#Picture Prompt

[olivianott]

LOSING HIS MIND

Theodore Nott headcannons with plot(?) angst(?)

(just having fun here experimenting)

✧.* Theo who enjoys finer things in life while also being frustrated and tired of it all

✧.* Is very lonely in his mansion, with only one person on his mind (wishing and hoping for your company)

✧.* Has nightmares about his father and about the war times and the dark times already past, that are still in his mind at night

✧.* Theo who tries all the „unwinding relaxing night with tea and candles, book in the bubble bath routines“ he reads about in articles in Quibbler

✧.* Yes, reads Quibbler. (none of his friends dare ask him why. They know.)

✧.* He makes himself tea, takes some grapes from the kitchen, lits a few scented candles, puts lavender bubbles in, along with a glittery bathbomb… no he can’t believe it either.

✧.* Loves the smell of lavender (smells like you)

✧.* Loves to read this one specific book over and over (your favorite)

✧.* Yes, he was obsessed with watching you in Hogwarts corridors, reading on the stairs, walking through the Great hall, staring dreamily out the window in the library

✧.* Theo who hates baths with a passion

✧.* But you write the articles. ✧.*

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

[bunysliper]

https://www.tumblr.com/my-submissive-sense/722739507509788672?source=share fic prompt

Pampering Post Series Fic

It's not the most comfortable position to be in at the moment, perched on the countertop in the bathroom leaning back against the mirror in a way that makes her tailbone ache and her spine curl, but she won't complain. Not given how considerate her husband is being in volunteering to pamper her today.

Of course, if not for him, she would be able to pamper herself, but that's neither here nor there right now.

Kate brushes a hand along the curve of her belly, exhaling.

"You okay?" Rick murmurs, settling on the stool in front of her. His eyes, so earnest and blue, lift from the bottle in his hand to find hers.

"Mhmm. There's a little less room to maneuver than I remember from the last time I was on the counter like this."

He grins, licking his lips, remembering a night not that many weeks ago – but somehow a hundred years ago as well – when they'd escaped to their bathroom and locked the door.

"We're resourceful," he insists, "we can manage."

Kate chuckles, lifting her leg and plopping her foot against his knee. She holds out the bottle of nail polish to him as well. "Maybe once my toenails are dry, Loverboy. You promised the rest of the pedicure, after all."

Taking the bottle with gentle fingers, Castle nods. His head dips to brush along the now-smooth curve of her knee and over her shin.

"And the rest of this world class Castle pedicure, you will get," he assures, pulling back and opening the bottle, being careful to take his time with each pass over her toenails.

Once every toe has been coated with at least two layers of polish, he lifts from the stool in front of her, fitting his hips between her legs, and kisses her until they're both breathless.

The polish ends up very smudged, but he makes sure to do touch-ups later on.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for the prompt, Anon! I hope you're still out there - if you are, thanks for being patient with waiting for me to write, and I hope you liked this!

[ladysarai]

happy writing! :D

....I cannot believe this fic happened. Sorry not sorry.

~*~

“What’s wrong with him?” Ariadne asks, irritation and hurt in her voice, watching Arthur stalk out of the hotel room they’re using as a base.

“It’s not us, pet,” Eames tells her, calm and patient and utterly unperturbed by the explosion of temper they’d just witnessed.

She huffs, returning to her drafts with vicious intent, feeling like her emotions are boiling under her skin. “Well, something crawled up his ass today,” she finally snaps, unable to keep herself in check. “And if it’s not us, then it’s not okay for him to take it out on us.”

Eames doesn’t say anything at first, and when she finally can’t take his silence anymore, she looks at him and finds him watching her contemplatively. He holds up a hand before she can snap at him, and she swallows it back, scowling instead. Finally, he says, “Today is Mal’s birthday. Was.”

Ariadne blinks at that, and she remembers Arthur’s face, during the Fischer job, the surprise and hurt when he said “she’s dead,” and the look in his eyes, the deep sadness of “she was lovely.” She thinks of the only other time she’s ever seen Arthur lose his temper like he had today, and realizes it was with Cobb, during the Fischer job–”what, with Mal? ‘Cause that worked so good?”

“Oh,” she says finally. Eames is still watching her, reading her reaction, watching her assemble the puzzle pieces. “I didn’t–I know he knew her. I didn’t know they were close.”

There’s a strange, unreadable expression that crosses Eames’s face at that, and a long moment before he speaks. When he does, Ariadne feels a little like the world has tilted on its axis.

“She was his sister.”

~*~

It doesn’t make sense. The puzzle pieces don’t slide together neatly, and Ariadne can’t find a way to manipulate them in a way that works.

Once she gets past the initial hurt feelings and indignation over the fact that no one said one thing during the entirety of the Fischer job (or after), she has to acknowledge that she actually doesn’t know all that much about Arthur’s personal life.

She knows even less about Mallorie Cobb (nee Miles; she only knows that because she went to see Dr. Miles after she returned from LA and saw a picture of her in his office along with children’s drawings for “Grampa” on the bulletin board). She knows what happened to her. She knows about Cobb’s guilt, and what his mind twisted her into, and she knows that what she knows is all filtered through him and his memories, and it isn’t enough.

Ariadne remembers insisting, over and over, that Cobb needed to tell Arthur about Mal, about what he was burying, and now she thinks–of course. Of course Cobb wouldn’t want to tell Arthur what he’d done to Mal, what he was then doing to his memories of her. She thought she was seeing more than anyone else, but maybe she was looking right into the sun and not seeing it.

She promised Eames that she wouldn’t bother Arthur about this–not now, not yet. But she never promised not to try to find out what she can. Google is only so helpful; Arthur is a lost cause. She tried looking him up after they first met, but the name she knows for him is clearly an alias, and no matter how hard she’s tried, she hasn’t been able to find any records or trace of him. (She knows now that he, along with Eames, were involved in those early military experiments he once told her about. She can only imagine that being part of a top secret military experiment must contribute to having an ungoogleable past, and she really isn’t keen on getting herself on some Homeland Security watch list.) She tries googling “Arthur Miles” now, but it’s useless.

She looks up Dr. Miles instead; Stephen Miles, professor of architecture at a long list of prestigious universities. She finds lists of his books and published articles, and reads about how he lives in Paris with his wife Marie, where they raised their daughter, Mallorie.

