#i stared at the floor for like five minuets straight as soon as i came in

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Great Timing

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: minor violence, profanity, bodily harm, attempted assault, blood, whump, creepy dude

Summary: Reader gets off work late and encounters a man who follows her home with malicious intent until your neighbor comes home early from deployment.

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST GHOST FIC DONT JUDGE ME 🔫🔫🔫

You sighed in exhaustion as you walk out the doors of your work, instering the key into the lock securing the place, you head straight to your car. It was another nightly overtime stay at work, this has been going on for four days now but luckily your boss gave you a few days off as a token of appreciation which made you just as eager to get home and into the comfort of your bed.

Reaching your apartment complex you mind began to grow fuzzy and blurred with sleep slowly taking place. You got out of the car and began heading to the door entrance of the complex, completely unaware of the lingering figure hiding in the distance eyeing you like prey. You unlocked the complex entrance, using the key card the owner provided you with, you walk in entering the lobby, completely oblivious the figure that slipped through the door before it could close and lock, while you make your way to the elevator.

Pressing the button to the elevator, the doors soon opened as you stepped in, your eyelids so droopy that you almost missed the number ‘4’ button to your floor number. You take your your phone out and examine the screen as it turns on as the doors began to close, ‘3:26,’ you read on your Lock Screen before unlocking the device. You got out earlier than you usually did, these past few nights you wouldn’t leave work till nearly five in the morning.

A dull thud spooked you out of your thoughts, shedding the drowsiness you had felt earlier, your head snapped up at the elevator doors to see a hand between the metal opening forcing the doors to open back up revealing a man in his late 40’s. You didn’t want to assume but the man seemed to be homeless with how dirty and ragged his clothing were, he also had the stench of alcohol lingering off him. You knew some thing was wrong the minute you laid eyes on him, making eye contact you was the way he eyed you, like some piece of meat. Your stomach churned in discomfort and a need to run.

He loomed over you which made you feel even more uncomfortable. You wondered where he even came from since the lobby seemed completely empty, especially since it was 3 in the morning, until a thought occurred. Could he have snuck when you opened the door, you questioned in your mind causing you to tense up, the thought alone seemed to trigger your fight or flight response a little as the need to sleep was shoved into the back of your mind. That was the least of your worries.

You didn’t want to show your panic so you gave him a quick weary smile chucking awkwardly. “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you coming…” you muttered as you curled in on yourself, the man said nothing for the next couple of seconds and just stood there eyeing your figure up and down making you inwardly wince in disgust.

After what felt like minuets he finally moved into the elevator, you shimmied to the very back corner as he stepped in and leaned up against the back wall a little too close for your liking. You scooted over the the side wall of the elevator nearing the controls and doors, as they finally closed. You tried to ignore his staring as you turned to look at the elevators controls. “Uhh… which floor are you going to?” You look at his trying to seem calm to the best of your ability but you already knew you were failing.

He gave a quick glance at the controls before looking back at you causing you to look at his feet. “Four.” He said in a raspy voice, you hummed as you looked back to stare at the floor. The voice in the back of your head was beginning to scream louder to make a run for it but you had no idea what you could do. You’re sure everyone was asleep and definitely wouldn’t answer the door at this hour of the night, but you also couldn’t risk him finding out where exactly you lived. If you tried to make a run back to your car and he followed you’d not only make it obvious but it’d also be dangerous.

A plan came to mind, it was your best chance, “oh looks like I already pressed your floor on accident,” you laugh nervously pressing the third floor button as a way to get closer to the lobby.

He seemed displeased as he responded with a small, “oh.” The digits on the small screen above the doors showed each floor going up. You needed to take the stair cases since the elevator was no good, hopefully he isn’t ballsy enough to follow you as you get off.

The ding of the elevator chimed as you reached the third floor, you’re quick to walk off hearing the doors begin to close, sigh in relief but your breath stills as you hear another set of feet softly pad behind you. You glance over your shoulder and all senses in your body go on high alert. He’s trailing behind and smiling in a way that send a chill up your spine. The voice in your head screams so loud you can no longer ignore it, “RUN!” You wasted no time and began to dash for the stairs. The man chuckles following in pursuit.

He grasps your shirt and yanks you back giving you whiplash as you make harsh contact with the floor. You grunt as you try to get up but your arms are soon pinned and a weight is forced upon you. The man is on top of you as he laughs. “Relax honey I just wanna have fun.” He chuckles, you’re legs thrash around not being pinned causing your knee to make hard contact with his groin causing to shout in pain, his grip looses and you take the chance to kick him off you, he goes back and is flown to the wall, a loud thud coming for it. You quickly rise to your feet and run for the stairs, you contemplate for running up stairs to your floor or to the lobby but decided for the lobby. You defend down one flight before you hear the door slam open, you knew it was the man so your begin to skip a couple of steps to decedent down the stairs faster. “Come back you bitch!” He shouts out.

