complete and utter delight the moment he was able to; but two weeks wasn’t a lot of time to get his feet under him, and so he needed to prioritize.

“Pleasant fellow,” he said, giving Faroe a deeply dubious look. “I can’t imagine what in all the stars you could talk about without him running your conversations. However will you survive?”

Faroe giggled.

“Faroe,” said Arthur. “That… that was incredible.”

“I remembered what Kayne said,” Faroe said quietly. “And I realized none of you were allowed to deal with him. But I could.”

Hastur went as still as ice.

Arthur went white.

Parker frowned. “I don’t think it’s all on you kiddo.”

“I handled it, and I will again if necessary,” Faroe said primly, which she then abandoned by sliding into Hastur’s tentacles and disappearing from sight.

“Great show, honestly,” Odd said, cheerful, making himself rock back in his chair. “I’d love to see you do it again sometime. Nothing quite like someone deserving being put in their place.” His eyes flicked across the table, to Parker (who had handled all of this admirably, which made Odd sad in ways he didn’t yet want to examine) and to Arthur (who Odd already liked and now was begrudgingly growing fond of). “Forgive me for being short on conversation topics, I’m hardly interesting in comparison to a god, his daughter, and who appear to be his two closest confidants and their respective companions.”

“Nobody’s asking you to be,” said Arthur.

“He’s a performer,” said Parker with a kind of understanding that said he’d known more than a few, then addressed Odd directly. “Weird to think the conversation doesn’t actually ride on you being fun, huh?”

He said it… gently. Like he was removing a burden Odd didn’t need to bear.

Oh, Odd liked him. “Got me in one,” he said brightly, and privately hoped this meant that he’d successfully shepherd the conversation away from this horrifically awkward lull. “Known a lot of performers yourself, then?”

Dancers swept in, laying the table rich with incredible savory food—things Odd might not recognize, but would certainly know were very human .

“Yeah,” said Parker. “Knew a bunch in the drag scene back in the day. Uh. Drag’s…”

Odd laughed. “I know drag. I’ve done drag.”

Parker blinked at him. “You have?” And he sort of blurted it. “Got the fuckin’ cheekbones for it, for sure.”

Faroe popped her head out. “That’s how Parker knew how to help paint my dad for the Rite.”

Odd decided to ignore the terrifying memory of the King’s gorgeously painted body in favor of leaning into the compliment and preening. “Ah, so you have good taste. Had a feeling when my eyes caught on you.”

He’s quite talented, Sunny purred.

So that was a thing. Huh.

So was the food. Damn. Odd was ravenously hungry, and was really struggling not to look like a starving dog, and in his opinion was doing an admirable job, especially since the food was so good.

A comfortable lull set in. Faroe ate in Hastur’s arms, while he held her plate for her and occasionally got her more of whatever she pointed on the table. Arthur ate, and had to be prompted to eat more. Parker had absolutely no trouble with his appetite.

Sunny really had no trouble with an appetite, and evidently, could taste everything. Oh! More of that cilbir, please, he said, and moaned most impressively.

John either couldn’t taste it or didn’t care. He kept murmuring to Arthur, who murmured back.

And Hastur waited.

Waited until everyone had eaten, until the Dancers cleared the dishes away, before finally speaking again. “Odd.”

Well, that was a shame. Odd had been doing a great job of ignoring the Great Old One sitting at the head of the table since then, and had even relaxed for a solid thirty seconds. His voice caught, and it took him a second to force his throat to work. “Yes, Great One?”

“The rest of my day will be dedicated to my daughter’s birthday, but I have time now. Walk with me.” He rose, gently letting Faroe slide to her feet, multitasking by dabbing her lips with a napkin (which she did not need, and giggled).

And something about that… like part of his attention was always on her, no matter what was going on…

At any rate, it hadn’t been a request. Hastur headed for the hall.

“Do… do we…” Arthur began.

“Worry not for your new friend,” said Hastur. “This is between us. I guarantee his safety.”

Arthur’s brow knit. He nodded. “He won’t hurt you.”

“You should be okay,” said Parker, who wasn’t as sure, but wasn’t really worried, either.

Odd fought the urge to run, because predators loved it when you ran (huh, why did that come to mind?) and slid his chair in behind him as he stood. “Well, wish me luck,” he said, forcing levity into his voice as he—well, he would have liked to have walked, but the dining room was a decent size and Hastur was pretty fast, so it was more of a trot.

(Maybe if he proved he could be trusted and follow orders, things like… chains… wouldn’t be necessary.)

Not a fun thought to possess after he slid through the door and it clicked shut behind him.