So Ariadne looks up Mal, using both names, Miles and Cobb. She discovers that Mal had a doctorate–a Ph.D. in neuropsychology, which is not something she ever would have been able to guess based on Cobb’s memories of her. There are lists of her own published articles, most of them related to dreams and dreaming. This was Mal; this was the kind of woman who would marry Dominic Cobb, who would experiment on dream levels with him and follow him to Limbo, who would stay there with him for over fifty years.

Ariadne reads several of her articles, and wishes she could have met the real woman, the one who wrote them.

No matter how much she researches, how much she reads, Ariadne still can’t find the missing piece to her puzzle. She can’t figure out how Arthur fits into the puzzle of Mal, of Mal and Cobb. She can’t fit “ah, so you’ve met Mrs.Cobb” and “she was lovely” with sister and brother.

~*~

Ariadne sets the mystery aside, but she doesn’t forget. She thinks about calling Cobb and asking him, but something stops her. She would rather ask Arthur, but for some reason, she doesn’t. They finish that job (Arthur apologizes the next day for his outburst, and no one says anything about why–and she doesn’t ask), and they keep in touch via email and texts until they work on another job together. She doesn’t ask about it at that job, either.

It’s a good seven months and two jobs later that Ariadne finds herself alone in a rented office space with Arthur and Eames. She’s building a 3-D model of the dream layout, carving into cardboard with an x-acto knife, when Eames announces that he’s going to go pick up lunch. He asks if she wants to come with, but she declines and gives him her sandwich order.

It isn’t until he’s closing the door behind him that she realizes two things. First, he never asks Arthur what he wants; he just always seems to know what to bring him. And second–that Arthur is still sleeping, hooked up to the PASIV, testing out their chemist's newest batch of somnacin. She looks over at him, sprawled out bonelessly on the couch, his face relaxed like she never sees it when he’s awake, and a tiny voice in the back of her mind wonders if she’s ever going to learn her lesson.

Not today, apparently.

She’s across the room and hooking herself up to the PASIV before she fully allows herself to think of the potential consequences.

Arthur’s dreams are usually her favorites. He’s the most stable dreamer she knows of–according to Eames, he’s the most stable dreamer there is–and no one is better at mazes and paradoxes than Arthur.

What she falls into this time is different. There’s no crisp architecture or modern designs, no mazes, no fancy hotels or office buildings. Instead, she finds herself in the middle of a quiet city side street. There’s snow on the ground and the sky is a gunmetal gray that promises more snow in the near future. Ariadne shivers and dreams herself up a warmer coat and some gloves, looking around to try to place herself and figure out where Arthur might be.

She begins slowly walking down the block, keeping an eye out for projections. The ones she passes aren’t bothered by her, and don’t even seem to register her presence. She spots Massachusetts license plates on the cars, and the occasional Red Sox or Bruins flags on the houses she passes. Boston, maybe, or somewhere just outside–this certainly isn’t the downtown touristy part of the city she’s used to seeing on television or in movies, but there’s a realness to it that tells her this is something more than just some random dreamscape.

She sees some figures in the street and hears voices up ahead, and recognizes Arthur’s. She ducks into the alley between two houses, sneaking through a back yard or two until she can creep along the side of a house and kneel down next to a porch, keeping herself mostly hidden behind a bush.

They’re there, standing in the street, looking up at the house behind her. Arthur, hands in his coat pockets, standing next to Mal. Looking at them standing there, both in their dark clothing, matching frowns on their faces… Ariadne sees it, now. The missing piece of the puzzle slides into place neatly. She was his sister.

“Why are we here, Mal?” Arthur asks, eyes still on the house.

Mal glances over at him and gives him an enigmatic little smile. This Mal is subtly different from the Mal Ariadne remembers from Cobb’s dreams; warmer, less threatening, but her accent is the same. “You tell me, mon cher. This is your dream, remember?”

The corner of his mouth twitches in something almost a smile. “You know I hate when you get all self-aware on me.”

She puts a hand on his arm. “Ah, but you never have been good at lying to yourself, now have you, Arthur?” She begins walking toward the house, and Ariadne shrinks back against the building, huddling further behind the bush. She hears Mal walk up the porch steps and stop and after a moment, Arthur follows.

For a moment Ariadne isn’t sure what to do; she thinks that if they went inside the house, she would have heard the door, but if they’re on the porch, she doesn’t dare move in case Arthur sees her. Then she hears Arthur’s voice, and thinks maybe they’ve sat on the porch steps. “I miss you.”

“I know,” Mal says. “But this isn’t about me.”

“Sure, it is.” There’s a teasing note to Arthur’s voice that Ariadne recognizes. “You know, for a memory, you’re really not playing along very well.”

“This is not one of our happier memories. You could have picked something nicer. Certainly something warmer than Dorchester in March.”

He snorts. “I’m testing a compound. I didn’t exactly plan on a trip down this end of Memory Lane.”

“What did you plan on?”

Arthur doesn’t answer for a long time, and when he does, it doesn’t make sense to Ariadne. “I’m glad you grew up in France.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t. We should have been together.”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda.” Ariadne has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the way Arthur says it.

“I could have protected you.”

Arthur laughs at that, not unkindly. “Mal, I was fine. You were there when I really needed you. Besides, you and Dad would have been like oil and water. I’m pretty sure none of us would have survived.”

“Dom and I will have beautiful children,” Mal announces, and there’s something about her cadence that tells Ariadne that this is Memory!Mal. “And if we ever divorce, I will make sure the children stay together and have the chance to know both of their parents. Even if Dominic does not deserve my benevolence.”

“Fuck, I forgot you said that,” Arthur sighs.

Mal laughs, bright and cheerful, and Ariadne’s heart aches for reasons she can’t name. She thinks she’s heard enough, so she creeps carefully back the way she came and waits until she’s far from Arthur’s childhood home before she kicks herself out of his dream.

Ariadne never tells anyone what she saw, and decides she would rather wait for Arthur to confide in her than go poking about in any more dream memories.

[blue-disco-lights]

Galladrabbles: Picture Prompt (#2)

@galladrabbles turns 2 ~ so I had to do another! Big 🤗's to @energievie and @look-i-love-u!

“Cool colors!”

Mickey rushes to cover his drawing with both hands. 

No one ever talks to him in class. He looks up to see that freckly Gallagher kid staring at him.

Now he’s invading Mickey’s personal space and pointing. “What’s that one called?” 

“Midnight Blue,” he huffs.

“How ‘bout that one?”  