Relief comes once you reach the end of the stairs and see the lobby door. You swing it open not bothering to close it as you ran across to the entrance, the man quick and hot on your tail you fear you might not even make it to your car. You snag your car keys from your pocket and walk right out the door and make a b-line to your car, parked a few feet away.

The man soon come out the door and looks around to before his eyes land on you, your car not to far from you. Both of your were too focused on one thing, you both failed to notice certain tall bulking figure dress in all black with a black balaclava.

Simon had just barely arrived home, his deployment was expected to take longer but due to the his great performance along with the 141 they were able to go home a week early. He had just gotten out of his truck and heading to the back to grab his duffel bag when he was suddenly alerted by the sudden occurrence, the complexes front door swinging open by you as you ran out, you seemed to run with urgency and by the look on your face it was something bad and it seemed to have terrified you, but from what? His question was answered when the door was slammed open again and out came a man in his late 30’s or 40’s, he clearly was a homeless guy and possibly a drug addict, he stopped look around, he completely overlooked Simon, probably due to his dark clothing the the parking lot poorly lit, the guy scanned the area searching for something until his sight was set on you and wasted no time in following you in pursuit.

This set alarms off for Simon, the man was obvious chasing you with malicious intent, he quickly began to run after you two, he reached down to his upper thigh toward his handgun that was strapped to his thigh, he gripped the weapon and pulled it out of its holster. Simons mind screaming at him to get the guy and protect you before he could lay a finger on you.

You were only a couple of feet away until the man lunged and tackled you to the solid rough ground. Pain eachted though you as some areas of your bare skin scrapped against to ground, your pants ripping and exposing your skin and scaling it as well. Blood beginning to seep out from the wounds. “Get off!” You screamed out, you body pinned down, your legs pinned by his, you wrists helps down with one hand and hair violently pulled with his other hand causing you to cry out.

Before the man could speak he was suddenly jerked off you. In a flash he was on the ground, Simon pinning him to the floor. The man tried to shout until a cold metal was shoved into his mouth, which he soon found out was Simons gun. “You fucking bastard.” Was all Simon shouted before he pulled the gun away and angled the butt of the gun to the man and swung it down to his face over and over.

You had turned on back to see a hooded man in all black on top of the homeless guy and beating the shit out of him with something I his hand but you couldn’t tell with how fast he kept swinging his arm. You watched in shock hearing the homeless guy cry out begging for mercy and even apologizing which unknowingly made you smile and feel a little better. After a few good hits the hooded man stopped, which gave you the chance to look at what was in his hand, it was gun. Was this your neighbor, you wondered, you’ve seen him around once in awhile and only really greeted each other, you converse aged rarely but one time he told you his name was Ghost, which you found odd but didn’t really mind, you knew he worked in the military with him gear and uniform especially with his cargo pants that had his gun strapped to his thigh, seeming the strap you just thought of confined that this guy definitely was your neighbor.

The homeless man lied on the ground limply, groaning and slight cries of pain coming from his now bloodied face, you had a feeling his had a few facial fractures, you swore you heard a few bones cracking from him every time Ghost made contact with his face. You wiped away some tears you didn’t know you had as Ghost loomed over the guy, breathing heavily, your sniffing was what broke him from his trance as he glanced over his shoulder to look at you. He was able to get a good look at you to realize you were his neighbor too, he let out a few breathes of relief too see only a few scratches on you.

“You alright yn?” He asked, his voice deep and out of breath.

You let out a shaken breath you didn’t know you were holding as you nodded. “Thank god you were here.” You whispered staring at the homeless guy who knocked out a few second ago. Ghost really did a number on him, you thought examining his bloodied face, his nose looked broken and bent.

Simon sighed agreeing with you. “You’re lucky I just barely arrived, had I arrived later or earlier…” he pauses, the possibilities that the man could’ve done to you spooked him more than he’d like to admit.

Simon didn’t finish his sentence and opted to staying silent a long with you, you sat on the ground catching your breathes until Simon moved to place his gun back in his holster with the butt still bloodied along with his hand. He rises to his feet walking over to you and held out his gloved one. You grasp it, it felt warm even through the material of the glove, he grasps your hand softy but secured enough to help you up as he lifts you up to your feet like nothing.

He called the cops so you two waited with Simon standing by the man watching him like a hawk ready to ounce at the slightest movement. He tried his best to distract you with some conversations, when the police finally arrived, they had an ambulance to come and take the man, they got your information and asked for details of what happened, they soon wrapped everything up and took off.

