and then he stayed with abigail

anonymous asked:

I think the ghost asking anon means they wonder if you have ever looked into reports/claims of the founding fathers appearing as spirits. Such as the popular beliefs of Lincoln still roaming the White House and George Washington riding a horse through Gettysburg.

I heard Benjamin Franklin’s ghost has been claimed to haunt the Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. A cleaning lady in 1880 said she had an accounted with his ghost and this was not in the age were one were prone to concoct stories as such. He ghost has supposedly also been seen outside of the building–apparently he was doing a “jig”. You can read more about this here

Josiah Quincy III claimed to have a spiritual interaction while at Mount Vernon in the early part of the 19th century. Quincy had visited Mount Vernon to meet with Bushrod Washington, George Washington’s nephew in the spring of 1806 and it was a story that he himself had not remembered due to his age, however, it circulated around the family. Quincy was staying in Washington’s bedroom–the room where he also died. While staying in the room, his father supposedly saw Washington’s ghost. You can read more about this here. His ghost has been sighted in six different locations. You can read more about this here

A few have reported seeing the ghost of John Adams at his home in Quincy, near Boston where it is said to be rather “glum”. You can read more about this here. The ghost of Abigail Adams has reportedly been seen hurrying toward the East Room of the White House, which is where she used to hang her laundry [x]. She can be recognized by the cap and lace shawl she favored in life. It is also said John Quincy Adams haunts the House of Representatives where he died. You can read about that here

It has been reported that Thomas Jefferson plays his violin in the yellow room and his ghost has been seen a few times around the halls [x]. There have also been reports of people witnessing Jefferson’s ghost wandering the grounds and whistling, something that Jefferson was prone to doing as he toured the property [x].

There are no records of a James Madison ghost ever been seen anywhere but a few times at his plantation Montepelier in Virginia. You can read more about this here, however, the ghost of Dolley Madison sure enough has. Apparently, when the second wife of Woodrow Wilson, Edith Wilson, occupied the White House, she ordered gardeners to dig up the Rose Garden that Dolley had planted nearly a century ago. They never started because her ghost arrived to upbraid the workmen for what they were about to do to which the men fled from the scene. Not a flower was disturbed and Dolley’s garden continues to bloom today. You can read more about this here. She also haunts the Octagon house. 

Alexander Hamilton possibly haunts the home where he was initially brought after being shot in a duel with Aaron Burr; 27 Jane Street. The tennant says she has been aware of footsteps, creaking stairs, and the opening and closing of doors; and even the unexplained flushing of a toilet. On one occasion, she found the toilet chain still swinging, when there was no one around. She also has seen a blurred “shape,” without being able to give details of the apparition; her upstairs tenant reports that one night not so long ago, “a man in eighteenth-century clothes, with his hair in a queue” walked into her room, looked at her and walked out again. You can read more about this here

The ghost of James Monroe has been sighted around Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia where he is buried. Monroe’s ghost has been said to rub his left shoulder as if reminiscing from when he was shot at the Battle of Trenton. His ghost is said to be calm and undramatic. The ghost of Monroe lingered in the Marble Cemetery in Lower Manhattan where he was initially buried in New York before sightings changed to where he was again laid to rest twenty-seven years later in a different place. There have been no sighting of Monroe at the White House or of his wife, Elizabeth Monroe, however, their two daughters Maria Hester Monroe Gouveneur and Eliza Monroe Hay are sometimes seen at the White House. Eliza’s ghost showed up during James Buchanan’s presidency and was rude, popped up out of no where and rearranged cards. Maria has been seen at the Decateur House where she appears distraught. You can read more about this here

Okay. You dont know how much I hurt for Will when we see him again, 3 years later after Digestivo.

The guy is still fcuking trying so hard to move on from THAT. And the fact that Will is still trying so hard to move on speaks how strong he can still feel the pull even after 3 fcuking years later with a wife and a kid and a new house and a life free from the FBI. He is still actively fighting all of it.

The guy didnt let Jack in his house, despite the freezing cold and despite the fact the guy still values his relationship with Jack, enough to listen to him even though the guy didnt want to talk about the murders at all. Will could have drove Jack away and not talk to him at all. Instead, he was “I can’t just shoo you away so let’s hear it anyway.” But not in his house where the guy could not bear to hear the echoes of his and Jack’s voices talking about murders and serial killers bouncing in the spaces his whole new life is built around (because it sure hell will bounce like crazy). Jack and his cases are tainted with thoughts of Hannibal, the guy would not NOT be reminded of Hannibal and the past life he’s trying so hard not to think anymore.

The guy didnt go fishing with his wife and kid. 

Instead, he stayed at home to fix a door. 

We are talking about a guy who used to have a deskspace dedicated for crafting his own lures, near his bed. Heck the guy was a fcuking fly fisherman and he was good at it! But the guy could not bear to share that outdoor activity he loves/loved with his new family without being reminded of Abigail, his murder-daughter who was given and then taken away by Hannibal, 

It was only in his memory palace but he sure is fcuking so happy about the idea, look at that face. Im not crying, you are.

When we see him 3 years later, Dear Will has not been able to put the past behind him at all. He’s still at that stage where reminders can take him back to the past as if he’s still living in it. Emotions are still attached to those thoughts and memories, and Will still feels those emotions strongly.

And what makes this hurt more is the fact that Hannibal made it sure just so. 

The moment Hannibal surrendered, all of Will’s plans of moving on were screwed. Will can change his life completely, new house, a happily married life, new things and activities to occupy his mind and time BUT Will would not be able to completely not think about Hannibal when (1) he still hears what’s going on with Hannibal, and (2) he can’t completely avoid it.

With Hannibal’s arrest:

1. Hannibal will be all over the news

In this way, Hannibal is still in Will’s fcuking face, unless Will decides to move to a remote area or island. But we know that didnt happen

2. There will be trial, in which Will will be very likely dragged into. Oh yes he certainly was.

3. More Hannibal will be on the news. 

You see? The news will be covering his arrest, his stay at bshci, his trial, after the trial — the Chesapeake Ripper is caught and that is sensational my friends, the media will follow him and will talk about him for g-d knows how long. 

How long, you say? Looks like Hannibal’s trial was a thing for all 3 years?? 

Poor Will. And the fact that Will’s visit made it cover story worthy means Hannibal the Cannibal is still relevant after 3 years since his arrest, i mean surrender.

Hannibal knows Will’s recipe for moving on — time, new environment, new people, not knowing what’s up with your ex Hannibal. Will may not be able to forget but these ingredients will gradually dull his feelings until they are no more. Someday, it’ll all be nothing but just memories for Will. And Hannibal knows that him leaving, just as Will wanted him to, will ensurely make that happen. 

So what’s Hannibal’s plan? Get in Will’s face and make sure he wont be able to entirely escape it. 
Keep dear Will emotionally attached with memories of you.

You tried so hard Will but Hannibal knows so much about how your mind works. 


Okay, about the fishing

My sorry ass managed to look away from Hugh Dancy’s glorious face only now in my Nth rewatch and see the thing past him

Wait. What is that golden circle thing behind him. Looks familiar…

And in a different angle… pardon the dumb quality, no giffing tools for me so if you want it clearer i suggest to go back to this scene in that episode.

Yes, it IS that fishing gear the guy has  

— this magnifying glass.

Because his fishing gear isnt out of sight and boxed up, it does seem Will was still fishing! 

HOWEVER this does not guarantee or say with absolute certainty that Will DID NOT stop fishing. (i mean, for all we know, he could have just put it on display or something but not really using it, or maybe it could be Molly’s. The woman CAN fish at the very least so…)

What it tells us is that there is possibility Will was still fishing.

HOWEVER this does not change the fact that Will chose not to go fishing with his wife and kid on that day.

  • Because for some reason, Will needs or wants to be alone? 
  • Or because fishing with his wife and kid family that day isn’t ‘good’ for him since it reminds him of his murder daughter Abigail?

A lot of things could be on his mind then since what does he do when he wants to quiet his thoughts? He fixes stuff. What are those things that could be on his mind?

Maybe Hannibal’s note just came in and somehow he feels like it’s something to do with those peculiar murders in Chicago and Buffalo he had been reading about? Wait, so does that entail that Will somehow knew Jack will pay him a visit about the murders any day by then??? Or maybe even on that exact day because he knows Jack knows what’s in Hannibal’s note since the fbi 'screens’ the ingress and egress of Hannibal’s parcels? Another possible reason why Will chose not leave the house that day????Woah, no i am not looking more into that or i will digress

Whichever the case may be why Will chose not to go fishing with his wife and kid that day, he was trying to 'stay away’ from the memories of Hannibal the past he left behind, coming back to haunt him.

so because @bechnaesun​ practically coerced me into exchanging future evak headcanons with her, we present to you everything we screamed about for over two hours. 

even and isak get married. and their life goes a little like this:

  • isak and even adopt twins because they would feel like they should adopt siblings so they never, ever felt alone, even when they inevitably start feeling like maybe if they’re not related by blood they’re not the same, but they’d have each other, always.
  • isak would read so many parenting guides!! and google searches!! one times he just goes on a three hour wild ride of reading parenting blogs online, and afterwards, when even comes to bed, isak is sniffly and whispers, “what if we fuck up their lives forever? what if they end up hating us, and never calling–”
  • and even just presses a kiss to the top of isak’s head and says, “they would never, because they’d have you as a parent, and your love is one of the most powerful things in the world.”
  • isak isn’t totally calm after that, but it helps, a bit, but he also thinks that even may be a little biased. a tiny impressionable toddler is a lot different from your husband, because even’s already seen him at his worst, and has promised to stick with him through the good times and the bad. and besides, he never saw even in his angsty teenage phase, and just think about it they’re going to have to put up with all of that! how are we going to deal with puberty! what if they start dating!
  • even: then we just tell them about how we fell in love.
  • isak: baby, you asked me to smoke weed with you
  • even: it’s okay i figure we have at least a couple of years to develop a clean version of that story
  • so the point is, even with all of even’s attempts to placate isak’s worries, he still insists even follows the parenting guides to a tee, just in case they really fuck up at one point
  • even agrees, but mostly because if they do fuck up, then he’d have something to blame it on

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What happened with taybigail

i’m just being reminded of painful taybigail things 

like that time that taylor and calvin broke up and taylor flew straight to abigail and stayed with her for like a fucking whole week (except when she flew back to LA for like a day supposedly to see if calvin was okay after the accident) and the only way taylor knew how to repay her was to get her a million fucking presents

and that other time when abigail was dating matt when he lived super far away so for christmas taylor made abi a certificate for a roundtrip flight to see him so that they could see each other

and that other time when taylor wrote fifteen about abigail and abigail was so fucking touched that she wrote the song and she allowed her to put it on her album and play it at every single tour AND HOW TAYLOR SANG IT TO HER IN NASHVILLE DURING 1989


British Invasion | 5

Overview: In the middle of her freshman year of high school Riley Matthew’s mother gets a once in a lifetime opportunity to run her firms London Office. Much to everyone’s surprise her mother accepts the job, forcing Riley and her younger brother Auggie to leave behind everything they’ve ever known. Almost three years later the Matthew’s family moves back to New York and Riley comes to realize a lot has changed in the time she’s been gone.
Author’s Notes:  [As always the text in italics are flashbacks.] Riley’s world is slowly starting to fall to pieces the more her heart gets broken. In the words of Stefan Salvatore ‘how many more ways are there for you to rip my heart out?’ Well, plenty. The next chapter will revolve around whats been happening to Lucas since Riley left. As it turns out, she’s not the only one who’s changed.
Chapter Five: “Sound of my heart breaking.”
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
Word Count: 4,374


“Just go – your new life is waiting for you.”

After abruptly ending their video call Maya sat there, staring at the empty screen before her. She couldn’t wrap her head around what had just happened. She hardly ever got into it with Riley, they were always so good at talking through their feelings but maybe that was the problem. She didn’t know how to talk through what she was feeling because she didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling in the first place. How do you tell your best friend that you hate that they’re happy without you? It didn’t make sense to her. She loved Riley and would do anything for her but the thought of Riley thriving without her, the thought of her living her life without her seemed unfair. They were supposed to take on the world together and Riley was getting a head start.

Her phone screen lights up, notifying her that she had a text.

Riles: I don’t want to fight with you, Peaches.

