#OC: Griffin Winters

[lover-also-fighter-also]

WHY DOES THIS MAN MAKE ME MELT INSIDE 😭😭❤️❤️❤️

#playchoices #choices #pixelberry #choices stories we play #choices stories you play #choices the elementalists #the elementalists winters past #oc: anitha russell #anitha x griffin #griffin langley

[k1ngtok1]

As the eldrich being that is @legogeek33 rebloged my post about turning my non-ninjago ocs into ninjago ones, I am forced to comply. I used this picrew because I’m too tired to draw right now.

Hope Calighan - Dragon Kin - 22 - She/Her

When the First Spinjitzu Master fled the realm, both dragon and Oni followed in his wake. As Oni began to settle amongst humans, so too did the dragons, though unlike their enemy, they could not shapeshift.

Instead, they (in true fantasy fashion) bore children with the few humans willing to fall in love with them. Thus, the dragon kin were born; strong, fierce, and resembling both their human and dragon parents.

Dragon kin tend to live in mountainous villages far from human civilization, as they know they would not be accepted by the common folk. They are solemn creatures that share traits with the element they hail from. Some are able to conceal their draconic features well enough to live amongst humans. Most, however, spend their lives in the sky.

Hope is descended from a lightning dragon, but has the passion and recklessness of a fire dragon kin. She is quick on her feet and as strong as an ox, which makes her a fearful opponent for whatever dares threaten her home.

She is adorned with cultural decorations from her clan: colorfully dyed hair streaks and beautiful rings that stack around her horns with each battle won.

Griffin Mage - Newsboy - 16 - He/Him

He’s a simple kid working for the newspaper for the same reasons as Antonia and Nelson: to help spread the news and thus, protect the citizens of Ninjago. He’s got a heart of gold, scraped knees, and fondness for climbing tall things he probably shouldn’t be climbing. The bandages are from all of the close calls with villains (and also falling from said tall things, but don’t tell Antonia he said that- she’ll think she’s got another Nelson on her hands).

Jasmine Grace - Vigilante - 19 - She/Her

By day, Jasmine is just a regular old citizen and a big sister figure to Griffin. She plays a few sports- namely rollerblading and boxing, and easily comes out on top with a goofy grin on her face.

By night, she is known as the Rising Star- and name bestowed on her by the tabloids after a man’s description of her made the news.

When the ninja are away or simply overwhelmed, Jasmine works to pick up the slack with her trusty whip in hand. Bad people flood the streets when the city’s resident heroes aren’t there to watch them, so it’s up to her and Samurai X to protect Ninjago city in their absence.

Clyde Doberman - Baker - 20 - He/him

In Shintaro, there’s a small bakery in the middle of the city that you can smell from miles away. It’s known for having the best cakes and warmest bread all around, and it’s run by Clyde and his mother!

Clyde isn’t one for attention, but after mama…well, just knowing his mom is happy with her flourishing bakery/bookstore that she started with her late wife is enough for him. (He doesn’t know how to break the news that he’s considering going into art instead.)

Nadia Winters - Theorist - 17 - She/they

Running on energy drinks and spite alone, Nadia is a popular social media figure and blog writer known for producing theories on including but not limited to:

The Ninja’s powers and motivations

Ghosts

Lloyd’s age

Lloyd’s powers

Just Lloyd in general

If the White Ninja is actually an android.

If Cyrus Borg is actually an Android

Ghosts

Who is Samurai X

The floating islands that seem to have appeared out of thin air

Ghosts

And more!

(The ninja laugh when she posts a video theory claiming that Samurai X is none other than infamous noodle chain owner Skylar Chen, then proceed to cheer when she estimates Lloyd’s real age once and for all.)

Logan Cato - Borg Mechanic - 25 - He/him

Some call him a prodigy. Others call him a danger to society. The rest back away in fear when they see him pull out the blow torch.

Logan works as a mechanical/alchemical engineer at Borg labs and specializes in combining Elemental and mechanical materials. He’s eccentric and excitable and many tests of larger projects end in smoke alarms going off or a block wide power outage.

One of those explosions costed him an arm and a leg. He’s got a simple prosthetic leg and will make jokes about it his brother, Percy.

Emile Rose - Dragon Kin - 28 - He/Him

Like Hope, Emile is descended from the dragons, though instead of Lightning, he is both a Fire and Amber legacy.

Emile is a respected figure within their community for his therapeutical and medical prowess, as well as his simple down-to-earth, kind, and forgiving nature, which is rare for someone with fire in their blood. In fact, one could say he’s a leader, though he would deny it if asked. He’s simply helping where he can!

He is covered with less expensive decorations than Hope, preferring to wear the things that are given to him out of love by he people he holds dear. That doesn’t mean people don’t put gold trinkets around his horns, though.

#ninjago #woo time to tag all these guys #dragon hope calighan #hope calighan #griffin mage #jasmine grace #Nadia winters #Clyde Doberman #logan cato #emile rose #my oc #my ocs #ninjago ocs #ninjago oc #picrew #are Lo and Em just tss characters with so many hcs on them that they’re basically ocs? #Mayhaps #I used the same set of eyes so many times holy shit

[nectar-cellar]

OC Obscure Associations

thank you for the tag!! @descendantdragfi @elderwisp @treason-and-plot @holocene-sims lets ignore the fact that im super late to doing this 🤍

honestly i had to think ab these a lot i hope they make sense even tho they probably don't 💀

-

ANIMAL: scared cold wet dog that was left out in the rain

COLORS: black

MONTH: december

SONGS: less than zero - the weeknd

NUMBER: 13

PLANTS: a small potted cactus

SMELLS: old books, gasoline, chlorine, the smell of grass and roads after the rain, sandalwood, smoke and leather

GEMSTONE: ruby and obsidian

TIME OF DAY: 3AM

SEASON: winter

PLACES: a late-night diner, an empty library

FOOD: chinese takeout, greasy cheesy pizza, falafel, instant ramen, fast food

DRINKS: black coffee, cans of redbull and monster, cheap beer, tequila, foul-tasting protein shakes

ELEMENT: earth

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: i'm honestly stumped by this one bc i'm not very well versed in astrology. what sign do u think he is

SEASONINGS: pepper, chili, cumin, cardamom, cinnamon, garlic, hot sauce

SKY: dawn

WEATHER: rainy, dreary, foggy days. a hot summer night. a snowy east coast winter.

MAGICAL POWER: mindreading / telepathy

WEAPONS: a metal baseball bat. brass knuckles. a small pistol.

SOCIAL MEDIA: twitter, letterboxd, an empty grindr profile

MAKEUP PRODUCT: he doesn't wear any but smudgy black kohl eyeliner and black nail polish are very him. maybe some glitter face paint too.

CANDY: chewing gum he bought from the corner store

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: plane (economy seats)

ART STYLE: a rough pencil sketch made in a notebook... also, not sure what u call it but that art style you see in older superhero comic books

FEAR: fear of abandonment

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: the griffin, or alternatively, a vampire with a moral dilemma

PIECE OF STATIONARY: wooden pencil

THREE EMOJIS: 🖤🙏🔥

CELESTIAL BODY: the moon 🥺🌙

#just a guy and his leather jacket and redbull and spotify premium against the world

[random-user-guy]

@cheerstotheelites-if MC Parid Sterman, determined to reach his goals no matter the cost. Emery’s older brother.

@retribution-if  Chibi Khamuel, the Seasonal God with a particular likeness for the cold winter and bad puns, much to the exasperation of his pet wolf Eren Jeager (cue Attack on Titan opening “Linked Horizon” on the background when the wolf appears in the story😂)

@julietandcinderella-if  Unhinged Welhaven, a bloody barista, having finished a bloody cocktail for her wife (don’t ask where the blood came from). Has immortalized her lofe for her wifey through a tattoo.

@manonamora-if Detective Rye when she learns what her client wants Rye to help her with 😒 (got excited for nothing😢)

@night-market-if​ 

au Belladonna’s Night Market Prince

@greatprotector-if​ OC Maya

@manonamora-if​ The Thick Table Tavern Bartender Canolia at your service

@sailingshells​ Keo’s favourite archer Leo (with a prodigy background)

@adoriels-tears-if​ My MC Laena 

Arthur’s best friend. 

Loves her mother very much. 

Hides her abilities from everyone.

Makes puppy dog eyes🥺 to Eliana often to get what she wants, but sadly it has little effect on her😥

Wants a griffin as a familiar. 

Thinks the voice is sus.

Can’t wait to meet Sage in the future.

credits to artbreeder and picrew artists, i don’t own the art 

#MC gallery #night market if #manonamora #cheerstotheelites #retribution-if #julieta and cinderella #leas:city of the sun #adoriel'stears #greatprotector-if

[salsedinepicta]

OC(s) Questionnaire

Tagged by @greypetrel - and her characters are just beautiful, so I'd highly recommend to hop on her blog and read her version :> 💜 Thanks for the tag!

Tagging: maybe @coloricioso could be interested? No pressure as usual ✨ +plus anyone who is interested!

Everything under "Read more" after the first one, of course.

NAME: Gwydion Hawke

NICKNAME: Hawke, of course - the firstborn can take dibs on the family surname. And then Gideon, since 1. that's how most people misspell his actual name and 2. Varric uses it in his stories (it's “more suited for the hero”). He doesn't mind.

GENDER: Male, although he takes it easy. In a modern AU he would be the Hakwe sibling most likely to experiment with gender presentation - and in every universe he just knows he'd look good in a dress/corset.

STAR SIGN: Libra

HEIGHT: 178 cm / 5’8”

ORIENTATION: Gay

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Literally a random human born on a ship – 100% conceived in Kirkwall though.

FAVORITE FRUIT: All the citruses

FAVORITE SEASON: Early Spring

FAVORITE FLOWER: Forget-me-not, snowdrops, zagare (orange blossoms).

