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lydiimae · 2 months

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Infatuation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

MDI!! 18+

Part 2 <3

Warnings: Heavy drinking, mentions of opium use, mentions of prostitution, rough sex, fingering, oral sex, semi-public sex, squirting, marking, thigh riding, vaginal sex, dom benedict and sub reader, brief spanking, possessive benedict, LOTS of dirty talk

A.N: hi again, i'm back on my bullshit <3 first of all, thank you so very much for the love on my first Benny fic AND my first fic ever. liiiiike seriously, that was so sweet <3 T-T. anyway, this fic is another Benny fic- a smutty one at that. it is vaguely based off of the infamous party where Ben has his threesome, however, i changed it up quite a bit so take it at face value hehe. i am planning on making an Anthony one next, probably some more filth so I can practice getting my wording to a place i am proud of. also, i think i will maybe make this into a series??? so do let me know if you like it so i can get an idea >.< enjoy, ily, and THANK YOU AGAIN <3 ^-^

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You were never one to go to parties, especially the ones your dear friend Genevieve Delacroix invited you to. She had a knack for finding the most raunchy, wanton, artists who would throw parties full of courtesans, sex, opium, alcohol... the whole of it.

Being a maid for such a wealthy and well-known family, the Featherington's to be exact, meant you knew the secret lives that many lords and ladies lead outside of the stuffy confines of the ballrooms.

You were lucky to be the lady's maid of the sweetest Featherington, Penelope, and therefore you were even luckier to hear about the Bridgerton family. From what she told you, they were all kind and polite, just like anyone else. She had also hinted, quite shyly, to the men of the family being gorgeous. The third born being her favorite.

You had seen glimpses of pearly white teeth, dark blue tailcoats, and their chestnut brown hair but were never lucky enough to see a full image of any of them but Eloise and her sister, Daphne.

When Genevieve insisted on you tagging along with her and a friend from a higher-up place, you begrudgingly accepted. It was lucky that the young debutante you worked for insisted on having something important to do, so you snuck out and walked through the streets of London to the modiest's shop.

Genevieve dressed you in a tight but, incredibly beautiful, dark blue corset and a pair of black pants, to which you raised an eyebrow. "I look as if I am soliciting, not as if I am curious about this party you have been nagging me to go to." You comment, looking in the mirror.

"What if you solicit, hm? Where is the harm in spending a night with a lord or even another servant?" She returns, tightening up the laces on the corset before stepping back and looking over her work. "Besides, look at yourself. You have a body that would make any one of those silly debutantes jealous, why not show it?" She grins.

You sigh and turn to her, a small cheeky smile on your face as a result of her teasing. "You owe me for this, Viv." You tease and she laughs, putting on her cloak as she hands you your own. "There she is. The Y/N I know. We will have fun, I swear it." She says. Once your cloak is tugged over your shoulders, the both of you make your way out of the shop and towards the house where the party is being held.

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Benedict never snuck out, not before he got invited to Lord Granville's house. The man was nice enough about him completely insulting his art to his face, nice enough to recognize an artistic eye and even the hint of talent that Benedict possessed through merely speaking about art. He thought the gathering was going to be one where he would meet artists and practice his craft. He was wrong.

Of course, he was experienced in the world of sex, drugs, and drinking. He attended the gentleman's club with his brothers after almost every ball he attended, much like every other lord in the ton. He has shared his number of passion-filled nights with nameless women, some of which he cannot remember. The only remenice being the ache of a hangover, and the taste of expensive whiskey still lingering on his tongue.

He would have never thought that the artist had such a scene hiding behind such an unassuming townhouse.

He followed the artist in and was met with quite the scene. The room was hazy with the smoke of expensive cigars, the candlelight casting a low gold hue on the entire house. He followed the artist deeper and was met with courtesans soliciting men at every turn, to which he grinned.

Even further and he was led into a room where women were posed naked, in quite compromising positions, for eager artists who were trying to master the anatomy of a naked woman. Or so that is what Granville claimed.

He grins crookedly at the sight. "Quite the room, is it not?" Lord Granville piques up from behind him. He turns to face the man and nods. "Quite. Might I stay here? I have found myself needing practice of anatomy as of late and this is the perfect place to do so." He says, a playful glint in his eye.

Granville, of course, picks up on it and nods. "Of course, Lord Bridgerton. Do enjoy yourself." He returns with a knowing smile and a wink before exiting the room. Benedict sits at one of the free easles, one of the other men lighting a cigar and offering it to him. He accepts, and puffs on it as he begins to work.

He could get used to this.

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Genevieve leads you through the party, grabbing two glasses of what looks like scotch off of a passing servant's tray. She settles for meeting her friend, who you quickly learn is the wife of said artist who is throwing the party, on the stairs.

After a while of chatting you learn that the young woman's name is Lucy and her husband is Henry Granville, an artist whose work you always found interesting. You also are clued into the fact that their marriage is one of convenience, rather than love, as Lord Granville has no romantic nor sexual interest towards the opposite sex. You find no issue in what the young couple has, after all, you have seen much worse when it comes to marriages in the ton.

"Viv, might I go explore, or am I to only solicit?" You tease as you push off the wall. She laughs and shakes her head. "I am not your keeper, Y/N. Go and do as you wish, just be careful." She says, a hint of genuine protectiveness seeping through her tone of voice. "I promise. I will find my way back to your shop if anything goes awry." You assure before walking down the steps with a quick wave to both of the women.

You duck into a small room with a door that leads to a balcony after grabbing another glass of scotch from a passing servant. However fun it is coming to these things with Viv, you find them quite overwhelming. You are more attuned to the quietness of your servant's quarters, spending countless hours curled up with a good book that your young mistress so generously gifts you from time to time.

You walk out on the balcony, leaning heavily on the metal railing as you look up at the stars. The scotch, and the fact that you get much drunker much quicker than most, is making a delightfully warm feeling bloom in your chest. You take a deep breath of the fresh air to calm your senses before ducking back into the party.

You make it all of two steps before colliding into a broad chest, which sends your alcohol down the front of your torso.

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He was in that hazy, alcohol-filled room, long enough to get just drunk enough to where he was clumsy. He catches the woman he so foolishly clambered into on his way out of the room he was painting in by the waist, which sends her drink out of her hand and down her front.

"My God, I am so incredibly sorry my lady." He rushes, gazing down at the mess he made. His eyes widen at the sight that lies in front of him.

She's a young woman, young enough that she can not be past the age of two and twenty, in a very revealing corset top and black pants. Her hair is tucked up elegantly, yet a few unruly waves have fallen as a result of the night's activities. Her cheeks are pink, probably from the embarrassment or perhaps even the anger, of getting drenched in scotch.

The liquid drips down her neck, and he follows a drop from her neck to where it travels right between her breasts. The tops are peaking out from being hugged so tight. They are full, so very full. He wonders what it would feel like to run his tongue over the smooth skin, what it would feel like to roll her nipple between his teeth and suck.

He shakes himself out of it and meets her eyes once more before he gets any more aroused than he already is.

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You recognize him immediately as a Bridgerton, though you have no idea which one. He has a silly crooked smile on his face that you cannot seem to draw your eyes from, he also sports the undoubtedly Bridgerton chestnut brown hair.

He has longer hair than the one Penelope speaks of, but only just. Your eyes roam from his face to his chest, where he is wearing only a loose undershirt, his waistcoat long forgotten in drunken activities you're sure. His suspenders hang loose on his shoulders, just barely hanging onto his black trousers.

"You're a Bridgerton." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, the effects of three glasses of scotch. He grins wider, chuckling a bit. The noise makes your entire body heat up. "I am. Benedict Bridgerton in fact." He says, his eyes never straying from yours.

"And you are?" He ponders after a moment of silence from you. You jump at the question, having been too distracted by the look of his lips to even notice he was speaking. You clear your throat and adjust your posture. "Y/N L/N." You answer shyly.

"Well, Y/N L/N, can I take you to a room and clean up the mess I made of your top, or is that entirely too forward for a gentleman to ask within mere moments of meeting?" He grins, the alcohol he consumed only ebbing on his already large confidence when it comes to women. You only nod shyly, afraid that if you speak you will make a stuttering fool of yourself.

He offers an arm, which you take happily, and begins to lead you through the party.

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He pulls you into a room and, almost immediately, his hands encompass your waist. "You... are the most stunning woman I have ever had the pleasure of looking at." He murmurs, sending your heart soaring. You rest your hand on his chest, newly emboldened by the liquid courage you have been sipping on the entire night, returning his cheeky smile. "Is it too forward for a lady to say the same within mere moments of meeting?" You return.

He lets out a chuckle when you parrot his past words and he leans down. "A witty woman as well as a beautiful one, what else do you have up your sleeve Miss L/N?" He purrs, running a flattened hand up your back until it meets your hair. He tugs it down from its pins, sending it tumbling over your shoulders.

"Perhaps, if you are lucky Mister Bridgerton, I shall show you." You whisper, leaning in so your lips are but a hair's width away from his. Something dangerous and incredibly intoxicating passes over his features as he lets out a noise, a growl, that causes your core to dampen.

"You are a very forward woman, Y/N. I find it quite... infatuating to say the very least." He whispers before capturing your lips. You close your eyes and tangle one of your hands in his thick hair, the other finding his collar and giving it a slight tug.

He groans into your mouth, his hands enveloping your bum cheeks and pulling you even closer. He wants to feel the rise and fall of your breasts as he makes you pant. And by god does he.

You moan into his mouth as his hands squeeze the soft skin of your ass through your trousers, which gives him the perfect chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes smoky, like cigars and whiskey. It makes your clit throb painfully.

As if reading your mind, and body, he spreads your legs with his knee and slides his leg between them. His thigh presses against your closed cunt and you gasp, breaking the kiss to throw your head back. He smirks and holds you right where you are by moving his hands to your hips.

"So sensitive." He whispers and groans as you begin to move your hips back and forth against his thigh, chasing the feeling it gives you. "Fuck, you are just full of surprises aren't you darling? I did not even have to tell you what to do, you just did it," He praises, his eyes locked on the place where your clothed core meets his leg.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat. I might have to keep you." He gusts over your shoulder as he begins to kiss the exposed skin there. Oh God, how you would love that. To be able to fuck him whenever you saw fit, yes please Mister Bridgerton. "Please." Is all you manage to strangle out as you begin to grind down on him harder.

He bites down on your shoulder, leaving a bright red mark there, which he smirks at before he slowly guides you to the dark red chaise that lies in the corner of the room. He lays you back, slowly unlacing your corset with his slender fingers. He throws it across the room when it is off, his mouth immediately taking in one of your hardened nipples.

You cry out when he sucks, watching him look up at you with a shit-eating grin that makes your cunt even more soaked than it already is. He sucks and bites your bud before turning his attention to the other, giving it just as much attention. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made." He whispers over your nipple, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure straight down to your core. Cocky bastard, you think to yourself as you grip his hair.

You are a whimpering, moaning mess by the time his face returns over yours. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips before sitting up and stripping himself of his suspenders and his shirt before returning his attention to you. He takes off your shoes and then unbuttons your trousers, slowly sliding them down your legs.

He groans lewdly at the sight. Genevieve had insisted quite heavily when she was dressing you up that you forgo panties. She said it made trousers more comfortable, less tight, so of course you agreed. You decide tonight, that if wearing no underwear will illicit that pretty noise from his lips, you will never wear them again.

"God you are soaked. Drenched from riding my thigh and a quick suck to your nipples." He whispers as he kisses the insides of your thighs. You whine and buck your hips up toward his face, which results in him quickly grabbing your hips with one of his hands and pressing you down into the cushion so you are unable to buck and writhe. "Perhaps I was right in my assessment of you, Miss Y/N. You really are just a bitch in heat. So desperate to be full of my cock, painted with my seed." He murmurs before licking a stripe up your slit.

You cry out and grip his hair with both hands, needing something to ground yourself as his tongue swirls around your clit. He lets out a growl at the taste of your dripping cunt, so sweet and yet so tart. Utter perfection. The noise you make in return has him wishing he could drink from your body for the rest of his days, die with you sat atop his face. Riding his mouth to oblivion.

He moves his hand down to his trousers, fumbling with the buttons to free his aching cock. He slides two fingers into your body without warning and you keen, your eyes rolling back as he collects your juices. He pulls his fingers out just as quick as they went in, and spreads your wetness on his length, stroking himself hard as he drinks from you.

"Ben... oh fuck.... so close." You babble as his tongue presses inside your hole, drawing the most heavenly noises from your body. He pulls away just as you start to see stars and you grasp at his hands, tears forming in your eyes from your denied release. "Please... Please..." You sob, desperate for the feeling to come back.

He chuckles deeply, hooking your knees over his shoulders. "I've got you, love." He assures, kissing away your tears before pulling back with a cocky grin that sends your heart fluttering. "You look like a masterpiece, crying for my cock. All flushed and swollen." He murmurs. You do not know if he is talking about you or your pussy, but you never wish for him to stop.

"Please, my lord. Please, please... I need you. I need..." You babble, completely free of any thought other than his pretty dick plunging inside of you. He curses and bends down, claiming your lips with his before thrusting into you without warning. He bottoms out, and both of you moan, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and tooth alike.

He begins at a brutal pace, slamming into you so hard that the chaise creeks against the hardwood floor. You scream at the heavenly feeling of pain and pleasure, the sound muffled over his lips. Sweat splashes from his collarbone to yours as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, the sickly sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses.

He grunts and breaks the kiss, holding one of your legs by the calf, his other hand cupping your jaw. Your mouth falls open as soon as his lips are gone, a loud moan coming from somewhere deep within slipping out before you can try and stop it. He grunts and sticks his thumb past your lips, afraid that someone will hear from outside the thin walls.

You happily oblige and close your lips around his digit, swirling your tongue around him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moans at the sight of you sucking on his thumb like it's a cock, as his cock slams into your pretty pussy. "Fuck. I am keeping you. You are mine," He accentuates the word with a slap to your ass cheek, causing you to cry out over his finger and clench down on his cock. "Forever. No one else will ever-fuck.-be able to fill this sweet hole of yours. It is all mine. You are all mine." He grunts as his thrusts become sloppy.

He yanks his thumb from your mouth and attacks your swollen, throbbing, clit. He rubs it hard and fast, to match the rhythm of his thrusts and you cry out. He quickly intuits that you are as close to climax as he is and bends down, covering your lips with his own so that you can scream freely.

You do as he expected, letting out a long scream into his mouth as stars rush over your vision and your body burns hot. Your juices soak both his pant-covered leg and the velvety fabric of the chaise below. The feeling of your fluttering cunt tightening even further sends him over and he releases deep inside you before he goes limp over your body.

He pushes himself up after a moment, relishing in the sight below him. Your cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and bruised. You have a bite mark on your shoulder, your hair surrounding your head like a messy halo. Perfection. A ruined, beautiful, masterpiece made solely by him.

He brushes the hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your brow. "Might I be privy to those many secrets you were so keen on hiding, Miss L/N?" He teases softly, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket and beginning to clean the mess of mixed juices on your thighs.

You giggle. "The next time we meet, I promise to tell at least one." You return, your heart fluttering at the way he so delicately slides your trousers back over your legs after cleaning you up. He grins as he buttons them up, his hands encompassing your waist to pull you up to a sitting position.

You use the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, and it is his turn to laugh. "Next time, then. I will wait with held breath until then, I assure you." He whispers, helping you into your corset. "But for now, I owe you a lovely night, hm?" He murmurs as he pulls the laces of your corset tight. You sigh and nod. "I would like that very much." You whisper back, resting your head on his shoulder.

He smiles cheekily, "Is it entirely too forward for a gentleman to say he would like to do this every night from now on, mere hours after meeting?" He whispers in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

No, Mister Bridgerton, it is not.

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thisismeracing · 11 months

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His protector | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!comedian!reader (she/her)

Word count: 0.4k

Genre: regular imagine + smau (overall fluff)

Warnings: not proofread; mentions of Ferrari's disastrous strategy; fluff;

Summary: Yn is a comedian, who happens to date the f1 driver Charles Leclerc and who loves to joke around about how horrendous Ferrari is, but beware: she is the only one who can laugh at her boyfriend’s disastrous races. No one pokes fun at Charles in front of her, especially not on live TV.

A/n: This request has been sitting in my inbox forever because I'm a freaking perfectionist who loved the idea but wanted to get it to be perfect. It's my first time mixing social media au and regular images, I don't know if I'll be doing it again, but I hope you guys like it! Anon who requested: thank you sm for being so patient and kind with your request, it means a lot. I hope it's a bit like you imagined it to be. Every piece I write here it’s a new experience, so your feedback, comments, and asks are more than welcome. *mwah* 🤍

A/n2: A huge shoutout to Leri ( @elitebarzal ) for helping me with this (she was the one who sent me the jokes and helped me with the story's structure). ILY, Le!

A/n3: None of these jokes are originally mine, they're all from the internet, just like all the pictures used are from Pinterest. The writing, however, is all me, and I do not consent for it to be published anywhere else!

Based on this request.

see my masterlist | check here if you want to be on my new taglist

you can support my writing by liking, reblogging, and leaving a comment

“Why did Charles Leclerc take up gardening?” Yn asks eyes focused on the main camera in the studio, ready to deliver her joke. Anthony, Yn’s colleague, and part of the Saturday Night Live cast, was already trying to hold back his laughter when she added, “Because he wanted to be in "pole" position at least once this season.”

The crowd hollered in laughter, and Anthony almost couldn’t hold his own back.

“This one got me, I gotta give it to you that this is way funnier than whatever I had for tonight,” he bantered.

“It’s a live show for a reason, right?” she winked and turned back to the camera.