She types out a long message, apologizing, admitting to being in the wrong and just as she’s about to press ‘send’ she gets an Instagram notification telling her Riley had been tagged in a photo. Closing her iMessage she opens the app, curious to see who had tagged her and what the picture was of.

It was a picture of Allison and Riley, sitting on her bed eating take out and the caption read: Reunited with my best friend.

Feeling angry and forgotten, Maya did what Maya does best and she shuts down.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hey do you have any funny/weird facts about John Adams?

  • John Adams once faulted Abigail Adams because she sat cross legged and Abigail replied with, “a gentleman had no business to concern himself about the leg of a lady.”
  • Adams was the defense lawyer for the British soldiers who shot civilians at the Boston Massacre. 
  • In his private diary after first meeting John Dickinson, Adams noted that Dickinson was “a shadow…pale as ashes” and doubted that he would live a month. 
  • Adams and Benjamin Franklin once had to share a bed. Adams wanted the window closed, Franklin wanted it open and spent the night explaining why they would all suffocate but Adams fell asleep halfway through [x].
  • Franklin, Adams and Edward Rutledge were sent by congress to view the list of those who would be executed if the revolution failed and the list on those who would be given pardons which was held by British General Howe. Adams name was not on the list of pardons, meaning if the revolution failed, he would hang [x].
  • While on route to France via ship, Adams and his son John Quincy had to take up buckets and work with the crew to throw the water overboard [x].
  • While Adams was in France, Abigail still in Massachusetts struck up a correspondence with James Lovell was a married man who was into Abigail. Abigail kept letters with him so she could find out what was going on with her husband. But when the letters were starting to turn more “sentimental” Abigail saved all his letters and sent them to her husband. [x]
  • Adams and his two sons had to ride donkeys on their way from the port in Spain to France [x]. 
  • Thomas Jefferson became so close with John Quincy Adams what he stayed regularly at his home, struck up a friendship with his aides and John Adams said to Jefferson, “He appeared to me as much your boy as mine.” Nabby Adams and Abigail Adams went on shopping trips with Jefferson as well [x]. 
  • At Shakespeare’s home, Adams and Jefferson chipped off pieces from a chair were Shakespeare had sat. Years afterwards, Adams claimed that Jefferson on arriving, got down on his hands and knees and kissed the ground [x]. 
  • In the privacy of his personal journal he referred to Alexander Hamilton as “a damnable villain”.
  • While he was vice-president the senate and beyond referred to him as “His Rotundity, Duke of Braintree”
  • He was the first president to live in the white house, and he only lived there for four months [x]. 
  • He once accidentally sent pages of his diary to congress and they all read it aloud and laughed at him [x]. 
  • He was a bad dancer [x]. 
  • In 1797, a fire engulfed the shop and home of the publisher Andrew Brown, who had been an ardent critic of Adams as Vice President. Adams, who was already the President-elect of the United States, was seen carrying buckets of water to try help put out the flames [x]. 
  • When two brothers who were neighbors of Thomas Jefferson visited John Adams when he was in retirement he exclaimed at length, “I always loved Jefferson and I still love him.” This was carried back to Monticello and helped re-instate the Adams-Jefferson correspondence. 
  • During Lafayette’s grand tour of America the last time, he visited Adams and afterwards remarked “That was not the John Adams I knew.” Later, Adams said “That was not the Lafayette I knew.” [x].
  • In 1825 at the age of eighty-nine, Adams met with a woman he had nearly proposed more than a half-century earlier. Upon seeing her, his face lit up “What! Madam, shall we not go walk in Cupid’s Grove together?” to which she replied “Ah, sir, it would not be the first time we have walked there!”
  • Along with a portrait of John Adams in his closing years, Gilbert Stuart also made a face mask on him. But the face mask got stuck on his skin and he “thought he would beat my brains out with his hammer!” which is why in the bust of Adams on Thomas Jefferson’s desk at Monticello he looks rather tempered. 
  • John Adams last words were “Thomas Jefferson survives”. Jefferson actually died five hours earlier and the two died on the same day within hours of each other.
[Mark] Teacher’s Pet (Chapter 111)

All Chapters

“Can I ask you a question?” Mark asks me, tearing my eyes off of my book. My legs over his, he massages my feet as we fly through the night sky above Texas. When I look up at him, his eyes are soft.

“Are you scared of being a mom?” He asks me. His question makes me smile, not because it’s stupid, but because I can’t help feeling giddy whenever I think about the fact that we’re having a baby. I don’t think I’m scared of motherhood yet. 

“No.” I reply. “For the first 3 or 4 years, it’s just about making sure our baby doesn’t die. It’s just about food and poop and safety.” I explain.

“What about after that?”

“I can’t picture it yet, I don’t know.” I shrug. “Are you scared?”

“I’m absolutely terrified.” He nods slowly.

“Why? You’re paranoid, you’ll be a good dad.” I retort.

“What if I’m not? It’s not ways a good thing to be paranoid.” He counters, and despite his light tone, I can sense the anxiousness in his eyes. Now, that I think about it, becoming a dad should be a huge thing for him. His father left before they could make peace; they’ve tried multiple times but it never worked. I’m sure he doesn’t want that to happen with our child.

“We’ll help each other.” I say reassuringly.

“I don’t even know what kind of father I’ll be. I have no idea.” He replies anxiously. “If peanut asked me to go to a birthday party, I don’t know what I’d say.”

He’s funny to watch.

“It won’t happen for years; you have plenty of time to make up your mind.” I murmur.

“It’s adorable that you worry. I shouldn’t expect less from you. I know you want to be a good father.” I reach out and caress his cheek tenderly. “I won’t let you be a bad one.” I decide. Mark nuzzles my hand and sighs.

“I might actually start growing white hair if it’s a girl.” He mutters.

“You’re always talking about growing white hair, you’re going to jinx it.” I scold playfully. He chuckles and his eyes get smaller.

“You’re beautiful.” He says to me, making me smile.

“Thank you.” I murmur.

The next day, with Mark’s permission, I decide to go talk to Bea face to face. Andrew could have lied to me to hurt me; I need to know if Bea really hates me now. Jacob drives me to her apartment in the late afternoon and waits in the parking lot. I knock on her door, feeling nervous. I actually dread this moment, because it can either mean I lost my best friend, or that Andy is a complete douche bag.

Bea opens the door, dressed in a white shirt dress, her hair down and her feet bare. I’ve always been jealous of her looks. Her sweet face hardens when she sees me.

“Hi.” I mumble quietly


“You blocked my number?” Is the first thing I ask her, not knowing what to say.

“Yes.” She replies simply, crossing her arms over her chest. I blink, feeling stupid. What was I expecting? I call her all day all night and it doesn’t even ring, that means she blocked me.

“Listen, I know you’re mad at me, and I totally understand why.” I trail off, feeling a knot in my stomach.

“Oh, you do?” She challenges, a brow arched. She crosses her arms over her chest. I give her a quizzical look.

“Yes.” I reply wearily.

“So you’re here to tell me you shouldn’t have said I should abort?” She asks, challenging me.

“No, I’m here to tell you that I will support you if you decide to keep the baby. I just wanted you to know my opinion.” I explain.

“So you still think I shouldn’t keep it.” She concludes.

“Well…” I wince, not sure if I should lie to her or not. She wants me to completely change my opinion on her pregnancy and her relationship with Andy, but I can’t do that. I can support her, as a friend, I can do that.

She rolls her eyes and uncrosses her arms, ready to step back and close the door.

“Bea, I know you’re mad but we’ve gone through worse.” I tell her before she can grab the door. “It’s unimaginable for me to lose you over this.”

“You don’t understand, Abigail. You always think you do, but you don’t.” She says, exasperated. This is a redundant remark.

“This is worse because this is more important than everything we ever fought about.” She says angrily.

“One man, Abigail, there’s only one man I could build something with.” She exclaims, holding a finger in front of my face.

“I want to be with Andy, and I want a baby. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll probably end up alone.” She says.

“I’d rather have a family and no best friend, than die lonely and still have you.” She spits at me. Her words feel like a slap across the face. She can’t- did she just-

The knot in my stomach travels up to my throat, my heart twists in pain. At this very moment, I feel our friendship slipping out of my hands.

“This is too important.” She says quietly. “I can’t let you ruin that.”

“I won’t ruin it.” I promise, tears starting to well up inside my eyes.

“I’m terrified by the idea of losing you, Bea. Beside my parents and Mark, you’re the only best friend I’ll ever have.” I murmur, my throat tight with emotions. I don’t want to lose her.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” I plead. My tears and pain are ineffective on her. She stares at me impassively.

“Go home, Abigail.” She mutters, stepping back and grabbing the door.

“Wait.” I gasp, reaching out. She slams the door closed in front of my face. I stare at the wooden door, tears rushing down my face. My lips tremble.

“Bea!” I call, knocking my fist on her door. She can’t just close her door at me like that.

“Twenty-two fucking years, Bea!” I yell despite my tears. “You can’t just-” A strangled sob escapes my throat before I can finish my sentence.

“Bea!” I call again desperately.

“Go away!” She shouts from behind her door.

“Bea, that’s ridiculous! We’ll find a solution, I’ll back off!” I shout back, crying uncontrollably. When I hear no answer, I kick her door angrily.

“I love you!” I cry, but she doesn’t reply. I guess Andrew was right; Bea doesn’t want me in her life. 

Reluctantly, I leave, taking the elevator to reach the parking lot. My face is tear-strained, and I’m sniffling and crying when Jacob sees me, but I don’t care. I climb onto the back of the car in silence, and Jacob doesn’t ask any question. When Jacob starts the car, my phone starts to ring. Mark is calling me.

My throat is too tight for me to talk, but I still take his call. I bring my phone to my ear, sobbing soundlessly. 

“Hello?” Mark calls from the other side of the line. I sniffle, unable to talk.

“Abby.” He murmurs, sadness in his voice. “I’m so sorry.” He croons. I sniffle again, not knowing what to tell him.

“I don’t know what to say.” He says quietly. I don’t want him to say anything. There is nothing to say or do. I just have to accept it and move on.

“Do you want me to come home? I can be there in an hour.” He proposes. I stare out the window, watching the building where she lives getting smaller and smaller behind me.

“Baby.” Mark urges.

“No.” I choke out, wiping my nose on the back of my hand.

“Okay.” He murmurs.

“I’ll see you tonight.” I say quietly.


“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He murmurs, and I hang up.

When I come home, I cry pretty much all evening. I cry hard, I’m devastated and there is no way for me to hold back. As a torture for being such a pitiful excuse of a friend, I go through all my albums of her and I. All our pictures and videos. By the time I finish, my heart is officially broken. Mark doesn’t come home after nine pm. When I fall asleep after crying my eyes out, he’s still not here.


“Hey.” I hear Mark’s soft voice in my head. “I’m sorry I’m coming home so late. I had some complications at work.” He apologizes.

“What time is it?” I ask, keeping my eyes closed.

“Almost ten o'clock.” He says. I’m still so sleepy.

“Dinner. I forgot, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, baby. I ate with Letitia in my office.” He says. I drift.

“You’re beat, baby. Should I carry you to bed?” Mark proposes kindly.

“No.” I shake my head, sleep looming over me.


I wake up the next day in our bed, even though I remember falling asleep on the sofa. Mark is already gone. His side of the bed is empty and cold. I sit up against the headboard, my head pounding. There is a folded cloth on the bed at my feet. Frowning, I reach out and grab it. It’s one of my dresses. A read knee-length dress with short sleeves and a sickening cleavage. Mark must have laid it out for me. But why?

I fold the dress and put it back where it was before getting out of bed. When I pull my nightgown up to pee, I feel something stuck on my butt cheek. I quickly grab it before my pee stars to flow out and take a look. It’s a yellow post-it.

Dinner tonight. Be ready when I come home - M x

I burst out laughing, shaking my head. He stuck it on my ass.

I brush my teeth and hop into the shower. In my bathrobe, while my skin dries, I decide to call my prankster.

“Hello?” Mark says as he picks up.

“You stuck it on my butt, you idiot.” I grin, and he chuckles like the proud little boy he is.

“You were sticking your ass at me when I woke up.” He explains.

“You’re a child.”

“I had morning wood, I could have done something else.”

“I would have preferred that, honestly.” I retort.

“Oh, I’ll remember that tomorrow morning.” He replies, making me giggle. Hearing his voice already makes feel better. I know he’s trying to cheer me up.

