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#but to arthur it's all a complete mystery

vickyvicarious · 2 years

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Imagine you are Arthur Holmwood for a minute. You're a young nobleman, had a few adventures, have a couple of very good friends. You've fallen deeply in love with the same girl as said friends, and you all propose on the same day but luckily you are the one she chooses. She loves you back, and is excited to marry you. Even better, your friends bear you absolutely no resentment, staying as true as ever and even congratulating you. This is the best summer of your life.

...Your father isn't in the best health, and unfortunately neither is her mother. You both want to get married as soon as possible - all the more once you learn just how poorly her mother actually is. You want her to be able to see the wedding. But Lucy seems worse after her seaside vacation than she did before. It's not just stress. She looks ill too, very ill, wan and tired though she doesn't want to admit it at first. She doesn't want to worry you or her mother, but you insist that she allow a doctor to examine her.

Jack's a true friend, and answers your call even though he was rejected by Lucy such a short time ago. The very next day you're called away because your father's health is getting worse too. Suddenly, everyone around you is very sick, and in two of the cases the best you can do seems to be prolonging the end a little more. Once your father dies, you'll inherit his title, so even outside of love for him, there are duties you'll have to take up that are keeping you busy at his side. Jack's supposed to figure out what's going on with Lucy, and while he claims she is doing better he also has no idea the cause and has immediately called in a specialist, which is terrifying in its own way. And then a few days later he writes that she is worse. You can tell immediately he's trying to soften the blow, and rush back to visit - and thank God you did, because she's dying, she needs your blood given to her. Of course you do it, you'd do anything at all to save the woman you love. The doctor praises your bravery and lets you kiss her sleeping form, but they tell you not to stay, to go home and rest. You understand, they don't want to worry her by seeing how weak you have become. It's amazing how exhausted you feel. Is this how Lucy has felt all this time? At least the latest message from Jack says the operation was a success.

But then the messages get that familiar tone again, of trying to cover up a terrible situation, and then they stop altogether. Your father is gravely ill and you're all he has, you can't leave him but you fear Lucy may be doing just as badly. You're desperate, so you turn to your other best friend, ask him to please go and check up on the situation. You feel terrible asking both Lucy's rejected suitors like this, but you know they will stand by both of you. And once again you're glad you did, because the same morning he sends you a telegram that Lucy's mother has died. She'll never make it to the wedding now, but that's the least of your concerns anymore. You just pray that there will still be a wedding at all. Quincey claims she's doing a little better, but you've heard that before.

Sure enough, the next afternoon she asks for you. You already know what that means. Lucy, your Lucy who always puts others above herself, who had to be convinced to see a doctor in the first place for your sake rather than her own... She wouldn't ask for you when she knows your father is dying. Even with her own mother dead, she would try to be strong and to give you comfort; if she's asking you to come it can only be because she feels it may be her last chance. She thinks she is dying. ...And she is, that's apparent as soon as you arrive. You both try to be cheerful for one another, but you both know what's happening.

They won't allow you to remain by her side all the time. She looks to be in great pain. You're afraid to receive news of your father's death also. She asks for a kiss, but the doctor won't let you give it to her. She asks again, your Lucy who never asks for anything. The doctor physically throws you away from her. If this were any other time, any other place, you would have something to say to him - but Lucy is dying. And she cares about this doctor, seems to love him; and he's been here for her when you couldn't be. At least he lets you kiss her on the forehead.

And then she's gone. Only a few months ago, she was in perfect health. She was young and beautiful and so, so kind. She's the only woman you have ever loved, the only one you ever will. She's gone. You still don't know why. You were supposed to marry her this very month. Now she's dead, her mother is dead, your father will probably die soon, you have lost everything so abruptly and there's nothing you can do.

You break down and sob.

#dracula daily #maybe partially because he is so out of the loop #but i feel especially sad for arthur here #at least lucy seems to have realized something of what is going on in these final hours #but to arthur it's all a complete mystery #and the guilt over not being there must be terrible despite having the best reason he can't

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xhopelesslyromanticx · 5 months

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Delusional - Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader

Masterlist

summary: In which the internet once again is fooled by your slightly overdramatic side. Rumors about Lando dumping you circulate but luckily the Mclaren driver is just as delusional as you are. Social Media Au

y/nfewtrell

Home

liked by kellypiquet and 60‘797 others

y/nfewtrell in my feelings bruh

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maxfewtrell did you take my hoodie?

y/nstans what why????

user567 sense a breakupppp

f1islife stunning

arthur_leclerc *plays taylor swift

user345 arthur what do you know

y/nandlan Lando didn’t like?!

user567 see his post? he seems completely unbothered

user898 Landos too good for her anyw

f1gossip you sound bitter

user787 i just always had weird vibes from her

f1gossip we‘ve met y/n and she‘s literally an angel

y/nfewtrell thanks means a lot

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell and 567‘897 others

landonorris how I try to entertain

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user687 such a hottie

f1fans someone say unbothered cough

georgerussell63 I thought you were on a diet?

alex_albon he‘s abt 4ft tall he doesn’t need a diet

mclaren next week we back to veggies

f1lover wheres the missus

user789 y/n doesn’t attend most gps she goes to university

f1fans yeah but so do Alex and Kika yet they seem to be way more supportive

user789 I‘m sure shes supportive just maybe also focused on her on career?

y/nstans y/n not liking landos post has me scaredddd

maxfewtrell looking smug

landonorris thanks bestieeee

maxfewtrell

Paris

liked by landonorris and 123‘890 others

maxfewtrell took the little nugget to paris @y/nfewtrell

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user578 she‘s so cute

f1lover peeping the papaya phone case

norrisandme yes also Lando liked! they goood

y/nfrance we met her yesterday and she seemed fine

arthur_leclerc the nugget in the big city

y/nfewtrell miss you archer

f1gossip my fave friendship

user787 why is she already flirting with guys when the rumors aren’t comfirmed

maxfewtrell oh god if you think y/n can flirt you‘re in for suprises

y/nfewtrell thanks maxie :) loved the trip

team_quadrant let’s go to Brazil!!!!

f1gossip

liked by user676 and 12‘899 others

f1gossip You guys know we normally don’t cover anything realitionship releated but it looks like Lando and Y/n are going through some crisis. She appeared on a tiktok crying after a series of mysterious tweets and instagram posts. Neither her or Lando have yet confirmed the rumors. But she has been absent from his likes and vice versa.

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user676 she’s making it obvious

f1fans cloutchaser?

y/nstans shut up

landonorris @y/nfewtrell care to explain missy

y/nfewtrell no i dont care to, peace out

user676 omg they commented

norrislove they clearly are clowing y‘all

maxfewtrell the woman cries like twelfe times a day and people still wonder?

landonorris twelfe is a little much, ten maybe eleven

y/nfewtrell I have my reasons this time!

y/nfewtrell

Austin Texas

liked by charlottesine and 234‘890 others

y/nfewtrell my lanlan. I formally apologize for being a lot to handle sometimes. I do love you more than words could even get close to explain. Thanks for being the best boyfriend and bestfriend. Thanks for pretending I‘m 21 forever.

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landonorris my world, anything for you 🧡

y/nfewtrell love youuu

maxfewtrell disgusting

maxfewtrell we all know she aint 21, plus he’s MY bestfriend

f1gossip we stan an overdramatic queen

charlottesine power couple

y/nfewtrell thanks chacha

user787 how annoying all that for such a petty reason

f1fans right i was relieved he had dumped her ass

y/nstans sad people you are, she clearly makes him happy

arthur_leclerc happy 21st I guess ;)

landonorris whats with the wink you twat

f1user y/n control your mans

landonorris

liked by f1 and 1‘124‘799 others

landonorris happy 21st birthday to the most beautiful 21 one year old I know. I love you so much eventhough your overdramatic soul makes people assume we broke up every couple of months. I love you my angel.

view all comments

user676 21!?!?

f1gossip look at y/ns post

f1lover they have me dead

charles_leclerc isn’t she-

arthur_leclerc shut up charlie

maxfewtrell tell them!

y/nfewtrell thanks bean. I love you more.

maxfewtrell bean? cringe

kellypiquet such a beautiful girl

f1gossip so the whole drama reallly was bc she doesn’t wanna turn 22 hahaha

user67 she‘s truly overdramatic

f1 we love a supportive and delusional king

mclaren like a true gentleman Mr.Norris

maxfewtrell

Sao Paulo

liked by oscarpiastri and 123‘788 others

maxfewtrell happy 22nd second you LIAR, never thought Lando would go as delulu as you. Love you nugget.

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hopelessromantic5 · 3 months

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Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #igraine #merthur fic #from the drafts #if I continue it would only be a second part

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satoshy12 · 9 months

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Danny learned from the Ghost Writer that other worlds exist, even his favorite world. The Justice League!

However, Ghost Writer has always been hesitant to use his portals to explore other realms. This is due to the immense power and danger lurking on the other side.

Danny's curiosity gets the better of him, and he can't resist using Ghost Writer's portals to go into the DC universe.

Danny was here to have fun, so he decides to dress up as various DC villains, but with his young age, it has an adorable twist: he appears as a tiny child version of them.

To his surprise, Danny realizes that these costumes give him access to the powers of the villains. He seemed to mimic them, like he did in a few of his fights against his enemies attacks.

Like Ghostly wails with Dan or Cloning with Vlad.

And just seeing this would be much more fun! He started his playful journey to meet iconic heroes and villains.

The first one Danny met was the Flash family while dressed as Reverse Flash. He stumbles upon a face-off between Flash, Kid Flash, and the real Reverse Flash. With his childlike innocence, Danny manages to confuse all three speedsters, much to Kid Flash's chagrin. Danny began to tease Kid Flash about a prank he played on him. "It was me, Wally; I shoved the coffee table ever so slightly so that you would stub your toe right before you were sent off to school." "It was me who made your mother and father see your adult magazine!" Thawne laughed as he heard what the boy did. Leaving after Eobard was defeated, leaving very confused Speedsters behind.

Next, Danny decides to become Ares, the God of War. This leads to a comical confrontation with Wonder Woman. Ares is perplexed by how this young boy possesses his godly powers, and Diana is equally confused by the mysterious demigod child.

The one he had most fun was the Ra's al Ghul cosplay, complete with a sword. Danny found himself entangled in a battle between the League of Assassins and Green Arrow with his sidekick Speedy. Ra's was puzzled by this unexpected child version of himself, and Green Arrow can't help but be amused and confused by the whole situation. After the battle, Danny poured the ectoplasm from his bottle on the ground and jumped into it. Which made it look like Green Arrow and Ra's that Danny just jumped into Lazarus water and was swallowed by it.

Sinestro and Hal Jordan were bewildered by the appearance of a child wearing a Yellow Lantern ring. The notion of such a young Yellow Lantern throws them off balance during their battle. Sinestro and Hal Jordan are utterly baffled as to why a child could even wield the power of fear.

Dressed up as the Ocean Master, Danny intervenes in a conflict between Aquaman and Aqualad against the vengeful Ocean Master. Initially mistaking him for Orm's son, Arthur planned to talk with the boy, only for him to leave after the fight.

When Danny dons the Lex Luthor Warsuit, he finds himself in a confrontation with Superman, catching the attention of Lex Luthor. Lex is intrigued by the young boy's capabilities and is somehow proud of him, even though they aren't fighting on the same side. If Lex sees potential in him and contemplates offering some guidance, the boy would go far. The Suit was like his own.

At Last, The Mr. Freeze Costume, Danny intervenes in a showdown between Batman, Robin, and Mr. Freeze in Gotham City. The Caped Crusader is intrigued by this young "villain" and contemplates whether the boy can be taught to use his abilities responsibly. As Danny was just talking about Dr. Victor Fries inventions and theories, Victor saw that the boy had good ideas and theories.

Danny had his fun, and he tried to return home, only for the portal not to work.

He used it many times and had to wait a short time. Well, what are a few days here?

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dyns33 · 25 days

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Family honor

So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now

There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.

The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.

But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.

Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.

"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"

“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”

"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."

It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.

Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.

The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.

If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.

There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.

Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.

Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.

With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.

“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.

"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"

“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"

She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.

A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.

It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.

The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.

The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.

The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.

Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.

But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.

Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.

"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."

“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”

"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"

“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”

"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.

He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.

At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.

The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.

There was no other possible explanation.

For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.

He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.

So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.

Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.

"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."

The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.

"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."

She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.

Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.

Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.

He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.

"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."

Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.

This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”

“Why ask if you already know ?”

“I would like your version.”

"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"

"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"

“Unimportant.”

"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."

Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.

"Names."

“Alfie…”

"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."

“You always make fun of gypsies.”

"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"

Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.

If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.

No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.

“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.

"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."

“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”

"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"

“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”

"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."

The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.

On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.

And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfiction #shelby reader

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With You part 6

<- prev next -> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: Will you always have to wake up in the middle of the night just to get to know Jake? Marc and Steven notice your yearning to see Jake again.

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/notables: Fluff, complicated relationship stuff, cursing, angst, sex but the language is not overly explicit and nothing gender-specific. Let me know if I missed a warning. inaccurate DID, based on the show. Not beta'd we die like arthur harrow in the back of jake's car

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

Wondering what he would ever do without you, Marc pulled you close, gently swaying with you in the silence of your flat. He had always felt so hard to love - his childhood had made sure of that. But you loved him hard.

One of the delicious advantages of being with Marc was that he liked to bury his angst, longing and inadequacies inside your body. Perhaps fucking through his feelings wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was better than drinking, and cheaper than therapy.

That's not to say Marc didn't see a therapist - he did, pretty regularly. But being inside you felt so much better than unearthing the shit from his childhood.

That's where you found yourself now, face down on the mattress, Marc's strong chest pressed to your back. Your sweat-soaked bodies writhed in tormented bliss as he thrust in and out of you - hard and almost frustratingly slow.

His thick fingers pushed their way through yours, intertwining, pressing your hands high above your head as he twisted his body deeper into yours.

You were helpless beneath him. And you loved it.

Marc was able to control so few things about his existence. The use of your body was one thing you happily and trustingly put completely in his control.

You and Marc did make soup together for dinner, but no matzah balls were harmed in the making of the soup. It was hearty enough for Marc, but also vegan for Steven. You made a mental note ask Jake what kind of food he liked.

"I don't think Jake's a vegan," Marc spoke up, reading your mind. "I think he's the reason my sandwiches are gone half the fuckin' time."

Marc and his sandwiches. He had sworn up and down, on more than one occasion, that either you or Steven had eaten his damn roast beef sandwiches. You always denied it, preferring turkey to beef. And Steven always fired back with, "Y'know I don't eat that shite, mate."