“Cmon, let’s get you cleaned up.” He says leading you back inside the apartment. You completely forgot about your injuries till Ghost mentioned them. You almost told him that you could take care of yourself but ultimately decided to just let it happen. It was silence on the way up, the elevator was a little awkward but once you two finally arrived on your floor Simon finally broke the silence. “I have a first aid kit in my place if your ok with that?” You nodded the adrenaline finally subsiding and the aches and stings start coming through.

Simon noticed a slight limp in your walk, some blood soaking around your injures, and some blood still seeping on the injuries from your bottom lip and forehead. As if you could read his mind you spoke before he could voice his concern. “I’m fine I just feel a little sore is all, maybe I pulled my leg but it’s fine.” You mumbled seeing your door and Simons door in view turning into the hall.

Stopping at his door he pulls out his keys, unlocking the door to his flay you follow him in as he stands to the side allowing you to walk in before closing the door behind you. “Make your self comfortable on the couch I’ll be back with the kit. With some aspirin and water. ” He says turning on the light to reveal the living space as he walks down the hall.

You plop yourself on the couch with a sigh until a wave of pain crashed through you, a groan left your lips, you leg burned as you look down at it. You soon realized the blood beginning to seep through the fabric of your clothes leaving a tiny blotch of a deep crimson. Carefully lifting up the fabric of your pants the wound fully came into view. It was ugly, your leg was dripping a lot of blood for such a minor injury which worried you fearing you could possibly need stitches.

“You didn’t tell me you were bleeding.” Simon spoke, the sudden noise of his deep voice spooked you not even hearing his footsteps and seeing him walk over to the side of the couch.

“Jesus Simon, you’re like a damn ninja creeping around so quiet.” you mutter, rolling up the material. Simon kneeled in front of you placing the kit on the coffee table. Opening the box, he fished out a gauze pad, alcohol pads, and bandages. He took his gloves off revealing his bare hands, you watched his movements but even the feeling of his warm skin against your leg startled you.

Simon ignored your comment as he remained silent, you worried you might've soured his mood especially since he practically saved your life and brought you inside his house to take the time to attend to your wounds but you’re thoughts were cut short when he handed you the bottle of aspirin and water.

“Thanks.” You muttered taking the bottles, taking out two pills you drop them into your mouth before opening the water bottle. You take a swig before swapping the liquid and pills. Ghost prepped the stuff as you did so waiting for you to finish.

"Brace yourself," he spoken breaking the silence and your thoughts. Before you could process what was happening, Simon brought the alcohol-soaked gauze pad to your wound. you hissed in pain, the hot searing pain outnumbered out the cold wetness of the pad. your leg was kept still by Simon's hand gripping your calf to be still, you were were too busy with the pain to think much about how impressively strong his grip on your leg was.

As Simon was close to finishing up, you kept your eyes on him, you didn’t want to stare and seem rude or make Simon uncomfortable but this was the first time you really got to look at what the mask didn’t hide. You took in the little scar of his right cheek that disappeared down into the mask, the hairs on his blond eyelashes that were beautiful and long and what most entranced you were his eyes. They were a beautiful hazel, the color vary based on the different lighting. With the light shining on half of his face one eye shined like a diamond reveal a beautiful honey brown color while his other eye was dark like an abyss.

Unfortunately his eyes were to enticing that you failed to process the movement of his head turning up to you, his eyes boring right back into yours and the movement of his covered mouth, “You gonna keep gawking at me or are you gonna answer my question?” His gruff voice broke you out of your trace as realization hit your mind, you face began to burn as your mind screamed at you in embarrassment.

“Uhhh- I- I… What…. What was the question?” You muttered nervously, avoiding looking at Simon feeling shame from being caught.

“Are you okay to walk or do you need help?” He repeated still kneeling down beside you causing him to look up at you.

You didn’t wanna admit it but your legs couldn’t keep you up anymore. As nice as it would sound to have Simon help you and be up against his body, you saved him the trouble. “I’ll be fine. Thanks again Si.” You thank him before you ‘try’ to pull yourself up to your feet only to pathetically look like an elderly person due to the couch being close to the ground. Your face burned in embarrassment as you plopped back down on the couch and looked at the floor in defeat as Simon still stood there in silence just watching you. “I need help…” you muttered.

You heard Simon snort as he steps to you and sets your arm over his shoulder and slipping his hands beneath your back and knees and lifting you up bridal style. You gasped and wrapped your arms around Simon tightly. “Simon?!” You called out but he didn’t bother and began to walk towards his door.

“Welcome.” Was all he said taking his hand beneath your back to his door knob, twisting the knob and opening the door, not worried about you falling with the death grip you had on him. The trip only took a few steps until Simon reached your front door. Slowly he lowered you down as you eased your grip and stood on your feet. You could feel the cold begin to replaces Simons warmth which made you shiver. “Got your Keys?” He asked, you nod before fishing out your house keys from your pocket.