“I have to go now, baby. I want you in that dress when I come home. Make yourself pretty for me.” He murmurs, making my stomach flutter. I love getting pretty for him.

“Okay, I will. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. I’ll call you later, sweet.” He says.

“Okay. I love you.” I agree even though I don’t want to hang up.

“I love you too.” He says and I wait for him to put an end to the call because I can’t bring myself to do it.

“You’re not hanging up?” He asks after a beat.

“I love you.” I repeat, wanting him to know. He stays silent for a moment, and when he speaks his voice is soft.

“I love you too, Abigail.” He murmurs, and his words diffuse a comforting warmth in my chest. Smiling, I hang up and free him.

When I started to prepare myself for our date I decided I wanted a drastic change in the way I looked. It often happens to me when I’ve been stressed out or when I had too many bad experiences. I got that habit started almost 10 years ago. Some people only do that after New Year’s but in less than five months, I graduated, got engaged, discovered I was pregnant with the most precious peanut on earth, I got married, I have suffered from injuries, I was assaulted multiple times and lost my best friend, and even though I’m not sure if this is over yet I want to find a way to leave all the bad moments behind me. 

Mark comes home later than planned than usual, but when I see him walk through the door understand why. His eyes land on me and he smiles fondly

“Hi.” He murmurs as I stand up from the sofa his eyes scan me from head to toe and he seems really pleased with what he’s seeing.

“Good evening.” I can’t help blushing even though his reaction was what I was expecting from him.

“Wow.” He breathes taking a few steps closer to me. He runs his hand through my long wavy bob.

“You went to the hairdresser?” He asks. I shake my head. I did it alone like every time.

“You like it?” I ask him. His eyes are dark and intense.

“You know I do. It’s sexy.” He says before kissing me and I have to refrain myself from pulling him clothes and kiss him more deeply.

“You look amazing.” He breathes against my lips. His hands slide up and down my back. 

“You have good tastes.” I murmur, my hands curling around the sides of his neck.

“You got a haircut too.” I observe. He kisses me.

“D'you like it?" 

"Yes. You look sexy.” I say before biting his lip gently. He groans.

“I’m not sure I want to take you out now.” He sighs, his hands coming down to my behind. He hauls me close against his chest.

“I want that dinner.” I counter as he starts kissing my shoulder.

“You can have me for dinner." 

"I want to go out.” I whine, pouting. Mark pulls away and kisses my nose.

“Okay.” He caves in. “I want you to have a great time. I don’t want to see you sad.” He murmurs before kissing my pout.

“I hated coming home to you yesterday.” There is sadness in his voice.

“You had cried yourself to sleep on the sofa. It broke my heart.” He cajoles, running his knuckles down my face.

“So we’re going to go out, we’ll talk about what happened, but I promise you won’t cry again.”


“She told me she needed to focus on her relationship with Andy.” I mumble, toying with the rim of my glass of water. “She doesn’t want me to ruin her life.” I explain sadly. Mark grabs the hand I was using and links or fingers, pulling my eyes up to his.

“Well, she’ll focus on her baby, and we’ll focus on our peanut, okay?” He says comfortingly. “I’m sure our baby will bring us plenty of happiness to compensate.”

“It still has to come out, though.” I mumble, looking down at my empty plate. Mark squeezes my hand to make me look up at him again.

“That doesn’t mean the fun can’t start now.” He counters before kissing the back of my hand.

“We have a new house to imagine, and a baby room to make in our apartment.” He says.

“A baby room.” I repeat, loving the idea.

“Yes, with a crib, and bedtime story books, and a rocking chair, and toys.” He enumerates, running his thumb over my knuckles. A baby room.

“This is getting so real.” My shoulders rise to my ears briefly.

“I know.” Mark grins. “We could find out the gender by now.” He pipes up. I’m four months pregnant now we could have known the gender since last month but we didn’t because I wasn’t able to go out and see my doctor. In the meantime, I changed my mind.

“I don’t want to.” I shake my head, and he frowns.


“It’s one of those few surprises that are left to people now.” I explain. “I mean, there’s not that much possibilities, but I don’t want to find out before we meet peanut.” I add and Mark nods scratching his chin.

“Okay.” He agrees. We stare at each other quietly for a moment before he speaks again.

“Do you trust me, Abigail?” He asks surprising me.

“Of course.”

“Take your panties off.”

“What?” I blink at him, shocked and maybe offended. He tries to keep his eyes hard and his face composed but I can see a glow of life and playfulness in them.

“Off. Don’t make me repeat myself, Abigail.” He commands confidently; it takes me a moment to understand that all of this is purely sexual. I got confused because I did not think our conversation was heading this way.

I’m not against being kinky and intimate in public and I think a little bit of thrill won’t hurt me. I close my mouth and pull my chair back. I look around to see to see if people are looking at me while reaching under my dress to grab my underwear.

Slowly I slide them down my legs until I get them off, all while making sure people are not watching me and my husband watches me with interest.

When I get them off, I hide them in my fist in turn to put them in my bag that is hanging on the back of my chair

“No."  He stops me and when I look at him he has his hand stretched out to me. At this point I understand he’s having no shame tonight so just hand them over. He smirks. He puts them in the pocket inside his suit jacket, satisfied, and I’m slightly turned on by his shenanigans.

"What are we going to do?” I ask warily. 

“We?” He arches his brow. Right we are not doing anything, it’s all about what he does to me.

“What are you going to do to me?” I correct myself.

“What do you want me to do to you?” He throws right back and I was not expecting that answer at all. I blink confused.

What do I want him to do to me?

“Answer me, Abigail."  He presses.

"I want to forget.” I reply quietly not sure what I am trying to say. “About Bea, and Liam, and Olivia.”

“Okay.” He says simply



Before I can ask him to elaborate, the waiter arrives with our food and my stomach wants more eating and less talking

Mark changes subject and won’t answer my questions about his shenanigans. Not wanting our night to be about me bugging him, I give up and tell him about what I have in mind for the baby room and the big house. He tells me about his work tells me he misses his mom and brother and that he would want to have dinner with our whole family.

“Come.” He says after dessert, putting his napkin on the table and finishing his glass of wine. I follow him and don’t ask about the bill because I know they will probably bill him. He takes my hand and leads me to stairs on the side of the dining area. They lead up to mezzanine and a hallway. Mark pushes door like he knows place by heart.

“What’s this room?” I enquire as we step in. The place his lit by dim and romantic lights in the ceiling. The papers are a deep red, but the floor is parquet floor. There is large, white leather sofa, a coffee table, a piano, and further on the side, slightly hidden from us at first, a smaller dining area with a single tale with 6 chairs.

“Some kind of lounge room. I’ve had a couple business dinners here.” He says in a way of explanation. I hear him lock the door, but don’t pick up on it. I walk over to the wall-length glass that gives onto the dining area. From here we can see everything and everyone. The door opens behind us and another waiter comes with a tray of drinks.

“Mr and Mrs Tuan, your drinks.” He announces closing the door behind him he drops the tray on the dining table and puts the bottles and glasses on it. We thank him and he exits the room with a polite bow. Mark finishes his work in serves himself a glass of whiskey but all I can drink is the glass of wine cooler.

“A wine cooler, are you serious?” I complain as he hands me my glass.

“You’ve already had a drink recently.” He counters clinking our classes together before taking a sip of his whiskey

“I miss alcohol so much.” I moan not refusing the alcohol lemonade.

“You didn’t drink that much before peanut."  He points out.

"Yeah, but I need it more now.” I say before returning to the huge glass to observe the soft blabber in the dining area. Mark comes up behind me and drapes one arm around my waist, his hands rubbing my swollen stomach in gentle circles.

“This place is nice."  I observe, leaning onto his touch.

"I was thinking about buying it.”

“So you can eat for free?”

He laughs, loudly, and kisses my cheek. I love making him laugh. I don’t know why he bought me up here, but it’s a nice way to digest the food. I take a second sip of my wine cooler before it’s taken out of my hand by Mark. I turn around and watch my thief as he drops it on the dining table, along with his own glass.

“I didn’t finish that.” I protest behind his back. When he faces me, I remark a drastic change in his gaze. He takes my head between his hands and crashes his lips onto min, backing me up until my back hits the glass. My hands fly to his shoulders as I yelp in surprise, and he grabs them mid-air, pinning them high above my head. His tongue invades my mouth, exploring and trying to take over. I gasp and turn my head away.

“There are people.” I gasp. What he is doing? He knows people can see us.

“I know.” He breathes against my lips, assaulting my lower lip with gentle suckles of his, making me whimper. His hands slide down my arms and trace the curve of my breasts and stomach. He pins his hips against mine, pushing his knee between my legs. I reach down and push against his chest, uncomfortable.

“Don’t.” He snaps, grabbing my wrists and preventing me from pushing me away. I look up at his dark and intense eyes, confused.  He lets me go and cups my face, plunging his gaze into mine.

“That’s what I meant by wanting more of your submission.” He murmurs. “I want you to trust me.”

“I trust you, but-" 

"No buts.” He cuts me off, wrapping his fingers around my throat. He peppers kisses on my jaw line, and I try to relax, but my mind is reeling.

“I don’t like it.” I whine.

“Forget about them.” He murmurs against my skin. His hand slides down my side, my waist, my hip, and slips under my dress, slightly hitching it up. His thumb rubs my thigh back and forth.

“Trust me. Just focus on me and your body.” He says, trailing his tongue down my neck. “I’ll never hurt you.”

“I don’t want to do this in front of people.” I explain, distracted by his finger stroking my thigh, dangerously getting higher and higher.

“Show me you trust me.” He emerges from my neck and looks at me in the eyes. They struck me with sincerity despite the desire in them. “I’m not going to harm or embarrass you.”

“I know.” I whisper, because it’s true. I trust him, but I don’t know what I have to trust him with.

“That’s all you have to know.” He murmurs, and I nod quietly. When he kisses me again, I take a deep breath and try to clear my mind. It takes me a while, but his hand reaches my behind and he gives it a string squeeze, I moan and relax against him. He nibbles at the sensitive skin of my throat, when my faint scars are still making my legs buckle.

“Mark.” I moan. Desire thrums inside me, but I can’t really bring myself to forget than we are most definitely watched. I decide that as long as they don’t see my face, I can overcome the shame. Mark picks me up in his arms and lays me down on the dining table. I watch, breathless as he retrieves my panties from his inner pocket and ties my wrists together. He pulls them over my head and hooks them to a chair, efficiently restraining me. I’m tempted to turn my head to the right to see the crowd’s reaction, but I force myself not to.

“I’m going to make you come with my mouth.” Mark declares, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look up at the ceiling and watch him circle the table while he drinks another sip of his whiskey. He looks serene, while I’m a boiling mess inside.

“And you’re going to keep my glass balanced.” He adds matter of factly. I frown at him, my ragged breathing getting my voice caught up in my throat. He drops his glass on my pregnant stomach. The glass is big and squary, and my baby bump isn’t that big so it stays in place. The glass is cold against my skin.

“That means no moving.” He murmurs, his index finger tracing a line between my breasts. My breathing heaves considerably, waking the glass wobble a bit.

“No panting.” He scolds. 

“I can’t.” I whimper weakly, shaking my head.

“If you spill it, I’ll spank you.” He declares. Everything vibrates inside me. I kind of want to fail on purpose. He hasn’t spanked for a long time. I watch him, and I’m so turned on I’m shocking myself.

“If you succeed, I’ll let you suck me off.” He promises. My god.

Instinctively, I look down at his crotch, discovering the bulge in his pants. My mouth waters at the thought of having his warm and thick cock fucking my mouth. Mark stands behind me and bends, bringing his lips down to mine, kissing me upside down. I shift, instinctively trying to reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair. His tongue dips behind my too lip, a moan bubbling in the back of my throat.  Placing his hands on either side of my body, he trails open-mouthed kisses across my neck and collarbones. I close my eyes and arch my neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

“You know; I actually hate this dress.” Mark muses, straightening his back. He traces his fingers up the sides of my arms. I try not to breathe too heavily.

“I like it when you’re home, but not outside. It shows too much of your skin.” He says, one hand slipping in my cleavage. He presses his lips against my neck while his fingers skim over my nipple repeatedly. I press my thighs together and screw my eyes shut. I want to squirm so badly, but it’ll make me spill his glass. He gives my breast rhythmic, soft squeezes while his tongue swirls around that sensitive spot on my neck.

