#back to the barrooms

[hewhofragments]

Picked up Back 4 Blood a couple weeks ago. I was afraid I would hate the game, but I absolutely love it! Just about every night since I bought it, I've been wading through hordes of zombies trying to stumble my way to the next saferoom. I'm still on Act 1, partly because I'm stalling, partly because I can't get through Nightmare, so it's great to have 5 more acts to look forward to (a new DLC just dropped)!

Left 4 Dead was my favorite game when I was a teen, so I was super psyched when I heard development began on B4B. Because of life, the price, and some changes I didn't care for, I decided not to buy the game at launch. Without a versus mode, I worried that I wouldn't like the new game. And I've never been a huge fan of progression. I liked that with a game like L4D, anyone could dive in with any level of experience and nobody would have a major advantage.

To my surprise, I love the card system. It's tons of fun customizing your survivor's abilities, and it gives the game a lot of replayability. I still wish the game had a versus mode (the swarm mode is. . . not very enjoyable), but with all of the content and detail included in the campaigns, I think the game can stand on its own.

The best experience I've had, by far, was rocking out with my boyfriend @desertmage during the barroom mission. He was standing up on the bar with his wolverine claws swinging like a madman and singing along to the music; I was tucked in a corner clinging to my gun hoping that the big zombies would go for the jukebox and not me. It was a good mix of carefree chaos, positive stress, and restricted fear.

Overall, my only complaint would pertain to the player base. As with most shooters, the game is filled with straight white men that feel they have something to prove. It would be nice to find more queer folks to play games with, but for now, I'm just glad I can enjoy the game with my boyfriend.

[spaceclefairy]

Only You

You don't expect the Ghoul to hang around, but he comes creepin' back in around sundown every night. You're glad you remembered the Rad-Away.

Act I | Act II | Act III | Act V | Ao3 Compilation

You're stuck in Filly for the next few days while you sort out the raider issue with your agency. You assume “sorting it out” involves the agency terminating the raiders with characteristic violence and aplomb, but you don’t ask questions when you don’t want to know the answer.

There’s not a lot of lodging in Filly. In fact, there’s not much of anything. Ramshackle trader stalls, a few real stores if you squint, a radroach-infested motel, and a bar that most of the town seemed to frequent once the hour struck late no matter the day. At least the bar has enough open rooms to let you rent one for a few nights.

You hadn't expected the Ghoul to stick around, but so far, he continues to show up. He disappears during the day, then returns long after dark and crawls into the small barroom bed with you. You don't ask him what he gets up to during the day (you don't want to know), but you assume he's taking care of smaller contracts while he's out.

You've been spending your days at the agency hub taking down telegrams for contracts and sending out bids. It's mind numbing work when you're used to dealing with bounty hunters all day, but you've got to do something while you wait for the agency to give you the okay to go back home. You need money, and you’ll probably go nuts if you don’t keep yourself busy.

At least you've got the chance to see some old acquaintances at the agency hub. A couple of former bounty hunters who'd come through your office were now agents at the hub. They're alright, as far as wastelanders go; you hang around with them when you take breaks.

Today’s smoke break has more or less turned into gossip time. You’re happy to listen in on any and all gossip (it’s part of your job, after all) - it’s less enjoyable when the questions turn to you.

One of them, a woman whose teeth were file-sharpened into fangs (creatively named Fang), lives above the bar down the hall from you. She's good natured, if quite terrifying. She leans against the crumbling concrete wall of the hub, taking a drag on a little paper cylinder that smells suspiciously like burning catnip. “I saw that ghoul you came into town with last night. Is he staying with you?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

You’re not inclined to expound upon her question, but she lives down the hall from you. She’s obviously seen the Ghoul creeping into your room at night (he’s not exactly quiet, either), hence the question.

The other, an individual with - conversely - no teeth to speak of (again, creatively named Gums - fuckin’ wastelanders), chimes in. “You're staying with a ghoul?”

“Yeah-”

Fang interrupts you. “And not just a ghoul. The Ghoul.”

“The Ghoul? As in…” Gums raises a sparse, flakey eyebrow. You nod, and they whistle. “Nice. How'd you bag that?”

“Longtime client,” you reply simply. You don’t know Gums as well as you do Fang, but they seem harmless enough. “He got caught in the gunfight when the raiders showed up at my office.”

You neglect to tell them he'd started the gunfight. The less they know, the better.

“Not bad. You could do worse,” Fang observes. “Does his dick look like the rest of him?”

You nod. “Yep.”

Gums grins. “Cool.”

Your break turns into playing hooky the rest of the day, mostly because you don’t want to field any more questions from anyone who’d seen you walking around with the Ghoul. You make yourself scarce for the rest of the day, choosing to wander around town. You haven't been to Filly in years, not since you were a kid. It hasn't changed much. There's still the same derelict bars, saloons, and stores. There's more than one bounty agency here, too, though you don't know which ones. You're only concerned with yours.

Sundown slides over the town by the time you head back over to the bar for the night. Everyone’s locked down and boarded up their places of business, the street vendors have all scattered. You know that Filly after sundown is not a great place to be, but you can hold your own if the need arises.

You're in the mood for a drink tonight, and frankly, there's nothing else to do in Filly after dark that won’t get you shot. When you step into the dingy bar, you make your way up to the bartender and grab a beer. It’s watery and gross-looking, but it smells like beer and you can’t be picky out here in the wasteland.

When you turn around to find somewhere to sit, you spot the Ghoul watching you from a back corner of the bar. You're surprised he’s back by sundown - he’d been rolling in late into the night, long after the moon had risen into the sky. You take your beer and skirt around the chairs and tables littering the bar. 

He cocks his head and watches you approach. He's got a half-full beer mug in one hand - evidence he's been back for a while. He doesn't give you a chance to grab another chair when you reach him. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you down into his lap. 

If you didn't know how much booze it takes to affect a ghoul, you'd assume your Ghoul was drunk, but he's not. He just doesn't seem to care that the few patrons of the bar have their eyes trained on the two of you. Of all the things you expect him to be, possessive is not one - or maybe he is possessive, and this is his warning to the other patrons. You don't care which, and you’re not inclined to give it further thought. Rather, you're distracted by his hand squeezing the top of your thigh.

The Ghoul takes a drink of his beer and rests the glass on your knee. “Any word on the raiders?”

“Other than, it's being handled, no,” you reply. You force your brain to focus away from his hand on your thigh. You don’t want to admit to yourself that’s all it takes for him to get you going. “My agency isn't exactly forthcoming about what goes on behind the scenes.”

“No, they're quiet about how dangerous they are, and they like to keep it that way,” he agrees. He pauses, and grins slightly. “Kind of like you. You're a hell of shot with that rifle.”

Compliments from him are few and far-between - forward compliments at least. He’s far more show than tell. You’re… flattered, actually, that he’s paid attention to you beyond just physically. You know he has, but it’s nice to hear it.

Again, you suspect you may actually like the Ghoul.

“Can't be a bounty agent if you haven't been a bounty hunter before,” you shrug. “I've had plenty of practice.”

He takes a drink of his beer, and says, so, so quietly, “Ditch the agency and come with me. Be a bounty hunter again.”

You raise an eyebrow. He's not serious, surely. 

“I like what I do now, Cooper,” you reply softly. “But my door's always open.”

He nods. “Fair enough.”

The Ghoul returns to people-watching in silence, sipping on his beer and continuously making you more and more nervous with his hand on your thigh. He's taken to rubbing circles into your thigh with his thumb, and he keeps getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. He's not being even remotely inconspicuous, either. More than one person in the bar has caught on to what’s going on in the back corner, if the odd looks you’re getting tell you anything.

You don't try to make him stop (you don’t think you’re capable of asking him to stop), but you do lean back against his shoulder and press your lips to his ear. “You're gonna do this here?”

He looks you dead in the eye. “I'll fuck you right here in this chair with every single person watchin’.”

Yeah, no, he's serious on that one. You can see it in his eyes. Actually, you can feel his dick pressed against the back of your leg, too. 

You blink. “We should probably go upstairs now.”

He chugs the rest of his beer, then pats your leg, motioning for you to stand up. “Should have already gone upstairs.”

You don't disagree. In fact, you don't think you could have stood up any faster. 

The Ghoul looks you up and down with that grin on his face before following you up the stairs. You don't quite make it back to your room before he’s grabbing at you by the waist and pulling you close. He traps you against the wall, body pressing down on you, completely irreverent of anyone walking down the hallway behind you. You grab his face and kiss him; his raw skin is chapped, but soft and cool against yours. The brim of his hat knocks against the top of your head, but you don’t care. 

You scramble to find your door key in your back pocket and only just manage to get your hands on it. You can’t quite manage to get the key in the lock, so he takes a break from what he’s doing (grabbing your tits under your shirt) to take it from you and jam it into the door.

The Ghoul kicks the doors closed behind him with the heel of his boot. The force shakes dust from the walls and kicks dirt up from the floor. With a single-mindedness that takes your breath away, he backs you up to the tiny bed shoved up against the back wall and drops down to his knees.

He strips your pants and underwear down your legs, then prompts you to sit down with a hand on your stomach. As much as you like when he tries to have a little patience, you like it this way more - sloppy, breathless, a little desperate for you. A starving man eating his first meal in days. 

With a tug, he drags your hips over to the edge of the bed and sets to work with his tongue. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch and busy yourself picking open the buttons of your shirt with shaking fingers. You shrug out of your shirt, leaving yourself completely exposed. He hasn't even taken off his hat yet, but you take care of that for him and drop it onto your head.

The Ghoul looks up at you and pauses his ministrations, licking his lips in thought. 

You shrug. “The hat was in the way.”

He doesn't respond, choosing to set his mouth back to better purposes, but he keeps his eyes trained up on your face while he sticks his tongue in your cunt. He's sloppy about it, spreading your lips with his gloved thumbs so he can get better access to you. You buck up against his face, and he doesn't stop you - no, he buries his tongue deeper between your legs and lets you ride his face, all the while still looking up at you with those bright hazel eyes.

Finally, it hits you, and you grin like you've won the damn lottery. “You like me wearing your hat, Cooper?”

He nips your inner thigh with his teeth, making you jump, and sets back to sucking your clit. You take that as a warning not to tease him, but it's so much more fun to know his mouth is too full of you to tease you back.

You don't stop teasing him, knowing full well it's just going to rile him up. “Why don't you come up here so I can ride your face properly, cowboy? I've got the hat to fit the part.”

The Ghoul has had enough of the gloves obstructing his ability to feel your skin. He stops long enough to strip them off, stick a finger in his mouth to coat it with his spit, and press his finger deep into your entrance. You choke on the fullness, the sensation rough but not unwelcome.

“Well, don't get quiet on me now,” he says. 

You stutter, but he can absolutely understand you when you say, “I like riding your face when you're on your knees, too.”

He spreads you apart and licks you, slow and deep, chasing the path of his fingers. He watches you while he does it, eyes never leaving yours. “Is that right?”

You nod. “Sure is.”

You lean over where you sit, where he's still on his knees on the floor, and unbutton his shirt. You expect him to tell you to stop - there's more light in the room this time, after all - but he doesn't. He shrugs his duster and shirt down over his shoulders and lets them hit the floor. This time, you can really see what he looks like. Raw, pitted skin, mostly red but pink-white in places where old scars have healed over time and again, build slight but still muscular. He seems to be waiting for you to pull back, recoil away - stop in your tracks. You grab his face and kiss him, then pull him to his feet.

 You pull him closer by his belt before that comes off, too. Boots and pants next, dropped carelessly to the floor. You take a minute to look and touch, run your hands over exposed skin, and he sighs softly at your touch.

“Look at you, Cooper,” you say. “Aren’t you a sight?”

“You are fuckin’ strange,” the Ghoul comments, but it’s with affection. His version of affection, anyway.

“Yeah,” you shoot back with a grin, “but I don't hear you complaining.”

You take his cock in hand and run your tongue along the vein underneath, making him twitch. You swallow him down, fisting what doesn’t fit in your mouth, until he’s threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you off of him.

The Ghoul deems that to be the extent of what he can take from you. You’re on your back with him crawling over you before your brain registers that he’s moved. He smashes his lips down over yours while his hands creep up along your sides. He wastes no time reaching between your legs and running the head of his cock along your slit. Not for the first time, you marvel at how much you prefer the roughness over his attempts to be patient.

You’ve teased him long enough, you decide, so you wrap your legs around his waist and arch up against him. “Come on, Coop -”

He obliges and thrusts into you, planting one hand next to your head for leverage. The other hand catches your chin and holds you steady while he fucks you. You meet his eyes, and the way he watches you - like it’s a privilege to touch you - makes you ache.

You nudge him with your hip until he rolls on his back. You slide him back inside, hissing at the returning fullness, and grind down on him with your hands on his chest. He wraps his hands around your thighs, squeezing so hard you're sure you'll find new bruises come morning.

You like watching him from up here. The way his jaw clenches, when his head lolls back in response to whatever you're doing, the way his mouth parts in a semi-attempt to say your name or give you direction - it captivates you. You like when he’s speechless - when he can’t pull himself together long enough to tease you.

The Ghoul can feel your hips stutter when you move, grinding down harder each time for any little extra bit of friction. His thumb finds you clit and presses circles into you relentlessly, letting you use the palm of his hand to find the friction you need.

“Go ahead,” he says, breathless, “come on my cock, babydoll.”

You do, with a hand on his chest and the other hand on his wrist, holding him close and steady. It rolls down your back, down your thighs, all the way out to your fingertips, like the wasteland air burning underneath your skin. Your nails bite into his wrist, and that makes him smile - a real grin, not the smug skeleton grin you’re used to getting from him. You return it.

When the Ghoul comes, he wraps an arm around your back to keep you steady and holds you flush against his chest. You sigh at the touch of his skin against yours, his chest pressed against yours, your nipples prickling against him. You take it as he comes, grinding down on him when he fills you up. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, teeth grazing his raw skin. 

The usual question of radaway? doesn't come this time. You’re not concerned, and neither is he; the dose you took that morning would still be enough.

The Ghoul scoops you up into his side when he’s come back to his senses and rolls you onto your back. You wrap your arms around him and trail a finger down the back of his neck, just barely scratching at his skin with your nails. He burrows his face into your soft chest (the lack of nose is helpful in this regard) and closes his eyes.

After a few minutes, you say, “You know, I’ve liked you since the first time you walked into my office.”

The Ghoul glances up at you before closing his eyes again. “Can’t imagine why.”

“You were all business,” you reply. “I respect that.”

The Ghoul is quiet for a while, long enough you think he’s gone to sleep, but he answers. “Weird way to tell someone you like ‘em.”

You snort. “I’m trying to be nice, dickhead.”

You can feel him grinning against your skin. “Well, baby, that’s on you.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “I’ll kick your ass out of this bed.”

“Sure you will,” he replies. “Just remember that when you roll over and grab me like you did this morning.”

[door]

Hey I saw you’re a chair authority, and I have a chair-related question!

I listen to a lot of silly old music, partially for research and partially because I enjoy it. And in songs by both the Hoosier Hot Shots and duo Billy Jones and Ernest Hare, they make jokes about the obvious reputation of the Morris chair and being a Romeo (or a sheik, in the barroom vernacular of the era.) The joke is treated like “oh you know those Morris chairs, wink wink” and I’m trying to figure out the joke. All I can guess is that with that low-down deep-back posture, if you sit in a fellas lap it’s awful hard to get up. Unless there’s something I’m missing. Is there something I’m missing?

In this one it’s right in the chorus

https://youtu.be/msKKp5P5Zz8

hello i am chuffed as hell to be referred to as a "chair authority" thank u so much

to answer your question: at a guess, it's probably to do with the fact that the morris chair was a recliner! not the first (phillip webb--who designed the chair for morris & co in the 1860s--got the idea from an earlier chair he saw), but definitely the first more widely known western recliner. here's the example the V&A has:

and if you zoom in on the little metal piece at the back, you can see that it has different holes which allow the back of the chair to be lowered.

it's a recliner in the same way that a pool chaise is, rather than something with a lever, like a la-z-boy. americans are probably more familiar with the craftsman take on the morris chair, like this one:

one of my personal favourite versions of this chair is josef hoffmann's "sitzmaschine," like this one in the collection of the minneapolis institute of art:

rather than holes, the chair has little mushroom-shaped knobs on the arms for a rod at the back of the chair to rest on. hoffmann was part of the wiener werkstätte in austria, which was a decorative arts movement that emphasized utilitarian design and quality materials, but i appreciate that they managed to do it in a way that was just a little bit funky.

anyway. sit upright in a morris chair and next thing you know you're lying down in a morris chair.

[gretavangroupie]

Transcendent - One

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 24.0k

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Smoking, Cursing, Mention and Use of Magic, Black Magic, Curses, Fire, Death in Fire, Anxiety, Arguing, Physical Violence, Fighting, Use of Weapons, Blood, Arranged Marriage, Unhappy Relationships, Sadness, Illness, Death, Use of Restraints. Smut: Heavy Pining, Kissing, Light Touching.

A/N: Surprise! @gretavanmoon and I are back with what has to be our favorite project yet. Without giving too much away, this will not be your traditional storyline. We've been dreaming on this one for a while and after a quick little break we are ready to get back to business. There will be no posting schedule with this story, taking it as it comes to give you the best story possible. But, it will be ongoing throughout this Fall and Winter season. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting and reblogging. It means the world to us and truly keeps us going.

JAKE

I push the old wooden door open, the rusty handle leaving my hand feeling stiff and dirty. I swipe it against my canvas trousers, all the while knowing they are just as dirty as my hand is now. A hard day's work will do that to you. A hard day’s work is also how one finds themselves wandering into a bar at quittin’ time. I had to ask around to find one, the mason on the jobsite informing me of this place tucked away between two shops just a few blocks down the road from the job. There’s no sign out front, nothing that would ever reveal that it was a barroom. But as I open the door and step inside, the smell is what hits me first and I know I’ve found the right place. 

I make my way towards the bar attendant, the room warm from the kerosene lamps burning on the tables. It's dimly lit and the place seems to be full of laborers like myself. Everyone has just gotten off a job or is looking for work themselves. I keep my head low as I approach the attendant, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I don’t know who knows what around here, but the town is small and I know people talk. Especially in my line of work, ain’t nothing to do besides talk. 

“What’ll ya have,” the attendant asks. His lips are almost fully enveloped beneath his thick mustache as his eyes look me up and down. 

“A Lager, thanks,” I say, sticking my hand into my trouser pocket in search of coins.

“Outta the Lager, I can do a Porter,” he counters, reaching for a mug. “I seen you around here before?”

My eyes flick up to his, “No sir, don’t believe. Just here temporarily for work.” He seems perplexed by my answer, as if he doesn’t believe me.

He fills the mug with the ale as he continues, “What's ya trade?”

“Carpenter,” I answer quickly, “Boarding house goin’ up a few blocks away.”

“The St. Lemire job?” he asks, and again I nod.

He doesn’t say anything else, instead passing me the mug of ale with a grunt. He seems uneasy about my presence. For why I don’t know, but I don’t question it. I nod in thanks and pay him what he’s due, taking the mug of dark beer over to a table in the corner. The kerosene lamp is burnt out and the table is dark, but that’s almost better. I didn’t come here to make friends, I came here for a drink, and once it’s gone I’ll be on my way.

As I sit in the old wooden chair I begin to look around at the other patrons. They are gathered in groups of three or four, loud and boisterous as they drink away their troubles and a day's work. One man is passed out on the table top, his friends poking and prodding at his face with no reaction. Someone taps away on the old out-of-tune piano in the corner, playing a song that grits my nerves. 

A few women occupy the bar, but not the kind I mess with. These women are here for a reason. They know we have a little money in our pockets and they plan to get their hands on it in exchange for their time. This is not something I am particularly interested in, despite the urges that naturally invade my mind from time to time. Not that I don’t feel attracted to them, because trust me, I am. I just need more substance and a little depth in my women. To be able to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around sex. Call me old fashioned, I suppose.

It is rare that I even find myself on this side of town, avoiding it and my brother Joshua at all costs for several years now.  However, the ad in the paper promised good pay in exchange for quality work, and if there is one thing about myself that you should know, it’s that everything I do, I do the right way. I knew they would be happy with my work and I was fully prepared to prove myself. 

It’s been two weeks that I’ve been working the job, arriving just after the foundation was set and the frame was ready to be built. I've done this hundreds of times now, maybe not this scale, but all buildings are built the same way more or less. Working with my hands is what I know. It’s what I’m good at. Just like my father before me. I spent most of the day today putting up walls on the second floor. The stairs took me longer than I anticipated, but I got it done. I always do. 

I take a long pull from my mug, letting the alcohol warm my blood and ease the tension in my neck. My shoulders are sore from hauling lumber upstairs all day, but I’ve felt worse so I can’t really complain. 

I’m about halfway through my beer when the door opening harshly grabs my attention. I knew it would only be a matter of time before he caught wind of my arrival into town, and I knew I wouldn’t be met kindly. Josh steps through the door, his eyes scanning through the tables until he finds me. His eyes narrow as he locks in, pushing chairs out of the way until he gets to me, positively seething and full of fiery fury. 

“Why’re you here?” he demands, slamming his fist on the table, rattling the glass of the dark kerosene lamp. 

I sit back in my chair, unaffected by his anger, much to his dismay. He always was all bark and no bite. He’d been that way since we were boys. 

“I’m here for work, I think you know that though, Joshua.”

“How long,” he seethes, a curl of hair falling to his forehead.

“Couple months, maybe, if all goes to plan,” I answer, my casual attitude only infuriating him further. 

“Don’t fuck with me, Jacob,” he grits out, leaning against the wooden table. His eyes are dark and still the mirror image of my own, though somehow his are different. As if he is completely detached from reality and no longer sees me as his own flesh and blood. 

“Won’t bother you if you don’t make no trouble for me,” I offer, hoping he will accept my suggestion. “I’ll finish this job and you won’t see me ‘round here anymore.”

He raises his eyebrows at me and ticks his jaw to the side as if he's considering my proposition. He then pushes off the table and heads towards the bar without a word. I let out a sigh and take a drink from my mug knowing that conversation could have gone a lot worse. Honestly I expected more after three years of silence. 

A few minutes later I see him slide into the seat across from me, slamming his own mug down on the rickety table. “Fuck,” I groan, suddenly realizing that the conversation is in fact not over. 

“Ya know, I thought about it, but what’s a drink between brothers…” he sneers, flashing a bit of a teeth through his snarl. 

My chest grows tight and my heart rate picks up, an uneasy feeling entering my body as his eyes size me up. I lick my lips and lift my mug towards his, tapping the glasses together. I raise my eyebrow, “Yeah, brothers.”

He takes a long pull from his mug, swallowing down the dark beer. “So, had any nice tail lately?” he asks, catching me off guard. He settles back in his chair, rocking back onto two legs as he waits for my reply.

I haven't spoken to him in three years and he wants to know about my sex life?

“The fuck do you care?” I spit, refusing to answer him. I know exactly where this conversation is going and I will not give him what he wants. 

Josh shrugs at my response, acting unaffected by my unwillingness to play his game. “Just thought maybe you could send some my way.”

I turn my attention to the ladies making the rounds and nod my head towards them, “Could take you home one of them,” I say, catching the attention of a woman behind me I didn’t know was there. 

“Fellas?” she grins, leaning against our table. 

Josh flashes her a smile and she smiles back. Of course. 

“Did I hear you two was looking for some company?” she asks, locking her eyes onto mine. 

I quickly pull my eyes away and look down at my beer, not wanting to answer her. 

“Could be,” Josh answers, deepening his voice. 

Her eyes begin to flick between the two of us and realization hits her. “You two brothers? You look mighty similar.”

“Twins, actually,” I correct, hoping to cure her curiosity.

