#he also probably goes down that track very young so... that adds more fuel to the fire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fernweh-writes · 3 years

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Your writing gives me so much life and wholesome vibes! ;-;💕 If you wouldn't mind could you do the slashers with a s/o who loves to make home cooked meals for them.

Ahhh, thank you so much hun <3 As someone who loves to cook and who’s goal in life is to be a spoiled housewife, absolutely.

-Fern

Slashers x S/O who likes to cook

slight nsfw content if you squint

Michael Myers

This man craves a sense of normalcy in his very peculiar life. After all, he was diagnosed with a case of crazy at a young age and ever since no one had made an effort to care about him. One of the main reasons he would ever keep you around would be because you fit the housewife role that he needs wants. You give him the one thing he always wanted that no one else ever could, domesticity.

Michael has a weird schedule and just sort of comes and goes as he pleases. This can make having a hot meal ready quite difficult, but once you begin a steady routine of cooking for him he starts to appear whenever you’re cooking. Well at least most of the time, stalking and killing can keep him very busy sometimes.

He’s not very picky about what you cook, so you have plenty of freedom to make whatever your heart desires. He’s certainly not going to complain. Although, if you remember his favorite meals and cook them for him from time to time he will be extra grateful. His gratitude is often expressed through becoming very handsy with you.

Likes to watch you cook! Again he loves the whole domestic thing and watching you serve him cook for him pleases him. Plus you just look so cute wearing an apron. Also loves how focused you can be. Don’t expect him to help you though, this is your job y/n.

Pretty sure everyone agrees that Michael has a major sweet tooth so if you bake him sweets he decides you’re never going anywhere… ever. He’s keeping you, end of story.

The only thing he ever helps with in the kitchen is licking the bowl when you bake. Snatches the spoon from you as well, he wants all of it.

Bo Sinclair

Another man that is very much into the housewife thing. Like he gets off on it.

We all know Bo isn’t quite right in the head, but we all love him anyways! He wants someone to serve him, after all he needs to be in charge and to have control over everything. This includes controlling the roles within his own home.

The fact that you willingly cook though and actually enjoy cooking sends him over the moon. He knew that he had made the right decision when he decided to keep you. This just makes him further believe that you were meant to be his.

Home cooked meals remind him of the good parts of his childhood. So watching you cook with an apron tied around your waist while humming and just being content with what you’re doing makes him melt. It’s also going to make him more likely to open up and be a little more vulnerable with you. Watching you cook just puts him at ease.

Cooking his favorite meals though is what really gets to him. Especially if you decide to go all out and be cheesy by “setting the mood” with candles and fancy silverware. He’ll make fun of you and pretend to hate it but the lack of malice in his voice gives him away.

You can often find him standing around the kitchen while you cook as well. This started once you asked him to try something once to see if you needed to add anything. Now he won’t stop waiting around for free samples.

Bo decides that winter is his new favorite season. The shop doesn’t have any heating and he also spends a lot of time chasing victims around the woods or down the streets. In other words, he’s spending a lot of time out in the cold weather. Walking into his warm house to find the sweetest wife in Ambrose putting a hot meal on a plate for him makes his day. Don’t be surprised if he begins to bring up his other ideas about how you can keep him warm.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent isn’t obsessed with the whole housewife thing the way that Bo is. He could really care less if his s/o cooked or not after all he had survived this long.

But, Vincent often gets lost in his work. This leads to him losing track of time quite often, so skipping meals isn’t something out of the ordinary. It’s not that he means to it’s just so easy for him to forget unless his stomach starts growling.

He does love that you love to cook for him though. Anytime you bring food down to his workshop so that he doesn’t forget to eat he absolutely melts. He doesn’t know how you could be anymore perfect.

Although he doesn’t expect nor necessarily want his significant other to take care of him he does enjoy the fact that you do so anyway. It shows that you care about him in a way that he hasn’t been cared for in a very long time. Especially enjoys the sentiment of you making him his favorite meals. Not only do you take care of him, you take the time to remember the little things about him! He doesn’t think he could possibly feel more loved.

After the first time he watches you cook, he’s hooked. You just look so cute and content in the kitchen. Seeing you so happy and at ease puts him at ease. It lets him know that you’re happy in Ambrose and that you really do love him.

Unlike most of the other slasher, he will help you clean up the kitchen. You two make quick work of all the dishes since you wash them and he dries them and puts them away. It started off with him washing the dishes until he watched you struggle to place plates at the top of a cabinet. Although, he did enjoy being able to press himself against your back while he helped you.

Thomas Hewitt

The fact you love to cook not only delights Thomas, but helps out Luda Mae as well. With you handling the kitchen, it takes one of the most time consuming chores off of her hands. Allowing her both a chance to rest as well as a chance to finally clean up more of the old house. And we all know whatever makes Momma happy makes Thomas happy.

Honestly though, you’re going to have to take up gardening as well. After all the town is pretty much abandoned and there isn’t much to work with. Hope you know recipes for making human meat taste good…

Once again, we have another slasher who’s ideal life involves a housewife. Thomas just wants his life to be normal for once but he also wants someone to truly care about him. He is always the one taking care of other people in the family so having you to take care of him is the one thing that keeps him going.

Thomas works hard and victims are always putting up a tough fight. Since all of Thomas chores take a lot of physical exertion, he always feels like he’s starving at the end of the day. Luckily he has you! You’ve never failed to have a hot meal waiting for him.

Don’t tell Momma, but he thinks that you’re a better cook.

Please ask him his opinion on the food. Thomas hardly ever gets a say in anything since Hoyt usually gets to call the shots. It may not be much, but you asking him for his input makes him feel important.

Cooking his favorite meals after you know he’s had a hard week just does something to him. Maybe it’s because it shows him that you care, that you pay attention and notice things. Whatever the matter, he definitely enjoys tossing you onto the bed after dinner to show you his gratitude. After all, no good meal is complete without dessert.

Stu Macher

His parents were hardly ever home so Stu learned to fend for himself. This included a lot of unhealthy takeout. You have no idea how he survived off of pizza for so long. Is your cholesterol okay Stu? Killing people and having to chase them down is probably the only reason he ever survived without you.

Lucky for him, now he has you! And you love to cook for him and he enjoys everything you cook. Making him his favorite foods is a quick way to get him excited so please cook them for him after he’s had a hard day.

Expect to have a fancy kitchen and anything your heart could desire to cook with. You two will definitely have a house with one of those walk in pantries so that you have plenty of space for ingredients. If you’re going to spoil him with good food obviously he is going to spoil you by giving you everything you need to do so.

Stu never though he could enjoy cooking, but you quickly show him that it can be fun. This means you can expect him to willingly help out from time to time, whenever he’s in the mood to help. It also means you can leave at ease knowing he won’t be feasting on takeout anytime you go somewhere. At least you thought so until you came home to an unbelievable amount of pizza boxes on the counter.

He is determined to invest in a label maker and put puns on all of your spices like the adorable dork he is.

Billy Loomis

Mr mommy issues absolutely loses his shit when you cook for him. Billy absolutely thrives off of you taking care of him. Once you start cooking for him he won’t allow you to stop, it becomes an expectation.

Billy likes to cling to you while you cook, quite literally. He’ll have his arms wrapped around your waste with his head resting on top of your head/shoulder so that he can watch what you’re doing. Hopefully you can maneuver around the kitchen with him attached to you because he isn’t going anywhere.

After being together for so long, Billy usually tells you when he’s going to “hang out” with Stu. Knowing he wouldn’t be back until very late, you left out food that he could easily heat up. Finding food on the counter with instructions of how long to microwave it melts his heart. Now he’s one hundred percent sure that you’re permanent.

Shows his gratitude more than you would expect him to. He will put away the leftovers while you clean up the kitchen. It may not be much, but it’s one less thing for you to do before going to bed at night.

Don’t worry, he’ll be the one in charge of dessert. It’s another way of showing his gratitude.

Brahms Heelshire

Obviously cooking for him is a requirement so it’s a good thing that you enjoy cooking. But it’s the way you go the extra mile for him that makes him set on keeping you.

You always make him his favorite foods which just fuels his spoiled ass. If you make something you don’t like he’s going to try an throw a tantrum over it. May even go as far as to stay in the walls for a whole day. But when he finds his dinner has gone cold because you had went to bed before he decided to stop being stubborn and come eat he will realize he was in the wrong.

Just make sure to put your foot down, otherwise he will never eat any of his vegetables. He’ll pout about it and complain the whole time but whatever it takes to get him to eat healthy. Eventually he will learn to stop complaining.

No one has ever actually enjoyed doing something for Brahms. He always had to force people into pretending that they cared about him. But you not only took care of him you enjoyed doing it. The home cooked meals you made left him feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. You put your heart into the things you cooked for him, put your time into making something you would enjoy.

I keep thinking of you hiding something in his food as a way to get him to eat something without him knowing. One day he catches you sneaking in the ingredient while he’s in the walls and he is outraged. How dare you lie to him y/n, after he was such a good boy no less!

If you bake him sweets he will make himself sick from eating so many. You’re his impulse control, please hide the sweets from him so that he doesn’t get sick. It’s for his own good.

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull

He’s a very busy man so having you cook for him fills him with joy. There’s nothing like coming home to a hot meal after a day of chasing people down and dealing with idiots like Preston. His injuries can also leave him feeling very drained so it’s good that you know how to make plenty of different meals to make him feel better.

If you ever wanted to learn more about cooking he would 100% pay for classes for you. Could even arrange for them to be during times when he goes on business trips so that you have something to keep you occupied while he’s gone. When he gets back he expects you to show him everything that you learned.

Jesse loves it if you ever bring him food. Granted the first time you showed up at one of the warehouses he freaked out because you could’ve been hurt. Spann makes sure to reassure him that she knew you were coming and arranged for you to be kept safe the whole way there and back.

I can also see Spann being flattered if you brought extra food for her. It saves her time and allows her to get more done within a timely manner. Also means she doesn’t have to worry about everything falling apart while she tries to get food.

Watching you cook does something to Jesse and he’s not against picking you up and carrying you upstairs. He can think of something much better to eat than whatever you’re cooking. This has also led to the smoke alarms going off more than once.

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

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Shattered Lives Ch 37 Pt 1

She woke to Gustaf tangled with her, his ridiculously long legs wrapped around hers, arms cradling her body against his like she was the most precious thing in the world. His face mirrored the peace he’d found in sleep with her last night. She knew what she had to do today, the restraining orders wouldn’t take much, but it would drag up toxic emotions for him and shove it firmly down his throat. Her only hope was that she could lessen the blow, offer him some level of protection. One day she thought as he trailed a finger down his jaw before fanning her fingers out over his chest, one day you’ll be free of her.