"Oh my god, I think you just solved a mystery," you marveled. The Mystery of the Roast Beef Sandwich and its thief.

Yeah, Marc wondered what else Jake was prone to stealing. Clothes? Money? You?

Then again, Marc couldn't really say anything about money at the moment. He didn't have a job, unless he counted the occasional times he fronted during Steven's university library shift. You were the breadwinner, at least for the time being, lovingly supporting Steven in getting a degree to actually match up to his intellect.

But sharing you? Was it even sharing if it was the same body? And was it even his business if you wanted to be with Jake? He had no fucking clue. All he knew was that you were about to be his spouse. Steven's too, really. But you barely knew Jake. How could you marry someone you didn't know?

"I can hear you thinking," you teased, slathering some fresh-baked bread with butter. "Wanna talk about it? Cause I don't think I can go anymore rounds today - between you and Steven." Meaning Marc wouldn't be able to bury his worries inside you until your body got a damn break.

"Do you mean between me and Steven and Jake?" Marc pointedly asked.

You dropped the butter knife. "W-what?" You squawked. "I haven't slept with Jake."

"But...you want to." Easing beside you, Marc leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Do you?"

You reallly should have spouted off a quick 'no'. But you hesitated.

"Shit," he groaned. "I shoulda known."

"I didn't say anything!" You protested, a little too innocently.

"Exactly," Marc huffed. "You didn't deny it."

"You kind of put me on the spot," you defended, retrieving the knife and returning to your task, furiously coating a slice of bread with five times too much butter. "Besides, Jake drives me crazy. If he climbs in the damn window again, I think I might shove him right back out."

"Ah, hell, it's worse than I thought," Marc grumbled, folding his toned arms over his chest in a distinct, defiant pout.

"How is it worse?" You scoffed. "And...what is worse?"

"You... him... shit," he sighed. "He got to you."

"He didn't," you protested. "Nothing happened. N-not really..." your voice trailed off as Marc's eyes flashed with possessiveness.

"Not really? I thought you said he didn't touch you. What the hell..." He paused, glancing at his reflection in the microwave.

"Is that Steven?" You interrupted, barging in to what you usually respected as private conversation between the boys. "What is he saying?"

Fixing his eyes back on you, Marc smirked triumphantly. "He's saying you look 'a bit flustered,' which would make sense, since you wore those black satin pj's and set your alarm just to see 'that mysterious bloke'."

"Steven, you are such a traitor!" You whined. "You guys are ganging up on me! I just wanted to talk to him."

"Mm-hmm," Marc hummed, caging you in against the counter with one arm on either side of your body. "So that's all you did - talk? In black satin? In the middle of the night?"

Narrowing your eyes, you called his bluff. "You guys are really obsessed with those pj's. Maybe you would have preferred I only wore your t-shirt? Or, I could have slept the way I sleep with you half the time - in nothing."

"Sure, mm-hmm," Marc playfully nodded down at you, mockingly agreeing with every word out of your mouth.

"Besides," you added, giving his chest a playful shove, "who knows how many times Jake has come home and found me like that - then slept beside me anyway?"

Marc went dead silent.

"I'm gonna kill him," he decided, waiting just a beat before scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, spinning you around the kitchen playfully. "First him..." you squealed as he tickled your side, feeling a mixture of giddiness and dizziness as he manhandled you, "then you. And then him again."

"Marc, put me down, put me down!" you giggled delightedly, banging your fists on his back.

After a few more twirls, and howls of laughter from you, he conceded, steadying you back against the counter. The two of you were smiling, breathless... his strong arms caged you in again as he wet his lips with his tongue.

Ducking down, he pressed his body into yours, breathing hotly against your open mouth.

"Promise me something..." he murmured, sucking on your bottom lip and swiping his tongue inside your mouth. He pulled back just a little, teasing you.

"What?" you impatiently demanded, chasing after his lips.

Sliding one hand around the back of your neck, he crushed his lips to yours, giving you what you really wanted. Gripping your jaw, he slid his tongue over yours, licking hotly as you groaned in satisfaction. You could never get tired of kissing this man.

"Promise me," he finally whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. "Promise you'll tell me if something does happen - with Jake, I mean."

Easing back, he stared down into your eyes - his own warm, brown gaze pleading. "I know you don't have to. It-it's not my business, really, but..."

Sighing reluctantly, he poured his heart out to you. He knew he was safe with you - safe to show you what he really felt inside. "It's not like Steven," he admitted. "I don't know Jake. I just...I don't want anything to happen to you."

Nodding quickly, you reached up to caress his face. "Marc, of course. You're going to be my husband - of course I would tell you that."

"Really?" His eyes sparkled with relief and love.

"Yes, really," you sweetly whispered. "And I know there's no part of you that could ever hurt me."

After all that fuss with Steven and Marc, and the damn black satin pajamas, you actually thought you might see Jake again soon - particularly since he had finally introduced himself to his alters.

You thought wrong.

Jake went back to being Jake, not interacting with you or Marc or Steven, and the three of you were none the wiser about how he spent his time.

You couldn't wreck your entire sleep schedule just to look for him every night. He clearly had no intention of interacting with you during waking hours. You tried very hard not to take it personally. After all, you barely knew one another. But Steven and Marc could tell you thought of him...worried after him.

"I think you should wait up for him one night, love," Steven suggested one evening as you sat cuddled on the couch, reading together. London was being London again. The heavens had opened, dumping cold, wet rain for hours, and creating the perfect, candlelit night in for you and Steven.

Glancing over at your fiancé, so adorable in his oversized jumper, your eyebrows knit together questioningly. "You mean, set my alarm? 'Ambush' him again?"

Reaching up to pull his reading glasses off his nose, Steven shrugged. "Don't think it's much of an ambush, really. Just lovely you wanting to talk, is all. No harm in that."

Smiling warmly, you reached for his hand. "I don't think he sees me quite the way you do, my love."

"Not very bright then, is he? Running 'round at all hours for the old bird, missing the chance to come home to a wonder like you."

"Steven," you gasped, grinning at him. "Talking like that is going to bring an end to our night of reading very quickly."

"Fine by me, darling," he chuckled, tossing his book aside without even bothering to mark the page - something Steven never did. "Because I'm not the dimwitted bloke ignoring what's right in front of me." Scooting closer, he pulled you into his arms. "His loss is my gain, I'd say. Have you all the more to m'self."

So it was decided.

You would wait up for Jake (or wake up -whichever) to see if he wanted to interact with you, and ask how he was doing. It was possible, and in your mind, likely, that he didn't want to be a part of your life. But you wanted to hear it from his own mouth, especially since he slept beside you - in your bed, in your home.

Despite your general apprehension, you decided to be your most normal self and sleep (or in this case, stay awake) in one of Marc's white undershirts - they were so soft and smelled so deliciously like him. Steven's fuzzy goldfish socks found their way to your freezing feet.

You took a long nap and drank a huge cup of coffee (made perfectly by Marc) before bed. You were determined to stay up and see how Jake typically began his nighttime routine. He always ninja'd around like some sort of Father Christmas - waiting til everyone was completely asleep before darting in and out of the flat.

It would be your luck that Jake probably wouldn't even front tonight, and your caffeinated body would stare at your sleeping fiancé for the next several hours.

At first, it was difficult to resist cuddling up with your sleepy Steven. He did manage to adorably whine that he needed you, but you quickly reminded him that this was his idea.

"Just miss you 's all," he murmured, drifting off to dreamland.

You got bored very quickly. Steven had recommended a podcast called, 'Welcome to Staying Awake.' Finding some headphones, you tried it out, following the directions it suggested - reading, solving a puzzle, and so forth.

You were just starting to doze in the comfy chair in the bedroom's corner when your fiancé stirred...only to roll over and fall back asleep.

"Ugh..." you huffed, pushing off your chair to head to the kitchen. After a quick splash of water to the face and a long drink of water, you stumbled back to your bedroom...

...where you saw Steven? pulling a pair of tailored black trousers up his legs - his cozy pj's nowhere in sight. Fastening his pants, he turned around - shirtless - nodding once to acknowledge you.

"Jake?" You tentatively greeted, breaking the late-night silence.

"Hola, mi amor," Jake's rich, deep voice greeted you smoothly - his chocolate eyes flickering down to your bare legs. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"Jake," you exhaled shakily, easing toward him slowly. "You didn't wake me up. I was waiting for you."

Warmth bloomed in his chest, but he simply reached for his white dress shirt, quickly easing his arms into the sleeves and fastening the buttons.

"Where...do you keep your clothes?" you cautiously asked, inching closer.

Nodding to the closet, he remained quiet, knotting his tie and sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. Khonshu had awakened him. Time to get to work.

"Where are you going?" you questioned after a few quiet moments watching him getting dressed.

Finishing the lacing of his shoes, he stood, reaching for his leather jacket. Realizing your question was not rhetorical, he granted you a slight smirk. "You know where."

"Can I come with you?" You blurted, already flustered. How did he manage to do this to you?

Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head, tutting a bit condescendingly. "You're not serious."

"I am," you insisted, scurrying over to the drawer to find some joggers for your bare legs. Of course, in this state, compared to Jake, you would be way underdressed. He looked head-to-toe incredible.

The faster you moved, trying to get dressed in enough presentable clothing to go out into the frigid rain, the slower Jake moved. But each action was nonchalant, as if he barely noticed your effort.

Why was he so damn infuriating? Then again, those were the exact words he'd said about you...

Pulling a leather glove over his long fingers, one dark eyebrow shot up inquisitively.

"Almost ready," you huffed, feeling like a child asking to go to work with a parent.

Realizing you were serious, Jake yanked on the second glove, giving his knuckles a crack. "Mi corazón..." he warned, pulling his flat cap over the lustrous curls on his head, and wondering what had gotten into you. You couldn't possibly think he would let you anywhere near his night life.

You were dressed now, in a weird mixture of your clothes and Marc's, but your goldfish-clad feet still poked adorably out of your joggers. Glancing all around the room, your eyes frantically searched for the nearest pair of shoes.

Approaching you confidently, Jake reached for your elbow, bringing you to a standstill. "I have to go. You should sleep."

Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you huffed. "I told you I don't respond well to orders."

Rubbing his gloved hand over the stubble on his chin, he nodded, "Goodnight," and turned to walk out of the bedroom.

"No, I'm coming with you, Jake, wait--"

"No, mi corazón. No." He whirled around, his gaze burning into yours.

"Why not?" you shot back, your hands landing on your hips. "You're going to work, right? I need to talk to you. And I want to see what you do."

He scoffed. "No. You don't."

"Stop telling me no," you snapped, realizing this whole stay-up-and-talk-to-Jake thing was already an unprecedented disaster. You simply could not keep your cool around this man.

"Ah, I see - I can't tell you what to do, but you can give me orders." Stalking back over to the night table, he reached for Marc and Steven's phone.

"I-I'm not giving you orders...I just- why can't I come with you?" You were desperate. You realized, at that moment, that alll this was not a good look on you. What happened to cool, calm and collected you? What happened to the you who respected the hell out of Marc and Steven's autonomy and choices?

You went so far as not even trying to dictate to Marc whether or not he should drink. It was his choice, always - it had to come from him. So why couldn't you do the same with Jake? You knew the drill - people were going to do what they decided to do. Arguing the point was only arguing with reality itself.

Sure, you could explain your fears or needs, and Jake could take that information into account. But ultimately, every person in the world always chose what they were going to choose - period, the end.

"I'm not taking you out there. You know it's not safe," he explained with infuriating calmness. "I'm not exactly working a normal job here."

"You mean...you mean Moon Knight. Like...saving people. Like you did with me that night."

His eyes flashed - you couldn't decipher if it was anger or surprise. "Marc told you."

"Yes," you answered softly, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. You had to calm down and stop sounding so desperate. "I just don't understand why you can follow me - why you can watch over me and save me, but you won't just talk to me." Your lip trembled as you started to realize he just may not ever want to be in your life.

"I thought you said that I was your family," you whispered, moving close to peer up into his eyes. "But you haven't talked to me in a week. I've been worried...I've been thinking about you."

Wetting his lips, Jake swallowed hard and shifted from one foot to the other - the first inkling that you were having any effect on him whatsoever. His dark eyes flickered down to yours. "I told you I can take care of myself," he gruffly responded, his resolve beginning to crack. "So stop worrying about me."

"Stop telling me what to do," you fired back, refusing to shrink away. "You're driving me crazy. If you don't want to talk to me, or know me - if you want to sneak in and out of here every night and never see me again, then just say so."

Your chest heaved with emotion. "I won't like it and I won't ever stop worrying about you, or wanting to know you, but --"

You didn't get to finish because Jake roughly pulled you into his arms and crushed his mouth to yours.

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @kindlover @spxctorsslxt @deezisnotreal

@rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face

idk if all the tags work. I tried!

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earlgreyinpajamas · 1 year

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merthur fic recs: oblivious!merlin pt 6

1. Matters of the Heart by a_written_dream (@a-written-dream)

“You must find the person Arthur truly loves,” the Dragon says, and this time it’s Merlin who wants to laugh.

“Arthur doesn’t love anyone, not since Gwen,” he says, certain of it.

The air rumbles with the Dragon’s laughter. “It seems you do not know your prince quite as well as you thought, young warlock.”

A 2x10 Sweet Dreams rewrite. After the ordeal with Hengist, Gwen and Arthur decide they are better suited as friends. Arthur still gets enchanted to fall in love with Lady Vivian, Merlin still tries to save his royal ass, and True Loves' Kiss is still the cure. But if Gwen isn't Arthur's true love, then who could it possibly be?

~~~

hmmm it’s really a mystery who arthur’s OTHER HALF is

2. Your Eyes Glow by Drifting_Stream

Arthur's been acting strangely ever since he'd learned about Merlin's magic, which he found completely understandable. But asking Merlin to use magic in front of him, when it so obviously made the king uncomfortable? Obviously, Arthur was disgusted by his magic, by him. That had to be it. Right?

~~~

damn it’s like obliviousness is contagious. first arthur doesn’t notice merlin doing magic right in front of him, and now merlin doesn’t noticed [redacted]

3. Next to You (It's the Rule) by LunaMyLove

Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur.

Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others.