“Twins, huh? Can’t say I’ve ever been with twins,” she says, pursing her plum colored lips. My eyes scan over her body, curvy in all the right places, with skin softer than anything I’ve touched in a long while, but I refuse to give into her temptation. 

Her hand reaches out and brushes over my forearm, sending a tingle through my body for what feels like the first time in a long time. She moves her fingers in circles over my sun tanned skin, not even caring about the sawdust still covering me. I swallow harshly as I try to will away the desire running through me. I don’t want her, but my body sure does. 

“I’ll tell you what,” she pauses, looking between Josh and I, “I’ll cut you a deal. I like the both of you, so I could do two for the price of one.”

“No–”

“A deal…” Josh ponders, interrupting my refusal. 

She moves to lean on me, pressing her chest into my face in an attempt to change my mind. I see a flicker of fury and jealousy returning to Josh’s eyes as she comes onto me, and I can tell he is about to lash out. 

He snaps his fingers, grabbing her attention, “You know sweetheart, come to think of it, there's no need for a deal. You can keep me company tonight. He will just end up fucking killing you, anyway,” he says, cutting his eyes at me.

Anger takes over my rational brain, and I shove my beer mug forcefully across the table, crashing into his chest and splashing the remnants all over him and the woman. 

“What the hell?!” Josh immediately stands, pushing her off of him as he bucks up at me, trying to gain the upperhand. I stand too, meeting his stature as I stare back at him in disgust. 

“You’re never going to let that go are you?” I shout, no doubt drawing attention to the both of us, just like I was trying to avoid. 

“This is why I ignore you, Josh! This is why I steer clear of this place, this whole damn town! There is nothing I can do or say to get through to you that her death wasn’t my fault!” I grit my teeth as I walk back to snatch my hat off the table. “You just needed me as a scapegoat for your bad choices. You’ve always been this way and you’ll never change!” 

I feel Josh’s hands as they push at my shoulders, sending me stumbling backwards into my chair and into the wall behind me. The pictures on the wall rattle above me, and I can hear the bar attendant starting to shout at us now. 

I know I shouldn’t fight him. I know I shouldn’t, but thanks to the alcohol my inhibitions are gone, and my hands are quickly flying up to defend myself against my own flesh and blood. My hands connect with his shoulders, shoving him away from me as the woman runs off to the other side of the bar, no longer interested in being Josh’s woman of the night. 

Josh grunts out a few profanities as he tries to swing at me, but as if anticipating his next move, I duck out of the way and take him down by the waist. Our scuffle makes its way to the sticky barroom floor, and before he can land a punch on me, we are being dragged out the side door and tossed into the alleyway by the barkeep. 

We both stand, dusting off our clothes of the stale beer and alleyway sludge, the smell putrid and unpleasant as it seeps into the canvas of my trousers. Josh is still cursing at me, gearing up for the next round no doubt. I take in my surroundings as quickly as I can, seeing a number of shady characters lining the dark, musty alleyway. Peddlers, more women, even a few rabble rousers. They seemed intrigued by us, all turning their attention our way as Josh connects a blow right to my face. 

I can hear the crack of my nose as his fist connects with it, blood instantly pouring down my face. He’s broken my nose more times than I can count. My eyes start to water, further obstructing my vision in the dark alley as I rear my arm back in order to return his punch. I connect with his jaw, knocking him back a few steps as he turns his head to spit blood. 

“You killed her! You fucking killed her just to get at me!” he shouts, his teeth red and stained with blood. 

“I didn’t!” I shout. “I told her not to follow me inside, and she didn’t fucking listen to me, Josh! She killed herself!”

“She wouldn’t do that!” he screams, a growl coloring his words. He charges at me, pinning me against the brick wall behind me. I could easily overpower him, but part of me understands his anger. This is his release and it’s been long overdue.

“I shouldn’t have trusted you. She would still be here. My Lizzy would still be with me!” he shouts in my face. I can feel the emotions flowing through him as if they were my own. That’s the funny thing about twins, we share everything. 

“I begged you not to go that night, Josh,” I counter, still remaining tightly in his grip. “I told you to go home to her. To stop gambling your savings away. It would have been you, yelling for her in that fire. I fought for my life trying to get to her! Do you get that? I fucking tried, Josh. I almost died in there trying to save her! It should have been you with her that night, not me!” 

It’s as if his own guilt finally comes to light. A tear streams from his eye as his anger boils over. A scream rips from his chest, primal and laced with rage as something heavy smashes against the side of my head, and my vision quickly fades to black. 

—

The air was already chilling, then, the leaves barely skittering across the ground when a breeze would come through. Joshua and I had met up at the crossroads on our walk home from work, me from the construction of a new bank in the square, and he from the metalsmiths shop.

“I don’t care what you do with her… just keep her entertained until my game is done…” he asked of me as he slipped his arms through his coat.

“It could be the wee hours of the morning by then, Josh, sit this one out for once. Go home to her tonight. You’re about to be wed, for Christ’s sake.” 

As of late, Josh had picked up a gambling habit, secretly tossing he and his fiance Elizabeth’s money away little by little.

He quirked a laugh as we trod down the street. “No see, I’ve got this one in the bag, I can feel it. I’m coming home with my pockets full tonight, brother. Fate is gonna be on my side.”

“Your pockets were empty before you started this nonsense, Josh. Don’t you think you should stop while you’re ahead? Before you lose it all…” I tried reasoning with him. If he wasn’t careful, there would be no money to pay for the wedding Lizzy wanted.

“Just keep her busy, eh? Don’t let her ask any questions…” he argued. “Talk your mind up to her with your wise words that you’re so agile with. I’ll be home before the sun comes up.”

“Fine. Fine!” I threw my hands into the air. “I’ll spend my hard-earned pay on a nice dinner with your fiance. A dinner that you should be enjoying with her. No. I don’t mind at all…” I yelled with sarcasm as we began separating and walking opposite ways.

“Thank you, Jacob. Really. I promise I’ll repay you!”

I scoffed. “You just better be glad she’s good company!”

And really, if Josh hadn’t met Lizzy before me, I might have thought of courting her, myself. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman with a knack for teaching children. She was easy-going, and came from a good family of hard-working people. She never gloated, and she was very easy to talk to, to get along with. Since she started dating my brother, we’d formed a tight kinship that was nothing more than good conversation and shared meals while Josh was “working”, and as of late, discussing wedding plans.

—

Lizzy and I were walking back to their house after a light dinner, arm in arm as the sun was dipping low in the sky. “You truly don’t have to escort me, Jacob, I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself while Joshua is caught up with work…” my heart ached as I realized the lie we were both telling her. That he was off doing his dealings instead of his “work”, ignoring the fact that she was home waiting for him while I sat in their study making sure she felt safe in her own home. 

“Of course you are, Lizzy, but I wouldn’t have ya eatin’ dinner alone and wandering the streets back home all by yourself. And neither would my brother. Not everyone is as kind-hearted as we are, y’know…” I raised my eyebrows and straightened my shoulders with faux-prestigiousness. 

“Stop with ya theatrics, you and Joshua both. A couple of dreamers, full of aplomb, the both of you,” Lizzy pushed her fingertips into my shoulder as she laughed, obviously a bit embarrassed by my gentlemanly actions. “But your kindness is appreciated.”

I reached into my pocket for my watch, noticing sunset was drawing nearer the further along we walked. Josh could either be finished soon, or he would be hours, still yet. Either way, I sucked in a tight breath and rolled my eyes at the thought of him losing last month’s wages in a bad hand, yet again. 

“Something wrong, Jacob?”

“No, I–” I was cut off by the smell of heavy smoke hitting my nose. I glanced West, seeing thick black clouds of smoke rising into the darkening sky just a few blocks away. “Fire.”

I quickly pulled my arm from Lizzy’s and dashed down the street, the sound of her heels hitting the brick pavers as she followed right behind me. I could feel my heart begin pounding with adrenaline as we rounded the corner, coming up on the chaos. It was Berwick’s Grocer, a two-story building with boarding rooms on the second level. Flames were shooting out of the windows and the front door, with twenty or so people already rushing around trying to stop the burn.

“Jacob!” Lizzy finally caught up to me, both of us out of breath and panting with fear. The heat from the building was already so intense that I could feel it heating my cheeks as we stood out in the street.

Just then Mrs. Berwick, the owner of the grocer ran up to the two of us, her hands grabbing at Lizzy’s. “Ms. Elizabeth…! He’s inside, he’s–he’s still in there!” she cried, her face contorted into a panic that told me the depth of her worry. 

“Who, who?!” Lizzy questioned, leaning into her and gripping her hands back in comfort. 

“My baby, my Benjamin! I couldn’t get to him!” she cried, nearly falling to her knees. “My husband is away, the fire happened so quickly, I–”

I watched as the scene became a blur, the helpless cries of people panicked in the streets, watching in horror as the smoke grew darker and darker in the sky. The flames broke through another window, shattering the glass out onto the street as it began to flash inside the building. Lizzy’s eyes met mine in question, both of us trying to decide what to do.

But I knew then, I had no choice. 

I quickly fastened my jacket as my feet carried me to the side of the building, searching for an alternate entrance inside. I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t have a damned clue about anything. All I knew was that I had to find that boy.

“Jacob, no!” I heard Lizzy cry from behind me. 

“Stay back, Liz! Do not follow me!” I spit over my shoulder.

I made entrance into the building from the side, the smoke thick and black but still untouched by heavy flames here. I began calling out for Benjamin, stepping carefully over the boxes of dry goods and storage as I maneuvered through the rooms. It was nearly impossible to see in the smoke, and I pulled my coat over my mouth and nose to shield myself from it. 

‘I built this building, I know its walls,’ I kept telling myself as I called for Ben over and over and over…

I blindly walked through the narrow halls, relying only on my faint memory of building its skeleton just a few years ago to guide me. Finally, after what felt like hours, I heard his voice calling back out. Small and faint, but there. 

I rushed to the sound of his voice, quickly finding him huddled in a corner. I scooped him up and ran right back toward the way I came, my lungs feeling as though they were full of heavy stones. I quickly removed my coat and covered him with it, telling him to keep his face covered as best he could. I kept him close and protected from the nearby flames, instead taking the licks myself as we passed by them. The child cried in my arms as he clutched on to me, terrified and gasping for air. 

“We’re almost there, Ben. Just hold on to me…” I told him. “It’s alright, just keep your face covered…we’re almost out…”

I saw the light of the door, dispensing him back on the floor and pushing him to run toward it. I heard loud crashes behind me, things falling from shelves and pieces of the ceiling breaking and collapsing. My eyes were blurring, and my skin felt as though it was on fire, itself. 

And then I heard Lizzy’s voice. 

Quiet and back from where I’d just come, she called out for me. 

“Liz! I told you not to follow me! Why are you–” I was cut off again by the sound of exploding tin cans, hundreds of pieces of metal falling onto the floor from a high shelf. I coughed hard as I tried to find her in the thick clouds and rubble.

“Jacob!” her voice screamed, curdled and guttural. That sound alone filled me with more terror than when I’d heard Benjamin.

“Lizzy, come toward my voice!” I yelled, the flames daring to lick more closely, now. My entire body was still full of adrenaline, but more so, fear. Why did she follow me in? Why didn’t she stay behind like I’d asked?!

“Jacob, I can’t breathe!” she screamed.

I felt tears flood my eyes as her voice sounded so graveled, the room around us popping and lurching and exploding as the walls heated and melted. An anchor beam had fallen across the floor, putting a giant burning barrier between the two of us. “Here Liz, here! Come to me!” I urged her, willing her to come to me instead of retreating to a corner where she thought she may be able to hide from the flames. 

I was met with silence. 

“Liz! Liz, can you hear me?!” I coughed, my tongue so dry and my eyes so heavy. “Elizabeth!!!”

No. Not like this. 

I felt my mind begin to leave me, my breaths short and shallow as my body fought for fresh air. I had to turn around, I had no other choice… but Liz…

I stood for as long as I could, wandered around in the darkness, still yelling her name as each breath I took filled my lungs with more of the chalky smoke. I knew that if I stayed any longer, I would surely die of smoke inhalation.

I had no control over my body any longer. It had gone into survival mode on its own, and my legs carried me backwards toward the door, away from the flames, away from the smoke, away from the sound of her voice.

Why, Lizzy?!

I fell backwards out the door, my feet stumbling over one another as strangers’ hands gripped my shoulders and arms and pulled me away from the burning building. My limp body was drug away, and cold water was poured onto my face and limbs. I was coughing, strangling for breath as people surrounded me on the ground and tried to keep me alert and alive. 

I went into a state of shock as my body convulsed, ridding itself of the nerves and fearful adrenaline that had kept me alive for the past few minutes. 

“You saved him, Jacob! My Ben!” I heard the faint sound of Mrs. Berwick’s voice from a crowd behind me. “Thank you, thank you!”

The next few seconds were a flurry of more pulling on my limbs, more cold rags to my face, more shedding of my charred boots and clothing. I could smell the scent of my own burnt skin, and the pain of what was sure to be scarred reminders of this day tattooed on my body for the rest of my life. 

Where is Liz…

I could hear the echo of her voice still in the back of my mind, like a screeching siren begging me to come back and find her. And I knew right then that the sound of her voice would haunt my dreams for all of my years to come. How did this happen? Why did she come inside?

And then when I thought my mind couldn’t get any darker, I felt the familiar hands of my twin rest on my shaking shoulders.

“Jake, Jacob, are you alright? Where is she?! Where is Lizzy?” He helped me move to stand, his eyes devoid of anything other than fearful hope. 

“I–I don’t–”

I could hardly move my lips enough to form words. My tongue was sandpaper, my voice like hot embers sitting in my throat. 

All I could do was stare into the fire, the interior of the building now caving in on itself. People rushed us, pushed us aside and trampled us as they carried buckets of water to try and extinguish the flames. 

“Jacob! Where is Elizabeth!” he demanded, moving to stand in my line of sight. But I couldn’t look at him, I could barely even hear him, the world around me sounding as if I were locked in a glass room. Noises reverberating as I struggled to take a deep breath, struggled to think, struggled to even keep my balance on my feet. Why did she follow me?

All I could do was shake my head. Gently, from side to side as my eyes shot back and forth between the burning building and my mirror image, his face sullen and lips already downshot as he let the news consume him. 

“No. No! She couldn’t, she wouldn’t have– why was she…?” he began to pace, stomping his boots into the ground as hoards of people pushed past us. I became dizzy again, everything overwhelming me as I fought to believe it all, as well. Nothing made sense… just minutes ago we were arm-in-arm making our way back home. Minutes. And now…

I watched as my brother fell to his knees, uncaring of the dirt covering up his already filthy slacks. His head fell into his hands, his fingertips gripping into his curls as he screamed, cried, punched his fists into the ground beside him. My mind willed me to console him, but my body didn’t allow me to move. I was stuck in time and space, unable to do anything but stand there and breathe. Blink. Exist.

My back was to the building now as I noticed darkness had completely fallen. One step I took toward him, and then another, before my already weakened knees buckled, falling to his side as my lungs burned with the feeling of a hundred different kinds of rage. I let my weak arm drape over his shoulders as I fought for my own breath, feeling him shudder beneath it. The pain on the skin of my side was nearly unbearable, now. 

“You–” Josh muttered as he finally looked up to meet my eyes. “This is your fault…” he growled, his jaw clenched. “You’re the reason she’s dead, you’re the reason she burnt up in there…” 

“Wha–Josh, I tried to…” I could hardly push the words from my mouth, my body already shutting down on me. 

“Fuck you!” he yelled, pushing me over onto the dirt. I wretched out in pain as the skin on my side felt like white hot burning fire, worse than the flames that danced around my face just moments ago. “She’s gone! And you were supposed to be watching out for her! It’s your fault! She’d stil–” He couldn’t finish as his rage overtook him again, laying himself into me with weak punches to my face and chest. He was crying through it all, but I could tell he was serious. He truly thought it was my fault. 

And in my clouded thoughts… was it?

I couldn’t even fight back. All I could do was raise my arms over my face to defend the blows. Even in my wildest dreams, I could have never imagined this was how my night would have gone. Blow after weak, shoddy blow he delivered to my face, and I let him. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I should have just gone in further after her.

Maybe I should have died in there, too. 

Finally I felt the weight of him come off of me, seeing that two men had pulled him away and tossed him to the side. Through my burning and bloodshot eyes, I watched as he rolled on the ground, turning to sit and face the scene as his bloodied hands covered his face. He wept, his eyes boring into me with more hatred and sadness than I’d ever witnessed on his face. My mind was racing and blacking out at the same time. 

She’s gone, she’s gone. 

In the blink of an eye, and we aren’t getting her back. 

There my brother and I sat as we watched the chaos surround us, and it was only then I noticed all of the money surrounding us lying all over the ground. Coins and bills scattered in the dirt, ripped in half from our scuffle. He’d won his fucking hand. 

And, for what? A night of revelry lost with the love of his life, gambling on the savings they both had worked so hard to collect. He could have had that, with her, tonight. 

But, had he not gone and had I not escorted Lizzy for the evening, Benjamin may have surely met his bitter end. What’s more, the loss of a life at the brink of a new beginning, or the deliverance of an innocent child back into the arms of his mother?

Why must one fate have the other to exist?

Surely, my own redemption means nothing in this grand scheme. I was just at the right place at the right time. 

One more deep inhale of the smoke was the last thing I remembered before I let the exhaustion overtake me, closing my eyes as my body fell limp to the ground. 

—

1860

The smoke.

It wakes me now, except its scent isn’t the same as it was in my dream. The memory of my own burning skin and charring wood is replaced with the scent of a balmy, earthy smell… a little sweet and a little spicy, as if seasonings and herbs were being boiled to cleanse the air. 

I slowly open my eyes, afraid to get my bearings as I remember why I passed out in the first place. Joshua had hit me hard over the head with something in the alleyway of the bar. The flashback memory had confused me a bit, having to relive one of the worst days of my life in the fire, but then again I dream it all the time. I’m used to the nightmare replaying the night my brother’s fiance died at the fault of my own.

Joshua and I had gotten into another argument. But this time, he’d used more violence than he ever had, by knocking me completely out and bringing me… here, wherever here is. I’m lying on a wooden floor, and the room is lit with candles. My body is sore, but I can move. Everything is unfamiliar, and I’m positive I’ve never been here before. The air is humid and thick, and I think we must be close to water, but I know that is a long way from where we were.

I can hear mumbling from behind me… Joshua’s voice mixed in with another, a female. Her voice is unfamiliar too, so we must be at her dwelling. Where on earth did he bring me? I don’t trust him, I haven’t trusted him since the day of the fire, when he completely blamed the loss of his love on me. For a while, I accepted the blame, feeling a guilt so heavy in my state of depression that I believed it, too. But after some time and some reflecting, I realized there was nothing I could have done that night. She entered the building on her own, she became lost inside after I had warned her against it, and tried as I might, I simply could not save her without in turn losing my own life in the process. 

It was a truly horrific chain of unfortunate events. 

I can’t make out their conversation as they’re being hush, and my head is absolutely throbbing from the mix of the alcohol and whatever the hell Josh hit me over the head with. The blood from my nose is dried on my face, my eyes finally stopped watering, though everything is blurry and distorted as I try and listen harder.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” I hear Josh ask the stranger. 

“Do you doubt me, child?” the female challenges. 

“No, no. Of course I don’t. I just want to make sure this is going to go as smoothly as possible, and I won’t have to bother you again…”

What is going on?

I stir on the floor, moving my limbs as I try to sit up and understand. But Josh pushes me back down, before lifting me to sit in a chair. I can’t fight him, I’m too weak. 

“Tie him down,” I hear the stranger demand of Josh. What?

“No no, please,” I beg as I feel my hands being bound behind me. I begin kicking and fighting as best I can, pulling out every last bit of energy I have. 

“Stay still, Jacob, this will go a lot more smoothly if you just stop moving,” Josh bites with madness in his voice, tying a tight knot around my wrists. With the new feeling of the pain in my arms, my head clears up a bit, and I can see who the stranger in the room is. 

She’s a short woman, dark complected with dark gray hair hanging well below her waist. She’s dressed in what looks to be rags, but they’re colorful… Her head is wrapped in the same material, and dozens of gold and silver chains hang from her neck. Her hands, tattooed and adorned with rings and stones rub over one another as her deep black eyes watch Josh tie me to the chair. 

“Who are you? Where are we?” I ask, my voice now sounding more clear as I come off of the liquor. 

“Shh,” Josh spits in my ear as he ties my feet. 

“You’re in my home, child, no more questions,” she says. I hear wind chimes clinging in the distance as the crow of a bird screeches from a high corner. The candles flicker, almost as if the sound of her voice awakens them. The smell of the burning incense hits my nose again, turning my stomach.

“Why am I here? Let me go!” I fight, trying to free myself, but only learn that his knots are pulled tight. He laughs at my poor attempt. 

“Silence him,” she demands, and another wind blows through the rickety walls of the shack. I hear what sounds like shells clanking and sand falling, and the frogs in the bayou waters outside seem to sing a little louder.

Josh leans down to eye-level with me, and I swear I could spit in his face, if my morals didn’t hold me back. “You heard her, quiet. Not another word, or else we can use more force, if you want us to,” he shows his teeth in a pitiful attempt at a smile, but the light in his eyes left a long, long time ago. 

I scowl at him, cutting my losses as I become more nervous for the reason I am actually here. 

“I’m having a curse placed upon you, Jake,” Josh says as he stands back up. “With the help of my new friend here, Seraphine.” A wild whip of air blows through the home again, making my hair fall in front of my face. Fear settles in my belly at his words, and the darkness in the stranger’s eyes seems to become alight, just for a second as she watches us from her seat in the corner. 

I’ve heard about this magic, a cursed and fearsome magic whose practice dates back generations. It’s dark, and it's harrowing. A divination done correctly can change a man’s life for better or for worse, and from the stories I’ve heard told, it is best to steer clear unless you want your life changed forever. 

“You took the love of my life away from me, so it’s only fair if I subject you to a life of similar fate.” Josh projects as he begins pacing the room, his jaw clenched as he speaks. 

“No–” I contest.

Josh’s hands are suddenly on the arms of the chair I’m tied to, his face within inches of mine as he growls at me once more. “I said silence!”

The two of us stare at one another for what seems like minutes, challenging, gritting, both of us shifting our anger back and forth in the thin air that lies between us. “You took everything from me… all of it, and you’re going to learn exactly what that feels like…”

He stands back up, straightening his coat as he clasps his hands together behind him. I feel the sweat beginning to pool on my forehead as my anxiety settles in. 

“You’ll live out your years with no bounds, no end in sight. While everyone around you, everyone that you love ages naturally and grows old, you’ll stay this age forever. Everyone around you will meet the sweet taste of death, while you sit and watch it happen, over and over and over as you stay trapped here, at this very point in your life,” Josh says. “You’ll forever know what it feels like to crave death, wishing daily for it to take you away from this place just as I do, but you’ll never get to achieve it. You’ll watch everyone around you fall from grace and meet God himself, while you must sit with your sins and be a hostage of the Earth for the rest of eternity.”

I feel all the blood drain from my body as I realize he’s wishing, imposing this fate upon me at the hand of black magic. “Revenge,” I whisper. 

He nods, a sick smile gracing his lips. “Precisely, my brother.”

“How fucking could you?!” I snap a whisper at him, baring my teeth as if I could rip him apart with them.

He howls a long laugh, looking at Seraphine for validation. “How could I? How could you? You’re nothing but a sorry son of a bitch, and now you’re going to get every bit of what you deserve. My sweet Lizzy will have her justice.”

My head spins. “Justice?! Joshua, if I could tell you a hundred more times that her fate wasn’t by my hand, I wou–”

“His blood, Joshua!” Seraphine’s voice trembles across the air, loud and boisterous as the walls shake, the wind it causes nearly blowing every flamed candle out. My ears ring at the sound of it, and for a split second I see evidence of the tiniest bit of fear flash across Josh’s face, but he quickly qualms it. “I haven’t the time for any more arguments!”

