#v: dual sole.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[oristian]

THE ELUCIEN MATING BOND

This will be solely focused on the mating bond rejection, as I plan on doing an in-depth analysis later this month [possibly early June] where I break down each book and document symbolism, parallels, and foreshadowing tied to Elain and Lucien. This is just going to be my thoughts on the actual mating bond and the conversation surrounding a potential rejection.

Simply: The bond will not be rejected.

SJM being a fated mates author aside, all the reader has to do is look at, first, the set-up of the spin off series and also the timeline of the last remaining plot arcs. The spin off series is broken into three main books set as dual POV romantic pairings, and a supplemental novella. A Court of Silver Flames took two main cast characters out of the running [Nesta and Cassian] and have left us with Elain, Azriel, Lucien, Mor, Gwyn, Emerie, Eris. As Feyre and Rhysand were the main voices in the original trilogy, they will not have a major POV in the spin off series. That being said, the plot arcs are working as the drivers for the romantic pairings. ACOWAR and so forth has paired Elain and Lucien into the Koschei arc. ACOSF and HOFAS have tied Nesta and Azriel into the same plot with the Dusk Court arc—however, as I mentioned before, Nesta has already had a major POV and will not be repeated. Who else has been built up to have a POV and can also hold ties in Dusk? Gwyn.

Following up, now that we are aware of the plot arcs and the dual POVs for the following books—I surmise the novella will have Mor, Eris and Emerie—now we can get into the rejected mating bond. The main argument surrounding the rejection is broken down into two pieces: SJM speaking about choice in an interview, and Feyre and Azriel questioning the cauldron. The first argument is easy to debunk—SJM did not give a major spoiler in an interview, nor would she do so in an interview that many people would not have access to/would not watch. The second is just as easy to debunk—both Feyre and Azriel came from a place of bias against Lucien. Feyre had just left Spring and associates that and what happened to her sisters with Lucien. Azriel wants a mate and wonders why his brothers have two of the Archeron sisters, but “the third” was given to another male. If the cauldron had been questioned by a third party without direct ties to either Elain or Lucien, that would be a different story.

We do not have enough time left in the series to properly explore a rejected bond. As the rejected bond affects the males more, we would need to explore it in the long term to see how Lucien is dealing with the mental repercussions of such a thing happening. He and Elain will still always have their bond, and we would need to see how they react to that. As this is would be the first mating bond rejection across the Maasverse, a simple, “I reject you,” is not enough with such little information for the reader to understand exactly what happens in the aftereffects. That being said, we would also need Lucien’s POV immediately after Elain rejects the bond to see how he is affected—meaning, Elain and Lucien have to be within the same book. If Elain rejects the bond in a book with Azriel, and the readers have to wait until Lucien’s book, it loses its effect and becomes anticlimactic.

In order for the rejected bond to be impactful, Elain would have to fully explore the bond with Lucien, get to know him, otherwise is would be lackluster for her to immediately reject the bond and end up with Azriel. The bond is just as much Lucien’s as it is her’s.

Finally, allow us to debunk Vassien. Not only is Vassa set up to be endgame with Jurian, it is unrealistic given the circumstances for she and Lucien to be endgame. Lucien would have just been rejected and would be dealing with the aftereffects, will have to still deal with his plethora of plots and Koschei, and somehow fall in love with a human queen who will die in only a handful of decades? On top of that, there is nothing that Vassa can offer to the plot that both Elain and Lucien have not already told us, or will tell us. Vassa is a supplementary character. Elain would have to both get to know Lucien enough to reject the bond in a literary sense, and also set up Vassa to be the next FMC. On top of that, it was Elain who introduced us to Koschei and began that arc—why would Vassa get the credit for defeating Koschei?

Tl;dr — the bond is not getting rejected.

[harleyxhoward]

Analyzing The Abilities of Characters From The Boys Pt. XII

🚹Jordan🚺

Jordan is, by nature, dichotomous. Their ability is a unique form of gendered shapeshifting which is implied to be a byproduct of their bigender identity. When we first meet Jordan, they’re snippy and selfish, focused solely on getting ahead and being applauded for their good work and impeccable scores. As the story goes on, you begin to reveal layers of insecurity and frustration that the world will only ever see them for their superficial identities.

When first introduced to Jordan, they were relaxed in their female form. Interestingly enough, this was most likely due to the fact that Brink knew Jordan was assigned male at birth, and accepted them regardless as both identities they present as. This, as I mentioned earlier with Dean Shetty’s master manipulation of Cate, was most likely the byproduct of a drawn out control tactic to keep Jordan’s success tethered to GodU, and to give Brink a guard dog in the event of…well, exactly what transpired in the first episode.

As we see while Jordan fights, their female form, the result of their own vulnerability typically used when comfortable or in moments of leisure, has the ability to propel people away with some form of telekinetic blast. This may be due to their own insecurities plaguing them with feelings of inadequacy. That initial desire to push people away manifests itself as the ability to do exactly that.

In their male form, they’re seemingly indestructible and super strong, being capable of being shot at point blank and trading blows with Luke and Sam, affirming that Jordan is both strong and versatile in combat.

When the V most likely kicked in, Jordan was probably going through puberty, as many other supes were when their powers manifested. Imagine recognizing that you were bigender and feeling the need to endure the bigotry of your surroundings in hopes of a better future while simultaneously wishing to shove people away. This dual nature manifested in their ability to visibly shapeshift, and yet their parents treat this as a burden, confused as to why Jordan doesn’t just stay a boy indefinitely.

Jordan’s gendered division is most likely rooted in their feelings of men being tough while women are guarded, but I believe that as Marie shows them that it’s possible to love both sides at once, we might see them use their powers interchangeably or even simultaneously.

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Drasna

IT IS FINALLY TIME

NOW DRASNA

General Overview In my heart, I kinda hoped for Dragon Shift Boomburst Noivern, but maybe that was too much to hope for in the general pool.  It’s fine, at least we got Dragalge for some Poison-type...Dragon sync?  Really?  UUUUUUUGH.

Drasna is either exceptional, or kinda sad, depending on how you approach the game and what you want to see.  On the one hand, Drasna comes in packing Draco Meteor damage on par with Lance’s Hyper Beam, and secondary Sludge Bomb damage that only loses to limited pairs.  However, there are conditions to those statements, in the form of (1) being on-type exclusive, and (2) needing an awkward “foe is poisoned” multiplier as a Dragon-type.

Superduper Effective 5 is great, and Super Freebie 9 giving Free Moves Next every on-type hit makes her ideal in Dual Strike.  But only while on-type.  The instant she steps off-type, she loses a ton of damage, and gauges are now a problem.  Drasna does at least carry Team Dauntless, which is great for her and potentially lifesaving to an ally, but her Draco Meteor can miss without investment in the energy or the right partner.  And of course, Toxic.  She has the ability to apply Toxic, which is great, but no Go Viral.  Given her multipliers are reliant on poison, this is...a major problem that slows her down horrifically.  Trainer Move being only +4/+2 also means her needed support is a tad awkward.

Drasna has really good traits, and really sad traits.  I don’t know how I feel about her yet.  I think I’d feel better if her grid were slightly less awkward, but it’s fine.  I think her best trait is...well, the same as literally everyone this month: dual strike.  Free Moves and heavy on-type DPS pressure is great for Dual Strike.  Acting on her own, she can do alright, but you know.  There are some issues.  I think DeNA kinda over-estimates passive Toxic damage outside of stall comps.  Which Drasna doesn’t do well.

EX and Move Level? As a dual strike component whose best multiplier is a natural passive, Drasna can contribute with 1/5 no EX just by spamming Draco Meteor.  But she only gets full accuracy from grid at 2/5, so consider that.  3/5 is when she gets full investment sync, better self-setup, and her DPS multipliers as needed.  They’re nice tools, but it’s debatable how much of it is required.

Team 1: Drasna, SS Brendan/Lodge Dawn, Lucas/SS Leaf Drasna’s Dragon-type damage is a draw, thanks to the massive debuff it can inflict on her that is completely negated because balance.  SS Brendan is a solid partner, kicking in theme skills, approximate desired buffs, and Luster Purge.  On a budget, Lodge Dawn with Mind Games 2 lucky skill is acceptable.  Lucas provides Dragon Zone, Lucian can provide special defense debuffs if you wish though the speed is hilariously unnecessary on-type, but the big name is SS Leaf.  Leaf spreads Toxic AoE on turn 1, packs Sundering, and can heal.  At 3/5, Leaf can also solve Drasna’s accuracy issues, thanks to Hem In.  It’s worth noting, while on-type, even with slower partners, Drasna doesn’t care.  One hit will give her ongoing Free Moves Next.

Team 2: Drasna, BP Janine, H!Iris/Oleana Poison DPS.  BP Janine back at it again with Team Sharp Entry and trainer move with +2 Sp Atk, and a bit of speed and evasion.  This exact combo means Drasna starts blasting turn 2, and critically, Janine starts supplying Toxic Fang Turn 2.  As needed, H!Iris can supply Poison Zone, debuffs if Drasna is the sole focus (for some reason), or Hyper Beam dual offense since Drasna doesn’t consume gauge on-type.  Alternatively, Oleana applies immediate Team Toxic, great survival in offense debuffing, and is herself a pretty good dual striker (though CS conditions need to be reallocated due to both physical and special damage).

Team 3: Drasna, Variety Agatha, SS Leon/Lisia To facilitate Double Dragon DPS, you need a support that can inflict Poison.  And I regret to inform you.  That means you need Variety Agatha.  V!Agatha’s trainer move does easily top off Drasna’s needs, but is also great for SS Leon.  With Team Sharp Entry, she lets Leon reach maximum potential in three moves, and with Ramp Up and an MPR, Leon only need to self-buff speed.  Agatha is guaranteed to Poison with Poison Sting, which is what sets up Drasna’s damage.  If you’re willing to put up with MPR on Agatha’s 1MP trainer move, Lisia is worth talking about.  In CS, Lisia can Defog away Crit Shield for a free 150 points, and the evasion debuff substitutes as boosted accuracy for Drasna, freeing up some grid energy.  Lisia’s sync is worse, but if you have a 1/5 or 2/5 Drasna, she doesn’t mind letting Lisia take sync to apply better DPS pressure.

Team 4: Drasna, Lodge Lillie, Lodge Dawn/BP Clemont Stall Meta Supreme.  Drasna doesn’t contribute much, but she can contribute.  Lodge Lillie complements Drasna with Trap, Attack debuffs, and Synchro Healing.  Lodge Dawn is an ideal partner with the complementary guarantee of special attack debuffing and boosted defenses on trainer move (and boosted evasion on first sync, which she easily takes on stall parameters), but BP Clemont is an option for more hard defense boosting with Synchro Healing.  Lillie can eventually debuff special attack to -6.

Team 5: Drasna, SS Kris/SS Morty, Clair/Zinniquaza/Brendan Have you ever thought to yourself man, it sure does suck that Clair and Brendan and Zinniquaza don’t have Dauntless.  Taking that as a lucky skill really hinders their potential.  Worry no more, because Aunt Drasna is here to solve your problems.  Team Dauntless prevents their special attack drops.  They can run Weathered Warrior 3 now.  This has the horrendous downsides of “They do not function outside of this one team composition,” and “oh god the deluxe lucky cookies you rotate through if you decide to alternate lucky skills based on teams,” but it’s there.  Clair stays losing because she needs paralysis, which isn’t anywhere in this comp but her own Dragonbreath, and it conflicts with Drasna’s need for Poison.  While this is a possibility, I do legitimately think it’s a terrible one.  Drasna’s Team Dauntless is basically cosmetic.

Team 6: Drake, Drasna, Anni Raihan/SS Leon/Lance Dragon focus.  High Score is a mode now!  My initial fear was that Drasna, being so heavily locked to on-type damage, will suffer when this mode comes around.  But I forgot.  Dragon is weak to Dragon.  There’s no way a Dragon-type High Score event comes around, and doesn’t have a stage that is weak to Dragon.  And friends, that will be Drasna’s moment to shine, with DPS on par with Lance.  Drasna’s grid layout is...a little wonky, but can be set up to achieve both sync nodes, both Poison multipliers, Toxic: Ramp Up 2, and the accuracy tiles for Draco Meteor.  With self-sufficiency in special attack, Drasna needs one (1) point of crit.  Enter Drake, who is able to provide Team Sharp Entry and bulk.  From here, the final partner is whoever you think makes the most sense.  Anni Raihan is fast-ramping with Sandstorm, flinch rate with Twister, stacks of moves up next and SEUN application for big sync damage.  SS Leon is the long game.  These modes are bulky and hard to stop, but if Drake can survive through the first sync, Leon can start taking your sync, with a massive boost to his power.  His self-setup is much slower here, but it’s a potential option.  Lance, meanwhile, is your high-investment solution.  5/5 he can cap offenses and start blasting, and is the most consistent solution, because Potion saves Drake’s life. 

Final Thoughts I really wish she at least got Go Viral, and her grid just doesn’t feel that well laid out.  That said, having seen her DPS, and that her sync is at least on par with Lucas of all people...I think I’m satisfied.  This is respectable, and she’ll have a decent place in the new meta.  Especially since, unlike most types?  Dragon is weak to Dragon.  The odds of Drasna having a space in a Dragon-type High Score event is very high.

That said, general pool, don’t break your stash for this, etc etc.  Look, I’ve been waiting for Drasna a long time, but I pay into this game like a rube, and can get her guaranteed at 7500 gems, with full 20/20 benefits.  I’m going for this.  But you shouldn’t.  Be better than me.  Dragon damage is plentiful, and you should look at Oleana before Drasna if you really need Poison.  Oleana is no contest better than Drasna.  And much as I am loathe to admit it, BT Leon is far better at Dragon damage than she is too, given the debuffing and ability to just ignore his burn effect.  Drasna is, at the end of the day, still very much a general pool sync pair.  Who won’t be in the ticket scout because timing.  Thanks for delaying this one, DeNA, really appreciate it.

[lboogie1906]

Attorney Julius W. (Robinson) Robertson was born on (July 23, 1916 - November 4, 1961) was a Civil Rights Attorney who was born to Richard Robinson and Fannie Mae Robinson, who were subsistence farmers.

He joined the Civilian Conservation Corps and was deployed to Gulf Port, where he met and married Nellie Mae Barnes (1936). They had two children.

He enrolled in Howard University in a dual degree undergraduate and law school program. He graduated at the top of his class with a BA and LL.B. He wrote This Bird Must Fly, a book about the adverse impact of segregation on African Americans, by chronicling the racism he experienced under Jim Crow Laws.

Harvard University Law School offered him a full scholarship to pursue an LL.M., which he turned down to support his growing family. He and classmate James Madison Nabrit, Jr., worked in the movement with future Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall and attorney George E.C. Hayes to dismantle segregation through the courts.

He was admitted to the bar in DC in 1949, working as a sole practitioner before establishing the law firm Robertson & Roundtree as the senior and managing partner. In the SCOTUS’ 1952 October Term, he was admitted to practice before the High Court. Besides the initial 1952 case, he would argue other cases in 1954, 1955, 1959, and 1960.