FAVORITE SCENT: Crushed elfroot, rain, lyrium potions - and why must lyrium be toxic when it clearly smells like raspberries and tangerines? UH? Templars are gatekeeping it. He is literally the only one saying this. At some point he’ll think fondly of sewage.

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Tea, preferably cold.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Around 7, but not consecutive.

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs AND cats AND also every single animal willing to be pet - why would you deny a centipede some love? And did anyone actually tried to raise a baby dragon? Cowards.

DREAM TRIP: Antiva, or Rivain – it sounds fun, from Isabela’s stories, and he is intrigued by their religious customs (and generally different approach to magic). Not without 50+ SPF though, have you seen Anders' skintone?

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Just a few, he doesn’t particularly suffer the cold – and he’s a cuddly sleeper.

RANDOM FACT: Extremely tactile, hands must be occupied (almost) all the time. He makes his own bows and then whittle silly little figurines with the scraps of wood - usually they all end up looking like chunky animals of debatable identification.

NAME: Maren Hawke

NICKNAME: Mari (used only by selected people – Bethany can, Carver may or may not find nettles in his bed the next day) and various epithets by Varric (he finds her difficult to pin down, to his extreme annoyance). When she’ll get into Kirkwall’s politics people will start to call her Lady Amell, to everyone amusement.

GENDER: Female

STAR SIGN: Scorpio

HEIGHT: 170 cm / 5’5”

ORIENTATION: Official not-so-mean lesbian

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Human, born in Ferelden, even if she doesn’t feel a strong national connection to it.

FAVORITE FRUIT: Pears, quince, pomegranates

FAVORITE SEASON: Autumn and Winter

FAVORITE FLOWER: Wild violets, daisies

FAVORITE SCENT: Parchment and ink, ambergris, wild roses’ oil, metal.

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Black coffee in public, hot chocolate with lots of spices (and something sweet to eat on the side) in more private settings.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Better not to ask. Around 5, to avoid dreaming – she will slowly get better during the years.

DOGS OR CATS: Birds, obviously.

DREAM TRIP: For political reasons, all the cities of the Free Marches. And Weisshaupt/the Anderfels to pester the Wardens about griffin’s eggs – because what Merrill wants, Merrill gets.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: At least 4, because half of them will be stolen by Merrill during the night.

RANDOM FACT: Does she care about fashion? Not particularly, but she is highly aware of the power of appearences, and how to convey certain messages through clothes. She prefers small and significant jewelry over flashy one, but absolutely loves a nice statement headpiece, especially with some kind of drapery or veil – so she can literally put behind a curtain annoying people with a subtle turn of her head.

NAME: Malva Surana

NICKNAME: Irving’s pet, Surana, debatable variations on her name when Jowan wanted to be annoying – after the Circle, she is just Malva and then the Warden Commander.

GENDER: Do you have a gender if the circumstances of your birth make you less than a person in the eye of society? Ahaha, anyway, female.

STAR SIGN: Aquarius

HEIGHT: 160 cm / 5’2”

ORIENTATION: Very queer - preference for women, but willing to experiment for the sake of it, if she fancies so. In another world, her and Gwydion would be the monsterfuckers, let’s be real.

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY: Definitely a city elf (the tattoos are random lines, made by someone who wanted her to remember but had no idea how a vallaslin really looks like, or how and when they are done) – maybe from Denerim’s alienage? But as far as she knows, there is no past before Kinloch Hold.

FAVORITE FRUIT: Blackberries

FAVORITE SEASON: Spring

FAVORITE FLOWER: The kind of question that would trigger a half-an-hour-long aswer. For brevity sake: nightshade, hellebore, wisteria, ivy (not a flower, but impossible not to mention), and mallow.

FAVORITE SCENT: Burning wood, moss and damp earth, rosemary, wildberries.

COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Definitely tea. She is the mistress of the most absurd herbal infusions. They are great and they'll cure your cavities and other various ailments - but you don't want to know the ingredients. Don’t.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Between 6-8, can wake up every day at the same time without any alarm of sort.

DOGS OR CATS: If really pressed she'd say dogs (“They are great traveling companions”) but immediately regrets it because of all the fond memories of Ser Pounce-a-lot.

DREAM TRIP: The Thirashan forest, Arbor Wilds, Arlathan Forest – pretty much an elven history roadtrip to try to reclaim that part of her identity.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Just one or two, wrapped all around her chrysalis-like because her subconscious still believes that the other apprentices will steal them.

RANDOM FACT: For a moment, she was Justice's first choice for a possible living host - she never knew it, though.

#This was really fun and also harder than I'd expect #dragon age oc #oc questionnaire #Text

[cryptickane]

Leave One Wolf Alive and The Sheep Are Never Safe

notes : female oc/reader (can be read as either), no y/n or names, no physical description other than her having hair long enough to go over her face, reader can draw, reader dies, geralt is a sad mad boy, mention of death and blood.

The night was still, but inside Geralt's heart, a storm raged. He sat by a crackling campfire, staring deep into the dance of the flames. On his lap lay a battered leather journal, its pages yellowed with age and filled with memories.

He turned the pages gently, revealing a sketch of her, one she drew for him, though she wasn't too keen on it. Her face came alive on the page, like she was right there with him. Her talent as an artist was clear in every stroke of her pen. The journal held a piece of her, a piece he couldn't bear to lose.

He flipped to another page, revealing a drawing of Kaer Morhen, their old home. Memories flooded back from their teen years—training hard during the day and huddling by the fire at night, trying to thaw out after a day in the freezing mountains.

Geralt's eyes lingered on the sketch, and he remembered the day he discovered her artistic gift.

It was a sunny winter day in the Kaer Morhen courtyard, filled with young witchers sparring and practicing their magic. Amid the chaos, Geralt noticed her, sitting on the stone steps with her sketchbook.

He approached, armor clinking, and she looked up, her cheeks turning pink as she closed the book.

"What are you drawing?" Geralt asked, genuinely curious.

She hesitated, then opened the sketchbook to reveal a detailed griffin, fierce and vivid. It seemed to leap from the page.

"You drew this?" Geralt asked, amazed.

She nodded, a shy smile forming. "Drawing's always been my thing, even before this place."

They sat there together, admiring the sketch. For that brief moment, they forgot they were witchers, caught up in the simple beauty of art.

But the page beneath his fingers brought him back to reality. The dried bloodstain spoke of the cruel fate that had taken her. The contrast between her art and her death cut deep.

Staring at the stain, he clenched his jaw, his grief palpable. Those sweet memories were now tainted by her brutal end. The journal was more than a keepsake; it was a roadmap to vengeance. Every bloodstain, every sketch, fueled his bloodlust.

He closed the journal, his fingers lingering on the page. The firelight flickered around the forest, and his eyes burned with a renewed purpose. He stood up, the weight of his silver sword on his back feeling light with newfound determination.

The storm of grief hadn't lessened, but it now had a target—a burning need to hunt down the monsters who had stolen his love from him.

Geralt had been left alive, and those who had taken the life of his beloved had unknowingly awakened a beast more fearsome than any monster they could have imagined.

#the witcher #the witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivera #geralt of river x reader #geralt of rivia x you #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher netflix #netflix the witcher

[woohooincoffin]

tagged by @mattodore thank you!!! ocs as obscure associations rhys

ANIMAL: lamb, fox

COLORS: red, browns

MONTH: november (robert frost, my november guest - my sorrow, when she’s here with me, / thinks these dark days of autumn rain /are beautiful as days can be)

SONGS: a little god in my hands, helpless child by swans

NUMBER: 13

PLANTS: snowdrop flowers, symbolize hope, consolation, and new beginnings

SMELLS: firewood

GEMSTONE: tiger's eye

TIME OF DAY: dusk

SEASON: the cusp between fall and winter

WEATHER: rainy

SKY: sunset orange

PLACES: forests, lakes

FOOD: soup....desserts

DRINKS: beer

SEASONINGS: paprika, salt

ELEMENT: earth...mud is not an element but specifically mud. fell down and cant get clean

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: cancer, scorpio

MAGICAL POWER: daylight spell (its one of their favorite spells)

WEAPONS: longsword, two handed longsword

SOCIAL MEDIA: none

MAKEUP PRODUCT: expired eyeshadow

CANDY: candy necklace thats been worn for 3 days

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: trains

ART STYLE: charcoal

FEAR: uncertainty, the dark

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: griffin

PIECE OF STATIONERY: envelopes

THREE EMOJIS: 🎻 ⛰️ 🛡️

CELESTIAL BODY: asteroid belt (idk if that's a celestial body)

if you would like to, i tag @fizzytoo @hell-dusk @calidosun @the-dark-urge @panicsimss @andrwminward @simtalics + anyone else who'd like to

#oc: rhys #long post

[red-riding-wood]

OC: Charlotte Griffin

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: Charlotte Griffin, on a quest to emerge from her family's dark shadow, becomes a spy in a gang war that puts her loyalties and desires into question as she grows closer to the man who is meant to be her enemy.

WARNINGS for whole story: eventual explicit sexual content and references, explicit violence and gore, mentions of physical abuse, language, ethnic slurs (mainly because of Alfie)

Disclaimer: story may contain dodgy Italian because I am endlessly confused by the language

I could never escape the red.

The single droplet of blood on the white letter that was meant to mark my freedom marked my brutality. It marked the man’s blood I would have to help spill come the end of winter. It marked, perhaps, who I truly was.

I recalled the blade I had held to my father, the welling of blood it had spurred at the white of his throat, the fall of it against the edge of the letter as he scrawled the last of his name. The way he’d reached for the blade, his voice dipping low like honey as he pleaded with me not to do it. The way I had sheltered it behind my back but had hesitated, because I needed to do it but a few threads of my heart still pulled at what could’ve been.