As you finally unlock the door, you began to limp your way into your home until Simon gently grasped your left arm and swing it over his shoulder lifting most of your weight off your injured leg. You were going to protest but decided against it and savor the help and warmth he provided you.

“Where to?” He asked, silence for a second until you bobbed your head towards the hallway.

“My bedroom, last door at the end of the hall.” You say, making your way towards your door you turn the knob and make your way in. Simon helps you settle onto your bed, sitting at the edge of your mattress. As soon as you got settled Simon began to make his exit muttering an awkward ‘goodnight’ until you spoke. “Simon,” you call out making him stop at your doorway. He turned around and eyes you, “Thank you, really, you saved me. I don’t know what the hell I would’ve done if you hadn’t arrived at the right time. I don’t even know what would’ve happen to me had you not been there…”

That thought seemed to haunt not only you but Simon as well. The mere thought of seeing you in a gruesome way triggered memories he wish he could burn out of his mind. He sighed and walked back up to you, setting a hand on your shoulder, he could see the thought was troubling you the most. “Me too, ‘m glad your not too beat up. And there’s no need to thank me.”

“We’ll I mean you took me to your place and took the time to help deal with this mess so, and in a way I should be thanking you.” You mumbled shifting your legs to examine the bandages.

“‘S fine, jus’ wanted to make sure you’re alright. You should get some rest though, ya look like shite.” He chuckled.

You laughed out an “ass,” before nodding. “Can’t deny that though, I’ll clean up and head to bed then. You get some rest I’m sure you need the extra sleep coming back from deployment and then having to deal with all the fiasco.”

“You sure you should do that?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m sure, the aspirin should be kicking in here in a few, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Stop worrying and get to sleep.” You joke.

Simon nods gives you a small pat on your back before making his way out of your room. “Alright, I’ll see you around,” he says,

“Good night Simon.” You smile.