Her kiss, soft and tender, brought him to the surface, that curvy body entwined with his. “Mine.” He growled sleepily, his hold on her tightening, her quiet chuckle against his lips making him smirk. “All mine.” He breathed as he deepened the kiss, she was his kryptonite.

“I need to pee.” She chuckled. “And make some calls.” She didn’t want to elaborate and drag Ana into their bed, but she needed to get the ball rolling.

“Come back to bed after?” He mumbled into her hair still half asleep, the scent of her intoxicating as he nuzzled her neck.

“I’ll bring food.” She murmured.

“As long as you come with the food, I don’t care. I want you in bed with me all day.” His knuckles brushed her cheek and those eyes of glacial blue locked onto his. “I love you.” He said softly, his tone carried all the love he had for her.

“I know you do. I love you too, but I have to pee or it’s gonna get messy in here in a very unpleasant way.” She chuckled, kissing him chastely as he untangled his limbs from around her.

He’d drifted back to sleep by the time she’d donned her robe and walked out to the kitchen. Dragging her laptop from her office to sit on the kitchen island she started to organize her thoughts as the kettle boiled. Tea and notes, then phone calls.

She paced as she spoke to the police, seethed as they told her their investigation had stalled.

“You’ll have the paperwork to formally press charges by this afternoon.” She snapped. “You’re damn right we intend to. Now do your damn job and find her.”

He woke with a start at her tone, that ice cold fury unleashed on some unsuspecting soul. On any other day he’d revel in the lawyer surfacing, today it made his gut plummet. “Fucking Ana.” He sighed and punched the pillow. He could hear the anguish in her voice, the fear that the kids were in danger.

“I’m also serving her with a restraining order, several in fact, and accompanying injunctions. I have four children detective, I’m not giving her the chance to come after one of them, because if that happens from your departments lack of action, believe me when I tell you, this conversation will feel like I’ve congratulated you on the happiest day of your life.”

He couldn’t help the smirk, damn she was sexy as fuck when the lawyer came out to play. “Though she’s not playing this time around.” He murmured and continued to listen to her set the detective straight about how this was all going to happen.

“Put detective Leon Holmberg on the phone, right now.” She snapped, on her last fucking nerve. “I’ll wait.” She added sternly while he finished up whatever call he was on.

“Asshole.” She spat as the call was transferred. He wasn’t really, she was just pissed and emotional. Sure he was doing his job and she was emotionally invested in this, but stonewalling her wasn’t going to fly on any case, especially a personal one.

“Sildie? Sorry for the wait.” Leon’s gruff voice sounded as she sent an email off.

“It’s fine Leon, I just don’t appreciate the bullshit from your associate.” Her and Leon had crossed paths a few time in court with various cases, they were both straight shooters and got along well.

“He’s green, oh so green.” He chuckled. “Though your tongue lashing might have knocked some of that off him. He’ll learn. God were we ever that young?”

“Maybe twenty years ago.” She snorted. “And he’ll learn that stonewalling me isn’t in his best interest. Even when I’m not working.” She sniped. “Can you give me an update?”

“Sure. We visited her apartment last night once we were done at your door, she wasn’t home, so we visited her boyfriends apartment. He was there, she wasn’t. He was high and there was also a large quantity of drugs on his table in plain sight which he denies purchasing, they’re at the lab for forensics. If her prints are on it we’ll pick her up again.” She focused on what he was saying and added it all to her notes, fingers flying over the keyboard. “As for the tagging of your doors, we can charge them both as I said last night to Gustaf, nothing much will come of it, maybe a fine, but it’ll be documented.”

“Charge them both.” She said bluntly, no fucks given at how pissed she sounded at this point. “It’ll be enough to slap her with restraining orders and injunctions. I need to keep her away from Gustaf and away from our kids.”

He choked up a little, she was protecting him, fighting for him, for them. Our kids, Gustaf’s grin bloomed, he liked the sound of that, our kids, not hers, ours.

“I’ll send you over the police report, any findings. Are you filing yourself?”

“I’ll probably get Elsa to file on our behalf, she knows the kids and history which makes it easier. I’m too close to this to keep a level head. Gustaf has his own team of lawyers so I’ll talk to him and see what he wants to do.” She sighed.

“I’m going to head back to her place and try to track her down later today, I’ll up the urgency as much as I can. It’ll help once the orders and injunctions are in place, send me a copy as soon as they’re filed. I might be able to sit someone on her for a few days. I’m sorry there isn’t more I can get her on at the moment.”

“Give it time.” She muttered. “She’ll come at me again I’m sure.”

“People like that usually don’t stop or change.” He said softly. “Just be careful.”

“Plan on it. Thanks for the update and keep me in the loop?” She asked.

“Of course. I’ll email the reports over in about twenty.”

“Sounds good. Thanks Leon. I appreciate everything you can do.” She hung up and sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. Taking a few deep breaths she got her thoughts down, and started making breakfast. As she put the bacon in the oven she called Elsa. Dana’s partner picked up on the third ring with a cautious hello.

“Elsa, hey it’s Sildie.”

“Everything ok?”

“Sort of, the kids are fine, but we had an incident at Gustaf’s apartment, and mine.”

“What’s going on?”

He could hear her on the phone, laying out the entire situation from the office Christmas party, to Lucas’s visit, to the tagging of their front doors. Who was she speaking to now, he wondered?

“Can I make a suggestion?” Elsa asked, all business.

“Anything at this point. Just tell me I’m not overreacting.” She sighed pinching the bridge of her nose near her eyes to relieve the headache she could feel brewing.

“File the restraining orders, the injunctions, they probably won’t do much to deter her, but at least it’ll go on her record if she confronts you. I suggest Gustaf do the same, I’ll draw it up for him to save time. Have him send me his lawyers contact info and I’ll keep them in the loop. Once yours is filed I’ll file for the kids. I’m with you on that Sildie, let’s get them protected just in case.”

“Can you have them to me by today?” She chewed on her bottom lip, the anxiety building. “I know it’s the holidays but...”

“Give me a couple of hours and I’ll email it over. Once you’re both happy with them I’ll file it electronically and they can serve her with them this afternoon.” Elsa cut in. “It’s no issue Sildie.”

“I just got off the phone with the detective, they’ll need a copy too.” She said softly and relayed her conversation to get Elsa up to speed. “I’m so fucking angry. We’ve worked hard to get the kids settled, moved in together, fought hard to get through all her shit, he doesn’t need this Elsa, none of them do.”

“I don’t blame you, I’d be pissed too and you don’t need this either Sildie. You’ve gone through enough shit in the past year yourself. I’d call Lindstrom, and Lucas. I don’t think this will help his case, but it could add weight if the drugs have her prints and especially if the drugs are the same chemical signature as the ones Lucas found in his apartment.” Elsa let the silence linger giving Sildie a moment to think.

“He’s my next call. I’ll send you over a cease and desist and let’s add that to the injunction.” She chewed on her bottom lips and let the case fall into place in her mind. “It’ll need to include Gustaf’s family as well, mother, father, all his siblings. I need them all covered. Eija and Alex are in this mess as well if she goes that far.”

“Done, we can file it all together, cake walk.” Elsa said taking more notes as Sildie rattled off the full names of each sibling and their addresses.

He lay there thinking over what he’d just heard. His goddess protecting everything and everyone he loved, those that was dear to him. “What did I do to deserve you lovely lady?” He mumbled, in awe of the woman he’d fallen so hard for.

“I want to hit her with it all, I’m not fucking around and I want it made perfectly clear I will not put up with her shit.” She growled, her mind was made up, all or nothing, she had a family to protect and a sweet man that had worked too damn hard for a measure of peace.

He knew that tone and quietly got up, pulling some sweats on before shuffling out to the kitchen. She was riding on fury, the seething anger fueling her determination to stitch this up tight, the underlying emotion ready to tear her apart when she was done.

“Give me until one Sildie and I’ll call you once I’ve sent it over.”

“Thanks Elsa, sorry to ruin your new year so quickly.” Her eyes flicked to Gustaf and away again as she paced the room. So angry, he thought, this was nothing like the night she’d ripped into him in his workout room, or when she got drunk outside her apartment, this was a whole other level of supremely fucked off.

“There nothing I won’t do to protect Dana’s kids, or you. We’ll keep them safe.”

“I owe you one.”

“Girls night out sometime, I miss that.” Elsa chuckled.

“Done. Thanks again.” Her smile lightened his concern a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Anytime Sildie, and I mean that. You could have called last night and I would have answered.”

Sildie chuckled. “I was still processing it. Bye for now.” She knew he’d been there for the last part of the conversation and she sighed out the tension as his arms wrapped around her.

“Everything ok?”

“It will be. I have paperwork in process and I need your lawyers information.” She turned to kiss him. “Elsa will do up a restraining order and injunction for you and your family and have your team look over it before filing.”

“Looking after me?” He said gently.

“Damn right I’m looking after you.” She muttered as his mouth claimed that one spot on her neck.

“I like it when you look after me, get all feisty.” She could feel the smirk against her skin, he was trying to get her to relax, take her mind off it.

“And what are you doing out of bed? I told you to stay there so I could bring you food.” She flicked his nose before kissing him with a slight smile. Her attempt at hiding the anger was a good effort, but he saw it for what it was, she was scared.

“I heard your tone change.” He said gently. “I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” He could hear the stress and anxiety in her voice and knew she’d need to release it and soon before the anxiety pushed her into a panic attack.

“I’ll be better when I have shit in place that clearly states. Don’t fuck with me and mine.” She tapped his arm as the timer went off to pull the bacon out of the oven. “I have to call Lindstrom and Lucas in a bit too. I don’t know if this will help his case any, but they need to know.” She turned the pan on to make scrambled eggs and let the task calm her.

He let her talk, the more she was talking about it the less she was holding in, they were a team and even though they were still finding their feet as a couple, this was what built trust and dependability, they were there for each other tackling shit together.

“So because it’s an isolated incident they may not be able to use it?” He asked trying to understand how it all worked.

“Exactly. It has nothing to do with Lucas, but, if the drugs in the dudes apartment have her prints, same chemical makeup, it could help their case. It’s a pattern.”

“It was a stupid move on her part.” He muttered. “Letting herself be seen.”

“It was, but I don’t think she knew we had cameras installed.” Sildie said honestly.

“And I don’t think she knows what she’s up against with you love. Most people back down and can’t be bothered with the hassle of going to the police, so she gets away with it. I’m guilty of doing exactly that, I just kicked her out I didn’t call the police on her. Not you though, you’re like a fucking pitt bull.” He chuckled.

“I can’t watch her fuck with you again.” She said quietly, her tone quivering. “And she sure as shit doesn’t get to fuck with our kids.” She spat.

“No, she doesn’t. Is there anything I can do? Need to do to help this along? Anything?” He said tenderly, fingers stroking her cheek.

