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bunny-jpeg · 3 days ago

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sinful sentences (eight)

fernando alonso - "someone should punish you for that."

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), dirty talk, mafia au, enforcer!reader x mafia boss!fernando, dom/sub dynamic, established relationship/marriage, injury, spanking & punishments

sinful sentences catalogue

"she turns quite a few heads." mark said as he shifted his stance at the sight of you in the warehouse with your hand curled into the bloodied button-up of a man fernando had been looking across spain for.

fernando chuckled as he watched you throw another punch. watching you defeat men near twice your size was one of fernando's favourite things to observe. to see his beloved enforcer take care of the alonso family. he placed took his handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit. he replied, "well, i think if a man looked at her the wrong way they'd be dealt with."

mark looked to his close friend and asked, "you'd kill them?"

fernando made a face and shook his head, "no, no. she'd kill them." then approached you to give you the handkerchief to clean the blood off your hands.

"my angel." he said as he examined your fists once you got home to your lavish home out in the country. he guided you further into the home and towards the kitchen, "you didn't need to hurt him that badly. he was more than willing to give us the money." he kissed your cheek and you melted a little against him.

"his face annoyed me." you said grumpily, "he looked like he would do something like this again. harm the family."

fernando left you by the kitchen island and went to grab ice for his little enforcer. he replied, "you mean our family, right, my love? after all, according to the license, we share a last name. that means we share the family." he wrapped ice in a dish towel and went back to tend to your bruises. you were in much better shape than the man who was brought before your fury. but still, fernando didn't want your knuckles stained purple with bruises.

"thank you, nando." you said softly. you felt the mask you wore for the family start to slip. underneath, was his wife. the woman he met after you tried to save him from a wallet thief. and then became closer to him than any bulletproof vest. no one suspected you to be his wife, not even the likes of mark webber knew about your marriage.

he touched your face gently and you looked him in the eyes as his other hand dabbed the make-shift ice pack against your hands. he said to you, "you didn't need to turn him purple. liam lawson is a name that carries some weight outside of here. especially with the likes of verstappen. and we don't want to anger him right now."

you made a face, "verstappen is not fond of him because leclerc isn't fond of him. i'm doing them a favour. he is a sniveling little rat who owed us money. i sent a message." you showed no remorse in your language. your husband found that exciting.

fernando made a face for a brief moment then smiled at you, "someone should punish you for that." then his dark eyes looked at you and you felt a thrill run through you. you could take fernando in a fight, but sexually, you were on your knees like your husband was a god taken human form.

you swallowed and leaned further into his touch on your face. your eyes closed, "i solely give myself over to mister alonso." a phrase of confirmation, that you wanted your husband. some may call you an attack dog, but you were simply a puppy to your lover's touch. especially when he cared for you so deeply.

he kissed you softly on the lips and said, "good, i love when you say those words. they sound right to come off your lips." he continued to ice your hands before he took the less bruised one and led you to your lavish bedroom.

you were a successful boxer, but that felt like a life time ago. fernando saw promise in you. he saw something in you that no one else did. no one took you seriously because you were a woman, but not fernando. no, fernando saw what you were capable of, and what started out as an arrangement for an enforcer for the alonso family, turned into a deep romantic relationship. and your mafia boss of a husband was more than willing to take care of every mark left on your body. you were powerful and fernando cherished you.

you were stripped over your clothes, fernando touched the softest parts of you. your ass and your thighs, his hand lingered before he kissed you. you moaned into the kiss, any pain in your hands were taken away by your lover's tender kisses. you moaned into the kiss and fernando pulled away.

"bent over the bed, my love." he said, "you need to remember for next time to not be so brutal towards men who didn't deserve it. on the clock, you listen to me. right? i'm the boss and you gave yourself over to me." he reached for your shoulder and found the lion tattoo you had been given to signify your place in the family.

you nodded, "yes, sir." then pulled away to bend over the bed. you knew that you probably didn't act the smartest. but your loyalty was undying, your belief in the family was unwavering. sometimes that meant being abrasive, being the muscle that your husband believed you to be. when you felt the slap across your left ass cheek, you tensed up but fernando rubbed the skin.

"don't flinch, you are stronger than that." he said with a softness to his tone, "you know that you are safe and you are loved, you are taken care of by me. now and forever." he kissed the center of your back before he landed another slap, then another, than another. each time the skin burned but not as much as the fire of want through your core.

you swallowed and held onto the covers as another spank hit across your skin. you felt the stammer in your heart as the pleasure built in your body from the punishment. maybe you were a glutton for the pain. he continued to smack your ass and you let out a small moan. it only made your husband rub your sore behind.

"you are always do good for me, my love. you know exactly how to make a man like me weak. your beauty, your power, it all comes together like a symphony. your moans are music to my ears." he kissed your shoulders before he landed another harsh smack, "but you need to listen. you are not above orders, my love. you are an important part of my life, so that is why i cannot have you beating men until they are purple." he landed another spank across your ass and added quietly, "if i lost you, my dove. nothing would keep me from tearing the earth in two." then turned your head a little to lean over you and capture your lips.

you understood. you weren't just his enforcer, you were his wife. eventually he broke the kiss and he patted your behind before you scrambled into bed onto your back. your breathing was a tad heightened from the feeling of your husband's strong hand across your ass.

"you're amazing." he said as he stood at the foot of the bed and undid his button up shirt. you swallowed and shifted a little on the bed, his praise made your ears burn, "you are beautiful." he said quietly. he looked good at his clothes came off, you saw the tattoos on his skin and you swallowed.

he looked good with the ink on his skin. even your initials on his hipbone, which was an addition when you got married. he said that a ring was permanent enough. once everything was off, he climbed into bed with you and took you in his arms. he admired you for a moment before you started to kiss deeply.

"fernando."

he eyed you once more before he got between your legs, "you are by far the more impressive woman i have ever laid eyes on. there is a certain magic about you that keeps me so enchanted by you. you're perfect, beautiful. everything to me." then felt a surge of want through him. he added, "you have made my life so different, thank you." then held onto the covers with one hand while he guided his cock into you gently. you tensed for a moment, but you relaxed against the bed as he got all the way inside of you.

"you feel good."

"you feel better, my dove." he replied as he started to move against you. it felt good, being this intensely close to you. two pieces of a whole, there for one another. he felt want for you, but he also felt total devotion towards his wife. he liked that you were powerful enough to beat anymore, but he also wanted to protect you. you were his wife, his love! of course he worried for you.

he promised that he would dedicate his life to you, and even though you were beyond capable. he worried about his wife. he held onto the covers tighter, not with both hands as he pace quickened.

"fernando, there is no need to flirt with me. i'm already your wife." you said lovingly.

he leaned in a little closer and felt the love in his chest, "oh, my love. just because we are married doesn't mean i stop loving you. if anything i should be more loving." his tone was like honey and his words only made him sound more sweet. it made your heart race and and smile a little. fernando continued his movements, he eyed at you closely. he watched your expressions as he licked his lips. he felt a similar want in his body. he felt something pull you in closely.

you held onto his shoulders tightly with your hips partially raised to give fernando the best angle to fuck you. which almost made your toes curl and feel the sparks of want in your head as the two of your made love on the bed.

"you feel amazing, fernando. fuck. i love you."

"and i love you."

you kissed once more, you kissed deeply with an insatiable want for him. your nails grazed across his shoulders as your lover kissed you on the lips. it felt amazing, your stomach was in knots in a way that excited you. you exhaled deeply against him, you felt the flow of want through you. you moaned against his lips as he clutched the covers tightly once more. you exhaled deeply and felt the thrill of want through you. you clenched your legs around his waist as he worked your body against his. it only felt right, perfect halves of a whole.

he picked up pace until he was really working your body. you cursed under your breath as you felt the surge of want through your core as his thrusts hit all the right parts. it was a kind of perfect that made your head spin with sexual want.

you moaned loudly with an intense want as he pleasured you. you felt hot all over, everything felt erotic to the feeling of him. you loved him, you loved your husband with an affection that went soul deep. you said to him, "fernando! ah! nando!"

he groaned before he asked, "how does it feel, my dove? does it feel good for you? you love how i make love to you, how i make you feel good." he felt his heart hammering in your chest. he put his hands on your hips as he worked against you.

orgasm felt close, the pleasure felt immense in ways that made his heart hammer quicker. he held onto you tightly and fucked you with a fever that could not be matched by any other feelings. he panted heavily and your nails dug into his shoulders a little tighter.

you shuddered a moan and the pleasure just rocked through your body in a made that made your toes curl. you held on tightly and arched your back. it washed over you, you said sweet words to your husband, "i love you. more than anything, fernando. you give me all the love i'd ever desire. i'd ever want. fuck."

fernando licked his lips, "what a beautiful woman, so powerful. and yet so beautiful under me. you look divine, my dove. more so than anything else in this world. i cannot get enough of you." he said with a total sense of love in his tone. his kissed you once more before he went in for a heavy kiss.

you moaned against his lips as he finished inside of you. your tightened your legs around his waist as you stayed there kissing. with fernando's pace slowed to a stop. just enjoying the feeling of one another before your husband laid out beside you. he pulled the covers that had been kicked to the bottom of the bed all the way to the top. you held onto him lovingly and let your head get petted by your husband. you sighed happily and let yourself enjoy his company. his love.

"you are so perfect." he said softly as he held you in his arms. you loved him deeply in return and laid curled up with him. fernando was a scary man in spain, but laid out with you. he was your loving, perfect husband. and you, his wife <3

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ambiguous-avery · 2 days ago

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Read for Me

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 3408

Summary: Researching with Sam was always a treat. Unlike most hunters who did it simply as a means to an end, Sam always seemed to genuinely enjoy having a nose in the books. He was a kindred spirit in that way. Maybe that’s what made you fall for him. Turns out, he’s felt the same way about you. Who said researching couldn’t be fun?

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, she/her pronouns, femme nicknames (baby, pretty girl), reader is AFAB, oral (f receiving), unprotected P in V sex (remember to be safe, friends), spanking, PWP (Plot? What plot?), no beta we die like men

A/N: I may be a Dean girlie through and through, but I’d have to be absolutely blind to not appreciate how damn good Sam looks. I’m a sucker for guys with longer hair. I’ve never written for Sam, and I don’t feel like I have as solid of a grasp on his character. But hey, we all gotta start somewhere yeah? I am apparently incapable of writing a short smut piece. Also in my head, Sam is a kinky fucker, and no I will not hear otherwise.

It had been far too long since you sat in the library of the bunker, nose-deep into a lore book. The last several months had seen you taking hunts all across the west coast with little to no reprieve in between jobs. Such was the life, though. There was always something else to hunt. Always someone else to save. Always some threat that needed to be put down. It was a hectic way to live, but you couldn’t deny that it was fulfilling. You helped people. And that would always make it worth it.

But that only made the quiet moments that much more precious.

The Winchester’s bunker was hardly home, but any hunter worth their salt would be hard pressed to find a library of this caliber. You may have been a decent hunter in the field, but texts and manuscripts were where you really shone. Sam and Dean had answered your call for help on hunts before, and you had done the same on occasion. There had always been a hint of something between you and Sam from the beginning, but neither of you acted on it. The life of a hunter wasn’t one that afforded either of you the luxury of getting attached to any one person. So the two of you simply existed in the orbit of the other, occasionally passing close but never touching. Never breaking that physical barrier.

But the both of you could appreciate being around the other without the need to directly interact. Which is why you were sat across the table from Sam in the bunker library, each of you engrossed in your own book. You peeked over the top of the pages, sneaking a glimpse of him in his zone. He had no right looking as handsome as he was. The way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The way his lips moved silently as he read. It was all too captivating. You quickly averted your eyes back to your own book, cheeks flushing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the bunker's heating system.

A creak of the chair across from you broke through your focus, and you looked up to see Sam closing his book. His hazel eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of something unnamable that passed between you. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to the bookshelves, running his fingers over the spines of the ancient tomes as he searched for a specific volume. You watched him move with a quiet grace, admiring the way his muscles shifted beneath his flannel shirt. Sam finally pulled out a thick, leather-bound book and made his way back to the table, sitting across from you again. You went back to focusing on your book.

Sam glanced up from the tome in front of him, catching a peek of you engrossed in the text. A soft smile played on his lips as he let himself admire from afar. No one read like you did. The way your eyebrows rose and fell when you read something new. There was always a glint in your eye when you stumbled upon a particularly interesting passage, and Sam couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through his chest. When you turned the page and chewed on your lip, Sam made the executive decision that he was done with the unspoken connection.

He cleared his throat, his breath briefly catching when you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” he asked slowly, steeling his nerves. You set your book down, your heart racing at the vulnerability in Sam’s gaze. His question lingered in the air, heavy with unvoiced feelings that danced between you.

“Of course,” you nodded, urging him to continue. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his expression before he took a deep breath.

“I… I know that we’ve kept each other at arm’s length. For good reason,” he started, his eyes never leaving yours. “But every time we’re in the same room, it’s like there’s something unspoken between us. Am I reading that right, or am I completely off?”

You took a steadying breath, tension crackling between the two of you. You simultaneously wanted to thank whatever god might have been watching over you and punch them for encouraging Sam to drag the truth out into the open. You had been content letting whatever there was between you and Sam just sit in the dark, never touching on what it could be. But here it was. Brought into the light at last, waiting to be explored. You swallowed.

“You’re not completely off,” you admitted softly, feeling a rush of both fear and exhilaration at finally acknowledging the undercurrent of something more than had been threatening to pull you under. “There’s always been something, hasn’t there?”

Sam let out a long, slow exhale, relief evident in his eyes as he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice just barely above a whisper as if the moment would shatter to pieces if he spoke too loud. “I’ve tried to ignore it. Thought it would just fizzle out over time. But it didn’t. And it’s not just me, is it?” he continued, standing from his seat and moving around the table to your side. He reached out tentatively, his fingers grazing yours on the table. “I don’t want to ignore it anymore,” Sam confessed. You intertwined your fingers with his, a rush of raw desire and emotion breaking free from behind the dam you had built up.

“I don’t want to ignore it either.” You looked up at him.

Sam dipped down and pressed his lips against yours in a long-overdue kiss. It was soft and gentle, a tender exploration of something that was simultaneously both familiar and foreign. But as you both grew bolder, the kiss deepened with a fervor that threatened to overtake you all at once. Sam’s free hand came up to cup your cheek, and his tongue swiped at your lower lip. You responded eagerly, parting your lips as his tongue slid against yours. The library melted around you, only leaving the sensation of Sam’s warm touch and the taste of desire on your lips.

When you broke apart, both of you were breathless and flushed with a newfound desire that coursed through your veins. Sam rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he found instead was a mirrored reflection of the same yearning that burned within him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I care to admit,” he confessed. You smiled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from his face.

“Me too,” you replied, abandoning the book in your hand entirely and twisting in your chair to face him better. You pressed another soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t suppose there’s anything else you’ve wanted to do for a long while, hm?”

The playfulness in Sam’s eyes winked out and was replaced by a smoldering intensity that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that hadn’t been there before. His hand left yours and instead, he tangled his fingers through your hair, carding them through the strands.

“There might have been one or two other things...” he mumbled against your lips. He straightened up, pulling you out of your chair with him. “Up on the table.”

“Wait, here?” You spoke in a hushed tone, even though you knew that you were the only two in the bunker. Dean had left who knew how long ago, grumbling something about the ‘nerd convention’ being in town. You hadn’t caught the full extent of the conversation, mainly because Sam and his brother could converse with glances alone, and you had given up trying to figure it out forever ago.

“Yeah, here,” Sam confirmed, his voice low and husky with desire. The thrill of it all coursed through you, charging the atmosphere between you further. You didn’t hesitate as he helped you up onto the sturdy wooden table, unceremoniously pushing books and papers aside to make room for you.

Sam stepped between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your waist as his lips found yours once more. It was fervent and needy and full of the promise of more. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath his shirt. His lips seared yours, branding you with the heat of his passion and desire. Your lips parted with a quiet moan as his lips trailed down your jawline, leaving a hot trail of kisses along your neck. Your head fell back in a silent invitation, willing to give him access to every inch of your skin. He took it, backing off just long enough to yank your shirt up and unclasping your bra with practiced ease. Although, he couldn’t even be bothered to fully remove anything, just shoving your shirt and bra out of the way as he sucked and nipped at a spot just beneath your collarbone.

And his hands – God his hands. One kept a hold on your shirt and bra, keeping them out of his way as he teased a nipple between his teeth. The other ran up your back, grabbed a handful of the hair just above the nape of your neck, and pulled, still bracing his arm against you to serve as counterpressure. You arched into his touch, your hips pressing against him in a silent pleas for more of his attention. His hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of you as though he was making up for lost time and memorizing your shape with his fingers alone. Each kiss was slow and deliberate as he took you apart piece by piece. His fingers trailed their way down your sides, grazing your hips and sending a shiver through you. When he finally moved to trail kisses back to your lips, you met him halfway, pulling him closer until you felt the length of him press against your center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathed against his ear, voice breathless with need. Sam paused, lifting his head so he could meet your gaze.

“I want you too,” he echoed back to you. “But I don’t know that I want to make it that easy for you.” Your breath hitched at his words, heart pounding in your chest as need swept through you, pooling at your core. The thought that Sam could very well leave you like this, wanting and waiting and so fucking turned on was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. The playful smirk that crept onto his face told you everything you needed to know; he wouldn’t leave you like this, but he was certainly going to drag it out.

He tugged at the button of your jeans, and there was no elegance in the way he helped you shimmy out of them and your panties. The surface of the library table was cool against your skin, and just when you thought that Sam couldn’t possibly be any sexier than he already way, he sank to his knees. Watching a man as physically imposing as him drop to his knees before you was a sight that needed to be imprinted on the back of your eyelids so you could see it again and again and again. His hands were steady on your hips as he tugged you to the edge of the table, his eyes only leaving yours when he pressed a kiss to your knee. The heat of his breath ghosted across your skin as he kissed and licked his way up the inside of one thigh. Then, avoiding the spot where you wanted him most, he sucked a bruise on your other thigh, trailing kisses back down until he was at your other knee. You reached down, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and urging him on.

