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itmeansiris · 26 days ago

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The Solar System Legacy Challenge: Lieutenant Gen 1 pt.94

Brindleton's finest returned to the precinct after their visit to the hospital. While they were gone, officer Till and the desk clerk managed to get Paris booked, which proved to be time-consuming. During the process, they came across her extensive wrap sheet. Her Brindelton record was mostly misdemeanors for disorderly conduct and DUIs, but her San Myshuno record was at least 3 pages long and held some pretty violent crimes and that didn't include the portions that seemed to have been redacted or needed special clearance to access.

Of course, she behaved as expected. Officer Till ended up needing to take her mugshot more than once, having to remind her repeatedly that it wasn't a photoshoot. After a few too many "test shots" she finally cooperated. Annoyed, he hastily ushered her over to the fingerprint scanner.

Officer Till: Hold still. I don’t feel like doing this twice.

As Till finished up, Adler ran into Lieutenant Gordon as he wandered into the lobby.

Ofc Adler: Good evening Lieutenant, busy week huh. Were you…on your way out?

Conrad sighed, the crease in his brow said it all. Brindleton PD had been busier than usual. Crime in the bay was usually non-existence, but lately, trouble had been brewing all over. There was a continued issue with dock security and then a body had turned up. There were hushed whispers amongst the higher shields that the Cartel could be involved, but Alder didn’t go snooping where he wasn’t welcomed.

He also didn't want to add to Conrad's already full plate, but he’d told Kason he would get help. The chief was in, so who better than Brindleton PD's rising star.

Ofc Adler: If not, do you have a couple minutes to spare? I know you're busy, but something happened when we went to the hospital.

Conrad mentally groaned. He already had some much to do, but he held a slight personal interest considering his stepson attended the same school as the Gratz kids.

Lieu. Gordon: Sure, I was going to hit the bags upstairs. We can talk there.

After he briefed Lieutenant Gordon on the matter, Adler excused himself beelining for the holding cells, leaving Conrad alone to pummel the punching bags in the weight room. It was evident that the Lieutenant was taking out his frustrations on the bag and Adler wanted to give him the privacy he was desperately craving. When he reached the area housing the cells he slowed his pace, checking each one for the wily Redhead. He stopped at the last cell lining the row, inside Paris sat on the sole cot in a bare cell, but an officer was unlocking the door.

Alder: What the hell are you doing? What's going on? Why are you moving her?

Officer: Detective Hana told me to take her to interrogation 2. Take it up with him.

Adler: Since when has Detective Hana called the shots here? Does the Chief know? I will.

Paris entered the scarcely furnished room. Detective Hana stood from his seat and gestured to the only other seat in the room.

Det. Hana: Ms. Amyot, please have a seat.

Paris looked around the room in boredom.

Paris: Do you have my cigarettes?

Det. Hana: You can’t smo-

Paris: My cigarettes.

He sighed while reaching to remove an unopened box from his pocket and relinquished it to Paris along with a book of matches.

Paris: Good boy.

Detective Hana bit back a response to her taunting comment. He folded his arms and donned a stonic expression hoping to appear unfazed.

Det. Hana: Now, Ms. Amyot I’d like-

Paris: Cut the detective act Kane. What do you want?

Det. Hana: I want to know what happened.

Paris: I thought that was squared away. Didn’t you talk to him?

Hana fidgeted before briefly glancing at the mirror on the wall to his right.

Det. Hana: I don't know what you mean.

Paris: YOU were supposed to SPEAK to Kason, Kane. I swear to the watcher you people are useless.

Det Hana: Ms. Amyot, first I'll have to ask you to refrain from using my first name. Next, I'm asking the questions and I want you to tell me what happened.

Paris: Are you some kind of an idiot? Didn’t you talk to my father?

Det. Hana: You can make a phone call once we are done here. I will try and get someone to contact your family in the meantime, but I need you to please answer my questions. We don’t have much time.

Hana's words came out forced and a light sheen of sweat had broken out across his skin as his eyes darted to the right, the last bit of the sentence he’d mouthed. Paris looked over at the mirror and then back at Hana. His distress finally registered but it only made Paris irritable.

Paris: Seriously? I forgot about the two-way glass. Why should I care who’s on the other side?

Hana's eyes grew pledging. Paris stared at the window as she took a drag of her cigarette, that all too familiar grin on her face.

Paris: Fine I'll play along, but I want to speak to my father Detective, tonight. What do you want to know?

Det. Hana: Start with how you know the Gratz.

Paris: I worked with Kason at Bay Robotics. Mars was just an annoyance I inherited when I got the job and the guy.

Det. Hana: Mars?

Paris: Mercury. Mars. Whatever! Who the hell names their kid after a space rock. Her parents must be hippies or something.

He ignored her rant trying to stay on topic.

Det. Hana: When did you "Get the guy" as you put it?

Paris: Our attraction was instant, but I kept my distance for a while cause I knew he was married. Once we went to Newcrest alone I couldn't resist anymore and he let me know it didn't matter that he was married because he wanted out anyway.

Det. Hana: Were you and Mr.Gratz..intimate on this trip?

Paris: oh Kane, wouldn't you like to know. Let's just say we got to know each other better.

She whispered to ensure anyone outside the room wouldn't hear her. A light blush spread across Hana's cheeks.

Det. Hana: Was that when the two of you became an official couple?

Paris: Yes and no. We were official, but we weren't public. He hadn't left his wife yet, obviously. But we were official in all the ways that counted Detective.

Detective Hana balled his hands into tight fist, visibly agitated by her last statement.

Det. Hana: Let's move on. Tell me when you and Mrs. Gratz had your first face-to-face encounter.

Paris: That's easy. The bitch showed up at the airport like a dog in heat. The moment we landed she was waiting outside the gate with her tongue out and her tail wagging.

Det. Hana: Did you exchange any words at that time?

Paris: Sure, but nothing I can remember now.

Hana nodded.

Det. Hana: Did you and Mr.Gratz maybe discuss when he was going to leave his wife? Didn't you wonder what was going to happen with his children? I can't imagine you raising anyone.

He scoffed.

Paris: What did you say?

Hana realized he'd allowed that last comment to slip out and scrambled to cover it up.

Det Hana: I just meant that you seem young to suddenly become stepmother to 4 small children is all. You would have to give up so much.

Paris's eyes narrowed and her tone was harsh.

Paris: Watch yourself detective. I'm not the only one who has done unspeakable things. I'm sure there are people who couldn't imagine you making detective first-grade. Yet here you are. I'm sure they would interested in how you achieved such a feat.

As the interrogation continued, Lieutenant Gordon received a text from Adler as he heated a frozen pastry from the precincts readily stocked but dubious selection of foods from the fridge. It was late and he'd been chasing ghost all day on another case, but the text had him shoveling the poorly heated pastry down his throat in a rush to get to the interrogation room. The text read:

Alder: Kane's has her in interrogation .Detective Wilks, and Hale are sitting in with me, but you should probably get down here, something doesn't seem right.

When Conrad arrived outside the observation room it was full. Adler stood behind an empty chair, arms folded across his chest with a frown. Conrad surveyed the small group trying to get a feel of their intentions, they all wore expressions ranging from confused to frustrated as they all watched the scene playing out behind the two-way mirror.

Lieu. Gordon: What’s going on in there?

Detective Wilks stood at the back of the room his brown hair was disheveled from raking his hand through it one too many times. Wilks didn’t take his eyes off the glass as he answered, obviously vexed by the circumstances.

Det. Wilks: It would seem, Detective Hana has decided for the entire department that he would be the one doing the Amyot interview. I’d like to know who gave him permission? The Chief made it clear: get her paperwork done and then she'd assign someone to do the interrogation tomorrow.

They all murmured in agreement.

Lieu. Gordon: No one cleared him. Amyot wasn’t supposed to have contact with anyone of us until tomorrow.

Det. Hale: Clearance isn't the only issue here Lieu.

Det. Wilks: Should we stop him, Lieutenant?

Lieutenant Gordon: No. I need to see what happens before we do anything else.

Conrad took a seat in the empty chair in front of Alder, listening intently to the conversation filtering into the speakers that connected the observation room to the interrogation room. Hana hadn’t thought to turn them off, causing Conrad to hesitate with his suspicions. Any level officer would have thought to turn off the microphone, so maybe he wasn’t hiding anything.

Paris: I told him we could let their grandparents adopt them, his or hers. It made no difference to me honestly, but he said that wouldn’t work. He's only entitled to part of her life's earnings, if they didn’t go too we wouldn’t get all the money. The kids have the larger share, thus how they became included in the deal. I'm no brat killer, but he insisted. He might as well have been foaming at the mouth as he talked about it. How could I say no?

Det. Hana: Would you have jumped off a bridge or killed yourself if he had asked Pa- Ms. Amyot?

Paris: Hmm? Maybe I would have. Have you seen him? Blonde hair, green eyes, athletic build without being too muscular and have you heard him speak, uugh it’s like honey over a fresh piece of bread, deep and rich. What about that says to say no.

She shrugged as she took another long drag from her cigarette. Kane fanned his hand through the air trying to clear some of the smoke away.

Det. Hana: Ugh, do you need to smoke that?

Paris: Yes. Next question.

Det. Hana: Why were you the one put up to the task? I mean from what you said, it was his idea. So why didn't he do the dirty work? He had constant access to his wife and the kids. Wouldn't it have been easier for him to kill his own family?

Paris: Let's just say I was better suited for the job. You should know. Besides they always blame the husband first, how could I let him take the blame for it all.

She droned in an antagonizing tone.

Det. Hana: At least in this instant we would have had it right and you...you would have been off the hook. Clear and free to live your life and love whoever you wanted after, but now...

Lieu. Gordon: Am I the only one getting the sense they know each other?

Ofc Adler: That's what I was telling Hale before you showed up. Something is going on between them. Amyot was calling him Kane like they’re old friends.

Det. Hale: I wouldn’t call their interaction friendly, but they are definitely familiar with one another.

She interjected.

Ofc Adler: She also mentioned him speaking to Mr. Gratz at the hospital. She couldn’t have known he was going to interview Gratz, we were assigned the task after she arrived. She never could have known it would be him, there are at least 5 other detectives here.

Lieu.Gordon: Unless he’s working with her somehow. Did anyone see Hana interact with Amyot when she arrived? We need to be absolutely sure. In the meantime, I'm putting an end to this charade before he puts the whole department at risk. Wilks, put Amyot back in holding with the other ladies. I want a transcript of their interview on my desk tomorrow morning, and someone check the camera's, we can't let this interview ruin the investigation so we need to get ahead of this. I'm going to have a word with Hana.

Det. Hana: So after all that what do you get out of the deal? Hmm? The kids are alive and for the moment so is his wife, so there goes the money. He's out there, free and worried about his family not you, while you're here in a bleak grey room wearing an orange jumpsuit. You said you did this all so you and him could be together, yet I don't see him in our precinct demanding you be freed. So was it worth it? Was he everything you hoped for?

Paris finally took a seat. She slowly pulled out another cigarette and slid it between her lips. She struck the match against the book that Hana had given her, engulfing the cigarette end with the small orange flame. She took a pull and blew the smoke in Detective Hana's direction as she ashed the tip onto the floor with no regard. He coughed and swiped his hand threw the air in disgust, trying to clear the smoke once more.

Paris: Detective, have you ever been in love? [Blows smoke] I mean the kind that your body understands before your brain. Where you can't sleep or eat. The thought of living without that person isn't even an option? I guess not considering the lack of a ring on your finger and the fact that you are working late during the holidays. I can assume that means there isn't anyone at home keeping the bed warmed up for you.

She taunted as she donned her usual nefarious smile.

Paris: You see love can make you do things you normally wouldn't. I'm a very passionate woman Detective. When I love, I love hard. Very few men have had and will have the pleasure of being loved by me. You know how that feels don’t you Kane.

Det. Hana: Sounds like you’re borderline obsessed if you ask my opinion. Maybe you made this whole thing up because he didn’t want you after all.

He snapped back. His patience was wearing thin and he was starting to losing his cool the more she mocked him.

Paris: Obsessed! Now that’s priceless coming from you, considering the way you chas-

Det. Hana: Shut your mouth!

He called out through clenched teeth just as the door shut with a heavy thud.

Lieu. Gordon: No Ms. Amyot please finish. I'd like to hear the end of that statement.

Hana: Lieutenant Gordon!

Hana tried to mask his surprise. Before Conrad could ask him a question he started babbling an explanation.

Det. Hana: I was just trying to get a start on the Amyot, Gratz case. Wanna be sure we don't miss anything. Plus the desk clerk said they had some issues with her, I was hoping to straighten them out.

Lieu. Gordon: With who's authorization?

Det. Hana: Well.. I just... No ones, sir. But, I was sent to take Mr. Gratz's statement so I figured I was assigned to be lead on this case.

When Hana and Adler had been sent to speak to Kason at the hospital the chief had simply assigned them to gather his statement and return. Detective Hana had never officially been assigned to the case, but it hadn't stopped him from telling everyone including Kason that he was the lead detective.

Lieu. Gordon: Detective Wilks will be here shortly to escort Ms. Amyot to holding. Meet me upstairs.

Det. Hana: But, I haven't finished the-

Conrad's expression stopped him mid sentence.

Det. Hana: Yes sir. I should let Wilks know she should be put in the empty holding cell at the end.

Conrad's frown deepened to a scowled.