She shook her head. “No, just your lawyers info and let me handle her.” She busied plating the eggs and stacked the bacon beside it. “If they establish a pattern with her purchasing drugs it could drag you into it.” She said quietly and felt like she’d kicked a puppy when she looked at him.

“Shit.” He felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I don’t know if that’s her plan, but it’s a possibility and I don’t want it to blindside you.” She kissed him tenderly. “Talk to your lawyers.” She said bluntly. “I’m absolutely serious.” She added when he snorted. “I’m talking to Lindstrom here in a bit and I’ll be asking him to represent you if things go pear shaped.”

“You seriously think it could go that far?” He asked, a touch of fear edging his voice.

“If, and that’s a big if, if they establish pattern they can charge her with more. It becomes trafficking which is a heftier charge. I’d have to look it up, but it adds weight against her case and in favor for Lucas’s. If they establish pattern and look deeper they could look at your relationship with her, same pattern. You found drugs she’d purchased and kicked her out. What about the person before you, and before them? Same deal I suspect. Just be prepared ok?”

“I didn’t even think of that.” He said slightly stunned.

“I don’t know what her end game is love. I can only give you plausible worst case scenarios with evidence that may not be viable. I don’t know whether it’s to bring you down, smear you across the media, or to get back at me for calling her out on her shit at the Christmas party, but I’m not going to see you dragged into a fight blindly.” She picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled, her mind chewing over everything, the fury still rolling off her in waves. “And you sure as shit aren’t facing her on your own.”

“I’m sorry love.” He murmured and kissed her temple drawing her close.

”No, you don’t get to apologize for her either. This is shitty, but I’m not going to stand by and watch her try to destroy you again. She picked the wrong bitch to fuck with this time.” She was so angry, more out of fear for Gustaf and the kids than herself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to snarl and snipe at you, I’m just so fucking livid.”

“I know.” He kissed her brow again. “Let it go now.” He murmured. “Together love.” He said softly, his fingers toying with her wisps of hair at her cheek. “Let it go.”

“I know.” She sighed and felt the fight drain from her as he kissed her brow and lingered. “I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Fuck this blows.” She huffed.

“Yeah, but you were right with what you said last night. We can’t let her get between us or let her win, she’s a blip. We deal with the blip and move on with what we’re doing, our life. Together.” He put the kettle on to boil as they stood and ate the rest of their meal at the kitchen counter, she was too agitated to sit still. Once the tea was made and she’d eaten half of her plate he pulled her to him. “Do what you need to do, then let it be for the day, because then I want to take you back to bed and finish what we started last night.” He growled as he nuzzled her neck.

Her giggle lightened his heart. “You’re right.” She kissed him sinfully, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Let me make some calls and then we can let it go for the day.”

“That’s my girl.” He purred, mouth savaging hers. She left the comfort of his arms to walk toward her office, the nibble of her bottom lip more out of being lost in thought of her upcoming conversation than teasing, the smack to her ass however was firm enough to sting. “Don’t push your luck kitten.” He growled. She sent him a wicked smirk and her thoughts seemed to change mid stride.

She was sure he was going to spank her last night but didn’t, understandibly, would he do it today? “Fuck I hope so.” She sighed to herself as she sat at her desk and turned her computer on. She could do with some borderline pleasurable pain to get over whatever this was she was feeling. Anger, resentment, fury, rage, guilt, grief, jealousy, all of the above, she thought. It was the jealousy that unnerved her, such an ugly emotion and she was better than that.

She made her own notes, her own case file, documenting everything that happened and the steps she’d taken to protect her family. Her family, she thought and her fingers stopped over the keys as she looked at the digital photo frame of the six of them, the only family she had left. She would protect them the only way she knew how, with the law. She’d fought for the kids before and she’d fight for Gustaf and his family too.

He left her to work knowing that if he interrupted her now he’d get the lawyer land stare. She had a process, and a need to make this right, to protect him, to protect the kids in her own way. Pulling the gloves on he worked the bag, his own need to process his thoughts, he needed the physical exertion. Letting the events of last night play in his mind he dealt with the anger and frustration that came with it, pounding the bag mercilessly until his muscles begged him to stop. He felt better for it once he sat for meditation, the calm washing over him and filling him much quicker and easier now he’d put it in its place. The process had become easier since Sildie, the calm he found with her. She was right, he’d come too far to let minor shit with Ana get in his head and fuck with him. And this was minor shit, an inconvenience, a blip.

She could hear him in his workout room as she put the kettle on to boil and decided to leave him be. The door was open and he wasn’t shutting her out, he was processing last night just as she had been doing as she worked. He’d come to her when he was done and knew his mindset would be better for it. Taking the fresh pot of tea to her office she sat and called Lucas.

“Sildie? Hi, happy new year.” Lucas said brightly, but she could hear the uncertainty in his voice, probably wondering why she was calling him.

“Hey, happy new year.” She tried to sound cheerful and failed.

“Everything ok?”

“Not really, no. You got a minute to chat?” She chewed on her lip.

“Of course, what’s going on?” His tone became instantly concerned.

She relayed the events of last night, the paperwork she’d already filed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “I don’t know where that leaves you, or how it affects you, but I wanted you to know.”

“Shit.” He sighed out. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, you’re not responsible for her actions.” She said a little too harshly and was sure he’d flinched at her tone. “Sorry, I’m a little pissy.” She added hearing her abrasive tone and took a breath.

“I know, I just... you know what I mean. I’m surprised you haven’t hit nuclear yet.” He said huffing a chuckle.

“I’m working on it.” She snorted.

“Definitely call Lindstrom. I’ll catch him up on most of it tomorrow when we discuss charges of my own against her for the funds she stole, but he’ll want to hear it from you.” Lucas added.

“I need to talk to him about another matter too.” She said and told him her theory and possible pattern of behavior landing Gustaf in the hot seat. “I’ll copy you on our case, in the event it helps yours.”

“Shit Sildie, I didn’t even think of that. What are you guys going to do?” He asked.

“Let it play out for now. I want Lindstrom in our corner if it goes south. If she comes for me again we’re protected, law wise, other than that there’s not much more I can do.”

“Good plan. How did she get into the building, I thought they had it locked down?” He asked as she poured her tea.

“Her newest squeeze lives downstairs.” She told him of her conversation with Leon. “I know it’s petty but she’s due for some fucking karma.” She sighed out sipping her tea. “I just want her gone from our lives.”

“God yes, you and me both. Leon’s a good guy, he’ll keep it active.” She could hear the honesty in his voice.

“You holding up ok?” She asked sipping her tea.

“Yeah. It looks as though they’re not going to charge me. She tried to cover her tracks, but didn’t do a very good job of it. I’m about to have it out with the bank. It just adds more weight, you know how it is. Slow and methodical, build the case.”

“Good luck with the bank. Knowing her she had a whole cocked up sob story to get her whatever her little black heart desired.” Sildie snarked, god she was in such a pissy mood as she heard her tone.

“No doubt.”

“Anyway, I gotta run.” She said as Gustaf appeared in the doorway, empty cup in hand searching for the teapot. “I just wanted you to know what she was up to.”

“I appreciate it Sildie. Call Lindstrom he’ll want to know.”

“Sounds good, take care.”

“You too.”

She hung up and blew a breath out, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Fuck me I want to hunt that bitch down and end her myself right the fuck now.” She huffed and let it go, she had to or it would eat her alive. Too fucking late she thought, she was irritable and on edge, and it made her twitchy. She hated twitchy.

“She’ll get what she’s owed love, in spades.” He said softly as he placed his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned in to kiss her sweetly. He hated seeing her like this. “You’ll end her your own way, with the law behind you.” He kissed her again. “What else is bothering you love?”

“I don’t know.” She said quickly, a little too quickly, but she was telling the truth, she didn’t know what was up today. Was it Ana, last night with his family, remnants of the move, Christmas, she wondered? It was like someone had shaken up a hornets nest and made her swallow it whole.

“I don’t like seeing you on edge like this.” He said gently.

“I don’t like being on edge, but I am, and I don’t know why.” Her voice cracked as a surge of unwelcome emotion threatened to consume her.

He kissed her tenderly. “Are you done for the day?” He asked, lips ghosting hers. He wanted to take care of her, soothe her and help her to find the release she needed to deal with whatever this emotion was that had her so worked up. That was the one thing he could give her, the sex that set her free, that allowed her to let go of the control and rid herself of whatever it was smothering her, suffocating her.

“I just have to wait for Elsa to call me back at one and I need to email Lindstrom. There’s not much he can do today that can’t wait until he’s back in the office, but I want it there in his inbox first thing when Lucas talks to him.” She murmured relaxing back and letting him slowly devour her mouth. Her phone rang and she smirked against his lips. “It must be one.”

“Must be. Come back to bed when you’re done love.” He said, the hint of demand lacing his words, it wasn’t a request. He would set her free on another level, and she needed it, he thought.

“Hi Elsa.” She said answering the call and watching him as he walked to the door. She bit her bottom lip as he turned to look at her, the heated desire in his glare spoke volumes.

That look from under her lashes and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth was enough to send his arousal into the stratosphere. With a deep rumbling snarl he stalked to the bedroom and set his plan in motion.

“Thanks Elsa. I’ll sign these and get them straight back to you.” She said with a steady breath.

“I’ll have them served this afternoon.”

“You’re the best.” She breathed a sigh of relief, she’d done all she could today to make sure they were safe yet she felt it wasn’t enough.

“I’ve sent a copy to Gustaf’s team, but his isn’t as urgent as yours and the kids. Yours will cover his apartment because that’s where you’re living. I’ve covered all the bases with the injunction and your cease and desist is perfect, I can have that cover Gustaf and his family as well, I’ll modify it to fit.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll call you next week, I have to run.” Elsa chuckled when her four year old screamed from the other room.

“No problem and thanks again Elsa.”

“You bet.”

She read and signed each order and emailed it back to Elsa, the weight lifting from her shoulders the moment she hit send. “I’ve done all I can do.” She breathed out shakily. “Now we let it be.” She huffed a breath out. “Yeah... right.” Yes she’d taken it as far as she could legally take it by protecting Gustaf’s family, but there was always the what if. She thought of Eija and Alex in particular and knew she now had to give them a heads up. “It never fucking ends.” She growled and scrubbed a hand over her face.

She took the teapot to the kitchen and rinsed it out.

“Hey can you text me the phone numbers for Eija and Alex?” She asked Gustaf as he walked into the kitchen.

“Sure, everything ok?” He asked as he’d come into the kitchen to talk to her about the kids and was completely thrown off by her request.

“Yeah, or it will be. I had the restraining orders against Ana include your family. They all need to know if Ana contacts them in any way they need to call the police and file a complaint.”

“Well shit.” He sighed.