He was the lead attorney on the 1955 precedent-setting case Sarah Keys v. Carolina Coach Company. He and Roundtree took Sarah Keys’ complaint to the Interstate Commerce Commission which on November 7, 1955, ruled that segregated interstate bus travel was banned, an explicit repudiation of the “separate but equal” doctrine in transportation that evolved from the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson Supreme Court decision.

His research provided crucial background for the bill that Kefauver and Rep. Oren Harris (D-Ark.) sponsored to establish a framework requiring drug manufacturers to prove that the medications they developed were safe and effective scientifically. This legislation, which became known as the Kefauver-Harris Amendment, was signed into law by President John F. Kennedy on October 10, 1962. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[handwashonlyco]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SPRING STEP FREDIA SLIP-ON LOAFER in Black Size 43/11.5-12.

[ancientpathwayswitchcraft]

In today's Tarot reading, Apollo's wisdom illuminates the path through the V of Cups, III of Wands, and the reversed King of Cups. These cards guide us in embracing our emotions, looking forward to new horizons, and finding balance amidst emotional turbulence. Join us in exploring how Apollo's guidance can help us navigate life's complexities and uncover deeper truths within ourselves.

[tamrielic]

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS —

〔 only the ones that i have somewhat/fully developed 〕

maevaris telvanni 〔the elder scrolls online〕 – female dunmer | dark elf nightblade・utilizes dual–wielding daggers and a bow・ebonheart pact・disowned by house telvanni・champion of vivec・member of the psijic order・in love with darien gautier

thaesandra caerllin 〔the elder scrolls online〕 – female bosmer | wood elf warden・utilizes bows and a bear summons 〔“bear grylls”〕・werewolf・aldmeri dominion | eye of the queen・follower of the green pact・ silencer of the dark brotherhood・member of house ravenwatch・in love with fennorian

jane shepard 〔mass effect 1/2/3〕 – female commander of the ssv normandy・spacer | sole survivor・biotic | vanguard, utilizes assault rifles / submachine guns・romanced garrus vakarian

kay shepard 〔mass effect 1/2/3〕 – female commander of the ssv normandy・spacer | sole survivor・biotic | vanguard・utilizes pistols / sniper rifles but favors melee / biotics・romanced kaidan alenko

estelle ryder 〔mass effect: andromeda〕 – female pathfinder・biotic | explorer profile・romanced jaal ama darav

mihris mahariel 〔dragon age: origins〕 – female dalish elf warden・rogue archer and dual–wielder・bard & ranger specializations・romanced alistair theirin

ainsley hawke 〔dragon age ii〕 – female human champion of kirkwall・mage | spirit healer specialization・supported mages・romanced anders

mihris lavellan 〔dragon age: inquisition〕 – female dalish elf inquisitor・mage | rift mage specialization・supported mages・romanced solas | fen’harel

charlotte “charlie” hawke 〔dragon age ii〕 – female human champion of kirkwall・rogue | duelist specialization・supported templars・romanced sebastian vael

athera lavellan 〔dragon age: inquisition〕 – female city elf inquisitor・rogue archer | tempest specialization・supported templars・romanced cullen rutherford

candace monroe 〔fallout 4〕 – female sole survivor・general of the minutemen・railroad heavy & codename: agent whisper・utilizes pistols and melee weapons・romanced hancock

petunia murphy 〔fallout 4〕 – female sole survivor・paladin of the brotherhood of steel・utilizes rifles and heavy weapons・romanced paladin danse

patricia smith 〔fallout 76〕 – basically just a lil’ baby disaster gay

valerie “v” valentine 〔cyberpunk 2077〕 – corporate lifepath・utilizes monowire | blade weapons | hacking

ahlysaaria “the dark urge” 〔baldur’s gate 3〕 – female seldarine drow・bard・romanced astarion

updated – june 22nd, 2024

[gadgetsboy]

Leaked Video Shows the Upcoming Sony Xperia 5 V

Smartphone leaks are a gift that keeps on giving - given how tenacious the internet is at finding out new stuff (both officially and unofficially), it only makes sense that we'll get a few snippets of fresh new information about upcoming smartphones. The internet is flooded with various benchmark scores, leaked boxes and packaging, and in today's case, promotional videos. To be more specific, it looks like we now have a clue of what Sony's upcoming Xperia 5 V will look, thanks to a new leaked video on the internet. Based on what we've seen so far, it looks like the handset will come with some pretty interesting design and hardware choices - let's check it out. External Design Posted on Reddit by user JB2unique, the clip (which can be viewed here) shows a rather lively promotional video which highlights the physical design of the phone. As expected, the Xperia 5 V will come with a rather familiar-looking design, as Sony does tend to stick to a similar look for all of its current handsets. This means that the Xperia 5 V will have a rectangular form factor, not unlike the flagship 1 V or even the budget 10 V. The phone will also feature minimal bezels, a design trait that we've seen on countless Xperia smartphones before, so there's no hole punch cameras or notch cutouts here - while some users might complain that such a design makes for a thicker border around the display, this does mean that we're left with a cleaner-looking display overall. The video also shows three different colour choices for the phone, which will be available in either black or white, as well as a third blue variant. At the moment it looks like this is all we'll be getting, unless Sony decides to release an additional colour version later on. Interestingly, the video also shows the rear panel of the Xperia 5 V, which features a dual-camera set-up, a peculiar hardware and design choice especially considering that last year's Xperia 5 IV featured a triple-camera setup, not to mention the triple-camera setup on both the 1 V and the 10 V. While not confirmed yet, it's very likely that the dual-lens array might consist of a main lens and an ultra-wide shooter. Rumoured Specs Based on the video, the promotional material focused solely on the phone's design - no information regarding the phone's hardware specifications, price, or launch date was featured in the video, and unless we get a newer leak soon - or unless Sony makes an announcement - fans still have to be a bit more patient should they want to get their hands on the Xperia 5 V once it launches. With that being said however, early benchmark scores recorded online on Geekbench and subsequently shared on Weibo point to the Xperia 5 V having some pretty impressive hardware, which isn't very surprising given that it fits right below Sony's high-end flagship device range. The V series has always served as a "premium mid-ranger" device or "budget flagship" in terms of pricing, which means we'll very likely get some sweet hardware inside. The leaked benchmark scores also indicate that the phone will come with the Snapdragon 8 Gen 2 chipset, Qualcomm's top-of-the-line SoC for 2023. This will reportedly be backed by up to 16GB of RAM, although there's no mention if this is the standard model or if Sony will offer a more affordable base variant with slightly held back specs. In any case, the Xperia 5 V is shaping up to be a rather impressive-looking Android handset, and if Sony decides to price the phone competitively, we might end up with a proper competitor to devices like the Pixel 7 (or even the Pixel 8). Read the full article

[applb7]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Crocs Rose Gold Capri V Sequin Flip-Flops Size 10.

[kytrust]

Piezo igniter button

#Piezo igniter button portable

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#Piezo igniter button portable

The New Mini Radiate Portable Campfire: The Go-Anywhere Outdoor Fire Pit | Portable and Convenient |. This metal part comes when the plastic button is pressed to short against the piezo crystal.Kidde Carbon Monoxide Detector, AC Plug-In with Battery Backup, CO Alarm with Replacement AlertįLY2SKY Tent Lamp Portable LED Tent Light 4 Packs Clip Hook Hurricane Emergency Lights LED Camping. To these plastics push-button is located a metal part. This without the user runs the risk of electric shock. This allows the piezo ignition can be produced safely. Namely: piezoelectric crystal, metal and plastic. Piezo ignition consists of three different types of materials. An electric spark is usually generated once per turn of the knob or press of the button. Piezo ignition systems can be operated by either a lever, push-button or built into the control knob. No external electric connection is required, though wires are sometimes used to locate the sparking location away from the crystal itself. This sudden forceful deformation produces a high voltage and subsequent electrical discharge, which ignites the gas. Quartz is piezoelectric, which means that it creates a voltage when deformed. It consists of a small, spring-loaded hammer which, when a button is pressed, hits a crystal of PZT or quartz crystal. Piezo ignition uses the principle of piezoelectricity, which, in short, is the electric charge that accumulates in some materials in response to high pressure. Piezo ignition is a type of ignition that is used in portable camping stoves, gas grills and some lighters, potato cannons and other gas appliances. Piezoelectric Ignition is also called Piezo ignition /igniter. Sinopts push button piezo igniter for gas cooker piezo ignition lighter

[likemosaic]

there are times where i look at people and i see nothing worth liking. - for joss from cas

there will be blood.

look at that, kellogg's voice says through the speakers, my old friend, the frozen dinner ... and a little side to go with it. thought i'd iced you, girlie. felt pretty bad about it, for a while ... but i should've known better than to think it'd be that easy. just like you should've known better. joss had kicked his teeth in for that. i'm not your girlie. it hadn't felt good, not righteous. they'd leaned in real close so cas couldn't hear, said, i'll find your family after i'm finished with you. i'll kill them too. but kellogg only laughed harder, swallowing his own teeth, and joss had written him off as deranged because the alternatives were too much to bear.

his blood still sits on their cheek when it's over. they lean against the wall, because standing is too much after hours of fighting synths. whatever kellogg is ... was ... a liar isn't one of them. the institute. they close their eyes, open them when cas speaks. there are times where i look at people and i see nothing worth liking. neither of them are angels anymore, but the protective instincts kick up anyway. joss forces themselves to stand, using one of the monitors as a crutch so they can reach cas, wincing as they walk. no, it's not entirely selfless, the way they try to turn him away. the state of kellogg's face is joss' bloody handiwork, and there's something monstrous about it that they don't want cas to see. they're not sure what's worse: the urge to protect their husband or to please him, even when they know they've already failed at both.

" he's alive. " their voice is raw. joss knows they would do it all again, a billion times more, to get to shaun. they shake cas. " look at me: you were right. he's far away, but he's alive. forget about the rest of it. we're getting our son. " they know with cold certainty that they'd let the minutemen, the railroad, all of it burn into ash for shaun, but cas is less selfish. don't lose your kindness. then we're both fucked, and the commonwealth too.

" check his terminal, see what's on it. i'll search the body. "

[thatesqcrush]

The Auction, Pt. 3

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: Sex work - NSFW, incl. oral, p in v sex and anal, cum shot, spanking, dirty talk. WC: 4.2K

AN: for @storiesofsvu fall challenge using Cardigan lyrics (denoted in bold) by T.Swift

You received half your payment upfront. You stared at your bank account looking at the amount, with more than one comma. Your brand new phone was the one treat you allowed yourself before dedicating the rest to your outstanding bills. You stood in your kitchen in your vintage tee as you took a sip of the Irish Breakfast tea you had made. It had been a couple of days since the auction and you were anxiously awaiting to hear what the plans were from Bryan. You were surprised arrangements hadn’t been already arranged. It felt as if he was playing a game of hide and seek.

You walked over to your couch, before plopping down, tucking your leg under. You set the mug down on the end table before slipping on your favorite old cardigan. You grabbed the dossier in front of you, given to you by Cordelia, and began to read.

Bryan was an only child, born in the 70s. He was originally from Northport along the North Shore of Long Island, known for its extreme wealth and lavish estates. It was home to Jules Olitski, Patti LuPone and Jack Kerouac, amongst others.

Bryan earned a dual degree in economics and poli-sci at Cornell before going to Northwestern for law school. He worked his way through the ranks before becoming Partner at a very well known law firm. There was a section on his likes as well as dislikes, limits (hard and soft), along with a record documenting a clean bill of health.

You finished your tea and closed the dossier. You were heading back to the kitchen when there was a knock on your door. You made way and looked through the peephole - no one was there. There was however a large package with an over the top red bow with a card attached as well as a gift bag.

You looked both ways down the hall and seeing no one, bent down to pick up the bag and box, which was pretty light. You shut the door behind you with your foot and made your way back to the living room. You opened the card first, certain who it was from.

Wear this tonight. A car will come pick you up. Make sure to pack an overnight bag. Dinner is at GT Prime at 8. I look forward to getting to know you. -BK

You undid the bow and then removed the top gently. Pushing the tissue paper past was a sequined dress that left little to the imagination. You laid the dress to the side and peeled back the next layer of tissue which revealed a lingerie set which was the perfect mixture of sweet and sinful. You held the set up and you cocked your brow in response. It featured embroidered silk flowers on tulle with a matching embroidered balconette bra and garter set. You put it back down and opened the bag, which revealed a box that you knew contained red soles. The lid now off revealed a pair of stilettos.

You glanced at the clock and sprung into action. You were surprised at how well everything fit you. ‘How did he know?’ you wondered. By the time you finished getting ready, your nerves were shot. You reached into your liquor cabinet and took a shot of vodka. You squeezed your eyes shut as the liquid burned your throat and then poured yourself another shot. You shook your head and then grabbed your lipstick to reapply it. Before long your high heels were on cobblestones, waiting.

**

Hours later, you were sitting close to Bryan, any nerves completely gone. You had forgotten how handsome he was, completely lost in his green eyes. His cologne wrapped around you like an old cardigan. You listened intently as Bryan detailed how he went to Northwestern Law where he invariably jerked off the entire time he was there but eventually graduated fifth in class. He worked as an ASA post graduate for a while in order to gain trial experience, but left when he discovered the State Attorney was burying evidence.

Bryan gave you a smile as he poured you another glass of wine. “So enough about me; tell me about yourself.”

You responded with a smile of your own. “As if you don’t know everything that there is to know about me.”

“Fair enough.” Bryan replied, taking a sip of his Manhattan.

“Have you done this before?” You asked, of his sensual politics. You crossed your legs, the hemline of the dress creeping up your thighs.

Bryan took another sip of his drink, and paused as if mulling his response. “I’d be lying if I said you were the first.” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “It has been sometime however, since I participated in an auction.”

“What changed?” You asked, as you took a bite of your dessert- a chocolate mousse. You watched as Bryan’s eyes darted to your mouth as you licked your spoon clean. His eyes darkened and in your more relaxed state, you decided to up the ante. You swiped your finger through some of the chocolate and then presented it to him. “You should try. It’s really decadent.”

Bryan captured your finger with his mouth and as his tongue swiped the dessert, your cunt flooded with arousal. You closed your eyes and let out an appreciative sigh, imagining how his tongue would feel in other places.

Bryan let go of your finger and looked at you intensely. “What changed was that no one piqued my interest until you came along. I am not a well liked man. I have more money than those assholes out there - and they know it. It’s nice to put them in their place every once in a while. They hate it.”

“Oh.” You replied softly. “So you were going to—“

“I was going to outbid them no matter the price. You intrigued me. Ever since I saw you that one time.”

“I intrigued you?” You ask again, your voice hitching slightly. You hadn’t noticed but you were leaning closer into Bryan’s embrace.

Bryan’s fingers curled and they stroked down your cheek before stopping at your chin where he continues to stroke softly. “That time when you were with your friend. Your sequin smile lingered in my mind like a tattoo.”

You flushed under his gaze and it was in that moment, the waiter came by. “Can I get you another round of drinks?”

Bryan looked up and reached into his jacket to pull out his wallet. He handed his credit card over. “No, we’ll be heading out.”

**

The nature of the auction instructed that a neutral location with security details as required in case of anything. The Peninsula was a 5 star hotel with nods to its Asian roots, including an entrance flanked with Chinese marble lions and gold ceiling frescoes.