He wants to flip the kid off, but he’s looking at him with these eager puppy eyes and... “Laser Lemon. And before ya ask, that one’s Red-Orange like that mop on your head.”

He snarls, hoping to scare the kid off, but gets a big goofy grin in return.

[draganwhorror]

Here's more for you to choose from

I decided to write something to go along with the second pic(gif). I hope you like it!

She could sense his disappointment. The way he looked at her through the bars, his face impassive, almost made her feel guilty for trying to run. He'd caught her, of course, and now she was locked up once more. His eyes shone in the dim light, two dark pools that she had the urge to drown herself in.

"I wanted to trust you," he muttered, a hint of chagrin in his tone. "I thought I could. But now I see you were just leading me on. Trying to garner trust so I would let you out. So you could escape."

"Travis..." Laura said, her voice sounding somewhat apologetic. "Come on, Travis. You can't keep me down here in the basement like this. I'm not an animal."

Travis sighed and shook his head. "I've told you before, I can't let you go now. You killed my niece. You killed my parents. Both of my brothers are dead because of you. And Caleb... well, he hasn't returned, so I have to assume he's dead too."

"Don't forget Max," Laura grumbled. "My boyfriend is dead because of you."

Travis lunged forward, his face close to the bars of her cage. "Don't you dare blame me for your boyfriend's death. It was you who wanted him to bring you to camp a day early. It was you who didn't go to the motel when you realized Chris wasn't there to greet you. It was you who decided to play hero and stick your nose where it didn't belong. You are the reason Max is dead."

Laura huffed. She seemed more annoyed that she was being blamed than she did about the fact that her boyfriend was dead. Travis wasn't sure what to think about that, but he knew he'd have to stay alert. He couldn't let his guard down around her anymore.

"Why are you keeping me here?" she asked as she glared at him. "The curse is finally over. Silas is dead. And, okay, so is everyone else, but why can't you just let me go now? I'm not infected. I'm not a liability. I'm nothing to you now."

"You're mine," Travis growled, his voice barely audible.

Laura seemed taken aback. "Uh...what?"

"I said, you're mine. You destroyed my entire family. Those other counselors, and your boyfriend, died because of your meddling. But there's still use for you yet."

"Travis?" Laura asked, stepping back from the bars. "Y-you can't. I'm... That's not legal. My parents will come looking for me."

Travis shook his head again. "Murdering my family wasn't legal, but you did it anyway. And as for your parents, no, they won't. They think you're dead. A little birdie told them you were among the casualties at Hackett's Quarry. No one will come for you."

Laura gasped, the reality of her situation starting to sink in. She put her hands on her head and began to pace the small cage. Travis watched her warily, but after a minute or two, she sank to the floor, settling into a corner of the cage and wrapping her hands around her knees. Her voice was soft as she asked, "What are you going to do with me? What use could I possibly have for you now?"

Travis's eyes gleamed as his lips pulled up into a smirk. "First, you're going to have to earn my trust. And then... You're going to learn to be a very good girl for me."

With those parting words, Travis turned and walked away, leaving Laura alone in the dim basement to think about what fate now had in store for her.

[airjemsfandump]

Random ZayRaf

"Smile for me?"

"Like this?"

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

Post-series • AU • Kate and Rick have a 5-month-old son. (named Teddy because my brain literally cannot think of anything else. Real name, nickname, I don't care).

Daddy’s Jealous

When those first, sleepy cries echoed through the baby monitor as the sun rose, she groaned and gently nudged his shin with the heel of her foot.

She expected his usual mumbled “S’your turn” - especially so considering he had volunteered himself for the 2am bottle - but he pressed a kiss to her shoulder before slipping from the sheets and plodding upstairs.

After several quiet minutes, soft grunts and coos filled the sleepy silence of the loft. She pried her eyes open, one at a time, and looked toward the door where her boys stood in the soft glow of morning sun, smiling brightly at her.

“Good morning, Mommy,” Castle whispered as he waved their son’s hand in the air.

“Morning,” she sung back as she shuffled upright in bed, leaning back against the headboard.

“I wasn’t going to wake you but I figured, seeing as his last feed was bottle…”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.” She unbuttoned her pyjama top before slipping it out of her way and reaching out for Teddy.

"Ah, I remember the days when I had to actually put a considerable amount of effort into seeing your boobs," Castle reminisced as he passed his son off to his wife.

She laughed heartily. "Now they're just out... all the time."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," he assured her with a beaming smile. "Have you got everything you need?"

"Yeah, I'm good." She looked up at him, smiling, once Teddy was latched and settled. "Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll be right back."

***

He came back into the room fifteen minutes later with a tray of breakfast: coffee, a slice of toast and an assortment of fresh fruit cut up into easy bite-sized pieces for her.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly as she watched him place the tray on the bedside table.

"For me?" she asked, still awed by all these little things that he does for her.

"It certainly is," he said with a smile, tilting his head as he took in the relaxed state of his wife and son. "Is he all done?"

"Yeah, think so." She looked down at their beautiful boy's face and bright blue eyes looked back at her. "He's just kinda nuzzling now."

"Good job," he praised Teddy, taking him from Kate's arms. "You eat your breakfast, we'll go get dressed."

He turned and began to walk away, cooing and talking to their son. "We're going to try on a new outfit today. I think Mommy is going to love it."

***

When Castle returned, he held Teddy's back to his chest so that the boy had a perfect view of his surroundings. As soon as his eyes landed on Kate, he grinned a wide, gummy grin and jerked his arms and legs around excitedly.

"Hey, Baby," she greeted him enthusiastically. "Look at you!"

She laughed, taking in the new outfit: a fluffy white bath robe with matching white slippers.

"That might be the cutest thing I have ever seen," she mooned.

"Might be?" Castle gasped theatrically, cupping his palm over Teddy's ear. "Don't you listen to her!"

"As adorable as this is, don't you think it's a little warm for him to be so wrapped up?"

"You're totally right," he agreed - too easily in her opinion - as he laid Teddy down on the bed in front of Kate. "You should unwrap him."

She raised her brow at him, knowing him well enough to know that he was definitely up to something.

Slowly, she reached out for the neatly tied bow of the teeny tiny robe and pulled on it. Teddy kicked and squealed excitedly.

"Is there a surprise under here?" she asked, as she gently poked at the boy's chubby thighs. "Hey? Have you got a surprise for Mommy?"

Teddy squealed again, flapping his arms around.
Kate opened the robe to reveal a onesie she didn't recognise. After quickly reading the words printed on it, she shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn't stifle her grin.