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass, but this is how you build a case. Every time she contacts someone with a restraining order it goes in her file and won’t look so good with those sorts of violations on her record when she goes to court.”

He hastily texted her the numbers she requested and added Sam, and Valter. “Text them all, it’ll be better coming from you, I’ll only fuck up the wording.” He snorted, it was the truth.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. This is your realm love not mine, but I’ll back you up all the way.” He kissed her tenderly. “Dad and Megan texted, which is why I came out here. They’re taking the kids to a movie and bowling.” He said as he turned her in his arms to nibble her neck. “And they’re keeping the kids tonight as well.” His father had offered once Gustaf had told him of their welcome home present last night. They both needed another night and the kids were happy spending time with grandpa.

“Oh, they... ok.” She stammered, she felt her gut sink suddenly, that jealousy churning inside her. Would they be ok was her first thought and then scolded herself for being so silly. Of course they’ll be ok, she snapped at herself silently. The jealousy was another matter, it sat heavy inside her like a greasy taint.

“You’re not ok with it?” He shook his head, he should have cleared it with her first. I’m an idiot, he swore silently, such an idiot.

“No, I’m fine with it, just wasn’t expecting... never mind.” She shook her head, she couldn’t let her emotions cloud the fact the kids now had a family that cared, to give them what she missed out on. That wasn’t fair on them and she wouldn’t be that person. “It’s a good thing.” She had to give a little here, Gustaf should make decisions for them as well, she knew he had their best interests at heart. It was all just happening at an alarming rate and she wasn’t sure she was handling it all very well. Let’s be real, she scoffed internally, you’re not handling any of this well.

“As long as you’re fine with it. I’ll ask next time.” He mentally kicked himself again for not asking in the first place.

“No it’s ok, I trust you with them love, I just need to relinquish control and I’m just... pissy.” She snarked at herself. “I’m trying, but you know me, control freak extraordinaire.” She snapped.

“I know you’re trying love. He offered and I thought it would be nice for them and for us.” He wanted to make her feel less of the stress she was currently burdened with. This was so much more than Ana, more than Quinn.

“I’m sorry, I’m on edge and irritated at everything. I need to text your family.” Her tone was abrasive as she pulled away from him to go do exactly what she’d said.

He knew her mood wasn’t because of him, but it stung, it hurt to see her wrestling something he couldn’t see, couldn’t fix, and her not being able to voice it made it that much worse. Was it last night, he wondered, the jealousy she’d felt? It was a deeper emotion, something that had surged forward along with everything else. “My love.” He muttered as she stomped away. “How do I help you?” His text tone chimed and he read it as she wandered back into the kitchen. He gave her room, some space to digest events, her own emotions.

Hi Everyone

Her text read.

Gustaf and I will chat with you all later in the week to give you the details, but so you are aware, due to an incident at our home last night we have a restraining order out against Ana. The order lists all of you, so if she contacts you in any way please contact the police and file a report. Please have them attach it to the following: Restraining Order #936358-ND-65. Attention: Detective Leon Holmberg. If she contacts you say nothing other than “you are violating your restraining order, I can’t talk to you” and walk away or hang up, do not engage her in conversation in any manner even if she continues to follow you, talk, or harass you. The order is for your protection, please use it. I’ll email you copies and further instruction once the paperwork is served on her this afternoon. Please keep that in mind the more she contacts you the worse it is for her providing you file the report and don’t retaliate.

His phone rang a moment later and he smirked as Eija’s number came on the screen.

“What’s up nugget?” He said cheerily and saw the quick smile on Sildie’s face at his endearment.

“What’s up? Really Goose? Your girlfriend sends me a text saying all hell broke loose last night and you ask me what’s up? You fucker, why didn’t you call me?” Her tone dripping with sarcasm. “You guys ok?”

“Were fine.” He said gently as he watched Sildie pace, it was eating at her.

“Put me on speaker.” He did as she asked and pulled Sildie to him, anything to calm the raging storm under her skin.

“Hi Eija.” Sildie said softly.

“Hi back. What the fuck happened?” Sildie appreciated Eija, blunt and to the point much like she was. Gustaf relayed the events of the evening sensing Sildie was over talking to people about this for the day, it was his family after all and he needed to pick up the slack.

“Sildie you need anything from me you call ok?” Eija said fiercely. “I don’t give a fuck about what time it is or what I’m in the middle of, where you or the kids are, you need me, you fucking call.”

“Thanks Eija.” She smiled, the feeling of being accepted by his family choking her up. How did she deserve this, deserve them? Family pulls together when something happens, protects each other, this was so new for her. Hadn’t Stellan said the exact same thing to her last night?

Gustaf fielded calls from all his siblings and finally his mother as Sildie sipped her tea and zoned out. He’d only heard his mother get angry a few times in her life, but she was beyond livid, not at Sildie, or at him, angry at the situation and the potential harm it could do to her kids, her family. He promised to call her later in the week, to come over for lunch.

“Your dad texted me back letting me know the kids are safe and will continue to be.” She said softly still staring at her phone. How did she process such love from a family that barely knew her, a family that accepted her so openly and unconditionally?

“He’ll keep them safe love.” He murmured, bundling her into his arms. “My dad is a force to be reckoned with when he’s angry, especially if it involves his kids, or in this case, his grand kids.” He kissed her gently and looked at her slightly perplexed when she pulled away to pace. She was agitated, still on edge and he was at a loss as to why. He watched her take her laptop back to her office and disappear.

“My love, how do I help you when you push me away?” He sighed and went to the bedroom, knowing she was compartmentalizing to get through this shit storm before falling apart. She had the email to write to Lindstrom and once that was done he’d see to it that she relaxed and decompressed.

She typed furiously as the letter to Lindstrom flowed easily. Laying out their case, the possibility of pattern behavior, Gustaf, Lucas, her kids. She choked and sucked a shuddered breath in. Her limit of holding back her anxiety had almost reach critical mass for the day and knew once the letter was sent her system was going to freak the fuck out and own her ass. After sending the email to Lindstrom, she sent emails to Oliver, Daisy, the school, and daycare, hockey, soccer, covered all bases. She knew she was being overly cautious. “Better than the alternative.” She muttered.

Gustaf was nowhere to be found in the main living area when she eventually emerged from her office, her laptop now closed, paperwork neatly stacked. Coming into the bedroom she could hear water running from the en-suite and figured he was taking a shower. He must be so upset with me, she thought. Her behavior wasn’t exactly pleasant today, she’d snapped and spat at him all day like some deranged cat, anger and rage mixed with jealousy. She didn’t like herself when she got like this.

“Good timing.” He said as he stepped into the room to find her standing at the window staring out at the snowfall.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, her eyes fixed on the fat snowflakes tumbling to the ground.

“For what love?” He came to stand beside her, the urge to touch her strong, but he sensed she needed to come to him, her system frazzled.

“For the way I spoke to you earlier, I’ve been in a pisser of a mood since I woke up and I’ve been taking it out on you. That’s not who I am and you deserve better from me.” She choked.

“It’s ok.” His tone tender.

“No, Gustaf it’s not.” She said turning to face him, the tell tale wheeze of her anxiety prevalent. “I don’t like being this person, the one that’s so fucking terrified that she bites your head off every chance she gets.” She struggled to suck in a breath and he was in front of her a heart beat later.

“Breathe.” He commanded softly, leaning his forehead against hers as she tried to do as he asked. “And again love.” He murmured, as she managed a small one. He talked to her, helping her focus on one breath after another until she took a deep breath and let it shudder out.

“I’m sorry.” She choked. “I don’t like who I am right now.”

He kissed her, full on wrapped her face in his gigantic hands and devoured every inch of that gorgeous mouth. It wasn’t seductive, it was to shut her up and shock her into silence, it worked. “It’s ok. Sometimes you have to get in the mood to get shit done, to kick some ass and take some names, you’ve done that. All day you’ve done that. Now it’s time to let it be.” He murmured and kissed her tenderly.

“I’m scared.” She admitted quietly. “And this jealousy I have no fucking right to feel just bubbles out of nowhere.” Her tone was so lost, he thought. It hadn’t been that way for a while.

“I know you’re scared love.” He took a chance and slowly bundled her into his arms. “I’m not feeling particularly great about it all either. But as you keep reminding me, we can’t let her win.” Her snort made him smirk.

“God you’re so fucking right.” She sighed. “And here I am letting her do exactly that.” She was such an idiot.

“At least you channeled it into something useful.” He chuckled taking a dig at himself. “I’ll remind you if you remind me?” He said gently as he kissed her brow.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. I should have got my lazy ass up and helped.” He scoffed at himself.

“There wasn’t anything for you to help with really.”

“I could have made breakfast.” He smiled at her chuckle, she was coming back to him. “So, to make up for that faux pas, come with me a moment.” He took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom where the tub was full, bubbles and the soft candlelight almost instantly calming her. “In you get. I’m going to make tea and come and join you.”

“I love you.” She said softly, her voice quavering, he was so good to her.

“I love you too.” He kissed her tenderly as he slipped the silk robe from her shoulders, hands roaming her body with a need to soothe, to nurture, to give. “Get in the tub love. Let it be done for today and relax.” He murmured, his lips ghosting hers before he kissed her slowly and pulled away to go and make tea.

Her moan was delirious as she slipped into the blistering hot water, he knew how she liked it. Letting the thoughts of the day melt from her brain she started to drift, the anxiety falling away to finally allow her to relax. She’d done all she could to keep those she loved safe, to help start building a case against Ana if it came to that. Her thoughts went to the kids, the ten day vacation in the snow that Gustaf had booked, and smiled. That would be some good bonding time for all of them. How could she be jealous of that? “Stupid.” She huffed. “You’re just being a selfish stupid woman.”

The clink of china on the tile roused her from the warm and sleepy state she’d fallen into while he’d been gone, the thoughts of children of their own again drifting through her consciousness every now and then.

“You’re all soft and sleepy.” He said quietly, the arousal of her in such a state edging his tone. Bending down to kiss her his hand slipped beneath the water to touch her, fingers teasing as his mouth claimed hers. “Can I join you?”

“Mmmm.” She sighed dreamily. Moving forward Gustaf climbed in behind her and stretched out, bundling her into his lap.

“Now this is much better.” He purred, the water easing the stress from his body in an instant. “I brought snacks, I figured you wouldn’t want a huge meal.”

“It’s perfect.” She relaxed back against that massive chest, his arms curling around her protectively, the tenderness of his touch reassuring her that they would be ok. They talked softly, sipping their tea, snacking, the lazy strokes of his fingers making her entire body turn to goo. He smirked against the nape of her neck as a shiver skittered over her skin as his lips tended a favorite spot.

“I’m falling asleep I’m so relaxed.” She chuckled, his mouth seductively toying with her earlobe.

