#throughout the night i had to remind myself that i was in bed to sleep

[readwritealldayallnight]

im on my knees begging for jealous Simon headcanons 🧎🏻‍♀️

The thing about Simon is, he really has no reason to get jealous when it comes to you, and he knows it

He knows there isn’t anyone else who could make you smile so much your cheeks hurt, no one else who could make you laugh until you claim you’re going to pee your pants, no one else who could make you feel as good as he does, in oh so many ways, because you tell him so

You tell him that those same feelings of being loved, understood, appreciated, and wanted, those very feelings that you make him feel each and every day, he gives them back to you a thousand times over

He knows when you look in his eyes and tell him that you love him, that there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he is the only one for you, and nothing or anyone could ever change that

You’re as smitten with him as he is with you

Still though, Simon does have eyes

And while the logical part of his brain is telling him that he’s got no reason to be gritting his teeth and clenching his fists underneath the table, he can’t help but grow more and more frustrated with the way Soap and Gaz continue to flirt shamelessly with you

To be fair, you had warned him that keeping your relationship a complete secret from everyone would likely result is moments where Simon would have to watch you get hit on, and simply have to grin and bear it

That didn’t mean it was any easier, watching his only best mates try and work their charm on you, all while he sits at the same table and watches you roll your eyes at their advances

“Aw, come on love, just one chance, s’all I ask for!” The handsome, young sergeant practically whines to you, cheeky grin plastered across his features as he tries in vain to convince you to let him take you out some time

“Pfft, ye’d be nothin’ but a waste o’ her time, Garrick. We wouldn’t even ‘ave to to leave base for me to show ye a good time, bonnie.” The Scotsman winks at you, pointedly ignoring the way Gaz elbows him in the ribs at his comment

Throughout the entire exchange, Ghost’s gaze has never left your face, watching every time you scoff and roll your eyes at the men’s antics, reminding himself that you’re his, and he is yours, and the two sergeants are nothing more than pains in both of your asses

Finished with your pitiful meal from the dining hall, you stand from the table with your tray gathered in your hands, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you look towards the men trying to win your affection

“Once again, gentleman,” you say to them, knowing that they’re listening to your every word and watching your every move. “I don’t fraternize with colleagues. At least not the Sergeants.”

The two men groan in feeble protest at the mention of their ranks, having heard this reasoning from you before

“Ach, what if I get myself demoted, lass? I ken I could do that, easy!” Soap teases you, only kind of joking

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll work.” You reply, beginning to slowly walk away from the group, but not before glancing over you shoulder to lock eyes with Ghost and add, “You might have to become a Lieutenant. Those are more my type.”

The two Sergeants are staring after you, slightly gobsmacked, while their Lieutenant hides an overly smug and satisfied grin beneath his mask, shielding the pride that spread through him at your words

“Shite, sounds like you might ‘ave a chance, LT.” Soap laughs, smacking Ghost across the shoulder in a playful gesture, thinking that the larger man would never actually pursue you, let alone sleep in your bed almost every night

It’s a few weeks later when you and the rest of the 141 are all out for drinks at a nearby pub however, when Simon finds his instincts growing stronger than his insecurities

Because that’s just it isn’t it? He’s not feeling insecure when he sees you walk towards the bar by yourself to order a new drink, at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you weave through the crowd in hopes of making a move on you

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches some tipsy idiot try and pretend he’s drunker than he really he is when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you, apparently feeling the need to put his hands on you as he apologizes

He’s not feeling insecure when he watches you shove the guy off, reading your lips he knows so well as you tell the guy you’re not interested, nor is he insecure when he knows the idiot won’t give up that easily, likely asking if you’re here alone before you point over to where the 141 have overtaken a booth in the back

No, he certainly isn’t feeling insecure when he sees that the man never bothers glancing back to the table, still trying to land a hand on your body somewhere, when Simon’s instincts take over, rising from his seat without a word to the men who glance his way and ask where he’s going suddenly

He’s acting on pure instinct as he stalks over to you, the crowd parting for his large frame to move by without hesitation, locking eyes with you just as he lands a massive skull gloved hand on the tosser’s shoulder, wringing him around to face him

Your would be admirer isn’t feeling so confident now when he’s staring up at a 6’4” wall of muscle donned in all black apart from the white markings of his skull balaclava

If he were a more jealous man, Simon might take more time to admire the way you can practically hear this idiot gulp over the loud sounds of the music, the way his eyes bulge out of his head and how he looks nearly ready to piss himself on the spot

But your man knows who he is to you, and so instead he shoves the geezer away, turning to face you as one hand lifts up the bottom of his balaclava, just far enough to swoop down and meet your lips in a passionate tangle of tongue and teeth, tasting the alcohol on each other’s breath and the desire in your systems, a kiss that says to everyone else watching, including the bewildered Captain and Sergeants gawking from across the room, that you are his and his alone

[charmercharm3r]

Now go to sleep

BC

Masterlist

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, bf!chan, piv, fingering, idk witty banter cus he's such a cute meanie like that, idk he's been so teasing on bubble lately I couldn't help myself so ..here..

☆ﾟ

"I'm tired, I'm not going to argue about this."

"I'm tired too, but I can be tired and still care about our relationship!"

Chan had gotten home a half hour ago and was barely stripping his outside clothes, head caught in his shirt when the words left your mouth. He could be menacing when he wanted to be.

Take now, for example. He'd finally wrangled himself out of the material and hadn't even slipped it off his arms when he turned his body to stop and stare at you like you'd just said you committed armed robbery. Brows slightly furrowed, lips pouting at you, Chan had the "fuck around and find out" look down to a T.

"Don't go there." Tone of voice, too. Menacing.

"Don't make me."

But there was the attitude right back. He deserved it for ignoring you the past week, you'd been so understanding until now. You'd reminded him every week for a month until this past Saturday the day he specifically took off so that you could have one date night. Just one. It was the only thing you've asked for since your birthday. And he still forgot.

Forgot or prioritized something else- probably work related- you didn't know or care.

"You promised," your voice shook slightly.

"So did you. You promised you'd understand."

"I've been understanding. You've been ignoring. Me."

The annoyed brow ruffle softened as did the rest of his face when the tears started to well up in your eyes. You didn't wanna cry in front of him, it was the last thing you wanted to add onto his already heavy weighted shoulders, but you couldn't help it. "It's not just your life.

"We sleep in the same bed. We share the same bathroom. You use my shampoo and I steal your hoodies. Sometimes you take my socks from the drawer and it makes you a minute late 'cus you have to make the trip back to the bedroom. Sometimes I accidentally grab your towel after a shower because it's steamy in the bathroom and I can't see, then you shower after me and get confused and use my towel instead. It's probably my fault, but it's not just your life."

Chan dropped his shirt to the floor, annoyance being replaced with guilt. He had been ignoring you, but not purposefully. He knew about date night and let his boss, his colleagues, everyone get in his head that the only way to prove himself and his capabilities was to work himself to death. Death by heartbreak because the sadness that radiated off of you was so painful he was sure that that was exactly what was happening to him.

He took the few steps to stand in front of you and reach out to cup your cheeks, thumb catching the slowly rolling tear. "Your towel is softer, anyways."

You hated how easily he could make things better, laughing and sniffling as you leaned your head into his palms. "I wash our towels together, that doesn't even make sense."

Kisses were smothering your face in the next moment, warmth making the tears fizzle from behind your waterline to be replaced by the need to grab him, hold onto him and never let go. You melted in his arms so quickly, there was no evidence that you'd been crying in the first place.

And when he kissed your lips, you forgot why you were sad in the first place. For a second, at least. The lingering hurt was still there, not as potent, but definitely still there.

"I like using your towel because it's yours," he murmured into your mouth, hands wandering down to press your body against his shirtless one. "Your shampoo smells better than mine. Still smell it throughout the day and think of you." Guided back onto the bed, he covered you entirely to shield you away.

Kisses on both cheeks. "Your socks are cute." Kisses down your neck. "I know they're yours because of the colorful designs." Kisses to your palms and finger tips. Down your body and stealing your top away to plant more across the expanse of your belly until your body started to overheat. "I take them on purpose."

"Then you grumble at me when you're late on purpose, too?" You were teasing back, if the smile you wore was anything to go by.

"Yeah, to get you to kiss me before I leave. You forget if I don't."

"Why don't you just ask me, then?"

"It tastes a little sweeter when you think you came up with the idea on your own." Chan smirked back up at you before venturing further to rid you of your bottoms so that you were left bare before him.

You would never admit it to him, but you forgave him as soon as his shirt came off. You just like when he works for your forgiveness, it reminds you that he does still truly care.

"You're still wearing pants," you breathed heavily when he spread your legs so he could slot between them, the rough denim brushing your aching core.

"Mhm," he mumbled back.

"Take them off."

Chan stopped his kissing rampage and pulled back with that fucking look that made you want to slap him silly. "Why should I?"

It was your turn to be annoyed. "Because I'm trying to fuck my boyfriend."

"Vulgar," he teased, placing a cheeky peck to the tip of your nose. "How badly do you want it?"

Tender touches roamed your thighs and love handles, getting you into a position on your back you knew rather well with him as your partner in it. "Not want, need."

Chan chuckled against your skin, burning like hot coal in the path he took further south, past your cunt and down your legs to pepper kisses around your calves and ankles as he sat up, taking your limbs with him. He maneuvered you to hang your legs over his shoulders so he looked down at you. "Is that really all it took, baby?"

"You haven't done anything yet. I'm still upset."

He bit his lip and raked his eyes up and down your body. "I see how it is."

Cryptic as always, he never gave away more than necessary.

But his body language is impossible to misread. Through his jeans, you could see the tent in his pants that you knew was probably painfully rubbing against the harsh material. He wanted it as badly as you did, but didn't want to be the first one to cave.

Before he could move again, you locked your ankles around his neck and tugged him down, "you were being so nice to me, what happened?"

"Make a little more noise for me, baby."

His hands had snuck their way to your core, fingers running through your folds before you had processed his words. You were doing exactly as he asked, not by choice. He provoked the noises out of you with precise, practiced moves against your clit, practically stringing them out of you like another one of his musical instruments.

"Please," you whined, threading your fingers in his hair hoping he'd cave.

Chan laughed again, "I don't think so. Not loud enough."

Prodding against your hole made another whimper crack through your restraint. You weighed your options and both would lead to an orgasm, you were sure. But you didn't know which route you wanted take more- letting him talk you down into submission or teasing him back until he fucked you into it.

Then his fingers broke the surface, plunging into you slow but deeply. The stretch was already proving to be more than you could handle, head falling back into the mattress and letting chants of his name fill the room. Chan loved it, drooling over how easily he got you under his reign.

"Baby, please. Wan' it," you grabbed his hand to halt his ministrations. Chan laughed at your sudden flip in attitude.

"Fine," he feigned compliance, knowing he would give you anything you asked for if you kept looking at him like he held your world in his hands.

He did, but he doesn't need to know that just yet.

Chan unzipped his pants and shoved them down his hips along with his boxers, just enough to let his cock spring free. Clearly, he was barely containing himself seeing as leaking precum made his tip glisten.

"Here," he presented himself like a present, not moving. Chan simply waited for you to take what you wanted. When you did, he smiled, proudly this time.

You used the leverage on his shoulders to scoot down the bed and reached between your bodies to let him slip past your entrance. Oh, he fit like a perfectly tailored glove, every time.

He let you use him, only providing some stabilization as you fucked yourself back and forth, up and down, any which way you could to reach the high you so desperately needed from him. Until you couldn't anymore. All you had to do was stop, let out a huff, and look up at him with those fucking eyes, and Chan folded.

Literally folded, hunching over you and cooing, "okay, okay. I'll do all the work. Only because you look so cute when you try to fuck me."

He didn't need to go very fast, just the right angle to press your sweet spot like a button. The wet, pornographic sounds of your bodies pulling apart and colliding, with his name falling from your lips and his noises of pure pleasure, it wasn't very long until the both of you were arching into one another and letting the euphoric waves crash onto shore.

Chan slumped onto you, bodies tired and feeling entirely too cuddly to clean up any more. Doing the bare minimum and kicking off his pants while not even bothering to pull out, he laid his head into the crook of your neck and smothered you entirely.

"Date night. This weekend." You grumbled into his hair, getting comfortable.

"Whatever you want. Now go to sleep," Chan nuzzled his nose into your skin, letting your warmth take over his senses.

Draping your arms over his shoulders and holding him close with a kiss on the top of his head, you mumbled back, "don't tell me what to do."

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut @straykids5star

[livingdreams97]

Jackie Taylor -- "Our Destiny" (Part 2)

Jackie Taylor x Male reader/oc

Summary: What happens when a plane crashes in the middle of the Canadian Wilderness full of teenagers? How something as traumatic as that can affect the people and and how they find comfort in each other.

Words: 7.277

PREVIOUS

Masterlist

________2021________

Your POV

I wake up disoriented, feeling the cold invade my body and a great pain going throughout my body as if I had slept on the floor. I grunt in pain, shifting in place and trying to get into a better position.

I move my hand around without opening my eyes, trying to find the blanket and cover myself again, as I feel like I'm freezing.

Not finding the blanket anywhere, I open my eyes with some difficulty due to fatigue and the bright light. So I close my eyes again and curl up into a ball to warm up. Once my body starts to warm up, I feel sleep invade my mind once again and I fall asleep.

When I wake up again, it´s to the feeling of hands caressing my back and moving along my right side.

Jackie: Good morning.- she whispers against my ear lovingly, leaving a kiss on the spot and tracing the healed scars with her fingers.

Y/n: Good morning.- I murmur without opening my eyes and enjoying the caresses on my side, stomach and back.

Jackie: You're freezing.- she murmurs against my shoulder, pressing her body against my back and molding herself to mine completely.

Y/n: Yeah, well, it turns out someone loves to hog the duvet and blankets at night, and then there's no way to cover myself with them in the morning.- I reproach her, amused, feeling her bite my shoulder in response. -Ouch, savage.- I complain, trying to separate myself from her, but she clings to my back like a koala.

Jackie: Now I'm a savage? So when I bite you while we're fucking, then I'm not a savage anymore or what? - she asks me amused with a certain lust in her voice.

Y/n: On both occasions you are a savage.- I assure her, turning around and facing her. -But at no time have I said that I don't like it.- I tell her with a smile, moving my eyebrows suggestively.

Jackie: Idiot.- She laughs, hitting my shoulder and I hug her around the waist to hold her flush against my body.

Y/n: If I'm an idiot, then what are you when you married one? - I ask her amused, hiding my face in her neck and starting to leave small, affectionate kisses.

Jackie: I don't know and I don't want to think about it.- she answers me caressing my back and leaving a kiss on my head. -But we have to get up, you have to make breakfast and I have to wake up the gremlins.- she reminds me starting to caress my hair.

Y/n: Yeah, if you think I'm going to get out of bed and let you go if you keep caressing my head, you have it difficult.- I assure her, snuggling up against the warmth of her neck and closing my eyes.

Jackie: Come on, the kids have to go to school and we have to go to work.- she tells me leaving another kiss on my head and trying to get away from me.

Y/n: Noooo.- I complain, keeping my grip on her waist and pulling her towards me, while she keeps trying to escape from my grip. -5 more minutes.- I beg, fighting with her so she doesn't get up.

Jackie: I let you sleep 5 more minutes earlier.- she says pinching my hand and causing me to let her go. -I did it, i´m free!- she celebrates standing at the foot of the bed with her arms in the air.

I just frown, giving her a dirty look and crossing my arms as I watch her celebrate. The way her whole face lights up with happiness, how her natural waves bounce in her now dark brown hair and how her eyes squint at the smile on her face.

Even at 42, there are times when I look at her and see the same 17-year-old Jax running around the soccer field with a smile on her face.

The accident 25 years ago may have been the worst experience we have ever been through, but that doesn't take away the fact that the experience brought me closer to the person I love most in this world, and with whom I have formed a truly happy family.

A family based on love, affection, honesty, quality time and parental presence. Not like the families we grew up in, where love and the lack of parents was bought with objects, and where criticism filled the whole house constantly.

We have created a family and a home that we both should have had when we were children and in which to grow free. A home where our children live happily and we feel complete by being together.

Jackie: Move and stop looking at me like that.- she tells me throwing a pillow at my face and leaving the room.

I can only smile in response, getting out of bed and walking to my closet to get ready for the day.

Once dressed and shaved, I begin preparing the pancakes with chocolate chips and blueberries, along with the bowl of fruit and orange juice. While the coffee is brewing, I head out of the house to the mailbox and pick up today's mail.

I leave the mail on the kitchen island, grab my cup of coffee from the machine and start preparing my wife's just the way she likes it.

I place the breakfast plates in their usual places on the island and begin checking my email while I wait for the rush of footsteps down the stairs that every morning brings.

I'm looking through the bank letters, advertisements, and an envelope from the high school about the 25th anniversary reunion, when an envelope with no return address catches my eye. I open it while taking a sip of coffee and see that it's a postcard.

The postcard shows a mountain range, with a lake in the middle of a forest and snowy mountains in the background. On the right side, at the bottom, you can clearly see a message: Wish you were here! and when I turn it over, I choke on my coffee at the sight of the symbol.

The damn symbol that was everywhere in the woods, in the cabin, and everywhere you looked closely.

I react quickly when I hear the stampede downstairs, folding the postcard and stuffing it into the pocket of my black suit pants.

Tomas: Good morning dad.- he greets me jumping on me with a smile just like his mother's.

Y/n: Good morning gremlin, how did you sleep? - I asked him leaving a loud kiss on his forehead and sitting him on his stool.

Tomas: Very well, I dreamed that a dragon appeared and burned down the school. - he tells me with excitement and with his eyes wide open with the imagination of an 8-year-old child.

Alice: And his homework is doing sums and coloring.- she growls, sitting on her stool and starting to eat her breakfast.

Jackie: As if you were doing your homework. - she reproaches our 15-year-old teenage daughter with amusement.

Emma: I like school. - the middle child of the family shrugs her shoulders with a big smile.

Y/n: That's my princess.- I support her with a smile and high five her.

Tomas: I like school too, because I can play with my friends and learn cool things.- he tells us happily with his mouth full.

Jackie: You don´t talk with a full mouth, honey.- she corrects him with a smile, wiping his mouth with a napkin and leaving a kiss on the top of his head.

Alice: You'll tell me if you still like going to class when you go to high school.- she says to her 12 year old sister with an amused smile.

Y/n: Don't be mean to your sister and don't try to scare her.- I shake my head at my oldest daughter, drinking my coffee and trying to hide the smile on my face at the faces of the 2 youngest.

Tomas: I´m not going to like high school?- he asks us all, a little scared.

Jackie: Don't pay attention to your sister, it's just that the boy she likes doesn't pay attention to her and that's why she has such a sour mood. - she reassures him with a wink, earning a laugh from him and a complaint from the teenager.

Y/n: What boy? - I ask my daughter, confused and serious, when I have processed my wife's words.

Alice: None.- she growls in response, biting the piece of fruit somewhat aggressively.

Jackie: Don´t deny it, there's a boy in her math class that she likes and he doesn't pay attention to her.- my wife tells me with a huge smile. - His name is Axel? I don't know, but apparently he's in the debate club and he's a basketball player.- she says with a voice full of emotion.

Sometimes I forget how much my wife loves and enjoys other people's gossip. But she especially likes it when it's about our teenage daughter. It's like she goes back to that age again.

Alice: Alex mom and no, I don't like him. - she corrects her mother with a serious gesture.

Y/n: You better, because you're not going to have a boyfriend until you're 30, and that's me being nice.- I shook my head seriously.

Jackie: Aren't you being a little bit exaggerated? - she asks me, standing next to me and hugging my waist with one of her arms.

Y/n: No, my children will not know what a broken heart is until they are emancipated.- I deny seriously, making my teenage daughter and my wife laugh at me. -Now we are all finishing up because you guys have to go to class.- I hurry them a little and start to collect their plates.

Jackie: And remember that today I will pick you all up after school. - she reminds our children when they go up to brush their teeth and get their backpacks.

Within ten minutes, I've kissed Jax goodbye and am driving off with my three kids in it. My first stop is the high school where Alice has class and debate club, and then I have to drop Emma and Tomas off at their school.

Jackie´s POV

I turn off the car once I'm parked in the driveway and can't help but frown at the presence of a woman on my porch. I stare at her for a few seconds, before turning my gaze to the back seats and seeing my two youngest children laughing.

Jackie: Go inside with your siblings and do your homework.- I order my teenage daughter.