But it was not the red that Thomas Shelby cared about, for I had allotted it to a nosebleed during my travel to Birmingham. It was the ink black of my father’s writing, the weight his signature held. This was what was most important about the letter; it was what would grant me my freedom.

“I’m not quick to trust these days, Miss Griffin, but your family has treated the Shelbys well, and have never done bad business,” Thomas said as he folded the letter in his hands. “And I may have a job for you, indeed.”

He seemed about to carry on, but I spoke quickly, assuredly, “Please, it’s Charlotte.”

Thomas eyed me for a moment, lips still parted, and then nodded in acceptance. “Very well, Charlotte.” He stood, giving his waistcoat a brush before extending a hand to me. “Now,” he said, once I’d shaken his hand. “You said your father had dealings with the Changrettas once, yes?”

I nodded. “That’s correct, Mr. Shelby.”

“Then I have something for you right away.”

Once Thomas had filled me in on my mission, and he gestured to the door for me to depart, I hesitated, shifting in my chair but not leaving it. Bright blue eyes shot up to me from where they had fixated on some paperwork and dark brows quirked.

“May I see it?” I asked. “The Black Hand?”

Thomas stilled for a moment, and then a key jingled from his pocket, and he unlocked one of the drawers behind his desk. I bit my lip as I waited for him to procure the letter.

“Here.” I could tell he didn’t care to be handling this, perhaps due to the recent death of his brother at the hands of the man who had sent it. But he passed it across the desk, opened to ink-scrawled handwriting. It read:

Merry Christmas to you and your family,

From Luca Changretta & family.

On the right of the card was the imprint of the hand, smudged slightly around the edges of the fingers and outlined with a black, bleeding border. I had never seen one in person.

“He sent you a warning yet attacked before barely giving anyone the chance to read it,” I mused, quietly in thought.

“He wanted to incite chaos, panic,” Thomas said, tone gruff and dismissive, and those piercing aquamarine eyes landed on me again. “Will that be all, Miss Griffin?”

He was tired. Past the rugged looks and the coldfire gaze and the lift of his brow was the darkness of fatigue below his bottom lashes, the prick of sweat at the base of his neck, the plea to be released of his duties behind the veil of one piercing eye.

I forced the corners of my mouth into a polite smile. He didn’t want to discuss this, wanted me out of his office, didn’t even want to pay me the respect of referring to me by the name I had requested.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby. Thank you.”

And as I left his office, I realised that the stories about him were either very wrong or very true, about the Devil and his red right hand.

---     

I shouldn’t have looked into John’s casket. I hadn’t anticipated him to be the spitting image of the brother I had lost, with his ashen lashes and freckled, rounded cheeks and strong jaw. I wondered if his eyes were as ice blue as Alexander’s, wondered if they had filled with the same compassion when he embraced his siblings.

I shouldn’t have been thinking these things, dwelling on the past. I had a job to do now, one that could very well decide my fate.

Thomas had instructed me to make contact with the Italian-Americans. My father had made dealings with the Changrettas in the past, which made me one of the few English contacts they could trust. Which made me one of the few if only viable (and willing) candidates that could give them inside information on the Peaky Blinders.

Thomas wanted to use his brother’s funeral to lure them in, and I was to deliver word to them of its time and whereabouts. I had made contact with a man named Matteo, Luca Changretta’s alleged right-hand man.

The pub was on the other side of town, and didn’t appear to neighbour any hotels or potential residences. They’d been careful with the location. And it was crawling with Italians; on my way onto the second floor, I bumped shoulders with a man in a black coat. His hat was tipped down enough to obscure most of his features save for a sharp jawline, but his New York accent betrayed the faint lilt of Italian. His voice was low but seemed to hiss as he said, “My apologies, signorina.”

“That’s alright, sir,” I replied, but found that he had already whisked his way past me, the ghost of his breath lingering on the side of my neck as he made his way to the bar.

I cast my gaze around me at the crowds that mulled about on the dance floor and among the tables. Gazes seemed to land on me, searing into my flesh, and my skin crawled. I was in the heart of the lion’s den.

Alexander would have been proud of me. I wasn’t dependent on my family anymore; I was writing my own story, and it would not be without its excitement, nor its triumphant end.

I tugged gently at the white bow around my neck, running my finger over the ribbon, as if I could imagine him with me when I did, and then I strode forth, the click of my heels echoing into the throng of voices and the lull of the cellos.

Matteo sat at a table close to the bar; I knew it was him because he nodded to me once his gaze caught mine. I stood out in this place; in a room half-filled with Italian mobsters, I didn’t belong with my locks of pale blonde hair and the white of my lace gloves and the dignified yet almost delicate stride that I had been raised to carry myself with.

I unbuttoned the embroidered black coat from my shoulders as I took my seat, folding it neatly over the back of my chair as Matteo and I exchanged pleasantries. I was seated across from the bar, at which I noticed the back of the man that I had bumped into earlier. He was close enough to listen in. Close enough to kill me if I made a wrong move.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” I said. “As I said over the telephone, I have some rather urgent news.”

The waiter came by and poured a splash of champagne into my glass. The two of us fell silent.

“I understand, Miss Griffin, that you would like to take the side of the Italians in the coming war?” Matteo said, his fingers clasping before him on the table and the candelight casting the shadow of his moustache across a tightened jaw. He radiated tension and an almost impatience.

“My father trusts your people,” I said, ignoring the tinge of bile that rose to my throat at the mention of him. “And I need work. But more than that, I have ambition. So yes.”

Matteo eyed me dubiously, and said, “What is your news, Miss Griffin?”

“Please, it’s Charlotte,” I said, my cordial smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I met with Thomas Shelby to pay my respects to John. I won’t be invited to the funeral, but I know when it will be, and where it will be. All of the Shelby family will be there.” I paused, noticing the glimmer in Matteo’s eye, and took a sip from my champagne. “Shall I continue?” I asked.

Matteo nodded and gestured me on.

The glass clicked against the hardwood of the table, and I leaned across it, voice lowering to recite the details of the funeral that Thomas had given me.

“Consider this information a gesture of my good will, but in the future, for my services, I would like pay, including a… more personal favour,” I said.

“Thank you… Charlotte,” Matteo said, as we leaned back in our chairs. “Provided this is good information, I think you will be of use to us. And there is plenty of pay to go around. You’ve come to the right place.” A pause, and then, “And what of this favour?”

I resisted the urge to bring my hand to the ribbon around my neck, but the breath I sucked in might’ve been audible as the image of John’s pallid face flashed in my mind’s eye.

“An investigation, in America,” I spoke around a knot in my throat. “Years ago, my brother was murdered there. They never did find his killer.”

“I heard of your family’s loss. I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Matteo said. “An investigation can easily be arranged in the near future. But first, and with all due respect, I have some more questions for you.”

The knot began to unravel in my throat as I forced my brother from my mind, and I nodded graciously. “Please,” I said.

“I would like to know, did Thomas say anything else to you?”

“He offered me work,” I said. “He needs all the allies he can get right now. I think after John, he’s… afraid.”

“Afraid?” Matteo scoffed. “The great Tommy Shelby, afraid?” His scoff turned into a chuckle, one that slowly died as he realized that I wasn’t laughing along. But a wire still lilted the corners of my lips.

“It’s true,” I said. “The Shelbys haven’t faced anything quite like this in years.”

“So what kind of work did he offer?” Matteo asked.

“He wants information, same as you.”

Matteo tensed even more at that, and I chuffed out a laugh.

“Don’t be so skittish. I don’t want the Blinders to win this war. I told him I’d think about it.” I sipped my champagne again, but kept Matteo level with my eyes.

His shoulders sagged if by a slight fraction, his relief barely visible. And he told me, “You’re going to take him up on his offer. And you’re going to report to me. I want to know everything that goes on with the Blinders and the Shelbys. Like I said, you’ve come to the right place. The Changrettas are winning this war, and you would’ve been foolish not to.”

There was a warning in his words. He knew that it was a possibility I was working for Thomas, or would decide to, and he wanted to make that known. But it was laughable, really; how could the Changrettas expect to win a war against the Devil himself?

I’d heard stories of the Peaky Blinders. Tales that would make one shudder and vow to never walk the streets of Small Heath. Even with the Shelby family currently divided, I knew it wouldn’t be long until Thomas gathered his forces and made horror stories out of the Changrettas. Luca had gotten lucky with his ambush on John Shelby; he would not be so lucky again.

And I was going to make sure of that.

“So, if we have a deal, then, when do I get to meet this infamous ‘Luca’?” I asked, a smile still playing at my lips as I sat my champagne down.

Matteo’s gaze dipped to the table, and behind him, the man I had bumped into earlier turned at the bar, long fingers reaching for the felt hat atop his head. Poking from the sleeve of his suit on his wrist, in tattooed ink, was the same hand I had seen on Thomas’ card. His features were revealed to me as he brought the hat from his chest, faintly stirring a few strands of black, slicked-back hair and bringing to the light a scar over his right eye and another slashed vertically across his left cheekbone.

“A pleasure to meet you.” That low voice met my ears once more, spoken around a smirk, and pale green eyes settled on me with a glitter that wasn’t from the chandeliers or the candles. “The name is Luca Changretta.”

Matteo wordlessly rose from the table and disappeared into the crowd, and I was left alone with Luca’s serpentine stare that matched his low hiss of a voice, and his devious smirk that made me wonder if the legends about the Devil were wrong, and his towering stature as he stood to lay claim to Matteo’s seat. He placed his hat on the table, the candlelight glinting off of the onyx gems of his rings – one on his index, one on his pinkie – and folded his coat over the back of Matteo’s chair as I had done with mine. But he didn’t sit.

Instead, still smirking down at me, he extended his ringed hand, and said,

“May we seal the deal in a dance, mia piccola spia?”

