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hellishjoel · 1 year ago

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dark paradise

5.2k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Your mind is flooded with the memories of your private time with Joel in his woodshed, but he hasn't reached out to you since the bonfire and it's been a week. You go next door to give him a piece of your mind.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, smut, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, Joel in his 40’s), dbf/neighbor!joel, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, pet names, praise, Joel being a horrible communicator and texter

A/N: I edited this 12+ times and kept changing stuff, so therefore there’s probably mistakes. There’s your one and only warning lol. I’m so excited you guys are eating up the first part (off to the races), I hope the next parts to come keep ya’ll entertained ;)

“Joel-” You clenched your eyes closed. “Outside? Are you serious?” Your scolded whispers were useless. Now that Joel knew you had these needs, he wasn’t going to let you be underserved. He perched one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread to the side and held open by the warm palm of his hand. You could feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, your walls fluttering as he came closer and closer to your core with each kiss to the exposed skin. “On the tailgate, Joel?” You whimpered, a flash of concern passing over your face. “I know how much you love the truck, baby.” Son of a bitch.

Time seemed to slow after your interaction with Joel in his woodshed. The days following the bonfire were filled with excitement but quickly followed by dread and anxiety. It had been a week.

No text, no calls, no anything.

It wasn’t that serious. It was just Joel. Besides, you had a vibrator to fill the void until he finally decided to reach out to you. Whenever that may be.

Days one and two were the most riveting. Every time you thought of Joel, your heart raced a little faster. You didn’t have a long list of sexual endeavors, so this was still noteworthy. Giving head to your hot forty-year-old neighbor. You wondered what else would come from it. More importantly, when.

Days three and four felt routine and mundane. After picking around your breakfast and staring out the window to Joel’s empty driveway, you would wander to your back porch to read a book on the dock.

You were lucky to catch glimpses of Sarah. Her summer was busy with her friends from school and working a part-time job to afford having fun the summer before her senior year. If she was free, you guys would jump in the lake, sit on the dock together, tell stories, and catch up on everything that was happening in each other’s lives. Well, not everything.

Days five and six were torture. Your vibrator had died from its excessive use, and your fingers weren’t cutting it. You wanted Joel, you needed Joel. You hated to admit it, especially since he hadn’t paid a singular ounce of attention to you since the bonfire last Saturday. Even worse, after deciding to watch Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron with your family during a movie night, you started thinking even the horse was kind of attractive.

Day seven started with your room covered in a pale blue light. You didn’t know what time it was. You weren’t sure how much you slept, but you knew it was very little. This ache was pestering your insides, spreading a rot like an old tree log. Your mind couldn’t fade away from the way Joel felt inside your mouth, the way he filled your throat, and you breathed through the choke. Or the way he finished on your face and your tongue.

Your well-painted memory of it all was already beginning to fade. The details weren’t as crisp, you wanted to remember every detail and hold on to it for as long as possible.

That’s what you were trying to imagine at this ungodly early morning hour. The birds weren’t even chirping outside yet. Your fan slowly circled, trying to cool you off from the sticky Texas heat. You wished your windows weren’t jammed closed.

You heard a thud outside, your body alert as you swiftly sat up and peeked out the window.

Despite it being a Saturday, you watched a tired and slow Joel walk out to his old pickup truck and toss a brown bag lunch inside. Where was he off to so early?

He was wearing his chunky worn-in work boots, splattered with drops of white paint stained into the leather by the steel toe. They were heavy with each step he took on his rickety wooden deck. His faded dark blue jeans sat snug on his hips with his wallet stuffed in the back pocket. His dark hair dashed with silver grays was still damp from his morning shower.

You watched behind foggy glass as he patted down his jeans and mumbled something, swiftly turning on his heel and lightly jogging up his steps before disappearing inside again.

Seeing him after a week of silence bubbled up a hint of anger and annoyance in you. It annoyed you that he looked so good.

Your feet found their way onto cold hardwood before you could waste another second. You would give him a piece of your mind in fuzzy slippers and an oversized rusty-orange Texas Longhorns t-shirt that was so draped over you that it covered your black sleep shorts.

You tiredly navigated your way out of your room quietly, not to wake your parents down the hall. You crossed your arms and hugged them to your body, the early morning chill hitting you once you were outside. You crossed your driveway to his truck, slowing once you reached his perched-down tailgate. Joel had resurged from his house with his truck keys in hand, his steps slowing once you two shared eye contact.

You’d be standing here all day if you expected Joel to speak first.

“Hey.”

He gave you a small nod, his eyes dropping to the shirt that reached the tops of your thighs before they managed their way back up to your face. “Mornin’.”

He closed the gap between his porch steps and his tailgate, setting down his toolbelt and box in the bed. He looked rigid, tight in the shoulders and chest. His close proximity made you step a few paces back, the length of the tailgate separating you from Joel.

You were afraid that if he stood too close, he might feel how badly you wanted him by radiation alone. Especially now, fresh out of the shower, half-wet curls plastered to his forehead, still smelling a little musky with his body wash.

You finally let out an aggravated sigh, hip landing against the tailgate with your arms still crossed.

“So… where are you going this early on a Saturday?” Your face still held a slightly pinched expression though you tried to ask a casual question.

Your curiosity made the left side of his mouth tick up in a lopsided little smirk.

“You wanna tell me the real reason you came over here?” Joel’s tactics were ruthless. It made you feel small, young. But you weren’t, not anymore.

You took in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes on his as your head fell to the side. Finally, the ticking time bomb inside you was counting down. All of your pent-up sexual frustration would be launched at this lumberjack of a man.

“You haven’t texted me.”

“Christ,” he muttered, annoyance passing over his face. “Sun’s not even up yet.”

“Joel.” You pushed.

“Haven’t texted you in a few years.” He said lamely.

“I know, the last thing I have from you is asking me what you think my dad would like for a birthday present.”

“I value your input.” His teasing didn’t make you any less angry. Joel could tell. “I don’t text anyone much besides Sarah. ‘ts the only way I can get ahold of her. Don’t even remember I own a phone half the time.”

“I know.” Your arms crossed tighter around your body. “But I have… needs.” Your voice awkwardly teetered as you evaded his eye contact.

“Needs? Do ya, now?” Joel’s accent came out swinging, his signature smirky-smile working in combination with his cocked up eyebrow. But your face held evidence of your disappointment.

There’s a gentle lull. He should have texted you, and you shouldn’t be here telling him that. He knows. Or maybe you shouldn’t expect so much from a guy like Joel. No wedding ring, brooding, a bull with horns, Joel. Wouldn’t know it was his birthday without Sarah reminding him, Joel. Wouldn’t leave the house if he didn’t have to, Joel. Wouldn’t think to text his horny neighbor next door, Joel.

“Didn’t text me either, sweetheart.” He points out, making your head snap up with wide doe eyes. Shit. He was right.

You didn’t text him, either. You were just sort of expecting it out of him. You hoped he would lead the way, be the guide, reach out wanting more. But that wasn’t Joel. Were you both playing this devilish waiting game? You felt a little silly, your insides wrapping in knots as he surveyed you.

“Well I-”

“You what?”

He was the one grilling into you now. The sun began cresting over the water, bleaching your surroundings in a pale orange. The sun’s glare caused Joel’s eyes to squint slightly to block it out.

You rolled your head to the side and wiggled around as you tried to stand still against his tailgate. Your frustrations were evident as you rubbed your crossed legs together.

This wasn’t the same girl who took a leap of faith in his woodshed, who crossed the boundary between nothing to something, and set you and Joel up for a thrilling summer. You just wanted him to tell you that he wanted it too. To fuck around and do something different. Make this summer worth a damn.

“I didn’t know if you wanted more.” You finally muster up, your voice smaller than you intended, shifty eyes looking over his.

Your statement made him scoff, having to look away from you with a wicked smile. The orange luminescence of the sun warmed his otherwise cold face. He was amused, maybe even a little offended by your statement.

“‘Course I want more.” He strained before pausing, his voice lowering as he took another step closer. “Look at you. Wearin’ my shirt.” He said before he towered over you, making the first point of contact as his hand reached for your hip and pulled you in closer, his fist clutching the worn-in orange t-shirt.

You blinked a few times before looking down where he fisted the material. Shit. He was right again.

Joel had given this to you the last summer you were in Danbury. You and Sarah took a late-night dip in the lake, and she wanted you to sleep over and watch a movie in the basement. You were too lazy to walk back home and change, so Joel gave you a towel and his Longhorns t-shirt.

You easily could have snagged a shirt from Sarah’s closet, but Joel caught you sneaking into his house and dripping water everywhere.

“Just take this. Go dry off. Get warmed up.” A statement laced with annoyance and precaution for his floors, but also attentive care.

It was probably supposed to be just for the night, but you stole it.

You remember that evening vividly. It was the first time you fantasized about Joel. Because the shirt wrapped you up and smelled of his musk and deodorant. It brought on a certain warm fuzziness in your tummy. The shirt had been incorporated so much in your wardrobe these last two years or so, you had forgotten its origin. But it was Joel’s.

And now you were standing here in front of him, his shirt draped over your body like an oversized blanket, showing the curves of your tits. He was fantasizing about you too. Fucking you while wearing his shirt.

There was an undeniable tension that now settled between the two of you, one you surely couldn’t satisfy in his driveway. But that didn’t mean Joel didn’t feel the same way.

His hold on your hip tightened, your lips parting in surprise as his other hand came to your waist and hoisted you up onto the tailgate of his truck.

He was hot, possessive of your body wrapped in his shirt.

“Does it look like I don’t want you?” Joel’s voice was husky, lust filled. You liked getting this sort of reaction out of him. His question caused an ache in you, white heat pooling in the base of your stomach.

Your neediness for him returned. Addicted to his touch, you felt a rush of adrenaline pulse through your body. Joel parted your legs with his body by standing between them, your little fists gripping his large biceps as you tried to regain your bearings. He was so big and burly, wide set shoulders, and a toned chest. You wanted to see him shirtless, examine his body when your time together wasn’t so limited.

“Joel,” his name dripped off your lips with desperation, sweet like honey. He knew how you said his name when you wanted him. It brought back vivid memories of you kneeling in front of him in his woodshed.

Comfort brought you back, knowing it was safe to lean in and start kissing his stubbled neck. You didn’t want to kiss his lips, it still felt too intimate. Joel picked up on your hesitations and silently obeyed.

Once you got to the base of his neck by the collar of his shirt, he let out a surprisingly loud grunt that he tried to jam down into silence but had failed. It caught you off guard, the ways he displayed his pleasure.

You moved back in, eager to duplicate the noise as you paid special attention to his sweet spot. You suckled and glided your teeth over the pinpoint before he forced himself away.

“Keep it below the collar, sweetheart.” His twangy southern drawl was drenched in pleasure.

You smirked as you tugged at the collar gently with your teeth, letting it go and seeing it snap back into place around his tan neck.

His lips found the crook of your jawline, his lips brushing your earlobe as he took it between his teeth and gently nibbled. The sensation struck a nerve down your center, a weak whine echoing against the collar of his shirt as you tried to stay quiet.

The air had warmed up with the sun’s presence, the birds starting to chirp. Your parents could wake up any minute now, being the early risers they were.

You pulled away to gauge his reaction. Joel was looking between you and the horizon carefully. He was debating. You both had so little time.

“Your parents.” He pointed out, his voice ridged with pain as he planted his body between yours, his large palms splayed on your lower back and upper thigh with his fingers ghosting your sleep shorts.

“Work.” You reminded, lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, fingers delicately brushing over the faded Miller Contracting logo on his breast pocket.

You’re compelled to tell him that you need him. Because you do. You need him terribly.

There was a silence, a deliberation of the masses. Stop while you’re ahead, at least you and Joel realized you were on the same page about wanting more. You could let him go, you should let him go. Meet up another time when it was less risky.

“You’re not pulling away.” Your whisper broke his thoughts. Your long lashes fluttered, and your eyes were filled with an eagerness only Joel could satisfy.

He rolled his head around, jaw tight before shaking his head.

“Well, you have needs.” His words were filled with grit, promise. Be quick.

Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, feeling the planes of his back under your small palms. Both of Joel’s big hands moved under your t-shirt, your lips parting at the feeling of his calloused and rough hands traversing your soft body. He liked how soft you were, you could tell by the way he was delicately exploring you with his lips plastered on your neck.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whisper, grinding your hips against his desperately while one of your hands wound into the damp curls at the base of his neck. He could use a haircut soon, the longer strands winding around your fingers.

His body loomed so much over you that you were arching your spine, your legs desperately wrapping loose around his waist until he had sufficiently guided you onto your back.

Suddenly his presence lifted. You didn’t realize you were seeing stars until he pulled away. He had way too much of an effect on you.

“Don’t have time to fuck you right, pretty girl.” His words made you puff out a desperate sigh.

“But-”

“But you have needs.” He finished for you, your head feverishly nodding. The truck bed had odd ribs, half your back raised up an inch while your other half was on a little slant. It was uncomfortable to lay your head down on. Once Joel was tugging down your sleep shorts, you were quick to forget the discomfort.

A heavy breath left you as Joel tossed your shorts over his tool belt in the truck bed beside you, feeling him pull your body closer to the edge of the truck bed with your legs pried open for him.

Your eyes widened as he sunk to the ground, jaw dropping as your eyes looked to the sky. Holy shit.

“Joel-” You clenched your eyes closed. “Outside? Are you serious?” Your scolded whispers were useless. Now that Joel knew you had these needs, he wasn’t going to let you be underserved.

He perched one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread to the side and held open by the warm palm of his hand. You could feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, your walls fluttering as he came closer and closer to your core with each kiss to the exposed skin.

“On the tailgate, Joel?” You whimpered, a flash of concern passing over your face.

“I know how much you love the truck, baby.” Son of a bitch.

You wished every second with him right now wasn’t fleeting. You wished he could take his time. But the both of you were so wound up anyway, you were happy just to have him be a guest between your legs.

Joel’s beard stubble tickled your thighs, his warm lips leaving a wet trail to your cotton underwear. Your hands needed to stay busy, one planting itself against one of the ribs of the truck bed and the other fisting his toolbelt that adorned a Carhartt patch.

Joel’s mouth was absent for a moment. He was admiring you. Admiring you with your legs spread for him in his Longhorns shirt that was several sizes too big on you. Heat chased through your body, a sly little smirk on your lips.

“Time is of the essence, Joel.”

He didn’t say anything back. He was staring at the wet spot that had formed through the material of your panties. He hummed, cocky satisfaction filling him to the brim.

Joel placed an excruciatingly soft kiss over your covered mound that had you writhing under him eagerly. His palm planted your thigh down again, feeling you quiver under his hold.

You swallowed a lump down your throat as he pulled your underwear to the side, out of his fucking way. He was seeing you for the first time. It made your chest heave with shakier breaths.

You were glistening for him, wet and gleaming in the sunshine that was starting to dance across the lake and over the truck. Panic flooded your core. He was taking his damn time. You needed him now.

“Joel-” you warned again, but it was too late.

His nose nuzzled against your clit as he flattened his tongue and licked up your center, tasting you properly. Your head dug into the truck bed, a loose moan leaving your parted lips as you closed your eyes and experienced a sweet paradise. His tongue flooded you with his saliva, Joel’s taste buds in galore as he tried you for the first time.

You wondered if he thought about you tasting you like this before. The thought as well as his head between your legs left you humming in appreciation.

Your free hand found its purpose, nestling your fingers into Joel’s hair while his head made gentle nods against your core. His jaw was slack, mouth lodged open as he consumed your sex in its entirety. He didn’t leave one centimeter of you unmarked. He commandeered the landscape like it was his territory, his possession.

Puffs of his name left your mouth, you couldn’t help but be vocal when he made you feel this good.

Joel’s tongue moved now with purpose, precision. He lapped at your entrance, tongue dipping in to feel your tight walls before moving back up and around your swollen clit. He was discovering you, what made you tick, what made you burn with passion and lust.

You held back moans of his name, bringing Joel’s shirt you wore up into your mouth by the collar to bite down onto. Your muffles were concealed by the material for now.

You ground your hips lightly into his face, finding a rhythm you liked. He lets you. He wants you to feel good.

Thumps of your heart pounded against your chest, Joel’s tongue still working perfect circles and swipes at your clit. He pulled away just for a moment to wet his fingers, you watch through hooded eyes. His amber ones flick to yours. Can I?

You nod your head, a silent and desperate yes.

He pursed his lips, face pierced with concentration as he pushed his middle finger into you, your walls welcoming the intrusion with a flood of arousal to allow him deeper. You took in a shaky gasp as he filled you to the knuckle.

