#ed & lorraine warren

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Totally accurate summaries of The Conjuring 2 (2016) and The Nun (2018)

[dailyflicks]

THE CONJURING (2013) dir. James Wan

[laurens-german]

THE CONJURING: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT 2021 | dir. Michael Chaves

[ruyalargercegim]

Belki bir gün.

[sculien]

The Conjuring (2013)

[frost-queen]

Coming down sick (Daughter!R & The Warrens)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

The tv was playing as you were all gathered around it. Your parents in one sofa, your dad’s arm over hers. You sat in the other sofa with a blanket over you. You pulled it tighter around you, letting out a shiver. It alerted your mom Lorraine. – “Are you cold honey?” – she questioned. Ed looked around, trying to feel the temperature for himself. – “It is rather warm in the room.” – he stated lowering his hand once more.

“Just a cold shiver.” – you responded, not sure what it was. – “Okay.” – Lorraine answered turning her attention to the tv once more. You snuggled under your blanket to keep as much of your own body heat as close as possible. After half an hour or so, you started to feel sleepy. Your eyes almost falling shut. Blinking rapidly, you sat yourself better.

It made your dad look briefly at you, reposition yourself. You couldn’t understand as you felt wide awake an hour ago. Not long your eyelids started to fall shut. You let them close for a second, before waking yourself up. Flashing your eyes back open to focus on the tv. You hid a yawn by moving your blanket in front of your mouth. Lorraine laughed at something on the tv.

Overcome with exhaustion, you were debating to give in to it or not. It was just 8pm. Barely any time to go to sleep, unless you were a child. For a brief moment, you were wide awake. Only for the exhaustion to kick in double. This time you yawned loud, body shivering. – “That boring?” – Ed joked pointing with the remote to the tv. You shook your head. – “Just a bit tired.” – you responded.

“Do you need some Camille tea?” – Lorraine suggested. You politely shook your head. – “No thank you mom. I think I’m just going to head upstairs. Occupy myself a bit to get this out of my body.” – you went on, pulling the blanket from you. – “Okay.” – Lorraine spoke watching you get up. You went over to them, bending over to give them a kiss on their cheek.

“Night mom.” – you said receiving a kiss on your forehead in return. – “Night dad.” – you then spoke, leaving a kiss on his cheek. Ed drew a cross on your forehead for protection. Something he had done since you were born. It was a habit now. – “Night darling.” – he answered.

You left the room, heading upstairs. Hearing the last of your father chuckle at something on tv. Getting up the stairs, you started to notice just how exhausted your limbs were. Feet barely wanting to move. Your knees buckled as you needed to clamp onto the railing to stay upright. Panting loud, you had no idea what your body was experiencing.

With a lot of effort you, made your way up. Everything felt sore. Groaning soft, you barely had the strength to brush your teeth, but you did anyways. Entering your room, you wondered what to do to occupy yourself. To get yourself to wake up again. Nothing came to mind or seemed to tiring to put the energy into it.

With a soft groan, you let yourself fall onto your bed, face forwards. Your mind told you to get back up, but your body wouldn’t budge. Instead they kept laying stubbornly still. Exhaling loud, your eyes closed as your world turned blank.

Lorraine and Ed silently went up the stairs. – “I’ll just check up on our girl.” – Lorraine said standing in the corridor upstairs. Ed nodded heading for the bathroom. Lorraine knocked gentle on your door. – “Y/n, your dad and I are going to bed. You should too…” – she said upon entering.

She frowned seeing you lay down on your bed, the lights still on. Lorraine approached the bed. – “You must’ve been really tired.” – she whispered, lifting your legs up to move them under the blanket. She then pushed your body a bit, to get you to lay in a more comfortable way. She tugged you in, leaving one last kiss on your head.

Flashing the lights out, she left your room. She joined Ed in the bathroom. – “Already fast asleep.” – she told him. He hummed soft with his toothbrush in his mouth. They went to their bedroom. The Warren’s house falling silent.

Around 3 pm you woke up. Your sleep interrupted by own doing. Your mind simply let you know to open your eyes. Groaning soft, you sat up, rubbing your eye. Then the soreness came. A pain moving through your limbs. They shuddered as you shivered. Despite it being blazing hot under the covers, were you cold.

You had to lay down again, not sure what was happening. Touching your forehead, you felt that it was warm. Rather hot. Wrapping the covers around you, you tried to close your eyes once more. It was no use as the bothering in your body was ever present. Tiredness expressed in your limbs as everything felt too exhausting.

Even your limbs resting felt tiring. Touching your forehead again, you knew you were coming down with a fever. Exhaling deep, you rolled over. Eyes wide open as you couldn’t catch any sleep. Staring at your wall, you watched the hours tick by till morning hit.

You heard your parent’s bedroom door open. They were awake. You barely had it in you to get up. Stomach hurting now as well. Since you’ve been awake for several hours  now, your stomach interpreted it into I need food. There was no denying it now. You were sick. Groaning loud, you rolled over to the other side. You knew your parents had an important interview. One they couldn’t miss.

You didn’t want to be the reason for them missing the interview. There was only one option left. You needed to lie. There was a knock on the door. – “Honey time to wake up.” – it was your dad, speaking through the door. – “Okay.” – you answered. You waited for his footsteps to die out before leaving your room. Rushing into the bathroom. You almost freaked out at the state of you.

The lack of sleep wasn’t glorifying with the illness. You looked even worse. Splashing some water in your face, you hoped to wake up more. When it appeared presentable enough, you got dressed and went downstairs. Your muscles aching with sore and tiredness. Every step, every movement felt like taking up too much energy.

“Morning Y/n darling.” – Lorraine said baking some eggs. – “Morning my girl.” – Ed spoke whilst setting the table. Normally you’d help him out, but today it felt too exhausting. You sat down, trying to look alive as possible. Lorraine quirked her eyebrow up, eyeing her husband at your unusual behaviour. Ed shrugged it off, thinking it probably just wasn’t your day. – “So honey, you know mom and I have that interview today right.” – Ed began.

You forced a smile, knowing it damn too well. – “You’ll have to eat lunch alone. Don’t worry we’ll be back around 5.” – he explained coming to sit down as well. Lorraine hummed loud to agree. – “Okay…” – you responded softly. – “It is only for a couple of hours.” – Lorraine said, setting the pan down. She moved over to you, kissing your head before you could keep her at bay.

Her eyes widened slightly, moving your head back, pressing her hand against your forehead to feel. – “Mom.” – you groaned out, pushing her hand away. – “Y/n feels hot.” – she expressed wanting to feel again. You slapped her hand away. – “I’m fine. Just go do your interview.” – you answered a bit bitsy.

“Y/n?” – Ed said confused to from where your sudden behaviour came. – “What’s wrong?” – he asked. – “Nothing.” – you replied. Lorraine surprise attacked you, pressing her hand against your forehead again. – “You’re burning up. Are you coming down with a fever?” – she called out worried. – “That’s it, we’ll post-pone the interview.” – Ed declared. – “No!” – you blurted out. – “Y/n…” – Lorraine looked worriedly at you. – “It’s just an interview.” – she explained.

“A really important one. Me being sick isn’t a reason for you to stay home.” – you ratted yourself out with your own stupidness. Sighed soft, there was no lying about it anymore. – “Were you feeling like this since last night?” – Lorraine wanted to know. You nodded as she tilted her head to the side. – “Y/n darling why didn’t you say anything.” – she asked. – “Because you had that interview.” – you explained. Ed got up, going round the table. – “Nothing is more important than our girl.” – he wrapped his arms around you.

Lorraine joined, giving you a good squeeze. – “Ed, post-pone the interview.” – Lorraine ordered. Ed nodded, already heading over to the phone. She took your hand, pulling you up. – “We are going to take care of our daughter.” – she said. She helped you back upstairs, tugging you back in. Ed came running up the stairs with some medicine.

Lorraine accepted it, assisting you to some medicine. – “You’ll feel better and be able to get some sleep.” – she said. Ed laid his hand on her shoulder. – “We’ll be right here.” – he spoke. You smiled at your parents before laying your head down and trying to catch in on that sleep.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[kallypsos]

the conjuring (2013) + letterboxd reviews i ♡ed

[ormymarius]

they’re like if Barbie and Ken were paranormal investigators bc they always wear matching outfits

[userghouls]

👻Ed & Lorraine Warren (The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It) "spooky parents"

@lgbtqcreators creator bingo - [animation | tropes]

[megalony]

Follow me home

This is an Ed Warren request from the lovely @sn0wdolly I hope this is what you were hoping for. Any Ed requests would be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts​ @sleepylunarwolf

Masterlist

Summary: After a long case, something follows Ed home and takes an instant disliking to his wife, (Y/n). - (Protective! Ed fluff)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night, a long day and a very long week. A week away from his wife, who Ed was desperate to get back to. (Y/n) had been the only thing on his mind while he'd been on this case and she was blinding all of his senses.

He could see her out the corner of his eyes, he could feel her hands on his arms and her arms just out of reach from him. Her smell would wander beneath his nose and make him feel nostalgic and lonely all at once.

Now that he was home, all Ed wanted to do was wrap (Y/n) up in his arms and hold her like he was afraid she was going to disappear. But it was two in the morning and he couldn't be so cruel as to wake her up just because he was desperate to feel her touch. He would bind himself around her while she slept and starve himself of her comfort, her waking touch and her voice until the morning.

Ed started to shed his jacket and shoes when he walked into the house and now he made quick work of the buttons on his shirt and his trousers just as he reached the bedroom.

The moment Ed crept beneath the cover, the overpowering feeling of relief, love, warmth and general sense of home hit him like a truck and he could have cried. He didn't do well when he had to be away from (Y/n) and a week dragged on like a year was passing him by. He became dishevelled and lost focus when (Y/n) wasn't at his side to ground him.