Also, or

Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

~~~

this is probably one of my all time fav fics. the humour is on point

#merlin x arthur #merlin fic #merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur fanfiction #merthur fic #merthur fluff #merthur fanfic #merthur fic recs #merthur fic rec #OBLIVIOUS MERLIN #oblivious!Merlin #merlin's magic revealed #magic reveal

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dryadalisliv · 10 months

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Merthur ao3 recs

The trouble with Daisies 23.4k words

Merlin is just settling into his new role as Court Sorcerer and trying to figure out where he's exactly standing with Arthur when he finds himself adopting a dog completely by accident.

A dog who seems to hate the king with a burning passion.

Arthur is far from amused.

---

The moon stays warped in silence 12.6k words

"What is wrong with me Ma?" asks little Merlin his mother. "What is wrong with me?" asks Arthur Pendragon to the moon. About monsters and their hearts and how they love life so much that it hurts.

---

Little ones 14.5k words

“Did you just say you found two children in Arthur’s bed, Merlin?” Gaius gave him The eyebrow. Or, when two children who look weirdly similar to Merlin and Arthur appear in the prince's chambers, they have to find out where they came from. In which secrets get revealed, families founded and chaos ensues!

---

Sunny in Camelot 14.6k words

"Merlin," Uther says, "For your alleged crimes, I would normally sentence you to death by fire. But, because my son has requested it… I have granted you a fair trial. All witnesses and involved parties shall state their cases, and then a verdict will be reached. Is this understood?"

"Yes sire."

"Now you will each tell me, in your own account, what on earth happened this week."

"Your majesty, it all began Tuesday…"

---

The Hunt for Red Emrys 27.9k words

King Arthur sets out to keep his promise to the spirit of the Druid boy by repealing his father's ban on magic. Unfortunately, this is easier said than done, for reasons including but not limited to the following:

(1) He can't change the law until he understands magic better, but no sorcerer is willing to explain magic to him until he changes the law;

(2) The sorcerers all have some strange obsession with Merlin, which is awakening all sorts of feelings in Arthur that he really doesn't fancy examining too closely;

(3) He is starting to feel like the butt of some Druid-population-wide inside joke involving the mysterious phenomenon called Emrys; and

(4) Oh yeah, Morgana is still trying to kill him.

Thus he embarks on a journey of discovery, diplomacy, accountability, and self-improvement, and maybe even falls in love along the way.

---

Forgotten Memories 8k words

Relying on pure luck and Merlin’s inexistent ability to keep a secret was not working any longer. So, Merlin figured better to be prepared and memorized a spell that could erase short-term memories. Honestly, he’d meant it as an emergency protocol, he had no idea how he’d become so careless that he needed it so often. It wasn’t his fault Arthur seemed to be paying way too much attention to him lately. Look, Merlin was just trying to survive while protecting his prince, he hadn’t done anything to deserve all this stress!

Or the 5 times Merlin erased Arthur’s memory of his magic and the 1 time he let him remember.

---

The Laughter From the Next Room 24.5k words

A small ball hovered in her hand, shining with a silver-blue light. It floated there, getting brighter and brighter before dimming again. Wisps of cloud swirled at its center. It was pure magic. And the breath was stolen from Arthur’s lungs. “I thought you’d recognize it. He said it was warm. He said it reminded him of home.”

It has been one year since Merlin's death when Arthur meets Morgana on the battlefield. Somehow, between all the guilt and shame, he discovers that his sister knew Merlin better than he ever did - and ever would.

( actually one of the best fics i have ever read, and it made me sob and ugly cry, my god!)

#merthur #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin #merlin emrys #gwaine #bbc morgana #king uther #uther pendragon #fanfic #merthur fanfic rec #merthur fanfic #merthur fanfic recs #merthur ao3 recs #good morgana

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serawritesthings · 5 months

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AMBIVALENT MINDS

Pairing | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem! Reader Summary | There was no doubt an air of mystery surrounded Simon, and while you hadn't seen him in years, his sudden appearance rendered you shocked, to say the least. It doesn't come without complications, though, resurfacing feelings that should have been laid to rest. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, angst-heavy, description of violence, very sad :D Word Count | 12k A/N | Hello once again lovelies! I have recently been working in this fic about Ghost, where I had an idea that I thought was very fitting for him. I'm so used to writing for Arthur, so I'm a bit nervous, but I thought I would challenge myself for this one! I really hope you like it, and if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I would much appreciate it! ♡ Also, I'm still head-deep in my Arthur Morgan phase, so the next fic will probably be of him. Enjoy!

Stoic had always felt like a suitable word to describe the ghost that haunted your mind. Lacing every corner of your thoughts, he strayed, forever walking the memories of your past–unwanted and unwilling, unidentified, and under no sense of obligation to you or anyone else.

His presence had become a looming shadow, casting a heavy gloom over what you so profoundly wished to forget. No matter how hard you tried to escape those clutches, he held on too tightly, etching his essence into the fabric of your consciousness as the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of what you wished could be undone.

But it left you more unsatisfied than initially prepared for, finding the distance between you to be nauseating, like the miles only made the hurt seem to grow closer until it was seeping into your very bones. Although reality had a funny way of keeping up with you, clouding the past in its grasp, so now, it only felt like someone else’s experience and not your own–oddly comforting and discomforting all at the same time.

Simon always seemed to have that effect on you, and it was always the most challenging part for you throughout the years you spent together. One day, you would find the rough exterior grow gentle as it warmed the harsh edges with the soft look in his consistently monotone eyes; the other day, sharp and cold orbs cut through you like a splicer–like you were a stranger.

It was hurtful and increasingly confusing, making you wonder if you had been in a one-sided relationship all this time. He kept many parts of himself a secret from you, heavily guarded behind thorny walls, as even the slightest inquiry made him shut you out completely. The struggle you went through to gain his trust was like tiptoeing through a glass field, every step bordering on agony.

He never told you where he lived, only ever sleeping at your apartment even though it was too cramped. And, as it came to his private life, he didn’t speak a word but almost knew yours entirely from the number of questions he asked and your willingness to keep talking the moment you got started.

Funny that his nickname spoke so well with his aura, for that was exactly how you had perceived him now that you had a clear look at him that wasn’t shrouded with love and admiration. In reality, you didn’t know who he was under all those layers and cautious ways, your conversations made up of carefully guarded expressions and chosen words, the depth of emotions often hidden behind a veil of protection.

Somehow, he had felt, well, real? More real than the faked chivalry you were so used to when you were brought up, parents having more wealth than you deemed necessary amidst their strive towards perfection. Compared to their stale kindness and expectations, Simon was a welcomed change, as exciting as he was human.

For a younger you, he was fascinating and shrouded in a prolonged mystery you begged him to tell you. But he never did, always preaching about the unsafety of his life and no less job, that you were better left unknowing–for your sake. So curious and unbelievably stupid you were at the time, not realizing the danger that surrounded Simon and how it could affect you.

You understood him, though, and you did for a long time, but for obvious reasons, it grew exhausting to harbor a love for a man like that. You were young and naïve, only surpassing your early twenties that were spent on edge with an older man you weren’t sure could love anyone, no less himself.

In the shadow of your own accord, the best years of your life passed away, and through long days of studying for your medical degree and battling the struggles of barely seeing him–wondering where he was most of the time–you set your sight on other things, naturally.

For this reason, you always reminded yourself that he couldn’t be loved because he didn’t want to. The thought bruised you because for the longest time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. Thank God that time heals wounds, for the thought grew dim; despite his looming presence, you couldn’t shake from your mind, even though you tried your damnedest.

“I wonder where you went just now, missus.” The warm tone of Gretel filled your ears comfortingly as it cut through the obnoxious clicking of the pen you tormented anxiously. Stopping abruptly, you glanced at the woman writing in a patience journal, focused but somehow acutely aware of your absent-mindedness.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke quietly, the luminescent light flickering above you as you straightened your back, getting ready to continue your work. “Just stuck in my thoughts…” You trailed off with a sigh, avoiding her questioning gaze as she peered at you over the bundle of paper.

Although a sharp and hardworking lady, Gretel had a knack for seeing straight through you. It was a shame since you always prided yourself on your ability to stay undecipherable, a thing you learned after the heavy supervision you had been under when you were younger.

You could almost swear she was psychic, for she always had this look in her eyes, like every thought that passed through your mind was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt just as ashamed every time you thought something filthy in her presence.

“Hmm, I know that look, dear. Why don’t you finish up and go home? Rest your mind for a while. Lord knows we have a lot of work to get done tomorrow now that the doctors have been slacking off lately,” she hummed unamused at the last statement, turning back to the endless words loitering the pages, glasses hanging low on her nose.

“Oh, you sure?” In all actuality, you weren’t interested in going home anymore. It felt too empty these days, the eeriness seeping into every corner of the house. Here, you at least had people around you every minute of the day, patient or college, and burying your head in work seemed more of an appealing way to deal with your emotions than staring endlessly into the white tapestry of your wall without a single second of sleep.

“Course I am.” Wishing you away with her hands, you glanced uncomfortably at the snow falling outside the window, hoping to stay in the hospital's warmth. But alas, you knew better than to question her, so you finished your work in silence, the loud drag of your chair notifying Gretel you were on your way.

“Any plans tonight?” She sent a mischievous look your way, expectantly. “A special someone, maybe?”

“No.” You only let out a breathy laugh, giving her a look that spoke too much of your answer. “No, I uh, I’m going to bed.” Cringing at yourself, you shut your eyes when your back was towards the inquiring woman, chastising your inability to make up a lie instead of telling her the sad truth.

“I don’t believe that, a fine woman like you staying home on a Friday night?” She put down the papers and put all her attention on you. “Blasphemy, if I’ve ever heard it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciating her attempts to lift your mood. It was depressing, though; you could admit that. Earlier, you had heard both the younger and older coworkers gossip about the nightly adventures that awaited as the clock turned 5, feeling like shrinking into the floor at the lack of excitement in your life compared to theirs.

“What about that mystery man that came through here some time ago every time you got off work?” Her words made you stop in your tracks, the now remaining cold, stale coffee you were forcing down your throat spilling down the corners of your mouth, staining your shirt.

“Oh, dear, let me help you.” As the woman rushed towards you, your mind grew numb at the thought of the man you had tried so hard to push toward the back of your mind. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him for quite a while, but Gretel’s words forced you to face the cold eyes that stared back at you in your mind, ultimately ruining your every attempt.

“Sorry, I just-” Her reprimanding voice cut your apology short.

“No need to apologize,” she shushed you, grabbing the cup from your hands before you dropped it, smiling heartily in comfort as your cheeks flushed a bright red.

You gladly left the building after your mishap, and although with a large coffee stain under your jacket to showcase your bad luck, it felt relieving to be outside in the fresh air instead of your work’s stale smell of disinfectant and latex. More so, to avoid another possibility of embarrassing yourself somehow.

Gretel hadn’t pestered you more about your apparent surprise when she brought up Simon, but you could feel her eyes scrutinizing you when you weren’t looking. You pondered if she would be disappointed if you let her know you were mere strangers to each other, bordering on a heavy dislike from the abrupt end you faced.

When you grew tired of trying, you presented him with an ultimatum that took weeks for you to muster up the courage in order to speak of it. It felt more like he was the one to break things off with you than the other way around, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. He didn’t even get angry as the tears of distress from his lack of emotions ran down your cheeks when you questioned him, wondering why he stayed.

The look on his face wasn’t giving away an ounce of hurt, only remaining detached like he always did, like your talk was a major inconvenience. Your distraught voice didn’t affect him as you begged him to listen and realize, it took so much away from you always to be mindful of him.

“You never let me in, Simon. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around you all the time, like the smallest thing I say will set you off.” Whenever you spoke of this, it felt like he dissociated. You might as well be talking to a wall the way he seemed to bounce every word back at you, eyes observing you under the dim light of your kitchen where he leaned against the counter.

There had been something strangely different about him this time, though, as he came to you in the middle of the night, disturbing you, who had just managed to fall asleep after an increasingly tricky work day. It wasn’t that you disliked him coming to you, but he never told you why after being gone for so long, which troubled you.

“I don’t even know you! You never tell me anything, and you know almost all there is to know about me.” You gazed at him questioningly, only gaining a blank look back. Crossing his arms, he gazed out the small window of your kitchen as the rain made its way down the glass.

When you stepped into your apartment after your long walk from work, the memory hit you tenfold: everything looked remarkably the same as that day–the last day you saw him. If you focused hard enough, you could almost see him still standing there, watching you indescribably as you poured your heart out to him, begging him to stop shielding himself from you.

Now that you looked back at it, you almost felt embarrassed for how you behaved compared to his composed self, but you couldn’t hold back your frustration anymore. The pain and defeat you felt had boiled over, making you wonder if he had viewed you as childish for the words that poured out of you uncontrollably.

Taking your stained shirt off, you changed into something more comfortable before burying your head in the sheets, wanting to melt into the fabric so you could resume the ignorance of your past the following day.

It didn’t work, though, as you could almost feel the comforting rumble of his voice under your head like the sheets had magically turned into his chest, the steady beating of his heart pulsing heavily against your cheek. The fold in the linen grew into the familiar, scarred skin under your palms, your fingers tracing the ruined tissue that stretched far as the coldness of him heavily contrasted with your warmth.

The low chatter of your ancient TV grew distant as sleep started to pull you into its embrace. In the last remains of wakefulness, you could feel his coarse fingers caress your cheek before pulling some strands that covered it behind your ear–lingering on the soft curves as it hurled you closer to dreamless slumber.

“Stay quiet.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden breath that hit your ear; not a figment of your imagination, but someone whispering the words harshly against you. Your first instinct was to scream, but you found a broad, gloved hand already covering your mouth, muting the sound successfully against the otherwise quiet apartment–despite the low buzz of the TV in the background.

A heavy weight had you trapped underneath it, and you trashed wildly against the hold. Your movements grew limited, though, and as you moved, you found yourself pressed even firmer against the mattress, the voice you could recognize anywhere rumbling dangerously at you when you didn’t listen.