“Fuckk-” you said a little too loud, your eyes widening as you covered your mouth and got a well-deserved glare from Joel.

“Can’t hold yourself together, can ya, pretty girl?” His voice was as rough as gravel.

You couldn’t even answer him back, the threads that held together your integrity were slowly plucking loose.

You whimpered like crazy, the shirt swallowing as much of the noise as it could, but the rhythm of his finger and his mouth returning to your clit was sending electric currents through your entire body. You were short-circuiting with Joel’s tongue and fingers playing with your pussy.

Joel’s mouth was warm, the taste of you a new hunger for him. You could hear his jeans scuff against the ground. He was trying to hold himself steady. The realization made you throw your head back, losing the shirt as a vice as you gripped his strands tighter between your knuckles.

“Fuck, Joel--, ohmygod-” you whimpered quietly. The slurping of your cunt was louder than your words. The noise felt so loud in your pounding ear drums, you were worried it would wake the neighbors. The neighbors being your parents and Joel’s daughter.

You were close, even with just one of his fingers inside of you, you were close. You

weren’t sure if it was because of your pent-up sexual tension, your vibrator dying, or your fingers not doing you justice. Maybe it was the fact that it was Joel Miller, but you were holding onto a very thin rope on the verge of snapping.

You pulled your shirt up, releasing his toolbelt as your hand fondled your tits. You could feel him smirk against your thighs as you pinched at your hardened round nipples.

“Such a pretty girl.. Taste so fuckin’ good too.” His words reverberate against your core, the vibrations tickling your clit and making you whine his name. His compliment caused a certain warmth in your chest.

Your head lulled from side to side. He wasn’t letting you know peace once he added a second finger. You had to take a moment to adjust but Joel could feel it, he knew exactly what to do and when. He was so seasoned, experienced, he’d be the first guy to make you cum like this.

Your thigh against his head clenched tighter around his shoulder, keeping him in close against your core as he continued to work his tongue in figure eights around your clit. The soothing circles were creating a harmonious rhythm, your stomach felt like it was going to fall through a trapdoor. You weren’t going to last much longer.

Then he tried something new.

A loud gasp left your lips, your body scraping its way to sit up on your elbows as you watched him nibble and suckle at your clit. Your elbow had nicked his exposed flathead screwdriver in the process, a hiss seething from your mouth. It didn’t matter now. All your mind could focus on was Joel and his hellish tongue.

The suckling at your clit unlocked something undiscovered, your lips parting in fascination before your head fell back and landed on the tops of your shoulders as you looked to the heavens with blurry vision.

A lazy smirk was plastered on your face as he held you in place. You weren’t going anywhere.

Heated pants left your mouth, unable to breathe with the new sensation. The sucking was a distinct sensation, one you liked. You could feel his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitive bud. It made your thighs twitch, and your walls flutter around his still pumping fingers.

Joel’s digits moved gently with their thrust, a gasp of his name flooding the air as he curled them deep, massaging your spongy walls.

You were breathless. You could barely muster up anything besides his name weakly on your lips. You tried to tell him, but it was already too late.

“J-Joel I’m-- I’m cominggg, shit,” you moaned out a little too loud. The whole valley around you echoed, or so it seemed. Joel’s protective grip tightened, your hips convulsing as you came over his tongue. He fucking loved it. He held you there and took you for everything you were worth.

You dropped to your back once more, his fingers still working a slow rhythm that he was insistent on not breaking until your walls stopped fluttering around his knuckles. You were still trying to come down to Earth when he licked you clean, your body twitching every time he flicked his tongue against your throbbing clit on purpose. Fucking asshole.

Your hold on his hair loosens. You can’t help but make a face at the sight of him. Wild curly locks, mouth and chin covered in your slick, slightly flushed cheeks. He looked just as fucked as you did. He looked submissive on his knees, his eyes gleaming as he looked to you.

You watch with obsession as he mindlessly pops his two fingers past his lips, licking them clean of your slick. Such a compliment.

He guided your leg off his shoulder and put your underwear back in its place.

You leaned up on your elbows, still seeing stars. Joel stood up from the ground and brushed any residual dirt and dust off his jeans. He brought his hand up and toyed with his jaw, meaty fingers adding pressure into the masseter muscle as he worked to relieve the tension that had built while going down on you with such dedication.

You weakly sat up, the slotted ribs of his truck bed making indents in the flesh of your arms and thighs. Brands of your filth. Your big shirt fell back into place, your legs swinging lightly as they hung off the truck bed. You glanced at the back of your arm, seeing the scrape from his tools. You’d be fine.

Once you turned straight to face Joel once more, you noticed he was fighting back a little smile about something, his hands on his hips and his knee cocked out.

“What?” You ask, trying to scoot further down the tailgate.

“Nothin’.” He said gruffly, taking you by your hips and lifting you with ease like a ragdoll back onto the ground. His eyes stayed on the floor, your curious gaze following his down to your fluffy slippers.

“Oh.” You muster up, clicking the toes together.

“They’re uh… cute.” He tried to compliment, still with a teasing smirk on his face.

“Shut up. They’re slippers.” You griped, your hand coming up to wipe away the glisten on his chin. He took over, pinching the collar of his shirt between his fingers and bringing it up to wipe away what was left of you. It was oddly attractive.

He reached past his toolbox and belt, handing over your black sleep shorts after feeling over the material for a moment with a swipe of his thumb.

You muster up a thanks, looping one foot in and then the other before you adjusted the band around your waist, the orange t-shirt falling back into place at your thighs.

You couldn’t help but look around, the serenity of the early morning hours would only last so long on the lake. People liked to walk their dogs and jog, you didn’t want anyone reporting gossip.

You turned back to Joel and assessed him. The Texas sun was already making both of your skin swelter, despite it being just past sunrise.

You took in a sharp breath to say something, pursing your lips to keep them shut. Joel looked at you expectantly.

“What?”

You shook your head and shrugged, holding your hands behind your back as you teetered on your feet.

A stern expression passed over his face. “What?” He pressed harder.

You tried to smother a laugh. “Your hair, Joel.”

With an annoyed sigh, Joel amused trying to tousle his curls into place with the assistance of his truck’s driver-side mirror, grumbling a few curse words in response before leaving it be.

You admire him, how handsome he looks so effortlessly. You suddenly became glaringly aware of how you looked right now. No makeup, baggy clothes, could use a shower. Fuck.

“I gotta get goin’, already late.” Joel said as he returned to the tailgate, lifting it with ease and slamming it into place with a few sharp snaps. “I’ll see you. And I’ll message you.”

A small smile ticked at one half of your mouth, nodding. It was a promise. “Please call it texting, Joel.”

He furrowed his brows as he looked over your face. “What difference does it make?”

You snickered and shrugged. “How old you sound.”

Cue the classic Joel Miller eye roll. “Fine. Textin’.”

“How can you be working on a Saturday? That feels illegal.”

This mustered up a short little chortle from Joel. “It’s not technically working, that’s why.”

Your head curiously tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

Joel shrugged, avoiding your eye contact as he looked past his truck and to the lake.

This was what you had to deal with. Trying to get information out of Joel was an investigative effort, one you didn’t have the energy to dig into at the moment. You finally felt tired after your week of restlessness.

You waved each other off, your face electric as you turned away from Joel and snuck back inside without a peep. As soon as you lay back in bed, feeling your heart thumping after your meet-up with Joel, you heard the door to your parent’s room crack open, and your father’s obnoxious morning yawn followed accordingly. Couldn’t have cut it any closer.

Finally, you felt sleep caressing the edges of your mind. Not a beat after your head hit the pillow, you felt your phone vibrate beside you. With hazy eyes, you turned it over in your palm and squinted at the brightness.

joel miller Anything I can do to get in your good graces again?

You instantly smiled, lazy fingers typing a response.

how about a movie night?

He took a moment to respond. You could see him thinking it over in your mind’s eye.

joel miller Fine.

Your face lit up as you quickly took advantage of him owing you one.

and I can pick the movie?

You could practically feel Joel’s eye roll from a mile away.

joel miller Jesus. Fine. Tomorrow night.

Tomorrow was perfect. Sarah said she would be on a camping trip and your parents would be visiting old school friends in a neighboring town for drinks and dinner.

tomorrow night it is, mr. miller

joel miller Whatever you say sweetheart.

---

wanna read part 3? read cherry!

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shegatsby · 6 months ago

Note

Okay I just had an amazing idea! Imagine reader as Hannibals patient and both of them meeting in an online portal similar to tattle crime where you can chat privately, they start talki g and develop like a relationship but for the sake of their identities they keep their real names out of the chat when one day the reader texts hannibal that they're at the psychiatrists office with a picture of the floor attatched, Hannibal obviously realizes its the floor of the waiting room, during the session he acts like nothing happened but at the end of their session hannibal adresses the reader by their username. The rest is up to you!

A/N: Hi, thank you for this request I really loved the idea. I changed it a bit because we all know that Hannibal would never leave anything to chance, of course he is gonna stalk you babe ;)

Warnings: Stalking.

Words: 1.442K

It was late in the evening, Baltimore’s cold weather made you stay under your fuzzy blankets with a hot cup of tea. Your laptop on your lap, you logged onto your account in Tattle Crime. It was a blog about your city’s newest crimes, recently you have been on that blog a lot, there was a serial killer on the loose, people were wither sharing info or commenting about the gruesome murders. Everyone was talking about the ‘’Chesapeake Ripper’’ you’ve always been interested in serial killer’s mindsets so Tattle Crime was a useful blog on that to feed your curiosity, how you were oblivious to what’s to come…

You read some articles which compares the Chesapeake Ripper to other serial killers and you left a comment under it, saying that comparing is false, because he is something we have never seen before etc. It was your honest opinion, his killings and presentation of the bodies were more meticulously sophisticated. You referred to the killer as ‘’him’’ due to the fact that most serial killers were male.

You opened a new tab and surfed on the internet, you were watching your favorite old Hollywood movie when you had a notification from Tattle Crime. The blog had dm box so that users could communicate which you never used before but someone sent you a text. The user didn’t have their name, their handle was ‘’Botticeli’’ the last name of the famous painter, Sandor Botticelli, your handle was ‘’Hekate’’ the witch goddess. You didn’t like putting your real name out there and appearently so did the person who messaged you.

‘’I am interested in your thoughts regarding the Chesapeake Ripper, I would love to hear more if that is convenient for you.’’

It was strange but you loved to chat about your favorite topics, since you weren’t busy you decided to text back.

‘’Hello, of course. I would love to chat about him, he is such an enigma.’’ You sent and waited, for some reason your hands went cold, you had a strange sensation in your stomach.

You had messaged a stranger online for 4 hours, the conversation was vibrant and it was obvious that the guy you were texting was knowledgeable, you learned that he was a 40 year old man, living in Baltimore, you told him your age, you were at university, you and him respected each others’ private life so not much info were exchanged other than nice conversation about art, literature and murder. Later you said your good nights and you turned off your laptop and went to bed straight, you had morning classes.

It was snowing, you had dark circles under your eyes but you made effort in your appearance, you wore a nice winter dress with long boots, hair tied and a light make up to cover the tiredness. In the mean time Doctor Hannibal Lecter was on his office, getting ready for his patient. He was facing his laptop’s screen, on the screen he had information you, thanks to his work with the FBI he had privileged access to get peoples info. He learned your address, university, your Instagram, everything. He decided to message you again.

You were at the cafeteria, eating and looking at your notes when you got a notification, the stranger you had a nice conversation with last night messaged you again. ‘’I apologies for keeping you up so late last night, I hope you had some sleep, good morning.’’

You couldn’t help but smile, he was formal yet you could sense some kind of kindness and concern.

‘’Hey, no need to apologies. I enjoyed our conversation last night. Morning!’’

For days you messaged back and forth, everyday without being to open, he told you his day, and you told him about your day, over the days you learned his habits, he was an early bird, loved to read and keep his mind busy, he also mentioned the dinner parties he throws every once in a while. You were intrigued, but kept your cool.

After a month you were having mental problems, your assignments were too much and you had some problems from your past, ever since you mentioned your problems he was being more kinder than usual, he was giving you affirmations such as;

‘’You are a smart girl, you can do it.’’

‘’I believe in your abilities.’’

You liked the way he talked to you. Neither of you asked for a phone number or even an email address which felt safe.

One day he suggested that you should see a psychiatrist, since he had access to your university he could see your grades and they were dropping and he didn’t like that. He wanted you to succeed.

He sent you a list of psychiatrists and made some recommendations, you were falling into his trap and he was enjoying it, he wanted to see you and this was the opportunity. You said you would think about it and in order to give you some time he said it was okay.

When you had a melt down while studying you decided to think about Botticelli’s list of psychiatrist and you sent a mail to the Doctor writing that you needed an urgent session, thankfully Doctor Lecter replied quickly, you were too busy to notice how odd it was to reply to you in a minute. He wrote that tomorrow at 6 would be convenient for him, it was convenient for you too because your classes end at 5 pm. Of course he knew that and you would be his last patient of the day.

After your classes you got on the bus and went to the Doctor’s office. You clung to your long coat and walked into the building, the warmth welcomed you, there was a desk but no secretary was in the view, you knocked on the grey door and waited, your heart beating at a rapid speed.

A tall man opened the door, his three piece suit made him look intimidating, he was standing proud and tall.

‘’Miss Y/L/N I presume?’’ he questioned, his maroon eyes scanning you, he was really good at hiding his excitement, there you were, the woman he had been messaging over a month was standing right before him. ‘’Dr. Lecter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’’ You extended your hand and he gladly took it, he noticed how soft your hands were, there was a certain feeling in his chest, ‘’Please come in.’’

His office was grand, the fire place was lit which gave the room a cozy feeling and yet it resembled the museum, formal. You sat on the leather armchair and he sat opposite with his leather notebook and silver pen. He started the conversation, as he was speaking he made notes of her manners and behavior, you had a simple jeans and a black top, even though your outfit was normal Hannibal found you elegant like a swan.

During your session you had a feeling as if you have met him before, he was kind but his voice and his demeanor made you think before you speak, thankfully he made you comfortable by talking art and literature, his replies sounded familiar, you thought as if you were talking to your new online friend.

‘’Dr. Lecter, I must say I’m here because one of my friends recommended you to me.’’ You confessed, ‘’Oh, did your friend ever came to me before for a session?’’ he asked looking curious as if he wasn’t about to reveal himself to you.

‘’No, I mean I’m not sure, he is an online friend so..’’ you replied shortly, looking around.

‘’Oh really, Hekate?’’

You froze, did he just addressed you by your username on Tattle Crime?

‘’I-I’m sorry..?’’ you stuttered, you must have heard it wrong.

He placed the notebook and pen on the nearby table and stood up, fixing his clothes he came up to you, you had to look up, he extended his hand to you, ‘’Botticelli,’’ he said, ‘’Nice to finally meet you in person, I must say, I didn’t expect such a beauty, your intellect matches your divine face.’’

Your first reaction was to get up and run to the door, it was locked.

You turned to face him, his hands in his pockets, he was smiling ear to ear, ‘’You wound me Hekate, I thought you liked me.’’ he started to walk to you, your back pressed to the locked door, he stood before you, one of his hands found your heated cheek, with the back of his hand he caressed it gently, ‘’Do not be afraid, all I want is for you to be mine.’’

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series 1/4

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Drowning, descriptions of drowning, shipwrecks, dead body, fever, storms.

Note: Here is chapter one of Lighthouse hehe. This fic was inspired by me listening to the song 'Lighthouse' by The Waifs. Thank you all for being so patient for this. A it is going to be a mini-series, its going to be between 3-5 chapters long! I hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 1: Cruel Seas

The waves rolled up the side of the rocky cliff face, salty sea spray disintegrating into the air like mist. The sky had turned a deep grey, a storm having rolled through the vast sea the evening before, which was now beginning to turn its way towards your little island.

You knew immediately from the sky that you would have a long night ahead of you, tending to the lamp at the top of the lighthouse to ensure that it stays lit for the duration of the dark night to come.

It was an arduous and tedious existence. Day after day, the same routine, and not once could you stray from it.

Each evening before the sun would set, you would climb the many stairs to the top of the lighthouse and light it, ensuring that its wick was good for use and would last the night. And then when daybreak came, you would extinguish the flame as soon as the sun rose, unless of course, a storm or fog had crawled amongst the salty waves of the sea, which caused for extra vigilance and keeping it lit at all hours.