Ed didn't usually do a case on his own but things were different now. He didn't want (Y/n) coming on a case with him now she was pregnant, he just couldn't risk anything happening to her. When the demons were particularly dark or aggressive, people got thrown around the room, windows would break and if someone was possessed, they became violent. Ed couldn't have (Y/n) around if that was happening. It was safer for (Y/n) to go ahead to a university and do a lecture while he was away on a case.

With tired limbs, he shuffled deeper under the cover and slowly laid his arm over his wife's waist, gently tugging her closer until her back was flush against his chest and his hand laid over the small swell of her stomach. His lips pressed against the top of her head and he slowly inhaled her scent that always felt like home to him. He could feel a sense of calmness overtaking us previously tense body and his mind finally felt like it was at peace now.

A smile tugged at his lips when he felt a pair of small hands wrap around his bicep and pull his arm tighter.

With a start, (Y/n)'s eyes shot open and her body shuddered down against the bed. She could feel Ed's arm draped over her chest and his face tucked up against her head, his soft breaths nuzzling into her hair. Although she didn't know when he had come back home, his presence would have been thrilling if it wasn't for the constricting feeling around her throat that was frightening her.

Her chest was quaking, moving up and down frantically to try and get some oxygen but something was tight around her throat, cutting off her breathing. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes as she flailed her arm out at her side, swatting at Ed's bare chest to try and get his attention before she dug her nails into his upper bicep. She didn't mean to hurt him, she really didn't but (Y/n) had to get his attention somehow, she needed help.

The room was still dark, it wasn't even morning yet and Ed was sleeping. Was she having some kind of allergic reaction to something? She wasn't choking and Ed nor anyone else were choking her. But when her watery eyes squinted frantically in the darkness, (Y/n) could have sworn some kind of shadow was hovering above her.

A hiss whistled through Ed's lips and he jolted forward, feeling like he was falling through the air as his senses awakened with a start. He could feel his arm just below his shoulder stinging like he had been cut but a shudder ran down his spine when he realised it was (Y/n)'s fingernails clawing at him.

"Hun? What's wrong, talk to me."

Ed pushed up on his elbow and tried to lean over (Y/n) when her hand finally released his arm that was going to be bruised come morning. His fingers brushed over her cheek as he squinted to adjust to the darkness around them.

He watched (Y/n)'s hands move towards her throat and he gently but firmly pulled her hands away when it looked like she was about to scratch her throat like she had just done his arm to wake him up. The feeling of his fingertips dragging down her chin and throat would have been sensual and made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter if she wasn't struggling to breathe. She could feel his fingers pressing around her throat to try and find out what was wrong.

But just as quickly as (Y/n) couldn't breathe, the weight on her throat suddenly lifted. She gulped for oxygen, coughing and scrounging to breathe deeply while her eyes shed streams of tears down her face and her vision tried to focus on Ed who was now hovering over her like a guardian angel.

"Alright, you're okay, breathe with me hun. Just breathe," His deep guttural voice was soothing to (Y/n)'s ears that were beginning to ring like church bells.

His thumb brushed over her cheek in a repetitive, firm motion that grounded her and his other hand continued to flutter across the side of her neck while he steadied his own breathing so she could copy him.

Reaching up, (Y/n) pressed her trembling hand against Ed's face, watching him lean into her touch while her other hand moved to his back, wanting to pull him closer.

"Just a panic attack, sweetheart, you're alright."

Ed let some of his weight settle on top of (Y/n) while his hand creeped up into her hair, his fingers fisting the strands up between them in a comforting motion. He wet his lips and smoothed them across her temple, feeling how flushed her skin was and he could feel her rapid breathing with their chests meshed together. She must have had a bad dream or maybe something had panicked her during the day and her body was finding it's way of release now during the night.

It wouldn't be the first time Ed had woken up and found his wife in a frantic state like this suffering from nightmares, memories, fears and sudden bouts of panic attacks like this. He just hadn't expected one so soon after coming home like this.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and tipped her forehead up into his kiss, trying to steady her breathing now she had made up for the oxygen she had lost.

"Hhm."

Maybe she did have a panic attack, but it didn't feel like one.

It felt like something had tried to strangle her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she walked down the stairs, (Y/n) felt her chest tightening and she couldn't help but look across to the right where the locked room was. Maybe the other day when Ed came home, he put something in the room and that was what she kept feeling. Something had to of given her a bad vibe for her to have some kind of panic attack of nightmare like that and all day yesterday, it felt like there was just, something, in the house besides the two of them.

Part of (Y/n) felt the need to go in the room and double check. She knew every possessed item in that room by heart, she could walk round the room blindfolded and point out each and every object held within there. (Y/n) would notice if Ed had put something new in there.

But she didn't want to.

She didn't want to risk disrupting the evil in that room or provoking something when the room had only just been blessed last week by the priest. It was best to leave the room alone and ignore the sixth sense that was creeping up the back of her neck. Sometimes (Y/n)'s senses would be heightened and she would get intimidated for no reason.

Hurrying past the room, (Y/n) dashed across the living room and headed over to the kitchen. Ed would be back soon, he had only gone to the shops and when he was here, the balance would come back and (Y/n) would feel safe and calm again.

(Y/n) busied herself moving the cups and plates off the table from breakfast and took them to the sink before she switched the radio on. Silence was never nice, it left (Y/n) prone to being stuck in her thoughts and that often led to trouble.

Her soft voice hummed along with the tune playing loudly throughout the kitchen and her body slowly relaxed and started to sway side to side as her eyes fell shut. She could feel herself becoming lost in the music as time passed by and she kept herself busy. But something started to prickle at the back of her neck. The hairs on her skin started to stick up in defense and a small slither of dread crawled up her spine.

She wanted to keep her eyes closed. (Y/n) was desperate to stay in the darkness and be oblivious to any other sixth sense she was starting to have in her home that always felt like a safe haven; but she couldn't help it.

Her eyes opened without her command, and something sweeped across the corner of her vision.

For a few seconds, (Y/n) stayed deathly still facing the window with her hands unmoving in the sink, too afraid to pick up the plate she had been washing but also too afraid to try and dry her hands. Her breathing slowed down until she was barely breathing at all and she prayed whatever had just caught in the corner of her eye had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

The most horrifying, deafening scream took (Y/n) by surprise.

It was such a shrill torturous sound that cut through (Y/n) like a sharp knife slicing into her skin and it sounded like someone was less than an inch away from her ear, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Her body became stiff and rigid before she began to shake with fright. Her head turned to try and see what was suddenly standing beside her but one look at the horrid face with the broken, hanging jaw and black teeth had (Y/n) shutting her eyes as tight as she could. Her fingers moved up and curled around the cross hanging from her neck and a Latin chant bumbled past her lips.

What was in her home with her? Why was it in her home?

A searing pain shot through her wrists that felt like someone had searing hot pokers for fingers that were burning into her flesh and caused (Y/n) to scream. It was gone.

For a few seconds, maybe even a few minutes, (Y/n) stayed stiff as a board in the same place that thing had left her. Both hands were tightly holding the cross around her neck, her eyes were screwed shut and her wrists were scolded and torturously hot. Every part of her started to shake and she could feel the baby inside her doing summersaults from the shock and confusion of what was going on.

She hadn't realised she started crying until she dared to open her eyes and look around but she already knew it had gone, her sixth sense was dulling back down now and she was back to being alone.

When she looked down at her hands that were still shaking despite clutching to her cross for dear life, her wrists were marked. It didn't look like scorch marks and they didn't look burned like they felt, but they were discoloured to say the very least. And if she looked closely, (Y/n) was sure she could see the faint outline of finger marks.

The sound of the front door opening sent a shiver reeling through (Y/n)'s body but she couldn't find it in herself to move. Her body was rooted to the spot, her legs were made of stone, unwilling to budge in any direction in case the demon came back again. Her fingers felt stiff like she was in rigamortis and she was half expecting them to crack or snap when she finally prized her hands from the cross searing into her skin.

Her hands trembled when she submerged them into the water and she had to bite down a cry when the water licked at her wounded wrists.

The music from the radio finally seemed to get through (Y/n)'s ears now the screaming had ceased and the music made her feel less stiff and a little more at ease before she could hear Ed's ruggid voice calling out to her, asking where abouts she was. She couldn't trust her voice enough to answer.

"Hey hun, I think I got everything... are you okay?" Ed placed the shopping bags down on the kitchen table so they weren't cutting through his fingers but the smile on his face slowly faltered at the corners when he looked across at (Y/n). She looked like she was washing up, but she wasn't actually moving and she hadn't said anything yet when usually she would bound up to him the moment he came home and almost knock him off his feet.

"Hm, I'm fine."

(Y/n) did her best to smile and she shook the water from her hands before she turned and met him halfway.

Her arms cocooned around his lower abdomen and she buried her face in his chest, breathing in his scent that was clinging to the woolen jumper he was wearing. She could feel him chuckling deep within his chest which vibrated through her blood and made her feel less like a statue made of stone.

"Sweetheart you're shaking," Ed felt the smile slip off his face in a heartbeat. She was trembling in his arms, why was she shaking like this? He had been gone just over an hour, two at the most. Not long enough for something bad to happen, surely? "Talk to me hun, what's wrong?"

He tried to pull back but (Y/n) clung to him tighter and tighter until her arms were cutting into his sides and back and her face was pressing up against his ribs like she was trying to merge them together. Now she was scaring him.

With gritted teeth and pursed lips, Ed gently held (Y/n)'s arms and pried them free of his waist so he could take one tiny step back in order to look down at his wife.

"When you came home the other night... I think you brought something back with you."

(Y/n) didn't have to say it explicitly for Ed to realise what she meant. She wasn't talking about some unintentional animal climbing into the car on his way home or him bringing an illness back home with him. Something evil had come back with him from his latest case, but he couldn't think what or why or even how.