Hastur led him silently through the halls. Everyone they passed dodged aside and bowed; even the plants seemed to sway as Hastur walked by.

He was heading outside, into some kind of fancy garden with paths.

Carcosa was just as beautiful as Odd had heard. It really, really was, and he wished for a moment that he wasn’t so fucking sad, because it was really making it difficult to appreciate his new… Home, he supposed. Language informed thought, so maybe if he didn’t call it a prison it would feel less like one.

It wasn’t working yet. The beautiful stained-glass windows, the terraced balconies, the elegant stonework may as well have been iron bars.

He kept his mouth shut, though, following the god, silently relieved that Hastur wasn’t touching him, was letting him walk, was just… moving.

“We seem to find ourselves in a conundrum, Odd,” said Hastur, the Lord of Interstellar Spaces.

“The note left with me… It means something bad, doesn’t it?” There wasn’t a point in playing dumb, not with the Unspeakable. Odd’s tail drooped, tip brushing the grass in this beautiful garden, and he decided to not look at the god at all in hopes of staving off his inevitable breakdown where he begged for… Something, he wasn’t quite sure what yet.

The pause wasn’t long. It was, an able performer might note, absolutely perfect—not so long that most would consciously notice it, but just long enough to edge up the tension. “It stated you were a gift.”

“On the night of a Spring Rite.” Odd let out a small, feeble laugh. “You know, as someone who spent a lot of my life avoiding gods, I appear to have gotten someone’s attention one way or another.” A pause—he took in a shaky breath through his nose, and maybe he was feeling bold, or suicidal. “I suppose I should thank you for not… Laying claim to me, last night.”

This pause was less theatrical. It was strange, for someone who studied body language, to watch the delicate curling of those tentacles, as though the god was… puzzled. “You seemed… unenthusiastic.”

“I woke up bound, naked, in a box, with no knowledge of how I got there,” Odd said, trying very hard to keep his voice from hitching. “The last thing I remember, I was in Oriab, your Majesty.”

“Oriab?” So that was as confusing to Hastur as it was to Odd. “I have little to do with Oriab.”

“I was on the Path, sir. I’m a member of the Songwalkers Guild, beholden to the Songweavers of Vulgtmog.” The gardens were lush with greenery, more beautiful than any Odd had ever seen. “I mean no offense, but I hadn’t planned to come to Carcosa for a very, very long time.”

The god was no fool. “You feared being taken.”

Odd shrugged, not risking a glance at the god. “Your reputation lingers, your Majesty. I also avoided anywhere that Pers’ agents were known to linger, and certain other gods, though many of the others were wary enough of angering the Songweavers that I had some protection.” He reached out, then, letting his fingers brush against the voluminous petals of some flower that only a Dreamer could have created. “It… It doesn’t matter now.”

“That was wisdom on your part.” He was pulling no punches. “I would have taken you in a heartbeat ten years ago. And Pers…” His chuckle was dark. “Perhaps would have, too, but is currently… not hiring.” That was confirmation of some rumors.

“Well, thank the gods for small mercies,” Odd said with a soft laugh. “Your daughter is a sweet kid. Kind. She could have ordered me to hand over my goods, back then, but she didn’t—traded for them honestly and everything.”

“My daughter will be a glorious queen one day, admired as she ought to be, elevated by the worship of her people into deity.” So simply stated. So sure. It would be interesting when Faroe developed more opinions.

“I didn’t know she was the missing princess,” Odd said.

“I am aware. Do you think that matters?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged again. “I wouldn’t have treated her any differently if I had known. I didn’t do anything special, at least not in my opinion. It’s… It’s really sweet that she kept my sweater, though. It was my favorite.”

“You made a difference to my daughter in a terrible time.”

“And I don’t regret doing so. I thought about her… Gods. Almost every day.” Odd sighed, hanging his head for a moment, screwing his eyes shut before turning, looking over at the nearly blinding fractal brilliance of Hastur’s yellow cloak. “I don’t deserve any kind of… Your Majesty, I don’t know what I’m doing here. The presence of a note from another god makes me seem like a threat, but the only connection I’m aware of is your daughter, and even if it—even if it kills me, I don’t regret being kind to a scared little girl. Am I putting her in danger?”

Hastur picked him up.

There was no warning. It was done swiftly, gracefully, though Odd still flinched. (And Odd would be a fool not to notice, again, that it wasn’t as constricting as the ribbons.)

Hastur brought Odd high, to his mask. So many eyes glittered there, so much attention. “I lack spare time, Odd the bard, so I will be frank with you, if you agree to it. Shall I?”