The lighthouse itself was perched on the top of the cliff of the small island you lived on, just off the coast. And on that island, you had all that you needed; A small cottage with one bedroom, a kitchen and a small privy out the back.

Outside of the cottage was your own modest vegetable patch where you grew what could survive the acrid sea air; potatoes, pumpkins, and any sort of hardy vegetable that was good for pickling and hearty meals. All other food was brought to you once a month by boat, or if you dared to leave your post, you would take your small boat back to shore, not too long of a journey, weather permitting, to go to the local stores or market to buy your wares. But if you were truly in a spot of trouble, you had a small messenger pigeon that lived in its own hut by the garden that would send word to shore about your dire needs.

You had lived and worked at the lighthouse for years, happy to be alone and in your own solitude, finding companionship in the books that you read, or the occasional ship that sailed by.

A man named William came every one to two weeks, an old friend of your father who would bring your reprieve, to deliver you food and any other supplies that you may need to keep the lighthouse in check; more oil, more wicks, paint, or items to repair any damage from the raging winds that raced across the surface of the small island.

William was a kind man, older and sea worn. He had a wife and three daughters back on the coast, and on occasion would bring them to join you, or extend an invitation for you to join them, weather and duties permitting. They lived in the small town by shore, where you had been lucky to befriend shopkeepers and locals on your short visits.

It had been only a few days since William’s previous drop off, and for the most part, the weather had seemed fair. Each morning and each evening you would log the skies and seas conditions into a worn little leather book for any changes, and then, you would prepare for the lighting of the lamp. But the evening before, the wind had changed drastically and the sky had darkened, and you watched from the top of the lighthouse as a storm broke just on the horizon, black cloud glowing with strikes of lightning that cracked through the darkness.

You hadn’t risked going back down to your cottage to retire for the evening, instead, sitting yourself in your old wooden chair to watch the storm and ensure that the lamp was lit, and if any ships were to come to close to shore, they would be alerted by the light.

However, now it was morning, and the lamp no longer needed to be lit. For now. Though on the horizon, the storm continued to barrel towards shore, and you knew that you would have light it again soon.

Extinguishing its flames, you took the long winding steps down, crossing the small grassy knoll to get to your cottage, opening the old wooden door, which hinges squeaked and whined, salt rusting the joints. You whispered to yourself that you would fix it eventually, as you trudged to the fireplace and began to set it ablaze.

The cottage was cold with the winds of the storm that approached, and you shivered as you slowly lit the kindle, piling log after log into the hearth as you heated the home up. Your stomach growled loudly as you stood from your crouched position by the fire, joints complaining as exhaustion from lack of sleep, or food, finally caught up to you.

You decided that now was the time, more than ever, to eat and rest before you’d have to return to the lighthouse. You lit the stove with a candle by the fire and sat your kettle atop, water inside ready to boil. On William’s last relief drop, he had brought a large sack of flour and even some milk for you, and so with this, you had churned your own butter and made a large supply of scones and bread for the coming week.

The loud whistle of the kettle alerted you to the water boiling on the stove, steam pouring from its nozzle. You poured it over some tea leafs and unwrapped a scone from the cloth pile you had on the bench. As the tea steeped, you decided to spread some of the jam William’s wife, Celia, had made for you, using it sparingly before sitting before the hearth.

You ate slowly and sipped on your tea with ease, eyes cast out one of the many windows to check the progress of the storm. The dark clouds were slowly rolling in, and by your estimate, wouldn’t reach you until at least the afternoon, and with time on your hands, you decided to allow yourself a small rest, laying your head back against your worn couch, closing your eyes as the warmth of the fire lulled you into a shallow slumber.

The distant rumble of thunder pulled you from your light rest, half eaten scone wrapped in a smaller piece of cloth and shoved into the pocket of your skirt at the front. You would eat that later as you lit the lamp again before the storm arrived. As you cast your eyes out of the kitchen window, looking out to sea, you saw that it had approached far quicker than expected, and in fact, seemed to have regrown in size.

You made quick work of it, throwing on your large waxed coat that swept around your ankles, buttoning it up to your neck as the beginning spray of water began to lightly mist at the windows of the cottage. Racing to the lighthouse, you climbed the steps with ease, years of the same routine causing you to be fitter than most. Once you reached the top you looked out to the swell, watching as the waves crashed against the rocky cliff face below, and then swept up against the small sandy beach of the island on the side.

But it was not the storm that peaked your interest, you were no stranger to those. It was the objects that bobbed amongst the crashing waves, and lined your small beach. Concern coursed through you as familiar wooden planks, barrels, and other ship items crashed onto shore.

“Fuck.” You cursed.

There had been a shipwreck.

But not at your island.

It must have happened out at sea last night with the storm.

Your eyes cast down to the sandy beach again, gaze darting up and down the shore, looking, searching, and hoping for any sign of survivors, if they had been lucky or fortunate enough to be swept this far to shore after.

Another crack of thunder pulled your gaze away, the storm rapidly approaching. If you lit the lamp now, you could race down to the shore to look out in the water for any sign of survivors, or what kind of ship it had been to report back to shore. So with determined hands, you lit the large oil lamp, ensuring that the flame was strong and the glass that surrounded it was clear and in position to amplify it out to sea.

Rain began to beat against the glass of the lighthouse, and with one last glance cast at the lit lantern, you raced down the steps, two by two, skirts pulled into your fists as you flew down them, all but throwing the heavy wooden door open to begin to race down to the small sandy cove.

Thick drops of rain began to pelt down from the sky, the rumbling of the storm growing closer and closer, clouds growing darker with lightning striking through them. You squinted at the shore, skirts in one hand as the other hand came to try and shield your eyes from the growing downpour, looking for anything that could identify the vessel.

Your leather boots sunk into the sand and you raced along the shore line, eyes looking down to the broken wooden planks, and a large hoisting rope tangled amongst half a mast. Further ahead, a tangle of what looked to be shrouds, sail and hull.

The waves crashed against the sand as you moved towards the next clump of shipwreck, passing smaller pieces of debris as you went. The water that crashed against the shore was dark and unforgiving. Amongst the crashing waves, more planks of wood, net and barrels of something.

Chill dripped down your spine as your coat, as waxed and as warm as it was, took in the blast of rain and wind that blew into you with every gust.

The storm was coming, and it was coming with a vengeance.

You needed to move, and fast.

There ahead of you, amongst the tangled shrouds, was a large chunk of hull, with what looked to be the remnants of gold paint.

A name.

The name of the ship.

You almost tripped into the sand as you ran towards the mass, shoes now filled with water, socks soaked against your skin, toes numb from the cold. You bent down, pulling at the shrouds, the wet rope heavy in your hands as you looked at the broken hull.

'Vhag-'

You blinked.

Gods be damned.

Your hands moved faster than you thought humanly possible as you ripped the rope away from the hull, revealing the glimmer of silver beneath that had caught your eye.

There, tangled amongst the shrouds, trapped atop the broken hull, was a man.

Your knees hit the sand, wet soaking into your skirts immediately as you began to pull him from the wreckage, yanking at the ropes to untangle the body that was ensnared in them.

He lay on his stomach, face obscured by a mess of wet, silver hair that draped across his cheek and forehead. His clothes were soaked, and his skin was as pale as moonlight, blue veins prominent under the surface.

“Hello?” You called to him frantically, moving to turn him onto his back, his head lulling to the side.

You brushed away the hair from his face with haste, and your breath stilled in your chest.

His lips were blue, and across one cheek, cutting up through an eye, was a long and deep scar. The man’s nose was sharp, and his jaw even sharper, slender neck and shoulders peaking through the half ripped tunic that he wore, the white see-through as it clung to his body soaked.

Another crack of thunder boomed above, your head momentarily darting upwards to look to the sky, the storm having begun to move closer, crawling above the small island you called home.

You prayed in that moment to the Drowned God that he was alive.

Please, spare this man. Bring him back to the living.

“Please.” You whispered, hand at his neck as you tried to feel for a pulse, tried to feel for any warmth of his body that may indicate life. That may lead you to believe you had a sole survivor that washed ashore your tiny island, surely blessed by the Gods.

His head lulled in your hand as you looked out at the shore for any more bodies, whispering to yourself as you thought of what to do; If you should take him back to the cottage and send word that a body had washed ashore, that a ship that began with ‘Vhag’ had met its untimely demise in the cruel sea. Or if you should leave him at shore and hope that the waves do not carry his body away by the storms pass.

Your teeth began to chatter in your skull as your hands slipped around him, checking over his body for any grievous wounds or indications that he had died from anything other than drowning. But his body was fine, all bar his cold and pale skin.

Shifting to a crouch, you made your decision, and it pulled at your heart.

He would be too heavy to carry up to your cottage, but you also didn’t want to risk his body being taken back out to sea with the storm, this man, whoever he was, deserved a burial of some sort. So your option was to carry him further up the beach, to where the grass meets the sand, and send word on the morrow once the storm had passed.

You felt a pang of guilt for the man, a man who looked to be a handsome and skilled sailor, young but not naive in age, taken too soon. Though no sailor was skilled enough to survive the rolling waves, or the wrecking of a ship. The sea was a cruel mistress, and she took when and if she pleased with no repentance, rhyme, or reason. Your hands curled beneath his arms and you pulled, his dead weight dragging you down almost to fall in the wet sand.

“Bless him with salt,” You began to endlessly pray, something your father had once taught you many years ago, “Bless him with stone, bless him-“

The man’s chest erupted with a cough, sending you falling into the sand in shock, dropping his body back onto the beach as water spluttered from his lips.

“Gods be good.” You scrambled to him in the sand, turning him on his side so that the rest of the sea water would come out easier.

It seemed to go on forever, the jerking of his body as his lungs expelled spray after spray of water, until all too soon, he stopped again, a weaker cough or grunt falling from his lips as the last of the water was expelled.

The crack of lightning above you made your heart race faster than it already was, and so reaching beneath his arms again, you began to drag him up the sandy shore and back to your cottage.

He was alive.

A survivor.

It was no easy feat, taking him away from the furious waves, and by the time you had gotten to the cottage, your lungs and body ached from dragging him up to your home.

The man had groaned once or twice as you made the journey, storm full above the both of you, and once you finally were inside your home, you collapsed on the stone floor beside him, lungs burning as you sucked in air.

But now was not the time for you to rest, the man had grown paler since moved, and you watched as he shivered on the stone floor. Your teeth clicked in your mouth, from nerves and from the cold, your dress and coat soaked completely and shoes filled with water.

Your clothes weighed you down, but you only moved to take your coat off, dropping it by the hearth with a wet thump before you laid an old blanket from the couch by the fire, dragging the silver haired man to lay atop it as you surveyed what you could do.

First, you needed to get him warm, and the clothes that he had on were chilled from the sea and rain. You removed his torn tunic, his face creasing with pain as you ripped it off of him, pulling his leather boots and socks off after. His pants however, you faltered at, looking down at his dark breeches as a blush rose to your cheeks.

Not now, this man needs our help.

His privacy can come later.

You threw the last thick woollen blanket that sat on the couch over the top of him for privacy before you pulled his breeches down without looking, throwing the soaked article of clothing in the far side of the room before you laid him on his side to face the fire. You tucked the thick blanket around his body, noticing the chill of his skin that seeped through immediately, before pulling his wet hair away from his face and neck.

By then you were out of breath, muscles burning and joints aching, collapsing beside him again as you looked at the man, watching the way his chest rose and fell weakly with every rattling breath he took. You prayed he would survive, but you had your doubts. The amount of sea water he had swallowed, and the way he looked so pale that he was almost translucent, gave you little hope.

But there was nothing else you could do.

Nothing more that you were able to do but wait.

And all you had was time as the storm raged outside.

Unlacing your boots you pulled the from your feet, toes beginning to prune and ache as they were soaked inside and cold, water dribbling out of each shoe as you tipped them upside-down in front of the fire, pulling away the soaked woollen socks with it. You shook as you began to peel layer after layer of drenched clothes away from your body until you were left in your shift, shivering by the fire as you desperately tried to warm yourself up.

Your hair lay wet against your back, drying as you slowly warmed, the light of the fire being the only light source in the cottage until you finally moved and began to light your various lamps and candles around the home.

It wasn't until you were back by the fire did you spare the man another anxious glance, eyes immediately watching his chest rise and fall weakly, much to your relief.

He wasn’t dead.

Yet.

But you hoped he would at least save the night and storm until you could send word for help, and perhaps even send for a doctor to come to you. You suspected he would be too fragile to move just yet. So now, all you had to do was wait.

Wait until the man either rose to consciousness, or perished from the sea’s assault.

But the longer you looked at him, looking at his silver hair, to his sharp features and plump lips that were almost blue, to the golden ring that sat upon one of his fingers, you couldn’t help the thoughts that turned over your head about this man. But one question in particular seemed to rise above them all.

Who was he?

The storm raged on, day and night, wind howling outside your cottage causing the old home to shudder and groan. The windows rattled with the force of the gale, rain pelting against its surface loudly. All the while, the lamp in the lighthouse never went out, thanks to your constant checks, back and forth up the many stairs, bracing yourself agains the rain and winds.

The silver haired man had not moved, nor woke since you dragged him up from the beach. The only sign of life given being the rise and fall of his chest that occasionally jerked with a cough or wheeze. His long hair lay like a halo around his head, soft waves teased from the salted water and dried from the warmth of the fire. The mans skin stayed the same inhuman paleness as before, though some colour rose back to his cheeks and his plump lips.

You had been sitting at your small table writing notes on the weather in your log book, fearing that perhaps there was a larger storm that lingered out in the back of the sea, which caused the one on shore to rage for so long, when a soft groan caught your attention. Your eyes immediately flicked away from your notes and down to where the man was laying, the slightest shift of his head to be seen.

Swiftly you made your way over to him, kneeling back down beside him, knees pressed into the hard stones as you looked him over. His brows were scrunched shut, and lips pulled slightly down. But that was not initially what caught your attention; It was the sheen of sweat that covered him head to toe. Lifting a gentle hand, you placed the back of it against his forehead.

A fever.

The man was burning up, and the sweat beneath your hand was proof of it.

This was not good.

You stood and made your way to the kitchen, riffling through a draw to find one of the many warn, and scraggly cloths inside before you pulled it out. You grabbed an empty bowl and took it to the dry sink and began to use the cistern pump to fill it with rain water. When the bowl was half full, you threw the cloth inside and made your way back to the feverish man on the floor.

You wrung out the cloth of its water and began to wipe at the sweat on his face and neck, hoping that the cool rag would help to fight the fever that was causing the man distress.

Fevers were dangerous things, and after what he had survived, you worried that the fever may be the final nail in his coffin, so to speak.

The silver haired man shivered in the warm glow of the fire, though his body ran hot. Each swipe of the wet cloth caused a crackled breath to fall from his lips, the scar on his face crinkled with movement. With every moment or so, clearing the sweat from his face and neck, you would dip the cloth back into the bowl to then wring it and begin again, hoping its coolness would have some effect.

His chest rose and fell shallowly as you wiped away the sweat and salt from his collar bones, small pink scars littered amongst the flesh of his chest. As you worked, you could not help but admire the man. His sharp features and strange hair was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and had only heard once or twice in tales from town about people who lived in lands far from yours, with silver hair and violet eyes.

You had never believed those tales, for who could have such Godly hair, and even stranger eyes, and whilst the man had not opened his one seeing eye as of yet, you wondered if you would find it to be violet, or perhaps a more common shade of blue. The scared and clouded one was no indicator of what could be revealed on the other side.

A part of you hoped to see that the tales were true, that perhaps your world was much larger than you had thought, but for the most part, you just wished for him to stay alive.

As you rinsed the cloth once more and brought it to the scarred cheek of his face, you took caution with the skin, looking at the way it deeply marred the flesh around it, and prevented the clouded eye from ever closing. You brushed the cloth gently by his temple when suddenly you were greeted with a vision of lilac.

The man gasped, hand shooting out to grab your wrist holding the cloth tightly, pupil of his eye widening and shrinking as his brain tried to focus on the person touching him. Your heart beat in your chest, your own gasp falling from your lips as you looked down at him, his eye on you.

It was true then.

He was one of them.

The grip on your wrist tightened and you hissed, the wet cloth falling from your fingers onto the stone floor beside him as his brows furrowed, looking at you.

“Skoriot iksis… ñuha…” The man gasped, language foreign to your ears.

You shook your head down at him, his breathing becoming shallow, grip on your wrist faltering, “I don’t know what you’re saying.” You told him, voice slow and clear as his head rested back against the flagstones, lone eye blinking sluggishly up at you.