Bryan’s hand rested on the small of your back as the elevator rose to the penthouse of the hotel. The elevator signaled its stop and Bryan let you out first before walking out himself.

You let out a low whistle as you walked into the room itself. The room was even more glamorous with pops of platinum and gold, furnished terraces, a black granite fireplace, and huge soaking tub. The bedroom itself featured crystal fixtures, floor to ceiling windows and a plush, sumptuous king-sized bed. Your overnight bag was next to the end of the bed.

“Anything to drink?” Bryan asked.

You shook your head. “No thank you.”

“You don’t mind if I do then?” Bryan asked as he approached the bar cart. You shook your head once more.

“I’m going to change then.” You continued. Bryan nodded, setting down his drink and removing his own jacket.

You went to the bathroom and slipped on the set Bryan had purchased. You kept the heels on and made sure the garter clips were fastened correctly. You brushed your teeth and then reapplied your lipstick before tussling your hair. When you re-entered the bedroom, you found Bryan sitting across the bed on the loveseat. His legs were spread wide with one large hand resting by the noticeable bulge in his pants. There was a darkness to his sex appeal and you felt yourself growing aroused.

You took a seat at the foot of the bed, with your arms propped behind you. You crossed one leg over the other and hoped you’re coming off as seductive.

“Now what?” You asked.

“Remember, whatever happens tonight - if you want to stop, I’ll stop.”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Bryan replied, walking over. “Now gorgeous, I’d like for you to lay down and spread your legs.”

You did as he said, spreading your legs apart. Bryan shifted so he was nestled between them. His fingers traced over your covered pussy, feeling the heat and dampness. Bryan’s eyes met yours and you licked your lips in response.

Bryan pulled your thong to the side and used his fingers to spread your folds apart, revealing your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, and your skin goosebumped feeling his breath on your most intimate part. Your heart thumped hard in your chest in anticipation of his next move. Bryan took a deep inhalation of your musky scent and then his mouth was on you. You threw your head back as his mouth devoured your pussy, sucking, slurping, and licking as if he were a man possessed. Your hand threaded into his dark hair, gripping as you undulated your hips against his face.

“Oh shit, yes!” You hissed. “Just like that.”

Bryan let out a hum as he pressed your thighs further apart, deepening his tongue inside your pussy. Your other hand clenched the sheets. You couldn’t believe how good this man was at eating pussy - actually you could believe it, the man was pure sex on legs.

Bryan removed his face from your pussy, to take a breath and then suck a dark mark into your thigh. He reached for a strap of your thong and tugged, the material ripping. You were left in the garter and hosiery.

“Leave them on.” Bryan growled, standing. You looked up at him, and nodded. You sat up and unhooked your bra, tossing it to the floor. Bryan made quick removal of his own clothes. Your eyes trailed his neatly trimmed chest and the dark trail that went down his abdomen before disappearing at the waistband of his boxer briefs.

You eyed the large bulge contained in the briefs and your mouth filled with saliva at the idea of sucking a big cock like his.

Bryan watched as your eyes trailed and he let out a satisfied grunt, his hand gripping his cock hard. “Is this what you want?”

You looked up at him and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then get down here like a good girl.” Bryan commanded.

You scrambled off the bed, and began to walk, when he held a hand up. “No. Crawl.”

A jolt of excitement went through you. Any other time, your feminist ideals would have turned your nose to such a request. ‘How degrading.’ You would have thought. But here in your current situation, it was incredibly hot and you wanted nothing more than to prove your worth.

You sat on your calves in front of him, your hands on your thighs, waiting. Bryan smiled down at you, and his hand ran through your hair. “Good girl.” Part of him wondered if all went well tonight, if you’d be willing to wear a collar.

You beamed in response.

“Take my briefs off.”

Silently you reached for the waistband, feeling the heat of his skin radiating off. You hooked your fingers onto the sides and tugged. Bryan’s cock, large and erect, sprung with force and assertion. You tugged more, revealing a set of large, heavy balls.

“Open your mouth.” Bryan instructed. You complied immediately and he dragged your bottom lip down with his thumb before he pushed it into your mouth and ran it along your tongue. You closed your eyes and began to suck again.

“Keep your eyes open.” Bryan commanded as he removed his thumb from your mouth.

You opened your eyes and raked back up the expanse of taut, tanned muscle to his face. Bryan looked down at you, his seafoam green eyes were blown with lust.

He reached for his erection, fisting it slowly. He dragged the head of his heavy cock across your lips and instinctively your lips parted, ready to take his length into your mouth.

Bryan rubbed his cock along your lips again. “Open wider.” You did as told and he fed you his cock slowly, until your nose brushed against his trimmed pubic hair. Your mouth ached, pushed past its usual limit. Saliva began to exit the corners of your mouth.

Bryan withdrew and smacked his cock against your cheek before shoving his cock back into your mouth. His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth and you relaxed your throat to take him deeper.

“Good girl. Now get to work.”

You set yourself to task, planting your hands on his thick thighs, bobbing on his length. Your tongue traced every meaty vein before you flicked your tongue against his slit.

Bryan grunted in response. You removed your hands from his thighs and began to use your hands to work his length along with your mouth. He was thick and your fingers could only wrap around so much.

You looked up at him through your lashes as you worked your mouth over his length. His face twisted in pleasure as he gripped the back of your head. You twisted your hand around his base as you worked him over and over.

“Oh fuck, that’s it sweetheart.” He encouraged, his voice deep and gritty. “Don’t stop, don’t stop…take it all.”

Obscene wet slurping sounds filled the room. You used a hand to jerk him so you could dip your head to take his balls into your mouth, sucking on them before tracing your tongue along the seam. Bryan’s hand wrapped in your hair and he pulled you back up onto his cock, where you resumed blowing him with enthusiasm. Your lipstick was a smeared ring along the length of his cock.

“Such a good cocksucker.” Bryan praised as the muscle in his thighs trembled. He could vaguely recall a time that someone seemed so eager to blow him - paid or not. His length was usually intimidating for most and most gave up after a few minutes. Instead, you kept at it, bobbing on length, using your hands in tandem.

Your cunt ached to be touched, your arousal dripped down your thighs. All you wanted to do was reach down and give yourself a little release but you didn’t dare disobey the task given.

You released Bryan with a gasp and then a chuckle. Your cheeks were stained with dark streaks from your mascara, your eye makeup smudged, your lips mostly bare. You let the spit dribble between your lips and his cock before you gave him a wicked smile.

Bryan yanked you up by your arms, so you were standing facing him. His hand wrapped around your neck and he pulled you into a deep kiss. Your lips mashed against one anothers, all teeth and tongue. Hands grasped and grabbed at each other’s bodies, exploring.

You let out a moan as Bryan moved his attention to your neck, finding purchase among your sweet spot.

Bryan’s hands grabbed at your ass, squeezing and rolling the fat of your flesh between his fingers, before he laid a spank on your ass. You had one hand still threaded in his hair, as the other jerked his cock.

“Fuck me.” You pleaded shamelessly. “Shoot your cum deep inside me.”

Bryan removed his mouth from your neck, admiring the dark mark that was blooming. He gripped your face hard, his eyes meeting yours. “Get that pretty pussy on the bed. All fours.”

You nodded and turned back to the bed. Another smack was laid on your ass and you let out a squeal. You positioned yourself on the bed, facing the headboard. You felt the bed dip with Bryan’s weight as he positioned himself behind you. Bryan’s hands ran over the curves of your ass, gripping tightly before he spread your cheeks open.

“Before the night is over, I’m going to fuck your ass.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “God, I fucking hope so.”

Bryan chuckled darkly as he gripped his cock and ran it between your cheeks. At some point you realized he must have grabbed lubricant, as you felt something cool drizzle all over ass. Bryan took some of the lube and slid two fingers into your cunt, which clenched around him tightly. “Greedy little cunt.”

Bryan finger fucked you with gusto, creating squelching sounds from the combination of the lube, his earlier saliva, and your own arousal.

You pushed back onto his hand, desperate for more. Bryan withdrew and you let out a whine which then turned into a moan as he slid the head of his cock inside of you. “Oh my God! Oh fuck!” You cried out.

Bryan gripped your hips and pulled you onto the full length of his cock, bottoming quickly. He barely gave you time to adjust, as his hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to fuck you. His balls slapped against your pussy as he pounded you. You gripped the bed tightly, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. You let out a deep moan, as his cock abused your pussy, hitting your cervix with every deep thrust. Bryan was certainly the largest man you’d ever been with and you knew you’d feel it come morning. But you didn’t care. In that moment, you were getting dicked down in the best possible way, the way you were sure it was done in pornos.

“Yes, yes, give me that big cock. You’re gonna me come!” You cried out. Sweat dripped off your bodies. Bryan placed one hand on the small of your back, pushing you lower, so you were at more of an angle. His teeth gnashed as he watched his cream coated cock disappear in and out of you.

“Take it!” Bryan growled with every stroke. “Tell me who owns this pussy!”

“You do, you do, you do!” You babbled incoherently, as you allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasure. Bryan withdrew and you whined.

Bryan threw himself onto his back and you took the hint. You hooked your leg over his, gripping his cock to line it up with your entrance. You let out a moan as you seated yourself fully. You felt so full with his cock - you were pretty sure you were ruined for anyone else. Bryan’s hand was on your abdomen. “I know it sounds crazy, but I can feel my cock in you.”

The very idea of that - true or not - sent a shiver down your spine and you began to roll your hips. Bryan’s hands were on your hips, guiding you as you rode him. Your tits bounced and Bryan contemplated how good they’d look with a pearl necklace. Your hands gripped his chest hard, with your nails leaving crescent marks on his skin. Bryan lifted up slightly to take one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking. His free hand gripped your other breast, rolling and tugging your nipple under his thumb.

“Yes, fuck, suck my tits. I fucking love it!” You cried out. Bryan moved his mouth to your other breast, repeating his action.

Bryan pulled you closer to him, smothering himself with your breasts as he planted his feet onto the bed, jackhammering into you. You managed to slip a hand between your bodies and you rubbed your clit. Pleasure overtook you and you squeezed your eyes shut, letting out a deep walk as you came hard.

You had barely come back to surface when you no realized you were on your back, Bryan covering your body with his. Each leg was on a shoulder. Bryan’s cock easily slid back into you. You arched in response, as Bryan chased his own release. Each and every stroke ripped a guttural moan from you. Bryan was relentless with his thrusts, pumping in and out of you.

Your fingers found your clit, swollen and needy. You rubbed in haphazard circles frantically, but you knew it wouldn’t take long. Sure enough, another orgasm crested over you and you cried out Bryan’s name once more. Bryan slowed down and withdrew once more.

Your mind was fuzzy and you had a hard time focusing your vision as your body tingled. You felt more lube being poured over you and without being gold, you knew to hook your arms around your thighs, drawing them closer to your chest.

Bryan spat on your asshole as well and used the combination of lube and spit to work your ass open. Your ass welcomed the intrusion. You had anal plenty of other times, so it wasn’t anything new or alarming. In fact, you had almost anticipated it happening, so you had prepared earlier by cleaning your ass.

Bryan groaned as his cock slid into your ass with ease. “So fucking tight, goddamn.” He grunted as sweat dripped off of him.

“Yes, yes, fuck my ass, give it to my tiny asshole.”

Bryan felt his balls draw upward and he knew he was about to come. He withdrew and began to jack his cock furiously. He let out a series of grunts and groans, as you felt his hot seed decorate your pussy and ass.

You expected him to flop onto his back, but instead he was back nestled in between your legs. Bryan lapped your folds, the taste of your cream combined with his salty cum flooded his mouth. His tongue swirled over your cunt and swollen nub as more of your arousal flooded his mouth. You gripped the sheets, feeling another orgasm approach quickly. “I could eat you for hours. You have the sweetest little pink pussy.” Bryan confessed before delving back in, holding you tighter to his face. He shook his face back and forth and you cried out, your whole body trembling. Bryan licked you clean, until you were an overstimulated mess, pushing his head away.

You laid there panting, completely spent. Bryan laid there next to you, also spent but after a beat, got up and went to the bathroom. He returned with a warm, wet washcloth and handed it to you. You murmured a thanks and quickly cleaned yourself before heading to the bathroom to prevent a UTI.

When you came back, Bryan was sitting up in bed, covers on. He was wearing glasses and reading something on his phone. In a way, he appeared totally domestic and your heart did a tiny flip. You were unsure as to what to do.

“I can - um - head out, if you’d like.”

Bryan looked at you, removing his glasses in the process. “Nonsense. I was hoping you’d stay, have some breakfast in the morning and maybe have another go.”

A jolt of pleasure went through you. “I’d like that, but who says we have to wait until morning for another go?”

Bryan chuckled. “Sweetheart, I like the way you think. Now c’mere...”

Two years later

You spun in your desk chair and faced the young woman in front of you. “Tell me about yourself. On paper you seem like the perfect candidate. But here, we like to get to know our investments a bit more personally.”

The young woman smiled and you could tell she was nervous. She began to talk about herself, explaining her situation and why she would be an amazing fit.

Her eyes flitted to the ring on your finger with a sizable rock on it. You followed her gaze and gave her a soft smile.

“I bet you’re wondering how I could be doing something like this - exploiting young women in exchange for money.”

Her eyes met yours and her face was beet red.

“See, to run this effectively, it takes someone who knows and understands what it’s like to be treated as nothing more than a victim. The way I see it is that us women are taken advantage of in so many ways, whether it be by a man or a predatory creditor. The auction is simply an opportunity for you to prevent yourself from being a victim any further. Instead, you are to be empowered. Know your worth. Once you know the dynamic, no one can ever try to take advantage of you any further.”

The young woman nodded. You gave her another smile. “I just know that you’re going to enjoy yourself and make a lot of money in the end.”

Your phone buzzed and you turned it over to see who it was. “Well, I have to get going. I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow. We’ll need to finish your screening and we’ll get you acquainted with one of our personal shoppers. The big day will be here before you know it.”

You stood and let her out, before grabbing your purse. You bid goodbye to the rest of your staff before taking the elevator down. You paused to look at the ring on your finger and then at your reflection. You felt a wash of pride come over you.

You walked out of the building and stepped out onto the street, your heels clacking against the concrete. An unmarked car pulled up, and the darkened window rolled down.

“Need a ride sweetheart?”

You met the piercing green eyes of your fiancé. “Bryan, with you, that sentence is never as innocent as it’s supposed to be.”

Bryan gave you a wicked smile before opening the door. “It’s not supposed to be.”

-FIN-

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @dreamlover31 @prurientpuddlejumper @sass-and-suspenders @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @greeneyedblondie44 @mommakat32 @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @ottosuricato @bananas-pajamas @law-nerd105 @storiesofsvu @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @wanniiieeee @blueberryt @crowfootwrites @emandems10 @berniesilvas @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @resparza @chunex @chasingeverybreakingwave @itsjustmyfantasyroom @bisexual-dreamer02

[viking-raider]

HILL MANOR - Part V + Epilogue

Summary: You attend your first real ball. Henry and you share a common vision that ends up helping break the curse that could result in his death. You finally find out who murdered your father.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 14,702

Part: I II III IV

Rating: M - Language, Blood, Light Smut, Angst, Fluff, Cotton Candy Goodness, Nightmares, Happy Ending, Outlander and Sherlock Holmes Quotes

Inspiration: I’ve been wanting to do a Fic like this for some time.