He had vanquished the demon he had gone to deal with. He and Dean had listened, analysed, recorded and exorcised the demon along with a priest from that area. It had gone and all the strange happenings had ceased, how did he bring something malevolent back with him?

"What did you see?" Ed smoothed his hands up and down (Y/n)'s arms and he tried to control his temper that was beginning to flare.

"I don't know what it was, it was screaming, I felt it the night you came home."

(Y/n) almost jumped when Ed's hands suddenly moved from her arms, up to her neck. His thumbs gently caressed the soft skin on her neck and she could see he was looking for marks since it had just dawned on him that if she felt it when he came home, then whatever it was had tried to hurt her. She hadn't had a panic attack.

His hands were soft and warm on her neck and the feeling made her skin tingle and a warmth formed in her stomach. Moving her hands, (Y/n) cupped his wrists and tried to smile but it seemed to be the wrong move. A darkness washed over Ed's face and his hands retracted from her neck within an instant and moved instead to hold her hands. He pulled her hands towards his chest and (Y/n) shivered when she saw his lips curl up in fury like he was about to snarl.

"It hurt you,"

"No, I'm okay," Even as she spoke, she didn't believe her own words and she knew her husband didn't either. One look at the marks on her wrists and it was clear they had to hurt with how nasty they looked. Something had followed him back to their home, their sanctuary, their safe space. And now it was trying to hurt his wife; this was something Ed wasn't going to stand for.

Moving her hands, (Y/n) looped her arms around his neck and leaned up until she could bury her face in the crook of Ed's neck. She took a few moments to breathe in his scent, feeling it wash through her like a drug overtaking her senses while his arms slowly wound around her hips.

The music from the radio once again seemed to tune back into (Y/n)'s ears and wrapped around them like a comforting blanket and (Y/n) could feel Ed slowly swaying their upper bodies along to the music.

It was soothing, it was sweet.

(Y/n) found herself smiling into his skin and her eyes fell closed as a few minutes passed them by while they stayed in their small bubble. But then (Y/n) could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up on end and a slow shiver tiptoed down her spine and throughout her nerves.

Her eyes stayed tightly shut and she could feel Ed's fingers digging tighter into her hips, showing he felt it too. (Y/n) tried to focus on the feeling of Ed's strong hands pressing into the flesh of her hips and how she could feel his head tilting up until his chin was touching the top of her head. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. His hands slowly curved around her sides and he slowly side-stepped around her until (Y/n) was behind him, his arms out behind him so he could still hold onto her. Reassuring himself she was safely behind him.

One hand moved to grab the cross around her neck while her other hand scrunched up Ed's jumper in a fist so tight her arm started to shake.

Whatever had followed him home, it was back again.

(Y/n) didn't dare open her eyes this time. She didn't want to know what it was or what it looked like, she just wanted it to leave. It had taken a very quick disliking to her, usually it was the other way around, usually spirits and demonic presences took a liking to (Y/n). They sought out her sixth sense and tried to communicate with or through her, they didn't normally try and attack her straight away but the moment Ed came home the other day, this spirit seemed to hate her.

Ed tightened his hand on (Y/n)'s hip and slowly nudged her back until he knew she was pressed between the kitchen counter and him. At least if he had her sandwiched behind him, he knew he could keep her safe. He wasn't having her get hurt by what was in front of him.

Where was his bible? What incantation should he recite to try and vanquish this demon? It wasn't one he had seen this week, he had brought a rouge one back home he hadn't even sensed until now.

Moving one hand, Ed quickly crossed himself before he held onto (Y/n) again and slowly started to shuffle her towards the doorway. His bible was in the living room, if he could get in there quickly he could find the right incantation and be rid of his spirit before it did any damage.

They only moved two steps away before (Y/n) screamed. It felt like fingers were knotting in the hair at the back of her head and yanking on the strands so harshly she was sure a few loose ends had been ripped from her scalp. Her hands fumbled to try and reach behind her but just like when she had been strangled, she couldn't feel anything there.

Ed whipped the cross from round his neck and held it above the back of (Y/n)'s head while his other arm linked around her waist and pushed her in front of him. If only he had some Holy Water he could have sprinkled around (Y/n) to keep her a little safer.

But the cross seemed to do the trick for (Y/n) stumbled forward, feeling like her hair had been released but her body had been given a rough shove.

"My Bible's in the living room,"

(Y/n) kept her shoulders hunched and her arms coiled around her stomach and with Ed's arms around her shoulders and chest, they stumbled through the kitchen and into the living room just as the door slammed shut behind them. Trapping them inside.

It felt like a game. When Ed grabbed his bible from the coffee table, the vase of flowers in the window suddenly started to levitate.

"No!"

(Y/n) hastily curled her fingers around Ed's arm, disrupting him in finding the right verse in the book so that she could drag him down to the floor before the vase smashed into his head.

They backed up towards the sofa and (Y/n) coiled in on herself, lowering her head down near her knees and then Ed wrapped around her like a safety net. He leaned his chest over her back, keeping her tucked into his chest with his arms around her frame and the bible held in front of them.

He had to squint badly to read the Latin script, he didn't know where his glasses were and there was no time to go hunting around for them. With the book in his left hand and the cross hanging from his right fist, he started to chant. He felt (Y/n) hastily repeating the same verse, muffled by his jumper, but still audible.

Everything around them began to shake and every door in the house must have opened and slammed closed at the same time making an hurricane of wind barge through the room, knocking them both off balance.

Ed's chest heaved with each harsh breath and he felt lightheaded from his rapid chanting but a wave of heat seemed to swarm around them. The cold had all but evaporated and the glass on the coffee table settled back in place and the rippling water in the glass finally leveled out again. Whatever had followed him home had been vanquished.

"Hun, are you alright?"

Straightening up, Ed sat back on his heels and squared his shoulders to crack his spine back into place. He let his arms loosely coil around (Y/n) as she pushed herself back up. Her hands clenched around his jumper so tightly he thought she was going to rip it off him but he could see the look in her eyes. It was a look he had memorised so many times over the past few years. A wave of calmness wahed over her pupils and the frantic look disappated.

Her sixth sense wasn't flaring up anymore, she could feel everything settling around them again.

"I think so."

"Good. I'm sorry, I swear nothing is ever gonna follow me home again."

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Hands on Learning

Here is chapter two of Teachers' Pet. It is a direct continuation of the first chapter.

Warnings: sexual content, praise kink, oral (woman receiving from woman), heavy petting, light dom implications, mummy and daddy kink, good girl, biting, light marking, swearing.

Master List

Prompt List

Chapter 1

Lorraine had her arms wrapped around your waist holding you close to her as she kissed a line up your neck, your hands were resting on her thighs as you leant backwards into Ed’s chest. His hands were slowly massaging your breasts through your shirt, as his lips sucked and nipped on the other side of your neck. Your head was tilted back eyes closed as you whimpered from the attention the Warrens were giving you.

“Lorraine, Ed,” you moaned squeezing Lorraine’s thighs before stroking them, up towards her covered pussy. You grinned at the whimper that you pulled from her when you pressed against the wet fabric of her pants and stroked upwards, circling your fingers before pressing against her clit.

“Ed, I think our girl is getting eager,” Lorraine murmured into your neck. Her arms slid around to press against your shoulders, pressing you harder against Ed until he lifted you up enough for him to wiggle under you before sitting you back down onto his lap. You whole body heated up at the display of strength. You wiggled a little, feeling Ed’s harden cock under you, you wiggled again grounding down as much as you could, your grin turning into a smirk as he groaned in your ear thrusting his hips up as he pulled you down tighter.

“I think your right, love,” Ed agreed, he moved back against the arm of the couch, pulling you with him and spreading your legs with his, pulling your skirt further up your legs and giving Lorraine a perfect view of your panties, the front of which was soaked through with your arousal.

The new position Ed had you in allowed Lorraine to crawl in-between your legs, her hands stroking up your thighs squeezing them as she stroked back down your legs and then up again and under your skirt. The humming that your body had started doing around these two had reached a new height from the moment their hands had touched you. Your body was tingling with electricity from the kisses, your nipples had hardened and become sensitive from the attention Ed had given them. While Lorraine was giving attention to your legs, and teasing you by bringing her fingers to the edge of your panties and only ghosting them against your pussy before taking them away, Ed had gone back to kissing your neck while his hands slipped under your shirt. His fingers started to tease you along the edge of your bra, slipping under it enough to brush against the bottom of your breast. Your moans started to get a whiny edge to them as your body was teased expertly by them.

“Please,” you begged, wanting so much more and everything from them.

“What do you want, pretty?” Lorraine asked, as her lips started to kiss along your thighs not going any further then the end of your skirt, her lips pulled into a satisfied smile as she saw what her ministrations were doing to you. Your lips were getting redder from your teeth biting at them as you ground down into Eds lap, trying to get some attention to your throbbing pussy and pushing your chest outwards trying to get Ed’s hands on them without anything acting as a barrier.

“I want everything,” you whined. “Please stop teasing.”

“Aw,” Ed smirked into your neck, his eyes locking with Lorraine’s as she sucked a mark on your inner thigh just above your knee. “Doesn’t she just beg so prettily? How could we possibly think to deny our beautiful girl?”

“I don’t think we can,” Lorraine agreed. “Is that what you want?”

“My hands on your breasts, teasing your pretty little nipples?” Ed whispered into your ears, his hands circling around your nipples still over your bra. “And my wife’s mouth on your wet, throbbing pussy?”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, nodding your head. “Yes please, I want that.”

“Then our girl shall have that, even if she has a naughty mouth,” Ed chuckled.