“But it makes it more accessible for me.” He adds, his voice deep. I let out a trembling breath.

“But it makes it more accessible for me.” He adds, his voice deep. I let out a trembling breath.

“Calm down.” He murmurs softly. I try to control my breathing, and the glass stops moving. Mark’s hands leave my breasts and he stops kissing me. I catch a glimpse s of him as he circles the table and stands at my feet, but the glass prevents me from seeing his face. 

Slowly, Mark parts my leg, exposing me to him. I ball my fists as adrenaline rushes through my veins. Mark grabs my hips and tugs me down so my butt is closer to the edge of the table. I close my eyes and feel his lips on my knee. He kisses his way down to the apex of my thigh, but stops before reaching my sex. When he pulls back, a breath I didn’t know I was holding escapes me. He repeats the process, and stops before my sex again.

“Mark.” I whisper quietly. He kisses my pubis, slowly getting closer and closer to my heat. I know I’ll have to refrain myself when he gets there, but I don’t know how. When he finally wraps his lips around my clit, I sink my teeth in my lower lip, which makes the mindless tingles that travel to my core ten times stronger. The glass barely moves. He teases my clit with soft, velvet licks, and slowly, my moans start to fill the room. He moves his tongue in small circles, his hands holding my thighs spread for him. I slightly arch my back to keep my hips down and not move, but I also have to control my breathing so my chest doesn’t rise to much. Air starts to miss quickly in my lungs, and in no time, my legs start to tremble from the effort of keeping still.

“Please.” I beg breathlessly. He licks my cleft down to my entrance, his tongue circling quickly, and his lips suckling on my skin. His soft licks turn into bold and intense strokes of his tongue. It gets too much too quickly, and the glass wobbles dangerously.

“Fuck!” I curse under my breath, fighting the need to thrust against his tongue. My mind is filled with dirty sounds of suction and licking. I start to quicken, still trying to manage the glass on my belly. That’s the moment he chooses to pull away from me.

“Please! Please, Mark!” I cry out, not trying to lower my voice anymore. He gives my clit lazy caresses with his thumb.

“Mark.” I beg.

“What do you want?” He rasps against my skin. God, I was so close.

“Don’t stop.” I plea, struggling to keep my hips still. "I need you.“ I breathe. He pushes a finger inside me, making me see white.

"Ah!” I yell, y toe curling. He unleashes his tongue on me around, moving it around and around on my clit, pumping his fingers at a steady yet agonizing pace.

“Mark, Mark, Mark.” I chant his name, words getting lost between my brain and my mind going blank. "I can’t- please!“ I scream, my orgasm tearing through me like a million stabs of electricity everywhere inside me. I’m vaguely aware of the glass tumbling off my body, but I’m too busy writhing and squirming in agony.

When the aftermath of my orgasm, I convince my eyes open and look down between my legs. Mark emerges, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"You spilled it.” He observes, his tone heavy with both desire and disapproval. Everything is still vibrating inside me.

“And you came without my permission.” He adds. Oh, crap. I completely forgot about that.

“I’m sorry.” I choke, squeezing my thighs together, still struggling to come down from my high. Mark usually helps, caressing me and whispering endearing, heart-wrenching words of praise and admiration, but he doesn’t. That either means he’s really pissed or he’s not done with me.

“Flip over and kneel.” He orders, his voice firm. I open my eyes to look at him, gauge my margin of action. I want to protest. I may have only orgasmed once but it was intense, for a reason that still fails me.

“Mark.” I breathe. My heart is still racing. He’s not even letting me catch my breath. I look up at his eyes, and they shock me. The intensity of his stare is unsettling. His eyes are dark, with more than lust or desire.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He says quietly, his hands on each side of my legs, grabbing the edge of the table. His words knock the sass out of me. I oblige quietly, shifting so I’m on my stomach, my hands still tied up in front of me. Then, I kneel, sliding up on the table so I’m resting my weight on both my knees and my forearms. I take a sharp breath of anticipation, and I’m rewarded with a loud, violent slap on my ass.

“Ah!” I cry out, my body jerking forward. My skin stings, and it almost burns as it’s painful. He just spanked me. I moan when he pinches the same spot he hit, and it’s involuntary. The pain travels straight to my pussy, becoming a short wave of mindless pleasure. 

He spanks me again, hard. I hiss and bite my lip to prevent myself from screaming. I dig my nails into my own palms to absorb the pain.

I feel his lips on me. Gently kissing the place he already hit twice. His lips opening and pressing closed against my abused skin. He darts his tongue out and licks me, his hand fondling my behind as well.

I mewl, lost between pleasure and pain. He nips and sucks what I’m sure will be a bruise on my bottom, making me groan as each suction of his warm mouth makes my pussy tighten and relax.

He spanks me again, as hard as before, making me yelp. This time he doesn’t pause, spanking me again right after, not giving time for the pain to disappear. He spanks me repeatedly, each slap making me cry out, yell, scream and beg. The sounds of each slap fills the room, almost louder than the sounds that spill from my throat.

I understand quickly that it’s not a playful spanking. He’s punishing me. He said it to me before, if I failed he would spank me. At some point, my cries turn into strangled sobs. My eyes water and pour, tears rushing down my face as I take and take each blow. I never ask him to stop, though. I know he would if I asked him, but I want to challenge myself, trust myself as much as I trust him. But the pain does become unbearable.

“Mark, please!” I yell, back arched, face red and angry. He stops, all sounds fading away, replaced by my rapid breathing and my shaky sobs. His hand caresses my behind in circles.

“I’m sorry.” I howl, my breath hitching as I realize my pussy is rippling violently.

“For what?” Mark’s voice is calm.

“For coming- Ah!” I screech, surprised when he spanks me once more. I squeeze my eyes shut.

“For coming without your permission.” I choke out. I’m rewarded with another slap.

“Ah!” I scream, jerking forward so I can get away from his cruel hands.

“And?” He says expectingly. I don’t know what he wants from me.

“And?” I repeat, trying to focus, trying to think. He spanks me once more.

“Your glass!” I cry out. «I’m sorry for spilling you glass. I’m sorry.“ I murmur. His hand travels from my behind to my back, between my shoulder blades. He pushes my hair to the side, clearing a path of skin of my neck. He nuzzles my neck and inhales deeply.

"It won’t happen again.” I whisper, panting. He trails butterfly kisses across my neck, my jaw and my cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” I repeat. I kind of know he’s done spanking me, but I’m still apologizing to make sure I’m forgiven. He cups my face and kisses my nose.

“You’ve had enough, haven’t you?” He murmurs softly, his thumb wiping my tears on my cheek. I look up at him through my damp lashes. I find his eyes, and they are still hard, but he’s not a total stranger. Deep inside, I see my husband and all his love for me. 

“Yes.” My voice is barely audible.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He asks me. Because I wanted to push my limits. I take time to register how my body is feeling. Although the skin of my ass is burning, it’s also burning between my legs, making it all heavy and throbbing.

“Because it felt good.” I breathe. Mark disappears behind me. His hands slides back down my body, over the curve of my bottom, and he plunges two fingers me.

“No!” I gasp, my body’s reaction automatic, but in total contradiction with my head. Everything tightens inside me, around his long fingers that wriggle inside me. All my muscles go rigid and tight; air starts to miss.

“Can I come?” I implore, already caught up with that feeling of destruction. I just need to let go. Mark pumps his fingers in and out of me, growling quietly.

“Please, Mark. Can I come?” I repeat, my tors curling. I’m already there, but I hold back, I let that bubble burn in my core. I need to come so badly.

“Can I come for you, please? Let me come for you.” I sob, moaning and crying out as my walls start to shake violently. It takes me all of my willpower. My pussy is throbbing so bad I can feel my heartbeat in it, it’s throbbing.

“Please!” I yell, tears rushing down my face. I kick my feet against the table, unable to stay still.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be a good girl!” I promise, my voice shaking, my nails sinking into my own skin. Mark doesn’t stop, he moves his fingers around and around.

“I’ll be good, please let me come for you.” I beg again.

“You can come now.” He grants after what feels like an eternity. I let go, everything crashing into me at the speed of light, both pain and please exploding inside me. The sensation is both intense and so gratifying I find myself thanking him, multiple ‘thank you’d falling out of my mouth, while my corrosive orgasm erodes my bones.

“Fuck!” I yell, arching and twisting, tossing and turning even if handicapped by my bounds. Mark’s fingers are still inside me, pumping in and out at a steady pace. I shake, I tremble and white out. It’s all too much for me.

When I come to, I’m pressed against a warm being, contrasting with the coldness of the table. I’m still panting, and I can’t feel my body. I blink my eyes open and look up, finding Mark staring down at me with bright and warm eyes. I’m in his arms, sitting on his lap on the leather sofa. Suddenly, I feel terribly vulnerable.

“Mark.” I murmur.

“I’m here.” He says softly, pressing his lips onto my forehead. I grip onto his shirt, holding him tight, and close my eyes.

“I love you.” I mumble. I don’t know why I feel the urge to tell him.

“I love you more, baby.” He sighs against my forehead. His lips gradually move down until he’s kissing my eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praises, his voice soft. I tilt my head back to grant him better access, and he kisses my nose.

“So sexy and erotic. You’re perfect.” He says, pressing his lips against mine. I suck in a deep breath, our lips barely touching.

“Look at me.” He commands, his dominant tone gone. His order feels like a plea. I convince my eyes open, looking up at him through my lashes. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes soft.

“How was it?” He enquires, his arms tightening around me.

“It felt good.” I admit. I did feel really good, as far as the physical aspect of it goes. Deep down, I don’t really know how I’m feeling.

“You did so well, Abigail. You never disappoint me.” He coos admiringly. My heart warms up. Mark feels warm against me.

“I spilled your glass.” I retort, look down at my hand, a little bit disappointed with myself. Mark takes my chin between his fingers and pulls my eyes back to him.

“It wasn’t about the glass. I just needed to be sure you trust me. It was a test.” He explains, making me frown in confusion.

“A test?” I repeat. A test to see if I would in front of-

My face blanches as I realize all of this happened in front of a crowd. I whirl my head around to look at the window. Everyone is busy eating and chatting with whoever they are with. No one is looking at us even though we’ve just had sex.

“It’s a one-way glass, Abigail.” Mark says inside my ear. I snap my head back at him, my eyes wide. What did he tell me?

When he sees my facial expression, he raises an eyebrow.

“You thought I’d let people see my wife come?” He asks, almost offended. Now that I think about it, I know he wouldn’t. For a second I though he did, and that’s why I was so surprised.

“Why a test?” I ask him reproachfully. “I always said I trust you.”

“Because you didn’t know what I wanted from you. I wanted to be sure you still trust me.” He says, confusing me even more.

“And now I know what you want from me?” I arch a brow.

“We both know. You just gave it to me.” He replies, his fingers wrapping around my nape. He kisses my forehead.

“Complete obedience, trust, submission. You were totally mine.” He muses against me. That much is true. I completely gave myself up, but it’s not the first time. I always submit when we have sex, and even when we don’t.

“I kind of got carried away, but you impressed me.” He murmurs. I’m the one who asked for this, but I didn’t expect him to go that far. I don’t think I’m confused because he scared me. He just completely blew my mind.

“I wanted to forget.” I say to myself.

“I hope I fulfilled your request.” He says quietly. Oh, yes he did. I still feel shaken from it.

“I don’t think I can do that on a daily basis.” I blurt out, looking up at him.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” He says softly. “We’ll take it slow. You’re pregnant.”

“I’m exhausted.” I mumble, placing my head against his chest.

“I know. Let’s go home.” He declares, shifting under me.

“Not yet.” I panic, not feeling ready to stand up yet. Mark would offer to carry me, but I’d rather he didn’t, not in public. He hums his agreement, sitting back against the sofa. He keeps his arms around me, his lips against my hair.

“My god, Mark. I can’t believe you did this to me.” I say in wonder. He tugs me away from him, our eyes meeting.

“You didn’t like it?” He asks worriedly.

“You know I did.” I reassure him. “I just don’t understand.” I explain. He eyes me for a moment, but says nothing. He cradles my head back against his chest and just stays there.

“Do you know how a 26-year-old man falls in love with a teenager?” He asks after a beat.


“He trips.” He says, and I have to laugh at that one. I cathartic, unexpected bubble of giggles explodes in my throat, and I erupt in a fit. I throw my head back, and he laughs with me, proud of himself. I feel silly, it’s not even funny.