My Daddy is jealous... I had BOOBS for breakfast.

Kate leant down and placed an exaggerated kiss on Teddy's cheek, pulling back with a loud pop of her lips that had the infant giggling hysterically.

"Your daddy is so silly," she cooed.

[alj4890]

Hii 🥰

I saw this picture and thought it might inspire a fic or an edit (no pressure 🥰)

I'm so sorry this took so long to answer @peonierose 🤦🏻‍♀️ I had a lot of Choices couples in mind for this picture 😂 It has taken me a while to think of just the right story for this one and I think I finally have. After seeing Ethan tortured in some of my fics recently, I decided to do a drabble of him and an OC I mentioned in A Glimpse. For this story, we see how these two got together.

(Ethan Ramsey x OC*Sophie Triano) with some urging from (Tobias Carrick x Chris Valentine) in a Choices Open Heart drabble

@hopelessromantic1352 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter

Rating G for fluff

Masterlist

Something Sweet

"How was Bora Bora?" Ethan asked.

"Perfection itself." Tobias replied. "Chris and I had the best time there."

Ethan studied him. "You don't look very tan for a man who has been on an island for two weeks."

Tobias smirked. "But I do look tan enough for a man who was on a honeymoon with his wife."

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"Where's Chris?"

"Studying with Sienna." Tobias replied.

He eyed Ethan for a moment. Since they were alone, he decided to find out what happened after he and Chris left their wedding reception.

"By the way, how did you get back to the hotel?"

"How do you think?" Ethan replied.

"Who gave you a ride?" Tobias asked.

"Your brother did."

"Which one?"

Ethan stopped trying to complete some paperwork. He leaned back in his chair, set his hands behind his head, and focused silently on Tobias.

"It was Hugh." He finally said. "Why?"

"No reason." Tobias grumbled.

Ethan went back to work.

"If you rode with Hugh, then you must have ridden with Veronica."

"That would be a logical assumption since she is married to your brother." Ethan drily remarked.

Tobias refused to comment on that. "And if you were with Veronica, then you must have met her cousin, Sophie."

Ethan glanced up, eyes narrowed.

"So?" Tobias moved Ethan's laptop to the side. "What did you think of her?"

"She seems nice."

"Nice?" Tobias groaned. "Come on, Ethan."

"Can we get back to work or do you feel the need to bother me a little longer?"

Tobias shook his head. "Sophie is just your type."

"You haven't known my type since college." Ethan pointed out.

Tobias quirked an eyebrow and waited.

Ethan glared at him for the reminder he had fallen for Chris too.

"Sophie looks nothing like her." He bit out.

"I know that, but she has some similar personality traits that I think you'll like."

Tobias decided to drop that brief comparison when Ethan glared bordered on murderous.

"Hugh told me Sophie moved to Boston."

"She moved back to Boston." Ethan corrected, grateful to not be talking anymore about finding a woman like Chris. "Veronica and Sophie are expanding their business. She opened a bakery here a couple of months ago."

"Have you been by yet?"

Ethan rubbed a hand down his face. "I haven't."

He held his hand up to silence Tobias the moment he saw his mouth open.

"If I say I'll go by later this week, will you drop the subject and let me finish what I was typing?"

"I'll drop it for now, but we are discussing it again and again until you go see her." Tobias smirked at him.

"You are a colossal pain in my ass, you know that?" Ethan grumbled. "Go find someone else to bother."

"And leave you alone?" Tobias clucked his tongue in disapproval. "That wouldn't be very-- where are you going?"

"To see Sophie." Ethan snapped. "Right now, I'll do anything to get you to shut up!"

Tobias watched him storm out of the diagnostic office. He then sent a quick text to Chris, letting her know she could come inside.

So far, their plan to help Ethan find someone was off to a great start.

***************

"Don't breathe." Sophie whispered to those watching.

She carefully placed the last delicate sugar flower at an angle that defied gravity upon the five tier cake and carefully climbed off her step stool.

"Well?" She beamed at her staff. "What do you think?"

"I think we need to take them off now and store them before one breaks." Her store manager, Terry, declared. "You've got three more cakes to work on this week and the last thing we need is--"

"Ms. Triano!" One of the employees called out. "You have a visitor at the front."

Terry's voice went a higher octave when she began to leave.

"Sophie!" He cried. "The flowers!"

"They'll be fine." She winked at him. "You worry too much."

She chuckled over his look of disbelief.

Sophie couldn't help but be optimistic that all was working like she and Veronica planned. Ever since they were little girls with their Easy Bake ovens, they knew they wanted to open their own bakery one day. With their family's support, the two cousins graduated from the French Culinary Institute and opened up a bakery in New York.

It wasn't long before their cakes were featured in bridal magazines across the globe. Veronica and Sophie entered competitions on Food Network to gain even more exposure. Soon, they had orders years in advance for their baked treats.

They knew they should expand, but what made their cakes so popular, was that they each made every part of it themselves. They had staff to help with the mixing and all, but they were the true cake artists. Everything they designed from sugar blew everyone's mind.

For the first time in ten years, the cousins worked apart. Veronica needed to stay in New York with Hugh's work being there and their children were happy in their current schools. Since Sophie was single with no children of her own, she was the one to volunteer to open another bakery.

She'd wanted to come back to Boston for a while now. Though she thoroughly enjoyed working in New York, there was nothing like being back in her hometown. She needed that sense of comfort as she made all the decisions on her own. She still called Veronica multiple times a day, but this venture rested mostly upon her shoulders.

Sophie straightened her chef's jacket as she crossed into the main bakery. Cases gleamed under Edison bulbs revealing a variety of desserts. Cookies, tarts, pies, scones, cakes, etc. were all on display to tempt everyone who walked through her door. She did a quick visual sweep to make sure everything was up to her high standards before looking for her visitor.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the doctor she'd met at Tobias and Chris's wedding. Of all the people she thought she would see again, Ethan Ramsey seemed the least likely.

It wasn't that he ignored her at the wedding. He even talked to her about her bakery. He simply seemed to be preoccupied with something else.

***************

Ethan watched as she made her way over to him. He'd thought she was pretty the night he met her, but seeing her in chef's mode brought a smile to his face. She was in her element and the confidence rolled off of her adding even more to her beauty.

"Hey." She smiled at him. "What are you doing here?"

"You said I could come anytime I wanted something sweet." He spread his arms. "Here I am."