“I said quiet.” It felt like water as cold as ice washed over you when the familiar voice reached you, rendering you quiet and unmoving in pure shock.

You didn’t get much time to ponder over your current predicament, hearing quiet yet rustling footsteps step slowly on the creaking floor panels of your apartment. The hair on your arms rose when you realized others who were unwelcome walked outside the room, the creeping footsteps only growing closer to your bedroom door.

As they did, the hand covering your mouth slowly released its grip, but not before pushing a finger against your lips. You obeyed, feeling him pull you closer so you were pulled taut against him, having no choice but to follow his lead as he stepped away from the bed. Every movement was cautious and quiet as your back was pushed up against the wall beside the door, your whole frame covered by a broad back that towered before you.

It was Simon, no doubt. You were sure of it as you gazed up at the man, the broadness of his shoulders, the tall height, and the gruff voice that had called you out earlier. From what you could see from his back, he was dressed differently; a mask seemed to cover the whole of his head down to his neck, pulled into a sweater of the same color as a thick vest could be seen from underneath it.

In a hasty motion, you felt his hand graze the skin of your stomach as he pulled what appeared to be a gun that was strapped against his body from the waistline of his jeans.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the clicking noise as he loaded the metal slowly cutting through the quiet room, backing up even more so you were pushed tighter against the wall. The footsteps had ceased now, and for a while, you pondered if they had ever been there in the first place, wondering if this was reality or just a depraved dream your exhausted mind had conjured up in lack of excitement.

But then, you saw the door handler move slightly out of the corner of your eyes. Craning your head towards it in fear, your view was obscured though as Simon moved to shield you even further, lifting the gun as the door creaked open, the soft light of your hallway lamp illuminating the room, a giant shadow now apparent on the walls from the figure outside.

The door remained open, and the seconds ticked slowly like ages passed; your trembling hands made their way to Simons’s sides, grabbing his waist as you tried to keep your breathing quiet, heartbeat picking up as he placed a gloved hand on yours for a second to then wrap around the handle again.

What transpired next could only be likened to a horrible nightmare: the muted sounds of a suppressed gun going off, a body falling like a ragdoll down on the floor of your bedroom, dark blood seeping into the fabric of your rug from the man now laying there, completely and utterly lifeless.

Left staring at Simons’s back when he rushed towards the figure, he checked the man’s pulse in a quick motion. You couldn’t form a single sound, neither could you think straight as shock flooded you at the sight, eyes growing wide when you started to register what transpired.

Still remaining pressed against the wall in disbelief, you heard the low rumble of Simons’s voice speak into his intercom, eyes staring at you briefly through the holes in his mask before raising up, putting it back in his pocket while stalking toward you in big strides.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you gently but hastily out the door, pushing your head to look forward as your gaze was transfixed on the dead man, finding it increasingly absurd to see that sight in the bedroom you had just slept in.

In your haze, you had found yourself being led into the kitchen, lifted up with strong arms on the counter as he grasped your cheeks in his gloved hands, finding your eyes unfocused and clouded.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his eyes sought yours, patting your cheek gently to gain your attention. You craned your neck slightly to look up at him, eyes covered with black paint under the mask, seeming so familiar yet different from the man you knew.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, confusion lacing the edges as tears started to brim the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming emotions that hit you after the apparent shock that rendered you frozen.

“You’re alright,” he told you; as he swept his thumb over your cheek, a tear fell, bringing your head to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, gripping his waist in distress. Shushing you, he let you lean against him for a while as you sobbed, terrified of what had just transpired and what he had done.

You could still see the emotionless eyes staring back at you in your mind, the thought of them still lying in the next room shooting pangs of anxiety through you. Just like that, he had fallen to the floor, and through your tears, you started to feel the confusion fill you and the shock at what Simon had done.

He had killed a man. Also, he was dressed like a madman, wearing a mask and a vest, with a gun strapped into his jeans. He had been prepared to kill, and that thought hit you like a train as you felt your tears freeze, the arms around you caging you in until you started to push on his chest frantically, begging him to step away.

“What did you do!?” Distressed, you hit Simon’s chest in protest, feeling claustrophobic at having him standing so close after what he had just done. He didn’t budge, though, grabbing your arms tightly as he bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Stop that.” Sternly, he tried to get you to stop moving, but you didn’t listen. Still, uneasiness lingering in your thoughts.

“You killed him!” He hushed you with a dangerous look in his eyes, pulling your hands to your back so he could grip your wrists with one hand, stepping closer so he was pushed against you with the other hand gripping your chin forcefully.

“Listen!” He hissed loudly, making you stop your trashing when he did. “I need to get you out of here, got it?” You only stared at him frightfully as he spoke. “You need to stay quiet and keep close to me. Can you do that?”

When Simon didn’t get an answer, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the fabric of his glove pulling your wild hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the same fate as the man in your bedroom, understand?” You nodded slowly, and as he released your wrists in caution, he gave you a nod back when he realized you were listening to him.

“No matter what, you stay behind me. Got it?” His voice grew monotone as he took hasty strides towards your window, checking the empty street outside your apartment for a second before lowering the blinds. The kitchen grew shrouded in darkness, only the moon shining through the blinds. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your tears as you tried to gather yourself.

This wasn’t how you planned for your night to go. Just like any other Friday night, you were prepared to sleep the night away, not being witness to a murder, no less by your ex. He had been secretive through the years you spent together, and sure, you had made up various insane scenarios about his background. There had been crazier assumptions than Simon being a murderer, but that didn’t make the thought any easier.

Thinking about it made you shiver, wondering who he was beneath this facade he kept up and if this had been the case when you’d known him. Had he been hiding this from you all this time? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even if it was only you assuming. But then, he probably knew you would have one or two things to say about his, well, occupation.

Your first instinct was to keep your distance, but you realized you had no choice but to follow his lead if you wanted to escape this chaotic mess. Somewhere along your distressed mind and trembling hands that were a blend of his actions and being told you might have been killed tonight, his presence made the situation less grim, the usual safety he carried around him soothing your stress.

It wasn’t unusual, for he had always prioritized your safety–almost bordering on possessive. It had been a significant problem for you, seeing as it reminded you of your parents, whom you left when you turned 18, not wanting to be under that kind of supervision anymore. Countless memories of gruesome fights flashed before you, remembering the mood swings that turned Simon into a completely different person, words chilling and inexcusable action plenty.

Although many times horrible, his eyes had always been set straight on you, and despite them being sharp and calculated, you could almost feel the warmth radiate from them when they fell upon you. A hand on the small of your back, a large frame shielding you from others’ curious eyes and his sight, ever-so-watchful on you.

He was a man of actions, not words, and always picked you up when needed, walked you home, and even stayed in your apartment every chance possible, deeming it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. You had Simon to thank for the reinforced locks on your doors and windows, as well as the taser and pepper spray still in your purse to this day.

Cautiously, you trailed behind him as you moved through the hallway, the light above you flickering as you felt his hand planting itself on the small of your back as he reached around you. Pressing you closer to him, he took measured steps that echoed through the walls, not a single sound from the apartments surrounding you.

There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you, and there were so many questions you wanted to ask. Who was that man creeping through your apartment, and why, for all reasons, did Simon manage to be there at the right time? It felt too surreal to hold legitimacy, but somehow, you were thankful he was.

Simon’s gaze, once penetrating, had been soft when it met your wide ones a few minutes ago. It had always been rare to find him vulnerable, rarely getting a glimpse of the man behind the stoic eyes, but it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. The rare glimpses of love he showed were enough to fuel your own at the time, running on the tiny specks of affirmation that he might, in fact, love you like you did him.

But there was a twinge of something else, a draft of loneliness clouding them that you had never seen before. It shot a pang of sadness through you, although unwillingly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had someone else to lean on when you left him, or had you been the only one?

Blinking the reminiscent thoughts away, you refused to direct your thoughts toward the pity that always laced your feelings regarding Simon. There hadn’t been anything you could do to help him anymore when you left him, and you had to put yourself first for once and realize that what you had was growing increasingly more destructive with time.

You were glad you cut it off before it got any worse, wondering many times how it would have panned out if you hadn’t left. And more so, he hadn’t given you a single reason to stay when you left, only gazing into the air like you weren’t there–not begging you to stay like you desperately wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” A worried curiosity started to take hold of you, and amidst your cautious eyes and careful steps down the stairway in the apartment building, the thought of who the now-dead man actually was and if there were more around swirled in your mind.

You only got a miffed head turn in response, glaring at you through the black paint as he raised a finger to his clothed lips. Getting his notion, you kept quiet behind him, sock-clad feet following his every step on the dirty, laminated floor. You didn’t see a single person on the way down, and it felt eerie despite it being in the middle of the night with everyone asleep.

As you descended on what you now realized was the entry floor, you suddenly felt yourself pulled roughly against the corner of a wall, face right before Simon’s chest. You heard voices coming from the opening of the building, sirens audible in the background as the sound of traffic lessened when someone closed the door–voices growing nearer by the second.

You gasped out loud at suddenly being trashed around, but when you saw the broad arms of Simon encase your head with his body pressed up against yours, you relaxed. Craning your head hastily to gaze up at him, you already found his eyes staring intensely at you, although faltering when he met yours in what you might have interpreted as shyness.

Your gaze flickered, unsure where to look now that he was so close to you. You opted to plant your eye on his chest, the folds and curves of the sweatshirt following his ample muscles that were hiding under the fabric, bulging when his m muscles flexed.

A deep, red blush grew on your cheeks, and you chastised yourself for being so obvious, wondering if he took notice. Redirecting your gawking, you tried looking towards the side but found his large arms blocking your view as he leaned down further to shield you from, well, you weren’t so sure.

After some time, you heard the hurried voices pass as the footsteps grew distant. As you looked up at Simon, relieved, you found him already stalking towards the entry door, grabbing your upper arm when you stumbled to drag you behind him.

It was freezing outside, the chilly air seeping into the thin cotton of your pajamas as you cringed when your feet stepped on the snowy sidewalk, now wholly wet. You didn’t have time to ponder it, though, being directed towards a black car poorly parked a few meters away, like the driver had been in a hurry.

The street was empty, aside from a few other cars littered around the streets, heavy with the snowfall that had been falling a few hours ago. It wasn’t a neighborhood with a good reputation, and often you read about the crime and dealings held in the dark alleyways and corners of the city. You didn’t have too many options, though, the already low pay from your nurse job being even lower since you just got out of school.

The seat underneath you was cold when Simon pushed you through the door, slamming it so hard that the sound echoed in the quiet street. Running quickly to the driver’s side, he wasted no time in starting the engine, tires screeching as he belted through the tightly built buildings into the highway.

His eyes were strained, staring firmly ahead, ignoring all laws of speeding when he drove faster–not that there were any other cars around. Confusion clouded your face as you stared at him staying taut against his seat, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror every other second.

“What’s going on, Simon?” You asked him, voice audibly stressed, gripping the seat tightly and craning your head to look behind you. There was no answer, as expected, and it only managed to fuel your anxiety as you watched his jaw tighten under the taut mask caressing his jawline. It didn’t deter you from continuing to demand an answer to why you were in this chaotic mess in the first place and what his part was in it.

The engine’s rhythmic hymn provided a backdrop to your growing unease, prodding him to speak. “Simon!” You pleaded, but he remained silent, navigating the empty streets with a determination that intrigued and frightened you–the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air, thick and stifling.

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and you were shot with a sharp, almost challenging look. “There’s people after you,” he snapped, voice cutting through the air. “But I can’t lay it all out for you now, so just do as I say.”

“What?!” You gripped the seat to turn around, seeing the road behind you devoid of any other cars. “You can’t be serious!”

His gaze, shielded and focused, hid the more profound truth–that the dangerous shadows tailing you were a consequence of his own actions, a perilous side of his life that had unexpectedly spilled into yours when he basked in the euphoria of being loved by you. The bonds you once shared had been like an anchor but now grew into a chain, its links forged in the crucible of his regrets.

You were left staring ahead while damning his stubbornness to not speak through the rest of the ride. The long way allowed you to think about the last hour and how absurd it was, especially seeing Simon again, which you had thought would never be the case some time ago.

Somewhere, deep in the crooks and nooks of your heart, it soared at seeing him again, prodding heavily at the memories you kept at bay, memories that hurt too much to consider many times. You examined his body that too many others bulged in pride and confidence, but to you, hunching slightly in exhaustion, fingers flexing nervously against the wheel.

He had grown much taller and broader since you last saw him, with an air of maturity surrounding him that you hadn’t noticed before. Admittedly, you were both grown adults now, more so since he was older than you, and it felt quite different to be near him. You were unsure if you had romanticized the few good parts of your relationship that weren’t shrouded in misunderstandings and miscommunication or if you actually missed the first and only man you had ever loved.

The air in the vehicle grew tight as time passed, but at least it was warm as he had put the heat on blast when taking notice of your shivering frame. The strain of emotions from the moments leading up to now seemed to get a hold of you, and in a tired haze, you felt your lids droop heavily as you tried to keep your focus on the road.

After some time, though, your head fell heavily against the door, neck craning uncomfortably as your body succumbed to the heavy load of the day. It felt like seconds had passed when you woke up from your deep slumber, head fitted into warm sheets covering your body in heaps as small orange lights shone through the blinds.

As you blinked slightly, you still felt the heaviness of sleep hanging over you, bare feet rubbing against the bedding as you snuggled closer into the warmth and familiar scent that surrounded you, once more falling into a dreamless slumber without wondering where the hard, plastic side of the door against your cheek went.