When I look back at him, he’s smiling fondly at me, his already small eyes narrow, small wrinkles at their corners. I observe every inch of his face. Sometimes I forget this man is my husband. Sometimes I get lost between what I know of him and what he shows me. It’s always good to find the man I fell in love with just by looking at him.

“Are you just going to stare at me like that?” Mark asks, his gaze never leaving mine. I bite my lip to prevent myself from grinning.

“You’re beautiful. I want to stare.” I murmur.

“I could do that all night.” He challenges.

“Me too.” I retort. He chuckles, and we stare at each other like two love-struck fools. It’s feels good. Suddenly the playful glow in his eyes faints away.

“I pushed you too far.” He says quietly. My face falls.

“No, Mark-”

“I took you by surprise. You’ve never seen me like this.” He cuts me off. I can’t deny that, but it’s not as bad as he thinks.

“You became another person.” I concur. “For a moment, I thought I had lost you, and I-”

“You were scared?” He asks warily.

“No.” I shake my head categorically. “I just had to look at you, and it was fine. You were still there.” I explain.

“You could have stopped me.” He reminds me again.

“I didn’t want to.” I argue. I enjoyed every second of it. I just wasn’t prepared.

“I enjoyed it.” He admits, his stare growing intense.

“I know you did.” I tease, flexing my ankle that’s lodged between his legs. His cock hasn’t softened yet. He gasps a little.

“I’m not ashamed of it anymore.” He breathes.

“I’m proud of you.” I murmur, shifting so I’m straddling his legs. My knees on either side of his, I wrap my arms around his neck and push my fingertips into his freshly cut hair. He sighs deeply.

“If only you knew just how much I love you. I feel like my chest is going to burst open.” He breathes.

“I love you just as much. I want to marry you again right now.” I counter before kissing him. He relaxes against me, his hands coming down to my bottom and hauling me close. He presses our bodies together, his tongue meeting mine inside my mouth. I hum in content, and when I shift fractionally, Mark groans. His big hands slide down my back, and he pulls my groan against his.

“Oh, Abby.” He moans against my lips. He’s hard for me; he has been for the fast half hour. He kisses my jawline and my neck before breathing heavily into my ear. His breath is trembling and he’s holding my hips a little bit too tight.

“I know you’re tired, but I really need to make love to you.” He mutters, a pleading tone in his voice. His hips buck and he curses under his breath. Mmmmh…

“I’m dying to be inside you, baby. Let’s go home.” He begs, his teeth grazing my ear. 

“Okay.” I murmur, reluctantly pulling away from his chest. Mark readjusts his pants multiple times during our trip home, but he’s not even trying to hide his erection -not like he could anyway. I don’t torture him by caressing his thigh or kissing his neck while he drives, because I know it’s not some game anymore. He doesn’t want me right now; he needs to make love to me. Even if all I did was laying on a table and coming multiple times, I know this night must have been emotionally packed for him. Between the fear of having me rejecting him and not trusting him, and the fact that he got a little carried away when he spanked me, I know he’s more than happy we came out of that restaurant okay, if not better, as a couple.

But when we get in the elevator in the parking lot, I can’t keep my hands off him. I can’t help but want to give him relief and make him feel as good as he made me feel. We’re a kissing mess as we stumble in. Mark quickly presses the top button before I pin him against the wall and devour his mouth. He roams my hands over his chest and sides, and he hauls me close, hands traveling to my behind. He hisses against my lips.

“I’m so freaking hard.” He mutters before I take his lower lip between mine. My hand finds the bulge in his pants. He’s rock hard and ready; so engorged with blood I can feel the heat through his clothes. I swallow his moans as I squeeze and palm him through his pants. He thrusts into my touch, groaning softly. When the elevator starts slowing down halfway through our trip up, we understand we’re going to have company. I pull away from him and turn around, standing in front of him as the door opens on a young woman. After a polite exchange of greetings, she presses a button a little bit below ours and gives us her back. 

Mark snakes his arm around me hand presses his hips against my behind, his hard on straining against me. Poor thing.

He grinds against me, his movement subtle, but I can feel it. His mouth comes down to the junction between my neck and shoulder, and he bites down quite harshly. I know he’s doing that to keep quiet, but in makes me struggle to keep quiet. I grab his wrist and dig my nails into his skin, which only makes him bite and grind harder; I almost lose my balance. When the woman exists the elevator, Mark sighs against my skin.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, kissing the spot he just bruised. “I need you so badly.”

“It’s okay.” I whisper as the door close again. There is only a dew floors left until we reach our penthouse, and Mark leaves open mouthed kisses on the side of my neck. When the doors finally open on our entry, I nearly leap out of the elevator. I open the front door and step in, Mark following me. He unzips my dress while kicking the door closed and pushes it off my shoulders. I let my clutch bag fall to the floor and my dress follows shortly. I whirl around and Mark kisses me, walking me backwards as I tug his jacket off, before fumbling with his belt.

“Bed. Now.” He growls against my lips. I pull away from him and obey, losing my shoes in the hallway, and my panties in the stairs. When Mark picks me up in his arms and presses our lips together, he only has his boxers on. He kicks the door of our bedroom and I turn the lights on quickly before he throws me on the bed and crawls between my legs. I place my hands on his biceps, run them up his arms and shoulders; and he groans, burying his face in my neck. I slide my hands down his sides and hook my thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, tugging until I feel his warm cock between our crazed bodies. Mark whimpers, almost in pain.

I wrap my fingers around his shaft and thumb his head, smearing precum all over it, making it silky. Mark whines, thrusting into my had impatiently. I pump it a few times to lubricate it. I want him, but I’m still not that wet, and I’m not sure we have time for foreplay.

“I can’t wait, baby. I’m sorry.” He breathes, kissing my collarbones and curling his hips, driving his cock into my fist.

“It’s okay.” I reply breathlessly. God, I’m so hot, I’m almost sweating. I guide his cock to my entrance and curl my arms around his neck, while he holds my hip with one hand. I hold my breath as he eases himself inside me. We both groan and Mark’s grip on my hip tightens dangerously. The stretch is so good.

“Shit.” Mark mutters, curling his hips and sliding deeper between my walls. I feel him swell inside me.

“So fucking tight.” He breathes, hips stuttering as he slithers to the hilt. I suck my lower lip in and arch my body as he pushes his cock deep.

He doesn’t give me time to accommodate, nor to build a rhythm. I don’t think he has patience for this. He starts thrusting in and out of me fast and deep, his face still hidden in the crook of my neck.

“I won’t last a minute. Goddammit.” He grinds out, his teeth gazing my shoulder. I might scream if he bites me again. His thrusts are sloppy and desperate.

“Yes."  I hiss, my nails digging into his skin. When I rack them down his back, his hips ram forward, thrusting so violently my body jerks up the mattress. He moans into my ear, and I repeat my actions.

"You like that?” I ask breathlessly as he pounds on, harsh and earnest. I scratch him down his back and cup his behind, pulling him closer.

“Fuck.” He mutters, and I feel his hips shaking a little, struggling every time he pushes forwards. On hand pushes in my hair and tugs, tilting my head back and making me arch my neck, the other palms the roundness of my breast. I feel his hot breath on my skin as he trails wet kisses around my throat, still grinding his cock against my silky walls. I buck my hips to meet his movements, and he protests.

“Abby!” He moans, letting my hair go and grabbing my hip. He tries to hold me down, but I know it’s driving him insane and it’s what I want. He fucks into me even faster.

“That’s it. Fuck me.” I moan, and he gives my breast a rough squeeze.

“You’re going to make me come.” He whines, nuzzling my neck and mouthing at my throat. I fight him and keep bucking my hips.

“Shit…aaah…baby, baby, wait.” He shudders against me, his thrusts uncontrolled, hips jerking up each time I dig my skin further into his skin. His moans sound like music into my ear, his hot breath fanning my neck.

“I can’t- baby…so good…” He grits, his words barely intelligible. When his cursing and moaning turns into small, desperate ‘uh uh’s, I know he’s close. Whispering words of encouragement, I keep bucking my hips until he spills himself inside me, his hand on my breasts shaking and gripping hard.

“Fuck.” He whispers, leaning on his forearms and catching his breath against my throat, his cock still hot and pulsating inside me. I sigh in content, happy I brought him to orgasm. I found him really sexy and vulnerable. I loved it.

“You’ll be the death of me, Abigail Tuan.” He mutters, kissing the dip at the base of my neck. I run my hands up and down his back. He shifts and kisses my mouth.

“I can’t leave my woman unsatisfied.” He grumbles against my lips, making me smile.

“It’s not always about me.” I murmur. Honestly, I don’t think I could handle another orgasm. I flip us over so I’m straddling him, his softening cock still inside me.

“I just wanted to make you come.” I say, looking down at him. Still breathless, he places his hands on my hips.

“I lost it when you started scratching me with your nails.” He says before catching his lip between his teeth.

“Like that?” I muse, racking my nails down his chest. He hisses, his abs tensing, and nods weekly.

“Yes, like that.” He breathes and winces. “I came way too fast.” He complains. I lean it and kiss his lips, letting his now limp penis slip out of me, along with his warm semen.

“It’s sexy. Makes me feel skilled even though I did nothing.” I murmur, pulling away. “I loved it.”

Mark gazes up at me, his hand sliding up my side and my chest until his fingers wrap around my throat. I toss my head back and sigh, closing my eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” I hear him say, his hand sliding down between my breast and cupping my stomach.

“You’re beautiful too, husband.” I murmur, looking down at him. I take his hand that’s on my belly and bring it to my mouth, kissing his fingers in turns and paying extra love and attention to his ring finger.

“I know this would have never happened 3 years back.” I say, before kissing the back of his hand.

“You’ve made progress. And I’m proud of you.” I murmur, and he watches me with soft and loving eyes. I bring my face down to his again, our lips nanometers apart.

“That’s why I let you come at the speed of light.” I whisper.

“Oh, fuck you.” Mark laughs, his face brightening with thunderous laughter.

A/N drop a comment in my inbox

Hannibalwriters’ Alternative Universe #FannibalFicRecs

This is one of the most challenging thing I’ve ever done for this fandom; there are so many Alternative Universe stories, some of them are so different from the canonical Vampire AU which every fandom has to offer. I think I’d want to reward the originality, in this case. I tried to organize my reccs in a sort of “alphabetic” order.
I didn’t rec the same author twice: I choose only one work per writer, but this doesn’t mean that the one is their best work, their only Alternative Universe or their only work worth reading; on the contrary! This is supposed to encourage the diffusion of different perspective of the same Universe!

Animal Alternative Universe: The One Where Hannibal is a Cat by @coloredink

Summary: Specifically, he’s Alana’s cat. And Graham is Jack’s dog. They meet. That’s it. That’s the story.

  • General Audiences
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford

Generally Animal AUs tend to antropomorphize the characters involved, partly keeping human traits; in this one that’s not the case. This is an interesting asexual interaction between two animals that don’t need to partake the same specie to fluently interact with one another.

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics: Mise en Place by @thehoyden

Summary: Pre-heat left him short-tempered and irritable, even worse than usual, but Hannibal had lingered in his office doorway and said, “Come along, Will. No reason to grade on an empty stomach.”

  • Explicit
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham; Hannigraham

Of all the A/B/O I could think about, this one strikes me because it permeates the biological aspect so typical of this genre; I’m not even sure I can consider A/B/O an Alternative Universe, and I’d have gladly chose at least one Omega/Omega and one Alpha/Alpha if I could, but there’s always @hannigram-a-b-o-library to thoroughtly look into the matter.

Birds Alternative Universe: Black Swan by @genufa (Warning: still ongoing!)

Summary: “Don’t say Hannibal,” said Beverly. “I’m saying Hannibal,” Will said. Beverly slumped back in the passenger seat, throwing up her hands. “Swans defend territory, Will! They don’t travel! We’re not talking Garrett Jacob Hobbs killing girls in five states, here!”

  • Teen and Up Audiences
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Beverly Katz, Brian Zeller, Jimmy Price, Bedelia Du Maurier, Jack Crawford, Mason Verger, Frederick Chilton, Leonard Brauer, Chiyoh; Hannigraham, Marlana

Despite the status of this story, I deem important to include this in the Alternative Universes that this fandom has to offer: the writer takes inspiration from the story of an aggressive swan to recreate his relationship with his momentary attentive and confused keeper, but the magical component renders this work original and worth waiting for the next chapter every time.