Josh rips his knife from his side, opening the blade and slicing the rope that binds my wrists behind me. He grabs a glass vial that’s sitting on the table beside us, already half full of some kind of mix of herbs. Also on the table is a silver platter, a green stone, a bit of hair, and a few other odds and ends that I can’t make out before he raises my hand, slicing the skin of my palm until I feel blood dripping from it. I scream out in surprised pain as he collects the blood in the vial, capping it quickly and setting it back in the center of the silver platter. I get a head rush from the pain, and he ties my wrists behind me again. My eyes grow heavy as I hear words of accolades from Seraphine. 

“Good, Joshua, good…”

I feel like I’m about to pass out again as I feel more wind blow across my face, and a new smell drifts across my nostrils. There’s almost a sound of music in the air, but it doesn’t carry a melody, nor does it have a tune. It’s a blend of a thousand instruments that have no weight to them at all, but more so just noise and racket. I hear whispers in my ears as if ten people are standing next to me and in front of me, all speaking a different language from the one next to it. I’m dizzy, I’m confused, and I feel as if I could vomit, but what I feel the most is the scar on my side from the fire all those years ago. The skin is blazing, shocks running through it as if it were being burned all over again. 

I hear Seraphine’s voice, deep and gritty as she begins to recite an incantation. 

“By this blood the spell is cast, to weave your fate through ages vast. In realms of shadow, dark and deep, where time’s eternal echoes sleep.”

“With ancient might and words of old, your endless journey shall unfold. Through ages long and tales profound, in endless life, you shall be bound.”

“Forevermore, through realms of light, in days of dark and endless night. In time’s embrace your soul shall roam, a drifter in the vast unknown.”

Her hands are suddenly on my head, pressing down into my skull as if her life depended on it. My breathing begins to pick up, and I feel myself lose all control of my muscles. An energy flows through my system and all I can see in my mind are Seraphine’s eyes, hollow and black as she laughs at me, taunting me. 

This is it, I have met my fate, and there is nothing I can do about it. All at the hands of my brother, the one I entered this world with. My flesh and blood. He’s now taken measures so horrific so as to take away my entire future. Or give me more of it, I suppose. I’ll never love the same way again, knowing that I will be burdened with watching the end of it like the last petal falling from a late summer bloom. Nothing will be the same. Nothing will feel the same. I hope his revenge tastes sweet, because cursing me by the hand of black magic may end his life in such a way that he, too, did not see coming.

—

One Month Later

I’m lodged between two pieces of lumber, holding myself upright at the apex of a gable as I drive the last nail into the board. My fellow crewmen and I have been working tirelessly on this boarding house for over a month now, and finally we are seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Drink, Jacob?” I’m offered a canteen by my friend John, of which I graciously accept. I look out over the land, the early Autumn air barely peeking through the still-harsh sunlight. I’m a man of few words these days, ever since that night my brother kidnapped me and took me to that woman’s shack. I haven’t been the same since. My mind tends to drift, and I find myself finding new things to dwell over… things that I hadn’t thought of before, now that I am apparently unable to age. 

I’d woken up that next morning in a nearby grove of trees a little ways from where Seraphine’s home was. Josh was nowhere to be found, I knew he wouldn’t show his face again. Not after that. He knew I would probably kill him. 

I felt the same, yet different. It’s hard to explain, and it could be all in my head. And I’m yet to know if the curse even worked. I won’t even know until a few years from now, if I start to see wrinkles on my own skin. 

I don’t know how to think anymore. I don’t know how to live my day to day life. Things seem so uniform and monotonous, and I hope that the rest of my life won’t find me dwelling this way.

“Everything well with you, mate? You’ve seemed a bit off here lately,” John asks as we take a second to wipe the sweat from our brows as we perch on the unfinished high roof of the building. 

I shrug. “Guess so, just feelin’ a bit down, y’know.”

“Season is about to change, you following the next job when we finish here?” he asks, taking another swig from the canteen. 

“If life allows it,” I reply, still feeling so unsure about any and everything. Just then, my eye is caught by someone walking the grounds down below, a woman dressed in a white dress and hat, carrying a parasol over her shoulder as she wanders with another woman. I can hardly see her face from up here, but just from the way she carries herself, I can tell that she is beautiful. “Who is that?” I ask him.

His eyes follow mine. “Oh, that’s Ms. Y/N, the daughter of Mr. St. Lemire. Quite the pretty one, I say.” I see the sunlight catch her face as she cranes her neck up to see us, and just as I suspected, her beauty nearly makes me fall straight onto the unfinished floor of this boarding house. “Lives under her father’s thumb though, so I’ve heard.”

I realize then that I haven’t taken a breath since the second I saw her. My chest tightens, and I finally inhale. “Is that so,” is all I manage. 

“Mmhm. Fellow that started the job with us tried to ask her name once, offer her an escort to get shade under a tree, he was fired the next day,” John explains, drawing my attention away from her. 

“Is that true?” I ask, my interest suddenly piqued. 

“Sure as hell is. Off limits. A damned shame, too. She’s shinier than a new penny.”

I feel myself become suddenly intrigued with the thought of me trying to escort her to get shade under a tree. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the soft touch of a woman. But the other man was fired for even speaking to her, and I need this job, I need this pay. Maybe I can find another way. Lord knows at this point, I have little left to lose.

—

Days pass, and Ms. St. Lemire still graces us with her presence at the construction site almost daily. I don’t know why she does, she has little to no use being here, except distracting the lot of us from doing our jobs. I keep to myself though, as the wandering eyes of the others follow her every move each day she visits. Some days she’s with her father, some days she’s with a few other ladies, but she has yet to be by herself. My friend must have been right about her living under her father’s thumb. 

The workday was about to end one Friday afternoon, and Ms. Y/N had been waltzing around the property with another woman while we cleaned up our tools and wasted nails from the site. I hid my wandering eyes underneath the brim of my hat, only peeking from under it every so often so as to catch glimpses of her. I wouldn’t swear to it, but on occasion I think she may have been looking, too. But I’d never acknowledge it. 

“Evenin’, Ms. St. Lemire, care to indulge with me down at the pub after supper?” I heard one of the men from the sawmill speak from across the lawn. He must not have heard about the other man being fired.

“Oh, no, thank you, I don’t imbibe,” I heard her voice for the very first time, soft but a bit more rugged than I had imagined. He hair fell in a long thick braid down her back, a cream colored ribbon fastened at the end.

“Now,” the man pressed, “not even wine?”

She shook her head as I continued to work, stealing a glance every few seconds. “No. Only on holidays,” she replied, looking to her friend as they both share a giggle. 

“Is every day not a holiday that God has given us, ma’am?” he goes on, obviously pressing more after she had sternly declined. 

“Sure, but not every day is worth celebrating with libation. Good day,” she bites, offering him a nod as she begins to walk away. 

“Oh, come on, let a man show you a good time!” he demands as he catches her, his hand on her waist as she turns, leaving what looked to be a fairly dark mark of dirt and sawdust all over the back of her light blue dress. 

I stand. She turns quickly, ripping her dress from his grasp while her other white-gloved hand slaps him right across the face. The crew erupts with gasps and surprised laughter. “Do not ever touch me again, and do not ever insist upon a lady after she has clearly said no,” she barks, her finger in his face.

I think I just fell in love.

My eyes are bulging from my head, just the same as everyone else on the job, all of us unable to speak after witnessing that spectacle. My Lord, am I impressed.

Her friend pulls her by the hand back toward their horse and carriage as our foreman comes charging toward the group that had gathered. 

“What in the hell is going on here?!” he asks, and we all stay silent. “Someone give me a god damned answer or there will be no break for lunch all next week…”

One man clears his throat and averts his eyes toward the man in question, and I watch as the foreman goes toward him, ready to question the entire scene. Before he does, though, he notices the group’s silence. “Back to work, all of you! Still an hour’s worth of the job to finish! Go!” I make myself look busy until I hear his voice again. 

“Jacob! Attend to Ms. St. Lemire at her carriage, her coachman has gone to relieve himself in the woods. Water the horses,” he demands, and given the state of his rage, I know better than to attest to that. 

I take off walking behind Ms. St. Lemire and her friend, barely keeping up as they are walking rather quickly toward the carriage. I can see the fire raging through her as she walks; no longer is she carrying herself with the same grace she usually holds. She’s mad, and she’s embarrassed.

Her friend steps up into the carriage first, and offers Y/N her hand for help just as I reach them. She steps on the edge, and her shoe slips off the ledge, making her stumble and nearly fall backwards. “Whoa, ma’am, careful,” I say as I catch her back on my shoulder and arm. She squeals out of surprise and tries to steady herself, her hand slipping out of her friend’s. I help her to get her footing on the ground as she turns to look at me, her bodyweight going limp for a fraction of a second as she finally stands up on her own again. I raise my eyebrows in question as her eyes meet mine, sparkling in the late evening sun. “Are you alright?” I ask. 

She clears her throat. “Yes, um, fine, fine, thank you–” she stands, taking her friend’s hand again and successfully stepping up into the carriage. I nod, making my way to the front of the carriage to tend to the horses. I take a few steps to the side of the road where the water supply is, fetching a metal bucket and pumping water into it. I try not to pay attention, but I can’t help but notice Ms. Y/N and her friend quietly whispering to one another while avoiding my eyes. I keep myself busy letting the horses drink, petting them and speaking quietly to them. I can still feel the feeling of her rested on my shoulder, and the smell of her light perfume still dances across my nose.

“Sir,” she speaks up, catching my attention. 

“Yes Ma’am?” I answer, coming out from my hiding spot behind the horses.

“I just wanted to thank you for breaking my fall,” she says, her friend snickering behind her shoulder. “I surely would have landed in the dirt, and ruined my dress, hadn’t you caught me,” she smirks. 

I feel a wave of confidence and anxiousness roll over me at the fact that she’s speaking to me. Thanking me, when all I had done for weeks now was admire her from afar. 

“Not a problem, Ma’am, though I think George over there might have actually left his stained handprint on your dress…” I say. “May have gotten dirty, anyway.”

She turns and pulls the skirt of her dress to the side as they both inspect it. She clicks her tongue as she sees the dark black dusty stain. “Ah, no matter. Nothing a quick wash can’t fix,” she says with a quipped smile. She clasps her hands back in her lap. 

The two of us stare at one another for a beat, unsure of what to say next. 

“I um, I’m sorry he… that he was so insistent with you just then, men can truly be dastardly,” I say, pulling my rag from my back pocket to wipe my hands free of any more sawdust.

She laughs. “That they can,” she smiles, extending her hand out in front of her for me to shake. “Y/N, pleasure to meet you Mr…”

I brush my hand across my shirt for one last attempt at ridding myself of dirt. “Jacob, pleasure is mine, Ma’am.” Her hand isn’t as gentle as I’d imagined. Her handshake is steady and forceful, and her eyes lock on mine as she repeats my name back to me. The sound of that, god, I’ll be replaying in my head for weeks. 

“You’re um, you’re the daughter of the boss man, I hear?” I try to break the silence that had fallen as her hand drops from mine. 

“I am. Unfortunately,” she quips, earning another chuckle from her friend. 

I’m taken aback. “Ma’am?” 

She lets out a loud sigh. “Oh, being the daughter of a very wealthy and very religious man has its perks, I suppose, but there’s nothing like the realization that I won’t ever get to make my own decisions or live my own life, you know?”

At first, I’m astounded by her sudden willingness to share something this personal with a stranger, but her personality seems to reflect that she doesn’t even really care who knows it. 

“I’m sure it could be… trying, at times,” I try and understand, running my hand along the belly of the horse.

“Trying isn’t the word, Jacob. Far from it,” she clicks her tongue again as her gaze diverts back to the work site. “It’s a miracle he lets me take my afternoon outings to come here, let alone that he allows me out of the house at all.”

“Ah,” I say, nodding slowly. 

“You aren’t one of those dastardly men you mentioned, are you?” she asks, cocking her head. 

I bite my lips in, surprised at her forwardness again. “No, no ma’am. I don’t like to think I am, at least.” 

“I don’t believe you are, either,” she replies, and I walk closer to the carriage. 

“And how could you be so sure?” I press, cocking an eyebrow as I let my elbows rest on the side of the carriage. 

“You’ve been nothing but a gentleman yet. Called me nothing but Ma’am even after I told you my name. Apologized on another man’s behalf, and… you care for my horses,” she says, smiling a sweet, coy smile that nearly knocks me to my knees. I’m left speechless, and I can feel my cheeks burning with shyness. 

Instead, I bring my hand back up to the horse. “I was raised with them.”

“Admirable. So you must know them well.”

“A bit, my father kept a barn when I was a boy, taught me how to care for them,” I reply.

“Hm,” she says, averting her eyes to the coachman returning back from his escape to the woods. “We’ve got a pregnant mare back at home, our first experience with one. Maybe you could assist us when her time comes? Should be within the next week…” she proposes, refastening the satin ribbon at the end of her braid. 

“I could, perhaps. If your father and the foreman allowed me a day from work,” I say, knowing that I have plenty of experience in that department. 

“I’ll arrange it,” she says as the coachman takes his place. “Father will be sure to accept the help. Especially from someone who already works for him.” She raises her hand to wave just as the carriage takes off. “Nice to meet you, Jacob.”

I raise my hand as well, watching as the dirt kicks up behind the wheels. “Likewise, Ms. Y/N.”

—

Day and night, I think of her. She’s infiltrated my dreams, the sound of her voice still playing like a song in the back of my mind. We’ve only spoken once, that day she slapped George, but it seems as though that’s all the time I needed to know that she already holds a very special place in my heart. It isn’t often that I let a woman in like that, hell, I’ve only ever had one serious relationship my whole life, and it was when I was fifteen and thought I was in love. That feeling gave me an inkling though, all those years ago, of what love may actually be. And though we grew up and went our separate ways, I’ve still searched high and low for that longing feeling that I had in my chest. 

And I felt it that day when Ms. St. Lemire fell off of her carriage and into my arms. 

I can’t explain it. I’m almost embarrassed to admit the amount of space she takes up in my thoughts. I’ve nearly forgotten the fact that my brother laid a curse upon me. My thoughts are taken up by something else, now. A distraction from the fact that my fate is sealed. Her face is the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I find myself wondering how her lips would feel pressed to mine, how her skin would feel under my rugged touch. How her voice would sound saying my name over and over…

But no. There’s no way a woman like her would ever find interest in a scoundrel like myself. I’m too lowly for her liking, surely. And the fact that her father would probably never let me near her enough to even say hello. No. Surely her life is already planned for her, her husband probably already chosen to keep the family fortune alive long after Mr. St. Lemire’s death. I have no hope, but still yet, I let my mind pretend it exists. 

—

I’m drying my hands off after I’ve cleaned them thoroughly, watching as Y/N sits in the hay with her back against the barn wall. She’s admiring the brand new foal as we give them space, watching intently as it nurses on its mother.

“That was… quite the experience, Jacob,” she mutters through a tired smile, the toes of her riding boots knocking together. “Not sure she would have made it had you not come to her rescue.”

“Oh, she would have been fine,” I say. “Your hands here had it covered,” referencing the other three men who helped to run the barn. 

“I’m not so sure,” she says. “I’m just glad we went and fetched you when we did.” Her hair is a mess and tangled all over her face, her clothing covered in hay and mud from our very eventful afternoon. A carriage had rolled through the construction site midmorning, the coachman yelling for me. He’d announced that the horse was in labor and having a difficult time, so I hopped in and we were at the barn within half an hour. I’d never tell her, but I was glad they got me when they did, too, or else we may have been burying the poor things. 

“Will you stay for supper, Jacob?” she finally speaks again after I’ve taken the spot on the ground across the stall from her. 

“Oh no, I couldn’t, thank you. I’ve got a long walk home, and sunrise comes early,” I say, fighting a yawn. I pull my knife from my side and begin peeling at the grime that is caked under my fingernails. 

“You live to work, don’t you?” she asks gently. “You truly love it?”

I nod. “I do, I’ve always loved to build. Work with my hands, my father and I built a barn about this size when I was a child. He taught me everything I know about laborin’.” I left out the part that Josh helped, too, not wanting her to delve into that detail of my life.

“Well he taught you well,” she says through that sweet smile. I swear that I could sit here and talk with her about absolutely nothing for days on end. 

“Thank you, Ma’am. So… why do you frequent our job site so often, if you don’t mind me asking?” I have wanted to ask her this question for a while, but was unsure about it. 

She takes a deep breath. “My Father wants it to be mine when it’s completed. Wants me to have a sense of purpose, running the boarding house. My husband and I, that is.”

There it is. 

My chest clenches. “Oh,” I reply. “I was unaware of your status, I apologize.” I shut my knife back up, and begin to stand. 

“Oh, no, it’s–” her eyes drag longingly to mine, and I cock my head in question. I shouldn’t stay here any longer if she is already spoken for. My job here is done. 

“He’s away, he travels with my father a lot for work, for business…” she says, her voice fallen. “I–I’ve only ever met him a handful of times, actually.”

I slowly sit back down. “...You’ve only met him a few times? And you’re to marry him?” 

She nods, her face contorting as she breathes in a chopped breath. I stay quiet, quite unsure what to ask next. 

“It’s been the plan since I was a young girl, marry a man within the church, devote my life to him and our work, have his children, and that’s that,” she says tilting her head to the side as she avoids my eyes. 

“...And that’s that.”

“I’m– I don’t believe that that is how I want my life to go, Jacob,” she admits, biting her lip. I’m surprised again at her forwardness. 

“Isn’t it?” I ask. “Why is that?”

Finally she does look at me. “Because he is fourteen years my senior.” There can’t be much difference in age between the two of us, maybe a year or two either way. I’d ask if she is twenty-five as well, but I figure it rude to ask a lady her age. 

I sigh. “That’s a bit of time,” I reply, trying to sound neutral.

“It is. It’s way too much time. I know it seems a normal gap when it comes to marriages but, not for me. That isn’t what I want. Especially not with…” she stops herself, sitting up straighter against the barn wall. “Anyway. It must be nearing time for me to return home.” She stands suddenly, and I follow suit. She extends her hand out to me again. “Thank you, Jacob, for all of your help today.”

I clear my throat. “Anytime, Ma’am, please just let me know if there is anything else I can do to help,” I offer, giving her hand a little extra squeeze as I grip it in mine. Just like lightning bolts.

I watch as her chest turns red. “I will, we will. And please, call me Y/N. See you next time.”

She pulls her hair back from her face as she gives me one last look as we part ways in front of the barn, and I head toward home.

—

Two days pass with only a few sightings of Y/N, and nothing more than passing glances and head nods come from either of us. I chalk it up to her not wanting someone to see us interacting, then reporting back to her father. I trust it, but it still feels as though she seeks me out. Watches me until I notice her so that she can offer me a smile. If only she knew that my days wouldn’t be the same without them, anymore.

That next morning, though, the coachman had come to collect me from the site again, informing me that the foal had begun to exhibit signs of distress in the late hours last night. Again we travel the half hour to the homestead and I gently approach the stable where we had left them before. The stable was clean and bright. I could tell there were several people attending to it at all times. Every tool and piece of equipment you could ever need was in that barn, and I felt envious that I was not raised with such fineries. A small brown paddle boat leans against the side of the barn, a paddle resting against the wall in the morning sun. I step into the barn and there I see an exhausted Y/N leaned against the stable door, her chin in the crook of her elbows, watching on as the mare tends to her baby. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, startling her. 

“Oh, Jacob,” she perks up. “The foal, he is acting strange. Will hardly nurse, he’s been rolling around…” 

I quickly walk into the stall, greeting both animals. “Has he defecated?”

“Very little, but yes,” she answers, following me in. I squat and run my hand along the foal’s belly, racking my brain as I think back on all that my father had taught me about colic. 

“How many times an hour does he nurse?” I ask. 

She runs her hand over her face, obviously very worried. “Two, maybe three?”

“He may be a bit dehydrated. He needs to nurse seven, maybe eight times an hour.” I take a wet rag from a bucket and clean the mother’s underside as best I can, then try and assist the foal in trying to suckle again. “Sometimes their feedings need supplemented, and he may, but try and just make sure he is eating often, for a few minutes each time,” I instruct. I know that the animals will require care and monitoring through the day and into the evening, so I tell her that. 

“I’ll send someone to tell the Foreman that you need to stay here, with me, and help…” she says, still a mess as she worries herself to death. “I’m sure they can all handle the worksite without you, today.”

“Lots of trust you put in those men, Ma’am,” I joke as I grab a brush and run it along the mare’s back.

“I told you to call me Y/N, Jacob,” she jests, coming to join me at the mare’s side. She’s dangerously close to me, closer than she has been since she stumbled back onto me that day. My heart rate rises, hearing our names said together.

I hand her the brush. “I know you did, but I still feel it to be improper. I would only call my friends by their first names,” I say lowly as she begins brushing the horse at an odd angle.

Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second. “Friends,” she mumbles. “Wouldn’t you think of us as… that? As friends...”

I swallow my pride as her eyes bore into mine. I gently place my hand overtop of hers, guiding her hand in a more comfortable way to brush. “I’d like to be considered as such,” I reply, my hand gripping overtop of hers more sternly, now. I can’t help myself.

I watch as she swallows, too, my hand guiding hers. “Then it’s considered,” she breathes, moving her face just a little closer to mine. I can hear my heart in my ears, my palm sweating where it touches her hand. “I’ll not answer to ma’am again,” she whispers, her eyes flitting from my eyes to my lips. 

I’m fighting everything within me not to kiss her, not to give in to her proximity and finally feel the closeness I’ve been craving so desperately. But I push through it. The woman is betrothed. 

Our faces are nearly touching, only inches of thick air separate us. I can hardly breathe, let alone think. But I must speak…

“As you wish, Y/N,” I say gently, her name tasting like sweet summer honey on my tongue. I can feel her breath on my lips, all of my nerve endings on fire as she breathes in the way I said her name. The brush falls onto the ground but our hands stay clasped as she turns to me fully, and I grip her hand tighter, pulling her into me. She takes my opposite hand and holds it like the first, our noses now barely brushing. I can hear her ragged breathing as she holds herself back, and I know better than to make any more moves. So I just wait, clenching my teeth together so I don’t let my urges get the best of me. I squeeze her hands in mine as she rises on her tiptoes, our foreheads now balancing on one another’s. God, this woman is everything…

“Say it again, Jacob,” she whispers, her lips almost on mine.

“Y/N, Y/N… Y/N…” I sing over and over like a hymn to the heavens, wanting to say nothing but her name for the rest of eternity. What a joke that is, since eternity is apparently all that I have. But her name on my tongue is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. She lets out the smallest whimper at the sound of it, and I have to envision ropes tying me down to stop myself from letting my demons win.

Her hand rises to rest on my chest, likely feeling my speeding heart. “You’re anxious, Jacob,” she teases as my worry comes true. 

“Of course I am, look at you,” I mutter, honestly. 

“What, covered in sweat and hay and manure? Sure,” she laughs a little, pulling away as our eyes meet again, and our hands disconnect. 

I push a strand of hair from her eye. “Yes, and it’s beautiful,” I say honestly, again. 

I watch her cheeks rise with pink. “Don’t flatter me.”

I clear my throat. “My apologies, if I was forward.”

Her hand reaches up, her thumb brushing on my lower lip, removing what felt to be a speck of dirt. The action nearly knocks me on my back, the soft pad of her finger so close to where I could just…

“Not forward. No apologies,” she demands, her voice deeper than normal. She steps backward as we both breathe, and collect ourselves. We stand there for a good fifteen seconds, just staring at one another. My chest is rising and falling now, just from watching her watch me. The tension is so thick I could–

“Ms. St. Lemire!” I hear a man’s voice from the front of the stable. “Shall I let the Foreman know we’ll need assistance all afternoon?”