Author’s Note: Thanks to the lovely @wondersofdreaming for being an excellent ear and genius to brainstorm with and beta this. You’re amazing! Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @agniavateira, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernaturalhero, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @henrycavill-yes, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @elixasays, @magdelen69, @a-wxnderless-mind​, @cosmoeticss​, @inanna999​, @coloraturadiva​, @alexakeyloveloki​ @henry-owns-these-tatas​, @kinbhot4henners​, @escalatorpeep​

The carriage pulled up out front of the Manor and you smiled seeing the Cavill family crest on the door, the well-dressed and immaculate driver in his seat at the front and the groom, who stepped off the back of the carriage to open the door for you and Henry. Henry appeared beside you, dressed sharply, and smiled at you, seeing your giddiness to attend your first proper ball. He kissed your cheek and stepped into the carriage with you and the driver got the horses going.

“Are you ready, my dove?” Henry asked, stepping out of the carriage and offering his hand to you.

“I am.” You replied, taking his hand and stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the grand house of architect, John Douglas, who had just finished moving into the house after two years of building it in his signature and popular fashion.

“Wow, it's really gorgeous.” You commented on it.

“That it is.” Henry agreed, looping his arm with yours, your hand resting on his forearm as you walked up, the sound of music and people flowing out of the open double doors.

You couldn't help the wonder in your big and bright eyes, it was like nothing you had seen before. The house was so grand, it was big and spacious, the endless sea of candles made the marble floors glitter with the Douglas family crest in tile on the floor, huge crystal and gold, twenty-eight candle chandeliers were in nearly every room, the rugs and tapestry were the finest Turkish and Persian that could be found and bought, gold sconces lining the walls at appropriate distances, two dual spiral staircases of highly polished ash wood with wrought iron banisters gave the foyer and cavernous feel in all its splendor. Henry grinned at your almost child-like wonder and excitement over the house, like you opened the best present under the Christmas tree.

“Ah!” A voice called, startling you out of your amazement and your eyes found Elizabeth Edmunds-Douglas, John's wife, the pair who had been married shortly before you and Henry married, after a three year courtship. “Mr. and Mrs. Cavill, how lovely of you to make it.” She cooed at you both, kissing cheeks with you, in greetings.

“It was very nice of you to invite us, Mrs. Douglas.” You replied, returning her greeting.

“Oh, by all means, please call me Effie.” She laughed, playfully slapping you on the arm.

“I'm going to see if one of my brothers are here.” Henry said, bringing his mouth close to your ear. “Will you be all right?” He whispered, glancing at your eyes.

“I'll be fine.” You assured him, kissing his cheek.

“Madam.” He smiled at Effie, bowing his head politely, before vanishing into the crowd.

“I absolutely love your dress.” Effie exclaimed, looking you over.

You were wearing a blue-gray, sleeveless, off the shoulder and patterned ball gown, matching ribbons in your hair and tied in a bow around your wrists, the turquoise and cooper dangling earrings Henry had bought you hung from your earlobes, with the newest addition to your jewelry box; an oval Ceylon and white sapphire pendant necklace, tying in the rest of your outfit with silvery-gray flats. You and Heather had scoured catalogs and dressmaker shops for the latest fashions for dresses, then had the dress you were wearing made in time for the ball at the Douglas's.

“Thank you so much.” You blushed, nodding your head to her, graciously.

“So, tell me.” Effie lowered her voice and leaned in closer to you. “Is it true, your father was murdered?” She asked, eyes panning around as if she was going to find the killer in the crowd.

“I-”

“Y/n!” Heather's voice chimed behind you. “You look amazing” She complimented you, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Oh, hello, Effie.” She smiled at the hostess, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “It's such a lovely party you have going tonight, and the house is so marvelous.”

You let out a soft breath of relief, grateful that Heather saved you from an awkward and painful conversation, that Effie would no doubt go and recount to the rest of the ladies at the party. Heather's stealthy glance at you, tells you that she knew where Effie was going, and you gave her a soft and thankful smile. Heather stayed by your side as Effie showed you both where the ladies were congregating, you took a glass of wine from the platter a waiter was carrying around the various occupied rooms and sat down in a comfortable chair in the circle of ladies, listening to them talk about household issues, fashion ideas, books they had read, their children and whatever else came up. You were really enjoying yourself, the camaraderie in the group of ladies, they were warm and welcoming to you, not like the parties your parents threw at Long Haven where everyone ignored you like the plague or did their best to be rude and impolite.

“Y/n, you and Mr. Cavill are just recently married, were you not?” one of the ladies, Mona, asked, turning her attention to you.

“Yes.” You nodded, taking a fortifying sip of your wine. “We've been married two months this week.” You informed her, nervously licking your lips.

“How are you finding it?” She asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Marriage?” You frowned at her. “I am finding it quite well. I rather enjoy being married, especially to Henry. He's very loving and attentive of me.”

“So, you suggest it?” Mona continued, and you felt like she was trying to trap you into something.

“I do, if you find the right man.” You replied, standing your ground and giving her a look that told her you weren't going to play a childish game with her.

Mona dropped whatever it was she was trying to pull out of you and the conversation turned back to something more lively and appropriate. It wasn't long afterwards, though, the dancing started and the husbands appeared to whisk their wives away to the dance floor. You smiled at Henry as you took your place on the dance floor with him, glad to be in his presence again.

“How are you enjoying yourself?” He asked, taking the lead as you danced.

“Very much.” You assured him, relaxing under his hands and guidance. “Are you?” You asked back.

“Not as much.” He replied with a smirk.

“And why is that?” You asked, lifting a brow.

“Because, I'd rather enjoy the night with you.” He confessed, an impish glint in his eyes.

“Then, why don't you?” You giggled up at him.

“I think I will.” He purred, bending his head to kiss you lightly on the lips. “Would you like a glass of champagne?” He asked, when the song ended.

“I would, thank you.” You nodded, moving off the dance floor with him.

“I'll be right back, then.” He smiled, kissing your cheek and going off to fetch some.

You shivered as a cold chill streaked down your back and turned around, expecting an open window, but instead found, with a startled gasp, the milky whiteness of an apparition. You could see your reflection in the tall, gilded wood mirror behind him, he was mostly solid from the head to the very top of his thin shoulders, then slowly became less so, until his mid-waist, where his hips and legs vanished completely. The only color on him was his black eyes and the floating wisps of blood from the gaping wound from a slit in his throat; his obvious cause of death.

He opened his contorted mouth and made a god awful sound that made your skin heat up and crawl, taking a deep breath you turned on your heels and headed straight out the open veranda doors and into the backyard of the Douglas estate, the white gravel crunching under the thin leather soles of your flats. Henry returned, holding the two glasses of champagne he promised, but found you not where he had left you. Setting the glasses down on a nearby table, he panned the room for you and just caught a split glimpse of you quickly retreating along the walkway looping the back garden.

Frowning, Henry made his way out there, using the advantage of his long legs to catch up with you. “Y/n?” He called out, when he was close enough, not wanting to startle you.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to look back at him and allowing Henry to see the frustrated expression on your face and the glassy darkness of your eyes. “I just needed some air. I didn't mean to abandon you.” You told him, your voice weak with unshed tears.

Henry shook his head at the silly notion. “Nonsense.” He assured you, brushing the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “What is it?” He asked, concerned.

“Just one night.” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Just one bloody night, that's all I ask. One night without them bothering my peace and happiness.”

“Hm.” He nodded, pressing his lips together, understanding immediately. “I must admit, I didn't think there would be one, in such a new house.” He commented, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow and continued walking with you.

“I'm not sure it is the house, more the grounds.” You elaborated, catching the sight of a small child, standing at the edge of the treeline surrounding the house and grounds. “Was there a house here, before Mr. Douglas owned the land?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Yes, I believe so.” Henry replied, his brow creasing as he thought it over. “It was smaller and didn't contain as much land, as it does now. If I remember correctly, a widow lived here by himself after his wife died and his children moved away, but that was some years back.” He explained to you, the crease melting away as he looked down at you.

“Makes sense.” You answered, resting your shoulder against his.

“How about one more dance, then we'll return home.” Henry suggested, looking up at the darkening sky and bright thumbnail moon.

“I don't want to ruin your fun.” You replied, looking up at him, troubled.

“My love, my fun and happiness is wherever you are.” He smiled at you, pulling you to a stop and cradling your head in his hands. “I love you.” He whispered, kissing you softly on the lips. “So very much.”

“I love you, just as much.” You whispered back, returning his kiss.

You hummed happily, as you lay naked on top an equally naked Henry, back at home in the perfect bliss of your bed chambers. Fingertips tracing circles and swirls over his chest and collarbone, ear pressed to the space above his heart, the steady and strong beat so reassuring and soothing.

“You are so beautiful.” Henry whispered, breaking the peaceful silence between you, brushing his fingers through your loose hair and chuckled as you blushed. “What? It's true.”

“Oh, I believe you.” You giggled, resting your chin on his chest, to look up at him.

“Then, why are you blushing?” He laughed, touching his fingertips to your warmed cheek.

“I don't know.” You replied, blushing even harder.

Laughing again, Henry rolled over and wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing at your neck and chest. You sighed softly, melting beneath him, brushing your fingers through his sweat damp curls and over his back, gripping his thrusting hips. Spent between attending the ball and staying up to the wee hours of the morning, you and Henry fell soundly asleep in each other's arms, content and satisfied.

You gasped, eyes shooting open and gulped down the thick wad of anxiety that had formed in your throat, then relaxed back against your pillow, the nightmare you were having still all too real and fresh in your mind. Sighing and glancing at Henry from the corner of your eye, he laid on his stomach beside you, arms folded under his head. You threw back the covers, pulled on a robe and went downstairs to the kitchen, not bothering to wake Abby, as you made yourself a glass of warm milk and started back upstairs with it. A bang somewhere, either outside or in, startled you, causing you to drop the full glass.

“Christ.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at your own silliness, you knelt down to start picking up the pieces of broken glass.

“Niece.”

“Good God.” You jerked and accidentally cut your finger with a piece of glass, blood dripping into the spilled milk. “Helena.” You sighed, glaring up at her as she stood in the doorway of the sitting room. “How are you even here?” You asked, annoyed with her persistence in troubling your life and marriage.

“Ruby Red.” Helena hissed back at you, then vanished as Abby's footsteps came into the room.

“Milady, are you well?” She asked, standing behind you.

“Yes.” You nodded, dropping your eyes back to the floor. “I just came down for some warm milk, and accidentally dropped the glass.” You told her, standing up.

“You've cut yourself.” Abby gasped, taking your bloody hand in hers.

“Very clumsy of me, I know.” You frowned back.

“Come, allow me to bandage it for you.” She begged you, pressing a handkerchief from her pocket around it. “I'll clean this mess up afterwards.”

“Very well.” You nodded, giving into her well meaning gesture.

Abby guided you back into the kitchen and had you sit down on a stool, at the long table there and disappeared for a moment, coming back with a small roll of bandages and a small vial of antiseptic. “It will sting for a moment.” She warned you, uncorking the vial and pouring a bit of it on your cut, making you hiss and tense up in response.

“My apologies, milady.”

“It's not your fault, Abby.” You assured her, watching her carefully bandage your finger.

“Are you all right, milady?” Abby asked again, moving about the kitchen and pulling out a teapot, filled it with water and set it on the stove to heat. “You seem very troubled, if I may be so frank.”

“You may.” You nodded, picking at the edge of your bandage.

“Is it with my Lord?” She dared to ask, brewing you both a cup of tea.

“Gods no.” You shook your head at her. “Henry's incredible. He's very doting, loving, attentive and supportive of me, in all things. I have only ever felt love and devotion from him.” You assured her, gratefully taking the steaming cup from her and nodding your head to the stool beside you.

“Then, what troubles you so?”

You chuckled, sipping your tea, if only this woman knew and understood the things you toiled with, you thought, glancing out the open kitchen door to the spilled milk and blood on the foyer floor. No matter where you went or were going, there was always a ghost stalking you, lurking over your shoulder; whether they said anything to you or not, and most of the time they didn't need to, you just felt it, as if it was your own.

“By my father's death, mostly.” You finally admitted, you had been so consumed in trying to find out the cause and resolution of the Curse, that your father's death and his murderer, still at large, had been pushed to the back of your mind, but it still nagged you in every way possible. “I fear that his killer will never be found and put to justice. That his poor soul will forever be restless.”

Abby frowned down at her cup, pressing her lips together. “I can not say I understand your pain, though I understand the loss of a father. My own father died, when I was just a wee lass of eight.”

“How did he die?” You inquired, lifting a brow at her.

“Consumption.” She sighed, taking a sip of her tea. “Took him quickly, but painfully.”

“I am so sorry.” You frowned, resting your hand on hers. “It isn't easy losing a loved one.”

“That it is not, milady.” Abby nodded, warmed by your kind affection. “I will pray, before returning to bed, that your father's spirit will find his just rest.”

You smiled gently at her, squeezing her hand. “I thank you, and will do the same for yours.” You promised.

After finishing your tea and thanking Abby for her kindness, you went back upstairs to bed, but frowned finding Henry laying on his back and blankets kicked off his naked body in agitation, throwing his head side to side with an expression pinched in anguish and distress, a heavy sweat pouring from his forehead. You quickly crawled into bed with him, wiping his face with the sleeve of your robe and rubbed his heaving chest.

“Ssshh, my love.” You cooed at him, affectionately, brushing his damp curls off his forehead as more droplets of sweat collected there. “It's all right, my sweet puppy.” You stroked the side of his face, trying to soothe and calm him. “It's only a dream.” You murmured, kissing his cheeks.

“No!” Henry suddenly screamed, bolting up right.

“It's all right, Henry.” You called to him, hugging him with one arm and rubbing his back with the other, feeling him shiver against you, the cool air of the room wafting over his sweaty body. “Ssshhh, you're all right now, Puppy.” You cooed at him, kissing his hair and temple, gently.

Henry panted and gasped for air.

“Come, lay your head, man.” You whispered to him.

Turning in your arms, Henry wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down on the bed and laid half over you, his face pressed to your chest, taking slow deep breaths, calming himself with the warmth of your body and the scent of your skin. You relaxed, cuddling and cradling his muscular body against your dainty one, rubbing the back of his tousled hair with the palm of your hand and humming a soft tune that Grace would hum to you, when you had a nightmare.

“I'm sorry.” Henry whimpered against the skin of your breast, nuzzling his head between them. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

You chuckled softly, running your fingers from his forehead to the nape of his neck. “I was already awake, love.” You assured him, soothingly. “What were you dreaming of?”

“Blood.” He sighed, pressing his ear to your ribcage, to the beating of your heart. “Blood, that was everywhere,--”

“Leaking from the walls and dripping from the ceilings, filling the room like a pond.” You added in, your eyes losing focus as you remembered the nightmare that had woken you, an hour before.

Henry tilted his head back to look up at you. “You had the same dream?” He asked, surprised.