“Beg when you’ve had enough,” was your only warning before his mouth was on you, tongue stroking along your folds and fingers digging into your thighs to hold you at his mercy. You whimpered and whined and moaned. Every gasp and sigh and plea only fueled him more, and when he sank two fingers into your wet heat, your back arched and you cried out his name. You bucked against him, desperate for more – desperate for him. You felt him smile against you, before he swirled his tongue around your clit and twisted his fingers in you to curl them up towards your belly. You clawed at him, torn between pulling him closer for more of that delicious friction or pushing him away to escape the overwhelming sensations.

“Sam,” you groaned, legs tensing on either side of his shoulders.

“Hmm?” he hummed against you, the vibrations adding to the tension that coiled inside you.

“Please.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled because you were pretty sure that the only words in your vocabulary were ‘Sam’ and ‘please’ anymore. He took pity on you and sucked your clit between his lips, laving it with attention while he pulsed his fingers against that sensitive spot inside you.

“That’s it, come for me, pretty girl.” You shattered beneath his touch, your orgasm crashing over you. Your legs shook, and the hand you have placed behind you to brace yourself just about buckled as Sam continued his assault, drawing out your climax and setting every nerve alight.

Sam didn’t relent. You whimpered and patted his head with urgency as things moved into ‘too much.’ He soothed you with his tongue, his movements becoming gentler as you came down from your high. He stood, his lips meeting yours in a hurried kiss, and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You moaned into him, and he ground his hips against you, his cock hard and demanding.

“Sam, please,” you begged. “Please fuck me already.”

“Don’t worry. I’m far from done with you, pretty girl.”

He urged you forward, coaxing you off the table and onto unsteady legs. Mercifully, he helped steady you before prompting you to turn around. He pressed a hand between your shoulder blades and gently nudged you forward until your front was pressed flat against the table. There was the vague clinking sound of his belt and zipper before Sam was crowding you. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of relief. He kept his hand on your back and steadied your hip with the other as he pressed forward, filling you with the entire length of him.

“Fuck…” you breathed, arms braced on the table in front of you and arching into him. His thrusts were slow and measured at first, giving you time to adjust. Then, he sank fully into you, leaning over you to grab for one of the books that had been scattered across the table. He was so goddamn tall that he reached over you effortlessly.

“I’m gonna make you work for it, pretty girl,” he said, the tone in his voice unlike anything you had heard from Sam before. You barely had a moment to try and figure out what he meant by those words as he cracked open a book and propping it up in front of you. “Read for me, baby. Out loud. Any time you make a mistake, I’m gonna punish you for it.”

You might have laughed if the moment were different. Reading was as easy as breathing for you, and if he thought that this was a challenge, then he didn’t know you as well as you thought. You took a deep breath and read over the first line on the page. And then he moved, and all the wind was knocked out of your sails. On the initial thrust, you managed to keep your composure, but somewhere between three and four, you stumbled over the Latin name for some creature you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. His hand met your ass, and you yelped, jolting forward. The hard edge of the table dug into your hips, a stark reminder that Sam had you entirely at his mercy. Trapped between the solid form of him and the cool surface of the library table. And you realized that the Sam behind you was an entirely different side of him you had never experienced before.

Sam chuckled – fucking chuckled – as he soothed his hand over the placed where he had just spanked you.

“Keep going, pretty girl,” he said, amusement in his voice. You could hear him smiling as he spoke. If you didn’t enjoy this, he might have sounded cruel. Thank god you were into this as much as he was. You took another deep breath, doing your best to ignore the stinging. “Don’t worry, we can go slow.” And he kept to his word. The languid way he moved his hips gave off the impression that he could do this for hours if he had the time. You continued reading, faltering again when his hand slid from your ass to your clit. He made a ‘tsk’ing sound before spanking you again, striking the same spot he had before. You squealed under him, excitement coursing through your veins, and he picked up his pace, every thrust making it just a little harder to get through the next sentence.

Your words stumbled and faltered as his movements grew more urgent. Sure enough, when your voice caught on the phrase ‘Ad libitum’ because of course it would on a phrase like that, his hand connected with your skin again. You gasped, pushing yourself up onto your toes in an attempt to meet his thrusts. The pleasure and pain mingled together in a heady mix that would no doubt fry your circuits if you lingered for too long. You whimpered as the cycle continued. You read as best as you could, but your mistakes grew closer and closer as Sam’s thrusts grew harder and faster. It was like being on a tightrope between desire and frustration helpless under his dominance. But you couldn’t think of anywhere else you would rather be. Occasionally, his hand would leave your clit to spank your ass again, both a punishment and incentive to do better next time. Every smack echoed loudly in the room, adding another layer to the symphony of sounds.

He slid out of you, just long enough to hoist you up and sit you back on the edge of the table, the book completely forgotten as he sank back into you. Sam’s breathing became more labored, his movements more urgent as he drove into you deeper and harder. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, realizing that he had been so desperate to have you that he hadn’t wasted extra time stripping. Your name tumbled from his lips in a low growl, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, meeting his thrust for thrust, desperately needing to feel him closer. Your orgasm was building again, and when his lips found their way to your neck, he bit and sucked a love bruise there. You came shuddering around his cock, and your name left his lips once more in a hoarse cry as he buried himself deep inside you, finding his own release moments after.

The library was quiet again, filled only with the sounds of yours and Sam’s ragged breaths. As you lifted your gaze to meet his, your breaths mingled in the stillness, and you could feel the connection between you settle into something more comfortable. More steadfast. Like the roots of an old tree. He leaned in to kiss you savoring the moment with a gentle intensity before slipping out of you.

“You are something else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. And just like that, the Sam you had come to cherish reemerged – the sweet and caring gentle giant. His hand cupped your cheek tenderly, and he kissed you once more, a soft and chaste touch that spoke volumes. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he suggested with a warm smile. “I think we’ve spent enough time among the books for now.” And his words were a gentle breeze, guiding you back to reality. The life of a hunter might have been unpredictable and fraught with danger, but, really, it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle together.

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rabbitwitch2poems · 10 hours ago

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Story turned out a little different than I planned at the end but it all works out ^^ part 5 to the story based off a prompt by @ready-to-read7

Danny was vibrating and he was pretty sure even the neighbors could hear the purr/hum coming from his core. Today was the day! He gets to meet all of moms cool hero friends! He only really learned the bare bones of this universe before choosing it, the heros, villains, side kicks, all those people fighting to help others; it's why Danny chose this universe in the first place! But he only really knew about five heros, there was the creepy hero of darkness Batman, (he was kinda worried about that man, but then again he had a fear of the dark before he became a halfa so that's probably why)

He also knew about the zooming man called flash, the green lanterns, his momma, and last of all the one that is the most cause of his humming, the invincible superman! Danny always admired how someone from the stars grew up on earth and chose to be it's protector! Danny spent hours in his room at CWs haunt in the ghost realm watching the man in the red cape saving people, helping those who were suicidal, stopping disasters from harming others, stopping villains, and yet always having time for his family. Danny had to admit he was his second favorite after his mother that he admired the most. Also helps that superman was an alien from another planet, he had so many questions!

A gentle knock on his bedroom door followed by his mother entering with her classic smile, "you ready for breakfast my little one?" She asked chuckling at the child nodding quickly and zooming past her to get to the kitchen. Momma always made the best breakfast, she usually tried to keep him on a healthy diet with the occasional snack, but breakfasts were where she shined. Arranged in batches were small plates of fruit, yogurt, freshly baked bread, and glasses of milk and juice all encircling a plate with bread and some kind of food on top.

"That is called strapatsada, my own mother would make it for me in the mornings" she smiled after speaking as if remembering a good memory, "now eat up, once breakfast is finished we get prepared for our trip."

Young Danny loved the food, scarfing it down like someone who was lost out to sea for months before running to his bedroom to get dressed. By the time he exited his room his mother was also all dressed and ready. The drive didn't take long seeing as their home was just a couple blocks away from the main entrance, though Danny was confused as his mother drove into a small alleyway with a broken down looking telephone box (talk about ancient tech!)

"Okay my little warrior here is where we get to mommy's friends," his mother exclaimed causing Danny to be more confused.

"Momma dats a wox," the child responded causing his mother to chuckle.

"Oh my little one it's merely a disguise for the transporter that will take us up there," she said pointing at the sky.

It took Danny a second but once he realized what momma ment his eyes went wide as he started hopping in the car seat and trying to unlatch the buckles keeping him there causing his mother to laugh as she got out of the car and quickly moved to get Danny out of his seat.

Upon a closer look the supposed transport was just a phone box... Almost completely glass with a metal frame and a phone with no receiver. Upon entering the small place momma entered a long string of numbers and a voice emanated from around them, "unknown person inhabiting transport pad, please leave and try again," his mother sighed deeply and looked down at Danny with a small smile then back up at the phone with a flat emotionless face.

"Wonder Woman 003 override, allow me and my child in immediately or I will turn you into a box of scrap," there was a small pause after his mother spoke, as if the voice was considering their options before responding, "authorized, Wonder Woman 003, child alpha 9 001"

A sudden white light engulfed them causing Danny to cling to his mom before suddenly they were walking through a large portal looking thing (a pang of fear echoed from deep in Danny's core though he can't remember why this object would cause such a feeling). Before him was a sight to behold, a large round table in the center of a giant room with glass walls showing the stars, moon, and earth (if Danny could die again he would have thought he died and went to the Elysian fields or his own personal haunt in the ghost zone). Technology of all kinds where everywhere and people were walking to and from places; most of them heros!

It seems that they interrupted a meeting in progress, Batman and Superman were standing up pointing at a large hologram floating from the center of the large table. Along the table sat The Flash, two green lanterns, two people dressed up to what Daniel thought looked like owls, a man who looked like he was wearing a fish with a trident and a long beard (the guy was buff and Danny wondered for a small second if wearing fish made you superhuman) and lastly a woman wearing a cool looking leather jacket. Of the group of superheroes only the flash wasn't currently gawking at Danny and his mother. This was rectified by the woman who looked like an owl grabbing Flash's head and forcefully turning it towards them.

"Ow.... Hey! I was asking bats a....why is wonder woman holding a baby!" Flash's jaw dropped to the table as superman flew up towards the unexpected visitors.

"Diana....uh... Care to explain?" Supes asked as Batman walked up behind him responding to Clark's question with one of his own, "you have not been gone long enough for that to happen naturally, so I assume you found the child?"

Danny scrunched in on himself pushing his face into his mother's neck, he didn't like the man with pointy ears. His momma stood straight holding him close and gently parting his back as she glares at everyone. "I found him on the mission with Clark, he is my ward and my child, end of story"

Superman looked confused floating down to the floor and walking closer to the two, "..Diana... Are you saying that child was the orb you took?" Danny turned to look at the man in blue and red with awe waving slightly at him and giggled with joy when he smiled and waved back. His momma nodded as she watched the interaction, "yes the orb turned into Danny, he was most likely made by the gods and the fates deemed me worthy to be his mother"

You could hear a pin drop from the lack of noise that followed his mother saying those words, Superman looked worried, batman huffed, flash was too busy eating five granola bars at once to notice and the lady in the black leather jacket got up and walked over to them. Danny could feel the emotions this woman felt, fear, curiosity, worry, and one he couldn't place a word for.

"Are you shure that is a good idea wonder woman? A random baby appearing from a crystal could be something different than gods," the lady in the jacket said; his mother's grip tightened on Danny a little as she nodded, "gods or not he is my child now Canary, he has displayed gifts like many of us so I brought him here to introduce him to everyone." Canary, the one momma was talking to, nodded as Batman walked up closer and reached out for Danny causing the child to flinch.

The reaction from his mother was almost instant, faster than most eyes could detect (except flash but he was currently coughing from food going down the wrong tube) Batman wrist was in his mother's hands and held far away from Danny. Everyone in the room was on their feet in an instant as his mother glared at the man in black, "you scare my child again Batman and I will break it," these words were followed by his mother flinging the man's arm away like a snake as Danny was carried over to the table and sat in his mothers lap.

It took a couple of minutes for everyone to calm back down, Batman's face was as still as a statue as Superman checked his wrists for any fractures as the woman dressed as a hawk and Canary asked his mother questions. Most were basics, how did she find him (he appeared from the crystal she found while taking stolen items from Lex,) how old is he, (his mother said from what she can tell he is now almost a year old), which Danny nodded smiling at the two across from them as they smiled back.

When Superman and Batman finally sat back down at the table the important questions were asked.

"What are these gifts you were speaking of Diana?" The man in blue and red asked giving a gentle smile to Danny (Danny could feel worry and kindness coming from the man which made him relax a little)

"So far he can fly a small amount and turn invisible but he says there are more that may appear," his mother responded to the question as everyone's eyes turned to Danny at her response

"The little tyke can talk already?" The flash had finally finished eating and focused on danny who focused on him in turn. He almost got dizzy from the amount of emotions that were flying by from that man in all red. Danny didn't know how but something about the energy within those emotions felt...familiar, like a ghost he once met though he can't remember who. His mother looked down at him and patted his back, "like I said, he has many gifts from the gods, would you like to say hello little warrior?"

Danny was hesitant at first, everyone was staring at him, but like his momma has said before to him, a warrior never gives in to fear and works hard to fight it back, so with a deep breath Danny nodded and said, "h...hewwo... I am Danny, you all weer weird clofing like momma," this sentence to Danny's joy caused everyone around the table to start chuckling, even the scary Batman gave a small smile amusement circling his dark emotionless aura.

Superman smiled in return and nodded, "okay well we have a new topic of discusses which can be continued after the update, since you missed most of it wonder woman me and batman will start from the beginning." This caused a bunch of groans which made Danny giggle, adults and their need for time, Danny sat back against his mother settling in as the conversation switched to be about some bad men doing bad things, Danny was tired from all the emotional energy and events that slowly he drifted off to sleep, happy that he got to be in this world of heros, he couldn't wait till he was old enough to help momma fight bad guys.

*********************

Danny yawned loudly as he stretched in his mother's lap his eyes slowly opening and adjusting to the bright light of the florescent lighting of the watchtower. Rubbing his eyes he looked around him, most of the heros were gone except for superman, batman, and the cool lady in the black jacket, Canary was what momma called her, must be a hero name the boy thought.

Superman was staring at him, batman seemed to be looking at his wrist for some reason, and Canary was smiling as she moved to a crouch besides him and momma. "Hi Danny, your mom updated us on everything, you sound like a smart kid from what Diana has told me, we all decided that since you came from a gem.."

"Core" Danny interrupted her causing her to pause, "core?" She asked and Danny nodded, "issa core as far as the clockman told me." Confusion, from everyone, even momma, Danny scrunched in on himself, did he say too much? Are they going to take him away from momma? Danny sure hoped not or else he would cry. Momma seemed to sense this and kissed the top of his head, "no one will take you from me little one, you can tell us more when Constantine gets here."

Oh no... Danny recognized that name and not just from his time viewing this world through a screen. "What in the bloody hell did you do!" Danny sighed internally as he turned to meet the eyes of the British man who just arrived through the big round portals. Constantine stopped in his tracks staring back at Danny with wide eyes, terror/fear/ oh gods we are doomed/ and other splashes of emotions crossed Constantine's face before he coughed and pulled out a piece of paper drawing something on it.

"Constantine what are you..." Batman began his question but was quieted by a finger held up from the man in the trenchcoat who looked like he just came out of a sewer (Danny wouldn't be surprised and neither would Batman) after he finished drawing on the paper he walked briskly over to Danny and kneeld before holding the paper out to him, "I don't know what these fools did to get you here but seeing as I'm not a f....bloody fool,(Constantine substituted what he wanted to say after a glare from Danny's mother) here is a summoning sygil so your highness can contact me at any time," he stood up and pointed at Batman,

"no blood tests till after he is a teenager," he said before looking at his momma, "best of luck princess, you got the whole world in your hands, mabey even the entire multiverse." With that he pulled out a lighter and carved a hole out of fire into the air before walking through. Danny looked around at everyone staring at him and sighed, he was hoping he wouldn't have to explain this so soon but now he had no real choice. He was about to say something when his mother's hand went over his mouth.

Pausing he looked up at his mother who, showing how cool she was, was calm even with this new information and was looking around at the three other heros, "we shall talk about this in a more private area, Bruce, how do you feel about showing my son your home?" Danny blinked up at momma, if she thought the scary man was the safer place he wouldn't say anything against it...just... Did this man live in a cave? Danny had a bad feeling he lived in a cave.

#writing #dp x dc #writers on tumblr #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #fanfiction #dc x dp crossover #wonder woman would be a great mom

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bigsoggyboots · 2 days ago

Text

Sevika x Teacher!Reader

Estranged

Uses lyrics from stranger by Jhene Aiko

summ: You remember the good life. The old life. A life that held you and briefly mentioned Sevika. Isha brings you both together. You're now reconsidering everything.

words: 1.3k

cw: smoking, mentions of drugs and death.

note: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calamitykills

Admittedly, I had a lot of fun writing this. I wrote this while being on a call with a friend, and I love how it turned out! Depending on its popularity will depend on a future part two for Valentine's.

“We don't give up our people.” That's what Sevika is quoted for, it's who she serves. No matter how you see her, in the highest and lowest parts of all of Zaun, it's who she is.

But you remember who she got that quote from. The Hound of the Undercity. When life was good and most people were afraid of enforcers and not their own people. A life that's now estranged to some.

No one remembers that now. You couldn't tell anyone how many there had been. They were just like you.

Everyone in Zaun now is either homeless, addicts, beating the addicts and homeless or catering to the people who beat the addicts and homeless.

Including you, or, so it seemed.

You were sick of that, sick of the miserable life you led. You were tired of being the same. You decided that you wanted to be the change you wanted to see in Zaun, starting with the beginning of change itself; our children.

☆

Word of you was going around. You were like a flower growing through the concrete. And you didn't know what to do with all the attention and appreciation. With the newfound attention you garnered, things seem to go right.

More kids began showing up to your classes, more money was being donated, less kids went home hungry. You strengthened the community and watch how everything came together. Albeit the good luck you recently felt come your way, you didn't think there'd be a direct cause for it.

Except for Isha maybe.

Ever since she came along, things that were once black and white came into color. You were grateful for her, and this new era she brought upon.