NEXT CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST / FULL MASTERLIST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist:

#luca changretta #luca changretta x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #adrien brody #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writing #alfie solomons #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #I don't know yet what other characters will have prominent roles #oc: charlotte #white ribbon

[heroofshield]

hello, hero! for anna ryder and rose cousland, could i know these: 4, 5, 6, 7, 11, 21, 23, 25!!

Anna Ryder

4) What color or colors do you most associate with your OC?

Maroon, Amber, Blue, Purple

5) Any animals you most associate with your OC?

Not really. Anna isn't much of a pet person, Alliance life didn't really allow for one and even before that her parents were too busy to take care of a pet plus twins. In Andromeda Scott gets a pyjack and Anna finds it somewhat cute.

6) Any flowers you associate with your OC?

Queen Anne's Lace, Daffodils, Dandelions

7) Does your OC have a favorite and least favorite food?

Anna doesn't care for winter squashes, she doesn't like the texture. Her favorite is anything noodles, easy to carry in a bowl/eat while trying to catch up on reports/etc

11) What actor or voice actor do you see best playing as your OC?

I haven't really given this much thought for Anna only because I mainly use her CC when getting fanart created. That being said, I could see Agam Darshi being a faceclaim for Anna.

21) Any embarrassing secrets your OC demands you take to the grave but you will share anyway?

Her first time snowboarding, she had a hard time finding her balance and went ass over teakettle right in front of a girl she was crushing on. Face full of powder, Anna managed to get up without too much trouble but that ended up having the girl ask if she was alright and Anna managing to flirt (somewhat) successfully with her. They ended up going out on a few dates so it worked out in the end.

Then when the Tempest first landed on Aya she was so excited to explore that she tripped over her own feet and nearly ate grass. But she managed to right herself and endured the jokes from the crew, brushing it off with a crack of her own.

23) Is your OC religious and what religion? If it’s a fictional religion for your story please give a summary of the core teachings of their faith?

Not really. Alec and Ellen weren't super religious, their mom more because of her science background and Alec just because, so they never really encouraged it with Scott and Anna. They did try to teach them to be nice but firm, to stand up for what was wrong but also be kind, and to help those in need though.

25) The name you chose for your OC, why did you chose it?

I wanted something that I could shorten, that Anna would only be called when she was in trouble (which ended up being A Lot). At the time I was reading War Storm by Victoria Aveyard where one of the characters has the nickname 'Nanabel' and that stuck with me so I decided to go in that direction and came up with Annabel, eventually deciding that she had a vague US Southern/Hispanic background.

Rose Cousland

4) What color or colors do you most associate with your OC?

Black, Silver, Dark Blue

5) Any animals you most associate with your OC?

Her mabari Griffins. She's had Griffins since he was a puppy and wouldn't know what to do if he wasn't in her life. She dares anyone to tell her that she can't have a Marbari in the castle.

6) Any flowers you associate with your OC?

Roses obliviously :P but also sunflowers and snow drops.

7) Does your OC have a favorite and least favorite food?

Rose is a fan of bread, especially if it's fresh from the oven. Also once Zevran introduces her to Antivan dishes, she's a big fan of the spices. Doesn't really care for "travel rations" (aka hardtack & cheese) but knows that when they're on the road there's not much choice.

11) What actor or voice actor do you see best playing as your OC?

I've fancasted Gemma Arterton as Rose, specifically from Hansel & Gretel: Witchhunters because she had the vibe I was looking for in the movie (but with redder hair).

21) Any embarrassing secrets your OC demands you take to the grave but you will share anyway?

Rose is somewhat afraid of the dark, she needs a candle burning in her room once the sun starts setting and can't fall asleep if it's completely dark.

23) Is your OC religious and what religion? If it’s a fictional religion for your story please give a summary of the core teachings of their faith?

Rose had to sit through Chantry services while at Highever, it was expected of her as the Teryn's daughter, and only loosely followed the teachings of the church. Then Highever got razed and she turned her back on Andraste and the Chantry, angry and confused at how she could let that happen since her parents had been devout followers of Andraste. She doesn't belittle Leliana for her beliefs, but at the same time she doesn't try to go back to the Chantry and the Maker.

Once she becomes Queen, Rose knows that she has to at least attend one service a week, but at the same time she tries to find an excuse not to go if she can help it.

25) The name you chose for your OC, why did you chose it?

This was before I fully fleshed out my Cousland Warden and wanted to just jump into the game. A friend on here had been talking about Titanic/Doctor Who and Rose so that was at the forefront of my mind so I went with that.

#anderfels #rose cousland #annabel ryder #ask meme #mass effect #dragon age origins #sorry for the delay #these were good questions though!

[cecexwrites]

Writeblr Intro

My name is Cecily, but you can call me Cece. I'm in my 30's and I primarily write fanfiction. I do have a large original project in the works though.

My Pinterest Fic Masterlist Character Masterlist

My Current Focus(es)

Small Town Paranormal

An Original Universe

Witches and Werewolves, Vampires and Demons- all hidden in plain sight. From a supernatural sanctuary created by a vampire to a college for witches. Small Town Paranormal is a series of stories all connected by their shared universe

Prince of Wrath

A Blaise Zabini Fanfiction

Torn apart four years ago by the impending war, the Zabini's and Fawleys reunite for an old family holiday tradition- an entire summer on a Grecian Island. Pushed together for the first time in year, Blaise and Reid Fawley have to learn to navigate their new circumstances. Not to mention her boyfriend, his memories from the Battle of Hogwarts and a past mistake coming back to haunt them

OC(s): Reid Fawley (Jessica Alexander) Tate Fawley (Luke Eisner)

Story Masterpost

Nevermore

A Rabastan Lestrange Fanfiction

Merit Vander Wende hates me.

A fact she's never kept secret, but when her darling fiancé crossed me he all but signed her death warrant.

Merit might hate me, but she will be mine.

OC(s): Rhiannon Lestrange (Sydney Sweeney) Merit Vander Wende (Rachel Zegler)

Coven Wars

A Teen Wolf Fanfiction

TBA

Wasting Time with Rabbits

A Disney Descendants Fanfiction

Once upon a time, King Adam declared an end to the darkness. He sent the Villains to the isle and magic became obsolete. Twenty years later, his son is ready to make things right by bringing over the children of the Villains he banished. Including the daughter of his father's greatest enemy, Gaston. Galston is just looking for a good time. She definitely didn't mean to be the catalyst for a war decades in the making

OC(s): Galston Legume (Kaia Gerber) Cedrick Facilier (Luka Sabbat) Quinn Queen (Rachel Zegler) Aleksander Westergaard (Danny Griffin) Winter White (Matt Cornett)

Red Riding Hood

A Disney Descendants Fanfiction

All her life Scarlett's been stalked by The Wolf. Always looking over her shoulder, terrified of the dark. After the death of her only protector, Auradon is her only hope. Fate has no hold on her.

OC(s): Scarlett Edon (Maia Mitchell)

Beyond the Star and By The Angel

A Shadowhunters Fanfiction

It all started with the Academy. When the Academy finally opened it's doors to warlocks, Max Lightwood-Bane was the first to jump in, alongside his older brother, of course. Neither of them had any idea that when meeting Romy Thornhill they would be meeting the woman who would change all their lives forever. (part of the Angels and Demons Series)

OC(s): Rowena 'Romy' Thornhill (Meg Donnelly)

Swing for the Fences

A Sandlot/Stranger Things Crossover Fanfiction

The summer of 1962: Scott Smalls and Benny Rodriguez along with their baseball crew did the impossible, they rescued their ball from The Beast. Cementing their friendship for until the end of time.

November 1983: Scott Smalls is getting a divorce, living in Hawkins Indiana with his two kids. The day his best friend Benny, and Benny's daughter, move to Hawkins to help him with the transition to single parenthood, Will Byers- Scott's daughter's best friend- goes missing and the mystery of Hawkins beings to unravel.

OC(s): Lou Rodriguez (Jenna Ortega), Emma Smalls (Mckenna Grace), Phillip Smalls (Walker Scobell), Charlie Baker (Felix Mallard)

Read it on: AO3

My Finished Stories

Prince of Ruin

A Theodore Nott Fanfiction

Once upon a time, long long ago, The Nott family and The Selwyns were the closest of friends. Two families who loved each other with their entire souls. Did I mention that was a long long time ago? Now, Theodore Nott can't stand the Selwyn Twins, especially the loud and rude Cordelia Selwyn. However after a incident of revenge gone wrong, Theodore finds himself stuck with the woman, until death do they part (Part one of The Serpents Club)

OC(s): Cordelia Selwyn (Model fc is Vika Bronova, actress fc is Odeya Rush), Bastian Selwyn (Model Fc is Alessandro Dellisola, Actor fc is tentatively Tanner Buchanan) Story Masterpost

#writeblr #intro #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #disney descendants fanfiction #shadowhunters fanfiction #original fiction

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC Holidays 2022 Weeks 1 through 3

EVENT POST EVENT PROMPTS PRIZE WINNER

🖤 = Adult Content/18+ 🔥 = NSFW/18+ Only

❄️ Week 1 🌟 Week 2 ☃️ Week 3 Hello! Here is Part 1 of Our Holiday Master List! It's going to be too big for a single list, so since we're halfway through the event, it's the perfect time to share! Thank you to all who have contributed, and remember! There is still time to participate! See the rules here and the prompts here.