“I love it when you’re all soft and warm and sleepy.” He dipped his head down to gently bite her shoulder.

“I know you do.” She sighed as his hands cupped her breasts. Turning the jets on he continued to caress her body, arouse her, seduce her, determined to see her fully relaxed and sated before sleep claimed her.

When she was almost a complete mess he helped her out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her, pulling her close. He had a need to take care of her today, after all the upheaval of the last twenty four hours he needed it as much as she did.

Walking her back to the bed his mouth claimed hers, lazy, tender, yet demanding. Fingers removed the towel and he kissed her as she climbed on to the bed. Rolling her to her side he wrapped her top leg around him and slipped into that glorious wet heat. He made love to her, pulling each soft cry and whimper from her with heartbreaking tenderness.

“Gustaf.” Her voice choked, he could hear the sob waiting ready to fall as soon as she came.

“I know love, let it take you.” He murmured, the slow, deep thrusts caressing that one spot inside her that would be her undoing. His finger stroked over her clit, the sensation tipping her over the edge. She came hard, the soft cry of his name tumbling from her lips peaking his own release. Quickening his pace slightly he rode out their bliss, coming hard.

Her body shook as he slowed and gently pulled out to lay beside her, the tears came next. He was expecting them after the stress of the morning, the anger that still simmered beneath the surface, her inner turmoil. “Come here love.” He murmured, curling her into him. “Let it go.” He kissed her hair, the scent of her soothing him.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed.

“It’s fine. Let it go.” He soothed as his fingers gently raked through her hair. She calmed eventually, the sobs giving way to just tears, Gustaf didn’t know what was worse really, he hated it when she cried but knew that sometimes she was better for it. “Too much today and last night.” He said softly.

“Overload.” She sniffed, as she burrowed into his chest, his scent soothing the rough edges of her distress and the strength she found with him.

“Sleep now love.” He kissed her brow and pulled the covers over them both.

“Boring for you.” She scoffed, her tone telling him she was already drifting.

“I have you in my arms love, nothing boring about that. I think we could both use the rest.” She craned her head back to look at him.

“I love you and I’m sorry.” She said gently, her fingers brushing his lips.

“I love you and I’m sorry too.” He smiled and nipped her fingers. “That tickles.” He chuckled and her smile loosened the tight feeling in his chest. “Close you eyes and sleep, or just drift, switch that wicked smart brain of yours off for a few hours. We have nowhere to be or to do anything else today.” He soothed, his fingers coasting up and down the length of her side. “A nap will be good for both of us.”

“I’m scared.” She whispered, as if voicing it would bring down a world of hurt on them both.

“I know you are love, I am too.” He snuggled her in tighter. “But we stick together, you and me.” Her nod made him smile. “We’ll have a week and change with the kids in the snow, far away from her and all this shit. We’ll take a breath, recharge, and then hit her with everything we have.” He kissed her hair. “I’m not going to let her destroy what we have Sildie.” He vowed, and her head came up off his chest and her kiss was fierce.

“I love you sweet man.”

“She doesn’t get to fuck with this family.” He growled. She kissed him, that tender kiss that rocked him to his core.

“You’re so much stronger than her.”

“Because I have you. You make me a better man Sildie, a better person, and she doesn’t get to fuck with that.”

“I’m worried about the kids, when they go back to school.” She was still processing, struggling to switch it off.

“I know love. Hopefully this will be done by then. And if it isn’t...” He tangled his fingers in that copper halo he adored and devoured her mouth slowly. “If it isn’t, we’ll deal with it, together, you and me.” He smiled at her. “Though I don’t think you’d have any problem kicking her ass seven ways to Sunday on your own regardless.” He gave her lips a quick peck in jest. “But you’re not alone love, I’ll help take her down anyway I can.” He kissed her tenderly. “Sleep a bit now ok?” Shut it down for a few hours and recharge.”

“Will you stay?” She breathed out as he felt her entire body relax into him, the need to know he would be here when she woke overwhelming.

“I’m not going anywhere love.” He kissed her hair as he felt her plummet into sleep at his words.

His thoughts drifted, there was nothing else either of them could do about the current situation. They had exhausted all options apart from committing homicide to rid the world of Ana’s existence. Sildie had busted ass today to keep everyone he loved safe, not just him and the kids, but his entire family. A family that she’d only just become a part of, a family that she was still getting a feel for, so new, so daunting, yet she’d defended them, protected them without hesitation. “How do I deserve someone as wonderful as you my love?” He whispered, breathing her in. The warmth of her against him pulling him into sleep, those soft curves pressed to him in all the right places.

He was woken by soft, lazy kisses from a woman just waking up herself. Half asleep he deepened it. “My Sildie.” He murmured, the rasp in his voice causing her to moan, her lips searching for more of him, more from him.

“I love waking up to you.” She breathed, those Viking blue eyes fluttering open to look at her. His hands were already moving along her body, a touch so gentle, so loving. It was a time for them to reconnect, the lazy seduction and sloppy kisses exactly what they needed. He’d never had this with any other woman, the spontaneity, the relaxed love making to soothe more than just the act of fucking each other.

“Roll over.” He murmured against her mouth, fingers enticing her to move onto her side. “Mmmmm. Much better.” He purred as he spooned her, hands tenderly cupping her breasts, thumbs exciting her nipples to hardened buds. His movements were unhurried, carefree but not careless, her own equally arousing.

She could feel his hardening length against her thigh, the lazy thrusts as he flexed his hips, grinding against her. Relaxing back into him she gave herself over to his talented fingers dancing along her skin, the arousal pooling at her entrance.

“Scoot your leg forward.” He murmured, and guided it to where he wanted it, mouth sucking on a tender spot below her ear.

“Spoony sex.” She giggled.

“Mmmm, never done this one?” He asked softly as his fingers drifted over her navel and inched toward her clit.

“No.” She sighed.

“Spoon sex is lazy.” He kissed a trail down her neck. “Slow.” His tongue darted out to flick the pulse at her neck before he sucked on it gently. “Erotic, unhurried, and with the right partner, beautiful. Just like you.” He kissed her as her head turned to look at him. “I love you Sildie.” His fingers trailed her jaw as he studied her face, he could never get enough of her.

“I love you too.” Her hand cupped the side of his face as she claimed his mouth, tongue dancing with his.

“Relax.” He breathed and went back to completely destroying her system. Those clever fingers stoked her arousal, eventually slipping between her folds and over her clit where he circled it slowly. “Feel good?” He whispered as her breath hitched and that soft whimper fell from her lips.

“Yes.”

Taking his cock in his hand he stroked the engorged tip through her juices, her heat making his own breath catch. Pausing at her entrance he continued to torment her clit. His pace was devilishly slow, pulling out every sensation her body had to offer her and setting fire to it. With a gentle flex of his hips he inched the tip inside her, the stretch to her opening causing that moan to tumble out. “You like that.”

“God yes. So big.” She gasped as he started thrusting, slow and shallow. “Gustaf.” He was so thick with her legs like this she almost thought he wouldn’t fit. Her belly and pussy fluttered, the muscles eager to feel him, every glorious inch of him.

“Let it take you love.” He purred, lips teasing the shell of her ear as his fingers kept the same torturous rhythm. “Let me feel you.” Her arm reached back and held him behind his head as she tensed, her body poised to shatter.

“I can’t.” She choked.

“Breathe and come for me.” He murmured tenderly and gently sucked the pulse at her neck. It was enough to tip her over, that gorgeous cry of his name as she came, her pussy clamping down around him. “Feels good.” He growled. “So good.” He continued to take her apart, the steady rhythm building each orgasm and letting it crash over her again and again.

“Come with me.” She gasped as another built, the need to feel him find release, find his own pleasure, to feel him pulse inside her.

He shifted slightly and thrust deeper, her cry one of surprise it could feel that good and total euphoria at being filled. “You’re so tight like this.” His breathing not as steady as before. They took each other, slow and deep, drawing out the intense pleasure. “Sildie.” His tone that deep timbre she loved, one he only used for her. He bit down on her shoulder gently as she peaked, the struggle to keep in control until she came almost painful.

He felt her fall over the edge, the savage grip of her pussy as she came making her that much tighter. Keeping the same rhythm he held her tightly to him as he tensed, his release thundering through him, the soft groan as he found his pleasure making her smile. Slowing to a stop they lay there sated, loose, and relaxed.

“I think you liked that.” He grinned against her hair as her quiet chuckle filled the room.

“There is nothing about our sex life I don’t like.” She half turned in his arms to look at him. “I like lazy, spoony sex.” Her kiss was smoldering.

“That’s illegal.” He breathed. “Yet so fucking good.” His growl made her chuckle.

“Food? I have no idea what the time is, but I’m hungry.”

“It’s only seven.” He said glancing at his phone. He kissed her and deepened it when her tongue teased his. “Plenty of time for food and more of you.” The smirk at her lips wasn’t lost on him.

“I like the sound of more of you.” She purred and nipped his jaw. “Food first.” They untangled themselves and headed to the kitchen, Sildie quite happy to wander the apartment naked.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgård fanfiction

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somedrunkpirate · 4 years

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in the dark we travel (Geraskier Sci-fi au ficlet)

Rating: T | Wordcount: 3,4 | No major warnings | pre-slash, first meeting @geraskierfunday prompt: space

//let me know if you want of this because I have too much lore for a oneshot//

Read on ao3 or continue reading below

The stench of the holding bay almost makes Geralt turn on his heel.

It burns through his nose, coming in waves so overwhelming they should’ve been visible in the air. His senses are a dubious gift as he does not only smell it long before anyone else, but can distinguish individual notes within the cacophony of abomination. The acidic sharpness of cheap hovercraft fuel; the rot of biological waste; and then that sickly sweetness of pink oil, a byproduct from the favourite spirit boosters of all the rich kids and trip tourists partying up above. It’s the most prominent smell by far and it makes Geralt want to gag.

Intergalactic travel on this side of the Tenements is always a gamble.

Jackpot would be a merchant ship, where at least the conditions have to be sufficient for whatever cargo is on board. The fact that this usually results in better living environments for the stragglers sleeping between the boxes is entirely incidental. All in all, a good deal for everyone involved— except for Geralt, sometimes. Most merchants have no desire to have him on their ship. Luckily most are scared enough to let him anyway.

A draw— earning back your bet — would be a scavenger ship. Though sleeping among scavenged ship parts and stolen goods is less comfortable than proper cargo, the experience at least comes with a sense of adventure. Playing cards with pirates; fist fights between mercenaries; drinks with old timers. For many the opportunity would be once in a lifetime.

The drawback, of course, is becoming accessory to whatever crime the scavengers end up committing during your stay. And Enforcers don’t give one shit whether you sat in the cargo hold or shot the blast cannons yourself. Geralt has enough problems to keep track of to enjoy being blamed for other people’s crimes. Scavengers are insufferable, as a whole, but the most annoying are the ones that get caught.