Lieu. Gordon: She is to be put in a shared holding cell with the other ladies. Unless, there’s a reason you’ve separated her from the others?

Det. Hana: N-no sir.

Lieu. Gordon: Good. Then lets go. This interview is over.

Hana hesitated as Conrad held the door and waited for him to exit first. Conrad pulled the door shut behind him without a word to Paris, leaving her to wait for detective Wilks to come and fetch her.

Upstairs in an empty office Conrad laid into Hana.

Lieu.Gordon: Do you have any idea what you've potentially done?! That interview and the sketchy one at the hospital could be the difference between a landslide win and a dog fight in court. How do you know her?

Det. Hana: I don't. I was simply doing my job.

He answered defiantly.

Lieu. Gordon: A job no one assigned to you. You took it upon yourself to interview a suspect you were not asked to. Not to mention your very interesting trip to the hospital, where you were supposed to take a statement, but instead turned a victim into a suspect. Where did you get any of that information from Kane? No one was supposed to speak to Ms. Amyot from the time she was in custody, we were all informed of that. So how could you have her side of the story already?

Detective Hana stared back at Conrad with a look of distain, but said nothing.

Lieu. Gordon: Okay, fine. You're officially off the case. I don't want to see you anywhere near Ms. Amyot, Mr.Gartz, or anything related to their case. Do I make myself clear?

Hana gave a slight head nod in response, but that wasn't the response the Lieutenant was looking for. He wanted to be sure Kane understood.

Lieu. Gordon: Have I made myself clear? I don’t even want you to review evidence for their case.

Det. Hana: Loud and clear. Sir.

Conrad dismissed Kane and stood alone for a moment. He took a deep breath trying to center himself. The last couple of months had been stressful he didn't need the extra headache. That didn't deter him from his next task. He headed back downstairs where Paris had been escorted to the shared holding cell, which was crowded with 4 other women who were down on their luck that evening. He approached the gate stopping about five feet away.

Lieu. Gordon: Ms. Amyot, I have one question for you. How do you know Detective Kane Hana?

Paris: Who says that I do?

Conrad rolled his shoulders to ease some of the built up tension.

Lieu Gordon: Don't insult my intelligence, Ms. Amyot. I just want to know how you know Detective Hana. If you don't want to share I will go.

Paris: Professionally or personally?

She asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Lieu. Gordon: I get the feeling they go hand and hand with you. Both.

Instead of answering, she pivoted in a different direction.

Paris: Maybe I'd like to get to know you Lieutenant, during which time I’d be more than happy to tell you everything I know about Kane Hana. I just need to make a phone call first. I think you can help me with that. Can't you Lieutenant Gordon?

Her tone grew heavy with seduction. Conrad held is ground, unaffected by her attempts at seducing him and unwavering in his position. He both wanted and needed answers to this question and he wouldn't be distracted.

When he didn't respond Paris took that as a no. Her smile dropped and she flipped him the bird. Gone was the seductive eyes and flirty tone she'd been using previously and in its place was the hateful snake she truly was.

Paris: Too bad. Guess you're on your own Lieutenant. I could have showed you a nice time, but apparently you’re another tightly wound officer of the law. So, I’ll save this treat for someone a little more daring. You can leave now.

She winked and her cackle bounced off the open space as Conrad turned his back on her. Paris's voice stalked him down the hall.

Paris: Send Kane back when he's ready to do his job properly, or you could always come back for a visit Lieutenant.

He left the holding area with more questions than answers, but two things became very clear: One, Paris needed to be supervised. She was such a wild card. Two, Hana couldn’t be allowed near Paris and her case or he could jeopardize everything.

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Beginning

Sidebar: Lieutenant Conrad Gordon is from the amazing @abbysimsfun Sims in Bloom Legacy. . There are links to her story everywhere! But the link here is for the start of her amazing legacy story. Thank you again for allowing Conrad to be the protector of all Brindleton Bay citizens!

The Brindleton Police station build can be found on the gallery with No CC. It was created by ssweet_simmingg. Its listed as a residential lot.

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 story #solar system legacy challenge #itmeansiris #gen 1 #sims 4 romance #mercury generation #Mercury Medley #Kason Gratz #My sims #simblr #The Gratz Case #Gratz vs. Amyot #solar system legacy #the sims 4

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ggomos-maribat · 1 year ago

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1 | a perfect day

Part 1 of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead | Masterlist

The place they reserved was beautiful: the greenhouse-type of dining with ferns and orchids hanging from the glass ceiling and walls, a lush green against the pristine white of their chairs and table napkins. The day was blessed with fair weather so just the right amount of sunlight was cascading down on them which fit the light hum of the festive music from the speakers. Even the hostess herself was a sight to behold—a flowery off-shoulder dress, curled brown hair, and pastel manicured nails.

Sabrina truly felt she was in another world.

Their hostess stood up, holding her wine glass in one hand. "I'd like to make a toast." She beamed. "To everyone here, who accepted my invitation for a humble reunion."

She looked at them on by one, first at Alya who seemed to cling at her every word, then moved down the table to Nino, Rose, Juleka, Max, Kim, and so on. These were faces of now acclaimed people, successful in their respective fields. "It seems it was just yesterday when we were only students in Ms. Bustier's class," she continued, "But in reality, we've been through a lot. Ups and downs, pains and losses. But I'm proud of us for sticking together, for keeping in touch after all these years."

A star in the social media field, and a proud founder and CEO of her brand. Lilia Ross. That was the alias she had been using when she was stepping into fame. But to Sabrina, she'll always be Lila, the charming girl who once was a transfer student in their class.

"To us!" Lila cheered, raising her glass up in the air. They all followed suit, some laughing a little and others bursting into lively conversation.

Sabrina took a sip of her drink, turning to her left. "It really has been so long, hasn't it, Chloe?"

The blonde appeared to be in some kind of stupor, but her friend's words shook her out of it. "Huh?"

"I said it's been so long."

Chloe rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Uh, yeah, you're right."

"Are you okay?"

She gave a smile of reassurance. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, it's just . . . stress from work."

Sabrina was about to suggest she get some rest first when the wooden doors opened, revealing another familiar face from their teen years. Large sweater over a collared piece. A priceless watch. Golden hair fixed to look stylishly unkempt.

The man greeted them, "Hey, I hope I'm not too late?"

At the head of the table, Lila's jaw dropped open. "A—Adrien?"

"That's me," he chuckled lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long time no see, everyone."

The others, too, couldn't mask their shock—understandably so. Adrien Agreste had been out of the public eye for the past seven months, halting his modeling career and laying low in god knows where. Even Sabrina couldn't remember when she had last seen him.

It was Alya who stood up, grabbing a seat for their new guest. "It's been so long!" She said. "Come here, sit. Where have you been and why were you so unreachable?"

"Yeah, man, I even tried visiting your old house in Paris. They said you weren't there." Kim, meanwhile, passed a plate to him.

"I'm really sorry for that." Adrien gave a sheepish look. "I was too focused on taking time for myself. I'm on hiatus from modeling—I didn't mean to cut everyone off. But I wanted to make it to this reunion!"

At that second, Sabrina's phone began to buzz a notification.

"It's alright to take a break sometimes," Mylene consoled. "Are you going back to modeling soon?"

Adrien shrugged. "I'm not sure yet; I might try out other things and see what works for me."

The phone vibrated again, a few times in succession this time.

"What about working with me?" Alix offered. "I need some extra hands around the museum. Minimal experience needed! I'll teach you everything I know."

The nth buzz sounded and Sabrina pulled out her phone from her purse to completely silence it but then she caught a glimpse of Chloe. She looked pale as a sheet, staring down at her unfinished plate.

Sabrina leaned. "Chlo—"

Buzz. Buzz.

Frowning, Sabrina unlocked her phone to check what the incessant ringing was all about. There were tweets, articles, posts, and messages filling up the screen like something had blown up. And something might as well have.

Her eyes widened when she tapped on an article.

Alya's voice rang out. She, too, was looking at her phone. "Hey, Lila, what's this all about?"

"Hm? Is it about my magazine feature?"

"No, it's not," Sabrina whispered.

There in bold letters the words were summoning up a storm: 'The Truth About Lilia Ross: She's Not Who You Think She Is' .

***

Saturday morning saw Jason Todd at the Wayne manor's dining table, munching on a piece of toast with jam. He stayed the night after patrol upon Alfred's insistence, and then remained for breakfast after some more badgering.

The second eldest raised an eyebrow when Bruce strolled into room wearing office clothes.

"Event at WE today," Bruce explained, making a coffee for himself. "Tim, feet off the table please."

Tim, who was stuck to his phone, let out an incoherent mumble before putting his feet down.

"Lilia Ross," uttered Bruce. "Does that name ring a bell?"

"French-Italian, founder and CEO of Lilia Designs, sells clothing and cosmetics," Tim supplied in a monotonous voice. "She's more famous as an influencer though. In the past few days, there have been a lot of rumors popping up about her. Why do you ask?"

"PR at WE asked me. They wondered if I knew her."

"What does she have to do with Wayne Enterprises?" Damian chimed in.

Celebrities and trends never piqued Jason's interest—he focused on eating, debating internally if he should purchase more handguns to replace a couple that he lost.

"She's been promoting our products even if she's not legally affiliated with WE," Tim explained whilst gulping down his daily dose of caffeine. "She's just trying to fish for a real sponsorship or partnership. Her brand's getting famous in Gotham, you know."

"It's not much of a concern for the company then. Our lawyers will be able to handle it if her so-called scandals affect WE," said Bruce.

"True, but it's still weird. This is her first major backlash on the internet and there's a lot of—" Tim did air quotes with his fingers, "—'anonymous witnesses' coming forward to show her 'true colors'."

"How is that different from the usual celebrity rumors?" asked Damian.

Okay, maybe Jason was a little curious.

He discreetly pulled his phone out to check the articles popping out online. And there were many, as if testimonies were spewing from a never-ending fountain.

'eiffelparis12: don't fall for it. she bought all those views and likes. fake *****'

'coffeecake: I worked as a stylist in a studio once. She was at our show...I didn't expect her to be so two-faced! She was so rude to the producer's assistant and kept bossing her around. The poor guy didn't even get to eat.'

'seaasss: her products arent even that good. lol.'

'venusred: she bought her way to be in our blog's feature. i'm pretty sure she has an anonymous sponsor.'

'harpyre: OMG! does she even pay her employees enough?'

'silverberry640: no way, lilia doesn't deserve this! there's no proof.'

'ngc5195: this is what fame does to all of them......sad.'

Jason looked up again when Bruce spoke. "For now, WE isn't obligated to proceed with legal action and we're not actually involved anyway. I'm sure this will pass on its own."

He wasn't wrong. Scandals came and went; people liked to throw stones at one person then move on to the next after the damage was done.

"Or not," Tim suddenly said, staring at something on his phone "Shit."

"What is it?" asked Bruce.

Tim read the words aloud. "Influencer Lilia Ross, accused of murdering former classmate."

#maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fic #character death #major character death #angst #MDC is Dead #dc x miraculous

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tilly-tilly-2827 · 8 months ago

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Spirited Away

Cannon divergence of An Offer from a Gentleman #1

Synopsis: “When I come back around, will I know what to say?” Or what if Sophie became pregnant with Charlie after the couch scene? What if Sophie agreed to be Benedict’s mistress for the sake of her son? What if Benedict never resisted the rules of the ton?

The darkest timeline of AOFAG; inspired by Billy Eilish’s “CHIHIRO”.

AO3 post from here!

“I’m getting married next month.”

When Benedict murmured those words against her neck, Sophie felt nothing. Nothing at all. Perhaps Benedict thought she would start crying, or at least, emotionally disturbed, because he began to stroke her curls as if soothing her from the nonexistent pain.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Sophie listened to the ticking of the clock.

“But, nothing is going to change between us, my love. In my heart, you are already my wife,”

Staring through the half-opened window, Sophie noticed that the moon was exceptionally well-lit that night,

“Which young lady is going to be Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton?”

“Ms. Stowell.” Benedict sighed as he tightened his arms around Sophie’s small waist, feeling her soft smooth skin against his, “Dolores Stowell.”

“Please send my regards.”

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,” Benedict tried to roll her to his side, wanting to look into her eyes, but her grip on the sheets was too tight, “You knew I had to marry someday,”

“I know.”

“Mother and Anthony were pinching me to marry. I thought I should get it over with,”

“I understand.”

“Aren’t you jealous, Sophie?”

“Do you want me to be jealous?”

Yes, his pathetic answer almost strumbled from his lips. He half wanted her to scream and cry in hysterics, begging him to marry her instead. If she were in fits of anger and jealousy, Benedict could hold her tight and smooth her, whispering love into her ears until she calmed down and slept peacefully in his arms.

But Sophie only lay there motionless, emotionless.

Silence crept up in the spacious townhouse on St. Johns Street. Only the peaceful sounds of Charlie snoring from the nursery could they hear.

“Do you know how much I love you, Sophie?.” Benedict covered his hands over Sophie’s clenched fists. Trailing her delicate, cold fingertips. “I love you, Sophie.”

“I know.”

“Only you.”

“I know.”

At the break of dawn, Sophie felt Benedict slip away from the covers, the gentle waves of the mattresses waking up from her doze. On any other day, Sophie would wake up and send him off with a kiss, but that day, Sophie just couldn’t bring herself to do so.