THE FRESHMAN SERIES

The First Christmas Together Part 4 | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga ☃️ The First Christmas Together Part 5 - @eadanga ☃️ The First Christmas Together - Finale - @eadanga ☃️

OPEN HEART

A Christmas Elf | Ethan x F!MC - @genevievemd 🌟

All I Want for Christmas | Tobias x F!MC - @jerzwriter 🌟

Christmas Bells | Bryce Lahela x F!MC - @chocopeppermintcake 🌟

Christmas Miracles | Sienna Trinh x M!OC - @liaromancewriter ☃️

Forever Winter | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @genevievemd ☃️

Jewelry Counter | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @takeharryandgo ☃️

Midnight | Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @storyofmychoices ❄️

Mistletoe | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC @potionsprefect 🌟

Neon Lights | Bryce Lahela x F!MC @peonierose ☃️

Replies & Returns | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter 🖤🌟

Rocking Around the Christmas Tree - Ethan Ramsey x F!MC @liaromancewriter 🌟

Secret Santa | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC @jamespotterthefirst 🌟

Skulduggary | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @inlocusmads ☃️

This Christmas | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @jerzwriter ❄️

Under the Mistletoe | Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @trappedinfanfiction ☃️

RED CARPET DIARIES

All I Want is You | Thomas Hunt x F!OC - @theartoflovingthomashunt 🌟

An Ugly Time of Year | Victoria Fontaine x MC - @alj4890 🌟

Holy-Gay Traditions | Thomas Hunt x M!OC - @gutsfics

It's Unavoidable | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - @alj4890 🌟

New York Plus Two | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - @hopelessromantic1352🌟

Wonder | Thomas Hunt x F!MC - @hopelessromantic1352 🌟

THE ROYAL ROMANCE WAKE THE DEAD & CROSSOVER FICS BELOW BREAK

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

A Royal Christmas Part 4 | Liam Rys x MC - @eadanga ☃️

Christmas in Cordonia Part 1 | Liam Rys x MC - @sfb123 ❄️

Christmas in Cordonia (Series) | Liam Rys x MC - @sfb123

Part 2 🌟

Christmas in Cordonia (Series) | Liam Rys x MC - @sfb123

Part 3 🔥☃️

The Best Christmas Ever | Maxwell Beaumont x MC - @angelasscribbles ☃️

The Other Nevrakis (Series) | Drake Walker x F!OC - @harleybeaumont

The Christmas Party 🌟

WAKE THE DEAD

Comfort & Joy | Eli Sipes x F!MC - @jerzwriter ☃️

Remorse is the Poison of Life | WTD F!MC, Angel Savage - @inlocusmads ❄️

CROSSOVERS

The Royal Romance / Blades of Light & Shadow / The Elementalists

That December Night (Series) - @aallotarenunelma

Chapter 1: Blackout | Nia Ellarious x Drake Walker, Nia Ellarious & Griffin Langley ❄️

Chapter 2: Via and Nia | Nia Ellarious x Drake Walker, Nia Ellarious & Griffin Langley 🌟

Chapter 3: That's My Girl | Nia Ellarious x Olivia Nevrakis ☃️

Open Heart / Red Carpet Diaries

Home is Where the Heart Is | Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @peonierose 🌟

#cfwc holidays 2022 #the freshman series #open heart #red carpet diaries #the royal romance #wake the dead #blades of light and shadow #the elementalists #choices fic writers creations

[rosemary-morgan]

Draco Malfoy X F.Reader - Forbidden flower (Part 3)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself. OC Jericho Griffin belongs to me.)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

This AU is set 10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts

👉 Read PART 1 

👉 Read PART 2

👉 Read PART 4

Summary: The desire and lust you feel for Draco finally overcomes you, leading you to enter into an affair with him. Jericho has no idea of your betrayal. But if he ever finds out about you and Draco, you know that the consequences could be severe...

Warning: Domestic violence, toxic relationship (but also some Romance, fluff, protective Draco, secret love 🖤)

Draco Malfoy X F.Reader - Forbidden flower (Part 3)

Y/N was completely beside herself. She looked out of the shop window, lost in thought, at the thick layer of snow that had formed overnight. Accordingly, it was much colder today than yesterday. If only she could enjoy the sight. Y/N loved winter, she loved the Christmas season, and yet she could not find joy. For she had not forgotten what Jericho had done to her last night. He had beaten her for the second time now and she knew it wouldn't be the last. Jericho was like a changed man. From one moment to the next he had turned into such a monster and Y/N wondered if she shouldn't have seen it coming. But how could one foresee such a thing? The young woman was very sad and you could see it in her face. Her co-worker saw it as well, whereupon she addressed Y/N.

"Y/N? What's wrong with you? You look so sad."

"It's nothing, Daphne. I'm just... a little tired."

The young woman just looked at Y/N suspiciously, but she didn't want to push Y/N into anything. 

"Okay. If you do want to talk, you know I'm listening."

"I know. Thanks, Daphne..."

Y/N didn't want to burden Daphne with her problems, especially since she couldn't help her anyway. At least, that's what Y/N believed. Y/N's cheek was still hurting, since Jericho had hit it pretty hard. It was pretty red, though you couldn't see that under her makeup. Y/N had been able to conceal the whole thing well and having to think about it gave her an incredible stomach ache. She didn't want to go back to Jericho. What would happen again tonight? Would he yell at her for no reason and hit her again? Maybe this time he would beat her up even worse. She didn't know and she was afraid. If only she would dare to talk to someone about it, but what if they would judge her? Condemn her for not realizing earlier what kind of man he was? All these thoughts and fears slowed her down, made her hide. 

Y/N would be going home soon and she kept glancing at the clock, almost believing that time was flying faster than usual today. Of course she was just imagining it, but she felt the pain, she felt the fear and no one could put themselves in her place at the moment. No one could put a smile on her face today, not even when the kids entered the store -and she liked kids. 

"Do you want to leave earlier today, Y/N? I can manage the rest by myself."

"No, it's okay. Thank you, dear."

"Okay, sweetie."

Y/N managed a small smile for Daphne, but it faded away immediately. Until all of a sudden, a blond, handsome Malfoy entered the store. And he smiled, his eyes instantly searching for Y/N. 

"Draco..."

Draco managed to make Y/N happier with his presence. She hadn't expected to see him, but she was all the more pleased to see him. He stepped towards her with a charming smile and stopped in front of her. She smiled up at him, for Jericho was suddenly forgotten.

"Did you happen to have something to do around here again today, Draco?"

Draco smirked in amusement. This time he really had no excuse, and he wouldn't deny that he was going to seek them out directly.

"No, this time I actually came just for you."

Y/N blushed, looking down at the ground for a moment as she smiled, thinking of what a lovely evening she had spent with Draco.

"That's sweet, Draco..."

Daphne listened with half an ear as she served the customers, but couldn't understand much as Y/N and Draco stood further away.

"I was thinking we could go for a walk again. I really enjoyed last night, Y/N."

"Me too..." she whispered, signaling to Draco with a look that she wasn't so free to talk about it. Daphne knew she was already married, and although Daphne was a nice person, Y/N didn't want everyone to know she was dating Draco. Yesterday she had been standing alone in the store, so no one had noticed, but today her co-worker was with her. Draco understood immediately and he nodded, falling instantly silent. He now kept some distance from her, but he leaned forward and whispered to her that he would wait for her. Actually, Y/N should go home, she knew that but she liked him so much. So she nodded and Draco understood, leaving the store.

When Y/N's shift was over, she left the store instantly. Draco was eagerly waiting for the young woman, could hardly wait to spend time with her and when he caught sight of her, he immediately went to her. He had been waiting for her at Olivander's, exchanging a few words with the old man as he waited; as he had picked up his first wand here, like every other wizard. That had been so many years ago, and yet it seemed like only yesterday to him. 

Draco stopped in front of Y/N, a little unsure of how to greet her. Give her a hug, a kiss on the cheek? After last night, they couldn't just pretend they were just two acquaintances. But the decision was taken away from him by Y/N when she leaned in and gave the impression that she wanted to hug him. And that's when Draco approached her and pulled her into his arms. It was an intimate embrace full of warmth and affection. The young woman felt so good in his arms.

"You smell wonderful, Y/N..."

The young woman smirked as she heard his words and Draco smelled good and seductive to her as well. Draco breathed in her scent, closing his eyes as he did so, his heart starting to race. The closer they got, the crazier the young man became for her. As the young woman slowly pulled away from his embrace, she looked up at him apologetically, however, she stayed close enough to him so that Draco kept his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Draco, I'm afraid I can't be gone long. I have to get home soon...". Draco knew then she meant back to Jericho, and it triggered a pang of jealousy in him as he slowly but surely couldn't bear the thought of her having to share a bed with another man. But what was he to do about it? Nothing, because before the law, Y/N and Jericho were a married couple.

"I know..."

Draco inhaled audibly, trying to contain his disappointment and anger at Jericho. Carefully, he lifted his hand and placed it against her cheek, whereupon Y/N closed her eyes, thoroughly enjoying his tender touch.

"If your husband would work longer... then we would see each other more often?"

"Yes..."

Y/N answered immediately, not hesitating for a second. Well, Draco would make sure Jericho would be sitting at his desk longer from all the work.

"Shall we go for another walk? Maybe we'll have some warm chocolate?" She smiled as she mentioned hot chocolate and that's when Draco smiled again. She was so incredibly sweet, would have loved to kiss her.

"Yes. Let's have some hot chocolate, Y/N."

At that, he put his hand to her lower back and led her along with him, walking close to each other, enjoying each other's presence.

Even though they didn't spend much time together that evening, it had been just as nice as the previous one. And they continued to meet, because Draco had made sure that Jericho had enough work to sit at his desk until late in the evening. For Y/N it was a blessing, and she didn't question the amount of work that had suddenly beset her husband. She just enjoyed her time with Draco, feeling comfortable and safe with him. For the past week, she had been meeting Draco secretly, and they both kept visiting the café in Diagon Alley. They got to know each other better and better. They laughed a lot, their hands touching each other again and again, they whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears... There, where everything had begun in the small café in the Diagon Alley, something very special seemed to develop. And not only for Y/N was this time special, but also for Draco. He had not had it easy in the past, but Y/N gave him inner peace and he found what he had always been looking for. 