“I did.” You nodded, licking your lips. “But,” You sighed and shook your head. “It's just a dream, Puppy. None of it is real, don't let it bother you now.” You whispered to him.

“And you?” Henry purred back, squeezing his arms around your waist.

“I'm used to such things, love. You know that.”

“Doesn't make it any better, Nugget.” He replied, a teasing smile on his full lips.

“No, but it'll do.” You chuckled, kissing his forehead and thinking about what Helena said to you downstairs.

Ruby Red.

Whatever was she hinting at?

“You'll be back as soon as I can!” Henry called out to you as he got ready to head out the door.

“That's fine!” You called back to him, getting dressed for the day.

“What do you have planned today?” He asked, popping into the room and searching for something.

“I'm going over to Manchester.” You replied, adjusting your skirts.

“What for?” Henry frowned, pausing for a second to look at you.

“To visit a library.” You elaborated, satisfied with your skirts and turned to look back at him.

“We have a library here in Chester, Manchester is an hour away, both ways.” He pointed out, shaking his head as he continued his search for whatever he wanted.

“I know, but Chetham's Library has something specific I want and being the oldest library in Britain, it's libel to have it. I'm sure they have it, I sent a telegram to them a few days ago inquiring about it and they sent me a reply yesterday afternoon to express they had it in stock and would hold it for me.” You explained to him, watching him move about the room.

“What are you looking for?”

“My cuff-links.” He huffed, frustrated.

“They're where you left them, you silly boy.” You chuckled, going to the drawer of his desk and pulled out the silver links with his initials. “You put them there after the Morris' party last week.”

“What would I do without you?” Henry smirked as you secured his cuff-links.

“Probably be half naked and disheveled.” You giggled.

“I love you.” He smiled, cupping your face in his hands and kissed you, holding you close for a long moment.

You rested your hands on Henry's waist and stood there with him, feeling the warm and safe bubble that always formed around you both, when you were in close proximity. “I love you too.” You whispered back. “And might I add, you look absolutely dashing in a three-piece suit?” You said, looking him over in the navy blue three-piece suit with a charcoal gray dress shirt.

“So handsome.” You hummed, biting your lip.

“As long as you think so.” Henry chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Be careful on your way to Chetham's.” He added, stepping away from you to take his jacket back up off the end of the bed.

“I will.” You assured him, taking up your hat, pinning it in your hair and headed out to the carriage waiting to take you to Manchester. “Morning, Brandon.” You smiled at the driver as he handed you inside.

“Morning, Mrs. Cavill.” Brandon smiled back, closing the carriage door after you and hopped up into the driver's spot.

The hour's drive to the library in Manchester wasn't altogether unpleasant, you had never seen this part of England before and it was nice to see the rolling hills and small towns you went through on your way there, you felt the small world you were locked in for so long start to expand around you. You didn't think it was possible to feel any freer than you had already in marrying Henry, but found it pleasant to be proven wrong.

“I shouldn't be too long, Brandon.” You said, stepping out of the carriage and into the library, the pleasant smell of books greeting your nose, as you made your way to the front desk.

“Hello, Ms.” the Librarian smiled at you. “How can I help you?” She asked.

“I'm Mrs. Cavill, I sent a telegram the other day inquiring after a book that I was told was in and waiting for me to pick up.”

“Yes, of course.” She nodded, standing up from her stool behind the counter and bustled into a backroom for a few moments before coming back with a two-hundred page book in her hand. “Here you are, Mrs. Cavill. The Accurate Account of the Pendle Witches.” She said, reading off the spine. “An interesting subject.” She commented, getting you set to take the book with you.

“It is.” You agreed, nodding. “Just doing some research on family.”

“Was your family witches?” She asked, lifting a startled brow at you.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, quite the opposite.” You told her, amused.

“Witch hunters, then?”

“That's the rumor, I'm hoping to discover.” You replied, taking the book from her. “Thank you.” You smiled at her.

“Of course, have a good day, Mrs. Cavill.” She bid you, going back to her work.

Getting back to the house and getting Abby to brew you a pot of tea, you went up to your library and settled in with the book, flipping open to the index page, running your finger down the chapters and the witches they were named after, until you found Helena's, then went to that chapter. You started by skimming through the twenty page chapter, seeing if anything jumped out at you, and froze at the last page of the chapter, noting her burial.

'With justice brought to the head witch and murderess, Helena Shaw, her remains were interred in her family plot, in East Park Cemetery, London.'

You frowned, blinking at the yellowed page, why would Helena be buried in the family plot, when her brother, Walter, was the one that gave her up to the mob, who would then burn her at the stake on the family property; it didn't make sense at all. Confused, you flipped back to the start of the chapter and started reading it completely. By the time you finished the chapter, you didn't learn much of anything you didn't already know and only gave you more questions than you already had. You had just opened the front cover of the book, to start from the beginning, when rushed footsteps came down the hall and Maggie appeared in the doorway of your library, all out of breath, flushed and looking wild eyed.

“What is it, Maggie?” You asked, setting your book on the small table by the arm of your chair.

“It's Mr. Cavill.” She gasped, trying to catch her breath.

“What of him?” You gulped, feeling her anxiety start to infect you.

“There's been an accident at the mine.” She told you, all rushed out in one weak breath.

“Oh god!” You gasped, jumping up from your chair, gathered up your skirts and rushed down the hall with her, heading for the door. “Henry!” You cried, seeing him coming up the front steps with Charlie and Simon, a bleeding cut on his forehead.

“I'm all right, love.” He smiled at you, still his happy-go-lucky self. “I'm fine, y/n. I promise, it's nothing serious.” He assured you, catching you up in his arms and hugging you tight. “It was just a minor rock fall, nothing serious or dangerous.”

“It doesn't take much to kill someone, Henry. Especially with a head wound.” You fretted, gently holding his head in your hands and checking the cut at the edge of his hairline. “You'll need stitches, no doubt.” You sighed, relieved he was all right.

“I can have Abby do it.” He told you, kissing your forehead. “Did you get the book you wanted from Manchester?” He asked, as he sat in the sitting room with a glass of brandy after Abby stitched up his wound.

“I did.” You nodded, sitting close to him.

“What book did you get?” He asked, sipping his drink with groan as his head throbbed.

“The Accurate Account of the Pendle Witches, circa. 1680.” You replied, wincing as you heard him groan.

“There's a book on Helena and the Witches?” Henry frowned at you, surprised, then hissed as it pulled on his stitches.

“There is, they were the most public English Witch Trials the country has ever seen.” You explained to him. “But, this was the only copy of the book not in a private collection.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Um, nothing we didn't already know about them.” You sighed, staring down at your glass of wine. “But, there is one thing.” You whispered, ringing your finger around the rim of the glass.

“What is it?” He asked, scooting to the edge of his seat.

“I don't know who, or if it was misinformation, but according to the book, Helena was buried in my family's plot, in East Park Cemetery.”

“Your family, no offense, allowed her to be burned at the stake for being a witch and murderer, then turned around and buried her in the sacred family cemetery?” He tried to grasp what you were telling him.

“Yes.” You nodded, taking a gulp of your wine.

“Have you ever noticed the other plots there?” He asked. “Seen, if it's true?”

You let out a deep breath and lifted your eyes at Henry, giving him a look that he instantly understood; you had hardly left Long Haven property long enough to visit the summer house in Suffolk, you had only seen the area of the cemetery your family was buried in long enough to bury your father, and then you weren't looking anywhere else.

“I have to go into London, next week, on business at the Port. Why don't you come with me, and we'll visit the cemetery to see her plot for ourselves?” He suggested, finishing off his brandy. “Be our own little detectives.” He smirked, trying to lighten your mood.

“I can go for a distraction.” You smiled softly at him.

“Good.” He smiled back, gently patting your knee.

The cool sea air felt good as it whipped your skirts around your feet, you always got a faint whiff of it back at Long Haven, but you were too far for the full experience of it, and now that you did, you were smitten with the sea. Henry smiled over at you as he spoke to the captain and first mate to one of the many ships the Munro Shipping Company had in its employment. You stood on the pier, gripping the railing as you looked out over the water and waves, watching the seagulls dive at the water and the tangles of kelp floating by.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Henry asked, stepping up beside you at the railing, and took a deep breath of sea air.

“Completely.” You nodded, smiling up at him.

Henry rested his arm around your waist, his hand cupping your hip. “I would love to take you to St. Helier one day.” He said, softly. “Show you where I was born, take you to my favorite beaches there.”

“I would be delighted to see it.” You replied, gently smiling at the thought of it.

Henry smiled down at you, touched. “Shall we go see Helena?” He asked, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes.

“I am.” You chuckled, nodding at him.

It was a short fifteen minute carriage ride to the cemetery, then four or five minutes to reach the part of the forest of tombstones and mausoleums the McFayden section of the East Park Cemetery. It was beautiful, it was shaded by three large willow trees, it was cool beneath them, their canopies shielding the area from the cloudless sun.

One side of the section was reserved for the members of your family that wished to be buried in the ground and the other half held a large mausoleum. Your, however many, great-grandparents were the first to be buried in the mausoleum and held the prime and honored tomb in the center of it, both buried in a large marble coffin with their likenesses carved on top of the lid, their names, dates of birth and deaths stamped on a polished brass plate on the foot of the coffin.

Henry pushed open the wrought iron gate leading into the mausoleum and stepped aside, allowing you to go inside first. You paused, looking up at the McFayden name chiseled into the marble header above the doorway, gulped thickly and steeling yourself, you stepped inside the dank and musty air of the enclosed space, almost three hundred years of decaying flesh and dusty bones, even with the scent the mausoleum was still immaculate, the upkeep your family paid handsomely for. Sighing, you walked around the circular room, looking up and down the curving wall, five coffins high, several where still empty and open, the front panel waiting to seal in its new occupant the day of their funeral.

“I don't see her name in here.” Henry said, his voice echoing from the other side of the mausoleum.

“Or here.” You replied, meeting him in the middle. “I suppose she's outside.” You added, touching your fingertips to the chiseled name of your father on the panel that housed his coffin and body. “It's incredible to think it's been almost seven months since he died.” You whispered, a shiver running down your back; seven months for his death and six months, since you and Henry married.

“It's a wonder, where the time goes.” He agreed, staring at your father's name.

“It stops for the dead and keeps going for the living.” You whispered, turning and stepping back out into the fresh air and shade.

You stood there for several moments, eyes closed and breathing in the cool air, clearing out the musty smell inside the mausoleum out of your nostrils, before moving to the tombstones of the opposite side of the area; walking up and down the eight or nine rows. You were starting to think the book had it wrong, when you noticed a much neglected head stone against the brick wall that defined the borderline of the cemetery. A very cold chill raced down your spine as you neared it, your twisting gut telling you what it was before you ever reached it. The front of the stone was faded and very worn, but you could still just make out the letters of Helena's name.

Helena Marie McFayden-Shaw Born 30th of October 1588 Died 23rd of August 1613

“She ain't there there, you know.” A voice startled you. “Sorry, Miss.” An elderly gentleman apologized, tipping his dusty and tattered bowler hat at you.

You blinked at him, hand pressed to your pounding heart. “What do you mean not there?” You asked, finding your voice. “Her headstone is, why wouldn't she?”

“Her brother felt bad about giving her up to those witch hunters, and out of his grief, he had her headstone put up. But, no one's brave enough to tend to the grave of a witch, in the ground below or no.”

“How do you know this?” Henry asked, stepping out of the mausoleum.

“My family's tended this cemetery for generations.” He replied, leaning on the broom he was carrying. “I know just about every story and rumor about every grave in this place.” He explained, scratching his grizzled beard.

“Then, where is she buried?” You asked him, lifting a brow and tilting your head at him.

“Well,” He scratched at his temple, pushing his hat up off his sloped forehead. “Rumor I heard was she was buried by her old man.”

Your eyes shot to Henry, who's eyes shot to you.

“Her old man?” Henry frowned, looking the groundskeeper over. “You mean her husband, Evan?” He asked, trying to get him to give more information.

“Could be.” He nodded, still scratching his temple. “That's all I heard said on the matter.”

“Thank you.” You said, licking your lips.

He tipped his hat to you and Henry and went on his way.

“I doubt Evan's family would bury Helena with him, especially after she killed him.” You said to Henry, as you left the cemetery. “Even if it was his last dying wish or in his will.”

“I'm inclined to agree with you.” Henry replied, handing you into the carriage and following after you. “So, that only leaves one other person.” He sighed, rubbing the side of his face.

“William.” You both said at the same time.

“Well, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?” Henry said, resting back in his seat as the carriage took you both back to the train station.

“Do you know where he's buried?” You asked him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I do not.” Henry shook his head. “But, I'm sure either my father, or my mother, do.”

You and Henry went to go see his parents as soon as you left the train, which was a surprise to Marianne and Colin, but still incredibly welcome. Showing you to the tea room and chatted for a little while, before finding the nerves and bravery to ask what was on your mind.

“Do you know where Uncle William is buried?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down on its saucer.

“Of course, he's buried next to your grandmother, Gladys.” Colin nodded, refilling his own cup.

“No, I meant great-uncle William.” He elaborated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“You mean, William Richard Cavill?” Colin frowned, shaking his head at his son. “Born 1586 and died 1620. That Uncle William?”

“Yes.” Henry nodded, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, and took a bite of his pound cake.

“Why?” Marianne frowned, recalling the conversation the three of you had several months back. “Why do you keep bringing William up?” She asked, shifting in her seat to cross her ankles and fixed Henry with a purely maternal look that dared him to lie to her, making Henry gulp and clear his throat.

You looked between the three of them and felt the palms of your hand start to sweat with anxiety, but you summoned the composed genes your mother instilled in you and used them for some good, keeping your face calm and neutral and pressed your palms together in your lap. “Henry's been working on his own little family history project and wants to learn more about the men he's named after. He already knows a good deal about his great-grandfather, Henry, but not much about the great-uncle William he received his middle name from.” You chimed in, saving Henry as he started to break under his mother's gaze.

“Exactly.”

Henry added in, taking your hint and lead. “I know where great-grandfather Henry is buried and all about him. But, I don't know much about great-uncle William or where he's buried.” He explained, relaxing as his mother's gaze returned to normal and reached out to squeeze your hand.

“Well,” Colin sighed, rubbing the side of his jaw. “He was the only Cavill, before us, of any distinguished station, being the Chief Justice of Pendle at the time. So, he would be buried in St. Leonard’s Graveyard in Downham, Lancashire. I don't know the exact location of his grave site in the cemetery, but I'm sure there are records of that at the cemetery itself.”

“That's only about an hour away.” Henry said, looking at you.

“Yes.” Colin nodded. “I'm sure one of your cousins still lives there.” He added.

“Cousins?” Henry frowned. “He married?”

“Yes, he married in 1615 and had two children before his death.” He explained to his shocked son. “His poor wife died giving birth to their third child in 1618, as did the child.”

The next day, you and Henry made the hour's trip to the St. Leonard's graveyard in Lancashire. Inquiring with the groundskeeper about where William's grave could be in the vast area, and after going through several log books, the son of the groundskeeper showed you where it was. Both you and Henry were shocked to find, not only William's grave, but the grave of his wife, Agatha, to the right of his grave, but a flat marker with Helena's name to the left.