He removed his hands from under your shirt only long enough to remove it from your body after getting your approval. His hands trailed up from the band of your skirt to cup your breasts over your bra weighing them in his palms before he softly squeezed them. You pushed your chest into his hands, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your nose nudging against his neck. He reached for the front clasp your body thrumming in anticipation as he remove your bra, lifting your back from his chest only enough to slid the bra down your arms and throwing it to the side. He allowed you to rest against his chest again, as his hands finally covered your breasts with no barrier. He rolled your nipples around pulling them taut before letting them go, and repeating the action when you whimpered in his ear, your hips rolling down into his lap before you pushed your pussy towards Lorraine’s questing fingers.

Lorraine grabbed the hem of your skirt and pulled it down, with Ed’s help they lifted your hips enough to drag it down and off your legs leaving you in your panties that were soaked through from your arousal. Lorraine pressed kisses all along your thighs, nipping at the skin but still ignoring your pussy, as she worshipped your thighs, gently squeezing the flesh until she hooked her fingers under the band of your panties. She locked eyes with you as she dragged them down, revealing your wet pussy, you could feel Ed groaning, his chest rumbling with the sound against your back as he peeked over, his hands sliding down from your breasts to quickly swipe through your arousal, barely touching you. Your eyes tracked his fingers as he brought them to Lorraine’s lips rubbing against them before pushing them inside her mouth, Lorraine’s eyes fluttered closed as she sucked your arousal off his fingers, moaning at the taste.

“How does she taste?” Ed asked his voice gravelly. The sound making your pussy throb and a whimper fall from your lips.

“Delicious,” Lorraine hummed. “You’ll have to have a taste after me, before you fill her up with your cock, while she eats me.”

“Oh, fuck,” your hips twitched at the image that sentence created in your mind. “I want that so much.”

“Good girl,” Lorraine smiled. “Now continue to be a good girl and keep these lush thighs apart for me.”

Your legs were already spread wide from where they were hooked over Ed’s thighs but he found a way to push them open even more, his hands trailing back up to your breasts as he continued to tease them. His lips back at your throat and shoulder, where there was plenty of room from how you had your head resting against his shoulder. You were squeezing your eyes shut, the attention from two people was almost overstimulating but you didn’t want it to stop.

You felt Lorraine’s breathe against your pussy as her fingers finally stroked through your arousal swiping it from around your pussy and using it as lube as she started to tease your clit. Flicking it before circling it, alternating from almost no pressure to almost too much, sending a bolt of pleasure right to your core. Ed was watching the actions of his wife, and almost copying the motion of her fingers against your nipples before fully cupping your breasts, squeezing and pulling on them.

“Do you like that?” Ed whispered into your ear as your body shuddered. Lorraine had just pressed a kiss to your pussy, before she flicked out her tongue and teased your opening with it, not quite pushing in yet.

“Yes,” you whined, voice raising as Lorraine pushed her tongue inside, swirling it around and stroking your walls before she locked her lips around your opening and sucked, thrusting her tongue in and out as her fingers continued to tease your swollen clit, now tugging on it lightly in between the circles her fingers were making. You felt Lorraine moan against you, the wet noises that she was making as she sucked and licked at your opening had your stomach muscles clenching as the heat built up in your core, drawing more and more arousal from you. Your walls fluttering, your hips rocking up against her mouth and fingers.

“You like having my wife’s mouth you, while I tease these heavy breasts of yours?” he asked going back to tweaking your nipples, smirking as you moaned. “Feeling her tongue licking you, her fingers playing with the gorgeous clit of yours.”

“Never would have taken you to be such a dirty talker,” you teased, voice very breathy. These two had you acting in ways you never had before. They had you feeling needy and wanton, beautiful and sexy. You normally always teased your partners in bed but you found it hard to do so with these two, as they worked your body to the point of only being able to moan and whine.

“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what Lorraine and I are capable of,” Ed promised you. “But don’t worry, we’ll show you.”

Lorraine removed her mouth from your pussy, licking your arousal from around her lips, her eyes burning with lust as she looked up at you and her husband. She slowly dragged her fingers away from your clit preening a little as you whined in complaint hips twitching to try and get her fingers back on your clit, but Ed’s hands moved from your breasts to hold down your hips, as he slowly thrusted up into you. You could feel the press of his cock against you through his pants. There was something about the fact that you were completely naked and the Warrens were full dressed, not a single button undone that made the whole situation even hotter, your body was burning brightly at this point.

You gasped as Lorraine’s fingers circled your opening as she lowered her head back down, this time her tongue focused on your clit. She flatted her tongue as she licked up and down, occasionally swirling her tongue and flicking it with the tip of her tongue before she took your clit into her mouth and sucked on it, careful to keep her teeth away from it until she knew if that was something you liked. While her tongue was working on your clit, she slowly slid one of her fingers inside of you, your walls squeezing against her finger as she thrusted it and out, twisting it and stroking your walls.

“That’s it, good girl,” Ed kept whispering encouragement and praise in your ear, as his hands squeezed your hips, his long fingers stroking along the top of your crotch. “You look so beautiful between us, your body withering in pleasure. I can’t wait to have you between us in a different way, with my cock pounding into you as you fuck my wife’s pussy with your tongue.”

Your next moan became drawn out as Lorraine slid two fingers inside on the next thrust. You were aroused enough that there was only a little stretch as she continued to thrust her fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch you some more before she starting stroking your walls. She twisted her fingers and stroked back along the top of your walls, searching for that one spot. She smirked against your clit when your hips bucked up against her, and not even Ed could stop you.

“Lorraine!” you shouted, eyes squeezing shut as you nuzzled into Ed’s neck.

“Love, I think our beautiful, beautiful girl is close,” Ed told Lorraine, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke through her hair gently as she continued to suck on your clit and put pressure on your g-spot.

Your legs were twitching, it was only Ed’s legs keeping them as open as they were, and your body was rolling with pleasure as your pussy continued to throb and your walls clench around Lorraine’s fingers. Your body was heating even more as you felt the ball of pleasure behind your core start to over fill, Ed moved his hands back up to play with your nipples as he started to suck on your neck. All it took was Lorraine stroking your g-spot, sucking on your clit and Ed twisting your nipples for your orgasm to hit you. Your pussy spasmed as your hips twitched and ground your pussy against Lorraine’s mouth as she continued to suck your clit through your orgasm before she moved her mouth to cover your opening and lapped up the wetness that was released during your orgasm. Ed continued to tease and pinch your nipples as your body twitched, your mouth stayed open as you whimpered through the attention, he had also continued to grind you down into his cock as he thrust up into you. Your breathe heaving as you started to come down from your high, you felt a body cover yours as Lorraine crawled over you to kiss her husband and share some of your cum with him. You moaned at the sight above you, your pussy throbbing once as you started to get aroused again.

“Hmm, wasn’t she such a good girl for us?” Lorraine whispered into Ed’s mouth. “She made the most gorgeous of sounds, as she came for us.”

“She was gorgeous,” Ed agreed sucking his wife tongue into his mouth seeking more of your taste. You reached up with your hands, the last remnants of your orgasmic high leaving you so you were able to start undoing the buttons of Lorraine’s shirt, dragging her attention from her husband to you.

“I need you both naked,” you stated getting to the last of her buttons, revealing her breasts clad in a simple bra to your eyes. “Now.” You stretched up to start nipping at the skin at the top of her breasts, licking along the edge of the top of her cup. Lorraine hummed at your action.

“Very eager you are,” Lorraine lowered her self-down her lips hovering above yours. “What you do say?” 

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure if a “please” is exactly what she is after. You thought about it, and although your light flying feeling was there it didn’t grow, but you thought about adding two words to the “please” and your light flying feeling soared. Your cheeks flushed a little, and you lowered your gaze away from hers, the darken blue in them looking at you in a very knowing way.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Lorraine encouraged you. Ed was watching the interaction with interest, he had a feeling what Lorraine was pushing for but that was only from knowing his wife for 15 years. You flicked your gaze back to her, allowing her to see the hesitation there but she pressed a kiss to your nose in encouragement.

“Please, won’t you and…daddy get naked, mummy?” you asked flushing all the to your ears. Lorraine felt her pussy throb at the words, her body flushing as she claimed your lips with hers. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding down into your pussy, rubbing against your clit and pushing you into Ed’s hard cock, forcing a groan from his lips, both from your words and the pressure from you being pushed into him.

“Fuck, Lorraine,” Ed hissed. His head coming up to grab a handful of her hair as she continued to devour your mouth, the gentle kiss from before gone and replaced with a more dominant side of Lorraine. “How did you even know?”

“Our girl would clench down on my fingers and would get wetter every time you called her ‘our girl’,” Lorraine shrugged as she moved back from you. “So, she has a praise kink but I guessed there would be a little something more.”

You wiggled in between them, needing more contact, needing something more, you whined in need. Ed grinned, his fingers moving down to stroke up and down your sides which caused you to sigh in happiness.

“I think we should move to the bedroom,” Lorraine said standing up and letting her shirt fall off her shoulder before she started taking her pants off the front completely ruined from the arousal dripping from her pussy and from when she ground against you, your arousal coating the front of them. Eating you out had turned her on in a way she hadn’t been for a while, pleasuring you to orgasm had nearly been enough for her.

“Hm,” you agreed trying to get up but before you could Ed had swept you up into his arms. “Christ, this shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.”

“You like me carrying you?” Ed asked grinning at Lorraine, who was watching the two of you as she led the way to the bedroom.

You merely nodded locking your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek before you nuzzled into his neck. You nipped on his skin, kissing along his neck up to his ear and along his jawline. You kicked your legs when he squeezed your side and your thigh.  You grinned when he came up to the door to their bedroom to see Lorraine already stretched out on the bed.

“It’s for my husband to devour you, baby girl.”