That evening it was snowing especially hard. Thick flakes fell slowly from the sky, the Diagon Alley shone in the most beautiful lights. Warm and pleasant, this was a sight for the eyes.

"It's time for me to go, Draco."

"Y/N..."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled Y/N down one of the narrow alleys so that no prying eyes would see her. A surprised sound escaped her lips as she felt the cold wall against her back. Draco stood close in front of her, his hands leaned against the wall to the left and right of her head. Y/N really hadn't expected that. She suddenly felt warm as his body nestled against hers. Again he breathed in her scent, purring softly.

"Draco..."

She closed her eyes as she heard his seductive words and she bit her lower lip, unable and unwilling to deny what he was saying.

"We both want the same thing, Y/N..."

She wrapped her hands around his neck, reaching into his blond hair before pulling him down to her and kissing him. She had wanted to do that for so long and she enjoyed this kiss to the fullest. Draco returned it instantly, kissing her with great passion and it quickly became clear how greedy they actually were for each other. Draco moaned, deeply aroused and greedily met her tongue with his as his body trapped her tightly against the wall. When they broke away from each other, panting, they looked into each other's eyes, and she smiled sadly at him. 

"Draco, I have to go now..." she whispered, but he wouldn't let her go and he made no move to move away from her.

"Please," she whispered, "You knew it wasn't going to be easy..."

"I know. But I hate the thought of you sharing a bed with him," he whispered, brushing her lips with his. "He doesn't deserve you, Y/N..."

"Draco... I don't like the thought of Jericho either. Not at all." Because he scared her. But now she had to leave, because otherwise Jericho would rage and punish her again. Draco didn't know about that yet, and she wouldn't tell him. At least not yet.

"Why does he get to touch you and I don't?"

Y/N closed her eyes as he kissed her gauzily and gently clasped her neck. Her head falling back, she looked up at him, gazing into his blue eyes.

"He doesn't own you, Y/N..." he whispered against her mouth, his tongue sliding slowly over her sweet lips.

"I want you, Y/N... I want you so much."

And she wanted Draco, too. God, how many times had she imagined sharing a bed with him, giving herself to him completely! But they both had to be patient for the time being.

She slowly broke away from him and this time Draco allowed it without objections, yet he looked at her sadly. One last kiss and Y/N went her way...

♦♦♦♦

"Fucking bullshit!"

Jericho was annoyed at all the work he had to do lately. Y/N said nothing to that, but sorted her clothes in her closet. She just let her husband yell, knowing there was nothing she could say against that because he didn't like it at all when his wife reprimanded him.

"I'm tired of working overtime every night!"

"I'm sure that will change soon, Jericho."

Y/N tried to speak in a gentle tone with her husband, knowing how she could appease him. Always agree with him and never talk back. That way she would have her peace and that was the most important thing.

"I hope so! Draco always fucks off work early and leaves me to deal with all this shit on my own."

She paused for a moment at his words, chewing lightly on her lower lip. She suddenly remembered the words Draco had once said to her. So he was responsible for Jericho's overtime. She smiled contentedly, and luckily Jericho couldn't see her because she was standing with her back turned to him.

"Argh, I'm going to take a shower!"

And that's when Jericho disappeared as well, and Y/N laid down in bed shortly after. She found the thought of lying next to Jericho repulsive. She longed to wake up next to Draco, to be able to lie in his arms. The young woman had been thinking for days what it would be like to sleep with him. She wondered if he was tender. He certainly was, Y/N thought to herself with a smile. The thought of young Malfoy made her all moist and she loved the thought of him touching and kissing her. Anywhere, anywhere he wanted. 

The shower was still running, Y/N could hear it clearly, and she would love to give herself over to her thoughts, touching herself while thinking of Draco. But the young woman didn't, not wanting to be caught by Jericho. Sighing, she snuggled into her pillow and pulled the blanket up to her neck, wondering if Draco was already asleep or if he was having as sinful thoughts as she was.

With these thoughts, the young woman fell asleep, slowly but surely. Until she suddenly awoke to cold hands touching her body. Y/N wrenched her eyes open, even startled slightly.

"Hmm, it's just me."

Jericho. He had snuggled up to her body, touching her body with his hands, caressing her. Her hips, her thighs. She was wearing warm flannel pajamas, wanting to show as little skin as possible.

"Don't..."

She didn't want to, disgusted by his touch, and when he tried to put his hand down her pants, she grabbed his wrist and convulsively tried to stop him.

"Jericho, stop it..."

"Come on, sweetie..."

He gasped in her ear, she could feel his warm breath on her skin and she could sense that he was aroused.

"I said stop it!"

She slid away from him, literally jumping on the bed and giving him evil looks. 

"Don't you ever touch me against my will again!"

Now Jericho was the one giving her evil looks. He flipped the covers aside and rose from the bed, walking toward her, whereupon she momentarily backed away from him.

"You dare to shout at me? To talk to me like that?!"

"I can't stand the thought of having you lying next to me!" she screamed. Completely disgusted with him and his closeness! 

"You married me, so act like a wife too!" Roughly, he grabbed her face, squeezed her cheeks and grinned down at her from above.

"You do like it when I fuck you. The way you always greedily opened your legs for me, my cock deep and full of greed in your little cunt..."

That's when Y/N reached out with her hand and slapped his face so hard that there was a clear, red mark on his cheek. She immediately regretted it, as Jericho gave her a withering look and shortly thereafter punched her in the face as well. Her head was thrown to the side, her hair covered the left side of her face and she didn't move. She was completely frozen with fear.

"If you dare to hit me again, I'll strangle you, Y/N!"

She suppressed a sob as tears ran down her cheeks. What had she done to deserve such treatment?

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x f.reader #female reader #my fanfictions #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter au #forbidden love #older draco malfoy #love #lovers #y/n reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #romance #protective draco malfoy #relationships #friend's to lovers

[thedeadthree]

— WHAT GREEK GOD IS YOUR OC?

the darlings @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman, @dihardys, @adelaidedrubman, @belorage, and @multiverse-of-themind to take this cutest uquiz for a few dears! ty so much! <3

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @florbelles, @dihardys, @jackiesarch, @yennas, @roofgeese, @unholymilf, @marivenah, @shellibisshe, @belorage, @pearlcscent, @stormveils, @aartyom, @arklay, @swordcoasts, @jacobseed, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood, @loriane-elmuerto, @bloodofvalyria, @rosebarsoap and you!

HECATE

double, double toil and trouble. yeah you don't really get much facetime in the myths but you're literally the god of magic and dogs so stay winning. mysterious goth energy, does she really do complete dark rituals or is that just her vibe. no one knows and you're not telling

DEMETER

so all the gods like to let off some steam in not the healthiest ways, but you kind of take that to a whole new level. what with inventing winter and famine and everything. However you're only like that when you're stressed, but then when you're not stressed you're equally mysterious. i mean you literally invented mysteries (go you). some people think you're cold but thats presumably because you dislike them, you can be very warm and loving when you choose

HERMES

you literally were born and then invented mischeif. like you were a newborn and you immidiately inbented theivery and then lying. go you. you are the living embodiment of chaotic neutral. Yes people are so annoyed by you sometimes, but you are so unbelievably charming that you get away with everything. who doesn't love a charming rogue

APOLLO

honestly im much kinder in all the other ones but you have... such bottom energy. I mean really. you've got the whole homosexual tragic romance thing going on. Its not bad! its just i feel like you invented tragic relationships. congrats on being good at literally everything though, its totally fair that you get music, poetry, culture, truth, prophesy etc etc etc. oh yeah and the epitome of beauty. leave something for the rest of us huh?

ATHENA

ok yes you know everything. and you're a bit arrogant about it. and sometimes when you're confronted with the fact that you don't know/aren't the best at everything... you have a little meltdown. its fine. we all do it. If you chose any of the train themed answers you should've got athena, lets face it she'd go wild for them.

#oc: iovanna dayne #oc: sérëdhiel alfirin #oc: ademarta cel tradat #oc: judicael rogarvia #oc: adda de trastamara #leg.tagged #leg.ocs #t: tag games #t: text #ty ty so much this was so cute to do! and also the way! the way! this read them was so good asjknxk i loved it sm <3 #I KNEW IT I HAVE ONLY HAD HER FOR A MONTH AND I JUST KNEWW IOVANNA WOULD GET HECATE..! #her pinterest board has a purple aesthetic her DRAGON breathes purple fire and had violet scales..! #she gained the ability to ride her dragon through the magic that the valyrians used! shes not valyrian but her mom knew the ritual! <3 #i spent HOURS reading into the lore and found that and i was like PERFECT..! and what were the odds! uquiz knew babe! <3 #JUDES KSDKALKJASNK also him being the epitome of beauty ur so right uquiz <3 further proof he's the perfect disney prince ajknxk #also i was taken off guard by adda getting athena but its so fitting? especially the first part she really loves to be perfect @everything! #THE WAY I KNEW MAR MAR WAS A CHAOTIC ALIGNMENT <3 newborn invented lying and is so charming she gets away w/everything! #ALSO SO CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY SERAS..! but also her being the divine of mysteries her being a mystery to others and to herself? #and yea! introducing iovanna! ive had her since ep 1 and in honor of the finale this coming Sunday here is she! my baby! #(and also was like AHH seeing everyone's <3) #shes a dayne! this answer nailed her psyche to the letter! and i think yall can wager who she goes for jsahxnjajk <3 #her mother was a appreciator of history (and more than proficient in the arcane) and knew the ritual to bind dragons <2 #*<3 shes not valyrian or targaryen! she rides a dragon! shes so cool! and i have a g*ot oc that is her descendant <3

[choicesmc]

13, 23 and 29 for Rams? For the warm and cozy asks :)

Thank you for stopping by! I loved thinking through these questions (and I was really hoping someone would request #13 so :D!!)