"And just what do you crave, Ethan?" She teased. "Are you a sugary puff kind of man or do you want something bitter?"

"No sugary puffs" He walked over to look at her offerings. "Though I will admit that most of this makes me think a diabetic coma might be worth it."

She laughed. "Follow me, Dr. Ramsey."

His eyebrow raised as he followed her off to a smaller room. There was a table and a set of chairs along with a cooler filled with various drinks.

"Have a seat." Sophie insisted.

She sat down across from him, pulled out a small notebook from her pocket and clicked a pen open.

"Now then." She raised her eyes to his. "Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"For?" He countered.

"To learn all your secrets." She replied.

His eyes widened.

Sophie laughed, shaking her head. "Easy there. I was teasing you. I'm wanting to understand your palette."

Ethan actually flushed.

"Then, yes, go ahead."

"Just say the first word that comes to mind." Sophie told him. "Fruit?"

"Apple."

Sophie wrinkled her nose.

"What's wrong with apples?"

"Nothing. I'm not a big fan of them. I'm more of a berry girl."

Her gaze dropped down to his white doctor's coat. "Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised with you saying apple."

Ethan relaxed in his chair. "They are good for you."

"I'll stick with raspberries."

"I like those too." Ethan added.

"You do?" She set her pen down. "Do you like dark chocolate?

"I do." He replied.

Sophie got to her feet. "Wait here."

She went through a set of double doors and returned with a slice of chocolate cake covered in a dark chocolate ganache.

"Try this." She handed him a fork.

Ethan's eyes widened with the first bite. A medley of the tart raspberry compote with slightly sweet chocolate left him wanting more.

"Good?" She prodded.

"It's incredible." He took another bite. "Best cake I've had in a long time."

She beamed at him. "Talk like that will make you my favorite customer."

He chuckled. "I'm tempted to buy the rest of the cake."

"No need."

She went back through the double doors and before they could shut, she was back with a black box tied with a white bow in her hands.

"You boxed the cake up before I even tried it?"

Sophie nodded a touch proudly. "I knew you would love it."

"How much do I owe you?" He got to his feet, reaching for his wallet.

"It's on the house." She replied.

"Oh." Ethan took the box from her. "Thank you."

Terry stuck his head through the double doors.

"Sophie!" He hissed without looking at Ethan. "The flowers! Carlton bumped the table and gave me a mild heat attack. Get them back into storage!"

Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll be right there."

"You have flowers too?" Ethan asked.

"No. I make them." She waved goodbye. "Drop by anytime Dr. Ramsey."

Sophie paused at the door and winked at him. "I might even give you something else you'll love."

Ethan blinked in surprise once she disappeared. He wasn't quite certain how to take her parting words.

He frowned in thought during the drive back to the hospital.

"She meant more desserts." He told himself. "That's all she could have meant."

Once at Edenbrook, he sat in his car a few extra minutes. He eyed the black box and knew why he couldn't stop trying to see hidden meanings in her words and actions. He'd allowed Tobias to get in his head about there possibly being something more with Sophie.

He refused to give it another thought. He was too busy and too intelligent to ponder what women meant when talking to him. Of course, if Sophie did mean it in a flirtatious manner, then he would naturally respond in either a flirty fashion of his own or cold disinterest.

He picked up the box, a hint of a smile on his lips as he thought of her knowing he would love her cake.

If she was interested in him, he might be interested in her to.

*******************

A couple of days later...

"Any plans for your days off?" Chris asked.

Ethan kept pace with her as they walked towards their patient's room. "I'm going to the ballet Thursday night. They are performing The Sleeping Beauty."

"Oh?" Chris couldn't help but smile. "That sounds awfully romantic."

Ethan softly groaned. He knew what was coming next.

"Do you have anyone in particular you're taking with you?" Chris prodded, trying her best to look innocent.

"Chris." Ethan grumbled.

"Yes?" She was completely unfazed by the way he said her name.

"Tobias is rubbing off on you."

"I do more than rubbing." Tobias remarked from behind them.

Chris swatted him playfully with the file folder in her hand.

"What are we talking about?" Tobias asked, once he was walking along her other side.

"Ethan has a romantic night planned." Chris explained before Ethan could get a word out.

"Really?" Tobias looked over her head at him. "About time."

"I was just about to find out who Ethan invited to share this romantic night at the ballet."

"The ballet." Tobias slipped his arm around Chris when he noticed Ethan's face contort into irritated anger. "Can't set the mood much better than that."

"Enough!" Ethan snapped. "I'm not taking anyone to the ballet!"

"Why not?" Chris stopped him from walking on.

She placed her hands on her hips and backed him into the wall with her narrowed eyes and clipped tone.

"Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you are going to spend an evening of dinner and ballet without a date?!"

"I," Ethan hesitated. "Um..."

There was something about Chris's temper that made everyone take a step back. Even he got caught off guard from time to time.

But he wasn't in any mood for it today.

He glared down at her. He decided he wasn't going to be cowed by his former protege.

"I am planning an evening of enjoyment for myself."

Chris threw her hands up in exasperation, almost hitting both Ethan and Tobias in their faces.

"Men!" She grumbled. "Such a waste of bloody oxygen half the time."

Tobias groaned. "Welp, you set her off for the day. No man will be safe."

Ethan winced when Tobias smacked him on the back of the head.

"Don't tell her about your evenings for a party of one." He began to follow his wife. "She won't like it, then I'm the one left to deal with the fallout."

"She shouldn't be interested in what I do." Ethan grumbled.

Tobias shot a frustrated glance filled with pity towards him.

"What?" Ethan demanded.

"Chris cares about you." Tobias reminded him. "Once she calls you her friend, there is no escaping her concern. You know this about her."

Ethan stopped in his tracks. It was strange that it didn't hurt as much anymore thinking about Chris caring about him as nothing more than a friend. After their tumultuous year when she first arrived at Edenbrook, then having to go through seeing her fall in love with Tobias; Ethan was surprised they had survived it all to end up friends.

Maybe he was ready to move on and see what could happen next.

*******************

He decided he was ready to have a significant other as he ate dinner alone. Going to the ballet without someone there to talk to had lost the allure it once held. He still enjoyed his solitude, especially with the friends he had somehow become stuck with. This evening though would have been perfect for someone special.

As he walked into the Boston Opera House's lobby, he bumped into Sophie.

"Excuse me--Ethan!" She smiled at him. "Hello."