She clears her throat and shakes her head free of her seemingly intrusive thoughts. “Yes, um, yes please, Winston, if you don’t mind!”

“Not in the least, Ma’am,” he says, and I hear his footsteps retreating.

She clears her throat again as we are both relieved that we weren’t caught those fifteen seconds ago. “My father will be home soon, from his travels,” she breathes, laying a steadying hand on the mare still beside us. 

“And your fiance?” I say before I can stop myself.

“I haven’t got a ring on my finger, Jacob,” she barks, swallowing harshly as if she is offended, or maybe just mad at the fact I brought him up. But she’s telling me true, there’s no ring on her hand to indicate her status. 

“...And?” I press, a little confused. “I thought you said they travel togeth–”

“Yes. They will return home together. And I will have to go with him, I haven’t got a choice,” she says, crossing her arms as she shakes her head. 

I leave it at that, there’s not much that I can say. Her life has been decided for her, and though it seems that their plan goes against everything that she actually wants, I’m positive she doesn’t have a dog in her own fight.

—

Later that evening after I’d spent most of the day showing the barn hands more ways to care for the foal, Y/N returns from her afternoon duties at the homestead to find me taking a catnap in the barn stall. 

“Sleeping on the job, Jacob?” I’m awoken by her sweet voice. I lift my hat from covering my eyes, finding her in the same clothing from earlier this morning. She tosses me a green apple, and I barely catch it as my sleep is still barely escaping me. 

I sit up. “This for me, or for the mare?”

“You. This is for the mare. She prefers a red apple,” she says, offering the mare the fruit as she pets her nose. 

I smile and stand, noticing my stomach growling as soon as I take a bite from the Granny Smith. She disappears for a second, but returns back with another horse, a male Appaloosa. “Come on, want to show you something,” she says as she nods her head for me to follow her out of the barn. 

“But the foal–” I say, replacing my hat.

“The hands will tend to them. Come on, evening is setting in,” I hear her voice from outside. When I finally exit the barn, I find her mounted bareback on the horse, one hand on his mane and the other shielding her eyes from the evening sun. “Hop on, come on.”

My eyes widen at her offer, and I freeze, unsure that what I am seeing is truly real. “Jacob, come on! Hurry!” she orders again. 

I decide to cut my losses, so I take a little run, launching myself up onto the horse with the help of her hand. He’s a smaller horse and still young, yet, but I can tell he has a lot of heart. She begins trotting him to the wooded area behind the barn, and as he picks up speed, I’m completely unsure of what to do with my hands. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden this way as a passenger. 

“Hold on!” she instructs, and as the horse begins to run as we rush through the woods, I have no choice but to wrap my arms around her waist. She guides the horse over the grassy trail, expertly avoiding rocks and hillsides as if she’s ridden all her life. And if I had to guess, she probably has. My arms grip tightly around her as I have no choice but to do so, but I still try to keep them at a respectful level. 

After a few minutes, we enter into a clearing, the deep orange setting sun peeking through the leaves and casting a fire-like glow to the air. She slows the horse as I look over her shoulder, seeing a small pond with an old dock built right out into the middle of it. The water looks fresh and clean, and I can tell that though the dock is old, it’s still in good shape. 

“Where have you brought me, Y/N?” I ask, leaning into her ear just a bit as the horse rounds a tree. “And who is this?”

“To my most favorite place in the world,” she says, stepping off the horse and onto the ground. I follow after her as she ties him to a tree. “And this is Silas. Silas the Great, actually,” she introduces me to the horse. “I took him under my wing five years ago, he was injured and we nursed him back to health. I sat all day and all night in the stable with him, just so he knew he wasn’t alone. Now we’re a bit inseparable,” she says, touching her nose to his. My heart swells, never have I met a woman with a passion nearly the same as my own. Maybe more so, even. 

“Nice to meet you, Silas the Great,” I say, running my hand down his side. “You uh, kind of surprised me… I didn’t expect you–”

“To know how to actually ride a horse? Mm, well if that surprised you, then so will the reason I brought you here,” she says as she turns and walks toward the dock, unbuttoning her riding vest. Next, her hands are gripping at the bottom of her white blouse. She rips it right over the top of her head, tossing it behind her as she turns back to look at me. Then comes her corset. She pulls at its ties behind her until it loosens, and she steps free of it.

Again, I stand frozen. …What?

She then undoes her belt, and kicks off her pants and riding boots as she stands on the weathered wood of the dock. “You coming?” she yells as she continues to undress.

“Ma’am, uh, Y/N, I don’t think this is appropriate,” I say, trying to look anywhere but at her undressing herself. 

“What, rinsing off the straw and sweat from the day? Don’t you want to get cleaned up?” she teases though a side smile. 

I open my mouth to speak, and my brain tells my legs to walk, but I can’t. I’m simply stunned, and she’s standing there in her undergarments, begging me to dive into the water with her. She lifts her pointer finger to tell me to come, so I beckon every bit of nervous energy I have and walk down the slight decline to the water’s edge, gently kicking my boots off into the dirt. 

She watches me intently, feeling no embarrassment or shyness in the least from standing before me, a complete stranger, in almost nothing. I walk slowly to the dock, unbuttoning my shirt with shaking hands as I’m terrified someone is going to catch us. I pull my arms from my sleeves and let the shirt fall behind me, and I swallow the lump in my throat as my hands reach my belt buckle. I pull it from the loops, so slowly that I almost stop altogether if it weren’t for her eyes telling me to get on with it. 

I’m finally before her in my undergarments, and try as I may, keeping my excited self hidden behind them is becoming more and more trying, especially since I can see her nipples through her thin white undergarments. She’s absolutely astoundingly gorgeous. 

“Your hat, Jacob,” she laughs, tapping on her own head. “Unless you’d like to wash it, too.”

I swallow, plucking it from my head and tossing it onto my boots beside me. She smiles, offering me a satisfied look as she turns and dives head first into the water. She re-emerges a few seconds later, brushing the wet hair away from her eyes. “Ooooh!” she exclaims. “A little cold but it feels great, come on!” 

Who is this woman, and where has she been all my life?

I close my eyes and send up a quick prayer of thanks and good luck, and I take a deep breath, hurling myself into the water. She’s right. It isn’t warm, but the refreshment clears my mind and wakes me up more than the ride here, and when I surface, her bright smiling face is right in front of me, her hands gripping my face as I catch my breath. 

“Your face is filthy, Jake,” she laughs as her soft hands rub water over my cheeks and forehead, and I can hardly see straight as she calls me by my nickname. No one’s called me that in a very, very long time. 

I’m still shocked and I know she can tell; it’s as though her comfortability with me increases with every passing second. I know better than to argue it. So I let her clean my face, her thumbs and the pads of her fingers gently running over my eyes and jawline… and suddenly I feel a chill come over me, but not from the temperature of the water. 

I can’t pull my eyes from her as we both fight to stay afloat in the water. The way it’s reflecting off her face, making her eyes look like diamonds as they scan over me. Her lips so perfectly shaped as the corners curl up into a smile as she continues cleansing my cheeks from the mess of the day. “There,” she says. “All better.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice deciding to leave me just like all my thoughts have. It’s like the most perfect moment that I never want to end, and I hardly even know this woman. She slowly separates from me and swims to the dock, hoisting herself onto it and sitting with her legs dangling in the water. She wrings her hair out and wipes her eyes, watching as I swim over to join her. 

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” she says quietly. 

“Yes.” I tilt my head back into the water and run my fingers through my long hair, ridding it of any pieces of straw that have lodged themselves there over the past couple of days. 

“I’ve been swimming here since I was a child. I think the water is healing, magical, even. I always leave here feeling like a whole new person. My own little oasis,” she explains, turning her face to the remnant sunbeams as she reclines on her hands. I hoist myself onto the dock to sit beside her, still feeling just the least bit uneasy at our lack of no translucent clothing. 

“Well thank you for sharing it with me,” I say.

She grins. “You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” 

I laugh a little. “Ah, I don’t know, am I?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Tell me about yourself. Tell me somethin’ you do, besides build boarding houses and take care of foals.”

I lick my lips as I look out over the glittering water, admiring the willow trees hanging out over it. I grip the necklace that lives around my neck in my hand, holding the heavy silver charm between my fingers. I’ve never taken it off, since the day Josh gifted it to me. It was one of the very first things he made in his shop once he became a master silversmith. Though the two of us have become enemies, I still can’t bring myself to remove it. 

“Well, not much really,” I explain, holding back the fact that I am apparently going to stay twenty-five for the rest of eternity. “I devote myself to work, leave myself little time for much else.”

“Hm. No friends, family, no other hobbies?” she asks. 

I shake my head slowly as I turn to her. “No more family,” again, I keep Josh from conversation. “I guess I enjoy going on long walks, learning history, telling stories… spending my last spare coins on a beer or two to reward myself for a long work week,” I shrug. “Not much to me.”

“I think there’s more to you than you realize, Jake,” she says, her eyes searching mine. Again, my heart drops at her use of my name, and the way her eyes look at me as if I’m the only person left on earth. “You were the one that saved that boy, Mrs. Berwick’s son, from the fire… weren’t you?”

My breath catches as I nod slowly. 

“And you were burned pretty badly, your side, here…” she says, motioning to the now healed burn marks along my ribs. “You saved that boy’s life, I remember you were the talk of the town, all over the newspapers… it was you.”

“Right place, right time,” I shrug, trying to calm her talk of heroism. 

“But there was also a fatality, that day, wasn’t there? A woman, did you know her?” she presses. I feel a chill run over my body again, and I close my eyes for a second as the memory floods back.

“I did. She was a…friend,” I swallow.

She pauses, and nods in understanding. “I’m sorry you couldn’t save them both.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” I admit, more to myself than to her. There’s a lull in the conversation as we both breathe in the evening air, giving a moment of silence for the life lost that day. Finally after a minute or so, she reclines back onto the dock, her arms splayed out above her head. I try to avert my eyes from her chest, falling so perfectly. But then, I join her. 

“Do you ever think about running away, Jake? Just packing a bag, and getting on a horse and riding until you can’t see what you’ve left behind you?” she asks, her voice high-pitched and longing. 

I watch as a crow lands in the tree above us, rustling a few leaves to fall and float through the air. “Sometimes,” I say. 

“I think about it all the time. Just leaving. Heading north, probably.” 

I swallow, feeling her elbow barely touching the side of my head. “But, your father, your fiance, your business…”

“I don’t care about any of that. None of it truly belongs to me, it’s all been handed. It’s all been planned, you know?” she breathes, looking at the sky. “I don’t want to live out the rest of my days under the thumb of a man who’s decided my every move since I was born, only to marry another one who will continue to do the same exact thing. Who doesn’t even love me…” she blinks.

“I’m sure he cares very deeply for you, Y/N.”

“No. No he doesn’t, Jacob. The man couldn’t care less about me. He’s–he’s the most unkind person I’ve ever met. Brash and difficult, rude in many ways. Uncaring and hateful. Tries to keep me happy by buying me nice things, sending me gifts. I’ve only kissed him once, and it sent an emotion through me that I’ve never felt. Something bad, something ominous,” she says. “He may care for me on the surface, but I can tell that he knows he will be miserable with a woman fourteen years his junior, just as I feel.”

I don’t know how to respond, so I let her keep going.

“I dream of having a love so fierce that I can hardly sleep at night, for fear of losing a single second of time. A life so free that I look forward to each morning. I want to feel my life, Jake. Not wish for the day that I don’t have to live it anymore.”

Her words hit me like a train. Never has anyone opened up to me this way, before. And for some reason, I feel the need to help her. It’s ironic, here she is telling me that she wants to feel her life come alive around her, while I’m moping at the fact that I will have to live each and every day not knowing if I’ll ever see the end, at all.

I nod and fold my hands underneath my head as she sniffs away a rage-filled tear. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have let all that out on you. Wasn’t very ladylike of me.”

“No no,” I interrupt, “I understand. I wouldn’t want my life to have been chosen for me, either. I couldn’t– I couldn’t imagine it, actually. Especially with someone whose love isn’t mutual with mine.”

“Exactly,” she says, pushing herself up on her elbow. “Am I not crazy, Jacob?”

I shake my head. “No, you aren’t crazy. I’d want to run away, too.” And truly, I would.

“Then let’s go,” she whispers, her eyes wide and hopeful. “You and I, and Silas.”

“Me?” I’m surprised yet again. 

“Yes, you! Why not, you know? This town offers me nothing, nothing is holding me here…” she goes on.

“You’d find no benefit in runnin’ away with a person like me, I can offer you nothing, Y/N,” I argue, completely blindsided by the fact that someone like her would want to have me as a running partner. “I have no money, I have no excitement in my life. No inheritance, no family, no fancy home… You should stay here, where you are comfortable and have a prosperous future waitin’ for you at your doorstep.”

She shakes her head as she stays silent for a beat. “That’s the most I’ve heard you speak, yet,” she finally laughs, rolling back to her back. “Do you think I truly care about all of that, Jacob? I mean I hardly know you, but you have to have noticed that I just spent the last few nights sleeping in the hay of a barn floor. The last thing I care about is how large and appealing my home is, or how much money lines my pockets… I want someone willing to lie there in the hay with me. Someone like, well, you.”

She isn’t wrong. She can read herself like a book.

I sit up and lean over her, bringing my face close to hers as I balance on my elbows. “You really want to do that? You really want to run away…” 

She squints her eyes. “More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life…” She lifts her head, brushing her nose against mine just as she had done in the barn. I struggle to take a breath as she exhales against my lips, her eyes searching my face again. My entire body stiffens as she gently presses her lips to mine for just a second, her neck craned as her eyes close. She pulls away and covers her mouth, almost as if she didn’t mean to do it at all. She giggles but pulls her hand away from her mouth, instead gently brushing her fingers through my still-damp strands. 

I close the gap again, this time cupping her neck and pulling her body into me. My entire mind is full of fireworks, bright white lights as I feel every single one of my nerve-endings ignite with fire. She feels so perfect, so good underneath me as her lips part just a little, letting me inside. 

I gently brush my tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the very first time. Like fresh spring honeysuckles and the burn of a good whiskey, she kisses me back, the sound of her light cries almost making me come undone as our bodies lurch together, begging to be touched. Her kiss has already weakened me completely, and if we weren’t already lying down, I’d gently lie her back anyway, letting myself take a bit of control as her hands tighten their grip in my hair. Both of our breathing is labored, and neither of us have hardly moved from our places on the dock. She’s blinding me, in every sense of the word. I can hear the tree frogs and feel the breeze around us, but all that exists in my mind is her, and the way she feels as she’s connected to me, the way she tastes on my tongue. I find myself wondering what the rest of her tastes like, and if she would shy away from my efforts to taste her further…

My hand tightens on her neck as my tongue delves a little deeper, eliciting another whisper of a cry from her throat as our lips fight against one another. I can feel the heavy silver chain and charm that stays around my neck falling to rest on her chest. 

We continue this way for a minute, maybe two, just letting ourselves enjoy this new company. Her body writhes under mine as I lean over onto her, and I can feel her breasts pressed up against my chest. My head is spinning and I can hardly form a thought. I let my other hand travel, sneaking it slowly down her arm and along her side, making her shudder beneath me. Her reactions let me know that I’m doing everything right. My hand travels again, pulling her undergarment up just a bit so that my hand can roam over her skin. 

It’s perfectly soft and supple, goosebumps covering the places that I let my fingertips glide. Her kiss is intense, pulling me back in and making my yearning for her all the more heavy. I feel myself tightening in my underwear, and I’m sure she can, too, but she continues her movements. This is a horrible idea, but I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to. She’s already making herself addictive. Just as my hand glides along her stomach, and I’ve decided to test the waters with a light touch of her breast, she hops back in discomfort, making me stop altogether. 

“What’s wrong, are you alright?” I ask, lifting my hand and looking at the place I’d just touched. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, fine, it just–”

There on her skin, right under her breast is a red rash that looks a bit painful. “What’s this?” I ask. 

“I–it’s probably poison oak, or something… I have been outside a lot lately. Don’t worry about it,” she argues, brushing it off. 

“That looks like it hurts, Y/N, and that isn’t poison oak…” I say, knowing the look of that rash like the back of my hand. “Does it burn?”

“It’s fine, Jacob…” she says as I pull up more of her garment, seeing more and more of the same rash all over her torso. 

“Y/N, what is this?”

Suddenly, though, we’re harshly interrupted. 

“Y/N! Y/N, are you out there?” I pull off of her quickly, realizing that dusk had begun to fall. 

“Shoot,” she says. “It’s my father.” We both stand and quickly begin to grab our clothing and redress. I’m panicking, wondering if he is traipsing through the woods towards us as we speak. I help her lace her corset closure, saddened at the fact that I didn’t even get to help her remove it initially.

I’m grabbing my own shirt as I hear another voice, and it causes me to go stiff on my feet. “Y/N! Sweetheart! Are you there?!” I drop my hands as they hold my shirt and my eyes meet hers with fury. 

“Is that him?” I ask, a fire beginning to burn within me.

“Yes, that’s him, now hush,” she demands. We finish dressing and she makes her way to untie Silas from his place at the tree. 

“Yes, father!” she yells through the trees. “Just brought Silas out for a run! I’m on my way back!” 

I step into my boots and quickly walk back up the incline, feeling flushed and confused and mad all at the same time. I don’t know why I’m mad, the overload of emotions really decided to hit me. Just before she jumps back on to her horse, she quickly paces back over to me, placing her hand harshly on my cheek as she pulls me in for another deep, heated kiss. Fuck, what is she doing to me…

“I meant what I said. If you really want to run away with me…”

“I–I’ve got to finish this job for your father, I’ve got to make this pay…” I say, knowing that if we were really going to do this, I needed to have some jingle in my pocket to at least get us to the next city.

“Alright,” she agrees in a rush, her hand still lingering on my cheek. “But after then, we’ll go…”

“Will you be married by then, Y/N?” I ask, the thought sending daggers through my heart. 

“I’ll do everything in my power to stop that from happening,” she whispers. Just then she takes the cream colored satin ribbon that’s tied in her hair and wraps it around my wrist, fastening it in a loose bow. “Don’t forget about me, Jacob…”

“Impossible, Y/N,” I say through the first genuine smile that’s graced my lips in weeks. I watch as she mounts Silas, offering me a small wave of goodbye as she turns and makes her way back through the heavy trees, leaving me in a pile of whimsical confusion there, in the near darkness. 

—

It’s been two weeks since that day at the pond, without a word or sight of Y/N. I find myself thinking of her often, keeping the ribbon she gave me in the pocket of my trousers. I figure the foal must be getting on well if the coachmen hadn’t come to collect me in this many days. I feel a sense of pride at the fact that it must be flourishing and healthy after a little bit of help. 

Each day I look for her, waiting around to see if her or her father would show up at the job site. The job is nearly complete now, and I know my chances of seeing her are growing slimmer each and every day. I would move on to the next job and she would be but a distant memory, a fleeting thought that will pass through my mind when I least expect it to. It’s unusual that her father had not come to check the progress of the building, though, seeing as how he had been here most days since the start of the project.

An uneasy feeling fills my stomach at his absence, and even more, hers. Unable to stand it any longer I decide that after quittin’ time I would go to their estate. I need to see her. I know my presence will raise suspicion from her father, but I have a plan. 

It isn’t a great distance to walk and luckily the air has cooled some now that summer is drawing to a close. By the time I see the estate in the distance, my sweat soaked shirt has dried and the sun is beginning to set. It really is a beautiful property, riddled with pecan trees and oak trees dotted with spanish moss. The crickets have begun to chirp in the tall grass and I can hear the gentle whinnying of the horses in the stable. Part of me wants to go check on the foal first, but I know I need to announce my presence before someone suspects me of thieving.

As I ascend the long path to the front doors I see several carriages tied up to the horse posts. There are several that I have never seen before and a sick feeling begins to swirl in my chest. The lanterns aren’t burning on the porch, and it seems unsettlingly quiet inside the home. I swallow nervously as I reach for the metal door knocker, hearing it echo through the home. I step back from the door and shove my hand in my pocket, feeling the silky ribbon against my rough fingers. My heart rate has quickened and I can hear it beating in my ears as I wait for someone to answer. 

I stand there for several minutes until suddenly the door rushes open. A woman answers, a look of distress on her face as her eyes search me trying to figure out who I am and what I am doing here. 

“Hello ma’am,” I say, “Could I please speak to Ms. Y/N?”

Her face drops and her lips part as she turns to look behind her. She turns back to me and shakes her head, unable to find the words she is looking for.  “I–I’m sorry sir, I can’t take you to her.”

“I’ve come all this way, is there any way I–”

“Griselda!” I hear a man shout. I believe it’s her father and his voice sounds angry. “Who goes there?”

“My name’s Jacob, I am his carpenter,” I say quickly. 

“His name is Jacob, sir. Says he is your carpenter,” she answers him as he opens the door further. 

“What do you need, boy?” he growls. 

I suddenly feel like I am lost for words. Do I tell him the truth or do I lie?

“I need to speak with your daughter, sir.” 

“My daughter? Y/N?” he scoffs, “There will be no such thing!”

“Sir, if I may–”

“You may not!” he shouts, interrupting my plea. “You have no business with her, and she is unwell. You need to leave my property.”

“She is ill?” I question, my mind immediately remembering her rash and my previous suspicion. “Her rash…”

“How do you know about that, boy?” he seethes. 

I quickly realize I have said too much. “She– she told me about it while I helped tend to the horses. She was in pain.”

His eyes study me, as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth. 

“She has the fever,” he swallows. “Scarlet fever, and she is very unwell.”

I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces as I wrap the ribbon so tightly around my finger that it cuts off my circulation. “If I could please just speak to her for a moment…” I beg. 

“I’m sorry son, but I cannot allow it,” he says finally, shutting the door abruptly. 

I stand there dumbfounded for a few beats, trying to come to terms with the fact I won’t be speaking to her any time soon. I slowly back away from the door, making my way back down the porch steps as I stare up at the home. A window is open on the far right of the house, a sheer white curtain catching the breeze. I decide to try my luck calling out to her, hoping maybe she will be on the other side of the window. 

“Y/N!” I shout, being met with deafening silence. 

“Y/N, it’s me!” I try again, but this time I see someone at the window. It slams shut and the curtains close which tells me my suspicions were correct and she is just beyond the glass. 

I force my feet to carry me down the walking path, stopping to sit on a wooden bench. I drop my head into my hands, suddenly feeling like I failed her. I saw the rash and I knew what it was. I shouldn’t have let it be. I should have made her see the physician. Now I don’t know if or when I will see her again. Guilt fills my soul. I briefly wonder if this is my penance for Lizzy. 

I don’t know how much time has passed as I sit here, but off in the distance I hear the front doors of the home closing and what looks to be a physician walking to his carriage. Before I can convince myself of it I am running towards him, knowing that my only chance of answers will come from him. 

“Sir!” I shout, “Excuse me, sir!”

His head whips around to look at me, his eyes having trouble focusing in the darkness of the evening. 

“Yessir?” he stops, his medical bag in hand. 

I am panting as I stop in front of him, doing my best to catch my breath. “The girl, inside,” I pant. “She has– she has Scarlet fever?” 

“I’m sorry son, it was too late. There was nothing I could do for her.”

“Too late?” I gasp, lightheadedness filling my mind.

“She went without pain, that I can assure you. I am very sorry for your loss, she seemed like a fine lady.”

“She’s– She’s gone?” I breathe. “No– she…”

“I’m sorry son. I must be on my way. Have a good evening,” he says, stepping into his carriage. 

My head whips up to look at the house, the window still closed in the room she was in. There’s a faint glow of a candle burning in the room, and I wonder if her father is with her, if he is with her… holding her hand as they say their silent goodbyes. 

