#not everything is a transaction ma'am ......

[bitterseadrop-a]

@aethericals ⠀ :: ⠀ [ candy ] sender gifts receiver with their favorite candy // leander!

⠀⠀ anyone  crossing  her  path  that  day  was  subject  to  an  ill  fate.  the  pounding  in  her  head  combined  with  her  aching  muscles  ──  though  she  knew  how  to  hold  her  liquor  well,  even  milou's  body  had  limits.  if  it  weren't  for  the  multitude  of  fights  she  had  found  herself  in  lately,  maybe  last  night  wouldn't  have  ended  in  the  way  it  did.

⠀​​​​​​​⠀ barely  could  she  recall  the  memory  of  when  she  threw  the  first  punch  at  a  fellow  wet  wick  patron.  all  she  could  was  how  the  individual  was  invading  her  personal  space  a  bit  too  much  or  he  simply  couldn't  stop  talking  to  her  —  either  way,  he  was  an  annoyance  and  the  sentiment  was  the  same  to  her.  her  already  thin  patience  combined  with  a  few  glasses  of  strong  liquor  already  down  the  train,  it  was  suffice  to  say  that  the  patron  stood  little  to  no  chance  against  her.  at  least,  that  would  have  been  the  case  were  it  not  for  leander  practically  dragging  her  away  before  she  could  cause  serious  harm.

⠀​​​​​​​⠀ unlike  the  night  before,  her  mood  was  already  set  low  and  she  ready  to  strike  the  second  someone  tried  to  catch  her  attention.  it  was  only  thanks  to  leander's  ability  to  make  his  presence  overwhelmingly  known  when  he  wanted  to,  did  milou  refrain  from  doing  so  and  rein  herself  in.  "  what  is  it  ?  "  her  words  left  her  sharper  than  intended,  emotions  (  or  lack  thereof  )  subconciously  taking  over  rationality  —  but  she  cared  little  about  that  right  now.  

⠀​​​​​​​⠀ her  demeanor  quickly  changed  however  when  presented  with  a  gift.  chocolate  covered  strawberries  —  such  a  rare  treat  indeed  in  the  streets  of  lowton,  yet  one  she  couldn't  resist  when  offered  the  opportunity.  "  oh  ...  "  her  shoulder  sank  slightly  as  she  accepted  his  offer  gingerly.  a  surge  of  warmth  rose  up  to  her  face,  feeling  a  bit  of  remorse  for  almost  attacking  him  —  especially  knowing  how  hard  it  was  to  procure  these  treats.  though  her  thoughts  were  quickly  dismissed  as  she  cleared  her  throat.  "  thank  you  ...  i  assume  there's  something  you  need  me  to  do  in  exchange  ?  "

[writing-good-vibes]

For the valentines one shot would it be possible to have a combination of meet cute and replacement ?

hey thanks so much for the request !! i did another fic with the replacement prompts which you can read [here] if you like !! but i hope you enjoy this one too !!

WARNING for corey x gn!reader and joan being The Worst™, but there's also a lot of awkward fluff heehee.

💘 very cute divider by @/saradika-graphics 💘

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

This wasn't the first time a customer had yelled at you over something beyond your control and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Likely not even the last time today, and with that in mind you simply tried to weather this particular storm.

"Why didn't you mark it clearly? Are you just trying to trick your customers, now? Trick more money out of my pocket?"

"Ma'am," you try again. "I really am sorry for the confusion, but this item just isn't included in the promotion. I can void it from your bill, if you don't want it?"

This suggestion doesn't work, and the woman in front of you reiterates the same spiel of how you, the cashier, were clearly trying to con money directly from her pocket by not clearly indicated which cans were included in the 3-for-the-price-of-2 promotion.

While you waited your turn so you could assure her that, although it wasn't anything to do with you, you'd shoulder the blame and "Please, I can take it off your bill, or you can switch this can for one of the included items?", you notice the young man stood behind your enraged customer.

He's looking down at his shoes, shoulders hunched, but the embarrassed flush is still obvious on his soft cheeks.

He glances up occasionally, eyes darting around at everything in his vicinity; his mom (or who you presume to be his mother), the other customers who are either irritated by the hold up or amused by the scene playing out in front of them, and at you. His eyes stop on you for a moment too long, tracing your features quickly, before they snap back down to his sneakers.

You almost miss your cue to continue your placating attempts because your mind has wandered at the mere sight of this guy. You wonder if he flushes like that, all pink and bashful, about other things. Things more fun than his mother chewing out a minimum wage employee. You feel the heat start to rise beneath your own skin.

After way longer than you hoped, the woman finally concedes and sends the young man, her son, with strict instructions to go and get a new can from the promotion stand. He gets back in record time, giving you a tight smile as he hands you the can of peach slices for you to scan.

His mom complains the whole time.

You watch while the young man packs their grocery bags, broad hands enveloping each item as he organises everything methodically, like he's about to be fired from a job he doesn't have.

Finally the transaction is complete and your Angry Customer snatches the receipt from your hand and leaves with a thunderous rattle of the carts wheels.

Breathing deeply, you try to centre yourself. When you look up you see the young guy still stood at your checkout. Something about him makes you smile.

"Hey," he says quietly, wringing his hands. "I'm really, really sorry about her."

"It's okay," you assure him. "Won't be the first or the last time I deal with a situation like that." A shrug, as you try to maintain an air of nonchalance, while you rearrange some of of the junk -- pens, discarded price tickets, a Canadian quarter you'd found in the cash draw -- around your register.

"No, really, I mean it. You did a great job, she shouldn't have given you a hard time."

You're touched by his concern, even more touched when you look back up at him and his eyes are wet. "I'm okay, honestly. Thank you though, you're sweet. Was that your mom?"

"Yeah, she --," he hesitates, then just sort of gestures.

"Ah," you nod.

For a moment you both say nothing. Corey wrings his hands again restlessly. Under the halogen glow of the grocery store lights, you notice a silver signet ring glinting on his pinky finger.

"Corey? What are you doing? Get back here!" His mom is blocking half the exit door with her shopping cart, looking at him expectantly.

He flinches at his name. "I'm Corey," he - Corey - says, as though it weren't now obvious to everyone in the store. He steps out of the way of the checkout, allowing the next person in line to move forward as you start scanning their groceries.

You give him your name in return and then, "I'll see you here again?"

"Yeah, I mean probably. I uh, I really have to go. Um, bye -- I mean, see you!" he replies over his shoulder as he hurries off back to his mother.

You watch him leave, watch as he holds onto the shopping cart with one hand while his mother pushes it out the door and they cross the parking lot together. His mother is giving him an earful.

[ceasarslegion]

What is the gift card story?

Oh boy.

So when this happened, I worked at a Kiehl's. To those who don't know, it's a luxury skincare company that charges 80 bucks for a tub of moisturizer. Not even the specialty kind, either. It's honestly stupid overpriced for what it is except for a very small list of products and discount sets and I do not recommend it now that I'm no longer working there and can give my honest opinion of it.

The company also tries to feel special to embarrassing extents. They made us do this service where we'd basically sit you down and stick this machine to your cheek that was basically a flaw finder and we'd spend half an hour telling you everything wrong with you in an attempt to get you to drop 300 dollars on a 6 step routine. In all honesty, just wash your face, moisturize, and use sunscreen if youre going out in the sun. You don't need a 145 dollar anti aging serum, you cant permanently reverse aging, that's not how the science works, and aging isn't a curse or a sign of lesser worth anyway. It's a blessing not afforded to most. The stuff they claim they're "reversing" are usually just skin dehydration side effects. You get the same results from a run of the mill moisturizer. If your acne's persistent and uncomfortable then retinol serums do actually work for that, but don't fuck your self esteem by convincing yourself you need retinol to keep wrinkles from forming. It's not worth it, you'll end up with an empty wallet and depression and none of the lasting results you were promised the second you stop using it.

Anyway, we got quite an entitled customer base because of the combination of unaffordable price gouging and these frilly free services that made them feel special for 30 minutes of their disconnected bourgeois lives. The kind of people who think that theyre better than the employees because they got lucky enough to have a rich husband or nepotism'ed their way into high paying positions and convinced themselves that they're self-made. A lot of them im convinced only spent that much money because they could.

So one day this lady comes in and buys a hand cream. Shes a little rude and off-putting but whatever, she's not yelling at me over prices i cant control so pick your battles, right? I ring it through, ask how's she's paying, she says visa. I hand her the machine. She goes through the whole thing. It gets approved, I give her her reciept and say "have a nice day~!" to which she growls "why didn't you take my gift card?!"

This caught me off-guard, and I kinda blinked vacantly at her and went "I... w-what?"

She takes out a gift card from her wallet, which at no point she showed me or made me aware she had, and said "why didn't you take my gift card?!"

With all the self-control I can muster, I say "I... was not made aware that you had one, ma'am."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. She started staring at me like she wanted me dead. Started going off about how the customer is always right and demanding a full refund while still keeping the hand cream. I told her that this is very much not a scenario where that would be appropriate.

Adult temper tantrum ensues. She calls me stupid and says that I clearly don't know anything. My eye is starting to twitch, and my manager on duty catches this interaction and gracefully saves me from cussing out a bitch by taking over and running a return, followed by a second transaction with the gift card as payment.

You wanna know how much was on it?

Two dollars.

Two fucking dollars. She pulled that shit and called me stupid and started throwing a temper tantrum over TWO. DOLLARS. In a store that charges FORTY for that bottle of hand cream. If you're dropping forty fucking dollars on hand cream in the middle of an inflation crisis worse than that America is going through, you can afford to swallow a toonie. If you're shopping there in 2023, you're not struggling enough that two dollars is a legitimate concern, you know very well what you're doing here, and I'm not gonna fucking have that as someone who was struggling to get by on 16 an hour.

So I got her banned from the store. Fuck off and die, toonie gift card lady.

[west-tokyo-incidents]

Once again, a racket rings out in his garden.

But this time it's three in the afternoon, and Paresse has long since taken his medication for his migraines and... other issues... he sighs and stands up from his couch. It doesn't sound like the week before, though. The 'caw'ing isn't frantic nor pained. He slips through his kitchen to the back door, grabbing his jacket on the way.

He opens it to see a crow on the railing of the little wooden square of a porch he had. There's a moment where they just look at one another, and then the crow makes a little croak and fluffs up, looking down to peck at something shining on the railing next to her. He steps closer and peers at it, it's just a little piece of metal with a strip of blue paint starting to peel off it. He picks it up, to which his crow friend seems pleased.

He turns it over in his hand at looks at her, "Is this for me?" He gets a croak in response. He smiles softly, "Well, thank you, ma'am. Er... I think you're a ma'am..." He scratches the back of his head. She just lets out a little ticking noise. One he recognizes. He laughs, then suddenly seems to think of something and goes inside, getting something out of his cabinet before bringing it back out.

"Here. Food's probably a little scarce out there, huh?" It's a little bag of excess seeds from his garden. Usually he roasts them later into the winter, but he doesn't need ALL of them. He opens it and offers her a handful. He laughs as she immediately starts to chow down.

And so began something of a transactional relationship. The crow would bring him little trinkets, wires, bottle caps, bits of foil and more metal scrap, and so on. One time she brought him a key to something. He scolded her for it, but with a smile before taking it back inside and placing it among the other gifts.

It's late into winter before he has to make his next trip out of his house. He's self-sufficient for food with his garden, selling scrap and his pottery to pay for his water and electricity, but his little town house is paid for, so he doesn't work much, but meat is scarce and... well, he has reasons he can't go without.

So, he bundles up and goes out. Ice and snow crunch under his feet, trapped between the leather soles and cracked, stained concrete. Some of his neighbors have kids, and they're playing in the distance, he can hear them. His gloved hand slides under the handle of his car door, ignoring the scrape of rust. The door complains loudly at having been left so long between drives, and the car itself complains as well when he turns the key. Yet, it still starts.

He sighs out a small cloud and begins to drive. Everything is the same as always. He pays little attention to his surroundings, except to slow down when he passes the playing kids with red noses and snow down their shirts during the height of their snowball war. No one jumps out into the road, though, and he continues on by.

But not everything is quite the same. As he turns out of the neighborhood, he pauses at the stop sign. Perched atop it is an owl, with their head cocked at such an angle at something below. He sits up a little peer out over his dashboard to see a little weasel, an ermine, absolutely bouncing and weasel dancing. He can hear faint chattering as it jumps at the stop sign, only to fail to climb up it and begin its furious little jig again. The corner of his mouth twitches. He'd fancy it an argument over a lost mouse.

He looks back up at the owl, who is tilting her head this way and that at the weasel. He just sits back--someone is behind him now--and starts driving again...

...

Meat prices have gone up again. He has to leave behind some seeds he'd wanted to get. He makes a face at his receipt as he leaves. How frustrating. He throws the bag into his passenger seat. Distracted so by thoughts of hunting, but distressed at the idea of hearing gunfire, he doesn't at first see the brightly adorned figure approaching. As he turns and closes the passenger door, he nearly runs into her.

She jumps back a step, "Oh, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to sneak up on you!"

He stares at her, doe-eyed, confused and annoyed. She bites her lip at the lack of response, which prompts him to break eye contact at realizing he's staring again. He quickly takes her in. A Vagabond. Clothes made of hand-woven twine and wires with pieces of metal woven in. She has a large, colorful shawl covering most of her, and the way she holds herself tells him she has a weapon hidden somewhere on her. A necklace of wire with plastic-carved beads and a few feathers hangs around her neck, and a fluffy mane of black hair frames her face, a beard lining her chin.

She shifts in place, "Ah, um... I'm really sorry to bother you, but I noticed you looking at the seeds."

Oh? He straightened up a little. What was she--...

Her hands reach out, and she's holding the two packets he'd put back. He frowns a little, confused.

"For you. A gift. If you were looking at these, I figure you must have real experience growing stuff, so you should have them."

"...what do you want?" His voice is low, warning.

Her bright and confident grin falters. She shakes her head, "Nothing. Just an impulse thing."

He makes a pointed look down at her, and then back up, "I mean no offense, but you shouldn't spend your money on strangers." He straightens his back, now looking more downward at her, "Especially not if you're on the road this time of year."

She giggles and shakes her head again. Her hair bounces around her face as she does. It's a cute thing that catches him off guard. She takes one of his hands and presses the packets into them, "I don't have much use for money for myself." She glances past him, at the bag in his car, "You should try putting out a few snares. The rabbits around these parts are fat and lazy with no coyotes to hunt them." Then she turns and leaves him to stare after her with the seed packets left with him.

He laughs to himself. Well, his brother certainly wasn't kidding when he said that Vagabonds were strange.

But he isn't one to look a gift in the mouth and turns away to get into his driver's seat. He looks at them. Kale, spinach, stuff he can start inside and move out in the spring.

He doesn't think of much other than his plans for planting when he gets back, except to briefly note the lack of owl and weasel at the turn, as well as the remains of the great snowball war littering four lawns.

The car is parked to be left there for another month or so, and he steps out, with slightly less crunch than before. But his mind isn't on the little sensations, it's on getting inside and seeing how many spare pots he has and if he thought to bring in any soil before the frost turned it to near stone. It's on almost forgetting to kick the snow off his boots before stepping inside and bemoaning having to put the meat up, first.

The Vagabond herself has almost entirely slipped his mind as his eyes light up upon seeing that yes, he did remember to bring in soil.

[periru3]

So today I went into work and was like I am in the midst of a depressive episode. I am working with two new hires I haven't worked with before. I twisted my bad ankle the other day and it's been killing me for like a week now. It is an unseasonably warm Friday night (I serve ice cream) and there seems to be a festival happening outside our door that nobody warned me about. It will be a miracle if I make it through all 8 hours of my shift without being a raging bitch to anyone.

And you know what? I think I was doing okay. Being depressed doesn't really impact how good I am with customers like 96% of the time, so it being stupidly busy kind of helped actually. It meant there wasn't downtime where I would have to make small talk with my new co-workers as though I could think of anything other than lying down on the floor and giving up. So everything was fine.

Until 10:57 when this woman comes in and is SO cranky because we don't have dipped waffle bowls, a thing we have never carried at this location, and I'm like we have dipped cones, so she gets one of those, and she gets a large and then after I've scooped the large into the cone she's like "and I want hot caramel and peanut butter sauce" so I have to tell her we just ran out of peanut butter sauce and she is NOT HAPPY and I'm like ma'am it's been a long day and we close in 1 minute some things have run out that I haven't had a second to deal with I'm sorry but also take a chill pill. So I go to put the hot caramel on and am really stupid in this moment because I KNOW there is no way to put hot caramel on a large ice cream in a dipped waffle. There's nowhere for the caramel to go. But at this point I've already pissed her off so much I just can't bear to say no to one more request. which is stupid cause it's not like she's going to be any happier with a handful of hot caramel. But I try to put it on the ice cream and after I do she's like "and walnuts" and I'm like "I'm so sorry, do you mind if I put this in a cup with the cone on top, all these toppings are going to fall off" and she is UNHAPPY and I get why, it was stupid of me to even try to put the caramel on, but I'm clearly doing my best to fix it, and in the amount of time she spends being cranky about my idiocy, it's far too late and I am just covered all the way down my forearm with hot caramel. it's a disaster. anyway I got it into a cup and managed to squeeze some walnuts in there and it was a mess and I didn't charge for the toppings because I felt bad that every aspect of this transaction was clearly such a major disappointment for her and I JUST wanted to end this nightmare interaction on a positive note. But then as I'm ringing her up she says to her husband "I'm surprised Carl isn't here."

And then, my friends, Carl got there.

It is at this point 2 minutes past closing time, but I hadn't been able to lock the door. And I truly am like what harm is one more customer and also I'm unwilling to kick this angry woman's friend out and incur further wrath.

But Carl is one of those guys. You know, the guys who are like "I'm going to refuse to have a normal customer interaction with you. Everything I say will be jokes. We are best friends. Why don't you think I'm funny. Humor me or I will never order my fucking ice cream. Maybe I'll say something self-aware about how much you clearly hate how hard I'm making this, but it's a joke and I have no intentions of stopping being this way." He wasn't even the first one of those guys we'd had tonight. There was a guy like that a half hour earlier who I wasn't helping. But that guy at least also ordered his ice cream like a normal person after not too much hassle, even if he kept joking the whole time.