"Sophie," he glanced around to see if she was with a date, "it's good to see you again."

"You too." She too tried to see if he was with someone. "Are you a fan of the theatre arts?"

"I am." He cleared his throat. "Are you here alone?"

"Yes," she rolled her eyes, "I was given the Mcculler's box in thanks for doing a rush job on a cake for one of their parties. I've been looking forward to this night for weeks but couldn't find anyone who wanted to see The Sleeping Beauty with me."

Ethan's lips curved some. "I've rarely found anyone who enjoys coming here as much as I do."

"Where are your seats?" She asked.

"The Mezzanine, center." He replied.

"I don't suppose you'd like to join me instead?" She held up the two tickets she'd been given. "If you're alone, that is."

"I'd love to."

**********************

Ethan spent most of the ballet studying Sophie. There was something about her that seemed to give a sense of peace that he'd never experienced with anyone else. She was completely still, yet relaxed in her seat. Her eyes followed the movements on the stage while a slight smile graced her lips.

He then took in the rest of her. Sophie's dark chestnut hair cascaded down her shoulders. The white dress she wore was flattering to her figure. His eyes drifted down to her hands loosely clasped in her lap.

She was, he noted, the exact opposite of Chris. He wondered if Tobias had done this on purpose. Unlike the very tall, pale skin, green eyed, red headed Scottish doctor he'd first fallen for, Sophie was of a more average height, caramel colored skin, topped off with a pair of dark brown eyes and hair.

She was striking in her beauty. He realized he hadn't really appreciated that fact the last couple of times he'd seen her. He suspected that getting over his former love had clouded his mind from taking in the lady beside him.

****************

Sophie could practically feel Ethan's eyes on her. It took all her strength to remain relaxed in her seat. She couldn't recall the last time a man had studied her so intently. Men hit on her, but no one actually looked at her the way he was doing right now.

She didn't know if it was those piercing blue eyes of his or the type of man he was, but her nerves were notched so high that if he remotely made a move toward her, she'd probably tackle him where he sat.

She thought he was handsome the night she met him. She found him almost cute dressed as a doctor. But something about him in his suit, sitting beside her in the dark, made him almost irresistible.

Veronica told her she needed to get out and date more. Maybe she was right. Sophie had not been with anyone for nearly a year in preparing for the move back to Boston. Most of the men who came into her bakery were already in a relationship. It was rare anyone single came in, much less asked to speak to her.

Since she spent most of her time in the back decorating and supervising, she never had a chance to flirt with any of the few male customers who came in for treats to take to their offices.

Maybe that was why Ethan's attention affected her so strongly. She'd been longing for a relationship and hadn't even known it.

******************

The lobby of the Boston Opera House...

"I was thinking about going to get something to eat." Sophie looked up at him. "Any chance you'd care to have a late dinner with me?"

Ethan hesitated.

Sophie immediately regretted asking him.

"I actually ate earlier." He glanced at his watch. "How--"

"No problem." She nervously tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Thanks for sitting with me."

Sophie began to walk away, waving goodbye to him.

"Wait!" He caught up to her. "I was about to ask if you'd rather come to my place for dinner. It's late and most of the restaurants that your dress is meant for will be closing."

"Oh." She couldn't help but smile. "I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all. I enjoy cooking on my nights off." He offered his arm to her. "How did you get here?"

"Taxi." She placed her hand within the bend of his arm.

"Good. Then I can drive you home later."

*****************

When Ethan pulled up to his apartment building, Sophie's jaw dropped.

"You live here?"

"Yes, why?" He asked.

"Because I live here!" She pointed at the building. "Twelfth floor. Apartment B."

"I'm on the seventeenth." He told her.

Ethan couldn't believe he'd been living in the same building as Sophie all this time yet had never crossed paths with her.

Or had he and he simply hadn't noticed?

"You won't have to worry about driving me home now." She teased.

He smiled at her. "I can still walk you to your door."

Sophie laughed while getting out. "I'd like that."

Once in the elevator, she turned towards him. "Would you mind if I stopped at my place first and changed clothes?"

"No."

"These shoes have to go." She told him.

Sophie grasped his arm to balance as she slipped the painful high heels off.

Ethan watched her with a touch of amusement as she scooped up the pair with a soft curse.

"I won't be long." She told him while stepping out on her floor, casting a warm smile at him over her shoulder.

"Seventeen B." He reminded her.

"I'll be there." She promised.

*****************

Ethan quickly undressed the moment he shut his door. Tossing the finely made suit jacket and pants into his closet, he next tackled his shirt and tie. He settled on a light blue t-shirt to wear along with a pair of blue jeans. While pulling his pants on, he stumbled cursing into his kitchen to see what ingredients he had on hand for Sophie.

Her knock a couple of minutes later made him steady himself. He paused a moment realizing that he was actually excited about the prospect of getting to know her a little better.

He opened the door to find her casually leaning against the door frame. She'd put on a t-shirt like he had along with a pair of jeans. Sophie held up a bottle of wine with a hesitant smile.

"I wasn't certain what we were going to have, but I can say this is an excellent pinot grigio."

Ethan took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing with what to cook.

"Uh oh." She teased. "Is my choice of wine that bad?"

He looked up at her. "Not at all. I was thinking of what I could pair with it."

"Honestly Ethan," Sophie set her keys on his side table, "I'm up for anything. A simple ham sandwich would be great right now."

He snorted as he led her into his kitchen.

"I think I can do a little better than a ham sandwich."

"Really?" She settled comfortably on one of his bar stools. "Well now I am curious to see your cooking skills in action."

"I doubt they compare to yours." He remarked over his shoulder.

He began to gather the ingredients to make Tuscan chicken.

"Anything's better than mine."

Ethan' eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Sophie, you own a bakery and develop recipes for it on a daily basis."

She waved that off as if it was no big deal.

"The thing is," she confessed, "I can make desserts in my sleep, but savory dishes are where I mess up."

"Are you saying that you--"

"Can't cook." She admitted with a grin. "It baffles everyone I meet. Give me sugar and flour and I'm good, great even. Hand me that chicken and tomatoes and spinach and I'm going to destroy them as soon as I put them into a pan."

Ethan shook his head with a laugh. "I'm the opposite."

"You can't make desserts?"

"Not even pancakes." He explained about the meals he used to cook for him and his father. "Dad would just bring home ice cream or a box of cookies for us to have with our meals. He insisted I never pick up a bag of sugar "

Sophie laughed, feeling more at ease around him.

