#there's no way she'd let him wear that same suit for the rest of forever

[butchtwelfthdoctor]

rip to fourteen for having to go shopping for clothes with donna

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

Some random modern HotD headcanons :)

Hey y’all! So I kept thinking of some funny, and very specific headcanons for the HotD characters, so I decided to just make it a whole post. This will actually be my first “legit” post on here, lol! Anyways, this will include some headcanons about Aemond, Aegon II, Luke, Jace, Daemon, Rhaenyra, Helaena, etc. But hope y’all enjoy lol! :)

Ok, I am convinced that Aemond has a secret stash of tea hidden somewhere. He's even put them all in a very nice ornate, antique box. It's his guilty pleasure. He probably would have some Earl Gray, English Breakfast, maybe even some lavender mint for the evenings. He'd keep it secret because all the teas he's gotten are way too expensive, and special.

Luke is an avid Minecraft gamer. Like he's basically built Dragonstone, and the Red Keep in his server. He'll play sometimes with Jace, or maybe even Aegon. But he doesn't let them into that world. Aegon would probably blow it all up with TnT.

Speaking of gaming, I think some people are on the same page that Aegon would be some kind of gamer. He'd be up to date on all the new systems and gadgets. He'd be one of the firsts to have the PS5 when it came out. He probably plays a lot of Call of Duty. Maybe even some Valorant when he doesn't wanna fire up the PS. He'd definitely be cursing and yelling at the game, to the point where Alicent threatens to take it away.

While Rhaenyra watches her shows, House Wives, Rupaul's Drag Race, etc. Daemon pretends to be not interested, but really he's super invested. He'd be leaning against the couch, or the wall totally sucked in. And when Rhaenyra tells him to just sit down and watch with her, he's all like, "no no I don't even like this show". But then he'd say things like, "Well maybe if her gown was better made she wouldn't have been eliminated last episode".

Aegon gives me frat boy energy. And I know I'm not the first to say that lol. You already know he's planning all the parties, and picking the themes. I like to think he'd be very invested into picking the themes. They would be things like, dragon night, wear your fave dragon scale colors. Or something like, Dragonstone beach night, wear your swim suits and flip flops.

Alicent likes to knit. Or maybe crochet? It's her stress reliever activity after dealing with Aegon, and the rest of the boys. Helaena is always giving her new patterns or designs to try.

I think Alicent also likes to take the occasional Buzzfeed quiz. "If you were a cake flavor, here's what you'd be based on your star sign".

Helaena runs a very successful tik tok account. She'd post her outfits, and maybe some art or cool bugs she's found.

Aegon listens to a lot of Megan Thee Stallion and Kim Petras. He's blasting Kim Petras' Treat me like a Slut at least 5 times a day. He gets ready to it in the morning.

Aemond will get down to some Amy Winehouse.

Jace works at the local animal shelter as his summer job. He only got the job cause Rhaenyra said he needed to get out of the house. Plus Helaena also works there, so she helped him get hired.

Aemond would be a great bartender. Not with like actually interacting with customers, but he can make some great drinks. Like he's over here coming up with all these crazy cocktails. Although, like his tea obsession he keeps this on the low. He doesn't want Aegon asking him to make drinks all the time. Gods forbid he asks Aemond to bartend at one of the frat parties.

Helaena was a Monster High girl growing up.

Aemond has a motorcycle. It was his one rebellious purchase. Alicent hates it.

Luke can kick Aegon's ass in any game, video or otherwise. You name it, Call of Duty, UNO, Valorent, Go fish...

Rhaenyra has a bit of a sweet tooth, but she has to hide her candy stash, cause the boys will steal it in a heartbeat. Who would have thought Daemon would love lemon drops so much.

I really could go on forever, these are just too fun to write. But I'll leave it here for now lol.

[piastrinorris]

Curiosity Is Killing Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: 18+ (MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK), p in v, oral (m + f receiving), degradation, mixed praise too

Summary: When sleepovers with your best friend become a ruse for her sneaking her own boyfriends in, it's not your fault that the only other distraction is her brother...