Yn was dating Charles for over a year now, and he was a constant topic of her jokes, the audience, and fans were used to her always roasting him, but everyone knew it to be just part of their relationship. Yn being sassy and playful as she was would make fun of whoever she was close enough to know her jokes wouldn’t come off as offensive.

Charles loved that side of her. It was nice to have someone who would cry with you but also make you laugh and take the hardships of life with a degree of lightness.

It was race week, Yn was in the paddock and it wasn’t uncommon for some channels to call upon her for a quick interview about her thoughts on the race. She usually wouldn’t mind, she would be polite as usual, answer their questions, sometimes even tell a joke or two and then follow her path back to Charles if he was free to have her around.

This time, however, this interview seemed to stress her more than to amuse her.

“We all know he can do better-”

“Can he?!” Yn asked, brows furrowing a challenging look on her face. “With Ferrari’s current strategy, I don’t think he can.”

“Well, most people seem to think he could, and I tend to believe that maybe that’s right. It’s not always the team’s fault.”

“Eric, have you tried driving a formula one car?”

The reporter gaped, taken aback by Yn’s question, before answering, “Well, no, I’m a journalist.”

“If you’re so sure he could do better, then maybe you should go there and try driving the car. See which position you get,” she kept her instance, lips pursed in a tight line.

The reporter chuckled, trying to light the situation, but Yn didn’t, and everyone watching the live interview saw the tension in the air. Everyone got the message: nobody downplays her boyfriend in front of her. There’s a line between making fun when it’s known Charles is comfortable and openly talking about how he could do better in a sports program.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @iloveyou3000morgan @saintlewis @fdl305 @chaoticevilbakugo @carojasmin2204 @wondergirl101ks @smiithys

#f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc #social media au f1 #f1 x reader #op: smau #millie writes #black!reader x f1 #black!reader f1 #black!reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #cl16

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sagesolsticewrites · 2 months

Text

Sundress (Anthony Boyle x Reader)

In which date night takes a turn when Anthony sees the outfit you’ve chosen

Special thanks to my bestie @winniemaywebber for this idea and for being my spicy Anto/Croz hypewoman <3 ily girlieeeee 👏👏 👏

content warnings: mature content (thigh riding, oral (f receiving), PinV penetration), slight dom/sub dynamics if you squint, praise kink, swearing, Anthony Boyle being entirely too sweet and sexy for this world 🥴 (again: this is for mature audiences only!! 18+!!)

word count: 2.7k (ANTHONY BOYLE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME 😩)

Masterlist

You stand in front of your closet, fighting off a grin of anticipation.

The press tours for Masters of the Air and Manhunt had finally come to a close, and you had a few days of respite before your boyfriend went off to his next project.

Of course, with Anthony, this meant date night.

You linger near your reliable jeans-and-a-nice-top combos for a moment before the sundresses hanging near the back catch your eye.

The weather has been getting warmer, you think, and it’s been a while since I’ve gotten to wear these…

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you snag one of your favorites off the hanger and change into it, twirling to see every angle in front of the mirror.

It complements your curves perfectly, hanging at just the right length that won’t make you nervous about walking up any stairs but isn’t too modest.

You make quick work of your makeup and jewelry, making sure to include the delicate necklace that Anthony gifted you for your first anniversary together, and before too long there’s a knock at the door.

Your boyfriend, fresh from some last-minute press responsibilities, was right on time.

You rush towards the door, the clacking of your heels on the floor surely announcing your excitement to Anthony as you fling it open.

“Hi,” you say, barely able to speak around your grin.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you in for a swift kiss— the first you’ve shared in weeks. Reluctantly, the two of you eventually pull away for air and he steps inside, eyes raking over your figure, “You look… absolutely fantastic.”

“Well, thank you,” you say, twirling so he can see how the dress fans out around you. “You don’t look too bad, yourself.” You add, eyeing the rolled-up sleeves of his white button down revealing entirely too attractive forearms and the patch of chest hair just visible underneath the effortlessly unbuttoned top buttons — bless his stylist, who had clearly attended the Austin Butler School of Buttoning Shirts — all complemented perfectly with sleek black pants.

“Thank you, my love. I’m, uh…” he trails off as he watches your dress settle around you, then seems to jolt back to himself after barely a second, “I’m just gonna go grab a jacket and then we’ll head out, alright?”

He returns soon, now armed with a black suit jacket, and you glance down at the sundress that now seems a bit too casual for what he’s wearing.

However, when you ask if you should change, his answer is a swift, decisive, “No.”

“You look stunning just as you are, darling,” he amends his sharp response, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before escorting you out the door.

Anthony is his usual gentlemanly self while you’re out: he pulls your seat out and waits for you to sit down first when you arrive at your favorite Italian restaurant, happily splits a dessert with you (though if you happened to end up with the bigger half, despite your insistence that you split it equally, well… it wasn’t a crime to treat his girl, was it?), and when Frank Sinatra starts playing on the speakers overhead, he jumps to his feet and extends his hand to you, twirling you around the floor with not a single care for the eyes watching when you gladly accept and pulling you in for a sweet kiss as the song ends, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulls you close.

“So… ready to head home, sweetheart?” He asks as the two of you return to your seats.

“I— yes, I guess so?” You reply, slightly confused. Normally Anto loved to keep you out with him for as long as possible; returning home directly after dessert was a rarity.

He scrambles to assure you that he would be more than happy to stay out if you want, but something about the way his fingertips dance over your knee under the table, toying with the lace edging of your dress, makes you agree that it’s time to call it a night.

The air between the two of you as you head home is thick and hot, the anticipation of something building.

And that anticipation comes to a head as you enter the privacy of your home, finding yourself pinned to the inside of the door as soon as it closes.

“Sweetheart,” Anthony nearly growls against your lips, hands firm on your waist as his voice grows increasingly more strangled, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I don’t—” You just barely choke back a moan. You haven’t the faintest idea what he’s talking about, but if it’s getting him to manhandle you like this after so long away…

“This dress,” he groans, bunching the flimsy fabric in his fists, “I’ve been gone for weeks, and the first thing I see is you in this little thing—” he moves as he speaks, from murmuring against your own lips to traveling down back to your ear and along your neck, “— and I take you out to dinner, and dessert, and dancing—” he punctuates each item with a light nip to your skin, making you jolt.

“—when all I really want to do,” he returns to speaking directly in your ear, his voice a soft growl that does startling things to your heart rate, “is see how pretty you look in this dress when I fuck you in it.”

Your entire body turns to jello, and the only thing keeping you upright is Anthony’s hands on your hips and his leg wedged in between yours. You can’t help but let out a sharp gasp when your core comes into contact with his leg, and his already dilated eyes turn almost entirely black at the sound.

“C’mere, baby,” he whispers, pulling you along to the bedroom, discarding his jacket somewhere in the house as he does.

You scramble to kick off your heels as you enter the dimly-lit room, your boyfriend wasting no time in untucking and unbuttoning his shirt from his perch on the edge of the bed.

“No,” he says sharply when your fingers move to the straps of your dress, “Keep it on.”

Your breath catches, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you realize he was serious.

He wordlessly beckons you closer, and you step forward obediently, standing between his spread legs. Pinching your chin, he tugs you down for a gentle kiss that’s fairly at odds with his dominating persona at the moment.

“This okay?” he murmurs softly against your lips, and somehow the gentle check-in combined with the events happening now are enough to make you even wetter than you already are.

You nod, adding a soft “Yes” when you remember he won’t do anything unless you’ve given a verbal okay.

That settled, he captures your lips in a decidedly more heated kiss, hands moving down to grip your hips as he adjusts so you’re straddling his thigh.

You meet his scorching gaze, practically feeling yourself melting as you realize what he intends to do.

“Noticed you seemed to like this earlier, my love,” he murmurs against your lips, smirking.

You quickly move to clutch at his shoulders as he drags your clothed core along his quadricep, mouth opening in a silent moan.

He huffs out a laugh, nudging your nose with his own as he bunches up the soft fabric of your dress.

“I was right, you do look very pretty like that,” he mumbles, “but I don’t even get to hear your pretty noises? C’mon, honey…”

He flexes his thigh, the new angle making you jump as you gasp, “Anthony, oh my god—”

“Just like that, sweet girl,” he growls into your mouth, scattering kisses all down your neck and chest as your pace speeds up.

A familiar tension builds just below your belly as you clutch yourself against him, throwing your head back and rolling your hips against his still-clothed thigh faster, faster, faster, Anthony murmuring soft praise and encouragement all the while.

“Anthony,” you gasp into his mouth, one hand clutching at his shoulder while the other buries itself in his dark curls as you feel yourself teetering on the precipice of your release, “‘M gonna—”

Your warning is cut off by a sharp, keening whine when Anthony grips your hips firmly, stopping their motion just before you tip over the edge.

“No, Ant—” you whine, struggling against his grip as your almost-orgasm fades, “Please, I was so close…”

“‘Msorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your skin, rising with you as you stand on wobbly legs, “I promise I’ll make this next part worth it,” He murmurs teasingly as he gently lays you back on the bed.

He shucks off his shirt before climbing on top of you, giving you a knowing smirk as you eye the exposed skin, your gaze lingering on the fully-revealed chest hair and the wet patch just barely visible on his thigh. The bed dips with his weight as his limbs cage you in, one hand delicately tracing the curves and lines of your body, making you shiver.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, your hands eagerly traveling along his skin.

“If you’re gonna cum, sweetheart,” he breathes in a low, gravelly tone that sends heat straight to your core, “it’s gonna be on my mouth before anything else.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve truly actually turned to liquid, especially if the increasing wetness between your thighs is any indication, but your boyfriend proves you’re still deliciously solid, his lips tracing a path down your neck to where the tops of your breasts are just barely exposed by your dress.

Your fingers creep up to pull your dress down, to fully expose your chest so he can scatter kisses over every inch of you, but Anthony stops you.

His pretty brown eyes, molten with heat, meet yours as he stops you from tugging desperately at your dress.

“I told you, baby,” he says, keeping eye contact as he drags his lips over your clothed chest, paying special attention to your quickly hardening nipples peeking through the fabric before moving lower.

“Keep. It. On.”

You throw your head back, gasping softly as his lips travel down, down, down, along your stomach and hips down to your thighs.

He carefully slides the now irreparably wrinkled fabric up, flipping up the hem to reveal your hips and thighs and the lacy fabric covering your core.

He wastes no time in pressing kisses to you over your underwear, your hips bucking up into him as you chase the feeling of his mouth on you.

Little tease that he is, he keeps his mouth just out of reach as he peels off the soaked lace fabric

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathes, your own breath catching as he drags his fingertips through your folds and they come away dripping, “All this for me?”

You can only whine, having long ago lost the ability to form words.

He prolongs your torment by kissing a slow, torturous path up the inside of each of your thighs before finally — finally — diving into you, eagerly licking into your folds.

You let out a choked gasp as he licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans against you, his voice sending vibrations through your core, “Taste even better than I remembered.”

“A-Ant—“ you stutter out a warning, that familiar tension building once again.

You feel him grin against you, and lord if that doesn’t send all kinds of sparks racing through your body, a feeling that only intensifies as his thumb comes up to circle your clit, a litany of praise and encouragement falling from his lips.

“‘M not gonna stop you this time, sweetheart, just let go,” he murmurs against you, fingers and tongue working overtime on your core, “C’mon baby, please, wanna taste you—”

You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, Anthony dutifully guiding you through your climax.

You come back to yourself, shuddering, as your boyfriend pulls away to brush a gentle kiss to your hipbone, mouth glistening and eyes nearly black with desire.

“You’re fucking perfect, sweetheart,” he groans, trailing back up to capture your lips with his.

You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

The two of you stay like that for a while, Ant letting you recover, until the bulge pressing into your thigh becomes too much to ignore.

He gasps into your mouth as your hand moves down to palm at him through his slacks.

“Darlin’— shit, you’re ready for me already?”

As if your furious nodding wasn’t enough of an answer, you move your hand more insistently against him.

“Fuck, fuck, okay—” he hisses, moving off of you to rid himself of his his pants and boxers.

You watch, bottom lip caught between your teeth, as his length springs free from his underwear, tip already leaking.

He returns to hover over you, brushing kisses all over your face and neck as he strokes himself a few times.

You can’t resist touching him, and your fingertips grazing along his length has his eyes fluttering shut.

“Not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that, sweetheart,” he warns with a gasp, breath hot against your cheek.

You reluctantly retract your fingers, barely stifling a moan when his tip brushes against you as he positions himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock on yours, watching your face contort in pleasure as he slowly, slowly, enters you.

“You ready, darlin’?” He breathes against your lips after a moment to let you adjust.

The frantic “yes” that escapes you isn’t so much a word as a gasp, and your thoughts turn to static as he begins to thrust into you with slow, languid strokes.

Your breaths mingle, his exhales becoming your inhales, the thin fabric of your sundress providing a delicious friction as you feel every inch of him pressed against you.

“You’re so tight,” he gasps, increasing his pace as your breathing becomes heavier, “Fuck, I missed this, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” you whine into his mouth, your hand fisting his soft dark curls, “Missed you so much, Ant—”

His mouth closes the millimeters of distance between the two of you, crashing onto yours in a fierce, heated kiss.

You let out a muffled moan as his hips grind against yours faster and faster, feeling your second orgasm of the night building.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Anthony groans, hips stuttering, letting out a soft “fuck” when you tell him you’re almost there, too.

“C’mon, come for me darlin’” he grinds out against your mouth, “‘M right behind you, please, please, come for me, honey…”

You reach your second climax with a cry, Anthony muffling his own in your neck as he spills into you, thrusting slowly until he’s spent.

The two of you stay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath, until Anthony lifts his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“So,” he says breathlessly, toying with the hopelessly wrinkled fabric of your dress, “You’ll be wearing these more often, yeah?”

You huff out a laugh. “If you promise not to ruin them, absolutely.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’ll buy you a thousand more of these. Whatever you want. As long as I know there’s at least one in your closet for me to enjoy.”

He murmurs the last sentence against your lips, punctuating it with a long, slow kiss that has you grinning against him.

You bump your nose against his as he pulls away, your thumb stroking his cheek.

“Welcome home, honey.”

His gaze softens, pulling you in for another brief, gentle kiss.

“Thank you, my love.”

#winnie said one (1) thing about thigh riding anthony in a dress and the hornybrain took it and RAN fjskfj #hope y’all liked it ☺️#my writing #anthony boyle #anthony boyle x reader #anthony boyle smut #masters of the air #masters of the air cast #anthony boyle fic #anthony boyle imagine

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youunravelme · 8 months

Note

Hey baby, happy 1000!

Your writing is always sweet and warm, happy that you are having such a well-deserved recognition! 💜

Could you grace us by writing to Anthony with the prompt “Nibbling on their partner’s lower lip as they kiss, letting their hands wander. Cupping their face in their hands to hold them their just a while longer.”?

Ily 💜

thank you thank you !! and AHHHHH thank you for choosing good ole sweet nugget anthony! (ilhsm)

thanks for the request!! it's right below! (and this request, just like the last one, got away from me yet again.)

anthony's trade still left a sour taste in your mouth. you were in no position to job hunt, and you weren't keen on up and quitting.

so you managed long distance.

for months

and god it sucked.

your schedules barely aligned to talk on facetime, and if both of you were free, one of you was too tired to talk, which ended in one of you hanging up when the conversation died down. it was hard, managing a social life when all you wanted was your boyfriend, it was even harder knowing he was trying just as much to have a good time in vancouver.

the offseason was wonderful, with anthony splitting time between new york with you and time with his family.

but when august hit, and he packed his last bag, it took everything in you to wait to cry until he left for tsa.

so when your boss came up to you a month later and suggested you could work remotely, you almost cried and hugged her.

you refrained and called mat instead.

"hey what's up? everything okay?"

you laughed into the phone, so hard you almost started crying. "my boss told me i can work remotely."

"oh," he said before his voice came back even stronger. "oh!"

"i can move to vancouver!" you were crying now, though someone might think the word "weeping" was more applicable. "no more long distance, no more falling asleep on calls."

"have you told him yet?"

you paused. "no, i think i wanna surprise him." you'd been planning it all day, they were playing the ducks this week in vancouver. and while you would've loved to wait until next week when they played the isles, you didn't think you could wait that long to see him.

so you booked your plane ticket, and mat gave you a list of suggested hotels that were safe and close to the arena.

"not that you'll need a hotel once he finds out you're in town," mat said.

mat had also pulled some strings for you by asking bo horvat to let one of his former teammates know to let you down to the locker rooms at the end of the game. he'd also sent a list of things to do in vancouver while you waited for the game to start.

which would ultimately be a waste because you ended up spending most of your time before the game pacing the floor of your hotel room. you would've paced up and down the plane aisles if you were allowed, so you settled for bouncing your leg instead.

by the time you made it to the stadium, you were like two hours early, just in time for the doors to open. initially, you thought about waiting so anthony wouldn't spot you in the small crowd, but you couldn't keep waiting and delaying the inevitable.

not when you were in the same city for the first time in months since the off season.

you walked into the arena, pulling your jersey's sleeves over your hands in a sad attempt to keep them warm. around you were others dressed similarly, many of whom were wearing your boyfriend's jersey.

it was weird, even though you'd had time to get used to him not wearing an islanders' jersey, you'd never actually been to a home canucks game where multiple people were decked out in 72s.

god you couldn't wait to see him.

your phone buzzed in your back pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw anthony's contact photo filling up your screen.

"hello?"

"hey baby," anthony started. "how're you doing? have any plans for tonight?"

you smirked to yourself. "nothing too special," you said. "just seeing a friend i haven't seen in awhile."

"is that so? how was work--" he cut himself off. "where are you right now? it's kinda loud." you could hear him typing on his phone. "wait, why can't i see your location? where are you? are you safe? do i need to call mat?"

you laughed, missing him even now that you were in opposite ends of the arena. "no baby, i'm fine. sometimes my phone just glitches out."