She was unlike your other kids. She was spunky and brave, possessing a passion for learning. You loved that about her and how she'd tried to spend any time she could with you.

The only thing you wondered is why you never saw her in public.

☆

Isha found you today, when the sun was glistening on the rainy floor. You heard her boots squeak as she made her way over to you. You were preoccupied, in a small alleyway, confused on where she came from and how she found you. Isha just wanted a hug.

You laughed hearing Isha pant so breathlessly. “Hey, breathe girl, no one's gonna get you.” She looked up at you, and formed a smile. A smile that you knew well enough to know that something's up. “Isha are you-”

Someone spat on the ground, gravely footsteps following behind it. “Brat.” You looked towards Isha. You knew her face, you knew her name. Damn near everyone knew who that was. Your eyes landed on Isha and your eyes met hers; she was unafraid.

You don't know what went through you, you and all your years of experience living here screamed at you to take her and run. As wrong as it may be. But you hadn't. You watched Isha hide behind you, small playful giggles leaving her. A game of Hide-and-Seek with Sevika? Either that or Isha just pissed her off.

Right now, you trusted her. Kids reveal the true nature of people through their actions. If Isha was scared, you would've known the moment she landed in your arms.

So, you looked down the alleyway ahead of you. Dark, bleek, a disgusting yet signaturely Zaun sort of smell, nothing out of ordinary. Then you smelled it. A type of smelly smell that smells.. smelly. Smoke.

It filled your nose faster than you could think, and Sevika coughed louder than you could comprehend. She was straight down the way. Sevika grunted, pulling herself closer, and Isha peeked behind you to get a look herself.

“I see you down there.” Isha gasped, then giggled. You could practically hear Sevika's eye roll.

She scoffed, stepping down the hall. She dipped into the light, standing in front of you. Her eyes studied you, without malice, nor the fierceness she normally would hold. It's a stare that's different from the one you've seen all these years; it's new and.. it seems like she likes you.

“Come on.” You refocus, seeing Sevika look at Isha as she shakes her head. Isha grips your pants tighter, huffing out her next breath. Was she giving Sevika attitude?

“Come on, she's not your friend.” Likewise. Isha took off her hat, revealing to Sevika a picture she had drawn of you. Your eyes widen. You remember the day you both colored together. Isha made that for you, you insisted she'd keep it. It warmed your heart that she did.

Sevika kneeled down, looking at the paper before her. She recognized this.“This is who you sneak off to see?” Isha nodded, looking almost proud. It was cute to watch.

“I've seen you around before.” Grunting whilst she stood again, she looked back at you. Your eyes linger in more than a casual way. “You hung around Vander.”

You blink a few times in surprise. “Yeah, I did.” Vander flashed your mind as she said that. His voice, his laugh, his face. Janna, it's been too long since you last seen him. “That was a long time ago.”

Isha listened to your conversation, putting her hat back on as she waited. She was obviously confused about it, even more confused when Sevika picked her up with one arm.

Isha grumbled, hitting Sevika as she held her.

“Let's go. We have places to be.” Sevika shoved the paper back in Isha's hands. From what you could tell, Sevika had been through hell and back to get here.

You wanted to question it, shit, you had hundreds of questions.

Why'd she remember you? How did she remember you? Did Silco have a file on you? Did he plan on getting rid of you? How do Isha and Sevika know each other?

Just.. lots and lots of questions. Not enough time for answers. You also doubted she'd give that to you.

So right as the rain started falling again, and sun barely peeked over the horizon, you asked yourself how worth it it would be to regret another unasked question.

Isha hummed at the sight of rain. Sevika sure as hell didn't. It put out the light in her cigar and she sighed having to take it out.

The dried up cigar soon took in the rain water. “Rain… No good..” Sevika let Isha adjust her cloak, draping the cloth on top of both their heads.

You covered yourself too, lifting your hood. “Will I see you again in better weather?”

Isha beamed, her smile promising. Sevika responded for her. “Once she listens.”

“I mean you too, Sevika.”

You should be proud; you stopped the woman in her tracks. She stares up at you, unblinking. It was the last thing she was expecting. Thoughts raced through her all at once, some of them you could probably guess.

“I'll be around.” That put a smile on your face, and seeing you smile put one on hers.

Rekindling with old friends became something foreign to you. Like many Zaunites, you became too comfortable knowing you're more than likely to lose more friends than you can keep. And you thought you lost Sevika too.

Although there was no pool of blood to signify any loss, she began working for the wrong person. It's why you're both estranged, you leaving without a trace after Vander's death.

Until now. You sensed change in her. Silco's death changed her, and it made you think that a relationship could be possible again. Isn't that crazy?

You stood there, grateful now. Without Isha, another opportunity would've been lost to you.

You waved goodbye to the girl, hearing her hum before returning the gesture. Sevika and Isha both slipped into the dark alleyway.

Perhaps your distaste for Sevika would dissipate if she could show how to be good to our youth. Perhaps now since Zaun was all in her hands, she'd begin to fight for the right things. And maybe, just maybe, a stranger could lead her the right way.

#sevika #sevika x reader #arcane #soft sevika #fanfic writing #<3 #sapphic yearning #wlw yearning #short fic #lesbian #wlw #fluff #isha arcane #sevika and isha #isha is alive #isha is so cute

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namgyu-nurture · 11 hours ago

Note

Hiiii! Can I request a Thanos x Fem!Reader where she’s possibly the nicest person on the planet and is literally so sweet to everyone. She’s Thanos’s whole world, he’s so in love with her, not comprehending how such a perfect angel could ever love someone as fucked up as him in his own mind. He’s not sure who he saved in a past life but he’s grateful she’s in his life and he’d quite literally do anything for her. Except for one thing: Haunted Houses. Su-Bong is tough and doesn’t let anyone fuck with him. But he does NOT do jump scares. So when they’re at a carnival with friends and she’s so excited to go to the mini haunted house…he’s hesitant. She immediately sees that and doesn’t want to embarrass him infront of his friends but Thanos saw how excited you were and would rather die than deprive you of anything. So…they go in. And chaos ensues. Just some fluffy rom com vibes with our sweet Thanos please & thank you (and if you want, maybe reader thanks him at home afterwards for being so brave for her ;))

Fearless for you - Thanos/Choi su bong x fem!reader

Warnings: none, slight swearing, mainly fluff !!

A/N: sorry if this EXACTLY like the request 😞😞 (also sorry if it’s short) I had a lot of fun writing this so tysm for requesting!! I loved it!

October 30th, the last day of the Halloween carnival before it went to a different town.

You and Thanos had planned to go to the fairground that night with a few friends, it was roughly 4:30pm but it was already turning dark outside.

The sky was a misty grey as street lights began switching on, making the streets glow. The streets were crowded but among them were you two.

“Come on su-bong! The others are going to be wondering where we are!” You teased slightly as you walk side by side, your slightly ahead of him.

“We would’ve been there by now if you didn’t spend like two hours on your makeup” he retorted with feign sarcasm, to which you blubbered a mocking noise. he loved to tease you. He never meant anything by it though, he was head over heels.

They both arrived at the meeting spot and greeted your friends with warm welcomes, you had been in the same small group for years, simultaneously we all decided to set off and explore.

***

They all pass by numerous carnival games, the girls were mainly chatting amongst themselves with average gossip how things have been when your eye catches on Thanos, who’s mid conversation with his friend Nam-gyu. They had made a bet on one of the basketball games, Nam-gyu challenged him, “I bet I can get the ball in quicker than you” and so they betted 10,000 won on it.

We stopped and watched as they played, the rest of the group cheered them on but you couldn’t help but just look at him, how he had that cute look of determination on his face, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself watching your beloved boyfriend act so competitive with his friend.

Thanos ended up winning and Nam-gyu handed over the agreed cash with a pout “fucking cheat” he murmured under his breath, clearly mad he lost, Thanos ignored him and surged with pride over his victory.

We kept walking and see a small haunted house. You couldn’t help the smile, you loved little spooks, loved the thrill. Your group started headed over, although. Unbeknownst to you, Thanos’ smile had faded.

You walked through the house, an actor jumped out and screamed, he was wearing a creepy clown mask and it took us all off guard, you jumped and squealed, smiling nonetheless.

We continued on, a dim room, something you couldn’t quite tell was a dummy or a person on an electric chair in a bloody prison uniform, there was bars so you didn’t worry about a scare, knowing that even if it jumped the bars would protect you.

It jumped and reached for Thanos through the bars, probably because he was an easy target, his bright purple hair standing out even in the dark. He screamed and snatched his arm away from the bars, he flushed embarrassed and wanted to shrink, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight.

You could tell from his grip, and the way he was looking at you in the dimly lit rooms that he was hating every second of this. You squeezed his hand for a sign of comfort, rubbing your thumb over his hand which was trembling slightly from the tight grip he was applying.

You eventually found the exit and some people were giggling, appreciating the set design, but not Thanos, Thanos stuck to your side, grasping your hand like it you were going to disappear, you obviously noticed and gave him a kiss on the cheek, you were aware he didn’t like that kind of stuff, he never wanted to watch horror movies so you just assumed he didn’t like it.

“Thank you Su-bong” You whispered sweetly to him so no one else heard, you were proud of him, you squeezed his hand reassuringly to which he smiled softly, relieved.

After a while of walking around and looking at attractions, playing games, trying the fun snacks. You went home.

***

You walked through the door and hung up your jacket. You turned to Thanos who was following behind you, “thank you for today, that was really brave” you smiled at him and he smiled back, he pulled you into his arms and hugged you tight.

“No. No thank you” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have done that without you, I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes when that fucker grabbed me” you couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic reaction, he always overreacted.

You pressed your lips to his softly. “So brave” you teased with a slight eye roll. “Let’s go to bed m’Kay?” You say suddenly realising the time and how tired you actually were.

He nodded and you went to your bedroom. You both crawled into bed and he kissed you softly “I love you y/n.”

“I love you too Su-bong” you smiled half asleep already.

He held you close as he watched you fall into a soft slumber. It wasn’t long before the sleep was dragging him down as well. He fell asleep with you cradled in his chest, his head nestled against yours as you slept peacefully. <3

#t.o.p #choi seunghyun #squid games #thanos squid games #thanos #squid game season 2 #choi su bong #thanos x reader #squid game #namgyu

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corruptedcaps · 5 hours ago

Text

Better the Devil You Know

This is inspired by @rylem33 multi-ending story that can be read here.

Victor had always been the kind of guy who blended into the background. He was scrawny, awkward, and perpetually nervous, with glasses that always seemed to slide down his nose at the worst possible moments.

His best friend, Lily, was the only person who truly understood him. She was just as dorky as he was, obsessed with comic books, bad puns, and obscure indie bands. Victor had been in love with her for years, but he could never muster the courage to tell her. Every time he tried, his voice would crack, or he’d trip over his words, and he’d end up laughing it off like it was some big joke.

But one night, after yet another failed attempt to confess his feelings, Victor sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He hated what he saw. Weak. Pathetic. Unworthy. He clenched his fists and muttered to himself, “I’d give anything to be strong. To be confident. To be the kind of guy Lily could actually want.”

That’s when the room grew cold, and the air seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. A voice, deep and smooth, echoed from the shadows. “Anything, you say?”

Victor spun around, his heart racing. Standing before him was a man, or at least, something that looked like a man. He was impossibly tall, with sharp features, piercing red eyes, and a smirk that could only be described as devilish. His suit was tailored to perfection, and he exuded an sense of power and confidence that made Victor feel even smaller than usual.

“W-who are you?” Victor stammered, taking a step back.

The man chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down Victor’s spine. “Let’s just say I’m your neighbour downstairs. Way downstairs and I’m here to give you exactly what you want. Strength. Confidence. The kind of looks that turn heads. All you have to do is agree to my terms.”

Victor’s mouth went dry. “What terms?”

The devil grinned, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Your soul, of course. A small price to pay for the life you’ve always dreamed of, don’t you think?”

Victor hesitated. His soul? That sounded… bad. But then he thought of Lily, of how she deserved someone who wasn’t a walking disaster. Someone who could sweep her off her feet. Someone who wasn’t him.

“Deal.” Victor said, his voice trembling but resolute.

The devil’s grin widened. “Excellent.”

The transformation was immediate. Victor felt a surge of power course through his veins, his scrawny frame filling out with muscle, his posture straightening, his jawline sharpening. His glasses disappeared, replaced by perfect vision, and his once-mousy hair became thick and lustrous. He looked in the mirror and barely recognized himself. He was… handsome. Confident. Strong.

But something felt off. There was a coldness in his chest, a void where his heart used to be. He shook it off. This was what he wanted, right? This was what he needed.

Victor decided to find Lily. He knew she’d be at their favorite coffee shop, the one with the mismatched chairs and the barista who always messed up their orders. He stood outside, peering through the window from a nearby alley, and spotted her sitting at their usual table. She was wearing her favorite oversized sweater, her nose buried in a book, her glasses slipping down her face just like his used to.

As he watched her, a strange feeling washed over him. The warmth he usually felt when he saw her was gone. Instead, he felt… disgust. Her dorky clothes, her awkward mannerisms, her frizzy hair, it all seemed so… unappealing. What had he ever seen in her?

“Quite the sight, isn’t she?” a familiar voice purred beside him.

Victor turned to see the devil standing there, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. “I don’t understand.” Victor said, his voice tight. “Why do I feel this way? Lily’s… she’s everything I ever wanted.”

The devil chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down Victor’s spine. “Oh, Victor. You wanted strength, confidence, and beauty. And I gave it to you. But in exchange, I took your soul. And without your soul, you’ve lost any interest in nice girls like Lily.”

Victor’s stomach churned. “But… I did this for her. To be good enough for her.”

The devil smirked. “And now you’re too good for her. Isn’t that ironic? You only want supermodels and beauty queens now. Vapid mean bitches who would bully girls like Lily, isn’t that right?”

Victor stared through the window at Lily, feeling nothing but disgust for her. His eyes drifted to the leggy blonde who was berating the barista for now getting her order right. The devil was right, his desires were different. They were better. And yet he was angered that he had been tricked so easily.

Victor clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

The devil laughed, a sound that echoed in the empty alley. “Oh, but it is. You just didn’t know it. But tell you what, I’m feeling generous. I’ll grant you one more wish. You can use it to reverse what you’ve become, to go back to being that weak, dorky man who loved Lily. Or… you can use it to change her. Mold her into the kind of woman you desire now. The choice is yours.”

Victor’s mind raced. Reverse what he’d become? Go back to being the guy who couldn’t even look Lily in the eye? Or change her, twist her into someone who fit his new, soulless desires? Surely there would be a catch to whatever he had chosen. He needed to outsmart the devil. Maybe there was a third option.

“I can make any wish?” Victor asked, his voice low and steady.

The devil’s grin faltered for the first time. “Of course. Anything you desire.”

“And this wish is permanent, no reversals, no changes?” Victor asked in a way that made the devil suddenly wary.

“Yes of course, ironclad.” The devil replied, somehow unsure of what Victor was about to ask.

Victor’s eyes gleamed with a dark, dangerous light. “Then I wish to be you. I wish to have the power, the station and knowledge that you have. I wish I was the devil!”

The devil blinked, his smirk vanishing. “What? No, that’s… you can’t wish for that. That’s not how this works.”

But it was too late. Victor felt a surge of power unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The air around him crackled with energy, and the devil staggered back, his form flickering like a dying flame.

“What… no this isn’t possible! I won’t allow it!” The devil stammered, his voice tinged with panic.

Victor laughed, a deep, menacing sound that echoed through the street. “You said any wish. You said it would be ironclad. Not even you can stop it!”

The devil’s body began to disintegrate, his power flowing into Victor like a river of darkness. “No! This is impossible! You can’t—!”

But his protests were cut short as his form crumbled to dust, his essence absorbed entirely by Victor. The alley fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of power radiating from Victor’s body. He looked down at his hands, now glowing with an otherworldly energy, and let out a cackle that sent shivers through the very fabric of reality.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Victor said, his voice dripping with malice. He turned back to the coffee shop, where Lily still sat, oblivious to the chaos that had just unfolded.

The sight of her still disgusted him and she was the last thing he desired but as he looked at the bitchy blonde still arguing with the barista he also felt a cold disdain. He knew what he wanted instead, and he was going to get it.

Victor strode into the coffee shop with a confidence that turned heads. His presence was magnetic, his aura dark and commanding. He spotted Lily sitting in their usual corner, her nose buried in a book, her oversized sweater swallowing her frame. She looked up as he approached, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Victor? Is that you?" She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He smirked, sliding into the seat across from her. "In the flesh. Or something like it."

Lily blinked, adjusting her glasses. "You look… wow. Have you been working out?"

Victor chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "You could say that. But enough about me. Let's talk about you."

Lily frowned, sensing something off in his tone. "What about me?"

Victor leaned back, his eyes scanning the room. He gestured to a group of women at a nearby table, their legs long and toned, their hair perfectly styled, their makeup flawless. "Don't you wish you had legs like those? Or hair like that? Or maybe… lips like hers?" He pointed to another woman, her pouty lips glistening with gloss.

Lily's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Victor, what the hell are you talking about?"

He turned his gaze back to her, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I'm just saying, Lily. You could be so much more. Don't you wish to be the kind of woman who turns heads? The kind of woman who gets whatever she wants?"

Lily crossed her arms, her voice firm. "I like who I am, Victor. I don't need to change for anyone."

Victor's smirk widened. "Oh, but you do. You just don't realize it yet."

Lily stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I don't like it. I'm leaving."

As she turned to go, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes welling up. Turning around she looked Victor in his eyes. "All I ever wished was to be the woman you wanted!"

The words hung in the air, and Lily stood steadfast as if waiting for a response from him, something to show a glimmer of humanity. Instead his eyes glowed a deep, fiery red, and the world around them seemed to freeze. The chatter of the coffee shop faded into silence, the other patrons frozen in place. Lily's breath caught in her throat as she realized something was terribly wrong.

"As you wish." Victor said, his voice echoing with power as he snapped his fingers.

Lily's body began to convulse, her limbs twisting and contorting as an unseen force took hold of her. She gasped, her hands flying to her head as her hair began to change. The frizzy, unkempt locks smoothed and straightened, turning into a cascade of silky, jet-black strands that shimmered with an unnatural sheen.