Word count: 3583

At first, you think it must just be a trick your ears are playing on you. A passing sound that happened to sound like a moan, that happened to be coming from your best friend's brother’s bedroom, that happened to sound exactly like Steve's cadence. You carry on to the bathroom as if it was nothing, but on your way back, you take your time walking past Steve's door again, to hear that moan again.

You assume it must be a Harrington kid thing, to sneak in people by way of far more innocent means - in your best friend's case, making sure that her family knowing you're here means they won't dare enter her room or the guest suite, which the lie is that that's where the two of you plan to hang out to not disturb the sleeping family. In reality, you stay in the guest bedroom all night while she and her boyfriend have a secret night in.

You don't mind, too much. She always says she'd do the same for you, if only you'd be interested enough in someone, and you don't doubt that, she's a good friend. Except there's only one person you're interested in, and you can't tell her it's her brother.

Safe in the knowledge that everyone else is in their bedroom for the night, you go to her door and give the "all-clear" knock. She cracks open her door and grins, "You know I love you forever, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes. "Isn't it, like… Extra risky, you and Steve sneaking around on the same night?"

Her brow furrows, "Steve doesn't sneak girls in, he just waits until Mom and Dad are out."

You nod slowly. "Got it. 'Kay. Goodnight. Night, Ryan!" You shout-whisper over her shoulder, and see a thumbs-up raise in response.

"I'll come get you when the coast is clear!" your best friend hisses as she closes the door. 

You know you should just go back to the guest suite and sleep it all off. But that sound. If it wasn't Steve with somebody…