Alice: Why? What's wrong? - she asks me confused, taking off her belt and picking up her bag from between her legs.

Jackie: I don't know, but I don't know who that woman and considering that it´s the anniversary of the accident, I don't want to take any risks. - I explain sincerely and she nods in understanding.

Alice: Okay.- she nods and gets out of the car as I do and helps me get her youngest siblings out of the back. -Come on kids, the sooner we finish our homework the sooner we can play in the garden.- she tells them excitedly and they run towards the door.

I walk quickly to the porch, opening the door for my children and closing it once they are inside. I look at the woman who is leaning against the porch railing in total comfort, observing her closely and crossing my arms in defense.

Jackie: Who are you and what are you doing in my house? - I asked the stranger directly and without wanting to prolong the subject.

Jessica: My name is Jessica Roberts, I work as a journalist for the Star-Ledger and I wanted to talk to you and your husband about a juicy deal.- she answers me with a fake smile.

Jackie: How the hell did you get our address? - I asked aggressively, taking a couple of steps towards her and trying to maintain my composure.

Jessica: I have my sources.- she answers, still smiling. -I just want to talk about the proposal I want to offer you.- she repeats, moving away from the railing.

Jackie: What proposal? - I asked wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible and get her out of my property as soon as possible.

Jessica: I'd rather wait for Y/n to talk about the proposal.- she tells me without ever stopping her smile and that makes me want to slap it away.

Jackie: And I'm telling you to tell me now.- I demand, raising an eyebrow. -Because if you don't get off my property in the next 5 minutes, I'll call the police for trespassing and i can assure you that you will spend the night in a cell.- I assure her with an evil smile.

Jessica: Star-Ledger wants to make a deal to publish a book about what happened 25 years ago. - she answers, removing the smile from her face and with a more serious tone.

Jackie: Everyone knows what happened 25 years ago, it came out in the press conference that was held and it is not a secret. - I remember her tensing my jaw and trying to remain calm.

Jessica: Yes, but is that what really happened? - she asks now, crossing her arms. -Because we both know there's more to it than what was said. - she clarifies with a certain knowing tone, as if she knew something about what really happened.

Jackie: What really happened? - I asked sarcastically. -What happened was that one of the happiest moments of our lives turned into a hell in which many people lost their lives. Either because of the accident or because of the bad conditions in which we lived for 19 months. That's what really happened, and I'm going to ask you to get off my property right now.- I say with my arms at my sides and standing up as much as possible to look taller.

Jessica: You could earn more than seven figures just by telling your story, the reality of what happened and not letting other people benefit from your misfortune. - she insists with some desperation.

Jackie: Do you know how much my husband and I make in a year?- I ask her with a smirk. -Your offer is only 15% of our earnings, so if you really are a journalist and you think that is a juicy offer, I think you should do a better job.- I say walking towards the front door. -So get the hell out of my house right now and never come back again.- I end the conversation and enter the house, closing the door behind me.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and get my hands to stop shaking from the adrenaline.

Once I've calmed down, I walk to my office on the first floor and leave my briefcase on the table. I take my cell phone out of my jacket pocket, texting my husband and asking him to come home as soon as possible.

With the message sent, I walk to the living room where my children are doing their homework and sit down among the little ones on the floor.

We didn't spend much time on their homework, as they didn't have much to do and it didn't have much difficulty with the grade they are both in. So once they had their middle of the evening snack, the four of us went out to the back garden and played soccer for a while.

When I hear the garden gate open, I see Y/n still dressed in his black suit pants and a dark green shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

I stare at him in rapture for a few moments, appreciating the way his clothes hug his body in the perfect places and how the colors of the clothes make his skin tone and eyes pop even more.

Jackie: Keep playing, dad and I are going to start preparing dinner.- I say to the three of them, leaving a kiss on the top of Tomas head and walking towards where my husband is.

When I reach where he is, I hug him by the shoulders and stand on my tiptoes to give him a welcome kiss. A kiss that lasts longer than I was planning, as he hugs me by the waist and holds me close to his body so I can't move away.

Y/n: Is everything okay? - he asks me in a low voice when we separate from the kiss and I can see his worried expression.

Jackie: Let's go to the kitchen so we can talk while we prepare dinner.- I ask him, leaving another kiss on his lips and grabbing his hand to pull him along.

Y/n: But is everything okay? Are the kids okay? Are you...- he starts asking non stop and I interrupt him with a look.

Jackie: Wait until we get to the kitchen and then I'll tell you.- I order him without stopping walking and pulling him with me.

Once in the kitchen, I take out the ingredients for the pasta and place them on the counter. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to gather my thoughts and think of the best way to tell him what happened.

I can feel his curious and somewhat worried gaze on me, making me more nervous than I already am.

Jackie: Stop looking at me, I can't focus.- I beg, a little frustrated at not knowing how to start the conversation.

Y/n: What are you thinking for dinner? - he asks me, leaving a kiss on my head and checking the ingredients.

Jackie: I was thinking of making carbonara and some roasted vegetables to go with it. - I explain to him and he immediately starts taking out the things we needs to cook it.

Y/n: I'll start with the pasta and you with the vegetables? - he asks me and I nod in response.

We both start cooking in complete silence, moving around the kitchen in total synchrony and naturalness. After a few minutes of cooking, I feel more relaxed and while I am chopping the carrots I decide to start the conversation.

Jackie: When I got home with the kids, there was a woman on the porch waiting for me, and it turned out she was a journalist.- I begin to tell him, listening to the sound of the frying pan stop. -She wanted to talk to both of us and offer to write a book.- I explain with a grimace.

Y/n: A book? - he asks confused and I hear the sound of the frying pan again.

Jackie: A book in which we tell what really happened 25 years ago. - I answer, swallowing hard and listening a frustrated sigh behind me.

Y/n: I can't believe it.- he denies with her voice full of annoyance. -Every year it's the same, there's always someone lurking around trying to dig into what happened. Why can't they leave the past behind and let us live in peace.- he complains with anger and I sigh tired with the situation.

Every year some journalist or news article appears questioning the version that was published when we were rescued. Every year it is the same, hundreds of conspiracies and stories about what really happened come to light again. Some of them are very close to the truth that we all, absolutely all of us agree to deny and hide at all costs.

Jackie: I know, but like you said, it's nothing out of the ordinary and as soon as they appear, they disappear. But I had to tell you because this time I didn't feel the same way, she was more insistent and it seemed like she actually knew something. - I tell him with some uncertainty, not knowing very well if the journalist was bluffing or if she really knew something.

Y/n: Maybe this time it will be different.- he comments with a sigh, leaving the kitchen and leaving me confused rooted in my place.

Jackie: Where are you going? - I ask without understanding why he is leaving and where he is going.

I look confused at the hallway where my husband has disappeared, trying to process what just happened and why he left. I try to think of something, but my husband comes back into the kitchen and leaves something in front of me.

I look at what he has placed in front of me, seeing that it is a postcard with a beautiful landscape on it and a simple phrase.

Jackie: What is this? - I asked confused, looking between the postcard and my husband.

Y/n: Turn it around.- he orders me in a soft but somewhat heavy tone.

I do as I'm told and as soon as I see what's on the back, I drop the postcard immediately like it burns. I take a few steps back, hearing my heart racing in my ears and feeling my mouth go dry.

Jackie: Like... I don't... I don't... - I try to say something, but it's like my mind and mouth have lost all communication.

Y/n: It arrived this morning.- I listen to what he says and look at him in astonishment. -I haven't told you anything because I thought it would be a joke and that I shouldn't give it any importance. But the presence of that journalist makes me doubt if it's a coincidence or something premeditated.- he explains to me with some insecurity, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a few seconds.

Jackie: So what... what are we supposed to do? - I asked with a little difficulty, trying to keep my focus on the conversation and not on the symbol on the postcard.

Y/n: I don't know.- he denies, defeated, resting both hands on the kitchen island. -Maybe our best option is to ignore it for the moment and wait to see if something else happens.- he says with a doubtful tone that makes it more of a question than a statement.

Jackie: So we ignore it all? - I ask to make sure.

Y/n: Yes.- he nods, letting out a long sigh. -Unless you think there's something else we can or should do?- he asks me with some curiosity.

Jackie: No.- I deny through my teeth, feeling the tremble in my lower lip and an annoying itch in my eyes.

Y/n: Hey, everything's going to be okay.- he assures me, running towards me and wrapping me in his arms. -Nothing bad is going to happen.- he tries to reassure me, placing my head on his chest and gently stroking my hair.

Jackie: What if something bad happens? - I ask with a broken voice, with my hands on his back and my fists clenched around his shirt.

Y/n: As long as I'm around, nothing bad will happen to you or the kids. I promise.- he whispers with conviction against the top of my head, continuing to comfort me and letting me cry against his chest.

We spend a while wrapped in each other's arms, until I feel like I'm no longer crying and that I feel a little calmer.

Once I move away from his chest a little, he immediately grabs my face and gently wipes away all traces of tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. I just stare into his gorgeous green eyes, which are filled with worry and something more intense.

Y/n: Do you want a glass of wine? - he asks me with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood and cheer me up a little.

Jackie: More like the whole bottle.- I reply with a pout, causing him to laugh, and in the end I join him.

Y/n: A bottle of wine is coming to the most impressive woman in the world!- he exclaims with humor, leaving a kiss on my forehead and walking towards the wine rack. -Red, white, rose, sparkling?- he asks, moving his fingers between the bottles.

Jackie: White.- I respond amused, watching how he moves and feeling more relaxed with his movements.

Once we have a meal in hand and a lighter mood, we go back to preparing dinner. I just hope that Y/n is right and that doing nothing is the most appropriate thing for this situation.

I just hope it's a coincidence and there's nothing premeditated or organized behind this.

I look up from the color palette, when I hear the doorbell ring and I frown looking towards where the front door is. Somewhat doubtful, I sit on the stool and think about who could be knocking on the door.

But I don't have anyone I know in mind or any reason why someone would knock on my door on a Sunday morning.

The doorbell rings again, so with a sigh I get up from the stool and walk calmly to the door. I open the door and the polite smile on my face immediately disappears.

Jackie: What the hell are you doing here? - I ask through clenched teeth, looking behind the people and making sure there's no one else around.

Taissa: We need to talk to you and since you're not answering the phone, we've been forced to come. - she answers, crossing her arms and walking past me to enter my house.

Jackie: No, no, no.- I deny trying to grab Tai and prevent the others from entering the house behind her. -You can't come in.- I growl annoyed.

Natalie: This concerns you too.- she assures me, looking at the photos on the walls. -Where's Y/n?- she asks, turning around and looking at me.

Jackie: Out.- I answer simply, frustrated with the presence of the three women and closing the door.

Taissa: When will he come back? - she asks me a little worried.

Jackie: I don't know.- I answer, passing by the three of them and walking back to the kitchen.

Taissa: And could you call him to ask him to come as soon as possible? - she asks me walking behind me.

Jackie: No.- I answer as if it were obvious.

Natalie: What do you mean no? - she asks with a hint of aggression in her voice. -We have to tell you something important, something related to that and it's urgent.- she assures me, referring to our accident.

Jackie: That's in the past and right now my husband is busy with our present and future. So no, I'm not going to call him and ask him to come over immediately. - I explain with finality, knowing that I'm not going to call him and force him to leave our son's soccer game.

Shauna: You're still just as selfish. - she tells me evilly, speaking for the first time since I've seen her and causing me to clench my jaw in anger.

Jackie: You, you're the one calling me selfish? - I asked in a sarcastic and somewhat poisonous tone. -The one person who, after fucking my ex-boyfriend and getting pregnant by him while she was still with me, made ME look like the bad guy. - I reproached her, still upset and hurt by what she did to me.

Shauna: And yet after all this time everything still revolves around YOU.- she reproaches me with pure venom in her voice.

Jackie: You're in my house, you've entered uninvited and you're demanding things from me when I haven't seen you in over 20 years.- I remind to two of three. -But I'm the selfish one for refusing to do something, when you two haven't even asked me how I am or explained the reason why you've invaded my home.- I comment, pointing at the three of them with obvious frustration.

Shauna: Because you've blocked us from everywhere and this is the only solution we've found. - She gestures around her with both arms. - So don't blame us for being here, when this could have been avoided with a phone call and that's it. - She spits in my face through her teeth.

Jackie: And you're surprised that I blocked you? - I asked her surprised. - You're surprised that after almost freezing to death because of you, I didn't want to know anything about you and I made sure of that? - I asked her with some sarcasm and disbelief at her attitude.

Shauna: It wasn't my fault! - she exclaims in denial. -I didn't force you to leave, I didn't put a knife to your neck to get you to leave the cabin and you know that perfectly well.- she claims pointing at me with her finger.

Jackie: You may not have held a knife to my neck, but at no point did you make me feel welcome or safe to continue being in that cabin that night.- I assure her through gritted teeth. -And the only, the ONLY reason I'm alive today, is because Y/n went outside with me that night, who put me in the meat shed when it started to get too cold and who made sure I didn't freeze to death that night. So yes Shauna, I hold you mostly responsible for my near death.- I remind her with venom and some pain at the memory of that night.

Neither of them says anything for a few seconds, filling the kitchen with a tension that could be cut with a knife, which gives me time to start gathering my things from the island and processing their presence in my house.

Natalie: What is that? - she asks me curiously, approaching the island and looking at the different sketches, colors and textures spread out in it.

Jakcie: A work project.- I reply vaguely, placing everything in a pile and putting it into a big folder.

Natalie: What project are you working on? - she asks again with curiosity, pulling out a stool and sitting on it.

Jackie: In the inside of a two-story and 500 square meter house, decorated with natural colors and metallic objects.- I explain with a small, happy smile at her interest.

The truth is that in all these years since we were rescued, both Y/n and I cut off ties with all the other survivors. The only people we kept in touch with were Nat and Lottie.

After all, Lottie is Y/n's twin sister so it's only natural that we maintained our relationship with her, especially given how overprotective my husband has always been of her. On the other hand, he and Nat have always been very good friends, so we continued to keep in touch with her after being rescued and returning to our daily lives.

It's been a while since we last saw them, but seeing Nat in front of me and giving me a slight smile makes me happy. Since the moment we were rescued, she was one of all of us who had it the worst at adapting and is constantly in rehab.

Taissa: You work? - she asks me, surprised by the information I just gave.

Jackie: Why do you seem so surprised? - I ask her, both offended and amused by her reaction.

Taissa: I don't know. - She denies with a grimace. - I always imagined you marrying someone rich and being a rich housewife. - She explains, shrugging her shoulders.

Jackie: Well, you got the first part right, because I married someone rich.- I remind her with an amused smile. -But I went to college for a reason, right? Besides, it's something I love and they pay very, very well depending on the client.- I explain, shrugging my shoulders.

Natalie: And are you going to offer us something to drink or? - she asks, moving her hands in circles.

Jackie: Do you want something to drink? - I asked them politely, offering a fake smile to the dark haired one.

Taissa: A coffee with milk would be nice, thanks.- she thanks me sitting on the other stool.

Natalie: You know what I want.- She gives me an amused look and I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it.

Shauna: Something strong.- she answers sitting on the last stool on the island to Nat's left.

I quickly start making the coffee and while it's pouring into the cup, I grab the bottle of tequila from the cabinet on top of the fridge and place it in front of Nat. I grab three shot glasses and Tai's coffee, placing them on the island.

The brunette opens the bottle and begins to fill the glasses with the yellowish liquor. We each take a glass and drink the contents in one gulp.

Jackie: Okay, what's so urgent? - I ask them once the sting of the tequila in my throat calms down a bit.

Taissa: This.- she answers me taking her phone out of her pocket and sliding it towards me along the island.

Jackie: What the hell is this? - I ask, somewhat disturbed and scared when she saw the message.

Natalie: Blackmail.- she answers me as if it were obvious. -Haven't you received the message?- she asks me confused.

Jackie: No, neither Y/n nor I have received it.- I immediately deny. - Yes, we received a postcard a week ago and a journalist showed up that same day offering a deal to tell what really happened. But apart from that, nothing.- I tell them with all the honesty possible.

Shauna: It wouldn't be a Jessica Roberts, would it? - she asks me with her eyes wide open.

Jackie: Yes.- I nod immediately with my eyes open. -Did she go to your place too?- I ask trying to connect the dots.

Shauna: Yes, she came to me a little over a week ago, offering to write a book and receive a sum of more than seven figures to tell what really happened in that forest. - she confirms, pressing her lips together in a continuous line.

Natalie: None of this makes sense.- she denies, massaging her temple and pouring herself another shot. -The postcard was only received by Misty, Tai, Y/n, you and I. While the blackmail message was received by Taissa and me. So why send the postcard to some and the message to others?- she leaves her doubt hanging in the air and I agree with her.

As Tai was about to say something, we hear the front door open and a couple of quick footsteps.

Y/n: Jax we're home! - I hear him shout from the entrance and I can hear the fun in his voice.

Tomas: Mommy, mommy, mommyyyyy! - he shouts, running through the house and entering the kitchen with his dirty uniform and a huge smile on his face. -We won! - he exclaims completely happy, running towards me and jumping into my arms.

Jackie: Really? - I asked, exaggerating my reaction and smiling at the happiness on her face.

Tomas: Yes.- he nods enthusiastically. -I scored a goal.- he tells me enthusiastically.

Jackie: Wow that amazing.- I say with my eyes wide open and a hugh smile.

Emma: Auntie Nat? - she asks from the kitchen entrance with her eyes wide open.

Natalie: Isn´t that the blonde dwarf. - She smiles, getting up from the stool and opening her arms. - How you've grown. - She growls against my daughter's blonde hair when she hugs her.

Shauna: Auntie Nat? - she asks completely confused, exchanging glances between the black haired adult and the blonde girl in her arms. -Since when do you have children? - she asks, looking at my son in my arms.

Jackie: Since when do I have to give you any explanations? - I answer sharply. - Why don't you go out with your sister to the garden and play for a while? Okay? - I ask my son, giving him a kiss on the forehead and putting him down on the ground.

Tomas: Okay.- He nods happily, holding out his hand to his sister and running with her to the garden, once they both join hands.

Jackie: Plus, I'm surprised my mom didn't tell you about it at one of your lunches.- I commented ironically, crossing my arms.

Shauna: She didn´t.- she shakes her head with a strange expression on her face.

Y/n: Jax, you're not going to believe the funniest moment of the game you missed.- he comments between laughs entering the kitchen. -What's going on here? Nat? When did you get out of rehab?- he asks, wiping his smile away when he sees the three people in our kitchen.

Natalie: It's been almost two weeks.- she answers, shrugging her shoulders without giving it any importance.

Y/n: And didn't you think to let us know or come visit? - he asks her, crossing his arms.

Natalie: Yeah, well, let's just say I haven't had much time between Travis' death, the postcard, Misty being crazy and now the damn blackmail. - she tells us with some frustration and I can only open my eyes in surprise at the information, and I can see that my husband has a similar reaction to mine.

Y/n: Travis is dead? - he asks in shock. - Wait, postcard? Did they send you that damn postcard with the symbol too? - he asks again, approaching the group.

Taissa: They also sent it to Misty and me.- the curly haired girl answers. -But we're not here for the postcard, we're here for a more important reason that affects us all.- she explains seriously, picking up her cell phone from the island and showing him the blackmail message to my husband.

Y/n: What the hell is this? - he asks angrily after reading the message.

Shauna: We're being blackmailed by someone who came back with us or who has been told something from one of us. - she replies, taking another shot.

Y/n: Have you been the only one who received it? - she asks the future senator and returns the phone to her.

Taissa: The two of us.- she answers pointing at the short black haired one and herself.

Y/n: Okay.- he nods with a frown. -But they haven't sent us that message.- he says with some doubt looking at me and I shake my head in confirmation.

Natalie: It seems so.- she nods, agreeing with him.

Y/n: So why are you all here?- he asks confused. -Don't get me wrong, it's good to see you again and all that, at least some of you. But I don't understand why you're here.- he comments seriously, walking towards me and giving me a short kiss.

Taissa: We didn't know that you hadn't received the message. - she explains, letting out a sigh and taking a sip of her coffee.

Jackie: Well, you already know that we didn´t and to be honest, I don't want to get involved in whatever you're doing and have our children be affected in any way. - I deny, adopting a defensive posture.

Natalie: And we understand, but we need your help.- she asks us, biting her lip and letting out a sigh.

Y/n: What do you need? - she asks directly.

Shauna: Money would be nice, if you have it.- she answers with her lips in a straight line.

I immediately throw a dirty look at the one who was my best friend, letting out a mocking sound at her audacity and I feel the words bubbling in my throat.