"Oh God, what's happening to me?" Lily moaned, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and pleasure.

Her lips plumped and darkened, becoming full and pouty, as if kissed by the devil himself. Her skin smoothed and tightened, her cheeks hollowing out to create a more angular, striking appearance. Her breasts swelled, filling out her sweater until it strained against her new curves.

"Victor, please… stop…" She begged, but her voice was weak, her protests half-hearted as a strange warmth spread through her body. “Mmm fuck please DONT stop!”

Her nails elongated, turning into sharp, perfectly manicured claws painted a darker than dark black. Her makeup appeared as if by magic, her eyes lined with dark, smoky shadow, her lashes long and thick.

But the changes weren't just physical. Lily's mind was being twisted, her thoughts clouded by a dark, seductive force. Her once-kind heart began to blacken, her desires shifting from the simple joys of life to a hunger for power, attention, and control.

"Oh… oh my God…" Lily moaned, her body arching as the transformation reached its peak. "This feels… incredible…"

Victor watched with a satisfied smirk, his eyes glowing brighter as Lily's soul was slowly corrupted. "That's it, Lily. Embrace it. Become the bad bitch buried inside."

Lily's moans turned into a low, sultry laugh as the transformation completed. She straightened, her new body radiating cruel confidence. She looked down at herself, running her hands over her curves, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

"Holy shit!" She breathed, her voice now a sultry purr. "I look fucking amazing."

Victor leaned back, his grin widening. "You do. And now, the world is yours for the taking."

Lily's eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a flicker of her old self, a hint of the dorky, kind-hearted woman she used to be. But it was quickly extinguished, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze.

"Fuck yeah, it is," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "Let's see what this new me can do."

Victor laughed, a deep, menacing sound that echoed through the frozen coffee shop. "That's my girl."

Victor's hand snapped out, grabbing Lily by the waist and yanking her against him. Their lips crashed together in a searing, possessive kiss-all teeth and hunger, a collision of two corrupted souls. Lily pulled back after a moment, her new black lips curling into a smirk as she stared into his glowing red eyes.

"About fucking time!" She purred, her voice dripping with venomous desire. Before Victor could react, she shoved him backward onto the coffee shop table, sending frozen cups and saucers shattering to the floor. His shirt tore open under her clawed nails, revealing his chiseled, inhumanly perfect torso.

"Fuck, Lily-" Victor growled, but she cut him off with a sharp laugh, her gaze raking over him.

"Lily is dead baby. Call me Lilith. But enough about me, look at you." She breathed, her fingers trailing down his abs to the waistband of his pants. "All that power... but does that power extend lower?" She undid his belt with a flick of her sharp nails, freeing his thick, veiny, and impossibly large cock. Her breath hitched, a flicker of her old self surfacing in her widened eyes. "Jesus Anti-Christ, Victor. You're fucking monstrous."

But the shock melted into hunger. Lilith dropped to her knees, her new jet-black hair spilling over his thighs as she took him into her mouth with a low, greedy moan. Victor threw his head back, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as her tongue swirled and her lips tightened.

"That's it!" He snarled, tangling his hands in her hair. "Suck your devil's cock like you were made for it."

Lilith hummed in response, the vibration drawing a loud growl from him. Her nails dug into his hips as she took him deeper, her moans muffled but relentless. When he tensed, nearing the edge, she pulled back with a wet pop, her lips glistening.

"Not yet." She whispered, climbing onto the table and straddling him. Her new body-all curves and lethal grace-hovered over his, her skirt riding up. "I want to feel you ruin me."

Victor gripped her hips, his claws pricking her skin. "Then ruin yourself on me!" He commanded.

Lilith sank down onto him with a scream of pleasure, her back arching as he filled her. "Fuck-Victor!"

"That's Lord Victor to you now." He growled, thrusting up into her. The table beneath them splintered, but neither noticed. The air around them began to smolder, flames licking up from the floorboards as their rhythm turned frantic, their moans mingling with the crackle of fire.

"You feel that?" Victor hissed, his hands roaming her skin. "That's hellfire, baby."

Lilith rode him harder, her nails raking his chest as the flames coiled around them. "Burn with me, baby! Burn!"

The fire erupted, engulfing them in a vortex of heat and ash. Their clothes disintegrated, leaving them naked. It didn’t pause their sinful act one moment. If anything it just ignited their passion even more.

“Mmmm fuck my lord! Cum inside me! Make me feel the fires of hell inside me!” Lilith groaned that was more demanding than requesting.

“Yessss! I’ll make you my queen! The queen of darkness! Together we’ll rule hell and then, the world!” Victor cried, thrusting harder.

“I’ll be such a wicked bitch! I’ll be your wicked bitch! Do it baby! Do it now! I can’t wait anymore!” Lilith said moving her hips in a way that made their orgasms inevitable.

They climaxed together, a roar of infernal power shaking the coffee shop to its foundations. The flames siphoned into their bodies, filling each with immense power that exploded out and wrapped each in new clothing.

Lilith's new outfit clung to her like a second skin. A shorter than short black latex dress with crossed straps. Fishnets flowed up her legs and 8 inch studded shoes wrapped around her feet. Her black hair took on the colour of the fire itself, giving her a dangerously red look.

Victor's own attire was a mirror of dark power. A tailored coat, a collar of flames, and a smirk that could damn nations. His suit gave off an otherworldly sheen that was as mesmerizing as it was handsome.

Lilith collapsed against him, her eyes now a burning red like his own. Her lips brushing his ear. "Well that was... hot."

Victor smiled at her weak joke. "You're the Mistress of Evil and yet your jokes haven't improved."

Lilith dug her now longer nails into his chest, drawing blood while smiling manically. "I'm everything you desired me to be, bad puns and all."

Victor looked at her. Her fiery red hair, her dark gorgeous lips, her evil eyes. He was more in love with her now that he had ever been before. "I sold my soul to have you, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Well you literally own my soul now so I'm not going anywhere my lord." Lilith said with a wicked smile that Victor knew would make him scorch the earth if she asked.

Standing up off the table, Victor stretched out his hand for his new queen to take which she did without hesitation.

"What now, my love?" She asked, ambition in her eyes.

Victor gripped her by her waist, not gently, and kissed her until her toes curled. "Now," he said, "we rule."

Fire erupted from the floorboards beneath them, wrapping around them, consuming them and then suddenly with a poof, they were gone. Moments later, the frozen coffee shop sprang to life again with it's patrons left to wonder why there was suddenly a mess of coffee cups and napkins on the floor and the smell of sulphur and sex in the air.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #cc2025 #betterthedevilyouknow

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imjustatorturedpoet · 3 days ago

Text

Meet me in the Hallway

chapter three: someone new

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Reader

also available on ao3💘

wordcount: 4,5k

—

The guards moved mechanically, handing out lunchboxes with the same detached efficiency they used for everything. Like it didn’t matter if you ate. Like it didn’t matter if you lived.

You stepped forward and took a box from a pink-clad guard. His mask reflected nothing, just a void where a person should be.

Maybe that’s what you’d become too.

Stepping out of line, you spotted Player 390 ahead, waiting for you. You tilted your head slightly, a silent signal, and the two of you headed toward the right side of the hall, away from the noise. Someone was already sitting there on the stairs. Gi-hun.

He sat with his back against the metal bunk frame, head bowed, eyes locked on the floor. His meal sat beside him, unopened, like he was waiting for it to disappear. You sighed softly, watching him. Another ghost in a room full of the dying.

"You two know each other, right? I saw you talking before the first game, on the stairs,” you asked, glancing at 390 as the two of you approached. He flicked his eyes toward Gi-hun. "Yeah. We’re best friends, you could say." You arched an eyebrow. But before you could ask, 390 beat you to it.

390 exhaled, ”He was never like this, if that's what you wanted to know.”, there was something almost bitter in his voice, ”He used to be loud and energetic. Ate dinner with his daughter every other Saturday. Even when things were bad, he’d make some time for her. Even when the loan sharks came. But it got worse. Then three years ago, in the summer, he just... vanished. Nobody knew where he went. Wouldn’t pick up my calls. His mom was worried sick.”, 390 hesitated, ”She was sick. Diabetes. She didn’t make it. He came back after she had already died. Poor lady. I miss her.”

Three years ago.

The timeline lodged itself in your brain like a jagged piece of glass. Gi-hun had told you he played these games three years ago.

"He won,” you murmured. 390 frowned. "Yeah. Guess so. So sad that the games ended after his mom… you know.”

He came back when it was too late… why did that seem so familiar? Did that happen to someone you knew?

A sharp pang twisted in your gut. Winning doesn’t mean surviving. Sometimes, you leave a place, but it doesn’t leave you. Because, maybe, there’s no difference between going home and staying here. At least, for you.

You kept that thought to yourself.

You sat beside Gi-hun and opened your lunchbox. The scent of warm rice and fried egg drifted up, but the weight of the room made it impossible to enjoy. Food tastes different when you don’t know if it’s your last meal. Jung-bae turned to his friend, trying to coax something, anything, out of him.

"Look at this, man. This is just like my mom used to make. What’s in yours?"

Silence.

"Aren’t you gonna eat? Not even a little bit?”

Gi-hun didn’t even blink. He just stared.

390 sighed and scooped up a spoonful of rice, holding it out toward him like a mother feeding a stubborn child. "Come on. You know what they say—‘Eat up, even on your deathbed.’ Just do your brooding after, yeah? Please?”

Nothing.

390 dropped his spoon back into the box with a clatter. “Forget it, then.” He took the bite himself, chewing slowly. And then, between mouthfuls, ”You know… maybe this is for the best. That 24 million wouldn’t even cover a quarter of my interest. If we play just one more game—"

"Jung-bae."

Finally. A reaction.

For the first time, he looked up from the floor. His eyes were hollow—like the words had scraped something raw inside him, something that never healed. His fingers twitched, just once, then clenched into his palms.

“Last time I was here, someone who was very dear to me, said the exact same thing.” His breath caught on the last word. “And in the end, that person died here.”

The silence that followed was heavy, thick. Player 390 swallowed, but his usual easy confidence had drained from his face. You watched Gi-hun carefully, something cold creeping into your spine.

How many people had he watched die here? How many faces had he memorised just to forget? How many names had been swallowed by the walls of this place, lost between the gunshots and the silence that followed? How many times had he looked at a body—still warm, still fresh with the shape of life clinging to it and known that it would never move again?

And more importantly…why had he come back?

A part of you wanted to believe there was an answer—something logical, something that made sense. Survivor’s guilt, maybe.

Oh, you knew that very well.

The idea that winning didn’t mean escaping. That no matter how much money he had, he had never really left. Maybe he thought if he returned, he could undo it somehow. If he played again, if he stood in the same places where they had fallen, if he suffered the way they suffered—

Maybe it would mean something. Maybe it would make up for what happened before.

But that was a stupid, naive thought. Nothing could make up for this.

Nothing could bring them back. Nothing could erase what had happened. Nothing could take away the sound of their screams, the way their blood had seeped into the dirt, the way their bodies had hit the ground like discarded toys.

And yet he was here. Back in the hell he fought to escape. And that meant one of two things.

Either he had nothing left waiting for him outside.

Or he had never truly left at all.

You glanced at him. Noticed the way his shoulders curled inward, the way his hands were fisted so tight they trembled. Maybe it was both. Maybe he had lost everything on the outside. Or maybe, the second he stepped into this place three years ago, the outside had stopped existing for him.

The thought made your stomach turn. Because if he couldn’t escape, what chance did the rest of you have?

“Help us, then, sir.”, the voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and unyielding. The voice was in front you. You looked up at the same time as Gi-hun.

Player 001.

Behind him stood Player 100 and a few others. Their presence shifted the air; made it feel heavier.

“You’ve played these games before,” Player 001 said simply. Gi-hun looked at him, then lowered his head.

Retreating. Hiding.

You knew that look all too well. You thought he might ignore them entirely. But then—

“I pressed the O button because of you.”

Gi-hun flinched with disgust. But not because of Player 001, because of himself.

Player 001’s voice remained soft, ”I was scared. I wanted to quit. But you made me think… maybe I could play just one more game."

"Me too.”

"Yeah, same.”

“Us too.”

You felt it then, the way they were looking at him. Like he was their answer. But you looked at him like he was already carrying their deaths. For a moment, he met your gaze.

Then, just as quickly, he looked away.

“Sir,", Player 001 said, leaning in slightly, ”You know which game’s next, don’t you?"

A few players moved closer, waiting, hanging on his silence.

Even you. Why? You didn’t know.

Gi-hun exhaled, “The second game was Dalgona.”

The bunk above you creaked—a shift of weight, the subtle sound of someone listening in. Your eyes flicked upward. Player 388. He peered down, curiosity flickering across his face—until he realized you were looking right back at him.

Caught you.

His eyes widened slightly, embarrassment creeping in. Without a word, he pulled back, retreating into the shadows of his bunk like he hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

"Dalgona?"

Gi-hun gave a small nod, ”We had to choose one of four shapes and carve it out."

"Which shape was easiest?"

“Triangle.”

"And the hardest?”, you asked.

A pause.

"Umbrella."

Player 001 scoffed, ”Some people actually chose umbrella? Those poor bastards must’ve bitten the dust.”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything. But you saw it in his eyes. Judgment. Maybe even something closer to disgust.

"So we just pick triangle, then.”, you murmured. "Shut up,” Player 100 snapped, ”If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won’t go up." You stiffened. That was wrong. You felt your anger rise up again, threatening to spill out.

"What’s the point if we don’t eliminate anyone?" The words hit you like a hard slap to the face.

"Are you fucking serious?”, you stood up, voice sharp. "You actually want people to die on your account? How selfish can you be?”

Player 100 sneered, ”Watch your mouth, young girl. You foreigners have no respect."

You snorted, sharp and cold. “I’ve lived here for 14 years, ddo-ra-i. And respect? That’s earned, not handed out like pity. You lost my respect the second you decided that a stack of bills was worth more than the blood on your hands.”

His lips curled into something ugly at the insult. Before he could speak, Gi-hun cut in. "We’re not keeping this to ourselves. I told you because I want everyone to survive."

You scoffed, ”And we don’t even know if it’ll actually be Dalgona."

Gi-hun nodded in agreement. "If it is, I’ll tell everyone."

Player 100 exhaled through his nose. Annoyed. Then he walked away, but not before shooting you a nasty look that you reciprocated.

But Player 001 stayed. And he was watching you. “Do I know you?", you asked before you could stop yourself.

A beat of silence. Just long enough to matter. His expression doesn’t change. But his fingers twitch. Just once. Almost imperceptible. Almost. Then, a smile, too easy, too practiced.

“I don’t think so. I’d remember someone like you.”

Too smooth. Too sure.

Liar.

You looked away. But across from you, Gi-hun was still watching. And his face was unreadable. And Player 001 kept looking at you too.

He saw it. The flicker of something in your face. The way your muscles tensed before you schooled your expression back into place. But he didn’t say anything. He just kept watching.

“May I ask you something?” The words sliced through the space between you, measured and deliberate.

All three of you turned. Player 001.

He had moved closer, lowering himself onto the stairs like he belonged there. Like he wasn’t out of place in this circle—like he wasn’t watching. Listening. Waiting.

But there was something else.

His presence didn’t fill the space—it stretched into it. Expanding. Taking up the silence. His attention settled on Gi-hun.

Curious.

"Why did you come back to this place?" Gi-hun didn’t answer. Not at first. His body tensed in a way that was almost imperceptible, a flicker of something restrained.

Player 001 continued, ”You said you won. You made it out. That means you must have received 45.6 billion won. Did you spend it all?"

Beside you, Player 390 stiffened. His expression shifted, something clicking into place in his mind, "Wait, hold on." He turned toward Gi-hun, brows furrowing. "Did you bet on horses again?"

You side-eyed them both with a smirk on your face, amusement flickering beneath your growing curiosity. Gi-hun shook his head. But it wasn’t just denial—it was something heavier. Something that sat inside his chest like lead.

"That money doesn’t belong to me,” he said, voice quieter now, ”It’s blood money. For the people who died here. The same goes for the money up there."

Silence.

The words carried a weight that couldn’t be shrugged off. You understood. That kind of guilt—how it settled deep, gnawed at you from the inside, until even the things meant to save you felt like they were swallowing you whole.

After Jonah, you—

"You don’t have to think of it that way." The interruption of your thoughts was smooth. Your head snapped toward Player 001. His expression didn’t change.

"It’s not like you killed those people," he continued, his voice too calm, ”And saving that money won’t bring them back to life."

Gi-hun exhaled, shaking his head, ”If you had pressed X, everyone here would’ve changed their minds by tomorrow. All of us would’ve made it out alive."

Another beat of silence.

Player 001 didn’t blink. Didn’t waver. "That’s right," he admitted.

Curiouser.

”I was the last to press O. But there were 182 others who wanted to stay.", his gaze flickered to the patch on your chest. Shit.

"And there were also 182 who wanted to leave," Gi-hun countered.

The space between them tightened. You glanced at Player 390. Neither of you spoke, but you felt the tension shifting, thickening.

Player 001 leaned forward slightly. "Let’s say I pressed X, and we all got a chance to vote again tomorrow.”, his voice was steady. Too knowing.

"Would everyone have been happy? Do you think the majority of O voters would change their minds? Would they thank me if they saw me on the street?”, he turned to you, "Would you thank me?"

The question echoed in you head. You knew the answer. No, I wouldn't.

Gi-hun’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer. His silence said enough. 390 let out a breath, rubbing his temples, “Alright, enough. There’s no point in placing blame now.”, his voice had softened, tinged with something exhausted.

"You know the saying—a widow understands a widower best. Let’s just focus on tomorrow, okay?”, he gestured toward Gi-hun, ”He’s won these games before. If we stick together, we’ll have nothing to worry about."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disagreement, ”Cut the poor guy some slack.”, you glanced at Gi-hun, eyeing the sharp tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled into his palms, ”He doesn’t need more pressure from everyone expecting too much from him. He'll crumble to pieces."

Gi-hun turned to you at that. For a second, you thought he might actually say something. Something real. But then, just as quickly, he looked away.