Images flood your brain of him: head thrown back against the headboard, his dark and luscious hair spilling down the back of his neck; his beautiful, pink, plump lips just parted enough to let those delicious moans roll right out of him; freckled chest shaking with bated breaths as the rest of his body seeks its friction against his wide, strong hand wrapped tightly around his member. Of course, you've never seen it for yourself, but the pants he wears leave little to the imagination, and the one time you'd been in the front row at a swim meet is permanently etched into your brain.

~~~

Steve really tried to hold off for as long as possible. Thankfully so, since his sister's latest piece had miscalculated which window to attempt to climb into. Now, that would have been awkward. But eventually, something had to give. He needed some kind of release, even if it wasn't a whole one. His cock was still screaming against his boxers, and Steve had felt it dangerous enough to discard his jeans after he feared the potential friction burn.

He knows what he has to do. Picking out his favourite tape, the one with that actress in, he puts it into the VHS player his dad had bought him to get him to shut up about something he’d overheard on the phone once. Keeping the remote control at hand, and making sure the volume wasn’t loud, he reaches into his nightstand for his trusted bottle of lotion, slides the offending garment off and slips beneath his covers. Lubing up his hand, he knows the rhythm of this video well enough by now. He can start off by giving himself a gentle release, barely any pressure, just the feeling of his fingertips sliding up and down his member. Of course, yours would feel far more dainty than his, but there’s no way he’d just waltz into the other room and proposition you.

As the video progresses, Steve starts jerking himself off with more virility. If he squints while the actress is on screen, he can pretend that it’s you. That thought only gets him more excited, and he moves faster, harder, feeling himself start to build up, until- Shit, is that your voice? Fuck. He’s already so far gone, he can’t just stop now. And besides, you’re probably just saying goodnight. You wouldn’t have any need to come past Steve’s room. Still, he wraps his finger and thumb tightly around the base of his cock as he continues to relieve himself, just until he knows the coast is clear.

It isn’t. There’s a knock at his door, and he just about has enough time to grab a pillow, shove it under the pillow and hit the power button on the TV control before you’re already inviting yourself in.

“Uh, hi?” Steve clears his throat. You weren’t expecting him to be shirtless, but then it’s perfectly normal for a guy to not wear a shirt to bed. “What’s up?”

The dishevelled look of his bed doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Your curiosity piques as you step further into his room. “Nothing. Just wanted to hang out a little before I go to bed.” Steve tries to smile as softly as he can, not wanting you to think he’s rude but also silently willing you to please god, get out of here so he can relieve himself. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, I was just - just watching something on the TV,” he shrugs, “but I’m about to hit the hay.”

“What’re you watching?” you ask, reaching for the control, but he snatches it away from you quickly. You quickly realise why, and gasp. “Steve Harrington, were you watching… adult movies?!”

Trying his absolute best to act casual, he scoffs, “Okay, yes, I was, because remarkably, I am an adult, as are you. I’m sure you’ve watched something by now.” It takes all his mental willpower not to imagine you getting off in this exact moment.

“Not all of us have parents rich enough to give us TVs in our own room.” You shake your head, quickly grabbing the control away from him and switching it on, to Steve’s horror, as you ask, “So is the one you’re watching any good o- Oh.” You stare at the paused sight in front of you. A very naked woman posed over a very naked man. The man you’re not so interested in. It’s the fact that the woman has the exact same body shape, complexion, hair texture, colour and length, everything is almost identical to you.

Steve snatches the control back from you and switches it off. “’S just coincidence,” he mutters as an explanation, but you’re not buying it. 

A confident pride takes over your entire body. “Did you pick this one out for its content? Or for the… Actress?” He doesn’t answer, so you continue, “You know, I was walking past earlier…”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Aren’t you in the guest suite tonight?”

You look just as confused back at him. “How do you know that?!” He explains his encounter with Ryan. “Oh. Right. Well, yeah, but I didn’t know you knew, so I thought it would look weird if I didn’t have my toothbrush and stuff in you guys’ bathroom. So I was walking past and I… Heard…”

"Oh," his cheeks tint a weaker shade of the lips that he licks nervously. "So, you heard… The sounds I was making… From out there, huh?" You nod, and he curses, "Oh, shit," under his breath. As you shuffle up to sit yourself right next to him in the bed, he asks you in a whisper, brow furrowing, "Why are you getting closer?" He doesn't give you much time before realisation dawns in his eyes. In the same hushed volume, but with a smug excitement in his undertone, he asks you, "Is it because you liked what you heard?" You nod, not being able to tear your eyes away from his, pools of melted caramel hidden amongst his eyelashes as he studies your whole face. "Is it because you like thinking about my hand, wrapped around my cock, underneath the sheets here? Is that why you didn't leave any time between knocking and opening the door? Were you trying to see it?"