(All of that… Oh, if Odd hadn’t been so fucking sad, he might even have liked it.) “Sure,” he said, because it wasn’t as if he had a real choice, and if he wanted any semblance of freedom in this gilded cage he should go ahead and play the game.

“What you did for my daughter in her time of greatest need would already have placed you in a position of reward.” He let that sink in for a moment. “And you did so while keeping news of her secret. It seems you are good at keeping such things to yourself.”

Well, he’d be a shitty bard if he was a blabbermouth. Nobody would talk to him. “I don’t need a reward for being kind to a little girl,” Odd said softly.

“Ah, indeed,” the King in Yellow rumbled. “I sought your reputation this morning. It seems you are very talented, Odd. Known for your creativity, your sensitivity, your skill.”

Well, fuck. “The Songwalkers don’t take just anyone, your Majesty,” he said. “It… appears as though the information you found is pleasing to you.”

Gods, Odd was so fucking sad.

”Yet you do not wish to be celebrated?” And one tentacle-tip just… brushed his cheek, then withdrew. Quickly. Almost as if embarrassed, or unplanned.

“My whole life I’ve never needed much, sir. Just a song and the Path. Everything else was just a bonus.” He gave the King a weak smile.

The few times he’d thought about going to Carcosa he had envisioned it… Later. Later, when his knees would ache too much to walk the Path, or he’d seen all there was to see of the Dreamlands and Carcosa remained as the one last bastion of beauty that one could experience. When he had drunk his fill and was ready to settle, when the Path would stop pulling at his heart and leading him to his next destination like an excited lover, and maybe he even could have worked with the Songweavers to help Vulgtmog form a lasting alliance with this changed King.

He didn’t know how to say that. He didn’t know how to keep it from pouring out of him like arterial spray from a slit throat. His tail lashed, a touch fearful, and Odd hoped he would not weep.

Hastur’s voice was low. “You are beautiful, Odd.”

He…

He didn’t know how to feel about that. He hadn’t expected it. Odd blinked up at this god, who was terrible and gorgeous and as final as a headstone. “Thank you,” he said. “I… I suppose I will be singing ballads of your own beauty soon enough. It’s everything I’ve heard and more.” What a shitty compliment for him to give. (He was so fucking sad.) He tried again. “You appear just as radiant in the light of day as you did last night, your Majesty. I merely wish I could have appreciated it more. I beg forgiveness, given the circumstances.”

That rumble… such a fucking sound, so pleased, so deep. It vibrates in Odd’s bones, his skin, even in the soles of his feet. “And a golden tongue, to boot.”

“Ah, but you have that in your court already,” Odd said with a thin laugh. “However will I fit in?”

“Nothing quite like you,” the King in Yellow rumbled. His tentacles rested against Odd, doing nothing, just… still. “But you do not want to be mine.”

“I…” He was caught. Well, at least he would die being him . “...I don’t know why I’m here,” he said, very softly, and the tears started to flow. “People like me who come to Carcosa don’t leave, your Majesty. I’m a traveling bard. It’s all I’ve ever been, and I have avoided Carcosa because I knew if you got wind of me you wouldn’t—” He sobbed, curling in on himself for one long moment; unconsciously his tail wrapped tightly around the tentacle holding him, and Odd buried his face in his hands.

A long moment passed, silent. Hastur wiped away some of Odd’s tears. “You have been honest with me, Odd the Bard. I will now be honest with you.” Odd could still breathe, wasn’t compressed. “My Composer is mine, now. He is marked. This was done at the request of an Outer God, and not my choice.” The very tip of a tentacle caught another tear, barely traced Odd’s cheek before being withdrawn as if it had acted out of turn. “I have come to regret taking him against his will, however well it has turned out in the end. An Outer God gave you to me, Odd. That is what the note said. However… I am uninterested in another who is mine, but not by choice.”

So that was a lot.

Odd forced a breath through his heaving lungs, steadying himself, taking a moment to dig his nails into his palm in hopes that a bit of grounding pain could let him focus. “An Outer God,” he said, low, despairing. “...I’ve heard rumors, of… Of your Composer. He’s a good man. He and John treated me kindly, last night.” Buy time with compliments, to let him breathe, to let him process—the Composer was marked against his will?

That was… horrifying. It would have been a violation not only for the marked, but for—

Several pieces of this puzzle slid into place, and Odd went a bit still at the idea. An Outer God. And an Outer God had gifted him to the King (the same one?).