I can hardly wrap my mind around the fact that she’s gone. She can’t be. She was just with me at the pond. In the stables. I still have her ribbon in my pocket… 

“No…” I breathe as my hand flies up to cover my mouth, the sting of tears threatening to fall.

I barely hear the sound of his carriage pulling away. I can’t even feel the rocks and dirt as they hit my skin. All I can feel is my heart shattering and the hope I previously held for the future completely gone. 

—

I don’t know how, but my feet managed to carry me back into town. It felt as if the world had gone silent around me, as if it too was mourning the loss of her. There isn't a soul in sight as I make my way further into the center of town in search of something that can help numb this pain in my chest. I knew her for such a short time but everything in me knew that our meeting wasn’t happenstance. She was everything I never knew I wanted to find. And the only thing that managed to fill my mind anymore. I’d grown so fond of her, but I dare not say just how much.

I push open the door to the barroom, silently scolding myself for returning to this place. I haven’t been here since that night with Joshua. I vowed never to return, refusing to sit in the place that was the catalyst of this damned curse. 

I would now live the rest of my days knowing what I lost with Y/N. Thinking of what could have been. Maybe hell isn’t a place, maybe hell is a state of mind. Damned to an eternity of never knowing what could have been and reliving the memories of what I had. A self inflicted mental imprisonment where fear and guilt is the warden, and the sentence is life. Hell isn't a place you go to atone for your sins, hell is a place you create for yourself to live in endless emotional agony of “what if”.

As I step up to the bartop, the attendant eyes me, clearly recognizing me from the scuffle a few weeks ago. 

“You ain’t gonna cause no trouble here, now are you?” he asks, drying a mug with a dish rag. 

“No sir, just here for a drink,” I answer, my voice gravelly from hours of held back tears. 

He nods his head, “We got a Porter and Lager tonight.”

“Do you have anything stronger?” I ask. 

He looks around at the patrons behind me, then back to me. “I got Whisky, but I ain’t got much.”

“I’ll take what you have,” I answer, feeling thankful that soon my mind would be a blur.

“It’s the real stuff kid, ain’t no foolin’,” he warns.

“I need it,” I answer, tossing all the change in my pockets onto the bartop. Her ribbon falls onto the wooden surface and my breath catches before I snatch it back into my grip, working quickly to tie it around my wrist. His eyes look me over again, his lips pursing as if he wants to say something. He pours a small glass full of brown liquid, sliding it my way as he bites his tongue. 

“Thank you,” I say with a nod, and before I walk away he stops me. 

“Hey kid…”

“Yessir,” I turn to him. 

“I hope whatevers’ ailin’ ya, eases up soon.”

I nod to him and walk away with the drink. The lump in my throat grows as I think of her. I decide right then and there that I would give anything for one more day with her. I would pay any price. If I was cursed to live forever there wasn’t a day that I wanted to spend without her by my side. 

I take a long drink of the spicy liquid feeling like I could breathe fire. He wasn’t lying about the Whisky. I let my mind slowly drift off, thinking of every choice I’ve ever made and how I have found myself here today. I think about my future, or lack thereof. I can’t stay here, not anymore. People will begin to notice when I don’t wrinkle and my hair doesn’t thin. I will live my life on the run, now. Thanks to this curse. Thanks to Josh. My own flesh and blood, the–

The curse. 

My blood runs cold as Seraphine’s incantation swirls through my mind once more. Chills run the length of my body as I feel her power drift through me. I quickly swallow down the rest of the Whisky in the glass, slamming it down onto the table so hard it burns out the lantern. 

“I have to find her. She can fix this,” I mumble, my heart suddenly racing with the idea that she could bring her back. If she can curse me to eternal life, surely she can raise the dead. I push up from my chair and rush towards the bar attendant with a new fire in my chest. 

“I’m looking for someone,” I rush out. “She– she’s a witch. A voodoo lady. She does magic and curses,” I whisper loudly, looking around at the patrons beside me.

The attendant blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I don’t know anyone like that, and you’ll be hard pressed to find someone who does and will admit it.”

“There has to be someone!” I shout, slamming my fist on the bar top. “Please…”

“Listen,” he growls. “Old Mr. Friar may know who you speak of, but he doesn’t say much these days. Hardly speaks to me but to ask for his drink.” He nods to the older man sitting in the corner of the room. He’s dark complected and has a blue glassy eye. He stares off into the distance, his light white hair glowing in the lantern light. 

“He will know?” I ask.

“He may, he got into some trouble back in the day. He is your best bet around here.”

“Thank you sir,” I plead, walking over to the man I now know is Mr. Friar.

I pull out a chair in front of him, hoping he is welcoming to my intrusion of his night. 

“Hello sir, my name is Jacob,” I speak softly, doing my best to hide my nerves. 

He says nothing, continuing to stare out into the barroom.

“Sir, I was told you may know where to find someone. She– she’s a witch or somethin’. Does that black magic. I only know her as Seraphine.”

That seems to catch his attention, his head snapping over to look at me. “What business do you have with her?”

“I– It’s a long story sir, but I need her help. I need to find her. Where can I find her?” I beg. 

“Shouldn’t toy with magic son,” he grunts, pulling his mustached lips into his mouth.

“I need her help to reverse something, and I think only she can do it,” I continue, “Please, anything you can tell me sir, I have money, anything.”

“Keep your money, child,” he pauses, leaning over the table onto his elbows. “To find Seraphine you will need a boat. Head North up the Delta a few miles, and you’ll see a red shack on your right, has a blue roof and looks abandoned. You’ll find her there. You’ll know you’ve found the place when the air grows silent. No creature dead or living dares to be in her presence. You don’t tell her how you found her, now, y’hear?”

Relief overtakes me as I commit his directions to memory. “Thank you sir, thank you so much.”

I push up from the table and storm out the door in search of a boat, and thankfully I know just where to find one. 

—

I trudge along in the darkness, my mind still a bit fuzzy from the spirits, but I think my body would know this route even if I was unconscious, at this point. The half-hour ride in the carriage seems like nothing as I traverse on foot to the St. Lemire’s homestead. Finally, I see the dim lighting of the stables just up the dirt road, and I know that I have a long night ahead of me.

I quietly lurk in the shadows around the side of the stables, just in case any of the hands have decided to have a late night, after learning of the passing of Ms. St. Lemire. When I’m sure I’m alone, I allow the moonlight to guide me in the right direction, and I find the old boat leaned up against the outside wall. I unravel the thick rope that I had brought along with me, gently slipping it through the front handle and tying a tight few knots. 

Again I glance around, hearing nothing but the horses rustling in their stalls. My mind tells me to go in and check on the foal, but truly, I don’t have much time to worry about him. Plus, seeing the baby and the mare without the glowing presence of Y/N beside me might send me into a fit of sadness that I can’t deal with right now. 

I grip the rope and wrap it a few times around my hand before I gently yank it free from its position, letting it fall onto its belly and into the grass. I pray there are no snakes living beneath it as I take hold of the paddles that were propped against the wall. I give the rope some slack and begin to pull it toward the woods, ready to make my journey to the swamp water’s edge and find a place to hide my newly commandeered vessel. I do feel badly for stealing it, but I convince myself I am only “borrowing” it, and plan to return it back to its home in a timely manner. Truly, it looks like it has lived leaned against the side of the barns for some time now, anyway.

I drag the heavy boat through the thick woods, trying not to make too much of a ruckus as the rocks and sticks brush its underside. I go slowly, and blink often, letting my eyes adjust to the half-moonlight. I’m glad I have the paddles to double as walking sticks, feeling out the land before me as I walk. I wish that I had some inkling of how far Seraphine’s home is from the water’s edge, but I suppose I will just have to learn that on my own. 

I know that there is no way that I will be able to make this journey in the darkness, as I did not bring a lantern of any kind along with me. I will hide it in the thick weeds and return home for some sleep, and return at daybreak to make the trip to Seraphine’s.

As I walk, I look to the starred-sky, taking in its wonder and beauty and how I hope that Y/N is somewhere, in another universe or heaven itself, looking at the same sky, too. I miss her, damn do I miss her, already. I hardly even knew her. But still her presence alone was enough to ignite a fire within me that had long been burned out, smoldering bricks of ash that were just waiting to be lit again. And she’d done that. So quickly that it almost scared me. Running away with her sounded like the dumbest, most juvenile decision I could make as a grown man, but I didn’t care. My mind had been made up. If we only had a little more time… if only I had tried to warn her of the fever than I was positive that she had. 

It feels like hours that I walk, catching thorns and bristles in my arms as I sneak through the trees, a thief of my own doing as I pull the boat behind. Thankfully it isn’t too heavy, but the exertion is sobering me up, a bit. Finally I hear the croaks of the frogs and the wildlife that inhabit the swamp, and I know that I am close.

I find a clearing in the thick grasses that shows no signs of footprints or bait traps, and I pull the boat into the water, pushing it behind a thick clump of weeds to hide it as it floats freely. I tie the rope off to a nearby tree before I check my work, and make my way back home to sleep off the rest of that damned Whisky. Tomorrow I will find Seraphine. Tomorrow I will beg for her to bring my Y/N back to me. 

—

The sun is just starting to rise as I paddle towards the shack in the woods. For a long while, I followed the man's directions, and sure enough I spotted the old place without issue. Faded red with a blue roof, just as he said. The bushes and foliage are so overgrown I could have missed it had I not been searching for it. I figure that is probably why it's like that. She doesn’t want to be found. I briefly wonder how Joshua found her but cast that aside as I quietly paddle the boat up to the dilapidated dock. I tie the rope to the rotten wood post and carefully step out of the boat, tossing the paddles inside. 

Just as the man had said, I hear the sound of no wind, no crickets, no birds… everything is still as no living thing dares to be in her presence. 

My blood starts to pump a little harder as I make my way to her door, a thousand thoughts running through my mind. I know this won’t be easy and she may refuse me, but I am here and I won’t leave without my girl. If she can curse me, she can bring my Y/N back. 

I pound my fist against her wooden door, covered in algae and moss from her proximity to the water. It leaves a brown smudge on my fist that I quickly wipe onto my trousers. My heart is beating hard as I wait for her answer, telling myself I am not above barging in. This was a courtesy to her. 

Seconds later the door flies open, revealing to me the woman I remember. The woman that did this to me. 

“Why are you here, boy?” she snaps, cutting her dark eyes at me as if I am the one that did her wrong. 

 “You’re gonna bring her back,” I demand, pushing her door open and stepping inside. She seems surprised by my forwardness but I am not here for games.

“I’ll do no such thing,” she growls, turning away from me.

“You will. You’ve done this to me and you will bring her back. I know you can, and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

“Of who do you speak?” she asks, settling herself in a chair. 

“My girl. My Y/N,” I answer, “She was stolen away from me. I didn’t even get to say goodbye before she was pulled away from this world. You must do something. You must bring her back.”

“Why would I do anything for you? You show up here and demand me to help you?” she questions, raising a brow to me. 

“Because you have cursed me, against my will! I will not spend the next thousand years without telling her goodbye! I didn’t deserve any of this!” I shout, my emotions crawling up my throat. 

She shakes her head, “I cannot help you.”

I raise my voice in panic, “No! You have to! I know you can! I know there is something you can do to bring her back!”

She stares at me for a moment before releasing a breath, “Sit boy.”

I cross my arms across my chest, breathing heavily as I try to calm myself. She eyes me up and down, and it’s clear that she is placing her memory of me. 

“Tell me of this girl,” she says, gesturing to an empty chair.

I begrudgingly sit, resting my elbows on her table with a sigh. “Her name was Y/N. I was working for her father, building a boarding house. She came to the job site one afternoon and I was instantly taken with her. I found myself seeing her several times over the next several days and we planned to run away together. She was being forced into a marriage to a man who didn’t love her. A man that would never love her. Not like I could. We were to go away together. Start a new life. I planned to go to her after the job finished and I got my payout. I hadn’t seen her in several days, and as I went to the estate to check on her, I found she had passed of Scarlet Fever.”

“And why should I help you?” she questions again, nodding her head. Her eyes are illuminated by the few candles burning around the home. 

I furrow my brows at her, “You cursed me. Wrongfully. While I was nearly dead, unconscious and not comprehending what you were doing. I– I never deserved the curse you gave me. Though I have accepted my fate now, I believe it fair that you help me in return. You bring back Y/N and you never have to see me again.”

“Your friend,” she pauses, “He offered me a pretty penny for my work.”

I scoff, “Friend,” I mutter under my breath. 

“This girl, you love her?” she asks and I nod. 

“I can feel that your heart is in your wishes boy,” she pauses. “How do I know you will love her and no other? That you will not long for another?”

The words fall from my lips quicker than I can think of them, “I would chase her through time and space just to see her again. I would go to the ends of the Earth to feel her touch. I would do anything. Give anything. You’ve got to believe me.”

She looks at me for a few long minutes, the silence broken by the thumping of my heart. She puffs the smoke from a pipe that I hadn’t seen before, slowly releasing it from her lips as it floats into the air above her.

“I want to help you, Jacob. But it will come at a cost.”

“I will pay any price,” I blurt. 

“Not that kind of cost, my boy.”

My face twists up in confusion as I listen to her speak. “This is what I can offer you. Though I cannot bring her back to this Earthly plain, I may be able to take you to her.”

“I thought I– How could you do that if I cannot die?” I ask. 

“There is a way my boy, though it too has its consequences,” she starts. 

“I don’t understand.”

“We all exist in more than one place. In more than one dimension. There are hundreds of you, living in different places, at different times. Though our bodies are made from the dirt of the Earth, our souls cannot be destroyed, so they live alongside themselves, existing amongst each other in ways that you cannot even fathom. Though she may be gone from this here existence, she is alive and well in every other,” she explains. “What I can offer you, is a way to get to her.”

“How?” I ask, leaning closer to her in anticipation. 

“It would be a new spell. A new curse placed upon you,” she answers nonchalantly. 

“Do it,” I say, unwilling to let her finish. 

“You must know the implications, Jacob. You must know what you’re asking me for.”

I sit back in my chair letting her continue. 

“Though you will undoubtedly find her, it will not be the same girl you know. It will look like her, talk like her, act like her, but it will not be her. She will not know you, or have any memory of this life. You will be a stranger to her. But, humans alone cannot change fate, and if she is the woman you are destined to love, she will love you in every lifetime just as she did in this one. In every dimension you will be together in one way or another.”

“So it will be her, but not the girl I knew…” I confirm. 

“Preciscely, Jacob. You will have to start from the beginning with her, every time.”

“Every time? As in…”

“As in every time you find her,” she answers. 

“I don’t understand,” I groan. 

“You will only have a set amount of time with her. You will know when your time is running out. When it is time to move on.”

“Then I will start over,” I breathe, finally understanding. “How long will I have with her?”

“Every jump will be different, my child. You will know when time is running out. You will feel it, even see it. You will begin to anticipate it. All the signs will be there and eventually you will know before it happens.”

“So I will do this forever?” I ask, realizing what my future will hold. 

“No my boy, not forever. There will come a time when it is all over,” she pauses, puffing her pipe again, “When I will collect.”

I rub my hand over my mouth, taking in the weight of what will be the rest of my days. “All of this because my twin hates me. Because he refuses to hear the truth and accept it for what it is. I did everything I could, you must understand.” I’m near tears.

“What did you say, child?” she snaps.

“What?”

“Did you say your twin?” she asks, quickly standing from her chair. 

“Yes, I– Joshua is my identical twin brother. He brought me here that night and had you place the curse because–”

“Silence!” She screams, throwing a glass dish at the old wooden walls. It shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces as the air grows frigid around me. 

“This changes everything!” She shouts, “It’s worse than I believed!”

“What? Changes what?” I ask, standing from my chair. 

“He didn’t tell me you were twins!” She seethes. 

“Yes, yes, identical twins. He is older than me by a few minutes,” I explain, my hands starting to shake. 

“He only said you were brothers! Do you know what this means, child?!” she yells. 

I shake my head, beginning to breathe heavily as the candle flames blow out, the crow hanging in the cage above us cawing loudly at her outburst. 

“You share the same blood. Your blood is his blood. His blood is your blood,” she pauses. “He didn’t only curse you, child. He cursed himself as well. The curse was sealed with your blood. The blood that you share!”

“So he–”

“Yes. He suffers the same fate as you,” she answers, her fist clenching around her pipe. “Anything I do to you will also be imposed upon him. You two will share the same fate, always.”

A pit settles in my stomach, I know he doesn’t know what he has done and because of that I refuse to give him any of my pity. He shouldn’t have acted so brashly. It is clear he never thought of the consequences. We came into this world together, and we will exist in it together until the end of time, whether he knows it or not.

“It changes nothing,” I demand. “I must find her. I must be with her.”

“He too, will go where you go,” she warns. “Always.”

“Be it as it may.”

Seraphine limps toward me, forcefully blowing her smoke around my face, the smell of it taking me back to the night Joshua cursed me. “You must be sure, child. There is no going back...” Her eyes delve deeply into mine as she studies me, reading the aura that I must be projecting.

“Please, let me go to her,” I beg, my anger feeling like it has subsided into something more subservient, an emotion of willingness that I was devoid of when I crossed her threshold. The smell of her smoke is making me dizzy, my emotions of sadness crawling back into my bones though I try and fight them. 

“You must know you are no better than your brother for imposing this upon him, much in the same way he placed the curse upon you,” she says. 

“Please, don’t think it is my fault that my brother didn’t tell you. Tell me that this new curse will benefit me…” I plead with Seraphine, straightening my shoulders a bit as to show her I am unafraid of her.

“It will benefit you, boy, as long as fate decides to be on your side. I may collect the roots of the earth and I may stir them into elixirs to alter the state of your being, but it’s the magic itself that will decide your fate. It will read your soul more delicately than I could ever even begin to…” she drawls, her accent so heavy it almost escapes me. 

Suddenly she is close in front of my face again as I fall backward into the chair that Josh had tied me to when I was cursed the first time. Seraphine’s long hair and braids fall onto my lap as her face is within inches of mine, and I can smell the scent of charred incense and tobacco burned into her very being. 

“You may only jump a limited amount of times through time and space, the count is unbeknownst to me, and unbeknownst to you, but you will be offered clues as to when you are running out,” she sings, her neck contorting her head into jerked twists as she speaks to me from somewhere that is not her own mouth. “You mustn’t toy with the fabric of Mother Nature, you mustn't make yourself a known person of public interest, and most importantly, you mustn’t ever take the life of another human being,” she explains, the sound of her voice changing with each word. “Do you understand?” she asks. 

I nod against her, her hands now pressing down hard on my wrists as her dark eyes bore into mine. “Yes, yes I understand,” I agree, committing every word to memory. I quickly glance down to my wrist, finding Y/N’s ribbon sitting underneath the old, bony hand of Seraphine.

“Every move you make will be for her, every ounce of effort you desire to perform will be in her favor, and you must never lose sight of that, you must never long to find the love of someone that isn’t her, or else this will have all been for nothing,” she bellows, the wind flashing across our faces. I nod in understanding. 

Finally, Seraphine steps back, glaring at me. Her hand extends, and a small object forms in the palm of it. I can’t tell what it is until she takes it, opening it up. It’s a hand mirror, scratched and cracked on the surface, but still catching the light of reflection. 

“This, and this alone will be your amulet for advancement through dimensions. Mirrors, child, and seeing yourself in them will be your means of travel. Stand and see yourself as you are, while you recite,”

“Echoed glass, reveal the way, through the veil of night or day. Turn the key, unlock the door, let me walk through time once more.”

I repeat the incantation over and over with her as I memorize it, and somehow, I am able to correctly and precisely say each and every word as if I have memorized them like a prayer. The fabric of the words sewn into my mind like a perfectly cut quilt.

I take the hand mirror from her as she continues speaking, the wind carrying a strong aroma as it blows against the walls. 

“Wherever you land, find a tree with three mother trunks, and a deep hole at its center. There, inside, will be everything you will need to survive in the place and time you find yourself. You’re to blend in with the people there, and never question anything. Remember your sole mission is to find her, and show her time and time again that she is the reason for everything you do.”

“Will I age? After I jump, Seraphine?” I ask.

“No. That part of the curse is irreversible. Even as you travel through the continuum, you shall still stay this age, forever. As will your brother.” 

“Will he know? When he’s thrust into the next world with me, will he know what is happening?” I ask again.

Again, she shakes her head. “No. That’s his punishment for not disclosing every detail of our last arrangement. He will wake up in time with you, though he may be in a different place altogether.” 

So, as I search for my Y/N, I will also spend my time escaping my brother. Just as I am now, I suppose.

“What’s in this for you?” I ask her, suddenly aware of the fact that she gains nothing from this arrangement. “You’re helping me so willingly…”

Seraphine licks her dark lips, her eyes flashing a bright gold before falling into a dark black, again. “After so many jumps, I will lay claim to your soul.”

Claim? “So, I will die?”

“Your mortality is not up to me to decide. I didn’t create this malediction, I am only the vessel of it. Like I said before, the conjury is mine, the magic is not,” she explains. 

“Fine, fine, just do it. I do not care for the rest of my future if she is not with me in it, I’ve got nothing left to lose…” I plead as I feel an energy coursing through my body.

“Give me your hand, Jacob,” she orders, and I place my open palm into hers, the same one that Josh cut with his knife so as to secure his curse upon me the first time. “Do you have any markings, child? Birthmarks, scars…”

“Yes,” I reply, a euphoric feeling entering my bones as I breathe in the heavy herbal fumes surrounding me. “A burn scar, here,” I motion to my side and pull up my shirt. 

“Mm, very well,” she says, laying her hand overtop of it as words that I do not recognize escape her lips. “And something of hers… the one you wish to follow across time…” she asks. 

Immediately I pull the ribbon from around my wrist, reluctantly handing it off to her. She takes it with force, placing it on the table beside us. 

“Finally, something that never leaves you. A constant, something that is unchanging…” she holds her hand out again moving her fingers as if I’m going to hand her something. I wrack my brain, but her hand touches my chest. My silver necklace and charm. “Do you wear this always? Do you ever remove it?” she asks. 

“I never remove it,” I reply. 

“Good. It will be your talisman of continuance. Keep it always, never let it leave your person. It will be what keeps you tied to this curse, it will keep you within the realm of what we are bounding today. Without it, you cannot jump,” she explains, and I take note again. Just as her hand squeezes across my necklace, I feel a sharp blade cross the palm of my hand again as I become increasingly lightheaded. 

The sound of the wind whooshes by my head, the smell of spices and herbs fills my nose, and the feeling of my body being completely torn from my own control overtakes my entire being. I’m dizzy, feeling as though I am spinning out of control. 

“Look at the book, child…” I hear Seraphine’s voice, muffled and distorted as she begins reciting a different version of the same incantation she had taught me earlier. I feel blood oozing from my hand and a burning feeling comes across the scar on my side. Look at the book. Look at the book.

“Winds of time, both swift and slow, through the mists, let moments flow. Past and future, intertwine, guide his path through space and time.”

“Stars that mark the cosmic thread, guide him where the hours spread. Through the veil of ages cast, let him journey to the past.”

“Echoes of the ancient day, and whispers of the dawn’s first ray, open now the temporal gate, to reveal his destined fate.”

“By the moon’s eternal gleam, and the night’s unending dream, shift the currents, bend the line, let the ages now align. In the shadows, through the light, lead him through both day and night.”

“As I speak, so let it be, through the echoes, set him free.”

I blink my eyes as my mouth begins reciting along with her, and suddenly the mirror is in front of my face. My voice grows louder, and the wind grows more intense, but my body has never felt stronger than it does, right now. I’m watching my own reflection in the mirror as I feel as though I am going to disintegrate, waves of pleasure and pain switching back and forth with dizziness. I’m confused, but I’ve never been more sure. 