So, in a sense, it is only fair Geralt loses the gamble. He’d been complaining about a win or a draw anyway, and the universe does so like to remind him there is no one smiling upon him. He ran out of luck years ago.

The smell only worsens when the great metal doors open to the loading dock, and the familiar bright orange of a Garbagecraft is revealed.

Various levels of frustration, despair and anger are voiced in groans and clicks. The crowd stops as a whole, yet unwilling to accept their collective fate. Roach’s ears flicker at the unrest, her two right front hooves scrape at the metal flooring in agitation.

Geralt pats her neck, careful not to get sliced by her sharp mane, and shushes her. “It’s alright. Shh. Good Girl.”

Some of the would-be travellers— two Pervuvians, a Human and a Sketh — push their way through the crowd and gang up around the dock boy who had led them here. They begin to chow him out in various languages, but Geralt catches enough to get the gist. Give me back my money or you will feel my wrath, insert threat specificities here.

As they become more and more creative, Geralt sighs and gives a quiet command to Roach to stay at the edge of the crowd. She makes a noise that Geralt chooses to interpret as agreement, rather than the frustration regarding her current situation that it probably was.

Geralt edges around the crowd to get a better look of the situation, his hand hovering above the hilt of his energy blade. The Pervuvians are part of a larger crew, seven total, standing off to the side with their limbs crossed. The Sketh is carrying a T-1 Blaster openly, which means she’s likely got something even more illegal under that travel robe of hers. The Human is an older man; his eyes almost folded away into his wrinkles. Not a threat at face value— which isn’t a whole lot, in Geralt’s experience. He’s proven right when he activates his perm-mod, focusing his vision, and the blue and white overlay lights up around the presence of an illusion.

He only has to strain his eyes a little before the glimmer dissipates and Geralt can see the true form of the being looming beside the dock boy. A Dizan, neon glyph tattoos and all.

Geralt suppresses a groan, and grabs the handle of his silver sword instead.

Even if he’d wanted to consider suffering teleportation in favour of two weeks sleeping among trash, the choice has now been made for him. The duration of the travel should be enough to see if this one dabbles with the ways of the Ancients, and how far they go if they do.

Though, if they’re willing to kill a kid out of frustration, Geralt has his answer too.

The shouting gets progressively louder and begins to attract more people. The whole of the Pervuvian crew has joined by the time Geralt manages to reach them.

It’s not that the crowd tries to block his path — the moment the flash of his eyes reaches theirs, most have the common sense to cover and step aside — there is just nowhere they can go. The whole platform has started to fill up as more travellers climb out of the drainage pipes. And the other half of the dock is claimed by the large containers, being loaded on one by one.

And yet, the immature show of aggression has managed to claim a small open clearing in the middle of the platform, as people press into each other trying to get outside of the blasting zone. Quite literally, as the moment Geralt breaches this unspoken border, the Sketh puts her hand on the trigger.

The boy goes pale. “Please! I do not have it. You must go to Kestra, the dock master, if you have a complaint.”

Geralt flickers a quick look to the Dizan — still frustrated, but passively so, eyes sparking with interest between the Sketh and the boy — and assesses his options. He grabs his energy blade and activates it.

It doesn’t make a sound, but the purple glow should be obvious enough to the Sketh once he—

“Friends! Please calm yourselves.”

A young man slides in front of the boy— in front of the blaster — hands held open in a placating gesture.

Geralt swears internally and deactivates his blade. The Sketh has her hand on the trigger, but hadn’t aimed the blaster. Even if she’d pulled while Geralt subdued her, it would’ve gone wide, cascading over his head.

But the man, standing taller and a step closer to her, has it pressed right against his heart.

He doesn’t seem to be aware of this fact, smiling brightly at the Sketh and then at the crowd at large. It seems so out of place— so confident, that even the Sketh is taken off guard and takes a step back reflexively. The barrel is no longer touching him, but the shot would be equally deadly.

The man is handsome, though garishly colourful compared to everyone in the vicinity. He looks like he’d gotten lost on his way to Erilisis Boulevard and somehow ended up in a sewage-cum-space station, of all places.

Despite his appearance, he carries himself with ease, even familiarity. There is no sign of an illusion to explain his reckless confidence— Geralt checked. If this is all an act, the only thing the man is playing is himself.

“I understand that the recent actions of our honourable Tin Men have us all on edge, as it is their overbearing application of the law that has many of us seeking out new sights in the first place!”

A few murmurs of agreement rumble over the crowd.

“I assume that most are not here out of free will, but rather out of necessity,” the man continues with sympathy. “We are leaving behind friends, family, business— life. No one should expect any of us to be happy, never mind calm.”

Nodding. Someone whistles, others hum. They’re listening.

The man’s face changes, his passionate expression becoming wry. “And look, I also am not eager to sleep among the left over drab of Zevos’ finest.” He pauses and then continues with a sly smile, “Never mind with all of you stinking up the place.”

Some smile, some even chuckle.

Geralt has to work to maintain an expression of neutrality.

The Sketh still has her hand on her blaster, but her finger has slackened, as if she’d forgotten that she was about to pull the trigger. The tension of the crowd at large is easing; the sharp border around the clearing is melting away. The man, with a few words, has them enthralled.

The man seems to be aware of this, because his attention slides off the crowd in a split second. His posture changes. From the wide and tall stance of a stage performer, he slackens slightly-- pulls in and leans forward, almost intimate. He’s looking at the Sketh, his voice low and almost gentle, but there is an order hidden under the kindness.

“Come, scivan. I know the stench is worse for you, but this might very well be the last ship of the day cycle. And with the Enforcers dogging the Magistrate’s tail, the whole operation could be shut down any moment. We cannot afford a delay, none of us can.”

And that is when Geralt realises the man does have a perm-mod after all. Not an illusion patch like the Dizan, but a rarer and much more volatile augmentation: a speech-mod.

Where temporary speech mods might translate your words for a day, or make your singing slightly more passable for single performance, a permanent speech mot does not add anything to the user. It just enhances what is already there.

If you’re good— if you are truly a master of tone, words and whatever fucking else comes with skilled communication, the Ancient Ways are nothing in comparison. Violence is obvious. Ancient crafting leaves traces of some sort behind, even if it is just merely the use of something else. But talking— speech, it takes nothing, it leaves nothing. It is as fleeting as a memory, an experience. Done well, you don’t even remember it, because you don’t know you’re being convinced in a manner more potent than normal interactions.

At least, the ones Geralt has come across prefer an art of subtlety. This man, quite clearly, is more like the ones who wear their speech mod openly, shimmering on the back of their necks, some curving down to their throat in graceful lines. Entertainers, singers, writers; all whose persuasion and manipulation is seen as harmless— made safe in the illusion of fiction.

And yet, despite the apparent taming of danger, they have been given the same title of a specialized class that once lived on the planet called Earth. Those who were able to leverage their seemingly frivolous talents to gain access into the highest courts; become confidants of Kings while serenading them to sleep.

Bards.

Geralt has always found it ironic. To expect these people to only use their powers for entertainment and laughter, named for a group that ostensibly did the same more than a millennium ago, while conveniently forgetting an important fact.

Most Bards were spies.

Gerat carefully sets his thoughts aside when the Bard moves. His focus returns fully to the situation at hand.

The Bard is reaching out to the Sketh, slowly, carefully-- recklessly, idiotically, completely careless of the danger, of setting her off.

She flinches when the Bard’s hand touches her fur covered arm— the one holding the gun.

Geralt takes a careful step closer. His hand hovering over the activation pad of his blade.

He’s quiet, but the Bard clocks him— a glance, eyes unwavering, before he focuses on the Sketh again and says, low, “Let this go.”

There is a breath. Geralt waits.

“Fine,” she spits out. “But I claim best bunk.”

She isn’t looking at the Bard’s face— doesn’t catch the relief before it's drowned out by a companionable smile and a hint of satisfaction. Geralt does. Geralt sees all of it.

The man’s expressions are as garish as his clothing. He is too animated-- too bright-- to belong in a place like this. Amongst people like this. These are people who lie through suppression, not misdirection. Even if it's all false, it is out of place. But it isn’t-- false. Parts of it are genuine, and Geralt doesn’t think it's a mistake. The Bard doesn’t mind people seeing him. It’s disconcerting.

The Bard claps his hands together and turns back to the crowd. “You heard her, the show is on the road!”

As if on cue, the platform shifts and rumbles. Walkways start to extend from the edges toward the sides of the ship. Doors shift open with heavy sighs of pressurised air. The dock boy takes the distraction to get the fuck out of dodge, though he throws a grateful gaze to the Bard as he slips away. The Bard’s smile goes incrementally brighter.

“Now,” he says, raising his voice, “Those with smell sensitivities should have priorities to the upper decks. Let’s show those fuckers we aren’t as inconsiderate as they make us out to be, eh? Behave and you might be treated with an entirely free performance of Craven Roses!”

At that, the Bard bows to a scattering of applause. The promise of potential entertainment brings a measure of good cheer among the passengers— any travel without warp-speed is an exercise in boredom regardless, but the trip between Zevos and the outer ring of Xadan is especially notorious for it. After the purple glow of the Zevos System is left behind, the following week of utter darkness is enough to drive anyone cabin-crazy. The appearance of Xadan eventually brings light. It isn’t pretty, but it's at least something. A measure of progress, watching Meteor Border come closer and closer.

The worst is never the dark, it's feeling like nothing is happening. That you’re moving, but will never arrive.

Geralt shakes his head to himself. He can deal with that. He’s used to it— whether he is in a spacecraft or walking on solid ground. But most people aren’t. Geralt would prefer not to suffer through thinly veiled innuendos posing as a passion play, but the alternative might be even more tedious. He has a sense that this won’t be the last time the Sketh will become a problem.

At least, for now, she isn’t his concern. He clicks his energy blade back on his utility belt and is about go back for Roach when a voice calls out—

“Witcher!”

The Bard.

Geralt stops. He doesn’t turn around. “Few know to call me that.”

The Bard circles him and grins. “Ancienthunter is a bit of a mouthful, if you ask me. Witcher is more of a statement— a strange word for a strange profession; as old as the beasts you’re hunting.”

Geralt snorts. “Funny you say that, Bard.”

“Jaskier, and thank you,” the Bard-- Jaskier says grandly, seemingly unaware of how very much Geralt did not intend it as a compliment. Or maybe he did and doesn’t care. “What a twist of fate, is it not? Two men out of time, on the edge of the universe.”

Geralt snorts and begins to walk.

Jaskier rushes after him, slipping deftly between people to keep up. “Wait!”

“I’m not here for your tales,” Geralt says. “Find another audience.”