CARL ON THE OTHER HAND comes in and is like "SO! Whatcha got?" and I'm like "ice cream! :)" and he's like "I know that. It's an ice cream store. Whatcha got?" and I'm like "... ice cream. our menu is right here." and he just generally continues to be a lot and is so loud and is making jokes and is NOT. MAKING. ANY. PROGRESS. TOWARDS. ORDERING. and eventually he's like "WHATCHA GOT?" And I at this point am losing it and am like "ICE. CREAM. WE HAVE SMALL AND LARGE" and then this guy looks me up and down and is like "I can see that."

FLAMES. FLAMES ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE.

But I stay chill. I'm like "what can I get for you?" (for the third or fourth time at this point). And he gives some stupid joke of a non-answer. And at some point starts also addressing my co-worker, who also just wants to go home. And at some point he asks her what we have and she's also like "Ice cream" and he is like "I know you have ice cream" and I'm like WHEN DOES THIS ENDLESS CONVERSATIONAL LOOP END and my co-worker is like "we have small and large" and he is like "I told her I can see that! Small" *points at my skinny co-worker* "and large" *points to me*

After that point it's all a blur of rage. I know he said something about liking large. I know he referred to himself as extra large. I know he said some other stuff that was all jokey and ice cream metaphory and hard to track whether it was actually gross or just stupid. My co-workers at no point caught onto the fact that he was talking about our weight, which is WILD to me because it was NOT subtle. Anyway somehow we eventually got him to order and he left and at that point five more people had come in because people kept managing to get in before I could get the damn door locked. So I helped four more people while seething with rage and then voiced how mad I was to my co-workers as soon as I got the door locked and they were both like "OH that's what he was saying. I could not make sense of any of it" and I'm like "he pointed to you and said small and then to me and said large. It was extremely explicit"

Anyway I just really need to practice saying out loud "I don't serve ice cream to people who think it's ever appropriate to comment on a stranger's body"

[totallyuseless-ugh]

Sticky note on the Dashboard

CJ usually is a very polite employee at the local pharmacy, despite all the weird looks they'd often get from older people for their appearance. But walking around like this for years had gotten them used to those kind of awkward stares from these strangers. And it was nice to receive a few compliments for the tattoos from time to time from the few people that liked their looks.

One day though, CJ dragged themself to work on barely any sleep after a long, exciting night out. And while they did their best to stay polite as always, one lady had them not give a fuck anymore.

She had listed off the medications she'd need, already having her nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed a little at the sight of CJ's tattoos going up their neck. They thought nothing much of it and just went ahead to pick everything up for her, ringing her up back at the register. During the brief awkward silence of waiting for her card to be accepted looked the woman up at them once more, still having the stupid look on her face.

"Why would you have this tattooed on you?" She pointed her finger at the "They/Them" tattoo on CJ's throat. "I got nothing against trans people or whatever. But I remember being taught in biology class that there's only two genders, male or female. So 'they' wouldn't make any sense."

CJ just gave her a tired face and took a deep breath. "Ma'am, several doctors with PhDs looked at my genitals when I was born, and none of them could figure out what the fuck I was supposed to be. If you think you know better than any of them, by all means, have a look yourself. My husband and I would love to know your expert opinion." They packed up the order for the woman and placed it on the counter for her once the transaction was processed. "Otherwise, just take your stuff and leave me the fuck alone."

Despite the woman later complaining to Manfred Zimmermann, CJ's boss, they got into no trouble whatsoever. Simply out of spite, because he had an encounter with her unpleasant self once too.

[fuck-customers]

Fuck inconsiderate customers.

I had a customer come to my register with 2 carts full of bulky bedding and pillows. She kept putting stuff on the belt and then snatching them away, telling me to "Hold on!!"

Apparently she still didn't know what she wanted to keep and also wanted two separate transactions. So I kept waiting and finally she said I was fine to start scanning. And she kept putting things down and sitting the DIVIDER between each item she sat down.

So basically I would scan maybe two things and she would put a divider down and kept doing that for just a few items. But she had at least 20+ things in her carts and told me she only had two separate transactions.

So I would stop where the divider was and she would scream "Keep going!!" I literally had to just take the damn divider and put it to the side because she decided everything would be together and didn't tell me.

But kept moving the divider between items, instead of just sitting it out the way. Confusing me. Then all her bulky items kept piling up, to the point I could not read my damn screen.

And she kept asking me how much everything was and it got to the point where I had to say "It's hard to SEE, I can't tell" Which made her get an attitude and move ONE pillow out of the way and sharply said "Can you see NOW?"

When there were about 7 other huge ass pillows in the way. But I pushed them to the side, since she obviously didn't care about them falling in the floor. And continued to read the prices for her.

Finally when we were done, she just stared at me with her pile of bulky shit still falling over on my counter. And said "Don't these need to be BAGGED?!"

I used my best customer service voice and said "No ma'am, we don't have bags large enough for them. But nobody should stop you at the door as you leave, just keep your receipt out"

She seemed like she still wanted to argue, but I started checking out the next person. I spent enough time struggling with her already.

[murderousginger]

Wear You Like A Halo

Peaky blinders 

Cops & Robbers Part 4

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Steamy kisses. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 6.5k

Tagging: @imagine-that-100 @blinder-secrets @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me @theshelbyclan @peakascum

In true Tommy fashion, the kiss was never spoken about once it happened. It had been a short, soft kiss. One that could have meant anything, and the possibilities left you more conflicted than the goodbye kiss to John ever could have. 

In the weeks after that night, everything had stayed relatively the same. The Shelby's still came in and conducted business or drank. You still helped Harry keep the bar in order. And you and the Shelby men still were on good terms. John had been distant for a time after that night; he had slowly started coming back around and you both were trying to find the new line that the friendship needed to be built around.

One day when you had come into The Garrison early, you were taking care of the few day customers while Harry worked on paperwork when Finn came running in. 

"(Y/N)," he said, bounding up to the bar, "I was hoping you were here."

"'lo Finny," you said with a smile. "I came in a bit early so Harry could catch up. Why were you looking for me?"

"Tommy asked me to get you and Lizzie," he said, looking nervously at the patrons at the bar. "He said 'go get (Y/N) and Lizzie Stark, it's her off day from being secretary, and take them both to my office' and that's what I'm after." 

"Oh did he?" You ask with a raised brow. "I suppose what King Tommy wants, King Tommy gets. Let me go talk to Harry and we'll be on the way."

Finn nods excitedly and you walk to the back. 

"Harry?" You called as you walked to the back office. "You got a moment?"

"Sure, sure," the man waved you in. "What do you want? I was almost done. One of the regulars driving you mad?"

"No, not that," you said as you leaned in the doorway of the small office and rubbed your arm. "Tommy has Finn at the bar, said he's here to fetch me to bring to the office for something."

Harry's eyes shot up from the paperwork and his brows knitted together. He licked his lips, dropping the pen and taking a deep breath before speaking. 

"(Y/N)," he started kindly. "I know you've known the Shelby's since you were children. I know," he paused, looking for words, "I know you care for them. And them for you, as far as I've seen. But be careful."

You tried to give him a confident smile, but it mostly felt forced.

"I'm careful, Harry," you said. "I've done plenty you wouldn't approve of before working here. I'll do plenty you don't approve of now."

"I have no doubt, little bird," he chuckled. "But you can only play with fire so long before something burns."

You nodded. 

"I know," you said quietly. Harry gave you a long look before smiling and nodding toward the hallway.

"Off with you," he said gruffly. "Tell the regulars I'll be out in a moment. Tell them not to help themselves in the meantime."

You smiled and nodded again, walking back to the bar.

"I'll be back," you called behind you. 

When you got back to the room, you told the regulars to wait on Harry in the back, and you gathered your coat from behind the bar.

"Let's go, Finny," you said, and smiled as he raised his arm for you to take. 

You let him lead you to the vehicle and open the door for you. You crawled in as he rounded the car and got in the driver's seat. Finn turned the ignition over and off to Lizzie's apartment down the road you went. 

Finn left you in the car to fetch Lizzie. You decided to scoot to the middle of the bench and straddle the stick shift to allow her the passenger seat so no one was forced to sit alone in the back. A few moments later you saw Finn escorted Lizzie out of the building and to the car. 

"(Y/N)," Lizzie said stiffly. "Do you know why Tommy wants us on my day off?"

"No clue, Lizzie," you said as Finn got in on the other side of you. "But I'm sure it's not regular business." 

Finn stiffened beside you and hesitated, but you weren't sure why. He started the vehicle and apprehensively shifted into first gear. 

"Well obviously he didn't want me for regular work if he's sending Finn," Lizzie said. "But why is he asking for us both?"

Finn drove slower than usual down the road, and you weren't sure how long it would take to get to the office at the current speed. 

"I wasn't told nothin'," Finn said, still putting slowly down the road. "I already said so."

"Yes, Finn," Lizzie said sharply. "We know your brother doesn't tell you anything. I was asking if (Y/N) knows."

You shrug, both shoulders touching the other two. 

"I didn't know I was asked for until Finny interrupted my work at The Garrison," you said, still noticing the Ford hadn't picked up speed since you left Lizzie's apartment.

"Oh for fucks sake, Finny," you said exasperated. "Push the clutch in, will you." 

You grabbed the shift between your legs and shoved it into second gear. 

"Yes ma'am," Finn gulped as he did what he was told and the Ford picked up speed. 

Lizzie chuckled. 

"Looks like you have a virgin Shelby after you as well," she said.

"Shut up, Liz," You said angrily. "He's a boy. Not everyone is ready to look for your services."

Lizzie quieted and held a scowl.

"Now can you be a man and shift or do we need to pull over and I drive?" You growled at Finn. 

"I'll drive," he said, edge in his voice. "Tommy told me to pick you up. He won't take kindly to you driving me back."

"I highly doubt Tommy would scold you if I took over the car," you said. "But I won't sit in first gear the entire trip. So grow up."

"Yes ma'am," Finn murmured, hesitantly grabbing the shift between your legs and moving into third gear. 

The rest of the drive took much less time.

When you arrived, Finn opened the passenger door and helped you both out of the car before leading you up to Tommy's office. He knocked on  the closed door twice before Tommy called out "come in" in a rough voice. Finn opened the door for you both and let you walk to the chairs in front of Tommy's desk before closing the door behind you. 

"Sit down, ladies," Tommy said, head buried in paperwork and glasses on his face. "Let me look this one paper over and then I'll be right with you."

You both apprehensively took the two chairs and sat stiffly, eyeing Tommy. As you waited in the silence, you couldn't help but look Tommy over. 

Tommy's brow were tightly knotted as he read whatever paper was in front of him. His glasses barely hung on his nose, and his right hand held a cigarette that had been burning without his breath for quite some time. When he finally looked up, he looked at you first. His face relaxed as he noticed the intensity of your stare, but all emotion was soon hidden behind a blank face. 

"What do you want, Tommy?" You said, breaking the silence. "Why are we here?"

"Right," Tommy said, clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair and looked between you both. "We have business, and we need" he paused, looking for the word, "decorations, with us. Distractions." 

"You need women so they don't look so hard at you," Lizzie said blankly. Tommy nodded. 

"Exactly," he said. "But we want women we can trust. They know Polly and Ada are family, and this isn't a family event. We need you two to come along and give them something to look at." 

"I'm not a whore, Tommy," you said angrily. "I'll not be traded."

"No trading," Tommy said, arms open as he tried placating your fears. "And no whoring. We just need you to pretend to be our girls while we talk." 

"You need us to pretend to be your whores," Lizzie said with agitation. "So they'll be looking at us and you won't be asked to be with theirs."

Tommy nodded. Lizzie pursed her lips and gave a short nod. You squinted at Tommy. 

"Can't you just bring whores for that?" You said.

"I don't trust whores," he said agitated. "I trust you. Now will you do it or do you need to keep fighting me?"

"It's not like you're really asking us," you snap back. 

"You're right," he said. "I'm not. We'll get you a nice set of dresses and pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. I'll tell Harry you're off, (Y/N)."

"Fine," you both mutter. Tommy's blue eyes looked sharply between you both before he nodded more to himself than to you. 

"Dress not so low on my back, please," you say softly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

"Right," he said, jaw clenching. "Be off with you. We'll see you tomorrow. Someone will deliver the dresses before then."

You both stood up and numbly walked out of the office. Once out of the building, you both paused, seeing Finn had already left with the car. Lizzie lit a cigarette.

"I see how he watches you," she said through her exhale of smoke. "But I'm the one he visits at night when his head is too loud."

"He still pays you, though, doesn't he?" You said quietly. "He pays you because it keeps you distant. It writes you off. He might go to you, but it's a transaction."

Lizzie froze, anger bubbled just beneath the surface. She dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and stormed off toward her apartment. 

----

You were nervous through the night and into the next day. You didn't know exactly what you would be doing that night other than being pretty and quiet. 

Isaiah delivered the dress and matching heels around lunch. You tried to offer him tea or a snack but he waved you off.

"Nah," he said. "I've got more running to do," he walked backwards to the road. "But have a good time at the party. I peeked at the dress." 

He sent a wink that left your mouth agape as he ran down the road to finish doing whatever errands were given to him. You hugged the box to you and disappeared back into your home. 

You looked closely at the blue box before you finally had the courage to open it. You unwrapped the paper within and gasped at the sleek silky slip dress below. It was the same blue as the cotton one you had bought that was now your favorite. It had beading along the shoulders and heels dyed and beaded to match. You ran your hands over it lovingly, knowing the price they must have paid was far higher than you could ever afford. 

You got ready over the next few hours, curling your hair, putting it up off of your shoulders, putting on lipstick and getting dressed. You had found a small matching clutch in the box that you decided to place your lipstick and a few dollars in as you waited. You hesitated, looking at your small knife before slipping it into the bag as well.

Shortly after seven you heard a car park outside. You decided not to wait for them to come and get you, and instead stepped out of your home and locked the door behind you. 

"We were coming to get you, like a lady, (Y/N)," Arthur called from the street waving his hands in the air as he walked to you. 

"John and Tommy have never treated me like a lady in my life," you said, "no reason to start today."

"That's why I was comin' for ya," Arthur said as he gave you a side hug. "You look perfect. Lizzie's already in the back seat. In you go." 

He opened the door and ushered you in. You slid in, seeing Lizzie against the other door looking out the window and John in the middle seat giving you a wicked grin. Tommy was sitting in the passenger seat in front of you. Arthur shut your door as you settled in and he moved around the vehicle to the driver's seat. 

"Hello hello," you said, nudging John and looking between everyone. "Nice night for criminal activity, eh?"

"Don't worry about the business part," Tommy said. "Just enjoy the party and look pretty."

"And keep my mouth shut?" You said, leaning back.

"And keep your mouth shut," Tommy answered.

"And what's to happen if I don't?" You challenged.

"Do you ever shut up?" Lizzie said as she looked at you. You looked over John and glared at Lizzie.

"We all don't have history of being paid to be discrete, Liz," you shot back. "Can't help your price is so low."

"Enough," Tommy said loudly. "We're all going to this party and you both will be quiet. We'll do our dealings and be out without a problem. I chose you because you're loyal and can handle business. Don't make me regret it."

The car was silent. After a few moments, Arthur cleared his throat and asked Tommy a question, breaking the hold on the car. 

John looked to you, nudging your shoulder.

"You look good in that color," he said in a quiet voice as the conversation continued in the front seat. You smiled. 

"I see you're still trying your charms," you said.

"No harm in it," he said, pulling a pick from his pocket and placing it in his mouth. "We've been both called to business."

"Why didn't you have your wife come?" You asked. "She's got to be more trustworthy than --" 

You nodded to Lizzie, who was looking out the window. John's eyes softened.

"Can't be having both my favorite girls in danger at once," he said. "And someone's got to look after the children when I'm gone."

You wanted to melt, to feel the bloom of warmth that wanted to expand in your chest, but all you felt was cold.

"You'll never be gone, John," you said, nudging his shoulder with a sad smile. "Shelby's are too stubborn to die. You'll be a dirty old man making all the girls uncomfortable with your wink."

John gave a brief smile and rolled the pick in his mouth from one end of his smile to the other with his tongue. 

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "Until then, I'm here. With you. Might as well enjoy it."

You smiled and squeezed his arm before resting your head on his shoulder. You looked out the window to see Tommy's eyes meet yours in the side mirror. His face was perfectly blank but his eyes held a storm that you weren't sure of the cause. 

----

The car arrived at a gorgeous large home surrounded by land just as dusk darkened the sky. 

"A party?" Lizzie said. "We're dressed for London and going to a party."

"It's a good cover for business," Arthur said. "Little fun, little business, and dirt on those that stay the night."

"Oh," she said. "That sort of party." 

You felt Lizzie shift uncomfortably in her seat and immediately felt on edge. You looked over and finally noticed her dress was very similar to yours, only a mustard color with brown beading. She picked at the beading near the bottom of her dress.

"We'll take care of ye," Arthur rumbled. "Stick close and smile and it'll be over before you know it."

"Who's to be matched with who?" You asked and fidgeted with your clutch. The car stopped in front of the house and a boy came to take the keys from Arthur.

Your question was ignored and the doors opened for you and Lizzie. You stepped out in your heels, feeling the gravel crunch below your feet. The game was on. 

John exited the car on Lizzie's side and took her arm to escort her in. You nervously looked back to the house and felt a touch on your shoulder. 

Tommy had lit a cigarette and was taking a long inhale of the smoke as his hand was outreached for yours. He nodded as the smoke rose from his mouth to his nose, disappearing back into his lungs. You smiled and took his arm, stilling yourself for a moment in preparation. 

You and Tommy led the pack through the doors, shortly followed by John and Lizzie, and Arthur trailing behind. The house was massive and bright. Men talked in groups and women similarly dressed to you were peppered in. Dark corners held couples kissing and drugs. You watched people closely as Tommy led you to a side den and what you could guess was the host. 

"Ah yes!" Tommy exclaimed, mentioning the man's name, but you were so nervous you immediately forgot it. "Beautiful home. Thank you for having us."