Simon grabs your doorknob and began to close the door before looking at you once more you could see his eyes slightly wrinkle, he was smiling. “Good night (y/n).”

~~~~~~~~~

Just as you suspected the aspirin finally kicked in a few minutes after Simon left. You did what you needed to do, shower and avoid getting your bandages wet. After dressing in your sleep wear, you walked to the kitchen for a drink when you noticed a paper on your table. Picking it up you examined the numbers written on there with a note below it.

‘Here’s my number If you contact me, also lock the top lock on your door. -Simon’

You smiled at the note before taking your drink, setting the cup down with the note still in hand you make your way to your front door seeing the bottom lock already locked, you lock the top one before heading back to your room.

You sit on your bed and grab your phone before putting in Simons number into your contacts.

You: Got your note. top is locked, thanks 👍🏼

It didn’t take long till you got a text back.

Simon💀: No problem, stay safe and be more aware of your surroundings love, I won’t always be around to save your arse.

You laughed trying to ignore the nickname as you finally settle into your covers.

You: Yes Sir 👍🏼

Simon💀: Good girl.

[pinkpastels113]

i’m crying this is so wholesome and i had a shitty day bc i was so stressed out earlier bc of work and bc i got yelled at for allegedly bumping the car in the next parking space with the back seat door and-

i love you guys 😭😭

@eulersfeverdream

[monigheandonn1743]

The Diary

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5

Chapter 6

He ran his thumb around the rim of his pint glass, staring blindly at the dark murky liquid, as laugher rose up in the crowd around him. From the moment he entered the pub, he’d been bombarded with one question after another, as eager locals had come over to meet the new Laird Broch Tuarach.

Hugh hadn’t been lying when he’d declared him a hot topic. They’d wanted answers to questions he’d not even thought to ask himself, and while it pissed him off, he patiently explained his basic plans.

Over and over again.

Thankfully, the pub quiz had started ten minuets ago, and he’d been left in relative peace. After finding a quiet corner, he’d eventually sat down, and had been staring into his Guinness ever since.

He didn’t want to be here.

After a day spent digging through a derelict house, and crating up hundreds of books and antiques, a hot shower, clean clothes, and a cold pint had been more than welcome. But he was passed ready to get back.

Including Jamie, Hugh and Fergus, there was a team of sixteen working on the house. Five of them had set to work on the generator, running wires, and setting up lamps all throughout the house. The remaining ten had been working with Jamie to get everything packed up. Together they’d managed to completely empty the ground floor and everything, apart from the old diaries, and the crap they’d dumped in the skip, were now on their way to Edinburgh.

He’d keep everything in storage for now, and take Jerry with him to go though it, when he went back home. But the diaries he’d needed to keep.

After Hugh had finished reading the passage, he’d questioned Jamie relentlessly. He wanted to know why it was so important. But having absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, he’d simply shrugged, and told him the same story he’d told Ned.

There was a squatter, and she’d been researching his family.

Hugh had accepted his explanation, but had still eyed him warily as he’d left the room to help the lads set up the generator. In a state of mind numbing confusion, Jamie had pulled out his phone and sent off two quick emails. One to Ned to call off the search, and one to Gail to begin a new one. He needed answers and to get them he needed to dig into the past.

Reaching for his phone, he pulled open Gails response. It was short and sweet, and after reading it for the tenth time, he downed the last of his pint, said goodnight to the lads and left the pub. The bed and breakfast was across the street, but instead of going in and up to bed, he walked quickly towards his car and climbed in.

He’d only had one drink, he was fine to drive.

With a flick of a button the car came to life, and after connecting his Bluetooth, he selected the number Gail had sent and pulled out onto the road. It rang and rang and he was just considering hanging up when a breathless female voice answered.

“Hello.”

“Good evening,” he responded, surprised. He been expecting a man not a woman, and it threw him for a moment. “I’m not sure if I have the right number, but I was looking for a Mr Frank Randell.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, this is his number, excuse me one second and I’ll get him for you.” She rushed out in a sweet, melodic voice. He could hear the soft tapping of her heels as she moved quickly to find him, and the sound of muffled voices in the background. “Frank, there’s a call for you.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, and Jamie could almost hear the shrug in her voice. It was followed by an impatient huff and soft crackling as the phone changed hands.

“Frank Randell.”

“Mr Randell. I’m looking for some information with regards to an old Scottish property.” He explained as he turned right onto the long road that would lead him back to Lallybroch. “I believe you’re something of an expert in that field?”

“That’s right…Mr?”

“Fraser.”

“Mr Fraser. My areas of expertise are the Jacobite risings and the clearance, but I do delve into other aspects of Scottish history. What kind of information are you looking for?”

“I’ve recently acquired a property about forty miles outside Inverness. I’m looking into its early history, and the people that lived there in the seventeen forties. Around about the time of the second rising.”

The line went quiet for a moment, but he heard the rustling of papers, and the soft creak of a chair as he sat down.

“Fraser.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “Are you referring to Beaufort? I had heard that it changed hands recently. It went to a…different branch of the family I believe.”

“No.” Jamie sighed. Christ this man was quick. It had taken him less than a minute to work out who he was.“I have my own team of historians working on Beaufort. This is personal. I need it kept separate and managed discreetly.”

“Alexander Malcom.” Randell surmised quietly, the sudden awe in his voice making Jamie roll his eyes.

“Yes. But again, it’s not a business request. If I decide to offer you the job, and you accept, then you’ll be invoicing me directly. Not my company. Is it something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes, of course.” He rushed out. “My wife and I are admirers of your work, Mr Fraser. And from a professional point of view, what you’ve accomplished for the heritage in such a short amount of time, is fascinating.”

And completely irrelevant to this conversation.

“Thank you, but I assure you, I haven’t done it alone. But as my people are tied up in the heritage projects…”

“Of course, of course. I’ve obviously done a lot of research on the highland clans from that era. It’s highly likely that I already have some of the information you’re looking for. What is it that you require?”

“I have a list of names and a rough time frame. I want everything that can be found on them from the day they were born, until the day they died.

“If you text your address details to this number, I’ll have my lawyer courier over a confidentiality agreement. Once we have it signed I’ll send you everything you need to get started.”

“Okay.” Randell hedged hesitantly. “But most of the information you’re looking for is a matter of public record. It hardly requires confidentiality when anyone can find it.”

“The historical reference, yes.” Jamie agreed as he turned left on to the dirt track. “But I’ll be supplying you with personal information about myself and my family, and giving you access to private historical documents. I don’t trust easily, Mr Randell, and I don’t want to see the information published in a new Oxford journal.”

“Completely understandable. Send over the paperwork and I’ll be happy to sign it.”

“Good, I’ll have it to you tomorrow. Once it’s back with my attorney, I’ll give you a call and we can go though the details.”

“Splendid. I look forward to working with you, Mr Fraser.”

“We’ll talk soon.” He disconnected the call, and stayed sat in the car at the front of the house as he composed an email to Ned.

He needed the confidentiality agreement to be iron clad. He didn’t know this man from Adam, and if he found out about Claire’s diary, he didn’t want his insanity splashed all over the tabloids.

Not that he actually thought he was insane anymore. Fergus and Hugh had both seen the diary, and Hugh had clearly read her most recent entry. The one that had been written about her encounter with him.

To be honest, he no longer knew what to think. Every time he attempted to come up with a new explanation his mind went completely blank. He was out of logic and it was frustrating the hell out of him. He didn’t believe in the supernatural, but he was suddenly faced with the very real possibility that the house was actually haunted.

But surely ghosts can’t write in a fucking diary?

He scrubbed his hand across his face and took a deep breath, before climbing out of the car. It was just after sunset, but it wasn’t quite dark yet, and he took a moment to look up at the house as he fished the keys out of his pocket.

It looked like a haunted house, he couldn’t deny that. With a few boarded up windows, crumbling stones, and small saplings springing out of the pointing. It was a classic horror movie in the making. He was sure that if he searched YouTube, he’d most likely find some random teen ghost hunter, roaming the halls of his house, with an amp metre and an infrared camera.

Shaking his head, he walked up the front steps and opened the door. It was almost pitch black inside, so flipped on a couple of lights as he made his way down the hall, and up the winding staircase to his room. He’d purposefully left the diary on the windowsill, rather than under the mattress. He wanted to see if it would move, and what her reaction would be to finding it there: if she had one at all.

And if she really did exist.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that, although the year was different, the date coincided with his. Today was the 17th June, and although she didn’t write everyday, he was hoping that moving the diary would encourage her to do so.

“Yeah, ye still fucking crazy.” He huffed as he walked into the room, heading straight for the window. He was attempting to communicate with a bloody ghost, like some crackpot medium, and if that wasn’t a sign that he was crazy, he didn’t know what was.

It was with a deep sense of disappointment that he saw the book still sat where he’d left it. It hadn’t moved an inch, and when he flipped it open, the last entry was the same. Closing it gently, he moved backwards and sat on the end of the bed.

He didn’t have a fucking clue what to make of it all. If she was a ghost, the two incidences could have been a freak anomaly, where their aurora collided or some cosmic shit like that. But her being a spirit didn’t explain how she was still going about her life like it was 1747. Everyone she loved was apparently still there with her. She’d delivered a baby the night before he’d arrived, and she had people searching the house for him.

And it didn’t explain the garden he’d seen.

So what was it then? Some kind of rift in the fabric of time? A worm hole? Did the diary exist in two places at once?

He looked over at it and frowned. Jesus Christ, he felt like a complete twat even thinking it, but it randomly made sense in his warped mind. It was impossible, but it would explain why it looked so new.

It was new.

So many things in the house must have changed since she’d lived here. The house itself had changed and been extended, he’d seen the makings on the original blueprints. But she made no reference to any of it, so she must be in 1747. Even the mattress she so diligently hid her diary beneath, would have been replaced numerous times before he’d swapped it out for his air bed.

But maybe the bed-frame was the same, and the bedside table. The two places he’d found the diary.

So where had it been when it had disappeared from the bottom of the bed? Had she placed it on a piece of furniture that no longer existed? Or had it vanished because she was writing in it?

Was he actually really considering this?

He was a rational, twenty first century business man. Renowned and respected across the globe. Yet here he was seriously considering that he’d found some kind of…what?

A talisman to the past? Physical proof that Einstein and Hawkins were right? A link to a long dead ancestor?

Was she an ancestor? Had she eventually married William Fraser? Was she his great, great, great, great grandmother or something? Or was it a parallel universe? Everybody seemed to have the same Goddamn names. Surely that wasn’t normal.