[cupcakeshakesnake]

🐍🐍🐍

[doormatty3]

Sinner's Salvation: Chapter 1 (Ed Warren x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Next chapter

Summary:

[Ed Warren x Female Reader] [Ed Warren x You]

You don't believe in the supernatural and superstition. Witchcraft and demonic occurrences are nothing but quackery to you. But when the room starts spinning, days start blurring into each other and shadows start dancing in every corner you wonder what is wrong with you. No doctor can tell you more about your condition - each and every one is insisting that you are fine and perfectly healthy.  Seeking alternative help, you stumble across Ed and Lorraine Warren.  They promise to help you, rid you of the demon that has taken hold of you - to drive it out. But you didn’t know what you signed up for and what an exorcism by Ed Warren entails.  OR: Ed shows you how well he can possess your body - and your cunt

Wordcount: 8019

Chapter: 1/2

Warnings: 18+, description of violence, dirty thoughts, flirting, religious imagery

A/N: Peer pressure is strong - so here is another Patrick Wilson fanfic. This first chapter is pretty much swf, the smut is in the next one. And belief me…it is filthy. Anyway I need Jesus or Ed to exorcise me.

Next chapter

CHAPTER 1

Your head pounds as you try to busy yourself with the magazines on the glass table at your doctors’s waiting room. Headaches and migraines have been intermittent companions throughout your life - coming and going over the years with an emphasis on going.

However, for the past few weeks, they were persistent and overstayed their welcome.

What began as a dull ache that had settled in the front of your skull had slowly morphed and spread through your whole head until it felt like constant and pervasive pressure was applied to your temples, squeezing your mind between its fingers restlessly. The dull throb had escalated into a sharp, blinding stab, like invisible hands transforming into relentless claws.

It was at this point that you resolved to consult your doctor. Those headaches were out of the ordinary, deviating from their usual form and you were yearning for some relief and an explanation as to what was causing them. Because you were sure that it wasn’t just migraines or stress.

You sink back into the uncomfortable chair of the waiting room as you find yourself desperately seeking some solace from the sharp pain throbbing at your temple. The mix of the flickering fluorescence overhead and the bright daylight seeping in through the window seems to intensify your discomfort so you close your eyes to drown out one sensation. But the lack of one sense amplifies the other, so you hear the murmur of hushed conversations and discussions as well as the rhythmic ticking of the clock that has never seemed so loud as it does at this moment.

You bring your right hand to your head and rub your thumb in circular motions over your temple while your fingers rest on your forehead. Despite your best efforts, it does not really help against the throbbing ache and only provides some short-lived relief.

Each passing minute elongates your stay in the room, marked only by the clock’s relentless ticking.

On any other day, you would have read something or watched the other people sitting in the room but the headache makes everything tiring and painful.

Suddenly, your name echoes through the waiting room, your head jolts up and your eyes fly open. The doctor’s assistant meets your gaze with an expectant look and gestures with her hand, saying: “Please follow me”.

As you rise from the unyielding chair quickly, the ticking clock and flickering lights momentarily fade into the background when spots dance in the edges of your vision - a new side effect of your headaches. You blink a few times to regain your composure and balance.

The corridor leading to the treatment room is long and sterile - occasionally a colorful picture on the white wall breaks up the monotonous path. The echo of your footsteps sounds loud in your head and you feel the sharp stab in your temple with every noise.

With a smile and a nod, the woman opens the door to the doctor’s room: “He’ll be with you in a couple minutes. Feel free to take a seat”.

“Thank you”, you mumble quietly and pull out a chair to sit down.

The room is adorned with medical charts, anatomical diagrams, and informational posters that detail various parts of the human body. Anatomical models of organs and skeletal structures stand on shelves, their detailed features catching the sterile light.

You lower your eyes to your hands and away from the bright lights in the room when the door to the room creaks open.

“I’m sorry for the wait, dear”, the doctor enters the room, shutting the door gently and taking a seat opposite you, “What brings you here today?”

“I wake up with headaches almost every morning”, you admit, your voice carrying the weight of fatigue and frustration, “It started a few months ago and hasn’t gotten better - only worse.”

The doctor, a mix of empathy and expertise, leans in, pen poised over a notepad, ready to capture the nuances of your struggle.

“Tell me more about the nature of the pain. Is it sharp, dull, pulsating?”, he inquires, his eyes focused on yours, seeking a clearer picture.

You take a moment, searching for words to convey the indescribable sensations.

“It’s like… a relentless pressure, sometimes sharp and stabbing, and it just lingers throughout the day. It’s not just the pain; it’s the way it clouds everything else, like a persistent shadow”, you explain, your frustration evident in the furrow of your brow.

And then you add, almost as an afterthought: “I usually have migraines, but this headache feels different. It’s like a stranger invading my headspace, and nothing seems to help.”

The doctor nods thoughtfully, his brow furrowing in a half-hearted attempt at concern.

“I see. How would you rate the intensity on a scale from one to ten? And have you noticed any specific triggers or patterns that coincide with these headaches?”

You take a deep breath, appreciating the opportunity to provide more insight into the daily struggle you endure.

“The intensity varies, but at its peak, I would rate it around an eight or nine. It’s not just the pain…”, you trail off for a second, blinking your eyes rapidly against the throbbing of your head, “It’s the relentlessness of it, like a drumbeat in my head that refuses to fade away.”

The doctor scribbles a few notes, but his furrowed brow remains a mere semblance of genuine concern and you cannot help but wonder if he takes your concern seriously.

He continues, without looking up: “Triggers or patterns - have you noticed anything specific that seems to bring these headaches on? Certain foods, stress, lack of sleep, perhaps?”

Your mind races to pinpoint potential triggers, hoping to offer any helpful information.

“No, I don’t think I can pinpoint any specific trigger. I’ve tried tracking my diet, but nothing conclusive… I know stress can make it worse, but that just doesn’t seem right. It almost feels like they have a mind of their own.”

The doctor’s nod is accompanied by a distant sound of acknowledgment: “Understood. We’ll note the variability. Have you observed any changes in their frequency or duration recently?”

You pause, considering his question. “Yes, they’ve become more frequent, and the duration seems to be stretching out. Sometimes lasting for days.”

As you share your experiences, the doctor’s responses remain mechanical, lacking the depth and engagement you hoped for.

He takes down a note on his pad, his expression somewhat detached.

“Thank you for sharing that. We’ll explore this further. In the meantime, have you experienced any other symptoms alongside these headaches? Changes in vision, sensitivity to light, or nausea, perhaps?”

You take a deep breath before responding: “Yes, there have been moments where I see shadows dancing at the edge of my vision, and light, especially bright light, seems almost intolerable.”

“Well, headaches can be tricky. I’ll prescribe you some pain medication for now. It should help take the edge off. Let’s see how that goes before jumping into more tests.”

The doctor’s demeanour remains distant, his response lacking the reassurance you were seeking.

A pervasive disappointment sets in as you absorb his words, rendering you speechless. The doctor’s lack of genuine concern leaves you disheartened.

With a brisk movement, he rises from his chair, with a faint smile gracing his lips as he extends his hand toward you.

As the doctor withdraws his hand, he nods almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment that punctuates the end of the consultation. With a parting glance, he pivots and makes his way towards the door, the echo of his footsteps emphasising the hollowness of the room. The door creaks open and then closes, leaving you sitting alone as you try to comprehend what just happened.

The initial hope for understanding and empathy begins to waver, replaced by a nagging question: are your headaches truly as severe as they feel, or are they being downplayed by the doctor’s lack of concern?

The doubt grows as you leave the examination room, and a wave of self-questioning accompanies you. Perhaps you’re exaggerating the pain, or maybe others endure worse without seeking medical attention. The once vivid description of your headaches starts to blur, muddled by the doctor's detached response.

This self-doubt, however, doesn’t entirely quash the very real and tangible pain you feel daily. The clawing at your temples persists a constant reminder that, regardless of the doctor's reaction, your struggle is genuine.

_____6 months later_____

The moment you pry your eyes open, you instantly regret it when a familiar surge of pain flares up and radiates through your head. The once-tolerable discomfort, only triggered by encounters with brighter lights, now manifests even at the gentlest touch of illumination.

The blinds in your apartment are drawn almost entirely shut in a deliberate attempt to shield you from the outside world. Only a handful of thin, feeble stripes of light manages to illuminate the room, casting delicate patterns on the floor. The room around you remains shrouded in a semi-darkened veil.

As you lay there, contemplating the day ahead, you can't help but wish for a respite from the relentless screaming in your head. With a groan, you push yourself up, your movements measured to avoid exacerbating the persistent ache.

The dull glow of a digital clock on the bedside table reveals the early hour, a reminder that the day has just begun, yet the promise it holds seems elusive under the weight of your current state. You’d much rather not have to open your eyes at all and retreat into the comforting embrace of darkness and the inevitability of facing the day ahead.

The current intensity of the throbbing headaches promises a rather bad day ahead - maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

The cool surface of the floor meets the soles of your feet offering a momentary distraction from the pulsating discomfort in your head as you navigate the dimly lit space. The few rays of light filtering through the partially closed blinds create a chiaroscuro effect, casting shadows that dance along the walls like fleeting memories.

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, adding an undercurrent of fear to the pulsating discomfort in your head. The unknown, wrapped in shadows, looms over your thoughts, intensifying the ache that reverberates through your skull and manipulating the threads of your mind like a malevolent puppeteer, weaving a twisted dance of uncertainty.

With each step, you can’t shake the feeling of being adrift in a sea of questions, with no clear answers in sight.

You lower yourself into the desk chair in your office, facing the computer. With a heavy sigh, you rest your head in your hands, succumbing to the pounding in your head that seems to be intensified by the soft glow of the computer screen.

A sense of worry washes over you as you contemplate the missing fragments of time. There are moments when waking up brings with it the haunting realisation that whole days have slipped through the sieve of your memory. You recall mornings when you’ve donned shoes and proper clothes, yet the specifics remain elusive, lost in the fog of an obscured consciousness.

Unexplained bruises are scattered across your body like cryptic symbols etched into the canvas of your skin. The morning light sometimes reveals these marks - random, and varied in size. Some bruises are inconspicuous, while others are more pronounced, a stark contrast against the pallor of your skin. You know that it may very well be a nutritional deficiency or just your clumsiness in general.