"Tommy Shelby," the man said cooly, leaning against a fireplace. "Thank you. I see you brought your brothers."

The man looked to be middle aged with a mustache. His brown suit was nice and he held a glass of liquor on ice. He looked intently at you and Lizzie, up and down like he was looking over a horse at the market.

"And who are these beauties?" He said as he clicked his tongue. You did your best not to drop your smile. "I told you I would provide the entertainment tonight."

"You did," Tommy said, "but we Shelby's prefer a bit of Birmingham with us wherever we go."

"I see why," the man said, holding his hand out to take yours. You let him. 

"(Y/N), Pleasure. And this," you said, deflecting his eyes off of you, "is Lizzie."

Lizzie murmured her pleasantries and smiled and Tommy cleared his throat, bringing the man's attention back to him. 

"Right," he said. "So shall we have a drink and talk business, or talk business and have a drink?"

"Tommy," the man jested. "Always to the point. I have a few other matters to attend to, so best you men get these ladies a drink before. Enjoy the party. I'll be back shortly."

The man walked away and your group was left to wander the party. Tommy touched the small of your back and led you out of the den. Your stomach was butterflies when you walked into a larger living area with multiple large ornate couches. He motioned for you to sit on the couch and John ushered Lizzie beside you. 

"We'll find you two drinks," John said as he looked around the crowded room. "Stay here."

"You need three men to get five drinks?" Lizzie said dryly. "Sounds like a Shelby."

Tommy rolled his eyes before looking down at you both perched on the couch.

"We'll be back shortly," he said. "Just stay here and you'll get your drink."

"Gin," Lizzie sounded.

"Whiskey," you said after.

"Always whiskey," John said with a wink before the brothers left to find the alcohol. 

"They're scoping out the layout," you said as you watched the crowd, "It's as much the alcohol and girl watching as it is the job."

Lizzie opened her mouth and then clamped it shut as she saw a man sit on the arm of the couch next to you. She smiled and touched your hand.

"I think I'm going to find my own drink," she said, looking from your eyes to behind you with a tight smile. You watched her leave the same direction the boys did and jumped when you realized a man was sitting on the arm of your seat, looking down at you like a predator. 

"May I help you?" You said, leaning away from the man to look up at him. 

"You shouldn't have been left alone," he said as he fingered the dark beading of your dress on your shoulder. "I can get you a drink. Are you a gin or vodka girl?"

"No thank you," you said, scooting into the middle of the couch to get away from his reach. "I have a drink on its way."

"Oh now," he said as he slipped onto the seat where you had sat. "No need not to be friendly."

His hand slid onto your thigh and played with the dress at your knee. Your teeth grinded together as you looked up at his smirk.

"I said no," you said. "Do you need to hear it again?"

The man's smirk slowly turned into a look of confusion as he looked down at your hand holding a small knife against his crotch. No one around you seemed to have noticed your interaction.

"(Y/N) I've got your whiskey--" John said as he barreled toward the couch holding drinks in both hands. He stopped directly in front of you when he noticed the man. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at your hand holding the knife before he gave you a careful look.

"Thank you, John," you said as you slid your knife back into your bag and reached for your drink. "I was just telling this man--"

"Roy," the man supplied in a daze. His eyes moved between you and John, who smirked down at you as he handed you your drink. Roy's hand slowly moved off of your leg and onto his own lap.

"Roy," you said, "that I already had someone to get me a drink." 

Tommy and Arthur walked up behind John before Arthur passed him to sit beside you and Tommy looked at Roy over John's shoulder. 

"Where's Liz off to?" Arthur said, his arm slung over your shoulder as he took a drink. 

"She told me she was getting her own drink," you said evenly, meeting Tommy's hard eyes as he soaked in the situation. 

"Right," Roy said, seemingly snapped out of his daze. "It looks like you have proper company. Nice to meet you."

"John," Tommy said, eyeing Roy's departure, "Go find Lizzie." 

"Right," John said with a grin. "Let's hope she's not threatening to cut off a man's balls, too."

Arthur laughed. Tommy stiffly took the seat beside you, both hands holding drinks. You sipped yours and returned to watching the crowd, all too aware of how close you were next to Tommy. 

Tommy quickly downed the first drink before putting the empty glass near the foot of the couch. You looked over at him curiously.

"How were you to cut off balls without a knife, (Y/N)?" He rumbled, drinking from his second glass slower.

"Who says I didn't have a knife, Tommy?" You said with a raised brow.

He hummed, running the glass across his lip before taking another drink. Arthur finished his drink and stood up to get another. 

You had gotten used to an arm around you and shifted in your seat, growing anxious without the weight to ground you. You shook as you looked around, untethered while the rest of the party buzzed around you. A couple took the other side of the couch and it only unnerved you more.

You looked over at Tommy, who watched you silently, taking in your every movement with his cool blue eyes. You watched him claim a cigarette and matches from his pocket with his empty hand and give you his matches. He looked at you expectantly but didn't say anything.

You wrapped your fingers around a match and pressed it against the box, sparking a flame and letting it lazily caress the cigarette between his lips until it caught fire. 

Tommy leaned into the corner of the couch with his drink in hand and his other arm on your shoulder, pulling you into his chest until you were draped over him. He reached around you, pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and blew the smoke above you both. 

"You're shaking," he whispered into your ear. "Relax. And for fucks sake behave from now on." 

You found yourself melting into his side, grateful for the touch. You people watched with him in comfortable silence until John returned with Lizzie on his arm and Arthur and the host in tow.

"Tommy!" The man said cheerfully, his cheeks much redder than before. "I found your entourage, but it looks like you snuck away for a moment's silence. I'm ready to talk business in my office if you are."

"I'm always ready for business," Tommy said, giving you a small squeeze before ushering you both to your feet. 

"Great!" The man said. "Follow me."

The man turned to lead and Tommy rested his hand on your hip, pulling you beside him to follow. Lizzie scowled and burrowed into John's side as you passed. You slowed a step but Tommy's hand pressed into your hip to urge you forward at his side.

The man led your group to a study before and sat behind a large wooden desk. He pulled a decanter of alcohol from a cabinet, pulling out four glasses with it. He waved to the three seats in front of him. 

Your boys took the three wing-back seats and Lizzie sat upon the arm of Tommy's seat in the middle. You decided to look at the library of books along the wall. 

You heard them all talk, but you mostly paid attention to tone rather than words. You ran your fingers along the books and noticed most of them sounded scientific or mathematical in nature. A lot had to do with statistics. You froze as the tone shifted in the room. You looked over your shoulder with your hand still on the bookcase when you heard John call your name.

"Come sit over here, little bird," John said, using Harry's nickname for you, and patted his knee with a smirk. "You're making our friend nervous."

You smiled shyly and walked over to John before pausing above him. He patted a knee of his splayed legs again. You gritted your teeth before sitting on his right knee, your legs in between his and your hip against the arm of the chair. His hand wrapped around your waist and rested on your thigh as the conversation started again. 

You tried to focus on the conversation about horses in front of you, but you felt John's hand loosen it's hold on your leg and move to play with the beading at your left shoulder. You turned slightly and shot him a look to stop but his eyes were intent on your skin. 

John's brows furrowed and he tried moving the beading off your shoulder. You shrugged him off and whispered a hiss at him. He stopped for a moment and nodded for you to look ahead. You paused before doing so, feeling him lean forward behind you. 

You froze in place when John slid his hand under the strap and it fell down your shoulder. You eyed Arthur and Tommy as John nuzzled your bare shoulder and pressed his lips to it. Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth in his closed mouth as he watched John. Lizzie perched on Tommy's chair smirking at you. 

Tommy's jaw ticked but he didn't look over to you two once in his conversation. You slowly pressed your heel into John's instep until he hissed against your skin and moved the strap back onto your shoulder. 

You closed your eyes, knowing full well what he discovered. Your tattoo. Even when you had gone swimming with him in the dead of night, clothes thrown to the edge of the pond, you had always been careful not to show him your shoulder. You hadn't worn low back dresses in years. You were sure people thought it was for modesty, but in truth you didn't want to show the world that you had a tattoo. You loved it, but it was for you and you knew how society treated tattooed men. You didn't want to be seen as a freak for your own.

You sat still as stone for the rest of the meeting, and John returned his hand to your lap. You could feel his cocky grin behind you and you fumed at the blatant disrespect of boundaries.

When the business wrapped up, the men all shook hands and said their pleasantries and you all were ushered back into the party. When the host drifted off, you twisted in John's arms and smacked this chest.

"Don't you ever touch me like that again," you growled, trying to keep your voice down. Tommy and Arthur moved between you two and glared at you both. 

"What was that?" Arthur said and glared at John. 

"Our (Y/N)'s marked," John said, licking his lips as he eyed you. "And it's not fresh. How many more surprises are you hiding under there?"

"Marked?" Arthur said, looking at you in confusion. "Like a tattoo? How'd you find someone to give you that?"

"You can find them," you said shortly. "This isn't about my tattoos, this is about you" you jabbed your finger at John's chest, "not respecting me. You have a wife."

"More than one, eh? The only way to get a good look at your shoulder was to play into what I'm seen as, innit?" John said and laughed. "No one asks when ol' John boy gets frisky. They continue on with business, and now I know your secret."

John's eyes sparkled as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Tommy watched you two closely for a moment before he stepped directly in between you. 

"Right," he said, causing you both to step back to give him the space between. "We've done what we came here for. I would have said let's enjoy the party but no one can fucking behave long enough. We're done here, let's go home."

Lizzie laughed and Tommy raised a finger at her.

"You're not innocent, Liz," Tommy said, glaring at her. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

You all followed Tommy out of the house like scolded children. A boy brought the car around and you all went back to the seats you had before. 

The car was quiet. John was all too happy with himself beside you; Arthur looked bothered but confused as he drove and Tommy watched you too closely through the side window as you looked out into the dark.

"(Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence as the car turned into the road from the long driveway, "what is your tattoo of?"

"It's not a branding or an allegiance, Tommy," you said combatively, hugging yourself. "I wanted it. Thought it was pretty. It's only meant for me."

"And what is it?" Tommy pressed, growing agitated. You glared at him through the side mirror.

"That's between me and whoever falls in my bed, innit?" You shot back. 

"And me," John said teasingly. "Do I get to fall in your bed tonight, (Y/N), or are we still worried about Esme?"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he doubled as he clutched his side. 

"And here I thought you were a good girl with bad company," Arthur said. "Turns out you have some secrets, don't you little bird?"

"A knife and a tattoo all in one night," Tommy mused. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Not my fault you got more than you bargained for," you said. "Isn't King Tommy supposed to have us all figured out, like? With his big brain?"

You stared defiantly at Tommy and he regarded you back. The ride was a quiet standoff between you and him the rest of the way. Lizzie scowled out the window the entire ride. When Arthur dropped her off she left the car without a word and went into her apartment without looking back. 

You touched the door handle and opened your mouth to tell them you'd walk home from there when Tommy interrupted.

"Get out, I'll take (Y/N) home myself," Tommy said. 

Arthur and John both started to protest. Tommy raised a hand, quieting them.

"I need a talk with our little bird," he said. 

You let go of the handle as if it burned you and shrunk next to John in the back seat. He instinctively wrapped his arm over your shoulder.

"Tommy," Arthur protested. 

"Out," Tommy said again before he opened his door and then yours. 

"Night, John boy," you said softly as you unwrapped yourself from him to get out of the car. 

"You haven't called me that in weeks," he murmured surprised. "Night, (Y/N). You'll be fine. Tommy's just being Tommy." 

John eyes softened and he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. You got out of the car and moved around Tommy to sit in the passenger seat. Tommy closed both doors.

John and Arthur reluctantly got out and moved aside as Tommy sat in the driver's seat. You could see John worrying his lip as they both watched as Tommy turned the ignition and drove you both down the road. 

He drove until the brothers were out of sight, and then took a turn that was opposite of your home.

"I have a hard time placing you, (Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence. "There are times you're strong and about men's business. And in the next moment you're young. Too young."

"Why can't I be both?" You ask.

Tommy didn't answer, instead he looked off into the distance and nodded. 

"Why do you lock us all out of that head of yours?" You asked, knowing you wouldn't get a true answer. You passed a bridge and he slowed and moved to the side of the road and parked.

"I let someone clear out that which needs clearing out," he said stiffly, looking through his pockets for a cigarette. 

"I'm not talking about Lizzie," you said gently. He stilled for a moment before continuing his search for a match. You pulled the matchbox from earlier out of your clutch and lit one and held it out for him.

"Why do you two hate each other?" He asked as he leaned over to light the cigarette and returned his gaze to you as he inhaled the smoke.

"We don't," you said quickly. "Or at least I don't hate her. I think in a way," you said as you blew out the match and fidgeted, "we both know there's only so many spaces for women in the Blinders, and we're not Shelby, so we've only so many places to fit."

"Insightful," Tommy said more to himself than you, "but young."

"I'm not that much younger," you grumble as he opened his door. "John and Ada's age."

"Young enough," he said and stepped out of the car. "Let's sit by the water and talk."

You got out and numbly followed him to the waterside, feeling the cool night air on your skin. Tommy laid his coat down on the bank and motioned for you to sit. You both looked at the water in front of you. 

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight," he said finally. 

"You told us nothin' of what we was doing and I was leaning on my friend to help me," you retorted. "You also saw me put him in place when I thought he was crossing the line--"

"When did you stop trusting me, (Y/N)," Tommy interrupted crossly. "Because most of this night taught me you don't. The knife." 

He scoffed.

"Was used for its purpose when I was left behind," you retorted, turning to him in anger. 

"Could have ruined us," he hissed. 

"Don't dangle me like a prize and I won't have to defend myself," you hissed back. "Maybe I stopped trusting you when King Tommy decided no one was smart enough to know his plans."

"Drop the king bit," he snapped. 

"Or what, Tommy?" You sneered. "You'll teach me my place? What is my place, Tommy, or do you not know yourself?"

"You are the most aggravating girl in bloody Birmingham," he said under his breath.

"Says the biggest git--" 

Tommy's hand swung around and grabbed your jaw forcefully and his whiskey-heavy lips crashed into yours before you could process. His kiss took every bit of air out of your lungs and you fought your head as you kissed him back hungrily. Your tongues fought each other for dominance as his grip on your jaw tightened and pushed you away. 

"What's your tattoo, (Y/N)?" He said testily as he looked you in the eye. 

"What's this, Tommy?" You snapped back defiantly. 

Tommy growled and let go of your chin with a jerk of his hand. 

"So fucking young," he growled. 

He stood up and dusted his pants off. 

"Let's get you home," he said finally. 

You glared up at him, watching him put his blank face on like armor. The window closed for seeing into Tommy Shelby's mind. 

"Sure, Tommy," you scowled. "Let's just pretend this never happened, too, eh? Like you haven't tasted my lips."

You stood up and stomped off to the car, slamming the door closed as you collapsed onto the passenger seat. You crossed your arms and looked over, gathering a terrible idea. 

You slid over and placed the shift between your knees like you had sat when Finn drove the day before. 

Tommy slowly made his way up the waterbank, new cigarette in his mouth as he opened the door and got in. He looked at you with a raised brow when your shoulder bumped with his, but quickly rolled his eyes and started the car. You looked forward out of the window, arms crossed, trying not to look at him as he grabbed the shift and slammed it to first gear. His hand stayed on the shift stick the entire painfully quiet ride to your home. Neither of you would fold. You could feel his eyes on you at times but you refused to look at him.

Tommy parked the car in front of your home and turned it off. You moved to get out of the car but Tommy's warm hand dropped from the shift to your thigh as he blew out a breath in frustration.

"I didn't like it," he growled as you froze. You refused to respond or turn to him.

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight and I didn't like it," he growled with a clenched jaw.

You looked down at your lap as he let go of your leg and you nodded tightly. You slowly leaned to the door and opened it, letting yourself out into the night and into your warm apartment. You didn't breathe until you locked the door behind you.

[sonnetthebard]

👉👈 could you maybe. Do a one-shot of the Linda and Jane switched at birth thing? 0w0

Oh boy, here we go! Thanks for the first request!

Genre: Angst/ Fluff? There's gotta be a subgenre for this but I have no clue what it is.

Words: 999 (no, I'm not joking and no, I'm not adding another word and ruining it

TL;DR: Linda Monroe finds out she was switched at birth with Jane Perkins.

TW: Mentions of Death, Parent Issues

This is also going to feature my "Linda's maiden name is Hidgens" headcanon because we don't have a canon one.

___________________________________________________________

Linda sighed, looking through her parents' financials. What a mess this was. When her parents had died she was sure there would be enough money left for the funeral they planned. But... their funeral fund seemed to be drained. It's not like she didn't know that her parents loved an extravagant lifestyle, but this? This came as a bit of a shock. She was looking to see if she could find something, anything, that she could get reimbursed. Her parents had wanted to go out with a bang, and so help her they would. She had a reputation as a good daughter to maintain. She furrowed her brows, coming across one particularly large transaction.

"One hundred thousand dollars?" Linda muttered. She looked across to see where it had gone to. "Who the fuck is Trent Barker?"

Linda hurriedly took out her parents' financial journal. They always kept one, to make sure they knew exactly where their money was going. It was locked with a code lock as well as a key lock, just in case. There were some shady things in there, for their eyes only. Luckily, Linda had the key and the code. She opened the journal, leafing through it to the right date. She read through the details, her jaw falling slack.

"What the actual fuck..." Linda breathed.

___________________________________________________________

It was a bright and sunny day at St. Damiens. Many families would be out laughing and playing at the park, Trent supposed. But he was not one of those people. Instead... se was surrounding by screaming, and crying. Not the terrible kind. The childbirth kind. He sighed, walking into a room with a blonde woman and her blonde husband, holding a brunette child.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hidgens?" Trent asked, taking a look at the fragile baby in the woman's arms. She was sobbing. "Congratulations."

"Th-thank you..." Mrs. Hidgens sniffed.

"I'm going to take little... Linda, is it?" Trent hummed, taking the child. "She's going to need to spend a little bit of time in an incubator before we can give her back to you."

"Hm?" The mother asked, clearly distracted.