“You’re safe here. You need to rest.” Your hand hovered above his shoulder, unsure if touching him again would cause him more distress. Instead, the hand that held your wrist slumped back to the stones, and his lilac eye fluttered shut, mouth parted weakly.

You pressed your fingers underneath his jaw, and were relieved to find the slow, but steady, beat of his heart.

Your heart on the other hand was another story entirely. It raced rapidly within your chest, breath coming in short pants as your knees began to ache from how you were sitting over him. Gaze roaming over his soft skin and hair, you came to a mind spinning conclusion that the tales were true, and people who looked like him did exist, which only meant one thing.

This man was a long way from home.

Feeling as though you didn’t want to startle him from his rest again, you took the bowl and cloth to the table and placed it by the ledger. If you needed to ease his fever again, you could repeat the process later, just not now.

Outside the storm raged on, rain flying sideways and the crash of thunder above. At one point you had brought your pigeon inside with you to place in a smaller cage out of the rain and wind. She was much happier now, and sleeping restfully upon her perch.

You had to stifle a yawn as you sat back on your chair by the table, noting that you had had scarcely more than five hours rest over the past two days. You were running on fumes, and if you needed to keep the lamp safely lit, and the man by the fire alive, you certainly needed your own rest.

By that time it was midday, and you could safely rest a few hours before you would need to check on the lamp once more. Your limbs felt as heavy as stones as you trudged to your bedroom, pulling your heavy dress from your body and shoes from your feet before you slid into the warmth of the covers in your slip.

When you woke, it was not to the sounds of the storm outside, but rather to the unfamiliar groans and grunts of a man. Ripping the covers away from your body, you wrapped a robe tightly around you, fastening it against your waist with its belt in a knot. It had been your fathers, and was entirely too large for your smaller frame.

He lay where he was, still on the hard stone floor, the fire having shrunk during your slumber, but still, his eye did not open again. So you piled more logs into the hearth, stirring the embers with a fire poker before moving to fill the kettle with the pump by the stove.

When you looked out the window, the lamp was still lit, and the storm still raged on, rain and wind flying through the air, booms of thunder booming above you, and the constant shrill whistling of the wind through the cracks of the windows and doors. It was an eerie sound if you were not used to it, but after all those years in solitude already, it was as common as a birds cry, or a bugs chirp. You lit the coal stove and placed the kettle on top, casting your eyes back to see if he had stirred again.

There hadn’t been a minute that had gone by where you hadn’t wondered who this man was. What he did. If he had a family to go home to, a wife, children.

Were his parents still alive? Were they fretting for his arrival or communications? Wondering where their son had gone? Or did he have no-one? Were they too lost to the sea and not fortunate enough to have washed upon the shores of your small island?

By the time the kettle whistled loudly, you poured it into your tea pot, but behind you came a groan again, this time, much louder, and to your surprise, more conscious. Forgetting your tea, you raced to his side, the mans face screwed up in confusion and pain, eye blinking sluggishly up at you. You pulled your robe against you tighter as you knelt near him.

“Take it slow, you’re okay.” You reassured him, hands unsure of whether or not to touch him or stay limply by your side, “You’ve survived a wreck. The Gods saved you.”

The pink of his tongue darted out to wet his cracked lips, but his tongue was just as dry. His mouth parted, and a broken and confused echo came out, “Gods.”

You nodded, “Yes. The Gods surely showed you favour when they washed you on this island. We are the lighthouse just off the coast.”

It seemed to be a lot for the man to take in, his brows pulling downwards from either pain or confusion or a terrible mix of the two, but a more burning question came forth from your lips, “What is your name?”

The silver haired man, who’s cheeks had more colour than when you brought him inside days before, blinked at you sluggishly, mouth parting and then closing, before a rasping request came forth.

“Water.”

You jumped up from your spot beside him and raced to the pump, filling a glass before coming back to his side. You knelt on the stones, helping him to lightly sit up with a hand at the back of his head, leaning the glass up to his lips. At first he spluttered the water back into the cup as he tried to drink, a lone dribble trailing down his strong chin and neck, but then after a moment, he drank greedily, hand coming to grasp yours to tilt it quicker down his throat.

“Slowly. You don’t want to drown again.” You tried to make some light, and the man seemed to enjoy it, as he coughed into the glass, or at least, you assumed he did, as one side of his lip pulled into a weak smirk.

He coughed again once finished, and you asked him if he wished for more, to which you got a weak shake of his head, ‘no’. You gently laid him back down as you looked at him, pressing your hand against his forehead. Although the fever had seemed to settle, he was still hot to the touch, yet despite this, he shivered.

“...Cold.” His voice came out smoother this time, no longer dry and parched from dehydration, though it was still raw and ragged from the sea.

“You have a fever,” You explained, pulling the blanket only a little higher on his chest, not wanting to exacerbate it, “But it looks like it shall break soon.”

The man watched you with a half lidded gaze, lips mumbling in a foreign language once more, “...Issi… se… Riña…”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” You frowned at him again, "Do you speak the common tongue?”

The man watched you with his half lidded gaze before he nodded. You couldn't help but look at his cloudy eye that didn't move.

Now that he seemed more conscious, and had even asked for water, it seemed to you that perhaps this man would not die in your home after all.

“Are you hungry? Do you want food?”

A nod.

You went back to the kitchen, filling his glass with water again before grabbing one of your scones to bring back. You came to his side and began to break the scone in your hand into smaller pieces, lifting his head once more to feed it to him. He ate slowly, coughing occasionally to which you’d give him more water to help him wash it down, but you could tell that he was grateful.

“...Thank... you.” It came as barely a whisper, but it was there none the less.

You still didn’t know his name, and it ate at you.

“What is your name?” You asked again, hoping now that he had both food and water in him, that he would be able to answer you, but instead he just stared at you blankly.

Perhaps he had hit his head in the wreckage and forgotten?

And then another thought came.

Or perhaps, he was a pirate, and hiding his identity for fear of capture.

You stood and dusted the scone crumbs from your skirt, leaving the man beside the fire as you moved to the kitchen, pulling some carrots, potatoes and onions that you had grown in your garden out of your basket to rinse and begin to prepare.

“I’m going to cook a stew.” You cast your head to the side, voice calling out to the man, “I think it would warm you. I have some dried meat I can use in it too. I think it would-“

You turned around to find the man asleep again, “-Do you some good.” You finished quietly, moving back to the task at hand.

It didn’t help that a strum of disappointment raced through you at his unconsciousness, but it couldn’t be helped, after all the man was practically with the Stranger when he washed ashore.

Steam rose from the pot of vegetables and broth, the dried meat you had cut and put inside having absorbed the stew and become soft again as you stirred it. It smelt good, and as you had helped to bring it to boil, you had had enough time to check on the lamp in the lighthouse, ensuring that the oil and glass was all in order.

The storm seemed to have settled somewhat, but from your experience, it meant only that the eye had reached shore, and the worst of it was soon to come.

Not once had the man moved as you cooked, nor when you walked past him to put back on your dress, coat ,and shoes. He looked better, and somewhat peaceful on your floor, but you knew the harsh stone would do naught for his rest, and so as you stirred the stew you thought of ways in which you could get him up and into your bed.

You blushed immediately at the thought of him spread out inside of it, silver hair around his face, soft lips parted as he breathed, the furrow of his brow having softened as he rested, properly rested. And although it seemed indecent to have a man inside of your bed, to have him inside your house and bare, you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t anything untoward, nor would you be touching him, and it was just until he was well enough to leave.

It didn’t help however, that he would be the first and only man to ever be in your bed.

You stifled a laugh at the thought.

The first one in your bed, bare and handsome, only because he was on the brink of death.

The laugh proved to not be as stifled as you had thought, as the voice of the man startled you from your slow stirring.

“...Who are you?”

You placed the spoon down by the stew, turning around to look at him from the coal stove, to tell him your name. As you spun however, your name came as a bare whisper, eyes finally landing on the man by your fire.

Not only was the man conscious, he was sitting upright, leant heavily on one arm as he looked at you, legs stretched out in front of him. Your mouth went dry and you blinked, the blanket that you had carefully tucked around his body having fallen to his waist, bare chest on display.

You swallowed thickly, feeling heat in your cheeks as you tried to avert your eyes, but the image of his toned and lean chest blared in your minds view.

“Do you often strip drowned sailors?” The man mused, clearly having noticed his undressed state. His voice still crackled, but underneath, it was as smooth as honey.

The heat in your cheeks increased tenfold, and your feet took you swiftly over to the table where his now dried tunic and breeches were neatly folded on top. A crack of thunder boomed over head as you looked towards the kitchen, holding his clothes out to him to the side, feeling the weight of them being taken out of your hands.

“You were soaked and close to death," You explained, "I saw no other choice.” You cleared your throat awkwardly as you heard rustling beside you, moving yourself back to the kitchen as you kept your back to him to stir the stew in avoidance, “I kept your modesty with the blanket. My one priority being-“

“-A joke, Madam.”

“Miss.” You corrected him.

You were no married woman.

You didn’t dare turn back around, instead, beginning to pour stew into two seperate bowls using your ladle, ensure that his had an ample supply of meat and broth within to help give him his strength back.

As he dressed, you could hear him grunt and struggle, but offered him no help. A man of his breed would likely suspect you meant something untoward, and you had learnt from a young age that a mans strength and will should never be questioned, for their ego's, fragile as they are, shall bruise.

You could feel him watching you as you continued on, shaking the embers beneath the stove loose to put them out slowly, allowing for the stew to finish its simmering before putting the large lid on top.

“Who are you?”

You frowned.

Had he forgotten already?

You told him your name once again.

“No." He sighed from behind you, "Who do you serve here?”

Turning, you faced the man.

His tunic was thrown back on, but it gaped at his chest where it had been ripped, revealing the soft pale skin beneath that you could not help but admire. But despite his handsomeness, his question served to insult you.

“I serve no one.” You said stiffly, dusting your hands down on your apron, before grabbing two spoons to throw into the bowls.

This seemed to dissatisfied the man as he hummed, “And the man who tends to the lighthouse?”

The man?

Hands on your hips you glared at him, watching as his brows lifted slightly waiting for your response, “There is no man here. None but you.”

His brow furrowed, “Then who te-“

“-That would be I.” You snipped, turning back around to grab his bowl before handing it to him with his spoon, “I take you can feed yourself now?” All patience gone from your body.

And to think, you had brought this man back from the dead, and he still thinks that a man must tend to the island and not you.

Clearly the silver haired man was shocked by your station, and also your brazen way of response, “I meant no offence, Miss. I have only known men to tend to Lighthouses.”

You huffed through your nose, exhaustion from the almost week of storm, and nurturing the man on the floor back to health nipping at you cruely.

“And now you know a woman.” You moved back to the kitchen to grab your own bowl and plate of sliced bread, sitting at your table to eat your stew, all the while feeling his eye on the side of your face. You grabbed the plate of bread and offered him a slice, a small thank you coming from his lips as you ate in silence.

There was minimal talking between the both of you as you ate, and the sound of the storm seemed to fill the space instead. By the time the both of you finished eating, you knew you had to brave it outside once again, and climb the never ending stairs to check the oil and wick of the lamp.

You took your bowl and his to the kitchen, before coming back, standing above him as you pulled on your coat.

“I have to tend to the light.”

He nodded.

You shuffled on your feet as you looked at him, thinking of your earlier plan to move him into your bed so that the had a reprieve from the stone floor.

Now was the time if there ever was.

“Do you think you can stand?”

The man blinked at you.

“I won’t cast you out in this storm,” You reassured him, though his face didn’t change, “But you shouldn’t lay on the flagstones to recover. They’ll do more harm than good.”

A nod.

He shifted, pulling the blanket off of him to reveal his long, now clothed, legs, bare feet stretched out at the end. You came to his side, pulling an arm beneath his and offering your other hand as you slowly brought him to stand. The man swayed and groaned, and his face grew pale.

“The bedroom is not far.” You reassured him, steering him down the small hall, each slow step, moving slowly, and his breath coming out with a rough rasp. His weight was heavily leant around your shoulders, and you felt your muscles strain to hold him up. The man stood at least a foot and a half taller than yourself, and yet slumped over was still nowhere near your height.

He grunted as moved him to the side of the bed, sitting him down on the edge as gently as you could, pulling the sheets back before helping him to lay down. He coughed and wheezed and groaned as you moved him, eye scrunched tightly shut, as you lifted his legs up and onto the mattress. The man looked paler than before, and his seeing eye became half-lidded with fatigue.

You pulled the sheets up to his shoulders, ensuring that he wouldn’t roll out of the bed on either side.

Then suddenly you were hoping that he didn’t mind the feel of your sheets, or the spring of the softness of the mattress, or the plump of the pillows.

You shook your head.

Why were you worried about that?

“Rest.” You told him, but his eye had already slid shut, and so away you went.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

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imsuperhungry · 4 months ago

Text

4 𝙖𝙢

ᴇɴᴛʀʏ 001

(yandere until dawn)

WARNINGS: Mild Yandere Themes, Mild Cussing

WORD COUNT: 1950

I’m really thankful my dad pushed me to upgrade my car last summer. With all the snow and ice piling up on the roads, my old car would likely have struggled or broken down by now.

The heater worked much better too—I was actually warm in the car, which was a relief given that I was driving through a mild snowstorm.

I had the route to the cabin memorized. For years, it had been a tradition to meet there every February 10th, but it used to be just me, Josh, Beth, and Hannah. Only recently did everyone else start coming along.

Just a few days earlier, Josh had sent a video to the entire group, reminding us that our tradition was still alive, even after his sisters' disappearance.

We had all assumed the tradition would end since his sisters were no longer with us, but Josh insisted he wanted to "honor their memory." He was certain they’d want us to carry on and not be weighed down by grief.

After an hour or two of driving, I finally spotted the entrance to the territory. Two large logs supported a sign that read "Blackwood Pines," confirming I was exactly where I needed to be.

I opened the gate and started walking up the trail, beginning the long trek up the hill. Not long after, I came across another gate, but this one had a note attached. Upon inspecting it, I saw it explained that the gate was broken, and I’d have to climb over it to continue.

Letting out a sigh, I placed one hand on the brick wall next to the gate and braced my opposite foot to start the climb. It took some effort, but I eventually made it to the top of the narrow wall. Now all that was left was to jump down.

I would have jumped off sooner if the drop hadn’t been so steep; it took me a moment to muster the courage. Finally, I closed my eyes and leaped into the snow below, officially making it inside. After gathering my bags that had fallen during the jump, I steadied myself and continued along the trail to the cabin.

After a few more moments of walking, I waited at a ski lodge for a car to pick me up, which then took me to the upper cable car station. Eventually, I arrived at the cabin, where I found Josh, Ashley, Chris, and Sam gathered together at the front door, chatting and huddled against the chilly air.

“Hey, guys!” I called out, making sure to announce my presence so I wouldn’t startle any of them.

Chris, who had his back to me, turned around and grinned as soon as he spotted me. Ashley beamed upon my arrival, waving her hands in the air and yelling, "HI!" Sam, facing me, began walking over with a smile, but she couldn’t reach me because Josh darted toward me before anyone else even noticed I was there. He lifted me into the air and spun me around, as if we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

“____, god! Hey, I’ve missed you!” he exclaimed, continuing to spin me around. I giggled a bit and asked him to set me down so I could properly greet the others who were watching us.

Eventually, with a reluctant grumble, Josh planted my feet back on the ground. I looked back up and skipped over to where everyone else was, but before I could say anything, I was enveloped in another tight hug—this one quite forceful.

This time, it was a group hug with Sam, Chris, and Ashley. One hand was patting my head, another was squeezing me tightly into the embrace, and a pair of arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me even deeper into the huddle.

It had been a few seconds while they were all holding me before we heard a man clear his throat.

"While this is a nice little reunion we have going on, I think it would be even better if we moved it inside. It’s freezing out here," Josh said as he walked past us.

He somehow found my arm in the tangle of people and pulled me out of the pile toward the door. As he yanked me along, he grumbled under his breath, something like, "...fucking hell... weirdos..."

He bent down to unlock the door but quickly realized it wasn’t going to budge.

“Dammit... This freaking thing...” he muttered, fiddling with the lock.

“It’s iced?” Chris asked, standing right beside me.

“What else would it be?” Josh replied.

“Maybe there’s another way in?” I suggested, desperate to find some warmth, as the biting cold was stinging my fingers pretty harshly.

“There are a million ways in, ___, but they’re all locked,” Josh replied, standing up straight to look at me. He then noticed my fingers, which I was rubbing together in a futile attempt to generate some warmth.