It wasn’t until the evening sun settled high in the sky that you awoke again, this time wide awake. Only, it wasn’t your bed; instead, dark, blue sheets covered your frame, shielding you against the coldness of the apartment–only now noticing a black jacket twice the size of your body wrapped around you.

–

Slightly dazy and confused, you rubbed your eyes that complained at having to remain open, sitting up straight. So, last night hadn’t been a dream? Smiling lightly, you realized your night had been much more action-filled than your colleagues if that counted for something.

“Hello?” Your voice broke through the silence, quiet and cautious, yet sure Simon had to be nearby. When the silence stretched on, you cast the blanket aside to recognize the familiar chill wound around your legs that weren’t shielded by the jacket.

Grimacing, you pulled the sides of the jacket closer to you, wondering if the heat was off. There was no mistake that it wasn’t yours, the wooden floor under your feet creaking audibly as you stepped over some planks that were missing, observing the small cracks that stretched on the walls and bedroom door that had been wholly wrung off its hinges, now leaning against the wall.

Walking into the small hallway, you stepped over the various objects loitering the floor, bending down to examine what appeared to be some old paperwork among the dirty shirts that couldn’t have been cleaned for a while.

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed the fabric to put it on the old plastic chair that missed one leg, wondering where you had ended up. You heard the slight thud of something falling towards the floor as you did. Gazing down in confusion, the appearance of a small portrait caught your eyes, not having been there a second ago.

Raising your brows, you bent down again, picking up the shiny paper as you observed the familiar smiling face. You remembered the day vividly, the memory making the corners of your mouth chirp up lightly as it flashed before your eyes.

You had rarely gone out with Simon, being told by him that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. Despite your disagreement about it, you often spend long days in bed, the smell of homemade breakfast wafting under your nose and the feeling of starved hands moving desperately, heatedly, now filling your mind.

You were buried in your bed sheets; face blushed with hair spreading wildly around you like a halo as you gave Simon a toothy smile, begging him not to take the picture through endless giggles as his hand tickled you playfully. He had just made love to you, tender in his own way, and told you he wanted to show you how beautiful you looked to him at that moment.

You placed the marred picture back into the heavy combat jacket you had laid on the chair just now, curious of the torn edges and suspiciously red substance covering it in some places. Had he kept that picture all these years?

“Simon?” Walking further into the apartment, you grew worried, wondering where Simon was. That’s when you heard the low rumble of his voice, talking in a hushed manner.

Tiptoeing faster, you caught sight of his large frame leaning against the kitchen sink, gazing at you monotonously when you entered as his mouth worded undecipherable words before ending the call, pulling the phone back into his front pocket.

As you placed the puzzle pieces together, you realized you were in his apartment. That explains it, you thought to yourself as your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the dire state of it. You couldn’t help but be surprised, never imagining that Simon lived in such a pigsty. It wasn’t that it was untidy; it was more like someone hadn’t been here for ages and ignored the dire need for renovations, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

Your wide-open eyes met his calculating ones, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat before you could. “Sleep well?” He raised his brow as the question hung in the air, eyes caressing your form as he took you in.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, scrunching your forehead as you tried to find the right words, completely and utterly overwhelmed at where you found yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”

You got a nod back, still staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you wondered where to start the questions that burned in your mind. “You,” you stuttered. “You’re here.” Your fumbled words grew into more of a statement than a question, confusion lacing your expression.

Simon only gave you a look in response, and had you been looking close enough, you would see the corners of his mouth chirp up slightly, unwillingly, of course.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “No, what am I doing here?” Shaking your head to clear it, you dragged a hand through your wildly tousled hair before trying again, glancing at him in irritation. “What’s going on?”

He straightened up from his leaning position but didn’t step closer, still rendering you shying slightly away from his intimidating posture as he towered over you, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket slightly–nervously fidgeting your feet on the cold planks.

He nodded towards one of the old chairs surrounding a smaller table, beckoning you to sit down. Cautiously, you shuffled into the small kitchen, sitting tentatively on the chair as you hoped it wouldn’t break under your weight. Simon, though, stayed in his place, watching you indescribably before leaning his hands on the end of the table.

He glanced sideways like he was giving something a heavy thought before directing his gaze toward you again. “You’re in trouble,” he said. “The man I killed yesterday, he had been sent out to kill you.”

You froze in your seat as you felt shivers of utter fear running over your back as your heart began to race, its erratic beats echoing in your ears. The silence enveloped the room was broken by the ominous sounds of your breath, each inhaling a reluctant acknowledgment of the palpable reality you had dreaded.

Kill you? Why in the world would someone want to kill you? The fear grew into a hand that tightened its grip around your chest, making it harder for you to draw breath. Noticing your struggle, Simon’s hand flexed slightly as if he wanted to reach you amidst the panic but decided against it. Instead, he draped the mask he had been wearing over his head, revealing the piercing gaze accompanied by the blonde tufts of hair, messy from wearing the balaclava as the remains of sweat wetted the roots of his hair.

“Hey, it’s alright. He won’t get the chance now.” You weren’t sure if his words had been meant to provide you with comfort, but seeing him without his mask made you feel slightly safer.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You only got a grunt in response as he straightened up, turning away from you to look out the window. “Who was he?” You asked, trying to crane your neck to get more glimpses of his face that he had shielded from you until now.

There was something different about them, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They seemed tired, though; the bags underneath them were hard not to notice, heavy and swollen as the whites of his eyes were shielded under a light redness.

“Kessler.” He let on, words short. Noticing your silence, he sighed. “Victor Kessler”

“But why was he in my apartment?”

Rubbing his eyes, you saw the muscles tense in irritation. “He did… something he shouldn’t, so he got expelled from the task force,” he said. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him every since, but revenge isn’t a fool's game–not for him, it seems.” He felt your gaze on him, sighing again when he realized you weren’t satisfied by the answer.

“Look, I don’t know. Revenge maybe? He was going to use you to get to me; knowing you being dead would give him the reaction he wanted. Either way, you don’t have to worry about him now.”

“Why would…” As his words sunk in after you started to speak, you stuttered, caught off guard. “Why would he use me of all people?” To say you were baffled was an understatement. What you had with Simon was a story from years ago, a thing of the past, which meant there was no reason for you to be the target of their malice.

You felt his eyes on you, but as you looked back, they returned to gaze out into the dark street lightened by the snow and the flickering streetlamp. There were many things you didn’t know of, many things he hadn’t told you–mostly because of secrecy and his stubbornness, but also from the humiliation he would face if he did.

He never thought about how strange it would be for you to wake up and suddenly see him in your apartment after all these years, but Simon didn’t think as he belted towards your building complex in sheer panic when he got the notion just in time.

Without your knowledge, he had been watching you ever since you decided to leave, dead set on never letting you out of his sight. It wasn’t for some sick, deluded reason as many may think, but more of a worry about how he had involved you into his life that he knew couldn’t be escaped, how your safety was compromised when he was too weak to leave.

“It doesn’t matter.” His response was short and conceit, brushing off your inquiries. You pondered over his words that fell reluctantly from his mouth, growing dizzy from all the questions that surged within you at the information.

“You’re a soldier?” He smiled slightly at your conversation change, unbeknownst to you, as his back faced your questioning glances. “Special force operator.”

“Oh,” you mouthed silently, like his words resonated with you. The Simon you had known for most of your life was a soldier? The thought was strange, but it connected some dots for you and the mystery that had always followed him. Special force operator?

“What’s that?”

“We handle things regular troops can’t touch, take missions that others don’t dare.”

“What, like superheroes?” You managed to get something that was supposed to be like a laugh but intertwined with a scoff.

“No, it’s not about playing superhero, love. It’s about being the one who gets things done when the stakes are their highest.” He felt your gaze burning on his back, closing his eyes as the word fell out against his will, like a habit.

He had sometimes called you that when you were together, the endearing term slipping out occasionally. You chastised yourself when you felt the familiar yet strange fluttering in your stomach when hearing it leave, cautiously raising from the chair like Simon was a provoked animal, even though he remained utterly still where he stood, not minding you.

You glanced shyly as you approached him, still not used to being in his presence after such a long time. “So, that’s why you always were so secretive, huh?” The fabric of your jackets touched slightly, the feeling making him glance down at you in a concealed startle at suddenly having you so close. He looked away as you glanced up at him, refusing to let him get away with a grunt as an answer this time.

“You could’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t.” He looked indecisive when your cold fingers lightly placed their way on his hand that rested on the window sill, dark eyes avoiding yours. The skin under your palm was freezing now that his gloves had been removed, the scarred tissue you knew so well contrasting heavily against your unspoiled ones, pads rough and rugged.

Worming your nimble fingers through the backside of his hand, you observed the difference quietly, leaning your head on his big arm tentatively. The muscle tensed under you, his body growing taut under your touch as he had always done, mostly when he came back from what you, at the time, didn’t know the cause of, bruised and apprehensive.

You relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away, glancing into the street silently. You should still have been terrified to the bone, but safety had always been a given when Simon was near you, and now you understood why you had felt that way. It made you somewhat sad to realize he didn’t speak to you about who he was, but somewhere, you understood why he hadn’t, why he still didn’t tell you the entirety of the situation.

What rendered you speechless was that he had been keeping track of you for this long since he was aware you were in danger. While you had been trying to forget him and move on with your life, he kept tabs on you, ensuring you would be safe.

“You should have told me.” He shook his head immediately, stepping away from your touch, shivering as he still felt the lingering drag of your fingers on his hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You scrunched your brows at his response, stepping toward him but not getting any closer as he grabbed your upper arms in warning. “You’ve only seen me now because you’re in danger, alright? I’ll let you be once you’re safe. I’m unsure if Kessler has any other connections, but I have people who will look it up before you leave. I also had someone go through your apartment and make sure to remo-”

“I don’t want you to leave, Simon.” You interrupted him mid-sentence, words leaving you before you could think them through. It was dangerous for him to be here since he raised feelings inside you that had been buried a long time ago and were best kept locked away; you couldn’t help it, though, for the good moments you remembered were so devastatingly wonderful–making your now boring life pale in its memory.

He stilled at your words, a profound conflict littering his blue eyes as he gazed into your guilty ones. Raising your hand, you placed it on his cheek, running it tentatively over his skin. You thought he would pull away, so you were surprised to see his eyes fluttering shut at the contact, almost leaning into your touch.

The air surrounding you grew taut, with an underlying tension from the warmth spreading low in your belly. Swallowing nervously, you couldn’t help but step closer to him, bringing your arms around his waist to place your palms against the broadness of his back, breathing in his scent as you pushed your cheek flat against his chest.

You shouldn’t, but there was a pull you had no choice but to follow, wondering if it would feel the same as before. You felt his arms wound around you, your lips trembling at the familiar feeling you remembered always used to leave you breathless with devotion.

Simon pulled you tighter towards him, thinking of how he had remembered you feeling against him on the cold, unsure nights, only a gun strapped to his back and a picture of you in the pocket closest to his heart.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was taking his last breaths, he would grab the piece of printed paper, dust it off from the ashes of war as his blood-soaked fingers swiped over the picture, coloring you in a tint of red as he remembered how you had looked the day it was taken. It’s what kept him going when he didn't feel like pushing on.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, neither was he of going to hell, for every day that had passed without you in it, only a picture as proof, already brought him into the scorching fire as the devil himself tortured Simon by only being able to watch you from a distance, all because of his own choices.

It was his fault, of course, that he had chosen this path, but when he met you, it was too late. No longer could he hide from the life he had chosen, having to sacrifice you so he could keep you safe. If that wasn’t torture in itself, he wasn’t sure what was.

The warmth that enveloped him ran like fire up his veins, all sense of logic falling out the window as he basked in your touch, suddenly grabbing your waist and hoisting you around his, stalking in significant strides towards the counter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the coarse stubble rubbing against your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his hands wander their way under his jacket that covered you, finding sanction around your waist as he sighed at the feeling of your nose trailing up his neck.

Bending his head down towards yours, his lips desperately sought yours, all restraint gone as the chains holding him back fell towards the floor in a loud clank, pushing your body taut against his.

Fueled by his affection, you bask in the tenderness of his touch and desperation in his movements as you push all sense of logic to the back of your mind, longing to feel what you had always felt with Simon, the feelings that had been simmering in the back of your mind.

You shivered as his calloused hands crept under your shirt, caressing the soft skin that had remained untouched ever since he left, battled-bruised hands seeking sanction in the curves of your body that filled his wanton dreams, dreams that always depicted you.

“Simon.” you gasped in a quiet voice, hands running up to rest in the tufts of his hair, arching your back when his fingers traveled down to your backside, palms fitting wholly against you as he pushed you tighter toward his front with a quick drag.

A grunt left him when your legs tightened against him, feeling your crotch pressed against him, the euphoric feeling bordering on nostalgia. The room that remained as cold as it had been before wasn’t anything you pondered over when his hands unzipped your jacket, leaving it still wrapped around your arms, but the shirt of your pajamas was now visible.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips attached themselves to the crevice of your neck, bringing the supple flesh into his mouth as he groaned against you, fingers running their way up your shirt to lightly skim over the thin fabric covering your bare chest.

“Stop, Simon.” You said, voice monotone as you heeded his command needlessly, not paying attention to what you were saying as his thumb slowly caressed the side of your breast, begging him to touch you as your legs automatically widened to let him step further into your embrace.

He didn’t stop, though, not being able to restrain himself any longer as he saw how deliciously your nipple strained against your shirt, mouth-watering as they seemed to almost beg for him to wrap his lips around them. Doing just that, he heard the sound of your moan vibrating through the quiet room as you felt the unusual feeling of his tongue swiping over it through the fabric, gasping as you felt him grind his middle against yours slowly.