"I said I'm taking your daughter to the incubator for a little bit." Trent repeated. She still seemed dazed, looking past him. "Is everything okay?"

"I want that baby..." The mother breathed.

"I'm sorry. I know separation from your child can be hard, but-" Trent started.

"Not that disgusting little thing!" The mother rolled her eyes. She nodded her head towards the door. "That one. The blonde."

"That disgusting little- Ma'am, baby envy can be a very real thing, but... this little girl came from you! She's full of life. Your life." Trent stumbled, taken aback. He'd heard of mothers not being satisfied, but calling a perfectly beautiful child 'disgusting' was a new level. "You'll learn to love her."

"How much would it take for there to be an... 'accidental switch'?" Mrs. Hidgens asked.

"Um... ma'am, I can't do that." Trent blinked, looking to the father for help. "I'm not allowed, and... it's not right."

"Oh come on, boy!" The father rolled his eyes. Trent's jaw fell slack. "There's a price to everything."

"I'm sorry... that's not your child, and I can't give it to you." Trent stammered.

"A thousand dollars?" The mother tried.

"I can't..." Trent shook his head.

"He's not going to do it for a thousand dollars, Laurel." The father rolled his eyes. "How about one hundred thousand, and we cover any and all legal fees for if you go to court for malpractice? Top lawyers, nothing spared."

"I..." Trent blinked. One hundred thousand... he wouldn't have to worry about his rent for years. And it wasn't like the other mother would know the difference. Blondes could change to brunettes. He didn't mean to say it, but it slipped out. And there was no going back. "Okay."

___________________________________________________________

"And apparently, he took it." Linda sighed, sitting across the table from Gerald. "He took the money. I'm not Linda at all. I'm Jane."

"Linda, honey, you've been Linda for nearly your entire life." Gerald shrugged. "You were Jane for less than a day. And... Jane is dead now. It's not like there's anything you can do."

"I always wondered why I didn't look like them!" Linda thought aloud. "And... I think Jane may have even mentioned to me once how eery it was that I looked like her little sister. This explains so much... except for how perfectly I fit into this lifestyle."

"Doll, stop thinking about it." Gerald soothed her. "You did nothing wrong. If anything... it was your parents who were shady. And we already knew they were shady before."

"Yes, but this is a whole new level, Gerald." Linda huffed. "They bought their perfect baby and gave away their own! I know I'm no saint, but... imagine we had done that with River instead of just bleaching his hair!"

"I know it's upsetting, Linda, but... there;s nothing you can do to fix it." Gerald pointed out. "It's not like you can go and meet your real family now."

"Why not?" Linda asked.

"If this is upsetting for you... think of how overwhelming it would be for them to find out that their dead daughter wasn't even their daughter to begin with." Gerald reasoned. "You just have to keep on living."

"I suppose..." Linda sighed in defeat. "I think I want to at least help the Perkins, though. Get to know them, see what I can do to make their lives easier."

"I suppose you could do that." Gerald relented. "Just don't splurge on them, dear."

"Oh, I won't." Linda scoffed. "They're only my family. I'm not trying to get anything from them."

"Exactly." Gerald chuckled softly. Linda took out her phone.

"Now... let's see what I can find on my little sister, Emma." Linda hummed, opening her Instagram. This was the start of a very, very long- and hopefully fulfilling- journey for Linda. Perhaps through finding her family she would finally find herself.

[rohad93]

We all scream for...

Because i saw a comic on Instagram that tickled me,

~ ~ ~

Amity was bored, beyond bored actually. It was only noon and the shop had been fairly empty all day, but here she stood at the counter, staring out the front glass as rain splattered onto the empty boardwalk outside.

It was the height of summer but a sudden rainstorm had cleared the beach for the day, leaving her to listen to the ticking of the clock on the wall and the quiet whirring of the ice cream machines behind her. As much as she preferred not to interact with customers if she could help it, it at least made the time go by faster as opposed to just standing behind the register; waiting for something to happen or for her shift to end. There was only so many times she could wipe off the counter or fill the topping bins.

When her parents told her she would be working in the family's ice cream shop for the summer she had been less than thrilled. 

Usually Emira and Edric worked in the shop, but since they were spending the time touring college campuses and getting ready for their fall semester it had fallen into Amity, who still had two years of high school to go and as her parents put it 'had plenty of free time on her hands'.

She slouched on the spotless counter and looked out at the ocean she could faintly see outside the front glass. Her manager, Lilith, was somewhere in the back office and had been for a while, otherwise she would be scolding the youngest Blight that 'if you have time to lean, you have time to clean.' She rolled her eyes at how many times she had heard that over the last month, though it was usually aimed at the other employees, Amity never let the older woman catch her slouching, least it get back to her parents; that was something she didn't want to deal with.

Given how slow it was she was the only one working in the shop today, so there wasn't even anyone to talk to, not that she was all that interested in most of her co-workers, who kept a healthy distance, knowing that her family owned it.

She sighed, huffing out some air to blow away the stray strands of mint colored hair that had fallen into her eyes.

Her friends were all off enjoying the beach, or traveling for the summer months, leaving her here to work away her vacation dealing with the rude, demanding public masses.

It never ceased to amaze her how bent out of shape people could get over ice cream, or anything really, but something as trivial as ice cream especially.

Amity made it a point before to be polite to retail workers, but after the last month she had become hyper aware of how much shit they really had to deal with on a daily basis.

Speaking of…

The bell above the door chimed and a middle aged woman with an umbrella chose that moment to walk into the shop, already looking less than pleased.

Amity inhaled deeply, preparing herself.

"Welcome to Blight Delight's," She greeted, putting on her best customer service persona.

The woman grunted in reply as she looked up at the menu board intently, mostly ignoring Amity.

After a long moment of looking at the board she finally turned her gaze to Amity

"I want a single dip of vanilla with hot fudge and extra nuts,"she said and Amity repeated the order back as she punched it into the register before telling her the total. 

The woman grunted and handed over a bill that Amity quickly made the change for before moving to make the order. 

The bell above the door chimed again but she didn't pay it any mind as she handed the woman her ice cream as she looked at her receipt, then back up at the board before back down at her receipt, frowning.

Never a good sign in Amity's relatively short experience.

She was right of course.

"You overcharged me." The woman looked at her, frowning bitterly like she'd been sucking on a lemon.

Amity quickly glanced over the last transaction on the register and the total was correct, she steeled herself

"No ma'am, that's correct." This was obviously the wrong thing to say to her as the woman's mouth puckered further.

"Your menu says that a single dip with two toppings should be 3.50 and you charged me 3.75." she huffed, holding up the receipt. 

"Yes ma'am, but you asked for extra nuts and any extras are a twenty-five cent up charge," Amity patiently explained pointing up at the board where it was written in large, bold black letters for all to see.

"That is ridiculous, twenty-five cents for an extra handful of nuts?" The woman scowled, smacking her cup of ice cream on the counter. "For that I want more than this." She slid the cup back across to her. 

"I can add more, but will be another twenty-five cents," Amity explained, frowning. It was going to be one of those days it seemed, and true to her hunch the woman was now glaring at her.

"This is unacceptable. How much can nuts possibly cost that a few more costs that much more?!" Her face was starting to turn red.

"That's the store policy ma'am…" Amity started before the woman cut her off.

"Does anyone else work here that I can speak to?" she demanded and Amity groaned inside, knowing what was coming next, it was the only way these types of interactions ever ended.

"I want to speak to your manager."

There it was.

It took everything in her power not to roll her eyes. It never ceased to amaze her no matter how many times it happened. 

Amity's parents owned this shop, she knew the policies better than probably even Lilith, but no one was going to take the word of the sixteen year old working the register, clearly working here was not a clear indicator that she knew what she was doing.

"I can get her for you but…," Amity tried only to be cut off again.

"I also would like this remade, it's melting." The woman scowled, gesturing disdainfully to the cup of slowly but surely melting ice cream sitting between them with a hand as though it was a cup of mud Amity had tried to give her.

Of course it was melting, Amity thought. instead of just eating it you're arguing about a quarter over a handful of nuts. 

Before Amity could say anything the woman was talking again.

"Well, are you going to-"

The loud sound of metal tinkling on glass cut off anything she was saying.

Amity blinked, turning toward the noise. 

A few feet away, was a girl that looked about her age, wearing a purple beanie pulled down over dark brown hair, a white and purple striped t-shirt and ripped jeans dropping change into the tip jar sitting on the counter. 

The last coin jingled to the bottom of the jar the woman in front of her turned back to her mouth opening to continue her rant

"Well, are you-"

Again the sound of coins tinkling on glass cut off anything she was going to say. She turned to the teen standing nearby and glared.

"Do you mind?" she spat, and the teen looked at her.

"No," she said innocently, pulling a roll of coins out of her pocket and peeling away the paper. Amity blinked as she watched the girl before her attention was pulled back to the woman in front of her as she turned back to Amity, scowling.

"I-" was all she got out before more coins drowned out whatever she was going to say. 

"What do you think you're doing?!" The woman finally turned fully to face the girl standing a couple feet away.

"Tipping her," she said nonchalantly with a shrug.

Amity swore she could see a vein bulging in the woman's neck.

"And what exactly are you tipping her for?" she hissed.

"Doing her job"

"Exactly what part of her job is she doing?" The vein bulged.

The girl hummed thoughtfully before turning to look at the woman, smiling innocently.

"Patiently listening to your bullshit." 

The woman made a choked sound and Amity had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Excuse me?!" The woman's face had turned an astounding shade of red, and it looked like she might explode any second.

The girl just looked back at her, blinking.

"Listen to me you…" she started but the girl held up a hand.

"I don't work here, so…," she said and shrugged. Amity bit harder to keep her mouth closed. 

The woman sputtered like she had a leak before letting out a disgruntled noise and smacked the cup of ice cream off the counter before turning and storming out of the shop without so much as a backward glance.

The girl bent down to pick up the cup and threw it in the trash can a foot away.

"Guess she didn't want it after all," she said and looked at Amity. "Sorry about the mess." She smiled sheepishly.

Amity let herself smile back, more than a little amused.

"It's okay… thank you." 

The girl grinned and it was incredibly bright, Amity's heart gave a hard thump. 

"Aw, it was nothing, I'm sorry you have to deal with people like that."

"It happens." Amity shrugged, suddenly feeling a little flustered now that she was alone with the girl standing on the other side of the counter. "Can I get you something?" she asked.

"Do you have anything dairy free?" She asked, tilting her head questioningly and Amity couldn't help but think it was cute.

"All these sherberts are." She pointed down at the glass case that had all the dairy free flavors.

"Ohh…" her tongue poked out of her mouth thoughtfully. "Can I get a cup of strawberry?" She pointed, finger pressing into the glass and looking up at her.

Amity quickly scooped it into a cup and handed it over to her.

"Thanks, how much?" She started to reach for her wallet.

"On the house," Amity quickly spat out and the girl blinked at her with big, dark brown eyes that reminded Amity of the coffee flavor in the case in front of her.

"Ya sure?" she asked and Amity nodded sharply.

"Yeah" she pushed a loose strand of hair back behind one of her ears.

"Thanks!" The girl smiled and turned to go, waving back at Amity as she walked out the door, back into the lightly falling rain, the bell jingling merrily as she left. 

Amity let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding as the girl left.

'she was cute…' 

Lillith chose that moment to walk out of the back and immediately spotted the ice cream still splattered across the black linoleum floor.

"Why is there ice cream on the floor?" she asked, startling Amity, who jumped at her managers voice.

"Unhappy customer" she shrugged.

Lilith hummed.

"Well, get it mopped up," she said, before returning to the back room.

Amity wheeled out the mop and cleaned up the mess, but for the rest of the afternoon all she could think about was the girl and her bright smile.

[buns-with-a-book]

Snowdrop

Based on @queenmuzz‘s headcanon about Vergil’s time in Fortuna (and who really is the prostitute that Nero gets pinned as being the child of. Here’s a hint: it ain’t his mom) and the general vibe of this song. It might’ve put a little @twinkstimulator to sleep but there won’t be any easy sleeping for Vergil.

This fic does contain spicy content and angst!

Fandoms: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil, OC, mentioned Nero’s Mother Tags: @furyeclipse @synchronmurmurs @harlot-of-oblivion

Summary: The world runs on give and take. Vergil knows this too well, as a penniless young man in Fortuna. But there are some things that can be exchanged for what he seeks, even if he’s less than enthusiastic about the whole affair.

Winters in Fortuna weren’t that cold, more like the occasional chill that nipped the very air. Perhaps that was the blessing of a more temperate climate, with mild winters, so unlike the winters of Red Grave, he could still remember grey-hued skies and falling snow, of memories turned bitter with the smell of ash and the taste of blood.

Vergil glanced up to the window of the tiny room, one of the many public housing apartments in the city. It was bland, barely furnished with a bed, a bedside table, and the Order of the Sword emblazoned on the wall, but it was free to stay...provided you could find a room to keep as your own that wasn’t trashed by it’s previous occupant. Vergil figured himself lucky that this place was mostly clean. It even had a coat hanger (which he appreciated for his coat) and a vase, which he placed a snowdrop flower in. It reminded him of home.

Vergil didn’t need much, aside from Yamato and his mother’s amulet (both of which he would never part with, no matter how dire the situation), but it turned out he needed more than a sword and a necklace. Not power (he could get that eventually) but money (which was another matter entirely)...but there were other means of getting what he needed. Other means he was forced to rely on.

He heard a knock at his door. Two short raps, followed by a third ‘thunk!’. He scowled as he stood, knowing full well who it was at the door: A Matron of the Order, Fioralba if he remembered correctly. Despite being an older woman, she was no ordinary matron. No, she had access to the Order’s most secret texts, texts as old as the city itself. And he needed access to those texts to find the secrets to unlocking his father’s power, to finally be strong enough (and then what? He would figure that out when the time came).

“Snowdrop?”

“My apologies.” He spoke, opening the door. Snowdrop was merely another name, he dared not reveal his true name or heritage to the Order. No, he knew better than that, he was no fool nor did he wish for the Order to find him if and when he left the city to seek more information about Sparda elsewhere. There was something about Fortuna that kept him on edge...

“Snowdrop!” Fioralba snapped. Vergil blinked.

“Once again, my apologies. I was thinking.” He explained, stepping aside to let her in. His eyes caught the faint golden lining of her hood. He closed the door behind her, watching as she set her bag down. He knew it wasn’t the texts, no, they were too important for her to carry around. She pulled off her hood, revealing mostly grey hair. Whether it was from stress or age, Vergil didn’t ask.

“Always thinking, boy.” She huffed. “Keep your head out of the clouds.” Vergil disliked Fioralba’s rudeness but kept his mouth shut.

‘Just stay quiet.’ He thought to himself as Fioralba rummaged through the bag, setting it on the tiny table in the room. ‘Don’t do anything reckless.’ He sat down on the bed, undoing his vest and carefully setting it aside. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a very important folder being laid down, the permissions he needed to get into those secretive tomes. He knew what she wanted in return, he could feel her gaze upon unscarred muscles.

Well, mostly unscarred. There was one, on the right of his heart, where Yamato was thrown into him, where his demonic heart awoke and defended itself against the demons. It was a thin line, a line that still stung when he awoke from his nightmares-

Shaking his head, he looked up at Fiorabla to find that she was already making her way to the bed, ready with a bottle of lube in her hands. She knew what she wanted if that look in her eyes was any indication. She slid into the bed, handing the bottle off to him. He set the bottle aside and pulled off his pants. Taking the bottle again, he squirted some lube in his hand and stroked himself (a skill he learned from one of the younger matrons, the far nicer Luna). Once prepared, he shifted to settle himself between Fioralba’s legs.  

“Ahem.” He paused, blue eyes flicking to her.

“Yes?”

“I thought you were better than that.” She crossed her arms. “Already getting to the main event?”

“...my apologies.” He lowered his head. He wanted to get to the main event, to get this over with, but kept his mouth shut. He felt her hand on his hair and repressed a shudder, guiding his face down to her cunt. Quickly getting what she wanted, his hands rested on her thighs.

They may have agreed on the terms, a night of pleasure for access to the texts he needed, but he didn’t have to like it the entire time. And if he played his cards right, she would never know he wasn’t enthused about the entire affair.

He leaned forward, suckling on her clit (something he learned once again from Luna. He wished she was here instead of Fioralba). The reaction was immediate, the older woman letting out a surprised gasp, her hand clinging tighter onto his hair. He ignored the shudder that shot down his spine from his hair being pulled, focusing more on pleasuring her as best as he could without trying to scowl or flinch.

Instead, his mind drifted to Luna, who was everything this matron could never be. He remembered their first meeting, where he had saved her from a pack of demons that somehow got into the city. She had offered what she could, bread from her basket, as thanks. She had connections to the Order of the Sword, specifically to its many libraries, but he always felt...concern to her. Worried about her safety and well-being.

It was unlike him to worry about anyone but himself.

“Snowdrop.” He glanced up, feeling his face covered with her slick. “I’m ready.” There was barely any tenderness, only the hint of annoyance that her time was being wasted by him not moving fast enough to pleasure her.

“Yes ma'am.” Vergil sat up, trying not to sound bored. It seemed to have convinced her, if that smile was anything to go by. He lowered his head, eyes glancing anywhere but her as his cock sunk into her. Vergil groaned softly at the warmth, more instinct than desire. He would never vocalize his disdain for being with Fioralba, not while she had what he needed, but good god, he wished he didn’t have to be with her.  

But the faux enthusiasm (if he even could project enthusiasm normally) seemed to fool her, given how she hooked her legs around his hips, locking him in.

‘Don’t think too hard. Just focus on making sure she leaves happy enough not to take back what I need.’ He mentally reminded himself, keeping still as he waited for Fioralba to give him permission to move.

“Move, boy.” Boy, tch, as if she could call him that. He was a young man of eighteen, he was no boy. But he didn’t say a word about that, more focused on thrusting into her. She relished the thrusts, from all appearances, and he could pass off his lack of looking at her as ‘focus upon the other parts of her’. She wouldn’t be able to tell his mind was elsewhere, to someone that wasn’t this cruel witch of a matron, but of someone who genuinely cared for him.