Y/n: Okay.- nods and disappears through the archway into the main floor hallway.

Taissa: Where is he going? - she asks me, just as confused as I am.

I just shrug my shoulders, not knowing why he left without saying anything and not knowing where he was going. Nat refills the glasses with tequila and I bring mine over to him to refill.

Jackie: And how did it go this time in rehab? - I ask the short haired one with interest.

I rest my elbows on the island, leaning against them and giving my friend my full attention. Since we were rescued, Nat was the one who had the hardest time adjusting back to our life before the accident.

So since we got back, she's been going to rehab and has got herself arrested a couple of times.

Natalie: Fine.- she answers with a grimace. -I haven't taken any drugs yet and I'm not lacking in desire with everything that's going on.- she admits, taking the shot.

Taissa: You better, because I can't pay for your rehab visits anymore. - she comments with a certain humor, taking another sip of her coffee.

Y/n: Here you go.- he says returning to the kitchen and leaving a wad of bills on the island.

Shauna: You have 50,000 grand at home? - she asks surprised seeing the money.

Y/n: I have more than that stored at home.- he admits shrugging his shoulders and I look at him surprised.

Jackie: Why do you have so much money at home? - I asked, stunned by the money and thinking about where he could have that money.

Y/n: For emergencies - he respond simply raising his shoulders downplaying it.

Shauna: Is that really 50 grand?- she asks again and my husband nods. -Well, it's a bit disappointing compared to the standard of heist movies.- she says with a smirk on her lips.

Y/n: It's 50 grand in 100 dollar bills.- he answers as if it were obvious. -How crazy would I be to have that much money in our house in small bills, they would take up a lot more space.- simply explains as if that amount of money wasn't much and placing a hand on my lower back.

Taissa: We already know who will pay for your next rehab.- she says to the short-haired girl somewhat funny.

Natalie: Thank you for your faith in me, Tai.- she reproaches her, rolling her eyes.

Jackie: Do you need anything else? - I ask them with some impatience, wanting this conversation to end so they can leave.

Taissa: No, thanks for this.- she says holding the wad of bills in her hand. -We will let you know if we manage to catch the blackmailer so we can return your money.- she tells us and I nod in agreement with her words.

Natalie: Well, let's go. - She gets up from the stool and takes a few steps back.

Y/n: You're not leaving.- he points at her with his finger. -You're staying for dinner and spending time with your goddaughter.- he says seriously and with an evil smile.

Natalie: Really? - she asks, grumbling like a child.

Y/n: What do you think? - he asks back with his arms crossed and raising an eyebrow.

Shauna: Well, then the two of us are... we're going to go.- she says, pointing towards the archway towards the hallway with her thumb and with a slight tremor in her voice.

Jackie: Can you help them out and while I bathe Tommy?- I ask the only man in the kitchen.

Y/n: Sure.- he nods with a smile, leaving another kiss on my lips and walking with the other two women towards the exit of the house.

Jackie: And you play with your goddaughter for a while, she missed you.- she ordered the brunette with a big smile.

Natalie: Yes, captain.- she mocks with a military salute and walking with me to the garden.

I watch my children for a few seconds, listening to their laughter as they chase each other and feeling a warm feeling all over my body at their happiness.

The unexpected visit and the conversation with the girls made me remember the worst moments of my life. But they also made me realize how lucky I was, because thanks to that accident I found my soulmate and I managed to start a family with him.

A happy family, with its bad times and its good times. With dysfunctional aunts and absent grandparents. But a family like neither of us had growing up with.

We have managed to form a family based on love and the different forms of affection that our parents omitted during our growing up.

In addition, I am now the happiest I have ever been in my entire life, without having to pretend and I feel complete with the presence of my loved ones.

For that very reason, I curse that horrible day when we got on that damm plane, but I bless the moment when I set my gaze on Y/n in the middle of all that madness. 

Because thanks to him, I am alive today at this moment and I can be watching our children run around in our home. It was all part of our destiny.

THE END

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. i'm sleeping with a ghoul (Ghost!Lucifer x MC)

A/N: Hello!! This is a few days late, but I said I wanted to do Obey Me month and I'm sticking to it, damn it! So I offer you my very first story for it, as well as the first thing I've published for the om fandom that isn't Barbatos. This was actually really fun to write and I wanna thank @the-ancient-fae for giving me the prompt of 'ghost' to help me figure something out!! That simple prompt has created a whole basket of ideas in my head, so thank you, Roxy 💜 But anyways, enjoy reading!!

Pairing(s): Lucifer x MC

Prompt: Day 1 - Lucifer from @obeymetournaments's list of prompts for this month!!

Summary: The tale of someone who encountered a... different kind of ghost.

Tag(s): 18+, themes of stalking, Spectrophilia/Phasmophilia, dubious consent, non-explicit, mentions of sexual content, first person pov

Word Count: 922

Song Inspiration: Sex With A Ghost By Teddy Hyde

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Author Masterlist]

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12] [Day 13] [Day 14] [Day 15] [Day 16] [Day 17] [Day 18] [Day 19] [Day 20] [Day 21] [Day 22] [Day 23] [Day 24] [Day 25] [Day 26] [Day 27] [Day 28] [Day 29] [Day 30] [Day 31]

~*~

Anyone who’s ever lived in a haunted house before will be familiar with the usual signs. Creaking floors, footsteps down the hallway, doors opening and closing on their own, whispers in other rooms. I, myself, am familiar with all of those, but those aren’t the things I’m experiencing in my current home. I hear less whispers and more longing sighs. I see shadows creeping around the corner. Sometimes the flap of wings. The click of formal shoes. I’ve recently started finding feathers in random places throughout the house. Long, black feathers. Bigger than any bird in my neighborhood.

I can feel whenever I’m being watched. The time I seem to be watched most is when I’m sleeping. Or at least laying in my bed at night. I can even see the outline of a figure if I look into the darkness for long enough and I swear the figure has horns and wings. Do you think it sees me, too?

~*~

The ghost. It’s a man. I know what he looks like now. He’s gotten bolder, closer. Or maybe I’ve just started paying more attention?

The places I find feathers have gotten more consistent. More specific. They’re only in parts of the houses I often frequent, like the kitchen and my own bedroom. And just the other day… I was in the bathroom, had just finished a shower. It was such a cliche. I wiped off the mirror and immediately I saw him, behind me. But unlike the movies, he didn’t flicker away as soon as I saw him. Instead, he stayed. He met my eyes. It was like he wanted me to see him. And so, I did. Soft, black, feathery hair with just the tiniest piece of his bangs turned gray. Deep, mysterious red and black eyes. Four black-feathered wings that are a glorious sight to behold, almost how one would imagine angel wings. But then my eyes catch on the large, black horns curving upwards from the top of his head. That’s when I’m reminded that he is certainly no angel.

Even so, he took my breath away. And he knew it. A look of pride upon his face before I blink and he’s finally gone. It took me a moment to recover after that. But it was not because I was terrified. Nor was I upset that he was intruding upon my home. All I felt in that moment was an intense curiosity, along with excitement at the thought of finding out more.

~*~

I’m starting to think something’s wrong with me. I can’t truly be thinking like this about a ghost, can I? But I can’t help it. He’s doing it on purpose. Seducing me. There’s no other way to describe it. I see him all the time now. He’s stopped trying to hide from me. He watches me openly now, during all hours of the day. I’ve started speaking to him. He’s there to listen, so I might as well, right? And sometimes he’ll answer. With gestures or the softest of whispers. But what’s more important is what happens at night.

Once I’ve shut off all the lights and settled beneath my blankets, that’s when I’ll feel it. Fingers brushing over my skin. Sometimes gloved, sometimes bare. First, it was just soft affection. Holding my cheek or tracing my hand. Then, he’d trace down my neck and over my calves. And now, he’s trailing down my chest and up my thighs with touches that can no longer be considered simple affection. No, these touches are filled with intent. And I know something’s fucked in my head because in response, I’ve started wearing less and less clothes to bed. He’s taking it as an invitation to continue and we both know that’s exactly what it is. Even before it’s bedtime, I’m already anticipating the feel of his fingers and the pleasure his touch brings.

I think he’s waiting to take a step further because he enjoys seeing me touch myself. He gets this smirk on his face as his low chuckle fills my ear and it only adds to my overloaded senses, driving me over the edge. Sometimes during the day, I’m unable to help myself when I think too much about it. When that happens, I always make sure to be loud enough so that he’ll know exactly what I’m doing.

Even now, questioning my own mind, I can’t find a single ounce of hesitation towards any of it.

~*~

Lucifer. Lucifer. Lucifer. That is my lover’s name. He finally told me when he gave himself to me completely. I got to see him in all his glory, laid bare and without any clothing in the way. Just as he saw me the same way. And not only did he touch me without holding back, but I got to touch him as well. We were finally joined as one and that’s when I knew for certain - this is love. It must be. There’s no other emotion I could use to describe how I feel for him. And I know he loves me, too. He told me so. Told me that even when he was alive he never loved another the way he loves me.

We’ll be together forever, him and I. He’s in my bed every night and right beside me throughout the day. He takes me whenever he feels like it and I would never dream of rejecting him. All of me belongs to him now, mind, body, and soul, and I don’t want it any other way.

~*~

A/N: Please, let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜

[tkaulitzlvr]

could u do 2008 tom getting in an argument with the reader and after arguing a lot, the reader just tries to go to bed. after a couple mins, tom realizes he was wrong and tries to climb in bed with the reader and is like super clingy and tries to touch the reader but gets ignored. and he’s all like “yk how i get when i can’t touch you” AUGHH😩😩 and then it’s js smut that ends with fluff/aftercare

btw ur my fav writer ever i absolutely adore ur writing 🖤

LET ME SHOW YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you are tired of arguing, deciding to go to bed before things get too out of hand. tom realises that he has messed up, but you are being stubborn, still not over what he has done. he doesn’t give up so easily, begging to get what he wants.

content: angst to smut, little bit of fluff throughout.

a/n: thank u so much that really means a lot!! love this idea, i hope u enjoy!💞

“you know what? i’m done. i’m tired of explaining this to you when you clearly don’t get it.” i huff, shaking my head and running my hands through my hair.

“you’re right. i don’t get it. you’re mad at me for doing my job!” he shoots back, eyes cold and dark, jaw clenched as he stands across from me on the other side of the kitchen.

“you can’t be fucking serious! don’t paint me as some clingy selfish girlfriend when all i’m asking is that you don’t come home at midnight every night, and go straight to bed! it’s like we aren’t even together anymore. we live in the same house but we never talk, never communicate. you only show me affection if it’s a quick kiss or hug, or you want sex.” i rant, fuming at his lack of mindfulness, failing to believe how he is so oblivious.

“what so we’re just lying now, is that what this is?” he scoffs, taking a breath before continuing. “cause you know that’s not true. i always hug you, kiss you, tell you i love you, don’t i? and you know that i value you way beyond sex, so don’t even go there.”

“you’re completely missing the point!”

“then what is the fucking point?”

his voice raises far higher than mine, louder than it ever has before. he would never raise his voice at me, not like this. my mouth opens, tears clouding my vision as i am taken aback at his sudden outburst, but he doesn’t seem to care, my silence only seen as an invitation to keep going.

“hm, what is the point? you’ve always known that my job demands a lot of me, and i told you that it would be difficult, but i’m trying my best. if i could be with you more, i would. you know that we’re pushing to get this album perfect, so can you give me a fucking break and stop acting like i’m some awful boyfriend?” he shouts, anger laced within every word, each one stabbing me right in the heart, making me feel stupid for even bringing this whole conversation up. i just missed him, but he couldn’t seem to understand why.

i nod my head, pursing my lips together as the tears cascade down my cheeks.

“okay. i’m going to bed.” i whisper, not waiting for him to respond, turning away from him and leaving the kitchen, trudging up the stairs towards our bedroom. he doesn’t follow me, instead i hear a loud bang come from the kitchen, his fist colliding with the counter as he curses in frustration.

the room is strangely cold as i walk into it, completely dark with little natural light coming through the window despite the curtains still being wide open, reminding me of how late it is - and how long i had been waiting for tom to come home. my feet walk along the carpet, the floorboards creaking a little until i arrive at my bed, climbing into it and letting the covers embrace me, instead of tom. i feel numb, not enough energy in me to cry, yet too upset to just sleep it off. instead, i stare out of the window, the cityscape invading my eye line as i try to distract myself from what had just happened, watching the world around me as it moves on and on, wishing that i could do the same.

the door slowly creaks open, my head turning in its direction as tom walks through it, his expression one of pure regret. he is silent, not saying a word as he goes over to the mirror, taking his cap off and placing it gently on the dresser, taking his dreads out of their ponytail, his eyes suddenly meeting mine through the mirror as i stare into them.

“baby can we talk?” he says, still looking at me through the mirror as he removes his shirt, folding it neatly and leaving it on top of the dresser, his bare back facing me from across the room.

“about what?” i scoff, finally breaking the eye contact and laying down, staring motionlessly at the ceiling. “you were pretty sure of what you said, there’s nothing else to speak about.”

my gaze still fixed on the ceiling, i hear him step away from the mirror, walking cautiously towards the bed. i feel it dip beside me, before two arms snake around my waist.

i roughly pull away from his grip, taking his hands and shoving them back in his direction, not falling for his attempts to iron out the tension, especially ones that involve him putting his hands on me.

“baby…you know i didn’t mean any of that.” he calmly speaks, trying again to touch me, this time taking my hand in his. once again, i refuse, shuffling even further away from him.

“can you not touch me? i’m not in the mood for your shitty apologies just- go to sleep.” my voice is harsh, hurt taking over his expression as i speak, but i don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. instead, seeing him experience even a fraction of the sadness that he had just put me through satisfies me.

“leibe…please listen to me. i’m so sorry.” he begins, turning onto his side so that he is now facing me. “i’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, you don’t deserve that. i’ve just been so caught up with the album and it brought me away from you, but i shouldn’t have let it. please baby, please forgive me. i’ll never let this happen again.”

as he comes to the end of his speech, his hand tentatively reaches for my cheek, his thumb trying to stroke the skin, but i move backwards, becoming irritated at his ignorance.

“are you deaf? stop touching me tom!” i ignore his apology, because right now, it means nothing to me, his initial words still a fresh wound. no apology, no matter how sincere, would be enough to make me forget them just yet.

“schatz, please, you know how i get when i can’t touch you. don’t accept my apology, don’t talk to me, i get it, i deserve it. but please my love, just let me hold you, that’s all i want.” he begs, his voice reducing to a whisper as it cracks a little.

his love language had always been physical touch, and, even when we were fighting, he would always hold me whilst we slept, no matter how mad i was. i knew that me refusing his touch was getting to him and, despite me being completely infuriated, it was impossible to ignore the slight pang of guilt that settled in my heart as i listened to his pleas.

i say nothing, moving a little closer to him, leaving enough space so that he would have to reach out to be able to touch me. he takes my silence as a yes, inching his body closer to mine, his arms pulling me tightly into him, his head resting in the crook of my neck. i feel him relax a little, his shoulders dropping as he pulls me further into his embrace, holding me so tightly that i can feel his heartbeat from within his chest. his breathing tickles my neck, his head snuggling into it as he takes in my scent, clearly having missed being this close to me. but still, i say nothing, giving him this small sense of comfort though anger still courses through my veins, in no position to forgive him just yet. however, it is impossible to deny the security i gain from his embrace, the way his hands run comfortingly up and down my back giving me a sense of contentment that only he can bring.

“i love you. i love you so much.” he whispers into my neck, planting a short and soft kiss there. “you’ll never understand how much i love you baby, you’re everything to me, my whole world.”

his hands begin to caress my lower back, travelling downwards and giving my ass a soft squeeze as his lips plant slow kisses on my neck and collarbone, all whilst he continues to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, pouring his heart out whilst his movements begin to increase - making his intentions crystal clear.

“tom please, not now. i’m still mad at you.” i say, trying to keep my voice stern, but an elongated sigh pours from my parted lips once his find the spot below my ear that makes me go crazy.

“you won’t be once i’m finished, i promise baby. just let me show you what you mean to me, mhm?” he asks, pulling his head from my neck to look into my eyes, a glint of desperation present within them.

i study his features, starting at his brown eyes - warm and enticing, looking into mine with so much admiration, so much love. his skin, smooth and flawless, unable to count how many times i have felt it against mine. his lips, soft and inviting, decorated with a small metal ring, loving how it would always feel against me, the harshness of it always contrasting with the warmth of his lips as they would move against mine.

and it is that small glance that makes me give in, my hands reaching for his head as i pull it downwards, quickly joining his lips with mine. he is taken aback, but it only takes him a few seconds to kiss me back, cupping my face with his hands and bringing me in even closer, our bodies merging as one.

he pulls away, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he begins to gently remove my clothing, starting with my shorts, kissing upwards until he reaches my hoodie, that soon following, leaving me in only my lingerie.

“so perfect.” he mutters, pecking my lips. “you’re so beautiful meine liebe, you know that?”

my cheeks heat up at his words as they spill like liquid gold from his pink lips, our fight feeling further and further away. it becomes harder to imagine that it ever happened, the way he touches me with such care making it seem almost impossible.

his clothes already off as he always sleeps in just his boxers, he reaches to remove his underwear, turning his attention to my own panties, letting them join the existing pile of clothes scattered around the room.

he moves to the top of the bed, sitting with his back resting against the headboard, gently picking me up and placing me into his lap as i straddle his waist, hands resting his shoulders as i stare into his eyes, a little nervous as i am never usually the one on top.

“tom i-”

“shhh, you’re okay, just ride.” he comforts, moving loose strands of hair from my face, placing a reassuring kiss on my lips.

i nod hesitantly, lifting my hips up and sliding down onto him, moaning as i take him in, my walls stretching as they become accustomed to his size. tom’s head has fallen backwards, fingers digging into my hips a little as his lips are parted, no noise escaping from them.

once i am used to his size, i begin to bounce slowly, picking up a steady rhythm as tom continues to hold on to my hips, helping me move.

“doing so well baby. just like that.” he sighs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut.

it doesn’t take long for my legs to ache, no longer able to continue moving up and down, already tired. my movements are slow and lethargic, almost half-hearted as i try my best to keep going, chasing my release as i crave it more than anything, tom clearly feeling the same as his hold on my waist only tightens, his grip strong enough to leave faint marks on the skin.

“i can’t.” i whine, frustrated that i can’t keep going, completely spent. i fall forwards, collapsing onto tom’s chest, still inside him as he slowly thrusts upwards into me, his arms wrapping around my back as he kisses my forehead.

“you did so good baby, don’t worry.”

those are the only words he says before swiftly flipping us over, my back flush against the mattress as he begins to thrust into me at a relentless pace from above, my mouth falling open as loud moans pour from it, his name a mantra as it effortlessly falls from my lips. he hits places within me that have never been touched before, so deep inside me that i can feel him in my stomach, a small bulge visible as he moves in and out of me.

“love you so much, fuck-” tom groans, his hands on my thighs as he kneads the flesh, prying them further apart as the pleasure prompts them to try close around his waist.

“getting close baby, you close?” he mutters, moving his head so that his forehead is against mine, eyes studying my face as he awaits my response.

all i can do is let out an almost inaudible ‘mhm’, so close to my release that i can almost feel it, the knot in my stomach ready to burst any second. the way his dick twitches inside of me tells me that he is there too, his thrusts irregular.

“let go schatz, cum for me.” he says, watching as my face twists in pleasure, my release washing over me, the pressure of his coming at the same time too much as i squeeze my eyes shut, hands clutching onto his upper arms. my entire body shakes, the feeling overwhelming, mouth open in a silent scream as tom moans into my ear, still rocking in and out of me slowly, riding out our highs.

i am completely spent, laying motionless beneath him, my throat raw from the sounds that had emitted from it, breathing heavy and reckless. tom pulls out, wiping a few tears from my eyes that i hadn’t even realised had fallen, kissing the skin afterwards.

“you okay baby? you did so good, did i go too hard?” he says, my mind not fully registering what he is saying as i am completely exhausted, eyes starting to flutter shut. “you can’t sleep yet, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

i manage a weak nod, feeling tom lift me up bridal style, carrying me into the bathroom and carefully placing me on the counter. he walks over to the bath, turning the taps on and letting the water run, before rushing back over to me, taking a damp cloth and wiping me with it as a jolt when he is a little too rough, the area sensitive.