"C-can I… See it now?" You ask sheepishly, having nowhere else to turn at this point.

He pulls the sheets off him, pillow and all, to reveal his entirely nude form, down to what you could only describe as a raging erection. Thicker than you've ever seen, longer than you've ever seen, a singular vein protruding along the side, an entirely brand new experience. "Yeah, there you go," he encourages, still whispering as he watches your face light up at the sight. "Wanna reach down for yourself, and grab it?"

Still not taking his eyes off of yours, he finds your wrist and guides it to the base of his shaft, which your fingers wrap themselves around. He already felt well-lubed up, and so sliding your hand up and down it was next to nothing, though you could easily work his entire length if your position allowed you to slide your other hand down there, too. He reaches a finger up to push your jaw into a position where he could immediately start kissing you openly. His tongue craves access to yours, and he expresses his gratitude when you grant him it by gently sliding his own hand beneath your pyjama top, down your stomach and into your shorts, cupping the hot and wet mess that you were rapidly becoming.

"Do you like that?" he whispers, his breath tickling your lips, "When I grab you down there? In these short fucking shorts, with no panties on?"

You nod, whimpering shakily, "Please, Steve, touch me there."

He smirks. "Did you have this planned, doll? Is this what you wanted to happen tonight?" Steve asks, his fingertips still barely grazing your core. "You wanted to fuck your best friend's brother?" He again doesn't wait for you to answer before grazing his fingers through your wetness. You whimper, and he presses the gap between you closed again to grin, his teeth pressing against your lips. “You’re mighty overdressed between the two of us, baby. Why don’t you take that shirt off?”

You nod, leaning away just enough to pull the tank top off of your body. Steve hums with pure delight as he watches your tits get pulled up with the fabric, to bounce back down again. Once you’ve discarded it behind you, he leans in again for more open kisses, still not quite touching you how you’d like. You mewl at him, and he eventually pulls away to whisper, “Lay on your back.”

You comply, and he kisses all over your torso, paying extra close attention to kissing and suckling on your nipples. You cry out a high-pitched whine in delight as your back arches beneath him. He continues his journey, kissing down your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts. With a quick two-tone whistle, he gestures with his fingers for you to lift your ass up so he can pull them down. Once they’re off, he stares between your legs, taking a deep breath in to moan underneath his exhalation, “Oh, fuck yes.”

He clambers onto his stomach, propped up by his elbows, to settle between your legs and start to gently lap at the wetness already soaking your lower lips with his tongue. You squirm at the touch, and he grins, “You like it when I use my tongue, baby?” His voice is low and thick with arousal. You let out an uh-huh and he moves to flick his tongue rapidly back and forth against your clit. Watching his tongue move is enough of a turn-on, but seeing those big brown eyes look longingly back up at you completely ruins you. Your hand reaches for his hair, raking it with your fingers and gripping every time he wraps his lips around it to suck on it.

“Oh fuck, you taste so fucking good,” he groans before laying his tongue flat against your slit, again looking up at you and maintaining eye contact as he licks all the way up. “Goddamn, getting so wet, just for me, could feast on you for hours, fuck.” He slips two fingers easily inside of you, watching you fall apart at his touch as he spreads them out inside you.

“Fuck, Steve,” you groan, “need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a smirk, getting up onto his knees. He moves to straddle your chest commanding, “Sit up on your elbows.” You do so, and your lips just graze where he’s holding the head of his cock out to you. He raises his eyebrows at you, almost challenging you, and you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to lay flat and wide beneath it. “Oh, good girl,” he moans as he slides himself into your mouth. Your lips are stretched taut around him as he pushes slowly in and out of you, “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, yes, suck my cock, just like that. Oh, fuck, you’re so good.” When he can tell you can’t take him much further, he instead pulls all the way out of you to tell you, “Want you to suck on these balls, please.” Something about him being so commanding and yet still pleading with you has you throbbing, especially when he coos, “Ah, fuck, you just love sucking on them, don’t you?” You nod excitedly in reply, and he reaches down to push your hair back. “My good little slut likes having my cock in her mouth, don’t you?” he asks as he guides himself back into your mouth.