It's plausible that during the night, you inadvertently collide with objects or navigate your dimly lit apartment and stumble into furniture, while the pain is obscured by the prominence of your persistent headaches. Which rhythmic persistence feels as if someone else is dwelling within, an unwelcome tenant navigating the labyrinth of your thoughts.

Once again you google your symptoms just as you did before in hopes of finding something that provides you with the answers you so desperately seek. The tapping of keys echoes in the quiet room as you type in the details of your affliction.

The search results hold a plethora of possibilities, ranging from the mundane to the foreboding. Your eyes sweep across the information, revealing a spectrum of potential explanations.

Predictably, illnesses such as cancer or a brain tumor show up in the results. But you recall a recent and disappointing visit to the doctor during which you talked about the results of brain scans that were completely normal and unremarkable. The lingering sense of unease that clings to your every thought has not been dispelled by that and still remains.

As you delve deeper into your online search, the glow of the computer screen casts an ethereal light on your face, accentuating the furrowed brow that accompanies your contemplation when the search results take an unexpected turn.

Among the medical explanations and everyday ailments, there is a collection of pages adorned with ominous symbols, discussing the supernatural, and invoking the paranormal.

A skeptical scoff escapes your lips at the absurdity of such notions. The idea of demonic involvement feels like a fantastical escape from the reality of medical concerns. You dismiss these supernatural threads as mere distractions, remnants of an online world where fiction and reality often blur. But you cannot deny that you are intrigued and fascinated by those weird demonic and paranormal things.

So you decide to dive deeper and steer your thoughts in a different direction than your medical condition.

You stumble upon Ed and Lorraine Warren. Their names are etched in the annals of supernatural and demonologist lore, their photographs capturing a certain gravitas that transcends the ordinary.

As you delve into their stories, a mix of fascination and skepticism grips you. The tales of haunted houses, malevolent entities, and their seemingly fearless pursuit of the unknown unfold like chapters in a dark, mysterious novel.

The images of the Warrens show a tall, imposing couple that exudes an aura of authority. Their gaze seems to pierce through the screen as if they have encountered unknown forces that your brain cannot comprehend. Both exude attractiveness and Ed, in particular, captivates your attention with his clear blue eyes and a soft, reassuring smile.

As you sink deeper into your exploration, you come across intriguing details about the Warrens, including snippets about their artifact room.

Further research reveals that Ed is a non-ordained demonologist officially recognized by the Catholic Church and Lorraine, on the other hand, is described as a gifted clairvoyant.

Notably, you discover that the Warrens are scheduled to speak at a university near you in a few days, where they will delve into topics surrounding demons and the supernatural. This upcoming lecture piques your interest, as it offers the possibility of gaining insights on the topic you’re interested in and steering your thoughts in a different direction.

The next day unfolds with a disconcerting air that hangs over every moment. As you move through the routine motions of your day, a persistent sensation gnaws at the edges of your consciousness - a feeling that someone might be in your apartment, an invisible presence tracking your every move. The shadows seem to linger, conspiring to elongate and distort as if concealing the secrets of an unseen observer.

Unease settles in, and the weight of the unknown intensifies. Your senses are on high alert, hyperaware of subtle sounds and fleeting shadows. Paranoia casts a veil over your perception, transforming the familiar surroundings into a labyrinth of uncertainty. The notion that you are being followed, and watched, becomes an inescapable undercurrent.

As you sit down at your computer to continue your Google search about Ed and Lorraine Warren, the mysterious feeling of being watched persists and the noises in your apartment become more pronounced.

Suddenly, you hear a distinct tapping sound, like fingernails lightly brushing against a surface. Your head jerks up, and you glance around the room, searching for the source.

You decide to investigate the source of the sounds. Slowly, you get up from your chair and start to explore your apartment. The creaking floorboards and faint whispers add to the tension in the air. As you move from room to room, you can’t shake the feeling that someone - or something - is with you.

Jesus, you think.

Delving into the Warrens’ cases has genuinely left an impression on you. Despite your rational certainty that you'll discover nothing unusual, a small part of you wants to make sure that you are truly alone, so you look into your bedroom.

The room is dimly lit, and shadows dance on the walls, creating an unsettling atmosphere and you half expect to come face-to-face with an intruder.

Of course, the room is empty. You shake your head at your antics and the weird games your mind sometimes plays at you. So you return to your computer, determined to focus on your research.

As you delve deeper into their history, you come across tales of unexplained occurrences and inexplicable events. The line between the paranormal and the ordinary becomes blurred, and you can’t help but wonder if there's a connection between your eerie experience and the stories you’re reading.

The distinct creak of the front door opening sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the unease that had settled in the pit of your stomach. Your head jerks up instinctively, eyes widening as you try to discern any movement or sound that may follow.

Slowly and cautiously, you ease yourself out of the office, your senses on high alert - your mind cannot have made that up again, it feels too real.

Each step is deliberate, the floorboards beneath your feet protesting with muted groans. The dim lighting in the hallway casts long, wavering shadows, creating a macabre dance of darkness that seems to come alive with each flicker.

As you make your way to the kitchen, you can't help but notice the play of light and shadow, accentuating the contours of the furniture and giving the surroundings an otherworldly quality. The eerie atmosphere lingers, and every sound, whether a distant whisper or the faint rustle of curtains, contributes to the unsettling symphony. Your heart pounds in your ears, the rhythmic thud echoing relentlessly as adrenaline courses through your veins.

The air feels charged with tension as you navigate through the space, acutely aware of your surroundings. The kitchen, once a place of familiarity, now holds an unfamiliar weight, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to find a presence lingering in the shadows.

You look around for a potential weapon in your kitchen. Your eyes land on a set of sharp kitchen knives neatly arranged on the counter. You grab one, the cold steel offering a reassuring weight in your hand. Gripping it tightly, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as the blade reflects the gentle glow that is emanating from the windows.

Your mind races with possibilities, ranging from a potential intruder to something more otherworldly. Your eyes blink rapidly, a reflex under the stress, and you can feel sweat building as your apprehension grows.

With the knife in hand, you decide to cautiously approach the area near the hallway that leads to the front door. Every step is deliberate, and the creaking floorboards beneath your feet seem to echo in the silence. The shadows play tricks on your imagination, making you question whether the movement you see is real or just a product of your heightened senses.

As you reach the entrance, you notice that the door is slightly ajar. The chill in the air sends a shiver down your spine. Holding the knife in a defensive stance, you push the door open, ready to confront whatever or whoever might be on the other side.

To your surprise, the hallway appears empty. The dimly lit corridor stretches out before you, devoid of any immediate threat. However, the feeling of being watched persists, leaving you on edge.

A shiver runs down your spine as you turn towards the living room, and your eyes widen with a mixture of fear and surprise.

In the dim light, you make out the silhouette of a figure standing in the shadows. The room seems to hold its breath as you lock eyes with the unexpected visitor.

Your grip tightens on the knife, your instincts urging you to be prepared for whatever may come. The figure remains still, a mysterious presence cloaked in darkness. Panic and curiosity wrestle within you, but you muster the courage to speak.

“Who’s there?”, you demand, your voice wavering slightly, betraying your inner turmoil.

The figure doesn’t respond immediately, maintaining an unsettling silence. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you start to discern features - the outline of a person clad in big, dark clothing wearing a hood. The air in the room feels charged with tension, and the quiet seems to amplify the beating of your heart.

A surge of fear courses through you as the stranger inches closer in the dimly lit living room. Your panic intensifies, and without thinking, you unleash a scream, a mixture of fear and warning, hoping to startle the intruder or whatever presence stands before you as you feel your whole body shaking.

“Who are you? What do you want?”, you shout, your voice echoing through the tense silence. The sudden burst of sound reverberates in the room, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

The stranger freezes momentarily, their movement halted by your unexpected reaction. The dim light casts uncertain shadows on their stance, making it challenging to discern their intentions. You maintain a defensive stance, clutching the knife tightly in your hand.

In the wake of your scream, a heavy silence lingers, broken only by the sound of your own rapid breaths. The stranger remains silent, their next move unclear.

“I don’t want to hurt you! Please just…go”, your voice is shaking and the fear that settled itself in your core is palpable.

Suddenly, the stranger surges forward and in a split-second response to their move towards you, fear and adrenaline drive you to react instinctively. Without hesitation, you thrust the knife forward, aiming for the center of the oncoming threat. The blade makes contact, sinking into the stranger’s stomach with a sickening resistance.

The stranger gasps, a guttural sound escaping their lips, and their momentum falters. The reality of the situation hits you, and your eyes widen in shock as you release the blade and stumble back. You watch their hands instinctively clutch their injured stomach before inevitably collapsing onto the ground.

Time seems to stretch as you assess the situation, your mind racing to comprehend the events that have just happened.

You stand there, breaths coming in ragged gasps, staring at the figure now on the floor. The dim light accentuates the stark reality of the situation - their blood on the knife, their blood splattered on the floor, and their blood staining your hands.

A wave of panic grips you, and you feel the onset of a panic attack tightening your chest. The reality of the violence you've just inflicted crashes over you, and a whirlwind of emotions - fear, guilt, and shock - threatens to overwhelm your senses. Bile rises at the back of your throat, adding to the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

The heavy silence in the room is broken by the sound of your laboured breathing when you realise the gravity of the situation. You just stabbed someone.

You step closer to the figure on the floor, your hands are trembling and your mind is in turmoil. Your gaze falls onto the knife. It is still stained with their blood and lodged in the stranger’s stomach like a macabre focal point that rhythmically rises with their rattling, shallow breaths.

You hover over the figure and you reach out to grab the protruding knife with your bloody hands in a motion that you cannot stop. Your hand closes around the handle and you pull.