Luna.

If he focused hard enough, he could just see her in his mind’s eye, her auburn hair splayed out on her bed, warm skin faintly illuminated by candlelight. He could just hear her, gently guiding him on how to make love, patiently answering all the questions he had.

This, what he was experiencing with Fioralba, was not love. It was a transaction, sex for information. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Outside of me, boy.”

“Yes ma’am.” Vergil was really starting to hate her, not that he could do anything about it. He pulled out and began to stroke himself vigorously, panting softly. It didn’t take long for his cock to shoot out seed all over her stomach. He quickly moved himself out of the way as she sat up, getting off the bed. He passed a look to her, wondering if he was able to fool her into thinking he was even slightly interested in making sure she had a good time.

“Take care on your way home, ma’m.” Vergil said, sitting on the bed quietly as he watched her get dressed. She passed him a look, a look of disinterest, before she resumed her task.

“Goodnight, Snowdrop.” Fiorabla said coldly, finishing getting dressed. Just as he expected as she packed up her bag, leaving the folder on the table. He heard her mumble as she stepped out. Vergil knew it was an insult as he stood up and locked the door behind her. He stood at the door for a moment before he walked away from the door to the tiny bathroom. Turning on the ice cold water, he stepped into the shower, fully intending to clean off the lube and cum on his person. He paused, standing there in the tiny shower, silent but shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut, sliding down the shower wall. The ice cold water fell upon his skin, mixing in with the tears that were sliding down his face.

He hated it here. He hated Fortuna, it’s matrons, every sideways glare from its own people (except Luna. He could never feel anything close to hatred for her). He hated running for his life, not a penny to his name, nothing but Yamato, his mother’s amulet, and the clothes on his back and demons hunting him down at every chance they could get.

‘Mother...Dante…’

Only under the ice cold water of a shower would he admit he missed his mother and brother. Only all alone on a winter night would he dare cry over who he lost. Only, when he was certain no soul was watching, would he beg for his mother like a child.

Devils don’t cry, right?

‘Mother, Dante...I swear, I will find the power to avenge you. I will not rest until Mundus’ head is in my hands.’ Vergil silently swore, slowly rising his head to the stone ceiling above him. ‘My father did it. I will do it as well.’

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Today's retail nightmare:

To start my shift a woman comes in to purchase a computer keyboard but she wants to make sure it's black. She apparently bought one that was grey and it didn't match the rest of her computer.

Okay, well box has a plastic seal so I can't open it. Let's go to the display. They don't have this model but they have the one a step up. We only carry Logitech keyboard in black. I've told her this, she doesn't believe me.

Computer associate comes over. She asks him is this keyboard black. He says yes but again, she doesn't believe him. He looks it up and it's even labelled as black on our site. Still she's convinced it's grey. I explain to her we can do the transaction then we can take it out and see. If she doesn't like it, full refund.

We do that. I take it out of the box but she doesn't remove the plastic before she's examining it. It's grey, she says. I'm like okay, well then we'll get your money back. She finally takes off the plastic. Then she starts comparing it to every single black thing in my department. I'm talking twenty minutes of walking around me and the counter holding this keyboard up to everything.

And let me just say, she was not nice about any of this. She tells me the black tiles on my wall are shinier than her keyboard and why isn't her keyboard shinier? I offer to show her the Dell and Microsoft keyboards we sell. She ignores my suggestion again. I'm done repeating myself three times with her. I tell her I have to answer the phone.

She finally decides it's black enough and I pack it back up for her. She pulls a mouse out of a grocery bag and asks me to troubleshoot it. Sorry ma'am. I work the till not Geek.

Ugh.

[lazyspeedster93]

Shadow Misadventure, Ep. 4: Shopping Sprain

(Any and all real-life intellectual properties, including Sonic, belong to their respective owners)

(In front of Rouge and Tails' houses)

Sonic: Mornin', neighbor!

Rouge: Good morning, Sonic! Good morning, Tails.

Tails: Uh...morning. (6 6)"

Rouge: Ahem, I think Omega has something he wanted to say.

Sonic: What a coincidence; Tails wanted to tell you something, too.

Rouge: Omega...

Omega: I am sorry for what I said the other day. I behaved very childishly and insensitive. Your admiration for your friend their does make you any less or more of a genius, likewise for myself with Shadow.

Tails: I'm sorry, too. I went out of line, I said some things I shouldn't have; I hope we can still be friends.

Omega: Acknowledged. (Shakes Tails' hand)

Sonic: Aww, that's nice. 😊 I hope this means we can hang out again soon, Shaddy!

Shadow: I'm choosing to ignore you. We should probably get going, Rouge!

Sonic: Where are you going?

Rouge: Oh, I was just taking the boys shopping at the mall.

Amy: (Suddenly appears): The mall? Can we come?

Rouge: If your friends help with the bags, sure! ❤

Sonic and Tails: Say what now?

Shadow: You heard the lady. You're going to carry their bags, just like Omega and I do every Monday.

Tails: That doesn't quite explain why Sonic and I have to come do it.

Rouge: Because there's two of us shopping. We're going to need the assistance we can get. :P

Sonic: I don't think I'd like that.

Shadow: (Eyes shooting daggers): You will suffer as I do.

Sonic: Uh...😥

Amy: Don't be such a baby, Sonic. It's just carrying bags. Tell you what, if you do a good job, I'll make you those cupcakes you like.

Sonic: Really? 😍

Amy: Really, really! ❤

Sonic: Yay! I'll do it!

Amy: Hey, Shadow! Come over here!

Shadow: What is it?

Amy: (Whispering): After Rouge and I finish our share of the shopping, if I could convince her to let me borrow you for a bit, I want to take you somewhere; just the two of us.

Shadow: (Eyes dart from side to side)...Why?

Amy: Don't tell the others, but I want to take you to game shop with me.

Shadow: That's all? Why are being so secretive about that?

Amy: Normally, I'd take Tails, but you remember what happened at Spring Burger. I banned him from video games for a week for that.

Shadow: Really? Okay, I suppose I could come along.

Amy: Yes!

Rouge: Are you done over there? We gotta beat the sales rush!

Shadow: We're coming!

(One hour later, at the Westopolis Shopping Mall)

Tails: (Vision obscured by shoe boxes): I could use a little help.

Sonic: I would if I could, buddy, but my hands are pretty full. Also, the rest of my arms, shoulders, waist, and my aching back!

Omega: MALFUNCTION. EXCEEDING LOAD WEIGHT LIMIT. HYDRAULICS JAMMING.

Shadow: (Heavy breathing) Whoever came up with the idea of "fashion trends" should've been put in prison!

Rouge: Alright, boys, just set everything down right here for now.

Shadow, Omega, Sonic, and Tails: (Drops packages, boxes, and bags down next to a bench as neatly but quickly as they could, sighing loudly and collapsing)

Amy: You guys want anything to drink? I can give you change for drinks from that vending machine over there.

Sonic: (Exhausted): Please. (Gets change) What do ya wanna drink, Shaddy?

Shadow: Nothing unless it's your blood in a cocktail.

Sonic: So, you don't want any? (Shadow glares) I'll be right back.

Rouge: Anyway, Shadow, I still don't know why you didn't want me to get Amy pieces like mine.

Shadow: The same reason I hate fakes of me. You're a marvelous specimen, sweetheart. We don't need a hundred cheap Rouge knock-offs running around. No offence, Amy.

Amy: None taken. I think. Anywho, when he can move again, could I take him somewhere for a minute?

Rouge: What for?

Amy: Well, uh...

Shadow: Uh, FLOWERS! She's seen our garden and wanted me to help pick flowers for hers(?)

Rouge: Oh! Well, you did plant a lovely garden for our house, sugar. ❤ Alright, you can borrow him.

Amy: Thank you! Ready to go, Shadow?

Shadow: (Struggling up, cracking back) Yeah, I'm good. Let's go.

So, did you really ban Prower from video games? I would've thought he had the authority in that house since he paid for it and all.

Amy: Oh, we Sonic Heroes are all equals. That means we're all equally responsible for each other, and in this case, I had to put on the mom pants with Tails.

Shadow: Heh! I would think you'd say the same thing he did in defence of the faker.

Amy: Maybe. But, as smart as Tails is, he's still a little boy. As his senior, I gotta set a good example. Anyway, we're here!

So, what were you planning on getting, Shadow?

Shadow: Nothing in particular. I mostly wanted a break from carrying clothes.

Amy: Well, I needed to finally get the new Pokémon. So, what should it be: Sword or Shield?

Shadow: I can't help you there. I don't really play Pokémon.

Amy: Whaaat?

Shadow: I'm just not really interested. I don't really do pets, let alone virtual pet games.

Amy: Maybe you'd like Fire Emblem? The newest game is about training a school for soldiers. You like doing that for G.U.N., right?

Shadow: Fire Emblem seems like one of those busy games, and I'm busy in real life. Maybe I'll just put money on No More Heroes 3.

Amy: Ooh! I better make a mental note to get that one.

Dave: Hello, are you ready to check--Oh, no.

Shadow: Hey, aren't you that kid that works at Spring Burger?

Dave: Yes, and you're friends with the big robot that got in an argument with an 11-year-old over you.

Shadow: (Glaring): Are you trying to say something about me?

Dave: (Scared): No, sir. Did you fine folks find everything okay?

Amy: Yep. I'd like a new copy of Pokémon Sword, and my friend here wanted to preorder a game.

Dave: Are you two purchasing separately or is this all one transaction?

Shadow: I'll be using my own money for my preorder.

Dave: (Beep!) There you go, Ma'am. And what was the game you wanted to reserve, sir?

Shadow: (Holds out 10 ring banknote): I'm putting ten rings down in No More Heroes 3.

Dave: (Nervously): Ah, of course. (Completes transaction, hands over receipt) You're all set. Have a good day.

Amy: Let's go, Shadow! Everyone's probably ready to go home.

Shadow: I'm coming!

Amy: Quick question. What was that about you planting a garden. I have seen it in your lawn, and it is very nice. It's just--and don't take this the wrong way--I never would've guess that was your doing.

Shadow: (Reluctant): It's just something I did for Rouge's birthday last year. That's all.

Amy: Aww, Shadow, that's so nice of you!

Tails: Hey, guys! Where are the flowers?

Shadow: Well, it's already done, so there's no need to keep quiet about it; Amy and I actually went to the game shop.

Tails: Aw, man! Really?

Amy: You can come next time. You're not allowed to play games again yet, Tails.

Tails: But we're fine, now. We were just talking about aerodynamics.

Omega: Miles has learned a lot from being a pilot.

Rouge: Well, this has been fun, but it's about time we go home. Shadow, if you please.

Shadow: Chaos Control! (Teleports everyone and all their stuff back to their houses)

Tails: Alright, if there isn't anything else you need us to do for you, I think we'll be on our way. Right, Sonic?

Sonic: Oh, yeah, yeah, definitely. You all have good--

Shadow: (Grabbing Sonic and Tails' shoulders, emanating an aura of doom): As a matter of fact, if you could help us take Rouge's bags all the way up to her room, that would be great.

Sonic: Uh...okay. I'll just ask Amy to give us a hand--

Tails: Sonic? She already went inside the house.

Shadow: Oh, right! Her bags are still out here, too. You can bring those in yourself after your finished with Rouge's.

Sonic and Tails: ...Crap.

[starstruck-thirst]

She Wants Revenge

Part 3 Chrollo Lucilfer: Out of Control

Series title is after the band of the same name. The chapter is named after this song.

Part 1 of series is here.

Warnings: PTSD flashbacks, NSFW, mental manipulation, fem dom, slight bondage

“One large caramel macchiato!”

If someone wanted to make a lot of money fast, all they would have to do is open a coffee shop near the business square in Swardani City. The constant flow of foot traffic in and out guaranteed that the owner's child wouldn't have to take out any school loans. You’d put money down that they could all become doctors without debt.

You were staring into your coffee, fingers of your right hand relaxed against the warm ceramic, enjoying a moment of pure content serenity. The sensation of the heat stabilized your nerves while your other hand gently caressed the book, flipping a page and getting a whiff of the paper and ink smell as you did so. Each movement was so familiar that it almost made you feel completely relaxed. The smell of freshly baked goods filling your nose, the sound of the bell announcing customers, the feeling of the table under your arms, the taste of the coffee in your mouth. It was all a part of a life you knew once, something that used to make up part of your daily life.

But, you hadn't read a single word. Eyes scanned each line as if you were engaged, but there was no comprehension to it. Just an empty masquerade as you waited like a patient fisherman for the lure to bob. It all was just a part of the setting of your trap.

The city had taken you back so readily two weeks ago. It was like you had never left, nothing was different. Businesses were the same, the streets had the same smell and landmarks. Like the world had stopped and waited for you to come back. Held its breath and watched for your anticipated return.

The grocery store you used to visit once a week hadn't even reorganized their inventory.

Moving into an apartment in the same part of the city as before had been the simplest thing you had done in months. The hardest part had been filling the apartment with things. When you had left the city, you had sold off all of your possessions minus a few items that could fit into a suitcase. But now it was a chore to stock the kitchen with dishes and silverware. Creating a television set of life around you.

As you sat a bowl of fruit on the kitchen island you wondered when this had stopped being ‘normal’ for you. Would it ever feel normal again?

But there was no pain. Whereas before you had felt an ache in each muscle, ligament, and joint from basic living now you felt… nothing. The level of excitement that rose into your chest as you placed the last of the freshly washed dishes was new though. The excitement of what this was all for.

The prize that was to come.

Even coming to the coffee shop where you used to come daily had been so easy.

Why had any of this seemed so hard six months ago?

The bell on the door chimed probably for the millionth time, but this time it was different. If asked you'd never be able to explain to a non-hunter why. It was just part of having hunter senses. You could feel it in your soul when a target had come into your range. Feel it in every nerve when they nipped at the bait.

“Good morning, Mr. Hill! Your usual?”

“It isn't still morning is it? Goodness. Will this Monday ever end?”

His voice was jovial. Light hearted and warm. Sweet nectar for unsuspecting butterflies in search of nourishment to suck from, before being consumed by the carnivorous plant underneath.

Your heart picked up just a little, but you kept calm, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and artfully tilting your head to one side as you “read”. For a moment you wondered if your makeup had been perfect enough, and you had to fight the built-in urge to touch your lips and make sure that you hadn’t gotten even the slightest smear outside of your lip line.

Maybe some things were built in so deep that they hadn’t changed either.

Pariston finished his transaction at the register and began looking over a nearby painting that was marked as sold. Somehow this was the part you found the hardest. The waiting when your hunt was within sight. But you were determined to stay steadfast in your plan.

Another page turn.

For whatever reason this drew his eyes toward you at last. You could feel his gaze like a weighted blanket heavy on the shoulders, threatening to crush you if you breathed incorrectly.

He called your name and your heart pained in want. First you looked up with just your eyes, as if to be annoyed by the distraction from your reading. But upon realizing who had called you, you sat up straight and viewed him full on. It was all part of the act, but you had done it so beautifully. “Pariston! Or er… Mr. Hill… good morning.”

He smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. “Good morning. May I sit with you?” All of this was so in place with everything else that it made some part of you want to be sick, but the part of you he had trained was absolutely aching to please.

Shuffling coffee cup and book, you made room on the small café table as Pariston sat across from you. “Oh sure. If you have the time,” you responded, though he hadn’t waited for your verbal affirmation.

“I can always make a little bit of time for an old friend, right?” He asked as one large hand came across the table and rested on your own.

“Is that what we are?” You asked with a trace of obvious hurt, looking to the floor.

His hand gripped yours tightly, just shy of enough force to hurt. “Of course.”

Slowly you looked up at Pariston, allowing your power to activate through his touch. It was just a trickle, but you clearly felt his surface level desires. He was interested in your bait. He was nibbling.

You wondered if a broken toy had ever recovered and managed to not shake apart in front of him. Like you had the first time.

A long sigh escaped your lips as your thumb brushed one of his fingers before you jerked your hand away, catching yourself. That spark in his eye that had been so dim six months ago was getting brighter already. “Sorry,” you apologized. But what exactly you were apologizing for wasn't clear. Pulling your hand away? Having tenderly stroked his finger?

“It's perfectly fine,” he said sitting back with an unreadable smile.

“Here's your coffee, Mr. Hill,” a friendly male barista said as he sat a to go coffee cup on the table. “Also, we sold two paintings. Could you take this to her for us?” The barista produced an envelope for Pariston to take.

“Not a problem! I'll take it over this afternoon. She'll be thrilled,” he chirped, taking the envelope and putting into his breast pocket.

The barista nodded and as he left you looked at the large canvas that had a tag under it boldly stating “SOLD” that Pariston had been looking at earlier. “You deal in art now?”

He laughed. “After that little gallery trip I grew interested. The artist that puts her work up here is very talented and needed a patron, so I thought I would give it a shot. I'm hoping to set up her with her very own show soon. Small at first, but still.”

“And what of… your ingenue?” With the question you shyly looked back to him, breaking eye contact to look at your coffee cup before seemingly forcing your gaze back to his again.

The right corner of his lip ticked. It was almost unnoticeable. “Sadly, she moved departments and works out of the city now. So…” he sighed dramatically as he opened his hands to show them empty. “Might be why I decided to try help out. Since I am once again unattached and slightly less busy.”

You bit your lower lip, staring at him as if lost in thought before finally responding, “I see.”

Pariston’s phone rang in his pocket and he stood up with a new smile in place. One that held interest and secrets. “Duty calls. You really do seem to be back to your old self. Let me know if you have any interest… in art.”

With a sincerely pleased smile you nodded. “I promise to let you know.”

He waved goodbye and left the shop as he answered his phone. You felt that pang of want again, and as you sipped your coffee you imagined stepping on Pariston's smug face. Squashing the man who instilled such disgusting desires inside of you while simultaneously squashing the desire itself.

You wanted to ruin him so badly.

The chime of your own phone pulled you out of your pretending to read- not wanting to leave immediately after Pariston- and you opened to reveal a message.

[I believe I have someone that you will want to meet. ♡]

[Oh? What makes you think I want such a thing?]

[You said you needed resources. ◇]

[You have my attention. Where to meet?]