The last thing I hear is Seraphine’s voice mixed with my own before all I can see is black. I don’t breathe, and I don’t move. I don’t even think my heart beats. I’m suspended in between two moments that don’t even exist, one coinciding with the other as they float and dance along a timeline so vast and elusive that the Creator himself couldn’t even control them if he wanted to. But I, now the holder of a skill so rare, can.

I am face down on the floor, my body feeling as if I have just traveled a thousand miles. I peek my eyes open to see that I am in my own home, on the floor of my bedroom. I sit and shake my head, trying to get my wits as my memory floods with the happenings of the past hour. Did I jump?

The scar on my side is burning with a fire so intense that I have to grab it to make sure I’m not actually on fire, again. And when I glance beside me, I see a book. The book. I pick it up, holding the small brown leather bound pages in my hands as I notice something stuck between the cover and the first paper page. It’s Y/N’s ribbon. 

I pull the book open, seeing her ribbon holding the page, perfectly untouched. And there, written in fresh black ink, is a place of which I have seldom heard, and a time of which does not yet exist. I stand, walking to sit on the side of my bed as I look around the room, feeling no emotional attachment to it at all, nor a want to exist in this place for another second without her. My heart won’t beat unless for her, my breaths won’t give me life if not to live for her. I’m positive of my decision.

I pull the compact mirror from my pocket, taking a deep breath as I open it. I see my reflection, disheveled and exhausted, but a glisten in my eye that feels unfamiliar. My mouth begins saying the words again as I hold the mirror in one hand, and the book in the other.  

“Echoed glass, reveal the way, through the veil of night or day. Turn the key, unlock the door, let me walk through time once more.”

I feel my body begin to lurch and thrash, but nothing could ever make me feel more perfect than I do, right now. A flight through the clouds could never compare to this euphoria, an ecstasy I’ve never encountered weighing so heavily upon me as I feel my body ascending. The last thing I see before I slip back into nothingness, is the ink dancing across the page. 

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[lina-vas-dom]

Я раньше проводил вечера в баре. Алкоголь был единственной страстью, что я знал. Но видишь ли…ты спасла меня от падения на дно И вернула меня назад прежде, чем я зашёл совсем далеко.

Ты мягкая, как Теннесси виски. Ты сладкая, как клубничное вино. Ты тёплая, как стакан бренди. Милая, я всё время опьянен твоей любовью...

I used to spend my nights out in a barroom Liquor was the only love I had ever known But see… you rescued me from reachin’ to the bottom And brought me back from being too far gone

You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You’re as sweet as strawberry wine You’re as warm as a glass of brandy Honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time...

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Andrew flexed in the mirror of the gym. It was slow work but he was finally seeing progress in his muscles building. All he wanted was to be like the bodybuilders he had seen so much online. Like the ones of the men that on the posters around the gym. And he was finally beginning to see the results of his hard work. Finished up his reps and was walking back to the locker room to freshen up when he had a sharp pain in his side. Almost as if he was struck with a needle. Getting into the bathroom he looked at his side.

Gritting through his teeth the pain didn’t seem to be going away. If anything it was getting worse. Putting pressure on his side to try and get some relief was all he think to do but it did nothing to alleviate the pain that seemed to be spreading through his body. He began to scream out in paín. He tried to walk to the toilet because he thought he was going to vomit but wasn’t able to as he was doubled over in paín.

He began to sweat. Gritting his teeth as the pain coursed through his body. His vision was blurry. He was moaning and grunting as the pain intensified and continued to spread through his body. He wasn’t even aware that some dark spots had began to show on his shoulders. Ones that were common among the gym juice junkies in the gym. A wave of pain rushed through him and seemed to subside. He was able to open his eyes for the be first time in several minutes.

Something felt weird. Looking down at this feet they began to itch. His eyes widened in horror when he see black hairs beginning to push out of them. While his toes thickened and his feet grew larger. Hair grows over the tops of his feet toes. Connecting with leg hair that bream to grow thicker and thicker by the second. While his skin tone began to shift.

Andrew flexed his larger feet not knowing that they just grew from a size 11 to a size 16. Matted in sweaty hair. Something that was sure to make his feet smell and stay warm no matter what he did. The pain continued. Spreading through his body as his muscle mass began to increase. His abs bulging and his chest forming a shelf. His arms bulking up as his face began to shift and change race. Standing in the barroom while his body began to reach its final changed he heard someone clapping.

Turning to look over his muscle back he seen a twink with what would only be described as a voodoo doll. He bang to rub more on the stomach of the doll and Andrew felt his own stomach pulsate as if it was being rubbed. He looked at the twink again, sweet forming a pool under his now heavier darker body. The twink pulled the stomach forward and Andrew’s own pulled out forming a roid gut! Andrew began to back slowly against the wall while the twink continued to force his body to change more and more. Becoming for of the over blown Arab body builder the twink wanted him to become. Andrew’s life would now be nothing but the whim of the other man. Forced to become whatever creation the other man wanted.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Hello!! I'm new to this blog (been stalking your posts for an hour now and your content is so goooood) and new to the entire asking and stuff but I saw you have like little snippets of commenting on stuff and all or answering little things people send you and I wanted to put my two cents in because the way you write Shanks Mihawk and Sanji has me weakkkk

I really love the idea of a silent language between them and their lovers. Like especially Mihawk because both Sanji and Shanks are loud and proud but like the kind of silent language where you can understand a 'take me out of here' or 'please don't react to this idiot' or a 'omg did you see that puppy it's so cute' kind of thing with just your eyes or some touches a certain way in the arm or smth I don't know I'm so weak for these men and I love your writing of them okay byeee

Ahem:

(been stalking your posts for an hour now and your content is so goooood)

First of all, may I just say the following:

Thank you so so so so so much!! I'm incredibly glad and grateful that you've enjoyed everything. This whole blog is really just a mess of simping and shitposting lately. And it has also been my personal venting space. And given my life as of the late has been some unholy conglomeration of a shitshow, a soap opera, and a dumpster fire (a ShitFire DumpsterOpera Show, if you will), I remain wholly astounded on a day to day basis that anyone at all has even remained with me for this long. I've only been on Tumblr for three months myself, since around the end of September.

Aaaaanywho.

I love the silent language idea. Definitely a thing with Mihawk. I can still see it working with Sanji. Definitely not with Shanks though, poor bb couldn't keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it.

But basically, as a scenario, Reader is sitting at the bar being hit on by some Random Weirdo and looking for a quick, preferably quiet way out of the situation and tries to silently signal one of them and.....

Reader: *catches eye of S/O* *curt nod toward Weirdo to signify her discomfort*

Sanji: *hurries over* Everything alright, love? *pulls you to his side, glaring pointedly at Weirdo*This prick bothering you?

May or may not dissolve into a fight

Mihawk: *lifts an eyebrow and nods toward his sword at his back* *you quickly shake your head, no need to slice anyone in half today* *he just rolls his eyes a bit, strolls over, and puts himself between you and Weirdo* *and casually leads you away, attracting no further attention*

No fight, you leave without causing any sort of scene at all

Shanks: *catches your eye* *catches Random Weirdo's eye* *literally shouting from the other side other tavern while you cringe and lay your head down on the bar* Hey, jackass! You lay one goddamned hand on her and so help me-"

Full-on barroom-brawl chaos ensues

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello!

22. You're my heart and my home

For Mitch Keller please 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Love Song - Mitch doesn't expect to see you in his bar after all this time.

Clean - Mitch asks you why you're back in town.

With You - Mitch reflects on your past.

Sunshine (NSFW) - You've always been the sunshine in Mitch's life.

It’s the next morning that Mitch asks you the question that’s been playing on his mind all night. You’re operating the coffee machine behind the bar, wearing nothing but his button up shirt when he tugs on his jeans and wraps his arms around you, cradling your close.

“How’s your back?” You ask him, waiting for the beans to brew as he buries his face into the curve of your throat.

“A little stiff.” He mumbles into the curve of your throat. “But that’s pretty good considering we spent the night fucking on the couch.”

Three times you’d ruined him, to say he’s feeling it this morning is an understatement. He needs a hot shower to loosen up some of his muscles but he needs to know…

“Why did you come home?” He asks you. “Why now?”

You lean back against him, sighing as you tip sugar into his coffee mug.

“I saw a Youtube video of you playing a couple of weeks ago.” You say quietly. “You looked clean, happy, healthy. I guess I wanted to see…”

You trail off but Mitch can read between the lines. You wanted to see if it was real, if he’d really kicked the habit or if it was just one of his good days.

“You’ve always been my heart.” You say softly as you turn in his arms to face him. Your palms come to rest on his bare chest, fingertips brushing over the scars etched into his skin from his days in the arena. “You will always be my heart but you know I can’t be around that.”

You’d had your own issues with drugs in the past. It started with a little coke before one of your shows and evolved into an addiction that left you ‘trading favours’ in barroom bathrooms for a fix. You’d been clean for over a year when he met you, preforming on a stage not far from here whilst he’d still been rodeoing. It had been love at first sight.

“I promise you.” He whispers, cradling your face between his hands. “I’m as committed to my sobriety as I am to you, that hasn’t changed.”

“Good, because I want to stay this time.” You say, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck as you draw him closer. “I want to stay, right here with you.”

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[bwabys-scenarios]

Reunited

Part 25

Illumi x Reader x Feitan

part 24

part 26

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken @sxyriii @shidoni-san @living4tomrua @lemonslut @honeylunalove @sugarrushdaydream @canthebest1

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

warnings: feitan calls reader fat, reader gets insecure about it… he’s mean but he does feel bad about it eventually!!!

It had nearly been a week since (Name) had saved the strange man, and she still hadn’t been able to learn his name.

He was still rude and violent if pushed, but he had chilled out considerably. Feitan allowed her to feed him and took his medication when asked, if begrudgingly so.

It was a sunny afternoon, the smell of her lemon tree calling to her. It had been a while since (Name) had made lemonade, because it was a lot of work for just one person.

But now she had a guest, and decided that it would be worth it now.

Feitan sat on the couch, watching some random program on the tv absentmindedly. He glanced at the girl pulling a pair of socks on near the front door.

“… what you doing?”

(Name) looked up after tying her shoe. “I’m gonna pick some lemons! Do you like lemonade?”

He never answered her immediately, so (Name) continued getting ready until he replied.

“Sometimes.”

She hummed. “Is there a reason you only like it sometimes?”

“Too sour.”

(Name) patted herself on her shoulder for being able to hold a conversation with him for longer than five seconds. “Okie dokie! I’ll make sure it’s nice and sweet then.”

Feitan didn’t respond, only watching her leave with a raised eyebrow.

(Name) returned 30 minutes later carrying a basket full of lemons. Her forehead was covered in sweat as she dropped the basket off on her table.

Feitan turned to watch her, a habit he had picked up within the past two days. Whenever Feitan didn’t understand something, he’d observe it until he did.

(Name) wasn’t very easy to understand, however.

The girl at down and began to juice the lemons, humming to a song that Feitan didn’t know. The citrusy smell of lemons filled the air as she toss the remains of the lemons into a plastic box.

Feitan turned his attention back to the TV. He didn’t find her that interesting, but he caught himself stealing glances at her as she worked.

“Hmm, this should be enough…”

He heard her chair squeak as she stood, carrying the lemon juice to a pitcher, where she added sugar and water.

“It’s ready, I’ll bring you a cup!”

She sat a cup of lemonade in front of him, making sure the straw she provided was reachable. He waited for her to walk back to grab her own cup before taking a sip.

(Name) had made it sweet enough to satisfy the man’s needs, Feitan downing the drink in seconds. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was.

——————

“Hey, no offense, but you’re gonna need to bathe. You’re starting to smell.”

Feitan looked up at the woman hovering over him with a towel and a change of clothes in hand. He scowled at her, a growl in his voice.

“How I bathe if can’t move arms? Stupid.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I���ll help you, of c-“

“No.”

(Name) groaned. “Ugh, I thought we were over this by now. Why won’t you just let me help you?”

He gave her a warning look, causing the girl to cross her arms in defiance.

Feitan narrowed his eyes at her, making sure her eyes were on his hands as he sharpened his nails into points. “Warning you. Don’t touch.”

She sighed and stepped back. “At least let me give you a sponge bath or something. Wouldn’t it feel nice to be clean?”

He hesitantly looked between her and the mirror facing the wall.

His hair was greasy, and he doubted he smelled good. Feitan didn’t know why this made him feel slightly insecure, but he reluctantly nodded his head.

“Okay, but stop if I say. Or hurt you.”

Feitan followed her into the barroom, sitting on the edge of the tub as she warmed up the water.

“I’m gonna remove your bandages, alright?”

He nodded and watched as her fingers delicately unwrapped his bandages, being careful not to brush against his wounds. He found it amusing how she jerked back when he made even the slightest of movements, looking up to make sure she hadn’t hurt him.

Once finished, she stood up and grabbed a rag, wetting it with soap and water before gently brushing it over his back.

He tensed at contact, shooting her a glance as she gently rubbed at his sensitive skin. Next, she moved to wash his chest, looking away bashfully.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the man. Did she find him attractive, or was she embarrassed to be bathing a man, one she didn’t really know at that? Either way he found it quite funny how she shrunk under his intense gaze, looking everywhere but his face as she washed him.

She applied some cleanser to his face, holding back a giggle at his grumpy expression. He looked kind of cute when he wasn’t biting at her fingers!

She rinsed his face, careful not to get any soap in his eyes. Feitan usually just washed with water and whatever soap he could get his hands on, so this facial cleanser was a new experience for him, one he didn’t entirely hate.

“Okay, I’m gonna wash your hair now. I’m gonna need to get in the tub to do this.”

She rolled up her pants legs, the man watching her as she did. (Name) stepped into the tub, turning on the removable shower head and wetting his hair.

Feitan had to admit, having someone play with his hair felt good in more ways than one. Her fingers combed through his locs with care, asking him several times if it was okay.

“… it’s okay. Keep going.”

She didn’t judge him for his dirty hair, only diligently cleaning it. (Name) didn’t once make him feel uncomfortable or hurt him, something that made him relax under her touch.

He stiffened when she added the conditioner, not used to the texture of it. “This helps keep your hair soft so it doesn’t tangle. Wanna see the bottle?”

He looked over the bottle with a curious eye. It was a woman’s conditioner, strawberry scented. Although his pride didn’t want him smelling like a girl, he couldn’t help but find comfort in the soft scent.

She finished washing his hair by rinsing, grabbing a towel to dry it off. “Okay, almost done. I’ll dry your hair and then you can change into some fresh clothes.”

Something about her talking through every step felt reassuring to the man. She treated him so gently, like he was glass that would break with too much pressure. The woman didn’t know how wrong she was to think that. It was her that could easily be crushed under his foot like a bug.

So why did even the thought of harming her make him uneasy?

“There! Do you feel any better?”

Feitan looked himself over in the mirror. He still had dark circles under his eyes and a frown on his lips, but his hair was neatly(or well as neatly as possible) brushed and his face clean of any dirt or blood.

He looked nice, handsome even.

‘Wonder if she thinks I’m handsome…’

Wait, where did that come from?

The man stood up and left without another word, kicking the door to his bedroom shut behind him.

———————

His stares only intensified the following days, but now he was beginning to follow her around the house. (Name) would be cooking dinner, look over her shoulder, and he’d be there, just observing her.

He didn’t seem to understand that what he was doing would be seen as creepy to some people. In his mind he was trying to figure her out and what she wanted from him, and why she acted the way she did.

(Name) would attempt to place a hand on his shoulder or brush his hair out of his face, just for him to run away and stare at her from a distance. He was kind of like a skittish cat.

She didn’t understand his strange behavior. What did he want from her?

“Are you gonna tell me your name yet?”

The two were sat down at the dining table, Feitan sipping on a milk shake she’d prepared for him. He stopped sipping to look at her suspiciously.

“Why you need to know?”

“It would be a lot easier to talk to you if I knew your name.”

He frowned. “Don’t need to talk to me.”

This went on for a few more days, the man’s eyes following her wherever she went. It was almost like he enjoyed sneaking up behind her, causing her to jump in fright when she turned around. Feitan didn’t have a lot of control over his current situation, so this was his way of taking control.

At the two week mark, Feitan was able to walk for a few minutes before needing to rest. His weakened body frustrated him to no end.

“Do you have any family that you can contact?”

Feitan looked up from his lap to see (Name) standing in front of him. She was carrying a basket on her hip, the sound of clinking jars telling him she’d filled it with the jam and jelly she’d been making.

“No family, but some… acquaintances.”

She nodded and opened up her notes app. “Can you tell me their numbers? We don’t have signal out here, but I should be able to call them when I get to town.”

He eyed her for a moment, searching for any malicious intent behind her e/c eyes, but there was none. Feitan sighed and started listing out numbers, barking out insults when she needed him to repeat it.

“I give you my boss’s number. Don’t waste his time, tell him Feitan asked you to call. Say I got hurt, but alive.”

(Name) paused, glancing up at him as she typed the number into her phone.

“So… your name is Feitan?”

He scowled. “If you know boss’s number, my name doesn’t matter.”

She looked back to her phone before responding.

“It’s a nice name.”

——————

Feitan watched her leave, smirking when she tripped on some gravel. Over the past two weeks he’d come to know her as a bit of a klutz, constantly tripping over her own two feet.

For a moment he wondered how easy it would be to kill her. She was weak, even in his current state he could end her life easily. It would be tough to eat by himself and keep his wounds clean, but feitan had been through worse.

Just the thought of her blood on his hands made him pause. An uncomfortable feeling settled into his chest. It felt wrong to think about killing her, as if it were taboo. He shook his head.

‘Just a random woman, no reason to not kill her. Already knows your name, she is a liability.’

He nodded to himself, glancing at the mirror across from him. He watched as his face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace as he imagined taking her life.

The man hadn’t even bothered to remember her name, so why did he care if he killed her or not? It confused and annoyed him.

‘Whatever, think about that later.’

Feitan used her absence as an opportunity to do some light exercise.

(Name) didn’t prevent him from doing what he wanted, but she would hover over him if she thought he was overexerting himself, which he found endlessly annoying.

He started with some sit ups. They were easy to do without the use of his arms, and would help build up his core strength.

——————

(Name) sat behind her booth at the farmers market, typing the phone number and pressing call.

It rang for a few seconds before being picked up, the sound of a man’s voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

(Name) blinked. ‘Wow, that’s the voice of a handsome man…’

“Um, hi! I’m calling on behalf of Feitan!”

The line was quiet for a moment before he answered. The man seemed amused, a laugh echoing into the receiver.

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Oops, sorry just one second!”

(Name) handed a woman a jar of canned peaches, thanking her for her patronage. Once finished she quickly replied.

“Sorry, I’m working right now but he asked me to call you because he was hurt during… a mission? I think that’s what he said. Both of his arms are paralyzed and he’s just now able to walk easily again.”

The man hummed. “I see. Who are you to Feitan?”

(Name) laughed. “By the way he looks at me you’d think I’m his worst enemy, but I guess I’m just the person that found him. Oh, do you need my address? Sorry, I know how suspicious this all must sound. I’d put him on the phone but we don’t have any signal at my house, I had to go to town to call you.”

“You’re fine, miss. I can tell by your voice you’re not lying. Send me your address and I’ll send one of my comrades to check the situation out when they’re available.”

“Of course!”

The two chatted for a bit longer. He was much more talkative than Feitan, introducing himself as Chrollo. The man seemed interested in her, asking random questions that sometimes teetered on too personal. She didn’t seem to care about that too much, answering to her best ability.

“Hmm, that’s interesting. You’ll have to send me some of that jam.”

“Definitely. Are you a fan of jam and syrup, Mr. Chrollo?”

“Chrollo is fine, and yes. Especially when they are home made. There’s something endearing about the domesticity of it.”

(Name) didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but hummed in agreement none the less.

“Well, I must be going (Name). I had a nice time talking with you. If you can’t reach me through calling, text me. I am usually busy with work, but I’ll respond eventually.”

(Name) nodded, but quickly realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes, I understand. Thank you for speaking with me!”

“Oh, and one last thing before you leave.”

(Name) paused, saying silent and waiting for him to continue.

“Tell Feitan I said to be… careful with you. Excuse his behavior please, he is not used to women. Especially when they dote on him, I imagine it must be hard for him to handle.”

“Oh, I see. I’ll make sure to tell him. Goodbye Chrollo, be safe.”

The man paused at this, if only for a second. “You as well, (Name). Goodbye.”

—————

Chrollo clicked the button to end the call. He stared at his phone for a moment, a soft look in his eyes.

Throughout their conversation, he had been carefully asking questions that would help him delve into her psyche. She passed his tests with flying colors, not giving him a single red flag to grab on to.

She obviously wasn’t bothered by Feitan and his behavior in the slightest, even having an endearing tone when speaking about him. Although she had only known the short man for 2 weeks, it was clear the girl cared for his well being.

“He’s in good hands. Though, it might be best for you to pay them a visit to see the extent of his injuries, and the steps we should take next.”

A hulking figure of a man stepped into the light, crushing a now empty can of soda in his fist. “Little Fei is getting special treatment from a dame? Never would have thought he’d allow that.”

The man let out a barking laugh, slapping a hand over his knee. Chrollo smiled softly, crossing his legs. “Try not to damage any of the woman’s belongings. She’s caring for a fellow spider, Feitan at that, so her works cut out for her.”

Uvogin’s laughing died down, the man serious. “Do you think she may be the one?”

Chrollo hummed, looking off in thought. “Maybe. Depends on how Feitan’s feelings develop. With the fact she’s still alive, I think there’s hope.”

Chrollo had a soft spot for his short friend. Feitan may seem cruel and unapproachable, but behind the layers of coldness and anger was the need to be loved. Although he was better at hiding it from most people, Chrollo, Uvogin, and Phinks knew better than anyone that Feitan needed the soft touch of a woman in his life.

It may be strange for a thief to care that much about their friends love life, but the Phantom Troupe weren’t exactly the most normal of people.

“I know you’re a great judge of character, Uvo. If she seems off, don’t hesitate.”

Uvogin grinned, his teeth bared. “Trust me, I won’t.”

——————

Feitan sat up when he heard the sound of the doorknob jiggling. He could sense (Name) behind the front door, unlocking it.

“Feitan, I’m home!”

He stiffened at the sound of his name before he remembered giving it to her just hours before. The man stood and walked into the living room, watching her open empty jars and set them in the sink to wash later.

“Talk to boss?”

She nodded, brushing the dust off her hands. “Yes! He said he’s sending someone to check on you.”

Feitan nodded. He’d expected that. Chrollo was a great leader, and any great leader would make sure the people working for him were safe and in good health. He was kind like that, having saved Feitan more than once from fates worse than death.

“Anything else?”

“Oh. He said to… be careful with me.”

She seemed to have not wanted to say that, busying herself with unloading the jars. He raised an eyebrow, approaching her.

“Already am careful. If I wasn’t, you’d be dead.”

He wasn’t lying, he’d certainly held back even when lashing out against her. It would be a hassle to clean up a dead body when he couldn’t move his arms, at least that’s the excuse he gave himself for not ripping out her throat with his teeth when she touched him.

“Oh. Well thanks for not killing me.”

That’s a response he hadn’t been expecting. No, she shouldn’t give him a sweet smile and thank him for sparing her life, that’s not what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to be scared, flinch from his touch and avoid him, leaving him to his own devices so he could ignore her presence.

She had a habit of making things much harder on him.

“… don’t thank me, idiot.”

Despite his petty insults, she continued smiling as she scrubbed the jars clean.

—————

“Feitan!”

The man looked up to see (Name) running towards him from outside, kicking off her dirty shoes before walking in.

“… what?”

She smiled down at him. “You should come outside with me today!”

“… why?”

(Name) giggled, walking around and grabbing various items. A towel, an umbrella, and a foldable chair we’re among some of the items being snatched up.