“sorry baby.” he mutters, kissing my forehead, separating my legs and moving to stand between them, embracing me in a hug and resting his head on top of mine whilst the bath fills up, small ‘i love you’s’ escaping his lips as he rubs my back, trying to soothe me in any way he can.

after a couple of minutes, he picks me up, gently placing me in the bath as the water submerges me, the warmth of it already easing the aching pain that runs through my body. he climbs in behind me as i sit between his legs, my back against his chest.

he washes my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp as my head falls backwards onto his shoulder, the feeling relaxing me even more, completely at peace in his arms. he moves to my body, carefully washing the delicate skin, planting occasional kisses on my shoulders and back as my breathing slows, on the verge of falling asleep.

he sees that i am too tired to stand up myself, picking me up and carrying me out as i wrap my arms and legs around him. he finds a towel, setting me back on the counter and drying my body, leaving the bathroom for a second and returning with some fresh ‘pyjamas’ - which consisted of a random t-shirt of his and some clean panties.

“come on baby, put these on then we can go to bed, mhm?” he says as i lift my arms up, allowing him to place the t-shirt onto my small frame, the material hanging off my figure as it reaches my knees. he takes my panties, moving them up my legs slowly, my hips bucking upwards so he can fully put them on me, finally putting his own underwear on.

he takes me to the bedroom, tucking me into bed and placing the covers over me, climbing in beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist as i cuddle into him.

“i’m so sorry for everything. i love you.” he whispers, kissing my hair softly.

i mutter a small ‘love you’ against his chest, falling asleep within minutes, completely exhausted.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[pedropascallme]

Hi love . I have an idea for pedro ×reader

They had a big fight and they don't talk . When they go to sleep , pedro hugs the reader in bed and apologize . ( loving and romantic)

AN: I hope this is to your liking!!

You didn’t even remember what you were fighting about, but you knew that you were right, and he was wrong. 

It was the middle of January, bitterly cold and dry outside. You had started arguing with Pedro as soon as you had woken up, admittedly in a bad mood for no reason and just looking for something to be mad at. He had left the sliding glass door in the main room of the house slightly open—just by an inch, if even—and a chill had crept throughout the house. The chill had made you feel wilted and grumpy, padding through the house slamming doors and cabinets while Pedro seemed completely ignorant of his misstep. It had been just that; a misstep, a complete accident on his part as he had rushed to crawl into bed with you after a late-night cigarette in the backyard. But it was the perfect opportunity to vent all the built-up anger in your system.

You hadn’t really meant to lash out at him, but you were frustrated and melancholy, and what else could you do in your moment of randomly induced irritation? He had asked what was wrong and you snapped back at him to “go away,” to “leave me alone, goddammit.” You seethed and moped for the rest of the day, huddling in the comfort of your bed while Pedro, not wanting to push and respecting the boundary you had set in your frenzied moment of outrage, found things to do around the house in order to stay out of your way.

When night had fallen and you had realized you had spent the whole day isolated in the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend, you felt a pang of guilt, followed by one of hunger. You tried to make your way out of your room and into the kitchen, but the regret of having been so randomly cruel to Pedro earlier in the day grew, and all you could do was sit on the floor and continue wallowing in self-pity. 

The door opened slowly, and the creak of the wood reminded you that the hinges needed to be fixed. Pedro strode in holding a bag of takeout and set it down on the floor beside you before sitting to face you on the bedroom floor. You were both quiet as he placed a hand on your knee.

“Querida,” he whispered, “what’s wrong?”

You looked at him through the tears that swelled in your eye, trying to put words to feelings. “I’m sorry. For, for yelling at you this morning.”

“Baby…”

“And for walling myself in all day and not telling you why I was mad and not apologizing sooner and—” He cut off your rambling by sliding himself closer to you and dropping a kiss on your head. He had himself hunched over you, knees on the hard wood and you knew he would feel it in the morning.

“Apology accepted.”

“But you don’t even know why I was mad.” You sniffed and wrapped your arms around his.

“So tell me.”

“You left the door open. The sliding door, it was open this morning, and it was cold. And I woke up angry and that made me madder.” You leaned your weight into him, and he lifted you up and onto the bed, letting you fully curl into him.

“I’m sorry I left the door open,” he put his palm over your cheek, “I’m sorry, baby, I am.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“I am. I promise I’ll make sure it’s closed next time. I’ll lock it, even.” He wrapped himself around you, and you felt genuinely warm for the first time all day.

“I promise I’ll talk to you next time I get pissed off for no reason.” You mumbled into him.

“Look at us, problem solvers!” He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations through your cheek where it was lying on his chest. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. 

“I got you dinner.” He sat up and reached for the bag of takeout, gently dropping it on the bed.

“You didn’t have to.”

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I could’ve made myself something.”

“Too late.” He tore the bag open and took everything out, handing you a fork and a container. You propped yourself up on the pillows at the head of the bed and Pedro followed suit, reaching an arm over your shoulders and letting you lean on it. You moved in closer to him, relishing in the proximity. 

“How was your day?” You asked between mouthfuls.

“Well, my girlfriend yelled at me—” He laughed and you nuzzled your face into his neck. 

[separatetheyolk]

A Glass A Day Keeps The Shovels Away | Thomas Shelby x M!Reader

ʚɞ featuring: Thomas Shelby

ʚɞ warnings: PTSD, nightmares, dissociation, alcoholism, drugs, cigarettes, semi-descriptive violence, self distructive tendencies, war

ʚɞ notes: this isnt F1 but a peaky blinders one-shot came on my feed and it inspired me to write a little something. I dont see enough of domestic, kind, sweet Thomas one-shots even though we've seen that side plenty of times in the show so i deicded to write it myself lol

ʚɞ requests are open

The war had an affect on everyone. Soldiers, families, economy. Post-war Birmingham was an absolute shambles with little to help the men who'd put their lives on the line after their return and even less to help the families of those who didn't. Streets filled with drunken men stumbling around in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Women prostituting themselves to strangers in a haze of grief to forget the husband who died for Britain’s cause and to keep their families afloat. Screams and cries throughout the night that leaked through thin walls and spilling onto the street from soliders who'd suffered more than they had to.

And you? You knew those nightmares all too well. You knew the terror and fear. You could hear the shovels and picks. You could hear the mumbling of german through the wall. Sounding meer inches from your ear. You could feel the rough texture of Tommy's muddy shirt pinched between your thumb and pointer finger before hell rained down on your head. The mud bogged your feet and mind down. The sound of a gunshot and the cry of Freddie Thorne. The gunpowder that filled your nose. The knife in your back, scar still etched in your skin. You could feel it sometimes against the backrests of chairs. The way your skin didnt lie flush against the wooden surface, a slight bump where the scar was. An ever constant physical reminder of the toll the war had took on you and others. On Danny, Freddie, Thomas. Every poor soul who managed to make it home. The sound of the picks grew louder in your ears, the anxiety that once bubbled in your stomach now risen to your throat. A slight shine of sweat on your forehead and dampening the night shirt you were wearing. Blankets tangled around your feet like the dirt that had once clung unreleantlessly to your boots. You'd woken up in a fright just as Germans broke through, shooting awake with air being sucked from your lungs. Desperately heaving for Birmingham smoke as you frantically untangled your feet from the blankets. Yes, you knew nightmares all too well.

You tried everything to go back to sleep. Heroin, whiskey, even tried those stupid fucking breathing excersises Polly had told you about. But nothing helped. Wide awake, staring across the room to the wall facing you. Picks still hitting against it. They gave you the worst job..

Eventually, when it became clear you weren't going to get to sleep tonight, you rose from the bed. In a daze of sleep deprevation and darkness, you shuffled your hands along the floor picking up whatever clothing you could find and got yourself dressed. You didnt even bother to check if you looked presentable as you shuffled out the door, pulling the coat tight around your thinning frame to try and peotect you from the downpour, peak of your cap pulled more towards your eyebrows.

You walked aimlessly for about an hour before finding yourself outside the Garrison. Light still on hinting that someone was at least inside. You tried the door, finding it locked so resulted in knocking on the wood harsh enough for anyone inside to hear, wherever they may be.

You weren't left waiting for long, latches unlocking and door opening after about thirty seconds. Thomas Shelby stood in the doorway with that never changing unbothered expression on his face. Wordlessly, you let yourself in, shoving the coat off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Sitting at the bar you took your cap off, setting it on the counter with a slight rattle from razor blades. Despite your efforts, you were well and truly soaked. You didnt look up when Thomas made his way behind the counter, pouring you a glass. Nor when he left. Only coming back to the present when you felt the scratchiness of a blanket wrap around wet shoulders. The same fabric they'd used in the war for your uniform. Cheap and easy to mass produce. You took the glass, pulling it closer to yourself and stared into the dark golden concoction. Letting the other grab your coat from the floor and drape it over the counter. You only gave him a glance when he moved to sit down on your left. "You look like shit." He mumbled, lighting a cigarette and slipped it inbetween your fingers.

Thomas had always held a soft spot for you. He'd be rather caught dead then show this side to anyone. But for you? He made an exception. He saw a different side of you during the war. A terrified side, a side that shook at any slight sound, a side that jumped you to attention at any explosion, a side that would cling to him in tunnels like a lost child, a side that would fade from the present during lunch breaks often leaving Thomas to have to remind you, coach you to eat. On your worst days even feed you. That childhood innocence had vanished within the first week of being on the front lines. Replaced with complete and utter fear. You'd hardened your emotions by the time you'd returned home, however. Only showing that fear after nightmares. But you'd still occasionally dissociate when everything was still. "Nightmare?"

You nodded ever so slightly to his question, downing the glass and took a drag from the cigarette. "As usual." You murmered. Feeling the others eyes on you. Clothes soaked through it was easy to see just how thin you'd gotten. "You?" "Haven't tried to sleep." He chuckled softly, reaching for the bottle and pouring you another drink. "You know when you've had an awful day and it will for sure come knocking?" He turned to see you nodding, sighing softly. "Of course you do.." There was silence for about five minutes. A comfortable silence, one that wasn't forced. A silence that calmed your heart and eased away anxieties. A silence that highlighted just how tired and hungry you were. Exhaustion seeping into ivery bone and muscle, weighing you down. As if he could read your mind, Thomas eventually spoke up. "When was the last you ate?" He asked. Able to see your spine protruding from your back, shoulderblades prominant.

When was the last you ate? Did you even know? "Probably yesterday, or the day before." You didnt ever stay still long enough to eat. Or have a bath. Sure, that last part was disgusting. But if you stood still, you'd think and if you'd think, you'd think about the war. And most soldiers were looking to avoid that. You heard another sigh from Thomas, the other standing with a screetch of his chair on the wooden floor. "Finish that drink and then come with me."

Wordlessly, you done as you were told. Downing the rest of the drink, you stood from your stool and with Thomas' help, slipped on the soaked coat. You put on your cap, threw the ciggarette in the glass and followed the man outside. You let him lock up, then began to trail behind him. Ten minutes leter and the man was letting you into his home, hanging up his jacket and helping you take off your own and your cap. He set them infront of the fire, left to head to his room and fished out some dry clothes. He came back to you standing in the middle of the living room like a lost puppy. "Here.. Get changed into these." He spoke, holding the clothing out to you. With shaky and cold hands, you took the clothing. Softer than your own, much softer. But you didn't move to change. Or move to the bathroom to change in private. Stood there, still in the middle of the room, now looking to the clothes in your hands. "Do you need a hand?" You heard, glancing to Thomas briefly before back to the clothes. You didnt respond for a moment, brain computing the question before there was a very slight and clearly embarressed nod.

The clothes were carefully taken from you after that. Set on teh arm of the sofa before Thomas came back into view. He stood infront of you, slowly working on undoing the buttons to your shirt. He then slipped it off your shoulders and set it on the coffee table.

Next he directed you to the sofa, slipping off your shoes to find no socks. You really did just grab whatever you could find, huh? He stood, coming back five minutes later with a towel. He dried your hair first. Keeping it as gentle as possible while also making sure he was drying it at least a little. Once he was satisfied, he smoothed down your hair, dried off your feet and continued to help you undress.

He got your trousers off, let you change into some clean briefs, then helped you to lie down on the sofa infront of the fire. Grabbing another blanket, nicer one then at the Garrison, from the back of the sofa and draped it over you. As he turned away, he felt a slight tug on his shirt, looking down to your hand that was grasping the fabric.. Thumb and pointer. He sighed softly, carefully taking your hand and tucked it back into the blanket. "I'll be back. Just let me get a fire going and get you some food." He mumbled.

He didnt wait for a response. Getting the fire going, set up a drying rack in front of it and draped your clothes over the rack. He then dissapeared into a room to the left of the living room, coming back five minutes later with three slices of toast and some tea. "Here.. Come sit up.." His voice was softer now, setting the plate and cup on the table as he helped you to sit. He moved to prop your back up with pillows when you let out a whine. "What is it? Something hurt?" He asked, attention turned back to your face, studding it while a steady hand rested on your shoulder.

"No.." you had intended to leave it at that, but the look Thomas held best described as 'well what is it?' had you continuing. "You remember when we were kids? We'd have sleepovers and I had to sleep in your bed because there wasnt enough room on the floor?" That earned a chuckle from Thomas, nodding with a "Say no more.."

He grabbed one of the legs coffee table, dragging it closer before slipping behind you. Becoming the pillows he'd intended to prop you up with. He reached for the plate, setting it on your lap and began to tear thet oast up into bitesized pieces. He carefully fed you each bite, brushing awat the occasional crumb from the side of your mouth and alternated with tea when it cooled down enough. Fifteen minutes later and the plate was empty. Setting it down in the coffee table again and replaced the plate with the now half empty cup of tea. He helped you to finish it off, set that back where it once was and allowed you to get comfy.

It didnt take long for a rough hand to begin carding through your hair, untangling any knotts caused from the towel dry. "Do you want to talk about it? That nightmare?" He asked, looking down to the top of your head incase the response wasnt verbal.

"It's nothing that we haven't already talked about.." You mumbled, words slurred as sleep began to creep in. A full stomach of toast and warm tea wasnt helping. Neither did the humming that started after about two minutes.

It didnt take long to fall asleep after that, shovels and picks silenced and replaced with a heartbeat and the hum of familliar songs. Maybe you should go for a whiskey more often.

[muiitoloko]

The gypsy witch

Summary: The damned gypsy witch bewitched him, Slope was certain of it.

Pairing: Obadiah Slope × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, degradationself-punishment and violence.

Author's Notes: You've asked so much for a part two that I was surprised by it, but here it is!

First, Second, Third, Fourth and Fifth part here.

Also read on Ao3

In the days that followed that fateful encounter with you, Mr. Obadiah Slope found himself in a constant battle against his own desires. Each morning began with a rigorous routine of self-punishment and penance. He fasted, depriving himself of food and drink, hoping to cleanse his mind of impure thoughts. He prayed fervently, spending hours on his knees in the cold stone chapel, seeking forgiveness for the sinful acts he had committed. He lashed his own back with a whip, the sting of the lash serving as a painful reminder of the temptations that haunted him.

Throughout the day, Mr. Slope tried to avoid any reminders of you. He busied himself with his duties as chaplain, visiting the sick, comforting the needy, and delivering sermons that preached against the dangers of lust and desire. Yet, despite his efforts, he could not banish you from his thoughts. Your image lingered in his mind, your voice echoing in his ears, and the taste of your lips on his mouth.

At night, exhausted from his day of self-inflicted punishment, Mr. Slope would collapse into bed, hoping for respite in sleep. But even there, you haunted him. In his dreams, he would see you standing before him, your body a tantalizing temptation that he longed to touch but knew he must resist. He would wake in a cold sweat, his heart pounding with guilt and desire, unable to escape the hold you had over him.

Today was no different. Mr. Slope sat in the chapel, the early morning light filtering through stained glass windows, casting colorful shadows on the stone floor. His hands were clasped tightly in prayer, his eyes closed in concentration. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he whispered, the words a desperate plea for absolution.

His mind wandered, despite his best efforts to keep it focused. Images of you, your eyes dark with desire, your lips parted in a teasing smile, flashed before him. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but they persisted, tormenting him with their forbidden allure.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Slope rose from his knees, his body stiff and sore from the hours spent in prayer. He made his way back to his small room in the clergy house, the weight of his guilt heavy on his shoulders. He knew he must resist you, must avoid your presence at all costs, but the pull of desire was too strong.

As he entered his room, Mr. Slope closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against it. He removed his vestments with trembling hands, the fabric feeling heavy and suffocating against his skin. He sat down on the edge of his bed, burying his face in his hands.

"Why do you torment me so?" he murmured to himself, the words barely audible. "I am a man of God, a chaplain in His service. I cannot allow myself to be consumed by these impure thoughts."

But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were futile. His body ached with desire, his mind filled with fantasies that he knew could never be realized. And yet, you had awakened a passion in him that he could not ignore.

Mr. Slope stood up suddenly, his hands trembling with a mixture of guilt and longing. He walked to the window, staring out at the town of Barchester spread out before him. The morning mist was beginning to lift, revealing the familiar streets and buildings that he had come to know so well.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memories of you, but they came flooding back with renewed intensity. Your touch, your scent, the way your eyes had sparkled with mischief – all of it consumed him, driving him to the brink of madness.

"I must be strong," he whispered to himself, clenching his fists in determination. "I must resist temptation, no matter how strong it may be."

But even as he made the vow, Mr. Slope knew that he was fighting a losing battle. His heart yearned for you, his body burned with desire, and there was nothing he could do to quench the fire that you had ignited within him.

The days turned into weeks, and Mr. Slope continued to wrestle with his inner demons. He threw himself into his work, hoping the distraction would help him forget you, but it was no use. Everywhere he turned, he saw reminders of you—in the faces of the townspeople, in the streets he walked, even in the quiet solitude of the chapel.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In the quiet stillness of your shop, you were going about your business, arranging bottles of herbal remedies and tinctures on the shelves, when the door creaked open. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up to see Mr. Slope, the local chaplain, stepping into your establishment.

Mr. Slope's eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. There was a hunger in his gaze, a yearning that mirrored your own. And as he approached, his movements purposeful and determined, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation.

"Mr. Slope," you greeted him, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies that danced in your stomach. "What brings you to my humble shop today?"

He ignored your question, his eyes sweeping over your form with undisguised desire. "You look as enchanting as ever, my dear," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You fought to keep a defiant expression on your face, refusing to let him see how his words affected you. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Slope," you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

But Mr. Slope seemed unfazed by your rebuke, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Oh, I think it might," he said cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Before you could respond, he crossed the distance between you in a few swift strides, his hands reaching out to grab you by the arm. "Come with me," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You bristled at his audacity, pulling away from his grasp. "And why would I do that?" you demanded, your voice tinged with annoyance.

But Mr. Slope ignored your question, his grip tightening on your arm as he led you towards the back of the store. Panic flared in your chest as you realized his intentions, but you forced yourself to stay calm, to think of a way out of this predicament.

"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Slope?" you demanded, your voice laced with defiance as he pushed you against the wall.

He ignored your question, his eyes blazing with a mixture of desire and frustration. "Damn gypsy," he muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around your throat.

You gasped, the pressure on your windpipe making it difficult to breathe. "What kind of dirty magic did you play on me to torment me like this?" he growled, his voice thick with anger.

You struggled against his grip, clawing at his hand in a desperate attempt to free yourself. "Let go of me, you madman!" you choked out, your voice barely a whisper.

But Mr. Slope's grip only tightened, his eyes burning with a fire that sent shivers down your spine. "You will tell me what you've done to me," he insisted, his voice low and dangerous.

With a surge of adrenaline, you managed to twist out of his grasp, your hand flying out to strike him across with all the force you could muster. Slope staggered back, his grip loosening as he stumbled to his knees, clutching his stomach in pain.

You took a step back, panting for breath as you watched him writhing on the floor, the agony etched into his features. "That's what you get for laying hands on a woman without her consent," you spat, your voice filled with venom.

But even as you spoke, you couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the sight of him brought low, his pride shattered by your defiance. Slope's eyes flickered open, his gaze locking with yours as he struggled to rise to his feet. "You'll pay for that, you wretched witch," he snarled, his voice thick with rage.

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls of the small room. "I'd like to see you try," you challenged, your voice ringing with defiance.

With a growl of frustration, Slope surged to his feet, his hands reaching out to grab you by the shoulders. But before he could make another move, you seized the opportunity to strike, grabbing hold of his robes and pulling him close.

He froze, his eyes widening in shock as you pressed your lips to his, tasting the bitterness of his defeat on his tongue. For a moment, he resisted, his body stiff with surprise. But then, to your astonishment, he responded eagerly, his arms encircling you as he deepened the kiss.