[I can't just give you information for free you know. ♡]

You laughed under your breath.

[Who said anything about expecting free information? Send me an address.]

You finished your coffee and stood but stopped when a thought came to you.

[And bring some rope with you.]

[Yes, ma'am~♡]

You stopped at a canvas that hung near the entrance to the shop. It had the same artist name as the one Pariston had been admiring. The paint on it was pained, there was no other word for it. It cried to you and absentmindedly you reached forward and touched the label that boasted the artist name, price, and the name of the piece.

“SNARE”

The sound of your phone chiming from Hisoka responding with an address brought you out of your thoughts. Perhaps some fresh artwork was exactly what your new apartment needed, you decided.

~*~*~

“Hisoka, you are such a needy slut, aren’t you?”

A shaky, excited grumble came from the man, but nothing more in the way of response. The fact that he couldn’t even muster words, even though his mouth was completely free to respond, made you grin in joy.

The rope he had so dutifully brought with him was tied around his wrists and anchored to the headboard of the hotel room he had chosen The shame of the situation was you were making him kneel on the bed, so his head was bowed, and you couldn’t see his facial reactions as you ran a gloved hand down his back, lash marks glowing red against his pale flesh. The sensation of the velvet glove rubbing against the tender marks must have been too much for him to focus an answer.

“You were so talkative earlier,” you purred, as you pressed your chest to his back and wrapped your arm around him to run your naked right hand over his chest, sipping in a bit of his intoxicating desires. The familiar dark tendrils of his desires wrapped up your arms like friendly snakes and you felt refreshed. His lust for sex and pain was too tempting to not taste. Your senses felt like they literally shivered as the urge to cause him more pain made your other hand twitch against his back.

Your body was pressed so close to his that it would be far too easy to overdose on his desires if you weren’t careful. Testing with Hisoka had taught you that you could use your abilities with any of your flesh, but only after they had been initiated by your right hand. And the commands and sensations would be weaker than what you would get if you used your right hand. You had to focus your ability into contact points so as to not overdose.

Keeping your body wrapped around his so that you could continue to bring your fingers lower on his body in an agonizingly slow gesture, you egged him on further. “I thought you said you had a new playmate for me?”

Your pinky brushed against the tip of his cock that was already so hard it was standing at firm attention. He sighed and titled his hips to encourage your hand to sink just a little lower. “Not yet, Hisoka,” you chided with a laugh, “I want at least something. Give me something to praise you for.”

A low growl like noise rumbled in his chest and you wondered how much he was tempted to break the ropes and take over. But that was part of the game. Since you weren’t using your strongest power on Hisoka he was free to do what he wanted, which included not breaking free. He took in a breath, turning his head between his raised arms to grant him a peak at your face.

“Fine,” you sighed pulling away and picking up the crop once more. Shifting to the side you brought the leather down on his back with a satisfying smack and Hisoka looked to the bed again, groaning. You hit him one more time before laying down on the bed so you could look up at his face. His face was flushed, and eyes closed as he took in the various feelings of lust and pain. “You’re being very stubborn today.” Your tone was light, playful. A sign you were having fun.

A sly, arrogant smile came to Hisoka’s face as he opened his eyes to look down at you. “Maybe you just aren’t trying hard enough.”

You frowned. “I suppose that is also a possibility.” Why weren’t you more excited to hurt and push Hisoka around? After having seen Pariston again you thought you would have been much more excited to do so, but… part of you still felt off. That feeling of him lingering just behind your consciousness had returned.

His muscles were tight above you as his body heaved lightly with each anticipating breath. Just seeing him straining like this, the appearance of him being unable to move or truly react was enough to get you wet. But it wasn’t enough.

Reaching next to the bed you produced a bottle of lube. Not looking at Hisoka, you spread some onto your right hand. “There is something else I want to try today. You’ve been such a good Guinea Pig so far. Let’s experiment, shall we?” Closing the bottle, you dropped it to the floor carelessly as you moved your fingers against your palm to completely coat your hand in the slippery fluid.

With a lewd grin you looked back up to see Hisoka watching your every move with blatant curiosity. His own excitement at being played with betrayed his usual air of confidence as a hungry need to be dominated displayed plainly on his face.

With a single finger you ran a slippery tip around his cock and you could see his breath catch. His skin was a bright pink under your touch, so hard it had to be painful. Starting at the tip you rubbed your forefinger and thumb slowly down his length, pressing your thumb against the underside with extra stress. Hisoka’s head lifted as much as he was able, each of his muscles tightening with strain. “Don’t cum yet. I haven’t started,” you said from your much more comfortable laying position on the bed.

“I can take your desires, feel them,” now you gripped his dick with your entire hand and began to pump it along him. “But… can you feel mine?” you asked as you altered the amount of pressure each finger applied while continuously moving. Focusing on your surface level desire, absolute /need/ for the information Hisoka was promising you imagined it flowing from your hand into his skin. Your desire to take Pariston down. To make him scream.

Hisoka hollered, eyes shut tight once more as his hips rocked against your hand. “Do you feel my desires, Hisoka?” you asked.

“Y-yes,” he managed shakily, body practically shivering under your touch.

“So it does work. Fascinating.” Hisoka mumbled something, and you shifted so you were half under him now and looking up at him would be easier while your hand worked. “What did you say?” As you asked you released him, pre-cum already coating his tip.

“Chrollo,” he said with a gulp of air.

“Chrollo?” you parroted, not following him. “This is the name of the person you think will be of use to me?”

His eyelids slowly slid open, amber eyes staring down at you completely clouded in desire. You had left him so close to a climax. “He leads the Phantom Troupe.”

Your heart clenched in your chest, eyes wide at his words. “They’re real?”

Your shock gave Hisoka a place to stand on high and mighty once again, and that arrogant grin came back. “Very much so.”

The pitch-black spider on Hisoka’s back had been impossible to ignore when you had tied him to the bed. It had seemed familiar in the way a vague bedtime story brought up memories you didn’t exactly have. The possibilities of this revelation washed over you and you gently cupped Hisoka’s dick once more. “You can help me meet Chrollo?”

Just the feeling of your touch was enough to warrant another noise of pleasure as Hisoka nodded. “Easily.”

Now you felt true excitement again. Gripping his dick you moved slowly, staring into Hisoka’s face with a cat like pleasure. “Good boy, Hisoka.”

His eyes managed to stay open this time and you watched his face relax in pleasure as you quickened the pace. Again, his hips moved in time with your hand and you squeezed him tightly picking up the pace.

It wasn’t long before he came, long white ribbons rushing free as Hisoka moaned with his orgasm above you. Admittedly, you hadn’t thought about your position when you had laid beneath him to watch, and his cum landed on your chest in warm pools. You sighed, releasing his flaccid dick to look at your hand covered in lube and cum. “I suppose I should have expected this. Look you made a mess of me.”

“I can do worse than that,” Hisoka laughed, already a hungry look growing in his eyes.

Your body clenched at his words, and you contemplated waiting for Hisoka to be ready for another round of games. But time was ticking. This wasn’t really a time to be fucking around.

Sliding out from under him you wiped your hand onto the bed before untying Hisoka’s hands. “If this Chrollo is as useful as you claim, maybe you will get the chance.” Your words held a teasing promise that Hisoka was quick to react to.

Once his hands were free he sat up and wrapped his arms around your body. “Or maybe I’ll just take my chance now.”

“But that won’t be as fun,” you pointed out brushing your chest against his so as to smear his own mess back onto him. “Will it?”

He thought about this, bright eyes eating up the view of you in just a bra and panties, covered in his cum. “How about a compromise?” you asked leaning your face close to his, “come clean me off in the shower.” One of his eyebrows raised as you kissed him, running your right hand over his bicep to feed your desire into him again.

As you pulled away his arms somewhat reluctantly released you and you slipped off the bed towards the bathroom. “I suppose a compromise will have to do,” he responded behind you. You only laughed in response.

~*~*~

Hisoka had been good to his word and set up a meeting with Chrollo that same day. He might have already done so before the fun time in the hotel, it was hard to be sure. But either way, that evening you met Hisoka on the edge of town so he could lead you to the elusive leader of the Phantom Troupe.

Out of the city you had been cautious, but now you were downright paranoid. Pariston had a lot of enemies, but he still had supporters. Each time you left a building you went first to a logical place for you to visit, a store, home, anything that could be considered in the norm. And then you had to slip away from that building, using all of your nen training to be sure you weren’t being tracked or followed.

Even if you were sure you weren’t being followed you took long, complicated routes to where you were going. It was a bit annoying, but you knew it would be worth it.

In your bag you had a mask with you, uncertain if you should bother putting it on at this juncture or not when you met Chrollo. He might not trust someone he couldn’t see the face of. And the odds of him reporting back to Pariston of all people was dirt low. But it made you feel better to have it with you.

Hisoka was patiently waiting for you at the agreed upon place just outside of town, playing with his cards as he tended to do. “You really did take your time,” he commented, putting his cards away when he saw you.

“I try not to be sloppy,” you joked, earning a smirk from the magician as he began to lead you down the road.

The walk was long, but pleasant. As the sun sank the insects started to buzz and chirp their mating songs. The air was cooling off with each inch of sunlight lost, but the growing chill didn’t make you uncomfortable. The slight nip of chill always made you feel more alive, and even this meager amount helped you feel more awake and alert.

So far it hadn’t felt like you were being followed or watched, and Hisoka saying nothing helped you to feel more secure in that. Even if he didn’t have a chip in your game with Pariston, it served his personal interest to help you for the moment. That was as much guarantee as you could ask for from the man.

As if hearing your thoughts, he spoke, “We’re entering their territory.”

Almost immediately after he spoke you could feel eyes on you, watching your approach. If Pariston’s gaze earlier in the day had been a weighted blanket, this feeling was a heavy mutter. You could feel it because you had been working so hard to sense such things, and even then it was hard to catch. They were better than you.

Good.

It took a few more blocks, but finally Hisoka stopped outside of an old home. What had once been a finely painted home with ornate handrails, was now a looming dark presence of peeling paint and darkened windows. Yet even now, a shadow of its former glory, it was beautiful. Even if the style was a bit outdated.

Some part of you realized Pariston would hate it. This old, dirty house. He had always been one in favor of modernism. Despite the fact that he had managed to intrude on your mind again, the realization made you smile.

“Go on in,” Hisoka instructed, gesturing with one arm across his body in his usual theatrical way.

Without reacting to Hisoka, you walked past him, feeling the eyes that had been watching you slip away. Either they were on the move, or they didn’t feel the need to continue observing once you were close enough to the house. It didn’t really matter to you anyway. Boldly you opened the door to the house and entered, Hisoka following in after you and shutting the door firmly behind.

The inside of the house was much the same as the outside, wallpaper that had been decorated with a pattern of scroll work was peeling and had lost color with time. Carpet that had been plush and loved now full of dirt and grime. A spider ran across the door frame to your right and out of sight, fearfully escaping the presence of humans. “If I didn’t know better Hisoka I’d think this was all a set up,” you mused as you moved down the hall on instinct.

“It’s a good thing you know better.” His tone had been his usual teasing one, and you couldn’t help a quiet laugh.

A broken set of stairs spiraled up to the second floor, but you took a right into a sitting room instead of going up, again purely moving on some sort of intuition. The sitting room had red wallpaper, and even with its age you could still get a sense of the deep burgundy it had once been. It probably had complimented the dark hard wood of the house beautifully.

But none of that mattered as your eyes landed on a figure sitting behind the abused desk. A candle lit his features as he read a book, the title obscured due to the shadow. You stared at him a moment, admiring his beauty. His aura was that of someone that should provoke caution, much like Hisoka, and yet you felt curiosity as you noticed a cross like tattoo on his forehead, perfectly displayed since his hair was slicked back away from his face.

So far everyone you had met on this revenge war path was extra as hell, but you were kind of enjoying that fact. They were all so different from Pariston’s perfect suits and well-maintained environments. Maybe that type of insanity had been part of the draw of the hunter’s association when you had joined years ago.

Maybe you had just forgotten.

“Chrollo, I presume?” you asked, not waiting for some sign from the man to speak.

He looked up from his book, face passive and showing no sign of displeasure of the interruption. “You presume correctly,” he replied, straightening his back in the chair. “And you must be Adra.”

You nodded taking a few steps closer to the desk, enough for the candle to help illuminate your outline. You weren’t sure if he could clearly see your face, but you weren’t yet in a rush to make it more apparent to him. “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You meant it sincerely. If this really was the leader of the famous Phantom Troupe you were coming into contact with a ghost. The pleased tone of your voice seemed to come across as intended because a faint, enigmatic smile appeared. “I was led to believe that you might be interested in a business deal.”

The book shut with a soft snap and long graceful fingers placed it upon the dusty desktop. “I’m not so sure that you will have something of equal value to offer.  Although, Hisoka informed me you used to work for the Hunters’ Association.”

With a chuckle you spread your hands open in front of you, and immediately dropped them. Pariston had done that same action at you today. “I have no love for the association. My information is yours.”

Chrollo sat back in the chair, a creaking sound coming from the wood in protest as he rested his face on his hand while watching your every move. The way the warm candle light flickered across his face made shadows dance around his eyes, it was almost entrancing the way he looked. “I’ll need a way to verify your information.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it viable.”

“You seem eager.”

“I have a specific goal in mind, and I will stop at nothing to see it complete.”

This retort made Chrollo fall silent, his dark eyes moving from you to Hisoka behind you. If Hisoka made some gesture, you had no idea. He made no sound if he had done so. “Would you go as far as to kill for what you want?” As he asked his eyes slid back to you and away from Hisoka.

Counting to five you breathed in, held for two seconds, and released. Confidently, you took another step towards the desk but stopped as a gun was suddenly aimed at your temple from your left. With a roll of your eyes you lifted your hands to the sides of your head. “You can search me for weapons if you want. But I’m not here to fight.”

“It’s okay,” Chrollo said, and the gun slowly lowered, silver flashing in the candle light as it was dropped back to the person’s side.

You chanced a quick glance at the person who had threatened you, only seeing that it was a woman with blonde hair. “Thank you,” you stated, as your gaze slipped back to her boss. Even you weren’t sure if you were saying it to her or to Chrollo, but it didn’t really matter.

The high stakes were already starting to make the familiar swirl of desire build inside of you. A line of lust already starting to run through the back of your mind. While it wouldn’t be noticeable on the outside, you still tried to push it to the back of your mind so you could focus.

With another two steps you were within the glowing pool of light the candle provided, the warm yellow lighting your face completely. Chrollo hadn’t looked away from your approaching shadow the entire time, so now that he had a clear view of you, he looked directly at your face, taking in the details. “I’m willing to do whatever necessary to get what I want,” you finally responded.

“Your help can make my plan a secured success, but even if you turned me down I would still find a way. I know the rumors and reputation your troupe has. If you want something, you take it. So I am sure you can understand the weight of my resolve.”

“I do,” Chrollo responded, his hand falling to the arm of the chair. He thought in silence for a moment before leaning forward and snuffing out the candle on the desk. The loss of the light made the room especially dark while your eyes adjusted. “Pakunoda, would you please?”

As the room came back into focus you clearly saw the tall blonde woman approach you from next to the only window in the sitting room. Her face was deadpan and unreadable as she came to your side and placed a hand on your shoulder. Instinctively you wanted to pull away, but the fact this was obviously a test kept you still. “Do you still work for the Association?” she asked.

You looked back to Chrollo, locking eyes with him. “No.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“You’re better off telling us yourself.”

The way she had phrased that made your arm muscles tense. Perhaps her nen power gave her the ability to detect lies? Could she dive into your mind and find the truths? Had she already? If she could she was doing you a kindness by letting you say the answer yourself. Potentially such a power could hurt.

You sighed. “Someone hurt me, he hurts a lot of people. I want to hurt him back.”

“Pariston Hill.”

Even though you had seen Pariston yourself almost twelve hours ago, someone saying his name with the level of certainty the way Pakunoda had made your stomach twist into an angry, sickening knot. “Yes. He is vice president of the association.”

“Do you want to kill him?”

“I don’t know yet.”

A pause. “You don’t.” The tone of her voice had a tint of shock in her realization.

It wasn’t a question, but you felt spurred on regardless. “I know pretty much everything up to that point.”

“You’ve been thinking about this very deeply for a while.”

“Almost every minute of my life for six months.”

“That’s enough, Pakunoda,” Chrollo said. “For now.”

Her hand squeezed your shoulder once before slipping away and you wondered if it had been a warning, sympathy, or something else.

“Satisfied?” you asked sensing Pakunoda returning to her previous position.

He smirked and stood up for the first time. “I’m sure you know already, I am never satisfied. That is why we do what we do. Once you have that which you were lusting after, you start looking for something else to become obsessed. The need is never satiated.”

You couldn’t help but to frown at his words. “I can’t say I am the same,” you said plainly, and Chrollo looked at you with apparent intrigue.

“To work together I’d like to know your abilities. I’m assuming you can use nen?”

“If I tell you would put me at a disadvantage, though yes. I can use nen.”

With a collected sense of ease, Chrollo rounded the desk and leaned on it, palms resting on the wood. Nothing about his body language made you feel the need to be tense, but everything about the situation and the knowledge of who you were dealing with did. And that level of intensity made that swirling lust tighten and grow. You fought to shift your weight so your thighs would push together more firmly and provide a bit of pressure on that growing sense of need. “I know the abilities of everyone I work with.”

“Do they know yours in return?”

“Yes.” If the constant badminton game of conversation was annoying Chrollo, he wasn’t showing it.

“Then, I will tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“You aren’t one of us.”

“No, I’m not. I have no guarantee that you won’t dump me dead by the side of the road in an hour. I have no promise that you will even help me, even if you say you will. But they do. They know exactly how they stand in relation to you. They know your rules, and they have earned your trust. There is no way I could ever have that level of rapport like they do. So, this is the least I can ask and the least you can give me to reassure me of any level of comradery.

Even if it is temporary.”

Chrollo looked to one side of the room. You couldn’t be sure if he was looking at Hisoka or someone else as you had kept your attention on him entirely. You could feel other people in the room, but they each had made an effort to blend in with the environment as best they could.

