#his stepdaughter stole his phone and took this

[kepamount]

Fire In Your Eyes ♠️

Part 2 - Kepa’s POV

mafiaboss!kepa, dark romance, angst, smut, fluff, comedy

Rating: M

Warnings: dark themes, organised crime, blood, use of rope, cable ties and tape as restraints, starvation (i think???), mention of knives, female sexualisation (kepa finds y/n sexy and it's all he can think about lol), i think that’s everything but pls lmk if i missed something!

Word Count: 3.4k+

a/n: hey guys! here’s the second part of FIYE!! sorry for going ghost again - my rome holiday tired me out and i've just been recovering from that lol, i'll try to be more active now. pls lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be added to the taglist. hope you enjoy!! x

taglist 🤍: @silverlightprincess

‘Don’t you think we should feed her, boss?’ Mason says, looking over my shoulder at my phone, live CCTV footage from the room she’s locked in on the screen. She’s been sat there for nearly 20 hours now, tied to the chair whilst falling in and out of sleep. She hasn’t shed a single tear. I think I’d be proud if it didn’t piss me off so much. I’ve never had a prisoner be so defiant. Her strength is only making me want to break her even more.

‘She made her bed. Now she has to sleep in it,’ I say, locking my phone and putting it down on the desk, Mason walking away to sit on the sofa closest to me. ‘Lie in it. She’s made her bed and now she has to lie in it,’ he corrects me, and I wave a hand in the air. My English might be near perfect but I don’t think I’ll ever understand their stupid idioms.

‘Have you spoken to her father yet?’ Mason asks, and I shake my head, no. ‘Why not?’ ‘I want el cabrón viejo to spend a few days wondering who shot his man and stole his daughter from him first,’ I lie. I have spoken to him, but I haven’t decided how much of the conversation I will relay to my men yet.

‘By the sounds of it, he’s not gonna care,’ Mason says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Her words can’t be trusted,’ I remind him, and he gives me a sceptical look, both of us knowing from the girl’s tone the other night that she wasn’t lying.

‘Say she’s telling the truth. Say he really doesn’t care. What will you do with her?’ Mason asks, and I remain silent. It’s a question I’ve been thinking about a lot since she told us she’s his stepdaughter, and I still haven’t come to an answer yet. I can’t tell Mason that though. I need him to think I always have a solution to any problem we come across.

‘Her brothers.’ ‘…Her brothers?’ Mason asks, and I nod. ‘Her father’s getting old, and he’s much wiser than most of us. He doesn’t care about pride anymore, and he won’t risk anything in the name of his pride. But her brothers are young and stupid, and they have more pride than anyone else in the world. They won’t like that the Revueltas took their sister from them. Even if they don’t care about her, they’ll start a war to protect their pride,’ I explain, Mason nodding as though he thinks it’s a good idea.

‘So if the old bastard can’t be arsed, we’ll piss off the brothers instead?’ Mason confirms, and I nod. ‘But keep it to yourself for now. I don’t need the others discussing this,’ I warn him, and he draws a cross over his heart. ‘You know me, boss. Won’t breathe a word,’ he grins, and I raise an eyebrow at him, both of us knowing he’s a big mouth.

‘Check on her,’ he prompts, for the twentieth time in the last hour, and I shoot him a look. I hate being told what to do, and people seem to be trying to do it more often than they should at the moment. Nonetheless, I unlock my phone, checking the CCTV of the room she’s locked in again. She’s dozed off, head lolling forward with her chin against her chest, her back so straight that it even looks uncomfortable.

I feel a stab of guilt in my chest, and it makes me want to shoot something. I’ve done much worse to people for doing much less than she did, and I never felt guilty about any of them. But then again, none of them were as sexy as she is.

When Mason brought her into the office with the tape over her mouth, her hands tied behind her back and her body covered in blood, I felt heat rushing to my groin. I never thought I would find it hot to see a girl’s skin stained with her dead best friend’s blood, but here we are. Maybe it’s brainwashing from all those horror movies.

And that stare of hers. The anger in her eyes, the hard set of her jaw. Like a poodle puppy trying to be a rottweiler. Not to mention her mouth, the one she can’t seem to keep shut. No one’s ever spoken to me the way she did, looked at me the way she did, and gotten away alive. But there she was, ten minutes later, inspecting the knives in my cutlery drawer. I need to put a lock on that.

I can still feel her touch on my hand, bandaging up my cuts. Sophia usually deals with injuries but I thought I’d let her have a go, and I regretted it almost straight away. Her featherlight touches, her painted-white nails lightly scraping across my skin, the fact that my one hand is bigger than her two put together. My dick’s never gotten hard as quickly as it did that night.

Up close, her face looks different, especially since she wasn’t glaring at me. Relaxed, her features looked so delicate, fragile almost, and the softness of her cheeks made her look much younger. I wondered what her eyes would look like, but she didn’t look up from my hand once, focused on the task at hand with no interest for me.

And then she just carried on searching for food like nothing had happened, settling on the curly fries that I keep in the freezer for my niece when she’s here. She’s something else, with her dishwasher prejudices, her dietary requirements and her photography. Her phone has been calling out to me from where it’s locked in the safe under my desk, just begging me to go through it and see exactly what kind of photos she was talking about.

Since the moment I laid eyes on her, I’ve known I needed to get a deal sorted with her father to get her out of my house, so I phoned him as soon as Sophia, Kai, Trev and Christian left for their flight.

‘Reveulta. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ ‘We have her.’ ‘Ah, it was you? Well done.’ ‘Is that all you have to say?’ ‘I hope you’re not expecting threats or bargaining, because I don’t really need her back.’ ‘Cut the shit.’ ‘There is no… shit to cut, as you say. I was planning to offer her to you for marriage anyway. You’ve done me a favour, saved me all the negotiations.’ ‘…I don’t understand?’ ‘She’s my stepdaughter, Revuelta. As good to me as her mother is, and her mother’s dead now. So keep her, and do with her what you will. We’ll call it quits.’

The girl was right. He doesn’t care for her. I could let her go free today and her father probably wouldn’t even take her back in. He’s glad to be rid of her, and that brings a sick feeling to my stomach, which is quite irritating in all honesty.

As soon as I tell my men that she’s worth nothing, they’ll line up to either kill her or fuck her, and even the thought of it makes my blood boil. If any of them dare to put a hand on her, I’ll be the one doing the killing. I’m the one that kidnapped her, so she’s my toy to play with. My girl to break until she’s on her knees, begging for my mercy.

Though I’m sure it’s gonna take a lot of work. The girl is quite literally insane. Watching her on the CCTV, trying to break the lock on her door with a curtain pole, was the most entertaining 20 minutes of my life. And then, moments later, she burst into a made man’s office – his men sat around the room with guns in their hands – in a skimpy see-through t-shirt, nipples straining against the fabric, and her hands covered in blood. Again. It’s like she was sent to make sure I’m constantly hard.

Seeing her stand her ground, making complaints to a man that could kill her with his bare hands, I nearly pushed her down onto her knees and found a satisfying way to shut her up. Instead, I told her no one cares about her, dragged her up to the torture room, pressed a gun to her forehead and left her there to cry even though she begged me not to. Real smooth.

But it’s not like I didn’t give her an out less than 3 hours later! It’s not my fault she was too proud – or too unhinged – to take it. And, yes, it pissed me off, so I taped her mouth and tied her neck to the chair. That’s what happens when you don’t know that your place is beneath me.

‘Don’t you feel bad?’ Mason asks, stood behind me and looking at the screen again. ‘No. Do you?’ I ask, wondering if I need to rethink whether he should be my underboss. ‘No. It’s just… all she’s eaten in the last 50 hours is a plate of curly fries,’ he says quietly and, again, the guilt in my chest makes me want to kick something out of frustration.

‘I told her I’d leave her in there for a day. It hasn’t been a day yet.’ ‘Kepa, it’s been 20 hours. She won’t even know that it’s 4 hours less than what you promised,’ Mason says tiredly, as though I’m being unreasonable, and I remain silent for a few long moments, both of us watching her sleep on the screen. Well, I’m assuming she’s sleeping. She could be passed out from hunger for all we know.

‘There’s a loaf of gluten-free bread in the kitchen cupboard where we keep the normal bread, and there’s dairy-free cheese in the fridge. Go and make her a cheese sandwich. And use the dairy-free butter as well. Bring her down and then bring her the food from the kitchen. Leave the tape on her mouth and the cable tie around her wrists,’ I instruct, ignoring the dark voice inside me telling me to leave her there for another four hours.

‘Not gonna feed her things she can’t eat again?’ Mason asks with a cheeky grin as he heads across the room, and I shoot him a look. ‘Ten cuidado,’ I warn him, before continuing, ‘I don’t know why everyone thinks I was behind that. It wasn’t me.’ ‘It wasn’t?’ he asks sceptically, stopping in the door way, and I shake my head.

‘Our chef took it upon herself to explicitly ignore the instructions I gave her. I assume she didn’t like having to cook to certain dietary requirements,’ I say mildly, Mason’s eyebrows rising so high they disappear behind his hair. ‘Does that explain why I saw her dragging her bags out through the front door yesterday?’ he asks, and I shrug, both of us knowing that yes, it does explain it. If my staff disobey me, they don’t remain as my staff for much longer.

‘I can’t believe you fired her. She makes the best tacos,’ Mason grumbles, and I shake my head amusedly. ‘Get your new favourite prisoner to make them for you instead. It’s her fault your chef’s gone,’ I remind him, Mason visibly perking up at the mention of the girl.

It seems I’m not the only one she has an… odd effect on. Dios. I need to get her out of this house before she makes one of us do something stupid. And then I watch Mason bound off down the corridor to make her a sandwich with gluten-free bread and dairy-free cheese, and I realise that it’s already too late.

I distract myself with a few phone calls but my curiosity gets the better of me after a while and I check the CCTV footage again. My timing is perfect, Mason just entering the room as the live footage loads on my screen. He must have taken his time making her sandwich.

She’s awake now, eyeing him warily as he grins at her. He must crack a joke, her face softening like she’s laughing behind the tape over her mouth, and it makes me want to lock him up along with her. She hasn’t given me a single smile, and yet Mason seems to get one from her every time he opens his mouth.

I watch as he drops to one knee, cutting her legs free, before walking around to cut her neck free of the rope too. He helps her to her feet but her legs are clearly stiff, her knees giving way. Anger sparks in my chest as he slides an arm around her waist to keep her upright. They walk slowly towards the door, her shoulders shaking with laughter at something he says. Yeah, I’ve seen enough.

I lock my phone, dropping it to the desk so I don’t throw it against the wall, and I busy myself with scrolling through emails on my laptop. My eyes skim across the screen but none of the words go in, my focus elsewhere. I’m like a teenage girl standing at the window, waiting for her date to pick her up. What is wrong with me?

When the office doors open, I don’t look up, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the screen. I let them both stand there for as long as I can bear before I look up at Mason, ignoring her fiery stare as I dismiss him with a nod. He lets go of her, heading back out through the door, and I finally allow myself to look at her.

Her eyes are red and bleary, dark circles prominent beneath them. Her skin is a shade lighter than when I locked her in the room, and it’s almost as though she looks thinner after not eating much in the last couple days. She looks exhausted but still strong, like she’d rather spend another week locked in that room than comply with me. The girl’s a fighter, I’ll give her that.

‘Don’t look at me like that. You brought this on yourself,’ I remind her, the accusation in her eyes dimming slightly. At least she knows it’s her own fault. ‘This doesn’t have to be difficult. Believe it or not, I haven’t enjoyed treating you like this,’ I lie, the look in her eyes saying she doesn’t believe it for a second. This girl already knows me too well.

‘You’re a young girl, and you’re my… ¿cómo se dice en inglés? Leverage,’ I say, the word taking its time to come to me, and she rolls her eyes. I never knew someone could be so expressive with their eyes. She doesn’t even need to speak for me to know what she’s thinking.

‘I know you think you’re worthless to your stepfather, but you’re wrong. I have spoken to him,’ I say, the girl trying her hardest to remain nonchalant. She raises an eyebrow, as if to ask what we discussed, and I let out a soft laugh.

‘I do not discuss the details of my business con un rehén. But let’s just say that you will not be spending any more time tied to a chair. He wants you taken care of,’ I lie, the glimmer of hope that appears in her eyes sparking endearment in my chest, anger at myself following after it. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt affection, jealousy or guilt and, suddenly, this girl is making me feel all three.

‘You will be put back in your bedroom, without a lock on the door. You have freedom to roam around the house and the gardens as you wish. There is food in the kitchen that you can eat – not just curly fries – and you are free to make yourself meals whenever you want to. If you need anything, you speak to Mason or to me. And you do not, under any circumstances, burst into my office without knocking again. Am I understood?’ I ask, the thought that I’m an absolute idiot echoing in my mind.

She tries to hide the surprise and relief but it’s clear to see in the way her eyebrows rise ever-so-slightly, in the way her shoulders lose their tension. ‘I asked if I’m understood,’ I say, my voice becoming harsher, and she nods after a short moment. ‘Bien,’ I say as Mason re-enters the room, a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

‘Cut her wrists free and take the tape from her mouth,’ I tell him, and I watch her as her eyes follow the plate, her pupils practically dilating at the sight of food. He puts the plate and glass down on my desk before going back to her, cutting the cable tie behind her back and slowly peeling the tape from her mouth. She doesn’t wince this time.

She lets out a soft sigh when her mouth is free, taking the glass from Mason and gulping down the water like a woman parched. Well… I suppose she is a woman parched. Mason wasn’t wrong the other day – watching her drink like this is pretty hot.

He refills the glass for her before getting the first aid kit from one of the shelves across the room. At the sight of the kit, she looks surprised before remembering her hands are bloody from destroying the lock on her door.

I should be on the phone or on my laptop but I can’t take my eyes away from her as Mason cleans her hands with an antiseptic wipe – it’s a bit late considering she’s had those cuts on her hands for nearly an entire day, but he’s not used to cleaning wounds, which is obvious with how he puts around ten small plasters on each of her hands instead of one big bandage. He means well. Again, she doesn’t wince, and I give myself credit for hardening her against small pains. She’ll thank me for this one day.

She thanks him with a small smile once he’s done, her voice so soft I can’t even hear it, only able to make out what she says from the movement of her lips. ‘Sit down,’ he tells her, pointing to one of the sofas, and she does so, her body visibly relieved at finally sitting on a comfortable surface. He takes her the plate, and she raises an eyebrow, her disbelieving gaze directed at me. He gets smiles and thank yous, and I get glares and scepticism.

‘It’s gluten-free bread, and dairy-free cheese. No nuts in either,’ I say drily, mild guilt appearing on her face. And then she surprises me by asking, ‘Promise?’ Is this girl for real? ‘Yes. I promise,’ I say begrudgingly, and that’s all she needs to lift the sandwich to her mouth, taking a bite.

If she has any reservations about eating in front of men, she doesn’t show them, eating in the most unladylike manner I’ve ever seen in my life. She devours the gluten-free and dairy-free sandwich – which I can only imagine tastes like cardboard – as though it’s a gourmet meal prepared by a Michelin star chef. Mason and I watch her, both of us unreasonably fascinated, but she pays no attention to us, her focus on the rapidly depleting food in front of her.

Once she’s finished, she drinks some water before croaking out her thanks. Thanking us for feeding her a shitty sandwich after tying her to a chair and leaving her with nothing but her thoughts for almost an entire day. This girl is too soft. ‘I’ll make you another one,’ Mason says, taking the plate from her and practically sprinting out of the room. I really need to have a word with him.

My phone begins ringing after a moment and I answer the call, barely able to focus on the conversation while she’s sat in the room. She’s trying to pretend she’s not listening, her eyes taking in the details of the room, but I can tell she’s eavesdropping and understanding a fair bit of what I say. I did my research, so I know she studied Spanish growing up, alongside several other languages. I suddenly wonder what it’d be like to hear her speak Spanish, the thought making my blood warm.

I block her out of my mind, focusing on the voice on the other end of the phone, and I only allow myself to look at her when the call is finished, a small smile finding its way to my lips. So much has happened in this room, other than just business. Fights, sex, drinking, poker, murder, drugs, torture. But nothing as odd as this girl curled up in the corner of a sofa, sleeping soundly in one of my old t-shirts.

#kepa arrizabalaga smut #kepa arrizabalaga fluff #kepa arrizabalaga fanfic #kepa arrizabalaga imagine #kepa smut #kepa fanfic #kepa arrizabalaga angst #kepa arrizabalaga

[sirtarquinunderspoon]

Apparently this is his “please go to bed now” face

#his stepdaughter stole his phone and took this #please credit her for when this is his next album cover #steven wilson

[demivampirew]

Say no to this.

Henry x Reader (wife) x Reader (the other woman)

Triggers: Angst; cheating, breakup, divorce (and crying).

A/N: This was inspired by two songs from the musical Hamilton: Say No to This and Burn, and it’s told from the perspective of the characters (Henry, Reader (Wife), Reader (the other woman)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist 

Having the chance to portray one of his favourite characters is an honour for which Henry will forever be thankful. Yet, he must admit that having to spend time apart from his family was not an easy task. 

He sat on the bed in the dark hotel room, only enlightened by the moonlight. On his phone screen, he saw the picture you’ve sent him earlier that day of you and your daughter playing, you dressed as a princess and the six-year-old as a dragon. “Oh, your mighty witcher, come and save me, please,” read the message under the picture. Henry missed dressing up in costumes and running around the house with his little angel, who would laugh uncontrollably every time he caught and started to tickle her.

It’s been over two months since he left for work; 60 plus days without feeling the lovely touch of your hands on his face, too much time without feeling the warmness of your body against his.

He laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, unable to sleep when his phone announced that he had a new message.

“Are you awake? I can’t sleep,” y/n wrote. She was a friend he made on the set of the show - she worked as a personal assistant for one of the recurrent directors of the show and she was staying at the same hotel that Henry. “Yes. Can’t sleep either. Come if you want,” he replied, thinking that some company would help him to feel less lonely.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Henry opened the door and invited y/n to come in. Once inside, she faced him and smiled as she showed him the content of her bag: a PS and The Witcher 3 game. “I know you’re more into pc, but l don’t have a gaming pc here, so we will have to play with this, okay,” she said grinning.

“I remember you saying that you were good at this,” y/n while rolling her eyes, teasing him. “I am, but in the pc,” Henry defended himself with a playful smile.

They played the game for two hours before she suggested that it might be time for her to leave. Henry tried to disconnect the console from the tv but she told him to keep it, for now, so he could keep practising.

“Well, good night. I hope you can have a good sleep and tomorrow enjoy your free day,” y/n told him. “Same for you,” he said goodbye, but neither of them moved. They stared at each other for a long minute in silence. Henry’s hands reached for her face bringing it closer to his, culminating in a passionate kiss, while her arms embraced him.

Her naked body, covered only by the bed-sheets rested on the mattress as she slept. Henry looked at her for a moment and then walked towards the bathroom. He washed his face on the sink and then stared at the mirror, finding it hard to recognize the person that was reflected in the mirror. “I promise you that I will be forever faithful to you, my love” he once promised you, his lovely wife, and now the words echoed inside his mind, as stabs on his heart.

How could had he broken the promise he made you? Did he not loved you any more? No, that was sure of that, he loved you more than he had ever done. You no only made him happy and supported him through tough times, but you also gave him the thing that he treasured the most in the world: his daughter. But, he had to be honest with himself, for the first time in a long time and admit that things were not as they used to be. Before the birth of the little girl, you used to be inseparable. You would go with him everywhere in the world, game and laugh and made love every second you could. Now, you were parents; your lives centred on the precious angel and work and were often too tired and since the kid would like to sleep with you, often lacked intimacy.

The worst part of all: he wished that he could say that it was a one time mistake, but it became an affair that lasted for months.

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You hated yourself. In the past, you’d constantly criticized “the other woman” for being malicious women who stole men from others. Now you had become one of them. Well, no completely. Sure, you were carrying an affair with a married man, but you weren’t a fool, you knew that you would never be able to “stole” anyone and he would never leave his wife for you; he never made such a promise and you knew him well enough to know that he loved his family more than anything in the world and he was being vulnerable due to the distance between his true woman and him. Were you a bad woman for being with a taken man knowing that he was in such a delicate emotional position? Maybe, but to be completely honest, so were you. Months before you met Henry, your fiancé cancelled the wedding because he had fallen in love with somebody else. You were feeling lonely and undesired and you had developed a crush on him before that first night. So, you didn’t find the strength to fight the desire and succumb to the temptation.

Every night you’ve spent together, with his strong arms embracing you as his lips caressed your body, felt amazing no matter how wrong it was. And, even if your heart ripped every time you remembered that he wasn’t truly yours - and you were reminded of that constantly, since there was no a single time in which he hadn’t unconsciously said his wife’s name as he reached climax, you couldn’t find it in you to put it a stop.

You knew that this would have a bad end. No matter the outcome, someone would get hurt. 

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That day, your sister offered to take care of your six-year-old so you could have some time to yourself to process things.

Desperate to get some distance and to be alone, you rented a small cabin outside the city.

The sun was coming down when you lifted a bonfire outside the place and sat in front of it with a box that you’ve carried there moments before.

Your fingers caressed every picture - of your first date, your first anniversary as girlfriend and boyfriend; vacations, birthdays and even your wedding. Every photo would get wet with your tears before you threw them into the fire. All objects that reminded of the love you once shared, ended up becoming ashes. Letters, poems, teddy bears, roses that you dried; everything. The only surviving things were the pictures you shared with your daughter, but you would make sure to send them to his mother because you didn’t want to see them any more, the pain was too great.

Finally, you took from your pocket the pictures you printed before to look at them for one last time. They were screenshots from a celebrity news website and the headline read “The Witcher star Henry Cavill is seen kissing a mystery woman”, followed by paparazzi photos of him with someone on the balcony of his hotel room. Angrily, you crashed the prints and let them burn into they became nothing.

With nothing more to do, you watched the flames, as you let your tears fall, feeling completely and utterly broken.

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The production was over. After the news crashed, Henry had to continue filming, pretending that nothing happened, while some people looked at him as if he was a monster. Could he blame them for that?

When the article about his affair was published, his brother Charlie was the one who delivered the bad news - his stepdaughter had seen it and told him about it.

He didn’t know what to do. He called his wife over and over, but she never answered. All-day long he tried to communicate with his love, but every time without luck.

 Y/N tried to call him, too, but this time he was the one who ignored the call. He had nothing against her. Henry knew that she could no be blamed for his mistake, but he couldn’t talk to her right now. His wife was his priority.

Unfortunately, the only response he got from her was from her sister, two days later, letting him know that she was going to file for a divorce and she never wanted to see him or talk to him again. That she would only allow him to contact her, through her or another family member and elusively for things related to their daughter. She was going to share custody with him, but he would have to pick up and leave the girl on her sister or parent’s house.

Now, months later, he driving to his sister-in-law’s house to pick up his daughter and to leave the divorce papers that he had to sing.

There were no words to explain how much it hurt him to lose the woman he loved deeply. The only consolation was that his family continued to show him love and support as they always did. And, his daughter, unaware of the reason why her mommy and daddy decided to go separate ways, still love him enormously and would fill him with joy every minute of every day that he had her.

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It was obvious that there was no going to be a good end to the affair - it never does. You knew someone would get hurt, but you’d never imagined that it would be all three of you.

Terrible didn’t even begin to explain how bad you felt. Of all the three of you, you were the one who got it the “best”, since luckily the pictures only showed your hair in a bun and your back, so only a few close people knew that it was you and they were polite enough to keep the secret to avoid you getting harassed. Although, just in case, you dried your hair and got a new haircut.

Henry’s wife filed for the divorce after she found out about the affair. He let you know via text when he put an end to things and told you he could no longer see you. Even if there was no chance to get back with her, he couldn’t be with you because he loved her too much and you reminded him of the mistake he made. As he suggested, you continued working for a few more weeks there to avoid people finding out that it was you, but later quit.

That was by far the worst mistake that you’ve ever made. So much people got hurt; a girl now has two parents that can’t be in the same room, two people who loved each other who can’t be together because the ghost of you would always be present to remind them of the mistake and a person who’s affection was never truly corresponded and caused the break of a family.

Therapy has been truly beneficial in helping you heal and leaving the past in the past.

Today a new article about Henry was posted online. It consisted of pictures of him and his cute girl buying a Christmas tree and he was laughing at his daughter's funny faces.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill angst #demivampirew

[ofmallory]

( tati gabrielle , cis female , she/her, twenty-four ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . mallory roth ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ still no word on the status of mal roth's next album — but at least twitter stans are posting some hilarious memes about the three - year - long wait ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently fickle and self-absorbed . but i’ve heard they’re also ardent and ingenious ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous singer / songwriter ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that ____ , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan ! ( sam , she/her , 23 , est )

* lorde career claim !

greetings and salutations! i’m sam and i’ve been thinking about this muse for aaaages, but this is my very first time writing her! character info is under the cut and of course, please message me if you would like to plot!

triggers : abandonment, theft, car accident.

STATS

FULL NAME: mallory corine roth ; born mallory im

NICKNAMES: mal, moll, mollie

GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis female + she / her

DOB + AGE: december 31st, 1995 +  twenty - four

ZODIAC: capricorn

HOMETOWN: oakland, california

ORIENTATION: panromantic / pansexual

OCCUPATION: singer / songwriter

HISTORY

mallory im was born and raised in oakland, california. her mother was a nineteen - year - old pre law student at uc berkeley and her father was in the midst of his fifteen minutes of fame as a musician with a number one song on the radio. he was in town for a gig which mal’s mother attended, and then just a few weeks later she discovered that she was pregnant. her parents ( mal’s maternal grandparents ) were absolutely furious. they disowned her on the spot, kicking her out of their house and stopping their payments of her college tuition. forced to drop out, she resorted to working several small jobs at once in order to cover doctor visits and the rent for her small, run - down apartment.

much of what mal knows about her early childhood is things that she was told rather than things that she actually remembers. after she was born, her mother resumed her college courses in between her revolving door or minimum wage jobs. her parents were civil with each other. by the time that she was born, her father’s career had completely fallen off and he put most of his earnings into starting a record label ( that wasn’t very successful at first ), but he would still send them some money every once in a while.

mal was three years old when her mother began dating a local businessman. the owner of a luxury car dealership, he was slightly older and a widower with two children of his own, and he and mal’s mom fell absolutely smitten with each other. it wasn’t long before they were picking out flower arrangements and setting a date for their wedding ( mal was the flower girl and her soon - to - be stepbrothers were groomsmen ). 

after the marriage took place, mal’s new stepfather was completely committed to taking care of the new members of his family. he moved them into his home, paid for mal’s mother to complete her degree, and even formally adopted his new stepdaughter, her surname officially changing to roth. 

the few years that ensued were uneventful outside of a few things : mal started taking music lessons, her stepbrothers went off to college and so she became the only child of the household, and her mother completed law school and opened up a practice in the city. 

mal tried countless hobbies, but nothing besides music could hold her interest for long. in high school, she joined the skater kids clique and started to rebel. it was just small things at first : sneaking out after curfew, trying cigarettes, drinking at the skate park with her friends on the weekends. her parents had noticed of course, so they scolded her a little and figured that was that. spoiler alert : it wasn’t.

at approximately two in the morning on her sixteenth birthday, mal and a few of her friends drunkenly stole a car from her stepfather’s dealership and wound up crashing into lake merritt. mal was behind the wheel at the time. fortunately, no one was seriously injured. her parents were simultaneously relieved and furious. however, they were far more interested in helping her rather than punishing her. deciding that a change of scenery and being away from her friends who they deemed to be a bad influence might be good for her, mal’s mother and stepfather sent her to live with a virtual stranger.

in the years since he had started his record label, mal’s father had upgraded his reputation, going from washed - up musician to successful businessman and mentor. he’s credited with launching the careers of several artists in the genres of rap and r & b. he was earning more money than ever, dating beautiful celebrities, and buying all sorts of expensive items for himself. he sent cards & money for birthdays & holidays and called on the phone every once in a while, but mal had never met him.

she never thought much of it. their first in - person meeting was actually rather anticlimactic. his chauffeur picked her up from the airport and brought her to his enormous bel air mansion, and he was just leaving for work when she arrived. he told her to make herself at home, and that was it.

mal spent her first few weeks in los angeles exploring her new home. she poked around the edges of the local party scene and found that it had lost its appeal for her after the accident, so she turned her attention to the one constant in her life : music.

she started accompanying her father to the studio and quickly caught onto the basics. at just sixteen years old she was writing songs that artists were literally fighting over, but as she noticed her words growing more and more personal, mal started keeping songs for herself and soon she had more than enough for an entire album.

the song royals was released in 2013 when mal was sixteen years old, written about her first impressions of los angeles as someone who had never left their less famous and glamorous hometown. it was kind of an experiment. no one really knew what was going to happen, but no one was expecting the song to become the PHENOMENON that it did.

royals was critically acclaimed, spent nine weeks at the number one spot on the billboard hot 100 chart, and went on to win two grammy awards : best pop solo performance and song of the year.

her debut album pure heroine was released in 2013 as well, and her second album melodrama was released in 2017. the long break in between albums became a literal meme that’s starting to pop up again now that it’s been around three years since mal has released something new.

she moved to toronto in 2016 while she was working on her second album. it was just supposed to be a little vacation that would hopefully help to clear her head because she was struggling to write at the time, but mal wound up falling in love with the city and decided to make it her permanent residence.

PERSONALITY

Perfectionist™️

I HATE EVERYBODY by halsey is honestly a perfect explanation for how she typically is in her personal relationships. she falls hard and fast, and when the relationship inevitably disintegrates she’s devastatingly heartbroken until she discovers a new infatuation. she does it with both romances and friends, moving through the lives of people around her in search of something she’s never found.

basically, she wants love but expects it to happen right away, and when it doesn’t she immediately writes off the relationship as a failure. 

the type of person to literally move to a new house if her refrigerator stopped working because she doesn’t feel like getting it fixed.

almost overly generous with friends. you like her perfume? here, take the bottle! car broke down? come on, she’ll buy you a new one! material things = love is something she isn’t even aware that she believes in, but she absolutely does.

she’s REALLY self - centered though. people do often approach her for advice, but she’s just not a good listener.

lowkey insecure and worries that she’s unloveable but she’d never outright say so except for in her music.

she’s approachable, but not really the chatty, small talk type. because of this, she’s gotten a bit of an unfair reputation for being frigid in the media.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend ( basically the one person she’s never gotten even a little bit bored of. )

friends ( usually surface level, but also former friends, childhood friends, industry friends )

industry rivals

enemies

pr relationships ( romantic, platonic, negative, but all 100% fake )

exes / hookups / ewb / fwb 

her current infatuation - could be platonic or romantic

THERE IS A POTENTIAL CONNECTION THAT INVOLVES HER SECRET, SO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED AND WE CAN DISCUSS!

these are just some base ideas for connections, so please don’t feel limited to what’s listed here!

#sixhqintro #abandonment tw #theft tw #car accident tw #very excited to write with everyone!

[ecotone99]

[RF] The Tabloid Police Officer

​

Mid-December - two weeks before Christmas

It really angers me when someone pretends to be an officer. Mark Jones loved to pull young women over in his unmarked car in the West Hollywood area. He would tell them that he wouldn't give them a ticket if they got into his car and talked to him for a while. My stepdaughter Julie Lynnsen got pulled over by him at 3:00 am. Julie is a very beautiful attractive woman and has the heart and soul of gold.

She did what he said and got into his vehicle, sitting in the vehicle. She didn't know a recorder was on. If you don't know, she's an aspiring actress. Has only done a few bit parts here and there. She also took a bag which had shoes with her.

"What are doing out this time of night. Do you know what time it is?"said Mark Jones.

He sounded more like a concerned father than a cop.

"I know it's late. I went to a party and was going straight home."

Julie was wearing a short black dress with black fishnet stockings. She looked very classy with her pearls. Compared to others in Hollywood, she was dressed conservatively.

"What type of party did you go to?" he asked.

"Just a regular party. Nothing special."

I could tell by the recording that Julie was very nervous. Unfortunately Mark Jones could tell as well.

"You seeing anyone, dating anyone."

Being polite, Julie said not really. At the time she really wasn't dating, although she was secretly seeing someone.

"I see that you are missing one shoe. What happened to the shoe?"

"Oh, my. I didn't notice. I ran out of the house and .......

Julie stopped but it was too late.

"I guess you must have been in a hurry to get home."

"Yes, I was and it's now almost 3:30 am. and if you don't mind, I'd like to go home."

Ignoring her, Mark picked up the bag and took out the shoes. He looked at her feet.

"These shoes are a size 9 and they aren't the same shoes or should I say shoe you are wearing. You have very dainty feet."

"The shoes are for my step-mom for Christmas."

"Well, I'm sure she will enjoy your gift."

He put back the shoes.

"I'm surprised you didn't take a limo home from the party. You drove to the party."

"Yes, I did. I usually do, so if I have to leave.......

Remembering what she'd said earlier, Mark mentioned that she told him that she had ran from the party.

Julie looked extremely uncomfortable at this point.

"I know that you're not drunk or high which surprises me?"

"How did you know?" asked Julie looking surprised.

Just do was what Mark said to her.

He looked at her and then said, "Okay, I delayed you enough. Please be careful driving home."

Relieved Julie got out of the vehicle, the other shoe fell off but she kept running down the deserted parking lot until she got to her car. Then she drove off. Mark got out of his vehicle and picked up the shoe.

Twenty minutes later, Mark pulled over another car. The woman in the car was actress Michelle Johnston and she was very upset. Tears turned into sobs. Obediently Michelle Johnston did just as my step-daughter did, got out of her car and sat in the front seat of Mark's car.

"I pulled you over because I could see you crying and sobbing? What happened to you."

Without thinking, Michelle took out one shoe from a bag.

"I found this shoe in my closet. It's not mine. Kevin denied knowing how this shoe got in my closet. God, these shoes are so ugly."

Mark reached in the back seat and got the matching shoe which Julie had left behind.

"This is the other shoe."

A look of shock came over Michelle.

"Where did you get that shoe? Where did you get it? I demand to know."

"From someone who attended a party at your house."

"There're wasn't supposed to be a party in the house but I walked in on one."

"I guess Kevin has someone on the side but you know since you two aren't married to each other, he can do what he wants. He always has, hasn't he?"

"I don't want to talk about him right now. I'm angry with him."

"Don't you want to know whose shoe it is?"

"I already know, so just leave me alone."

Mark Jones knew that Michelle really didn't but he decided to leave it at that. She starting sobbing again and did so for about 10 minutes. Mark said nothing. Then her cell phone rang.

"I don't want to talk to you Kevin. You can go to the breakfast by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

She hung up the phone, tears coming down her cheeks.

"Here are the shoes for evidence. Have a good morning.

Michelle looked at Mark with anger. She took the shoes, got out of the car and left.

Neither Julie nor Michelle reported this man to police. He got caught months later. Police found the recorder in his car and found the recordings as well.

I only heard about this when a tabloid magazine came to my door asking about this. I knew nothing about the encounter with the fake officer. They didn't believe me.

Mark Jones made sure these recordings were released to the public shortly after being arrested. He denied do so but I know he did.

I was given the shoes for Christmas. Julie didn't know what to do with them. She had been at a party that Kevin Mills had hosted and was upstairs when his partner Michelle came back unexpectedly. She hid in the closet and when she could leave, she left, taking the wrong bag and the wrong shoes. She lost her shoe trying to get away from the house.

I didn't know this and made the mistake of wearing the shoes to a hearing. I happened to walk by Michelle Johnston and she said, "Nice shoes."

I told her my step-daughter had given them to me for Christmas. Julie came up to me and then the fighting started.

"Did you know that Julie took those shoes from me. She stole them from me."

"I didn't steal them from you. They were taken accidentally."

"You really expect me to believe you. How dare you..

Michelle was now screaming at Julie.

"I was at a party at Kevin's home. Nothing happened. Nothing. He has zero interest in me. Just ask Brian Miller."

Michelle laughed and said, "Do you really expect me to believe you? Maybe, not that evening as Kevin was with Mia but I know. You aren't Brian's type of girl. That I know.

"How would you know?" Julie said without thinking, then regretted what she said.

"Brian doesn't like you. He's told me this and said you are an annoying.......

Suddenly she stopped, realizing that everyone was looking at her and Julie. Several people with cell phone had recorded the argument and soon it would be all over the internet. She walked out of the building and didn't say another word until she was put on the stand.

Poor Julie. No one believed her when she said that there was no love interest between her and Kevin. No one believed Brian Miller either when he took the stand and said this. It was only after Kevin got on the stand and said that there was no love interest that people finally believed her except for Michelle who never believed anyone.

The fake cop was convicted and sent to jail and this is the end of the story.

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