“Dear God, he did have her buried beside him.” You gasped, pressing a hand to your heart. “He forsaked her love, hunted her down and burned her at the stake, only to have her later buried next to his future plot and one over from his legal wife's.” You shook your head, completely baffled. “He even named his surviving daughter after her.” You pointed to the plot on the other side of Agatha's grave. “And his son, Fredrick, next to her.”

“Maybe, he never did stop loving her. He was just trying to save face, so he wasn't considered an accomplice.”

You kept shaking your head at the markers, your brain struggling to wrap around the reality of the situations. “The castle where the witches were held is only a few minutes away from here, why don't we find out if we can check out the dungeon they were held in?” You suggested, looking over at him.

“All right.” Henry nodded, figuring it couldn't hurt.

“Can you help you, sir and ms.?” The man at the castle asked as you and Henry approached.

“We wanted to see the dungeon the Pendle Witches were held in.” Henry replied to him.

“I'm sorry, I can't allow that just now.” He replied.

Henry glanced at you and smirked, before pulling out a few notes out of his pocket. “Not even for a hundred pounds?” He asked, lifting a nonchalant brow at the other man, holding the roll of notes out to him.

The man's eyes panned around and took the money from Henry's hand. “Right this way.” He said, stepping aside and motioning to his left. You chuckled at Henry, shaking your head as the man showed the pair of you down to the dungeons, he smirked back at you, ducking his head to enter the hallway leading to the dungeons.

“I can give you twenty minutes, sir. Nothing more, before someone will notice.” He explained, taking a post at the door.

“That's more than enough time.” Henry assured him.

“It's the last door.” He pointed out, then ducked back outside to keep watch.

“There's almost nothing a bit of money can't buy.” Henry quipped as you walked down the dim hallway to the last cell.

“It does make many things in life a lot easier.” You agreed, hugging your shawl tighter around you as the cold and dank air chilled your skin.

“Well, this is it.” Henry sighed, grabbing the loop in the warped wood door and used a good amount of his strength to yank it open. “What?” He frowned at your slack jawed look.

“We're in the right place.” You mumbled, blindly stepping into the cell and looked up at Helena.

Helena hovered, as always, above the floor of the dungeon she last shared with her fellow witch-sisters. But, she was no longer the apparition you grew up knowing, she looked almost real and human now, but her eyes were still a pure black. You stepped closer to her, Henry standing in the doorway as he watched you stare up at what he couldn't see, but knew was there.

“She's here?” He asked for confirmation.

“Yes.” You nodded, licking your lips, studying her. “You've been trying to lead me here all along, haven't you?” You asked, blinking up at her.

“Yes.” She replied in an almost normal voice.

“Well, we're here.” You said, lifting a brow at her. “What now?”

Helena raised her arm and pointed to the stone bench built into the wall to your right. “Sit.” She whispered with a soft moan.

Frowning and shaking your head, you did as she said and sat down on the bench and Helena moved closer to you, reaching a hand to touch you and cup your cheek in her palm, making you gasp at the frigid feel of her touch and a white flash in your eyes.

“Y/n?” Henry frowned, stepping closer to you, but found himself physically incapable of going any farther. “Helena.” He hissed, knowing she was trying to prevent him from reaching you.

When the white flash faded from your vision, you could still see the cell you were in, but it was no longer the cell you entered with Henry, you didn't even see Henry any more. You saw the flesh and blood of Helena, like you were a spectator in the ceiling, watching her below as she sat on the bench you, in reality, occupied. She was alone in the cell, all the other witches had already met their fates and deaths at the stake, noose or the bottom of a lake. They were saving Helena for last, killing her sisters and dearest friends one by one, to torment her, teasing her with her eventual fate at their hands.

Her legs were drawn up to her chest inside her filthy skirt, gently rocking back and forth, her raven black hair filthy and matted; she looked so pitiful and pathetic, nothing like her normal self-assured and confident self before. She was twisting something around her dirty finger as she hummed softly to herself, you caught a glimpse of what it was as she twisted back to the top of her finger, it was a ring. A silver ring with silver roses on the band and in the setting on top of it was a red gem, a ruby.

It clicked in your mind, what she had said to you that night after your nightmare about the blood; Ruby Red. A Red Ruby, and it all made sense. William had affectionately called Helena his rose, he had given her the ring, its design like a rose.

Your vision changed again, farther back in time. Helena and William sitting on a blanket under a tree, enjoying the beautiful summer day in the shade, William's head cradled in Helena's lap. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small velvet box and opened it, level at Helena's eyes, presenting her with the very same ring.

“What's this for, Will?” She asked, as he sat up and took her hand delicately in his.

“It's my promise.” William replied, carefully slipping the ring on the ring finger of her right hand. “To always love you and to one day marry you, to have you by my side in this life and the next.” He smiled, kissing her affectionately.

But, sadly a month later, Walter had married Helena off to Evan Shaw, killing William and Helena's dreams of marrying each other. It didn't completely stop them from being together though, even with Helena doing her best to make do with being married to Evan, it wasn't a year, when he stopped coming to her bed, seeking the company of ladies of the night. So, She and William began seeing each other every chance they got and could, his love was Helena's only solace and sanity in a loveless marriage.

The vision changed again, to Helena pulling the ring over her finger and kissing the ruby, mumbling something under her breath before hiding it away. She dropped onto the middle of the floor, pressing her palms flat to the damp stone and threw her head back. Her eyes rolled back into her head, only showing the whites and red veins of her eyes showing as she chanted in Latin. Dark shadows formed a ring around her as she did, hurried footsteps coming down the hallway outside her cell echoing back to her, with raised voices. But, when they reached Helena's cell...

She was gone.

You gasped as Helena removed her hand from your cheek, red from the chill of her hand against your skin. Panting and trying to catch your breath, you waved Henry off. “I'm fine.” You gulped, rubbing the chill from your cheek. “I'm fine, Henry.” You sighed, looking up at Helena, who was pointing to a brick in the wall by your head. “What?” You snapped at her, drained.

“Ruby Red.” She hissed back, narrowing her eyes at you.

Standing up, you turned towards the wall and touched the brick, feeling how loose it was, and wedged your fingertips in the broken mortar, using your nails to grasp it and wiggled it free. “It's a false brick.” You said, shocked to turn the brick around and find a hollow opening. “Oh my god.” You huffed, a dirty and tarnished ruby ring slipped out; Henry's quick reflects catching it in his palm.

“It's the ring he gave her.” You blinked. “It's still here, after all this time.” You smiled at Henry.

“William gave this to her?” He asked, looking down at it.

“Yes, it was a promise ring.” You explained to him. “They wanted to marry, but my great-grandfather, Walter, arranged her to marry Evan. So, it never happened.”

“They really wanted to be together.” Henry sighed, rubbing his thumb over the loop of the ring.

“They did.” You nodded, glancing at Helena. “And, in a way, they did get to be together, in more than one way.” You said, looking back at Henry. “Almost two-hundred and fifty years and countless generations, later our families finally found the link to each other they had been looking for.”

Henry grinned at you, following your train of thought. “In us.” He blushed, brushing an escaped curl out of your face.

“Here.” You said, taking the ring from Henry's palm and holding it out to Helena. “He never stopped loving you, Helena. Let me prove it to you, touch it, and we'll take you to him.” You smiled back at Henry.

“How are we going to do that?” Henry asked, looking at you sheepishly.

“Ghosts can possess things.” You told him.

“Don't you dare let her possess you.” Henry snapped, exasperated.

You laughed and pat him on the cheek. “Relax, Puppy, I'm not. The ring works just as well.” You assured him, amused.

Henry looked at the ring and blinked several times, watching the Ruby glow, like the ember of a fire, for a moment, then dim. You closed your hand around it as footsteps came down the hallway, and quickly replaced the false brick in its place.

“I can not allow you to stay any longer.” The man from earlier said, appearing in the doorway.

“That's quite all right.” Henry smiled, composing himself and closing his hand around yours, leading you out of the cell. “Thank you so much, you were a tremendous help.”

“Happy to be of service.” He smiled back, even though he was utterly clueless on what he helped with.

Heading back to Helena's and William's graves at St. Leonard's, you knelt down between the plots and opened your hand holding the ring. “He buried you beside him, so you would always be at each other's sides in this life, and the next.” You said, pushing your thumb into the grass and soil between the graves and dropping the ring into the hole it left behind. “You can finally be together, like you always wanted to be.” You told her, covering it up and glancing at your own rings, the diamond of your wedding ring fit perfectly in the gap between the two heart-shaped diamonds of your engagement ring, interlinking your heart with Henry's.

You stood up beside Henry, taking his hand in yours and squeezed, overwhelmed by the moment. Helena hovering above her grave and watched as the ghost of William slowly solidified before you, over his own grave. The two spirits faced each other and smiled, reaching out to touch the tips of their fingers together. You smiled at them, then started, seeing the shadows of twelve others appear behind them and slowly became recognizable as the twelve witches of Pendle; Alice Nutter, Jane Bulcock, Katherine Hewitt, Anne Whittle, Ann Redfearn, Elizabeth Device, her daughter, Alison Device, Isobel Robey, Margaret Pearson, Alice Grey, Jennet Preston and Elizabeth Southerns.

Henry couldn't see them, but he felt the temperature around you and him change and grow cold against the warm day.

Helena looked away from William and to her sisters. “Rest now, sisters. Your time has come to do so.” She told them.

The twelve women looked at each other, then at you and Henry, at your linked hands, and wavered, their spirit forms losing definition as they started to lose their grip on the physical world, on their vengeance and reason for still being bound to the Earth around them. Henry's mouth dropped open seeing the twelve bright orbs of light appear suddenly.

“What--”

“They're finding their peace.” You explained to him, understanding what he was going to ask.

Helena floated over to Henry, one of her hands still clutching William's, and touched his cheek, making him shiver at the cold touch and see her ghostly face. “I free you.” She whispered to him.

“Thank you.” He gulped, blinked at her and felt a weight he never noticed was there before, lift from his shoulders and soul.

You sat in the sitting room, enjoying tea time, while Henry was out at the office. It had been a week since the pair of you figured out how to break the curse and other than the usual spirit, you hadn't seen a hint of Helena and neither you or Henry had nightmares any more, supposing she had crossed over with the others. You sipped your tea and nibbled at your slice of hazelnut tea cake with moscato pears, that Abby had made that morning, when you heard a god awful wail, making you jerk with surprise and spill some of your tea onto the skirt of your dress.

“Abby?”

You called, setting your teacup and copy of the Little Dorrit done on the table in front of you. “Albert?” You stood up, using your silk napkin to dab at your wet skirt; but didn't receive a reply from either of them. “Maggie?” You yelled out, becoming nervous, but still received no answer, and sighed. “Kal, I hope you didn't get into the pantry again!” You said, going into the foyer and heading for the kitchen; expecting to find the fluffy Akita trying to look innocent with sticky marmalade on his snout and flour dusting his fur, for the third time in two weeks.

“Kal?” You squeaked, frightened, finding the kitchen empty.

The wail issued again, you spun around to the open kitchen doorway, your heart launched into your throat and your stomach giving way. “Papa.” You choked and swallowed, seeing the ghost of your father floating in the foyer.

“What a cruel world death is, when life's riches can not pay your way into heaven or out of hell.” He moaned, looking greatly pained. “Or right one's living regrets.”

“Yes, I know, you've said this before, Papa. Tell me something new, tell me who your killer is.” You begged him, daring to move closer to him. “Please, let me help you find peace.” You pleaded with him, tears welling up in your eyes.

“What a world, not even compassion of those you love can not free your bonds of life and death.”

You mewled, at a loss, pressing your hands to your face and broke down. As you sobbed another sound filled the room with your father's laments and moans, pulling your hands from your dripping face you saw Helena, standing on the other side of you. “Why are you here, Helena? You should have crossed over.” You sniffled, even more confused.

“One last unfinished business.” She replied, still making the strange noise and your face grew wide with shock.

“Oh, good god.” You gasped and flew out of the house. “Brandon!” You screamed, running into the stables.

“Madam?” Brandon answered, coming out of one of the stalls. “What is it?”

“Get the carriage ready!” You told him, out of breath. “This instant, we must go to Henry, with all due haste.” You explained, frantic.

“Of course, Madam.” He nodded and got to it. “Are you well?” He asked, as he hitched the horses to the carriage, concerned for you.

“I don't know yet, Brandon.” You replied, pacing up and down the walk out front of the house. “I really don't. But, what I do know, I hope to all there is in the world, it's not true.”

Brandon readied the carriage as quickly as he could for you and rushed into town, heading straight for the Cavill Enterprises office building. You barely waited for Brandon to pull the horses to a stop or open the door for you, before you were bundling up your heavy skirts and rushing inside the building and up to the floor Henry's office was situated.

“Hello, Ms.” the Secretary greeted you with a warm smile. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” You huffed, out of breath after rushing up four flights of stairs. “I'm Mr. Cavill's wife--”

“Oh, my dearest apologies, Madam, I didn't know.” The young man's face managed to somehow blush and blanch at the same time. “I am so sorry, I'm new here. I only started yester--”

“It's quite all right, I've only been to his office once before.” You assured the poor boy, feeling bad for scaring him so, you had only been to Henry's office one other time, and that was to attend a company event. “But, I need to see Hen—Mr. Cavill, right this minute, it can not wait.” You rushed out as he started to open his mouth. “Please.” You added softly.

“Uh..” the Secretary glanced between you and the door to Henry's office several times, his mouth hanging open. “Yes, of course. I think he's just doing some paperwork.” He said, standing up and moved around his desk, gently tapping on Henry's door, before opening a crack at Henry's bid for him to enter. “Um, Mr. Cavill, Sir.” He gulped, breaking out in a sweat, like he expected Henry to angrily fire him at that moment.

“It's, um, Mrs. Cavill to see you.”

“Y/n?” Henry's confused voice called back. “Let her in.”

He got up from his desk as the boy pushed the door open the rest of the way, and moved for you to go in. “Y/n, what is it? What's wrong?” He asked, closing the door behind you as he saw your flushed face and heard you still trying to catch your breath. “Come, sit down.” He gently took you by the elbow and guided you to a chair in front of his desk and fetched you a glass of water from a pitcher on a side table.

“Calm down and catch your breath, then tell me what this is all about.” He told you, leaning back against the edge of his desk, watching over you with patient worry.

“We need to go back to London, as soon as possible.” You told him, finishing your glass of water and breathing again.

Henry shook his head, not understanding. “Why, love?” He inquired, licking his lips and tilting his head at you, his expression so soft.

You opened your mouth to tell him, but your throat closed tightly around a sharp and cold knot of restrained tears. You didn't want it to be true, it couldn't be true! How could they do this? Why! Why would they do this! The pent-up horror and agony at the thought broke free and you burst into hiccuping sobs, your shoulders shaking and rocking yourself back and forth. Henry's heart clinched and he dropped to his knees before you, reaching out to pull you to the edge of your seat and cradle your head against his shoulder and rubbed your back, shushing and rocking with you. The door opened and the secretary popped his head inside the room, but Henry gave him an angry look, in full protective mode of you, and pointed a hard finger at him, a hint to get lost, which the boy did in all haste.