“It’s nice out so I’m gonna swim! The water might feel nice on your body.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, glancing between the girl and her ever growing hoard of items she planned on bringing with her.

“I don’t swim.”

She tilted her head. “You can’t swim?”

“No, just don’t enjoy it.”

She bummed. “Well, if you don’t like swimming you can just dip your feet in the water and relax under the sun. I’ll bring an umbrella if you get too hot!”

She beamed at him, her eyes shining. He tried to think of an excuse to not go, but each one was quickly shot down in his mind.

If he said he wasn’t feeling well, she’d stay and dote on him, if he said he was tired she’d tuck him into bed and stay by his side to make sure he wasn’t getting worse again.

Feitan couldn’t think of anything, so he nodded.

“Alright… just for a little while.”

——————

Feitan regretted his choice almost immediately.

The girl was quick to run off, stating she needed to change. He didn’t understand why that was necessary, she should have been able to swim in what she’d already been wearing. Then he remembered.

When most people swam, they wore bathing suits.

(Name) walked out of the bathroom wearing a simple pink one piece, pulling up a pair of white swim shorts over her hips as she walked out. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, his gaze lingering on her chest and ass.

She wasn’t what he thought his type was. He’d never been interested in women, but from what he’d seen men usually liked thin women with small waists and large breasts.

She certainly had large breasts, but she was not thin. It was obvious when he woke up with her pants hanging on his waist that she wasn’t a small girl.

But he couldn’t help but find his eyes glued to her figure. She was attractive, and he hated her for it.

“Feitan, are you ready? I’ve got some shorts and a tshirt for you to change into if you’d like.”

He didn’t really see a point in arguing, so he allowed her to help him into the shirt.

—————

Feitan had to admit, it was nice out.

The sun shone in the sky, but it’s rays were gentle. The countryside (Name) lived in was usually sweltering hot, even Feitan breaking out in a sweat, and he’d been raised in a desert. But right now, it was a comfortable amount of heat, just enough for Feitan to be able to nap.

The girl set up a spot for Feitan to sit before lathering his exposed parts in sunscreen. He didn’t complain, mostly because he knew how his fair skin would fare if she didn’t.

“Okay, now my turn!”

She slipped her shorts off right in front of him and set them by his feet. He watched as she lathered herself in sunscreen, humming as she did.

There was something strangely fascinating about her unaware nature. Did she notice him staring at her with his intense gaze, eyes darting from her ass, to her thighs, to her face, and back to her ass?

He felt a little bit embarrassed, not because he felt shame for viewing her in such a way, but because he should have more control over himself.

In his 25 years of life he’d never felt the need to look at a woman the way he was now. What was she doing to him? She was pretty, something that Feitan was still processing.

“I’m gonna go swim now, just call for me if you want to go inside!”

She was quick to run, tripping over the river rocks before getting up and running again. He snickered to himself, watching as she jumped into the water.

(Name) surfaced and let out a squeal, complaining that it was cold.

“If cold, get out.”

She pouted at this and stuck her tongue out at him before diving back into the depths.

——————

“Feitan! Feitannn look!”

The man opened his eyes to see (Name) waving to him from the water. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, annoyance clear in his tone.

“Watch!!”

She dipped under the water, only for both of her legs to stick up out of the river, wiggling them around. (Name) surfaced, taking in a breath before smiling at him.

“Did you see? I did a handstand?”

‘What is she, a kid?’

He scoffed and leaned back against his chair. “You can’t do one on land? Dumb.”

She didn’t reply, so he opened an eye to see her expression had soured. “Hmph.”

The girl dipped back into the water, swimming a bit further down the river until she was out of sight.

‘What’s up with her?’ He thought, watching her until he couldn’t anymore. ‘Whatever.’

The man dozed off, letting sleep take him.

When he woke up, about an hour had passed. He opened his eyes and peered around.

He didn’t immediately spot (Name) but when he did he bursted into laughter.

“What are you laughing at?”

The girl sat on the riverside, her cheek red with an imprint the shape of a fishtail. She held a bucket, the sound of something thrashing inside it clueing Feitan in to what might be in there.

“You- you got slapped by fish!” He couldn’t help but double over in laughter, his amusement only increasing when she huffed.

“I MAY have gotten smacked by a fish, but at least I still caught it! It took a while because it kept slipping out of my hands-“

He stopped laughing for a moment to stare at her with a dumbfounded face. “… you catch his hands? Do you not have net?”

She didn’t reply, but he could see her working out the answer on her face, her pout slowly turning into an embarrassed expression.

“Well. It’s caught.”

If she was anything, (Name) was certainly entertaining.

Feitan stood and walked over, peering into the bucket.

He was surprised to see the fish took up most of the space in the large bucket, bearing its strangely sharp teeth. He glanced back up at the girl, raising an eyebrow.

Was she some kind of mountain girl? How did she catch this beast of a fish with only a slap of its tail to show for it?

———————

“Did you enjoy your nap?”

Feitan glanced at the girl who was toweling off next to him, tearing his gaze away when she caught him staring. “It was okay.”

She bummed in response, dropping the towel and bending over to pick up her shorts. The woman pulled them up over her thighs, jumping around to get them over her ass.

“Ugh it sucks putting on clothes when you’re all wet.” She complained, unaware of the man’s eyes on her form.

“Should have dried off more.”

She nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m not very patient, though.”

She sat down at the edge of his chair, her thigh brushing his. Feitan pulled away, shooting her a glare. He still didn’t like any unnecessary physical contact, using his knee to prod at her side. “Move.”

She glanced back at him. “I just need to put my shoes on, it’ll only take a second.”

Feitan would regret the next words out of his mouth for a long time, physically cringing at himself far into the future.

The man shoved his knee into her back. “Gonna break the chair, fatty. Get up.”

For the first time since he’d come to be under her care, (Name) listened immediately.

She was strangely quiet, her usually constantly moving body completely still, rigid even.

“… sorry. You’re right.”

Feitan watched as she picked up her towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. “… I’m going inside to make dinner.”

With that she left without another word, her steps careful and quiet.

Feitan didn’t think anything of this reaction at first, just scoffing before lying back down to nap again.

——————

He first noticed her strange behavior when he walked inside to see her wearing a thin long sleeve shirt and pajama pants. She usually wore a pair of shorts and tank tops around the house. He didn’t blame her, it was hot, even during a day as nice as that one.

He watched her stiffen when he walked in, pulling at the fabric around her stomach nervously. “Welcome back. Dinner is almost ready.”

Feitan walked past her to the bathroom, grunting in response.

The next thing he noticed was she didn’t make herself a plate during dinner.

She would usually eat as she fed him, stealing bites of her food as he chewed his. Tonight, she just fed him quietly.

After he was finished, (Name) would peek at him from the kitchen, quickly turning away when they’d make eye contact. This was weird behavior, even for her.

“What you want?” he asked, peering at her from the corner of his eye. She stiffened at his question, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“N-nothing. It’s just late, so I assumed you’d be sleeping soon.”

He hummed. Wanting to test something out, he faked a yawn. “Yeah.”

Feitan walked to his room, peeking through the crack in the door.

(Name) leaned against the counter to see that he had left before sighing, pulling her long sleeve shirt off to reveal a tank top underneath. She fanned herself as she made her plate of food, sitting down at the dinner table and eating alone.

Feitan may sense, but the man was perceptive. Why was she acting like this?

He had only two people he could think about asking, but quickly shook the thought from his head. Why did he care if she was acting strange? As long as she performed her duties, it didn’t matter.

But still seeing her shrink under his gaze uncomfortably made him… nervous. He didn’t like it.

He climbed into bed, looking up at his ceiling. A frown pulled at his lips, the man falling into an uneasy sleep.

[spaceclefairy]

Copper and Gold

Very much like a promise.

Act I | Act II | Act III | Act IV | Ao3 Compilation

You wake up sprawled across your barroom bed, feet hanging off the side, pillow nowhere to be found. Despite that, you're quite comfortable, even with the encroaching heat of the room. In spite of the comfort, you manage to gather the willpower to lift your head and look around.

Dusty daylight filters in through the dirty bedroom window, bathing the otherwise dark room in pale light. The Ghoul has taken the place of your pillow and about half the mattress. Your head is planted on his chest, right up under his chin. Your arms and legs are wrapped securely around him like a particularly irritating vice, and you've rolled more than halfway on top of him in your sleep. He doesn't appear to have tried to move you off of him, judging by his light, comfortable snores. 

Your movements rouse him from his sleep, and he opens his eyes slowly as if the daylight offends him. He blinks bleary-eyed and semi-confused, then looks down at you. His eyes are sparkling hazel, even in the dusty light, and you can't help the way your heart hammers when he looks at you. (Oh, that's a problem, you need that to not happen.)

“Guess you don't ascribe to one side of the bed,” the Ghoul says, voice groggy and hoarse from sleep.

“Should I?”

His lips twitch into a crooked half-smile. “No.”

“Was gonna say too bad anyway. You're a lot more comfortable than this mattress.”

“The floor is more comfortable than this mattress,” he says. He squeezes your exposed hip and nudges you. “Switch places.”

You roll onto your back and pull him along with you so he's situated between your legs with his chin resting between your tits. His cheek is warm against your sticky skin. At least the heat coming off of him is comfortable, unlike the heat building in the room from the burgeoning daylight.

You relax back and close your eyes again, unwilling to get the day started. It occurs to you the Ghoul is still here despite the late morning hour, and for some reason, that doesn't sit well with you. He’s been gone before daylight every day previously. He’s not a man to waste time - he's waiting for something and spending that waiting time with you. Unfortunately, you have an idea that you know what he's waiting for, and it’s likely the reason he asked you to go back to being a bounty hunter with him (however serious that may have been).

It’s like he can tell what you’re thinking. (You don’t give him enough credit for being perceptive.)

“You see that bounty that came through last night?” the Ghoul asks, knowing full well you would have seen the announcement right before you left the agency hub yesterday afternoon.

You open your eyes and find him searching your face. You nod. “Wilzig, right?”

"That's the one,” the Ghoul confirms.

“Hefty bounty on him,” you comment lightly, hoping to coax him into getting to the point. “Gonna be a lot of competition.”

The Ghoul agrees. “Heard some rumors he'll be coming through here ‘round noon.”

You hum. “Explains why you were back early last night. Are you going after it?”

“Mhm.”

“Explains the late start this morning, too, then.”

He smirks, but it’s half-hearted. “Could still come with me.”

You cup his cheek and trace below the exposed hollow of his eye socket with your thumb. “You told me you do this shit for the love of the game, but I just don't have that in me anymore, Coop.”

Reluctantly, he relents. “Well, you'll still be my favorite agent.”

“I fuckin’ better be,” you snort. You’ve become quite a full-service bounty agent, what with all the ghoul sex.

“Suppose you'll be heading back today?”

“If they give me the all-clear on the raiders, I am.”

“I don't think the raiders will be much of a problem anymore.”

And it dawns on you why he's stuck around town for as long as he has, and why he's disappeared during the day while you've been stuck in Filly. Of course, he’d be the one to take care of the problem. And of course he wouldn’t dare clue you in on that. You don't acknowledge it, and you have a suspicion he wouldn't outright admit to it if you did, but no, you won't have a problem with raiders anymore.

The Ghoul bumps his chin against the soft side of one of your breasts. “You can handle yourself just fine anyway.”

That’s… sweet. He’s not trying to be, but it is. It catches you off guard on the rare occasion he’s sweet.

You change the subject. (You don’t think your heart can take anymore.) If you’re going to be waiting around with him for a bounty to come through, you can think of a better way to spend the time.

“You said that bounty should be coming through around noon, right?”

“Should be.”

“What time do you reckon it is now?”

The Ghoul shrugs, now very distracted by the soft give of your flesh against his cheek. Clearly, his mind is on the same track as yours. “‘Round nine or so. Hard to tell with these dusty ass windows.”

“Well, I guess we should find a way to spend the time…”

He plants a kiss on the underside of your breast, biting gently. “Could go back to sleep.”

You slip your hand around to the back of his neck, fingernails scratching against his skin. “Could.”

His tongue flicks out and catches your nipple, and the coolness 0f his breath in the warm room makes your skin prickle. “Probably better if I fuck you or you'll be grabbing me in a minute anyway.”

You laugh. “Dick.”

“You ain't said no to it yet.”

The Ghoul props himself up on his elbows to give himself just enough leverage to latch back onto your nipple. His tongue laves at you, teeth chasing it with tiny nips and bites. You squirm, rolling your hips up against his abdomen in the hopes of finding friction, but he pins you down with his chest.

“Slow down, we’ve got time,” he mumbles, and his voice against your skin tingles. 

This newfound desire to fuck you slowly drives you crazy, like you want to come out of your skin. The way he drags a hand down your side like he’s memorizing the feel of your skin - all while propped up on an elbow so you don’t have any wiggle room - gives you the impression he’s trying to enjoy his last morning with you for a while. You hadn’t quite been expecting this outcome when you’d fucked him in your backroom a couple weeks earlier, but you can’t deny you’re enjoying it.

He nips the soft skin of your stomach with his teeth and proceeds downwards, trailing his tongue down to your slit. You’ve got barely enough room to arch your hips up, but he doesn’t seem to need any help getting access to your cunt. He slides his tongue between your lips, rolling your nub around his tongue. You can tell how thin his patience is despite his insistence on going slow by the way he keeps biting and nipping at you and soothing the sharpness over with his tongue.

This is usually the moment where your brain goes completely offline, but you grab the hand tickling your side so you can focus. You want to enjoy this, memorize the way his tongue splits you open, the intensity of his hazel eyes studying you like you’re a treasure map, exposed flesh odd and raw and red against yours but it’s so him you don’t care. He pins your hand down to the mattress, almost under you, and you can’t see it but you can feel his fingers interlaced between yours.

He seals his mouth over you and slides his tongue into your entrance, and this time when you move, he’s too focused on tongue-fucking you to catch you quick enough to stop you from moving. You wrap a leg around the back of his neck to keep him planted right up against you. His hum of surprise reverberates against you and shoots straight up your spine, the heat licking at you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you groan, and despite your very best efforts to the contrary, you’re panting in the heat from the room and the Ghoul’s tongue situated securely in your cunt. You look down, and he’s watching you squirm, taking note of every bead of sweat dripping down your chest, and he’s smiling against your skin. “You look so fucking good down there.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that no matter how gruff and scary the Ghoul purports himself to be, he loves when you praise him. When you tease him. When you’re nice to him, even. You think it makes him feel human again, but you’ll never mention it (you’re certain you’d only be met with stonewalling if you tried). He’s still a man, after all, and he loves to hear he’s doing a good job.

He nudges your other leg over his back, and you press your heel up against his spine. You don’t know how he’s breathing right now, but that’s his problem (you’ll never fuck another man with a nose again, you swear). The only purpose your remaining free hand has is to keep you propped up so you can watch slick drip down his lips and chin.

You know you’re going to come, and you fight it as long as you can, but his tongue and teeth will always win that fight. Your leg tightens around the back of his neck, thighs squeezing his head, and he grunts when he feels you come all over his tongue.

The Ghoul disentangles himself from you in the truest sense of the word. The knot of limbs you’ve become is confusing, a question of where one person ends and the other begins only answered by the difference in texture. Your hand has gone numb from being squeezed tight, fingers tingling. He sits back on his knees, readjusting you around him. You marvel at tight muscles, no matter how many times you’ve seen him naked now. 

When he’s satisfied you’re in the position he wants you in, he plants his hands on either side of your head, his entire body pressing down on you. “You think your friend down the hall can hear what I’m doing to you?”

You grin. “I think the whole bar can hear, but I’ll be happy to make sure.”

“I oughta hang you out of that window over there so the whole town can hear,” he nods over to the dusty window, and you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t be cool with it. “Let ‘em know you’re mine, babydoll.”

“See, it’ll take about thirty seconds longer than I want to get that window open,” you say, and he laughs, dropping his forehead down against your shoulder. His cock is trapped up against your stomach, and you are far too distracted and far too desperate to willingly take longer than necessary for him to fuck you. “But I’ll make sure we’ve got an audience.”

“Lift up, then.”

You lift your hips as asked, and he reaches between you to guide his cock in. His cock stretches you perfectly, heavy inside you - a suitable replacement for the delight of his tongue. He doesn’t waste any time, pushing his hips into you hard, stretching you until it stings. You like the bite of pain - it balances out the slowness of his movements.

The Ghoul is determined to keep this pace, you find, so matter how hard you work to break his patience. He pins your hands over your head so you can’t grab him and fists a hand in your hair to keep you from stretching up to kiss him. The smirk never leaves his face, not for a second, while he drinks in the desperation he causes you, while he enjoys the grip of you around his cock. He yanks on your hair to expose your neck and latches onto your skin with lips and teeth. Usually, he’s not one to mark you up where anyone else could see, but he’s got no reservations about that now. You’re his, and everyone’s going to see it.

A particularly sharp whine from you cracks his patience, and he thrusts up into you harder to get you to just make that sound again.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he grunts in your ear, licking a stripe up the shell of your ear. He’s trying to keep his breathing under control and failing soundly. “Come on, darlin’, just like that.”

You manage to turn your head quick enough to slam your lips down on his, biting down on his bottom lip. He loves that sting of pain, and it finally breaks his patience. He lets go of your hands so you’re no longer pinned down, and you grab him immediately, nails raking down his back. He barely bothers to prop himself up, more interested in feeling every inch of your skin against his while he ruts into you.

You don’t bother to fight it when you come this time. It drips down your spine like liquid gold, like the worst relief, and you’re quite sure your friend down the hall definitely knows what the Ghoul is doing to you now. He doesn’t slow down, and you wouldn’t have let him if he’d tried. 

You wrap your legs around his waist and hold him close so that he has to grind down on you while he thrusts. You catch his chin in your hand. “Let me see you come, Cooper.”

He licks his lips and kisses you with a desperation that leaves you licking into his mouth. His rhythm stutters, and he comes deep in you without any other thought. There’s rad-away somewhere in this room (not that either of you care at the moment). 

The Ghoul collapses down against your chest, right back where he started at the beginning of the morning with his head between your breasts. You scratch the back of his neck softly, as has become your habit once he’s done. He really is quite handsome in his own way, you think, and you wonder what he’d looked like before he’d become a ghoul. The eyes would have been enough for you no matter what he’d looked like, really.

You don’t let yourself linger too long in the moment. Any longer and you’ll be packing up to ride off into the sunset with him like the idiot you are. “You better not forget where I live.”

He huffs. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

With that, the Ghoul drags himself off of you and out of bed. He takes his time putting his clothes back on so you can watch (and even then, that outfit takes a while to get situated). He’s quiet as he does it, just letting you watch him until he’s dressed and pulling on his boots.

He smacks your knee. “As much as I hate to see you get dressed, I got a feelin’ this bounty’s gonna put up a fight. Might not be much left of Filly when I’m done.”

“What a gentleman you are, not wanting to see me shot full of holes,” you grin, hopping out of bed with absolutely zero willingness.

You pull your clothes on slowly, letting him watch you the same way he let you watch him. When you’re done, you grab an inhaler and the usual dosage of rad-away because God forbid you make him pull out when he comes.

The Ghoul pulls you in for a final kiss, letting this one linger. He strokes your cheek with his thumb while he admires the welts he left all over your throat and down your collarbone.

You’ve never let your heart ache for anyone the way you’ve started to let it ache for this ghoul. You really could kick yourself, but it was just so easy to do. “Come back in one piece, please. And not feral. That’d be a waste.”

“No promises,” he says, very much like a promise.

[devilat-thedoor]

Best Bad Habit

🤍Hey Babes🤍

Took a small break from HTY today… So this is just a little something that I wrote up in like an hour after listening to this song and thinking about Sammy baby🫠 Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it💖

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: Smut(18+ Minors DNI), Oral (f receiving), Mutual Masturbation, Unprotected Sex. i think that’s all!

Craving your touch, yeah I need a fix // Of all of the things that are bad for me, you’re the one that I don’t wanna kick.

“Oh eat shit, Sam!” You stood in the middle of the full parking lot, screaming at him. “Yanno, you can be a real asshole sometimes!”

He countered your claim, “I can be an asshole?” He scoffed in disbelief, “You’re acting insane, Y/N!”

“How am I acting insane? Hmm?” You stepped closer to him, pointing past him towards the neon illuminated bar, “Because I’m upset that you’re eye fucking and flirting with every woman in the bar?” You turned to walk away, not interested in his response.

Sam was hot on your heels, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to face him, “I don’t know what you want from me!” He was shouting now, frustrated at your attitude, “You made it clear that there’s no label on this, Y/N! You wanted to keep your options open, so fucking excuse me for doing the same!” He dragged his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated.

Your spat was garnering the attention of arriving patrons, making their way into the barroom. “Fuck you, Sam… You want options?” Your voice was barely a whisper now as you drug your keys from your bag and gestured between the two of you, “Have them all. This is done.”

“Yeah okay…” Sam stayed planted in place, watching you walk to your car. “Don’t come knocking on my door with that innocent smile the next time you miss me and you’re looking for a quick fix!”

You got into the car, slamming the door shut. God he fucking sucks. You didn’t need him, there were plenty of guys out there. Sure, Sam was a good fuck… Maybe the best you’ve had, but everything was replaceable. Wasn’t it?

You made it through your front door, tossing your keys into your purse and dropping it on the floor. It was only 9pm. You didn’t plan on being home until at least midnight. Sam ruined everything. Deep down, you knew the blame wasn’t all on him, but in your stubborn state of mind, you couldn’t be bothered to accept responsibility. You could always just go back out, hit a different bar, find a different man… But you chose to stay in. You poured yourself a large glass of wine and loaded a vinyl into the turntable, letting the smooth music carry your frustration away.

After a third glass, your body was feeling warm, but something was still missing. You knew what it was, but you didn’t dare admit it to yourself. You craved his touch. The electric feeling his fingers left on your skin wherever they roamed. The way he knew just where to kiss you to make you melt in his hands. The ends of his hair, brushing over your face, tickling you, when he was atop of you. You grazed your fingers over your bare skin above the tank top you were wearing, imagining that it was him. Setting the wine glass on the table, you stood from the couch and stalked into your bedroom, straight to your nightstand. You opened it up, digging through it for a moment to find your vibrator wand. It was tucked in the bottom, buried away from not being used for so long. Returning to the living room, you slid your shorts off and settled back into the couch. You kicked your feet up on the coffee table, letting your legs fall apart slightly. You flipped the switch on the toy, unsure if the battery had any life left in it, but smiled to yourself when the rapid buzzing sound filled the air. Leaning back, you let your body rest against the back cushions as you brought the vibrations to your covered clit. The first touch made you jolt, sending a shockwave to your belly. “Shit.” Adding a little more pressure, your head tumbled back as your breathing picked up. Your free hand traveled across your stomach and up to your breast, squeezing it through your shirt. You were almost there, just a little more… Before your orgasm had a chance to bloom, there was a knock at your front door. You shot up straight, fumbling to click the toy off. You thought you may have imagined it, but then the gentle knocks came again. Taking a second to regain some shred of composure, you tossed the vibrator behind one of the pillows to hide it and stood up. It was well after 11pm now, who was at your door? You shuffled over, cracking the door open a bit to get a glimpse.

“Baby, let me in…” Sam peered at you through the small opening, a pleading look in his eyes.

You let out a heavy sigh and pulled the door open, “What do you want, Sam?” Your tone was harsh. Mostly because you were still pissed at him from the argument, but also because he just interrupted your impending orgasm.

He didn’t make a move to come in yet, “I’m sorry…” His eyes flicked down to your bare legs and slowly raked back up to meet your stare. “I was being an ass… But I can’t stay away from you, baby. You know that.” He took one step over the threshold. “I know you don’t want me the same way and I know I’m gonna get hurt…”

“Sammy…” You wanted to tell him that you did want him the same way. Nobody else compared to him. He was the first thought in your brain when you woke up and last before you fell asleep. Everything about him was intoxicating. Like the finest wine on the planet. But you were afraid of being hurt too.