The world around you seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment, the forbidden passion that had simmered between you finally boiling over. And as Slope's lips moved hungrily against yours, you couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph at having finally broken through his defenses.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were left breathless, your bodies pressed close together in the dim light of the back room. Slope's eyes were dark with desire, his hands trembling as they traced the contours of your face.

"I... I don't know what came over me," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

You smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek in your hand. "It doesn't matter," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "All that matters is that you're here, with me, now."

Slope nodded, his eyes shining with a newfound sense of clarity. "I can't stay away from you," he admitted, his voice filled with longing.

You leaned in to kiss him again, your lips meeting in a passionate embrace. "Then don't," you murmured against his mouth, your words a promise of things to come.

And as Slope pulled you close, his lips hungry and demanding, you knew that this was only the beginning of a forbidden love that would consume you both. But for now, in this moment, all that mattered was the fire that burned between you, igniting the darkness with its incandescent glow.

Mr. Slope's hands roamed your body with a fervor that matched your own, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever it landed. He was a man driven to the brink of madness by his conflicting emotions, and you were the catalyst that had pushed him over the edge. You reveled in the power you held over him, knowing that despite his position and his vows, he was just a man—vulnerable and fallible.

Your fingers worked quickly, loosening the buttons of his clerical robes and slipping them off his shoulders. He shivered as the cool air touched his skin, but his eyes never left yours. There was a raw intensity in his gaze, a hunger that had been suppressed for too long.

"Do you still think me a witch?" you whispered, your voice a sultry purr as you pressed your body against his, your hands exploring the hard muscles of his chest.

Slope's breath hitched, his hands trembling as they slid down your sides to rest on your hips. "Perhaps," he admitted, his voice rough with desire. "But if you are, then I am damned, for I cannot resist you."

You smiled, a triumphant glint in your eyes as you pushed him back against the wall, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of his trousers. "Then let us be damned together, Mr. Slope," you murmured, your voice filled with seductive promise.

With a swift motion, you unfastened his trousers and let them fall to the floor, his arousal evident as you wrapped your hand around him, eliciting a groan of pleasure from his lips. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer as you began to stroke him, your movements slow and deliberate.

"God help me," he whispered, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the sensations you were creating.

You chuckled softly, your breath hot against his ear. "There is no God here, Mr. Slope," you teased, your voice a low, throaty whisper. "Only us."

He shuddered at your words, his hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. "Then take me, temptress," he pleaded, his voice a desperate rasp. "Show me the pleasures of the flesh that I have denied myself for so long."

You needed no further encouragement. With a swift, practiced motion, you freed yourself from your skirts, the fabric pooling at your feet as you stepped out of them. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your body, the admiration and desire burning in his eyes as he took in the sight of you.

Without breaking eye contact, you guided him to the floor, your movements fluid and graceful as you straddled his hips. His hands found your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him filling you completely drawing a moan from your lips.

For a moment, you both stayed still, savoring the sensation of being joined together, of finally giving in to the desires that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Then, slowly, you began to move, your hips rocking against his as you set a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart.

As Slope lay on the floor, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, he watched you with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Here he was, a virgin and a clergyman, succumbing to the temptations of the flesh in a way he had never imagined possible.

You rode him with a grace and skill that left him breathless, your body moving in perfect harmony with his as you sank down onto his cock. He could feel the heat of you surrounding him, the tightness of your walls gripping him in an embrace that threatened to consume him whole.

But even as pleasure coursed through his veins, Slope couldn't shake the nagging voice of guilt in the back of his mind. Sex before marriage was a sin, a transgression against the laws of God and man. And yet, here he was, unable to resist the siren call of your body.

"What... what are you doing to me?" he gasped, his voice strained with desire and confusion.

You smiled down at him, your eyes dark with lust as you began to undo the buttons of your blouse, revealing the swell of your breasts beneath. "I'm showing you the pleasures of the flesh, Mr. Slope," you purred, your voice dripping with seduction, "as you asked."

Slope's breath caught in his throat as he watched you, his mind reeling with the forbiddenness of it all. With a practiced motion, you pulled yourself off him, leaving Slope panting and desperate for release. But before he could protest, you knelt between his legs, your hands wrapping around his throbbing member as you began to stroke him with practiced expertise.

Slope's breath caught in his throat as waves of pleasure washed over him, his hips bucking involuntarily as you worked your magic on him. He was teetering on the edge, his resolve crumbling with each passing moment.

"Oh, God," he gasped, his voice thick with desire. "I can't hold back any longer."

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you quickened your pace, driving him closer and closer to the brink. "Let go, Mr. Slope," you urged him, your voice a husky whisper. "Give in to the pleasure."

With a primal roar, Slope surrendered to the ecstasy, his body convulsing as he spilled his seed onto your waiting hand. He cried out your name, his voice a symphony of pleasure as he rode the waves of ecstasy to their peak.

As he collapsed against the floor, spent and satisfied, Slope felt a sense of peace wash over him. Despite the sinfulness of his actions, despite the guilt that gnawed at his conscience, he couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of fulfillment that coursed through him.

And as he lay there, basking in the afterglow of his release, he knew that he would never be able to resist the temptation of you again. You had awakened a passion in him that he could never hope to suppress, a desire that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

As Slope looked up at you, his eyes filled with adoration and gratitude, he knew that he was lost. Lost to the irresistible allure of your body, lost to the intoxicating pleasures of the flesh, lost to the forbidden love that had consumed him whole.

At that moment, as you held him in your arms, Mr. Obadiah Slope couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences. For now, the weight of his guilt and the fear of damnation were overshadowed by the profound sense of connection and fulfillment he felt with you. He sat up with your help, pulling his pants and underwear up clumsily as you started to dress yourself.

But just as you began to fasten your blouse, Slope stopped you, his hand gently resting on yours. His eyes were filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. "Wait," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I want to please you too. But I don't know what to do."

You smiled to yourself, a warm and knowing smile. This was a man who had spent his life in denial, in repression, and now, here he was, yearning to learn the ways of pleasure. "It's alright, Slope," you whispered, your voice soothing and encouraging. "I'll show you."

You took his hands and placed them on your body, showing him how to touch you, how to explore your curves and contours. "Feel me," you murmured, your breath hot against his ear. "Learn what makes me shiver, what makes me moan."

His hands moved tentatively at first, tracing the lines of your body with a mix of reverence and curiosity. You guided him, encouraging him with soft sighs and whispered instructions. "Yes, just like that," you breathed as his fingers found the sensitive skin of your neck. "And here," you continued, moving his hand lower to the curve of your breast. "Touch me gently, but with purpose."

Slope's breath quickened, his eyes darkening with desire as he followed your lead. "I want to make you feel as you made me feel," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"You will," you promised, your voice a sultry purr. "But you need to listen to my body. Let it guide you."

With that, you laid back, pulling him down with you, his body pressing against yours. His lips found your neck, his kisses tentative at first but growing bolder with each passing moment. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the gentle scrape of his teeth, and it sent shivers down your spine.

"Slope," you moaned, your hands threading through his hair, guiding him lower. "Taste me."

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of himself, but the desire in your voice spurred him on. His mouth traveled down your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he reached the soft swell of your breasts, he paused, looking up at you for reassurance.

"Go on," you encouraged, your voice breathless. "Take me in your mouth."

He obeyed, his lips closing around your nipple, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

"Yes, just like that," you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Keep going."

Slope's confidence grew with your encouragement. He suckled at your breast, his hand moving to the other, kneading gently. You guided him with soft moans and whispered praises, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

But you wanted more. You wanted him to lose himself in you, to give in completely to the desire that simmered between you. "Lower," you urged, your voice a breathless command. "I want to feel your mouth on me."

Slope's eyes widened, but he didn't hesitate. He moved down your body, his hands and lips exploring every inch of your skin. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, looking up at you with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"Here?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, your eyes dark with lust. "Yes," you breathed. "Taste me here."

With a deep breath, Slope lowered his head, his tongue tentatively flicking out to taste you. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Oh, yes," you moaned, your hips lifting to meet his mouth. "Just like that."

He licked and sucked, his movements growing bolder with each passing moment. You guided him with your hands, showing him how to please you, how to drive you wild with desire. "Don't stop," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm so close."

Slope's hands gripped your thighs, his mouth working tirelessly to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure mounting until it was almost unbearable.

And then, with a cry of pure bliss, you came undone, your body arching off the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Slope held you tightly, his mouth never leaving your body, his hands soothing you through the aftershocks.

When you finally came down from your high, you looked down at Slope, his face flushed with exertion and desire. "You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with wonder. "You pleased me."

But Slope kept his gaze fixed on your pussy. His mind raced with a torrent of conflicting emotions. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight before him, the taste of you still lingering on his lips, sweet and intoxicating. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a forbidden pleasure that sent shivers down his spine.

Were all women like that? Did they all taste divine? The thought sent a surge of desire coursing through him, his body responding eagerly to the memories of your touch.

But even as he reveled in the sensations that you had awakened in him, Slope couldn't shake the nagging voice of guilt in the back of his mind. What had you done to him, you damn gypsy? What sort of dark magic had you wielded to ensnare him so completely?

He tried to push the thoughts aside, to lose himself in the intoxicating haze of desire that clouded his mind. But the questions lingered, tormenting him with their unspoken accusations.

"You bewitched me," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with frustration and longing. "You made me forget everything I swore to uphold, everything I believed in."

But even as he spoke the words, Slope knew that it was futile to resist. You had awakened a passion in him that he could never hope to suppress, a desire that burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

With a groan of frustration, he leaned down, pressing his lips to your pussy once more, his tongue tracing the delicate folds with a mix of reverence and hunger. He was lost to the pleasures of the flesh, a slave to the forbidden desires that had consumed him whole.

And as he lost himself in the heat of the moment, Slope knew that there would be no turning back. For better or for worse, he was yours now, body and soul, bound to you by the irresistible allure of your touch.

[alliskit]

The Grand Design.

TW: 18+.THE NEXT SEVERAL CHAPTERS will include depictions of abuse and violence. It addresses sexual abuse themes and includes explicit sexual content.

CONTENT WARNING: Depictions of attempted suicide (not super detailed, just implied) Verbal Abuse (some detail) Sexual Abuse (some detail)

TLDR: Skip from ["Abigail..." he warned.] to ["New Memory."]

Song for the chapter:

On AO3.

CH. 9: Day Two.

- He was impressed - Hello Soldier (Jen POV)

I learned a few things that night.

First, the hag could hear us. 

As a joke I yelled for something to sleep on out of the gash in the wall. Moments later, several pillows, blankets, and a large cot bed appeared on the far side of the cave. Then I called out for some blood rags and something for cleaning ourselves. Two piles of towels appeared. One pile was damp, rolled up, and warmed, and enchanted to reset after each use. It was similar for the pile of clean dry rags for my period.

When those showed up, I became very cognizant of Astarion. The blood was only due to get worse over the next few days. He assured me he had kept himself from biting many a human woman on their bleedings for two hundred years. It was a fluke the night before. 

I didn't trust him, but it's not as if I could do anything about it. Only hope he would at least try this time since he couldn't drink my blood anyway.

Second, he had a massive back tattoo. When the cave light dimmed down to blue and yellow glowing mushrooms throughout the cave, I decided to it was high time to try to sleep. I took off my boots and socks, set my gun up near my head, and tried to tuck myself in on the double cot only to be assaulted with, "You're sleeping in your armor?" In which I had to remind him he ruined my only corset, so I was free balling under my leathers. He said something he thought was sexy, but was just slimy as he took a seat at the end of the 'bed'.

"Was that a joke?"

He paused. It clearly wasn't. "I'm here for your entertainment."

"If that ain't the truth."

He wanted to be irked. He really did, but he tongued the inside of his cheek as he tried not to smirk at my comment. Then, he did something I didn't expect. He, very casually, took off his outer padded doublet and pulled off his ruffled shirt, handing it over to me. 

"Sleeping in leathers is like sleeping tied up."

I just watched him for a moment, taking the shirt from him. He nodded, turned, his back now exposed to me, and began pulling off his own boots. The tattoo on his back was large, intricate, and beautiful. It looked liked like a bleeding sun, the rays some kind of text. It must have taken hours and a few sessions to complete. It was completely white scar. I couldn't help staring at it. 

He turned and caught me. A small scowl greeted me. "Like what you see?"

My brows knit, "Am I not supposed to like it?"

He huffed through his nose as he glanced at the moss floor. Then, he looked back up at me, his face a little more congenial. "Out with it."

"What?"

"Any time someone sees it they have some kind of comment, so" he waved his hand, "Please get on with it."

I looked him up, "It's pretty? It looks like it hurt like a bitch, but it's really interesting and a cool concept."

He looked confused for a moment. "I'm not sure what you meant by the temperate context, but I assume it is a good thing." He looked back down at his boots. "And, I guess, thank you?" But, he didn't seem thankful.

I crumbled his shirt in my hands. "Alright, that response to your tattoo was super confusing. Most people get really excited to talk about the art they put on their bodies, but you seem... Not so." 

He turned his head toward me, but didn't look at me. "It's not a tattoo. It's..." He reached up over a shoulder and brushed a corner of it with his finger tips. "Scars. They're scars from something my... Cazador put on my back. I've... never even seen it."

I didn't respond.

He turned a little to look back at me. A small, pitiful grin meeting me. "He did it in a night. And I guess it's somewhat a solace that it's beautiful." He faced the knotted door, hands clenched together as he leaned on his knees. "I wouldn't expect anything less of him."

An awkwardness laid between us after that and even more so when I changed into his shirt. I expected it to smell like nothing since he is technically dead, so he probably wouldn't have body odor. Though, he could have smelled like death. But, instead, it smelled musky, nice, as if he wore cologne even while lost in the woods. I didn't ask. Even if I could conjure up some kind of tease, he might realize I actually liked it. And I didn't need him to realize anything as he laid down beside me. 

Lastly, the bastard barely sleeps. He wakes to do stuff to pass the time, too loud to let me sleep in peace. 

I laid there watching the light leak into the cave as he stalked around the fairy circle, again. 

"You'd better have found a way to send me back to Earth with all fucking noise you made."

He snorted, "I've been waiting for you to finally speak up. You've been stewing for hours."

I turned to face him on the cot.

His facial expression mocked me. "Don't you have children? How can you not sleep through noise?"

"Do people here in Faerun live in one room houses? Did your parents sleep through your antics?"

He rolled his eyes. "Some can only afford homes with one room."

"You don't cross me as poor. You probably sucked silver spoons."

He eyed me, "You know nothing about me."

"Ditto."

He raised a brow, "What?"

I blinked at him. "It means 'same'."

He made a face and went back to examining the fairy circle. After a moment, he spoke again, "Are you thirsty?"

I rolled onto my back again. "If you've found an alternate water source, please don't hold back."

He tipped his head to me, "No. Your only options to throw yourself from a cliff or drink what's on the tray."

”Why did you want to know then?”

He hummed, “To get a better picture of how long we have before making some difficult decisions.”

I sat up, the shirt falling a little with the loosened laces. He scanned my exposed collarbone impassively, then looked away. He was in his doublet, the front open exposing his wiry, but cut frame. He was still barefoot, like me. It wasn't as if we needed our boots in here. I tightened the laces a little, pulling up the shirt over my shoulder, then walked over to grab a rag and head to the gash in the wall.

He watched me the whole way. 

"Turn around," I said, pointing.

His eyebrow ticked up as he smirked, "No."

"Excuse me?" This little menace.

"I said no."

"I need to take a piss. Turn around," I demanded.

He leaned in. "No," he drawled.

My cheeks heated. Was this guy serious? The fear of him killing me to drink my blood took a swift left turn. What if this wasn't him teasing? What if he was a creep? From what I knew of vampire lore from my planet, they were dangerous for more than simply hunting people. He had said if he could, he wouldn't let another person touch him for eternity. He, also, said a well fed spawn could dominate people. Was my fear of him killing me short sighted? Death wasn't the worst thing that could happen to someone. 

He made a face, "Fine, I'll turn around. Stop getting so worked up."

I hadn't said a thing, just stood there watching him for a few moments. The stretch below my ribs had started to pull tight, but I wasn't in full panic yet. Could he hear my heart beat? He could smell my bleeding. 

I looked down at the rag in my hand. I didn't have to piss anymore. I was too 'worked up' now, but I still needed to check for blood stains.

He turned away, crossing his arms.

I pulled my pants down, keeping my sights on him for as long as I could. I peeked down. 

"Shit."

"You're heavy today," he called, facing away from across the room.

"I really hate you can do that."

He giggled. I shook my head. Stupid vampire elf. 

I definitely needed to wash my underwear. Also, I would have to pull off my pants to put water to them and try to get the blood out of my leathers. 

"You know, we're going to have to see one another one of these days. You have until tomorrow before needing water. I will bet you will not even make it the rest of the day."

I huffed through my nose. He wasn't wrong about the probability of seeing one another naked, but I wasn't ready. I didn't want any of this. If he believed that my consumption of the laced food was his permission to take what he wanted, I was in a lot of danger. I wasn't about to encourage that behavior before I had to address it. 

"You can wait until I tell you to turn around. I need to pee and I need to clean up. If you can smell it, you know it's bad. I can't sit around in this and I need to clean the inside of this leather before it bleeds through."

He turned his head, but not enough to see me, "Fine. I was only teasing. Take as long as you need."

And I did. After I cleaned my underwear and pants, which was abysmal, I finally peed over the lip of the cave, hoping I wasn't peeing on top of the body. I didn't even try to look. A passing thought of what it would be like to defecate in front of him threw heat into my neck and face. 

"What could that be for?" He asked facing away from across the room.

"How do you do that?" I called back.

"I can hear your heartbeat and smell when your scent changes. You smelled like embarrassment. It's a little like fear, but not as heady."

I opened my mouth, "When we get to that bridge, I will bring it back up."

"Can I look now?" he asked.

"Sure."

He spun around, returning to face me. I made my way over, finishing the final ties on the sides of my pants. 

"Think we can try to get this thing tested today or are your nails still too short?" I asked as I stood next to him. 

He examined his nails, they were normal. "It won't be today unless we can procure a sharp rock or shiv a spoon."

"Glad you know what a shiv is."

His brow rose, "Why wouldn't I? I lived as a slave for two hundred years. I was a prisoner. I wasn't allowed to bite anyone, I had to be able to defend myself. Only trusted spawn were granted use of weapons."

I ground my jaw. What could I even say to that? "Well, if you show me how, we can shiv the spoons."

He watched me a few seconds, then grinned, "It would be my pleasure to show you how to properly shiv a spoon."

I licked my teeth, holding my laughter. Maybe, being trapped together wasn't going to be as bad as I feared. "So, what do we do now?" 

We just watched each other in silence. His red eyes soft and concerned as he realized at the same time I did that we were going to need real entertainment, especially if we were going to try to avoid food and water over the next day.

"I'm not sure," he finally responded. 

"You spent two hundred years trapped and you can't come up with something for us to do in a cave?" I teased.

His face turned to irritation. I smirked. He rolled his eyes, then smirked too. He was a better sport than I originally gave him credit for. 

His face turned smarmy, "I can think of one thing we could do to pass the time."

My humor died. "To be honest, I don't really think that's all that funny. I don't want to be drugged into having sex with someone I don't know. Someone who actively tried to kill me only a day ago, who I don't really trust, who doesn't know anything about me, and has no reason to care about me."

"Ditto," he mocked.

We just stared seriously at one another for a beat.

He made a face. "You can't do casual sex?" He spat.

"Odd offer coming from the one who was pretty insistent about not wanting anyone to touch them ever again for all eternity."

His face went blank. "I'm not the one the hag wants pregnant. If I'm lucky I do what I have to, then I'm freed." 

"To leave me stuck behind. How on brand," I shook my head. "Unbelievable."

He huffed, twisting his jaw. "I'm as trapped as you are. When you eventually have to eat or drink, you will be overcome and I will have to... help you. Better get comfortable now when we're not drugged, I think."

"I don't see it that way. There's got to be loopholes, like sipping. There's no way I'm 'overcome with lust' like you say if I sip it or spoon it over hours at a time. It will be uncomfortable and I imagine I'll still be horny and really hungry, but at least it can be managed."

He snorted, "You have never been under the influence of succubi spit. It's magical. They charm with a single kiss. You can't just sip it. As soon as it hits your lips, you will be under the spell."

"Well, shit when you put it that way..." I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll just fill up on the dream shrooms. One at a time, right?"

He just watched me seriously. "It's no joking matter."