"if your phone keeps glitching, you need to get a new one. i don't like not knowing where you are."

"anthony--"

"i'm being dead serious, honey. i will buy you a phone if you're concerned about money, but i'm not comfortable with not having a reliable way to get up with you."

"my phone is fine."

"you just said it's glitchy." you rolled your eyes and sighed. "don't roll your eyes at me!"

you blinked. "how did you know i rolled my eyes?"

anthony's chuckle sounded through the receiver. "baby, i've been in love with you for a long time, i know you." you could fill the heat flood your body from your toes to your nose. "don't get shy on me now, honey. you know i love you."

"i know," you said. "i just like being reminded of it."

there was a commotion in the background of his phone that told you he was about to hang up.

"hey, listen i gotta go but can i call you later?"

you smiled to yourself. "i don't know, anthony, i think i'm gonna be busy later."

"too busy for me?"

"'fraid so."

he sighed. "fine, call me when you get home tonight, okay? if you don't, i'm calling mat to check on you."

"okay, baby. i love you."

"love you more."

and he hung up.

you made your way to your seat, sitting behind the front row of home bench and readying yourself with your beanie to cover your hair and face when needed. you scrolled through your social media accounts and answered some text messages, specifically from mat who was begging you to take a video of when anthony finally saw you.

before you knew it, the music started playing and boos emanated from the crowd as the ducks skated out. your gaze went back to your phone for a second to pull up the video as the canucks came out. the entire arena erupted into cheeks and celebration.

you had your phone aimed at the bench as soon as anthony came towards it. you didn't think it was possible to hide yourself behind a small cellular device, but he didn't manage to see you. for a moment, you saw him squint in your direction, but a teammate grabbed his attention before he could really hone in.

the game itself was interesting, anthony had one assist and one goal by the end of the night, with the canucks winning 5-3. at the end of the game, a security guard came over and grabbed you, offering to escort you to the locker rooms.

you stood and waited outside with the other wags, most of whom didn't recognize you initially. it wasn't until one of them mentioned knowing you from somewhere that you mentioned who you were dating. you lost track of how long you talked to them when the doors opened and the players walked out.

you stared and waited in anticipation of seeing him, knowing good and well the second you did, you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

and there he was, staring at his phone, probably texting someone back.

and you had an idea.

you immediately pulled up his contact info and hit the call button as you watched his face light up and quickly pick up the call.

"hey," he said, holding a hand to his other ear to hear you. "i thought you said you couldn't talk tonight."

"change of plans," you replied, not helping the smile that's on your face.

some of his teammates came up and clapped him on the shoulder, but he paid them no attention. quinn even tried to point towards you, but anthony waved him off.

"what're you gonna do now?"

you hummed. "i think i might take a handsome man home."

immediately, anthony's posture tensed, though you could still see the slight smirk on his face. "don't joke about that."

"oh i'm not joking. i'm just waiting for him to look up and notice me."

"how could anyone not notice you, baby?"

you shrugged, knowing he couldn't see you. "i don't know anthony, how could you not see me?"

he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it like it had suddenly grown legs before he looked up and around everyone, eyes scanning those around him.

before those beautiful blue eyes landed on you.

you don't think someone has ever hung up a phone call as fast as he did.

you don't think anyone has crossed a room as quickly as he did.

you don't think...

well, as soon as his lips met yours, you ceased to think.

his hands were on your cheeks, his teeth pulled on your bottom lip. you weren't sure if he cheeks were still damp from the shower or if he was crying, not that it mattered to you. being held like that was everything you didn't realize you missed.

suddenly, you were missing the moments of lazy saturdays and pancakes for breakfast.

and you had it here right now.

you'd have it forever once you packed up your old apartment.

"what're you doing here?" he breathed into your mouth, like he was too scared to pull too far away, scared that if he did, you'd be a mirage or a figment of his own imagination.

"i thought it was obvious. i'm here to see you."

he rolled his eyes but kissed you again. "i missed your smart mouth, doesn't hit the same over the phone."

you placed your hands on his chest and felt the pounding heartbeat beneath the fabric of his clothes. "i came to give you good news."

"and?"

"my boss told me i could start working remotely."

he blinked.

"meaning, i can work anywhere i want, occasionally coming into the office about once a month if that."

he blinked again before exhaling what sounded like the most heartbreaking sigh of relief. "so you can move here? be with me?"

you laughed and nodded before he pulled you into another kiss. "anthony, baby, we're in public," you said, trying to pull away.

but his arms just grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. "don't care," he said. "i haven't seen my girl in months, if anyone has a problem with my kissing her, then that's a them issue."

you rolled your eyes but kissed him again anyway.

"i love you," he whispered. "i'm so glad you're moving here."

"love you more."

#anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #tito beauvillier imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #1k celebration

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

Text

Enamored - Epilogue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, ILY! ❤ Here’s the epilogue! ❤

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of pregnancy.

Word Count: 2200

Series Masterlist

3 Years Later

Chaos.

This was absolute chaos.

Your mother had told you how you would refuse to sit still even when you were a toddler, and how she couldn’t even look elsewhere for more than a second because by the time she would’ve turned back to you, you would’ve already been running away, and you had always found it funny but now?

You were beginning to understand your mother.

“Oh we lost him!” you said, throwing up your hands and Anthony tilted his head.

“We didn’t lose him darling, he’s somewhere in the house. We just don’t know where yet.”

“That means we lost him Anthony!” you said and looked around as your ears picked up a slight noise. “Edmund?”

“Edmund where are you?”

The only thing that answered you and Anthony’s question was the pitter-patter of tiny feet echoing in the hallway upstairs as well as a familiar giggle. You couldn’t help but smile slightly, Anthony was right, Edmund’s giggle was almost exactly the same as yours.

“Upstairs?”

“Upstairs,” Anthony murmured but stopped you before you could go to the stairs. “My love, you should probably be resting instead of running after him.”

You smiled up at him as he pressed his palm over your stomach. You had given him the news –and only him— only a week ago, and Anthony was already acting as if you were about to give birth at any time, even though you weren’t even showing yet. No one else, not even Cecily knew about it, and you were determined to keep it that way at least until you reached the third month.

Yet, you weren’t exactly sure how long you could keep it a secret if Anthony kept being like this in front of people as well.

Especially tonight.

“Mon amour, I’m completely alright I assure you,” you said, standing up on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips, making him smile as well before he dipped his head to kiss you again.

“My lady?”

You turned your head to see Mrs. Burchett averting her gaze and Anthony cleared his throat, stepping back from you.

“Yes Mrs. Burchett?”

“The menu for tonight?” she held up a paper and Anthony looked upstairs.

“You handle that, I will handle our small hurricane,” he said and walked upstairs. You shook your head slightly and took the paper from Mrs. Burchett.

“Apricots were not good enough this week, so if that is alright the cook would like to change the apricot macarons with peach macarons?”

“Even better,” you said, walking down the hallway with her following you. “It seems wonderful, Mrs. Burchett. Thank you, and please make sure to give the cook my gratitude for the last minute change.”

“My lady,” she curtsied and walked away from you and you hummed a melody to yourself, still focused on the menu but the slight creak of the door down the hallway made you turn your head. You listened for a moment, then let out a chuckle and went down the hallway straight to Anthony’s study, then slowly pushed open the door to meet the exact view you suspected.

The cutest toddler you had ever laid your eyes on sitting in the middle of his father’s study, surrounded by the knocked over inkpot and multiple papers.

“Edmund!”

“Mama!” he said excitedly as if he wasn’t completely drenched in ink and you let out a laugh as he ran to throw himself to you. “Mama look!”

You bent down to hoist him up into your arms, not even caring about how you were getting ink all over you as well. You wiped at the ink stain on his chubby cheek as he gave you a bright smile, still pointing at the papers and let out a mixture of a happy squeal and a laugh as you gave him kisses.

“Play papa!”

“Mm hm, I can see that my sweet,” you said. “Just like papa!”

He giggled, burying his face to your neck and you heard Anthony’s footsteps before he reached the room.

“Oh I should’ve known,” he said, making his way to you and Edmund gasped, fidgeting in your arms to go to him. Anthony took him from your arms as Edmund babbled, as far as you could understand giving a long speech about how he was playing papa, somehow throwing both English and French words together and Anthony pressed his lips to his hair, rocking him in his arms.

“Yeah good job!” he said. “Look at you, you will learn how to read and write any day now, huh?”

You let out a laugh. “Anthony mon amour, he’s barely two years old.”

“But he’s smarter than any other two years old,” Anthony pointed out. “Are you not my boy?”

Edmund motioned at the papers then Anthony, still babbling in such a serious manner that you couldn’t help but aww at him, going to press a kiss on his small hand.

“Edmund?” you said, gathering his attention. “Bath time?”

Edmund blinked a couple of times as if he was considering the offer, then nodded fervently.

“Bubbles? Bubbles? ”

“Yes there will be bubbles,” you said, taking him from Anthony. “We cannot possibly have a bath without bubbles.”

“Y/N, are you sure you should be carrying—”

“He’s not even that heavy mon amour,” you said, rocking Edmund. “Tell your papa not to worry so much, will you my sweet?”

“Papa not worry!”

“There we go,” you said. “And we will have bubbles and…?”

“Ducky!”

“Yes, we’re definitely getting ducky!” you said. “Ethel?”

Ethel rushed to the door and dropped a curtsy. “My lady?”

“Can you please draw a bath for Edmund?”

“Of course my lady, I can take him if you wish? Until it’s ready?”

“Edmund my little lamb, go upstairs with Ethel,” you said in French before putting him down on his feet and he rushed past Ethel out of the room and Ethel hurriedly curtsied before rushing after him. Anthony walked to you to pull you into his arms and you smiled up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“He takes after you, you know.”

“Me?” Anthony asked with a smirk. “I’m very certain he’s all you, my love.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully before brushing your lips against his, and attempted to step out of his embrace but he pulled you back, making you giggle.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you asked with a grin, your heart skipping a happy beat as he winked at you, then closed the door.

“It’ll take them a while to draw a bath,” he said, pulling you to himself and you rested a hand over his chest, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him before he lifted you off the floor, drawing a squeal from you which turned into a clear laugh as he carried you to the sofa.

Considering that both your and Anthony’s family would be attending the dinner, you wanted everything to be perfect, and thankfully you had enough practice by now. The first time you had thrown a dinner for the whole family, you’d had barely slept the night before, convinced something would go wrong no matter how much Anthony tried to convince you, but now you were barely worried and instead were excited for it.

You really enjoyed hosting these dinners, the more the merrier.

With the exception of Benedict who was out of the country for his new exhibition, the whole family was here, and they seemed very happy to actually be together, judging by the pleasant chatter and deep conversations happening around the table. You knew it was highly uncommon to have toddlers to be present at the dinner table, but you couldn’t care less about the rules, especially in your own house. Both Ollie and Ada, Elias and Cece’s twins had their own chairs, along with Augie and Belinda, Simon and Daphne’s children. Since Edmund was the youngest among them, he couldn’t exactly reach the table unless he was either in your lap or Anthony’s, and he was almost restless to be done with his dinner, especially when Ollie, Ada, Augie and Belinda finished their dinner to go play in the drawing room.

“Alright, alright…” you said as he started fidgeting in your lap and you put the spoon down. “Go on then.”

“I’ll take him my lady,” Ethel said and she held his small hand while Edmund waved at the table with his other hand.

“I go now!” he announced and bowed at them so far down that he almost lost his balance, but before you or Anthony could leap out of your chairs to prevent his fall he regained his balance, making everyone let out an “aww”. Edmund shifted his weight, then rushed to smack a kiss on your cheek then Anthony’s, before turning to the table. “Night night!”

“Good night Edmund!”

Penelope heaved a sigh as Ethel led him out of the dining room.

“I swear he’s a little angel.”

“Little demon, more likely.”

“Colin!”

“Oh no, he has a point,” you pointed at Colin as Anthony let out a laugh.

“Little demon sounds right,” he said. “He’s unstoppable now that he can walk.”

Elias grinned and nodded in your direction. “Sounds like someone I know.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“You were, in fact, that bad Chérie.”

“Elias my love, as far as I’ve heard so were you.”

“No that’s just—”

Your father rolled his eyes. “You turned into a hurricane as soon as you could run around.”

“See? Thank you father!”

“You were also a little demon when we were growing up,” Simon stated and Elias shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What was it you were telling me before we started dinner?” Daphne asked and you snapped your fingers.

“He learned how to open doors, I think he’s climbing them!” you said. “The other night, we woke up to him running around the hallway, apparently he climbed out of his bed and opened the door so we found him swinging from the wall light, giggling all happily!”

“Jesus Christ.”

Anthony raised his glass. “Telling you. Little demon.”

“A cute little demon,” Eloise pointed out and Lady Bridgerton turned to Elias.

“What about Ollie and Ada?” she asked. “Are they giving you a hard time as well?”

“Both of them are angels,” Elias said. “They just climb out of their cribs to fall asleep holding hands.”

“That’s so sweet!”

“Augie and Belinda get along well, do they not Daph?”

“Oh yes,” Daphne said. “They at most push each other when they can’t share a toy.”

“Ollie and Ada have those moments too…”

The rest of Cecily’s sentence turned into a buzz as the staff started serving desserts and you felt your stomach flip.

Oh damn it.

This was not the time for you to get nauseous.

You cleared your throat and pushed your chair back.

“I’ll just check on Edmund for a moment, excuse me,” you said quickly and made your way out of the dining room to the hallway. You rushed to a window to open it, the cool air hitting your face and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, already feeling better.

“Darling?”

You opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder to meet Anthony’s worried gaze. “I’m alright mon amour.”

“Sickness?”

You nodded and turned around as he came closer to you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Sooner than Edmund,” you commented as he brushed your hair back, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

“We can cut the dinner short.”

“No,” you said. “No need for that, I’ll feel better in a moment. Fresh air helps.”

Anthony hummed, his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“How do I help?” he asked and you nuzzled to his chest.

“You’re helping now,” you said. “More than you could ever know.”

He pressed his hand over your stomach, making you smile and you clasped your hand over his.

“I cannot wait until we can tell people.”

“We could tell them now?” Anthony said, “They’re all here already.”

You shook your head and looked up at him.

“I think it’s better to wait a while,” you said. “Besides, we must tell Edmund first before anyone else. At least to get him used to the idea before everyone starts talking about the baby.”

“You think he will be jealous?”

You heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But it’s not such an impossible thought. Especially with the cultural difference, the baby will be British and Edmund is French.”

“Darling for the hundredth time, Edmund isn’t French.”

“We made him in France, in Paris!” you protested before pointing at your stomach. “And we made this one in London. There’s got to be some cultural difference Anthony, that’s just how it works.”

He chuckled deep in his chest and tilted your head up so that he could brush his lips against yours.

“Mm hm, we’ll see about that.”

You took another deep breath to see if you were feeling better, then nodded to yourself.

“Come on,” you said as you stepped past him and tugged at his hand. “We should go back before they wonder where we are.”

He nodded and pulled you to himself to give you another kiss, coaxing a smile from you.

“I love you, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You giggled and pecked him on the lips again.

“And I love you, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said sweetly, happiness filling you, making you feel all warm inside. “Now come. We cannot miss the dessert.”

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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userlaylivia · 8 months

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okay so according to tumblr I have 811 followers (I think it's more like 500 something) but either way this is a huge accomplishment for me so I thought I'd make a post thanking each and every one of my followers because you're all amazing and ilysm even the ones I don't talk to that much!! because of tumblr and their tagging limit I thought I'd tag a few people I've loved talking to, getting to know and who have made the last two years I've been back on tumblr amazing!! I'm sorry if I miss anyone but the tagging limit ugh

@miriammaisel, @laylakeating, @gretaonieogou, @candicepatton, @saw-x, @elena-gilbert, @userguts, @maliagf, @userlivie, @heroeddiemunson, @louiswilltomlinson, @nicholas-nelsons, @forbescaroline, @tabithatate, @usersojo, @nessa007, @yenvengerberg, @mrbrookedavis, @barchiefangirl, @americorys, @timlucys, @terrilynn88, @emmanelson, @bellamysgriffin, @simon-eriksson, @smudgedbypen, @landonmikaelson, @hopekirby, @eizagonzalezs, @thesgoodwitch, @annacoleman, @bakerolivia, @salvatoreselena, @fiitzsiimmons, @finalgirlsidney, @crowley-anthony, @madscline, @kitconnor, @tudorgirl, @kiddstellas, @santinacedes, @elizabeth-forbes, @pleasantfanartist, @daisymcrgaretjones, @hydesjackiespuddinpop, @maya-matlin, @sansalicents, @doctoranthonyjcrowley, @roeyliteratiforever, @handonsdream

I don't wanna hit over the limit so I chose the ones I talk to most and I'm closest with but I'm so sorry if I forgot anyone!! ily all SOOOOOO MUCH, you are all amazing mutuals so even if I didn't mention you directly you are included in this ilysm!!

#follow forever 2023 #ily allllll <333

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atlabeth · 2 years

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a lady's guide to surviving the ton - benedict bridgerton

summary: you've prepared an endless list of rules and notes for the season to ensure a successful debut. benedict may be in need of some tips for a courtship of his own.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first bridgerton fic!! like the amount of support has been insane and ily so much <3<3 bridgerton has just been really good for inspo lately so yk i had to write abt good ol benny boy. its just a short lil fluffy piece abt fun idiot courting methods lol but i hope you enjoy

wc: 1.4k

warning(s): none i think. just pure fluff

“Are you ever going to dance at one of these balls, or is writing your only intention?”

You glanced up from your journal and smiled, perhaps the only man in the ton capable of causing the reaction. “You may have years of experience from accompanying your siblings, but I have just debuted with my only experience being my older sister’s season. I am merely documenting everything I can so I shall be able to perform at my best during the season.”