The praise mixed with the degradation turns you into an absolute mess. You moan and whine around his cock, looking up at him desperately. He looks just as ready as you do, shuffling himself away from you to grab something out of the nightstand. You watch him sliding his condom on, enamoured, and he smirks at the sight of you studying him.

He returns to lean over you, placing the head of his cock right between your folds and gently sliding it up and down. You whine again, though this time out of impatience. Steve pouts at you, “Aww, do you not like getting teased? Hmm? Like how you tease me by coming over to sleep over all the damn time wearing shorts just like those? That barely even cover your ass cheeks?” He presses himself just against your clit, and you mewl even louder. “Or like how you always wear that swimsuit when you’re out back, modest enough that nobody else knows what you’re doing, but fuck, the way it fits you, you definitely show yourself off for me, don’t you, baby? You sexy little fucker.”

“Steve, please,” you beg. “Need - inside me, please.”

“As you wish,” he smirks, pushing himself slowly into you. His fingers certainly helped prepare you for the size of him, but you still hiss as he moves gently further and further into you, constantly watching your face for any sign of discontent. He sits inside you for a while, leaning in to whisper, “Tell me when it feels good, yeah?” before starting to kiss you. This kiss feels more than just a spur of the moment flurry of passion, this is something he’s wanted for a while.And so you give him back just as much fervour, eventually starting to slide your own hips back and forth against his member. It’s still not totally comfortable at first, but you grab his shoulder before he can try and pull out and reassure him that it just takes time.

Soon, the discomfort dissipates and now all you want is for this man to fuck you, no matter how or where. “Steve,” you coo into his ear while he’s kissing your neck.

“Yes, baby?” he asks. “Are you ready?”

You let out an mm-hm so he knows even without looking at you, and he looks back up to start rocking, gently, in and out of you. You bite your lip as your eyes roll in ecstasy, and that smug little smirk of his returns. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about, when you come over? When you see me, do you think about taking this cock all the fucking time? Is that really why you come over, so you can come and fucking gawk at me, you little slut? Curious about how good it would feel if I fucked you? Does it all seem worth it now?”

You writhe against him, willing him deeper, moaning, “God, fuck, yes.”

“Such a dirty little whore, pretending to be here for anything other than wondering whether I can make you scream,” he drawls. “Here’s the thing, baby, I know I can. And so do you. But not tonight, okay?” You nod desperately. “Attagirl. Fuck, you feel so much better than I imagined.”

He starts to move quicker inside of you, pressing his forehead to yours as you both moan into each others’ mouths. “D-d’you think - about me, too?” you ask, and he grins back at you.

“Do I? Of course I fucking do,” he drawls. “I think about you all the fucking time. Every time you come over, I - fuck - I jerk myself off to the thought of you. Especially being in that big ol’ guest bed by yourself, I just wanna get in there with you, and - fuck, slip my cock in you from behind and absolutely destroy you.” He lets out a truly feral moan, almost a growl. “God, fuck, and you don’t even know. Until now, you didn’t even know that I get myself off to you just a few doors away, thinking about - fucking your face, and taking you from behind, fucking you on my desk as I pull your hair and wrap my hand around your throat, just fucking the shit out of you.”

You feel every word of his hit your core as your climax starts to build. “Oh god, Steve, I -”

Mid-flow, Steve doesn’t seem to hear you. “Think about - shit, about cumming all over you, cumming inside you, oh my god, filling you up with my cum, doesn’t that sound so fucking good?” In any other situation, you may have thought not, but having Steve fuck his own cum deep inside of you? Now it’s all you want. You bite your lip and moan at the thought, and he strokes your hair. “Yeah? Sounds good, doesn’t it, baby? Being my personal little cumslut, god, I’d make sure you never had to work a day in your life so I could use you.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re totally dick-drunk at this point, but in this moment, the thought of being Steve Harrington’s cocksleeve sounds like the ultimate life goal. “Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “Wanna - be your… Your personal fucktoy, please?”

“Oh, you sexy fucking bitch,” he groans as he starts to move faster inside of you. “Fuck, can’t wait to make - so many thoughts a reality… You bouncing on my cock, sucking me off until I cum all over that pretty little face… Gonna fuck you in front of a mirror so you can watch how pathetic you are when my cock is inside of you.”

“P-please, Steve, I’m - I’m so fucking close now, please,” you beg. 

Steve, now covered in a thin layer of sweat, pushes his hair aside to watch you as he rubs your now oversensitive clit. “Do it, baby, cum for me. Fuck, cum for me like you’re going to every single day for the rest of your fucking life.”

You fall apart at his words, clenching over his cock as your orgasm finally washes over you The sensation brings Steve over the edge too as he buries his head into your neck to bite your shoulder.