“Come, love.” Henry cooed at you, taking out his pocket handkerchief and wiping at your flowing tears and nose, caressing your hair off your flushed face. “Take deep breaths with me, y/n.” He said, taking a slow and deep breath in, nodding his head as you did the same, and let it out again. “That's better.” He smiled, tenderly, at you and got up to pour you another glass of water.

“Now, tell me, what makes you so upset and frantic?” He asked, kneeling at your feet again. “Why is it so imperative we go to London so quickly?”

You took several deep breaths and gulped down more of your water. “I--” You sighed, trying hard to keep yourself together. “I know who killed my father.” You choked out, clamping your teeth down on your bottom lip to stop the new stream of tears, threatening to fall, at bay.

Henry's mouth dropped open. “How?” He asked, eyes the size of serving plates.

“He came to me, at home.”

“He showed up at Lily Hill?” Henry coughed, shocked.

“As did Helena.”

“I thought she crossed over?” He blinked at you.

“As did I, but it seems not.” You mewled, twisting Henry's damp handkerchief in your trembling hands. “But, they, in no uncertain terms, revealed to me who did it.”

“Who was it?” He asked, he had been tormented over the mystery of your father's murder as you had been, Ulysses had become a second father to him.

You reached out and clutched Henry's hands and looked him in the eyes. “I don't want to say, until I am certain they're right. But, I doubt don't they are. It's purely wishful thinking on my part.” You sighed, chewing on your quivering lip. “Let us go to London and face them, and find out for truly certain.”

“All right.” Henry nodded, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “We'll go right away.” He said, standing up and strode over to his office door. “Mr. Solo.” He called out to his secretary.

“Sir.” The boy squeaked, stumbling up to his feet.

“Hold all my appointments for today and likely tomorrow as well.” He told him, calmly. “I have very urgent business in London, that can not be ignored.”

“Yes, sir!” Solo nodded, like a broken bobble-head. “Right away, sir.”

“Thank you, Mr. Solo.” Henry nodded back and returned to you. “Come, my love.” He said, softly, taking your hands and pulling you up onto your feet, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead. “We'll go straight to the station and set out for London on the earliest train.” He assured you, supporting you out of his office and back down the several sets of stairs.

“Mr. Brandon, the train station, please.” He told the driver, handing you into the carriage and followed after you, wrapping a comforting and protective arm around your still trembling shoulders.

The ride to the train station was quiet and traveling to London was even quieter, you just couldn't find your voice, overwhelmed and consumed by your grief and depression over the realization of who the murderer of your father was. Henry gave and offered all the support for you he could, the wish for the truth gnawing on him the whole time, but he didn't press you; knowing he would find out the truth soon enough.

Finding a carriage as soon as you were out of the station, you gave the driver the address and climbed inside with Henry, gripping his hand in both of yours, trying to use his touch and presence as your anchor and calm; he rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb and would occasionally kiss your cheek and temple.

It was a short ride to the residence of the killer, you took a few calming breaths as you stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door of the house, before you were able to muster the will to move up them, raising your trembling fist and knocking. The door opened and the servant glanced at Henry, then instantly beamed at you.

“Ms. Y/n!” They grinned, pleased to see you. “How good to see you! How are you?” They asked.

“To be determined.” You replied, gulping thickly.

“Please, come in.” They bid you both, stepping aside. “Come right this way, I'll have some tea brought in, while I announce your arrival.”

“Thank you.” Henry smiled at the servant, ushering you to a love seat and sat beside you. “Are you all right?” He asked, pointlessly.

“I will be, if it isn't true.” You replied, staring down at your hands, folded in your lap.

Another servant served you and Henry the tea and some raspberry scones, drizzled with honey. You barely sipped your tea and didn't touch the scones, your stomach far too upset to hold much of anything down. It was several minutes, before you and Henry heard the footsteps in the hallway outside the sitting room and the door opened again, two people stepping inside and smiled at you and Henry.

Henry's mouth dropped open, in shock.

“Y/n, Henry!” Grace smiled at you both and swept over to you, but stopped halfway, seeing the look in your face and the utter shock on Henry's, registering in her mind. “What is it?” She frowned, blinking between you both.

“Something, I pray with my entire soul, is wrong.” You whimpered at her, blinking several times as your eyes burned with fresh tears.

“What are you talking about, y/n?” She asked, blinking back at you.

“Is there a problem, y/n?” Joel asked, completely lost.

“Perhaps the both of you should sit down.” You suggested, licking your lips.

Grace's eyes never left yours as she moved to sit on the love seat opposite of you and Henry, Joel taking up the space beside her. “Would you like to tell me what's going on, y/n?” She asked you, as she shakily poured herself a cup of tea; feeling she was going to need it.

“I saw my father again.” You told her, quietly, eyes steeled and carefully watching her face.

“He still hasn't,” She gulped and licked her lips. “crossed over?” She asked.

“No, he's stuck here until he's murderer is caught.” You replied, carefully.

“Di-Did he tell you, who did it?” Grace asked, biting her lip.

“He's been trying too.” You answered. “But, Helena did, though.” You added, heart pounding in your throat.

“Do you know what they're talking about?” Henry asked Joel.

“About y/n's ability to see the dead?” Joel elaborated, bluntly, but politely.

“Yes.” Henry nodded.

“I do.” He nodded back.

“Both of them showed up in Lily Hill and my father was trying to tell me who did it, but only repeated himself. Helena helped him out by humming a very specific song, a song that you would sing to me, when I was upset. That's when, what my father told me, the night of his funeral, made sense. 'Death is such a far fall from Grace, no money can buy you into heaven, or out of hell.'” You explained to her.

“Tell me, I misunderstood them.” You begged her, eyes shining.

Grace was quiet and sipped her tea, her hands shaking as she held the teacup, when her tea was empty, she refilled it and looked across to you, her eyes shining back at yours. “They are not.” She said, very quietly.

Your eyes fell shut and silent tears slipped down your flushed cheeks, utterly crushed and devastated. Henry frowned at you, sympathetically squeezing your knee and wrapping an arm around you, just as heartbroken that the woman that was more a mother to you than Matilda ever was, and the sister you had always wished for, admitted to having a part in the death of your father.

“Why?” You choked, opening your red eyes at her. “Why, Grace?” You mewled, feeling lightheaded.

“We didn't do it, to hurt you, y/n.” Joel chimed in.

“You knew?” You hiccuped, frowning at him.

“I did, I had a hand in helping.” He nodded, biting the inside of his lip.

“Oh god.” You sighed, shaking your head and shrinking into your seat.

“There's several reasons it happened.” Grace told you, wishing so much to take your hands in hers and have you believe her. “The years of pent-up abuse they not only forced you to endure, but as well as myself. Knowing that your mother intended to try to change your father's mind about allowing that vile brute Elias to marry you, instead of Henry, and the ultimate reason why I stopped being your nanny.”

“And what reason is that?” You asked, trying to keep yourself together.

Grace sighed and reached for Joel's hand, squeezing it for reassurance. “Your father and I...” She gulped, the words sticking in her throat. “had relations.”

Your mouth dropped open. “My father had an affair with you?” You squeaked, gobsmacked.

“Yes.” She nodded, ashamed of herself. “It was in the last year of my employment as your nanny. Your father took a strong liking to me, and the foolish girl I was, took a fancy to him as well. We only shared a bed a handful of times in that year, but, because of one of those times, I became with child.”

Your mouth fell open even farther.

“Those months I was away from you, nursing a sick relative, I was really living in an apartment in London, your father had leased for me during my confinement and the birth of the baby.” She explained to you and Henry. “I had a little girl, your half-sister, Amelia.”

“Where is she?” You blurted out, shaking your head at her.

Grace sighed and sniffled. “Ulysses had her put up for adoption a week after her birth.” She told you, sadly. “It was a few months later that Joel and I met and started a courtship.”

“We decided on a short courtship and to marry as soon as possible, so Grace wouldn't have to deal with the abuse, especially since Matilda found out about the baby, and the pain she felt seeing Ulysses and be reminded of the child she didn't get to keep.” Joel added in, rubbing Grace's back.

“I didn't tell Joel about the baby until a month before your father died.”

“I told her it didn't matter to me that she had a child, out of wedlock or otherwise.” He explained. “That, if we could find the little girl, we could perhaps adopt her and raise her here, with us.”

“But, your father refused to tell me what adoption agency or family he gave her up too, and told me he never would. That if I, or Joel, or anyone for that matter, asked after her again, he would make their lives a living hell, that he had the money and influence to make them disappear. To make Amelia disappear.” She dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. “I never doubted his words. But, I returned to him, the week before his death, and begged him one last time to relent and tell me where she was. He laughed and asked me, how much money it would take to keep me silent. Out of anger and passions, I slapped him across the face and told him, 'there wasn't enough money to buy him into heaven, or out of hell'. In turn, he told me that I would pay for my slight against him and so would Joel's practice as a doctor.”

“Grace came back home, incredibly distraught over the situation.” Joel said, frowning at his wife. “She couldn't take it any longer and we came to the conclusion to--”

“Murder him.” Henry cut in.

“Yes.” Grace nodded, biting her quivering lip.

“Which one of you did it?” You asked, looking between them.

Joel swallowed, looking from you to Henry and his wife. “Neither of us.” He sighed.

“In my profession, I meet and tended to people of all walks of life, from the very dirt poor to even royalty. One of my patients, a Leon Marshall, was rather low on the social ladder and had quite the disreputable reputation, as a dishonorable discharge from the royal military and was spent to prison for a variety of offenses. He suffered from an old war wound that festered every so often, and I would tend to it. I know, because he never made any pains to keep to himself, that he would rough people up, if paid the right amount.”

“I sought him out for the deed and he agreed to do it. He also agreed that no amount of money could get a man into heaven or out of hell. But, the right amount could send a man on his death's journey to whichever he is destiny for. I paid him three thousand pounds, and he contacted your father's office to schedule a false meeting, for a fictional business, in his hotel room at Southampton, and that's where it took place.” He told you.

“We, honestly, didn't wish him dead, just to make a point, perhaps scare him into giving up the information on Amelia. But, when your father saw him for who he was and he wasn't afraid. He mocked Mr. Marshall on a number of things, and Marshall grew angered. Mr. Marshall drew a knife and stabbed him several times, mocking your father back, asking him, if he thought, he had enough money to buy his way into heaven or out of hell.”

“Then, ran.”

“Where is this man now?” Henry asked, moving to the edge of his seat.

“Currently, he is incarcerated for the murder of a prostitute, that tried robbing him.” Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“He needs to be tried for Ulysses's death.” Henry said, impassioned.

“But, if he's outed as the murderer of my father, the chances of him outing Grace and Joel, or at least ruining them, is very high.” You said, sounding and feeling like a zombie.

Henry turned his head to look at you, licking his lips and knowing you were right. But, they were as much to blame for it, as Marshall was, and to a degree, Ulysses was as well. He sighed and rested back against the couch and scrubbed both of his palms over his tired face. All four of you were between a rock and a hard place, and had no idea what to do.

The person you trusted your entire life and depended on for so long had helped in the killing of your father, no matter how vile and selfish he was. The war between going straight to the authorities to divulge everything you knew on the matter and just wanting to forget that you even knew and go back to life before you found out it was Grace and Joel, made you sickeningly exhausted and spent.

What were you going to do?

If you did go to the authorities, you would struggle to live with the thought of what they would do to Grace and Joel, as punishment.

If you didn't and tried living with it, you didn't know if you could live with that either. Especially, if it meant your father would never find peace and would continue to haunt you and Henry at Lily Hill Manor.

Your trust and faith in Grace was shaken and cracked, but you still loved her.

“We could just—give ourselves—up.” Grace gulped, glancing at Joel, she had struggled living with the knowledge and truth of the matter herself, especially seeing how it affected you.

“I can't do this.” You gasped, standing up and rushing out of the room.

“Y/n!” Henry called after you, standing up.

“Let her clear her head, Mr. Cavill.” Grace said, staring through the open doorway. “She'll be all right, after a bit of fresh air and a walk, she always is.”

Henry looked at the couple and lifted a brow at them. “If you wanted to find your Amelia, so badly, why didn't you just ask Thaddeus or hire a private investigator?” He asked, his hands flexing at his side.

“Crime is common. Logic is rare, Mr. Cavill.” Joel replied, ashamed of himself and his actions in the matter.

“Then, the devil’s due a soul, I’d say.” Henry replied.

You stormed out of the house, gasping for air, your lungs and chest tight with anxiety and heartbreak, eyes nearly blinded by fresh tears. You had no idea where you were going, or even where you were after Grace and Joel's home and grounds disappeared behind you, but you didn't even care. You needed to get away, far away, and get a hold of yourself again. The neighborhood of expensive homes and immaculate grounds melted away into the hustle and bustle of downtown London. You stopped and turned to stare at your reflection in a shop window, wiping at your eyes and taking deep breaths.

“Well, well, well.” A voice behind you chuckled, in sinister amusement. “Look who it is.”

You looked up at the reflection in the window, as he stood behind you, his arms crossed smugly over his chest. You groaned and rolled your eyes at him. “Hello, Elias.” You said, turning around.

“Trouble in paradise already, Mrs. Cavill?” He asked, smirking at you.

“Not at all.” You replied, rolling your eyes at him.

“Doesn't look that way to me.” He chuckled again.

“It is better to learn wisdom late, than never to learn it at all.” You answered him, with a cold stare. “But, in your case, you are incapable of either.”

“I see your husband hasn't curbed that harlot's tongue of yours, yet.” Elias hissed at you.

“My husband likes my tongue.” You smirked back, scornfully.

“My dearest Lias?” Another familiar voice called with the ding of a shop bell. “Oh, niece.” Bella huffed, sticking her nose up at you.

“Aunt Bella.” You nodded your head and rolled your eyes back at her.

“There you are, my love.” Henry's voice suddenly came, his arm wrapping around your waist. “Enjoying your window shopping?” He asked, eyeballing Bella and Elias.

“I was.” You replied, leaning against his strong body. “Then, I was interrupted.”

“Charming to see you again, Cavill.” Elias sneered, resting his hand on the small of Bella's back.

“And you, Wells.” Henry hissed, observing the pair of them. “Married, I see.”

“Yes.” Bella nodded, proudly, flashing the fat emerald ring at you and Henry. “Two months ago, we would have invited--”

“We wouldn't have cared to go.” You told her, your blood boiling. “Even, if you had actually thought about us, let alone the thought of sending an invitation.” You added, quite coldly. “How is Matilda?” You asked her.

“She's quite well, she's repaired to her Suffolk home, her physician believes the sea air would be beneficial for her health.” She told you, tightly.

“Good.” You nodded your head once, then looked up to Henry. “Let's go, love. My pleasure for window shopping has been greatly diminished.”

“That's a shame.” Henry tutted and turned away with you, leaving Bella and Elias staring after you both, shocked. “I'm so sorry, y/n.” He whispered, when you left the two behind. “I wish I knew what to say, to make it all go away.” He told you, leading you to a small bench. “I do--” He sighed and rubbed the side of his face. “I do hope that you won't be cross with me.”

“For what?” You frowned at him.