I leaned toward him, my eyes passing between both of his. "I'm scared, too."

He softened and sighed a little. "Then it looks like your options are magic mushrooms for now. This will be a good time to practice your strength of mind and will, darling."

I felt my hand in his cool palm as my mind pulled and tunneled as it had yesterday. 

"You need to think of something emotive," he had said before passing me a small pink mushroom. "I will warn you, if you are prone to falling into thought spirals, you will lose control. When it happens, I will do my best to break it."

"Like I broke yours?"

He nodded.

"What is your favorite memory?"

I stared at him blankly. "How am I supposed to come up with that on the spot?"

"Most people have one." He eyed me oddly.

"Do you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll start with thinking of a single good memory. Think of it and focus on it."

With that, we had laid down and gotten started.

I felt my inner world wrap around me, late evening spreading across my mind's sky. Older homes lining the lamp post lit street along a two way road. Overhead outdoor lighting drew my shadow along the sidewalk. Cars were parked bumper to bumper along street's edge. Music filtered out of the small brick building behind me. A neon sign lit the side of Astarion's face in bright colored light. 

"Where are we?" Confusion and wonder poured out of his whole being. "What are those?" He pointed to the cars.

My smile spread wide, "Horseless carriages."

His eyes grew wider.

"They are called 'cars' but really it's an automobile. Automatic mobile vehicle."

He pointed past the street to the lit up homes. "And those are homes, dwellings?"

I nodded. "Those are considered old, in my country. Many built almost a hundred years ago." He gave me a surprised face. "Yeah, my planet has been here a while, but my country has only been around for just over two hundred." I peeked behind me, "And despite what this little tavern looks like behind us, this is a wealthier side of town."

He just raised a brow, examining the small brick building lit up with beer signs and one that said 'Cavalier' under arched lights.

"How..."

I followed his eyes. "Are you asking about the lights?"

He nodded.

"It's called electricity. We figured out how to harness water, heat, and lightning to power..." I shrugged, "Well, everything."

His mouth went slack. "How..."

"No idea. That's way over my head. Consider it our 'magic'. We have advanced technology because we don't have to rely on real magic." I walked over to the door, pulling it partway open. "Ready?"

He nodded again, still in amazement. 

We walked into the quaint restaurant. It wasn't so much different than a tavern on Toril, not that I would have known at the time.

There was a wooden bar on one end with a barkeep serving drinks in front of a large mirror. In the main space, there was a spread of wooden booths for seating. The kitchen spread out behind them and in front was a game table for billiards. The one signature difference between his world and mine was something Astarion was staring at in disbelief. 

"I don't know how television's work either. It's essentially moving pictures. Cameras record images in succession, then speed them up together to create videos." He just stood watching one with his arms crossed, his brow creased. "And I'm not sure how my mind remembers it so vividly, but that's an athletic event here on Earth, specifically my country, America, called football. It's two school teams, rivals." (Michigan State versus University of Michigan! Not that any of that matters or is relevant to anyone here...)

He clenched his jaw, face stern, "Our minds are capable of remembering or forgetting in ways we don't understand."

"I know. I don't know how many of these 'good' memories will be entirely accurate considering my mind doesn't quite know how to get out of 'survival mode'."

He just watched me, waiting for more.

"Survival mode is where the brain shuts out certain 'unnecessary' bodily and mental functions to focus on ones that will keep you alive. One of those is memory recording and storage. It needs to focus on keeping you from having a mental breakdown and surviving your environment. Your brain chemicals are pouring in during stress which causes your brain to fail to record memories properly, but then it tries to fill them in on the back end. It usually just makes shit up for you, sometimes even rewriting or erasing old memories to make space for the imaginary. Sadly, it's not very good at it or just good enough to trick itself into believing they're real until they're challenged by someone's better depiction of reality. But, it makes you question everything you remember and makes you really easy to manipulate."

His jaw ticked again as he looked around the room. Then, "Does this seem real?"

I looked around at the dingy, but warm scene. "I... It's real. This memory isn't like the best ever, but it was a light in the dark. A moment of peace that I actually noticed for once." I turned and walked us to the back corner booth where a younger me was carving into the wood siding, surrounded by four friends and a pile of potato wedges. "We were drinking ciders waiting on our burgers."

"Are you carving your name on the wall?" His tone was judgy, but his mouth ticked up into a proud smirk.

"Oh, yeah. As you can see I wasn't the first and definitely not the last. That wood was... so old. Hopefully, my mark is still there for someone else to brush their fingers over." I smiled softly, then turned to Astarion. "Want to try a potato wedge? The best I've ever had." I walked over and picked one and stuffed it in my mouth. I half expected it to taste like nothing, but it was just as warm and seasoned as the day I bought it. 

He sauntered over, picked one up gingerly, then tossed it back in two bites. "Oh, dear," he hummed through a full mouth. He swallowed, eyes wide, smiling, "That was delightful."

"Try it with this." I reached across the table and grabbed one of the sauce cups. "We call this ranch. It's a creamy herbal garlic sauce. The Cav's was the best."

He dipped another wedge in the sauce, tossing the whole wedge back in one bite. His eyes flew open as he chewed and swallowed. "This had better be as good as your memory serves. If this is your mind misremembering, I don't want to know what it's truly like."

I smiled softly, "If we can figure out how to get me back, maybe you can come with me and I'll take you some time."

He watched me the same way he had that first night with Durge. A vulnerability peeking through the mask.

I shrugged, "Their burgers are meh, though."

He cocked his head.

"Do you guys have burgers?" As if on cue from my memory, the waiter came around us and set the plates in front of each of my friends and me. I turned to Astarion, "It's a sandwich with a ground beef patty. I prefer mine with a cheese slice, tomato slices, pieces of lettuce, pickled cucumbers, and some different sauces."

He grinned as he watched my friends and I stuff our faces, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. "How old are you here?"

"I'm probably twenty-two."

He hummed, smirking a little. "Quite a young beauty." 

My brows knit, teasing, "How old are you again?"

He threw his head back, smiling wistfully at me, a hand lifting to his chest, "Eternally thirty and nine, darling."

I grinned back. "I'm thirty and five."

He looked me up, then over at my memory, and back again. "Not too far off. A few more lines."

"Ha!" I gave him an amused look, "Cute, but untrue." I looked back at myself. A moment of silence settling between us as we watched past me eat and chat. "I didn't even realize how hurt I was or how much I had been hurt, or how much I would be."

The room spun around us automatically. We were now standing on the front walkway of an older house, lined in blooming irises, still late evening. I sighed, staring at the front door that was always unlocked, a warm light leaking out of the large windows next to it. "The Lansing House," I said quietly.

I turned to see Astarion watching me. "Remember, if you drop too fast, you will lose control. Negative memories are the hardest to stop."

I nodded, "This is a mixed bag. Some of my best memories and worst all happened in this house." I glanced around the small street of homes. "This town was where I went to university. I spent my school years and several after here."

He just stood listening.

I turned back to the house. "This house is where I met some of my best friends. It's where I found myself as a person. It's where..." I paused. So many emotions called out for attention inside of me, but I needed to maintain control like he said. "I don't know if I can go inside. Even if I wanted to."

He nodded, "Then don't. Next one."

I stared at him a moment, "Where do I even go?"

He grinned softly, "What is your favorite place on Earth?"

The world spun around us, immediately, without any conscious decision to change it. The place just came to mind and we were there, on top of the mountain I loved most: the Knob. 

But, this time I wasn't standing. I was sitting, Sylas in my lap. I had been observing as a third person, but now I was facing the large moon rising in the east, a small warm body in my arms. 

The night of the Nautiloid. 

My heart dropped, my breathing a little shallower. My head flipped to the west, where the ship had come in from. Astarion stood behind me watching, warily. Then, as if manifested, the ship appeared streaming through the sky like a comet.

"Abigail..." he warned.

My stomach dropped. The world flipped again.

We were in the kitchen of an old apartment. I was standing in a puddle of juice and broken glass. Brian stood before me. I didn't even have time to feel grief. Just an invisible belt around my ribcage cinching tight as I remembered.

He was screaming profanities at my face. His face was bright red, reminding me what a careless and stupid bitch I was. I felt the tears fall without blinking. Shock and fear pulling down like rocks in my lungs.

Not again.

The world spins. A different night, same apartment. It's more furnished. Brian is, now, throwing a mixing bowl onto our tile floor. The 'shatterproof' bowl breaks on impact as he screams at me for being a cunt. My chest throbs, my heartbeat skipping as a knot builds under my ribs.

Another spin. I'm getting dizzy. Our new house, the house I miss so dearly. The house I may never see again. I didn't even get time to reminisce. Brian and I are in our bedroom. Brian's dead pan face stares down at me as he tells me he wishes he wouldn't have to deal with me ever again.

A flash and I'm in my kitchen, a large knife is in my hand as I stare down at my pale wrist.

Another twist of my surroundings. Now, I'm standing in front of a large mirror in a small bathroom: the house I grew up in. The face that looks back at me is so young, too young to feel this level of desperation and emptiness. I see the pill bottle in the sink, then turn to see a toilet full of vomit because I couldn't even do that right.

The face in the mirror changes as the bathroom becomes a dark living room. I look up into a face I never wanted to see again, a name I never utter, a friend, a lover, someone I trusted with my whole heart. He hangs above me, breathing into my face.

I asked him to stop, stop, stop.

I wasn't expecting to get sick when I came over to try to make amends for our friend group. We were the ones who held it together. This was house I loved so much. The Lansing House. The house with the wooden back porch and cascading garden. The house where I did my homework and painted. The house where I made dinners and hand late night drinks. The house I snuggled up in when I needed to work down the street the next day.

I didn't want to disappoint him. I wanted to be friends again. I missed him. I missed him so much. But, not this much.

This was the living room I sat in with my feet up against the fireplace after sledding with my friends, socks soaked. The living room we all hung out in to sing along to Radical Face with acoustic guitars. The living room floor for board games and dance parties. The living room with the comfiest seats to read in. 

I had just wanted to talk. We sat in his finished basement as we talked and laughed again, but my stomach couldn't hold the wine. I threw up my dinner and drink. He walked me to the living room couch. He gave me water. He covered me in a blanket. He sat next to me and we talked some more.

We were going to be best friends again. We were going to sit on this couch and laugh far into night surrounded by all the ones we loved. We were going to sing and dance right here as we had many times before.

There were going to be no more fights.

He kissed me. I didn't ask him to do that.

He kept kissing, even when I tried to push him off.

I was so tired. I was so weak. I asked nicely.

His hand pulled down my clothes. His legs held mine from escaping. His arms pinned me to the couch. His body crushing me into the crux of it so I couldn't wiggle out from beneath. 

My head was spinning. The world no longer changed. I was stuck here. Stuck here to relive his advances over and over for eternity. 

I would feel his body inside of mine forever. Never escaping. Always stuck on this couch, drunk, sick, and

"Abigail."

I turned from the hot breath. A new face. A face I knew. A pale chest behind an embroidered jacket. A crown of curled silver hair. Red eyes that looked like wine. Delicately pointed ears that seemed to stick out. A look of sadness and anger. The face of the one who had both saved my life and tried to take it. The one who bore the scars of a slave. The one who said he would catch me if I fell. He was here to break the curse of my ugliest memories.

"New memory," the face demanded.

I looked back into the hot face of the one I hated the most. 

The world spun again, finally. Astarion looked around at the woods, confused. I watched him look down in horror and surprise at the large round hole in the ground, the mangled body of the one I hated at the bottom among the roots, soil, and leaves.

"What is this?" he asked.

A soft, but wicked smile filled my face. "It was a dream I will never forget. It was the night I realized I had the strength to overcome him. The night I realized I truly hated him." I looked over at Astarion. "The night I realized I could kill someone and feel no remorse."

"Did you kill him?"

I looked back down at the mangled body, all awkward long limbs and dark hair. "Unfortunately, no. America's not Faerun. I can't kill someone and stuff a body into a giant hole, left to be eaten by random monsters, no one the wiser." I turned to Astarion, "Most people are actually looked for and missed, where I'm from."

He watched me a moment, "Lucky you."

I glanced back down the hole, "Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it."

His eyes met mine again, "Lucky for him, then."

The world morphed once more. This time into the living room at the my house back on Earth. Late morning light filtered through the windows. 

Astarion glanced around, "Where are we now?"

"This is my house, come on in."

"Thanks," He sassed, then took a slow full turn, taking it in. "It's... comforting. I can see you very at home here."

"What happens if you get into a house you weren't invited into?" I asked.

His brow knit, "I don't."

I tipped my head, "What if this wasn't in my head and I portalled us here?"

His mouth opened and shut as he considered, "I don't actually know the answer to that. But, it sounds like it would result in something painful..." A corner of his mouth ticked up, "Oh, to see Cazador portalled somewhere he was uninvited."

I watched him picture it, wishing I could too. Cazador seemed like a little bitch. Small taps sounded around the corner and a small brown dog tottered up to us, interrupting.

"Your mutt I take it?" Astarion said, pointing down at the animal.

"She's a purebred. Show her some respect."

He huffed, but smirked, "She is quite cute. The large ears and stubby tail are surprisingly aesthetic. I'm not usually one to pet dogs, but she might be the exception."

"She's always the exception," I teased as I watched him lean down and scratch between my dog's ears, her small tailless body wiggling with joy.

I sat down on the large green couch that faced the brick fireplace, my dog hopping up next to me. She was just a conjured memory, but I pulled her into a cuddle either way. I missed her so dearly. I looked up at Astarion who was now taking a seat on the opposite end. 

"This is quite comfortable as well. You have good taste," he said, casually drawing his fingers on the couch arm.

Another green couch, squished against the back pillows, couldn't escape...

All of a sudden, he leaned toward me. "Don't," he commanded harshly, eyes watching me carefully. 

I pulled back, "What?"

"You started to think of something. I could feel it."

I watched him as he watched me. "How can I go from thinking of the absolute worst things that happened to me to this?" I waved to the room around us with my hand, "And how do some of my memories show up as something to watch, but others I experience all over again?" I watched the memory echo of my dog hop off the couch, disappearing.

He crossed an ankle over his knee, placing his spare hand on his lifted one as he stared down at the coffee table, "The ones that you can see and interact with are ones you aren't afraid of. The others are like nightmares. You can't direct where they go because they are controlled by fear and instinct." He looked to me, "Though, I've never experienced one's dreams as memories. That was... different." He sighed as he looked around the room, "I may have underestimated you." He glanced to me, "The fact that my own memories and thoughts haven't overpowered yours..." He signaled to the room, "That we are sitting in your living room at all instead of some kind of neutral place or even the palace..." He pursed his lips, then looked to me again, something lighting behind his eyes. "I have a confession."

My brows pinched as I watched him.

He sucked in a deep breath, "I have..." He tipped his head, looking up at the ceiling, smiling bashfully to himself. "Goodness, how do I even admit this." He swiveled a little in his seat to face me. He cleared his throat. "Since we are likely to be stuck together for the foreseeable future, whether days or months, I will let you in on a little secret."

I smirked, "This should be good."

He mocked an irritated look, "Keep that up and I will rescind this confession."

I held up my hands, smirking, "Sorry, please, continue. I promise to listen."

He coughed a little again, "I practice lines before I use them on..." He paused, the humor dropping from his face. "I used them on victims." He sighed, "Actually, that's not as funny as I thought it would be."

I folded my hands tightly. "The ones for Cazador."

He nodded. The room morphed a little. I focused harder. It fixed. "Gosh you are hard to keep out. I felt that."

He laughed, pitifully. "Sorry, I was attempting to be as factual as possible. If we pop into the palace, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, "You saw some of the worst nights of my life. You get a pass."

"Thank you."

I grinned. "Why don't you try again?"

He smiled softly, looking down at his own hands, then back to me, his features growing in confidence. "I practice the lines I use before I use them. We all did. The other spawn and I. We tested them out on each other, gave one another tips. One of my favorites was a hollow one, and I will admit to having already used it on Durge."

I perked a brow.

"It didn't work. If that's what you're wondering."

I smirked a little.

"Very rarely do I ever find reason to use said lines in earnest, but I will make an exception now. I truly do mean this when I say I'm not easily impressed by people, but you're stronger than I gave you credit for."

We both just sat and stared at each other for a minute letting his confession and compliments marinate.

I smiled. “Ditto."

[Astarion Note: I do very much wish you had let me hunt him down, darling. He would have made such a beautiful corpse in a hole, here in Faerun. His blood probably wouldn't have tasted very good, but it would be deserved after what he took from you.]

Jenevelle POV:

Gale and Lae’zel were bickering again. Gale wanted to avoid Moonhaven, Lae’zel wanted to use it. She was thoroughly confident in her abilities to take out a village full of goblins. Since the rest of us were not, we went around trying to retrace our steps. Lae’zel wanted to cross the bridge, but Gale insisted we retrace our steps exactly, forgoing the bridge as we headed back toward the Owlbear cave and where we had found the dog whom had yet to show up despite my encouragements.

Though, as night fell and my conjured fire the only torch between us, Scratch, the dog, did show up. With an arm of a gnoll in his maw.

He dropped it at our feet and barked, trotting off, expecting us to follow. Despite Lae'zel's objections, we followed him. He led us through the darkness to a light on a hill: a toll house. Bodies of gnolls and people lined the pathway and bridge that led up to it. It didn't look promising.

Inside, we found four paladins in a state of disarray. They were beaten badly and one seemed to be near death with a huge gash to his abdomen. 

"Who... Who goes there?" One asked as we entered.

Durge stepped forward, hands in surrender. "We're just looking for a place to rest. We're trying to get back to the grove nearby."

The man nodded, "Then feel free to rest your heads. There are some supplies in the basement below. I will warn you we found one of the toll men below. He's..." The man's face went distant.

Durge nodded, "I understand."

I stepped from around him toward the injured resting on a bedroll. "Is there any way we can help? I'm a cleric, I could take a look at your friend."

A small light rose behind his eyes, "Oh, that would be most kind. I'm Anders, by the way. Please, we were attacked by a fiend. A one-horned tiefling named Karlach. She's... She's going to tear apart the Sword Coast." 

"Karlach?" Wyll interjected.

The man nodded. 

It was as if Wyll had been woken from a haze, "Where is she? Where has she gone?"

Anders tipped his head curiously. "She ran down toward the water the last we saw before the sun fell behind the cliffs. She's unlikely to have gotten far, since she was injured."

Wyll whipped to us, "She was the one I was pursuing before the Nautiloid, the fiend I was sent to kill. I need to find her, now."

Gale sighed, "Can't we continue this in the morning? It's doubtful she will get far, and there's no telling if she's even still alive. She may have succumbed to her injuries."

"Unlikely," Anders added. "She's Zariel's sword hand. Fiends like that don't go down easy."

Wyll held out his arm, making his point. "We need to act now. If you wish to stay, be my guest, but I need to finish what I started." He marched to the doorway.

I called to him. "Hold on, Wyll. We don't know what we are up against. Let me see to their injured, then we can go find this Karlach."

He huffed and crossed his arms, visibly impatient, but nodded anyway.

After a few minutes of examining the man and assessing the supplies the paladins had on hand for healing, I came to the grim conclusion that he was not long for this world. All I could do was make him comfortable. I let his companions know and they moved him into a separate room to convalesce for his final hours. 

I wiped my bloody hands on a rag as I made my way to the front doors where everyone else was waiting. They all asked the question with their eyes, I shook my head in return, and we stepped out with a few new torches and weapons in hand.

It was very easy to find Karlach. She was a living campfire posted to the side of the stream, attempting to cool herself off. 

"That's Karlach?" Gale asked.

Wyll was in a different state as he watched her. A righteous bloodlust burned in him as he marched across the fallen log to meet his intended foe. 

The heat pouring off of her was like standing before a raging furnace. Wyll was already sweating in the cool night. The drips on his face illuminated by his torch and Karlach's glow. "Karlach, Advocatis diaboli."

She let out a raspy chuckle, "The Blade of Frontiers. I thought I'd shaken you for good." She hissed and the flames around her burst and crackled.

As if excited by all the activity, our tadpoles connected once again. A throb pounded behind my eyes as a vision took form. It was Karlach as she fought through the front lines of the Blood War. It was as horrific and bloody as all the stories depicted. The vision disappeared as quickly as it came.

"What was that?!" she exclaimed, getting her balance. I watched her stand on long red legs, leaning on the hilt of a large axe. She was a sight to behold. Black and red hair wild with beading. Tattoos and heat holes littered along her mottled red skin. Her bright orange glowing eyes begged us to help her.