Steve makes quick work of getting off of you, throwing the condom away, and fetching a towel from his dresser to clean you up with. In a very quick contrast, he slips next to you to pull you in to wrap his arm around you. “Are you good?” he asks softly.

You nod, still feeling rather light-headed. “Little sore, down there, but it’ll pass. Um, did - did you mean, all that stuff you said?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, almost matter-of-factly. “Now it’s out there, can’t exactly take it back.”

“Even when - you said you’d want me… Every day?” you ask quietly.

Steve pulls your face over to kiss it sweetly. “Especially that part. C’mon,” he hunts for the pillow he’d used to protect his modesty earlier, and his comforter, and sets up his bed accordingly again as he wraps you both up.

You giggle, “What will your sister say when I’m not in the other bed?”

“Well, what’s she going to do, admit you’re missing? When you’re meant to be in the same room? Doubt it,” Steve mutters sleepily against your skin.

“Yeah, but, like. When she finds out where I’ve been,” you explain.

“Then I’ll simply tell her she shouldn’t have made it my role to be a good host,” he replies, “now I really gotta sleep. Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Goodnight yourself, handsome,” you smirk, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before the pair of you drift off to sleep in each others’ embrace.

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

When God Wasn't There

Just a short continuation of When God Wasn't Watching. I will hopefully be getting my laptop back sometime next month so I can work on the main story.

***

Patience woke up with her neck stiff and a bad taste in her mouth. She wondered why she had awakened before a broom nudged her head and a sardonic brogue greeted her ears. "Luvvy, you're sleeping on my back door. Are you lost?"

Patience sat up, and the immediate sting of pain between her legs made her wake fully. "No. Sorry ma'am, I'll be--getting on my way."

"Surely you want to wash your face. You're all messy. Your braids look like twin rockets."

"No, ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am. You are coming in right now and washing up and having breakfast, and you are telling me how you got here and where you come from."

***

Barbara had an Irish accent but an Italian last name. Nothing much made sense about her. But she was kindly and let Patience wash her face and hair in their basin, and even lent Patience her comb to brush out her long mousy hair. By the time she was done, a tall man with black hair and shaving cream all over his face came into the bathroom, startling her.

He looked uncannily like the drunk man from last night, but after she started stuttering apologies out and he kept looking at her confusedly, she realized he was someone else. She supposed all dagos looked the same.

"Honey, there's a little girl in the bathroom!"

"She's stayin' for breakfast, Gabe!"

The air was warm in the house, and toys strewn around. A Howdy Doody mask and a baby doll were both lying facedown in the hall. It made her comfy for reasons she couldn't explain--it was so difficult from her cold, methodical, organized aunt and uncle's house. It looked like an actual home, and she didn't want to leave.

The family--an eight-year old daughter (who immediately latched on to her) a son who spoke only Italian, and the two parents were sitting at the table, chattering loudly over a breakfast of eggs and buttered toast. She took her seat and began eating, noticing only now that she'd gone a day and a half without eating.

Barbara smiled at her as she scarfed down her eggs. "Sweetheart, your skirt is all dirty. Are you bleeding?"

Her words brought the memory of last night to the front of her mind, and suddenly the pain between her legs seared and she was retching, bent over the table.

"Sweetheart! Are you all right?"

"Lie down!"

"No," she sobbed. "I want to go home. I'm sorry. Thank you--but I need to leave--"

The door slammed. "Is that breakfast I smell?" A swaggering, dark-haired man in a black suit came through the front door, reeking of booze. He was dark-haired, with a foxlike face and a sharp resemblance to Gabe. As his black eyes focused on Patience, they sparked with recognition. "Hey, kid! What the hell are you doing here?"

She tried to run past him, but he seized her arm. "Not so fast, squirt. You're gonna tell me everything that happened last night and you're gonna do it now."

***

Seated on the sofa, she gradually broke down under their questioning, and began stuttering out her version of the night before. She had gone into the nightclub--she refused to say why--and Leonardo had been there, and he had done something bad to her. 

As soon as she had said the words something bad, Gabe's eyes widened and Salvatore's fists clenched. Barbara's voice became flat. "What did he do to you?"

"He--he just hurt me." She was toying with the frayed edge of her sleeve. "A little bit. I swear, that's all he did. Please let me go home. He didn't do anything like--that!" She was stressed beyond belief, shredding her sleeve to ribbons.

She stood up, and Barbara Rose took her shoulder. "Do you want to go to the police?"

"What good will that do?" Scoffed Salvatore. "Leo Angelino fuckin owns the police, Porky."

"Language!"

"Please can I leave now? I don't wanna see the police. I don't wanna talk about it any more. I just wanna go home." Her voice sounded very small, but as she spoke they stopped arguing and looked at her.