And there were people in Carcosa who had no business being there, and all the rumors…

Another who was his, eh? It brought up the rear, but that statement was just as important as the others. Odd needed to chew on it. He didn’t have the time, though. “Another who is… yours.” He said, careful, wary.

“Your situation is challenging.” Hastur wasn’t taking that bait. “Given who left you here, I’m unsure if it is wise for you to simply… leave.”

As if Odd didn’t already know. “I am… Coming to terms with it, Great One,” he said, and did not try and mask how deeply, all-encompassingly, fucking sad he was—and then his heart gave a tiny little thrill of fear, because the King in Fucking Yellow did not keep people he wanted to show off in oubliettes—

He made them want to stay.

“I can—” Odd said, his heart racing with his surge of fear, the tears flowing freely, “I can learn to be happy here, Great One. Don’t break me. Please, I beg of you, don’t.”

A long, long pause. “Did Larson seem broken to you?”

“What?”

“Does Arthur… seem broken to you? Or Parker?”

He was going somewhere with this.

Fuck, Odd, get it together. “No,” he said, trembling. “I… No. He seemed… Arthur is sane.” He couldn’t speak for these two, for the Saint or this other human who did not possess the King’s favor at the moment, but he’d spoken to Arthur.

“My relationship with all three is… discrete. Yet all were pressed upon me by the same Outer God who so thoughtfully tied a bell to your tail.”

Mother-fucker.

“So… I was…” Odd usually was better at this sort of thing, but this was a lot. “So I am… Now, also, your…” Pet? Problem? Fuck if he knew. “What does this mean, Great One?”

“Caution, for one. The others… I cannot allow to leave, or I and my daughter will be penalized. You… I don’t know.” That touch again, just barely tracing his lips, and then that naughty tentacle was withdrawn, too. “Ah… if I had time… there would be no breaking. Do you think me a bull, to stomp and shatter precious things? No. I would seduce you, Odd. I would make you mine by your own choice, and it would be very good.” A pause. “But I do not have that time. So. Instead, let us keep you safe for now. In time, we will see if you can leave without drawing ire from your gift-giver.”

What? Odd furrowed his brow, peering up at the god. “You said something like that too, last night,” he said, voice low. “What do you mean, you don’t have the time?”

“In a few years, I am going to rest. This is not well-known.” Delivered perfectly, calmly, maybe almost too calmly. “At that time, the plans I have laid for Carcosa will keep it and my family safe. Given this, I have little time for… personal pleasure. ” The way he said those words should be illegal.

But that…

That didn’t seem right. And Odd was sure, in some way, that it wasn’t—but he was still upset, and the way the King mused on personal pleasures made him shiver in a very traitorously pleasant way, and he still needed time. Time to think, to process, to make his fiddle shriek his grief (certain) and to scream (maybe).

“So…” Odd said, slow, taking another breath as he rolled that piece of information over and over in his head, “For now, what would you have me do?”

“Rest. See my glorious city—though with protections, as parts of it are not safe for the mortal mind. Make music if you wish… and I wish. But know that in time, you will be free. You may contact the guild.” And as if he was trying to be reassuring: “Even if I were still in the process of taking whom I wished, I would hesitate to break you. So many are not worth preserving. You, however… I would sooner smash my own mask.”

Odd needed to think. There was something deeper here, something that bothered him, but Odd needed to think. “As you wish, your Majesty,” Odd said, bowing his head with reverence, noting how little it had taken for him to relax in the grip of that tentacle. “...He told me… He told me you had changed, for your daughter. I want to make it clear that I appreciate this kindness.”

“He is correct.” Hastur was long beyond denying that, apparently. “But do not mistake me for anything other than what I am.” The barest touch on his lips—then that tentacle withdrew. “What do you need for now?” He seemed sure Odd understood he couldn’t leave.

That the threat against Faroe, at least, would hold.

“...A day,” Odd said, giving a helpless shrug. “I’m still sort of hungover from the Rite’s magic. I’m going to have questions. I lost… I lost months, Great One. I have… I have a lot of things to think about, and I…” He sighed, going slack in the tentacle holding him.

“Months?”

“Yes, sir.” His voice was quiet. Solemn. “As far as I was aware, the Winter Solstice had passed less than a week ago, but yesterday was the Spring Rite.”

Something changed. This god had fucking body-language, if Odd could learn to read it. “Your guild must fear you dead.”

“Almost certainly.”

“And you have lost income.”

“Yes—though that’s recoverable. Money I can make again; I wasn’t robbed when I was—when whatever the fuck happened to me happened.” He let himself hang limp in Hastur’s grip and (perhaps traitorously) let himself enjoy it, setting his head down on his arms. “My… My instruments made it here, with me. That’s the important stuff. But… You’re correct.”