She kept her eyes shut as Benedict placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his hands lingering on her golden curls. Then, she heard a small click on the door; Benedict was so careful not to make a sound. Making sure that Sophie and Charlie would stay in their sweet dreams of their own.

Life as Benedict’s mistress wasn’t as horrible as she had imagined. It wasn’t horrible, in fact, it might be the life she had once dreamed of.

Even before Charlie was born, Benedict visited the townhouse every day with flowers in his hand, a basket of apples and pears she had craved during her pregnancy. He didn’t sleep for three days and held her hand tightly as she screamed and moaned in pain, the birth of Charlie Bridgerton had been long and painful. Both in tears and sweat, he had burst into tears of joy when the midwife handed the little baby in his arms, telling him with a smile that it was a healthy boy. Sophie had also shed tears as she watched Benedict sing lullabies while cradling little Charlie, knowing that perhaps, she had not foolishly repeated the tragedy of her mother. Unlike Sophie, Charlie was loved by his father. Unlike her mother, she was loved. Sophie knew that nothing could be better.

Almost every day, Benedict would come home from his studio at five o’clock, and Benedict would ask how her day was as she cooked supper for three, and chatted over their dinner plates. Benedict would play with Charlie as he tumbled on his lap, and after tucking in his son with a lullaby and a kiss on the forehead, Benedict would wrap Sophie in his warm arms, murmuring sweet love in her ears. Some nights were spent with cups of tea and suppressed giggles, talking and laughing away about Charlie, paintings, poems, and books. Sometimes nothing at all, talking absolute nonsense for hours and hours. Some nights were spent inside Benedict’s arms, waltzing around the room, dancing and twirling to the gentle sound of the music box. Some nights were spent with hushed voices, Benedict worshiping every part of her with his body and soul. Feeling the intense heat on her, inside her, Sophie knew that she was loved.

Sometimes, Benedict would take Sophie and Charlie to the park, and the three would have a picnic on the freshly cut grass, laughing as Charlie rolled on the grass chasing butterflies. Benedict would doze off in the armchair beside the fireplace with Charlie in his arms, Charlie snoring happily with the exact same drop of his eyebrows. It was astonishing how the two resembled each other, and Sophie had to chuckle when Charlie gave her the same crooked grin as Benedict when he was up to mischief.

Sometimes, Benedict would take the two to Wiltshire, where Sophie could roam around the village without fearing being seen by the other Bridgertons. Charlie would burst into fits of laughter as Benedict softly tickled his stomach inside their carriage. Mr. And Mrs. Crabtree would coo and cuddle Charlie without any questions, Charlie enjoying the undivided attention he was getting from the elderly couple.

Charlie giggled happily on Sophie’s lap as Benedict gently pushed her from the back, on the swings he had made on the cherry tree. The three would take walks in the countryside, Benedict carrying the snoring Charlie on his back.

“I love a good party,”

“I would hardly call this a party, Benedict.”

Sophie laughed as Benedict brought her hand to his lips,

“My most favorite party of three, my love,”

Walking arm in arm, Benedict would steal kisses from her every corner.

It was almost like the married life with Benedict she had always dreamed of. Almost.

True, Benedict missed Charlie’s first birthday because of the queen ball. True, they couldn’t spend Easter and Christmas together, he would be away in Audrey Hall with his family, and sometimes Benedict would show up at the door drunk and wasted, presumably after an opera or a ball. But even those moments were precious, sobering him up with a glass of water, and cooking chicken soup for his hangover the next morning. Softly caressing his curls as he groaned like a bear, Sophie would gently wake him up with a kiss, acting like a loving, dedicated wife. And he would playfully pull her into their beds, nuzzling his lips on her neck,

Sophie knew that she was already Benedict’s dirty secret, and with Benedict being in the sacrament of marriage; her presence, Charlie’s presence was going to become more unscrupulous than ever.

But all the abundant love that Benedict had poured into Sophie and Charlie had made her believe in the illusion of bliss and happiness.

The next day, Benedict knocked on the door at five o’clock sharp, just as usual. With a crooked smile and a bouquet of Lilly of the Valleys in his hands.

“How was your day, my love?”

“Papa!”

Charlie’s face lighted up into a cheeky smile seeing his loving father at the door, reaching his arms up for a hug. Benedict picked up Charlie from the carpet with ease and nuzzed him playfully with his nose. The identical, scrunched smiles on their faces.

“Tickles!”

“Were you being a good boy to Mama?”

A little more, Sophie thought to herself. Let me stay in this illusion a little more,

Carrying Charlie adoringly in his arms as if nothing had happened. Giving her a small kiss on the cheeks as if nothing had changed. Undoing the laces of her nightgown, whispering her name as if his fiancée had never existed.

“Sophie,”

It was barely audible, but she heard the familiar name murmured against her neck. It had happened several times in their marital bed, but no, she wasn’t going to question the integrity of her husband, her mother had taught her better than that. And somehow, his desperate tone always sent shivers down her spine; a tingling sinful sensation.

Normally, it would begin with slow practical strokes. Next, he would rub her core until her breath became more shallow and short, and he would stop when she fell apart in his hands, arching her back into a gasp. His strokes would become faster and deeper after that, and after he spilled inside her, he would neatly clean her up with a towel and gently pull the sheets over her naked body.

“Good night,” He would say, leaving a small peck on her cheeks. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

After wrapping himself in a silk robe, he would clean his hands with the basin, using a small brush to scrub his nails. The lingering smell of their sex mixed with the fresh scent of lemon and soap.

Then he would leave. Closing the door of her bedroom.

In a few minutes, she would hear her husband order a bath for one. Then she would smell the burning cigarettes from the window, her husband indulging in the filthy habit in the outside garden. Throwing the burned-out cigarette on her well-polished Italian tiles.

Then she would hear the carriage coming from the distance, and she would hear two clicks on the door. One heavy click of the entrance door. One light click of the carriage door.

Then she would be all alone in the house.

Life with Benedict Bridgerton was supposed to be a dream come true. It was a dream come true, it truly was.

Benedict Bridgerton had been listed as the most eligible bachelor for years, and she always loved the way he smiled, the way he danced, the way he talked, charming everyone in the room. With his tall broad figure and his crooked teasing smile, she always thought he was the handsomest in the prosperous Bridgerton Brothers.

Her parents had been over the moon about the courtship, and although it puzzled both her and her mother why Benedict had suddenly started to show interest in her after spending years avoiding her like a plague, she liked how he courted her with fragrant flowers and sweet chocolates, the charming smile only given exclusively for her.

In three weeks he proposed to her and they were engaged. In a month they were married, and Benedict had taken her to Italy for their honeymoon; traveling through Venice, Rome, beautiful cottage around the Amalfi Coast. She had felt rather smug walking around the city with a handsome man by her side, taking her to extravagant palaces, balls, art galleries, and beaches. And she did enjoy the intercourses at night, “the marital duties” her mother had taught her. She was surprised at how much she enjoyed it; given her sister’s comments about “utter pain and discomfort for five minutes.” Benedict was kind and gentle, showing her the newfound pleasures and sensations. She loved how he touched her, with his warm, soft hands. She wanted his hands to stay there, forever,

But after a month, they returned to Maddison Manor, a relatively large place in London, a place her father had given them for their residence. She was disappointed that he insisted on having separate bedrooms, but she knew he was a shallow sleeper, he seemed quite sleep-deprived during their honeymoon.

“Go back to bed,” He would gently say to her when she woke up in the middle of the night, feeling the cold sheets on her fingertips. Finding her newlywed husband on the couch, fervently writing something on a piece of paper. “Go back to sleep,”

“Aren’t you coming with me, dear husband?” She would ask, gently undoing the knot of her gown, but her husband would only chuckle, putting the robes back to her shoulders.

“Can’t sleep,” he would say, “I’ll join you later,”

But she would often find him snoring on the couch the next morning.

Back at the Maddison Manor, the two shared breakfast on weekdays, exchanging the plans for the day. He would normally leave for his art studio at 9:00, and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, Benedict would have dinner with her; the other days he had appointments with his other family members and the other artists in the studio.

What surprised her about Benedict was that he was a man of routine. Hearing discreet rumors about his bohemian tendencies, she thought he would be slovenly; perhaps lazy and sloppy.

But he was quite the opposite. He would diligently attend the invitations of balls, operas, and musicals, and dance two waltzes with her at every ball.

“Such a wonderful husband,” Her friends would tell her jealously*, “I haven’t seen my husband for three months.”*

He would decline her invitation to social events once in three times. He would come home every day at five-thirty in the morning. He would come to her room at ten o’clock in the evening every Tuesday and leave at eleven o’clock. Once every two months, he would go on a two-week trip with his artist friends, to an outdoor sketch in the countryside. Returning home with souvenirs; oysters from Whitstable, pottery from Middleport, and beautiful engraved signet rings from Kent.

Sweet honey from Wiltshire.

The night of his return, he would give her not one but two orgasms, and kiss her twice on the lips, but she would only taste whiskey and cigarettes. And he would wash his hands, take a bath, smoke, and leave. Like a clockwork soldier.

She should be happy. She lived in a beautiful house with a handsome husband, who fulfilled every aspect of his marital duties. She had wonderful in-laws, (although they were rather too bustling for her liking) and if she was lucky, she would be blessed with a baby sooner or later.

She wondered if Benedict would start to love her if she gave him a son. She wondered if Benedict would stop cleaning his hands if they had children together. If he would stay in her bed for a whole night. If he would open the door to her bedroom every night.

Lost in thoughts, hours and hours passed by as she sat by the windowsill.

Waiting.

She never really liked going in the servant's Kitchen. Nothing, nobody in the room was particularly familiar to her, and the smallness and the stuffiness of the room was disorienting, sometimes making her dizzy and sick. But she did have to consult the cook with the dishes for the upcoming Bridgerton Ball, she knew that the sooner she finished the conversation, the sooner she would be able to leave the awful pace.

“Excuse me, I’m afraid Mary forgot to deliver these,”

But just as she was about the room, a woman came rushing into the small kitchen, carrying a bundle of sheets. Judging from her shabby dress and ash stained face, she was probably one of the washerwomen, carrying a little child behind her back. She did look rather pretty, she thought, a certain glow within her some women often carried, but the little child was breathtaking, with almond green eyes, long eyelashes, angelic brown curls that, that, that, that, that,

“Oh, my deepest apologies,” She widened her eyes in surprise, dropping into a hastily cutusy, “Sheets, my lady, cleaned and ironed.”

“Ah, Ms. Beckett. I did wonder why Mary’s bundles were so small today,” Mrs. Lindon, the housekeeper said briskly, “Excellent quality as always.”

But just as the housekeeper shooed her off in the streets, she found herself grabbing the washerwoman’s wrists.

Because she knew those brown curls,

“Such a beautiful boy,” She said.

The mother’s puzzled look turned into a warm smile, and she gently laid her hands on the boy’s chubby cheeks, plump and reddened like a ripe autumn apple.

So well nourished, she thought.

She slightly dipped her head to look into the boy’s eyes, but he suddenly buried his head on his mother’s shoulders, hiding from her gaze.

Both the women and Mrs. Lindon chuckled.

“My apologies again, Madam. He’s quite shy around people at the first time,” “How old is he?”

“A year and five months, my lady.”

“And another one coming up, I hear?” Mrs. Lindon added with a bantering tone, and the washerwomen returned a weak smile, a slight weary look in her eyes.

She suddenly noticed that the woman was rather slim compared to the baby she carried, her cheeks slightly hollowed and her color was slightly off, her shoulders terribly delicate. Burnt marks on her thin arms, and blistered fingertips. But she had beautiful honey-colored locks, bright-colored eyes that loomed too large for her face,

“Name?”

“Pardon?”

“His name,”

“Oh, Charles, my lady.” The woman replied, “But we normally call him Charlie,”

“Charles.”

The little boy was now focused on his mother’s golden curls, giggling as he played with the bouncing ringlets,

With That crooked, charming smile,

“Don’t you have a nanny?”

“...I.”

“To look after him?”

“I do look after him, My lady.”

“Do you?”

She stared at the young toddler’s tiny palm, the little burn mark on his left hand, a little bandage wrapped around his right. She reached out to take the boy in her arms, but the washerwoman suddenly staggered back, a slight fear and guilt in her eyes.

“I must be going,” She said hastily, “Good day to you, my lady.”

And the women rushed out of the room. But the little boy turned his head softly as the mother reached the door, a crooked smile and a small wave,

The same cheeky smile that she always loved,

But she wasn’t going to let him go with just that smile.

“Opium. Benedict. Opiums. You told me you would stop,”

“Dearest, there was the Smythe-smith musical last night.” Benedict pouted his lips playfully, battering his eyebrows, and not a drop of remorse in his tone, “How do you think I could bear the night without them?”

With a crooked grin, Benedict snaked his hands around Sophie’s waist, his lips nuzzling the nape of her neck, “I wouldn’t have needed them if you were there for distraction,”

“Benedict, I’m being serious,”

“So am I, my love. So serious, ”

As Benedict’s hands traveled to the hems of her skirts, she slapped his hands off, stepping away from his clutch.

“Benedict, we need to talk,”

“But it’s been ages, my love.” He again pulled her in his arms, nibbling her earlobes, “I didn’t send Charlie to Mrs. Crabtrees for no reason,”

“So you wouldn’t have to worry about our son accidentally taking in any of your special tea?” His hands squeezing on her bosoms froze, and Sophie peeled herself away, turning around to face him with a scowl.