As the two talked, Ethan went through the prep work with ease. He uncorked the bottle of wine then led her into his living room. The pair sat down somewhat close, angling their bodies toward each other as they continued to talk about their lives.

He discovered that the thirty-three year old was highly intelligent, not just in the culinary world but in other aspects such as business and even history. Her ability to use humor here and there with her stories only added even more to her ability to hold his attention.

After spending so much time at Edenbrook, Ethan had forgotten that people outside of medicine could be a nice change of pace. He also found that she could easily grasp what he was talking about as he described what he did on the diagnostic team. Her questions were well thought out and actually made him pause a time or two to consider the answers.

When dinner was ready, they sat at his table, lights dimmed as they continued learning about the other.

It was, he decided, one of the best meals he'd had in a long time.

"Ethan, that was amazing." Sophie declared.

"Thank you." He got up to take their empty plates.

"I insist on doing the dishes." She took them out of his grasp. "And to make you dessert in thanks for cooking for me."

"There's no need." He followed her to his sink. "Like I told you, it was nice to cook for someone other than myself."

"If you ever need to do so again," she winked at him, "I won't be opposed to you calling me."

"Don't be surprised to hear from me often." He smiled at her, reaching over to finish up the dishes. "Go relax. I know you've been on your feet all day."

Sophie shook her head. "I feel reenergized. I haven't had a home cooked meal since I moved back to Boston. I sponged off Hugh and Veronica's meals once a week in New York along with having a set of restaurants around town to deliver my favorite comfort foods."

Sophie went into his pantry. Her eyes darted here and there as she went through the ingredients he had on hand. After another peek into his fridge, she set out everything to make a quick batch of sugar cookies.

"I see you found the raspberries I picked up earlier today." He teased.

Sophie blinked then remembered their conversation in her bakery.

"I hope I inspired such a wise decision." She quipped.

"You did." He picked up one of the cartons she'd set out. "Want me to clean these for you?"

She nodded while measuring her dry ingredients.

Ethan watched fascinated as she went through everything without having to check a recipe. She moved with a precision he'd only seen in the operating theater at Edenbrook.

"These won't be as pretty as my cookies at work." She explained while dropping spoonfuls on a cookie sheet. "But they'll still taste just as good.

"And what are the raspberries for?" He asked.

"Frosting of course." She smiled at him. "And I'm going to teach you how to make it."

"I believe I told you that sugar and I don't get along in the kitchen." He got up and came around the counter.

"And yet you have powdered sugar in your pantry." She teased.

"That was a mistake." Ethan explained. "The grocery store was out of granulated sugar and for some reason the delivery person assumed powdered could be substituted in its place."

Sophie laughed over the disgruntled expression on his face.

"I bet your coffee hasn't been the same since."

"It hasn't." He grumbled, smiling as he looked at her. "You can take that powdered sugar with you. After tonight, I never want to see it again."

"You'll want it after this lesson." She nudged him with her elbow. "Just imagine the look on your father's face when you present him with a cake or cookie with your homemade frosting."

"That's assuming I can make it or even the pretend cake and cookie you added to this scenario."

"Shh!" She playfully scolded. "You're ruining my future triumph."

"If I learn this," Ethan countered, "then you'll have to let me teach you something next time."

Sophie lowered her head, fighting a huge smile. "Next time, hmm?"

"You'll be learning how to make one of the dishes that you consider your comfort food." He told her.

"And when would this lesson happen?" She prodded, pretending to direct her attention to his food processor.

"I'm off tomorrow." Ethan stepped a little closer to her. "Or if next week at this same time would be better for you..."

"Either works for me." She added some more raspberries to the food processor. "I have tomorrow off too since I'll be working Saturday."

Ethan's voice held a touch of heat when he moved even closer to her.

"Then tomorrow it is."

Sophie could feel her heart race as she looked up at him. Her eyes fluttered closed the moment his lips brushed hers in a soft, tender kiss.

She sank into him the moment the kiss deepened. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers drifting into his hair as he molded her to his body.

The oven's buzzer broke them apart.

"That was a devious way to get out of your cooking lesson." She teased once she removed the cookies from the oven. "I'll have to remember to use it tomorrow night."

Ethan chuckled, moving behind her. He slipped his arms around her waist, placing slow unhurried kisses along her neck.

"We should work on the frosting." She bit back a moan when his hands began to wander.

"Doesn't the butter need to be room temperature?" He muttered against her ear.

"You're right." She turned in his arms, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that left him moaning.

She ran her hands down the hard planes of his chest, a slight smile curving her lips.

"We have anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to allow the butter time to reach room temperature."

"I think an hour would be best." He tugged her toward his couch. "Don't you?"

"I do." She gasped when he yanked her into his lap. "Maybe even longer."

********************

Two days later...

"What's this?" Tobias gestured to the plate of cookies.

"I did some cooking while off." Ethan told him.

Chris reached over to try one. She made a humming sound of delight.

"These are so good! I love raspberries."

Tobias reached for one. "I didn't know you baked, Ethan."

"I'm learning." He replied with a smirk.

Chris and Tobias shared a loaded glance.

"Is there someone giving you lessons?" Chris asked.

She couldn't help but be hopeful that a certain pastry chef was becoming a part of his life.

"There is." Ethan picked up the case files and smiled at the couple. "Expect a lot more treats like those these next few weeks."

[witchermonstermayhem]

Picture & Song Prompt 5

Song lyrics

And here are picture and song prompt no 5! Anything that inspires your writing or tickles your urge to draw or gif? In addition to the song's title you can use any of its lyrics for inspiration! Have fun!

Here is the link to this year's Ao3 collection (unrevealed) in case you'd like to post something there already before May. Or you can add this collection name to your work:

WitcherMonsterMAYhem2024

The collection will be revealed on May 1st.

(Please let me know if you encounter any problems with posting to the collection.)

You can also find the rules and an FAQ there. If you still have any questions, please feel free to drop me an ask!

If you have ideas for prompts that you would like to see for event of Witchers and Monsters, fill in the google form here. It will stay open until February 25th.

[sauraunderscore]

Number One

Based on Miami and Monaco's pictures!!

[galladrabbles]

Dear Galladrabble Crew,

I'm very happy that I get to set the prompt this week. Not only because it's been a while for me, but also because this is our prompt no. 60! It's so crazy to me that we have reached this number!