Benedict chuckled. “Documenting everything? Making it through the season is quite simple — a couple charming smiles, a few courtesy dances, and you will have the men falling at your feet. Or, if you prefer, you can go the route of my brother — Anthony despises the season, and yet he still manages to have every lady at his beck and call. I truly do not understand how he does it.”

“Perhaps it is because of his attitude that he is so desirable to them,” you pointed out. “There is nothing a man loves more than a seemingly unattainable woman, but I’ve found the ladies of the ton to be quite similar in regards to untouchable men. It is the reason why, apart from riches and status, dukes and marquesses are so appealing to the masses.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have certainly done your research on the ton, my lady. Maybe your wallflower strategy is indeed working out for you.”

“I try,” you said, bolstered by his praise. “Though, of course, the reason for his desirability could be much more simple.”

“And that is?”

You shrugged and smiled at him. “Anthony is devastatingly attractive. I find that works wonders on a lady.”

“Your deduction forces me to question the legitimacy of your work,” Benedict said with a slight frown. “Though I think we have an opportunity to prove it now.”

“Oh?”

Benedict offered a smile of his own along with his hand. “I consider myself quite attractive. Should it work wonders on you, your research shall be fully accepted.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you as you gave him a sideways smile. “That is awfully confident of you, Mister Bridgerton.”

“That is simply because I believe I am worthy of it, Miss Beauvale,” he responded in kind. “I would be grateful if you would indulge me in a dance.”

“Well,” you said with mock haughtiness as you accepted his hand, placing your journal on a table to the side, “how could I ever refuse?”

You each took your positions on the floor as you joined in seamlessly with the other dancers, one of Benedict’s hands on the small of your back and the other intertwined with your own hand as you set the other on his shoulder.

Only once you felt the movements register in your muscles, the waltz that had been ingrained in your mind after hours upon hours of dance lessons, did you begin to talk, trusting in your ability to continue without stumbling.

“The more that I think about it, the more I realize I have in fact never seen you on the dance floor with a woman other than your sisters,” you said. “Not in the balls we have had thus far nor the entirety of my sister’s season. However have you managed it?”

“It is the often overlooked privilege of the second son,” Benedict responded. “My siblings are quite skilled at taking over the spotlight, and thus I am rewarded the courtesy of remaining in the shadows and indulging in my own wants. It also helps that most ladies go after a title, and Anthony has far more to offer there than I.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “You are quite fortunate, Mister Bridgerton. No matter how hard I try to blend in with the walls, a suitor always manages to find me. It becomes exhausting after a time.”

“Then I suppose it is quite fortunate now that you have a suitor you can bear on your arm,” Benedict said playfully.

“Is that what you are?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “A suitor?”

“I thought it was quite obvious with my asking you to dance,” he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Though I must admit, I am not very knowledgeable on all a suitor must do. If you have spent so much time watching, you ought to have some advice you can share.”

You looked at him with thinly veiled amusement. “Am I providing the resources for my own courtship?”

Benedict shrugged with mock ambivalence. “That is a secret, my lady, but it would mean a great deal if you could share some of your notes with me.”

You hummed as you pretended to think long and hard. “Many of my tips are for the ladies of the ton, but I suppose that I have some advice that can apply to gentlemen.”

He grinned. “Fantastic. Do tell.”

“Well,” you started, “it is most important to be kind, above all else. A lady will not entertain anyone who only deigns to insult her. Compliment not just her appearance, but her skills and mind as well — it can be upsetting to be praised only for the things one cannot control.”

“So if I were to, say, compliment a lady on how well the blues of her dress highlight her eyes, I should also commend her on how brilliantly articulated she is,” Benedict said with a coy smile, his eyes leaving your own for a moment to linger on the cerulean fabric of your outfit.

“Yes,” you responded with a nod, a smile of your own tugging at your lips, “though it is also polite to let her know when you are complimenting her. Perhaps when you are dancing with the aforementioned lady in blue.”

“I believe she understands what I am trying to say,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Please, continue.”

You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly but obliged nonetheless. “If a gentleman is interested in a lady, it is imperative that he asks her for a dance — a lady is unable to ask for a dance herself, but she is, on the other hand, barred from refusing an offer. It is the easiest way to show interest.”

Benedict hummed as he led you through a spin. “I’ve already asked a lovely lady to dance, so I believe you can move to your next step.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, the bottom of your skirt twirling with your movements before you took up your regular position again. “Apart from asking for dances, a gentleman must also be an active caller at his lady’s estate if he wishes to woo her. I’ve found offers of gifts and his company to be the most effective, especially if those gifts involve flowers.”

“Flowers,” he muttered to himself before he met your eyes again. “Completely off topic, but it is necessary all the same — what is your favorite type of flower?”

You grinned, now fully unable to hide your joy at his unconventional courting. “Purple hydrangeas.”

“Very lovely,” he nodded. “This all does seem to be coming together quite nicely. I feel as if you know the way to a lady’s heart better than I do.”

You chuckled. “That is simply not true. I am skilled at listening and watching from the sidelines — you are perfectly capable of gaining a lady’s affections.”

“You say it with such confidence,” Benedict said, the twinkle in his eye returning. “Could it be that I have already gained the affections of a certain lady?”

“Perhaps,” you said, barely managing to bite back your smile. “But perhaps you have held the affections of the lady in question well before this season.”

“Certainly a twist of events,” he said with mock austerity. “Though I suppose the confession means I was correct all along. A pretty face truly is all it takes for a lady to fall.”

You felt your cheeks flush yet again and Benedict smiled, though his expression faltered for a moment. “That is— if you are the lady in question.”

“Of course I am, Benedict,” you giggled. “I thought it was quite obvious with my blatant flirting.”

His sheepish smile told you all you needed to know as the dance came to an end, the two of you separating as you bowed to each other. “I take it this means I am officially courting you, Miss Beauvale?”

“I would love nothing more, Mister Bridgerton,” you responded proudly.

Benedict beamed at you as he offered his arm to you, and you began to walk off to the side of the dance floor together after you took it. “Perfect — with your advice and my charm, I am sure we can muddle through this courtship together.”

"Certainly," you nodded with a smile of your own. “As long as we are together.”

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict x reader #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fluff #sadie writes

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lovejosephquinn · 1 year

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I need some romantic fluffy smut with a Christmas theme! I’ll let your imagination run wild! And….go! Love you! ❤️

Ahhhh anon ily! ❤

Thank you for requesting. Your wish is my command - hope you're prepared, it's quite tooth rotting👀

It was Christmas Eve and you'd just polished off Joe's second signature hot chocolate of the night, the fire burning in the living room saw quite a cosy scene as the two of you snuggled under a blanket on the sofa, watching a classic Christmas movie and enjoying some one on one time together where nobody could bother you, especially before all the chaotic festivities commenced. Nibbling on the chocolate he'd brought you from the shop to snack on, the lit up tree situated by the window, the coordinated decorations in their place, the warm homely vibes the whole room gave off just added to the happiness and contentment that you felt in that moment with your man.

Joe leaned over, sneaking a bite of your chocolate. "Hey, you said you didn't want any so don't go taking mine." You frowned.

"Sharing is caring." Joe shrugged his shoulders, giving you the full puppy stare, his eyes glistening from the twinkle of the Christmas lights, a look you couldn't be mad at. He frantically got up from the sofa, jogging to the tree like he'd remembered something stupid.

"Shall we be naughty?" Joe wriggled his eyebrows at you, a mischievous grin appearing on his face as he kneeled down to the presents underneath the tree.

"Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn, you're such a rebel." You smirked sarcastically, stifling a giggle.

"Come on, one each before the morning." You stood up from your cosy spot, going over to stand beside him, leaning your hand down on his shoulder.

"Fine. I'll pick yours and you pick mine." Joe nodded subtly, digging through to find the one he was obviously quite desperate to give you. You grabbed yours and you fell back onto the sofa, adjusting the blanket back over you. "Ladies first." Joe gestured to you.

You handed him your gift, he shook it even though the box was clearly labelled Fragile, he pressed on it to try and begin guessing what it was. "Fuck it." He chuckled and ripped into it like an over excited child.

Opening the box the present was kept in, his face dropped almost instantly, he couldn't quite believe just what you'd gone to all the trouble for, all for him.

"How did you-" Joe stuttered.

"Remember how you told me about the really precious snow globe you had as a kid that you took everywhere with you?"

"This is it." Joe teared up, the snow globe was indeed his favourite core memory from being a child, it was something his grandparents had gifted him at 5 years old, something he had treasured for a long time, it had later smashed accidentally about 6 years ago and his parents didn't have the heart to tell him for days, but when he found out he was completely distraught even as an adult, to this day he never let them forget.

"But, how- where- what?"

"I found an exact replica online, it was so hard to keep the surprise! I know it'll never replace the original but at least you've still got that little piece of it back. I'll never know how much it truly meant to to you when you were young, although when you told me about it I got a pretty good idea, so I set myself on a mission."

"Baby, I don't know what to say." Joe's eyes were tearing up, it was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for him, he hugged it into his chest, clearly basking in the memory of the day his grandparents brought it home to give him. "Thank you so much, you don't know what this means to me." He leaned over and kissed you sweetly then leaned to set it in the middle of the coffee table in pride of place. His eyes didn't stop looking at it for minutes later until he shot a look back at you and before you could say another word, Joe pushed your present into your hands. "Now it's your turn."

You carefully opened the wrapping paper, taking out a small box. Joe eye's burned into your features, you opened it up to find a beautiful silver heart shaped locket with a tiny latch on the side. "Take a look inside." Joe exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. Inside on one side was a 3D blocked image of you and Joe together, the photo saw you both effortlessly laughing with one another, your hands placed around each other, the look of love adamant in your smiles. On the opposite side was an engravement of your and Joe's anniversary date and a small italic and quite personally beautiful message which read: 'Wear this when I'm away and then I'll always be with you.'

Joe wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. You leaned up placing your hand on his chest and kissed him, your heart aching, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"I love you." You sobbed, it was both an intense and sincerely sweet moment shared between the two of you, so unexpected yet so precious for each of you.

"I love you too, my darling." Joe took the box out of your hand, laying it on the table next to his gift. You swerved round to meet his gaze once he'd sat back, looking into one another's eyes saying nothing for seconds and then almost all at once; your lips crashed together, tongues roughly catching each other as they danced simaltaneously. The way your hands creeped around each other, feeling all the parts of your bare skin you could possibly come into contact with, Joe cupped the back of your head, bringing you in as close as he could to create a firmer feel, your lips bountifully as one, moving together in sync, a kiss that had never felt more meaning than this.

Joe moved down to your neck, kissing down it, sucking on every spot he could muster, earning soft whimpers as your fingers delicately grasped onto his curls. Pushing him by his chest softly, he laid down vertically on the sofa and you straddled his waist, lifting his t-shirt up slightly so you could stroke around his stomach and his happy trail. You smiled at each other delightedly for a moment, drinking in each other, not like you had a million times before, but this time felt special.

Joe lifted himself back up, cradling your back with his hands, soothing up and down your spine, catching your mouth in a daze once more, your bodies pressed together, the incredible aura that radiated off of you both together was phenomenal.

The crackling of the fire made the kiss break, you both stared at it, the reflection of the flames mirrored your moods, the sexual tension was about to break. You stood up from your current position in front of Joe, offering him out our hand to stand. You grabbed the blanket and took it to the fireplace, setting it out in front of the blaze. Taking off your clothes slowly, Joe's eyes grew, he caught up with your mind in a flash, the way you'd romanticised the idea in your head was now becoming a reality. You sat onto the blanket stark naked, now watching your boyfriend undress, not averting your eyes until he came and sat beside you once more.

Smiling innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck you whispered lowly. "Make love to me, baby." Now was a better time than any, especially from the sensual mood you were both feeling.

Joe's hand enveloped your jaw, his thumb stroking against your cheek in a swift but sweet motion, the way he looked at you was something only some people could dream about, his intense chocolatey stare was breath taking. "Anything for you, pretty girl."

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wheelercurse · 1 year

Text

Let’s put Mike’s monologue in context. And I don’t mean just its place in the story (that it happened thanks to Will) but look at the big picture. Its position in the whole season about truth and lies, but not in a black/white mindset. It’s more nuanced.

It’s a season where characters sometimes lie, omit some truth, or are mistaken about what it’s the truth. They aren’t always completely honest for different reasons.

The season starts with a misleading scene. And we (the audience) will learn the truth of what happened when El does it too, who also was mistaken. She thought that she had caused the massacre. She had buried her memory thanks to her trauma.

The following sequence is the narration of El’s letter. In this letter, El lies about her life in Lenora; she isn’t having a good time there. But also she said some things about her family that weren’t true, but she wasn’t lying about it. She just assumed things that weren’t true.: Joyce didn’t enjoy her new job, Will wasn’t painting for a girl, and Jonathan wasn’t nervous because he was waiting for his acceptance letter. He has it already.

So since the beginning, they’re telling us, “Watch out. Don’t take everything at face value.”

This season, our heroes sometimes lie, and our villains sometimes tell the truth. Or sometimes, the characters hide some truth. Even some characters gave long speeches where they were not completely honest. I already talked about one: El’s letter. But here are more examples:

Will’s speech in the van, when he’s describing his feelings as El’s. There’s some truth because the feelings are real but not from El.

Robin’s story about why she’s interested in Victor Creel. She started it with: “And I’ll tell you the truth, Anthony. These aren’t my clothes. I borrowed them because I wanted you to take us seriously. Because nobody takes girls seriously in this field.” it’s interesting because she’s telling the truth. Those clothes weren’t hers, and she used them so they could pass as students. Again there’s truth in there, but she’s also hiding something.

Steve’s speech to Nancy about his dream, which later he confesses was true, but he was omitting something. “It’s all true. But I left one part out. The most important part. You’re there.”

Jason’s speech when he is sure that the Hellfire Club is a satanic cult. “I know what I saw. And I have come to accept an awful truth. These murders are ritualistic sacrifices.” He thinks he has discovered the truth but is mistaken. Again he wasn’t lying, but he was also not telling the truth.

Max’s letter to Billy. She’s not lying per se, but she’s saying all this like she’s suffering because she missed him. But that wasn’t the whole truth like Vecna told her. She was suffering from guilt for being relieved and happy that her abuser had died.

I’m not saying that all the speeches weren’t completely honest, but most were. One that was honest was Max’s when she admitted to Vecna that she wanted Billy to die. “You were just telling the truth.”

She completed her arc, and someone could say that Mike also completed his and told El that he loved her, but that would mean that his arc was about saying ily to his girlfriend, which brings me to another important point. In this season character’s inner conflicts were about learning, accepting or hiding some truth:

El has to learn the truth about the massacre and herself. She isn’t a monster (or a superhero)

Will was hiding his feelings for Mike.

Max has a hard time dealing with his guilt about the truth: She wanted Billy to die.

Jonathan lied about his acceptance letter because he didn’t want Nancy to throw away her dream.

Nancy also pretends everything is fine with Jonathan until she admits to Robin that she is worried about their relationship status.

So it’s not far-fetched to think that Mike’s arc was related to some truth that he was hiding or didn’t accept, especially when we had Will telling him this: “Sometimes I think it’s just scary to open up like that. To say how you really feel. Especially to people you care about the most. Because what if they don’t like the truth?” and Mike nodding in a close-up.

What would it be the truth that he was hiding that he was in love with El? In that case, she would like it. That’s exactly what she wanted to hear when he couldn’t say it.

Some people would say, “well, the truth he was hiding was about his insecurities.” I would think they’re right, but:

They didn’t talk about their insecurities in a proper conversation.

It would be a good character development if we don’t have Will literally encouraging him to talk.

He didn’t use the truth motif when talking about his insecurities.

This brings us to another point.

First, when Mike told El his insecurities about how he was scared of losing her, and one day, she realized that she didn’t need him anymore, so it would hurt more. I don’t think he was lying. Mike is scared of losing people he loves, and he probably would have a hard time saying it because when he loses them, it hurts more. And you will say you’re contradicting yourself. But no, I think he wasn’t saying the whole truth like some characters because there were other reasons why he wasn’t saying ily.

Ok, now back to my point. The use of the motif. Mike used this word in three different scenes, and the curious thing is that his last statement contradicts the first two:

“Listen, the truth is, the last year has been weird, you know […] it’s Hawkins. It is not the same without you”

“But the truth is, when I stumbled on her in the woods, she just needed someone. It’s not fate. It’s not destiny. It’s just simple dumb luck.”

“But the truth is, El, I don’t know how to live without you. I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods [….] And I knew right then and there, in that moment that I loved you.”

He was telling Will how weird his time in Hawkins had been without him. And then practically said the same thing to El but tried to paint it more romantic. He also said to Will that his meeting with El was dumb luck, and he only knew that she needed someone. But in his monologue, he described that meeting as love at first sight. Also, how could his life have started that day when he was looking for his missing friend, the one whose town isn’t the same without him? So he was lying.

I think deep down Mike knew that he was lying, but he also kept lying to himself about his true feelings. But that’s an analysis for another day.

My point is that Mike wasn’t completely honest in his monologue. There were truth in his monologue, but not everything was true.

#byler #Byler analysis #not really an analysis or well yes it is #but it’s also my thoughts about this season

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brilyyy · 1 month

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Romance (Alastor x Angel Dust) 3/3

Hello there! 👋

Sorry for the delay, this truly took longer to write than I anticipated and then life happened. Hopefully this is worth the wait for you, I really enjoyed writing it! Again, I'm sorry Angel, its not my fault Alastor is deranged, ily.

Thanks for your interest in my fic, please enjoy!