Guardian Angels Alternative Universe: Chapter 44 of Eggs in a Basket by @granpappy-winchester

Summary: Guardian Angel AU, where Hannibal and Will are guardian angels whose paths cross on occasion and who have different approaches when it comes to their charges.

  • Teen and Up Audiences
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Abigail Hobbs, Garret Jacob Hobbs; Hannigraham

It has been so difficult to decide which one of this serie of one-shots to include in this post, but I ended up choosing the one where Will and Hannibal have a philosophical discussion on the meaning of being seen and understood by your beloved; I suggest to read all of them, but this one was particularly well done in my opinion.

Horror Alternative Universe: Fais Do-Do by @moku-youbi

Summary: Will finds himself in need of staying at a comfortable and suspiciously remote bed and breakfast. He doesn’t know that its manager is reluctant to let him leave. (I took the liberty to provide one)

  • Explicit
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Mischa Lecter, Jack Crawford; Hannigraham

This is not a typical romantic setting; it makes the skin crawls during the reading, but stopping is impossible until the story is finished. As the reader, Will has no idea of what’s appening until it’s too late but, as the saying goes, it takes one to catch one.

Mall Alternative Universe: Make the Yule-tide Gay by @destinyawakened and an orphan account

Summary: What if Hannibal Lecter was Santa and Will Graham was a Mall Cop? Would Christmas still blow white?

  • Explicit
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham; Hannigraham

This whole serie is completely out of every possible projection of the canon Universe, but let’s start from the beginning. Will and Hannibal share the same working environment and a certain propencity for unorthodox festivity celebrations.

Multiple Personality Alternative Universe: Multiplicy (serie) by Not_You

Summary: The one where Hannibal is multiple, not (very) murderous or cannibalistic, and all five of him love Will Graham.

  • Explicit
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, but there are a lot of them, Will Graham; Hannigraham

In perfect agreement with this writer’s style, this work has a certain sweetness that permeates Will Graham and his life; Hannibal and his disparate selves show how difficult it can be to room with more than one personality and getting romantically involved at the same time, with every one of them.

Pianist Alternative Universe: Unchained melody by @mazephoenix

Summary: Will is a concert pianist who’s retired after an ordeal. His biggest fan comes to offer some comfort.

  • Mature
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham; Hannigraham

As so many of the stories this writer created, this work is synthetic but meaningful; the setting recreates a casual encounter between Will and Hannibal in a bar, which evolves in the beginning of their becoming. This is not the only one story I’d suggest of this author, even if I understand their style is peculiar; I enjoy it very much, anyway.

Pokemon Alternative Universe: Chapter 16 of Tasting Flights: Hannibal Drabbles by @unicornmagic

Summary: By request from soundingonlyatnightasyousleep, who wanted a Pokemon AU.

  • General Audiences
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Jack Crawford; Hannigraham

No matter how short this story is, no matter the fact that this writer is talented and came up with works more elaborated than this one, no matter why they did it, no one made an Alterative Universe just as perfect. I fell in love with it. There’s no way I’m recc’ing something else, not for this post. But you should take a look at the rest, because there’s a whole word of words behind that AO3 account.

Pornstars Alternative Universe: Literally Speaking by @halotolerant (Warning: still ongoing!)

Summary: So someone prompted me with: ‘could you write some old-fashioned 'Will getting his prostate stimulated for the first time and going completely out of his mind’ porn? Please? And I took that and ran with it and wrote 'Will getting his prostate stimulated IN porn AS as a porn actor’…

  • Explicit
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham; Hannigraham

This probably started as the classic story of two pornstars ending up with one another, which is what at the time I wanted to read, but then it completely derailed into this perfeclty fitting Alternative Universe where Will is not only getting the abovementioned prostate stimulation, but also some of his personal tragic events of the first serie; this fic made me realize just how sorrowful the encephalis should have been, more than the show itself did.

Post-Apocalypse Alternative Universe: some say in ice by peppermintquartz

Summary: The end of the world came suddenly.

  • General Audiences
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Will Graham’s dog; Hannigraham

This is beautiful in the sort of hannibalesque way that could lead the intere evolution of Will Graham in a fanfiction instead of three slow burning series: Will has to face the fact that life can suddenly change and moral could slow down his escalating evolution. It’s a cold story, made of snow and estinguishing fire in the chimney, and the writer uses a cold style, where taking a hand in your own can warm you up more than the sun.

Professional Killer Alternative Universe: Cu Sith by @slqtherin

Summary: Verger hires Will Graham, a professional killer, to murder Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Will gets a date with a serial killer instead.

  • Explicit
  • Graphic Depictions Of Violence
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Will Graham’s dog; Hannigraham

Will is equally frustrated and exasperated by his target, and that’s probably the reason why he wants to shoot in his mouth right after their first banter; fortunately that’s not the case. He hopes to profite from the occasion, but things don’t end the way either he nor Hannibal predicted. But you need to read also the sequel to reach this part.

Role Reversal Alternative Universe: Sleeping in the Knife Drawer by @emungere

Summary: Hannibal’s an FBI agent. Will’s a serial killer. He still has a lot of dogs and dislikes being sociable. Hannibal still wants to wind him up and watch him go.

  • Teen and Up Audiences
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Jack Crawford

In the remote possibility that Will finds the FBI Agent Lecter interesting, he would take much pleasure in not showing him he’s intrigued. That’s what happens in this story, or at least that’s how I see it, because Will probably wants to push away him, for their own good, playing the aggressive psychiatrist, but ends up fashinated with the darkness that Hannibal doesn’t particularly care to hide.

Single Parent Alternative Universe: Pi’s Lullaby by @t-pock (Warning: still ongoing!)

Summary: Will loses his daughter at the mall. Hannibal returns her to him.

  • Explicit
  • No Archive Warnings Apply
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Alana Bloom, Aleksandra Graham (Original Character)

Hannibal falls in love with her, first. Then he sees his father and decides that he’s not a man that settles for less than the whole Graham package; that’s how he decides to start his slow pursue of his beloved little family, instead of Will’s darkest inclinations.

SCP Foundation Alternative Universe: Alive Humanoid Sensory Euclid by @berlynn-wohl

Summary: AU in which Will and Hannibal (and Jack) work for the SCP Foundation. This is also a fill for two prompts on the Hannibal kinkmeme.

  • Explicit
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Jack Crawford, Freddie Lounds; Hannigraham

To be honest, more than the story itself, the Alternative Universe fashinates me, when I think about this fic: the writer revisits with a certain fidelity what happens in the first serie, so it’s not the originality per se that I would recommend in here, so much as the way the author adapts this sci-fi Universe to our fandom. It has been incredible reading all about the eccentric objects that Will and Hannibal daily get in touch with.

Soulmates Alternative Universe: Chapter 4 of Alana Finds Out by @victorineb

Summary: In which Alana and Hannibal don’t match, but someone else does.

  • Mature
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Alana Bloom; Hannigraham, Hannibloom

This entire serie is probably the quintessence of what this challenge is about: every chapter has its Universe, its dynamycs, and this one beautifully represents the fact that Alana might be perfect, lovely for anyone, but Hannibal and Will are just too taken from one another to see anyone else; obviously they need incentive to admit it.

Unpleasant Theme Alternative Universe: Yourself and People Like You by @metaphoregoneawry

Summary: Meet someone like you.

  • Mature
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Frederick Chilton; Hannigraham

I can’t even begin to describe how this story hurts. All over. But this is not a good reason to not read it: their tragic situation can’t end well, the writer promisses suffering and desperation in a subtle, constant way; this doens’t stop Hannibal from trying to grasp what little happiness he can afford in Will.

Zombies Alternative Universe: Hierarchy of Needs by @xzombiexkittenx

Summary: It’s the end of the world and everyone’s immediate needs have changed. It’s also Hannibal’s chance to have everything he wants.

  • Explicit
  • Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
  • Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Bedelia Du Maurier, Margot Verger, Mason Verger, Judy; Hannigraham, MargotJudy

Instead of a confused battle for surviving, this story describes every stages that the humanity should go through in order to gain what it has lost. Will knows about Hannibal’s proclivities, but he has to adapt to a new world, where being a cannibalistic serial killer doesn’t make him the worst monster in the planet.

This has been exausting; the computer shut down twice and so I had to learn how to save drafts, but it’s finally finished. I know there could be a lot more to rec, and I hope someone takes the trouble to rec Shark Tank, since I went for the Zombie AU one.
I didn’t include Crossovers or Rarepairs, nor did I went for pairings different from Hannigram, if not secondary, but I suspect this post is already too long for anyone to read it all; if your’re here, I’m obviously wrong, and I’m happy to be!
Thank you very much @hannibalficwriters for this opportunity to remember that this fandom has so much to give, so much to discover, still after so much time.

Taming the Demon Pt.1

This is a monster AU, where you are a monster hunter with the F.B.I. You work with other monsters to capture the ones causing havok. Your boss holds a meeting with everyone in your division about the toughest monster yet. The Demon King, who doesn’t back down. What happens when you’re the one assigned to it, though?

A/n: This has to be the longest thing that I have ever written. This has literally been going on in my mind for over a week. Tell me what you think and let me know if you want to be tagged. I’m sure what I fully have planned for this yet, so uh stay tuned. Enjoy!

Your friends said that you were crazy to the desire to run the M.H.M. division. Full name being Monsters Hunting Monsters division of the F.B.I. Yet, here you are in a meeting talking about the next monster that your team would need to round up. 

You never liked the term monsters, though. Seemed rude to just label them something so negative. Some of them didn’t choose to be the way that they are. Some were just caught at a bad time. Those were the ones that you were mostly likely to work with side by side. 

There are four categories of “monsters”. The first was the safe ones, the ones that could walk the streets with no problems. Often they went unnoticed, people able to brush them off as humans. The second was the caution, these were the ones that you work with. They were good people, just someone pushed them a little too far and now they were labeled unsafe. The third category were the half humans/the ones that you could bribe. You only work with them if it is absolutely necessary, which rarely happened. The fourth and last category was your least favorite, the evil ones is what they were called. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

(Sleepover,wooh!) Bachelors and bachelorettes first time in the mines w/ farmer ! :>

Alex - He thinks he can protect the Farmer, but the Farmer ends up protecting him. All it does is makes him fall more in love, and vow to work out more.

Elliott - I wrote a whole thing on this!

Harvey - He brings about 17 too many first aid kits, and frets the whole time.

Sam - He gets really distracted and wants to touch everything

Sebastian - He stays by the exit, not really venturing out to see much.

Shane - He screams profanities the whole time.

Abigail - She’s so into it. She’s swinging her sword, learning how to be a real adventurer.

Haley - She doesn’t go.

Leah - She spends most of her time harvesting cave carrots.

Maru - She looks for new metals to make machines.

Penny - She stays close to the Farmer, scared but also excited.

Emily - She somehow found 8 diamonds.

anonymous asked:

With downloading mods you can change stuff in Stardew, for example, change your horse into a bear. Town's reaction when they see the farmer just riding into town on either a bear or tiger?

Alex was tossing his ball as he enjoyed the fresh air. It was just another day. Some movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye and he turned to see what it was. His mouth fell open and the ball fell to the ground, bouncing away as he gaped in shock.

The farmer was riding on the back of a bear.

“Morning, Alex!” the farmer called with a wave and a smile as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Alex tried to form words, but is vocal chords didn’t seem to want to work. Instead he just stared as the bear ambled behind his house. He turned around and watched as the bear crossed the bridge over the river and headed south, farmer looking quite content the whole time.

When they finally reached the blacksmith’s shop the Farmer hopped off and entered the building, backpack slung over their shoulders.

When Clint looked up his eyes grew wide at the sight of a bear waiting outside before the door closed and blocked it from view.

“Uh, you might want to stay in here for a bit.” he said.

“Hm? Why?” the farmer asked.

“You must have just missed it as you came in, but there’s a bear out there.” Clint said.

“Oh, you mean Smokey? Don’t worry about him. He’s mine.” the farmer laughed as they swung their backpack onto the counter. “Now how about opening some of these geodes for me?”

“Wait, you own a bear?” Clint asked, sweat that had nothing to do with the forge appearing on his brow.

Across town Abigail was exiting her father’s store when she saw Alex sitting on the ground with a thousand yard stare. Quirking a brow she walked up to him.