"Proof that you're just another gladiator in Zariel's army!" Wyll exclaimed. 

Fear raged behind her fire orange eyes as she took in Wyll's fighting stance. "If you could just hear me out..."

Another pang of pain stabbed through my head as an image of Karlach escaping and slicing through Zariel's servants filled it. The echoes of pain cleared as the images did. I was so tired of the weird mind connections. Though short-lived, they were nearly as painful as my hand wound.

"She's just another victim of the Blood War," Gale said from behind Wyll, as he watched Karlach with empathy. Her flames were starting to die down a little.

Wyll snapped around to him, "Don't believe her lies."

Karlach took a step toward us, hands high, begging. "You saw the truth. I was enlisted against my will. Forced to fight, and I did. When I saw my opportunity to run, I took it. And I'm finally home."

The desperation and fear made me want to throw Wyll into the stream and pull Karlach into a hug. To be forced to fight in the Blood Wars was a nightmare, yet she stood here having gotten out. I watched her hiss as she gripped her left side, probably the injury. Her heart glowed with inner fire as the heat picked up again.

"You served. That's enough to damn you," Wyll hissed.

I watched a large white hand reach past me as Durge placed it on Wyll's shoulder. "Be practical, Wyll. She's infected, same as us. We could use her as an ally."

"She is a warrior who would wink at her foes as she slays them. You would be best not to refuse her," Lae'zel added from the back.

Gale leaned in, "She might be a little rough around the edges, but I can be smooth enough for two."

I reached out and pushed Gale off of the log, a splash following his, "Hey!" when he hit the water. 

Wyll flashed around at us, "You're asking me to trust a devil."

"Gods, you're so stubborn," I started.

"And young," added Gale from his spot in the stream.

"Karlach is no devil and you know this," Lae'zel argued.

Karlach cleared her throat and Wyll turned to face her again. "You know monsters," Her glowing eyes flashed between his. "Look into my eyes. I'm not what you think."

"Shit," Wyll spat, rubbing his palms over his face. "I've... I've been deceived."

All of us gave audible sighs. 

"Thank the gods, I thought I was going to have to take your head," Karlach laughed.

Wyll sighed through his nose, but grinned softly back at Karlach, "You would have died in the attempt."

Our new fiery companion laughed in earnest.

Wyll shook his head. "Don't laugh too soon. A reckoning is coming and I'll be the one to pay up."

"Warlocks," Gale whispered a little too loudly. Wyll shot him a look to the back of his head as Gale pulled himself out of the stream, trying to wring out his robes.

We led Karlach across, but stopped short, realizing the group back at the toll house was waiting to kill her.

"Uhm," Karlach said, breaking the silence, "So, now that we're all pals, how about helping me smite some evil bastards?"

Durge chuckled. 

Wyll shook his head, "Let me guess, the paladins up at the toll house? Karlach, you just swore to us you were not a danger."

She sighed, "But, they're not really paladins of Tyr. They're goons sent by Zariel to take me back."

Wyll ground his jaw, "I'm choosing to trust you despite what I'm going to have to pay for it. Don't make me regret it."

Karlach watched him for a moment. "I won't," she said quietly. Then she smiled viciously, "Let's go kill some slimy bastards."

I stepped in front of her, hands out. She stopped short and looked me up, "Yes?"

"I need to heal you, then we can take on the bastards, as you say," I smiled teasingly. She smiled back, a gorgeous feature. She held her hands over her head and I cast a minor healing spell. The blue of my magic glittered against her glowing red skin. 

"Gods, that felt amazing. Stick by me, please." She winked, I fawned. I knew in that moment, I'd follow her into any battle.

We marched back into the toll house's entry where Anders and another paladin were waiting. 

"Karlach?" He looked shocked, but not afraid. It was odd considering how terrified he had seemed earlier. 

"Hello, motherfucker. Ready to die?" she sang. 

I automatically rubbed my legs together as a tight feeling shot between them. I noticed Lae'zel smiling broadly in my peripheral. I heard Durge hum deeply. Looks like we weren't so much a group apart. 

A nasty grin grew up Anders face. The jig was up. "Even if I have to ship you back in pieces, Zariel will always get what she wants. Her mutt back on its leash."

I was standing several feet back and felt the room heat as if someone had opened an oven door part way through a bake. 

"Well, that is just too bad because I'm free now." She pulled up her axe, gripping it tightly, ready to strike. "And I'm never going back."

Needless to say, we laid the other 'paladins' to rest alongside their companion. 

[Gale note: Though this is an articulate rendition of events, I would surmise that my excerpt would have been a far better choice. No matter, Shadowheart Jenevelle had a distinctly unique experience as she pushed me into the water. Good thing standing next to Karlach, at the time, made for swift drying. I sent you a detailed copy of the completed journey and would appreciate an insert. I hope you are simply holding out for some of my own particular perspectives to be used for certain singular circumstances. If you want a list of suggestions, just let me know.]

To Gale: This story was four chapters long in your third book. Find me some briefer examples and I will consider your request. - Abbi

[Wyll note: I would have loved to write meeting Karlach. We are just so busy here in Avernus. Thank you for writing down all of our adventures.]

IRL Author's Note: This was supposed to be a funny chapter. Instead, it was healing. The next will be as well. Sometimes we can't always control where our stories go, and that is what makes them so important. Please note that these are in fact my own memories (with some narrative adjustments). I'm still here and you should be too. What happened doesn't define who you are, but it does shape you. You aren't broken, you are in transition. You are being remade. You are loved. You are seen. You are so enough. For all those who need it, there is no shame in finding help. Speaking it makes it real. Sexual Abuse Hotline (US): 800.656.4673 National Domestic Abuse Hotline (US): 800.799.7233 Suicide Hotline (US): 988 (text or call) Also, the Cavalier is real and is in Lynchburg, VA. It has the very best potato wedges and ranch. No, you can't change my mind.

[mosaickiwi]

Hi hi, if your requests are still open, could you do [REDACTED] becoming self aware and finding out that the player is super obsessed with him? From his pov cuz I wanna see the internal dialogue. Been meaning to write this myself, but alas, writer’s block 😞

obsessed angel is best angel hehehe >:3c

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Super Obsessed Angel~

The library was often slow in the morning, so you always put some extra time into helping whoever came in. You were getting a few books off the higher shelves for an elderly visitor. As you climbed down the ladder, a stack of novels held to your chest, you were completely unaware of the other visitor who’d been sneaking through the aisles since they arrived. [REDACTED]’s gaze was glued to you, lost in thought as he watched you go about your day.

Something about you had changed since he did away with the Ren persona, as if a certain switch had been flipped on in your brain. It was easy to connect the dots for them—you'd been so obvious about it. Or maybe years of watching you just made every little change easy to spot: you were utterly obsessed with them.

The first clue was a genuine shock for once. He'd dropped you off at your apartment after a date as he always did. You were well past nervous and shy the whole time, but it was to be expected since he wasn't “Ren” anymore. Under the dark mess of hair, black outfit, piercings and tattoos, he was a nervous wreck, too. Far more than normal to pick up the hints of what came next.

As soon as your door closed the dark-haired man pulled out their phone to admire you through the cameras placed in your home. He thought you'd surely wind down on your couch before bed like usual. Maybe even chat up a friend while catching up on your favorite anime.

Instead they were greeted with the sight of you still standing in the entry and typing away on your own phone. He quickly switched to watch your screen, eyes widening at the rapid barrage of texts you were sending to Moth. All gushing with joy about your date.

Of course he committed them all to memory immediately—and his eyes had widened at some of the more interesting things you'd typed before hastily erasing it for a slightly less unhinged message. But one in particular stood out.

“I don't think I can be normal about them.”

That was months ago, and each new thing you did only reminded him of it. He noticed everything and he loved it.

Your bright smiles as you leaned into their touch, their side, their embrace at any chance you got—they had his heart soaring. If only they had let you convince them to do away with “Ren” sooner. 

You even accepted the ring once thrown away all those years ago. Still on the necklace he’d worn to keep it close to his heart, but now a favored offering he would catch you playing with throughout the day while distracted by something or another.

It was everything he ever dreamed of. Of course, the quirks you picked up when you thought they weren’t looking were just as fascinating.

The way you always hastily tucked your phone away when he came back into a room was precious. As if they hadn't seen the photo of them you used as a wallpaper, least of all the dozens of other pictures you thought were safely hidden in the depths of your phone gallery. He had a picture to match each of yours in the thousands that filled his own devices.

Innocent calls in the middle of the night where you’d say you couldn't sleep just to hear their voice. He thought about teasing you and saying you could just record it, but then you wouldn't have an excuse—a blatant lie, he knew—to call. They always wanted to hear you just as much anyways, if not more. And even if you did figure out how to record it, he'd make sure the audio file somehow mysteriously disappeared.

He was almost certain of your obsession once you started taking clothes. Hoodies and jackets were obvious, especially since he intentionally left them out for you. That was more than enough to have him practically ecstatic. 

Until one morning after you spent the night he realized a few things were missing from his wash pile. A cursory glance through their security system’s recordings confirmed it. The items in question had been purposefully stolen from the middle of the basket so as not to arouse immediate suspicion, and squirreled away in your bag without their notice. He’d only left your side for a moment that day to pick up the takeout order at the door. You were starting to get careful. It made him all the more desperate in seeing what else you’d do.

The sound of a scanner beeping in the silence of the library brought him back to the present as you finished up with the elderly visitor. You politely bid them farewell before sitting back in your chair with a huff.

They couldn’t help but notice the hopeful glance you threw towards a spot on your desk that was obscured from their vision. No doubt the place where you always kept your phone during work. Your hand reached out of habit for the golden ring—his ring—dangling from your neck.

Were you thinking of him? It was only fair that he indulged you. He was thinking of you just the same. One text hurriedly tapped out on his cracked screen, and he was intoxicated by the love struck way your face lit up at the buzz of your phone mere seconds later.

Eventually he knew he'd have to come clean about spying on you. But he had a feeling you wouldn't complain too much. The obsession was finally mutual, after all.

[charliegyrth]

Go with the Flow - Part 6 of 9

Running on the Beach

Read Part 5 here.

On Saturday morning, I woke up early to take a jog along the beach. Kai and I used to do that together at least once a week. Since I didn’t surf, it was our way of enjoying the ocean together. We’d run as close to the water as we could. He was always faster than me, so whenever I caught up to him, I’d tackle him to the ground and we’d make out as the water rushed over us. It was straight out of some old movie.

This morning, I jogged alone. Kai was still snoring in bed, sleeping off last night’s fettuccine. I missed him, but I used the alone time to sort through my thoughts about my husband's gradual changes.

Yes, Kai was eating more. And constantly. That was the most obvious change. But with that newfound hunger came an increased sluggishness. He no longer had the quick-moving, youthful energy that I’d fallen in love with. If he had joined me on the beach, I’d probably be faster than him. He’d be the one chasing after me and tackling me onto the sand.

I liked that.

I liked how he’d become more exact with his movements, more… solid, I guess. Instead of flitting around from place to place, he moved like a man who knew where he wanted to go and took his time to get there. He knew what he wanted and asked for it. Usually that was food. Or me. Or both.

And he was happy.

So as I sped along the lapping water, as the cool morning breeze struck my face, all I could think about was Kai, and how lucky I was to have him.

By the time I got back home, Kai was already awake. He sat on the couch, digging crumbs out of a mostly empty bag of potato chips. Licking his fingers. Listening to classic rock on the TV.

“Morning,” I said, still out of breath from my run.

He jumped, sending the bag flying. “Babe, you scared me.” Crumbs were all over his pajama shirt. All over the couch, too. Along with two other empty potato chip bags.

I smiled. Three empty bags, and I knew for a fact that they’d been unopened the night before. “You like those, huh?”

He thought for a second. “Actually, I think we should get the spicy nacho ones next time.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “Why are you so happy?”

I guess I was smiling without realizing it. “No reason,” I said.

“Okay…” he said and licked the salt off his fingers.

“So, um… We need to go shopping soon. What… other foods do you prefer?”

His face lit up when I asked that. He jumped off the couch and ran into the bedroom without answering. He returned ten seconds later with a paper in his hand. I couldn’t believe it. He’d already written a list of what he wanted.

It was a long list, too. Lots of ingredients for different pasta dishes. A whole variety of packaged snacks (mostly with chocolate). Different flavors of ice cream. Donuts.

“When did you write this?”

“Yesterday while you were in the gym,” he answered. “I was eating some Cheetos and… Oh, I forgot to add Cheetos.”

I winked at him. “I’ll make a mental note.”

Of course, I went straight to the supermarket and bought everything he asked for. Thankfully, he chose snacks that I genuinely didn’t like. I thought that was a good thing. Let Kai take in all the calories himself.

When I looked down at the absolutely overloaded shopping cart, I felt that familiar twinge of guilt. I was becoming obsessed with overfeeding my husband. It wasn’t right.

But then I reminded myself that he’d chosen these snacks. I wasn’t doing anything behind his back.

Okay, I did add a few extra pints of ice cream, just in case. And a discount cheesecake. But other than that, the groceries were all his idea.

***

That night, Kai and I sat together and watched another horror movie. It had been a while since I picked what we watched. Once I’d handed him the remote all those weeks ago, he’d never given it back.

And I was fine with that. I liked romcoms, but I didn’t like them nearly as much as Kai liked horror movies.

Throughout the movie, he finished off a pint and a half of ice cream. I could tell that he was pushing himself to eat a bit more than he wanted. I think that was because he expected another belly rub.

Which I gave him. Of course. Any excuse to get my hands on his jam-packed belly was fine by me.

I’d gotten better at belly rubs, too. I knew how to touch all the places that would make him moan. I knew how hard to press before he got uncomfortable. I even knew exactly what to do to bring out one of his deep-throated burps. Sometimes I was in the mood for that.

My hands were getting tired, so I pulled away. He grabbed me by the wrist and forced me to continue.

“You want anything else?” I asked. I noticed that his ice cream was finished.

“Ugh. No more room,” he muttered. Ten seconds later, he said, “Actually, I forgot we had that cheesecake. I think we should try it.”

I kissed his bare belly and ran into the kitchen.

When I got back in, he had one hand on his bloated stomach and the other in his sweatpants. “I think I’m horny now.”

I turned around to put the cheesecake back, but he stopped me. “What are you doing? I still want that.”

By the time I walked over with the cheesecake, I was as hard as he was.

I placed the cheesecake on the coffee table with a plate and a fork. He took the tray of cheesecake but left the plate and fork behind. Good. The faster we ate, the sooner we could get down to business. We hadn’t made love in a while (he was always too overfull to bottom) and I missed it.

He balanced the cake on his gut and started eating it with his bare hands.

God, watching him give in to the taste was the best kind of foreplay I could imagine. I slid my hand under the tray and stroked his belly. “Lower,” he growled through the cheesecake.

Oh.

I slid my hand past his belly and pulled down his sweatpants just enough to take hold of him. As he ate, I pumped up and down. His chewing kept the rhythm and my hand followed along. The cake tray was in the way, so I had to reach my arm at an awkward angle. I’m pretty good with hand jobs, but this wasn’t my best work.

I let go.

“Don’t stop,” he grumbled, bits of cake falling out of his mouth.

I crawled onto the floor, held myself steady against his knees, and lowered my face into his warm crotch.

“Oh,” he said as I took him—all of him—into my mouth. With crumbs raining down on the top of my head, I sucked him dry. I could tell he was close to releasing, but he somehow willed himself to hold back until the entire cheesecake was stuffed into his stomach. Then all at once, his whole body shuddered and he blasted the back of my throat full-force.

I guess we both had our fill that night.

I wiped my mouth and climbed back onto the couch, still fully erect.

He glanced down at my tented shorts. “Babe, sorry. I… don’t have the energy.”

I felt a pang of frustration, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I walked back into the kitchen, feeling myself throb in anticipation, and came back with a gallon of half-and-half. It was only a third of the way full. I placed it next to him. “You have energy for this?”

He looked at me funny but took the bottle and started chugging. As I watched him force it all down, I dropped my pants and pleasured myself. I was already really close, so it didn’t take long. We finished together.

Read Part 7 here. You can find all my stories here.

And if you'd like to read the full story now, check out the ebook. This story will always be free on Tumblr, but you can also buy it on Amazon (with a bonus story).

[wonderland-smile-stories]

~ Chapter 1. 01 ~

I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes and how poorly written this fanfic is. English is not my first language and together with my dyslexia ass things can go wrong I'm sorry.

With a loud sigh, I open the door slowly hoping nobody would notice me. There were some voices in the living room and upstairs, but they seemed too busy to hear me entering.

Slipping off my shoes I held my stomach trying to ease the pain when I bent forwards. The beating from the previous night was still hurting as bad as when I received them. It also didn't help that I was pushed into the lockers about ten times today.

With slow steps, I began to make my way to the stairs. If I am lucky I can avoid everyone today and get a good night's sleep. My foot had just stepped on the first step of the stairs when I someone clear they were through. I close my eyes taking a deep breath.

"Mi-na. Where do you think you're going?" The sharp raspy voice spoke from behind me.

I turn around gripping tightly on the strap of my backpack that was hanging on my right shoulder.

"I was going to bed," I answered hoping she would be tired and just let it go.

While Taking a drag of her cigarette, her eyes scan me up and down before she blows out the smoke to speak. "Where have you been? It's eight a clock at night."

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I had a chance to speak she was already talking.

"Are you doing something behind my back again? I hope I won't get child services again at my door. I don't need to remind you what happened when they were gone." I swallow thickly grabbing my left arm while rubbing on the scars that were left to remind me.

"N....n..no. I....I was just."

"Just what huh? Speak up or you are spending your night in the shed."

The shed is a cold dark and nasty place. It's where you get sent if you so-called misbehave. You never know when you're allowed to get out or if even a day when by. It's just you in the darkness.

"I had to go to the pharmacy," I mumble looking down at my feet.

A scoff could be heard throughout the room before her shrill voice spoke again.

"Pharmacy? For what huh? Last time I checked you weren't sick."

I look up trying to steady my breath.

"M..my wou-"

"Stop mumbling! You know I hate when someone mumbles!" She yelled stepping closer to me.

"My wounds. They were getting infected. If I didn't threaten them it would get worse and had to go to the hospital. I thought it would be better to threaten them now before people would see it." I explain hoping she would just let me off by yelling at me.

For a few seconds, she looked at me before a stinging hit my cheek making my head turn to the side.

"Don't explain yourself as if you did something good! You wouldn't have those wounds in the first place if you hadn't disobeyed me!"

With heavy breaths, I look at her while holding my burning cheek.

"What money did you use to buy that shit." She asked calmly, too calmly.

"The money I got from my job," I mutter out.

Before I could brace myself she grabbed my hair pulling me closer to her.

"You stole from me?! You know that that money belongs to me!" Her face was so closed that I was getting dizzy from the smell of cigarettes coming from her mouth.

"I'm s..so....ry!" I cry out holding my hair where she was pulling on.

"Sorry? Sorry?! What the fuck does your 'sorry' do me?! Huh?" With every word her grip tightened on my hair, making tears appear in my eyes.

"I give you a place to live and this is how you repay me! Stealing and lying!"

With big force, she pulled me to the ground landing hard on my already bruised knees.

"It's like you're asking to get punished!"

Without any warning, she slammed her foot on my left hand. A loud cry escaped my mouth, but I quickly shut it hoping nobody else would hear it. I don't want the others to come down and help her.

"I....I'm sorry I'll pay it ba.." My voice was interrupted when she twisted her shoe on my hand while putting more pressure on it.

"Without a doubt! I don't care how you do it, I just want my fucking money!" With one last twist, she steps off my hand.

I cradle it against my chest feeling how it was throbbing from the pain. I swear I could feel something broken in it when I ran my finger over it.

"Get out of my eyes before I put you in the shed!" I nodded my head quickly standing up.

I watch as she walks back to the living room making sure she is completely gone before going upstairs. With the back of my other hand, I wipe the tears that had escaped my eyes.

Every day is the same.

Even if I do everything she wants she still finds a way to punish me.

With a deep sigh, I enter my room closing the door behind me. At least I didn't see the other kids. They love to watch or even help with her. Even in school, I can't escape. They just continue what they started at home there.

Walking to my bed I turn on the bedside lamp making it less dark in my room. It wasn't big and there wasn't much in it, but at least I was alone. I put my bag to the side before taking off my hoodie and shirt underneath it. I had just pulled my jeans down when I heard a crack in the floor behind me.

Quickly I turned around and came face to face with Drew. There was a cocky smirk on his face while looking me up and down. Quickly I grabbed my hoodie and threw it over my head hoping it would cover most of my body.