Asks being referenced [here]

13. What makes your OC feel safe and secure?

“Thank you,” Rams sobbed, their voice barely rising above a whisper. Griffin’s arms only held them tighter as Shreya stroked their hair.  “We’re here for you,” Zeph murmured, joining the group hug, “don’t forget that."

Easiest way for Rams to feel safe is to be surrounded by their loved ones. There's no better feeling to them than just relaxing and knowing they're in safe hands.

23. Does your character have a favourite place to chill?

Slamming their book shut, Rams’ eyes were wide open as they realized just how much time had passed by. They could’ve sworn it was late afternoon when they’d nuzzled into their reading chair and now the clock on his wall read 8:00!

Rams' room is optimized for chilling out. They have everything in there: food + entertainment. Honestly, if not for classes, Rams' could waste their entire day in there. (It's even better if they have their friends over!)

29. Your OC has a sick day off. How do they spend it?

 “Ugh,” Rams’ groaned pacing around their room, hands clasped behind their back, “No one’s available…”  After a few more moments of just pacing back and forth, Rams tossed a jacket on, braving the winter chill in order to find something more fun than being sick and alone in their room.

As much as Rams loves chilling and, in general, being in their room... when their sick, they hate being inactive. When their sick, you can find them taking hikes (especially with Griffin) or practicing Thief with Zeph —just something that keeps them moving!

#asks answered #the elementalists #rams erndheart #it's their birthday

[bloodypeachblog]

@festens-oc-hangout

Yo, imagine Peach stopping by Vlad's castle on Christmas Day. She had some presents she made for Vlad, Remus, and Griffin.

The first one she delivered was Remus's. She went down to the dungeon and found him there. She gave him a scarf, hat, and mitten set she knitted, all made with brown, black, and chartreuse yarn. "I figured with you being down here all the time, you'd get a bit cold, so I made these for you to keep warm." He didn't move from his spot, so Peach walked up to him and placed them on the floor in front of him. She gave him a kiss then left. Once she left, Remus took the scarf, felt the yarn, and put it on. He then nuzzled into it and almost started crying. He didn't take it off for the longest time.

Next was Griffin. She found him and handed him his gift. It was the same hat, scarf, and mitten set, but this time the yarn was orange, brown, and yellow. "Hope you find use of these." "Aw, thank you madam! I certainly will!"

Last, but certainly not least, was Vlad. Peach had to admit, she was a bit nervous when she approached his bedroom door. She hoped she didn't catch him at a bad time. She knocked and said, "Um..Vlad? It's me, Peach..Can I come in?" "Sure." The door opened and Peach entered the room. He was looking out the window at the night sky. Peach approached him and started to get a bit flustered and stuttered, "I-I know you don't really celebrate Christmas, but I s-still wanted to get you guys a present. I already gave G-Grif and Remy their gifts, and I have one for you t-too. I wasn't sure w-what to make you s-since you d-don't feel the cold or warmth anymore so you've no need for winter stuff, s-so I just made you t-this.." Vlad walked up to her as she talked, making her more nervous. He noticed what was in her hands: a hand-knitted blood red scarf. "I-I-I hope this is ok! I-If you don't like it, I....I...." She couldn't finish her sentence due to how Vlad immediately put the scarf on. He returned to his spot at the window and all he said was, "Thank you, Peach." Peach smiled and said before she left, "You're welcome, Vlad."

Later, Vlad would occasionally bring the scarf up to his nose to take in the scent, which smelled so much like Peach.

[red-riding-wood]

OC: Charlotte Griffin

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Summary: Charlotte Griffin, on a quest to emerge from her family's dark shadow, becomes a spy in a gang war that puts her loyalties and desires into question as she grows closer to the man who is meant to be her enemy.

WARNINGS for whole story: eventual explicit sexual content and references, explicit violence and gore, mentions of physical abuse, language, ethnic slurs (mainly because of Alfie)

A.N. Muscled through my writing aversion to keep this one going because of your guys' lovely comments! Thank you; this is fueled by the encouraging words!

The smoke filled my bitter cold lungs like some sort of awakening. I could feel my brother’s presence more breathing the smoke of this cigarette than I had Polly’s incense, and I couldn’t help but clench it between two quivering fingers out of the frustration that he haunted me still.

I was tempted to yell out to him in the lonely streets, in the portent dark that stretched over Small Heath like a blanket cradling its long lost master. But despite the assurance that I was under the protection of both the Peaky Blinders and the Sicilian Mafia, it still wasn’t wise to draw attention, much less appear to be mad, screaming to ghosts.

I walked down the half-empty streets of brawling lowlifes and drunkards, cigarette held high above a crooked elbow despite the almost volatile grasp in which I clutched it. Not one person had approached me, though I could feel their stares as if they were sparks in the cold of the night, and I found myself wondering what they knew of me, if word had yet travelled of my “bookmaker” job with the Blinders. I didn’t think I would ever become accustomed to small towns. It felt as if everyone knew me before I knew them.

My stride faltered when a particularly boisterous man stumbled from one of the pubs, its lights spilling onto the pavement and washing the freckles of frost in an ethereal sheen. The man nearly slipped, my heart pounded in my chest as his much taller stature came careening towards me.

Despite catching himself, his weight nearly tripped me in my heels, and alcohol tinged the breath that raked across my near-frosted lashes. I blinked, eyes dry from the cold, and took in his features – the long threads of hair that flopped over winter-blue eyes and a fresh bruise over the thick moustache crowning his lip.

“Arthur?” I said, before clearing my throat and straightening, taking a step back out of respect. “Mr. Shelby,” I corrected myself. “Are you all right?”

“Ah, just fucking call me Arthur,” he slurred, and threw an arm around my shoulder as he turned me the opposite direction and began guiding me along the sidewalk in his drunken state.

“You didn’t answer my question, Arthur,” I pointed out, and angled my body away only slightly so that if he were to vomit up his alcohol I wouldn’t be caught in the trajectory.

“What was your question?” he mumbled, that reek of alcohol twitching my nose. But I remained patient, remembering Thomas’ words about his brother and his good heart.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Do you need a ride home? You don’t look in the state to be driving – or even taking a taxi. Thomas told me not to trust any.”

“No,” he said a little too hurriedly, shaking his head as the weight of his arm left me. “I’m not goin’ home. Not to Linda. If you take me home, Charlotte, I’m gonna… I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.”

It was something, at least, that he remembered my name.

“Don’t worry. I won’t take you home,” I eased him. Though I’d never heard anyone speak of Linda, I assumed that she was a wife or perhaps a lover, and few women approved of their husbands coming home in a drunken stupor. Though I hadn’t figured out what to do with him yet, I wouldn’t take him home to a living situation I knew nothing of.

“Come here,” I said, boldly wrapping my fingers around his arm and gently tugging him to the ingress of the nearest alley. I needed to get him off the street and preferably sitting down somewhere.

Though he nearly lost his footing again, Arthur followed my guidance and immediately sank to the ground, a groan emanating from lips parted to let a bead of drool fall slowly to his chin. His eyelids fluttered shut and he began to mumble something unintelligible to my ears.

I sighed gently and tucked my coat in around me before sinking alongside him to the cold pavement and the bite of the brick against my spine. Procuring a clean handkerchief from my pocket, I wiped the drool from his chin and set it aside.

I took this time to examine him. Despite the marks of violence in the faint scars on his face, I could only see fatigue in the dark bags under his eyes and the loll of his head against the brick wall. He was sort of how I imagined a much scrawnier, sinewy bear would look like if it were slumbering.

“Arthur?” I interrupted his incoherent mutterings.

“Mm? Yes?” His eyelids peeled back, but he didn’t look at me.

“What happened?” I asked him, eyeing the bruise again along his cheekbone. “Did you get in a fight again?”

“You know me,” he slurred out, though I didn’t know him. Not by anything more than the brutality he inflicted, and, of course, Thomas’ words.

“Some right cunt thought he could insult this here,” he said, digging a cross from beneath his shirt and accidentally snapping the beads of the rosary from his neck. “Ah, fuck,” he mumbled, and chuckled heartily. “Guess it doesn’t suit me anyhow, this thing.”

I eyed the cross that he let fall to the pavement, feeling for my own that I still wore – I had wanted to cleanse myself of the séance that Polly and I had undergone earlier that evening. And I found myself curious – curious, because Arthur Shelby was the last person I expected to answer to God, and curious, because I could tell he tried to handle the rosary so delicately despite his brutish touch.

I plucked the cross and its broken string of beads from the pavement, and pressed them into a clammy hand, curling his fingers back over it to ensure they didn’t fall back to the ground. I took note of the wedding ring on his ring finger.

“A cross doesn’t need to suit you, Arthur,” I told him. “Any man can seek God’s light.”

“You sound like Linda,” he grumbled, and stuffed the remnants of the rosary haphazardly into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Don’t start pulling that on me, now, Charlotte. ‘Cause I know there’s no god that’s ever gonna accept me. Not Arthur Shelby. Not the man who bleeds everything he touches like stuck pigs.”

I pondered this in silence, for a moment or two, my gaze drawing now to the bricks of the walls, imagining the blood of every life he’d taken oozing from the cracks. I couldn’t imagine how much it would be, only knew that we would be drowning if it did spill based off of the stories I’d heard of the eldest Shelby brother.

“Who’s Linda?” I finally asked, deciding now was a good time to ask about her, now that he had somewhat settled down. I could hear his breaths coming slower.

“Linda’s me wife.”

I nodded, despite his gaze also elsewhere. And I asked,

“Did she give you that cross?”

“You think I got it from me weekly sermons?” he quipped dryly, and I chuffed out a laugh.