He wrapped his hands around both of mine and started rubbing them gently. His hands were already warm from the inside, and the friction created a comforting heat that spread through my cold fingers. I could feel the chill melting away as he continued to work the warmth into my hands, a simple gesture that brought me a sense of relief amidst the biting cold.

“There’s gotta be a window around the corner we can, like, get open or something,” Chris suggested, sounding a bit desperate to find a way inside as well. His eagerness to escape the cold was evident as he shifted from foot to foot.

Josh turned his attention to Chris, still rubbing my hands for warmth. “Wait a minute, are you saying we should break in?” he asked, a mix of faux disbelief and amusement in his voice. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the idea, the absurdity lightening the chilly moment.

“I don’t think it’s technically breaking in if you own the place, right?” I replied, making Josh turn to look at me with a grin. His expression shifted as if he was considering my point.

“Hey,” he said, pointing a finger at my chest with a playful smile, “not if I don’t report you.” His tone was lighthearted, and the teasing glint in his eyes made me giggle even more. “Lead the way, Cochise!” Josh exclaimed, turning away from me, prepared to break in.

Josh and Chris headed down the stairs and walked to the side of the cabin, leaving me, Sam, and Ashley together.

Ashley sat on the steps, gazing out at the woods, while Sam leaned against the house, also staring into the distance. It looked like Sam had completely zoned out, lost in her thoughts.

I sat down next to Ashley, and she lifted her head as soon as she noticed me.

“Hey, Ash,” I began.

“Hey, _____,” she replied, sounding a bit bashful.

“It sure is cold out here, huh?” I asked, trying to spark a conversation.

“Yeah,” she replied, shivering slightly. “I think I’m going to pass out if we don’t get inside soon.”

“Me too.” I began to zone out as well, taking in the beauty of the woods. The snow blanketed the trees and ground, and the bare branches swayed gently in the wind, creating a serene scene. It all looked so peaceful that I found myself wondering if I should move somewhere surrounded by nature.

I snapped out of my daydream when I felt Sam tugging me up and yanking me toward the door. Looking through the glass paneling at the top, I saw Chris melting the lock with a lighter. A sigh of relief escaped me at the sight; we’d be inside the cabin soon.

I turned to look for Ashley and saw her still sitting on the steps. Maybe she hadn’t noticed that I had moved at all.

"Ash!" I yell out

She whipped her head around and spotted me standing at the door. I waved her over with a cheerful "Come on!" and, without hesitation, she sprang to her feet and jogged over, grabbing hold of my arm.

After a moment, Chris finally opened the door, wincing as he accidentally burned himself on the knob. He quickly moved aside to let us in. Ashley stepped inside first, still gripping my arm, and I followed closely behind her. Turning back, I saw Sam walking in right after me, and it looked like Josh had made it back too, stepping in just behind her.

We stepped into the spacious living area, and Josh called out, “Home, sweet home.” It looked just as it always had: the couches remained in their usual spots, the paintings adorned the walls, and the chandelier hung gracefully from the ceiling. Everything felt familiar and comforting, a warm embrace of nostalgia that welcomed me back.

"Oh my gosh it's SO GOOD to be inside." Ashley say, I see a smile form on her face.

"Yeah," I say "even if it's still kinda freezing in here..." I say, still grateful for being out of the snow.

Upon hearing what I said, Josh jogs over to the fireplace, with an "I'll get a fire going."

"This place barely looks any different!" I say thinking out loud.

"Nobody's been up here, silly." Josh says, working on the fire.

"Even with all the police coming in and out?" Ashley asks, she's let go of my arm and plopped herself onto one of the three couches.

"Not a lot of action up here lately." Chris tells her, he's standing off to the side.

Eventually, two more people come up, it's Mike and... Jess?

“What's up, party people?!” Mike yelled, his eyes sweeping across the room.

“Heeey!” Jess called out from beside him, her eyes also scanning the room, as if they were both searching for something.

When Mike spotted me, he did exactly what Josh had done, lifting me into the air, though without the spinning.

When he set me back down, Jess appeared from behind and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug that nearly took my breath away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Mike said, giving my hair a playful ruffle. I never quite understood why he called me that, considering he was only a few months older than me.

Jess planted a lip-gloss-coated kiss on my cheek and giggled. “We both missed you so much, ____!”

“Yeah? Well, I could kind of tell,” I said awkwardly, trying to figure out why Mike had come in with Jess instead of his girlfriend, Emily.

“Maybe let’s lay off on the hugging; we can all warm up by the fire instead,” Josh suggested, his voice a bit tense.

“No can do, sir,” Mike replied to Josh. “I haven’t seen you in weeks!” He said, playfully jabbing me in the shoulder with a grin.

“Oh...” is all I could manage as I patted Jess’s arm, a silent sign that I needed her to let go. However, she ignored it and continued to hug me tightly.

After a few seconds of silence, punctuated only by Jess's contented sighs, I finally spoke up.

“Alright, Jess, I kinda need you to let go now. I want to sit down; my legs feel a bit tired from all the walking, you know?” I said.

She groaned in response but, reluctantly, let go. I immediately walked over to where Ashley was sitting and plopped down right next to her, seeking a distraction from how clingy both Mike and Jess had been for some reason.

Mike and Jess both settled onto another couch, and, confirming my suspicions, Mike wrapped an arm around Jess, indicating that the two were now together.

“Yikes,” I said aloud. Ashley heard me and let out an “I know, right?” as she curled up into a ball on my side.

I hoped this wouldn’t stir up too much drama, but as Emily and Matt began to walk through the door, I could see that it most likely wouldn’t be the case.

#yandere until dawn #untildawn #until dawn #mike munroe #matthew taylor #emily #jessica riley #hannah washington #josh washington #beth washington #yandere x reader #yandere harem #yanderes #yandere #yandere x you #until dawn x reader

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twstfanblog · 3 months ago

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*~Murder Movie Madness~* PT 5 Finale

A/N: Ignore me forgetting to post this because I fell asleep XD. Made it time though!!!! Happy Halloween! Word Count: 2.4K Pairings: First-year poly minus Ortho and Yuu Warnings: Near-death experiences, Swearing, Me typing out a country accent

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The escape from the house was a mess.

The killer had hacked at the door until he could just kick his way inside, lumbering around and short-rushing at Epel and Jack where either were close enough. Now knowing there weren’t any true consequences, Epel had started to let out almost hysterical laughter as he dodged machete swings. Sebek and Deuce had come down the stairs, Sebek quickly using his axe to parry against the killer’s attacks and ordering the other’s to get out of the house.

Jack paused, Epel and Deuce running out of the house in front of him as he looked back into the house. Sebek was holding his own, but he realized Yuu and Ace were nowhere to be seen. The hatch of the basement door opened and the killer stomped down on it, stabbing into the wood to the sound of his friends' terrified screams. He snarled, sprinting past Sebek and tackling the killer completely through one of the living room windows and over the railing of the patio.

In the short time it took him to run back into the house, Sebek was already yanking Ace and Yuu out of the basement opening one after the other, “OUTSIDE! EVERYONE OUTSIDE!”

Running through the woods was even more of a mess.

Sebek was the only voice that could cut through the panic of the group running, guiding them from behind to protect their flank should the killer be following them. It was dark enough that everyone was tripping over roots, logs, and rocks, falling behind or away from the group; Epel getting the worse of it. After falling for the sixth time and completely shredding one of his knees open, Deuce had swung him into his arms and just kept running.

Soon they broke out from the trees, each of them stumbling onto the sands of the beach and into the moonlight. Everyone panted, resting on the cool grains as Sebek looked into the woods before nodding to the group

“I believe we lost him. We can take the moment to rest.”

Ace was lying down, panting so hard he was almost gagging, “That was worst than running drills with Floyd…Fuck…”

Deuce panted, falling back into the sand with Epel still in his arms, “What…What do we do now?”

Epel mumbled to himself, staring at his knee in confusion before poking at the bloody skin. It was as Jack had said. While his knee looked as though he had skinned himself down to the muscle, touches felt more like he had tore a hole in a pair of tights, “It really doesn’t hurt…”

Deuce finally noticed just how ‘bad’ Epel’s knee was, panicking and calling for Sebek, “Epel’s knee is really hurt! How do we clean it out here?”

Jack perked up, “Wait! It’s not that serious.”

Ace had managed to move toward Epel and Deuce, wincing at the mess of dirty skin and blood, “Jack, this is actually pretty bad. Like potential scaring, bad…”

Jack and Epel both explained their findings, how none of them were ever in real danger. A fact that had quickly made the other’s angry. Not at Epel, but mostly at the idea a voiceless technically harmless figure had been chasing them around. A high caliber of embarrassment for any NRC student, a slight none of them were willing to let slide. Yuu had been the one who spoke their thoughts best.

“Well, we have to win against this guy now…”

And win they were…

A plan had quickly been made, Ace smirking as he remarked on the ‘special tool’ he and Yuu had found in the basement. Since nothing seemed able to kill their enemy, the next best bet would be to keep him down as long as possible. Exploding the killer in the house would be a wonderful ending to the movie, Ortho could join them at the end while they dance around the burning heap.

Sebek pushed his limited magic into the phone that Deuce realized was still in his pocket, sparks jumping from the device before a charged battery symbol flashed on the screen. While everyone gathered together, Ace and Jack trying to keep Epel from seeing if he could completely pull the skin off of his knee, Sebek walked to the dock. Using the flashlight function on the cellphone, he started to spell out in morsecode SOS. Only thirty minutes later did a response come, a bright blue light responding to Sebek’s call in quick succession.

A simple R and 88 in response making the half-fae laugh.

The rest of the firsties all gathered around Sebek, asking what he and Ortho were saying and if he was going to come to them soon. Sighing, the half-fae had done his best to translate his and Ortho’s short messages.

Ortho was an unknown character in the movie (‘A hidden final girl’ as Yuu smugly stated to Ace), set to appear as rescue during the final minutes of the movie to have the survivors escape on the boat they rented to reach the island. A plan that Ortho had tried his best to quicken, only to be denied at every chance. The robot had told them to save their magic as there should be a final confrontation with the killer, and during of which Ortho should be able to arrive with the boat to get them to the end of the movie.

In an effort to save power on both the phone and Ortho, their morse code conversation had ended.

Jack crossed his arms, looking across the water, “So…We’re gonna go set a house on fire?”

Deuce nodded, “I think it’s more so we’re gonna blow it up, but I think so?”

The house was empty when they got back. At the very least, it seemed empty. But that was all they needed. They sealed every exit, leaving only a window open as Yuu opened and broke every gas line in the basement. Epel and Deuce were outside, walking around and acting as bait while the others tired wet rags around their mouths and noses. Epel was closer to the house, since he couldn’t be trusted to run for longer than 10ft. Deuce yelled from the treeline, sprinting from the woods and throwing rocks over his shoulder. Sebek instructed everyone to hide at seeing the killer running nearly as fast as Deuce chasing him down.

Deuce and Epel smirk at each other, high-fiving as Deuce ran past and into the house. Epel’s roll was to make sure the killer actually entered the house, being the slower victim of them all he managed to stumble and trip enough that the killer was almost right against him. He couldn’t help the laugh he lets out, ducking just in time to dodge a swing of the machete that lodged deeply into the open doorway. He was giggling, crawling into the house while the kiler tried to remove his weapon.

The killer walked into the dark house, looking around to find his victims only to be hit in the face with an egg bomb. He stepped back, shaking his head to remove the powder only to have the flat side of a shovel slam into the back of his head with a hollow sounding thud. Stumbling forward, the killer turned around and was quickly punched across the face by Deuce. A blow he didn’t recover from since Deuce gave him another two punches in quick succession, the hits sending the killer directly into Jack’s own punches.

Jack ducked under the machete swing, running away as more eggs exploded powder into the killer’s face. Past his growling and menacing sounding snarls, Sebek had taken Jack’s place and started to battle against the killer properly. He’d parry and kick at the taller being. He paused for only a moment when the killer had swung his machete down hard enough that it sliced the axe in his hands in two.

Before the killer could attack again, Sebek threw the wooden handle into the killer’s face and using the now shorter axe as a cleaver.

Yuu blocked a machete swing with the curved metal neck of their hoe, tugging at the killers weapon to give Sebek an opening to cleave his axe into the killer’s head. Having him stumble back, Epel gave one last swing. The sharp edge of his shovel sinking into the killer’s neck yet steps away as Jack spartan kicks the man in the chest, sending him crashing to the floorboards.

Everyone waited for a moment, but seeing the killer hadn’t moved they all scrambled out of the cabin. Sebek counted each of them as they ran past. Once they were all out, he gave a look inside to make sure the killer was still there and downed before joining the other’s

Epel looked to Ace as they all stood a few yards away from the cabin, “Ya have a way to light this place up?”

“Yep~...” Ace smiled, sticking his tongue out and rubbing a flour bomb between his hands. He hadn't used any of his magic until that point, sparks coursing along the eggshell before he wound back and threw it through the open front door of the cabin.

At the silence that passed, Deuce looked toward Ace, “Do you think it’ll work-”

The explosion was much bigger than it should have possibly been. The shockwave of it sent the group staggering back and falling to the ground. They all groaned, looking to the now blazing cabin with wide eyes. Jack's eyes flick upward, furrowing his brow and holding his arm out to move the others back.

The large intimidating figure of the killer fell from the sky, hitting the ground hard and fast enough he bounced before laying prone and charred.

“...” Yuu smiled, raising their hoe over their head and yelling out, “WE WON!”

Minus Jack, every other firstie cheered, jumping up and down in celebration at the fact they just killed a man. Only when Epel swung his shovel down on the dead man's chest and Yuu kicked at the body did Sebek snap and demand they all make their way back to the dock. Everyone with a weapon dropping them to the ground and starting to walk through the woods as the cabin burned behind them.

Exhaustion seemed to hit all of them the moment they reached the beach. Staying up an entire night after hiking and fighting for ‘survival’ taking more out of them than they thought. Then again, maybe the adrenaline was finally leaving their systems. Just when the edge of the sky had the faintest tint of pink, Deuce gleefully pointed out a stark white boat slowly breaking through the morning fog.

Ortho's outfit was unclear from so far away, but it seemed bulky since his entire arms were covered. delightfully enough, there seemed to be glasses built into his face frame.

They all cheered again, much quieter, and waved at the fast approaching robot. A gesture they thought he was returning only to see how franctic his one arm waving was the closer he got.

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Ace yelled and shoved at Sebek to stand, “Are you SERIOUS!?”

Blackened, charred beyond belief and walking, the killer stalked toward them closer and closer. His machete now a burning dull red from the flames.

The worst horror movie mistake to make and they made it; dropping the weapon and running. The first-years all scattered to the dock, the plan being to just swim to Ortho and the boat depending who got where first.

Ortho decided he was close enough. Even with his LEDs slowly flashing yellow to show low power, he raised his free arm and aimed to the figure cornering his friends. The high pitched whine of Ortho's arm canon charging up made the other first-years turn. At the deafening crack of electricity, they all ducked and a bright blue beam of light shot over their heads. A beam that hit the killer directly in the face.

Mouths open in shock and horror at the now headless killer. The body seemed to shuffle around, almost deciding on if it should keep going. After a moment, the body slumped into the sand completely lifeless as Ortho crashed the boat into the end of the dock. Luckily, the dock was more rotted than stable so the boat was virtually undamaged.

Now all on the boat, Jack scooped a limp Ortho into his arms, “Nice shot!”

Yuu cheered, patting the robots's cheek, “You're the ultimate weapon, Ortho!”

With his LEDs now slowly blinking between red and yellow, Ortho slowly cheered, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay…”

Ace looked to the steering wheel with a smirk, “So who's driving us into the sunrise?”

Sebek raised an eyebrow from the top of the bow, trying to kick away from the pier, “Deuce, obviously…”

Sputtering, Ace glared as the spade soldier smiled and grabbed the controls, “Wait, why Deuce!?”

Rolling his eyes, Deuce managed to figure out how to reverse and steer the boat back into deeper waters, “Which of us actually has their learner’s permit?”

Yuu spoke up, glaring from Epel’s side on the seats, “Fuck you?”

“Which of us has our learner's permit, legally?”

“...I take back my statement.”

For only a minute or two, they all enjoyed the feeling of the breeze and the water. The sun began to rise, bathing the sky in pinks and blues before the ball of light seemed to shine brighter and brighter. Before any of them knew what happened, the light engulfed their vision completely.

Yuu gasped as their eyes fly open, the familiar old wood panels of Ramshackle's ceiling greeting them. They only panicked briefly at seeing pale purple eyes suddenly leaning over them.