The knife emerges from the stranger’s stomach without much resistance but with a wet squelch and a deep, pained groan. Blood follows the blade out of the wound, drenching the stranger’s clothes as you watch mesmerised.

A few seconds tick by before you sink to your knees and lift the blade again as if pulled up by invisible strings.

The knife plunges into the stranger's chest, and a sickening resistance, a visceral clash of flesh, bone, and muscle, courses through your hands. The figure beneath you convulses, and the room is filled with the gut-wrenching sounds of their laboured breaths and pained noises, and the air is heavy with the metallic scent of blood, a salty tang settling on your tongue.

As you continue to stab in a mindless range, the blood pools over your hands, coating them like a warm embrace. The stranger beneath you convulses in response to each stab, their breaths growing more ragged with each passing moment.

Your frazzled breathing is loud in the room when you snap out of your frenzy. A sudden realisation grips you as the weight of what you've done settles in and the knife hits the wooden floor with a loud clink.

The dim light flickers, casting an eerie glow on the tableau of violence before you.

The dark clad, hooded figure that lays motionless on your floor in a pool of deep red blood surrounding them, drawing a macabre outline.

You reach out to the stilled stranger's form and tug the hood down from the stranger's head.

A jolt of terror courses through you as you reveal your own face staring back at you, eyes wide in terror. The shock is overwhelming, and you stagger back, falling onto your hands. The surreal horror of the revelation sends a scream tearing from your throat.

But then, as abruptly as the situation unfolded, you wake up screaming. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you're drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of the dream cling to your consciousness, leaving you disoriented and unsettled.

As the realisation sets in that it was all a nightmare, a wave of relief washes over you. The room is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, and the familiar surroundings of your bedroom reassure you that the disturbing events were only figments of your imagination. The oppressive shadows, the metallic tang of the knife, the haunting echoes of the chilling act - all dissolved into the hazy realm of dreams.

You extend your arm to hit the light switch for your bedside lamp, flooding the room with a brighter light. However, the sudden change triggers a throbbing headache, and spots dance before your eyes. The harsh illumination contrasts sharply with the peaceful moonlight, leaving you momentarily disoriented as you navigate the transition from the dreamworld to the stark reality of your lit room.

Abruptly, you raise your hands, a quick and anxious gesture, checking for any signs of harm or scattering of remaining blood. When you see nothing but spotless skin you take a moment to collect yourself, breathing deeply. Yet you still rub your hands together, attempting to rid yourself of the lingering sensation of phantom blood that appears to have permeated your skin.

The digital numbers on your clock glow faintly, spelling out the hour: 3 am. The unsettling residue of your nightmare clings to your thoughts, a haunting aftertaste that refuses to dissipate.

As you consider the option of getting up, you notice the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of the night outside. The weight of the bedsheets feels heavier than usual, as if reluctant to release you from the lingering grip of the dream's distressing scenes. The room, while familiar, carries an air of unfamiliarity, as if the vivid dream has cast a subtle shadow over your reality.

The intensity of your frustration grows as you realize that even your dreams have become a source of distress. The pervasive discomfort of constant head pain during waking hours now seems to extend its unwelcome influence into the realm of your sleep, turning what should be a respite into yet another source of anguish. The feeling of being trapped in a dual nightmare, both waking and sleeping, causes tears to well up in your eyes.

In all the months of your illness, you have never felt so completely and utterly lost and afraid.

A sob escapes your throat, and tears stream down your face as you succumb to the overwhelming weight of despair. You just want to get better - because this state is not living anymore, it is merely existing.

You recall the Google search from the day before - about Ed and Lorraine Warren being at a university for a lecture.

Maybe they can help you tackle whatever this is. Conventional medicine has failed you, leaving you desperate and adrift, and at this point, with nothing left to lose you are okay with anything. After all - it cannot get worse.

_____

The lecture hall at the university is packed, filled with an eager and diverse crowd, spanning different ages, all buzzing with anticipation as they gather to witness the renowned Warrens deliver their lecture.

Ed and Lorraine take their place on the stage, positioned behind a podium. You find yourself nervously seated in the middle of the audience, the bright lights exacerbating your headaches, the dull throb syncing with the beat of your heart as you feel anxious. Your attention shifts to the front, where Ed and Lorraine stand and you let your eyes rank over them.

Ed, with his impeccably styled short auburn hair, is dressed in a light grey three-piece suit paired with a black shirt and a tartan tie. Lorraine’s attire is a black vest over a light blue ruffle blouse and a long skirt carrying a matching tartan pattern, echoing Ed’s tie.

It’s a subtle reflection of their devotion to each other, you figure. Both of them emanate an undeniable attractiveness that seems to reel you in and you understand why they are so successful in what they do.

As they stand behind the podium, Ed exudes a grounded demeanour, his voice breaking the silence and resonating through the hall: “Fear is defined as a feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the presence or imminence of danger. I don’t care if it’s a demon, a ghost, a spirit, or an entity - they all feed on it.”

Despite Ed’s composed presence, Lorraine appears unfocused, her eyes scanning the crowd as she nervously plays with her rosary.

The room is illuminated by a large screen, displaying rough film footage featuring a gaunt, despondent man in his late twenties - rail thin, eyes black like his hair, and skin pasty white. A Catholic priest stands beside him, murmuring Latin in a barely audible tone.

“Maurice here was a French Canadian farmer with nothing more than a third-grade education - yet after being possessed by a demon, spoke some of the best Latin I had ever heard - sometimes backward. He had been molested by his father, who also exposed him to bestiality. Evil found its home in this man because he was conflicted, and forced into this - he never had a choice. He thought he was saving his wife by shooting her - like his father did to his mother”, Ed informs the audience as the film unfolds before them.

You experience a mix of unease and captivation in Ed’s presence, marvelling at how he commands the room. His bright blue eyes gaze into the audience as he speaks, intensifying the dull throb in your temples as you concentrate on the lecture rather than the charismatic man on the stage.

Shifting your focus from Ed’s figure, you fix your gaze on the screen displaying the possessed man, Maurice, writhing in agonising agony.

Lorraine interjects as the film plays: “If you look at his eyes, you can see them tearing blood onto his shirt.”

You witness Maurice’s white T-shirt morphing into a canvas of dark crimson, accompanied by anguished screams.

“And upside-down crosses started appearing on his body”, Lorraine’s soft voice narrates as Ed lifts Maurice's shirt in the film, revealing two inverted crosses pushing out from the inside.

A sense of disbelief floods your thoughts - how is that possible?

Your headache pulses, prompting you to massage your temples as you watch Maurice’s struggle. The shocking scenes inadvertently bring back memories of the unsettling nightmare from the previous night. You blink rapidly, attempting to dispel the lingering thoughts and bring your focus back to the stage.

Ed takes charge, saying: “That’s good, Drew, why don’t you hit the lights.”

As Drew obediently follows Ed's instruction to turn off the projector, the room is bathed in light once more.

The harsh contrast between the vivid reality around you and the haunting scenes you’ve just witnessed on screen intensifies the unease. You notice others in the audience shifting uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging glances that reflect a shared sense of disquiet.

Ed’s silhouette becomes more pronounced against the darkened backdrop, and his next words pierce through the silence, undeterred by the discomfort permeating the room, as he begins to explain the significance of the possessed man’s ordeal.

His voice, a steady and authoritative cadence, cuts through the residual tension: “What you’ve seen tonight is not an isolated incident. Demonic possession is a very real and insidious force that can take hold of a person's soul.”

The rational part of your mind grapples with scepticism, but the visceral memories of Maurice’s screams and the grotesque symbols etched on his body make it challenging to dismiss the possibility outright.

Ed’s blue eyes, still holding the attention of the room, seem to penetrate the shadows of doubt. As he delves deeper into the supernatural narrative, your unease mingles with a growing curiosity.

Your attention is drawn to Lorraine, who still appears notably on edge. Her eyes nervously traverse the audience, revealing a subtle unease as her husband, Ed, steers the course of the lecture. It’s as though there's an undercurrent of tension beneath the surface, and Lorraine’s apprehensive demeanour suggests an awareness of something lingering in the air.

You wonder what she may be searching for or if that is normal for her - Ed doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“So, what happened to Maurice?”, a young man seated in the front row blurts out loud.

Ed responds with gravity in his tone: “Well, he tried to kill his wife but instead he shot her in the arm and then turned the gun on himself. Maurice had a very troubled life with little to live for...and not even an exorcist you bring him back.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, evoking a sense of sympathy for Maurice. The nonchalant demeanor with which Ed addresses the grim outcome leaves you intrigued and a bit unsettled. You can’t help but wonder about the myriad experiences the Warrens have encountered, considering their seemingly unshaken composure in the face of such dark tales.

As Ed turns to roll up the projector sheet, your attention briefly wanders. At that moment, you find yourself discreetly appreciating his form – his broad frame, strong shoulders concealed by the suit, and his ass that is pronounced by his tight pants.

“Which brings us to the three stages of demonic activity”, Ed declares, pointing emphatically to each word written on the blackboard. He begins to pace around the room, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the assembled audience.

“Infestation, oppression, and possession. Now, infestation: That’s the whispering, the footsteps, the feeling of another presence… which ultimately grows into oppression - the second stage. Now, this is where the victim, and it’s usually the one who's the most psychologically vulnerable, is targeted specifically by an external force. Breaks the victim down. Crushes their will. And once in a weakened state, leads them to the third and final stage: possession.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, emphasising the ominous progression of these stages.

Ed’s eyes, still holding the attention of the room, sweep across the assembled audience, and he opens the floor for questions: “Are there questions?”

A smattering of eager arms shoot up, and you find yourself sinking deeper into your chair. While you too have a question, the nature of it – perhaps delving into the experience of possession – could raise suspicions, causing you to hesitate.

Ed acknowledges a male student in the front row with a subtle nod, indicating his readiness to entertain the question.