“Push me away. I mean it.” Weak hands found his shoulder pushing against the muscles that hid under the fabric of his jacket as he growled out the words, not budging him one bit as he continued his assault on your breast, covering the other with his palm as he crouched down slightly to make up for the height difference.

Grunting in frustration at his body not following his mind, he lifted you up once more after detaching his lips from you, carrying your heated body towards the manky, old bedroom. You unzipped his heavy winter jacket the short way you could, worming your hands around him like a snake, disapproving of the bulletproof vest strapped to him under the sweater. Instead, you grabbed his cheeks between your hands, placing your lips on his once more, feeling him pushing you up against the wall in the hallway.

Putting you down on your feet, he roughly removed the jacket from your arms, then gently helped you pull the fabric of the shirt to reveal your upper body, feeling his hands grab your bottom to carry you into the bedroom, carefully minding your head as he laid you down on the hard mattress, standing up to examine you as your chest heaved out its breath, gazing tenderly at Simon.

That did it, no doubt. The sight almost made his knees buckle; he grabbed ahold of the small wardrobe placed by the foot of the bed as he removed his jacket, lifting your back up slightly to put it behind you, your desperate lips finding their place on his neck as he bent down, stubborn legs wounding their way around his hips as you dragged him towards you like a siren.

He couldn’t help but follow, comfortably fitting his front against yours, the thin fabric of your pajama pants letting him feel you better as he strained against his jeans, the material stretched tight under his massive desire for you. Your breath hitched as he moved languidly, placing his forearm under your neck as you stared up at him through hazy eyes, a deep blush falling from your cheeks to your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swore into the otherwise quiet room at the sight. As your eyes met, you could see the sharp eyes crease as he scrunched his eyes tight, dragging his hand that wasn’t under your head down the curves of your sides, memorizing every crevice like this was the last time he could feel it.

The room grew shrouded in the released tension, now thick with a burning want as the large man hovering over you pushed your smaller frame against his ruined mattress, shame not having the chance to fill him yet from the state of the room he was devouring you in.

You paid no mind either, letting out a cry when you felt his hand creep down between your bodies, feeling the warmth of your crotch under his thick fingers as he parted two of them, dragging their way on the side of your lips, never really touching you where you mostly wanted him to.

“I can’t do this to you.” His voice was rough, blending a deep want and a heavy twinge of regret like he was doing something completely unlawful. You stroked his temple with your nimble fingers, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead away, caressing the skin lovingly.

“Do what, Simon?” He didn’t give you an answer as you asked him breathlessly, but you knew what he meant, feeling like this was too hasty, too quick. But you couldn’t stay away from him, and all the hurt and uncertainty he had let you face entirely on your own, it felt too good to have him near you–for him to want you.

The slow drag of his crotch against yours growing more forceful, you were brought from your thoughts, breath hitching as the large imprint of him rubbed over the material of your pants, feeling every slide grow muted as a warm shiver traveled down your back, a sting of pleasure shooting sharply up your body all the way to your fingertips.

It was numbing, the way he chased after your lips while trying to pull himself away from you, arm pulling you closer yet head pulling away from you. The internal battle he faced was visible, but your warm and caressing hand lulled him closer to you, soothing the harsh thoughts that filled his mind, the worrying that stretched the lines deep on his face.

At the same time, he panted, dragging your trousers down your thighs, refusing to pull away from you, so when he realized there was no other way, you heard the fabric tear amidst the loud ringing in your eyes from excitement.

Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, you felt Simon’s thumb push its way into your mouth, muting your sound of protest as he buried his head in your chest. Your hands threaded through his hair as you scratched the roots in pleasure when his other hands rubbed you over your underwear, wetness seeping through the material so his fingers could glide over you more easily.

It was mind-numbing, the sparks of pleasure you felt as his calloused fingers finally met skin, dragging slowly between your folds as your panties were pushed aside.

“Oh, god!” A strangled attempt at speaking left you, mouth agape as you arched up against him, feeling a thick finger slowly wind its way into the gummy walls, clenching down on the intrusion. The feeling left you quickly, though, and as a whine of disappointment left you, you felt his finger caress your clit in soft circles, making your hips move in motion with his hand.

Swallowing your noises, Simon’s tongue wormed its way into your welcoming mouth, lips massaging yours as he grabbed your cheek with one hand gently. Running your hands under the fabric of his sweater, you grabbed the vest underneath it in discontent, trying to show him you wanted it off, unable to do it yourself as his heavy weight rendered you moveless underneath him.

His eyes, now a swirling pool of black in the dark room, gazed dangerously into yours, grabbing the end of his sweater and pushing it over his head, refusing to detach from you. As the skin of his upper body was revealed, your hands ran over every piece of skin you could find to then push against the straps, the vest detaching from its hold, Simon throwing it beside the bed in a hurry, grabbing your thighs to push the plump flesh up beside you, gazing heatedly at your puffy lips that peaked through your panties, red and tender from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his clouded brain, vision unfocused as he could only make out the blissful expression on your face. Wiping his forehead, he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling them stay planted firmly where he pushed them as he let go.

His hands lowered to drag down the zip of his pants, his hardness straining painfully against the fabric. As the material loosened, a sigh of relief left him. Still, then pleasure so sharp ran through him when he felt your nimble hands slowly caress the bulge in his briefs, beckoning him to retake his place in the crevice of your neck, almost biting into your skin as your hand wormed its way into his briefs.

God had imprinted your every touch into his mind, only dragging them out when nights had turned too cold or lonely. Like some depraved animal, he had imagined your hands gliding over him in the confines of this bed when he was on leave, other times imagining your fingers wrapping their way around his shaft as he found to sleep in the corner of some building, teammates only meters away as he fell into a helpless dream of you and your soft touch.

To feel you touch him like that again must have been some type of depraved joke from the devil himself, finding pleasure in the torture of knowing he would never be able to feel this again. The slow drag of your fingers down the trail of hair that led to his crotch, slowly palming the scorching shaft that pulsed against your touch, the small leak of precum making the feeling all too much for Simon to contain himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” He panted out, grabbing your wrist when it became too much. Instead of a noise of disappointment, the beautiful sound of your laugh clung in his ears, and when he looked up, he found you giving him a toothy smile, a blissed-out expression covering your face.

“Oh, Simon,” you said, staring warmly at him as you took in the heaving of his chest as he planted his arms beside you, covering your whole frame with his large body. Looking down, you parted your legs even more, the anticipation being too much for you to handle, wishing he would dampen the warmth spreading in the low of your stomach.

Suddenly you felt his mouth against your begging wetness, tongue laying flat against your lips as he massaged and licked striped to your red clit, mumbling incoherent words against you that only vibrated euphorically against your sensitive parts.

As you trashed underneath him, his hands wound their way under your legs, pushing your hips down to the mattress as you felt his tongue worm its way into your tightly clenched whole to then once more tease your clit with his tongue, staring up at your face as the paint around his eyes dripped with the sweat down the folds of your legs, almost eating you whole as he lapped at you.

Hitting his head lightly, you begged for him to end his torture with pleading, tear-filled eyes from the overstimulation. You felt him everywhere as he buried his face nose-deep into your heat, hands burning every part of your skin that they caressed frantically, like starved for the feeling of you underneath them.

Pushing the ball of your palm into his bulging, scar-littered shoulder when he didn’t listen, you hit him once more when you regained more power, and he pushed himself hastily above you, almost manhandling you as he removed your panties off your legs and throwing them behind him.

“Come here,” he tells you, and it isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you that your facade breaks, tears gliding languidly down your cheeks in a quiet sob as he thrusts slow and deep, pushing down your thighs until they are burning from the stretch against the mattress–spread wide for only him. Simon hummed at the thought.

Hugging his head close to you, you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck as the sounds of him thrusting against you echo in the room, hefty and bulky, as you feel him bullying his way into you.

You knew this was it, and for that reason, you held him tighter, trying to imprint his touch into your head–wishing to prolong this moment so it would never stop, pleading with whoever would listen to make him stay. Your pleading only turned into mindless babbling as the force of his hips pushed you further up the bed, breasts bouncing with every motion.

Hearing the words stumble from you like he remembered they always did, he cooed at you, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he swore. “I know love, I know.” Breathlessly, he pushed himself up on his hands, grabbing the headboard as he continued to pound into you, watching you cry out with wet cheeks.

Closing his eyes in pain, he felt his heart cramp when what he was doing passed through his mind, knowing this wasn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t stop himself from having you, for you rendered him weak in the knees every time, not sure you knew of the power you held over him.

“Simon, please,” you begged with a trembling voice, staring into his dark eyes as his breath heaved with strain, begging him not to leave you again. He kept his gaze locked with yours, face contorting in agony when he realized your face would haunt him forever, damning him for his ways. He would stay away and leave you alone–he just needed to feel you for one last time, just once more.

To avoid the hurt that started to spread in his loins at the thought, he suddenly pulled you up by your forearms as he laid on his back, pulling you into his strong embrace as he splayed you over his chest, legs on either side of his waist.

A whine left you when he entered you once again, rutting up into you with strong legs planted firmly on the mattress, feeling you glide up his body with every thrust as your head buried its way into his neck. What left you now wasn’t even moans, mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as his hips slapped loudly against yours.

Grabbing the back of your hair, he pushed your head up so you started into his eyes, trying to tell you the three words he couldn’t speak. You gave no indication of noticing, eyes flickering in both pain and lust, arms on either side of his head as he kept pushing into you.

“Stay,” you managed to get out amidst his assault on you, gripping his shoulder tightly as the coil in your stomach started to tighten almost painfully. He remained quiet as he shook his head, bringing your face closer so he could press his lips against yours.

His chapped lips fitted like a puzzle piece against yours, and your hand lifted to caress the fading scars littering the skin on his face. He hit every sweet spot inside of you, pubic bone creating heavenly friction against your sensitive nub as it rubbed together when his movements grew faster. You found it hard to breathe as he swallowed your attempts, and with one hand on your waist and the other pushing your lips against his, you felt lightheaded as you moaned out against his mouth.

Starting to hit the mattress beside you in panic, he only pushed you tighter against his robot-like motions; the feeling was entirely overwhelming as the warmth that had begun spreading low in your stomach now traveled its way throughout your whole body. Your legs lay limp on the mattress, his muscular legs moving to shove you back on the mattress, now gripping the headboard again so he could push into you with more force.

When his hand found your clit, you saw white streaks of sharp light before your eyes, arching your back of the sheets as a noiseless scream left you, wet tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you saw his eyes set intensely on you from above, your head shaking from side to side from the pleasure as you felt Simon piston in and out of you.

You didn’t want him to stop, knowing that when he did, you would never see him again. You were sure of it, felt it in how he held you and looked at you. So, when you felt the foil snap, you could only cry out as your ears started to ring, pulsating heavily around him as the cramps of your orgasm filled you with a scorching pleasure.

Every thrust of his prolongs your pleasure, still shooting through you as you fall backward, limp under Simon’s still forceful thrusts.

“That’s it, love.” Panting above you, he fell into your arms, rutting heavily against you as he wound his arms around your waist, finding strength in his muscular legs to keep his hips going, grunting audibly against your neck as you kept clenching around him. “Give it to me. Only me,” he mumbled against your wet skin, delirious from being in your embrace he so had missed.

“Only you, Simon. It will always,” you hiccuped. “Always be you.” The sobbing, blissed-out words coming from you were the final straw, his thrusts growing harder but slowing down as he bit into the skin of your neck, knuckles turning white from gripping your waist as his face contorted.

The pleasure kept roaming through him as he kept on moving inside you, prolonging the feeling as his cum rimmed around where his cock entered you, dribbling down you in heaps as it kept coming, stuffing you to the brim.

Spent, you feel the heavy weight of Simon relaxing against you, staying inside you as he tries to regain his breath–not wanting to part from you. A shaking hand found your trembling ones, intertwining them as he caressed the back of it with his thumb, reveling in how your hand caressed the skin of his back, shivers running down it as he basked in the afterglow of being one with you.

Your already heavy eyelids tried to keep open, refusing to let him slip out of your fingers, but your body had grown spent as it strained against the sleep wounding its way through you.

“Simon,” you mumbled, voice almost inaudible as he brought your hand to rest with his beside your head, humming at you, the vibrating of his chest lulling you closer to sleep. As it surrounded you forcefully, you could only let the last teardrop fall from your eyes, knowing he was seeping out of your grasp like dust.

–

The cold was seeping through you the moment you woke up, shivers wrecking through you as the bleak walls stared back at you–the blanket wrapped around you doing nothing to protect you from the chill. In a daze, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes tiredly, trying to regain focus as you coddled the blanket closer to your body.

That’s when the horror spread through you, head trashing wildly as you gazed around you while taking in your surroundings. A familiar, worn-down apartment stared back at you, the night dark outside as you gasped, fearing being left alone in his eerie apartment.

“Simon!” You yelled out, voice trembling as you stepped onto the wooden planks of the floor, shielding yourself with the blanket as you bolted through the hallway into the kitchen, finding it empty as you trashed open the door to the bathroom.

Your heart picked up its pace, feeling like someone had shot you right through the chest when you realized you were by yourself–completely and utterly alone, and he had left you just like you knew he would.

“Simon!” You belted out once again, leaning towards the wall in distress as the cries grew soundless as the power of it traveled up your throat, feeling it constrict until the wails filled the empty space, sobs leaving you as you grabbed your heart in agony.

By some sort of hope, you had wished he would stay even though you knew it was inevitable, but as you took notice, that wasn’t the case. Once again, the warmth of his hands had left you, forcing you to come to terms with living the bleak years of your life without him in your life, disappearing–never to return to your embrace again.