390 nodded. "You’re right. But he has the experience. Any advice he has will help."

"He’s right.”, a new voice.

You all turned in unison. Player 388. Your eyes narrowed slightly. So, he had been eavesdropping. And he did it again.

He hopped down from his bunk, stepping closer to the group, ”We have to stick together. I’ll be with you all the way."

You frowned. Skepticism creeping in, ”Who are you?"

The man straightened his posture, ”I’m Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho."

Dae-ho turned toward Gi-hun, extending a hand. A handshake. An offering. Gi-hun didn’t take it.

390 arched an eyebrow. "Oh, Dae-ho. Have we met?"

Dae-ho hesitated. A flicker of something too fast to catch. His gaze shifted, first to Player 001. Then to Gi-hun. Then, finally, to you. And when he extended his hand again, you felt the weight of their gazes on you. Waiting.

You blinked. Then, slowly, you took his hand. Dae-ho’s fingers were warm. And when you welcomed him, he nodded gratefully.

You looked at Player 001 again. But he was already watching you. A chill curled down your spine, slow and deliberate, like fingers trailing along your skin. It was subtle, but his expression shifted. Not much. Just enough to unsettle you.

Recognition. Again. Or was that jealousy?

What you didn't see was that his expression had changed again. Not just interest. Something closer to… possession.

No, don’t be ridiculous, (Y/N).

He kept watching you, like he had seen you before. Like he knew exactly who you were now. The weight of his gaze wasn’t just familiarity though, it was expectation. As if he was waiting for you to remember. Your stomach twisted. Where had you seen him before? The thought gnawed at the back of your skull, sinking its teeth in, refusing to let go.

You tried to place him—tried to pull him from the depths of your memory, where forgotten things go to rot. But every time you got close, every time you felt like you were reaching for something solid, it slipped through your fingers. Like water through cupped hands.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

“Very sure.”, he said.

Liar.

The word flared behind your teeth, but you didn’t say it. Instead, you looked away.

—

Seoul. Outside the hospital. August 31st 2015.

It was raining. That’s what you remember first.

Not the words. Not the doctor’s face. Just the sound—the endless drumming against the hospital windows, against the pavement, against the roof of your skull. Filling the silence before the weight of it could crush you.

“We’re terribly sorry. Your brother only has a few days left."

The words landed like a blow. Didn’t sink in. Just hovered there, useless and unreal.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

You were supposed to be at home with Jonah, counting down to your 21st birthday tomorrow, joking about how old you were getting. Not here. Not now.

Where was your dad? Your mom? You don’t know. You should. But you don’t.

It didn’t matter, anyway. It was too late. Too late.

The hospital room felt too small. Too suffocating. The air smelled like antiseptic and something worse, something bitter and sterile and hollow. You couldn’t be in there anymore. You needed out. Needed air. Needed-

So you walked away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

And then you were outside.

You don’t remember pushing through the doors. Don’t remember stepping into the rain. But it was there, soaking through your clothes, sliding down your face in slow, icy trails. You weren’t sure where the rain ended and you began. You tilted your head up slightly, letting the rain mix with the tears you refused to wipe away. Maybe if you stood there long enough, you’d just dissolve into nothing.

You just let it happen—the cold creeping into your bones, numbing the places where the grief should have settled. You stood there long enough for your fingers to go stiff, for your lips to feel like they didn’t belong to your face anymore. You stood there until the only thing you could feel was the weight pressing down on your ribs, crushing something inside of you until there was nothing left to break.

The door to the hospital slid open with a quiet hiss behind you. You didn’t turn.

A man stepped out, barely hesitating before lighting a cigarette. The scent of smoke curled into the cold air, mixing with the dampness of the rain.

You heard the flick of a lighter, the sharp inhale, the quiet exhale.

He ignored you the best he could until you shivered—a full-body tremor you couldn’t suppress, the cold cutting through the thin shirt you wore. Then the man finally spoke.

"You’re going to catch a cold.”

The voice was there. Low. Unfamiliar. You don’t remember what it sounded like. Only that it existed.

No answer. Didn’t look. But after a long moment, you stepped under the hospital overhang anyway. Not because you cared. Not because you wanted to. Just because he wouldn’t stop waiting.

He stood beside you. Close, but not too close.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first. It was a silence that stretched—one that didn’t need to be filled. And finally— "Family?"

You hesitated. The word was too big. Too much. You nodded anyway.

“You?”, you asked, just to say something.

A pause.

"Yeah."

That was it.

No names. No details. No stories. Just a shared understanding, heavy enough to settle between you.

The rain kept falling. The cigarette burned. And for the first time all day, the silence didn’t hurt.

"Could I get a cigarette?"

A shift beside you. The crinkle of a pack being pulled from a pocket. He handed one over without a word. You put it between your lips, fingers barely steady enough to hold it. A flame flickered at the edge of your vision. He held the lighter up.

You leaned in. Let him light it for you.

The first inhale burned. Good.

"Thanks."

The silence stretched over you again. You took a long drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl in your lung and suffocate you.

You broke the silence first, “What’s your name?"

“Does it matter?”

"Guess not."

You don’t remember his face. Or his voice. But you remember this. The rain. The cold. The cigarette between your fingers, smoke curling into the night. The feeling of standing next to someone who didn’t ask for anything, who didn’t expect anything, who just stood there.

You didn’t see him again. Not for a week.

And for some reason, that stuck with you.

—

The dormitory. Present.

The memory slams into you like a punch to the ribs. Your breath catches—too sharp, too sudden. A cold sweat prickles at the back of your neck. Your pulse stumbles, just for a moment, before picking up a fraction too fast. You swallow hard, blinking fast, but the static in your head doesn’t clear. Your hands twitch, restless, like they’re reaching for something unseen.

A cigarette. A lighter. A name.

You closed your eyes for a moment. The scent of cigarette smoke still clung to your senses, curling in the back of your mind like it had never left. Like time hadn’t touched it. Like it had burned itself into your bones, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

Had you really forgotten his face? His voice? Or had you buried it—like everything else?

Your fingers twitched where they rested on your lap, a phantom weight settling between them. The ghost of a cigarette. The quiet rasp of a lighter flicking open. The slow inhale. The smoke curling past your lips, thick and acrid, stealing the air from your lungs.

Why now?

You exhaled, trying to shake the feeling, but something inside you clawed at the edges, a whisper of recognition you couldn’t place. A presence you had felt before, but never turned to face.

Your eyes flickered up.

Player 001.

As you locked eyes with 001, something shifted. A flicker of something deep in your chest, something you shouldn’t be feeling.

Attraction wasn’t the right word. This wasn’t attraction. Not in the way you knew it.

Attraction wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Like being studied.

It made no sense. But it was there, curling in the pit of you stomach like a lit fuse.

No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t about how he looked at you, how his voice sounded, or how his presence filled the space around you all. It was deeper than that.

Stranger. More dangerous.

It was the remembrance.

The way he looked at you—like he already knew you. Like he had seen everything you were and everything you were not. And the worst part? You felt it too. It made no sense. But it was there, curling in the pit of you stomach like a lit fuse.

Not fear. Not trust. Something in between.

A man like him shouldn’t have that effect on you.

He wasn’t young. He was handsome, true, but not in the effortless way of youth. His features were sharp, deliberate—chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, eyes dark and intense. The kind of face that could have belonged to a movie star in his prime, except there was something more.

There was no naivety to his beauty. No softness. Just a quiet, effortless confidence, like he had nothing to prove because he had already won the game long before anyone else knew they were playing.

And you were watching.

You hated that.

Hated the way your pulse picked up. Hated the way your breath shallowed—just slightly. Hated the way his voice lingered in your mind, low and even, like he had spent a lifetime learning exactly how to make people listen.

God, what the hell was wrong with you?

This wasn’t the time for this. This wasn’t the place. And yet.

When he leaned forward slightly, his attention still locked on you, the feeling sharpened. Not lust. Not even desire.

Curiosity.

The kind that was dangerous. The kind that got people killed.

He was still watching you. The feeling in your stomach twisted tighter.

It was the way he held your gaze—too steady, too deliberate. Not casual. Not meaningless. It was the way he sat, completely at ease, as if he had all the time in the world to watch. To watch you.

It was unsettling. Not in a way that made you want to look away—but in a way that made you want to stare back. Like if you looked hard enough, if you pieced together the shadows of memory, you could force his face to belong somewhere.

"Do I know you?"

The words echoed inside your skull, circling, gnawing at something just out of reach.

A ridiculous question. And yet. The feeling wouldn’t go away.

Your pulse was a dull, steady thrum against your ribs as you let the thought settle, let the weight of it press down on you.

If you had really forgotten, then why did your body remember? Why did your breath feel heavier? Why did your hands feel empty, like they had lost something they should have been holding? Why did his eyes feel like they had already seen you—somewhere outside of this place?

A flash of rain. A flick of a lighter.

A quiet voice beside you.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

Your stomach lurched.

No. That was—no.

Your mind scrambled to catch up, to hold the thought in place, but it was ridiculous. An impossible connection.

What were the odds?

There were thousands of men in this city who smoked. Hundreds who had stood outside that hospital over the years. What were the odds? And yet, you still couldn’t remember his face.

Maybe you never would.

What were the odds?

The question curled around your ribs like smoke, thick and inescapable. But when you looked at him again, his expression hadn’t changed. And that was the worst part. Because he knew something.

And he wasn’t going to tell you. Not yet.

That was impossible. Wasn’t it?

Your lips pressed into a thin line, fingers curling slightly. Your mind tried to shove the thought back into the dark, to rationalise it away.

Because it wasn’t him. Just another older man. Just another moment in your past you had no business dragging into the present.

And yet. Player 001’s lips curled. Just slightly. Not quite a smile.

You looked away first.

"You alright?”, Player 390’s voice cut through the static in your mind, grounding you. His eyes flickered over you, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah."

Too fast. Too clipped. He didn’t believe you. Hell, you didn’t believe you.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your shoulders to drop, shaking the tension out of your fingers.

It was just a memory.

Just the past clawing at you when you least expected it. Nothing more.

And yet… your fingers curled slightly, like they were waiting for something. A lighter. A cigarette.

A name you had asked for but never received.

You clenched your jaw and stood up to walk back to your bed. But your legs felt heavier now, as if something unseen was still holding onto them.

#ao3 #hwang inho x reader #hwang inho #hwang in ho #squid game fanfiction #squid game #fluff #angst #lee byung hun #gi hun squid game #seong gi hun #jung bae

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cowboylikemac · 2 days ago

Text

QUESTION…? | S.B

“ have you ever kiss somebody in a crowded room ?”

sirius black x reader

Including : post-break up , angst

word count : 1K+

The Gryffindor common room was too warm, too crowded, too familiar.

You had been avoiding places like this—the places that made it too easy to remember. But tonight, Lily had insisted, and you were tired of making excuses.

So here you were, tucked into the corner of the couch, pretending not to notice him.

Sirius was across the room, slouched in an armchair, laughing at something James had said. He looked as he always did—relaxed, effortlessly charming, untouched by the fact that the two of you weren’t speaking anymore.

You, on the other hand, were still figuring out how to breathe normally in the same room as him.

“Are you okay?” Lily murmured beside you, voice low enough that only you could hear.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah.”

She gave you a look. The kind that said she knew you were full of shit but wouldn’t press.

Marlene leaned over the back of the couch, interrupting. “Alright, I have a question,” she announced, grinning. “What’s the worst kiss you’ve ever had?”

A round of groans and laughter rippled through the group. James made a dramatic retching sound. Mary Macdonald pretended to gag.

Someone threw a pillow.

“Terrible question,” Remus muttered, shaking his head. “Why would you want to relive that trauma?”

Marlene ignored him, turning to Lily first.

Lily considered for a moment. “Fifth year. Hogsmeade. Some Ravenclaw who thought snogging meant suffocation.”

Marlene winced. “Oh, brutal.”

They went around the group, each story worse than the last. You were half-listening, nodding along, until Marlene suddenly turned to you.

“Alright, your turn.”

Your stomach twisted.

You should have laughed, brushed it off, said something forgettable about some boy you barely cared about.

But instead—without thinking—you glanced at him.

And he was already looking at you.

The room felt too small, too loud, too much.

Sirius’s expression was unreadable, but his fingers had stilled where they had been absentmindedly spinning his ring. A tell. One you used to know well.

Your throat felt tight.

“Pass,” you murmured, looking away.

Marlene groaned, but the game moved on.

You were done participating, but Sirius’s gaze still felt heavy on your skin.

You told yourself not to look.

You failed.

He was still watching you, something unreadable flickering in his storm-grey eyes.

It wasn’t fair. That he got to look at you like that, like he still had the right.

Like he wasn’t the one who had walked away.

You stood abruptly. “I need air.”

You didn’t wait for a response, slipping out of the common room before anyone could ask questions.

The corridor was quiet, the cold stone walls grounding. You pressed your hands to them, inhaling deep, steadying breaths.

But of course he followed you.

You heard him before you saw him—the soft click of the door, the familiar way his boots scuffed against the floor.

You didn’t turn.

He stopped a few feet away. “Are you going to keep running from me forever?”

His voice was quieter than you expected. Like he didn’t want to startle you.

You let out a breath, your fingers tightening against the stone. “I’m not running.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “Right.”

Silence stretched between you. The air between you was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Sirius sighed. “Why did you look at me?”

Your stomach twisted.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.”

But you did.

Because it had never been bad with him. Not once. Not even in the beginning, when you were just friends who flirted too much. Not even when you were in too deep to deny it anymore.

Not even now, when it was over.

“I have a question,” you said softly, staring at the stone floor.

Sirius inhaled. “Okay.”

You swallowed. “Did you ever kiss me in a crowded room just to make everyone second-guess themselves?”

A pause.

His voice was quieter when he answered. “Yeah.”

The memory was still sharp, even now. The way he had kissed you that night at the Three Broomsticks—not because he had to, not because anyone dared him to, but because he wanted to. Because he couldn’t stand the space between you any longer.

You still remembered the way people had looked at you after. Like they had just realized what had been in front of them all along.

You took a shaky breath. “Do you remember ever whispering secrets to me in the dark?”

Sirius let out a quiet, hollow laugh. “Yeah.”

All those nights curled up on the couch in the common room, sharing secrets no one else knew. His childhood, his family, his fears. How he had told you—one night, half-asleep and unguarded—that you made him feel safe.

Your throat tightened.

“Did you ever leave me just because you thought you could?”

This time, the silence was loud.

Sirius exhaled slowly, like he was bracing himself.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to.”

You turned then, finally meeting his gaze. “Then why?”

His jaw worked. His hand flexed at his side.

Then, quietly—almost hesitant—he said, “Because it scared me.”

Your breath caught.

Sirius swallowed, his fingers running through his hair, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’ve never had something like that before. Something real. And I—I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin you.”

Your heart ached.

You shook your head. “You didn’t ruin me, Sirius. You just hurt me.”

Something flickered across his face. Regret.

He took a step closer, slow, careful. “Do you think—” He stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. “Do you think we could ever go back?”

You let out a slow, shaky breath.

“I don’t know.”

Sirius nodded, exhaling through his nose. Accepting it.

But then, softer—more hopeful—he said, “Can I ask you a question?”

You hesitated. Then, “Yeah.”

He took another step closer, close enough to touch.

“Did you ever love me?”

Your breath hitched.

Because of course you had. You still did.

But you weren’t sure you could survive another heartbreak like that.

So you just whispered, “Yeah.”

And then, before you could change your mind or overthink what you just admitted— or before he could pull you back in—you turned and walked away.

masterlist !

tags : @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

#Spotify #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius being sirius #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #sirius black x reader #marauders #maraduers #maraders era #the maraunders map #harry potter #harry potters godfather #cowboylikemac

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clarisse0o · 17 hours ago

Text

The Mayor - Chapter 40

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 1200

Masterlist

———————————————————————

It’s often said that you truly realize how much you love someone when they leave you, by the emptiness it creates.

So yes, I loved Lucy, without a doubt.

When she left, I was seized with spasms and uncontrollable sobs, feeling as though I was falling into an abyss.

That night, I went to Alexia’s place. I explained everything to her, from beginning to end, pouring it all out in a flood of words, between tears.

She was silent, listening, clearly shocked by what I was telling her. She hadn’t seen it coming. As a friend, she didn’t judge me, but held me gently, and gently scolded me for not telling her earlier.

I stayed at her place that night, struggling to fall asleep, immersed in my dark thoughts.

The next day, Lucy sent me a message. A message of formality, repeating what she had said the day before: I care about you but... I’m sorry for making you unhappy... and the infamous I hope you can forgive me.

That same phrase I had said to Alessia a few months earlier. The irony of it all.

The initial feelings of sadness and confusion were soon joined by anger and bitterness.

I was angry at her, pure and simple. She had handled our relationship like one of her political cases. I had offered her time, the expression of my feelings, and what I truly felt. She had rejected me. And the fact that she kept insisting she made this decision for me drove me crazy. I had immense resentment toward her, which only grew.

To try to forget all this, all the pain, all the frustration, and to try to forget her, I threw myself into work.

I used to spend a lot of time in my office or on construction sites, but now, I spent all my time there, only going home to sleep.

I had lost my appetite; I’m not one of those who eat excessively after a breakup like Bridget Jones. Instead, I just smoked more.

"Not in the office, Ona, and think about your lungs!"

It was Alexia scolding me that Tuesday at noon as I was smoking a cigarette, busy sketching.

She continued:

"Come on, I’m taking you out to lunch!"

Alexia had been amazing with me over the past two weeks, supporting me, comforting me without being suffocating.

"I’m not hungry, I’ll eat something later!"

"Sure, sure! I know you! You won’t eat anything! I swear, if you don’t come with me right now, I’ll bring Jeanne’s bottle tomorrow and feed you by force!"

I smiled and nodded, giving in.

"I didn’t tell you! I bumped into Lucy at the supermarket yesterday!"

I looked up at her. Alexia continued:

"Well, she knows I know everything now, I think! I was with Jeanne in the same line as her, hard to miss her! She came up to me with a big smile, a little embarrassed. I wanted to tell her off so badly! But I just kept it cold..."

I smiled to myself, imagining Alexia being cold. It didn’t suit her at all.