“I’d love to know what scares you the most?”, the student inquiries, his curiosity evident.

Ed’s demeanour shifts slightly, breaking into a small but genuine smile at the inquiry. His gaze is momentarily diverted from the audience to meet Lorraine’s. In that brief connection, it’s apparent that Ed’s gaze is filled with love, a sentiment that practically emanates from him, adding a layer of warmth to the otherwise intense atmosphere. Lorraine, still appearing unfocused and nervous, scans the room with vigilant eyes, seemingly attuned to energies beyond the visible.

“Being married to a clairvoyant - there’s not a whole lot I can get away with”, Ed responds, his smile widening as he adds a touch of humour to the gravity of the topic, “But there is just a base level of respect for everything we deal with.”

You can’t help but find Ed’s smile endearing and attractive. The way the skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles toothily adds a touch of charm to his already charismatic presence.

As Ed shares this insight into his personal life, the room absorbs the shift in tone, the lecture momentarily transitioning into a more intimate and conversational atmosphere. The male student nods in response, seemingly satisfied with the candid revelation, as the audience gains a glimpse into the intricate dynamics of the Warrens’ unique partnership, accentuated by the palpable love that underlies their connection.

You raise your hand into the air since you thought of a question that won’t arouse suspicion among the gathered crowd. The odds of being chosen appear slim, given the multitude of raised hands, but you decide it’s worth a shot.

Yet, the moment your hand ascends, Lorraine abruptly grinds to a halt.

She suddenly stops cold - her smile vanishes, and her fidgeting with the rosary stops as her eyes lock onto yours with unexpected intensity. Under the weight of her unyielding, scrutinizing gaze goosebumps rise on your arm, and an unexpected chill ripples through you.

Simultaneously, as if in synchrony with the abrupt cessation of Lorraine’s movements, a searing flare of pain erupts in your head. It feels as though an unseen force is ruthlessly clawing its way into the recesses of your skull, compelling your hand to instinctively seek solace on your throbbing temple.

Breaking free from Lorraine’s gaze, you shift your attention towards Ed, attempting to regain a sense of normalcy.

However, Ed, too, has pivoted his attention from the audience to his wife. His gaze remains riveted on her, a pronounced crease forming between his brows as he meticulously follows the direction of her unbroken stare.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his eyes - bewildered and tinged with concern. As you lock eyes with Ed, a sensation akin to lightning strikes courses through you. The connection feels electrifying, and for a moment, the world seems to narrow down to the intensity of that shared gaze.

He takes in your form, trying to make sense of why his wife froze on the spot.

As he registers your hand that’s still suspended in the air, Ed’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before finally breaking the silence: “The girl in the fifth row. What’s your question?”

The exchange with Lorraine felt like an eternity when in reality it must have only been a few seconds. Strangely, it appears that no one else in the audience has noticed it.

Before you speak, you discreetly clear your throat. The disconcerting encounter with Lorraine has thrown you off balance.

“How do you protect yourself against the evil forces? Are there specific precautions you take?”

Ed Warren takes a moment to compose himself before addressing your question. The room falls into a hush, and all eyes are now fixed on you and Ed, with your heart still racing. The intensity of Ed’s gaze momentarily threw you off balance.

He responds with a serious expression: “Well, that's a good question. When dealing with the paranormal, it’s crucial to approach it with caution. Lorraine and I always ensure to say a prayer for protection before any investigation. We also use blessed religious artifacts, such as holy water and crosses.”

Lorraine, still visibly affected, nods in agreement, her gaze somewhat distant. You wonder if the people in the audience noticed her strange behavior or if your mind is just playing tricks on you.

“In addition to that, we have a network of clergy and experts whom we consult for guidance. Spiritual strength and faith are crucial when confronting dark forces. It’s about maintaining a balance between understanding the supernatural and respecting the spiritual realm”, Ed continues.

His intense gaze remains on you as he concludes the ghost of a smirk on his lips: “Well, rooms and artefacts can be blessed - but people cannot.”

“Thank you”, you nod and try to fake a smile.

Some part of you had hoped for a more detailed approach on how to deal with the unsettling experiences you’ve been facing. You doubt that you can just pray the persistent headaches and unexplained occurrences that have been plaguing you away.

The audience appears satisfied with the response and begins to murmur amongst themselves. Ed picking up on the collective mood, smoothly gestures for the next question, effectively shifting the focus away from the brief moment of tension.

Despite the outward calm, your mind is racing. You remain deep in thought, contemplating the practicality of the advice given.

You feel Lorraine’s gaze lingering on you, still scrutinising you but no longer frozen.

Ed occasionally diverts his attention from the audience, his concern evident in the subtle furrow of his brow and the way his eyes linger on Lorraine. His glances toward his wife carry an undertone of protectiveness, a silent reassurance seeking confirmation of her well-being as you wonder if it was a good idea to speak to them.

When your eyes meet Ed’s, there is an inexplicable intensity that steals your breath for a moment. The connection feels charged with unspoken questions and a shared curiosity about the peculiar reaction Lorraine had toward you. The exchange is profound, but it’s repeatedly interrupted, the moment broken again and again as Ed diverts his gaze back to the audience or checks on Lorraine.

You sense that Ed is wrestling with his own thoughts, wondering why Lorraine reacted in such a way, and, truth be told, you share the same curiosity.

As your headaches intensify with each passing moment, you find yourself yearning to escape the persistent gaze. The desire to leave this space becomes increasingly urgent as the weight of the unknown, coupled with the growing discomfort in your head, becomes almost unbearable.

“Well, that concludes this seminar; our time is up”, Ed declares, prompting the attendees to rise, and you join the collective movement toward the exit.

Just as you’re about to step through the doorway, a gentle, small hand is placed on your shoulder. The unexpected touch startles you, and you instinctively turn around. There stands Lorraine, her eyes carrying a mix of concern and kindness, and her voice holds a soothing quality as she speaks.

“Can we talk to you? Please, just stay behind”, Lorraine requests, her tone gentle but with an underlying seriousness.

The weight of her words feels like a sudden rush of cold water, and you can’t help but wonder if she has picked up on something you may not even fully understand yourself. A conflicting mix of desire for help and an underlying fear grips you in that moment. Despite the uncertainty, you decide to comply, nodding in acknowledgment and watching as the room empties.

As the door closes behind the last departing seminar attendee, you find yourself alone with the Warrens in the now-empty room. The weight of both Ed and Lorraine’s gazes fixated on you becomes palpable, creating an atmosphere charged with unspoken questions. It’s an unnerving feeling, like being under a microscope, and you can’t help but shift uncomfortably under their scrutiny as the pounding in your head reaches its peak.

Ed, ever perceptive, notices your discomfort and steps forward, breaking the silence.

“You don't have to be scared”, he reassures you with a calming tone, “My wife, Lorraine, she... well, she sees things that I cannot. And right now, she sees that something is bothering you.”

Lorraine, standing beside Ed, remains silent but her eyes, keen and perceptive, seem to penetrate to the core of your being. It’s both fascinating and unsettling, knowing that she possesses abilities beyond the ordinary.

Ed continues: “We’ve encountered many individuals who’ve faced unexplained phenomena, and sometimes, it helps to talk about it. Lorraine has a unique gift, and she might be able to offer some insights.”

As the conversation unfolds, the weight of your distress becomes increasingly apparent to Ed and Lorraine. Their expressions soften, recognizing the urgency of your situation.

“We understand that you’re going through something, and we’d like to help. Our home is a sanctuary, and Lorraine’s unique insights might bring some clarity to what you're experiencing”, Ed’s voice is marked by genuine concern as he reassures you.

Lorraine, who seemed to exude a calm and reassuring presence during the conversation, her demeanour a blend of empathy and understanding, gently adds: “Sometimes, being in a different environment can make it easier to open up and address these issues. We’ve assisted many people facing similar challenges, and we are here for you.”

The persistent throbbing in your head intensifies, and shadows seem to dance in the periphery of your vision as you stand before the Warrens. The pain becomes a tangible force, urging you to seek relief and answers. The sincerity in their words, coupled with the promise of potential resolution, convinces you to accept their invitation. Despite the lingering uncertainties, the hope of finding solace from the unexplained phenomena that have haunted you is a powerful motivator.

As you agree to visit their home, you take a moment to scrutinise Ed and Lorraine up close. The subtleties in Ed’s mannerisms captivate you - the way his hands flex when he explains something. The fluid movements of them, enticing your gaze to trace the contours of his rather large palms.

His lips curl in a subtle but genuine smile, revealing a warmth that contrasts with the gravity of the situation.

You notice that Ed is not clean shaven but instead, a carefully groomed short stubble graces his jawline, framing his face in a way that accentuates his features. The stubble adds a rugged charm, underscoring a sense of authenticity and strength.

You find yourself feeling a different kind of pull - a quiet and unexpected attraction to Ed.

As you stand near him, you catch a whiff of his intoxicating scent, a distinctly manly fragrance that envelops you like a comforting spell. It’s a blend of woodsy notes and subtle hints of spice, leaving an indelible impression that adds an intriguing layer to the enigmatic connection blossoming between you.

A momentary hesitation causes you to instinctively bite your lip, a nervous habit that betrays the complexity of your emotions. In that fleeting instant, you catch Ed’s gaze flickering down to your lips, lingering longer than appropriate.

The attraction to Ed catches you off-guard and the unspoken connection, heightened by your response and Ed's subtle acknowledgment, adds a subtle tension to the air.

Not only is the situation at hand graver and darker but he is also married - and his wife is standing right beside you.

A twinge of guilt creeps in as you become keenly aware of the poor job you are doing to hide the magnetic pull you sense toward Ed.

Next chapter

[dark-raven-666]

Valak picture dump because I'm obsessed

[itgirlcom]

october soon which means the conjuring marathon

[scuderlia]

Annabelle (2014) dir. John R. Leonetti