Vil scoffed, his hands gently holding one of Yuu's eyes open before moving away, “Honestly, so hostile…”

Sitting up, Yuu watched as Vil and Leona made their way around the room checking on each confused first-year, “Why are you two in my house?”

Vil raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit at a flustered Leona, “Someone called me concerned that none of you were responding when he found you.”

Jack looked up to Leona, still trying to catch his breath from startling awake, “Why did you come check on us…?” A small black canister was tossed at his face. It hit him on the forehead and fell into his hands. Seeing the familiar cactus charm attached to it, he felt his ears press against his head before bringing it to his mouth and taking a puff.

Leona's glare didn't let up until he saw that Jack was breathing normally again, “Don't forget your damn inhaler in the dorm…”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #twst first years #first year poly

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sol91 · 4 months ago

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Alone

LOG ENTRY: SOL 90

It occurred to me today that someday someone from earth might actually listen to these logs, so I figure I should record a needlessly expository one to get everyone up to speed.

My name is Lena Luthor.

It's been 90 martian days since I landed here with the rest of the crew. That's what, 92 earth days? Mars spins just a little on the slow side.

On sol 6 a dust storm was going to knock over the rocket we brought to take us home, so the rest of the crew went home and left me behind to die. Well, they thought I was already dead and left. To be honest, not their fault at all.

So I'm alone here on mars, no way home, no way to communicate, only enough food for a year, and everyone thinks I'm dead. Which sounds miserable but luckily I do have this disco music to listen to, courtesy of Commander Lewis.

And, if I can get these potatoes to grow in martian soil, which I definitely can, then I can survive long enough for the next mission to arrive.

Which should be in about 4 years.

Which does honestly sound like a long time to be alone. But I've been alone before. Most of the time, to be honest, it's how I do my best work.

I don't know, maybe I could have done things differently. Asked out that reporter when I had the chance. Not gone to fucking mars.

On the plus side, if I do make it home, she'll be so impressed she'll have to go out with me. I'm pretty sure the president is basically obligated to deliver a eulogy for every astronaut who kicks the bucket up here so everyone in the country must know my name by now. They'll probably show the satellite images and everything— actually, I wonder if they've figured out I'm alive by now. What else do all those NASA technicians even do all day?

Anyway, that's basically the situation. Feel free to keep watching these if you want to hear about my adventures cleaning solar panels and fixing the water reclaimer. Yeah, that'll sell movie tickets.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 91

Fuck. Oh god. Okay. Something just opened the airlock from the outside. There's no locks on it, because why the fuck would there be? There's not supposed to be anything else on this planet. I have like 30 seconds before that airlock opens and I have no idea what to do. Obviously there's no windows in the airlock for structural reasons, I guess the engineers back at NASA didn't consider the hab might be invaded by space aliens. Alright. If this is my last message I have some things I want to say. Commander Lewis your music is awful. Lex you can rot in hell. Kara I always thought you were hot.

Oh shit here we go—

Kara?

Kara Danvers stepped into the hab. She was wearing a button down shirt and khakis, no space helmet. "I've never held my breath that long, that was crazy." She said, panting slightly.

"Kara, what—" Lena began. But before she could finish forming a sentence, Kara was hugging her.

In the hierarchy of times you wanted to run into your crush, not having showered in 3 months in a room full of manure was pretty much bottom of the list. But right now, Lena didn't care. The hug lasted at least 30 seconds before Lena pulled back.

"Kara, what the fuck is going on? How are you here?"

"Oh! I'm Supergirl" Kara said simply.

"That… actually makes a lot of sense"

"I was at the office when I heard you were still alive and I just—" She shook her head. "NASA had some complicated plan to get you home, but I just thought, how far away can Mars really be?"

Lena laughed.

"You ready to go home?" Kara asked.

"Very." Lena was already crossing the room to don her spacesuit.

"Also, I was wondering" Kara said, more hesitant now. "Do you have plans for dinner tomorrow?"

Lena turned to look at Kara. "Do I have plans for dinner tomorrow?" She repeated, smiling. "Kara, I live on mars."

"I— right. Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

"I would love that."

"Great!" Said Kara, "It's a date! I promise it'll be—" "Don't you dare say it." interjected Lena. "—out of this world."

#supercorptober #supercorptober2024 #Mark Watney eat your heart out #technically this should happen on sol 72 #but you know #sol writes

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disaster-kitchen · 1 month ago

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It's new year's eve! Traditionally, this means ginger snaps. (it's not really a tradition, it's just the thing I do when we have people over and it's closing in on 1am and I want them out of my house. surprise! I wandered out of the living room to make cookies, stuff that in your face and gtfo. but slightly nicer than that.)

Since we're not hosting anything or going anywhere this year, and since December has been such an epic shitshow, I'm skipping the cookies and making Nigella Lawson's Chocolate Gingerbread Cake.

...you know, I kind of understand the recipe-blog urge to pontificate before the recipe. maybe I just like to hear myself talk. Anyway, this is a slightly modified version of Nigella's recipe. It's a gooey, spicy, chocolatey, decadent thing, and it's possibly my favorite cake recipe, ever.

1 1/2 sticks (12 tbs) butter

1 c. + 2 T dark brown sugar

2 T granulated sugar

3/4 c. golden syrup (sub half corn syrup and half honey- or all honey- if you don't have a tin of golden syrup lying around, dont sweat it)

3/4 c. molasses

1/4 tsp ground cloves (I'm still using allspice, fuck cloves, all my homies hate cloves, unless they're being poked into oranges)

1 tsp ground cinnamon

2 tsp ground ginger

1 1/4 tsp baking soda

2 T warm water

2 eggs

1 c. milk

2 c. flour

1/3 c. cocoa

1/4 tsp salt (omit if using salted butter)

1 c. chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 325. Line a glass 10x13 pan with parchment paper. (You want glass because of the honey; if using golden syrup, use whatever pan your heart desires.)

In a large saucepan, melt the butter with the sugars, syrup, molasses, cloves, cinnamon and ginger. make your life easier by using a lightly oiled liquid measuring cup for the molasses and other syrups. or don't! enjoy being sticky.

Dissolve baking soda in water.

Take saucepan off heat, and whisk in eggs, milk and soda/water

Reserve ~1 tbs flour.

Sift remaining flour, cocoa, and salt into wet mixture and stir to combine

Toss the chocolate chips in the reserved flour, then fold in chocolate chips.

Bake about 45 min until risen and firm. The middle should still be a little damp under the set top, and will sink a little. . (I went an extra 10 minutes because I used a 9x13 pan, it went until the middle was set but not risen.) Cool in the pan.

Make glaze or frosting, if you want. Nigella has a ginger beer and chocolate glaze; I've also made this with a cardamom cream cheese icing, which is faaaabulous. (take a standard cream cheese icing- block of cream cheese, few tbs butter, powdered sugar until you like the consistency- and add 1 tsp vanilla and 1/2-1tsp ground cardamom.)

I like the way Nigella describes this- makes 12 fat slabs. This is technically a 1 bowl recipe, even if I magically always manage to dirty every bowl and utensil in the house; the flour sifting is entirely optional, but it will help reduce lumps in the batter.

The first time I made this was in 2010, when I ran out of molasses, had no corn syrup, and had to scrounge for as much honey as I could find in the cupboards. My early #disaster-kitchen days were full of me starting recipes without checking to see if I had all the ingredients. (There are several funny stories about that, actually, one of which led to me getting married. Remind me to make that honey cake recipe again.)

But, more importantly, the last time I made this was some time in 2011 or 2012, so I had no idea what recipe I'd used for it. But I did post about it on livejournal when I made it. Buuuut my LJ is friends locked, so I had to log back in. Which, of course, meant I had to reset my password. And that was one of the last posts I'd made! But the recipe I linked to went to a dead site. But! The Wayback Machine saved me! So here we are.

It smells so fucking good, you guys. The molasses, the spices, the chocolate- so. fucking. good.

#food #baking #made by me #gingerbread

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phoenotopia · 8 days ago

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Introducing Star Iliad!

We’re happy to announce our next game, “Star Iliad”! Now in development.

Star Iliad is a retro-futuristically themed Metroidvania that takes place inside a giant star whale.

See the teaser trailer!

youtube

In the game, you’ll play as Blythe Braves, a Star Ranger who patrols a remote region of the interstellar frontier. Heeding a distress signal, she investigates to find a curious large rock formation in the shape of a whale. Shortly after landing and locating a couple of castaways, her ship is destroyed by unknown alien creatures. Stranded and surrounded, but not outgunned, she joins forces with other castaways in a bid to escape. A big adventure ensues!

Where Phoenotopia had more Zelda-style leanings, Star Iliad dives deeper into Metroid territory with a larger, interconnected map and a stronger focus on gun combat. We’ve learned the correct lessons from Phoenotopia— which is… Guns are Good 👍 Bats are Bad 👎 (joking!)

The story won’t be taking a backseat. While Phoenotopia featured a large ensemble cast, Star Iliad narrows its focus to a smaller group of more thoroughly explored characters.

(Characters can leverage expressive portraits to drive emotionally charged scenes)

Some additional in-development pics. We have both very finished & very unfinished looking areas.

Legacy of Phoenotopia

Since Phoenotopia’s development concluded, we’ve received some really encouraging emails from fans expressing how much they enjoyed it and even sharing their concern about whether we were doing alright. This meant a lot, especially considering Phoenotopia was not a strong seller.

For a while now, I’ve felt the need to allay those fears and let everyone know that we’re alive and hard at work on something new. With Steam’s fourth anniversary for Phoenotopia approaching, it felt like the right moment to finally share an update.

True, Phoenotopia was not a strong seller, but it would not turn out to be as bleak as I previously believed. Long after sales should have dwindled to zero, the game found a small, but steady threshold—a lifeline that has kept us funded. We’ve also been able to rely on family (and the occasional side job or two) to stay afloat.

Lastly, I think the game got some organic word of mouth, so there would be random times here and there where a youtuber or renowned streamer covered Phoenotopia and we’d get an unusual sales spike out of nowhere.

So, to all the fans who supported us, whether by buying the game, spreading the word, or just sending us kind messages—thank you! You’ve sustained us in ways you may not even realize, and we’re incredibly grateful 🙇

Chronicling Star Iliad’s development with a new Dev Log! (on wordpress)

After Phoenotopia, there was a bit of wandering around and thinking about what was next.

I wanted to settle into a quieter pace of development for a while. With Phoenotopia, I had been doing long form dev log updates. I wanted to try something different – a smaller, but more frequent form of dev logging. And it appeared that the new dev blogging meta was social media like Twitter & Instagram.

But there was no point in starting right away. Because 4 years back, we didn’t know what we were working on. It would take about a year of exploring & feeling around before “Star Iliad” developed enough shape and form that it could be talked about. Then we started twitter (@StarIliad) and instagram (@StarIliad), and started posting. Not as regular as I thought I would it turns out – short form updates have their own unique challenges and dev logging is always easy to neglect.

Still, if you’re curious, you can look at the StarIliad twitter account and enjoy the past 3 years of short form dev log posts (it may keep you entertained for all of 10 minutes).

As for the instagram account, it never quite took off, basically dying right out the gate >_>

In any case, we’re in the midst of development. It’s difficult to see the finish line from here, so I can’t announce a release date. What I can announce is the return of the dev log, where like times of yore, I will be chronicling our thoughts and tribulations until we reach the finish line. I invite you to join us by subscribing to the new dev log on wordpress.

(Also, please wishlist on Steam! It helps with the algorithm)

#phoenotopia #StarIliad #Youtube

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danieyells · 8 months ago

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. . .I could've sworn I did Ritsu's already. Apparently not. Yuri's one of my favorites and he's the one I chose in the beginning so I'm saving his for when I'm a little better rested(I have Monday off because of another doctor's appointment, so that's the lastest i'll post it)

RITSU IS SO. . .I LOVE HIM. I'll rag on him a lot because he's so tunnel visioned and just like. . .repressed. And he needs to touch grass(figuratively) but also. . .when you've been set from childhood to work and care only for your work and only know your work. . .it's understandable that he is the way he is. . . .

The way he changes as his affinity goes up is very repressed too. . .but you can still see the change at the end a little. He's a very stagnant character. . .but still interesting to look into the mannerisms of.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Any self-respecting inspector would stay comfortably ahead of schedule—I suggest you get into the habit. Let's go—there's no time to waste."

dude this is the 'you've logged in for the first time today' dialogue why are you assuming that i must be late! rude.

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Did you check that notification yet? We could have a request from a client, so please do so right away."

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I have been assigned to Sinostra, so I will not allow them to stand trial, no matter how villainous their actions. That is the Shinjo family policy."

"I shall ensure the Gala is held this year, and that Sinostra will wear the Laurel Crown. I have never made a promise I couldn't keep."

boy i can't wait for that to fall through--he, respectfully, needs the humbling.

"I've read the Compendium of Laws countless times since I was a child. Memorizing its contents is a rite of passage for the eldest son of the Shinjo family."

and somehow it ended up an artifact he can use as a weapon? I really wanna know what it does tbh.

"What business do you have with me? Please keep in mind that I charge 5500 yen per half hour for consultations, tax inclusive."

(roughly $35USD, although it's faster to just think of it as $55--) WE ARE BUSINESS PARTNERS. WHAT ARE YOU CHARGING A MFER FOR.

"As long as I have a notebook, my business cards, a binder, paper, and my voice recorder, I can handle the initial stages of any case."

i need my binder every day too ritsu.

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"{PC}. Are you aware of the responsibility your position as inspector entails? I suggest you tidy your appearance and wipe that vacant look from your face."

they do not need to be aesthetically in order to be inspector. as long as they're paying attention it may even be better to look vacant. lure them into a false sense of security. also it's easier to pay attention if you're comfortable, in my experience. . . .

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You've lost your notebook? Just a moment. ...At 9:04 AM, it was inside the photocopier. Yes, I do have that information recorded."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Have you seen Taiga Hoshibami? Strange... According to my behavioral model, he should be in the casino at this time..."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"At the end of each day, I compile information about every person I encountered in my notebook. It always proves useful eventually."

yandere adjacent behavior, except it's for everyone and not just one person lolol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The vice-captain has asked me to organize some documents. Let's start by making copies of everything in case the originals become lost or damaged."

Romeo has a line that references this as well!

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I always have my business cards on hand. It should go without saying—any lawyer who fails to gain their client's trust during the first meeting is not worth their salt."

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"A post-meal coffee must be drunk black. Unnecessary additives only interfere with the natural flavor."

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Until the age of three, I spent my days visiting the greatest sights the world has to offer with my mother, as from four my studies would prevent me from doing so."

is that child abuse? i think that's child abuse. you learn the source of ritsu's problems very early on in his affinity--he has had zero normal social interaction opportunities and no childhood. From birth until he stopped being a toddler he was just flying around the world looking at beautiful things, no stability in his location or world aside from the presence of his mother, and then he went home and probably basically got locked away to study law the moment he could sort of read. His whole existence was molding him to work. . .Subaru is similar, even down to what age they were forced to start preparing to work at. But Subaru is at least better adjusted, probably because acting awarded him better opportunities to try and think about how other people think.

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"According to my behavioral model, there is a 29% chance that Taiga Hoshibami is currently at the baccarat table."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I review the day's coursework for two hours then prepare for the next day's classes for three— no more, and no less. Six more minutes of silence, please."

WHERE DO THE RECORDINGS COME IN TO THIS. This mans somehow has 40 hour days. Maybe his artifact slows down time or something lol

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning, {PC}. We have a meeting at 3 PM today, so please adjust your plans accordingly."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Darkwick Rulebook Article 183: "For the protection of anomalies, unnecessary running indoors is prohibited." This rule has been in place for over one hundred years."

wait how old is this school? how old is the Institute???

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"All right. We need to organize our notes from today's investigation, so let's relocate to the diner. Our usual booth, of course."

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"The content of our classes may be novel, but I topped the year in the scholastic ability test—they are nothing I can't handle."

so among the first years' scholastic ability tests, Ritsu was 1st, Leo was 2nd, Sho was 5th. Considering there are only four new first year ghouls then that must include the general students too. I wonder where Ren placed? Probably not very high. But still, Ritsu is a genius. . .or at least very very good at memorizing information. Lots of book smarts, minimal other smarts.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"As your business partner, I request that you improve your conduct. Please refrain from consenting to any further uncompensated labor."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Our Anomalous Law classes are truly fascinating. There is a long history well worth learning about— though of course, I have already mastered the basics."