That rumble again, that fucking purr . Did it vibrate through his chest, or something? Odd could feel it lightly in the tentacle. “Perhaps I should hire you.”

Odd burst out laughing.

He didn’t mean to. As soon as it happened he tried to cut himself off, but it cascaded out of him like a frantic waterfall, because that was fucking absurd. “Hi-hire? Hire me?” He forced himself to take a gasping breath. “I just—you have to babysit —you pulled me out of a box with a bow over my dick, and you want to—”

You know what, maybe he was due for some insane cackling. God of madness, after all, and this was surely a bugfuck-crazy situation. Odd wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to calm down (he did, with great difficulty). “Hire… Hire me. That’s one I didn’t expect.”

Hastur was so fucking pleased with his own idea. “Indeed. What is your current going rate per performance, Odd the bard?”

“Scheduled? About a gold a day, plus tips,” he said, shaking his head. “I pay my Guild dues twice a year, about 10 gold each, and they ensure I have instruments, clothes, food, shelter available in all the major cities. Other places… depends on the tips I get. You’re serious?”

“Very serious.” And now, apparently very entertained (and one tentacle felt along his tail, found itself wrapped by that tail, and could not withdraw). “What would seem an extravagant amount to you?”

“I was given to you,” Odd protested, “almost assuredly as a slave at best. A sacrifice on the altar of the Mother at worst.” The tip of his tail flicked, tapping against the tentacle that held it.

“You were.” That was definitely purring. “And so do I not have the right to do as I wish with you? I will pay you. I will lavish you with wonders. And then, I will let you go.”

Well, that went directly into the pot to roil around when Odd had a moment to think. He stared up at the god. “I… I can’t argue with that,” he muttered at last, blinking. “I don’t… I don’t know.” Extravagant? What?

“Today,” said Hastur, finally lowering him to the ground, “I suggest you shadow Arthur. I think the company will comfort you. You are welcome to walk my kingdom alone, but if you do not wish to, company will be provided. Though I do not suggest trusting Wallace Larson.” And the pride slipped through, deep and warm and so very real . “Though after my daughter’s words, I highly doubt you would find yourself so inclined.”

“Met a lot of full humans like him,” Odd said, finding his feet, tail lashing. “I know how to deal with them. I imagine he’ll likely steer clear of me anyway.” He took a breath and let it out, slow. “I can… I’m sure I can find Arthur, then. He and John were very kind to me. And… We’ll talk more… later?”

Odd was new to this. He couldn’t possibly be right—but it truly seemed, felt, deep and subtle, that this final touch over Odd’s hair, almost a whisper—held regret.

Then all those limbs withdrew. “Do you wish an escort back?”

“I don’t know the palace yet,” Odd said, and he definitely wasn’t lying, but maybe he also was hoping that Hastur would take him so he could eke some sort of further understanding out of him. “I think… I think I would appreciate that. Um. My things are in Arthur’s room.” He paused, eyeing the god. “Is that… alright?”

“Yes. You are safe there. None of my people—friend or foe—can enter. His room is warded better than any save for Faroe and my own bedrooms. Come.” Did he maybe make that word deeper than he should be? Perhaps. But he began leading the way back inside. And casually, said, “Perhaps fifteen gold a day to begin, though I would prefer you to play. If you make music for me, it will be doubled.”

“Fif- fifteen?” Odd stared at him, momentarily stopping dead in his tracks. Evidently the rumors were true and the King in Yellow had, indeed, gone completely batshit insane. “Your Majesty, that’s more than I make in a month—that’s nearly my yearly dues to the guild! A day?”

Hastur stopped. Turned toward him. One tentacle-tip, fine and delicate, tilted his chin up. “Perhaps I want you to remember me well.” And he said it warmly and fondly and absolutely not in a dire way at all, but then he just left, and Odd realized he’d been brought back to the doorway, to the very hall, down which Arthur’s rooms lay. Piano music filtered toward him.

Odd stared at the spot Hastur had occupied.

Remember him?

Down the hall, John yelled something about minor sevenths, and Arthur laughed.

Odd tucked that away for the moment, next to the cryptic statements about time and Hastur resting and whatever the fuck all of that meant.

He did not want to think about that right now. What he needed was to get some of this, all of this, out, and if the Composer was busy composing that meant there were instruments there, and all he had to do was follow his ears and he would surely figure it out.

#malevolent #malevolent fic #malevolent au #surrogate series #surrogate fic #faroe lester #arthur lester #kiy malevolent

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