“Hey, you alright?” she asked.

“The farmer just rode by on a bear.” Alex said, still staring into the middle distance.

“For real?” Abigail asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

“I couldn’t make up something like that. They said good morning and just kept on going.” he said.

“Which way did they go?” she asked, the excitement clear in her voice.

Alex simply pointed and Abigail raced off. She had to check this out! Imagine riding a bear! Oh she had so many questions for the farmer. Namely, could she ride the bear?

Torn 20

I was working on Torn earlier when I realized I had so much more to write before I posted both installments. So I just decided to post part of it and make it part 20 to keep you from waiting any longer. This is a long one at 8k plus words and again I am still not done. So I hope you enjoy Eric and the reader and my apologies for the wait.

“So did you really take my granddaughter to see your lover instead of her own father?” Angelina had just burped her granddaughter and you inwardly groan as you were hoping for an uneventful visit. You shook your head at being such a fool. She was after all Eric’s mom. You had not seen her the past couple of days and you had hoped she had went back to Erudite.

“Eric obviously had better things to do then visit his child.” You informed her as you took the half empty bottle of breastmilk off the coffee table.

“If Eric is not with his child he had a damn good reason.”

You stopped in your tracks as you picked up her tone towards you. You whipped around and focused on her.

“I don’t give a damn what reason it is he should be here for his daughter.” Angelina detected the anger in your voice.

“You need to watch your tone young lady.”

You slammed the baby bottle on the kitchen counter.

“YOU don’t get to tell me what to do. You do understand that it is a privilege that I allow you to see your granddaughter. If you as so much as look at me the wrong way you will not see her again. Go run and tell that to your son.” You were heated and you were sick of all things Coulter.

“Eric will never allow that!”

“You want to try me and see?”

Angelina gently placed a sleepy Abigail in her motion seat that Eric had brought her. The seat was a God send as it bounces up and down, swayed back and forth and had many more soothing motion settings for Abigail. Angelina looked you up and down and smiled.

“You know you might just be woman enough for my son.” A look of pride displayed on her face. “I will be back later tonight to tuck my granddaughter in.”

God when was she going back to Erudite?

“That’s fine.” You sighed as you saw her out. You sat on the and pulled your daughter’s infant seat up to you and gazed down at her beautiful face. Abigail yawn and scrunched her cute face. You found your fingers caressing her cheeks.

“I love you baby girl.” You whispered to her as tears of pure joy fell from your cheeks. You loved her so much it ached. You wiped the tears from your cheeks, got up after a few moments on the couch, took Abigail out the seat and went in your room and went to bed as Abigail slept.

Keep reading

How to be a kept woman

Any woman who dares to suggest that it’s OK to live off a rich man is likely to be dismissed as a traitor by feminists. Yet this is exactly the lifestyle promoted in a new book by Abigail Bosanko. Though the novel is fictional, the author was ‘kept’ by her husband, an investment fund manager, in an elegant Edinburgh mews house while she wrote it. Here, we present Abigail’s guide to becoming a kept woman…
BEFORE you even contemplate being a kept woman, know what kind of man you want.
If you want an art historian or collector who works for Sotheby’s, don’t settle for a picture framer, even if he has a string of shops.
Be confident - an intriguing 21st century woman with her own independent pursuits and talents. You want this man to fall in love with your beautiful mind.
Choose an unusual skill - this is intriguing and sexy. Play polo, or golf (not football - men see women who like football as spies in the camp); have an intimate knowledge of 18th and 19th century courtesans; play an instrument; learn about wine or speak an unusual language. Knowledge of food is always sensual.
This is something puritans disapprove of, but spending time on yourself - doing your nails, having a massage or a facial, or even just wearing your favourite perfume - is all good for your self-image and self esteem.
Lingerie is psychologically revealing. If a woman is in a happy relationship she has all sorts of fabulous lingerie, but when she’s unhappy she’s got her 90-denier winter warmers, and fleecy vests, because she’s not particularly interested in sharing that part of herself.
Even if you feel like 90-denier, wear something silky that makes you feel good.
Nurture your curves like actresses Kate Winslet, Catherine Zeta Jones and Marilyn Monroe. There is nothing wrong with being a size 14 - look at Nigella Lawson.
Think Forties Domestic Goddess. Wear elegant, simple, well-cut clothes, such as shawl-collared suits which hug your curves, in neutral tones. And don’t forget your heels.
The first-class lounge at the airport is perfect. Save up all your air miles and buy a club class seat to somewhere such as Paris or New York.
Hope for a delay, then you will all get to know each other playing Scrabble, with endless free drinks. Fine art, furniture and jewellery auctions at the top auction houses are also perfect.
Obviously he’s got to be wealthy, but he’s also got to be discreet. Showy wealth is a definite no-no.
Lots of gold jewellery shows someone who needs to be in a credit card club to feel financially confident. All a man needs is a beautiful watch, or a signet ring with the family crest.
Find out where he has been on holiday. There are two types: if he has been scuba diving in the Maldives or white-water rafting in the Amazon, this shows he has money and a sense of adventure. Alternatively, cushy stays in sumptuous hotels are perfect. If he hasn’t had time for a holiday, he’s too busy to appreciate you.
He should have an active hobby - one that shows stamina, which is vital. He should be generous, of course, and protective of you.
He should be well-read and informed, reading at least one newspaper in addition to the FT. Books could be things such as Martin Amis’s Experience, or J. M. Coetzee’s Waiting For The Barbarians.
In our modern world where women are career- queens, men find this concept odd.
One male friend of Abigail asked: ‘Why would an intellectual woman want to be bank-rolled?’ But when it was explained that it would allow her to follow her vocation, the concept became quite appealing. Start by saying that you would love to be able to pursue your passion as a rare book restorer/ cartoonist/script writer, but can’t afford to. He’ll be impressed and will offer to pay.
The first sign is when he offers to pay off your overdraft, then credit card bills, then suggests you don’t go in to work but spend time with him. While he’s at a business lunch he would love it if you went shopping - he will pick up the tab, of course.
When it comes to this sort of arrangement, you have got to be honest, clever and sophisticated.
Be bold, be daring, be honest. You need a joint bank account - you set the limit - plus your own personal savings account.
He can buy you a chic mews house, a penthouse flat - or, of course, you can move into his mansion. Ask for accounts at your favourite shops. You also need treats such as manicures, pedicures, chocolates and flowers. Exotic holidays and weekend breaks are essential.
This is sensual, loving, tantalising sex, not you fulfilling his fantasy - not unless the fantasy is mutual.
When it comes to sex, remember, curiosity comes first. With all the money you now have access to, you can change the venue as often as you like. Instead of going home, book into a five-star hotel. It will never get boring.
You should ask for gifts that are original: ‘A friend received an embroidered silk cheongsam (Mandarin gown) from her lover who was travelling in China.’
Expect a single, beautiful pearl, elegant jewellery, a race-horse, £1,000 worth of Lottery tickets or rare books such as the original Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
At least four times a year, not counting short breaks. Abigail’s husband often takes her to a romantic hotel near the Sorbonne in Paris.
Think skiing in Aspen, scuba diving on the Barrier Reef, a trip to the Galapagos or Madagascar, sunbathing in St Lucia.
He might have his own private yacht, so cruise the Caribbean or the islands in the Mediterranean.
Write that novel that’s said to lurk inside us all - Abigail wrote hers; finish your art history degree.
Get to know the best restaurants and cafes so you can lunch at length with your friends. Afternoons-should be reserved for shopping or pampering, and evenings with him.
It goes without saying that you will revamp your wardrobe. Keep champagne, chablis, caviar, organic bread, bacon and quails’ eggs in your fridge.
A bit of philanthropy is essential, too, so set up covenants to your favourite charities and feel charitable towards bone fide beggars - give more to buskers and pavement artists, because they are at least trying.
Send your family on their dream holiday, and treat your man to a surprise trip on Concorde or the best seats at a major international sporting event.
Always keep a bottle of champagne in the fridge for your disapproving female friends. They will be extremely envious, so kill them with kindness.
Never apologise about your chosen lifestyle. Don’t brag about it either - it’s not dignified.
You can insist on an expiry date - a year and a day maybe - but you decide when. Do not return your gifts.
When it ends, put all your overflow cash into an ISA and go on holiday for a month. Go somewhere romantic and beautiful, and take time to think.
You never know, he might follow you there and beg to keep you in a permanent arrangement.
Lazy Ways To Make A Living by Abigail Bosanko, Time Warner Books, £5.99.

Passing Notes

[A conversation between Clarke and Abby I really wanted to see. A thousand times fluffier than we would ever get on the show though because that’s how I roll. Expands on the first scene at the lab in the beginning of 4x07.]

Clarke followed as Emori led the way out of the underground lab, neither of them speaking much.

She felt a little better now that she’d seen her mom. There wasn’t much to feel positive about right now and just being in Abby’s reassuring presence was something she’d really needed.

She stopped suddenly, hesitating as it occurred to her she’d forgotten something she was supposed to do. Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered if she should go back. It had been a long trip transporting the hydrazine here to the island, for all the good it did. Since her mom had suggested it, she was actually looking forward to taking a shower and maybe even resting for a moment. She could always give her mom the message from Kane later, though the thought didn’t sit right with her.

“Problem?” Emori said, seeing her pause.

“Do you mind waiting a minute? I forgot to tell my mom something.”

Emori shrugged. “I don’t mind.”


Clarke turned back down the corridor. Sure, she could wait till later, but one thing she knew with growing certainty was that later was never assured, not for anyone.

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Stardew Valley Gothic
  • Whenever you try to stay up past 2am, something knocks you out. You’re pretty sure it isn’t exhaustion.
  • You think “looks delicious!” is some sort of new slang you don’t know about. But then you catch Abigail by the lake one night, munching on quartz. 
  • Sam’s trying to do a flip. He’s been trying to flip for years. “He can’t flip,” Sebastian tells you. But Sam keeps trying anyway.
  • You fish a can of Joja Cola. You dig up a can of Joja Cola. You find Joja Cola in your fridge. There’s Joja Cola in your crab buckets. Your pillow case is full of Joja Cola cans, and so is your mattress.
  • You wonder why there’s no bathrooms. Are they hidden? Gus says “enjoy the outdoors, kid!” and suddenly, you feel sick.
  • Harvey keeps warning everyone about the flu. Everyone gets the flu anyway, including him.
  • When Leah shows you her paintings, you notice something lurking in the forest. It is dark, and does not look like paint. When you point it out to her, it disappears.
  • A bright red mushroom sprouts among the trees in your field. You decide to keep it, because it’s neat looking.
  • “JojaMart is closed,” you tell Shane. He keeps going to work. You don’t know how to stop him. When you tell him again, for the fifth time, he stares blankly ahead. He’s hard at work. He doesn’t seem interested in talking.
Her Heart

Requested by @emilyisrightiamleftCan you do an imagine where Spencer finds out his longtime friend and crush he hasn't seen in years has a son from an unfortunate happening and spencer offers to help raise her son.

Title : Her Heart

Pairing : None, but Spence did have a crush on the reader

POV : Third person

Word Count : 1146

Originally posted by reidmeright

It takes a mere glance to fall in love, it took Spencer 3 years.

3 years of shy touches, silent conversations, discreet glances and keeping each other company on late nights. Every conversation had been embedded into his mind, not just each other but the way he felt when she laughed, when she got excited, when she cried.

It was strange thing, to fall in love. It’s so discreet and silent. It’s this sudden longing for them, the sudden desperate urge for their warmth and touch.

Everything happened so suddenly, so quickly. Just like her death.

It was strange really, when he got the call. He’d woken up, read three books, and made his coffee and had sat to read the paper. The phone rang and he picked it up and she, Rosaline was her name, spoke.

“Are you Mr Spencer Reid?”


“Sir, I am sad to inform you that…”

The rest of it was a blur, bits and pieces, phrases with buzz words that pierced my heart.

“Sorry..Y/n..Car crash..passed”

She always did say she wanted to go with a bang.

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The Meet Up

Originally posted by jaayhope

Words: 3904

Pairings: hoseok x reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You’re a beauty guru on Youtube and at one of your meet ups a special someone pays a visit

AN: Hey guys!! Sorry this is so long but I just got super into this story and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it

Emma’s POV:

“Thank you guys so much for watching today’s video, tune in next week for a whole new video and I’ll see you guys soon! Peace!!”