“Hisoka.” The ‘hmm’ in response let you know instantly that the person Chrollo had been looking at was indeed Hisoka. The tone was too iconic. “Do you know Adra’s ability?”

“Yes,” he responded with a tone of pleasure, and despite yourself you couldn’t help the tiniest of smiles. “I think you’ll find it…. Interesting.”

There was a suggestion in his tone that you didn’t quite follow, but now wasn’t the time to mull it over. “Leave us alone for a moment,” Chrollo ordered the room at large.

You assumed that he hadn’t meant you, so you remained planted in the same place as quiet footsteps filed out of the room around you. The absence of the faint feeling of other people in the room made the sitting room feel larger, and Chrollo somehow more threatening. “I hope this is a positive sign,” you half joked and Chrollo gave you an entertained smirk.

“It is. While I know all of my associate’s abilities, they do not all know each other’s. If they choose to tell one another, that is their business. Otherwise they only find out once they have a job together generally. I figured it was the least I could do to, how did you put it? Give you a sense of comradery.”

The pure realization of that action made you pause. Stupidly you hadn’t thought about that. If asked you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to find out about your ability, every good hunter knew you kept that to yourself as long as you could. And even if you used the ability around others, it didn’t mean they always understood it. Verbally explaining an ability was much more detailed. “Thank you.”

“You first,” he instructed with a nod of his head.

This you hated, naturally. He could go back on his word to tell you his ability. But, you had come this far. Even if he turned on you, at least you could say you tried. “I can sense the desire of others through touch. The more intimate the touch, the deeper I can reach.”

“That is interesting. And?”

Your intuition was sparking, like little pops of low flowing electricity along your neck. He would know you were completely lying if you said that was all. Besides it wasn’t a very useful ability on its own. “I can make people feel my desires and wants.”

In an attempt to cut off any further questions you reached your right hand towards Chrollo. Why he stood and put his hand into yours, you weren’t sure. But you took advantage of it, turning his hand so that the palm was down so that you could grasp it and lovingly run your thumb over the top of his hand. Even this didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

More of a test, and a bit as a tease, you focused on how Chrollo was making you feel. The surface level desire of lust and interest. Mentally you thought about what it would feel like to push him onto the desk and straddle him. Through your ability you fed more of the desire that fueled such thoughts and Chrollo’s eyes widened as the feelings slipped into him.

You took a half step closer to him, running your hand up his arm to his shoulder. As the level of intimacy grew, you could focus on your desire for information and aide. Something that you didn’t want to express in words, or really at all, in fear of coming off desperate. But it was now or never to convince him.

The fire in your very soul burned so brightly when you thought about how much further your plan could advance with the help of the troupe. The perfect plan you had been thinking about endlessly in the dark for more hours than you had bothered to count.

A long, low sigh slid from your lips as you imagined a flow of these needs go from your hand into his creamy skin. Suddenly you snapped back into the moment and remembered yourself. Your goal. You had moved closer to Chrollo at some point in the exchange, only two feet of air kept you apart. “It’s a manipulator ability,” you muttered, as if he wouldn’t know that on his own. “Won’t you tell me your ability now, Chrollo?” you asked, with an underlying hint of a command.

On your power scale, it would only be a level one command, something he would never realize was a command and could ignore if he so chose, unless any part of him wanted to tell you. Then he would be prompted to tell you more easily than before. And potentially the feeling of your own desire to know would help to spur him on as well.

“I am a specialist. I take abilities,” he replied with a low, somewhat distracted tone.

Your hand snapped back and with a single step you were halfway across the room from the man. Retreating like a cat from a predator that was bigger and potentially too dangerous to face. A low rolling chuckle came from Chrollo as he slipped out of the slight mind fog of your projected desire. “That’s a smart reaction.”

If he had taken yours, you weren’t sure how you would know. As a test, you surrounded your index finger with nen, and felt a bit more assured as a faint glow shimmered. But it still wasn’t certain you had your ability. It was hard to know what to expect when you didn’t know how his own ability to take worked. “Don’t worry,” you looked up to Chrollo again as he spoke, “I didn’t take yours. Not yet anyway.”

Subconscious, you gripped your right hand with the left. “Not yet? That is rather threatening, don’t you think?”

The amused look hadn’t left his face as Chrollo relaxed against the desk once more. “It can always be returned.”

“Excuse me for not finding comfort in that.”

He chuckled again. “Even in the face of uncertainty,” he mused. “What is it you had in mind for my troupe?”

~*~*~

“What are you doing here!? Wow I haven’t seen you in…”

“A year,” you replied with a smile to the bubbly teal haired woman that was working the reception desk of the Hunters’ Association. You had barely remembered her name, but luckily a little name plate on the white counter proclaimed her Eix just in case you hadn’t remembered. “Yeah I had to take some time off to recover. I’m sure you heard about the whole ‘overworking’ thing. But I think I’m ready to have a job again. Something… lower though maybe.”

Eix nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Did you bring in your resume with you?”

“Naturally,” you responded with a joyful laugh, sliding the thick paper item towards the woman. “I saw on the Hunter site there was an opening in the mail-room. That is pretty low down, a bit further than I had wanted, but if that is all there is I’d even take that.”

“Man, mail-room. I never had to do that job, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad, right?” she replied looking over your resume. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure this gets to the right people. Maybe we’ll find somewhere more suitable than the mail-room.”

“Thanks, Eix. I appreciate it.” You were being so sincere that it almost physically hurt, but you weren’t sure how much more of the normalcy of the conversation you could keep up for much longer.

In some level of fortune Eix’s next words were cut off as someone else approached the desk to ask a legitimate question, and you took the opportunity to wave a goodbye and head for the glass doors out of the building. A sense of someone watching your every step curdling your stomach as you went.

The apartment had been easy. The coffee shop had been easy.

The association had been torment.

It was taking everything inside of you, every trained mental coping mechanism you had built up to enter the building and not fall apart. The memories of Pariston holding the door open for you. Talking with you all the way to his office. His hands sliding up your skirt in the elevator as you protested, fearful that someone would see. But he had never heeded your concerns and fears. Even when he called you to his office in the middle of the workday and you emerged half an hour later, praying no one noticed your knees were red.

As you pushed the final door to freedom open the sun on your skin made you realize just how cold you had been standing inside. The fresh outside air on your face felt like life itself and you truly never wanted to go back into that building again.

But you would have to.

It was part of the plan.

The commute back to your apartment was almost enjoyable, even though your stomach still felt like it might join you in your sunshine revival. Purposefully you hadn’t eaten, but even so it threatened you.

As your front door shut behind you, all you could dream of was tea. Some soothing jasmine to cure your ill and ground you once more, mentally secure the fact in your mind that you were safe. That you were in control.

But you hadn’t gotten further than taking your shoes off in the entryway before you were stopped again, seeing a figure in black staring at the freshly hung canvas in the living room. “I didn’t know you ever went out in the day time,” you commented to Chrollo, moving directly to the open kitchen to put the kettle on for tea.

Somehow you knew your audacity to make such statements amused Chrollo and he didn’t respond to the comment as he continued to stare at the painting. “Interesting piece. What is it called?”

“Snare. A local artist made it,” you answered honestly. “Do you like jasmine tea?”

“I do, in fact,” he replied, and you set out two cups next to the teapot. “I can see why you are drawn to it.” You licked your lips and turned the stove top on silently before putting leaves into the tea basket. “Pakunoda can see the truth to any question she asks. I’m sure you’ve surmised as much for yourself.”

“I did. So,” you started as you set the kettle on the burner before swiveling around and leaning on the kitchen island to look at Chrollo, who was still observing the painting, “am I to assume she told you all my dirty little secrets then?”

Finally, Chrollo stopped looking at the painting and turned to look back at you. You noticed his hair was down. Brushed, but left to naturally fall around his face. It did make him seem more ‘everyday’, and you could only assume that was why he had done it. An attempt to be less iconic as he moved about the city in the day time. Hunters were frequent in Swardani, and they all were the kind to be eye catching. Blending into the common man was useful in avoiding their gaze as well as avoiding being noticed by normal civilians. Even his attire was average.

“She told me what was necessary.”

You wanted to ask what that was. Had she seen Pariston tie you up in his bedroom for a week? Had she seen how he had driven you to almost literal insanity? Had she seen all the times before that when he had physically hurt you?

And what of all that had she told Chrollo?

“When I saw you two days ago you said you would consider my plan and let me know if you would be a part of it. I guess you’ve made your decision since you’re here then?”

He nodded, making his way to the kitchen island. “I believe we have enough to gain from helping you to make it worthwhile.” You couldn’t help your heart picking up its pace in complete joy. Something must have changed on the outside as well because Chrollo smiled. “My only condition,” your heart sank at the words, “Is that it will have to wait a month.”

“A whole month?” you asked as Chrollo came around the island into the kitchen and you straightened to face him. “Why?” Honestly it didn’t bother you, but the curiosity as to why Chrollo had picked that time frame specifically was almost palpable. Though you weren’t quite sure why.

“I have a previous engagement to attend to,” he stated, stopping in front of you.

Just to use the ‘inconvenience’ as a bargaining chip in the future, you pretended to think it over for a few seconds before nodding. “I can make that work.”

Chrollo extended his right hand to you and you stared at it. “Then it is a deal.” You didn’t move to take his hand, knowing that most likely however he took abilities, it required his right hand. Most specialist abilities did. “If we’re to work together, you’ll have to trust me at least a little.”

His smile in this every day look was charming. He was almost another person entirely. You could feel he was the same, but visually it was such a change that it made you want to trust him. You had very little choice if you wanted his help, charming looks or not. With a firm grasp you clasped your hand into his and he shook it once solidly. But his fingers remained curled against yours tightly after. “I want you to use your ability again,” he said, with amusement when you had looked at him in confusion.

For the first time you felt a bit intimidated. Before you had been cautious, knowing Chrollo and his associates could derail your plan- or kill you but, that hadn’t been as concerning. But as the Phantom Boss stared into your eyes, hand clasping your right, you experienced the first feelings of intimidation you had felt in a long time.

He didn’t know about your specialist ability- or at least if he did somehow know, he had heard about it from Pakunoda and not yourself, which would be more concerning- but perhaps the intimidation stemmed from that knowledge.

But you had already had a nerve-wracking day, and spite was welling up in your heart. “Surely you have enough desires to fill ten people. Why do you need mine?”

“I’m intrigued. Feeling someone else’s desire was… new. I’m sure you know already how strange it can be. We go our entire lives only knowing our own wants and minds. But you can peek inside a human’s dark place with a touch. We’re selfish creatures, and we tend to keep our desires in furthest depths of our hearts. I want to see that again.”

Somehow Chrollo just talking about desires that way had gotten you excited. Had you activated your ability on accident while he spoke? Was it just that twisted part of you that had grown from your trauma that found the entire concept of what Chrollo said unbearably sexy?

You swallowed and nodded. His fingers relaxed so that you could move your hand again. “Can I touch you however I wish?” you asked. He merely nodded, observing your calculating gaze.

Idly, you wished you had seen Hisoka the night before. Taking just a sip off of his crazy brazen desires always made you feel bold. Figuring that Chrollo would have to do, you instead took your hand from his and seductively slid it to his neck. His flesh felt cool compared to your warm palm, but it was a pleasant contrast.

By now you were accustomed to how quickly the sensations would slide along your arm and to your brain. The rush of desire felt like a dizzy spell that washed over you when you stood up too fast. So far you hadn’t stumbled from the effect, but every time you wondered what it would take to knock you down.

This time was no different. As you drank down some of Chrollo’s desire the feeling of dizziness pricked its way up your arm and into your head in the form of a creeping deep blue. His immediate desires came to you and they were all tinged with a lusty need. Lust for knowledge, lust for objects, lust for thrills, lust for so many things.

Lust for you.

You blinked in slight shock as you felt that desire wash over you and Chrollo tilted his head forward a little. “I don’t feel anything.”

Had you planted that lust there two days ago when you had shared with him your desires? Or were these his own wants? It was impossible to tell. “Put your hands on me first,” you instructed.

Amused once more he placed both hands on your waist as you slid your free hand to his chest. A small wave of excitement rushed from your toes up as your eyes closed so you could focus.

Imagining it like images passing from your mind, through your hand, to his mind you thought about the burning inside of you to hurt. The pain you wanted to cause the one that had hurt you. Even just thinking about it made you excited. Your breath quickened, and a feeling of throbbing lust twisted to life between your legs.

Not controlling the thought process, you were back to your desire to take Chrollo in your excitement. Pushing your kitchen island free of clutter and feeling his hands on your body. His hand cupping your ass and pulling your hips into his. The feeling of his erection against your pelvis as his mouth covered yours in a hungry need.

His hand dug into your hair, pulling it so hard that the pain made your eyes immediately open to realize that your day dream of desires was mostly reality. His hand was actually gripping your ass and pulling you into his body, his mouth moving against yours in a way that left you pressing against him in delight.

“Chrollo, I want you to fuck me,” you muttered, hands going to his pants and undoing the buttons.

His eyes slid open and you could tell he was already under the influence of your ability, though you had issued no command directly. Was sharing your desire enough to cloud his mind and open him to your orders more easily? The slight dazed look in his eyes said it was. “Take my panties off,” you commanded and reluctantly his hand released your hair and ass.

Both hands slid down the sides of the skirt you had worn to give a professional appearance just hours ago. “On your knees,” you commanded when he came into contact with your skin. Obediently he dropped to his knees immediately. “Now take them off.”

Long, dexterous fingers slid up to your hip, gripping the band of your panties and dragging them off. You were too hot, too ready, it felt agonizingly slow. You lifted your feet so that the underwear could be freed and moved to the side. As your feet touched back down Chrollo slid a hand up the outside of your leg and you shook under his touch. “I can still feel your desire in my body,” he mumbled.

“Yeah? What does it feel like?” you asked as he coaxed your legs to spread by pushing against your inner thighs with both hands.

He was quiet, watching his fingers slide against your labia and slowly they grew wet from that tame level of contact. “It feels like I’m not awake or asleep. Some half dream,” he finally responded. Admittedly he sounded half asleep, his voice was low and distracted.

“Does the feeling of touching me seem like a dream?”

“No. This feels real.” As if to emphasize the point he pushed his fingers up to touch your wet clit and you bit your lower lip. “Perhaps as my… supplier you are my anchor,” he said, standing to his feet with the energy of someone who was drunk and had an idea they very much wanted to try, but with less swaying. “My anchor to reality in the dream.”

Your hips rocked against Chrollo’s steady hand. Already you were sure you could climax like this, but it wasn’t enough. You could feel your body beg for him to be inside of you. Focusing up you brought your hand against his face, brushing his hair from his eyes as your palm rested on his cheek. “Chrollo, tell me what my desires are making you want.”

He looked almost frustrated- brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed. “I want to please you,” he finally said, moving so close that he felt like he was looming over you, one hand still cupping you and moving his fingers in some pattern you had yet to figure out but was causing your breath to quicken.

Your left hand gripped the counter behind you as you leaned backwards into it. Chrollo’s words were rolling around in your head, “I want to please you.” The memory of Hisoka’s low and seductive voice asking, “Did I please you?” The fingers of your left hand were so tense, gripping the granite countertop so hard that they were starting to ache. ‘Yes, I want you to yearn to please me,’ a voice said in the back of your mind. ‘I want your body to ache for my touch so badly you beg me.’

The kettle behind on the stove screamed and you felt your mind snap awake, like you had been dreaming with Chrollo before and now you were back in reality.

But it didn’t feel like reality. Your senses felt sharp, each press of Chrollo’s body to your own was distinctive and different, the smell of his skin was sharp enough that you could pick him out from any other human in this moment. His eyes were still dreamily looking into your face, open and ready for commands.

“Stop,” you told him without using your power. Your voice had been strong, but not reprimanding, and his hand immediately went still. With a gentle guiding push, you moved his wrist away from your body before moving around him to turn the stove off, taking the kettle away from the heat of the stove.

You didn’t have to look at Chrollo to know he was watching you, curious where things were going to go next- possibly suffering as he waded lost in his and your desires that swam through his head. But you left him to suffer as you poured the hot water into the two waiting cups and the teapot.

“If you please me, I’ll make sure to return the favor,” you said while picking up the two cups of pure hot water. Chrollo lifted his head up just a fraction, and you could see it was a sign of interest. You shot him a look over your shoulder as you walked past him towards the living room, trying to urge him with a look to follow you.

With a soft clank you sat the teacups down on the side table before sliding the coffee table to the side of the room. It was obvious by the way he watched you that Chrollo had no idea what you were up to, and that was fine by you as you beckoned him with one index finger to come closer.

You ran both hands over his chest, over his shoulders, then clasped them behind his neck. As you sidled your body up to his, he instinctively put his hands on your hips. Your heart felt steady in your chest, though you couldn’t be sure how it was maintaining its steady pace, and every one of your nerves still felt sharp. This had happened with Hisoka too. Was this what you had heard some hunters call ‘hunter space’? Where everything seemed so clear, each move of your prey was as easy to determine as your own breath?

Chrollo kissed you, pulling your body into his like a gentle lover. You brushed your fingers on the nape of his neck, each of the desires he had been feeling were just as strong. The temporary break from your touch hadn’t yet diminished anything.

Good.

Rubbing the base of his skull with your fingers, you encouraged those feelings. Your desire and want for him to please you. How you wanted him so badly to do what you wanted.

“Adra,” he mumbled when you pulled away.

“Yes, Chrollo?” you asked with an air of superiority, like one would respond to a sweet child.

You busied yourself pulling his shirt up and over his head, making him break contact so you could complete your task. “What have you done to me?” he asked when he could see your face again. He put his right hand to your face and your heart squeezed in fear again.

“Exactly what you asked,” you responded. “Chrollo, you won’t take my power, right?” As you asked you ran your hands down his back, staring into his dark eyes before turning your face to kiss his palm sweetly.

It had been a command in disguise of a question, and he responded, “I am not sure I would want it.”

You laughed. “Finally something you don’t want, hm?” A small, lazy smile came to his lips. It really was as if Chrollo was still dreaming or perhaps intoxicated. “Do you still want me?” To emphasize the question, you pressed your pelvis into him again.