Story warnings - disturbing imagery, horror

Softly, as if floating across his cheek on a cool summer breeze, “Anthony….” The voice drifted in and out, far away, “Anthony wake up…” it faded.

A forgotten dream pulled Angel from the nothingness he’d been bathed in, a woman he didn’t know giggling and chiding him for sleeping, just a bit more he thought, his body numb to any request for movement. The voice giggled in his mind again, Angel’s eyes cracked open ever so slightly. Who was that? A soft voice, pulling at him from somewhere deep in his memories. He could feel the air around him was cold and damp, but still, and it was dark now from what he could see. He didn’t know if he was alone, but he couldn’t feel his body either so what did it matter? Each breath was fought for and ragged, a strained exhale his only reprieve from the pain. Angel closed his eyes again, he was already so tired from keeping them open as long as he had… Even if there was someone there, he didn’t have the strength to go to them, or fight them off if they wanted to hurt him.

“Anthonyyyy, come on, we’re going to be late silly!” The voice pulled at him again. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it… eyes closed he began to drift back to the black unconsciousness, it was warm there and he didn’t hurt. Just a little longer he thought as he began to drift back into the darkness, his choppy, pained breaths becoming further and further apart.

“ANTHONY!!” The voice screamed, and suddenly Angel knew exactly who it was, he’d always hated hearing her scream. Eyes snapping open he sat up as quickly as he could, his body aching, a sharp pain in his chest stabbing with every breath he took, head spinning from all of the abuse he’d endured. His eyes slipped in and out of focus, the dark only making it harder to see, the ringing in his ears dulled only by the pounding of his head. He sat up as best he could and looked around. Although he couldn’t see the creature that had chased him there, he knew it was still out there somewhere, but he needed to find her, that’s all he cared about now.

“M-Molly?” Angel croaked out weakly, he hadn’t said her name out loud in so many years, the word alone sent a flood of emotions rushing through his already scattered mind. He strained to hear a response. His eyes welled with tears, “MOLLY!!” He cried again, desperation in his scream, please, he thought, please let it be her, let this be real. Nothing, and then from behind him, “ANTHONY!!” Angel whipped around and stared at the figure at the edge of the willows cover, eyes straining to focus on the figure in the dark.

Angel squinted hard and suddenly gasped. It was her.

Molly was there, peering at him through the curtain of leaves eyes wide and glossy.

His breath caught in his throat.

She gasped softly as their eyes met, “It’s you!” She cheered, relief and joy flooding her face as she ran to him. Angel locked eyes with his sister, and for the moment he couldn’t breathe. Painfully he clambered to his feet and moved as quickly as he could to her, the aching fire shooting through his entire body be damned. He reached out for her expecting to touch nothing, for it all to be a sick illusion, but when her arms wrapped around his waist and held him tightly, he began to shake and sob, throwing his arms around her, eyes wide in bewilderment. “It’s really you!” She sobbed into his chest, her two sets of arms wrapped fully around Angel’s thin frame.

“Oh Anthony, I’ve been so scared! I thought something had happened to you! I couldn’t find you and -” Molly sobbed into his chest, her words muffled and hard to understand through her crying, but Angel was frozen. He could barely understand what was happening. It was her, she was here, in his arms. The thought was too much for him and his head spun, legs giving out he fell into her lithe frame, “Anthony!” Molly cried as they both fell to their knees, Angel’s head foggy, ears ringing. He couldn’t even process why or how she was here. She hugged Angel again while chattering about something and pulled away, now fussing over his cuts and scrapes but he couldn’t hear anything save for the ringing in his ears.

“Molly?” He looked at her and stared into her glossy pink eyes, afraid to breathe, “Is this real? Are you… Are you real?” His voice was like a whisper, raspy and emotional. If this was a dream he didn’t want to scare himself awake with the question.

She looked different than when he last saw her, obviously she didn’t look like a fluffy white spider before, but he knew it was her, he could feel it, they were twins after all. She’d always had the biggest, most expressive eyes, always able to find his real thoughts and feelings no matter how well he thought he’d hid them. She stared at him for a moment. Here in the forest, her doe like eyes were wide, searching his face, but then she smiled warmly and grabbed his hand, bringing it to her face and resting his palm to her cheek. Her eyes brimmed with tears, taking a shuddering breath, a tear dripped down her fuzzy cheek and she let out a small huff of a laugh, “Of course I’m real, don’t I feel real to you?” Angel felt her cheek, she was warm and soft, and here and real. She looked just as he remembered her, before she… Before he…

Another wave of emotion hit Angel and he gasped, his body shivered with remorse, tears rolled from his tired eyes down his stained and bloodied cheeks and he lunged at her, wrapping her fully in all six arms and pulling her tightly to him.

“I’m so sorry Molly! I never shoulda left you! I-I,” he gasped “I shoulda never let you go alone, I should *hic* I shoulda left with you or made you stay I-, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” He sobbed into her hair, body wracked with sorrow and guilt. Losing her had destroyed him, the sadness sending him into a downward spiral he would never recover from “I should have never let you go alone, It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry Molly.” He pressed his cheek hard against hers, holding her tight, desperate and unwilling to ever let her go again.

Molly’s eyes red with tears wrenched closed as she hugged Angel tighter and wept. “Oh Anthony, shhhh,” She cooed as she brushed through Angel’s hair with her fingers, rocking him back and forth while rubbing his back, “It wasn’t your fault,” She whispered as she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “I’m here now, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

They held each other and sobbed underneath the cover of the willow in the darkness, neither one willing to be the first to let go.

After a long while, both of them caught their breath and their cries turned to sniffles, slowly releasing their tight hold on the other. Angel took a pair of Molly’s hands in his, he never thought he would see her again, not after she had died. Turning her hand over in his, Angel found the scar on her left thumb from when he had fallen out of a tree and she had cut herself catching him before he fell to the ground. He’d been horsing around and lost his balance, but she had been there and cut her hand against the sharp tree bark as she held onto him, crying only because she was scared for her brother. The memory was so clear, but he scowled, I’ve always let her down… He shook his head and swallowed hard as he stared at her hands in his, “What are you doing here? You shouldn’ be here.”

“Pfft, I don’ even know where here is!” Molly chirped.

“No, but you shouldn’ be where I am,” Angel laughed wryly “You should be in the good place, not here.”

Molly looked confused but just shrugged. “I was walkin home from the bar and cut through the woods. I ran into Richie, he was walkin me home… I don’t remember much after that, but after….” Molly trailed off, but Angel knew exactly what she was saying. He clenched his jaw, fist shaking in white knuckled rage, after Richie fuckin killed her. “I woke up and I was here. I’ve been lookin for you or someone, anyone,” She twisted her other pair of hands in her lap, picking at her fingers nervously and staring at the ground “I’ve been so lost and scared, and then there was this… thing….” She paused and Angel could feel her shaking through her hands. “You saw it?” He asked, Molly gasped and looked up at Angel “You saw it too? Oh Anthony it was awful! I’ve been running and trying to find my way out of here, but its so dark and nothing makes sense,” Angel pulled her into another fierce hug, she trembled in his arms but he held her tight. “It’s okay Molly, I’m never going to leave you again, okay?” I’m not going to be useless this time, he thought.

She pulled back and smiled sadly at him, wiping a tear from her eye, “Promise?”

Angel held her shoulders firmly with one set of hands and her face in his other “I promise Molly, I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”

Molly beamed up at him through her tears, god it had been so long since he’d seen that smile. She always had the brightest smile, it never failed to cheer him up when he was down, and now it was like a salve on every wound he’d ever had. He studied her face and began to inspect the rest of her - she was just as ripped up and dirty as he was, though it looked like she had better luck keeping her face away from anything sharp, save for a single cut across her left cheek. He had no idea how she had gotten trapped down here but he was going to give his life if it meant getting her out of here. “Oh!” She gasped suddenly, “Here…” she turned around and dug through a bag that Angel just now noticed. After a moment she produced a water bottle, and unscrewing the top, handed it to Angel “Drink up, you look terrible.” He chuckled and grabbed the bottle “Thanks Molls, where would I be without you?”

“Pfft, here.” She waved a hand around her at the forest and cocked a smile at Angel. He smiled and laughed as she giggled, he’d missed this. Missed her. He stared at their hands and rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. She covered her hand on top of his and smiled warmly, she reached out and ruffled his hair and he feigned annoyance, he’d missed that too.

Angel took another drink from the bottle when he heard something. It was faint, barely audible, but over the ringing in his ears he swore that he’d heard something from the forest… music? Angel lowered the bottle and looked around, then looked at Molly. She was sitting still, wide eyes locked into the distance where Angel had heard the noise, “Did you hear that?” She whispered.

“You heard it too?” Angel strained to hear more, but it was too far away, he only caught a stray note here and there. The ringing in his ears made his head ache the more he strained to hear and he winced in pain. Molly nodded and stood up, eyes still locked on the tree line, “I’ve never heard it before….Maybe it’s someone who can help us!” She turned and looked at Angel, a hopeful cheer cutting through the dirt and exhaustion on her face. Angel stared at her for a minute then back at the place where the music was coming from. What if it was a trap? What if that creature was luring them out so that it could rip them apart? It had been right on top of him, screaming that it knew where he was, taunting that it could reach him at any time, the rancid cries ringing deafening in the air…

“What if that thing is still out there?” He shivered, not wanting to push their luck. He knew they couldn’t stay but he didn’t trust the music, he couldn’t risk losing her again. Molly stood for a long while staring into the woods, then turned to Angel and grabbed his hand, pulling lightly to get his attention. His eyes quickly met hers, he hadn’t noticed he was trembling until she grabbed the sides of his arms and gave them a small but firm squeeze. She smiled kindly at him and his heart skipped a beat.

“We gotta try, right Anthony?” She looked at her brother, eyes soft but hopeful, the same look she used to give him when they were kids. He was always a worrier when it came to Molly and now this? It was his job to protect her so he always erred on the side of caution when she was concerned, but she was usually right when it came to making decisions, and Angel knew they couldn’t stay there forever. Locking eyes with her he smiled back and braced himself to stand, legs shaking like a newborn. Taking as deep a breath as he could, Molly pulled him up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, snaking her arm around his waist to help support him. The stabbing pain in his chest worsened and he gasped, he was pretty sure he’d broken several ribs now, and at least two in different places were threateningly close to piercing his lungs, but he steadied himself against Molly’s small frame and resolved to ignore his body’s cries of anguish for as long as he could.

She looked at him with great concern, eyes searching his face again to see how she could help, but there was nothing she could do now and they both knew it. “Ready?” She chirped with genuine optimism, securing her bag over her free shoulder and smiling at him. Angel looked into her pink eyes and smiled back, his body was throbbing and even standing felt like torture, but as long as she was here, he would try, for her. “As I’ll ever be.”

Slowly they walked to the edge of the willow’s protection and Molly reached out with a free hand to part the curtain of leaves. She peaked out into the darkness and looked around. From what Angel could see it was pitch black, no longer the bright vaguely green sky, now just unnerving darkness surrounded them. It was dead silent, no chirping or hum of insects, no gentle coos of night time birds. Though it was unsettling, there was also no sign that the beast was still there, only gouges in the earth showing it had once been. Angel shivered at the memory of the creature, but resolved to be strong for her.

“I think we’re okay,” Molly spoke quietly, “but it’s so dark out…” her voice trailed off, she had always been afraid of the dark, and this was no normal dark. Angel squeezed her waist where he was holding for support and she turned to look at him. Smiling, he opened his mouth to speak, but the jazz drifting through the air caught both of their attention and he paused. It was still faint, but hearing it again renewed their resolve and Angel could feel Molly take a deep breath. Letting it out she turned to Angel with a small smile and nodded. Turning to the woods once more, she stepped out into the dark forest, Angel limping bravely by her side.

—

The pair ambled through the darkness and reminisced for what seemed like hours over what felt like miles of endless, uncaring forest. At some point, over the rivers of twisted roots and slick rocks begging to catch their feet, the trees had begun to space out, now larger, more gnarled and sinister looking than before. Instead of the more tightly packed evergreens reaching far above, they now walked among larger gaps in thick towering trees, trunks twisting and reaching at strange angles, wide arms overhead, long finger-like branches fanning against the sky. Thick branches held up draping curtains of wide canopy, vines falling from the large overhead supports that held up the scattering lacework of leaves. If there was any moon out tonight, you would have seen its light dappled through the intricate patterns of foliage, but now, it only served as a beautiful background to the dolls scattered hanging amongst the branches, watching over the two as they stumbled through the brush.

Angel and Molly had been resting, braced against one of these trees for what felt like the hundredth time over the past few hours. The two had tripped over many twisted, vine like roots sprawled over the forest floor, the cover of heavy, bone chilling fog making them impossible to see and avoid. It was just as well, Angel had decided. Early in this new terrain he had tripped over a root and was sent tumbling to the ground, coughing violently as he fell. He had braced himself and caught his breath against the earth, but noticed a squirming, writhing tickle against his fingertips as he panted. Slowly opening his eyes, Angel had examined the fog and realized that underneath its smooth curls of drifting air, it looked like it was moving.

A deep sickness had run through Angel and with a defeated tear in his eye he blew a small puff of air to clear the fog from his hands. He had wept pitifully, tears streaming down his face in endless sorrow and defeat when he saw that the ground he was resting on was a rug of millions of wriggling worms, millipedes, spiders and other endless bugs, climbing and scrambling over one another in a hurried, writhing mess of knots across the forest floor, all moving hurriedly away from the direction they were going. He sobbed in horror at the realization and sensation, Molly grasping at him to try and calm his cries of distress, when a sharp chirping of birds cut through the stillness of the sky. The sharp cries of the birds sounded metallic and eerie, fake and louder than ever before like a warning. Molly had dragged him to his feet, away from the writhing floor and held him close, whispering soothing things into his hair to calm him. She had held his face in a pair of hands and held his hands in her other and managed to calm him down with some deep breathing, but the horror of that moment made them both check their shoes and pants before they set back out again.

He was now so disoriented from what was surely a concussion and the ringing in his ears was driving him more than a little insane. His body throbbed and ached so deeply, but they were making progress, the jazz was getting louder.

Several times through their hours long trek he had slipped and twice had managed to pull Molly down with him as he fell. The second time he hit the ground he fell into a violent coughing spell. As he hacked into his fist, Angel could tell that he was coughing up blood. Though it was dark, he could feel the sticky wetness on his hand as he coughed and shuddered. Quickly he wiped his hand off as best he could before his sister could see. Molly immediately had given him the water bottle again and rubbed his back, offering soothing words to calm him. Angel shivered with the sickness he felt running up through his stomach, it was long since empty, but now beginning to fill with his own blood and it was making him sick. He could taste the metallic richness at the back of his throat and from the corners of his mouth, the constant coughing and swallowing was making him more nauseous as time went on. The idea almost caused him to retch, but he had to keep it together, and settled for another weakening coughing fit.

“Anthony…. Look!” Molly stilled her soothing ministrations and whispered, her voice so small with disbelief. Angel looked up, panting and squinting through the dark trees he saw what she was looking at - a light coming from a small cabin. A log house nestled in a small alcove surrounded by trees, distant, but not very far from where they were. The roof was a little slanted and the logs forming the walls were dark with age, but the windows glowed with the promise of a fire and the jazz they had followed through the trees drifted warmly out of the window. Angel stared for a long moment then turned again to Molly, she had been putting on a brave face but he could tell how tired she was. She shivered in the cold air, and even if he was suspicious of the cabin, he knew she needed rest. He himself was in no condition to keep moving. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his injuries caught up with him, and he needed to make sure that she was at least safe before anything worse happened to him. At least here they would be safe from that thing, even if that house did give him the creeps. Still, everything, all of this felt off and scared him more than it brought comfort.

“Molly… I don’t know….” Angel started, but she cut him off “Come on Anthony, maybe they can help us! Besides, don’t you smell that?” She looked at him and then back to the cabin. Angel took as deep a breath as he could: food. He could smell food. Just the distant scent sent his mind reeling and his stomach growled deep and painfully, a cavern inside of him aching for something other than blood. He could feel his mouth watering at just the idea of eating, and he knew that if he felt this way, Molly felt it more, he had no idea how long she had been lost in the woods before he arrived or even how long he’d been here. Angel turned to his sister and looked deep into her pleading eyes, “Okay, we’ll check it out, but we leave if even one thing is weird, got it?” Molly smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand, kissing his cheek, “got it!”

They managed down the slippery hill that the cabin was settled beneath, tucked between two towering trees at the end of a small clearing, set a bit away from the rest of the dense tree line. It was hard to see anything through the dark night and the dense fog, but Angel could see the light of a fire dancing through the windows. Like moths to a flame the pair stumbled closer, the jazz filling the air now, a gentle trumpet melody welcoming them, the smell of the food enticing them to push further. They crossed the small stream that ran near the front of the house, eyes glued to the refuge.

His eyes scanned the tree line surrounding them looking for the creature, but he couldn’t see anything, save for a nearby stump with an axe wedged into it. They passed near it as Molly quickly but cautiously pulled them to the porch that surrounded the perimeter of the house. He couldn’t see much of the axe, or what was left over on the ground behind the stump, but just the outline of something slumped against the black night sent a shiver down his spine. He turned back to the cabin and surrounding trees, scared to trust the warmth they sought.

“Almost there,” Molly whispered, she helped him up the small steps onto the porch and after helping Angel find purchase on a nearby post, moved quietly to the door. The smell of the food was so distracting, he was terrified but the smell invaded his mind with the promise of warmth and comfort, sending what little moisture his body had left to flood his mouth in hunger. Angel swallowed and looked around, weary of how relatively easy this had all been. He leaned against the outmost post of the porch sand cast tired eyes to the forest, knowing something was watching them from out in the darkness.