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I cannot afford to be complacent, even before bedtime. It's vital that I check the day's notes again to ensure nothing has been missed."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I set time aside in the evening to watch opera performances online. It allows me to get my thoughts in order, and provides a change of pace."

when??? what time??? because he has to review all of the audio recordings and notes from the whole day--what time does he have to do anything in???

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I just finished checking my recordings from today. You sighed a total of four times— is something troubling you?"

i love the vibe of this. rather than silently nothing your sighing and potential exhaustion or scolding you for not caring for yourself, he expresses concern towards you. also, it's so soft yandere. like he already records everything you say and do, to confront you over it on top of that he shamelessly defends his recording and notetaking. . .if not for that he recorded everyone it would really be so yandere lolol. instead it's just his odd and overbearing way of showing he's beginning to care.

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"You struggle to get up in the morning? I can contact you each day at a set time if you like, but I'll have to think about how much to charge..."

affinity 20 and my guy still wants to charge for his time. . .we're gonna have to teach him to have A Singular Normal Social Connection aren't we. and we're probably gonna fail.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You wish to have lunch with me? All right. We are business partners, so I will accompany you free of charge."

wait maybe i spoke too soon.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"This is for you, {PC}— it's the takeout coffee I often purchase. Your performance will decline if your mind isn't sharp."

his increased attachment is shown in the bare minimum of understanding normal human social interaction and caring for you by sharing his things and his time without charge. In trying to make you the best you(from his perspective) that you can be. Because that's what his parents did for him--so surely that's the best expression of love he has, aside from obsessive study and understanding.

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I feel we made solid progress toward the reinstatement of the Gala today. Let's reconvene again tomorrow and continue working together to realize our goal."

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Could I ask you to accompany me a little longer, {PC}? I realize it's outside of business hours, but...I would appreciate it if you could make a special exception."

He wants to spend time with you. And he's realizing he can just ask that. But he's so entrenched in legal and business mannerisms he doesn't know how to say "i want to be around you for longer". You're his business partner. It's bad form to request your attention outside of work, it has no value towards your goals and business efforts, but. . .that he's making a sort of formal appeal for your attention outside of work is as far as he can get in terms of expressing his affection right now.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"It seems we make better business partners than I would have expected. I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship with you."

kind of comical that his max affinity line is still so formal after a more friendly 'please spend time with me late at night' 24th. . .but also, he wants you to be his business partner for longer. i think that counts towards something! It's a reason to stay with you! Maybe over the course of your business partnership he'll learn how to express deeper feelings. . .he's going to need an heir, after all--

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"There has been a noticeable increase in reports of suspicious activity of late. More incidents means more business. Be prepared."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"You have a petal in your hair. A little more to the right. No, not there. Just let me remove it. Hold still."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Indeed, the cherry blossoms are in bloom. Incidentally, Japan's oldest cherry blossom tree can be found in Yamanashi Prefecture and is estimated to be 2000 years old."

ritsu would probably kill at historical trivia night.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I had tempura at the cafeteria today. It didn't come close to the tempura I would eat with my father at the historic soba restaurant we used to frequent though."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"This one is for my face, and this is for my body. I have six handkerchiefs with me— enough for morning, noon, and night. I cannot let my opponents see me sweat."

why's this giving me ace attorney prosecutor energy. . . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I witnessed a half-naked man running around in this vicinity. Did you see him? He is risking a charge of indecent exposure."

but we saw Kaito in his underwear and you said that meant he wasn't at risk of indecent exposure. . . . . . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"The warmer it gets, the more of a racket people make. Honestly, how were these people raised?"

to relax and have fun during the summer break. . .you should give it a try.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"You want to go and watch the fireworks? A rather childish request, but all right. So? Where would one go to view them?"

FIREWORKS DATE FIREWORKS DATE just don't touch him without getting his consent first that could be counted as sexual harassment and he'll Get Your Ass.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"The weather is much more pleasant for going out on professional errands now. A first-rate lawyer keeps their boots on the ground. Now then, let's get going."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I object to the cultural assumption that fall is the season of the arts. The arts should be enjoyed throughout the year, regardless of the season."

you and yuri would get along well i think. until you realize the guy is a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen. then you'd criticize him and he would take that so poorly.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Once I've perused the relevant documents in the library, I plan on doing some reading. Please excuse me."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The nights may grow longer in the fall, but daylight hours should not affect the time you rise and retire. I'll see you tomorrow."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I have detected a change in how Taiga Hoshibami divides his time since the weather has taken a cold turn. It has created quite a quandary for me..."

yeah he doesn't like getting out of bed when it's cold. he also eats a lot more, like a bear about to hibernate. shockingly behavior patterns tend to change with the seasons.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I've never experienced snowfall heavy enough to obstruct my movement, but I'd like to deepen my knowledge of the phenomenon for future reference."

to frostheim then! i'm sure that place is just awful for movement in winter.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm heading to the diner to fulfill a request from Ren Shiranami. Perhaps I shall enjoy a warm bowl of soup while I'm there."

. . .I wonder if this is an Obey Me!Raphael situation where he has no grasp of that the food is not good. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"People say that hard work is the key to success, but it only took me a year to master German—as was the case with Italian and French."

His birthday: (January 13th)

"Indeed, today is my birthday. I've always celebrated this day by enjoying my mother's cooking, but from this year I am striving for a more self-reliant existence."

MAMA'S BOY MAMA'S BOY tbf up until he was 3 his mother was probably his only social connection and then he was locked away studying so. . .his mom is probably the only one he has like. . .personal feelings and attachment for. you'll be a tradwife too :) but also that he's trying to be more self-reliant at darkwick. . .that really does explain that he's like. not used to any sort of social interaction or doing things he hasn't been told to do by his parents. maybe in his time at darkwick he'll realize how good it feels to just. . .be a person. dedicate time to fun and relaxation. realize that work isn't everything. or maybe he'll be so judgemental towards the lifestyles of others he'll retreat even further into his current habits.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday. A year older, a year wiser. I have high hopes for your performance in the coming year."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. Let's devote these next 365 days—or 8760 hours—to finding fitting solutions to the challenges that come our way."

what if it's a leap year. can we take the extra day off?

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Thank you for the chocolates. Are you gifting them to me out of social obligation, or is this an expression of affection? Your answer will influence what you receive in return."

(for the uninitiated, that is very much a thing in Japan where on valentine's day a girl give some men in her life--like coworkers--obligation chocolates, which are generally not as nice and most likely store bought, although this practice is losing ground. friends get friendship chocolate and you give people you're actually attracted to or in a relationship more extravagant, expensive, or homemade chocolates to express your true feelings or a desire to be in a relationship with them. Ritsu is essentially asking 'is this because we're coworkers or are you asking me out' because White Day is the day for return gifts in response to given valentine's day gifts, and in the case of chocolates given to someone you wanna go out with they can act as a response to that proposal. presumably if you're asking him out he wants to give you chocolate to agree to get with you, since he's bothering to ask. . . .

White Day: (March 14th)

"White Day has its roots in Japan, having been invented by a certain historic confectionery shop. With that knowledge, please accept this."

'here's some trivia. and some chocolates. we are now in a relationship. should this be as fruitful as our business partnership, we can discuss marriage plans within the year.'

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"The spreading of false rumors is subject to strict punishment under Article 233 of the Penal Code. Do you still intend to continue this ruse?"

NO FUN ALLOWED.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Coercing another party to choose between a "trick" or a "treat" could amount to intimidation. Engage in such festivities at your own risk."

NO FUN ALLOWED PART TWO: ILLEGAL BOOGALOO.

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Religious freedom is guaranteed by Article 20 of the Constitution. If this is a day that you wish to celebrate, then I will accept that."

he can't make you work on religious holidays you need off!!

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Five seconds have elapsed. Yes, that is how long you've kept me waiting."

(13 affinity and above)

"How long do you intend to keep me waiting? As always, I am on a tight schedule today. Please hurry up."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"I've been expecting you, {PC}. You weren't planning on breaking your promise to me, were you?"

SUCH A HARD-WORKING, SOCIALLY INEPT LAD. But Ritsu's a lot of fun, I give him a lot of shit and i desperately need him to touch some grass and get a reality check and learn about how others live and maybe experiment. . .but like i love him for being such a little shit. he's so. . .ignorant to the rest of the world and how other people are. . .i love seeing him try and dissect other people's behavior and intentions and coming to the conclusion that they must want the same things as him because he just. . .has no grasp of interests and intentions that aren't his own. . . . It makes me facepalm but also makes me laugh 8'D good boy. quality boy.

#ritsu shinjo #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker spoilers #datamining cw #danie yells at tokyo debunker #danie yells answers #danie yells with anons

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nadinefromwhere · 25 days ago

Text

Self aware (rafayel x reader) part 2

word count: 1.1k

HI GUYS IM BACKKK I JUST WANNA SAY HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! PLUS CALEB GIRLIES HOW WE FEELING RN plus enjoy this fic!!! next one will be a xav oneshot~ BUT ITS FLUFFY I PROMISE

Warnings: none

FANFIC UPDATES!!!! ao3 wattpad

Everytime he sees you, the only thing he just wanted was to hug you and never let you go. Sadly, It couldn’t happen since you were both separated by a screen. Yes, a screen.

Today was just any other day for you, Log in the game, do dailies and weeklies and maybe even farm a bit. But now it seems really weird ... .For some reason. Well not the game but its Rafayel.

Usually he’d just say something or probably be reading or sleeping but it's weird… maybe you're just hallucinating? After all, you haven't been sleeping well the past few days since you’ve been working on an art project that's due soon….

“So this is due next week, the other later, and the other….” You count how much was due, maybe around 5 - 10 projects? You slowly start regretting for procrastinating, using that time to farm in the game for rafayel’s latest banner, into the canvas. Make it even worse there was a quad banner after and you only having 300 gems was the worst…..

“I'm sorry raf but i might have to skip this incoming banner” you say sighing in defeat, turning off the game in your phone to start finishing another art project…..

Meanwhile

Rafayel pouts as he sees you close the game, The only thing he wanted in the world right now was to just hug you, not the game you but the real life you. He did notice how stressed you were nowadays, especially the fact that your schedule was packed. Sure he did see the amount of effort you did when farming and also he did find it a coincidence that you went to art school.

He waited…..and waited…..and waited….

Seriously, are you just going to be gone for the next 800 years? (even though it's only been 2 hours but still)

He kept spamming you with messages on the phone, which was very usual of him to do. While you on the other hand was focused on finishing as many projects as possible.

“If only i was there with you….i could’ve helped you out but no, i'm stuck in a screen” he says pouting

A few hours later…

“Well I'm finally done with half of it so maybe i’ll just…. Sleep it off first….” You say as you started to fall asleep while listening to one of Rafayels 4* memories..

It was so comfy, like really comfy. You know the feeling when somebody’s beside you and then it’s a rainy morning? Wait. wait this is wrong.

You live alone,

You don't even remember letting anyone sleep beside you yesterday,

NOW WHAT WAS THIS!?!?!?!

You open your eyes in panic just to see him. No other than Rafayel, the very same man that you wished to see in reality ever since you started playing love and deep space.

“Morning cutie” he says, and immediately you smack rafayel immediately, throwing him off guard.

“Hey why smack me when you could give me a kiss :(“ Rafayel says pouting confusedly on why you would do that to him first thing in the morning. Don't you miss me?? He wonders

“You're real?” you say as you kept touching everywhere, the face, nose, hair everywhere./

“Yes I am real, didn't you sleep well yesterday?” rafayel asks, even though he knew that you probably spent studying until 3 in the morning.

“Uhm of course i did-” you say before rafayel cuts you off

“Liar i know you slept at 3 am so thats means you don't sleep well 😠” rafayel says as he looks at you as if you committed a crime or something.

“Wait how do you know-” you ask confused on how the hell did a fictional character that you loved knows you slept very late in the morning

“Because you left me all alone in the cafe to study silly girl, that's why i know” he says winking at you

“But- BUT-”

“No buts, the only thing i want to do today is just spend time with you” rafayel says as he picks you up bridal style……

The entirety of the day was spent in laughter and enjoyment, visiting the aquarium, painting with rafayel, having dinner with him and the last thing on the bucket list for today is watching the sunset at the beach.

“You know everytime i see the sunset, the first thing that reminds me is you,” Rafayel says, as he interlocked his hands with yours.

Looking into his purple - magenta eyes before you could even say another word, suddenly you felt like you were falling into the abyss, as if you have gotten knocked out or something….

“WHAT THE-” you open your eyes just to see yourself back in your good old bedroom, same home, same lifestyle.

“So it was just all a dream?” you wonder, as you stand up from bed.

As you sigh and get yourself ready for uni, you find yourself lost in the moments where rafayel was doing everything with you…it felt so real you swear that it all happened….

Sometime later you find yourself in the middle of a lecture until you receive a message from an unknown number….

Messages

Unknown number: hey cutie when’s class going to finish?

You're scared. No creeped out to be exact. Who is this? How did he/she find your number? How did the person in question find out you're in class right now? Your breathing becomes heavy as you debate whether to reply or not. At this point the class wasn't the topic anymore. It was about who that was and how creepy they are.

You: who are you? If i may ask

Unknown number: it's me cutie, the name's rafayel. Did you forget about me?

You: yeah no way you're actually him creep. Hell no way i'm believing that easily

You close your phone as you block the number, hoping that everything won't escalate later on…..

Rafayel on the other hand, was to say driving to the art school where you study. Having a bouquet of flowers at hand as he was almost near….

“Yeah yeah whatever besides I already blocked the creep so there's nothing going to happen next right?” you say chatting with one of your friends as you walk outside the school.

Suddenly a sports car pulls up at the entrance, before you could react to anything you see a young man in his mid - twenties purple hair and purple - magenta eyes get out of the car with a bouquet at hand as he immediately spots you.

“Hey there cutie, how's life in art school?” rafayel asks, smiling as he gives you the flowers he bought earlier

You missed him. Missed his touch, his whiny voice everytime when he loses the claw machine, and how you and he would tease each other at times.

“Rafayel you jerk” you said as you immediately hugged him, not caring about anyone right now except for him.

“I finally found you, cutie. Don't leave me again” He says hugging you back, he finally found you. Maybe waiting for 800 years really was worth it.

_________________________________________________________ Taglist: @ladyof-themoon

#love and deep space #fyp #fanfic #fanfiction #rafayel #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #sylus #fluff

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nipuni · 10 months ago

Text

Time for an old school blog post, Hello!

Just various updates about life and shows and clothes and some photos! Adding a read more cut because I talk too much 😊

Happy equinox everyone!! The mild weather has been wonderful for daily park walks. We have been taking our meals outside as often as we can to make the most of it before summer scorches the land and all life. The longer days allow for a lot more wandering too but the imminent return of the heat is also making the longing to move up north worse by the day. We miss the choppy ocean and seaside cliffs 😭 We love the silence and the rain and the nippy sea breeze!! it's like being suspended in early spring for half the year and a rainy autumn the other half, Ideal if you don't mind humidity, but that's what wellies and flat caps are for. We have been looking for properties to rent to show up everyday so for now we lie in wait.

Speaking of nature, a few months ago we discovered a free app called Plantnet that you use to take and upload photos of plants, trees, flowers and it will identify them for you. You keep a log with their locations and can share them too to help contribute to each local biodiversity database. It feels like a pokedex for plants. There are many apps like this one to choose from too. It's been so fun learning what all these plants are called and memorizing them! I recommend it, is like a little educational side quest to take on while stretching your legs and getting some fresh air. This is not an ad I promise lmao I just think it's neat! kind of sad feeling the need to clarify that.

This weather is also making me want to start making outfit posts again! It's been so long since I made any!! my winter wardrobe is mostly long wool coats or capes and boots so the inspiration wasn't there but now I'm ready to pull out all my stuff back from under my bed storage and experiment again 👏 I've also been meaning to share some of Nicolas outfits for ages too so there is more variety, could be fun!

Speaking of clothes, lately I've grown more and more frustrated with how poorly most clothes fit me to the point where I'm considering learning how to make them from scratch. I usually have to take in the tops and hem the bottoms but most things I try on are just built weird even if I fix the size, or maybe I'm built weird! I think it may be both. Nicolas also said he would love to learn along with me so we will probably embark on that adventure soon. OH and on a short tangent, I got myself a sort of binder-like top that flattens the chest a bit and I'm loving it! I'm very flat already but what little bust I do have has always bothered me when I dress and I've found I feel a lot more comfortable in this type of top. I'm glad I tried it out so if you feel similarly you may want to give it a go too, see how it feels!