A heavy breath answered, and you smiled. Earlier you had gotten the button on his pants open, but they had remained on his hips until this point. Easily you zipped the front open and knelt while you pulled his remaining clothing off. It was tempting to lick his dick, just to get his reactions, but you had another game in mind so instead you pressed your palm to the underside of it and rubbed against the sensitive extremity on your way to standing up once more. His hands gripped your shoulders as if he needed steadying. But perhaps it was just how he was still anchoring himself in his ‘dream’.

“Lay on the floor,” you told him, giving him a reaffirming squeeze before letting him go. He managed a curious look at you before he did as he was told, while you retrieved the two teacups. They were much more tolerable to touch on the outside now, but the water was still uncomfortably hot.

With a foot you pushed Chrollo’s right hand out to the side, then standing over him- one leg on each side of his body- you carefully kicked his left to match. “Perfect,” you praised with a ghastly lewd grin. Chrollo looked from one hand to the other and by the time he looked at you, you were on your knees. You kept your body high enough so that while your thighs touched his sides, your slick pussy didn’t brush against him at all.

You were still dressed, other than the panties he had already removed, so as you leaned over him to gently place the warm tea cups in each of his palms, he got a nice shot down your blouse to your breasts. “Here is my game,” you announced, keeping your body low over his as you looked down into his face. “I’m going to ride you, and you must keep the teacups exactly as they are right now. If they spill, I’ll stop. And if that isn’t punishment enough… well I can always think of something extra. But if you can keep them on your hands without spilling any of the water, I’ll ride you until you come. Does that sound fun?” Teasingly you slid a finger down his chest, swirling it right over his heart as you waited for his response.

“I’m interested,” he confessed, lifting his fingers on each hand up then back down in sequence as if testing the cup’s balance. “This shouldn’t be very hard.”

“Hm,” you replied as you sat up once more and took his dick into hand. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Your skirt had slid up to accommodate the spread of your legs, but it still hugged you in such a way that your pussy was just peeking out from below the fabric, and Chrollo could barely see what you did if he strained his neck. Slowly you rubbed his dick along yourself, using your hand on the top side to keep him steady. Naturally you were using your right hand to hold his dick still, just in case you felt inclined to add a few desires or commands for extra fun. Your left hand was on his lower stomach, helping to steady you as you rocked your hips.

His eyes slid closed, and you wondered if the only thing that felt real to him was your body rubbing against him. He couldn’t grip anything to stabilize now. His hands pinned by the weight of the warm liquid would help to aid in his feeling of listlessness. He was powerless to help himself regain control or a sense of security as he drifted through the sea of desire he was still lost in.

As a test, you lifted your hips and positioned him at your opening before tilting your body and sliding him against the outside of your body once more and his right hand flexed around the tea cup making the liquid wobbled inside of it, but none escaped to the sides. “Careful,” you warned raising your hips once more, “You got close that time.”

A very apparent frown let you know he was not amused by your double meaning and with a low chuckle you at last slid him inside of you.

The feeling of being filled as you moved your hips down made your fingers dig into his stomach. Intentionally you let out a groan of enjoyment as you lifted up and down a few times, not falling all the way into his pelvis just yet. Chrollo wasn’t watching, whatever he was feeling in his daze was too distracting for him as he kept his eyes closed while you moved. Only his fingers gripping the teacups tightly in both hands let you know he was feeling each movement.

“Come on now, Chrollo. Won’t you make some noise for me?” you half commanded, half requested as you leaned down and ran your right hand over his throat.

His eyes slid open to watch your expression as you moved your hips down completely with a decisive bounce. A noise that you decided sounded something like a ‘gah’ finally escaped against his will and you felt pleased. “That pleases me,” you praised, pressing your thumb to his throat and running it down. “And you said you wanted to please me, right?”

Quickly now, you bounced your hips up and down earning groan from Chrollo as his eyes closed again. A warm building sensation grew with every noise he made, no matter how small or slight it was. You sat up again and moved your hips against him, coming down fully with each grind of your body. Every time you felt a rush fill you, again and again.

Before long your own moans of pleasure added to Chrollo’s. His grip on the teacups never lessened, but as you came down particularly hard one started to tilt towards the ground.

“Careful now. You’re about to spill,” you said in a husky voice. Sincerely you hoped he didn’t spill now, you were so close.

The hand corrected itself immediately and you mumbled a word of praise as you kept your pace. Chrollo was close too you were sure, as he started to lift his hips just a few inches to meet your thrusts and you could feel that tiny movement help him hit a spot that almost made your legs buckle under you the third time he hit it.

You groaned his name as you watched his face while you came, pressing into him and holding it for a moment while the feeling of pleasure exploded inside of you. Each nerve felt like it released some tense feeling that had been coiling up tight. The surge of dopamine in your mind was a special high and you relished it.

But as you held still and enjoyed your orgasm, Chrollo tried to move against you as best he could, begging you with his body to keep going. “I didn’t forget you,” you said sweetly, taking a fresh breath. “You’ve performed my game this long, you will get your prize.”

Using both arms to support you on either side of his body you situated yourself in a way that would allow you to move quickly and clamp your inner wall as much as you could while you came down. You had been so distracted with your own pleasure that his watching you had escaped your notice. It wasn’t clear when he had started to watch your every move, but now as you moved him inside of you again and enjoyed the feeling of orgasm being dragged out by your movement you were painfully aware.

The warm water shook in the cups as Chrollo fought to control his hands while you moved. You were sure the thought of dumping the cups and grabbing you was strong, but the knowledge you would stop was too close to the front of his mind. But as he lifted his hips again you could feel his release inside. You let out a low sigh as you waited out his orgasm, feeling the muscles in your legs twitch with the pain of stress which caused them to tremble.

As you leaned to take the cups from his hands, you lifted yourself off of Chrollo’s dick, and the air against you made you shiver.

Chrollo sat up once freed, which startled you as you held the two cups carefully, so the well-preserved water wouldn’t spill. His eyes were bright, aware, focused. Had the completion of his desire freed him? Was it the fresh hit of dopamine? You weren’t sure. But as your bare ass rested against his lap you did your best not to feel exposed since he had returned to his competent self.

“Was it what you expected?” you asked, unsure of what else to say.

“No. It was… nothing like what I expected,” he confessed. His eyes were no longer clouded, but he was staring right at your chest while he thought, though it didn’t seem like it was intentional. Your chest just happened to be in his thinking space. “I think you lied to me.”

You gripped the cups tightly. Had he figured out that you could issue commands? He shouldn’t have been aware of that as everything you had done fell within a level one power level. You never had even breached a level two surge of power. “Lied to you about what?”

The dark of his eyes looked so directly into yours that it made you feel pinned down. “If what I felt of your desires are to be believed, I do not think that you can be satisfied. In this, or in your revenge.”

[safestsephiroth]

FFXIVWrite #14: Scour - Lulu Lee

Lulu Lee looked out from the highest balcony of her oceanside manor. The echoing, moonlit waves crashing against the Thavnairian cost below drew a smile from her lips. A smile that quickly vanished with the knock at her door.

She didn't turn away from the balcony. "You may enter."

"Esteemed Dreadweaver."

Lulu crossed her arms. It was that Viera again. Whatever her name was. "You have something to report to me, then."

"Yes, Dreadweaver. Foreigners from Ul'dah have caused trouble with our dockside operations."

"I see." Her tone dropped. All trace of warmth gone. "You will tell me /everything/ which is already known."

"They appear to have once been members of an organization called the Alacran. Magically-capable. They intervened in a schedule trade of products for money."

"The somnus shipment."

"Yes, Dreadweaver. The report states they overwhelmed our guards with a mixture of magic and swordplay, and made off with both the money and the somnus."

"And the Lominsans?"

"It would seem they have yet to hear."

"Hmm." She pulled a pocketwatch. Flipped it open. "When was this?"

"Approximately forty-five minutes ago. I came as quickly as I was able."

"All the way from the docks?"

"Yes, Dreadweaver."

"And without an onze of magical prowess. Impressive." Finally, she turned. Boots clacking against the marble floor. She walked to an altar in the corner. "Have any of the guards survived?"

"Three, Dreadweaver."

"Bring them to me."

A hasty salute. "Yes, Dreadweaver!" The Viera bounded away.

Lulu gathered together ingredients for the ritual. Cleared the altar. Drew the necessary sigils. A dash of salt here, a sprinkle of Voidsent blood there, she had done it a thousand times. Trivial, really.

She had finished well before the Viera returned, with two underlings - all but force-marching three guards from the day's transaction.

One, a roegadyn man, had a stump of an arm tied off.

The second, an Elezen woman, was missing both legs, and the left half of her body was covered in horrific burns.

The third, a Raen man from Hingashi, had no visible wounds at all.

"I have done as you commanded, Esteemed Dreadweaver."

"Very good. Now stand and watch."

The Roegadyn spoke: "Dreadweaver-"

"Minus one point."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"We're playing a game, now. A fun game. Scrape your brains for all the details you can remember. Whoever has the highest score when we're done gets to live. You-" She pointed to the Elezen woman. "Start with ten points, and you-" The Hingan. "-May now explain to me why I should not execute you for cowardice."

"My lady, if I may. The reason I am unharmed is because I was a better fighter than our assailants. I took down three before they were able to escape."

"Interesting..." Lulu paced before them. "Your entire body is here, and you seem so very /confident/. And yet, none of my money is here. None of my somnus is here. Why, exactly, is that?"

A deep bow. "My lady, the enemy made use of portals to teleport themselves and the crates out. These portals were immune to my attacks, and only disappeared when the enemy was gone."

"Ten crates. Ten crates of somnus." She looked to the Elezen. "How many were there?"

A raspy, pained voice. Each word accompanied with a wince: "Dreadweaver, ma'am. Please forgive my inability to salute."

"Yes, yes. The enemy count?"

"I saw at least fifteen." A rasping cough. "Maybe twenty. So many staves and swords. I had been watching the Lominsans. We split the duty into segments, with overlapping guards-"

"I am aware of how guarding a shipment is planned." She tapped her boot. All three guards winced. "Continue."

"The enemy came from the southwest, from the path we had come from. There wasn't supposed to be any way in from there."

"Constant vigilance means /constant vigilance./ Do you understand this?"

"Yes, my lady."

"How many did you kill?"

"To my immeasurable shame, I was unable to draw my weapon."

"I see. Two points." She looked to the one-armed Roegadyn. "You're behind on the scoreboard. If I were you, I would think very carefully about my answer to this next question: Why is it, precisely, that you are all so convinced this was the Alacran? For that matter, why are you so certain they were from Ul'dah?"

"Esteemed Dreadweaver." The Roegadyn cleared his throat. Lulu walked to her desk with an unhurried pace. "Among those we were able to cut down, we found weaponry and some jewelry - all of which bore the emblem of the Alacran."

"What makes you think them /former/ members of the Alacran, then?"

"The only equipment they carried with such markings were items which would be vital to them. There were no decorations. All jewelry was used to channel magic more efficiently."

"Perhaps they merely robbed some of the Alacran." Lulu opened a drawer in her desk. Humming a slow melody. Glass /clinked/. "If someone wished to spark a war with the Alacran, this would certainly be a way to do it."

"What," the Hingan said. "Are you afraid of them?"

Lulu smiled. "Interesting."

He looked at her. Face losing its color as he realized what he'd just done. "My lady Dreadweaver-"

"Chosokabe, right?" She pulled a vial of blood, with a neatly-handwritten note attached.

His hand went for his katana. But before it reached, a knife had dug into his lower back. The Viera whispered: "Threatening our lady Dreadweaver is a surer suicide than insulting her, Chosokabe." His legs gave out, and he fell forward. Struggling to lift himself up by his arms.

"Damn you, witch! I did everything perfectly for you and you still-"

Lulu pulled a wand. Aimed it to the phial. A deep, booming voice from her throat - one which did not seem hers at all, speaking a language incomprehensible. A burst of crimson aether into the vial.

The Hingan's eyes went blank. Slowly, his body raised up to its feet, and he walked over to the altar. Staring, blankly, at the wall.

"Now, then. It's down to two. And the short elezen is winning."

The elezen's eyes fell.

"Oh, lighten up. You're winning by quite a lot. You'd have to work really hard to throw your lead away at this point."

"Yes, Dreadweaver."

The Roegadyn wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Dreadweaver, if I may?"

"Oh, by all means, defend yourself."

"Dreadweaver, I have lost an arm for you. I kept fighting until the blood loss rendered me unconscious."

"And you think that makes you more worthy of life than your partner, there?"

He shook his head. "No, Dreadweaver. I believe we have both proven our loyalty to you. I believe that we can still be of service to you, and that allowing us both to live would be for the best."

She stepped forward. Hand to her own cheek, smallest finger plucking at the corner of her mouth. "Interesting. Very interesting."

He stood stock-still. Eyes staring forward.

"Look at me."

He looked down to her eyes.

"How long have you been in my service?"

"Three cycles, Esteemed Dreadweaver."

"Interesting indeed. If I gave you a knife, would you stab her?" She jerked her head towards the Elezen. The Elezen flinched.

"Only if you commanded me to do so, Esteemed Dreadweaver. Please do not do so."

"How strong are you?"

"About half as strong as I was yesterday, Dreadweaver."

She tapped her boot again. "An attempt at humor." She looked to the Elezen. "Can you believe that he's trying to make me laugh? Trying to make me laugh with all that /money/ gone? With this insult to my operation unanswered?"

The Elezen looked at her.

"That wasn't an actual question, don't answer me."

The Elezen nodded. Winced. Her scorched skin audibly /crackled/.

"You. Big man. You have yet to reach for a weapon, or attempt to strike me, even knowing you are all but certain to die. Do you expect I will spare you?"

"Dreadweaver, I recognize there is no chance of survival if I attempt to defeat you."

"Smart." She turned. "Nalia."

The Viera perked up. "Yes, Esteemed Dreadweaver?"

"You will assist me in the summoning ritual. If anything goes wrong, I will be trying again. The rest of you will watch."

The Viera's face lit up. "Yes, Dreadweaver!"

"We are going to find them. We will find where they have gone. Where my money is. Where my somnus is. We will eradicate them to the last. We will scour every realm that exists for them. I will scrape the flesh from their bones. I will strip the soul from their bodies. I will destroy them so utterly that none will so much as speak their names, forevermore." She moved to the altar. Drew an ornate knife. "Come, /boy./" The Hingan's eyes glowed crimson, body lifted as if by a puppeteer's strings. "I have a dear /friend/ I'm going to get to speak to again, thanks to you. You should be happy to finally be of use to me."

[clover-hawthorne]

.: Prompt #2: Bargain :.

(TW: Implied Child Abuse)

She'd barely paid attention as the party's newest contracted mage approached, her gaze kept downcase. The light had long gone out of the child's eyes; as had any fight. At barely twelve summers, the girl had already accepted that this was her lot. She was always going deal with the hunger eating away at her, rendering her too weak to speak out in fear of restricting what little food she recieved. Always would she wear the purple and blue that marred her freckled skin, badges of her failures in the eyes of her comrades. This....this was all she had to look forward to.

She tensed as the woman stepped closer, head ducking down as she braced; had she said something wrong? Moved wrong? Had she had some look on her face that had offended? Her heart was starting to go a mile a minute; she still hadn't had a chance to tend to the last round of her failures, twelve, please, no-

"Gods, they did a number to you." The woman's voice was gentle, as gentle as the hand she ran through the child's hair. Gentleness was unfamiliar territory, the touch still making her flinch, making her brace for when it'd start to hurt.  She timidly raised her gaze up to meet the violet eyes of the woman before her, all black clothes and silver hair. She'd only been with the party a couple days....maybe she hadn't learned how things worked yet? Maybe she wasn't going to be hurt? She was almost afraid to dare to hope... what if this was a ruse? Some sort of new game for them?

Her face must have given something away, her blood running cold as the woman chuckled. Oh no, this was it, she'd done wrong, she-  

"Easy, easy there, pumpkin." The woman soothed, patting her head. "I'm not here to yell. In fact, I'm here with an offer. I want you to come with me. Leave these guys behind. Consider this... a promotion, if you will. We start our own party. I could use a healer....and you could use a change of scenery by the looks of it." Violet eyes looked over violet bruises, a flicker of worry before the flippant mask came back on. "So, what do you say?"

"I...I-I'm sorry, m-ma'am, th-they'll get mad...I...I c-can't..." The little one stuttered out, her voice a scared whisper almost lost to the crackle of the nearby fire. "I c-can't, I can't, I....I'll g-get in trouble and th-that...that means n-no food."

"Nonsense. I'm not asking them to come with me. I'm asking you." The woman moved her hand dismissively, before offering it out to the girl. "C'mon. Think about it, just imagine... three square meals a day, a bed at the inns... no more hard floors or sleeping outside...at least, not by yourself. And no more of....that." A hand motioned to the bruise across the child's cheek. "What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

The child looked hesitant, but raised a shaking hand out to take it, giving a small nod. She...she wasn't sure everything she offered was going to actually be a thing, or if she could trust a woman she'd known only for a couple of days, but... how could it get worse?

"See, that's a girl.... now, what was your name again?"

"C....clover....C-Clover H-Hawthorne, ma'am." Stuttering, stutterying, always nervous, always second guessing what was said and how she said it.

"Okay, no more of that "ma'am" shit, got it?" The woman said, her tone a joking sterness as she wagged her finger. "I'm not that old.... Just I'rarei, okay? Now c'mon, let's go before those assholes realize we're gone, eh?" She stood, carefully helping the child to her feet. No, not child, her new healer; she wasn't nice. She didn't do that 'kind' shit. This was strictly a business transaction. That's what she'd keep telling herself, as she caught the child when her legs started to give, still weak from their most recent job. She didn't care, she reminded herself, as she scooped the little one up in her arms, frowning at how light her form felt. She was just making sure the kid wouldn't hold her back, she reasoned as the little mop of ginger hair fell against her shoulder, as the softest of tunes started to hum as she carried her off into the night, to her new future.

It wasn't because she felt sympathy, she argued silently to herself. She just couldn't pass up a bargain like this.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast