country inn

anonymous asked:

fav thing about mafia? old school arranged marriage and status issues x100 pick any 3 bosses who didn't want to marry the girl they love due to her lower status but then they find out someone is tryin to arrange marriage her and completely lose it and just take her for themselves


admin adelheid


  • Byakuran knew for a fact that society is not kind. By all rights and purposes he could take his pick marrying anyone he wanted, including you. But your parents would never agree.
  • As law abiding citizen your parents have threatened to kill themselves if you married a Mafia man so he forced himself to keep his distance.
  • He longed for you, though. You were the only person who had ever seen him as a human being. Not as a God or the Devil.
  • Your treatment stung his pride but gave him freedom in a strange but pleasant way.
  • When he hears about the engagement he would be furious as hell. The cold smile on his face would give his Funeral Wreaths nightmares for endless days to come.
  • He would order the man’s family investigated. No stone will be left unturned.
  • Of course he’ll learn your fiancé belongs to a prosperous clan. Your parents would never have agreed to marry you off to someone less.
  • Byakuran will then systematically take steps in breaking down your fiance’s family fortune until he and his family is left penniless.
  • He then meet with the man and gives him an offer he can’t refuse.
  • You are then surprised when you learn your fiancé has backed out of the engagement much to the fury of your parents.
  • Byakuran then steps in to save the day and proposes to save your dignity by marrying you.
  • Your parents were so ashamed and furious about your fiancé jilting you they had no choice but agree.


  • He loved. Had always loved you since you were children. But you were the maid’s child and he was his father’s only son expected to marry well. He could not disappoint his don.
  • When he heard someone had offered you marriage his whole world fell apart around him.
  • Married? How are you getting married? Surely they were joking, right. That’s right; the world was joking and it was currently playing a dangerous prank at him.
  • Dino had to sit heavily in his chair and lean into the backrest to stop his head from spinning. Over and over the words ‘This cannot be right.’ Spinning around and around his head.
  • Ignoring everything else he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking into your rooms that night to find you getting ready for bed.
  • He would confront you about it and demand to know if you loved this man.
  • Since you knew how far apart your stations in life were since the very start you had no choice but to say yes.
  • He would go insane despite himself. Insane with jealousy and envy and so much anger at the way things were he almost forced himself on you then and there.
  • If only your mother did not knock on your door.
  • That night Dino would approach his father and drunkenly open up to him about his feelings for you. About how much he loved you; how much he loved you.
  • The elder Don Cavallone loved his son. His Dino. He never knew he was making the boy suffer this much all this time suppressing his feelings.
  • The next morning your parents are surprised when they received a formal marriage proposal from the elder Don Cavallone.
  • He was asking for your hand in marriage on behalf of his only son.
  • Your original fiancé was so scared he left without a word.
  • Dino couldn’t get a ring on your finger fast enough.


  • All his life he had pledged and raised himself to be the perfect son. A worthy heir for the Vongola’s throne. That was why he made himself blind when it came to you the moment he realized you were a threat to his feelings.
  • He treated you like you were not there but he always noted your every move from the corner of his eyes. As his personal maid it was hard not to.
  • Over time he became your silent protector. Threats to you were removed before they were even conceived.
  • His obsession for you was eclipsed only by his obsession for the Vongola throne and everyone in the Varia knew it. For his sake they all pitched in to protect you in their own ways.
  • So when he heard you were sent home because of the arranged marriage your parents had set you up with he had first went weak in the knees before his Wrath burst forth and he went berserk.
  • The staff didn’t even deemed it fit to tell him you were going home that day and instead already set him up with a replacement. A replacement he had nearly killed in his rage.
  • The thought of you in another man’s arms was unacceptable. The thought of anyone doing things to you that he had ever only done to you in his dreams and fantasies was too much to bear.
  • He didn’t care if his Varia were following him. Mammon had already obtained the address of the country inn where you would be meeting your fiancé for the first time and Xanxus quickly made his way there.
  • He found you and the man taking a pleasant night time stroll in the inn’s gardens while both your parents were entertaining each other inside.
  • Xanxus couldn’t help himself. He stepped out of the shadows and put a gun to your fiancé’s head terrifying the man into wetting himself.
  • You beg him to spare your fiancé and Xanxus agreed only if you kissed him.
  • Blushing you agreed and as you did his obsession was realized as held you to him with all the need he had kept inside him all these years.
  • Secreted away as his mistress, you were never seen again.

I said to stick around a few days ago and I would put up a poll, and just haven’t had the time to get back on here. Apologies. 

Saying that! 

I’ve heard from a few different people that they wanted more of All The King’s Men, then again there was a request for If You Only Knew and Wayside Inn. I have half chapters written for all three of these. They are all of my open fics right now. 

1. Wayside Inn - On the way to drop Sam off at Stanford you and the brothers get stranded at an old country inn where the owners are MIA and that seems to not have any employees, where you meet up with a couple a few years older than the three of you. Weird shit starts to happen instantly, including being locked in from the outside, flickering lights, and a madman intent on killing all of you unless you all decide to kill one. (basic haunted/creepy house story)

2. All The King’s Men - You’ve just been arranged to marry Prince Morningstar. A pompous ass, if anyone asked your opinion. Which they didn’t. You decide it’s not happening and take off to join the ranks of men that defend your father’s kingdom. So what do you do when your betrothed finds you? Dean Winchester in chain mail and a runaway princess that joins the King’s army. What more could you want? (Royalty AU, Knight!Dean)

3. If You Only Knew - You’re an undercover DEA agent hiding in plain sight amongst Sam Winchester’s crew, who runs the biggest drug and gun ring in the last century. How do you tell your boss at the DEA that you think you’re catching real feelings for the  most wanted criminal in America? (Druglord!Sam and Agent!Reader) (pls note: no longer co-written)

So my question is which do you as the consumers, want to read the most?

You can either answer this below with your choice (just type 1, 2, or 3) Or You can send an ask!

I’ll leave the voting open for 30 hours! I know it’d weird but I have stuff to do tomorrow and this will let me finish a chapter by the end of the week!

Thanks guys!

Keep reading

The fairy of buttons

Our Rogue (who plays a small 16 year old human girl, and manipulative little mongrel) was in a small country inn and had sneaked up to try and pick pocket a drunk at one of the tables.

He proceeds to roll a nat 1 at slight of hand.

Me (the DM): You find a piece of moldy bread in his pocket and the man wakes up to stare blearily at you.

Rogue (IC) :Uhh….Hullo. I’m a fairy. 

(He rolls 18 on deception.)

Drunk (DM): Oh! Okay. I will keep your secret.

Rogue (OOC) :I push his head back onto the table, and tell him to go back to sleep.

DM: He’s now asleep.

Rogue (OOC): I try and pickpocket him again.

(Rolls a 14)

Dm: You find a few coppers and some buttons. The drunks shirt is a few buttons short and you assume they fell off. You done yet?

Rogue (OOC): ….Can i try and sew them back on his shirt?

(A few minutes while we discus this. The group decides he has to pass a slight of hand throw and a deception throw. The first to sew the buttons on and next not to get caught by anyone in the bar.)

He rolls a 17 on the deception, and then a nat 20 on the slight of hand.

After a few seconds of stunned silence I say,

Me (OOC): Congratulations. You have just successfully sewed the buttons you found in the drunk man’s pockets back on his shirt while he was asleep in the bar without anyone in the bar noticing.

Rogue (OOC): I wanted to make sure he believed I was a fairy when he woke up.

On her and her wife’s shared love of English country Inns.

And Fiona is officially my favourite.

Also, in going through the dialogue, it appears as though this “Venice” (and I’m not sure how that’s separate from “Newport” yet) is somewhere in America. IN CASE YOU’RE KEEPING SCORE AT HOME

anonymous asked:

sterek regency fic with alpha/beta/omega dynamics and propriety. These are my weakness.

I actually wrote one of these the last time I had prompts open, so…here’s Stiles’ POV of that ‘verse. 

Not long after Stiles’ mother dies, a valet tries to dress him and drag him out to a state dinner; Stiles bites him on the hand and the valet slaps him across the face. “Hateful little beast,” he says viciously, as Stiles’ other valet hurries him out of the room, horrified. Later, Stiles’ father gently admonishes him, tells him he can’t bite people when he doesn’t agree with what they’re doing. Stiles cries when he’s scolded, partially because he is sorry, but mostly because he got in trouble. His father rubs his hand over Stiles’ head and says it’s all right; he knows Stiles is upset because his mother’s not there.

“I miss her too,” he says softly, sadly.

Stiles’ father always understands him better than anyone, even Scott, who Stiles has known since he was a toddler, so Stiles isn’t sure why he’s so surprised when Stiles doesn’t take the news of the marriage his father has arranged for him well. “You promised me,” he hisses, fingers curled into his palms so tight that his fingernails bite into his skin. “You promised I’d never have to leave the kingdom.”

“Stiles,” his father sighs wearily, rubbing at his temples. His crown fits poorly, chafes at the skin there; he’s always complaining of headaches. “I’m sorry, but I’m betwixt a rock and a hard place. Our waters are overfished and our coffers are emptying fast. King Hale has resources enough; the trade between our kingdoms will keep us alive. I have to do what’s best for our people, you know that!” His voice is pleading, begging Stiles to see reason, but all Stiles sees is red.

Keep reading

An Irrevocable Condition: 1

Part 1: Love, Sakura

Summary: Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition. 

Rating: Mature (for future installments) 

Home is not a place you can leave behind; home is a thing you carry with you, as real as the travel pack on your back, and just as heavy.

Sasuke first discovered this when he abandoned Konoha. Only once he was away, surrounded by strangers, did he realize that the lilt of the Hidden Leaf was branded in his voice. At night he would lie on his side and dream of people best forgotten: Iruka-sensei, the Sandaime, the rookies, Naruto and Kakashi and Sakura. (Sakura most of all, but he didn’t allow himself to read much into this.) He came to hate those visions worse than his nightmares. It hurt more, for some reason, to see the things he gave up than the things that were taken from him.

And later, as he traveled the world, Sasuke found pieces of home in the most foreign of places. He saw Naruto’s spirit and Sakura’s kindness in the hospitality of strangers. Bowls of ramen and copies of Icha Icha books and cherry blossom trees reminded him of those he had left behind for a second time.

Today he sits at a table in a River Country inn, rereading the last letter Sakura sent him. The paper is worn, the creases softened from many foldings and unfoldings. She wrote to him about the efforts to restore Konoha to its former glory, her work opening a clinic for children, how everything seems to be starting over, rebuilding and remaking, not unlike Sasuke himself. She signed it “Love, Sakura,” and now he traces the characters that make up her name.

In his pack there are seventeen letters from Sakura, nine from Naruto, four from Kakashi, and he has read and reread all of them more times than he can count. Naruto’s messages are nearly illegible, riddled with grammar mistakes, full of an unfailing optimism. Kakashi’s are short, to the point, written in a hurry. But Sakura’s letters are something else. Her handwriting is precise and feminine, and he can imagine the care she put into each sentence, can practically see it in every line of ink.

Sasuke is (was) ambidextrous, so he can write well with his right hand, just as fluently and neatly as he could have with his left. It was not his missing arm that made him wary to respond. Still, he wrote back, answered every letter diligently. All but this last, all but the one he holds in his hand now. He received it two weeks ago, when he was helping a family in the Earth Country build a barn.

There are sixteen letters in his pack from Sakura, and every one she signed with her name alone. Not this one, though. This one she signed with ink-and-paper love.

Author’s Notes: So this is the first piece in a post-699 series I’m writing about Sasuke’s return to Konoha. The summary is a quote from Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin. Also, many thanks to my lovely beta uchihasass for looking over this!


*Kinda drifted from the prompt, sorry :\

“Unless you want yourself and your entire little posse to be dead within the next two minutes, I would put the gun down.” A gravely, harsh voice of death pierces the once tranquil air of the forest. In an instant, the group of two men,  two women and one bruised boy turns on their heels. 

Fear is imminent in their eyes. It had been so ever since the first time the captive boy had muttered the name Harry Styles. Televisions and radios may not work anymore, but word still got around quickly. When you mess with Harry Styles, you don’t recover. 

The ragtag group of survivors look on shakily as they face the hard-pressed, terrifying man himself. Black bandana tight around his head, pushing dirty, overgrown hair– hair that must’ve once been beautifully luscious and perfectly styled– up and out of his dark green, haunted eyes as they stared back at the group, a sinister, almost teasing smirk on his face. 

They were scared. 

He was dirty looking, of course, they all were. His black shirt’s sleeves had been ripped off long ago, shoving off ripped biceps that probably weren’t there 5 years ago when the world went to shit. He’s boyish looking even in his horror-movie aura. They boy’s– because really, he is just a boy, only 18 when the whole thing started– brown boots are battered and grungy, but thick nevertheless, army make. Blood and bits of skin teetering off of the steel toecap, testament to the multitudes of skulls he’s kicked in; alive and otherwise. 

He’s not alone. He usually never is. The opposing group has only heard stories of the Styles crew, but the descriptions weren’t too far-fetched when the pegged the members as “ruthless, deadly, and more than happy to kill.” 

“We.. we aren’t looking for any trouble.” The group leader, a middle-aged man named Ty, attempts. Really, they thought the kid was stealing from them, what were they supposed to do?

Looking back at the boy, Ty probably should’ve known better than to keep him from leaving. The blonde, innocent looking kid did warn them. Especially after Walt had gotten angry and gave him a nice purple-black bruise under his left eye. He winces as he sees the boy shaking his head at Ty, almost like a sign of defeat, like he knows what the outcome is going to be. 

Walt’s gun– the one Harry was referring to earlier– doesn’t move. Aside from the barely noticeable amount of shaking it’s doing, Walt doesn’t drop the gun. 

“Your friend doesn’t seem to agree with that sentiment.” He murmurs articulately, and Ty wonders why no one’s ever mentioned the fact that he has a British accent.

 There’s a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him it’s because those who hear it– they don’t get to live to tell the tale. 

Ty puts his hands up in surrender, placatingly. He turns to the side, still keeping an eye on Styles as he mutters warningly, “Walt, don’t do this. We just want to go on our own way. You can have your kid, no problem.”

Walt narrows his eyes, stepping forward, closer to the blonde kid, his gun bumping the back of the now worried looking boy. 

Harry’s facade doesn’t change, he simply takes a step forward as well, arm moving to his back where he grabs a crossbow, something that the stories told as well. There was never a confirmed attack from the Styles group unless there was at least one arrow lodged into someone’s skull. 

“You really, really don’t want to play this game with me, Walt.” He says lowly, a dangerous tint to his voice that will forever ring in Ty’s ears. 

There are moans and soft gurgles coming from somewhere over the hill, and the air becomes unsettling. Shuffling feet and crackling leaves are coming from every which direction, but the several torch lights only cover the small vicinity in which they are– not anywhere near the real dangers beyond the trees. Night is quickly approaching and they all knew what came hand-in-hand with the darkness. 

The two women from Ty’s group, one Ty’s wife and the other Walt’s, watch on with nothing but electric fear in their eyes. It’s granted, understandable, as this is one of the worst situations one could be in. 

Harry’s group looks a bit differently, one man with bright, insane blue eyes, playfully sharpening his knife against another, and another taking a leisurely drag from a cigarette as he nonchalantly stabbed leaves in the ground with massive sword– properly called a katana. Lastly in the group was another man, one that had the same boyish features that the rest of them did, methodically scratched his beard as he lazily tapped against a gun strapped to his belt. 

Looking back at his wife apologetically, it seems to be clear how this will end. Especially if Walt continues with his bullshit. “I want to know,” The idiot growls as if he has all the power in the world, “why this little twerp was in our camp last night.” He demands, hand tightening around the kids throat and gun still pressing harshly against his bleach-blonde hair. 

Harry didn’t like that. 

The playful smirk was gone and Ty knew that the game was over. Harry is two more steps forward and suddenly, Walt seems to understand his predicament. 

“You… you better stay back, now, or I’ll.. I’ll blow his brains out!” Walt shouts, backing up more and bringing the blonde with him. The kid has yet to say a single thing and surprisingly enough, he isn’t crying. 

He was crying his little eyes out the night before, locked in a shed near their camp. The women, especially hated it, but Walt deemed it necessary as they didn’t know what the kid was capable of. 

Now, Ty could see that the kid was still scared, obviously, anyone with a gun to their head is bound to be a bit uneasy. But there’s a trust and an understanding in his eyes that’s convincing the older group leader just how screwed they really are. Harry’s eyes are tight now, just like his grip on his crossbow. 

Another step forward. “You’ve heard the stories about us, Walt, I’m sure. People who steal from us,” He takes a step forward, “people who hurt our own,” Another menacing step froward, “and those things that aren’t really people at all… none of them survive us, Walt.” Harry informs, stepping so close that he could easily grab the blonde up and just take him away. But he wouldn’t do that.

Walt’s shaking hand is now reinforced ten-fold. He knows he’s made a mistake. 

“And you, Walt. Not only did you try and steal from me, you also hurt one of our own. All that’s left is the final…” Harry trails off, waiting for what he knows will come. 

Walt breaks, dropping the gun as if that would fix the entire situation. Ty watches as the kid runs, past Harry and into the arms of the one with the katana, who embraces him like a mother bear, checking over his bruise and then holding him close to his chest, directing his face away from Harry.

Ty watches as Walt tries, in a last-ditch effort to pull a gun on Harry, but he has no time.

He understands what’s about to happen.

Ty watches as Harry brings one, dirtied steel toecap and forcefully kicks the older man into the awaiting jaws of a walker*. 

* * * *

Stepping over a bloody, disemboweled arm, Niall rushes as quickly as he can into Harry’s arms. There’s a bit of blood on his face and hands, but it’s nothing Niall isn’t used to. A few tears leave the blonde’s eyes as he repeatedly apologizes over and over again, whimpering, “Harry, Harry, I’m so so sorry, Harry, I’ll never do anything that stupid again, I swear Harry I just wanted to help, I love you so much.” He cries, savoring in Harry’s affection as the brunette comforts him, rubbing his lower back lovingly and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. 

“I love you too, Ni. It’s okay, none of us are mad at you, just… we’ll talk about your punishment later.” He rectifies, and Niall nods in agreement, holding on to his boyfriends hand with all of his might. “Let’s get back, walkers are everywhere and we need to get Ni some food.” 

Louis, Zayn, and Liam each nod in agreement, cleaning their weapons off briefly in the already blood-soaked grass. 

* * * *

“Did we really have to kill all of them?” Niall asks as they get closer to home.

Harry’s grip tightens around the young, innocent kid he had found just 3 years ago. How he had survived till then, nobody knew. “Of course we had to, Niall. Remember our talk on people and how they’re not always good like us?” 

“Yeah, but only one of them was really mean to me.” Nialll murmured and Harry stopped, taking Niall’s chin with one of his large, calloused hands, making the blue-eyed boy look him in the eyes. 

“Niall, do you know what I would do if someone ever hurt you?” Harry asks genuinely and Niall shivers at the thought. 

He grips Harry’s waist tightly as he whispers, “You always say that you’d ‘fucking murder them and anyone they loved,’ right?” 

Harry grins, poking Nail’s nose. “Don’t say those words, darling, but yes. I’d fucking murder them and anyone they ever loved, or liked, or ever came into contact with. So, can’t you see, Ni? We had to kill that bad man, yes? So he didn’t ever hurt anyone again?” Harry chides, encouraging Niall to reply.

The blonde nods simply, allowing Harry to continue to lead him back to camp. “So, don’t you think his friends would feel the same about him as we do about you? When someone hurts their friend, don’t you think they’d try to hurt us?” Harry asks and Niall’s mouth forms into an ‘O’ shape, showing he understood.

“So if we didn’t kill them… they’d kill us.” Niall finishes, adding, “I guess it was necessary, then. Thank you for saving me, Hazzy.” He smiles up at Harry, pecking the brunette’s cheek sweetly.

Harry nods with a smile, allowing the boy to believe his own conclusions. 

The less Niall knew, the better. 

* * * *

Soon enough, they arrive back to their camp, a nice, overly protected yet somewhat deteriorating country-inn. They had gotten lucky, what with the relatively easy food supply and comfortable, safe rooms but there’s a lot of dangers that come with camping in a big, visible, and alluring place that looks promising to everyone that comes across it. Raids, thieves and looters were not unusual. 

Luckily enough, after a couple of years of living in the same place, killing anyone/thing that comes their way without remorse. 

Walkers were scary, sure, but people… people were the ones to worry about. 

It’s easy to stab a zombie in the brain and watch the already lifeless body go to rest, but people were harder. 

People would scream and beg and cry and plead and people didn’t always try to fight back. 

But not to worry, after the first few, you learn to stop caring that you can literally see the life drain from someone’s eyes. You stop caring that all of someone’s hopes and dreams have suddenly been vanquished and seized from them without a single warning. You stop seeing people as people and simply see them as monsters, much like the ones crawling around outside, ready to steal, rape, and/or kill everyone you love. 

People are worse than walkers. 

Harry learned that the hard way.

* * * *

Once they get through all of the precautionary measures (barbed wire over a perimeter fence and several “conveniently” placed bear traps) that were taken long ago to take out any raiders that attempt to get in while they’re away. 

Looking around at the few bodies scattered around the lot, impaled on the barbed wire or prone with a knife through their heart, Harry makes a mental note to get someone to clean them out before they have another walker problem. 

Niall’s still tucked safely under Harry’s arm, looking tired and hungry and dead on his feet. Zayn helps Liam open the door and then once again seal it after the boys all get through. 

Once the doors are closed the personas drop. 

They all shrug off their bigger weapons at the door, not loosing their handheld guns, strapped-knifes, or any of their other miscellaneous weapons.

Louis jumps on Niall, ruffling his hair violently. “I’m glad you’re okay, Nialler.” He says, playfully hugging the boy tightly after thoroughly ruined his (already ruined) hair. 

Liam goes next, hugging the boy tightly in another embrace and whispering something along the lines of, “you’re an idiot, never do that again.” and rushing off to go start making something for him to eat. 

Zayn had already had his Nialler time but still walked over, pressed a kiss to his forehead and gave him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow at Harry. “You’re gonna get punished bad, Niall.” He murmurs and Niall sighs, shrugging. “Honestly, babe, should’ve seen Harry when he found out where you were.” Zayn says, making Harry narrow his eyes accordingly. Zayn, maybe the only one who will ever defy Harry smirks. “It was hilarious. Still ,good luck sitting tomorrow.” He shrugs, making Louis laugh out loud from the other side of the room. 

“Wake me up when dinner’s ready!” The dark skinned boy calls, collapsing on the ratty old couch that was crowded around an unused fireplace. 

Niall closes his eyes, sighing as he takes in the familiar smell of that has become home. Harry wraps his arms around the blonde, resting his head on Niall’s shoulder and inhaling the boy’s scent, humming in satisfaction as he nuzzles into the irish boy’s neck lovingly. 

“Haz,” Niall says softly, gripping onto the strong arms around his waist, attempting to comfort the older boy. “I’m okay, yeah?” He tries, turning in Harry’s arms and raising on his tip-toes to rest his forehead against Harry’s. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I scared me too. I just… I wanted to help.” Niall answers, making Harry shake his head.

“Don’t do that ever again.” He says, making Niall laugh, pulling away from the brunette and smack the ginning boy lightly. “I understand you, baby, alright? Just know… if you ever, and I mean ever, leave this place on your own or put yourself in danger again? You don’t be able to sit for a month. A year, probably.” Harry warns and Niall shudders, nodding in understanding. 

“I love you.” Niall murmurs as he hugs his boyfriend tightly and Harry sighs hard, trying his best to control his emotions as he grips Niall just as tightly.

“I love you too.” 

*Walker = zombie

Did I just make Harry into Daryl Dixon?? Not even sorry about that. Also I KNOW Niall’s hair probably wouldn’t still be blonde after 5 years but hey a girl can dream 

I think I will be doing a prequel/maybe a sequel(smut)/ STORY of this?? Idk I really liked the characters and this AU >:) 

You can prompt me here! I do Niall centric OTP, OT3, OT4, and OT5! You can see my previous writings here and my master post here.


The Allison Inn & Spa: Gateway To Oregon Wine Country

If you want to be ahead of the curve with your next wine country vacation, Oregon’s Willamette Valley is the place to be. It’s got the great wineries (both large and small producers), the fabulous restaurants and the beautiful scenery. Read more >