Jaskier huffs and makes an affronted sound, but persists. When Geralt eventually breaches the edge of the crowd, he’s caught up, a little out of breath.

“Come on, Witcher. Let me just— I’ve heard of the adventure of people like you and I was wondering—“

His voice cuts out and his eyes go wide, when Roach comes out of the shadows. Mouth agape, he stares.

Geralt reaches out for her lead and turns his back on Jaskier. He’s not interested in seeing the inevitable terror— or, if Jaskier is as reckless as he seemed to be in front of a blaster, anger. Geralt puts a hand on Roach’s neck, knowing that one sign from him and Jaskier wouldn’t have a chance for either. Not that it would help his case.

It’s quiet for so long that Geralt almost thinks Jaskier managed to retreat in complete silence, but when he turns, he’s still standing there, mouth agape.

“I thought—“ he says, and there is no terror. “I thought they were extinct. I thought you— Witchers had hunted them all.”

He isn’t afraid. He is awed.

Geralt thinks of the busy stalls in Kae’r Mor, the gentle huffing, soft rumbling and kind eyes that follow you as you pass through the halls. Dozens of lives saved through secrecy, protecting a species deemed undeserving of existence, merely because some had used them in horrific ways.

He thinks of Vesemir, furious, as Geralt took Roach from her stall.

—selfish. Your actions put all of them in danger, and you know it.

But one survivor shouldn’t — can’t — be able to ruin it. He’s careful, he avoids the corners of the galaxies where they’re most known. Where they’re more than just a story. He can lay the blame all on himself: it shouldn’t be hard to understand one monstrous creature having bonded with another.

He just hadn’t been able to leave her behind. Not if he wasn’t certain he’d ever be back.

“Amaureen,” Jaskier says, quietly, startling Geralt out of his thoughts. To hear that word spoken in such a way— with wonder, is disorientating.

“Does she have a name?”

“Roach.”

There is a stunned silence, and then Jaskier laughs. “Not what I expected for a creature straight out of legend.”

Geralt shrugs. “She likes it.”

Jaskier smiles and then looks at Roach again, hesitating. “Can I—“

“You can try,” Geralt says, gruffly. But he centers himself, trying to project calm— not trust, he can’t lie in this, but he shows her what he saw. Jaskier talking down a crowd, levity cutting through a knife through the tension. Light in a moment of darkness.

Roach huffs and holds still as Jaskier’s fingers brush her snout. His eyes go impossibly bright, and his breath catches when Roach, unprompted, presses against his hand.

“She likes me,” Jaskier says, too surprised to be smug about it.

Geralt doesn’t respond— doesn’t disagree. He feels unbalanced, put off. None of this— none of this is going like it is supposed to go.

Roach responds to his distress, stepping back with a huff.

Jaskier takes his hand back, doesn’t press for more, and says, “Thank you.”

As if that is something people say after touching an Amaureen. Geralt feels a headache brewing.

“Hmm,” he says, and tugs on Roach’s lead. They begin their walk to the farthest end of the ship.

Jaskier doesn’t take the hint.

“How did you find her? Have you had her long?”

“None of your business, Bard.”

“Jaskier, or Dandel, on stage,” he says blithely, “and okay, fine, but you have to understand. This is momentous. I’ve always known there was something off about all those tales. How could a bond-species suddenly turn against their riders? Why all at the same time?”

Geralt makes a noise of warning. Roach’s mane bristles.

“Okay, have it your way. Something else then.” There is barely a pause before he asks, continues, rapid-fire and passionate: “Have you ever encountered a hag? I’ve been hearing about one running a spirit bar in the Dekolijn but that could be a myth. Do they have the intelligence to do such a thing or are they more beast-like?”

Geralt’s jaw tenses, glancing sideways to glare and growl— something, he doesn’t know what, because the moment he turns, he sees something else.

The Dizan, watching them with interest.

For a moment Geralt’s stomach drops— Vesemir was right. He should never have taken Roach with him.

But then he realises that the Dizan isn’t looking at Roach.

They’re looking at Jaskier with a considering look in their eye.

Resignation falls like a heavy cloak around Geralt’s shoulders. He forces his expression in a blank slate and allows Jaskier to follow him, giving occasional one word answers like breadcrumbs, that lead him into the ship— away from that pale white gaze.

As they walk through the bowels of the ship, bile in the back of Geralt’s throat, his nose burning, and a headache in full bloom, one thought circles around in the forefront of his mind, over and over:

He should’ve gone with teleportation after all.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #witcher #the witcher #geralt/jaskier #witcher fic #myfic #alternate universe scifi #in the dark we travel

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b-skarsgard · 5 years

Link

Bill Skarsgård recently watched “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” for the first time. He was on a plane; you know how that sort of thing goes. As he mulls over the widespread fascination with America’s first family of reality television, a lightbulb goes off: what about “Keeping Up With the Skarsgårds?” It’s certainly getting harder to keep track of the extended family of Swedish actors: father Stellan and older brother Alexander have already paved the way in Hollywood, and brothers Gustaf and Valter are actors as well. He pantomimes a phone call with one of his seven siblings, tapping into his inner Khloé.

Although he was nine when he first started acting professionally (a Swedish thriller, which starred Alexander), the “It” franchise marks Skarsgård’s true Hollywood breakout. On Sept. 6, he returns to theater screens for “It: Chapter Two.”

When the first installment premiered in September 2017, the film went on to become the highest-grossing R-rated horror film of all time. With an A-list cast attached to the sequel — Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader — portraying the adult versions of the Losers Club children, expectations are high for the second film, and it’s likely that even more eyes will be on Skarsgård.

The final fight looms large for the film adaptation of Stephen King’s novel. In King’s story, Skarsgård’s Pennywise returns to wreak havoc every 27 years; indeed, it was 27 years between Tim Curry’s 1990 television portrayal of the character and Skarsgård’s. This time around, the monster was less dormant before returning for its encore.

Whereas he spent a lot of time experimenting with various laughs, physicalities and faces before the first shoot, for the second installment Skarsgård was thrust back into the deranged clown’s world with little warning.

“I think the effects crew was, like, ‘Whoa, what the f–k.’ When you do the digital thing you only have dots on your face so you look like yourself,” says the 29-year-old actor, lanky and lounged on a couch wearing a floral button-up short-sleeve shirt and dark jeans. “It’s almost more jarring seeing me doing Pennywise looking like myself because it looks like a complete maniac. It’s almost like the makeup translates onto the character. Without the makeup I just look like a human being that’s not normal whatsoever.”

Skarsgård credits his costume and makeup team — “the Pennywise unit” — for the hours of work that went into his physical transformation on-set, particularly the two artists applying his prosthetics each day: Sean Sansom and Shane Zander.

Zander, on-set prosthetic makeup effects key artist, was with Skarsgård from Day One of test makeup to the last of the shoots for the second film: more than 50 applications of Pennywise.

“Bill is Pennywise. Once we sat him down for two hours and applied all the makeup, he transforms. It is amazing to watch him work. He gets into the character so well. Sometimes he’s outright scary as hell,” Zander says. “We were used to seeing him, but a lot of the crew members and other actors were genuinely freaked out when they saw him. Bill is a tall guy, and put him in a creepy clown costume and face; that’s nightmare fuel there,” he adds. “He would Skype with his brothers quite often while in the makeup and they would really get a kick out of it.”

There’s one person who’s definitely not freaked out by Pennywise, and that person is Skarsgård himself.

“I see myself,” says the actor. “I’m so familiar with the look of the character, too, that its like, I don’t see it as the Pennywise monster, I see myself in a clown face.”

Others see Pennywise, whether he’s in makeup or not. And turns out, it’s a hit with Customs.

“I flew in from Stockholm last night and as I walked in through Customs — you know when you fill out the Customs form, and then you go through the Customs and then you pick up your luggage and then you walk through and have to hand in the little — he was like, ‘Neeeext. Thought so. They all float down here, am I right, man?'” a reference to Skarsgård’s most famous line in the story. “With his big thick New York accent.”

He’s not phased, but Skarsgård, who lives in Sweden with his girlfriend and daughter, is more accustomed to a low-key existence.

“People tend to leave you alone in Sweden. Especially in New York, there’s a sense of this enthusiasm that you don’t find in Sweden,” he says. “Also in Stockholm, people just expect me to be there probably.”

Well, expect to be seeing Skarsgård around even more, at least on the big screen. Skarsgård also appears as the lead in “Villains” out in September, a small budget dark comedy that premiered at SXSW in March. Whereas “It” was a big studio undertaking with special effects, “Villains” was a more modest production by two young directors whose script had landed on the “blacklist” — a selection of the industry’s best unproduced screenplays.

“We had only ever seen him in the context of horrors or thrillers, the scary clown in ‘It’ or something where he’s playing a werewolf or vampire,” says the writer-director duo, Robert Olsen and Dan Berk. “We were, like, ‘Is he capable of being this charismatic and lovely of a character?'” Turns out, yes. “We felt like we could at the same time show the world what Bill Skarsgård is capable of, which we think is being a Hollywood leading man and he’s starting to really show that now.”

After Skarsgård’s brief layover in New York in mid July — he was particularly excited about being upgraded to a balcony room at his hotel downtown — Skarsgård was headed to Utah to film “Nine Days” with first-time feature director Edson Oda, opposite Winston Duke and Zazie Beetz. After that, it was back to Sweden for his sister’s wedding in August before jumping full force into fall and the “It” press tour. He has a few films in post production, too; pretty soon, Pennywise will finally be left behind, for good.

Skarsgård himself isn’t a horror film fan, though he offers an addendum: He likes good movies. And sometimes good movies happen to be scary.

“I’ve never been a fan of the feeling of, ugh, like I’m about to pop a balloon, I’m about to pop a balloon,” Skarsgård says; coincidentally, red balloons mark his character’s presence in “It.” “That’s the jump scare thing, you know it’s like, eeek, I’m going to jump — but I don’t want to jump. At the very end of most horror films I’m never scared.”

#link #article #wwd #wwd magazine #interview #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #it the movie #villains

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bytheangell · 5 years

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i am so in love with time travel fics so if it's not too much trouble can you please write something re: sad!past!magnus (maybe TID-era, or anything really) somehow winding up in the present day, and finding out that he's gonna be ok, he's gonna be so happy with his husband and children (if you want to include the book!malec kids here) and family, and the world might not be perfect but it's going to be better than he thought it could be

Believe in All the Possibilities (Read on AO3)Magnus just wants a carefree night of music, perhaps a bit of dancing, and most definitely more drinking than would be strictly advisable in his current emotional state. Maybe, if he still feels awful enough by the end of the night, he can end up in a den of questionable moral offerings on the shadier side of London. Who knows where the night might take him?