“She must care about you,” I said, delving deeper into the waters of what was okay to ask before he really did kill me. I turned my head to him, his winter gaze meeting mine. Clouded over in a dopey, inebriated sheen, it was difficult to read. But his hesitation in answering me with words told me he must not have fully agreed with my statement.

“Yeah, she must,” he said, his voice eerily hollow.

“Why don’t you want to go home to her?”

His gaze darted down, and he shook his head, clenching his jaw. “You ask a lot of questions for fresh meat.”

My lip quirked into a smile, and I said, “I’m a spy, Arthur. It’s sort of in my job description. Guess it’s a… tough habit to break.” I paused briefly, my mind making a snap decision of what to pry at next. “You ever think of quitting alcohol, Arthur?”

“I’m ‘sposed to be clean,” he mumbled. “Linda made me go straight but here I am, ain’t I. Showing up at her door every night barely able to fucking stand.”

A couple of my brothers had turned to alcohol to help ease the memories of what my father did. Ivan had no doubt taken it the worst, always drinking himself into a stupor not unlike Arthur and always suffering double lashings because of it. Perhaps that was why, when I now looked at Arthur, I found difficulty seeing the ruthless man I had met that night when tested by the Blinders. Perhaps, in his tired eyes and his pathetic slouch, I saw someone who desperately needed an escape from the cruel realities of the world. From the bloodshed and the pain and the suffering. In his case, perhaps, the guilt of it.

“And the fighting?” I asked.

Arthur’s laugh boomed into the quiet of the night, echoing through the alley and sending a shiver through the marrow of my bones.

“Fightin's in me blood, Charlotte,” he told me. “It’s spelled out in me goddamn heart.”

I tilted my head at him curiously, remembering Thomas’ words again, and I said, “Yet you have a good heart.”

“Do I?” He snorted. “Who in the hell told ya that, now, eh?”

“Your brother. Thomas,” I said. “And he also mentioned you’re a fighter. I got the impression you clean up his messes a lot.”

“That why you’re askin’ me these questions? You got someone for me to fight? I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em the hardest swing they’ve seen, just point me to ‘em.”

I parted my lips to decline his offer, when something wicked curved at their corner, and Polly’s words ghosted back to me,

“And you show him that you’re the only one who holds the power in that room.”

And, in turn, I thought of the throne Luca had reminded me of. The power that I so desperately wanted to wield but felt was so far from grasp whenever I found myself in the shadow of Luca’s dark and looming presence.

And, within a few more moments, a plan had formed. One that involved an address I had written upon waiting at the counter of the innkeeper, one that flashed images of a throne that was up for the taking.

“Actually,” I said, my lip pulling into a full-fledged smile. “I know of someone who could use a good scare.”

---

When the key turned in the lock and I glimpsed the felt hat in the doorway, I was sitting cross-legged on the chair of Luca’s study, my elbow resting with a regality on the arm of it and my fingers playing with the toothpick I twirled in my mouth. As his hat tipped up and those pale greens landed on me, I grinned around it, despite my heart hammering like a drum against my ribs.

“Charlotte.” It was the first time I’d ever heard the hint of wariness in his hiss of a tone, though his demeanor gave nothing else away; he hung his coat and his hat on the rack near the door as he spoke, “What are you doing in my chair?”

I smirked, my jaw working against the wooden pick. Though his drawers were all locked, I had pulled it from a box on his desk and wanted to mimic the way he seemed almost subservient to it, as if nothing else in the room mattered. Before I answered, I plucked it from my lip and studied it, my hand cocked to the side as I did so.

And, suppressing the fear that coursed through my veins like acid under his serpent stare, I flicked it to the hardwood floor, and slowly dragged my gaze back to the man who still stood just inside the doorway.

“I thought it would make a good throne,” I told him, still smirking, and watched the gold glitter in the green of his eyes with something unreadable yet thrilling.

Shockingly, he still did not advance. I construed this to be wariness; I had broken into his hotel room, had laid claim to his desk. He had no idea if I was hiding a weapon on my lap or if I had completely lost my mind.

Maybe I had, to dare to dance with someone like Luca Changretta.

I’d told Arthur that someone in this hotel had wronged me, and that I wanted petty revenge by gaining a key to their room. With very little inhibitions and a raging temper that he was eager to point at absolutely anything with a beating heart, him and I had paid a visit to the innkeeper’s home, and I bore the key in the pocket of the coat that I had slung over the back of Luca’s chair.

Call it theatrics, but a part of me could not help but feel an almost wicked satisfaction at the shift it had made in the room. The shift, I hoped, of power.

“Wednesday is no longer a suitable date for the Blinders,” I told Luca, pretending to examine his schedule in front of me – a calendar that had nothing but a few loose notes about meeting with the Sabinis, a rather deplorable Italian gang who soiled the streets of London arguably more than my father.

“But I may be able to set something else up,” I said, and looked up from the calendar with an upturn of my brows and a rather light and flippant tone as I added, “Are you free on the seventh?”

Luca’s brow knitted slightly at that, and he shifted his jaw. “Why did they back out?” he asked, ignoring my remark.

I shrugged. “Could be many things, really. Relatives visiting perhaps, a new show on the tele….” I leaned forward then, lace-clad arms extending across the table and my fingers clasping together as I lowered my tone in volume but not playfulness. “But I think it’s more likely that someone tipped them off.”

My satisfaction only increased as a flicker of dismay darted across green irises and dark brows twitched.

“And why would you do that, piccola spia?” he asked, seeming to be equal parts fascinated by me and simmering with rage – I could tell this by the way he tipped his head forward and kept his brows quirked, but rubbed the knuckles of his clenched fist.

“I’m the reason they would trust sending men after this setup. Therefore, I don’t have to tell them that you will be at any false whereabouts on the seventh. Instead, I could tell them the address of this hotel.

“Unless, of course, you hold up your end of our bargain. And you ensure that the best cops in New York are looking for my brother’s killer.”

As a silence stretched between us, I took note of how a tense smile pulled at his lip, and he clasped his hands in front of him.

“Blackmail.” He pursed his lips for a moment as he seemed to ruminate on this word, eyes narrowing and his mouth twitching back into the slightest of smiles as if it were amusing. “Y’know, I can’t think of a single person who’s had the guts to make demands like yours and walk away with them intact.”

“Thomas is starting to trust me,” I told him. “And that seems to be a very rare thing. I think you will let me walk, Luca, because you know you need me in this war. And I think that you enjoy the game just as much as I do.” I leaned back in my chair, my smirk tugging again at my lip as I brought my elbow to rest along the arm of the chair, fingertips running over one another. I knew he wouldn’t kill me. I was too amusing to him. I was a pawn in this game that he believed belonged to him and I was slowly changing the rules.

“So…” I said. “… would you like to kill Arthur Shelby or not?”

Luca chuckled, shaking his head at me. “You’re somethin’, you know that?” he said, and something lightened in my chest at his words, threatened to soar up from the bounds of my ribs, but I forced it back and I watched his smile fade.

“If you bring Arthur Shelby to me, I will assign more men to the investigation,” he said.

I chuffed out a weak laugh, and stood, sliding the sleeves of my coat over my arms and fluffing out the collar. My gaze never left his as I did so, slowly, wanting to keep him in the same suspense he often enthralled me in.

“I make this arrangement, and you will assign more men. And then I bring you Arthur Shelby,” I stated, my words firm, sounding louder from my chest than I had anticipated.

“Oh…” I added, having nearly forgotten something. “… and I’ll be taking this letter with me.” A bitterness formed on my tongue as I reached for the letter on his desk that was addressed to Marcus Griffin.

I paused as I reached for the door, and with a triumphant flourish I handed him the innkeeper’s spare. “Your key, Mr. Changretta.”

His fingers brushed mine as he took the keys, his gaze unblinking as it bore into me. But I did not quail beneath it, only shivered lightly in what I could only describe as some devious innervation.  

“Read it,” he said, syllables dragging the two words out between us like a spell.

I tore the envelope as viciously as I had torn my gaze, and let the paper fall to the floor as I grasped the letter in my fingertips.

Slowly, crystal by crystal, the ice around my heart began to melt, settling a warmth in my gut and softening the tension which I held myself with. My lips parted, jaw nearly falling slack as I read Luca’s handwriting.    

When I looked up at him, I had lost whatever Polly had described in me. In its stead was a dull ache, one that seemed to throb with each pulse of my heart, that split the threads of my soul and extended them to his as if connecting would ease this strange affliction.

And why, despite whatever game Luca thought he was playing, he would turn down ransom money from my father, burn the bridge that had been built on business between on our families, I could not possibly explain.

My tongue, like a blade, had dulled, my words coming softer, quieter.

“You could’ve hired a much better qualified spy with whatever money my father offered you.”

Luca wasn’t smiling anymore. For a moment, I thought he almost looked forlorn, those upturned brows pinching slightly and his eyes seeming to shimmer with veils that refused to let me in to his thoughts.

“I don’t want another spy,” he said, the gentleness of his tone nearly mirroring mine. I found myself both soothed and unnerved by the subtle change.

And if he didn’t break our silence, I was certain that we would’ve stood like that for ages. But he collected a breath of air in his lungs and moved his head, jaw shifting slightly around the absence of his toothpick.

“And I’m not free on the seventh,” he said, the darker notes of his voice returning now. “I’m taking you to dinner.”

My cheeks heated, and I couldn’t hold back the smile that quirked the corner of my lip, nor the way I tilted my head at him as if I had heard him wrong.

I collected myself, pursing my lips to banish my smile and swallowing against the flutter in my throat.

“Very well, Luca,” I said, remembering when he’d told me he liked the way I said his name and wondering why I had ever stopped.

His devilish smirk reappeared, and an arm outstretched so that a long finger could run down my shoulder, sending another shiver through me. And he said,

“We will dine while Arthur Shelby dies.”

NEXT CHAPTER

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