He shook his head, stopping your mouth from moving, “You’re like a drug that I just can’t get enough of.” His hand reached out, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I’m at your mercy, Y/N.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You caved, grasping his shirt and pulling him into a kiss so heated that you thought you might combust. He rushed you backwards, giving him space to kick the door shut and lifted you, bringing your legs around his waist. Your fingers weaved through his hair, holding his lips to yours as your tongue dove into his mouth. He had one arm wrapped behind your back while the other held your ass. You moaned into the kiss, grinding your hips against him in search of friction. “I want you, Sammy. Only you.” He looked at you, brows drawn together in question, silently asking if you were saying what he thought you were. You gave a quick nod, brushing your nose with his. “You and me.”

“Fuck, baby…” He came to the couch, sitting the two of you down. Grazing his fingers over your cheek, he pulled you back in for another kiss, slotting between your legs and pushing you to lay down. He grabbed the pillow behind you to make room for you, but his eyes caught something, causing him to pull away from you. Before you could protest, he reached over you and picked up the vibrator, holding it in front of your face. “Is this what you were doing when I knocked?” The smirk on his face was devious, “Is that why your cheeks were flushed when you opened the door, sweetheart?”

Your eyes went back and forth between him and the toy in his hand. “I needed you. Craved your touch… But you told me not to come back…” You chewed on your lip, watching his eyes darken.

He flipped the switch, the buzzing filling the air once again. “Show me how bad you needed me.” He placed it in your hand and scooted back, sitting at the opposite end of the couch. “Go on. I wanna see how you take care of yourself when I’m not around to satisfy her.” He nodded to your core. You were already a soaked mess, but the way he was gazing at you turned you to a puddle. You slowly brought the toy back to the front of your panties, but before you could make contact, Sam stopped you. “Take them off. I wanna see how wet she is.” His eye never left yours as you shifted, sliding the cherry red thong down your legs and dropping it on the floor. You sat back against the arm on your end of the sofa, letting your legs fall apart to give him a full view. His gaze dropped, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “So fucking beautiful.”

You finally guided the wand to your clit, already so sensitive. “Mmm. Sammy…” Your eyes fluttered as your hips worked to grind against the vibrations. The whimpers that flowed from your mouth mixed with the music playing quietly in the background and Sam would swear it was the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard.

“It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” Sam’s voice was raspy, dripping with lust. You bit down on your lip, giving him a nod in response. “Use your fingers, Y/N.”

You obeyed, flipping the switch and discarding the toy. You pulled your middle and ring finger into your mouth, sucking on them until they were coated in your spit. Your eyes stayed locked with his as you withdrew the digits and trailed them from your neck, down your torso and over your clit, a shiver ghosting through you. You allowed them to travel lower, gathering up your arousal and pushed them inside of yourself. “Fuck.” Your brows pulled together as you curled your fingers, moving them in and out at an achingly slow pace. Your head rolled back, soft moans pouring from your throat as your eyes fell shut.

“Such a pretty girl, fucking yourself. Putting on a show for me.” Sam let out a groan, prompting you to look up. Your eyes immediately landed on his hand, wrapped around his cock and stroking it lazily. “Can you get yourself off, baby? Hmm? Make yourself cum like a good girl and I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.”

You couldn’t stop watching his hand, twisting and winding over his hardened length. All you could offer was a hum as you worked your fingers deeper into your cunt, using your free hand to rub circles on your clit. You picked up your speed, wanting to finish as fast as possible so Sam would just touch you. Finding the perfect spot inside of yourself, you brushed over it repeatedly. Your body was writhing, “S- So close, Sammy.” You were about to topple over the edge as you squeezed your eyes shut. But right before your orgasm could hit, Sam yanked your hands away. As you were about to scold him, he dropped down, attaching his mouth to you. “Oh, god… oh fucking christ.” Your mouth hung open as your fingers tangled in his hair. He smirked against you, flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit, and pushed his long middle finger into you. With a single curl of his digit, you were done. Your legs snapped shut around his head as your body shook. He lapped at you, carrying you through the climax with ease.

Once the tension dissipated and your body relaxed into the cushions, Sammy sat up and pulled your legs so that you were laying flat across the couch. “I’m gonna make sure you see stars.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he flipped you over in a swift movement, now flat on your tummy. He gripped your hips, lifting them slightly and drove into your dripping core. “She’s so wet for me, baby.” His hand cracked across your ass cheek, leaving a sting. “This pussy loves me. Loves the way my cock fills her up, doesn’t she?” He was moving at a relentless pace, his skin slapping yours as he panted. When you didn’t respond, he grabbed a handful of your hair, turning your head to face him. “Doesn’t she, Y/N?

“Fuck.” You could already feel another orgasm building, “Yes, Sammy. She loves it… Feels so fucking good, baby.” You knew the confession satisfied him by the way he groaned out loud.

He pushed your leg to bed at the knee, giving him access to go deeper. “Yeah, I know she does. I can feel you getting closer…” The hand that held your hair loosened enough for him to put his palm flat to your head, pushing it into the cushions. He held your head in place and pulled your hips up higher, fucking into you at a new angle. “Nobody will ever know this pussy like me. No one could ever fuck her like me. She’s mine.” His cock brushed over your g spot, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “Tell me, baby.��� Sam’s thrusts were becoming erratic, “Tell me she’s mine.” He almost sounded desperate.

You mumbled through strangled whines and moans, “She is, Sammy. All yours. I promise, it’s only you. Shiiiit.” He hit you with a particularly pointed stroke and your eyes rolled back. Everything went black as your mouth fell open, nothing but panting breaths escaping. Your orgasm exploded into a sea of colors behind your eyelids as they squeezed shut. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d make you see stars.

Sam was right there with you, hips staggering as he collapsed onto your back, filling you with his release. “Oh fuck, baby.” His warm breath blanketed your skin as you both allowed yourselves to come down.

He stayed nestled inside of you, his body weight draped over your back. When you felt his lips press into your shoulder blade, you picked you head up to peek at him, “I meant it, yanno…” Your voice was a mere whisper.

“Meant what?” Sam pulled out of you then and flipped you onto your back before laying atop your body again.

You pushed the sweat soaked hair from his forehead, a smile curling your lip. “It’s only you. I don’t want anybody else.” Your fingers danced over his cheek with a featherlight touch, “It was never about having options, Sammy. I was afraid of getting hurt… Afraid you’d find someone better.”

He caught your hand, bringing it to his mouth to place a kiss on your knuckles, “I’ve only wanted you, nobody else…I’ve been hooked on you since the first taste, Y/N.” He allowed you to pull him into a soft kiss before laying his head on your chest. “I couldn’t quit you if I tried.” You rubbed your hand down his back, letting his words sink in. “You’re my best bad habit, baby.”

[electronickingdomfox]

"The New Voyages" review

This one is actually a collection of short stories by fan authors, which makes the stories seem more like episodes of the series. It has also the distinct honor of being introduced by Roddenberry and most members of the cast. The stories are generally well-written and in character.

Some spoilers ahead:

Ni Var (by Claire Gabriel; intro by Nimoy) takes the plot of "The Enemy Within", but applied to Spock and the division between his Vulcan rational part, and his human emotional part. Besides the fact that I'm not sure such division works at that biological level, the two Spocks aren't all that different really. And it's not a very novel concept, specially right after a similar plot in previous book "Spock must die". But bonus points for Kirk giving the middle finger to his own reflection.

Intersection Point (by Juanita Coulson; intro by Doohan) is one of the best stories. The Enterprise is seriously crippled while navigating through an anomaly cloud, which is quickly contracting and threatens to crush the entire ship. Anyone who enters the cloud to retrieve a crucial component of the ship, is mentally destroyed by its eldritch qualities. Great tension and difficult choices.

The Enchanted Pool (by Marcia Ericson; intro by Nichols) is an attempt to write a fairy tale with Spock thrown in the middle for good measure. A bit of purple prose, and doesn't quite work. The resolution of the mistery is ingenous, even when convoluted.

Visit to a Weird Planet Revisited (by Ruth Berman; intro by Barrett) is actually the other half of a fanfic (Visit to a Weird Planet, not published here) where Kirk, Spock and Bones end up in the real world, right in the studio where they're filming Star Trek. Here instead, we follow the actors, who appear in the Enterprise and have to improvise to avert a danger. The other story was more fun, since Kirk and co. are more clumsy and hilarious in our world (being even "attacked" by fans), while the actors are just slightly less competent than their counterparts.

The Face on the Barroom Floor (by Eleanor Arnason and Ruth Berman; intro by Takei) is a really fun story. Kirk gets into a fight in a bar while in shore leave, is detained, teams up with a ratty thief, and crashes a party, while his crew search for him frantically. In the line of TOS best comedy-adventure episodes.

The Hunting (by Doris Beetem; intro by the editors) is a bit "meh". Spock goes into a Vulcan ritual which requires to mind-meld with a wild beast, and McCoy accompanies him. When Spock goes wild in the process, the good doctor has to hunt him and give him back his sanity. There could have been a more homoerotic fight between them, as in "Amok Time".

The Winged Dreamers (by Jennifer Guttridge; intro by Kelley) is another high point. The Enterprise crew falls under the influence of some creatures that make their fantasies seem real. So real that people can actually die if imagining the wrong thing. Spock is less affected, but slowly begins to hallucinate too, and the triumvirate fall into paranoia as neither they (nor the reader) can tell what's real and what's not anymore.

Mind-Sifter (by Shirley Maiewski; intro by Shatner) drags a bit at the beginning, when Kirk wakes up in a sanatory, his mind almost destroyed. It gets more interesting once Spock and McCoy start a quest to search for him. Great interactions between these two, reminiscent of "The Tholian Web".

After the eight stories there's still a little poem about Spock and Leila.

Spirk Meter: 10/10*. Not all stories are equally slashy, but the parts which do, are slashy in spades.

Ni Var has Kirk worrying about Spock all the time, and "human Spock" wondering if what he feels for the Captain is friendship... or love (something which happens too in one of Roddenberry's story concepts for a movie, around this time).

Intersection Point has a clear parallel between the anguish of a female crewmember, after a man (obviously her boyfriend) loses his mind in the anomaly, and Kirk agonizing once Spock has to enter the same anomaly.

The Enchanted Pool, where Spock refuses to kiss a beautiful female time and time again. Even when the woman assures him it's the only way to break a spell and escape. Even when Spock is doing far more dangerous things ALL THE TIME to solve problems. Of course, he considers the kiss a total waste of time once it doesn't work.

The Face on the Barroom Floor: Kirk is invited to a bar by McCoy and Sulu, who have found three women to pass the time, one for each. What does Kirk do? He gets out the bar two seconds later, puts on a samurai costume, and goes instead to a bar full of muscular, rowdy men, to get thrashed by them. Of course.

The Winged Dreamers has Spock wishing to stay on a planet with Kirk, just the two of them, for ever and ever. McCoy totally gets what's going on.

And I thought that Mind-Sifter would be about the love between a (quite unproffesional) nurse, and her mentally unstable patient, Kirk. But oh man, where do I even begin!? For starters, we have Kirk using his mind link with Spock to cry for help, across the galaxy and several centuries. And later he's concerned about how much can Spock read into his mind. Then we have McCoy informing the nurse that no, Kirk can't stay with her, because his love is his career and his... (trails off, having said too much). Gallant Spock carries an unconscious Kirk in his arms, and tells the nurse that, no matter how much she loves him, Kirk DOES NOT love her back (bitch!). If that wasn't enough, there's a lenghty conversation at the end, where Kirk almost melts in love and appreciation for Spock, and the Vulcan blushes at his own emotional display.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 5

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

"Look," you put your fist up, recalling what Hottie told you, "I don't wanna but I will defend myself."

August's blue eyes pinpoint on you, dropping to your fist and running back up to your face. He lets you go as he tilts his head and you're shaken by the deep rumble that rises from his chest. He's laughing.

"You'll defend yourself?" He muses as he tucks the flashlight into his pocket, "as much as I could use the entertainment... go get your friend and get out."

You frown and slide your phone out, checking the screen as he backs away. You see her message. Sent ten minutes ago.

"Uh, sir," you call after him, "she's upstairs. Could you maybe help me? Otherwise, I could get lost."

He stops and rolls his eyes, letting them drift back to you.

"Alright, well, then you can't blame me if I stick around a bit long--"

He storms forward and grabs your upper arm. He turns you and marches you out of the barroom to the staircase. He shoves you ahead of him and trails closely behind you. You grasp the railing and his knuckles snap across your ass, "hurry up."

"Hands to yourself," you yelp over your shoulder but do as he says.

You get to the second floor and he grabs your forearm, hauling you forward with him as he looks around. You feel tiny next to him as he searches above the heads of dancers. He sighs and you look to your left as you sense a flash on the floor. Odd.

You see a shining rectangle at the end of the hall. You check your phone, straining with one hand to open the chat. No reply. You text again, "where are you?"

The light flickers and you try to pull away from him. He grips you tighter, "where do you think you're going?"

"Down here," you say.

You point and he reluctantly lets you free. You scurry ahead of him and go down the hall. You bend and pick up the phone, seeing your last message on the it before it goes black again.

"Oh!" You wave it at him, "it's hers..."

You look to the side as you hear a thump against the door there. Your eyes round and you glance back at August. You hold the phone with yours in one hand and try to turn the handle with your other. The door doesn't budge.

"Um, a little help," you back up and face him.

"It's a coat room--"

"So! Open it!"

He squints at you and his nostrils flair, "Don't tell me what to do."

Still, he turns and puts a hand on the handle, the other flat on the door. He pushes once, then bolsters his strength and tries again. As he does, there's a noise from the other side. You hear Hottie cry out. He lets go and kicks the door, revealing her as she claws and kicks at the man trying to restrain her.

"Get him!" You holler.

August doesn't move. You stand awkward as Hottie manages to free herself and staggers out. You latch onto her arm and pull her close as the bouncer watches the other man. The stranger is unfazed as he comes to the door and fixes his jacket.

"Interrupting my fun," he sneers.

August considers him and angles a brow. He peeks at you from the corner of his eye. Then he looks at the man again, "you can't make a buck fucking sluts in the coat room," he jams his thumb towards the end of the hall, "go."

The other man scoffs and glances at Hottie with half a smirk, "really, dude, we were just getting into it."

"I want my cut. You keep bringing in dimes and I won't let you in anymore. So scram."

The man huffs but leaves. You stand in confusion as you cling to your friend. She glares at her attacker and you have to hold her back from following. August blocks her as he shifts to block you both in.

"Now you, and you," he jabs his finger in your face then hers, "you leave my club and don't come back."

"Fuck off. You're gonna let him hang around and--"

"He makes money. What do you do?"

She jerks away from you, reeling her fist back, but you keep her from swinging. You put your other hand out at August as he tenses and you chuckles nervously. You insert yourself between them.

"It's cool. Everyone. It's cool," you smile, "we'll go. Just don't hurt us."

"Get out of my way. This guy deserves it--" Hottie jostles you.

"Please," you keep in front of her, "please... I wanna go."

She stills as August flicks his brows up in victory. You give him a sheepish look as you sidle towards the wall with Hottie behind you.

"We'll just be..."

"Oh, I'll make sure of it," he clamps onto both of you, an arm in each hand, "I better not see either of you again."

[kdogreads]

Your imagine of being chibs old lady is the cutest, sweetest, loviest thing I’ve ever read 😭😭😭😭. Could I pretty please have more? Maybe when they meet or the early days of the relationship

Thank you so much, sweet anon💕 I’ve been traveling a lot for work so I haven’t had time to turn this into as long of a fic as I would have liked. Part 2 will dive deeper into the early days of this sweet relationship. :)

I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Very Soon

Summer, early 1990s, Charming, CA

You’d lived in Charming your whole life and worked at the same damn diner since you were 16. Until very recently, that is, you started working at St. Thomas Hospital.

The Sons were familiar to you, and you to them, most of them calling you by your first name when you’d cross paths. They’d come in to your little diner regularly over the years and you’d built a friendly relationship with the club. They were the only mechanics in town you trusted to do good work for a fair price, so when you blew a tire just down the road from the shop, you started walking that way.

You walked around to the garage where the guys were working on all kinds of bikes and cars. Tig was the first one to spot you and headed your way. He shouted your name with his normal enthusiast demeanor.

“Hey, darlin’. How ya doing? Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, thanks, but I hit a pothole or something just around the corner, tore my tire and rim all up. You guys got time for a tow?” You asked him in defeat, slugging your bag over your shoulder.

“Oh, anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll pull the truck around,” He waved for the chestnut-haired Scotsman who was working away on a Harley, “You need a lift? Got somewhere to be?” Tig put a hand on your shoulder gently, careful to keep the interaction light, respectful.

“Nowhere to be but here,” You teased back, punching him in the shoulder playfully.

“Good thing Chibs here has a clear schedule then to keep you company, darlin’,” He patted the Scot on the back, a grin spread wide across his face.

Tig gave you a wink and a turned around to go pick up your incapacitated car. Chibs smiled and extended his arm out, pointing you in the direction of the clubhouse. You’d never been inside before, but you’ve apparently been around enough now to be invited in. You’d always been friendly with Chibs, not unlike the other guys, but there’d always been an extra sense of flirtation with him, his eyes lingered a bit longer on you after every interaction.

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the dimly-lit barroom. The smell of cigarettes, weed and booze invaded your senses. A few heads turned when you walked through the door, but as soon as they spotted Chibs behind you, they just nodded your way. A blush suddenly crept onto your cheeks knowing you were only allowed in because you were being escorted by a member.

“Fancy a drink, sweetheart?” You nodded with a smile, and Chibs handed you a cold beer before leading you to the end of the bar top where two barstools sat empty.

“Thank you, Chibs,” You chirped as you slung back a swig of the icy liquid.

He muttered something you didn’t quite catch, so you raised an eyebrow his way. Playfully questioning his words.

“It’s Filip,” He spoke nonchalantly between sips, “Figure someone oughtta use it.”

You smiled at his openness towards you. The only interactions you’d really had with him before now had been in passing at the diner or when he’d been patching up your car, but there was always something in the way he spoke. A certain lilt in his tone that always made your heart flutter. You thought it might just be his accent, but you were happy to learn you might be wrong about that.

“Alright, Filip,” You spoke, just a hint of flirtation in your voice, “However will you entertain me for the next several hours?” You leaned an elbow on the counter top and smiled up at him.

He looked around playfully, nodding his head towards the other side of the room.

“Know how ta play, lass?” He motioned towards the worn pool table, the hint of a smile tugging one side of his mouth.

“Yeah, kinda. Haven’t played for a long time, but I’m sure you can remind me,” You took a sharp breath in before setting your beer down and hopping off your barstool.

When you stood up, Filip didn’t move at first, so you extended your hand to him, a playful, “come on,” dancing from your lips. That was all it took to lift him to his feet, his gaze drifting to the floor momentarily, probably to disguise the blush flooding his scarred cheeks.

He took this new job of teaching you how to be a star pool player very seriously. He’d squint his eyes and get down level with the velvet tabletop, explaining something about the angles and torque needed to get the ball where you wanted it to go. You kept up as best as you could, all of his strategy and technique basically just flowing in one ear and straight out the other.

Sensing your patience thinning, Filip decided it was time to show you how to properly shoot the ball. It was exactly as you’d seen it in the movies. He planted himself firmly behind you, each of his broad arms in line with your thinner ones.

“Nice ‘n’ easy, now,” He spoke quietly, his breath close enough to tickle the hairs flowing over your shoulder, “No’ too much force, righ’ there on the far side o’ the ball.”

You tried not to react to his close proximity, but you couldn’t stop the shiver that shot up your spine. A shaky breath fell from your lips.

“Nervous, lass?” Filip’s lips almost brushed against your ear this time. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Not at all, Filip,” You popped the “p” a bit more than necessary, turning your head slightly to meet his deep brown gaze for a beat before sinking two balls into the corner hole.

“Aye, s’pose no’ then,” He growls with an amused look on his face.

You turn to face him, comfortably trapped between the old wooden table and Filip’s broad body, his arms resting on the oak on either side of you. He takes a deep breath and sinks down so you are face-to-face. You just stare into each other’s gazes for a moment, both of you thinking about your next move.

“Yer beautiful, lass, always thought so,” Filip whispered, his hand raising to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

A blush crept up your chest and spilled onto cheeks. His gaze was not demanding, but invasive. He filled all of your senses like a rushing waterfall, waves breaking above your head over and over again without giving you a moment to breathe.

“Can I —,” You began, knees feeling like they could buckle at any moment under the weight of his presence, “Can I kiss you, Filip?

He didn’t respond for a beat, a smile daring to creep onto his face. He lifted his other hand from the table behind you and cupped both sides of your face, leaning his body into yours. His lips were softer than you expected as he pressed them to your own, planting a sweet peck onto them.

“Aye, lass, only if I can kiss you back,” His words sparking a smile to spread across your face. You leaned back into him and kissed him again, deeper this time. Your lips crashing together and apart time after time. Filip’s tongue licked a swipe across your bottom lip, sliding into your mouth to explore each part of it. You were so lost in the feeling of tongues melding together that you must have missed the recognizable squeak of the heavy clubhouse door.

“Uh, hey,” An amused Tig began, you straightened up quickly with an embarrassed giggle rising in your throat, “If you’re done sticking your tongue down Chibby’s throat, sweetheart, you car is ready to roll.”

You let the laughter spill out of your mouth as you leaned your head down to rest on Filip’s chest. He wrapped one arm around your waist as the other pretended to shield you from Tig’s view, a chuckle escaping Chibs’ cheeky smile, too. You nodded at Tig with a smile still on your face. He turned around to head back out the door shaking his head and laughing.

“I guess ya better be on yer way then, darlin’,” Chibs smiles to you, his hands still planted firmly on your waist. You only nodded up at him before leaning back into his chest and snaking your arms around his broad torso. His strong arms wrapped around you again as he planted a kiss on the top of your head. The two of you stayed there a moment, wrapped up in nothing but each other before you pulled away from him.

“I’ll be seeing you soon then, Filip?” You asked as you a stepped towards the bar top to grab your bag. Before you could register it, your hand was caught in Chibs’ tight grasp. You spun your head around with a confused look on your face.

“Aye, lass,” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into your knuckles, “Very soon.”

Part two here 🥰🤪

[psygull]

There's a world of difference between a movie that is intentionally made to be bad (look at how cheesy we're being! isn't it ironic?) and a movie that knows that it's probably bad but is determined to do the most with what it's got.

Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter is not a bad movie. Nor is it a good one. What it is is incredibly earnest and charming. I've probably mentioned it before, but this is my favorite kind of movie to watch. The director was just a guy who wanted to make a movie and have fun with it, alongside a veritable army of early 2000s Canadian twenty-somethings that comprise the cast.

It would be easy for the rest of this filmpost to just be a list of things that happen in it: it's a kung fu movie, it's a musical, it's a comedy, there's a barroom brawl where people are getting staked with toothpicks and pool cues, there are TWO Jesus makeover sequences, there's a hugedude Mexican wrestler in a very small airplane, there's a lady named Mary Magnum, there's a motorcycle stunt performed by said Mary Magnum, there's holy water beer, there's lesbianism, there's a bit where Jesus bilocates to be in two fight scenes simultaneously, there's an EXTENDED bit where a bunch of atheists continually pile out of a clown car to fistfight Jesus. There are even vampires. It's wonderful, it's corny as hell, and everyone involved was full of a love for cinema and the joy of creating. Is it good? Who cares! Jesus has sideburns and wears earrings and he's crawling through a vent. Go watch it, it's on Tubi and on YouTube. If I'm not back in five minutes call the Pope.