“Jesus, Jamie! What about any of this is fucking normal?” He growled as he pushed to his feet and walked back towards the window. He needed to get the historical information from Randell so he could find out once and for all.

He reached for the diary, wanting to read through it again, but as his fingers brushed against the leather it disappeared.

“Shit!” He hissed, jumping back in shock, one hand still outstretched, and the other clutching his suddenly pounding heart. “Jesus fucking Christ! It disappeared. It actually disappeared.” He gasped, backing away, then moving forward again to quickly check behind the curtain, and on the floor. “Motherfucker!”

It was gone, vanished, just like that.

He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. His body was flooded with so much adrenaline that he was physically shaking, and he couldn’t keep still. He paced the space between the window and the door, over and over, backwards and forwards, until he suddenly stopped and turned to face the bed.

Surely if she was writing in the diary, then when she was finished she’d place it under the mattress or on the bedside table. If that was the case, he wanted to see the exact moment that it reappeared. Reaching for his pillows and sleeping bag, he dropped them to the floor, grabbed the air bed, and set the whole thing up in front of the door.

Then he sat down and waited.

And waited and waited.

For over an hour he sat staring at the place he expected it to turn back up. He barely even blinked, and although he was desperate for a piss, he didn’t move. This was huge, really fucking huge, and he was so agitated, he was surprised that his shitty heart hadn’t completely given out.

But there wasn’t even a twinge. It just pounded rapidly in his chest, pumping more and more adrenaline through his blood stream.

How much is she writing?

If she was writing at all. His theory could be a load of crap, and in the morning he might be going back to the drawing board. But if she was…Jesus, he didn’t know. Trying to wrap his head around something like that was migraine inducing. God help him if anyone ever found out. The government would slap him with the official secrecy act before he could blink, and he’d probably be thrown in the loony bin.

Or assassinated.

Most likely the latter. The ramifications of being able to communicate with someone from the past were astronomical. It could completely change history.

If the diary worked both ways.

And there was no evidence to say that it did. For now it had disappeared, and who was to say that it would ever show up again?

He sighed and lent back against the wall attempting to ease the pressure of his aching bladder. There was an empty water bottle on the floor by the bed, and if the diary didn’t turn up soon, he was going to have to bite the bullet and piss in it. It was either that, or peeing out of the window. Neither was appealing, but desperate times and all that.

He rubbed at his newly formed stubble, then almost fell on his arse, as he jumped to his feet and dived across the room.

It was back!

As quickly as it had disappeared it had reappeared on the bedside table, and he snatched it up and quickly flipped to the last entry.

Holy mother of God!

Saturday 17th June 1747

Who are you?

Where are you?

How are you getting into my room?

I locked the door this morning, safe in the knowledge that no other person in the house has a key, and that my possessions would be safe from the prying eyes of a stranger. Yet you have been here again, I know you have.

Why?

What do you want from me?

If Jonathan has sent you to play games with my mind, you can inform him that it will not work. If his savagery failed to break me, I can assure you that his parlour tricks will be as unsuccessful.

I am not mad, and he will not make me so.

I will not lie and say that I am unafraid of him, there would be no point, you have already stollen that truth from my mind. But I will not cower before him, there is nothing he can do that has not already been done.

But that being said, being a pawn in the games of a sick and twisted man, does not explain your ability to walk through walls. Nor does it shed light on your vanishing act.

Without your propensity to move inanimate objects, I’d presume you a ghost, but that is not the case is it? You are as real as I am, for you have held my diary in your hands, just as I know you are now.

So tell me, sir, what exactly it is that you hope to achieve? Are you attempting to scare me? Are you planning to hurt me? Or are you simply a voyeur to my life, intending to pry out all of my secrets?

With no wish to disappoint you, allow me to say that your endeavours are in vain. I do not fear you. You can not possibly hurt me more than I already have been. And my life is invariably dull.

But by all means, pray continue, for you will soon find the truth to my words for yourself, and I will gladly say that I told you so.

[twilightfantasies]

Supermarket Excursion

(Male/female, public, rough)

Dear Reader, I have a naughty little tale to tell....

Have you ever been out, at work or at the gym or in a supermarket, and you see something. It could be something small. Something tiny that only you saw. But as minuet as it might be, it gets your mind wondering. You start picturing it in your mind, experiencing it again. Then that grows to a scenario that grows and develops in your mind. Now you're in that mood. You know what you need, it's all you can't think about. That animalistic need that takes over. That's what happened to our old friend Bishop, as he walked through the isles of the supermarket. He was in that bad mood. It was beginning to take over. He’d been going through a dry spell recently. His last book sold so well, the publisher promised a huge advance if he could get a second book out as soon as possible. So for almost a year, he’d been in his officer, working on the second book. But that didn’t leave him much time for socializing. That also made him extremely horny.

Every female he saw, they instantly got put into sexual scenarios in his head. He couldn’t focus on shopping at all. He was too busy picturing bending the cashier over her station. Or pushing a mother of two against the candy isle and taking her. And that’s when he saw her. A beautiful girl, with bright red hair, went walking past him. The second Bishop saw her, he needed her.

Not only did she have soft, ivory skin, that drove Bishop crazy. But she was five feet, eight inches and extremely slender. She had perfect, perky D cups, which made her super tight t-shirt lift up enough to see her tight stomach every time she reached for something. And her long legs, and toned calves were accented in her, what Bishop assumed were, size 0 jeans. He didn’t know what came over him.