As you stood there, sobbing with cheeks red with tears, you damned yourself for loving him in the first place, for letting him step into your life once more when you were finally moving forward with your life. Unable to take the pain, you slide down the wall, glancing up at the walls as the ghost of him starts to loom over you, his shadow growing more fierce–more apparent–as you cover your head, unwilling to face reality any longer.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #Hurt no comfort

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le-trash-prince · 7 months

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I feel like I’ve been able to read so many speculative fiction wlw books in the past few years that I get a little frustrated when ppl complain that wlw relationships are always sidelined in stories. So I’m just gonna make a list of the ones I’ve completed, for posterity. There are so many interesting books out there and all of these deserve more attention.

To reiterate, this is speculative fiction (sci-if/fantasy) where the primary relationship is wlw.

Ash: Chinese and fae influenced retelling of Cinderella (+Huntress, a prequel)

A Restless Truth: historical magical murder mystery set on a Titanic sister-ship. This is the second book in a series but my favorite so far

Burning Roses: European fairy-tale/Chinese legend mashup featuring older ladies

Cinderella is Dead: YA fairy tale dystopia

Crier’s War: human x android enemies to lovers political intrigue

Even Though I Knew the End: supernatural detective noir, super quick and super fun

In the Vanisher’s Palace: Viet influenced Beauty and the Beast where the Beast is a dragon lady

Juniper Harvey and the Vanishing Kingdom: middle school age mythological fantasy adventure, I wish I had this growing up

Labyrinth Lost: bruja fantasy underworld adventure

Legends and Lattes: Simple and sweet DND inspired cafe AU

Once and Future: King Arthur but in space with ladies. Wish this one had been poly

Roots of Chaos series: high fantasy with dragons and so many queers.

Strictly No Heroics: the struggles of villain henchmen

The Abyss Surrounds us/The Edge of the Abyss: kaiju pirates, enemies to lovers

The Burning Kingdoms Trilogy: desi epic fantasy, enemies to lovers

Last to Leave the Room: WFH doppleganger horror + toxic coworkers who hate each other (they really don’t)

Spear: Arthurian sapphics

Someone You Can Build a Nest In: shapeshifting monster falls for a monster hunter

The Locked Tomb: wlw necromancers in space. Enemies to ???

The Luminous Dead: spelunking thriller set on another planet—this one is fucky everyone should read it

The Memory Librarian: short stories set in Janelle Monae’s android world

The Mimicking of Known Successes: detective noir set on Jupiter—ex-lovers reunited by circumstance

The Red Scholar’s Wake: space pirates, enemies to lovers, human x spaceship

The Salvation Gambit: con-artists breaking out of a sentient prison-world ship

The Space Between Worlds: inter dimensional corporate exploitation, handler x agent mutual pining, this one is so underappreciated

The Witch and the Vampire: YA vampire x vampire hunter

This is How You Lose the Time War: everyone knows this one

We Set the Dark on Fire: YA Latine political intrigue, school rivals to lovers

If you have any others please add, I’m always looking to grow my reading list

#books #bookblr #book recs #book recommendations #wlw love #wlw books #sapphic books #em post

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soulsforscrapbooks · 6 months

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How the Dracula Stage Play Influenced Future Adaptations

So I wanted to let people know about the stage adaptation of Dracula, because it established a lot of tropes that have come to define the novel as well as vampire fiction in general, despite the fact that large changes were made when bringing the book to the stage. Sometimes, honestly, it seems like more adaptations pull from the play than the book. Okay:

The original stage adaptation of Dracula was written in 1897 by Stoker himself! Here you can see the manuscript in his own hand:

Apparently he hated how it turned out, because he called it “dreadful” and it was performed only once and then never again. The role of Mina was played by Edith Craig, a well-known figure in the suffragist movement and the daughter of Ellen Terry, Stoker's friend, whom he mentions in the book. The next attempt at adapting the novel would not be until the 1920s, after Stoker had died.

The 1924 adaptation by Hamilton Deane stays fairly close to the events of the novel. Some key points:

The entirety of the action takes place in the Harkers' house

Mina and Jonathan are already married

Dracula is already in England, and the storyline involving Jonathan as a prisoner of the Count has been omitted

To accommodate the female members of his theater troupe, Quincy is now a woman! Her name is still Quincy, and she is described as “feisty,” and is a close friend of Jonathan and Mina. (There don’t seem to be any photos from the 1924 play, sadly.)

It is in this first major adaptation that the idea of the Count as suave and debonair is brought into existence. This change is to allow Dracula to interact more easily onstage with the other characters, whereas in the book he stays an offscreen threat for large amounts of time. This is also the first instance of Dracula wearing a high-collared pointy cape, which was originally done to hide the actor better whenever Dracula had to “disappear” through trapdoors.

Here is Raymond Huntley as Dracula in the 1924 stage adaptation:

The play was a success, and quickly moved to Broadway:

This version, adapted by John Balderston, was a complete revision not just from the book but from the 1924 stage play, and a LOT of changes were made:

Quincy, Arthur, and MINA have been removed from the story. Mina is mentioned as having died mysteriously before the play takes place.

Jonathan’s relationship to Dracula has been completely removed. He is not involved with bringing the Count to England at all. He is also now wealthy, and has traveled Europe extensively, where he has heard folktales about vampires.

Lucy is now engaged to Jonathan, and her last name is now Lucy Seward. This is because……..

John Seward has been aged up and is now Lucy’s father.

The action takes place at Seward’s house/asylum.

Renfield is allowed to just sort of…wander around Seward’s house when the plot requires him to be there. He gets dragged away by attendants whenever he needs to be offstage. He also survives.

The Broadway version also made large changes in characterization:

Lucy is weak and feeble when we meet her in the play. She is helplessly preyed upon by Dracula, and yet is sexually tempted by him when under a trance. She and Dracula share a passionate kiss at the end of Act II, right before she willingly exposes her neck for him to bite.

Jonathan is still concerned for Lucy as she is slowly turned, but he is more wary of her and goes along willingly with Van Helsing’s ideas regardless of how Lucy feels.

Renfield is portrayed as actively malicious, through fearful and subservient to the Count.

Seward is seen as a strong-willed father who leads his asylum with a firm and confident hand. He believes Van Helsing more readily when confronted with the existence of vampires.

Dracula himself is once again depicted as charming and suave, and he spends time during the first act as a mysterious but pleasant dinner guest of the Sewards.

Despite these massive revisions, the Broadway version was a hit, partially to due the charisma of Bela Lugosi, who originated the role. (Below is Bela Lugosi as Dracula along with Seward, Van Helsing, Jonathan Harker, and Renfield on the floor:)

Bela Lugosi, of course would go on to star in the 1931 film adaptation. Other famous stage Draculas include Jeremy Brett and Frank Langella (Langella's revival would also give us this amazing Edward Gorey art:)

So we can see that the stage plays influenced many versions that would later come, as well as the idea of vampires in pop culture at large. It’s interesting how the motifs and themes we expect when we hear the word “Dracula” were actually the creation of people besides the author, and these differences don't seem to have been majorly disputed in the last 100 years. Has this happened with other classic novels? I'm not sure, but I'd love to see an accurate adaptation of Dracula in stage or film form, and see how it might influence filmmakers and directors for the future.

#dracula daily #dracula spoilers #theater

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thisisnotthenerd · 5 days

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The Legend Lore Database

This is another use of the Legend Lore spell. All information herein is only that of legendary importance.

[a more complete database. i took some artistic liberties. see here for the updating document]

Legendary Individuals

Deities / Deific Entities

Ankarna

Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage and Conquest

Formerly the Giant Deity of Summer, Justice and the Harvest, Patron of the Giantkin of the Mountains of Chaos

Sister to Ruvina, Giant Deity of Winter and Sorrow

Spouse of Cassandra, Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night

Cassandra / Nightmare King

Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night, Patron of the Tribes of Sylvaire

Formerly the Nightmare King, the King of the Dark Dreaming, Rí Aisling Olc

Raised from their Undead form by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees

Sibling of Galicaea, Elven Goddess of the Moon, and Sol, Human God of the Sun

Spouse of Ankarna, Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage and Conquest

Stark Father of Baron from the Baronies

Eidolons

Seven Sisters, Elemental Spirits of the Universe and Hands of the Gods

From Eldest to Youngest

Chronoa, Eidolon of Time, of the Astral and Ethereal Planes

Terra, Eidolon of Earth, of the Elemental Plane of Earth

Pyrria, Eidolon of Fire, of the Elemental Plane of Fire

Nera, Eidolon of Water, of the Elemental Plane of Water

Zefira, Eidolon of Air, of the Elemental Plane of Air

Anima, Eidolon of Life, the Beginning of All Things

Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things

Trapped in Enchanted Mirrors created by Logran Soulforger, of which the only way out was Infinity

Galicaea / Lida

Elven Deity of the Moon, Patron of the Elves of Fallinel

Patron of Lycanthropes in her aspect as Lida

Sister of Sol, Human God of the Sun, and Cassandra, Sylvan Deity of Mystery, Magic, and the Night

Struck her Sister from memory by way of the Sylvarian Heresy

Helio

Human God of Corn

Son of Sol, Human God of the Sun, and a mortal woman

Followed by the Cult of the Harvestmen, who sought the Apocalypse through perditional contradoxy

Jane Wren

Pirate Goddess of New Horizons, Freedom, and Adventure

She who stands atop the Ramble, overlooking the City of Leviathan

Kahaerin

The Storm King, the Wrathful Primordial of Storms

Perpetually in search of his lost Daughter

Logran Soulforger

Dwarven God of the Forge, He who Makes the World

Created the Enchanted Mirrors to capture the Eidolons in Finite Form, While Leaving Escape in Infinity

Did not Commune with his Followers after the Capture of the Eidolons, until Ostentatia Wallace, Prophet of the Forge, Joined him in his Workshop

Night Yorb

Speak Not of the Night Yorb

The Manta Ray of Darkness, they who would herald an age of darkness through a slow apocalypse

Currently Sealed by the Solar Lasso in the Hangvan

Ollie

Rad Dwarven God of Shredding, Patron of Skateboarders

Ruvina

Giant Deity of Winter and Sorrow, Patron of the Giantkin of the Mountains of Chaos

Sister of Ankarna, Infernal Deity of Fire, Rage, and Conquest

Sol

Human God of the Sun, Patron of the Humans of Highcourt and Solace

Father of Helio, Human God of Corn

Once ousted from his position by Arthur Aguefort, who proceeded to never leave his office and shit in a corner

Umberlee

Goddess of the Deep Sea, Patron of that which lies in the briny depths

Punisher of Sinners who Enter Her Waters

Prohibits artifacts which control the weather

NPCs

Aelwyn Abernant

She who assassinated the first Elven Oracle, Eleminthindriel

She who sank the Harpy, Flagship of the Fleet of Kalvaxus

She who determined the second Elven Oracle, Adaine Abernant

Caused the initiation of war between the nations of Solace and Fallinel

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Plague of the Shadow Cat

Acting Mistress of the Compass Points Library, in lieu of Ayda Aguefort

Arthur Aguefort

Founder and Principal of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

He who caused the Sun to Fall

Paramour of the Last Phoenix

Former Paramour of the previous Elven Oracle, Eleminthindriel

Founder of the School of Chronomancy

Father of Ayda Aguefort

Asha Hammerheart

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Ayda Aguefort

The Mistress of the Compass Points LIbrary, Quartermaster of the Knowledge of Leviathan

Paramour of Figueroth the Infaethable, the Archdevil of Rebellion, the Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Creator of Adaine’s Furious Fist

Bakur / Athenriel

Infernal Servant of Ankarna, the Deity of Fire, Rage, and Conquest

Formerly Athenriel of the Faeth Lineage

Former Owner of the Armor of Pride

Cathilda “The Black” Ceili

Legendary Pirate, the Widow in Black, whose daggers flash with death and destruction

Crewmember aboard the Hangman

Elder of the Ramble, who defended Leviathan amidst the wrath of the Storm King

Chungledown Bim

Legendary Mouth-Shitter

Archnemesis of Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Survivor of Captain James Whitclaw's attack on the Cult of Bill Seacaster

Braved the Forest of the Nightmare King alone and escaped unscathed

Highest-level Warlock of the Cult of Bill Seacaster

Court of Elders

Leaders of the Tribes of Sylvaire and the Great Unicorn

Destroyed the Name of the Goddess of Mystery in the Sylvarian Heresy, in league with clerics of Galicaea

Eleminthindriel

The First Elven Oracle, succeeded by Adaine Abernant

Member of the First Council of Chosen

She who prophesied the second rise and fall of Kalvaxus

Garthy O’Brien

Prodigious Descendant of Zajiri Celestials

Impresario of the Gold Gardens, Leviathan’s hub for pleasure and sanctuary

The Curse Breaker who fought the effects of the King of the Dark Dreaming

Child of Ayda Aguefort

Guardian of Ayda Aguefort

Name contains an anagram for the Night Yorb

Gilear Faeth

The Chosen One

Current eldest male descendant of the lineage of Athenriel

Penultimate Inheritor of the Curse of the Armor of Pride

He who stopped three Apocalypses with wishes from a Puppy

Gorthalax the Insatiable

Prince of the Nine Hells and former ruler of the Bottomless Pit

Formerly Gorthiel, the Seraph of Eating the Right Amount of Food / Temperance

Father of Figueroth the Infaethable, Archdevil of Rebellion and Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Grafmy Rootdrinker

The Druidic Leader who pushed back the Curse of the Nightmare King on the Forest of Sylvaire

Hallariel Seacaster née Lomenelda

The Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Daughter of Telemaine Lomenelda, Heir to Kei Lumennura

Widow of William “Old Bill” Seacaster, the Scourge of the Nine Hells

Jamina Joy

The Bosun of Leviathan

She who keeps the City afloat

She who contains a Wish for the Welfare of Leviathan

Kalina

The Shadow Cat

Right Hand of the Nightmare King

Familiar of Cassandra

The Cursed Plague of the King of the Dark Dreaming

Kalvaxus

Former Emperor of the Red Waste

Allied with the Nightmare King and the Undead of the Necronomikron

Prophesied to rise once more at the word of Elven Oracle Eleminthindriel

When Kalvaxus once again beholds his glittering treasure And seven maidens once more are chained at the mouth of his lair When war befalls the realm And a king and queen are crowned anew in Solace Then will the Emperor of the Red Waste be released from bondage His destruction will know no bounds The sun shall fall from the Heavens And the world as we know it shall perish forever

Former Vice Principal of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Currently the Goldenrod, the Infernal Vessel of William “Old Bill” Seacaster

Karl Cleaver

Legendary Adventurer and Member of the Pact of Kyburus

Of the Cleaver lineage of Adventurers

Kora Ironbrow

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Lydia Barkrock

She who sealed Bakur in her body with rage and rage alone

The Curse of the Armor of Pride was used to excise Bakur from her body

Nuathera

The Awakened Familiar of Grafmy Rootdrinker

Leader of the Town of Arborly and Protector of the Border of Sylvaire

Octavio Costello Gainglynn

He who sailed off the edge of the World and into the Heavens

Paramour of the Solar Zarael

Pok Gukgak

Premier Agent of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force of the Plane of Bytopia

He who brought the Plague of the Shadow Cat to the nation of Solace

The first Solesian to be slayed by Kalvaxus personally in centuries

Father of Riz Gukgak, Slayer of Kalvaxus

Telemaine Lomenelda

The Greatest Elven Swordsmith, who forged Fandrangor and the Sword of Sight

Lord of Kei Lumennura, the Guardian of Elven Teens

Tectonya Karkovnya

Superintendent of the Larger Solesian School District

Legendary Wizard and Scholar of the Eidolons

She who stole the Legendarium Extrordia

Tracker O’Shaughnessy

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Curse on Sylvaire, the Forest of the Nightmare King

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Tree

Reformer of the Faith of Galicaea, Leader of Wolfsong, the Lupine Cleric of Lida

The Vulture King

Father to all Vultures, King of the Vulture Dimension

He whose body became the Royal Artifacts of the Vulture Dimension

William “Old Bill” Seacaster

He who struck down the Pirate King and Hung his Head in Gibbety Square

Captain of the Hangman

Married to Hallariel Lomenelda, the Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Current Captain of the Infernal Wastes, Scourge of the Nine Hells

Captain of the Goldenrod, the Infernal Vessel carved from the body of Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

Yvonna of the Sundering Hills