A gentle breeze floated through the wind chimes hanging from the aged wood frame above his head. The wind chimes sounded cheerful yet off somehow, sickeningly hollow, and when angel looked at it he saw why. They were made up of small… animals bones? ribs mostly, and some pieces of differing leg and arm bones, strung together on twisted sinewy thread. The top of the chime was what looked like a fox or a coyote skull, with strange symbols carved into it. What caught his attention though were the strings, they were the same wiry, smooth threads he’d seen securing other unsettling decor around the forest.

The strings he noted were different colors, a deep black, a black with highlights of brown, a bright orange, blonde… Angels stomach dropped and suddenly he felt nothing but deep dread and sickness. The fear made him instantly retch and shudder - this place wasn’t safe, they needed to leave.

The sound of Molly knocking on the door ripped him from his thoughts and he jumped, eyes locked on the door as they both held their breath waiting for a response. Angel’s heart was beating in his ears, straining to hear through the ringing and the soft lilt of the music in the still air. He held his breath, begging to hear nothing. A long moment passed, the pair exchanged a glance. Angel reached out to stop her but she knocked again, gentle yet firm, “h-Hellooo?…” Molly squeaked, barely able to contain the shaking in her voice.

Angel limped quietly to her side, grabbing her hand in comfort and fear. They waited for what felt like an eternity, expecting to hear the scuffs of footsteps or creaking floor boards or to hear anything at all, but there was nothing, just the muffled jazz and the stillness of the air. Molly looked back at Angel, hopeful and questioning, but Angels face read nothing but doubt and fear. He shook his head gently pleading, tears pooling in his eyes for her not to open the door. She met his eyes with a worried yet determined stare.

He whipped around and checked their backs, feeling the eyes of the forest crawling over him, sending a haunting shiver through his body. The forest remained black and unmoving, no life, no sound, save for the now mournful and sinisterly warm music ringing through the air from the nearby window. Angel panted and scanned again, his eye catching the stump from his periphery and - he stopped and snapped his entire head down - the axe was gone. His eyes rang in their sockets, hands deftly grabbing for Molly’s hand for comfort, unable to look away from the now clearly blood soaked stump, void of the axe he had seen before.

He turned to Molly to tell her they needed to go, but to his horror she was in the cabin, standing by the fire in the middle of the room, “Anthony come on!” She chided. “Molly no this place isn’t safe! We gotta go now!” Angel begged trying to be as quiet as possible, but she was already wandering in deeper towards the smell. Angel ambled to the doorway and peered in, “Molly!” He whispered sharply, but she was already poking around what looked to be the kitchen area at the back of the room.

He huffed. Angel looked over his shoulder again into the darkness behind him and cracking the door only wide enough to squeeze through, he slipped into the house, closing the door silently behind him. He pushed his body against the door and anxiously looked around, horrified to find it was warm and charming inside. The jazz came from a gramophone, set on top of a small desk by the window to his left, cracked only a bit to let some of the cool night air in. The desk had a few letters scattered lightly over the smooth, worn dark wood. A small clear glass vase with some small blue flowers sat next to a black and white photo of a beautiful woman in an ornate gold frame, a drawing of the blooms sketched lightly on the corner of a nearby envelope.

He stood pressed firmly to the door panting in fear, exploring the room with his eyes, straining for the threat he knew was hiding. He looked past the gramophone to find a large bookcase, filled and overflowing with books. Angel was in awe of just how many books there were, the wood of the shelves reaching to the top of the roof, bowing slightly under the weight of its many reads. The case was filled neatly with rich colors of spines, but for as many filled the shelf, there were still stacks of more littering the nearby floor. The volumes shared the floor spaces between the desk and the nearby leather chair with records and pressings of long since forgotten songs. A beautifully ornate red and blue rug with pops of bright emerald threads framed the space and gave it a warm and cozy feeling. It was clearly old but well taken care of, a bit faded and thread bare in some areas showing the habits of whoever lived here, a clear path between the books on the shelf, the desk, and the chair.

Angel wearily and hungrily looked at the chair, his body pleading and begging for rest. It looked plush and comfortable, a high back and over stuffed arms, a deep purple knit blanket draped lazily over the arms and low back, a small pillow pressed with wear against the chairs right corner. Angel swallowed, sitting there he knew would feel like a warm embrace, one that would hold onto him and pull him under. The chair sat comfortably between the book shelf and the fireplace along the same wall, angled so that the warmth and light of the fire illuminated the chair entirely but not so far from the book case that one couldn’t grab for the lifeline of a book to save them from the promise of a cozy fireside nap. The fire crackled and sputtered lazily, offering a warming glow that sent a shiver through angel’s frozen and broken body.

He pulled his eyes away from the spell of the fire and looked back to the promise of the chair. The piles of books sat on top and at the foot of a small side table. It was very petite, only space for a small lamp and an even smaller pile of books, the corners of which hung slightly over the edge of the table. There was also, he noticed, a small tea cup set a top a book, a pair of round gold framed reading glasses placed neatly beside the steaming cup and saucer. Angel squirmed in fear as his stomach clenched “Molly, maybe we should get out of here, what if they come back?” He was worried, no one was there now but it looked like they might be back soon.

“MMM! Oh Anthony look!” Angel looked over toward her voice and saw her standing at a large pot settled on top of a wood burning stove. There was a table between them where she had grabbed a ladle and holding the lid with one hand, she dipped the large spoon into the pot and took a sip of the steaming hot soup. She closed her eyes and let out a deep contented sigh, “You have to try this Anthony, it’s delicious!” Opening her eyes again she found Angel still standing at the front door, his arms both crossed and splayed out, holding himself tightly and bracing himself worriedly against the door. “Come on Molly, we can’t eat someone else’s food!” Angel pleaded, “besides, I think they’re gonna come back soon, we gotta get outta here, this place is beyond freakin me out,” but Molly scooped another ladle full of broth out and held it up for Angel to see.

“They’ll understand, I promise. Come on Anthony be reasonable, you need to eat somethin to gain back your strength!” She turned around and grabbed for a bowl from a nearby shelf. Turning back to the pot, she scooped a ladleful of broth into the bowl and held it out to Angel, “Come on, just a little, please….” She begged him with her eyes.

Was she seriously out of her mind? Absolutely not! There was no way they were just going to wander into this random persons house and then steal their food. What if they came back and got pissed and cut them up into pieces like he’d seen hanging from the trees? The rich scent of the soup caught his nose again and sent his stomach tumbling into a deep gnawing pull of hunger. Angel stared again at the chair, and looked around the room to see more quaint touches, pictures on the wall of an older woman and a young man who Angel figured was her son, framed pieces of art, scatterings of playful taxidermy… He glanced at the bookcase again to see framed photos scattered among the shelves, another small bundle of blue flowers set lightly a top of the leather chair.

He did admit that it was nice and warm in here, and it would be good to regain their strength… As long as it wasn’t that huge creature that lived here, chances are they could outrun whoever lived here if they turned out to be hostile. Well, Molly could. I’ll give her a head start, he let out a small huff of a laugh, might as well die with a warm belly he thought.

Slowly, Cautiously, Angel limped across the room past the fireplace and the chair towards the kitchen using the wall as a crutch. He glanced up wearily at the wall to see black and white photos of people other than the old woman and her, admittedly, very handsome son. There was another photo of the woman from the desk, though this time she was singing on a stage surrounded by a crowd of cheering men. A large portrait of the older woman set in an ornate wood frame nestled between two complimentary paintings of rabbits and foxes dancing in pastel play clothes. He walked further along and saw a couple of old victorian photos, a beautiful young woman with bright white hair and dark eyes, so pale she almost looked grey.

In one photo, she stared blankly into the camera while clutching a small white bundle, which Angel realized was a baby. Her face was soft with no expression, but she held the infant with care, gently but firmly for the camera to see. His eyes found another photo with the same woman, standing in the same beautiful gown. She now stood next to a handsome man in a black tuxedo, decorated with military badges and pins. He was seated, dressed in what Angel could tell were expensive clothes, with a top hat and bow tie. He had a large but meticulously maintained mustache and beard covering his face, no emotion showing on his handsome features. The woman stood beside him, barely resting her hand on his shoulder, her black eyes reflecting no light, her features statuesque. He shivered. Angel peered deeper into the photo and noticed that the mans eyes were closed. Confused, he looked back at the photo of the infant and realized the infants eyes were closed too. Confusion crossed his brow, but then he pulled away from the wall, his eyes welling up with tears - they were both dead.

“Hurry Angel, quit stalling” Molly called sharply. Lip trembling, Angel quickly turned from the wall and grabbed for the table, shuffling quickly to where Molly was standing and clasped her hand in his. He stared at their hands for a moment, fear soaking deeper and deeper into his bones, the need to run away twitching in his legs. He squeezed her hand and took a deep breath, just keep it together a little longer, he thought, do it for her, she needs you, Anthony.

He looked up from their hands and into Molly’s eyes, her kindness and patience reflected in her pink orbs. “Here,” She said gently, putting the bowl down in front of him on the table and gently brushing his hair with her free hand. He stared at the bowl, the steam rising and dancing for him, offering its savory aromas and causing his resolve to tremble. Swallowing guiltily he looked up at Molly, “I don’t know Molls, really… I-I think we should jus go, please….”

With a huff, Molly grabbed the ladle and scooped a fresh spoonful of soup from the pot. She turned to Angel and held the steaming ladle full of broth in front of his face, her lips pressed in a determined line.

Angel swallowed deeply while staring deeply into Molly’s eyes. The smell of the fresh broth pulled his eyes down and he stared into the spoon she was holding out to him. The rich brown broth looked just as delicious as it smelled, and he could feel his mouth flood in hunger. He looked up again at Molly, pleading with his eyes, but knowing that she was right and he needed something to replenish his broken body, he leaned in and took a long, slow sip from the spoon. The warmth of the broth slipped past his lips and invaded his entire body, warming and scorching his frozen core as the liquid poured down his throat. He could feel it dispersing its healing warmth, instantly curing his pains and awakening his body into deep, raging craving for more.

His eyes opened and he stared at Molly again, she smiled at him knowingly, “It’s really good right?” She grinned. Angel smiled sheepishly, good was an understatement, more like incredible. Maybe they could finish their soup and then leave in a hurry. As if reading his mind (or just hearing his stomach), Molly grabbed the bowl from the table and adding a fresh ladleful of soup, handed the bowl back over to Angel.

The young spider smiled weakly taking the bowl and looked warmly at Molly as she ladled more soup into a bowl of her own. The pull of hunger controlling his body now, he brought the bowl to his lips and let his eyes drift closed with comfort as he took another long slip. The meal felt like sunshine running through his body, reminding him of childhood, sitting at their small dinner table during cold winter nights and eating with his sister. The broth was delicious, rich and comforting with herbs and spices, his lips and mouth tingling with what he imagined was a pepper sauce. He tilted the bowl higher, draining the soup of its broth and only stopping when he felt an ingredient in the bowl bump against his lips.

His eyes drifting open in contentment, he lowered the bowl and sighed happily staring into the pottery in his hands. Having drunk so much of the liquid, he could now see the solids of the soup, some greens and onions, red pepper flakes, a potato, and…. Angel squinted. His eyes immediately shifted from innocent curiosity to cold horror, staring down blankly, body frozen. Mind broken, his hands forgot their task and Angel dropped his bowl, the glossy pottery shattering on the ground revealing the remaining contents of the soup - an ear, and two small toes. Angel stared at the floor, the ringing in his ears louder than the jazz filling the small space. He couldn’t breathe, the pounding of his heart ringing throughout his entire body.

“It was people,” the words slipped out of Angel’s mouth, barely audible, eyes unblinking in shock.

Saying it out loud, no matter how silent sent him reeling. Hearing it caused his body to retch deeply, the realization of what he’d eaten forcing him to spew the contents of his already weakened stomach on the ground. He doubled over, throwing up what little was in him, his sickness renewed with each glimpse of the broken bowl on the floor, the ear dangerously close to his left foot. “Mol-MMolly!” he weakly called between waves of retching, reaching out weakly for support, pulling at the bottom of his now empty stomach to force bile and saliva out of his burning throat. “Molly!” he called weakly, bracing himself on the table, he looked up to where she had been by the cooking pot, but a new dread filled his emptied stomach when he found she was gone.

Eyes wide in terror, he spun frantically, searching around the room for any sign of his sister, but in the instant it took for him to realize she was gone, the room had changed from a quaint little cottage, warm with the welcoming glow of the fire to exactly what he had feared. The small room was now lit a murderous red, dark and almost black in places, only brighter because of the barely controlled fire raging against the wall. The fire was white hot and green - the crackling of the lime flames dancing off of the edges of hundreds of razor sharp weapons mounted to the wall that was once lined with memorabilia. Where had just been photos and artworks moments before, now housed knives, chisels and blades, scythes and straight razors covering any free space between knots and holes in the broken panels of wood. Each instrument of suffering was polished to a mirror like shine, placed carefully and in an order, obviously well cared for.

“MOLLY!” He cried out desperately, “WHERE ARE YOU??”

The jazz from the front of the room blared through the gramophone's bell, the sound breaking in places and becoming more distorted and off key as the record played.The books on the shelf were gone and replaced with jars filled with body parts floating in shades of pink or blue liquid, hands, hearts, and a few heads floating lifeless in the jars. The once siren lounge chair now sat ominously, the leather of the chair clearly patched together with different pieces of differing colors of leather… different sizes and shapes… Angels eyes drifted in horror to the fire place, eyes shaking, climbing to find a small bundle of legs, and another larger bundle of arms hanging from the ceiling with different herbs to dry.

Angel heaved in an open mouth sob, the once cozy lilt of the jazz now a raging upbeat tempo, squalling and crying out, trumpets and saxophones slicing through the mounting terror. The record player glowed with the same sickening green magic that the fire raged with, sending small sparks of fire drifting off into the air. They floated and danced on the distorted melodies around the room, alive with magic, charming despite the scene. He stared in awe and fear as one of the little fireflies buzzed up to his face, flying in an intricate spiral, and then landed on his cheek, singeing the hair on his face. He grabbed his cheek in pain and stared on in horror as the room filled with the lightning bugs, burning him with sharp pain as they lazily bumped into him.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic screech ripped through the wailing of the jazz, the piercing cut of the scream sliced through Angel and stoked the deep fear writhing inside of him. Every hair standing on end, Angel turned around and locked teary wide, insanity filled eyes with the terrible, smoldering red of the creature. The room had changed again, the roof of the small cabin now much taller than it had been, allowing the smaller, but still massive demon to take up almost the entire cabin, its upsettingly thin and long legs crouching brokenly. Its giant white buck skull dripped black sap as it ran razor sharp black claws against a grinding stone now placed in front of the fire place. Long high pitched screams over powered the cries of the piano chords from the record player, the Wendigo twisted its long, broken neck towards Angel, bright red pupils boring into him from blackened sockets, the screaming and trumpets rioting in the air between them.

Angel stared back trembling, screeches from the grinding stone echoing the ringing in his ears. Angel shook in defeat, whimpering in terror as he clutched his head with his hands. The strange birds. He knew they hadn’t sounded right, but now he knew the chirps and calls hadn’t been birds at all, it had been the grinding cry of knives and claws being sharpened all along. His knees gave out and he buckled into the table grabbing tight in fear, frozen in place, shaking and sobbing, eyes darting between the wall of blades and the creature, begging to find his sister.

w̸̙̗͝h̸͙͋ǎ̸̡̋t̴̮̥̍̋'̴͔̑͜ś̷͇͈͠ ̷̠̉͘t̴̬̗̃ḩ̵̱̄͝e̵͓͒͘ ̸̖̝̌m̸̹͋̈́ã̷̢̝t̴̨̠̒̇t̵̲̼̿ĕ̶̞͗r̶̼̔̃

the creatures voice was a layered and distorted guttural growl, shaking the inside of Angels head. All at once his hair stood on end, his body erupting into gooseflesh. He hadn’t heard it from his ears, he heard it from inside of him, inside of his mind. The concept made Angel grab his head and cry out in fear, screaming as he could hear the monster laughing in his mind. Reaching a clawed hand forward, the creature leaned toward Angel, neck stretching, head turning at broken angles. Lumbering over him, the creature twisted its head, bringing the tip of its bleached skull inches away from Angels and stared deeply into his eyes. Angel took a deep shuddering breath and turned to look up at what he knew was watching from the forest all along. Angel stared into the bright white skull of the haunted creature, eyes burning red radio dials, mouth dripping with dead blood and chuckling out loud and in his thoughts. He knew it was him, Angel’s body wracked with a sob, it had been him the whole time. His body trembled in fear, too scared to be angry as the Wendigo hovered above him, titanic and horrifying, crawling with maggots and death.

a̷̢̗͓͗̉̓r̴̳̩̀͋ę̴̬̟̝͛̃̄̃̅̇̎͘ ̴̛̛̙͖̆̋y̸̦̹̖̝̖̣͛̀̾̉o̴̗̠̖̲̽̄͂̊̅͗̌ͅͅư̸͖̳͍̞͇̲̗̇̏́͂̑̑ ̴̢̞̟͕̦͚͐̏̀̂̄͝ͅs̶͚͕͒͂̃͒̚ć̸͖̺̙͌ḁ̶̢̼́̈͐̓̅̚r̶̡̢̳̣̫̪̈́̀͆͒̽̓ę̴̽̽͌̆d̴̡͕̮̺̠̋̈́̀͘͝?̵̨͙͚͔̼͇̟̥̽̃̈́̐̚

A dark rolling laughter rang out from a radio suddenly appearing on the mantle at the same time as it rang out in his mind. The creature in front of him let out a screaming bellow, a shaking rancid cry of sorrow deep from its core ringing out in the small cabin, the beast cackling in his mind as it sharpened its claws against the grinding stone. The screeching, now obvious cries of the claws against stone, reverberated through his entire being, his eyes wide, tears stinging his cheeks as they streamed down his face, jazz joyfully wailing in the air. Angel’s mind was beginning to break, the pounding of his heart keeping time with the horrid jazz. He needed to find Molly, they needed to go before it was too late.