"Don't stop because of me. There is nothing I haven't seen before." I bite the inside of my cheek shaking my head at him.

"What are doing in my room, Drew? It has already been a long day and I really want to go to bed."

A part of me knew why he was here. While the other part hoped he was just here to annoy me. But seeing that it was late at night only one thing came to my mind. I have told myself that I won't let him do this to me anymore. That I would fight harder until he was annoyed and just left me alone.

A chuckle left his lips before taking a step toward me. As I said it was a small room, and it didn't take him much to reach me.

"Just wanted to say hey. Besides I heard that you were in trouble again with Ms. Ward. You just can't help yourself, don't you, love?" He reaches out moving a strain of hair out of my face.

The moment his fingertips grazed my cheek I could feel a chill run up my spine.

"Don't touch me," I mutter out moving my face from his hands.

"Just get out of my room. Haven't you done enough today?" I breathe out tiredly.

With both his hands he grabbed my face pulling me completely against his body.

"What the?! I said le.." Before I could finish he had crashed his lips on mine.

I had to process for a second what was happening before I began to struggle to get away from him. I felt him bite my lip, but I firmly held my two lips together denying entrance. With one strong shove, I push him away from me taking a deep breath immediately afterward.

"What's wrong with you!?" I cough out wiping my lips.

"Can't you go to one of your side chicks? Why do you want me?!" I whispered trying not to let the others know what was happening here.

A laugh came out of his mouth before he moved back in front of me. I took a few steps back but was quickly met with the bed behind me. Almost falling backward on it.

"Nobody is like you, love. You're just so different than the others."

I shook my head.

"Just go," I whisper hoping he would listen to me.

The same annoying chuckle left his mouth before he gave me a shove. Quickly I fell backward on my bed hitting my head hard on the wall.

For a second I think had passed out, but was quickly back to the present, well half the present.

My sight was hazy and blurry like they had put a filter over my eyes. When I tried to move my head the room seemed to spin around me, making me close my eyes tightly trying not to get dizzy. Without noticing I fell back in the dark, but not before I felt a presence beside me.

I felt someone grabbing my legs and putting them on the bed slowly I opened my eyes and saw someone sitting on the bed beside me slowly rubbing my bare leg. Goosebumps ran through my body making me want to pull away, but it was like my body wasn't listening. There was a voice, but it was muffled like I was in the water.

I think I passed out again because the next time I woke up I could feel coldness over my whole body. Slowly I looked down and saw that my hoodie was gone. I wanted to panic and run away, but everything was still blurry around me. A dark figure hovered above me before a hand touched my cheek and some words came out of its mouth that I couldn't understand.

When I woke up again I could feel something sitting between my legs. Still, with blurry vision, I looked down and saw what I thought was Drew. I watched as he moved his hands from my leg to my stomach stopping just underneath my bra. I shook my head and I could hear myself say a weak 'no', but that didn't stop him one bit.

I felt him put his two hands beside my face before leaning down and whispering.

"Don't worry love, I'll let you enjoy it too." before kissing my earlobe up until my cheek before crashing his lips on me. I tried to move away, squirming away from his touch and trying to push him away, but he didn't budge with my weak attempt.

Suddenly I felt myself sinking deeper into my mattress, before being fully in it and the touch of Drew faded away. The material of the mattress disappeared underneath my back and before I knew it I began to fall. My body felt like I was a doll that was tossed to the side of the room when a child was done playing with it.

Nothing worked not even my own voice.

I was ready to hit the ground and welcome the darkness of death, but when my back finally met the ground I only felt pain shoot through my body.

For a few seconds, I just lay there thinking I would probably pass out, but then I began to notice something.

It was so silent.

All the noise from the people in the house, Drew, or even the noises from outside my room was completely gone. I felt my fingers twitch from beside me slowly feeling the ground around me. I only felt cold concrete. Finally, I could open my eyes and was met with a dark room.

Is this the afterlife?

Am I in hell for all the shitty things I had done in life? The cold on my body was completely gone which made me look down. Somehow my clothes were back on. Maybe I am really dead.

"Don't worry you're still alive. For now." A voice spoke from somewhere in the dark and followed with a dark snickering.

I quickly sat up noticing that my wounds and pain were gone.

"You know you can still accept me. It's never too late to be the thing always wanted to be." The voice was so familiar to me, but I could place a face with it.

I began to turn around trying to see where the person was, but there was nothing. When a laugh came from behind I turned around ready to run towards it when the ground underneath my feet crumbled away. With a yelp, I managed to grab onto the side of the hole.

I pulled my head above the edge leaning on my arms underneath my chin. Being hopeful that I could pull myself up a cry left my lips when something grabbed my leg pulling me down. Soon others follow making me almost lose my grip.

While struggling to get free of the hands I heard a laugh in front of me. Looking up I could see a person coming from out of the shadows. My eyes widened when I saw that they looked exactly like me. The only things that were different and stood out were the black eyes and the sinister smile.

"You know, I can help you if you want to."

My nails were digging into the ground trying to get a grip on something to hold me up, but I kept slipping away. Everything inside of me was screaming not to trust her. She squad down in front of me looking down at me with those abysses of eyes and a smile.

"Don't you want to be strong?" She mockingly said with a chuckle at the end.

By now I was holding on to the edge with just my fingers.

"Come take my hand. I'll help you." A part of me wanted to let go so that I would be away from her, but the other part wanted to reach out.

It was the part that was tired of fighting to survive.

I have been fighting my whole life, maybe this is a gift for everything that has happened.

With a shaky hand, I began to reach out toward the other me, but before I could brush my fingertips against hers a hand reached my shoulders yanking forcefully so that I let go of the edge.

For the second time, I was falling, but now everything was dark around me. I yelled loudly while the hands were still holding me, their grip getting harder and harder. One reached my throat and I could feel it begin to squeeze cutting off the air that was going into my body.

A loud banging began to sound around me getting louder and louder while the light from the hole got smaller and smaller.

Next chapter

————————-

The first chapter is out! I haven’t figured out what the update schedule will be. It won’t be every day that’s something I’m sure about. I hope you like it. See you in the next chapter!

[imitative-magpie]

Please Share What's Given You Mental/Phantom Shifts

We all know that feeling- where you're watching a movie, and something on screen catches your attention because it's just like you. That creature transformation, that dynamic between two people, that mythical beast.. whatever it is, we latch onto these scenes because they help us better contextualize and explain our experience as alterhumans, because it so deeply affects us, leaving us in shifts for days after. 

I would like to share a few moments in media, besides the suggestions of others, that have impacted me in such a way.

I'd like to start by sharing my thoughts regarding the movie The Omen. It's one of those horror movies that stick with you, not just because of the plot but the intrigue surrounding such a film. Everyone knows that rumor that it's a cursed film due to the tragic occurrences that surrounded it's production. In the series of films, horrible things happen to anyone who gets close to Damien, as if he himself has willed them to happen. He's depicted as the antichrist, and the way he talks, the things that happen in the trilogy.. Well, it just left me feeling like we're in the same boat. That there's something more to it, because I feel stained by something horrific and I feel as though I've inflicted this malcontent against anyone who gets close to me. 

It's part of why Insidious spoke to me as much as it had, my first watch through. The demons and spirits in Insidious are described as hungry and they can even smell the still living souls when they astral project from their bodies at night. They feed off the fear of those they afflict, and they aim to steal the bodies of the dreamers for their own. That scene where there was that dark figure standing in the corner of Dalton’s room? That is so close to how I've found myself in my many dreams, haunting others like a sleep apparition demon. I would be lying if I said that was my only reason though… The red door that's been shown in the original film– I heard they're making a movie giving it some background story, but there's something about the red door that felt familiar. I don't even know why. 

The Rake had been one of the creepypastas of the early 2000s that had stuck with me throughout my childhood- I remember a depiction of its ghoul like figure, sitting at the edge of beds. If you look directly at this creature, it attacks viscously, wishing not to be perceived. This shrill voiced anomaly of the woods reminds me much of myself, reminds me of things I’ve long forgotten. The Rake holds a special place in my heart. I was nearly obsessed with the story in my preteens, and it remains a topic of interest to this day, along with the stories of The Operator. 

It should come as no surprise that I relate a fair bit to Johnny Truant, with his descent into paranoia and hysteria throughout his journal, and his ambiguous end. It’s just one of the many reasons I felt so attached to House of Leaves. This character is not my only reasoning for why I feel attached to House of Leaves though. There are recurring themes that have left its mark on me, and made me who I am. The house’s inner dimensions being as twisted and foreboding as they are, as well Will’s letter regarding the house to Karen had left a significant impact on me. It’s so unfortunate that only fragmented pieces seem familiar to me while not touching on some of the topics of my dream memories- because I would claim this as my source in a heartbeat. 

Smile was an interesting one, to give me Kin shifts. While Insidious was the first movie to allow me kinshifts that left me truly feeling like a monster, Smile was the first time I found I liked it, and how that terrified me. The idea of something so horrific infecting someone in a parasitic nature–

I have always felt my urges held those same parasitic traits. It only got worse with the sequel. The opening soundtrack and the ending left a terrified thrill in my heart, left me feeling that desire to suck the marrow straight from fear itself. 

.. And then there was ‘The Murders of Molly Southbourne’, a book that I still reflect on not for it’s literary prowess, as I found myself not particularly enthused by the lackluster route the book had taken.. But the very first moment the story’s central theme was unveiled to me, the idea of what could be had always sat heavy in my head. Stories of doppelgangers, and monsters being born from shed blood had always been something that caught my eye, and this book was no different. Sure, there were other stories such as Plastic Faces, taken straight from r/No Sleep, and Tender is the Flesh with the dehumanisation of Jasmine and heavy themes of gore. I guess in truth, the visuals in my head have always drawn me in, fed life to me where I would otherwise be vacant. I just want to know who I am, maybe that's why the theme of doppelgangers and the uncanny has always caught my attention so consistently.    

There are others like this that I ruminate over, trying to find meaning in while it turns a blade of desire deep in my soul,

But I’m interested in you. What do you remember viewing, that first ever gave you those ‘shifty feelings’? Feel free to reblog with your own experiences.

[south-of-heaven]

Judgement Day x reader where their daughter has been waking up at night a lot, but reader thinks the others shouldn't have to wake up, so she does it herself and feels exhausted. The others find out and assure her they want to help because this baby has 5 parents, not one

Lost sleep || The Judgement Day x Reader

Summary: Every time your daughter wakes up at night, you're the one who takes care of it, simply because you don't want your partners to lose any sleep over it. They remind you that you're not alone.

It had been a rough week, to say the least. Your precious daughter, the apple of your eye, had been having a difficult time sleeping. She'd wake up multiple times throughout the night, fussing and crying, leaving you exhausted from lack of sleep.

You had made it a point to get up each time she cried, not wanting your partners to lose sleep over it. They all had busy schedules, and it seemed like the least you could do. But as the nights passed and your sleep deprivation grew, it was becoming harder and harder to keep up with her demands.

One particularly sleepless morning, you dragged yourself out of bed, your body heavy with fatigue. Rhea, Damian, Finn, and Dominik were all still asleep, blissfully unaware of your nightly struggles.

As you prepared a bottle for your daughter, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. You loved her more than anything, but the sleepless nights were taking a toll on you.

Later that day, you couldn't hide the bags under your eyes and your overall exhaustion. Your partners noticed, their concern evident. Rhea was the first to gently confront you.

"Hey, love," she said softly, pulling you aside while the others were busy. "I've noticed you've been looking really tired lately. Is everything okay?"

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to burden her with your struggles. But then you sighed, realizing you couldn't keep this to yourself any longer. "It's just... our daughter has been waking up so many times during the night, and I didn't want you all to lose sleep, so I've been taking care of her myself."

Rhea's expression softened as she listened, and she pulled you into a comforting embrace. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. We're all here for you, and we're her parents too. You can ask for help."

Later, Damian and Finn echoed similar sentiments, letting you know that you were never alone in this. They assured you that they wanted to share the responsibilities and the joys of parenting equally.

Finally, Dominik found you sitting quietly in the nursery, your daughter sleeping soundly in your arms. He approached you with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with love and understanding.

"You're an incredible parent," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't have to carry this alone. We're a team, remember?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion and stress finally lifting from your shoulders. You realized that you had an incredible support system right in front of you, and together, you could handle anything.

From that day forward, you all took turns caring for your daughter during the night. The burden was lightened, and the bond between you and your partners grew even stronger. Parenthood had its challenges, but with love and teamwork, you knew you could conquer them all.

[talonabraxas]

I trow I hung on that windy Tree nine whole days and nights, stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin, myself to mine own self given, high on that Tree of which none hath heard from what roots it rises to heaven. — Hávamál (Line 137)

The Wild Hunt of Odin Talon Abraxas

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, one of the earliest and foremost histories of the Anglo-Saxons, who were descended from the same Germanic tribes as the Norse and broadly shared the same body of religious lore, records the following event as having happened in CE 1127:

Let no one be surprised at what we are about to relate, for it was common gossip up and down the countryside that after February 6th many people both saw and heard a whole pack of huntsmen in full cry. They straddled black horses and black bucks while their hounds were pitch black with staring hideous eyes. This was seen in the very deer park of Peterborough town, and in all the woods stretching from that same spot as far as Stamford. All through the night monks heard them sounding and winding their horns. Reliable witnesses who kept watch in the night declared that there might well have been twenty or even thirty of them in this wild tantivy as near as they could tell.

This spectral, nocturnal horde was the “Wild Hunt,” which was recorded in folklore all throughout ancient, medieval, and even early modern Europe, but was especially concentrated in the Germanic lands of northern Europe. In Scandinavia, it was called Oskoreia, “Terrifying Ride,”[2] or Odensjakt, “Odin’s Hunt.” In Middle High German, it was called Wuotanes Her, “Odin’s Army,” and in modern German W��tende Heer, “Furious/Inspired Army,” or Wilde Jagd, “Wild Hunt.”

It swept through the forests in midwinter, the coldest, darkest part of the year, when ferocious winds and storms howled over the land. Anyone who found him- or herself out of doors at night during this time might spot this ghostly procession – or be spotted by it, which might involve being carried away and dropped miles from where the unfortunate person had been taken up, or worse.[6] Others, practitioners of various forms of magic, joined in it voluntarily, as an intangible part of them (a “soul,” if you like) flew with the cavalcade while their bodies lay in their beds as if sleeping normally. Sometimes, the members of the Hunt entered towns and houses, causing havoc and stealing food and drink.

The Leader of the Wild Hunt

When accounts of the Wild Hunt mention a leader, the figure who filled this role varied greatly. In Germany, the leader could have been “Perchta, Berhta, Berta, Holt, Holle, Hulda, Foste, Selga, Selda, Heme, Herla, Berchtold [or] Berhtolt.”

However, as the Wild Hunt’s various names across the Germanic lands attest, one figure was especially closely associated with it: Odin, the god of the dead, inspiration, ecstatic trance, battle frenzy, knowledge, the ruling class, and creative and intellectual pursuits in general. Two of Odin’s hundreds of names further demonstrate his association with midwinter, the time of the year in which the holiday Yule (Old Norse Jól) falls: Jólnir and Jauloherra, both of which mean something like “Master of Yule.” The myths describe him frequently riding throughout the Nine Worlds on his eight-legged steed, Sleipnir, on quests of a shamanic nature, another theme that connects him to the Wild Hunt. As H.R. Ellis Davidson put it, speaking of the manifestations of the Wild Hunt that continued well into the Christian era, “it was natural that the ancient god of the dead who rode through the air should keep a place in this way in the memory of the people, and it reminds us of the terror which his name must once have inspired.”

Conclusion

In the body of lore surrounding the Wild Hunt, we find a number of themes that connect it powerfully with the dead and the underworld. For one thing, there’s the ghostly character of the hunters or warriors themselves. Dogs and horses, animals that were closely associated with death (amongst a great many other things), were almost invariably present. In some accounts of the Hunt, the riders can hardly, if at all, be distinguished from land spirits, who were themselves often conflated with the dead, as if the two were thought of as being in some sense one and the same. Finally, for the ancient Germanic peoples, the worlds of the living and the dead were especially permeable during midwinter, which goes a long way toward explaining why this troop of apparitions haunted the land during that particular part of the year. In the words of Claude Lecouteux, “[T]he Wild Hunt fell into the vast complex of ancestor worship, the cult of the dead, who are the go-betweens between men and the gods.”

It was as if the very elements of midwinter – the menacing cold, the almost unrelenting darkness, the eerie, desolate silence broken only by the baying winds and galloping storms – manifested the restless dead, and the ancient northern Europeans, whose ways of life and worldviews predisposed them to sense spiritual qualities in the world around them, recorded the sometimes terrifying fruits of such an engagement with the enchanted world in their accounts of the Wild Hunt.

[humblequestvinyl]

fix you too

FIX YOU TOO, FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

APART OF THE ‘ANOTHER ON THE WAY’ SERIES

SUMMARY: after the 73rd hunger games, y/n is not only left to pick up the pieces of herself, but her family as well after the death of her younger sister, and telling the boy she loved that she couldn’t fix him too.

◀ ⏸ ▶

lowercase is intentional! wc: 0.8k

inspired by fix you too, by megan moroney

warning: mentions of the games (slightly!) victor reader, swearing, death, slight mention of past trauma, alcohol, & angst!

a/n: not sure how well this is as i wrote it at three am but i am a sucker for finnick odair, and the line about “tell those green eyes no.” REMINDS ME OF HIM! so here we are :) 

“I DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO FIX YOU TOO.” y/n l/n stood in front of the boy she loved, someone she had mentored with for years now, graveling with the fact she had to take care of herself now.

“i cannot keep doing this finnick.”her voice was soft, but the tears were evident in her e/c eyes. the losses she had just gone through, and trying to pick up the pieces of not only herself, but the rest of her family now.

it was right after the 73rd hunger games, and were on the train ride back from the capital when this conversation sparked. it was the loss of y/n’s younger sister, a tribute she tried to mentor the best she could that caused all of this to unravel.

“the next few months i am going to pick up the pieces of not only myself, but my younger sister and our mom.”y/n lip quivered as tears threatened to spill, “i am not in the place for a relationship finnick. not even close to one.”

“you don’t have to do this alone.”finnick spoke, but the victor was in complete denial, “i can help you with everything. this shouldn’t be all on you.”

“but it is!”a sob broke through the girls lips as she covered her mouth, careful not to wake anyone else on the night train, “it’s my family finnick, this is something i have to do.”

taking a deep breath, the h/c girl stood up, suppressing the tears that kept rising as she tried to keep the emotions under control. as she walked over towards the alcohol cart, she quickly picked out the whiskey, with a flash of haymitch abernathy mentioning how ‘alcohol fixed everything’

“you and i both know there’s a lot of things we haven’t processed about our games fin,”y/n started, with his green eyes meeting hers, “and with all this happening, i don’t want to have to fix you too.”

“you won’t-”y/n cut off the boy by shaking her head, “i’m the glue that tries to fix everything that’s broken.”

“maybe when i get my shit together, when everything’s calmed down and i’ve worked through seeing my sister die, we can talk about being something.”y/n’s voice was calm, but her words were laced with grief, something she was currently blinded by, “you also need work finnick to tell you the truth.”

“if you had asked me this when i was younger, i know that i couldn’t tell you no because of those green eyes.”y/n explained, and finnick observed the dark circles under the girls eyes, representing the lack of sleep she had since the games started.

“but i need to fix myself before i even attempt anything else.”the girl whispered, before taking another sip of her drink, and heading in towards the room she was assigned on the train.

the room was exactly how she felt. dark, depressing and flat out sad. the tv was off because all she would see is her sister dying, and she couldn’t bear to turn on the lights.

so there y/n would lay on the bed, staring into the wall, wondering where she went wrong. could there have been more sponsors y/n could’ve gotten for the girl? more tips or training she could’ve done to have her sister on that train with her?

every single scenario played throughout her head, and it wasn’t until she felt a pair of lips on the top of her head that broke her out of her thoughts.

her head didn’t turn, knowing exactly who it was, and there was no changing her mind.

finnick knew that. he knew that y/n was one of the most stubborn people he had ever met, and if she had her mind set on something, there was no point in trying to change it. it would be an endless cycle of arguing, and no progress would be made.

“whenever you need me, you know where to find me most nights.”finnick spoke softly, but he knew his message was getting to the girl by the way she curled into the blankets, “even if you call in the middle of the night sunshine, i’ll be there.”

“i’ll be there for you.”