Saint and Cleric of Logran Soulforger

One of the Three Pilgrims to the Temple to the Earth Defiant

Zaphriel

Spirit of Endless Sky Towards Late Afternoon on a Day at the Beach with Your Feet in the Warm Sand, Just Being Chill as Hell

The Possessing Spirit of the Hangvan

PCs

Adaine Abernant:

The Second Elven Oracle, preceded by Eleminthindriel

Established the right of the Elven Oracle to be paid, via dance battle

Patron of the Oracle of Dance Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Current wielder of the Sword of Sight, Sword of the Elven Oracle

She who invoked the name of Ankarna and broke Obliviati Mori

She who sealed Bakur with the power of the Curse of the Armor of Pride

Creator of Ayda’s Comprehend Subtext

Kristen Applebees:

The Chosen of Helio, God of Corn

The Creator of Yes!/Yes?

She who Resurrected Herself

She who dispelled the Nightmare King’s Coin

She who destroyed the Crown of the Nightmare King

The Blessed Saint of Cassandra, Deity of Mystery, Night and Magic

Figueroth Faeth:

Mortal daughter of Gorthalax the Insatiable, Prince of the Nine Hells and former ruler of the Bottomless Pit

Current Archdevil of Rebellion, Figueroth the Infaethable, the Dark Mistress of the Bottomless Pit

Paramour of Ayda Aguefort, the Mistress of the Compass Points Library

Last of the Faeth Lineage to bear the Curse of the Armor of Pride

Currently holds dominion over the infernal domain of Ankarna, Goddess of Fire, Rage, and Conquest, due to the creation of Dawn of Justice, a song so metal it could claim an infernal domain

Riz Gukgak:

Fifth of the World of Spyre to summon the Night Yorb to the Material Plane

He who slayed the Dragon Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

First living member of the Lower Planar Reconnaissance Task Force

The Investigator who Found the Prophesied Seven Maidens

Fabian Aramais Seacaster:

Mortal son of William "Old Bill" Seacaster, Legendary Pirate and the Current Captain of the Infernal Wastes, Scourge of the Nine Hells and Hallariel Lomenelda, the Greatest Fencer to Ever Live

Grandson of Telemaine Lomenelda, Swordsmith of the Elven Kings

He who killed William "Old Bill" Seacaster

Current wielder of Fandrangor, Sword of the North Star

Dance Champion of the Elven Oracle, the Oracle of Dance

Maximum Legend at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Gorgug Thistlespring:

He who discovered the Plague of the Shadow Cat

Creator of the Solar Lasso used to seal the Night Yorb into his personal vehicle, the Hangvan

Creator of the Barbificer Specialty, the first in the World of Spyre to combine barbarian rage and artificer spellcasting

The Greatest Wizard of Our Age, as titled by Ayda Aguefort, Mistress of the Compass Points Library

Danielle Barkstock:

Blessed of Anima, Eidolon of Life

She who assumed the form and gave voice to the Empress Anima, Eidolon of Life

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Katja Cleaver

Blessed of Terra, Eidolon of Earth

Daughter of Karl Cleaver, of the Cleaver lineage of adventurers

Friend to Horses, Rider of Cinnamon

Slayer of Jana Cleaver

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Zelda Donovan

Blessed of Zefira, Eidolon of Air

Battle Dancer of the Donovan Lineage, who was possessed by the god of wine and ecstasy in bacchanal

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Antiope Jones

Blessed of Chronoa, Eidolon of Time

She who killed Charity Blythe

Daughter of Athena and Hector Jones, of the Jones lineage of adventurers

Leader of the Reform of the Ministry of Adventure

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Penny Luckstone

Blessed of Nera, Eidolon of Water

She who revealed the Society of Shadows one of

Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Sam Nightingale:

Blessed of Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things

She who released Talura upon Spyre for the first time in millennia

She who guided Talura to infinite form

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Ostentatia Wallace:

The first forge cleric to Commune with Logran Soulforger in millennia

Prophet of Logran Soulforger

Designer for the Gods

Blessed of Pyrria, Eidolon of Fire

One of Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Barbarella Sasparilla Gainglynn

The Goddess of the Gold Gardens

Daughter of Octavio Costello Gainglynn and Zarael

She who struck down the Storm-Druid Alamaria

Myrtle (the Bitch)

The Priestess of Storms, Devout of Umberlee, the Sinker of Ships and Collector of the Treasures of the Deep

Jack Brakkow

Unlucky Jack, he who escaped the Bilge only to sink in the depths of betrayal

The Captain of the Late Bloomer, whose crew haunts the mast kept at his side always

Legendary Adventuring Parties

The Bad Kids (Adventuring Party):

Members: Adaine Abernant, Kristen Applebees, Figueroth Faeth, Riz Gukgak, Fabian Aramais Seacaster, Gorgug Thistlespring

Slayed Daybreak, leader of the Harvestmen, and averted the apocalypse of perditional contradoxy

Defeated Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste

Defeated Occularia, Queen of Sight

Defeated Captain James Whitclaw, the archnemesis of William “Old Bill” Seacaster and prevented the crowning of a new Pirate King

Demolished the Elven prison, Calethriel Tower

Defeated the Nightmare King, the King of the Dark Dreaming

Defeated the Cult of the Night Yorb

Defeated the Night Yorb

The Sole Survivors of the Sundering of the Synod of Spyre

The first adventuring party in living memory to survive the Last Stand-ard Exam

The Buccaneer Buddies (Adventuring Party)

Members: Sunny Biscotto, Jack Brakkow, Barbarella Sasparilla Gainglynn, Cheese Stormcrank, Marcid the Typhoon, Myrtle the Bitch

Prevented the Summoning of William Seacaster for the destruction of Leviathan

Saved Leviathan from Destruction at the hands of Langley Sheffield-Harrington, Clive Mardres, the Storm-Druid Alamaria, and the Crescent Moon Trading Company

Averted the Wrath of the Storm King by disrupting the ritual of Alamaria and returning the Daughter of Storms to the briny depths

The Seven / The Maidens (Adventuring Party)

Members: Danielle Barkstock, Katja Cleaver, Zelda Donovan, Antiope Jones, Penny Luckstone, Sam Nightingale, Ostentatia Wallace

The Seven Maidens Chained at the Mouth of the Lair of Kalvaxus, the Emperor of the Red Waste

Eliminated the Cult of Kalvaxus as vengeance for their capture

Cleansed the Temple of the Earth Defiant of the mutated monstrosities

Commandeered the Rombosa, the Pleasure Barge of Talcidimir Tallbreeze and kidnapped hundreds of nobles from the Baronies

Averted Project Reset, an effort by the Ministry of Adventure to cause world-ending disasters

Defeated Talura, Eidolon of Death, the Ending of All Things, by channeling the spirits of the Eidolons

Legendary Items

Sword of Sight

The Sword of the Elven Oracle, forged by the legendary swordsmith Telemaine Lomenelda

Currently owned by the Elven Oracle Adaine Abernant

Fandrangor

The Sword of the North Star, forged by the legendary swordsmith Telemaine Lomenelda and gifted to the Elven King Thristwin Eversong

Currently owned by Fabian Aramais Seacaster

The Armors of Sin

Seven Suits of Infernal Armor, each forged by a different Infernal Being and associated with the Sins assigned to them by name

Armor of Gluttony - Armor Carved of White Bone, armed with a massive spiked net. Chosen Armor of Gorthalax the Insatiable.

Armor of Pride - Armor of Gleaming gold, armed with a Golden Halberd

Armor gifted from Ankarna to her follower Athenriel. After Athenriel took on the form of Bakur, the armor passed through his lineage patrilineally until it was gifted to Gorthalax the Insatiable.

The curse of the armor transferred to the eldest male descendants of the lineage with the death of each previous holder of the curse. The most recent of these was Gilear Faeth. Upon reunification with the line of Athenriel, the curse was left in a flux state, until it was taken on by the Dark Mistress and Archdevil of the Bottomless Pit, Figueroth the Infaethable.

The Curse was broken and sealed in the Sword of Sight, and later used to remove the containment of Bakur from the body of Lydia Barkrock

Armor of Lust - Armor of Jet Black Leather, stitched together with a zipper over the mouth.

Armor of Envy - Armor formed of Pure Mirror

Armor of Wrath - Armor of Bleeding Iron, armed with two double-sided flails/scourges.

Armor of Greed

Armor of Sloth

Owned by Gorthalax the Insatiable and kept in the Bottomless Pit until stolen by the Scourge of the Nine Hells, Bill Seacaster.

The Transubstantiations of the Nightmare King

Four symbols of the Unnamed Goddess’ power, converted into four curses which spread the power of the King of the Dark Dreaming

The Coin, a curse placed on the hoard of Kalvaxus that allowed the Nightmare King to possess those who had knowledge of their wealth’s origin (Dragon Madness). This curse came from the trans-substantiation of the spellbook of the Unnamed Goddess, now known as Cassandra. DIspelled by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees.

The Plague, a curse placed on the familiar of the Unnamed Goddess, Kalina the Shadow Cat. This curse converted Kalina into a plague that manifested as various illusionary powers, with additional strength within the borders of Sylvaire. Dispelled by Aelwyn Abernant.

The Curse, a curse that bound celestials who attempted to enter the Nightmare King’s Forest and utilized their energies to power the mycelium web of trans-substantiations. This curse originated from the cottage of the Unnamed Goddess. Dispelled by Tracker O’Shaughnessy.

The Tree, a curse on the arcane focus of the Unnamed Goddess, a broomstick which became the Tree at the center of Sylvaire. This curse altered the shape of the Forest to suit the fears of those who entered–the more confident a traveler was in their path, the further they traveled from the center of the Forest. Dispelled by Tracker O’Shaughnessy.

The Crown of the Nightmare King

The last remnant of the Nightmare King after the Fall of Kalvaxus

A talisman capable of anchoring an extraplanar being to a world as if they were native to that plane

The Source of a great deal of power for the other trans-substantiations

Powerfully Cursed for mortal beings. Singular Curse broken by Garthy O’Brien

Dispelled by the Blessed Saint Kristen Applebees, through her Honest Worship of Doubt and her Resurrection of the Goddess Cassandra

The Daughter of Storms

Marble Relief that contains the soul of the daughter of Kahaerin, the Storm King, who calls the wrath of storms when it is brought above the surface of the deep sea

The Legendarium Extrordia

Divinatory Artifact that tracks the classification and progression of quests in the world of Spyre

Watches and Wards

Protective Ward created by the Elven Oracle Eleminthindriel, that prevents harmful summonings and conjurations on the grounds of the Aguefort Adventuring Academy

Only removable from the Aguefort Adventuring Academy Library by Arthur Aguefort and the Elven Oracle. Removed by Elven Oracle Adaine Abernant

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #pirates of leviathan #the seven #fantasy high junior year #the bad kids #buccaneer buddies #the seven maidens #long post #legend lore

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vickyvicarious · 8 months

Text

van Helsing waking Jack by putting a hand on his head is quite sweet somehow. Maybe it's that he wakes him gently, and doesn't blame him for falling asleep even from the beginning. Of course, it's possible that when he first arrived he assumed Jack has just gone to sleep after the night was over, but still.

"That is one of the things that we learn in an asylum, *sighing* at any rate." He sounds so bitter here about his work...

I love the delivery of the "Gott in Himmel!"

"Even the lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness." the kind of dull horror in his voice is great.

van Helsing has "the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit" working to keep him from showing anger, huh? I wonder if this could be related to his backstory too

love the clinking of the decanter

the sigh and misery in the way he said "there is no young Arthur here now" - I feel you, van Helsing. I'm sad about it every time.

the reaching into the back noises!

once again, Jack and van Helsing are so on it. I love it, he's already rolling up his sleeves.

the little stutter on "a-already?"

van Helsing you do not know Art yet do you. Last time he shook Jack's hand. He would never be enjealoused!

I love the way Jack's voice gets so perplexed when he is talking about the mystery of Lucy's condition. You can hear him trying so hard to understand, but he's exhausted, drained of blood, and cannot see any explanation at all so he's just circling through the same thoughts again and again.

his fortifying breath before "Lucy slept well into the day", like he is dragging himself forcefully away from those thoughts.

"When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever" his voice getting sharper/snippier on the last bit, ooooh boy he does not like Mrs. Westenra at all

I for one love her voice and delivery. She sounds so kind of sweetly absent, well-meant but just lost in her own head in a way. and obliviously making everything worse even just in the context of social awkwardness

van Helsing doubling down on complete silence today is so annoying. I know it's consistent with his character and is a fault and even understand how it happens but. aaaagh

how softly he says "I was much touched by their kindness." Jack wants so badly to be cared for doesn't he.

and even now he's finding it hard to go to sleep apparently! jeez.

#re: dracula #dracula daily #jack seward #van helsing #mrs. westenra

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klutzyroses · 6 days

Note

Sorry to bother I adored your panuck attack headcanons and was wondering plesse van you do it for the other suitor as well ? 🙏 Thank you Have a wonderful day 😍

I wasn't entirely sure which suitors you wanted in particular so I picked 4. Have a wonderful day~

IkeVamp HCs: Panic Attack pt.2

Suitors: Arthur, Isaac, Comte, Vlad

Arthur

As frivolous as one may have the impression he is, when the time really calls for it, he will step up.

When the woman started to get anxious, he picked up on it immediately. Being as observant as he was, he noticed the telltale signs.

Jittery movements, agitated breathing, flushed face, all the signs of an incoming breakdown. The mystery author has had anxious patients before, it was nothing all that foreign to him.

Stopping a panic attack as it begins is no easy feat, so he knows its better to either prevent it, or do damage control.

He would gently guide her away and sit her on his lap, rubbing her arms as he whispered soothingly to her.

"Let's breathe luv. Deep breaths, there you go, my darling..."

He cupped her face and encouraged her to focus on him. When she calmed, he praised her and made sure she was alright, having her drink something warm and keeping an eye on her mood afterwards.

He would basically be the best comfort.

Isaac

Okay...he is a bit hopeless here at first...

He genuinely felt at a loss when she started to hyperventilate and quivering, behaving like a cornered animal ready to attack and defend herself.

To be honest, he had half the mind to find Napoleon, he always knew what to do but...

He couldn't allow another man to take care of his woman.

So, to the best of his ability, he tried to handle the situation himself. He took her to his room and sat alone with her, holding her hand. He hoped the quiet place would sooth her frayed nerves, drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

He kept this up until her hand tightened around his, indicating she was regaining her control.

"Are you...okay now?"

He hesitated to tell her that seeing her like that had been scary, he had thought for a moment she was having a heart attack.

From then on, he would be just a tad more wary about things that could frighten or unsettle her.

Comte

He had seen so many tragedies, disasters, horrors that had jaded him to that sort of anxiety, to the point he nearly forgets that his cherie was not quite of the same metal.

When she started to fall apart, he reacted immediately, taking her in his arms when her legs gave out, shielding her in his embrace.

He had her listen to his calming voice, tenderly brushing her hair from her face as he pressed his forehead to hers, bring one of her hands to his lips.

His eyes never left her teary, wide ones as his presence started to ease her anxiety. Her vulnerability both hurt and touched him at once, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

"Mon diamant, your tears make my heart ache, tell me what can I do for you?"

Once he had her breathing calmly, he asked her if she wanted to leave, quick to comply when she says she does, cradling her to him as he wrapped her in his coat. As soon as they were at home, he has Sebastian make her a relaxing tea.

He would not leave her side until he knew she was completely at ease again.

Vlad

If he were to be honest, he himself was no longer familiar with the concept of panic and anxiety. Perhaps, after living so long, through the things he had, he was numb to that sort of thing.

That didn't mean that he wasn't quick to react when his love started to succumb to fear.

Trembling, whimpering, labored breathing, erratic movement.

Behavior that reminded him that his beloved was just a human being. She seemed to fragile and breakable.

Leaning down to her, he brushes her forehead, using his abilities to fill her mind with pleasant sceneries, flowery meadows and mesmerizing lakes, anywhere to take her mind away from what so frayed her nerves.

When she was calmer, he pressed his lips on her forehead.

"I am here, my flower, don't be afraid."

He would shower her with love long after the attack passed, simply because he felt she needed that extra bit of doting.

🌸

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vlad #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikemen vampire hcs

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