“I didn’t know that it was in my jacket, Sophie!” Benedict groaned weakly, flopping down in an armchair. “Sophie, I’m sorry I accidentally brought them here,”

“No, Benedict. I am not asking for apologies.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Benedict, I know what those are, what they do to you,”

With a soft sigh, Sophie gently paced herself on his lap, curing up on the armchair with him. She ran her fingers through his curls, but Benedict didn’t quite look into her eyes, wringing his hands in his lap.

“Why tea again, Benedict? Tell me,”

“The Smyth-Smith musical is more terrible than you could ever imagine, Sophie.”

“No, Benedict.”

Sophie saw him bite his lips as if he were afraid to let something wicked slip out.

“It’s just...stressful. Balls. Garden parties. Promenades. Dorl...everything.”His shoulders deflating, Benedict buried his face in her shoulders, “ I want to stay with you. Always. With Charlie. All the time.”

“Then stay,” Sophie said softly. “Stay with me.”

“I...I can not,”

“Why?”

“...I’m married,”

It was a terrible answer, Benedict knew instantly as the words lurched from his mouth unconsciously. Sophie visually grew stiff on his lap, but she quickly averted her gaze to the fireplace. Despite the cracking fire, Benedict noticed that there was no color on her face,

“I cannot cope with anymore,”

“Sophie,“

Benedict tried to grab her skirts as she stepped away from his lap, but failed miserably, almost slipping out from his chair. Sophie meaninglessly took a cloth from the table, wiping the pot Benedict had washed an hour earlier.

“What do you want from me, Benedict?”

Sophie refused to look at him, her hands working on the cool iron surface,

“Sophie, I only want you,”

“But am I not making your life miserable? You wouldn’t have gone back to your special tea if Charlie and I didn’t exist.”

“No, don’t say that Sophie,”

Benedict gently took the pot from her hands, placing it back on the upper shelf.

“I don’t understand you, Benedict.”

Sophie looked at him, the man who had been her prince charming, the man who had saved her, the man that she fell in love with, the man who poured so much love into her,

She tightened her grip on the cloth.

“You told me that you were going to get married to gain freedom. So that the eligible debutants and their mamas wouldn’t hunt you down anymore. That you could be free from the rules of the society. Yet, ever since you got married, you are more trapped than ever. Trapped in the cycle of Balls, musicals, parties, operas,”

“Sophie, I must fulfill,”

“I thought you married to escape from those duties. To be with me and Charlie.” Sophie continued softy, “I don’t understand what you are trying to do,”

Benedict suddenly stood up from his chair. But as he took steps towards her, Sophie could sense he was contemplating every step. When he finally reached her, standing by the kitchen window, He tried to put his arms around her shoulders, but Sophie brushed it off yet again.

The two stared at each other in silence, and Sophie noticed that there was cold darkness in his green-grey eyes she had never seen,

“Do you know what, Sophie?” Sophie saw Benedict clench his fists. “It’s you whom I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve been working at the laundry.”

Benedict started to edge her to the wall, Sophie staggering back, a knock on the head as she reached the end. Benedict loomed over her, his tone in a hushed whisper. “I know all your secrets, Sophie. Didn’t you think I would find out where you keep your worker’s rags?”

Benedict suddenly grabbed her arms, pulling them up to her eyes, his tone was suddenly different; cold but laced with impatience.

“And didn’t you think I wouldn’t notice your hands and arms getting burnt and blistered every day?”

Sophie yanked her arms from his embrace, but he caught them again, aggressively pinning her wrists against the wall. Sophie cursed her height, no, she cursed her own body, no matter how she tried, Benedict had everything to overpower her,

The only defiance was to not look into his eyes, the ones she knew were firing up in fury,

“Sophie, what do you want me to do?”

Yet his tone turned weak, submissive, almost as if he were begging for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything you want. Everything. Everything. Why do you keep working Sophie? Making yourself suffer in service,”

“Because I don’t want to sit idly in the room only waiting for my lover to come home,” Sophie hissed, yes she was still pinned to the wall but she could still glare at him,

“Do you know how pathetic that is, Benedict? Spending the precious time of life only thinking when her lover is coming back, like some kind of mistress,”

“But you are,” Benedict said quietly.

“I had no choice,” Sophie muttered. “If it weren’t for Charles, I would have killed myself.”

“No, Don’t say that Sophie.”

His eyebrows scrunched as if in pain, Benedict softened his grip on her wrists and on that brief second, Sophie pushed him by the shoulders, away from his captivity.

Benedict just stood there as Sophie began to prepare tea rather violently, putting the kettle on the stove, and grabbing the tea-set from the cupboards. Benedict hated how the china’s clattered, even the rattling of the kettle was fuming his frustration,

“You told me not to tell lies, Benedict.”

“And this is the truth.”

“...Then just stop working at the laundry. Please, Sophie. I’m begging you. If you need more money I could give you more,”

“It’s not about the money, Benedict,”

“Then what is it about?”

“My goddamn pride, Benedict!”

Sophie realized that she was about to slam the teacup she held in her hands, smashing the fine china on the brown chipped tiles. Benedict would cut his hand cleaning out the glass splinters scattered on the floor,

Sophie took a deep breath.

Breathe, Sophie, breathe.

“Why are you suddenly condemning me, Benedict?” Sophie asked quietly. “I started working months ago, and a smart gentleman like you would have noticed much earlier. Suddenly you’re asking me why. Why Benedict? Why?”

“It’s not good for Charles.”

“I don’t understand,”

“I first thought that while you were working, Ms. Hudson was looking after Charles. But just a few days ago, when I asked her if she needed additional money for the diapers, she told me that you take Charlie to work.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. I’m his mother, Benedict, and I want to take care of him,”

“Think rationally, Sophie.” Benedict’s tone was starting to become impatient, tapping his fingers on the wall, “You possibly don’t think it’s good for Charlie,”

“Why so?”

“The environment, Sophie, the environment! Don’t you understand? There are chemicals, hot water, and other dangerous objects. It's not a place for a child, especially not for a toddler. And I’ve never gone down those parts of the city, but I don’t want Charles to be influenced by,”

“The other fallen women in the factory and their other illegitimate children?”

“Sophie, the place is dangerous,” Ignoring Sophie’s last question, Benedict’s voice changed into a desperate plea. “I don’t want you or Charlie to get hurt,”

“You’ve already hurt me enough, Benedict.”

“But I gave you everything Sophie, a flat, dresses, jewelry, ribbons,”

“Why would you think this is everything?”

“Then what do you want, Sophie?”

“Only You,” Sophie said softly. “You. And Charlie.”

Benedict shook his head in confusion and exhaustion, waving her words away. After gulping down a glass of water, he loomed over her petite figure, glaring down at her.

“I’m taking Charlie, Sophie. To Maddison Manor.”

“Oh, so is that where you live?”

Sophie scoffed, eyeing him sarcastically.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You never told me where you lived,”

“You never asked, Sophie.”

Sophie gave a low laugh, a dry, weary voice that dug nails in Benedict’s soul,

“Do you think I ever want to see the love of my life in the hands of another?”

“Sophie, you are the only one I would ever love, “

“Yet, you are trying to take my love away,” Sophie said quietly. “Taking my love away from me,”

“Charles is my son too, Sophie. He carries my name. And I don’t want him wandering alone in those streets in the future,”

“You don’t seem to find the problem with me, walking down those streets.”

“I see the problem, Sophie.” Benedict snapped, “Except that you choose to do so despite my warnings. You chose to walk down those streets. But not Charles.”

Sophie tightened her fists. God, she wanted to smack him but Benedict's words were painfully justifiable,

In the blink of an eye, while she looked away, Charlie had reached his hands on the burning iron, bursting into a painful cry,

“So, you are going to take him away? Away from his mama?”

“I’m not taking Charles away from you, Sophie. I’ll come to St. Johns with Charlie every weekend. If that’s not enough for you, I can hire you as a maid,”

“What will your wife think?” Sophie snared, his absurdity was making her veins explode, “I don’t think your Mrs. Bridgerton would be happy about having a bastard in her own house. Let alone live with her husband's mistress.”

“It’s my house, Sophie.” Benedict snapped back, “I’m the master of the house, not her. And Dolores is an intelligent woman, perhaps less foolish than you,”

“I cannot believe you just said that,”

“She will understand, Sophie.’

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you're being an absolute fool,”

With a deep sigh, Benedict ran his fingers in his hair. Why couldn’t this woman be reasonable?

“When you said you would be my mistress,” Benedict continued matter-of-factly, “You made me promise three things. I believe an intelligent women like yourself would remember,”

Sophie clutched the hems of her skirt. So tightly that her nails were biting into her skin, the striking hot pain against her skin,

“I asked you to love the baby no matter what.”

“Yes. And I have, Sophie. I love and adore Charlie with all my heart. I would give my life for him.”

“I know.”

“Tell me the second one.”

Sophie hated how Benedict’s voice was calm and reserved; as if he were trying to soothe a toddler,

“The baby would have your name,”

“And I have done that Sophie. Chares Bridgerton. Do you understand how difficult that was for me?”

Benedict peered into Sophie’s eyes, craning his lean figure, but Sophie only glared back at him, with her icy-cold green eyes,

“You said that you would give your life for him.” She tilted her head in disbelief, “Yet, you struggled to give him the legitimacy?”

“Sophie,”

Sophie cut off his words.

“And the education. Benedict. The same education as you,”

“And I plan to keep my promise, Sophie. I found him a governess. In a few years, I can get Charlie a tutor so that he can be prepared for Eaton,”

“But why do you have to take him away from me? Why? Why, Benedict, why? He could stay at St. Johns, Benedict. Get a tutor to visit there,”

“Sophie, that place is filled with whores and prostitutes,” gritting through his teeth, he said, “Do you think I can get a decent man to come to St. Johns for education,”

“Are you calling me a whore?”

“No, Sophie. Why would I call you,”

“But you did,”

Benedict twisted his lips in a mocking smile.

“Sophie, your argument is completely irrelevant to Charlie’s education,”

“Well, according to your theory, Charlie is a son of a whore,”

“Why could you say that, Sophie?”

“Because you said so!”

The two glared at each other. Sophie clenched her jaw, her forest green eyes in flames. The veins on Benedict’s neck bulging.

Fists clenched. Sweating.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,”

Benedict took his jacket from the chair, and walked up the stairs to their bedroom. Sophie followed him, desperately trying to catch up with his speed,

“No, Benedict. We have to talk about this,”

“I don’t think you’re in the right place of mind to talk reasonably,”

“Oh, you’re the one to say,”

Sophie glared at him as Benedict continued to pack his belongings, no, not packing, he was just slamming things in the leather trunk,

“I’m going to take the carriage to London. I’ll send one the first thing tomorrow morning for you and Charlie.”

“Oh, so you are going to run away from me now? Away from Charles? Away from all your problems again?”

“I just need a break, Sophie. From this mess,”

“No, Benedict. This is your mess.”

“This is our mess, Sophie.”

“No, if,”

“If, if, if, if.” Benedict muttered angrily, “You keep talking of nonexistent possibilities, Sophie. Non-existing dreams. Illusions. Can’t you see I’m trying to live the reality Sophie?”

“YOU fed me with illusions of love, Benedict. Telling me that you love me and nothing was going to change. Everything changed, Benedict. Everything. Ever since you got married. You lied to me, Benedict, making me hope that someday we could,”

“See, Sophie? See? You are talking of illusions again,”

“Because you made me believe in them,”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?”

With a violent slam of the desk, Benedict found himself screaming at her. But Benedict immediately regretted everything he said as she took two steps back, her face no longer flushed with anger or spite, it was emotionless. Blank.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

“No, Benedict,”

“Sophie, I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“I don’t know you anymore,”

Her voice was quiet.

“I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“Sophie.”

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

And she left, closing the door behind her.

“Maybe tomorrow,”

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,”

“Is it a crime to dine at my own house?”

With a mocking smile plastered across his lips, her husband played with the chicken roast on his plate, peeling off the grilled skin with a silver knife. Like a little toddler.

“Are you quite all right?”

“Splendid, my dear, quite splendid!”

Her husband gave a dark chuckle as he chugged down another glass of whiskey. It was quite unusual for him to be dining at Maddison Manor on a regular Saturday, and when she saw him arrive at the door at five o’clock, asking the butler to prepare a dinner for two, she asked her ladies maid to put on her best dress, the dark green silk she had just made at the modiste. The low neckline was a bit scandalous; but the modiste, with a teasing smile, had told her that was her husband’s taste.

But he seemed more interested in the glass of whiskey than herself. Hell, he paid more attention to the plate of roasted chicken before him. She gripped on her silver knife and fork even tighter.

“How was your day, my love?”

“Splendid.”

“How so?”

Benedict didn’t answer her question. Instead, he took another shot of whiskey, waving a hand to the servants for another.

As the butler came in with another bottle, she snatched it from his hands. Her husband’s eyes widened as she poured the liquid into her wine glass, drowning herself in the bitterness in one just swig.

She could feel the burning in her throat,

Benedict finally looked at her, eyeing her from tip to toe. He changed into a twisted smirk.

“You do look rather fetching today, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Thank you. I just had it made for you.”

“Ah,”

Benedict stretched his hands to take the bottle, but she pushed it to the corner, away from his reach. She heard him click his tongue in annoyance.

“Does it please your eye?”