"If that's what you want, honey. How far away do you live?"

"I live in... in Greenhaven, Massachusetts."

"That's a whole state over. Sweetheart, take some money for a train ticket. I have work today, but Salvatore can take you to the train station. How about that?"

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she nodded.

***

Salvatore drove her to the train station--his car smelled like cigarettes and alcohol, and he played awful sounding jazz the whole way. When he escorted her and made sure she got her ticket, he bought her an ice cream and sat down next to her as they waited for the train.

The ice cream was hot fudge, her favorite, but it didn't taste like anything to her. She felt queasy, and her insides ached. 

"Hey, kid." Salvatore sounded contemplative. "You know, you don't wanna talk about what happened. I get you. It's hard. Especially for kids. Especially for girls."

She stared at the soggy rim of her cone. A drop of vanilla ice cream was dripping down the side.

"I don't like seeing kids hurt. Nobody does. So here." He slid a napkin over the bench to her, and she unfolded it. It was a phone number.

"If you need anything--anything--if you're having trouble, trouble with people, with anyone, really, if you're having a hard time paying for college--and ESPECIALLY if you're having trouble with that blond sunnuvabitch--you give me a call. Okay?" His voice turned gentle at that last word.

She stared at the smudged ink numbers, and felt a lump swell in her throat. She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. How was it possible that anyone could be this generous? Especially someone as intimidating as Salvatore? The cloying sweetness of her ice cream stuck to her togur as she stammered, "I forgot to thank you for--for protecting me that other night."

He snorted. "I just did what any decent person would do. The sad thing is? I know plenty of men who would have let him have you."

The train whistled, and she jumped up. It had arrrived without her noticing. "Thank you, Mr. Mallozzi. You're--a good man." She paused, then threw her arms around his narrow shoulders. Then she joined the bustling crowd. 

When the train began to chug out of the station, she elbowed her way to the window and smooshed her face into the glass. Salvatore was still there, smoking a cigarette and chatting up a young blonde woman. She waved, and he caught her eye and waved back.

***

She let herself collapse in her seat. The leather was smooth under the backs of her legs. The throbbing had ceased somewhat.

Patience had never, in her whole life, been this glad to get home to her aunt and uncle. But just the thought of stepping into their cold, sparsely furnished townhouse her with a sort of relief she could only dream of. She wanted to go home and bury herself under her dark, cool covers and close her eyes and forget this ever happened. With every mile the train chugged, she was leaving behind what happened to her. She was leaving it behind forever.

***

She took a cab from Boston to Burlington, where her aunt and uncle lived. He dropped her off at the local diner, where she used the rest of her money for some oatmeal before she trudged home. By then it was late afternoon, and the sun beat down on her long chestnut hair. She struggled to wind them into braids as she passed the church, the grocery store, and the post office, putting her head down and hurrying past a giggling cadre of her classmates who pointed at her and talked behind their hands.

By the time she reached her street she almost wept with relief. As the three-story brown townhouse came into view she noted something unsettling--a black limousine parked in front next to her uncle's Cadillac. In fear, she wondered if it was the police, or a private investigator--after all, she had taken off with a fair bit of their money. Would they send her to a correctional school for wayward young women? She'd heard horror stories about them.

Well, anything was better than living on the streets. She determinedly pushed the door open. "Aunt Gemma? Uncle Jim?"

What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Aunt Gemma was wiping her teary eyes, and Uncle Jim was white as a sheet. As she opened the door, his face turned livid with anger. "You are in big trouble, young lady."

But she barely heard him. She was staring at the last person seated at the table, who was the only one smiling.

"Why don't you sit down?" He said in a friendly tone, pulling out a chair.

She stood frozen, ice water traveling down her trembling legs. The place between her legs burned and seared. For one moment, she thought of turning and running, out the door, out of Burlington, out of this nightmare--

"Sit DOWN," snapped her aunt, her voice piercing the horrified silence like a gunshot.

Instinctively Patience went to sit down, as far away from the third man as possible. She kept an eye on the seam of his pants, knowing what was beneath and how much it had hurt her.

"Mr. Borghese here said you tried to rob him," said Aunt Gemma. "You--how could you do something like that? Do you know how serious this is?"

"I--I never--" her tongue was tripping over itself. "I didn't--I didn't do that!"

"Be quiet!" Snarled her uncle, his voice raising into a shout. "You'd best be grateful that Mr. Borghese isn't pressing charges--"

"It's fine, Mr. Garrett," said Mr. Mr. Borghese. The man uncrossed his legs, still smiling that jovial smile. He was wearing a boater hat and a pinstriped waistcoat over a white shirt. His pants matched his coat, and he wore gleaming, well-shined saddle shoes.