You turn off your camera and put all your equipment back into the closet in your studio. You were a beauty guru on Youtube and have been for 5 years now almost hitting 2 million subscribers. You loved your life, it couldn’t be any better with all the support and love you’ve been getting from family and friends online and off. You cleaned off your desk from the makeup you were just reviewing and separate them into two piles. The stuff you loved and are keeping and the stuff that didn’t work out for you and that you’re giving away. Normally the stuff you didn’t keep went to your two best friends Madelyn and Christian. If they didn’t like it you’d donate it to a women’s shelter in town. As you were cleaning up you got a call from your manager. Your phone was in the other room so you sprinted to go pick it up.

“H….H…Hello” You said catching your breath.

“God Emma, you need to start running some more.” Your manager Abigail said.

“Yes, I know I know.” You said. Abigail was your second mother, she made sure you were eating, doing work, taking care of yourself and having fun.

“Just a reminder that you have a meetup tonight at Sephora.” She said. Your face turned bright red in excitement and a smile widened across your face.

“I know!! I’m so excited!!!” You yelled in the phone.

“I know you are, so am I. Just be ready by 4:30, the car comes at 5.” Abigail said. You looked at the clock and it was 12pm giving you enough time to get ready and eat some lunch.

“Okay, thanks for calling! See ya soon girly!” You said.

“See ya!” Abigail said before she hung up. You immediately turn on a spotify playlist to get you pumped up. You started dancing around your apartment working up a sweat. You didn’t need to run, you just needed to jump around to old One Direction songs. You made your way into your kitchen and pulled out some leftovers from last night’s dinner with your friends and threw it into a microwave. A song you didn’t recognize came on your playlist, you walk over to your phone to see what it is.

“MAMA?,” You said not recognizing the artist or the song, “hmm, it’s still a bop.” You said keeping it on and dancing around to it more. More and More of the same artist came on so you finally decided to google them and learn more. You grabbed your laptop and plopped down on your couch looking up the artist BTS. Suddenly, 7 boys popped up on your computer all dressed in nice suits.

“Hot damn.” You thought to yourself. These boys were very nice to look at. You decided to start watching some of their music videos as you were getting ready for your event. You found yourself getting sucked into their world watching all the live shows and dance videos and random videos. They caught you and you weren’t struggling to get out.

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When I Met Her

On AO3

I am a firm believer than Silver and Miranda should have met


It wasn’t until the Walrus was preparing to set sail to Charlestown that John Silver finally laid eyes on the infamous Mrs. Barlow. It would be an understatement to say that she was nothing like he had imagined. She was quite a beautiful woman, yes, of that there had been no doubt. But the way she held herself with such grace and confidence… Matched with her gentle features and the calm intelligence in those deep brown eyes, she seemed quite out of place aboard this ship of murderers and thieves. Yet at the same time she personified everything Captain Flint was beneath the blood, savagery, and bravado. The way he wielded intelligence with more finesse than any blade or pistol. The way he was able to raise an army with only his words and manner of speaking. They were two sides of the same coin, truly.

Yet Silver took great care to avoid her. As to why, he wasn’t exactly certain. Perhaps it was guilt. Though he and Flint had finally succumbed to their physical attraction towards one another, they were by no means any closer. Their relationship, if one could even call it that, was nothing more than physical. Quick trysts far from any prying eyes. There was no emotional connection, no affection; they were simply enjoying one another’s touch. Silver could hardly even claim that their affair lessened the captain’s resentment towards him.

When he saw Captain Flint with her, though… It was like he was seeing a completely different person. His features would soften when those brown eyes met him own and a feint smile would tug at his lips when they exchanged words. And the way that they gazed at each other.. There was no denying the love and affection that was there. The years of history, the trust. It made Silver wonder what Flint could possibly want with him when such a person was standing right there before him. Then again, he was acutely aware that any and all relationships Flint held with those around him were inherently complicated. Gates, the Guthries, even Billy… He was certain that his ties with Mrs. Barlow were no exception.

And so Silver did his best to keep his distance. However, the greater the lengths Silver took to stay far from Mrs. Barlow, the closer she seemed to draw. When she and Abigail Ashe sat perched on the main deck with books in their laps, he often found her gaze wandering to meet his. She would smile this warm, knowing smile before returning to her text. As the two exchanged more of these glances over the following days, Silver could feel another set of eyes weighing heavily on him. Flint’s. The man seemed almost uncharacteristically angry and SIlver made a mental note that he best avoid him as well.

At least until that evening. Flint had given him that tell-tale tilt of his head and Silver, as always, eagerly followed. The two retreated to a small supply room where fervent kissing gave way to bold, exploring touches. It wasn’t long before Flint had him pressed back hard against the door, legs spread open with rough hands while they fucked. Before long Silver was leaning back against the wood, taking in deep breaths as he worked through his orgasm while Flint fixed his trousers. A question rose on Silver’s lips and Flint immediately silenced him with a palm over his mouth. “Don’t,” he warned him, somehow knowing of his intent to ask about Mrs. Barlow.

Silver spent that evening up on the main deck. He leaned against the side of the ship as he stared out over the water with a content gaze. The sun had just lowered below the horizon and the sky was gradually turning to pitch. But for now the light blue and orange persisted along the horizon. When he heard someone speak he immediately turned. The voice was female and unrecognizable. Then again, when his eyes settled on Mrs. Barlow he supposed he should have known. The gentle tone of her voice matched her perfectly. However, Silver found himself growing slightly tense.

“Mr. Silver, I presume?” she had asked. That smile was soft upon her lips.

Silver gave a slight nod of his head as he leaned back against the railing. “Mrs. Barlow,” he returned. Despite himself a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I must say, you look nothing like the witch that practices her magic within the interior. Do you really use infants’ blood to keep our Captain safe out at sea?”

He was pleasantly surprised by the laugh that left her lips. It was light and merry, and he could see in her expression that she had heard the stories. And not only that, but she appeared to pay them no mind. “I am sorry to disappoint,” she chuckled.

The cook shook his head, sighing in feigned disappointment. “It is a shame. I was hoping to petition you for something that would improve his mood.”

The smile on her lips only grew. “James is quite the hard-headed man,” she agreed.

“James?” Silver asked with an arched brow.

“Yes, most people tend to have a first name.” When Silver looked up there was a mixture of mirth and amusement in her eyes. And despite himself he found a genuine grin on his lips.

“What are you doing?” As usual the Captain managed to appear as if from no where. Though those piercing green eyes were settled on them both, the roughness of his tone showed that his words were aimed at him.

Miranda simply chuckled. “I thought it about time I introduce myself to Mr. Silver here,” she explained gently. Flint’s hard expression didn’t waver, not even as she linked her arm around his. “Shall we return to Ms. Abigail?” she proposed then. Flint nodded silently and wound his arm around her waist to lead her away. But first he made sure to aim another prolonged glare at Silver. The harsh look in those green eyes was unmistakable: A warning to keep away from her. Then again, he pondered as he watched the two retreat, when did he ever listen to the captain?

Over the course of the next few days he found himself sharing words with Mrs. Barlow on more than one occasion. He rather enjoyed her quick wit, though their interactions remained innocent enough as they kept within the bounds of idle chit chat. At least until that evening when she invited him to the captain’s quarters for tea. She must have noticed the unease in his expression, for she chuckled and assured him that Flint would not be there. When Silver arrived he had done so just minutes after another tryst with Flint below deck. He had cleaned himself up as best he could and, naturally, he gave Flint no hint of where he would be headed next. Based on the look he had been given just two nights before, he would not be pleased to know they would be conversing in private.

Silver knocked twice before he heard Mrs. Barlow call permission for him to enter. Knocking wasn’t a luxury he granted Flint, but right now his quarters were housing women, and he would be polite. The cook poked his head in before slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. Miranda sat at a small roundtable with a different book open on her lap. Abigail, on the other hand, appeared to be sleeping soundly on her hammock.

“Ah, Mr. Silver,” she smiled as she closed the large volume and set it aside. “I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you.”

Silver could feel the feint heat that moved from his cheeks down his neck as he sat down. And not just that, but the feeling of guilt that gnawed at the edge of his mind. That elusive emotion that was becoming more and more common as of late. She seemed to pay it no mind and poured them each a small cup of tea. Silver accepted the cup gratefully and took a sip. If he was being truthful, it felt very strange to be drinking something other than rum aboard this ship.

Silver thought for a long moment before speaking. “Mrs. Barlow, If I may… Who exactly are you to Captain Flint?” He treaded carefully with his words, blue eyes trained on her face to gauge her reaction.

She titled her head slightly at the question before setting her teacup back against the table. “I see we have quickly moved past propriety.” Despite her words that same gentle smile graced her lips. She seemed to consider her next words before answering. “James and I… We have known each other for several years. We are partners, close friends.”

“Lovers..?” Silver dared to ask. He barely breathed the question, the man well aware that he was far overstepping his bounds.

Miranda’s expression appeared to grow somber. “Our relationship is a complex one,” she admitted. Slender fingertips drew over the edge of the porcelain cup as she spoke. “I love James, very much, and he loves me. But there is so much more that I can’t even begin to explain. But it must be said, to you in particular, that all I wish for is his happiness.”

Silver drew back slightly in his chair. He didn’t bother masking the confusion in his features. Miranda simply smiled and leaned forward, fingers smoothing over the bruise on his chest before adjusting his tunic to better hide it. He could immediately feel the heat in his face. “Mrs. Barlow, I–”

That smile remained as she shook her head and raised a hand to quiet him. “You do not need to apologize,” she assured him, her apparent understanding genuine. “Nor do you need to explain yourself. James… Flint,” she corrected herself. “He finds a way to draw people with a mind likened to his own.”

Silver nodded slowly. He was still weary, the guilt still heavy on his mind. “He is… definitely something,” he admitted.

Miranda hummed as she took another sip of tea. “He talks about you, you know.”

An eyebrow arched in a mixture of surprise and unease. “Really..?”

A hand raised to her mouth to keep herself from laughing as she set down her cup. “Not exactly good things,” he smiled, “But yes.” When a slight frown pulled at the corner of Silver’s mouth she chuckled. “Rest assured, the fact that he talks about you at all is a good thing. James doesn’t waste time speaking of people that hold no importance to him.”

“What exactly has he told you?” he asked a bit uneasily.

“That your skills at thievery are just as poor your cooking.”

Silver couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips. However, it was stopped short when he heard the cabin door behind him. He could feel the way the air practically changed when Flint entered, the glare that dug into his back like knives. When Flint walked into view he did not seem too happy at Silver’s presence. Then again, was he ever?

Flint bent down to kiss the top of Mrs. Barlow’s head. “Dare I ask?” he wondered aloud, giving Silver that same hard stare from night before. His voice was gruff, strained. As if they hadn’t just kissed, touched, and fucked below deck less than an hour ago.

Despite the glare, Silver leaned back in his chair with a smug smirk on his lips. “Just trading secrets when it comes to dealing with you,” he answered. Flint’s lips pursed in response.

“Let me give you a tip to survive him,” Flint spoke to Miranda with a jerk of his chin. “Don’t trust anything he cooks.” Despite what may have been an attempt at humor, his tone and expression gave no hint of it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miranda smiled. She took another sip of tea before angling her gaze up at Flint. “I think we’re going to get along quite well.”

thatcrazylittlethingy  asked:

For the questions, Sebastian from Stardew of course :3


general opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life 

hotness level:
get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang

hogwarts house:
gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuff

best quality: Once he gets comfortable with you, he turns out to be this gigantic, dorky sweetheart underneath all that emo sass~  


worst quality: The fact that he doesn’t leave his room unless it’s night time, raining, or Sam makes him go. Therefore until you hit 2-hearts with him YOU HAVE TO WAIT ALL DAY TO GIVE HIM A GIFT. GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE SO I CAN THROW THIS QUARTZ AT YOU AND MAKE YOU LVOE ME. 

ship them with: Farmer, of course~

brotp them with: Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail are the best posse in Pelican Town, don’t deny it. 

needs to stay away from: I don’t hate Demetrius and there are hints that the poor man has at least tried to connect with Sebby….But man, completely ignoring his existence and coddling Maru to an unhealthy degree is really not helping your case. 

misc. thoughts: I headcanon that out of all the bachelors, Sebby’s the shortest and the least fit, and the most femme looking. And his sprite makes it look like he has a nice booty (*°∀°)=3