She tried to sound seductive; lowering her voice, fluttering her eyelashes. She had put extra rouge on her lips before dinner, and the fragrant perfume he had bought in France. At least, that was what he had told her,

“Why did you make it green?”

He asked, abruptly.

“I thought your favorite color was green.”

“My favorite color is blue,”

“Oh,”

Husband and wife, the two dined in silence, only the sound of their plates and utensils clattering with each other audible in the Background.

The roasted chicken suddenly tasted bland. Both Benedict and Dolores thought sandpaper would taste better, feel better in their mouths,

“I can take your sons,”

“Pardon?”

“I said, I can take care of your sons.”

“How, how do you know about it,”

“I met them,”

“What?”

“She was delivering fresh sheets to the neighborhood,”

“Jesus Christ,”

She saw Benedict bury his face in his hands but she continued on,

“She looked tired. And it can’t possibly be good for your children to be around in that environment,”

“You keep saying in sons,”

“She’s pregnant.”

Benedict violently stabbed the knife into the table. A dull sound echoed through the room.

“Bloody hell.”

She glared at him.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful?”

Benedict didn’t answer. Instead, his clutch on his whiskey glass became tighter, his knuckles turning white and red at the same time.

“We can take in Charles for his wellbeing. If the baby in her belly is indeed yours,”

“Of course she’s mine,”

“Oh, so you are so sure about it?”

For the first time in their relationship, he had a sheepish look on his face. But he still didn’t answer her question.

“Go to her house tomorrow, and get Charles.” She continued emotionlessly, “As for the second one, we can talk about it after she’s born,”

“I can’t, Dolores.”

“Benedict, can’t you see how benevolent I am trying to be? How merciful as your wife? I’m doing this all for you! So that you would snap out of your misery, and be happy for god's sake,”

“I can’t.”

She noticed that her husband had stabbed the knife in his hand, the red blood dripping on the velvet carpet, staining the silk white tablecloth into a darkish black, a sharp smell of human flesh,

“She’s gone.”

“Gone, gone.”

“Gone.”

Benedict jerked awake, drenched in tears and sweat. The bright moon and the silent wind rattling the windows told him that he was at my Cottage, not the bloody Maddison Manor, not St. Johns, not Audrey Hall.

His heart was still beating rapidly, his breath still short and shallow as he grabbed a glass from a table, drinking the lukewarm liquid in one breath.

“Are you all right, my love?”

He heard a gentle soft voice from his side, soothing his beating heart, the shivers he felt from the awful dream.

“Where’s Charles?”

“In the nursery, love.”

“Why isn’t he here with us?”

“Because he always sleeps in the nursery, you silly man,”

“Oh,”

“You’re soaked in sweat,”

Her hands softly caressed his clenched shoulders, rubbing his skin reassuringly, soothing him to go back to sleep,

“It was just a dream, Benedict.”

“Just a bad dream.”

“Isn’t it?”

#Writer’s Notes

“Love is not finite,”

“Is it?”

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #benedict x sophie #sophie beckett #an offer from a gentleman #benophie fics #bridgerton fanfiction

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girltakovic · 1 year ago

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look upon my reverse engineered cookie recipe ye mighty and despair

this is a dupe of these cookies because i hate the company that makes them. they're really snooty and quite frankly i think their sale model is shite (who the fuck makes limited edition cookies and won't publish the nutritional info. i'll kill you). they also charge $7 per cookie which is just highway robbery i think, especially considering that i figured out the recipe and made it better in my shitty little apartment kitchen. enjoy

frankenstein cookies

yield: 12 three-ounce cookies or 6 six-ounce cookies (sale size)

ingredients:

1/4 cup unsalted butter (room temp)

6 tbsp light brown sugar (packed)

2 tbsp granulated white sugar

1 large egg

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup all purpose flour

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp baking powder

10 ounces m&ms, divided

6 double stuf oreos

method:

divide the oreos, separating the cookies from the filling. add the oreo cookies (just the cookie part. you should have twelve of them) to a plastic bag and pulverize with a rolling pin. set aside.

add the oreo filling to a bowl, along with both sugars and the butter. cream together using a hand mixer on medium speed or two knives, until mixture reaches the consistency of wet sand. tip: cutting the butter into cubes can help speed up the process.

add egg and vanilla, combine.

add flour, salt, and baking powder, combine. dough will be sticky but should be at a uniform consistency.

add 8oz of the m&ms to the dough and stir to distribute. tip: it's easier to use your hands for this part.

use an ice cream scoop or tablespoon to divide the dough into equal portions of the desired weight. i used a 3oz ice cream scoop, which makes cookies about 2" in diameter.

pour the oreo cookie crumble you made in step 1 into a bowl. roll each dough ball in crumble and set on a baking sheet or plate. press each dough ball into a disc using the bottom of a glass or your hands.

insert the remaining m&ms into the surface of each disc. chill for at least 30 minutes. meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375º.

remove chilled cookies from the refrigerator and bake for 10-12 minutes for 3oz cookies or 16-18 minutes for 6oz cookies. tip: if the cookies aren't baked all the way through, you'll be able to hear the liquid ingredients baking off, which makes a sizzling noise. once the sizzling noise quiets down, they're ready to be removed from the oven.

remove the cookies from the oven and allow to cool on a wire rack. serve warm.

make-ahead note: at step 8, you can chill the cookies in the fridge for up to 4 days.

variations:

you can also incorporate additional, chopped-up oreos into the dough (this is what the original seller does), but this works best in the 6oz version. i've also been informed that pecans might be a good addition - unfortunately i'm allergic to pecans so you'll just have to try that one for yourself and let me know.

#speak friend and enter #jaime's recipes #ok 2 rb #food

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acommonloon · 2 years ago

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Omg look at us! Matching parts down the middle. Lol D picked out my suit. I just wanted to get it over with! People commented I was white as a sheet standing up there. Typical in Indiana where sheets have historically been regular ceremonial regalia. Maybe still.

In any case Ken and Carol are coming over tomorrow for our 40 year reunion. I called him earlier from the grocery to see if there were any allergies or such I should be aware of. No, he said.

Great, was thinking I'd make jambalaya. I said.

Silence.....I don't know what that is.

WTF the man lived in Biloxi, MS for 9 months and...I can't even

So, I'll put together a cheese and charcuterie plate, heat up knockwurst, bratwurst, and fry up some spicy Italian sausage for me.

Gd Gd Gd

I got this...wtf!

#beverly hillbillies come to visit

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panchi12340 · 6 months ago

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Understanding MS Sheet and Plate Rates: Your Guide to Current Pricing and Factors Affecting Costs

Planning and budgeting for building and manufacturing require a thorough understanding of material rates. Mild steel (MS) sheets and plates are widely utilized because of their affordability, adaptability, and durability. In this blog post, we will explore everything you need to know about MS sheet rates, MS plate rates per sheet, MS plate rates per kg, and the current MS plate rates today. At steeloncall, we aim to provide transparent and competitive pricing for all your MS sheet and plate needs.

What Are MS Sheets and Plates?

Mild Steel (MS) sheets and plates are flat steel products that come in various thicknesses and sizes. They are made from low-carbon steel, which makes them easy to work with while providing good strength and durability. MS sheets are typically thinner, used for applications like automobile bodies, while MS plates are thicker and used in construction, shipbuilding, and heavy machinery.

Factors Affecting MS Sheet and Plate Rates

Several factors influence the pricing of MS sheets and plates:

Raw Material Costs: The price of iron ore and other raw materials used in steel production affects the overall cost of MS sheets and plates.

Manufacturing Process: The method used to produce the steel, including any additional treatments like galvanization, impacts the price.

Thickness and Size: Thicker and larger sheets and plates cost more due to the higher amount of material used.

Market Demand: High demand in the construction and manufacturing sectors can drive prices up.

Supply Chain and Logistics: Transportation costs and availability of the product can affect the final price you pay.

Understanding MS Sheet Rate

The rate of MS sheets is typically measured per square foot or per square meter. It’s essential to consider the thickness and size of the sheet when determining the rate. At steeloncall, we offer competitive rates for various sizes and thicknesses of MS sheets, ensuring you get the best value for your money.

MS Plate Rate Per Sheet

The rate of MS plates per sheet varies depending on the dimensions and thickness of the plate. To calculate the cost of an MS plate per sheet, you need to know the standard size of the plate and the current market rate for the material.Here's a quick formula to figure out the price:

Cost per sheet=Length×Width×Thickness×Rate per unit volume\text{Cost per sheet} = \text{Length} \times \text{Width} \times \text{Thickness} \times \text{Rate per unit volume}Cost per sheet=Length×Width×Thickness×Rate per unit volume

For example, if you need an MS plate with dimensions 2 meters by 1 meter and a thickness of 10 mm, and the rate per cubic meter is ₹50,000, the cost per sheet would be:

2 m×1 m×0.01 m×₹50,000=₹1,0002 \, \text{m} \times 1 \, \text{m} \times 0.01 \, \text{m} \times ₹50,000 = ₹1,0002m×1m×0.01m×₹50,000=₹1,000

MS Plate Rate Per Kg

The rate of MS plates per kg is a common pricing method in the industry. It allows for easy comparison across different sizes and thicknesses. To find the rate per kg, you need to know the density of mild steel (approximately 7.85 g/cm³) and the market rate per unit weight. At steeloncall, we guarantee accuracy and transparency in pricing by offering the most recent rates per kilogram.

MS Plate Rate Today

The current rate of MS plates fluctuates based on market conditions, raw material costs, and demand. Staying updated with the latest rates is crucial for planning and budgeting your projects. At steeloncall, we keep our customers informed with the latest MS plate rates, ensuring you have the most accurate information for your purchases.

How to Get the Best Rates for MS Sheets and Plates

Compare Prices: Always compare prices from different suppliers to ensure you’re getting the best deal. At steeloncall, we offer competitive pricing and high-quality products.

Buy in Bulk: Purchasing larger quantities can often result in discounts and lower rates per unit.

Stay Informed: Keep an eye on market trends and updates on raw material costs to anticipate price changes.

Negotiate: Never be afraid to haggle with suppliers, particularly when placing sizable orders. Having positive working relationships with vendors such as steeloncall might result in more favorable terms and prices.

Why Choose steeloncall for Your MS Sheet and Plate Needs?

At steeloncall, we are committed to providing high-quality MS sheets and plates at competitive rates. Here’s why you should choose us:

Wide Range of Products: We offer a variety of sizes and thicknesses to meet all your construction and manufacturing needs.

Transparent Pricing: Our rates are transparent and competitive, ensuring you get the best value for your money.

Quality Assurance: All our products undergo rigorous quality checks to meet industry standards.

Customer Support: Our team of experts is always available to provide guidance and support, helping you make informed decisions.

Conclusion

Understanding the rates of MS sheets and plates is essential for effective planning and budgeting in construction and manufacturing projects. By staying informed about factors affecting prices and using reliable suppliers like steeloncall, you can ensure you get the best value for your investment. Whether you need MS sheets or plates, steeloncall is your trusted partner for high-quality products and competitive pricing. Contact us today to learn more about our offerings and get the latest rates for your needs.

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laxmi-enterprise-blog · 1 year ago

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Analyzing Different Types Of Square Pipes And Their Uses

Square pipes play an essential part in India's construction and industrial sector and are of significant importance. The square pipes have a distinct design of a square cross-sectional shape. This unique shape offers exceptional toughness, adaptability and visual appeal to a vast array of different applications. It is used in various areas, including construction, real estate and manufacturing; the pipes are extensively used across India.

They are made from mild steel and used to construct solid structures. The mild steel square pipes are used for modern architectural designs due to their tensile strength and durability.

Following Are the Different Types of Steel Square Pipes

Mild Steel Square Pipes:

Mild steel square pipes are commonly used in construction projects due to their remarkable combination of cost-efficiency and durability. They are typically used for building frame structures, supports, and various other fabrication processes. Due to their outstanding weldability and tensile force, they are ideally suited to various uses, such as fencing, railings, pedestrian pathways and other construction purposes. Laxmi Enterprise is a reliable and trusted mild steel square bar & chequered plate supplier in Vadodara with the largest selection of Mild steel products for various projects.

Applications and Uses of Ms Square Pipes:

Trusses and frames for construction

Beams and support columns

Fences and barriers

Pedestrian bridges and walkways

Support structures for industrial machinery

Stainless Steel Square Pipes:

Square pipes made of stainless steel are famous in the design and architecture industry because of their outstanding aesthetics and corrosion resistance. The stainless steel pipe square has a neat and classic appearance, suited to many different applications, from modern balustrades to decorative panels to kitchen equipment and outdoor installation.

Applications and Uses of Stainless Steel Pipes:

Architecture and façades

Railings for the exterior and interior

Decorate partitions and decorative panels

Appliances and kitchen equipment

Installations and sculptures for outdoor spaces

Galvanized Square Pipes:

The galvanization process involves applying a zinc-coated coating on square pipes, which increases the capacity of these pipes to resist the effects of corrosion. These types of square pipes are essential for outdoor situations in which the possibility of corrosion and rust from the elements of nature are present.

The galvanized square pipe is commonly employed in outdoor construction signs and farming equipment. To know more details regarding the mild steel square pipe price and other details, visit Laxmi Enterprise's official website.