I won't waste any more words on this prompt post. Literally. Because here it is:

Your prompt #60 is the photo above.

Hope you like it and find it inspiring.

Happy Drabbling everyone!

Vey / @look-i-love-u

xx

[astaldis]

@fluffbruary​

Chapters: 1/1   Words: 3,241 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Nimue | Lady of the Lake (The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski) Additional Tags: Romance, cahiri, Kissing, Destiny, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alive Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Prophecy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffbruary Series: Part 3 of C & C

Summary: Ciri pays Cahir a visit after he has recovered from the almost lethal injuries he sustained in his fight with Leo Bonhart at Styggy Castle. And she has a surprise for him.

Sequel to "As He Lay Dying."

[bunysliper]

Castle Ficlet: Making Room 1/1

Making Room

 Kate Beckett smothers a laugh with her hand. When she'd told her husband she was getting in the shower, he'd made a show of wiggling his eyebrows and promising to join her as soon as he appeased the wild beasts. He'd thrown on a robe over his bare chest and snapped the waistband of his pajama pants for emphasis before he'd disappeared through their bedroom door and jogged upstairs. Well, it seems the children had had other plans for him, because Rick, Reece, Jake, and Lily are all sprawled on the couch together.

 "Comfy, babe?" She smirks, tilting her head when Castle peeks an eye open. She knows from his breathing that he wasn't asleep, but he does look awfully close to it, even with Jake lying across his chest, head at his cheek.

 "Mmm, hey," he rumbles. "Turns out food wasn't in the cards just yet, but some cuddles were."

 Affection flushes through her bloodstream and she leans over, dotting kisses on everyone's brow. For Rick, she adds a soft brush of her lips over his. He's such a good dad. Patient and gentle with the kids, silly when he needs to be, and serious when the situation calls for it; it's pretty sexy.

 "I'll start the coffee," she murmurs, coming back for another kiss. "And then I want you to make some room for me on that couch."

 Her husband grins, twisting and adjusting the kids without a word. When he's done, there isn't much space, but they'll figure it out.

 They always do.

[rainbowfic]

Image Prompt #47

Source: https://publicdomainreview.org/essay/time-and-place-eric-ravilious-1903-1942/

[suzy-queued]

Galladrabbles 60

Vey @look-i-love-u gave us this week's @galladrabbles prompt of a colorful Chihuly glass image.

Previously on Maze of Terror ... Ian and Mickey escaped their prison. They found out what year it was. Mickey might need a moment to adjust ...

----

So this is the twenty-first century.

Mickey sheds the quilt of emotions he’s wearing: panic, fear, shock, disbelief.

His heart finally slows. He’s left with what he can see and feel.

The modern world explodes with color. A kaleidoscope of neon lights. Clothing like crayon boxes.

“Who the hell paints cars that way? All green and purple and shit?”

Ian laughs. “Wait until you see downtown.”

“The future is hideous.”

But a yellow spotlight grazes Ian. A red tail light. The blues from a poster reflect onto Ian’s face.

Mickey sighs.

He can’t deny the truth. His future is beautiful.

----

[draganwhorror]

Happy writing. Heh. *nodnod*

**This prompt contains gore and some graphic violence. Please proceed with caution**

I Want to Hold Your Hand Two dark pools filled with wicked promises was the first thing she saw when she came to. She was sitting in a chair, tied and gagged and feeling a bit disoriented. The strange man who had pulled her over earlier stood before her covered in blood. As her eyes started to adjust, she realized she was in a dimly lit room, and there was a dead body on the floor off to her left, lying in a pool of blood. A scream began to form in her throat, but before she could release it, however muffled it may have been due to the gag, the man dressed in a sheriff's uniform shushed her. "No screaming, pet," he said, his voice low. "Now's not the time for that. Not yet..." She could feel herself starting to panic as she struggled against the bonds that held her to the chair. The sheriff, if he even was a real cop, gazed at her for a moment, his teeth flashing in a subtle grin that hinted at something foreboding. He looked pensive, as though trying to decide what he was going to do with her. She swallowed thickly, her heart racing in her chest. Her eyes continued to dart around the room, but her only way out, if she could even manage to get free of her bonds, was blocked by the towering man in front of her. "Now, now, pet," he murmured, stepping closer. "You don't need to struggle. I promise you'll be released soon enough." The man reached out to stroke her cheek, leaving a smear of blood on her face. She jerked back, almost tipping the chair in the process. The man grabbed her and settled her back in place, then turned on his heel and left the room. He returned a moment later with his hands behind his back, an almost feral grin on his face now. "Time to play, pet." She stared up at him with fear in her eyes as he brought his hands out from behind his back. In them, he held what look like some type of saw. Her breath caught in her throat, and she began to hyperventilate. The man moved to her side and placed the blade of the saw just above where her wrist was bound to the chair. His eyes lit up with sick pleasure as he began to move the blade back and forth, cutting into her skin. Blood began to spurt, and her muffled screams filled the air. "Music to my ears," the man muttered as he continued to put more pressure on the saw. "That's it, pet. Scream for me. I love to hear it." Her vision began to tunnel as she struggled to suck in air through her nose. The pain was overwhelming, and she knew she was going into shock. It was then her mind brought forth a memory, something she had seen on the news a few days prior. There had been reports of a serial killer on the loose. Someone who had been going around cutting off the hands and feet of his victims before slitting their throats and leaving their bodies dumped in the woods. The last two victims had been a young, twenty-something blonde woman and her boyfriend. She realized now that she was about to be the next victim.

"There we are," the sheriff said. "One down, three more to go..."

He picked up her severed hand and brought it to his lips. He moaned softly as he sucked one of the fingers into his mouth, his eyes fluttering closed. A look of ecstasy crossed his face before he slipped the digit from his lips and set the hand aside.

As he moved around to her other side, preparing to slice into her other wrist, she jerked herself backwards with as much force as she could, tipping the chair to the floor.

The sheriff wasn't fast enough to catch her, and her head slammed against the hard wood. A growl came from above, and then she was being lifted into the air. She could feel his hot breath against her ear as he righted her, and he sounded almost disappointed as he whispered, "I didn't want to have to do this yet, but you've left me no choice."

The sheriff set the saw down and disappeared again, returning this time with a small scalpel. He tsked as he held it to her throat. With sudden force, he stabbed the blade into her skin and ran the blade across her throat from ear to ear. As the blood began to spray, covering his face, the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was, "I only wanted to hold your hand."