"How was she?"

I blurted out the question without thinking.

Alexia bit her lip.

"Maybe I shouldn’t have told you..."

"Don’t worry, Alexia, it’s fine..."

Even though my heart was still raw.

"If it helps, she’s let herself go! I think she’s gained 20 kilos, and she had some fuzz on her coat, dressed in the most outdated tracksuit!"

I laughed now. My Alexia, that ray of sunshine.

That evening, Philippe showed up at the office. He had called over the weekend to ask if he could drop by.

Philippe Arous was an old friend. We were neighbors when we were kids, and our parents were friends. They used to go on vacations together, so we spent a lot of time together even with our five-year age difference. He had studied journalism at Sciences Po and worked in Paris for several years. A political enthusiast, he moved back to his hometown to try his luck first as a advisor, then as mayor.

He was quite a character—intelligent, cultured, altruistic, but also loud-mouthed, which could get him into trouble.

He had asked me to join his campaign list in support for the latest elections, knowing of my involvement in associations. I enjoyed getting involved in concrete projects, especially when they were related to my city. That experience had been enriching, though it ended in a rather predictable loss to… Lucy.

He arrived around 8 PM. I was alone in the office.

I made him a coffee, and we talked about trivial things, before the subject turned to the elections:

"Have you heard that Lucy Bronze is running after all?"

"Yeah, yeah... I heard about it 15 days ago!" I replied with a tired tone.

"What a surprise! This doesn’t really help our cause; she’s a political beast, that one... I’m fine-tuning my list now..."

It’s quite a job, putting together a list.

"Is it going well?

"Yeah, we have to present it in a few days! Well, Ona, I’m here to ask if you’d like to join it! I didn’t want to at first, with the whole Mojito situation, since you were working on Lucy Bronze’s campaign too..."

I was taken aback. He continued:

"But we talked about it with the team yesterday. They loved your personality, how you were involved even though you were just there in support! A real ray of sunshine, insightful and effective!"

"Uh... thanks..."

I didn’t know how to respond.

"I’m offering you a spot on the list, possibly in an electable position if we win, and even possibly eligible if we lose with a good result. You could be a city councilor, or just be supportive if that’s too much for you!"

This was the best! I was already dreading the election period, with Lucy’s giant posters all over the city. But this...

I began to laugh nervously:

"I’m sorry, Philippe, I really can’t. I worked with Lucy for 6 months on that project, that’s enough for me!"

I smiled inwardly at the double meaning of my words.

"Exactly, you know her well, and she doesn’t seem like someone you like!"

He tried, as best he could, to convince me, listing all the arguments.

"Sorry, Philippe, it’s a no. But I wish you all the best of luck! I’m behind you, no doubt!"

I wanted Lucy to lose the election, to have nothing but tears in her eyes. My resentment went that far.

Philippe seemed disappointed as he left the office. Even if, under different circumstances, I would have jumped at the opportunity, the situation made it impossible.

I returned to work, a new project downtown. That night, under my pencil strokes, I thought about Philippe’s offer, laughing at the irony of the situation.

I imagined myself running in those elections, on that list. I pictured Lucy’s face, enraged and beside herself...

Little by little, this possibility, which seemed impossible just an hour ago, took shape in my mind. Why not, after all? I wasn’t going to hold back for her!

I grabbed my phone.

"Philippe? Yes, I’ve thought about it! I want in... What position? Electable!"

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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solarpotato · 1 day ago

Text

My first fanfic would love to know what you guys think. Also, English isn't my first language.

One small fight -

The room was buzzing with restless energy after another rufless game. (y/n) has just returnd from the bathroom making her way towards her group of freinds. she was lucky in that regard, finding some good people in the form of the former Winner and the group that formed around him. While some dismissed him, other were drown by the fire in his eyes. and you wanted to belive in his cause, saving people and stopping the madness of the games.

while making her way through the labyrinth of beds and People, she was stopped by players 350, 240 and 211. A small group that formed early in the games. "Hi sweetheart" player 350 said looking her up and down with appreciation. "We were just about to sit for lunch, you should join us" he gustard towards a secluded area.

"Thank you, but I'll have to decline" (y/n) said amicably trying to sidestep them, but 240 got in her way smiling. A smile that send a shiver down her back. She saw this group before, they were loud and volatile, and she made sure to keep away from them, somethings she was successful in, untill now. "Come on sweetheart, you can't keep hanging with those old geezers, they are liability in those games" 240 stepped closer making her take a step back. Player 211 stepped behind her, making her back collide with his front. 211 brought his hand up running them up and down (y/n) arms. Shit, she was surrounded, and her meek knowledge in self defence, would not be useful against those three, she coursed and looked around trying to catch someone gaze, but her luck run out, most people were still in line for food, she was alone with them.

"Come on don't be shy". The grip on your arms tightened almost hurting, she knew that it will leave a mark. "I really should go, my friends are waiting for me" (y/n) tried once again "don't be like this we won't bite..much" the chuckles made your skin crawl. In this deadly environment, could people really be this cruel?

Call her naive but (y/n) wanted to see the best in people. Even in places like this there were the like of Gi-Hun who tried saving others. Or player 069 who give his place to number 222 the pregnant lady, there was always hope as long as there were good people around. A debate she kept having with Young-Il, she could rell he didn't believe in this, but was polite enough to entertain her musing.

"That quite enough" Young-il apperd next to them. He came looking after you, worrying what took you so long. And good thing he did.

The sence in front of him made him angry. (y/n) was surrounded by the three players, obviously uncomfortable and skittish. While they were way to close too comfort.

He could see the relief in her eyes and she let a soft breath out. He always made her feel safe. Something about him always so clam and collected, the way his eyes fall on her made her relax, she was safe now, she will always be safe when he is next to her.

Player 350, you realise you didn't even know their names, nor did you wanted to, the less time around them the better. Eyed him "this is a private conversation, get lost".

"Yea old man mind your own business" 240 said. Young-il sigh, young people those day had no respect. (y/n) made a move to join Young-il, but the hold on her didn't relent. Young-il eyes locked on heres for a second, making sure she's okay, and then to 240 hands on her. He gritted his teeth and decided not to waste any more of his time on those numbers. "Manners" Young-il said tearing 240 hands away from her. "Are very important" with a quick twist 240 fell to his knees, his hand held painfully behind his back. 350 lunched forward throwing a punch that Young-il dodged without a problem. Holding 240 with one hand he punched player 350 straight in the nose. 350 stumbled backwards, hand flying to his bleeding nose "You bastard". 240 tried to shake 001 off him just as 211 went on offence. With a sharp move 240 was shoved into 211, a quick and strong kick to the the back of the knees send them both stumbling down.

The fight was over as fast as it started. The three players laid on the floor, with a last glare in their direction. Young-il turnd to you, "Are you okay?" He asked. She nodded "thank you" you offered a grateful smile "come" he said hesitating for just a second before putting his hand on the small of her back, guiding them away from the mess "You took too long and we got worried". With his hand still comfortably holding her, she finally felt herself relaxing. "Thank you, that was too close to comfort," she shivered. He looked at her, eyes brown and warm, "Like i said, Manners are very important. You really need to choose your company more carefully," he kindly said. "Shut up, I keep a great company, I keep you around, aren't I?" He chuckled, and the sound helped her shake the last of the nerves. As long as he was around, she was safe. She just knew it.

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smilingformoney · 2 days ago

Text

Die With a Smile

Chapter V. The Escape

Summary: Elliott and Mary make their escape, but they're not out of the woods yet.

AN: someone stop me I'm out of control, how is this chapter 10k words? PLEASE leave comments my friends, I didn't get any on the last chapter so it kind of feels like I'm shouting into the void 😢

CW: RAPE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

As the carriage made its way through the streets of London, Elliott took Mary’s hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

“You’re doing the right thing, Mary,” he said softly.

“He’s going to be so angry,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “What if he follows us?”

“He won’t. He knows we’re going away. As far as he’s aware, you’ll be back on Saturday. By the time he realises anything’s amiss, we’ll be married and there’ll be nothing he can do. Not even the great Judge Turpin.”

Mary sighed and shook her head. How had her life come to this?

Sensing her hesitation, Elliott put an arm around her and let her lean her head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head comfortingly.

“Just you wait, Mary. Soon enough we’ll be out of London and in the country. Aren’t you excited to see it all?”

“Oh, yes!” Mary nodded enthusiastically. She looked up at him with those big doe eyes of hers. “Will you really teach me to ride a horse?”

“Of course I will. You’ll be a natural, I’m sure of it. Just as you’re a natural at everything else I’ve taught you. Reading, sucking cock…”

“Elliott!”

Mary blushed, glancing over at Tommy who was asleep next to her, but Elliott just laughed as he leant down to kiss her neck.

“What? Don’t worry, he’s fast asleep. He’ll have no idea that his big sister’s a natural cocksucker.”

Mary squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as Elliott continued kissing her. She could hear Turpin’s voice ringing in her ears. Who taught you to do this, hm? Or are you just a natural?

“Elliott, I… I should tell you something.”

“Hm?” Elliott hummed, though he kept kissing her.

“When Lord Turpin called me in to see him after court yesterday, he… that is, we… well, I… did that. With him.”

Elliott froze. He pulled away from where he’d been kissing her neck, took back the arm that was around her shoulders, and Mary daren’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He - he asked me to kiss him as a thank you for letting me stay, so I did and - and he showed me he was erect and told me I had to do something about it. So I… used my mouth.”

Elliott was silent for a long moment. Then, he thumped the side of the carriage and swore loudly, making Mary jump.

“I’m so sorry, Elliott —”

“Don’t be. It’s him I’m angry at. Fucking cad. No wonder he proposed last night, he was probably thinking with his dick. I told you he only proposed because he wants to fuck you.”

Mary nodded glumly. “I think you’re right. When we went for that walk on Saturday, he told me he didn’t want a wife. He made it sound like being married is a chore. And the only thing that happened since then that might have changed his mind was - well - that.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I was so stupid to think he might…”

“Mary, you are not stupid,” Elliott said firmly, taking her hands in his. “I meant what I said, you really did pick up letters quickly - and, yes, the other things I taught you too. I mean, look what you did! It was you that connected Barker to that man’s disappearance, it was you that found out what he was up to. I’m sure my cousin will spend all week telling his important friends how he sent a serial killer to the gallows, but it wasn’t him, it was you.”

Mary sniffed and wiped a tear on the back of her sleeve. “I must be a little bit stupid. I didn’t realise you wanted me.”

“Of course I want you, silly girl,” Elliott said endearingly. He put his arm around her again and held her close. “I’d have to be stupid not to.”

Mary smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist, cuddling him as tight as she could.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself in for, then. Because I’m going to be the best wife for you, Elliott, you’ll see.”

Elliott chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“Good. I’m counting on it.”

- - -

Once the carriage had left the outskirts of London and was driving past the rolling fields of the English countryside, Mary’s mood lifted, as if the thick, smog-filled air of London had been weighing her down. She watched, wide-eyed, as the fields passed by the window, pointing out all the sights she saw and asking Elliott to identify the animals. Cows, sheep and horses were an everyday sight for him, but somehow Mary had a way of making them seem exciting and new.

By the time they came to approach the estate in Sussex, Tommy had woken up, and he and Mary were entertaining themselves with games they’d clearly invented together over the years. Elliott watched them with a smile on his face and an arm around Mary’s waist.

It was all so easy, he thought. He’d known these two street urchins less than a week, and already he felt so comfortable with them, he could almost trick himself into believing Mary was his wife and Tommy their son. When he closed his eyes at night, he imagined he was back home, with Mary by his side. He could see himself waking up next to her in his bed, making love sleepily before starting their day. They’d eat breakfast on the porch, watching the workers start their routines. Elliott might work on his ledgers while Mary made him a hat, or else he’d teach her to ride a horse, or take her out to meet a flock of his sheep.

Sometimes Elliott wondered if he might have been born on the wrong continent and he was better suited for America. One thing was for certain, though: Mary wasn’t meant to live on the streets of London. She was designed for the open air, to care for the animals Elliott kept, to care for him and the children they might have one day.

That was perhaps what angered him most at the thought of her marrying Turpin. He could accept her marrying someone else if he knew she’d be happy, but Mary, so wide-eyed and eager to see everything the world has to offer - she deserved more than to be trapped in a stuffy old house in London. No matter what promises Turpin made, unless he moved away from London - which Elliott knew would never happen - then Mary could never be truly happy with him.

“Elliott, look, we’re here!” Mary exclaimed, pointing out the window as the carriage passed through the gates to Ivy Manor, the home of Duke Beaumont, Elliott’s mother’s brother. He’d never met the man, but they’d written often ever since Elliott’s mother had died, and the trip to England was as much to visit him as it was to visit Turpin.

“Are you sure he won’t mind that we’re early?” Mary fretted. “What if he doesn’t have space and food enough for us?”

Elliott rubbed her back reassuringly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, he’s a wealthy man, and he’s been begging me to visit for years. I’m sure he won’t mind if we arrive a day earlier than planned.”

“Alright,” Mary conceded, though she fiddled with her skirt anxiously. Elliott laid a hand over hers to still her movements. She looked up at him and smiled shyly. “Thank you for inviting us, Elliott.”

“Oh, please. I knew from the day we went to Camden together there was no way I’d be leaving London without you.”

“Wow, look, Molly! This place is huge!” Tommy gasped, his head sticking out the window.

“Tommy! Don’t stick your head out the window!” Mary admonished her little brother, but Elliott just laughed.

“He’s eagar to get out of this bloody carriage, I expect. I certainly am. My arse is sore, even with the cushions.”

Mary peered out the window - without sticking her head out completely like Tommy had - and she too was shocked at how large the Beaumont estate was. It seemed to go on for ages, and though the driveway seemed a mile long, the grand mansion at the end of it was clearly visible, watching over its surrounding lands.

The carriage eventually pulled up at the foot of the steps leading up to the front door. Their arrival had been seen in the distance, so even with the unexpectedness of their arrival, the Duke had plenty of time to send a servant down to greet them.

“Welcome to Ivy Manor,” said the servant with a bow. “Duke Beaumont extends his gratitude for your visit. Whom shall I say is calling?”

“Elliott Marston. He’s expecting me, though I’m a day early.”

“Very good, sir. As it happens, His Grace already had your rooms prepared. Come, let us take care of your bags; I’ll show you inside.”

Mary slipped her hand into the crook of Elliott’s elbow as they followed the servant into the manor house, through the extravagant entrance hall, and into a room furnished with several tables, more books on shelves than Mary had ever seen, and several sofas and armchairs gathered around a fireplace.

The servant offered seats to them all, and Mary sat next to Tommy on a sofa, while Elliott took a nearby armchair. As they waited to be greeted by the Duke, they were offered drinks, and a maid poured them each some tea.

“This is so fancy,” Tommy whispered to Mary.

Mary hushed him, but giggled. It was all rather strange. She’d never seen a place so large, or so fancy that even the servants seemed to be dressed nice. She and Tommy had bathed and put on clean clothes that morning, but still Mary wondered if they stuck out like a couple of street-dwelling sore thumbs.

“Elliott! Are you trying to confuse an old man?” a voice, booming but jovial, called across the room. “I read a letter to say you’re coming tomorrow only to hear not an hour later you’ve already arrived!”

Elliott stood and crossed the room with a grin to greet his uncle.

“Uncle Rupert. How good to finally see you.”

The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, then Mary quickly stood and curtsied when Elliott led his uncle over to the fireside. She nudged Tommy with her foot to encourage him to stand up too.

“Ah, and this must be the, uh… friend, am I right?” said the Duke with a twinkle in his eye.

“Another slight change in circumstance since I wrote,” Elliott admitted. “Mary and I are engaged.”

“Ha! Couldn’t wait to pop the question, eh, lad? Well, I can’t blame you. A very charming young lady. A pleasure to meet you, Miss - forgive an old man his poor memory. What was your family name, dear?”

“Taylor, your Grace,” Mary said with a curtsey. “Mary Taylor. This is my brother, Tommy.”

“Um - hello, sir,” said Tommy with an awkward attempt at a bow.

Duke Beaumont looked between the two siblings with a curious smile. “Tommy, eh? Not Thomas?”

“Just Tommy, sir,” the young boy squeaked.

“Well, welcome, both of you! Once you’re married, you’ll be my niece and nephew as good as if you always were. When is the happy day, have we decided yet?”

“Actually, I had hoped to discuss that with you, Uncle. Perhaps Mary and Tommy could be shown to their rooms?”

Mary wanted to stay with Elliott, but he insisted on talking to his uncle alone. He didn’t want her to have to sit and listen to him tell another man about her life, and he certainly didn’t want Tommy to hear the detail of it all.

“What’s going on, then, lad? Why the sudden urgency to come here?” Duke Beaumont asked when they were finally alone and a servant had served them both a whisky. “Your letter said you hoped to propose here and marry within months.”

“My cousin happened,” Elliott replied, the bitterness evident in his voice. “He proposed to her yesterday afternoon, while I was at the Post Office sending my letter off to you.”

“Ah, I see. And she said no?”

“Well… she had no idea I was planning to propose. She has a great deal of respect and affection for my cousin - more than he deserves - and a proposal from a Lord isn’t something a woman of her station can readily turn down. She had every reason to accept his hand. Until, that was, I - rather selfishly, I suppose - told her my intentions. She was devastated. She wants to marry me, but she can’t simply renege on her promise. Unless, of course… she’s already married.”

“I see,” said the Duke, nodding thoughtfully. “So you want to marry before your cousin finds out?”

“Yes. He plans to marry her Monday. She’s supposed to return to London on Saturday. We must be married by then. Would you help us, Uncle? I know arranging a wedding at such short notice is a great ask, and I’ll cover any expense —”

“Nonsense!” the Duke barked. “Wedding planning is one of my wife’s favourite hobbies. She planned all the family weddings, and I’m sure she’ll be ready to spring into action once the rest of them get engaged. Two days to plan a wedding will be a thrilling challenge for her. And don’t you go harping on about expenses, dear boy. If you must feel guilt about the cost, think of it as a gift from me to your mother. I never saw Caroline again after she ran away to Australia to be with your father — I’m certain she’d fully support young Mary doing the same. Although, I must say —” The Duke leaned forward conspiratorially. “She is quite young.”