Applications and Uses of Galvanized Square Pipes:

Outdoor structures and canopy

Billboards and signage

Equipment and machinery for the agricultural sector

Systems for water supply that are exposed to corrosive conditions

Garden structures and greenhouses

Final Thoughts:

Square pipes play an essential part in various architectural wonders and technological advancements that are often overlooked or unappreciated. Laxmi Enterprise is a leading, reliable source of top-quality Mild steel pipes. Our experience and expertise in the field enable us to assist you with all your projects. Our products are synonymous with solid foundations of durability, dependability, and flexibility. Contact us for inquiries about the vast array of Mild steel products and to discover the outstanding level of quality we can provide.

Also Visit: What Are the Applications for Ms Plates and Sheets?

#types of square pipes #square pipes uses #square pipes #mild steel square pipe price #stainless steel pipe square #mild steel square bar

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laxmienterprise · 1 year ago

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What Are the Applications for Ms Plates and Sheets?

Are You Searching for mild steel sheets? Laxmi Enterprise Provides MS sheets and plates at affordable prices. We give information on their types of mild steel sheets, applications, uses, and types of plates and sheets, etc. For more information visit our blog.

#mild steel roofing sheets #mild steel cold rolled sheet #types of mild steel sheet #mild steel checkered plate #mild steel sheets #Applications for Ms Plates

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kte-alxxndr · 2 years ago

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Something About the Night

Chapter 5: Ms. Night

"We got Asia," Polly whispers to herself as she puts the phone down. Her hands couldn't stop shaking, something impossible was now in their hands.

"What?" Asks Arthur. The entire family gathered in Tommy's office as they were discussing some weekly reports when the phorne rang, and as Polly was the closest to answer.

"We got Asia!" This time louder, excitement in her voice. Everyone cheers for the greatest news. What had been an idea was definitely coming true for the Shelby's.

Polly turns to Tommy and asks, "What did you do?"

Tommy just shrugs, "Old man Carisi might put up a good word for us. We'll continue as planned." His town was serious, causing the celebration to put on hold as the people took their seats. The clear excitement on their faces couldn't be wiped by any news, Arthur was passing around the glass of celebratory whiskey, Polly still couldn't believe what she heard from the phone, and John couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear.

"You didn't even talk to anyone the entire night," John stated out of the blue, causing the shift of attention.

"Yeah, didn't you just danced with the lady?" Now Arthur has the attention.

"A lady?" Polly asks. There was something that happened, she didn't knew as she stepped outside for a moment to smoke.

"In white 'Pol," Arthur answers, "Damn she was a beauty. I would pay nice just to give her a little twirl." John shakes Arthur’s hands acknowledging his brother's idea. But Tommy wasn't pleased, he took a swing of his whiskey and says in defense, "She was Mr. Carisi's connection to Asia."

"Then it must have been a hell of dance," John's sarcastic comment almost made Tommy throw his glass, but he didn’t. He continues to grip the glass in a controlled force and just stares at his brother, hell will rise if he hears another thing about her. John obviously got the message and shut his mouth as the family continues to discuss their next move.

"You never told me you have businesses in Asia," Tommy whispers, his hand traces the little freckles on her arm.

"Nothing is really mine,"

"Tell me love, what other things are you hidding from me?" He asks mischievously, there was no greed in his eyes, but truth. Her fingers touching his face, leaving sweet brushes on his cheeks then his lips as she answers his question, "I hide no secrets. Everything is plain as day. You simply just have to look."

She gives him a peck on the lips in which he responds to a kiss. Their bodies tangled under the sheets as the moonlight shines through the window bearing witness to the night.

"Tommy, should we use the guests bedrooms or should we get hotel rooms?" Grace asks, she's sitting on the couch at Tommy's home office arranging papers.

Tommy looks up from the paper his reading, "What?" He was lost by the sudden question, where there wasn't any beginning nor end.

Grace looks at him confused, she just smiles as seeing her husband's-to-be brows meeting in the middle, "Did you forget, Tommy? My family's coming over early for our wedding."

"Wedding, yeah." He just nods his head letting her think he follows.

"It's in two weeks, Tom." Grace adds.

Cold blood now runs in Thomas Shelby’s veins. He could here the church bell tolls from where he sits as the waves hit him hard. He had been occupied by the sudden business expansion and her, he didn't want to be disturbed and he remembers Grace had been bugging her with questions about colours and flowers so he told her that she could take care of it all.

How could he forget such a thing?

Glasses filled with expensive wine and champagne clicking, silver cutlery to the plates, laughter with class, lights twinkling above as they sat at one of Birmingham's most expensive restaurants; the Shelby's sat there unable to fit in, conversation and all.

The Burgess' held high conversions of the newest trends in society, business adventures, the political ladder, and holiday destinations, dancing elegantly in the music. The Shelby's were dressed at their best and finest, but amidst the lively evening Tommy and Michael were the only ones in conversation with Grace's relatives. Arthur spinning his glass of whiskey at hand, John constantly tapping his foot under the table, Finn playing with his food, Ada rolling her eyes over the ladies very conservative topics, and Polly enjoying a smoke amidst the constant stare from the other party.

They tried to join in in the topics of business but because they started as a betting business they were disregarded by the others, as it wasn't even a business, to their opinions. They decided to stay quiet and behave for Tommy's sake. For Tommy's sake.

"Good evening, Ms. Nuit." Arthur turns his head and sees a woman being greeted by a waiter as she enters the restaurant.

"Isn’t that her?" Arthur leans in to John.

"The usual bottle please." She says and the waiter leads her to a vacant table and excuses himself.

"I think she is," John confirms.

"Who?" Polly asks, joining in in their conversation.

"Asia. The one who Tommy danced."

With great confidence Arthur stands, straightening his suit, "Well let's properly introduce ourselves, shall we?" And he made his was to the lady, the entire group followed.

"Good evening, Miss." The lady turns to see the group, and the gentleman begins his introduction "My name is Arthur Shelby, this is my brother John, his wife Esme, my sister Ada, our youngest Finn, and this lovely lady is -"

"Polly Gray," Polly offers a hand in which she took.

"Pleasure to meet the Shelby clan."

"The pleasure should be ours, meeting the woman behind it all." There was no surprise that admiration can be seen in Polly's eyes. The woman in front of her stood with all her confidence and grace.

"Please," she gestures as she invites the group to sit with her. The table was small and could only fit four people, Polly and Ada sat, and Arthur voluntarily sat besides her.

Tommy had notice his family gathered at another table so he slowly withdraws from the conversation his having and made way to the other side of the restaurant, Graces then follows.

"No shoes?" Esme whispers to herself, she couldn't help but stare at the woman in front, who was sitting a leg above the other without wearing any shoes.

John who heard his wife also begins notice the barefooted woman, "Why are looking at her feet?" He asks.

"Because. No shoes." She then noticed the woman smiling at her.

She was astonish on how someone notice she wasn't wearing any shoes. People only look on what's in front of them and never look to what's below.

She gave Esme a smile full of content as she explains, "It's in the car. Sometimes I like to feel the earth beneath my feet. It keeps me grounded."

"Ms. Nuit, the bottle you ordered." The waiter interrupts the conversation then placed the bottle of wine on the table.

"Thank you, David." She then hands him the payment.

"Nuit?" Ada asks, it was the first time she had heard a name like that.

"It's French. One of my many names."

"Why don't you join us? You seem to know your taste in wine. My aunt is a wine enthusiast, she would love to have a conversation with a fellow wine lover." Grace says sweetly, she had immediately notice the bottle of wine, it was one of the most expensive one there is. Her blood still boils for the woman, but if it means making the right connection she's willing to bite her tongue and put on her lovable armor.

Tommy was looking at her with uncertainty, so she gave him a smile to ease his racing heart and mind. From where she stood, Grace notices how the woman was smiling at her man, and as a woman herself she wasn't going to loose the war. Without skipping a beat she wraps her hand to his arm flaunting the diamond ring that sets on her finger, "Tommy and I are getting married in 10 days."

Oh she could hear the sound of victory in Grace's voice so she asks them in a questioning dead tone, "Are you?"

"Tommy?" Grace asks him.

The sound of the silent sea was all Tommy could hear, he knew that tone, and he didn't want to answer. He could feel the earth slowly trying to devour him from where he stood, eyes were all on him as he feel Grace's relatives surrounding him from behind. His own family waiting. Everyone was waiting for an answer.

"Yes," was his answer.

She slowly stood from her seat chuckling, taking the bottle of wine at hand, "One should taste their own words, don't you agree?" She asks, "I'm afraid I have to decline the offer, I have somewhere I must be."

She was half way through the door when the air suddenly went cold as she stops, she turns back as if she had forgotten something, taking a few steps, and looking at Tommy she says, "One can easily take what is given." Emotionless yet soul devouring, "My word won't fade as fast as yours. Words scars; regrets lingers."

"Have a wonderful evening everyone." As she bids everyone and leaves into the dark night.

Note: Nuit /nɥi/ is French for Night. Please feel free to leave any comments.

[ Masterlist ] [ Previous Chapter ] [ Next Chapter ]

Taglist: @heidimoreton @akiisbae @bowerbiersack001 @iamsassys-blog @woofgocows @owishiiimeeeowww97 @nanamin-pointo @rockerchick05 @comfortzonequeen @watercolorskyy @theshelbyslimited

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #jyessaminereads

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anonymousewrites · 3 years ago

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Adolescent Antichrist (Book 2) Chapter One

Chapter One: I'm Self-Obsessed and Forgot My Own Birthday

Blearily, (Y/N) rolled out of bed while groaning as the soreness that plagued their body every morning since their near-death experience shot through them again. Each day as the sun rose, they would awake to discomfort as their tender wound ached. Out of habit, (Y/N) reached for their red hoodie only to suddenly draw it back. Whenever their eyes traced over the familiar, comforting color, all they saw now was the blood—their blood—which had stained it. No matter how much they scrubbed at it, the memory had burned into their eyes. Though they would not give it up, (Y/N) no longer felt safe in the soft fabric, now constricting and panic inducing.

Of course, they weren’t going to say anything. Instead, (Y/N) played it off as just “starting to experiment with fashion.” Everyone bought it; it wasn’t a leap in imagination to think that the kid who drew little outfits in their sketchbook would move away from just hoodies every day. And it wasn’t a complete lie, either. (Y/N) found it a nice distraction, not to mention a healthier method of coping, to try out new looks. It made them look forward to each day more than they would otherwise. It almost made them excited for each morning to come. If only the soreness and shadows of pain would fade.

Shaking their head and brushing the thoughts away as best they could, (Y/N) threw their bed together and went to the closet. They pulled out a black shirt with little red poppies stitched on and donned it. Overtop, they pulled on red overalls. (Y/N) cocked their head as they glanced in the mirror before shrugging.

It looks fine, and it’s not as if I have anywhere to be today. Unless Lucifer planned anything… They deadpanned. He forgets what he’s told me and what he hasn’t.

On cue, a knock sounded at their door, and a cheerful voice rang out. “(Y/N)! We have an exciting day ahead of us!”

Speak of the Devil, thought (Y/N) ironically. “We do? Why?” Lucifer blinked at them as if they were supposed to know. “What? Am I missing something?”

“(Y/N)...it’s your birthday.”

“…” (Y/N) blinked. “It is?”

“Yes!”

Oh, wow, I’m self-obsessed and forgot my own birthday. That’s a new one. “Oh, well, I guess so much happened that I just forgot.” They shrugged.

Lucifer gasped in horror. “Then we can’t waste any more time!” He took their wrist and dragged them out into the living room where, just like Christmas, everything was covered in decorations.

A giant banner (spanning the whole goddamn room) spelled out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY (Y/N)” in giant sparkly red letters (in fact, a pile of glitter was appearing underneath the banner). That’s never coming out of the carpet. On the counter, there were several plates piled with confections. One held a giant cake with a figurine of a mannequin for making clothes on top, another had a sheet of brownies with M&Ms, and still another had cookies and cupcakes heaped on with little smiley faces (admittedly messy ones) of ice cream on top. While (Y/N) blinked at the sight, Lucifer grabbed a stereotypical party hat and put it on.

“Tada!” He said with a dramatic flourish. He noticed their stare at the sweets and shrugged. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a little of everything. We can donate or give out anything you don’t want.”

(Y/N) nodded slowly before grinning at him. “This is pretty cool.”

“Really?” He perked up, almost puppylike.

(Y/N) shrugged. “My mom’s version of a birthday party was to stick me into some frilly outfit and parade me around in front her friends.” They made a face. “I hated it.”

Lucifer grinned and put a hand on their shoulder. “Well, you get to decide what we do today! But first…” He ran around behind the couch and pulled out some presents that he’d (attempted to) hide back there. (Y/N) blinked as he carried some of the giant boxes over. (Super-strength must be great). “Gifts!” Lucifer dumped them in front of (Y/N). Excitedly, he waved his hands at them. “Come on, come on, open them!”

(Y/N) laughed and grinned. “Alright, alright.” They couldn’t help but be as excited as he was; Lucifer may be annoyingly chaotic, but his energy was contagious. They decided to go with the big one first. Tearing it open, they blinked and look at him. “First a sewing machine, and now a mannequin?” How much do these cost you?

“Adjustable for different body sizes, of course,” said Lucifer proudly.

(Y/N) smiled and hugged him. “Thank you.”

Lucifer froze for a moment and looked down at them before returning the hug, surprised but happy with the moment. “Don’t thank me until you’ve opened the others.”