His voice made shadows erupt in her mind. Just hearing it brought her back to that night. "A young woman, no parents, no friends in school--it's often that they fall by the wayside, and it's our duty to help them back to the path of righteousness."

"Mr. Borghese has offered to do something very generous. He's offered to take you to Garland City and pay for your education at St. Joseph's Catholic School."

Patience felt like she was on a roller coaster that stopped dead in its tracks. Her body was trying to catch up with her mind by the time she stammered out, "No. I won't."

"You will, because we're fed up with putting up with you. We were within a hairs' breadth of calling the police on you stealing money from us before Mr. Borghese talked us out of it."

She cast him a look of fear. He was staring at her intently, his blue eyes gleaming with triumph and something else that made her shiver. 

"Go upstairs and pack your things. Right now. I never want to see you in this house again. After the generosity we showed you--taking you in after your parents' death--and you repay us by stealing our money and running off."

Mr. Borghese stood up. "Let me come and help her pack. I want to talk to her for a bit. She's a wayward child, but a good one." He took her hand and squeezed, and she tried to yank it out of his grip, but he wouldn't let go, his grip feeling like iron.

He towed her up the stairs, and with every step Patience felt a sickening sense of doom heighten. There was only one room on the top of the stairs--hers--and he pulled the door open and ushered her in.

She stood in the corner of the room, eyes darting from the door to him as he took a seat on the faded quilt of her bed. His carefully manicured nail drew patterns on the embroidery as he kept his gaze on her. "Why are you frowning? Put a smile on that pretty little face, dolce ragazzina."

"Shut up! I hate you! Why are you doing this? Leave me alone! You're a murdering b-bastard and I--"

"Watch your language," he said, his voice a modicum softer. "It's very unladylike to swear. You're going to have to learn that, living with me. There is going to be a lot you have to learn."

She looked down. The floorboards were blurry, and realized there were tears welling in her eyes.

***

Patience folded her clothes carefully, keeping one eye on the blond back of Leonardo's head as he carefully packed her belongings.

She hated him going through her meager possessions, but was too afraid to tell him to stop, in case he hurt her.

He's gonna hurt you anyway, darling. And there's nothing you can do about it.

She heard a gentle chuckle on the other side of the room, and looked over to see Leo holding a box of newspaper clippings

Her anger overcame her fear. "Put that down!"

"Why dolce ragazzina, I had no idea you were this much in love with me! My my, how long have you been collecting these?" He was scanning her newspaper clippings of him, sharp blue eyes filled with mirth.

She tried to snatch them. "Give them back!"

He held them out of her reach, and with his other arm, drew her close. She was pressed against his body now, feeling his warmth, hearing his breathing and listening to the thump of his heart.

She shuddered, every molecule of her body wanting to recoil, but his strong arm kept her in place.

He slowly sat down and gripped her legs to spread them over his lap. Patience was panicking now. The thought that he had been IN her, had made her bleed and hurt, and now he was pulling her into a position where he could do it again, made her spine stiffen and her body begin to instinctively wriggle. "Let me go! Let me go! I'll do anything. Please leave me alone. I'l never seek you out again, I'll burn all my clippings, I'll never go to Garland City again--"

"It's a little late for that," he whispered in her ear. "You're my little girl now. Your aunt and uncle signed you over to me. I can and will do anything I want to you. How does that feel, Pazienza?"

Patience was crying now, repulsed and sick and wanting to just--just run away and hide. She hated his smell, sickly sweet like rotting flowers, and his voice, which was gentle but had nothing beneath it, no modicum of emotion. "Let go... you murderer, you r-r-r-"

"How does it feel that the man who killed your father is going to be your father from now on?"

She stopped struggling. "You knew all along," she whispered. She felt him smile against the nape of her neck as his hand crept up her leg, his long, soft fingers brushing the inside of her thighs. 

"I remember it clear as day, as soon as you told me your name. Were you in the house when I pulled the trigger?"

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She let her head thump against his shoulder. "I saw you. I watched you from the closet."

"Tsk, what a shame. If I'd just seen you, we could have gotten started a lot earlier." He nipped her nape, making her hunch her shoulders.

"Oh. Don't cringe, sweetheart. It won't be so bad living with me. I won't ask you for much. And I'll give you anything you want. How does that sound?"

"Then put a gun to your head," she ground out, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice, "And pull the trigger."

He laughed and let her slide off her lap. "Oh, I see we're going to have problems. You'll learn, and you'll learn soon. You're going to have a very different life with me. A very different life."