“I thought it was impolite to ask after a woman’s age?” Elliott said shortly.

The Duke let out a booming laugh. “Oh, yes, so it is! Forgive me. Well, quite. Let me speak to my wife. At such short notice the guest list might be rather small, but then again, one should never underestimate my wife’s ability to plan a party, or any nobleman’s willingness to shirk responsibility for an opportunity to eat my food and drink my wine. Does Miss Taylor have any family she’d want to invite?”

“Just the brother.”

“I see.” Duke Beaumont stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Taylor, hm? Rather, uh… occupational, isn’t it?”

“She’s a seamstress.”

“Ah! I see. So when you say you met her in the tailor’s shop —”

“I love her.”

Elliott froze, shocked at his own words, at how easily they’d slipped out. He cleared his throat, then said, “I don’t care how low her birth is, Uncle. I love her.”

Duke Beaumont smiled knowingly. “Of course you do, lad. You know, you’re just like your mother. Never heard of a nobleman called Marston, have you? Your father’s family were mere merchants, and your mother loved him all the better for it. Now look at you! Owning half of Australia, by the sounds of it! And I’m sure that lovely young wife of yours will make sure the name Marston holds great esteem in Australia for generations. Now, enough chit-chat, I’m sure you’ll want to see your room and I must deliver the exciting news to your Aunt Henrietta. Soon enough this place will be abuzz with excitement for your upcoming nuptials!”

- - -

Looking into the mirror, Mary hardly recognised the woman looking back at her. Her hair was clean and tidy, and she’d taken in her borrowed - now stolen, she supposed - dress to fit her properly. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to this, having access to clean water for washing, clean clothes that fit, and toothpaste to keep her mouth clean. She’d been able to wash herself fairly regularly thanks to Mrs Harris - an apprentice that smelt like the streets wasn’t great for business - but nothing like this. Mrs Harris had kept Mary clean enough to not stink; but these days, she smelt good.

Mary turned slightly to examine her body in the mirror. She’d put on a little weight, she was sure of it. Not a lot, but enough that she hadn’t had to take the dress in as much as she’d expected.

A maid knocked on the door and was apparently surprised to see that Mary had dressed herself. Instead, the girl sat Mary down at the vanity, and insisted she style her hair for her. Usually, Mary wore her hair quite simply, keeping it out of her face with braids so she could work without her hair falling into her face, but otherwise she didn’t style it or put it up as seemed to be the fashion lately. The maid knew nothing of Mary’s usual styling, so she took it upon herself to give her a more elaborate, embellished hairstyle.

When she was finished, Mary really didn’t recognise herself in the mirror. She felt like she was looking at another Mary in another world, one where she’d slept every night of her life in a warm bed and didn’t know what a rat tasted like to eat or the numbness of being wet and cold after hours of rain and nowhere to shelter.

“I almost didn’t recognise you,” Elliott murmured to her when he took a seat next to her at the breakfast table. “You look like you belong here.”

Mary rubbed her neck self-consciously. She felt so exposed with her hair all on her head and leaving her neck bare.

“I don’t feel it,” she admitted.

“Well, you’re by my side, so you must be where you belong.”

Mary giggled. “Elliott, stop it!”

“Merely stating facts, sweetheart,” Elliott said with a wink.

They’d had dinner with Duke Beaumont’s family the night before, so Mary at least didn’t feel she was entirely surrounded by strangers. Mary had noticed quite quickly when introductions were made before dinner that there were a lot of women in the house. Duke Beaumont, it transpired, had three daughters and no sons, and although each daughter was married, they still lived in the family home - it was, after all, more than large enough for even dozens of people to live without feeling crowded. Two daughters had a daughter of their own, one had two sons, and the Duke’s older sister, who’d never married, lived at home too.

Although Mary hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to everybody, those she had spoken to at dinner and afterwards had been nothing but welcoming and kind. Then again, Mary thought back to the reflection she’d met in the mirror that morning — she gave no sign that she was as far removed in class from the Beaumont family as she could possibly be.

Tommy had had something of a makeover too. His hair had been washed and even trimmed, and someone must have had some children’s clothes stashed somewhere, because he was wearing a shirt and waistcoat Mary had never seen on him, clean and perhaps even new.

Still, though they looked the part, and though everybody was lovely, Mary couldn’t help feeling like an imposter. She was terrified that she might do or say the wrong thing and give away her station, and she’d be sent back to London where she belonged.

If someone was going to accuse her of being a commoner, it wasn’t to be at breakfast. Once the plates were cleared and everyone began dispersing to go about their days, Elliott took Mary by the hand and led her away, giving her only a cheeky smirk when she asked where they were going.

He took her outside and, despite her begging him to tell her where they were going, he kept mum until he led her into an outbuilding and she saw, standing in individual stalls…

“Horses!” Mary gasped. “Oh, Elliott, look at them! They’re beautiful!”

“I do miss riding,” Elliott admitted as he approached a nearby horse and offered it some grain in exchange for a pat. “Galloping across my land, with the clear air and open space… there’s nothing quite like it. It’s the very opposite of London.”

“It must feel so freeing,” Mary sighed dreamily. She approached the horse Elliott was patting with a cautious admiration. “I can’t wait to see Australia with you, Elliott. You make it sound so wonderful. And for so much land to be yours!”

Elliott smiled with pride. “I love it there. You know, I’ve thought in the past about moving to America. But I’d have to sell my land, start afresh… and after this trip, I’m not sure I could bear to do that. Australia’s my home. I’d hate not to go back.”

There was a softness in the way he spoke so tenderly about his homeland, a vulnerability that Mary hadn’t seen in him before. It almost sounded as if he were talking about a person he loved.

She put an arm around his waist. Elliott blinked, surprised — she never initiated contact between them. It was always him who touched her, inviting her touch back. He never saw it as a reluctance to touch him, but simply as if she were always waiting for permission. But now, her arm was around him, her eyes gazing up at him adoringly.

“You know, I think you might be the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

It was the closest thing to a declaration of love Mary had ever said, and certainly the closest Elliott had heard said to him in a very long time. He grinned, and the horse whinnied in protest when Elliott pulled his hand away to instead stroke Mary’s face with a gentleness he hadn’t known he had.

“There’s no might about it for me, Mary. I know you’re the sweetest, kindest, bravest woman I’ve ever known. You deserve so much more than the hand you’ve been dealt. I can only hope I can give you a fraction of what you truly deserve.”

“I didn’t realise we were doing our wedding vows now,” Mary giggled. “Is this horse ordained, do you think?”

Elliott laughed. He kissed Mary on the forehead, then said to the horse, “What do you think, Reggie? Do you pronounce us man and wife?”

The horse whinnied, undoubtedly in response to its name, but that was good enough.

“I believe that means you may kiss the bride.”

“Oh, so you speak horse, do you?”

“I do, and he’s quite insistent that we kiss.”

“Well, alright, then. I wouldn’t want to upset Pastor Reggie.”

Mary leant up on her tip-toes to kiss Elliott, who wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he kissed her back. For a few moments they stayed like that, wrapped up in one another, the world outside their little bubble suddenly disappearing as they kissed, and it was only when Elliott felt his cock twitching that he reluctantly pulled away. As much as he wanted to bend her over a hay bale, he’d promised to wait, and Elliott Marston was a man of his word.

Besides, he’d already spilled his seed down her throat that morning, and as happy as he’d be to do it again, he’d brought Mary to the stables with something else in mind.

“So are you ready to learn to ride?”

- - -

Every day that Mary spent with Elliott seemed to be more wonderful than the last, but this was most certainly the best one yet. They spent hours out with the horses, Elliott most evidently in his element out in the open air on horseback. He seemed so much more comfortable here than he ever had in London, and although Mary did well to learn to ride on her own, there was no way she could keep up with Elliott as he galloped around the manor grounds.

“You don’t need to show off, you know, I already like you,” Mary teased when Elliott finally brought the horse to a stop next to her. Elliott just winked at her, dared her to a race back to the stable, and set off before Mary had a chance to respond.

“Hey, no fair!” she laughed as she quickly followed him, riding as fast as she could to try and catch up, but there was no beating a master. Elliott was already closing the stall door by the time Mary brought her horse into the stable.

“That was cheating, Elliott, I demand a rematch!”

“Tomorrow, sweetheart, I think we’ve worn these two out.”

Elliott helped Mary down from her horse, and she looked at him with suspicion.

“Well, that’s a convenient excuse, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elliott said innocently as he led the horse into the stall to lock it back in.

“Well, fine, tomorrow it is. And I expect a fair race this time.”

Elliott laughed and put his hand on the small of her back as they left the stable and made their way back up towards the manor.

“Of course, darling. But the horses really must be tired, and I’m certainly hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose. We have been out here a long time. It seems a while since we stopped for lunch.”

“Dinner should be soon. We should have a wash first, no doubt we smell of horse. I wonder what Tommy’s been up to all day.”

“Well, why don’t we ask him, I can see him over there!” Mary pointed in the distance where she could see Tommy sitting on the steps leading up to the house. “Oh, dear, he’s all alone. I hope he hasn’t been waiting for us.”

As they approached, it became quite evident to Mary that Tommy had been waiting for them — as soon as he spotted them, he came running up to Mary and threw his arms around her waist.

“Oof! Careful, Tommy! Is something the matter?”

Tommy just sniffed, and Mary carefully extracted herself from his grip to bend down to his height.

“What’s wrong, Tom?”

Tommy glanced up at Elliott cautiously.

“Hey, it’s alright. You can trust Elliott, he’s gonna be your brother soon. What’s the matter?” Mary pressed.

“I hate it here, Molly,” Tommy grumbled. “The boys are so mean. They started asking me stuff like - like about our parents and about school. So I said we don’t got parents or money for school and I guess they figured we’re poor cus they started saying I should be in the kitchens and - and they said some really horrid things about you and Mr Marston. So I told them to stop being so mean about you and they was just laughing. So I left but this place is so big I got lost ‘til I came outside and I knew you was outside so I just waited.”

“Bloody imbeciles,” Elliott cursed. “Where are they? I’ll put them to rights.”

“Oh, Elliott, come now, let’s not start fighting,” Mary said. “Duke Beaumont’s being so kind to us, we don’t want to start arguing with his family.”

“Yes, my uncle has been kind. His good-for-nothing grandsons have not. I thought these rich twats were taught manners? Or is that a thing of the past? Tommy — don’t listen to a word those boys say. They don’t know anything about you. Your sister and I know you’re a smart lad, don’t we, Mary?”

“Yes, of course,” Mary said firmly. She stood up, trying not to let herself cry at the thought of the boys being so mean to her brother without her around to protect him, and took Tommy’s hand in hers to lead him back inside. “Come on, let’s go back inside. Elliott, do you think Edith would like a playmate?”

Elliott frowned slightly.

“The little girl,” Mary reminded him. “Honestly, Elliott, these are your cousins.”

“Well, there’s so bloody many of them! My uncle throws around so many names in his letters, I can’t keep up - this one’s married now, that one’s had a baby, this one’s gone off to travel the world. I just write back some congratulations and hope for the best.”

Mary laughed, but all the same, Elliott agreed that it would be a good idea to seek the little girl out. He grabbed a passing servant and told them to take Tommy to play with Edith, and Mary gave her brother another quick squeeze before he went off down the winding hallway.

“I’m still going to give those twats a piece of my mind,” Elliott grumbled as they set off in a different direction towards their rooms so they could wash themselves of the smell of horse. “Nobody in Australia would dare to be cruel to Tommy, you know. Once they know he’s my brother-in-law, they’ll know he’s under my protection. Nobody will dare harm either of you ever again.”

“Oh, they’ll cower at the name Elliott Marston, will they?” Mary teased.

“Will? They already do. Trust me, the moment you walk into any shop out there and introduce yourself as Mrs Marston, they’ll give you only the best. And if they don’t, you just tell me and I’ll double their rent for a year.”

“Elliott!” Mary laughed. “You can’t go around raising people’s rents just because they upset you.”

“Why not?” Elliott said indignantly. “They want to live on my land, they live by my rules, and the first rule is to always give me what I want. That’ll be the third rule now, of course, the first two will be to always give you and Tommy what you want. It’s a harsh terrain out there, but you’ll certainly never want for obedience.”

“I don’t care about that, Elliott.”

They stopped as they reached their rooms, across the hall from one another just as they had been in London, and Elliott smiled endearingly at Mary.

“I know, sweetheart. That’s part of what makes you so wonderfully you. I suppose this is where we part ways — unless, of course, you’d like to share a bath? Save on water and all that.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure that’s exactly your concern. Nothing to do with getting me wet and naked, is it?”

“Darling, if I want you wet and naked, I need only ask,” Elliott said in a low voice. “Well, is that a yes?”

Mary glanced around the hallway to ensure nobody would see her going into Elliott’s room, then quickly followed him inside. Elliott called for a servant to run a bath, and if the servant that arrived thought anything of the fact Mary was in his room, she said nothing about it.

Elliott sat down on the edge of the bed to take his boots off. Mary approached him cautiously, uncertain of how to explain all the thoughts and feelings that were rushing through her.

“Elliott… I’ve had the most marvellous day with you today.”

He looked up at her and smiled.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“And - and you’re so good to Tommy. I hope you know how much I appreciate it. So often it’s felt as if I’m the only one who cares about him…”

“Hey,” Elliott said softly, holding his hand out to her. She took it, and he gently guided her to sit next to him on the bed. “He’s a good lad. He must be, if you’ve raised him. I know the two of you come as a package, and if I want to protect you, I’ll need to protect him too — which I do gladly, by the way, not out of some obligation. In fact, I was going to suggest this after the wedding, but… how would you feel if we adopted him?”

Mary’s eyes widened.

“Can - can we do that? Even if I’m his sister?”

“Yes, of course. He wouldn’t have to start calling us mother and father, but as far as the law would be concerned, that’s what we’d be.”

“Oh, Elliott!” Mary cried, throwing her arms around him and kissing him.

Elliott laughed between kisses, her adorable enthusiasm infectious.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Oh, I had no idea I could even do that! I always feared someone else might adopt him and take him away — I had no idea I could adopt him!”

“Well, there might be some hurdles - you don’t legally exist, for one, we need to get you some documentation - Mary, I’m trying to talk to you!”

Her lips were on his neck now, kissing every inch of him she could find.

“Talk later,” she said between kisses.

“Alright, if you insist.”

Elliott flipped her over suddenly, causing her to squeal as she found herself on her back. He climbed on top of her, ready to combat her kisses with his own. To his surprise, Mary immediately reached for his belt and started tugging at it.

“Mary —”

“I want you,” she gasped. “I want this - you - all of you. Please.”

“Oh, Mary, you are trying my patience,” Elliott growled with frustration. “You can’t wait two days?”

“No, I want you now. Please, Elliott, don’t you want me?”

Elliott’s eyes darkened with lust. “Oh, yes. Yes, I want you, Mary - fuck, you don’t know how much I want you. But I need you to be sure, because once I fuck you, there’s no going back. You’ll be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

And just like that, Elliott’s resolve melted away. He kissed her, his body pressing down on her, sandwiching her between him and the mattress. Mary wrapped her arms around his torso and began tugging at his shirt to loosen it from his waistband.

“Is there something you want, darling?” Elliott murmured as he detached his lips from hers to kiss her neck.

“Too many clothes,” Mary grumbled.

Elliott chuckled and sat up, looking her up and down appraisingly.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Get that dress off. I want to see all of you when I take you.”

He stood up and gave her space to stand as she tugged at the lace that secured her dress to her body. She was usually so deft with her fingers, but with desperate arousal coursing through her veins, she found herself suddenly clumsy.

Elliott, apparently, had no such problem. His shirt was off in a flash, and by the time Mary had pooled her dress at her feet and kicked it away, he was already fully naked.

“Let me help you with that,” he said in a low voice, tugging at the strings of her corset. He pulled it apart and tossed it aside, and he couldn’t help having a little grope of her breasts when they came free.

“And the rest,” he murmured.

She dropped her bloomers to the floor, and Elliott took her in his arms, kissing her passionately as his cock poked against her stomach. Mary went to take it in her hand, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Do that and I won’t last,” he said through gritted teeth. He picked her up by the hips easily with his large, strong hands, and laid her down on the bed with a surprising gentleness, letting her rest her head comfortably on the pillow.

As he climbed on top of her, Mary looked him up and down, drinking in the sight of him. Her heart raced a little. She was nervous, but excited too. And she knew it was right.

“You’re shivering, darling,” Elliott noticed as he leant down to place gentle kisses along her collarbone. “Are you cold?”

“I’m - I’m a little nervous,” Mary admitted.

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” Elliott promised her. “I’ll be gentle to start with. I’ll take you harder only when you tell me you’re ready. And if you want me to be gentle the whole time, then that’s what I’ll do. You just tell me what you want, alright?”

“Okay…”

“Good girl.”

He moved down her chest slightly to take her breast in his mouth while his fingers reached between her legs to stroke her, feeling how wet she was for him already.

“Is that all for me, darling?”

“Yes,” Mary panted. “All - all for you…”

“Mmm… I thought I’d have to get you ready, but perhaps not. You’re soaked. Are you really that desperate for me?”

“Yes, Elliott, please… please, I need you…”

Elliott wished he could burn this image into his memory, memorise every detail of the way she looked in that moment, lips parted, breath heavy, pupils blown, begging him to take her.

Of course, they’d have many, many more moments like this. It wouldn’t be the last time she’d beg for his cock, he’d make sure of that — but it was the first time, and it was her first time. And as the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance, with the way her legs instinctively spread wider and a small whine of need left her lips, it took all of Elliott’s willpower not to fuck hard into her right then.

Instead, he pushed gently, slowly, until her cunt succumbed to him, and he slipped the tip of his cock inside her sweet virgin cunt.

Fuck, she was wet. He could hardly tell she was a virgin with how easily he moved inside her. He had to move slowly, pushing gradually past her walls, muttering words of praise in her ear as he did so.

“That’s it… oh, good girl, Mary… you’re doing so well… fuck, I could live inside this cunt… you look so beautiful like this…”

Mary was amazed at how well Elliott fit inside her. He stretched her out just right, not so much to be painful, just enough to feel oh so good. She had wondered if he would fit, but he kept moving deeper inside her, and when he finally bottomed out, Mary felt so deliciously full.