“I know I’m going to like them. You actually know what I would want,” said (Y/N), rolling their eyes. Nonetheless, they obeyed his enthusiastic encouragement and opened the rest of their presents. Inside were several books they’d been interested, some simple jewelry, and some bandanas for their hair. (Y/N) slipped on one of the rings happily and went to thank Lucifer when the elevator doors slid open.

A kid, looking to be around (Y/N)’s age, nearly collapsed out, panting like they’d come from running a marathon. (Y/N) tilted their head as they observed the newcomer. They had blue-green eyes and short red hair that stuck up in all directions. They wore an oversized dark grey t-shirt with shorts underneath and converse that looked like they’d fought a war to remain colored at all against the bleached spots. They look like they’ve been through hell. They glanced at their outfit again. That or someone who deserves to go dressed them.

Lucifer cleared his throat and, in an official voice (though very strange when paired with his red party hat), said, “Who are you?”

The kid straightened after catching their breath and rushed through their words as if trying to report to a boss or something. “Emeranne! I go by she/they pronouns, I am thirteen years old, and I may or may not have lost the Goddess when I was guarding her in Hell.”

(Y/N) sweat-dropped. I think they left the most important facts for the end there. They frowned. Wait, did she say Goddess?

#adolescent antichrist #netflix lucifer #platonic lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #father figure #nb reader #gn reader #x teen!reader #x teen reader #found family #found family trope #oc x reader #oc #original character

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existslikepristin · 4 years ago

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Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

#red velvet smut #snsd smut #girls generation smut #joy #sunny

157 notes · View notes

otonymous · 4 years ago

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Glutton For Your Flavour (Obey Me: Beelzebub - NSFW)

Description: You’re about to become Beel’s next meal Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Spoilers for Lesson 5 of MS (hard). Please note potential trigger warnings: dub-con (as an inadvertent result of somnambulism), cunnilingus in two flavours (soft and rough), squirting and overstimulation, slight size kink, very faint hints of tetraphilia, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it blasphemy, slight fear (monstrous descriptions) Word Count: ~2900 words (~14 mins of smut & shenanigans) Author’s Notes: My very first fic for the Obey Me fandom! I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve recently started playing this game and the story and its characters are so amusing I had to write about it. This piece may not be to everyone’s taste, so please, please, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and skip if it’s not your cup of tea. That being said, hope you all enjoy the read! 💕😆

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

“Bad luck to be sharing a room with Beel, but what can ya do after he destroyed yours while destroying the kitchen, and all for a dumb custard! Be careful — he might mistake you for a snack and eat ya in the middle of the night, hahaha!”

Mmm.

The scene fragments, Mammon’s face wavering as his voice grows faint, consciousness seeping into dark corners like sunlight cutting through fog. And when you open your eyes, you can’t quite place where you are for a moment, straddling the line between dreamscape and reality.

Ahh…

You sigh. There it was again, the sensation so pleasant it had roused you from the deepest slumber.

Further blinking off the haze of sleep, you take in your surroundings: a large bed lying empty across from yours in a room almost cavernous in size and just as dark save for a candle burning low on a desk, the glow of its flame orange like the hair that was currently brushing soft against your inner thighs—

“BEEL?! WHAT THE HELL?!”

“So tasty…not…enough…need more…want to…eat…zzz….”

Eyes still closed, the demon’s face is shiny even in the dark, slick from cheek to chin with what must’ve been a copious amount of his saliva and your arousal, you blush to realize. And when he doesn’t budge even after a swift kick to the face, you are ashamed to find the Lord of Flies’ show of strength sending yet another throb to your already pulsing clit.

He does wake though, Beelzebub’s amethyst eyes opening wide before he falls backwards onto the cold stone floor to realize what he had inadvertently done in his sleep. And as the always-famished sixth born looks from the shredded remnants of your panties to the pool of wetness on the sheets where his chin had rested, he becomes even more tongue-tied than usual.

“I…uh…I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…I dreamt I smelled something delicious and I was so hungry…and somehow I’m here, on the floor…I don’t even know…I-I’m so sorry!”

His cheeks grow so flushed they remind you of the red spider sandwiches he packed away during dinner, stuffing them two by two into his mouth until Satan smacked his hand away for trying to take more from his plate. The expression on his face is so full of remorse that even if you were angry, you’d be inclined to forgive the demon who was currently grovelling at the foot of your bed, swearing he would hand himself over to Lucifer and Diavolo first thing in the morning to be strung up and hung upside down for a fortnight, even (gulp) forgoing food for a day or two.

“Beelzebub…Beel…BEEL!” You shout, interrupting his self-inflicted tirade. “It’s okay, you didn’t mean it. You were sleepwalking. You don’t have to go to Lucifer and Diavolo about this.”

“No, I have to. My behaviour was inexcusable—”

“BEEL! Let’s…just…try to go back to sleep, okay? We have our midterm in Devildom law tomorrow morning and I really don’t feel like failing just because I didn’t get enough shut eye. So please, can we just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Those orange brows are still furrowed when Beel finally lifts his head and nods. But then his gaze is falling again on the wet sheets and the shiver than runs through that larger-than-life body seems to send another wave of anxiety through the demon. He makes a mad dash for the door, murmuring something about getting a snack from the kitchen and “you can have the room tonight” before it slams shut behind him.

He doesn’t return for the rest of the night.

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

The exam was so disastrous even Mammon didn’t bother sneaking another peek at your paper after the first two questions. And even if you had somehow managed to get back to sleep after last night’s ordeal, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you were still distracted by the memory of Beel’s mouth on your pussy:

His long tongue, serpentine as it delved deep between swollen folds to taste you with gusto.

The way he rolled your clit between those plush, soft lips before sucking it into his hot mouth, over and over again.

The throbbing between your legs that refused to cease long after the Avatar of Gluttony had left the room you were temporarily sharing, sleep only forthcoming once you had succumbed and reached beneath the sheets to finish the job he had started, your moans licentious even to your ears as you pretended your fingers were his.

It was a pale imitation, of course. That much you could see for yourself, stealing a glance at Beel seated two rows down — quill twirling between long, dexterous digits when he wasn’t putting ink to parchment.

But those gigantic hands were just a small part of what made Beel demonically attractive, as if the word “small” could be applied to him at all: tall and built, there were times when even you envied the ease with which he maintained that perfect physique despite his penchant for shovelling enough food to feed all three realms into his mouth on the regular.

The same mouth which brought you so much pleasure the night before.

Ahem.

Clearing your throat, you pretend not to see the smirk that spreads across Asmo’s delicate face, hoping the lusty demon sitting just to your left wouldn’t pick up on the very secret thoughts you were having about his brother.

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[Private Chatroom]: Satan, Levi, Mammon, Asmo

Satan: This is going to sound crazy, but doesn’t it seem like Beel’s…hungrier than usual? Is that even possible?

Levi: OMFG! You should’ve seen the state of the kitchen this morning after Beel decided to camp out there overnight! It was a total war zone, like that epic battle scene in Vol. 5 of TSL lololol. Soooo good XDDDDD

Mammon: Hey! He’s gonna eat us outta house and home at this rate! Shouldn’t we stop him?

Satan: You do it, Mammon. Aren’t you always saying that there’s nothing The Great Mammon can’t do?

Mammon: …..

Asmo: Please, as if anyone — angel or demon — could come between Beel and a meal.

Satan: Why was he camping out there in the first place? Was there something wrong with his room? I don’t remember him complaining about anything since he got shacked up with the exchange student.

Levi: Not like he could, seeing as it was his fault to begin with and a direct order from Lucifer.

Asmo: Maybe we should ask her. I’m sure she knows something about what’s inciting his hunger judging by the way she kept staring at him in class today fufufu 😏 She almost failed her midterm because of it, isn’t that right, Mammon?

Mammon: ‼️‼️

[Mammon has left the chat]

Levi: He is sooooo transparent LMFAOOOO

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Gasp!

Pressing a hand to your mouth, you try to contain your shock at the sight that greets you when you peek around the corner into the kitchen:

Curved, ebony horns sitting majestically atop a head of disheveled orange hair. Thick, corded muscles that ripple across a broad back — readily apparently because the creature bent over a mountain of food on the ground was wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms, loose and slung so low over narrow hips that the sharp V defining his groin is visible even from the distance at which you stood.

Because this wasn’t quite what you were expecting to find when you made your way to the kitchen in the middle of the night to search for Beel, thinking to approach him about the peculiarity of his recent behaviour: the way he now ate constantly and was less satiated than before, the fact that he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid you even though you shared a room.

In fact, he hadn’t said so much as another word to you after he gave you two dozen of his prized custards the morning after the incident, apologizing again until you had to be the one to make him swear he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to Lucifer. The demon even made a beeline for the door as soon as he saw you emerge from the bathroom tonight, fresh from a shower.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he was headed.

Even still, you tried to focus on your textbook, reading the same line over and over again as you waited for Beel to return so you could have a proper conversation with the demon you made a pact with. And when you could wait no longer, you made your way towards his favourite room in the House of Lamentation — silently, so as not to draw the attention of the eldest sibling.

But the growls coming from the direction of the open fridge this time sounded like Cerberus himself, enough so that you find yourself rooted to the ground, unable to take another step forwards or back.

You had never seen Beel like this before, tearing into whatever he could get his hands on with a savagery that made your heart stop. Teeth, lips and tongue devoured without second thought in a way that was simultaneously terrifying and…

Throb.

…arousing.

Suddenly, he stills, throwing his head back to sniff the air once…twice…and in a flash, he is upon you, towering over your head as he rises to full height — bigger and taller and much more intimidating than you’ve ever seen him before.

You should have been scared. Any person in their right mind would have if they found themselves cornered by a demon of Beelzebub’s calibre. But the hands that balled into trembling fists at his sides made you feel oddly secure, your deepest instincts telling you that not all was as it seemed.

“You need to leave. Now…please.”

“What’s going on with you, Beel? I just want to help—” You reach for his arm. He jumps back as if burned.

“I SAID YOU NEED TO LEAVE! I-I…can’t hold back…for…much longer!”

Handsome face screwed up as if in pain, Beel turns to put as much distance as possible between the two of you, squatting on his haunches with his head in his hands when he murmurs:

“I…I don’t know what’s going on with me. This has never happened before. I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been. I eat and eat and eat and it still isn't enough. The last time I felt satisfied was when…when…”

His voice dies down to a whisper.

“…when I tasted you.”

Throb.

Putting out a hand, you steady yourself against the wall, knees suddenly weak at Beelzebub’s admission. Or perhaps it was due to relief, the tension that had been steadily building in your strained relationship with the demon released to know that you weren’t the only one who desired to revisit that night’s events.

So you gather your courage, stepping softly towards the demon who crouched on the ground next to the lit fireplace, the heat radiating from the hearth warming the flesh you had deliberately left bare when you lift the hem of your night gown to expose yourself to Beel.

“What are you doing?! I told you, I can barely hold back—”

“Then don’t. I don’t mind, Beel. I…I like it too.”

Amethyst eyes darken as they look up into yours, orange flames reflecting off pupils blown wide. And when he speaks next, the deepness of his voice echoes in your body, as if its source were to be found within your own soul.

“Ask and ye shall receive. I won’t touch you until you do.”

Nipples hardening beneath your gown, the rush of heat that floods your core makes you shudder when you say,

“Please, Beelzebub…I want you to eat my pussy.”

Back hitting solid wood, you barely have time to gasp before you are pulled to the edge of a long table in the centre of the kitchen, a long tongue running up the insides of each thigh in turn before they’re propped up onto broad shoulders, Beel’s breath blowing hot on the space in between.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can hold back. I’m just…so famished, so desperate to taste you again—”

His words cut off in a low growl as he presses his lips to your folds, saliva dripping from his mouth mixing with the juices that already painted a glistening sheen on pink flesh. You fight to bite back a moan at the vehemence of his hunger, the sheer greed of his tongue — flicking at your clit until your back arched off the table, heralding the arrival of the cream that leaked only to be swept up by Beel licking from end to end of that swollen seam. And when that still wasn’t enough, you nearly swooned to feel that serpentine tongue penetrate, reaching depths that surely only a demon would be able to achieve as Beel sought out more of your flavour.

He buries his face deeper into your pussy, nose nudging your clit as arousal smeared over the entirely of his visage. The vibrations of his voice further stimulates your locus of pleasure, punctuating the lewd, wet sounds when he says:

“You smell so delicious. All the time. And tonight, when you stepped out of the shower…I couldn’t take it, not with the way your scent flooded my senses. I had to leave or else…this would happen.”

“Oh Beel…you should’ve told me sooner.”

Mind lost in a haze of lust and body boneless from riding out wave after climatic wave, you reach down a trembling hand without thinking, fingers innocently tracing along the smooth ridges of the onyx horns that lay against your abdomen.

Suddenly, his breath hitches at your touch and the Sixth Prince of Hell is throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan loud and deep enough to reverberate off stone walls, clattering stacks of dishes in cupboards and making you come once more — legs convulsing upon his shoulders as you feel a preponderance of fluid gush forth from your body right into Beel’s waiting mouth.

The pleasure was such that you’ve never known before, so good that surely, it must be bad in some way, shape or form. But you hadn’t the energy to ponder further.

No, the only thing you’re aware of when your vision goes black is that Beel’s mouth is still on you, feasting upon a pussy that continued to respond to the teasing movements of his lips and tongue even as you ceased to think.

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Cheddar. Pickles. Ketchup and mustard.