“MOLLY!!” He screamed, the Wendigo shifted and screamed too, mocking Angel and laughing louder in his mind. He cried out for her again, stepping back from the kitchen table, wrapping his arms around his body, bracing his head with his other hands, clamping his red eyes shut tight. The creature screamed in delight, his gravely laughter ringing inside of Angel’s head while the radio cackled violently through its static. Eyes desperate and tired, he searched the kitchen for anything that could help him find Molly. His head swam with all of the different sounds and exhaustion, his mind blank with shock and fear, but determined to find her.

He searched the kitchen, eyes finding a large jar nearby that hadn’t been there before. He wept as he saw it filled with hundreds of gold and silver rings. He stared brokenly at the jar, there were so many rings in it, it was almost full, wedding rings, so many people…. Shaking, he turned his head to the scene in front of him - where there had been nothing now there was a bloody cleaver and a human leg sitting on the table. Mind reeling with the discovery, the screams of the creature faded into the blaring of the jazz and static from the radio as he stared at the new setting before him, ears ringing loudly in his head, the audio of the room shaking his body. The leg had been cut into two pieces at the knee, a tattoo of a naked woman and a rose high on the thigh. There were scraps of carrot peel and onion ends, a few leafy stems, but Angel’s eyes drifted to a large blood spot in the middle of the cutting board. Angel gulped heavily and stared down at the cut of what he recognized as the leg calf. His eyes followed the limb and noticed the foot had been cut off at the ankle, and was no where to be seen Angel realized with a pitiful whimper.

“The foot is a wonderful ingredient for adding bold flavor without wasting prime cuts,” Alastor’s static voice cut through the terror and filled him with a new fear.

“Tons of cartilage and fat for flavor,” a slow thumping came from in front of Angel, not as earth shaking as before, but it still filled him with the same dread. The sharp thumping of footsteps came closer, but he was too shaken to look up.

“Some muscle, some marrow…” His cheerful tone drawled across the room and wrapped softly around the lively jazz. Angel’s eyes were locked on the blood stained cutting board, he shook in terror and rage, clenching his fists so tightly his hands began to bleed. Alastor’s foot steps stopped right in front of the table, and Angel glared down through tears in his eyes at how his boots were immaculate, perfectly shined to reflect the green fire’s raging glow.

Alastor lunged forward with a black clawed hand and grabbed Angel by the throat, squeezing his fingertips into his neck and pulling Angel’s face to meet his snarl, “LIKE A HAM HOCK.” He growled excitedly through a grin, static distorting his voice, strained and unhinged.

Angel was livid among other things.

Shaking with rage and terror, the pale spider mustered his strength and looked into the demon’s face with pure rage but let out a shaking breath in dread when he actually saw it. Alastor’s features had been distorted and exaggerated, his shark teeth enlarged and razor sharp, dripping with fresh blood. Eyes bright red with burning green dials for pupils, his antlers loomed dangerously, black and jagged. Each bone ended in a sharp point, twisting and contorting around each other, sharp and dripping with acid green magic that burned. The demons crown was adorned with jewels - strings of limbs and cloth dolls, a macabre decoration that only served to make the Radio Demon more terrifying.

His face however scared him the most - Angel could see bits of hay and dried grass peeking out between stitches on his face and neck, straw coming out from under his hair, a thread by his grin hanging loose. He looked like a doll, sewn together with bright acid green magic, coming undone, burlap skin hiding wriggling worms and beetles that squirmed beneath the surface. He could see the demons neck and limbs were longer and more twisted than normal, bent at impossible angles, Alastor’s body looming larger than usual.

Panicking in his grasp, Angel’s eyes scrambled to see that he was much larger than usual, now taking up the same space as the creature before, Alastor’s legs twisted in a looming crouch, hands turning into large bleeding black claws. The titanic Radio Demon rest his free hand on the table that had separated them, cracking and breaking the wood beneath his weight. His suit was sharper and more ripped, bloody and gushing a black ooze from his pockets and collar that made the air smell rancid with stale blood and rotted meat. Angel could see bugs crawling from underneath his suit, running between his lapels and into his breast pocket, an unflinching smile plastered sharply on his burlap face.

Alastor leaned in too close to Angel, the green glow of his eyes lighting the spiders features dramatically “So what did you think of my gumbo?” He grinned, manic laughter ringing from the radio and inside Angel's head. Alastor was holding the spider entirely in his razor sharp grasp, fingers like a cage of swords holding Angel back, cutting painfully into his flesh whenever the cackling demon tightened his grip “Delicious, don’t you think? I’ll give you the secret if you promise not to tell.”

Angel screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists harder, “WHERE THE FUCK IS MOLLY??” Angel screamed, eyes set with determination, “GIVE HER BACK!”

Alastor fell into a tumbling cackle of deep, gut wrenching laughs at the spiders boldness. With a final squeeze, Alastor tossed Angel to the corner of the room, his body slamming into the kitchen shelves against the wall, before falling limply to the floor. Angel cried out in pain when he landed, a fallen knife slicing cleanly into his side. He winced and grabbed the handle, pulling the blade from his gut as he whimpered, weakly checking to see the extent of the damage as the room spun with magic. Alastors laugh rang throughout the cabin, the angry jazz and echoes of the creatures screams in the air suffocating him. Stitched together in a grotesque smile, long since dead blood now dripping from the cracks of his fangs, Alastor’s burning red eyes with piercing green glowing dials twisted with delight, “My dear, whatever do you mean?” The demon taunted, mirror sharp knives for fingers grasping for him, ripping cleanly through any flesh it encountered, a renewed roll of manic laughter flooding from the radio.

Angel winced as the claws sliced cleanly through him, clutching his side, Angel screwed his eyes shut and screamed as loud as he could, “GIVE HER BACK ALASTOR!” The demon turned its hideous head at a sickening angle with a large bone snapping crunch, “Who?” The demon jeered, eyes smiling, truly enjoying their game.

“Ohhhhhh,” Alastor taunted as he cocked his head in the opposite direction, another nauseating deep crack of bone, “Her?”

As he spoke, his eyes glowed brighter and the room immediately began to burn with his putrid green magic. Instantly, the ground between them fell away into a deep, fiery pit, a white hot inferno licking the edges of the sinkhole, the eerie red of the room giving way to violent purple and blue. The newly formed chasm radiated with the sickly green glow, the flames of Alastors magic sending fireflies swarming out of the pit in the earth and pelting Angel with singeing burns as they attacked him. Symbols and spells of Alastors magic in bright green and fiery white spewed from the fires, spinning around the room and popping at random, sending painful bursts of flies at Angel like little bombs. Inky black tendrils of shadow covered the walls, shaped like hoards of raging demons, all laughing and cheering, claws begging for bloodshed and violence - the shadow behind Alastor the biggest and most blood thirsty of all, jagged mouth dripping in anticipation.

“ANTHONY!!” Mollys screams rang through the cabin, Angel snapped up to see her clutching tightly to a threadbare rope, hanging from one of the colossal Radio Demon’s deadly antlers. Angels eyes widened somehow further in terror as he watched Molly twisting helplessly, fighting to grab a more secure hold on the rope, dangling like the other dolls that littered his branches of antlers. Her own eyes were screwed shut in fear, crying and begging for rescue. Angel sobbed as she screamed and whimpered, clawing for purchase while Alastor laughed, swinging her wildly around the room as he laughed, dangling her over the dancing fires of the abyss. The large demon cackled violently as he swung her around, Alastor now a magenta and acid blue titan looming over Angel as he stared helplessly at his sister.

Alastors burning eyes watched Angel’s face in delight, the spider desperate and frantic, scrambling weakly to try and find something to help his sister with, but there was nothing left in the room save for the four of them - Alastor, the twins and the chasm. The great demon shifted an eye over to Molly hanging from his antler and lifted a brow smiling wider, a terrible giggle coming from the static. Alastor reached up and held his dripping claws up to Molly, poking sharply at her side with his index finger and earning a pained squeak from the girl. Angel raged at the offense as Molly sobbed, swinging precariously from his antler, “STOP IT ALASTOR!!” Pupils shifting back to Angel, The Radio Demon splayed his fingers around Molly as she squirmed and dangled helplessly, the demon somehow smiling wider and more murderous. He flexed his clawed hands again and placed a razor sharp finger delicately against Molly’s rope.

“Oops!” Alastor quirked his shoulder with surprised delight, flexing his index and slicing the rope Molly gripped in a single swift motion. Eyes wide in terror, Molly grasped for anything and screamed, eyed locked with Angel’s, her slender frame plummeting towards the fire.

Angel’s heart stopped.

“MOLLY!!” He screamed as she fell, the shriek ripping what was left of his voice apart, the green flames of the chasm reaching up to break her fall.

Fueled by adrenaline, Angel ran to the edge of the pit and reached out for her, all 6 of his arms stretched wide, watching her fall, straining to get closer to her. Molly’s screams rang out in his head, louder than the jazz or the monster or even the ringing in his ears. He watched as she fell, bracing himself to grab her, he wouldn’t let her die again.

“ANTHONY!!” She screamed as she plummeted, her hands out stretched towards him, eyes wide in terror as she fell, she was so close… Angel reached up and out further, the tip of his boot hanging over the edge of the pit, brushing his fingertips against hers, he could just barely touch her… she was too far away….

“Not again,” Angel muttered, and throwing himself over the edge of the chasm, he grabbed a hold of her wrist, fully wrapping his hand around her and holding her tight.

He grabbed for her other hand as she fell but missed, causing him to hold on to her wrist tighter, only death could make him let go. He grabbed again for her as they fell, finally managing to secure her other two hands in his. Angel’s free hands grabbing for anything to anchor the pair to the cliff, anything to save them from the burning hell of Alastors magic. As they fell into the burning pit, Angel desperately grasped for anything, fingers finally managing to catch onto a crag in the side of the chasm, the sudden jolt of their abrupt stop jostling the twins, the pair clinging tighter as they settled.

Using all of his remaining strength and the three arms that weren’t wrapped around his twin, he held them securely over the pit, the rocky cliff cutting into his fingers and hands. Angel panted in panic and looked deep into Mollys eyes, the green fire raging in his sight behind her, “Don’t look down Molls, jus focus on me okay?” He yelled over the screaming of the Wendigo, the soul wrenching screeches steeping them both with dread.

“Anthony,” Molly whimpered pitifully, her eyes flooded with tears. The young spider sobbed in fear, wrapping tightly around her brother she trembled, knees clenched around his leg. Angel was quickly loosing his hold on the side of the cliff, the rocks so sharp that they threatened to slice his hands in two, but he wouldn’t let Molly down, not again.

“Hold on tight to me Molly! Don’ let go!” He yelled, voice raspy and hoarse, fear emphasizing his words. Looking up they weren’t too far from the opening, but with his strength already failing, he feared they wouldn’t make it. Mustering everything in him, Angel turned fully to the rocky side of the pit and slowly began to pull them up to the edge. Hand over hand he pulled them up, straining as he climbed, hands bloody and raw, cuts filling with gravel. Sweat dripping from his pallid face, he could hear Molly cry out in pain as the fire crackled higher against her hip. The rancid violin screams rang out hollow and louder above them, the cackling radio and angry trumpet filling the air, laughing in pure joy at their torment.

Anger surged through Angel, fuck his pain, he wouldn’t listen to her screams anymore, he needed her safe. Pulling harder, Angel climbed up the cliff and finally reached a bloody hand up and over the edge of the pit, grabbing firmly to the broken floorboards that signaled their salvation. Pulling with all of his strength, Angel threw an elbow over the lip of the abyss and pulling himself up, reached to find another anchor point with his other damaged hands. His fingers splayed for a hole in the floor, anything to help him pull the two of them up when the board supporting him snapped. Angel gasped, panicked eyes wide he scrambled to find anything else to hold onto as Molly and the Wendigo screamed, the pair slipping back down into the fire. The Radio Demons cries of laughter rang out renewed, louder than before, splinters littering Angels broken hands as they begged for purchase.

“FUCK!” Angel screamed, a bloody hand finally grabbing ahold of a wide crack in the wood inches from the edge, stabbing a broken splinter deep into his fingertip as he held tight. He trembled and panted weakly, pulling them up again, begging his adrenaline rush to get them to safety. With both elbows above the ridge again, he braced against the floor and clenched his torso, pulling himself back over the edge of the hole. He swung a leg over the lip and onto the splintered wood, scrambling to pull the rest of his body up while keeping a firm hold of Molly. Dangling over the acid green flames, she curled into herself away from the fire, sobbing weakly in fear as Angel pulled her up, her small hands reaching up to grab the edge of the chasm.

Straining against his own fatigue, Angel dug his heels into the cracks in the floorboards, pulling Molly over the side of the pit, her eyes bursting with tears. “Come on Molly, its okay,” Angel reached out a hand smiling, the screaming of the Wendigo refreshed in the air, “Jus’ look at me, jus’ focus on me.” Molly stared deeply into his eyes as Alastors howls of manic laughter rang loud through the room, vibrating the air in their lungs and sending the fire of the chasm high into the air. Molly screamed out in pain as the green flames raced up her body, her arms and upper torso the only parts of her above the fires grasp.

“MOLLY!!” Angel cried, straining hard against her wrists, begging to bring her to safety. Somehow through the distorted bellows of the creature and the mocking jazz in the air, Angel heard the sound of fabric sheering and ripping as he pulled. He stared into his sisters face as it contorted from fear into absolute confusion and panic, her screams shrill and pained. His own brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled her towards him, much lighter after the sound of the ripping had cut through the air. The colossus Alastor loomed large over head, mouth and eyes wide in twisted delight, fangs dripping rancid black blood, his disfigured arms caging them in. Abnormally large eyes wide, acid green dials lit the pair from the demons insane gaze, his cackling unhinged through the radio waves and Angels mind as a ring of shadow demons cackled and jeered in delight.

Molly’s screams rang out in the tiny cabin and shook Angel to his core, ripping him back into reality from the daze he had been in since hearing the sound.

He scrambled towards her, pulling her to him as she screamed out in agony, his confusion and fear causing bile to pool at the back of his throat, blood running cold as he forced himself to her side. “MOLLY WHAT IS IT? TELL ME Wha-“ He stopped when he noticed the reason for her cries, she had no legs. She screamed out again, “ANTHONY!! OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!” “She thrashed and shrieked, her brothers eyes locked on where her legs would be as he held her.

“IT BURNS!! OH GOD ANTHONY PLEASE!!” Angels mind went blank, fireflies singeing his face and arms, eyes locked on the hem of her shirt and the void beneath it “IT BURNS!!” Molly screamed.

Angel pulled her into his arms, hands shaking he secured her in his lap as she sobbed in agony. “Molly let me see…” Angel managed to say, words detached and hollow, a trembling hand reaching towards the edge of her shirt near her waist. He swallowed hard, the noise of the cabin all blending together and failing against the ringing in his ears, the pounding of his heart throbbing through his frame. “ANTHONY PLEASE!!” She sobbed again as he gingerly grabbed the singed hem of her shirt and pulling up slightly, exposed the burnt ends of hay and dried grass sticking out from under her shirt.

Angel stared at the sticks and reeds, unable to blink or breathe. His eyes mutely wandered to Molly’s beautiful face distorted in terror and agony, arms flailing in fear, begging and sobbing for the pain to stop. His eyes stung with tears, as her screams cut through the fog that had covered his mind and the cacophony of torment and horror came flooding in again, reigniting his dread. His body moved on its own, the need to comfort her the only way he could react. Weakly he reached up to brush Molly’s matted and dirty hair, voice trembling as he tried to sooth her. “Its…i-it’s gonna be ok-kay Molly… I’m…”

H̴̝̩̫͉̀̏̄̂ơ̸̢̼̞͗w̵̥̫̦̆͘ ̴̝̣̉w̷̝̱̃i̸̬̙̰̓̉̋͛l̴͇̈́l̶͚̯̦̈́̾̅͗͠ ̵̼̀̽̄̐y̶̼̏͛̚͠o̵̪̙̣̣̫̍͗ṵ̶̥̭̪̋́͜ ̵̿̃͝ͅf̶̛̪͖̣̀̕ĭ̸̪̰̀̋x̴͈̏͂̀ ̸͔͔̬̞̀̾t̸̘̍h̷̳̜̩̳̾́i̸͇̣̒̓s̶̻̭̪̐̊

“I’m gonna make it okay…”

Ḫ̶̛̛̘͕̘̞͉͚̀̍̅͛͑̿́̑̇̋̉Ơ̷͇̖̮̲̲̣̣͙͙̱̞̙̅W̴̜̻̜͗͗̋̅̒̕͝ ̵̧̤̰̜̩̫̱̯͚̹̼͓̍͌͛̕͜ͅẄ̸̨̛͔̟̘̮͉̮͓̻́́̾́̀͆́͛̏̋̽̈́̽̏̎͜I̶̢̛͉̊̿̂̽ͅḶ̷̛̜̠͔̞̦̠̫͓͛̀̂̃͛̌͆̒́̎̕L̸̨̦̱̠̜͎͇̭̦̗̭͈͔̭͈̈́͋͘ ̴̛̛̼͇̄̿͗͑͗́̚͝Y̶̻͆͛̓̒̈́͗̽͒̔͆͋̓̕͘̚͠͝O̴̺͖̼͖̣̙̤̲̱̍͌͐U̷̝̯̬̓̔̓̔͘ ̴͓̺̣̲̹͆F̴̧̫̠͔̜͙̖͍͍̼̞̭̓̉͌̋͂̏̎̈́̈́̕͠͠͝I̴̧̢͕̹͎̺̲͙̰̤̭̱̿͋͑͗̄͐͒͒̋̅̊̚͝X̵̺̣̣͔͔͙̹͊͘ ̸̬̳̰̝̭̦̹͕̣̺̅̎̂̅͂́͜͝ͅṪ̸̡̤͓͚́̓̄̉͗̚̚͝Ḩ̴̹̮̤̝̭͉̹͎̠̱͓̻͑̔͛̑͋͑̉̇̄̉͝Į̶̧͍̜̰̮̦̙̠̺̰̻̪̦̳̯͂̀̈́͋͝͝ͅS̴̛͎̠͎̐́̆̿̓͆̀͛̀̉̈̕͝͝?