On the media side of things we have also been watching more of David Tennant's work. We are still very much in love with him to an embarrassing degree, you can probably tell if you follow me anywhere, my likes on twitter alone give me away alksjdf and Nicolas isn't any better! if he used social media his would look the same lmao.

Since my last report we have watched and absolutely LOVED "There She Goes" we already want to watch it again honestly. The family dynamics for all his characters are always so real and refreshing!! Their relationship with their wives especially are always so believable in every series we've seen, the comfort and camaraderie, the banter and just friendship! You can tell they enjoy each other's company, it feels true. I love it so much!!

We also watched "Inside man" which was..a very stressful mess but David was incredible as always, also very hot and very pitiful which is always great, and Stanley Tucci was on it! so that's also fun.

Then we rewatched season one of Good Omens and the first 4 seasons of Doctor Who, with all the extra content like the Confidentials, deleted scenes, video diaries and more, they are just so good!! our list of favourite episodes keeps growing, season four is incredible, we are loving all these seasons even more the second time around!! Now we are probably going to start watching either Classic Who or Torchwood, along with more of David's work. We were trying to pick what to watch during dinner the other day and Nicolas was like 'damn, David is not in this though, I miss him' and lmao same so now we just watch one show without him and one with him right after to cope 😂

OH we have also been doing more historical reenactment! Since the last one in the 20's we jumped back to Regency times. We have been putting our outfits together for a ball soon and hopefully another one in autumn in the UK 😊 1800 is the farthest back in time we've been yet so it's been fun doing research, finding pieces and learning the dances in class but also very hectic. I'll share more about this soon!

Then we also have a couple of 1900 events coming soon, so I'll be sharing more Edwardian looks as well, our favourite era!!

Anyway I think that's all for now, thanks for reading to whoever is doing so!! I know this is long and not a popular blogging format anymore but I enjoy it a lot, maybe some of you do too 🥰 I will reply to some messages soon, I'm so sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with those!! I've read them all and cherish every word 🥺 Thank you for supporting my art and shenanigans as always!! I hope you have a great week!!

#personal #nips photos #DW report #of sorts tho I should swap to DT report at this point lmao #I may need a blogging tag so let's just do #Nips blogs #that should suffice

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carmillascrusade · 1 year ago

Text

Game of love | Larissa Weems x f!reader

Images do not belong to me. Summary: Parents weekend is upon you and you find yourself at the fair with Morticia and Larissa. Confessions ensue.

Word count: 2,940

A/N: I figured I would post this fic that I wrote donkeys ago while I’m working on a multi-chapter fic. It isn’t proofread😨 I feel like my writing style just changes all the time and I can’t get it to be consistent.

Your desk was overflowing with paperwork and unfinished report cards, the sheer size of the work you know you have to do was overwhelming. Dull flames danced in the fireplace, licking the fresh log you put in there a couple of seconds ago, eventually setting it alight. Tiny particles of ash blew around the room, weightlessly floating around, suspended by the air encompassing the room. Oh, what it would feel like to be weightless and free.

Parents weekend was fast approaching. In two days parents of all would be congregating in the school and the local town- much to the displeasure of the sheriff, and yourself. Two days. You had a measly two days to finish off your work and all the report cards that sat mocking you on your desk.

With a sigh, you accepted your fate and began to silently plough on with your work. Hoping, no praying, that parents weekend wouldn’t drag. After all, there is only so much socialising you can do.

Parents weekend came faster than you expected. From the frosted window of your office, you could see cars pouring in through the front gates. Hopefully nobody you went to school with would be here.

Checking the mahogany grandfather clock that sat in the corner of your office, you glanced at the warped needles to determine that it was only 4 o’clock. Plenty of time to get these reports to Larissa.

Gathering the pristine envelopes in a bundle, you dashed to Larissa’s office hoping that none of the parents had made their way just yet.

To your dismay, as well as Larissa’s by the fall of her face, you entered her office as Morticia Frump and her family were there. Huffing softly, you crossed the room with the intent of handing Larissa the reports and leaving as soon as possible.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Morticia, no, she had been your friend during your years at Nevermore together. It was just that you hadn’t spoken to her in years since her marriage, and her presence meant that her husband was here too. Gomez Addams, you thought with distaste. You disliked the man, loathed him even; Larissa had loved him unconditionally and he chose someone else. Who wouldn’t choose Larissa?

Maybe you were just biassed. Maybe your hatred came from the fact that she loved him and not you. Loved him even though you had always been by her side. Loved him even though you have loved her since you were children and never stopped.

Larissa is the sun, and your life revolves around her; because without her, you wouldn’t be alive.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Morticia’s silky smooth voice calling your name, claiming that she hadn’t seen you in years but you still look exactly the same.

Forcing out a smile at her clearly fake interest in you, you replied. “Yes, I haven’t seen you since you left Nevermore and got married. You still look as wonderful as ever, Morticia. The gods have been kind.”

“Hmm, I suppose they have. But look at you! The gods have certainly been kind there.” She said, sickly sweet, whilst her eyes roamed up and down your body.

Larissa’s mouth twitched at that, her perfect smile falling ever so slightly before being abruptly put back in place. She coughed in impatience, dragging both yours and Morticia’s attention towards her.

“Might I remind you that we are here to talk about your daughter, Ms Addams.” Larissa said with a clipped tone.

Morticia laughed at that, gliding over to you and placing her arm on your elbow. “We have all weekend to talk about Wednesday, Larissa. I just want to catch up with my friend. Is that so wrong?”

“No, I suppose not.” She huffed, aggravated at Morticia’s audacity to touch you.

Morticia grinned wickedly at her before turning back to you. “Would you like to go to the fair with me tonight?” She asked, still sporting that sickening grin.

You pondered her request. While it would be fun to catch up with her, you also knew that she had a deeper motive. She was playing a game that you would rather not play a part in.

“I suppose we could go to the fair tonight,”

“Oh wonderful!”

“On one condition,”

Her smile fell at that and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what is that?” She gritted out.

“I want to invite Larissa too!” You chirped. If you were going to play this game, you may as well have fun whilst doing so.

You glanced over at Larissa, smiling wistfully. If only she loved you the way you loved her.

Morticia huffed at your request, agreeing and inviting Larissa to the fair with the two of you. Fully expecting Larissa to turn down the opportunity in favour of working, you were pleasantly surprised when she agreed; her tone still clipped as she answered Morticia.

Excited at the prospect of getting to spend time with Larissa outside of the school grounds, you quickly gave her your finished reports, fingers lightly brushing against her own, causing your cheeks to tint pink at the heat radiating off them. Excusing yourself from the room, you made your way back to your room with an extra bounce in your step. The glee radiating off of you noticed by all that passed.

Tonight was going to be amazing.

The temperature had dropped drastically since this afternoon, resulting in you looking like a stuffed chicken in your winter clothes. You had decided to wear your favourite jumper, an egg shell coloured woven piece crafted of the finest wool; gifted to you by Larissa of course.

A small vibration in your pocket alerts you to a message. Pulling your phone out proved to be a great difficulty with your frozen fingers. Larissa had messaged you, letting you know that she and Morticia were sitting on the table closest to the entrance.

Easy enough to find you supposed.

Plodding over to the entrance, your eyes scanned the area, desperately searching for the familiar platinum blonde hair you loved so much. Your eyes lit up as you spotted her with Morticia. They seemed to be sat contesting in a nonverbal contest, staring at each other with such contempt that the average onlooker would recoil in fear.

Rolling your eyes, you slid onto the bench next to Larissa; snapping the women’s attention towards you, eliciting beaming smiles from the both of them. Smiling back, you looked at the outfits the other two were wearing to find that you were the only one dressed appropriately for this weather.

Huffing in discontent, you eyed both of them wearily. What kind of people don’t wear coats in freezing weather?! It is ridiculous!

“How aren’t you two freezing?” You blurred out, narrowing your eyes at Morticia specifically. At least Larissa had a blazer on, Morticia just had her iconic dress adorning her body.

Morticia just laughed at you whilst Larissa offered you a small smile. “My blazer is warm enough for me. Not all of us need to wear twenty layers to stay warm.” She said, lightly joking about your inability to stay warm.

Your turned your head away from her in false anger before spotting the burger van. Larissa loved burgers. “Larissa!”you shouted excitedly while tugging on her arm. “Look, there’s a burger van! Do you want a burger?”

Larissa saw the excitement on your face at the prospect of buying her a burger. Unable to deny you, she nodded her head. Beaming at her, you shot out of your seat and bounced over to the burger van.

She looked over at you fondly. Ignoring Morticia’s prescense completely in favour of watching your retreating form. Morticia wasn’t too pleased at the disregard of her presence, so she decided to start her plan.

“So,” she drawled. “Do you really think she loves you back, Larissa?”

Larissa’s eyes narrowed at that, sensing the thinly veiled threat Morticia had laced into her words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snapped back.

“Oh, but I think you do. You look at her like she holds the world in her hands. Only a fool would miss it.”

“I do not.”

“Very well. Let’s make a bet, shall we?” Morticia paused, waiting for an answer. Seeing that Larissa was refusing to speak to her, she continued on anyway. “I bet that by the end of the night, she will be looking at me the way you look at her.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Larissa countered, praying to the gods that they wouldn’t let Morticia take something else away from her.

“Then I’ll leave you two alone. Deal?”

“I’m not making petulant bets with you, Morticia. Especially over her.” Larissa seethed, angered by the fact that Morticia would even dare use you in her childish games.

Glancing over to the side, Larissa saw you bounding back with her burger and two trays of chips in hand. The fact that you hadn’t bought anything for Morticia amused her greatly, eliciting a slither of hope that, just this once, Larissa wouldn’t lose somebody she loved to Morticia Frump.

You sidled back into the bench next to Larissa, handing her the chips you bought her along with her burger. You had bought her her usual order and yourself some chips. Larissa’s chips were adorned with tomato sauce in the corner whilst yours had vinegar slathered all over them.

Reaching out to grab a chip, you realised that you forgot to get Morticia anything. Eyes widening at your brief amnesia, you shot her a sheepish look across the table, hoping that she wasn’t too offended.

Morticia sat with a scowl, arms folded across her chest as she stared at the two of you. Larissa smirked back at her, waving her burger around; the silent message was clear. You had bought Larissa food and not Morticia.

It wasn’t until you began eating before you realised that Morticia didn’t have anything to eat. Was she expecting you to buy her something? Shrugging your shoulders you figured that she just wasn’t hungry.

Turning to Larissa, you asked her a question. “What are we going to do first, Rissa?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, mouth still full of food. Deciding to tease you slightly, she chewed on for a while, pretending to be deep in thought; causing you to stare eagerly with those doe eyes she loved dearly. “ I think that we should go to the darts stall. I would be honoured to win you a teddy.”

Your squeal of excitement broke through the crisp night air, scaring the previously resting birds causing them to chirp restlessly at the disturbance. Smiling up sheepishly at them, you shouted a quick apology before throwing yourself into Larissa. “Please, Larissa! Please win me a teddy!! I will love you for all eternity, I love teddies!”

Shooting a dazzling smile your way as you hung on her arm, chest pressed flush against her body, she sneered at Morticia across the table. You wanted HER to win you a teddy, not Morticia.

Not one to lose a challenge so quickly, Morticia rose, drawing your attention. “Well,” she started, seething because you were still holding onto Larissa. “Shall we make our way to the darts stand? I’m sure I could win you a larger teddy than Larissa.”

“We will see, Ms Addams.”

Tensing slightly at the tension between the two, you pulled on Larissa's arm- directing her over to the darts stand. A few games in Larissa won you a medium dragon teddy. It was black with iridescent purple scales and big bulging eyes. You loved it dearly, holding it to your chest as you watched Morticia play.

You both watched Morticia intensely as she threw each dart. Each of them hitting the bullseye. Larissa’s smile fell as she watched the games handler grab a giant panda to give to Morticia; her prize now feeling insufficient.

Morticia smiled triumphantly, outdoing Larissa was her favourite way to pass time. Handing you the panda, she shot a smug look at Larissa and her downcast eyes.

You grabbed the bear off Morticia and gave her a small smile, too engrossed in the dragon Larissa won you to care about the oversized panda.

Morticia waltzed off, claiming that she wants to go on the ferris wheel next. You turned around to look at Larissa, the oversized panda dangling dangerously close to the floor while you clutched your dragon. Larissa’s eyes were hung low, a wounded expression singed on her face.

“Rissa? What’s wrong?” You asked.

“It’s silly really. No need to worry, sweetheart.” She touched your chin slightly, angling it up so she could smile down at you.

Your heart pounded in your chest at the pet name she gave you. Beaming up at her, you reached for her arm, tugging her lightly towards the ferris wheel. She would tell you what was bothering her when she was ready.

You and Larissa arrived at the ferris wheel to greet an angry Morticia, apparently displeased at your refusal to trail after her like a lovesick puppy. Her eyes flicked to your panda trailing across the floor, eyes narrowing at you clutching Larissa’s teddy to your chest.

Huffing slightly, she motioned for you and Larissa to get on the cart. Larissa sat down first, patting the seat next to her, motioning for you to sit next to her. Plopping down next to her, you shuffled as close as you could; holding your dragon on your lap, placing the panda between you and Morticia- much to her displeasure.

Carnival lights glistened peacefully as the whirring of the ferris wheel drowned out the laughs of joy from below. Larissa’s breath was coming out in slow puffs, visible due to the cold chill of the night air. She was far more beautiful than any other woman. The prettiest to ever exist.

The top of the ferris wheel was far higher than you were expecting, triggering your fear of heights. Sensing an oncoming panic attack, you grabbed hold of Larissa’s hand as you were in desperate need of grounding. Noticing your inner turmoil, Larissa rubbed soothing circles over your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

With Larissa help you calmed down. Desperately wishing that the ferris wheel would end shortly, you closed your eyes and rested your head on Larissa’s shoulder; still grasping her hand dearly, unable to let go of the comfort she provides.

The ride ended not long later and you got off with wobbly legs and tear stained cheeks, still clutching Larissa’s hand. Morticia watched you with a mix of rage and jealousy. Why hadn’t her plan worked? Not one to back down so easily, she sauntered up to you, offering you a ride home in her car.

Politely, you declined. Stating that Larissa had already offered. You watched as Morticia’s level headed facade began to crack, her face twisting in anger as she finally accepted that her plan had failed. Swiftly turning on her heel, she stomped out of the fair without even saying goodbye.

You turned to Larissa confused as she smiled down at you. Why had Morticia reacted that way? Shrugging your shoulders, you let Larissa tug you towards her car- you were in desperate need of a break from all the walking.

Sitting down in the leather seats of Larissa’s car, you placed your dragon in your lap and the panda by your feet. Shooting a smile at Larissa, you placed your seatbelt on and turned towards the window. The full vibrations and the quiet whispering ls of the radio lulling you into a deep slumber.

Pale wisps of sunlight filtered through the closed curtains, arousing you from your slumber. The familiar scent of Larissa filled your senses as you suddenly became aware of the weight on your stomach. Slithers of silver, platinum blonde hair fanned around your face, perfectly manicured nails spread over your stomach, and a warm body pressed up against your back.

Turning around, you were greeted with Larissa beautiful face; mouth open and eyes closed, mumbling about something in her sleep. Giggling softly, you leant closer into to her and inhaled her scent. Not wanting to wake her up, you reached for your phone, took a picture of the both of you, and waited for her to wake.

You could feel the moment she woke since her grip tightened as she became aware of her surroundings. Raising your head off of her chest, you greeted her with a blinding smile, to which she returned.

The velvety hues of her groggy voice filled the air as she spoke to you. “ You stayed?” She questioned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Of course I stayed. Why wouldn’t I?”

“ I figured you would be disgusted sharing a bed with me.” She admitted.

“Of course I wouldn’t, Rissa. Only a fool would be disgusted at sharing a bed with you.” You replied with earnest.

“Is that so?” She hummed. “And why is that?”

“Because, you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world. You radiate grace and elegance. And I find myself utterly enraptured with you.”

“You do?” She asked, her face contorted in confusion. “Why on earth would somebody be enraptured with me?”

“Because I love you, Larissa. I have always loved you. I wake up and you’re the first thing on my mind. I sleep and all I dream about is you. You’re the highlight of my life and I could never live without you.”

“Well then. It’s a good job I find myself utterly and hopeless in love with you too, isn’t it?”

A/NII: Can’t wait for the Christmas holidays so I don’t have to do anything for two weeks.

#wednesday #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa x you #larissa weems x you #gwendoline christie

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