Instead he finds himself staring across the room at Camille, dancing far too close to be publicly decent with her current conquest. That’s all they are, he reminds himself, but it doesn’t help, not when he was in her arms not that long ago (had it been weeks? months? what’s time to an immortal, anyway?). Not when she’s the reason he’s drinking his heartbreak drink alone at the bar in the first place. He watches her for a while, losing track of time (has it been minutes? hours? time matters so little these days…). It’s the amount of time it takes to drink two bottles of whiskey, he can measure it that way. He thinks he might just continue for the rest of the night until Camille meets his eyes, winks at him, and then pushes her suitor against a wall to shove her tongue down his throat and run her hands down the length of his body and-

He needs to leave.

Magnus pays his tab and walks out of the party, doing his best not to look back. He almost manages it but steals one last glance, not sure if he’s more or less hurt by the realization that she isn’t even watching him for his reaction, now entirely lost in the arms of her new lover. It isn’t a comfort to remind himself that he probably means nothing to her because that’s only a reminder that he meant nothing to her, too.

He doesn’t have a place in mind when he opens a portal. He’s only just polished up with Henry a more stable way of opening portals for Shadowhunters to use, with runes drawn intricately around where they wish to form it to channel the magic needed. The one he opens now, fueled only by his own raw power, could be considered a prototype at best. It’s unstable and unpredictable without the runes to ground it, but hell, he’s feeling more than a little unstable and unpredictable himself.

Magnus knows, deep down, that this is a mistake. The first rule to using a portal is to have a clear picture of where you’re going, but instead he steps into it with only one thought in mind: Take me somewhere I can be happy. I just want to feel okay again.

London vanishes behind him, and everything goes black.

—

By all accounts he should be dead. Or in limbo. Or some horrifying combination of both.

Instead, Magnus finds himself blinking his eyes open from darkness to take in the scene around him of a city that is most definitely not London. There are street lamps lit along the– no, not lamps. The light coming from them isn’t fire. They’re electric. In fact, electric lights seem to be everywhere, despite the lightbulb barely being functional in the richest of areas testing out electricity in 1878.

But that’s not the strangest thing. Magnus takes a few tentative steps towards the street only to jump backwards at the speed of the… well, he isn’t sure what the horrifyingly fast cart that passed him is exactly, but he knows that one more step forward and he would’ve been underneath it. Sobering up much faster than he’d like, Magnus starts to realize that however improbable the idea is, he has to face the facts that add up around him. He appears to be in the future - at the very least an alternate timeline, one far more advanced than his own. Regardless, either should be impossible.

And the most distressing realization (as if all of that isn’t enough) is that since he has no idea how he managed to get here, he isn’t entirely sure how to get himself back.

If he even can.

…if he even wants to.

After all, the past holds little for him outside of disappointments and broken promises. He can hardly find joy in his work at the moment, the one thing he’s consistently turned to as a source of pride and solace, so why bother going back to a life destined for solitude and misery?

But first things first: he needs to figure out exactly where he is. It takes a bit of poking around and more than a few heavy American accents telling him in no uncertain terms not to so much as look at them, before he gets the answers he’s looking for. It’s New York in the late 2010s, a little over a hundred years ahead of where he came from.

But why here? Why now?

Those questions are answered when he backs up quickly to narrowly avoid two children who turn the corner and nearly run directly into him, followed by the voice of someone calling out after them. No, not someone - that’s his voice.

“Max! Rafe! This isn’t a game tonight, okay? Something’s wrong and I need to test the wards before you can go inside.”

Magnus glamours himself immediately, pressing up against the side of the building to let them pass while listening in on the middle of a conversation this future version of himself is holding with a very tall, very attractive Shadowhunter.

“-I don’t know, Alexander. But something feels off with my magic, like I can sense too much of it? I can’t explain it, but I just want to make sure nothing’s wrong before you and the boys come up.” And then he’s gone, vanishing into the apartment building while the man named Alexander waits on the sidewalk with two children, one warlock and one shadowhunter. Magnus knows because of the runes and blue skin he can see just beyond their glamours; glamours which are good enough to fool mundanes but not strong enough to block out skilled warlocks who are looking hard enough. The children must be keeping their own glamours up rather than relying on ones put on by the two adults. Impressive, especially for children so young.

The warlock boy starts to poke small jolts of magic into the Shadowhunter boy, who looks about two seconds away from stabbing the warlock boy in the arm with his stele if he doesn’t stop. Magnus has the sudden impulse to give away his own hidden position to stop them but Alexander is already on top of it.

“Max! No magic on the street, you know that. Rafael, please, if you break another stele this month Izzy’s going to kill both of us. Just stand still for two minutes while Papa checks the wards.”

“Alright, Dad,” the children say in unison.

And that’s when Magnus realizes. These aren’t just people his future self is working with, or bringing here for a social visit. These are his children. And Alexander is… well, if Dad and Papa weren’t enough, one glance down at the wedding ring on the Shadowhunter’s finger is all the answer he needs there, too. Magnus can sense the magic there, his magic there, laced with more protection charms than should reasonably be contained in an object so small.

The future version of himself comes back downstairs looking more confused than ever, and just for confirmation Magnus’ eyes immediately drop to the matching wedding band on his hand, standing out in its simplicity compared to the rings surrounding it. I’m married. And more than that, married to a mortal. A Shadowhunter. “Everything’s fine. C’mon kids, grab your things before we drop you back off at the Institute with Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Simon for the weekend.”

Magnus follows behind as they go upstairs, the wards letting him pass without incident as they’re keyed to his own magic, after all. He’s careful to stay out of the way as he remains hidden from view, listening to the sounds of laughter as the children pack clothing into a bag and his future self enjoys a glass of wine with his husband, eavesdropping on their conversation while he looks around the room at children’s artwork and smiling family photos, feeling the warmth that radiates from this nontraditional family.

“Once we get back to Alicante I have three meetings, one with Consul Penhallow,” his future self sighs. “Remind me again why I let you talk me into the High Warlock position?”

Alexander laughs. “Talk you into it? As I remember, the moment you heard Alicante was getting one you practically demanded to be the one to, how did you put it?, ‘put the Clave in their place once and for all’?”

Magnus nearly chokes on the air he’s breathing. High Warlock is one thing, it’s an honor he’s always dreamed of. But High Warlock of Alicante? It sounds absolutely absurd and he can hardly comprehend the idea of it. Downworlders are barely allowed to exist in the same rooms as Shadowhunters, let alone exist as any sort of authority in their sacred country. He’s broken from his thoughts by his future self speaking again.

“Yes, well, I also remember the job coming with the clear perk of moving to Alicante with my husband the Inquisitor, so-”

Magnus watches them smile at one another, leaning in to kiss. It’s a short one, quickly interrupted by a flying pillow and the laughter of children. Soon both wine glasses are magicked away and both his future self and Alexander are each grabbing a child, spinning them before pinning them to the ground, tickling them into submission.

Suddenly Magnus realizes why he’s here, why now.

This is what he wanted. This is where he’s happy.

There is so much love in the room it’s practically palpable. He’s married to someone he clearly trusts, someone he doesn’t believe will hurt him or leave him, because he knows himself. He knows how impossible the idea of finding someone like that feels right now, and how important this Alexander must be for him to go against everything he’s resolutely resigned to in his own mind and allow him into his life in such a monumental way. And a family… as impossible as marriage seems to him, the idea of a family isn’t even up for consideration. This sort of life - settling down, unconditional love, contentment, happiness - it isn’t meant for him. It never has been, and he never thought it would be.

Until now.

When his future self opens a portal to the Institute they’re going to drop the children off at Magnus instinctively follows close behind, still glamoured, coming out of the other side and into the New York Institute just as it closes, like it knows to wait for him. The children immediately run into the arms of another Shadowhunter, a woman this time, and then the man beside her. A vampire, who is casually coexisting in the inner sanctum of the Shadowhunters and friendly with his future children.

“Simon!” The young Shadowhunter boy, Rafe, nearly shouts. “I got my speed rune, I bet I can beat you in a race now!”

The vampire - Simon - laughs. “Oh yeah? We’ll have to see about that…”

Magnus almost feels guilty for intruding on these moments. He knows they’re not for him, not yet, but he can’t help himself when Alexander and his future self say goodbye shortly after and he’s ducking quickly behind them into another portal, this time coming out somewhere entirely unfamiliar at first. It takes a few moments before the scenery around him registers.

Alicante.

He recognizes the demon towers, can feel the strength of the angelic power around him from both the concentrated amount of Shadowhunters and the adamas veins that run beneath the city. He’s immediately uncomfortable, an instinctive sense of unease coming from so much as stepping foot upon the City of Glass… but not his future self.

He watches his future self visibly relax the moment he steps foot out of the portal and onto the ground of the park below. Can anyone portal into the middle of Alicante at will now or is it just him, Magnus wonders idly. Exactly how much have things changed?

…exactly how much of that is, potentially, because of him?

Magnus follows his future self and Alexander down a path he realizes was picked deliberately for the portal to open up at. The pair take their time wandering down it, hand in hand, talking and catching up on each other’s days. Alexander mentions Catarina and Magnus feels his heart swell at the knowledge that they’re still friends, even now. Maybe everyone doesn’t leave him in the end after all.

When his future self and Alexander finally reach a building that’s most likely their home Magnus decides not to follow them inside. He’s seen enough: enough to know that he may never stop watching this version of his life if he doesn’t leave soon, and more than enough to know that running away from the life he has now is no longer what he wants, not when he has this to look forward to in the end. It might not be what he thought he wanted out of life, but maybe it’s exactly what he needs.

Magnus feels a lightness in him he didn’t imagine himself capable of just an hour ago. Hope, the smallest seed of it, rests firmly within him after the sights he witnessed tonight. He just has to let it grow, nurture the idea that things may seem bleak now but they won’t be forever. He has proof of that now, a reason to believe that he’s more than just someone to be used and discarded. That one day he’ll find a love powerful enough to see him marrying a Shadowhunter, taking on a job title he never could’ve imagined existing let alone holding personally, and raising a family to come home to at the end of the day. Loved. Accepted. Content.

Before he came here he simply wanted to dull the ache and numb himself to any feelings at all; now he finds himself overwhelmed by too many emotions to count, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

This may all be his one day, but first he has to get here. Once he’s certain he’s alone he conjures a portal of his own, picturing London and a life that’s only as meaningful as he chooses to make it.His life no longer feels like an inevitable sentence to play out but rather a glowing future that’s his for the taking. ‘Take me home’ he thinks with surprising fondness as he takes his first step towards that light.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #camille belcourt #but only a little in the background #i hope you like this anon!!#also i know this isn't how portals would ever function but we're pretending for the sake of this scenario #it took me a few tries to get it so writing about magnus watching himself wasn't the most confusing thing ever to read #but i think this final version did the trick #<3 <3 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune #long post

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