“I CAN FEEL IT BURNING MY SOUL!! ITS BURNING MY SOUL!! ANTHONY PLEASE HELP ME!!” Angel whimpered and muttered hollow reassurances rocking them back and forth, eyes still staring at the hay coming out of her ribs, too scared to admit the truth to himself, afraid to look deeply at his sisters features.

“MAKE IT STOP!! PLEASE HELP ME!! IT’S BURNING MY SOUL ANTHONY, PLEASE!!” Her hands pulled at his sweater, begging him to end her suffering. Angel let out a choked sob, deep anguish contorting his face, he held her close and threw his head back letting out a rage fueled cry of agony. He screamed until he had no breath left in him and slumped sobbing against Molly’s now smaller frame, her shrieks of pain muffled as he buried his face into her neck. He grabbed her close and screamed again with her. The Wendigos voice called out in Angels mind.

w̵͙̰͇͎̄́̄́͌h̸͇̜̻̤̀̿y̴̫̗͕͌̏̓̒͠ ̸̜͎̀͊͆̚͝w̶̧̟̦̓̓̊̾ͅǫ̶̡̘̙̇ň̶̨͚͝'̸̰̊̓ť̷̺͂̎̽ ̸̡͂̄́̌y̷̱͆̒͝ò̵̬̬͚̼̒͂͐͜ů̷̱ ̴̪͔̳͖̿͂̇̈́ͅļ̴̜͆ȏ̸̡̱̟̭ǒ̴̖̙̥͋͠k̵̼̗̱̰̓̈̄ ̶͈̳̦͍́̈́á̵͙̘͎̺̘t̴͉͝ ̶̘̯͙̼͛̿́̾͝h̵͕͔͙͕̄́ȅ̸̫͈̟̙̯ŗ̶͎̠̗̀̏̓?̶͙̺̘̳̀

“SHUT UP!!” Angel screamed, clenching his eyes tight, Molly shrieking for death in his ear.

Ļ̷̢̨̢͈̯̦͍̗͕̝͙͂̒͛̉̓̔̓̑̌̀̋̀̆̌̅̿̏̓̂͊͛͝Ö̷̢̻̭̟̳̖̹̱̟͆̽̾͋͐̀̊͗́͌͊͜͜Ȯ̴̢̧̤̺̰͕͓͙͛̊̀̓͑̈́͛͘ͅͅK̷͉̪͚̲̰̟̗̀͊͐̇͂́̂̏̄̎̌̄́̚͝ ̵̧̦̬͎͔̰̙̓̽̓̊̃̓͒̓́͆̓̇͑̚̕͝͝Ä̸̢̡͓̳́͋̎́̌̈̈́̿̎͠T̷̨͚̯̜̫̀̒̎͑͊͊̑͊ ̶͉͎̫̣̱̬̈́͋͂̿̄̋̿̏͊̀̉̂̓̽͐̀̂̚͠H̸̛͇̎͂̾͐͐̓̈̄̆̀͋Ë̷̤̺͕̪͈͖̘͉̙̭̱́̔̃̐̇̎̾̔̽͊̕͜͠͝ͅͅȐ̵̨̛̞̩̲̣̻͙̻̳̬̖̪͍͛́̾͌͂͛̈̔

The voice commanded loudly in Angels mind and reverberated throughout his body startling him, causing him to open his eyes with a sob, tears running down his chapped and raw cheeks. He screwed his eyes closed again and biting his trembling lip, turned his face towards his screaming sister and opened his eyes slowly.

Teary red eyes looked down into her horror and pain filled face, acid green stitches lining her features and holding together the seems of her skin. Angel shook his head in defeat and sorrow as he noted the singed burlap of her cheek, her arms and neck seems bursting with reeds and dried grass. “No…” he whimpered, Molly screaming out in agony, “ITS BURNING MY SOUL ANTHONY!! PLEASE!! MAKE IT STOP BURNING!!” An arm seem ripped fully and her arm slumped to the ground, landing brokenly on the floorboards with a small thud. She writhed in pain, hay splaying on the nearby ground as Alastors manic laugher blared from the static of the radio.

w̸͔̩͍̹͇̣̻͑̎̐͂h̷̨͉͈̯̯̝̲̩̄̊͜y̴̢͔͈̥̪̤̜̑͆̄͊͆̃͒̚̕͜ ̸̬̹͚̟̓̂̚ͅẁ̵̺̭͎͎͖̱͆̈́ò̵͈͓̯̱̯͂̊̈͜n̶̲̖̗̩̪̘̜͌͒̈́̍͛́͊̆̈̚'̷̛̻̺̟͓̺̘̩̮́̒͂̓̓̊͑͜t̴̛̺̙̹̗̃̌̏̓̅̓ ̸͓̩̾y̵̧͓̺̲͕̺͍͚̲̅̊̂̋̅̿́̇̏o̸̰̞͙̐̋̓̊͂̕͠ȕ̷̺̯͔͈̦̯̑̃͊́͊͝ ̴͎̘͔̯̰̪͔̝̆͘h̵̢̼̭̺̪̜̤̋̿̐͜ę̶̡̞̪̟̟͍̣͕̘͗̀l̷̡̥̱̟̳̇̏͜p̸̲͎̘̰͎͖̥̳̱̽ ̸͈̪̜̘̭̲̭̻͑̾̌͌͐̂h̵̨̡͍̰̲͍̪͇̆̈̋͋ế̵̡͈̬̜͙̮̼͚̼̯̇̿͒̽͝͠ŗ̸̠̠̩̥͌̽͝?̴̛̳͍̯͈̤̞̲̒

Angel shook as she begged for death, shrieking cries begging for him to stop the fire from burning, that she could feel the fire burning her soul away. Angel sobbed and sobbed, clutching Molly’s body to his chest, her cries of pain muffled only when he buried his face in her hair and screamed himself. The jazz wailed along with Alastors roaring laughter, the static of the radio buzzing with the ringing of his ears. The Wendigos hollow pulling screeches served as a background to Molly’s own cries of anguish. The noise was too much, it was all too much. He clutched his screaming twin closer and sobbed harder.

“Anthony please….” She whimpered, a sharp gasp and cry of pain renewed as her body fell into further decay, the tear on her wrist ripping further, seems in her face popping, dried grass peeking through her hair and eyelashes, “Please Anthony kill me,” She sobbed, “I can feel it burnin me away from inside of me, Please… kill me please….” she begged, crying like when she was 6 and had broken her arm falling off of the countertop. She was so small then… She gasped loudly in pain and cried looking into his eyes. Angel looked down at his sister with tears spilling through his lashes, her stitched mouth contorted and twisted in pain “PLEASE ANTHONY!” she convulsed in pain and begged, truly, deeply, begged for him to kill her.

W̶̛̙͈̝̰̜͚̳̫̻̟͈̦̏̒̾͒͋̊͌͒̇̾̕H̸͕͙́͌͋͜Ỳ̷̧͈̜̬̩͕͈̙͉͇̊̊̄͌ͅ ̵̧̡̨̹̦͙̠͊̃̆̊̈́͐̓͛͗̋̕ͅW̸͉̟͖̗̦͔̉̄̊̾͑̊̍̃O̴̡̦̯̦̹̱̥̮̺̙͙͙͂͠N̴̯̫͔͚̻̑̽̈̓̆̀̈̋̊͜͠T̶̢͈̀̈́͛́̀̈́̚͠ ̴̛̤͈̦̠͎̬̭͓̂͗̃̓́̇̈́̈́͋͜Y̶̧̢̛͈̟̻̜͗̊͑̀̄̈͌̆̅̍́Ȏ̸͓̗̳̲̆̈̔̋̇͛͠ͅU̷̡̮̺͓̞̱̳̺̖̹̣͐͗̾̈́̑̀̐̇̅͒̄ͅͅ ̵̢̞͕̮̩̗̤͗Ḧ̴͍̳́̀̀̎̃̕͠È̶̫̲͎̉̽̚Ļ̸̢̛̼͇̟͉̭̯̟͎̱̭̹͛̈́́̌̇́̈̋̈͛̾̚P̴̧̱̱̤͓͇̲͑̍̇͑͠ ̷̲̗̳͚͔͖͎̯̗̲͎͓̣̍̽̈́́̌̃̈́̔͗̐Ḧ̴͔̗̋̂̅̇́̉̃͛̕͠Ë̶̗͔͍̪̜̙̘̲̫́̎̓͊̏͛̈̅R̸͖̜̪͚͇̰̮̥͒́͌̿̅̍͜?̶̢̭̘̺̲̗̗̾͑̒͜

“STOP IT!!” Angel screamed, Molly screaming anew. “STOP! Just… Stop it- I…” Angel’s body wracked with sorrow.

He pressed his forehead to hers, tears streaming down his face and squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not her, not again.

Angel let out a choking sob against Molly’s hair as he tucked her under his chin, not again. The beasts screaming echoed deep throughout Angel’s body, Molly’s cries of pain somehow louder. The ringing of his ears, the static laden laugher still screaming from the gramophone.

“What’s the matter Angel?” Alastors silky voice asked in his ear as the spider sobbed.

Angel rocked back and forth with his burlap and hay sister in his arms, her cries of agony cutting through the torment of the creature and the jazz. His tired and burning red eyes burst with tears, digging channels in his chapped and matted cheeks, pain coursing through his entire body. His ragged and pained gasps for air between sobs chipping further away at him, sanity long gone at this point, the horror of losing his beloved sister staring him in the face again, taunting him.

A̴̢̬̫̤̮̗̙͉̬̐̃͗͐ͅṘ̷̯͋̊̏̈́͑͆̎̋͝É̶̛̥̥̭̥̜̙͎̦̭͔͗̽̓ ̶̲̹̖̓͂͌̈́̌͋́͑̓͜Y̴͚̗̼̘̰̬̏́͌̿̔̄͌͘͘Ȍ̸̢̯̥̟̲̗̈̓͋̂̾Ụ̵̦̹̣̹̱͔̞́̀ ̷̼̄̉̉̍͌͐̈͘͝S̷͕̼̜̙̮̃̋̽̋̾̈͠͠Ç̵̪̙̜̞̫̠̯̊͆̎͜͠͝Ḁ̵̡̮̭̪̼̌͜͝Ṙ̵̨̝̘̻͖͇͔̆͊̆͊̽̓̋͜E̶͉͕͙̘̟͕̭͒͑̆͝ͅͅD̸̢̼̰̗̟͍̗̈́̑͗͜?̴̯͉̻̂̏͑̋̅̌̉͘͜

The question booms out in Angels head, sending shockwaves through his body and causing him to cling tighter to Molly, her shrieks of pain loud in his ear. Yes, he whimpered helplessly, he was terrified. He was so close to loosing her again he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except cling to her.

W̵̧̥̹͎̖͌̎̌̍́̀́̌̆̽̈́̑̔̕̚Ĥ̶̢̧͙̮̻̯̭͎͕͇̣͓͉̱̋̒͊͜͠͝͝ͅÂ̶͖̣̰͓͖̔͑̔̀͐̆́̀̚͘̕͜͝͝T̴̛̛͈̮̮̲̪͎͓́̆͌͊̄̔͘̕͜ͅͅ ̸̲͐̂̈́́͂̍̇͝Ẃ̵̜̝̺͛͊͋͒̆̽͗̃͘͘̚͠Ȉ̷̩͕͙͕̦̪͙͚̟̫̻̙͖͍̋̊́͒̾̉͜L̵̢̟̩̾̿ͅL̶̨̨̝͈̤͙̺̯̗̳̪͖̑͒͗́̿̄̋̓̀̔̉̑͘͝ ̶͔̰̣͓̩̥̙͙̩̺̠́̓̿̽͊̋̃͛̀͐̎́͌͜Y̸̮͎͍̥̮̻͉͆̿͂̾̋̊͛͊̔̄̉́͘̚̚͘ͅO̸̡̖̱̗͎̬̙̼̗̒̈́͋̇͆̉̀̆̊̍͘̚͜Ư̶̩̦̺͖̲̽͗͌̏̔̀̀̿̃̀͂́̚̕͝ ̵̳̳̜́̈́̓͊̈́͂͂̇̃̈͗́̎͂̊͂D̵̘̤̼̙͓̼̼̑̅Ǫ̶̻͍̽̌͐̑̓͛̆̚͠?̴̘̹̳̻̰̝̗̻͖̉̐̑ͅͅ

To save Molly? Anything, he thought instantly. He would do anything to stop her pain and see her smile again, anything to hear her laugh and end her tormented cries. He would give anything, do anything to end this, to stop hearing her terror filled and anguished cries of pain. As it was, her screams would haunt him for the rest of his life, her screams were etched deeply forever in Angels mind. What remained of Molly’s body twitched and writhed in pain in his arms, “ANTHONY PLEASE!! ITS BURNING AWAY MY SOUL!! KILL ME PLEASE!!”

“Anything?” Alastor crooned, his cognac smooth tone a gentle kiss. The demon wrapped his standard solid frame around Angel, the back of his hand gently brushing against his cheek, the other wrapped around Angel’s shoulder under his arm, fingers toying lightly at the exposed skin of his shoulder through the rips of his sweater. Angel didn’t even react as the buck pressed his chest firmly to Angel’s back, too broken and traumatized, only able to focus on Molly’s screams, “ANTHONY PLEASE!! OH GOD ITS BURNING!!”

Angel gasped and turned his head into his own chest, jaw and eyes clenched in a body wracking sob. “MAKE IT STOP!” He yelled out, Molly and the Wendigo screaming, the jazz violent and wild in the swirling green magic that surrounded them, popping and burning against the fabric and flesh. Alastor leans in closer, nuzzling the spiders cheek, pressing his lips to Angel’s bloody temple, “Say it,” The Radio Demon lowered his eyes and caressed the spiders wet cheek, his free hand slowly wandering up Angel’s chest towards his throat.

Angel’s body was numb with pain and grief. His mind was blank, he could barely breathe. The screams, the ringing of his ears and Molly’s shrieking cries of pain echoed in his bones, her body twitching and screaming to die, the hollow call of the creature and the laughter of the shadows of demons blaring through the static of the radio. Angel stared defeated and broken into the eyes of his sister, her red eyes bursting with new tears with each wail of agony.

“I’ll do anything….” He rasped out, broken and hollow, “Just help her…. Make her stop hurting…” He curled into himself, eyes clenched, tears streaming through the cracks, his body rocking slowly as he sobbed, Molly screaming in his broken arms. “Make her stop…” he gasped weakly “M-make her stop….Make her stop…. ” He rocked back and forth sobbing, Alastor rest his cheek against Angels temple, a lecherous smirk plastered wide on his face, clawed fingers gently brushing through his hair, his free hand delicately clasped around his throat as the screams of the Wendigo suffocated the air.

In an instant Angels eyes snapped open, locked on the demon standing feet before him in the doorway. Alastor was standing still before him, staff in hand, arms folded behind his back, a syrupy wicked smirk on his face. Angel exhaled and looked down. He’s shirtless, no cuts on his hands, no bruises or scrapes or Molly in his arms. He’s fine, standing a few steps into a medium sized bedroom, a small fire crackling warmly to his right, a bed covered in purple velvet linens to his left.

Angel stared at the demon, panting, eyes wide in confusion, what the fuck…. What was happening…. It had all been so real, her screams still ringing in his ears… Other than some other random pieces of furniture, and some paintings, there was nothing out of the ordinary about where he was now, it was just a bedroom at the hotel not so different from Angel’s own further up the hall. Angels eyes darted around the room as he panted in confusion, this didn’t make any sense, what…. What the fuck had just happened…. His mind raced with fear and chaos, it felt so real, he looked down at his hands, they had just been soaked in her blood, he had just been holding her, sobbing as Molly begged for him to kill her… and now, they were clean, no cuts, no scrapes, no stabbing pain when he took a breath or ringing in his ears or screaming in the air….

Alastor tilted Angels head up ever so slightly with the tip of his claw, staring at him with the softest eyes. Angel jumped and gasped weakly in fear, he had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Alastor approach him at all, “Darling,” The Radio Demon cooed, his smouldering gaze meeting Angel’s terror filled eyes, a crystal tear already tumbling down his cheek, “Are you sure you’re alright?” Alastor leaned in closer, brows twisted in concern, fingers gently tracing the line of the spiders jaw “you look a bit pale.” He tilted his face in closer, lips grazing Angels.

Angels eyes snapped wider in terror and he quickly retracted, turning quickly on his heel and pushing past Alastor, he launched himself off of the doorframe and down the hall, sprinting for the safety of his own bedroom. He had no idea what the fuck had just happened, but he never wanted it to happen again.

Alastors gleeful cackle rang after him down the hall, the demon tumbling over himself in hysterical laughter as Angel ran quickly away, fear etching a vow to never even look at the radio demon again. Alastor laughed in devilish delight as he considered what favor he would ask of Angel for ending his sisters pain. “He did say anything,” The Radio Demon mused, another wave of chilling laughter darkening the halls of the Hazbin Hotel.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x angel dust #alastor #angel dust #hazbin fanfic #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #my boy is racking up favors

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