The smell is what rouses you, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you awoke in your own bed: mountains of cheeseburgers arranged on platters filling up every available surface in the room you shared with Beel.

“You can sleep for longer if you want. I told Lucifer you’d be skipping class today because you’re not feeling well. Are you…feeling well?”

Beelzebub lifts his head from where it’d been resting at the side of your bed, the rest of his body laid out on the floor as if he were guarding you like an oversized dog. Those puppy dog eyes, full of concern, didn’t help his case either.

“I’m fine, Beel. Better than fine, actually. I feel fantastic!” You smile, moving to sit up in bed. The demon springs from the ground, putting an arm around your shoulders to help prop you up, and your heart can’t help but warm at how protective he was being.

He breathes, relief flooding those handsome features. “I’m glad. I was afraid I lost control last night and had to carry you back. You were just…so tasty and…satisfying…”

Those amethyst eyes glint as they travel to the apex of your thighs, and all of a sudden, he is grabbing at those human world cheeseburgers, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

“Have some,” he says between bites. “They’re my favourite and I thought you might like them too. Besides, you need to eat if you’re gonna keep up your energy.”

You reach towards the nearest platter, taking one for yourself. “Energy for what?”

Beel looks at you, expression completely serious when he says, “For the next round tonight.”

Throb.

🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔🍔

Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#obey me #shall we date obey me #OM #swd obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #OM beel #obey me smut #OM smut #obey me beel smut #obey me fanfic #fanfiction #my writing

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getlostsquidward · 3 years ago

Text

Divine Intervention

Irina Spalko x fem!reader

A/N: For the anon that requested another Irina fic, here you go! <3

Warnings: violence, blood, nudity

Summary: The knowledge-seeking woman gets what she wants, and more.

gif from here

“Tell me everything you know.”

“I want to know everything! I want to know!”

An ominous sound can be heard in the Akator. Debris of rocks from the ceiling was starting to fall, the walls of the temple were rotating, and there was a very bright light coming from above. Akator was slowly deteriorating, but Irina didn’t falter; spellbound by the creatures who will give her the knowledge she always wanted to have. The people around her either got away in time or were sucked in by the spaceship. She stood ground in the middle of the thirteen crystal beings, graciously accepting their great gift.

“Tell me. I’m ready. I want to know!”

A smoke-like thing transferred from their skulls to Irina, passing her the wisdom she so desired.

“I can see. I can see!”

The crystal skeletons started to merge, incorporating to form a body. “Cover it! Cover it!”

Irina was overwhelmed by the knowledge she had gotten. It was too much for her, a human brain to handle; her eyes started to burn, her body disintegrated and turned into ash.

Irina was woken up by the blinding ray of the sun peeking in between the tall big trees, in the middle of the woods. She touched her face, her arms, to check for any burns or wounds, but she found none. She also found herself… stark naked. No clothes, no shoes, not even her trusty rapier. Blindly believing that she was alone in this vast forest, she roamed around to find clothes and shelter.

She was incredibly hungry and parched, having walked for hours now. Her feet had small cuts now, her arms with insect bites, due to the absence of garments to protect her body. Yet, she doesn’t plan to stop searching even if the sun is setting down.

It was now dark, but she can slightly see a faint flicker of lights not far ahead. She followed the light, determined to get what she needed even if she had to kill someone if they refused. It was a two-story cabin, inhabited, based on the fruits and vegetables growing outside. She looked around the house, searched for another entrance beside the front door and windows. Irina found a back door, but it was locked. She stared blankly at the doorknob, wishing she had something with her to open the damn door that wouldn’t alert whoever was inside.

The knob clicked. Thinking that someone had opened it from the inside, she shuffled for a fighting stance, ready to attack. When the door didn’t open, she pushed it and peeked inside. There was no sign of people, and the lights were off. She peered in the dark, searched for something she can eat. There was none lying around, and instead, she met was some new shiny appliances.

Her eyes caught the knives in the corner, so she took one, just in case it was needed. The sound of stomping feet from the wooden stairs alerted the Colonel-Doctor. She hid in the dark and waited if the person was threatening enough to kill.

You skipped the last two stairs, rushing to the fridge to get a tub of ice cream. You skimmed the items inside, looking for something to snack on while you watch your favourite show. It was rather empty aside from the half-full ice cream tub, and some leftovers. You really have to get groceries tomorrow. As you closed the door, a sharp object was pointed at your neck. You retreat away until your back hit the table. You can faintly see the woman hovering over you thanks to the dim light from the kitchen island.

You slowly raised your hands on your head, “Woah, lady. What do you want? You wanna rob my kitchen? Well, consider this your unlucky day because there’s barely anything ther-“ you stop blabbering as she pressed the knife into your skin.

“I need clothes and food. And tell me what this place is.” Her thick accent sent shivers on your spine.

“Okay. First, this is my house, and well, we’re in the middle of nowhere; and this middle of nowhere is in the Y/C. I will get you clothes, but I need to get upstairs to my room. For the food, there’s a leftover in the fridge. I’ll heat it for you if you want. Please, just please don’t kill me,” you pleaded.

She stepped back enough for you to stand, but her hand grabbed your shoulder as a precaution as if you can outmuscle her. You walked towards the fridge to get her food and put it in the oven. After setting the timer, you head to the stairs, the woman still behind you. Once you got to your room she closed the door abruptly and gave you space to rummage on your closet. You don’t know if your clothes will fit her so you settled on giving her an oversized shirt and one of your comfy shorts. “Here,” you turned around to give her when you finally noticed that she was naked. “What the fu…” your eyes trail down her Alabaster skin, but abruptly faced away when she cleared her throat. Blushing from being caught, you merely tossed the clothes to her.

Gathering your courage to speak, you asked, “Lady, who are you and why are you very nude in my house?” You’re insanely beautiful too, and I mean that with utter respect.

“Irina Spalko. I woke up in the middle of these woods earlier. You can turn around now.” Once you did, she continued, “And thank you.”

“Well, I don’t really mind the company, as long as you don’t kill me, please.”

“Insanely beautiful.”

You stared at her dumbly, "What?”

“You said I’m insanely beautiful,” she said smugly, her lips tugging upwards on a smirk.

Now, what the fuck did she just said? “I- I didn’t say anything like that. You must be hallucinating, Ms. Spalko. Your hunger makes you hear things.” You scurried off downstairs to get as far away from her, and your ice cream. It must have turned to a puddle now.

You set her food on the table and wait as she took her time before following you out. She must be so sure that you wouldn’t take off and call for help.

The princess had finally descended, you thought as you watch her sit at the table and eat silently. “Colonel-Doctor. Not a princess,” she declared. You opened your mouth to speak but remained in an O-shape as no coherent words were coming out. “H-how- what- I- I don’t understand. A-are you a mind reader or something? A witch?”

“Neither. Just… a chosen one.” After that, she paid you no mind and continued eating.

You walked out of the kitchen, fearing that she would hear your thoughts again. Instead, you whispered to yourself, “What have I gotten myself into? I'm like a hostage in my own house, okay. I feel like the main character that dies first in a horror movie.”

You sauntered back in the kitchen and asked the woman, “I take it you’re staying here for the meantime? So do you wanna sleep in the living room or the guest room?” you probed. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? If I want to stay alive?”

She only nodded. “Thought so; Uhm, so, where?”

“Guest room.”

“Got it. If you’re finished, just throw the plate into the trash. I’ll ready the room.”

You just finished placing some sheets into the bed when she arrived. “Okay, housemate. Bed’s ready. It’s been a long day for the both of us, and I really wanna sleep now, so let’s settle what we have to settle tomorrow, ‘kay? Good night,” you finished your speech and closed the door. You leaned onto it and breathed out a deep sigh. When did you become such a hospitable host that you just let a dangerous woman into your house?

Sleep didn’t come to Irina that night. She tried to remember what happened before she got here. Right. They had returned the skull to Akator; she requested knowledge and they gave it to her. Her brain was overloaded with too much information that she disintegrated. Irina still remembers the excruciating pain, the feeling that someone was drilling holes into her head, the feeling of being burned, but here she was, alive and well. In the middle of nowhere, with someone who looks very vulnerable. You proved to be of use to her, so she won’t harm you… as of now.

Her mind drifted to you. How was she able to read what was on your mind just by sparing you a glance? Before, she needed to be close to the person as possible before she can read them. Her psychic abilities had her family ostracized; the reason she sought knowledge and her purpose. How about the doorknob? Did she do it? Did the interdimensional beings amplified her abilities, and possibly gave her more?

How many days have passed since she was in Akator?

64 years.

At first, she couldn’t comprehend how time had passed, seeing as she didn’t age one bit. But since Irina had encountered aliens herself, nothing was odd for her anymore.

“So you’re saying you’re from the ’50s?”

“Yes.”

“How did that happen?” you curiously asked. “I mean, one day, you’re in a temple in the ’50s, then you woke up in the woods in 2021?” she nodded. “Actually, you know what, whatever. I believe you. The world is in shambles right now and I wouldn’t be surprised anymore if aliens were real,” you finished as you parked your car.

“Here’s the deal, Irina. You’re a woman out of time, and so much had changed since you… since then,” you paused, “And you’re a very physical woman. Like I think if someone bumped their cart onto you you’ll tackle them to the ground, and I don’t wanna cause a scene. So, stick with me, please.”

So far, so good. Irina wasn’t causing a scene yet, except when she snatches out the item you were holding. She was intently reading the label and then muttering about how it wasn’t good for the body and then putting it back on the shelf.

The cart was nearly full; mostly food, toiletries, and some tools. Irina didn’t add anything save for a toy sword. Okay.

She was mostly quiet, but you see that her eyes silently wander around the place, on the people around, frequently landing on you. You spent shopping in comfortable silence, letting her absorb the state of the world. She may be listing off her questions in her head and then ask about them later.

You look at your grocery list and cart simultaneously, checking if you’ve got everything you needed. As you confirm that you’ve had, you gasped as Irina took your hand into hers and laced your fingers together. You looked at your joined hands, feeling how warm and soft her hand is. You remembered that she can read minds, so you jokingly asked, ‘What hand cream do you use?’, testing her ability once again.

“There are two men following us since we got out of the car. I doubt you noticed, but good thing you take so long in every aisle, I was able to confirm that they were indeed following us,” she whispered, her hot breath tickling your ears. “They intend to steal from you.”

Fear taking over you, you stammered “Oh. Stealing in the light of day, okay, uh can’t you do anything to them? Any more abilities? Clearly, you can defend yourself based on how you introduced yourself last night.”

“I could, but you said you didn’t want to cause a scene. And I wasn’t certain until now.”

“Yeah, I take that back. Do what you have to. I trust you.”

Irina found this as an excuse to measure her abilities. You continued to act normal, proceeding to the counter to pay for your groceries. They have no idea that you and Irina have noticed them already. The men split up, keeping themselves at a distance, as one queued at the counter beside yours. The other had gone out of your sight.

She planned to lure them into the alley at the back of the shop. Once you arrived, she had noticed the other man nonchalantly leaning on the wall ahead, waiting for you. You continued to walk slowly until you felt the second man behind you, effectively trapping the both of you in the middle of the back alley. The moment they got near, the man behind spoke, “You, the one with the bags. Give me your money,” he hissed, referring to you. “Your phone and keys. And no one will get hurt.”

You would’ve run for the life of you if there wasn’t another man waiting on the other side, flipping a knife. Eyes locked on Irina, you patiently wait for her instruction, hoping she wouldn’t turn on you and leave you alone.

“I won’t,” she murmured, side-eyeing either man at your side.

The Ukrainian wasn’t sure if her hunch was right, but if she wasn’t, she could still take both men with bare hands. She stared at the knife and envisioned it impaling on his stomach. The man’s grunt had confirmed her hunch as red stained his clothes, and blood trickled to the ground. She then pulled the knife out and willed it to pierce through the other man’s thigh. Once he was down on his knees, Irina’s hand that never left yours yanked you to run to your car. She gave them a last glance and hurled their bodies to the wall for safe measure.

Afraid that someone might have seen what happened, you started the car immediately and drove out. None of you spoke until you’re sure that you are far enough from the store. “What the fuck?” you blurted, adrenaline still coursing through you. “Did you- did you do that? No, no don’t answer. You definitely did. Uh, telekinesis and mind-reading? Any additional powers you’re hiding?”

You glanced at her, her eyes straight on the road. “Because if you’re planning to stay in my house for God knows how long, you might wanna tell me about them.”

She was silent for a while, contemplating her answer. “I don’t know if there’s more.”

When you didn’t respond, she told you everything that had happened to her since she was a child. How they were exiled in their village when her psychic abilities had manifested, how her own mother feared her for her naïve innocence, which led her to flee the village and search for answers.

You listened attentively, though lost yourself when she mentioned that she was part of the Soviet Union. You only hear and see on the internet how these people were trained, and uneasiness was creeping up. Her intentions weren’t clear; she hadn’t yet thought about what she’s going to do now that she’s in a society she outgrew.

When she noticed that you trailed off, she spoke, “I don’t use a hand cream.”

It was a good thing that you’re not stepping on any pedal right now because you would have pressed the brakes heavily. You raised your brow at her, amused, and a chuckle coming out from you. Though her eyes were still cold and impassive, a genuine smile tugged from her lips.

#cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader #cate blanchett imagine #irina spalko #irina spalko x reader #indiana jones and the kingdom of crystal skull #indiana jones and the kingdom of crystal skull fanfic

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