“Fuck,” Elliott hissed. “Oh, Mary, you feel so… so good. So deliciously tight. How does it feel?”

“It’s good, I - I feel so full of you. I had no idea you could fit so well…”

“Mmm, you were made for me, I think,” Elliott murmured. He kissed her gently, his moustache tickling her skin. “I’m going to move now, okay?”

“Yes, please.”

Elliott smirked with pride at how desperate she sounded. He’d heard of women being in pain when they lost their virginity, but Mary showed no sign of discomfort. As he pulled back, his cock dragging across her walls, she let out a moan of pleasure he’d not heard from her before. Oh, she’d moaned and whined and come apart at his fingers or his tongue before, but this was something different — something new.

He set a steady, gentle pace, taking his time with each thrust, watching her face carefully as she reacted to each movement, her eyes half-closed as she savoured the new sensations. Finally, just as Elliott thought he couldn’t hold back any further, her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him.

“More…” she begged.

How could he deny her?

Elliott picked up the pace, one hand holding her in place by the hip, the other clinging onto her shoulder as he anchored himself to her.

He let out a low grunt with each thrust as he tried not to let himself cum too soon. He almost felt like a young man again, cock eager to burst after just a few minutes inside a cunt. And what a cunt, so wet for him, and so tight… and her moans were so sweet, her face so beautiful as she let the pleasure etch itself into her perfect features.

He’d fucked plenty of whores in his life, the last one only the day before he’d met Mary. But that was nothing like what was happening now. This was something he hadn’t done in a long time, not since his first wife had died… not just fucking, but making love.

Because oh, he loved her. Loved every last bit of her, her loyalty, her kindness, her heart. He loved the way she blushed when he muttered something dirty in her ear, loved the way she laughed, the way she put her whole heart into everything she did. And he admired the way she looked at the world, finding joy and wonder in even the simplest of things.

He loved her, and nothing else mattered. It was her, always her, and Elliott knew he would do anything for her. He’d burn the whole world to a crisp for her.

“Elliott, would - would you go faster?” Mary breathed.

“You want more, hm?” he mumbled before tugging on her earlobe with his teeth to tease her. “You want me to fuck you properly, is that it?”

“Yes, Elliott, please… don’t hold back.”

Elliott pushed himself up to his elbows and looked down at her with a wicked smirk.

“As you wish.”

He sat up, gripped her hips firmly, and, just as she’d asked, he gave her more. He fucked her hard, channelling everything he was feeling into his thrusts. His anger at his cousin, his sorrow as he missed home, his pent-up desire he’d been holding onto since the moment he met his future wife — and the love he felt for her, burning and passionate, that coursed through every inch of his body.

“Elliott, I - I —”

Mary could hardly get her words out, but she didn’t need to. He knew from the way her brow knotted and her moans increased in pitch. He knew very well by now when she was about to cum.

He pressed a thumb against her clit, giving her that added bit of pleasure, and with just a few circles of her sensitive little nub she was falling apart beneath him, her walls clamping down around his cock, and Elliott’s release came shortly after, his cock spurting inside her and filling her up as he had what was, most definitely, the most intense orgasm of his life.

Seeing someone usually so collected and in control as Elliott come apart because of her was one of the most beautiful sights Mary had ever seen. His jaw hung open as he groaned, his hips juddered, and she felt his seed filling her up just as, she knew now, it was always meant to.

Elliott all but collapsed on top of her, and it took all of the little energy he had left to pull his softening cock out of her and roll onto his back.

He laid there for a few moments, panting as he caught his breath. Mary laid an arm over his torso, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest as if worried she might go somewhere.

“I thought there’d be blood,” Mary said quietly.

Elliott opened his eyes and looked down. Sure enough, his cock was glistening only with a mixture of their juices, not a drop of red in sight.

“Women only bleed if they’re not prepared for it. You, my love, were very much prepared.” He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “You were marvellous, darling.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself.”

Elliott laughed.

“Cheeky girl,” he teased, leaning down slightly to kiss her properly.

“El, I - I was going to tell you something,” Mary said as she pushed herself up so they could kiss without craning their necks. “Before you distracted me, that is.”

“‘El’?” Elliott repeated with mild amusement.

“Oh, sorry - Elliott —”

“No, no, I like it. Go on. You were going to tell me something? Although, I must say, I’m pretty sure you were the one doing the distracting.”

“No, before that!” Mary laughed. “I was, um, working up the courage to say something.”

Elliott looked at her curiously as he played lazily with a strand of her hair. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Well, I… I wanted to say… I love you, Elliott.”

He grinned then. Not the cocky, arrogant grin he usually sported, but one of true happiness, of joy that he couldn’t contain even if he tried.

“I love you too, Mary.”

Relief washed over her face, a joy as uncontainable as his.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do. Of course I do. Did you ever doubt it?”

“Well, I - I didn’t want to presume…”

“Presume?” Elliott laughed. He wrapped her in his arms and rolled her onto her back, peppering her face with kisses. “We run away to get married and you think it presumptuous to think I might be just a little bit madly in love with you?”

Mary laughed.

“Elliott, you’re tickling me!”

“Good. Maybe I’ll grow a full beard just to tickle you more.”

“Oh, no, but I like your whiskers how they are! I can’t imagine you with anything else.”

“Then you’ll have to get used to the tickling, I’m afraid.”

Elliott planted one last kiss to her lips, then said, “You know, I do believe someone was running us a bath. Perhaps we should use it before it gets too cold. We not only smell of horse, we now most definitely stink of sex, and we don’t want to bring that to the dinner table. We’re scandalous enough, don’t you think?”

Mary’s eyes widened, as if she’d completely forgotten there were other people around.

“Oh, no, do you think anyone heard us?”

“It’s only us in this wing. It seems my uncle thought of everything and made sure the newlyweds would have their space. Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

Elliott climbed out of the bed, then offered Mary a hand up.

She took it gratefully and said, “But there are servants, what about the one that drew the bath? Oh, no, she was running it when we - do you think she —?”

Elliott laughed and pushed the bathroom door open. To Mary’s relief, it was empty, only the bath standing waiting for them.

“Big houses like these have hidden doors all over the place for staff to slip in and out. She was probably long gone. Come on - let’s get cleaned up. We need to look innocently chaste for dinner tonight.”

- - -

They managed to make themselves presentable enough in time for dinner, and Mary found herself more relaxed and comfortable than she had felt before among all these fancy people. She realised she didn’t care what they thought of her, if they judged her for her station, for her illiteracy — it didn’t matter. Because Elliott loved her. He loved her, and he was going to marry her, and they’d live happily ever after in Australia. Nothing could burst her bubble now.

After dinner, Mary went to the parlour room with the other ladies while the men stayed at the dinner table for a smoke. Tommy came too, and Mary was relieved to see that he’d made friends with Edith, even if she was five years younger. Even though he was getting closer to becoming a man every day, Tommy was still a boy, and she’d never been able to give him any toys. Edith had a surplus, and Tommy was ecstatic that she was willing to share her toys with him.

Once it came time to retire to bed, Mary went about her routine that was second nature to her by now. She went to her room, with the bed she’d never slept in, changed into her nightgown, and snuck across the hallway to wait for Elliott in his bed.

They made love again that night, and in the morning too. It was with great reluctance that Mary got out of the bed to go back to her room and get dressed for the day.

She spent the day helping Duchess Beaumont with the wedding planning. The invites had gone out the day before, and as the day went on people began arriving, Lords and Ladies that had no work to be doing, fulfilling the Duke’s prediction that nobles would take any opportunity to enjoy his hospitality. The rich loved a party, and weddings were the best of them, particularly when they were as intriguing as the wedding of Duke Beaumont’s runaway sister’s son from Australia.

In all the hubbub, Mary hardly got a chance to check on Tommy, though by the way he was chattering away with Leanne, the Duke’s fifteen-year-old granddaughter, at dinner, he seemed to have forgotten all about his upset the day before.

Mary eyed the grandsons, Samuel and Jonathan, a little wearily. They were probably around her age, given her estimate that she was eighteen, and they’d not said a word to her since her arrival. All she had to judge them on was their cruel behaviour to Tommy, so naturally, they were very low in her esteem.

In the parlour room after dinner, Mary found herself sitting by the windowsill with Leanne, who was trying her best to remember her etiquette lessons while probing Mary with questions. Mary, who had had no such lessons, thought it rather amusing the way the girl danced around the questions she clearly wanted to ask.

“Oh, but that’s so romantic!” Leanne gasped when Mary told her the story of her first meeting with Elliott. “He must have fallen in love with you at first sight! Most men don’t go around asking shop workers to dinner, you know.”

“Elliott’s not most men. He says, in Australia, there’s no such thing as Lords and Ladies. He says a person’s worth is measured by what they achieve. Isn’t that marvellous, that anybody can be somebody? Not the convicts, of course, but the settlers. I can’t wait to move out there with him!”

“Oh, but it’s so far away, though! I do hope you’ll write. I dare say having you and Elliott here has been the most exciting thing that’s happened here in months. All I ever get to do is lessons with the governess, and when social events come along, I dread them because father’s always trying to marry me off. I wish I could marry for love like you, Mary, I truly envy you that.”

Mary blinked. “You envy me?”

“Oh, yes!” Leanne said sincerely. “To love and be loved — to the point he’s willing to steal you away! Oh, it’s so romantic. And tomorrow you’ll get to really be together,” she giggled. “I wonder what his kisses are like with those whiskers?”

“His whiskers are rough, but his lips are much softer. I like the contrast.”

Leanne gaped at her. “You mean you’ve… kissed him? Already?! My goodness, they really do do things differently in London!”

“Oh, well, as I say… Elliott does things a little differently. It seems men and women are a bit more liberal with their affections in Australia.”

Leanne giggled. “How scandalous! Perhaps I’ll stow away in your luggage and leave for Australia with you. Although I’m not sure I could survive three months on a boat!”

Mary managed to avoid revealing to Leanne that she and Elliott had done a lot more than just kiss, but the girl seemed more than content with the fact they’d been kissing already. By the time it came time to retire to bed, Leanne was all giggled out, and Mary was looking forward to a good sleep.

She climbed into the bed in her room for the first time that night. She and Elliott had shirked tradition in almost every sense, but Mary didn’t want to risk the bad luck of seeing each other before the ceremony the next day, so she chose to sleep alone that night.

At least, she tried to sleep. She was buzzing with excitement, and by now she’d become used to having Elliott by her side, so the bed felt empty. It must have been past midnight and she was still awake, trying to calm her mind down into sleep, when she heard her door creak open.

She stayed still, trying to make out as if she were asleep. Could Elliott really not resist her for one single night when they’d be sleeping side by side for the rest of their lives?

Footsteps crossed the room quietly, as if trying not to wake her. She kept her eyes resolutely closed.

The duvet was pulled back, revealing her in nothing but her nightdress. A large hand took her by the hip and rolled her onto her front before pushing the hem of her nightdress up to bunch around her waist, revealing her nakedness beneath.

Mary heard the shuffle of fabric being removed behind her. Was Elliott really going to be so bold? Was he not even going to try to wake her?

She felt his weight on top of her as he positioned his body over hers, and his knees pushed her legs apart. He pulled her hips up towards him, and she felt the head of his cock pushing between her legs, positioning himself at her entrance.

Mary opened her eyes now. She was face-down, so all she saw was pillow.

“Elliott —” she mumbled.

She heard a low chuckle from the man behind her.

It was familiar… but it wasn’t Elliott.

“Guess again,” the voice growled, and with a sudden thrust, he lodged his cock inside her, stretching her walls in a way that hurt more than Elliott’s had, as if the cock were even larger than his.

Mary remembered, with a sudden shock, whose cock was larger than Elliott’s.

She turned her head, trying to look over her shoulder, but Turpin pinned her down with a hand on the back of her head.

“Did you think you could betray me and I’d not hear about it?” Turpin growled in her ear. “I opened my home to you, and this is how you repay me, hm? By running off with my cousin? I don’t think so.”

He pulled back, then thrust into her again, and Mary cried out.

“Quiet, slut. People are trying to sleep. Now shut up and take your punishment.”

He set a harsh, punishing pace as he fucked her from behind, and when Mary couldn’t help crying out, Turpin put his hand over her mouth to shut her up.

“I said, shut. up. Not how you imagined losing your innocence, hm? Only good, obedient girls get to have a romantic wedding night with the Lord who so kindly took her in from the streets. Sluts like you get what they’re - fucking - given.”

She couldn’t tell him she wasn’t a virgin even if she wanted to, because his hand was still clamped over her mouth. And maybe she didn’t want to tell him, because that might make him even angrier.

“That’s it - that’s it, fucking take it. Take your Lord’s cock. Fuck, you’re tight. So tight around my cock. Mhm, I’m going to enjoy filling you with my babies. With a round belly - tits leaking milk - fuck, you’ll be glorious. I’ll fill you up over and over. Mhmm, Mary…”

Mary held onto the pillow, trying not to cry as Turpin violated her over and over, apparently indifferent to the fact she was suffering. This was nothing like it had been with Elliott, this was painful, this was wrong. This wasn’t making love. This was something worse, something she didn’t have a name for, but it wasn’t fucking either. It was cruelty.

Turpin took his hand away from her mouth. His urge to squeeze both her breasts in his hands was apparently too strong. They moved with every thrust, and despite Mary’s reluctance, her nipples were hard, and Turpin pinched them between his fingers, causing her to yelp in pain.

He didn’t try to shut her up again. Perhaps he was too lost in the moment to care if anyone would hear.

Instead, he just fucked her harder. The bed began to creak, the headboard making an unmistakable rhythmic slamming noise as it hit the wall with every thrust.

“Fuck - fuck, Mary - oh, I’m going to cum inside you. So deep inside you, you’ll be so full - so - fucking - full - of my cum! Fu-uuck!”

Turpin came loudly, his groans joining the slamming of the headboard and the slapping of their flesh in the cacophony of sounds, and Mary missed the sound of the door handle hitting the wall as it was thrown open.

She hardly had time to register what was happening. One moment, she could feel Turpin’s cock filling her up with his seed; the next, she heard the sound of a fist connecting with a face, and Turpin’s groan of pleasure turned into one of pain as his cock slipped out of her and he went tumbling onto the bed.

A hand grabbed Mary by her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled as she stood, but when she saw that it really was Elliott this time, she cried out in relief and clung to him.

“Oh, Elliott! It’s not what it looks like —”

“No, I think it’s exactly what it looks like,” Elliott growled. Mary looked up at him, terrified, and realised that his anger wasn’t at her. While one arm wrapped protectively around her, the other was outstretched, pointing a gun firmly at Turpin, who was naked on Mary’s bed, cradling a bleeding nose, his cock flaccid and covered in blood.

“You dare to hit me?!” Turpin yelled. “What gives you the right —”

“Don’t fucking move!” Elliott yelled back as Turpin tried to stand up. “Don’t you dare fucking move, William, or I will shoot you. You absolute sack of shit. How dare you touch her? What gives you the right —”

“She’s mine, Elliott! Mine! Imagine my surprise, the very day I intend to send out wedding invitations, receiving one myself for my own betrothed’s wedding to my ungrateful thief of a cousin! I don’t suppose you thought to tell your dear mother’s family that you stole her from me, did you?”

“A woman is not a possession to be owned, William! Mary chose to leave with me! And no, I didn’t tell them, because this wedding is not about fear of you, it’s about our love for one another!”

“Love?!” Turpin scoffed. “You don’t love her. You just want what’s mine!”

“I LOVE HER!” Elliott yelled, the hand holding the gun shaking now. “Love may be an alien concept to you, cousin, and before I met Mary it was nothing to me, but she is love. She is everything that this rotten world is not and I will not have you turning the only good thing in this world into your personal sex slave, popping out as many babies as she can until you wither away and die!”

“You dare speak to me like this?” Turpin growled dangerously. “I am the law! I’ll have you hanged for this!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Mary sobbed. She released her grasp on Elliott and took a step back. “Look at you! You’re family! Close enough that Elliott spent three months on a boat just to visit! I can’t - I can’t live with myself to come between you. Please, please, don’t fight over me!”

“This isn’t just about you, Mary. He’s right - he can have anyone hanged on a whim if they get in his way, so nobody dares stand up to him. Well, I will. Face the truth, cousin! You’ll be dead in a few years, and you’ll die miserable and alone, because nobody could ever love you. Not Mary, not Johanna, not Lucy. Even your first wife threw herself in the Thames rather than spend another day with you.”

Turpin just smiled. A cruel, twisted smile, that struck fear deep into Mary’s heart.

“Yes… yes, I can have anyone hanged. Not you, no - that would be too easy. You wouldn’t suffer. I want you to go back to Australia, to your wooden shacks and your kangaroo shit, and I want you to live your life in utter misery, knowing the woman you covet so much belongs to me.”

“She would never —”

Turpin held up a hand to cut Elliott off, then turned his attention to Mary.

“Mary, my darling… I know Elliott makes life in Australia sound so exciting, but they live like primitives out there. You’ll be so much more comfortable in London. You’ll be a Lady, you’ll want for nothing, and your brother will get all the education he needs.”

“Tommy wants to go to Australia too,” Mary replied, her voice shaking as she stood up to Turpin for the first time. “We’ll be happy there. I’m sorry. We - we don’t want the life you live.”

“Oh, no, no, no, darling, you misunderstand.”

Turpin shuffled across the bed to sit in front of her on the edge of the mattress, smirking at her. Even with blood on his dick and smeared across his face, he still somehow managed to exude power, and Mary had to fight the urge to cower.

“If you marry Elliott, you may well be happy in Australia. But your brother… well, he’ll feel nothing. His last memory will be at the end of a rope.”

“No!” Mary cried.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Elliott said through gritted teeth.

Turpin ignored his cousin, his gaze set firmly on Mary.

“The Beadle’s taking him to London as we speak. I had to make sure I had some collateral. Come noon on Monday, either the chaplain will pronounce us man and wife… or the coroner will pronounce your brother dead.”

#alan rickman #elliott marston #judge turpin #quigley down under #sweeney todd #die with a smile

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