“I--” He sighed again, licking his lips and picking at his nails. “I, anonymously, sent a telegram to the authorities, on the matter of your father's death and Mr. Marshall's involvement in it. I re-framed from naming, or even hinting at, Joel and Grace's involvement in the matter.” He confessed to you. “Perhaps, Mr. Marshall will take his due for killing your father, and not bring them up in the ensuing investigation into the matter.”

“Henry.” You sighed, pressing your lips together, and sniffling hard.

“I know, you would have struggled, and do struggle, with what to do and how to act in the matter. You are far closer to Grace and Joel than I am, the same goes for your father.”

“He considered you a son.” You whispered softly.

“I know he did.” Henry replied, just as softly. “But, even still, you are far closer and more sensitive in the matter.” He ran his hand through his wind-blown curls, pushing them off his forehead. “As much as I care for your father's peace, your peace and well-being is by far more important and greater to me. So, if that means, I have to shoulder the heavier weight of whatever happens next, so you do not. Then, I will greatly shoulder it.” He told you, sincerely.

“I can bear pain myself.” Henry said softly, and took your hand in his. “But, I could not bear yours, y/n. That would take more strength than I have.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, wrapping your arm around his. “I know, Henry.” You whispered to him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my sweet.” He whispered back, kissing the top of your head and gently patting your leg.

“Can you believe Elias and Bella married.” You laughed, suddenly finding it hilarious.

“Two people could not be so fatefully meant for each other.” Henry laughed back, shaking his head at the thought. “Both of them are near evil incarnate. Lord have the mercy for any children they have.”

“The sole opposite of us.” You chuckled, turning your head to kiss his shoulder.

“Thank God for that.” Henry snorted.

You and Henry returned to Lily Hill Manor the next day, too exhausted for the return train home. So, you stayed in a hotel, the same one and very room, you shared on your wedding night. So much had changed between then and now, but the one thing that was still the same, if not stronger, was the love you and Henry shared for each other, the bond that connected you and the life you had created together.

A month after your return, Thaddeus came to visit you both; with news of the investigation.

The investigation was started after Henry's carefully sent anonymous note about Leon Marshall's hand in your father's death. Marshall had tried to implicate Joel and Grace in his murder, but the only connection found between them, was Grace's employment as your nanny and Joel's tending to the festering wound Marshall was prone to suffer in his left leg, from a bullet he sustained in war. It seemed that Joel was more careful about employing the ruffian to kill your father than any of you thought, and you all, all four of you, kept the secret.

You did however ask Thaddeus about the child Grace and your father bore together. His flush almost immediately at the mention of your little sister, giving away his knowledge of her, but confessed he had no idea where she would be, Ulysses had dealt with the matter on his own, not trusting anyone else with it; trusting no one to keep the secret. But, with Henry's help, Thaddeus promised to help you and Grace in finding her, anyway they could.

It took almost a year of private investigators, sleepless nights, paper trails, combing all the papers your father had in his office and possession. But, Thaddeus finally found the family your father had given your half-sister too.

It was a well-off family, at least he had done her that justice and not suffered her to some poor station because of the unfortunate circumstance of her birth. She had just celebrated her twelfth birthday, now a year older than you were, when she was born into this world. The family granted you and Grace permission to meet her and it was a good day. Grace never once stopped crying for finally seeing the daughter she never stopped loving or wanting, and you found another precious and good link in the world.

It was agreed on, that Amelia wouldn't be told about Grace being her mother and you, her sister, until at least her sixteenth birthday, when she would hopefully be old enough to understand. But, You and Grace would always be more than welcome in seeing her, whenever you wished it.

– A Year Later –

“All right, Kal.” Henry called, coming into the bedroom, finding Kal in bed with you. “You're in my spot, move.” He said, patting the Akita on the back to make his point.

Kal huffed and moved to the foot of the bed, resting his head on your shin. You laughed as Henry crawled into bed with you, kissing your cheek and lips before laying down on his stomach and gently rested his ear on your stomach.

“Hello, Little one.” He whispered softly to the swell of your belly and chuckled, feeling the teeny life inside it kick against his cheek. “Oh. you're growing so strong in your mummy's tummy.” He grinned, like a smitten schoolboy, rubbing the bottom curve of your stomach with his palm; pressing it where he felt the baby kick actively.

“Just a few more weeks, and they'll be out here with us, Puppy.” You cooed at Henry, rubbing his curls with your palm and fingers, part of your mind imagining those precious and beautiful chocolate curls on the head of your and Henry's babe.

Henry turned his head, kissing your belly just above your popped out belly button. “And you'll look just like your mum.” He whispered, his supple lips tickling your bare skin.

“Or your father.” You chuckled at him, ghosting the tips of your fingers over the nap of his neck.

He looked up at you and grinned, he was happy either way. He was finally getting all of the things he had dreamed of for so long. A beautiful, loving and intelligent wife and a child he created with you, there was nothing more in life he could ever want. Well, maybe a few more feet pitter pattering up and down the halls.

But, that would all come in due time, and he was in no rush, neither were you.

Two weeks later, on a beautiful and sunny day, you gave birth to your and Henry's daughter and amply named her, Lily Helena Cavill. Three years after Lily was born, you gave birth to your and Henry's second child, a son; Henry William Cavill Jr. You would also go on to have two more children with Henry, both of you wanting a large family, and you not wanting your children to know the loneliness of what being an only child was like. You had another boy, Eric Ulysses; it was your father that brought you and Henry together after all, and another girl, Daisy Grace.

Lily Hill Manor was no longer filled with the wails and sadness of ghosts, but the laughter and happiness of four happy, healthy, strong, completely loved and well-rounded children, and Kal's barks as he played with his two-legged siblings. You still saw the occasional spirit and sent them on their way, but you and Henry reveled at the joy of how everything finally came together, in peace and harmony at Cavill Manor.

-- FIN --

[handwashonlyco]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: SPRING STEP FREDIA SLIP-ON LOAFER Size 40/9.

[dangerousconnoisseurdonut]

Curse of Loki preview (F/F/m)

On AO3, I have a request for a Tickle Fic, something I have toyed with for years, but never had the guts to do until now. I realize tickling isn’t everyone’s kink, but please be kind as this is my first attempt. I am posting a preview here to get a feel if I’m doing this right.

Now, context! Bruce has been sent a horn with Norwegian Runes all over it. What he doesn’t know is that this is the Horn of Loki, the Trickster God and causes... interesting results between the recipient and their enemies. In this case, Bruce and the Rogues of Gotham. After he has blown the horn, he gets the urge to go into the city and winds up at Selina’s flat, not realizing that she has a guest at the minute and... well, here goes nothing.

“Relax, Bruce, I just wanted to lounge around for a change; Tabitha and Barbara got me this on my last birthday. Do you like it?” Selina gave a little pose and Bruce did his best to keep his eyes on her face where they belonged and not drawn to her cleavage which he had never seemed to notice before. It was darker than magenta, somewhere between sangria and mulberry, with pink cherry blossoms scattered on it; it was indeed beautiful, but Bruce was wishing at the moment she had something on underneath as he could see her breasts, including her perky nipples.

“Bruce?” Selina asked with a shit-eating grin as though she had a damn good idea why he hadn’t answered her, causing his blush to deepen as he responded,

“Nice! It’s very, uh, very nice!”

“I think the naughty boy was eyeing your tits, Cat.” Bruce whirled around at the sound of another female, only to find Bridgit Pike waltzing into the room in another bathrobe, this one somewhere between navy and indigo, with white orchids. He was struck by how attractive she was, even with the scars on her face and what he could see of her body; her hair was long, though there was none where her face had been burned, and her smile was one of the, pardon the pun, cat who got the canary. He felt himself harden as he suddenly felt very much like a canary.

“Uh, I’m uh, sorry for interrupting you two, I’ll just, um, I’ll just -” Bruce was shocked when Bridgit grabs the lapel of his jacket and pulls him to her so she can kiss him. As he and Bridgit make-out, he feels Selina grab his jacket and pull it off of him. Bruce however gets a moment of clarity and pulls away as Selina pulls his button up partially off, ripping a few of the buttons off and trapping his arms in the sleeves.

“W-wait a minute, what are y-you -?” Bruce just about jumped out of his skin when Selina dug her fingers into his underarms, causing him to almost bite his tongue off as he fought not to laugh.

“Naughty boys need to be punished, but we don’t want to hurt you so, Selina and I think you need a good laugh; not to sound like Jerome, but you are way too serious.” Bridgit explains as she lightly runs her fingers over his ribs. Bruce doesn’t say anything, knowing the minute he opens his mouth he’ll start laughing and won’t be able to stop. He hadn’t been tickled since he was seven, and he had forgotten how much he hated it. Selina and Bridgit start leading him to Selina’s bed, digging their fingers into his ribs or underarms when he tries to struggle. Bruce is almost crying from the exertion it’s taking to not laugh. When it comes time to get him on the bed, they move quickly to get Bruce’s arms out from the shirt, and tied down using some scarves. For his legs, Bridgit sits on Bruce’s stomach and switches between his underarms and stomach, not letting him get used to either sensation as Selina wrestles him out of his shoes, pants, underwear, and socks before tying his legs down. Bridgit stopped for a moment, enjoying seeing Bruce struggle to contain his laughter, as Selina went to get something.

“P-please Bridgit, I, I’m sorry I looked at Selina’s breasts; you’re both so pretty I couldn’t help it, but I’m so sorry for being a pervert and -mmph!” Bruce was cut off as Bridgit again kissed him, and he moaned a little as she played with his nipples before Selina came back.

“Starting without me?”

“I’ve never seen a guy apologize so much for sneaking a peak at a boob before.” Bridgit explained as she petted Bruce’s locks, something he actually seemed to enjoy.

“I told you; he’s an odd one but can actually be kind of sweet, like a puppy.” Selina said as she resumed her position at his feet, making him worry about what she planned to do.

“Well, even cute puppies have to be disciplined when they do something naughty, but since he seems so sincere with his apology, I think we can give him a little reward afterwards.” Bruce went to beg again, only for Bridgit to lightly trail her fingers up to his underarms, prompting him to keep his mouth shut and bite his lips.

“Gotta warn you handsome; we won’t stop until we hear you laugh. Why not make it easy on yourself and just let it out?” Bruce shook his head, causing Bridgit to sigh before smirking as she dug her fingers into his underarms and Selina tickled his thighs, a place he didn’t even think was ticklish but Selina just had to prove him wrong. He giggled, chortled, and snorted behind closed lips, but still refused to out and out laugh, even when Bridgit switched to his stomach and Selina tickled his knees (seriously, knees could be a ticklish spot?). Though, when one of Bridgit’s fingers got close to his navel, he almost lost control, though sadly he knew Bridgit had seen it for what it was when she got a wicked gleam in her eyes before saying,

“He’s a tough nut to crack, Cat; I think we better up our game.” Selina released a very put-upon sigh as she responded,

“You asked for this Bruce.” Bridgit leaned over as Selina also stopped to get something, though just what Bruce could not see. When Bridgit pulled back, she held what appeared to be a makeup brush, making Bruce wander just what was she going to do with that. He wasn’t allowed to worry about it however as Selina grabbed the toes of his right foot and stretched them back as far as they would go, leaving his arch taut. He got the uneasy feeling he was about to face his Waterloo. Bridgit then leaned down and placed the brush on his stomach and started a slow spiral edging closer and closer to his navel. Soon, it was tracing the navel itself, and Bruce was shaking so bad with suppressed laughter, he thought he was going to pass out. Those soft, silky bristles felt like dragons teeth on his sensitive stomach. Bridget looked him straight in the eye, amber into green, and asked,

“Does our naughty pretty boy have a ticklish belly button?” Before Bruce could confirm or deny, Bridgit dug the makeup brush right into his navel to swirl it around same time as Selina lightly ran her nails up his foot. Actually, to Bruce’s horror, he realized Selina was wearing her gloves with the claws on them, and they were what she was lightly dragging up and down his foot. At the twin sensations, Bruce didn’t stand a chance and finally burst out,

“Hahahaha! P-please s-s-stop! I, I c-can’t t-t-take this!” Bruce hated how he was reduced to stuttering, but the girls were just too good. Selina kept her touch light to make sure her claws didn’t accidentally pierce the skin, but that didn’t make it any less intense as she used one claw to draw nonsensical patterns along his sole, first lines going up and down, then spirals on the ball and heel of his foot, then zig-zags across his arches. Bridgit meanwhile kept switching between the brush and her her finger digging into his navel. Sometimes, just to spice things up, she would use the brush on his navel while digging her fingers into his underarm. Her dual sensations of sharp and soft were driving him up the wall. Once, she even ran the brush over his nipple and as the silky smooth bristles ran along his slightly swollen nub, he didn’t know if he wanted to moan or bite his tongue off.

“You know, Bruce, for a guy who runs around as much as you do, you have really soft feet.” Selina casually remarked before she gave into temptation and ran her tongue up the sole in front of her, enjoying Bruce’s bucking as he almost screamed,

“S-Selina! P-pl-please s-stop! Hahahaha!” Bridgit then found a similar urge over taking her so she leaned down and ran her tongue along Bruce’s underarm, relishing in the squeal Bruce couldn’t hold back as she licked and nipped at the smooth skin there.

“Isn’t Bridgit beautiful, Bruce?” Selina asked before she nipped at his arch and soothed it with her tongue.

“V-v-very b-b-beautiful!” Bruce had started laughing so hard, he was actually crying a bit.

“Why don’t you show her how beautiful you think she is by eating her out?” As though convincing him of the idea, she tickled one sole with her claws and licked the other one, going so far as to take his pinky toe into her mouth and run her tongue all around it.

“A-anything y-you w-w-want!” Bruce was almost convinced he was having an out of body experience from the sensations. He took in a huge breath when they stopped while Bridgit moved to sit on his face, though he was surprised when she turned around so she would be facing Selina.

“If you think I’m going to stop tickling you and making you do that cute little laugh of yours, you’re as nuts as Selina says you are. Besides, this gives me better access to your cute little belly button.” Bruce whimpered before leaning forward to her center; he hadn’t had much practice with this, but he remembered a few drunken fumblings with Grace, and she directed him to what she liked and didn’t like, though this time he was hindered by only having his tongue and he was at the wrong angle to reach her clit. Still, he started by gently licking her inner lips with little nips here and there, and he heard her give a little moan.

“Looks like you haven’t been training your puppy enough Selina; he’s very shy, but seems like he’s -ah!- trying.” Bridgit stroked his hip as she spoke, and Selina smirked as she responded,

“Maybe we should encourage his tongue a bit more by way of example?” ‘Oh no, what now?’ Bruce whimpered before almost dislodging Bridgit when he bucked like a bronco at the feeling of tongues on his most ticklish spots. Selina repeated the action of putting his toes in her mouth and running her tongue and now teeth around them as she dragged her claws along the arch. Bridgit meanwhile leaned down and used her fingers to spider up and down his stomach as she stuck her tongue in his navel and swirled it around before nipping at the skin around it. As he laughed at such intense sensations, Bridgit moaned at the vibrations, causing her own tongue to vibrate in his navel, which made it tickle even more. He wondered about the heat that had started bubbling up in his stomach from all this; was he becoming aroused from being these powerful girls little tickle and sex toy?