He stopped what he was doing and walked over to this vision of beauty.

"Hey." He said casually. "I’m Alexander Bishop."

"Hi, I’m Sam." She replied smiling, caught off guard by the random introduction. She stuck her hand out to shake his, but instead, he held onto her and with both of his.

"Nice to meet you Samantha. Can you follow me?" He asked gently.

"Ummm, follow you where?" She asked nervously.

"Just follow me." Then without another word, he couple his hand with the hand of hers he was holding, and started walking off, trailing Samantha behind him.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked. But Bishop just ignored her. He took her through two double doors, and through a back stalking around. In the back were two unisex, private bathrooms. Still, towing Sam behind him, he kicked open the door, pulled her in with him, and locked it behind him. Samantha back herself against a wall on the other side of the bathroom.

"You can have my money, please just don’t hurt me." Bishop walked over, reached over, pulled her hair to make her head point upwards, and started kissing her. At first, she kissed him back. Feeling his tongue forcing its way into her mouth gave her a jolt of pleasure that ran through her body. But that jolt of pleasure snapped her into reality. She realized she couldn’t let this happen. She pressed both hands against his chest and tried pushing him off with both hands. But he didn’t budge.

Bishop pulled her hair again, this time causing her chin the lift up high. He started kissing and sucking on her long, slender neck. After a few minutes, Samantha stopped pushing, keeping her hands pressed against Bishops chest as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. She started feeling him bite her neck lightly every so often. Even those it slightly hurt, it only added to the pleasure. He pushed her hands aside and used one hand to massage her breast as he continued to greedily suck on her neck. That got her moaning low in his ear.

It felt so good, she started dropping her chin not even realizing. Bishop grabbed her throat, right under her chin, and pushed her head against the wall, forcing her to straighten out her neck once again. Samantha normally liked things more gentle, more romantic. But feeling Bishop being rough with her breast, she couldn’t help but enjoy it. Unfortunately, bishop couldn’t lose himself in the moment like Samantha was. The combination between her t-shirt and bra interrupted the amazing feeling of her round, firm breast. He pulled back, grabbed her shirt, and lifted it right over his head, letting it fall to the tile floor.

Then he reach behind her, unsnapped her bra with one hand. And with the other hand, in a single move, he grabbed the bra between the cups, pulled it off her, and tossed it so hard behind him it hit the door. Before getting back to satisfying his uncontrollable needs, he let his eyes soak in what he had in front of him. Samantha’s perfect breasts. Her beautiful, pink, little nipples. Her ivory skin, so soft it could easily make the finest silk jealous. Feeling exposed, all Sam could do was smile.

Bishop bent over a little and brought his focus to Samantha’s breasts. He started sucking on her right breast while massaging the left one with his hand. Samantha push the back of her head against the wall as she moaned softly. She closed her eyes to focus on the tingling feeling that shot through her breast and across her body every time he sucked on her nipple. Bishop greedily shoved as much of her breast in his mouth as he sucked. He started sucking harder, needing her left breast harder. He went faster.

Samantha moaned louder. After a few minutes, she couldn’t take it anymore. Sam reached down, shoved her hand into her jeans, and rubbed her clit through her little pink thong. Once Bishop noticed that, he grabbed her arm hard and slammed it against the wall.

"No!" He yelled. That scared Samantha. But excited her as well.

He shoved her jeans and thong down to her ankles, reached down, and started rubbing her firm little clit hard. She was already dripping wet.

"Is that what you needed you little bitch?" Bishop grumbled, staring into her eyes. She nodded. "Is this what you couldn’t wait for?" He asked, rubbing harder. She moaned as she nodded again. He grabbed Sam’s clit with his pointer finger and thumb, pinching it hard.

The second he pinched it, her knees went weak. She started falling down, but caught herself before she did. Bishop grabbed her throat and pulled her up so she was standing up straight again. He stared into her eyes, as if ordering her not to do that again with his eyes.

"Take off your pants." He commanded. Her jeans were already around her ankles so all she had to do was step out of them. Bishop got on his knees.

He lifted one of her legs, pushed it up, and started licking her pussy lips. That got Samantha moaning louder. He licked her clean shaven pussy lips over and over, enjoying her sweet taste. He pushed the tip of his tongue between her lips and ran it up and down her slit. Once his tongue got to the entrance of her pussy, he flipped his tongue back and forth across it. Then slid his tongue up and down her slit again. Then back to the outside of her pussy.

He continued this again and again. Samantha was moaning moaning loud now, her hands on the back of Bishop’s head, rolling and grinding her hips into his face. His face was getting covered in her juices as he ate out her tight, pink, little pussy. His cock was completely hard. He knew it was time, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He unbuttoned his jeans. He unfastened his belt.

Then he put his arms under Samantha’s thighs, wrapping his arms around, and gripping her hips. Holding on tight, he stood, lifting her up at the same time. As he got to his feet, he shook his hips, allowing his jeans and boxers fall to the floor. Keeping her pinned to the wall, lifting her up so she’s at the right height, he pushed his long, thick, hard dick into her. She was so tight, he had to force his dick in to enter her. Even though she was incredibly wet, it still didn’t help. Every time he pushed, his dick enters her a little more.

Finally after seven pumps, his cock finally slid all the way in. They both let out a groan of relief simultaneously. Bishop started bouncing Samantha up and down as he moved his hips, so every time he pushed himself inside her, his dick went in deep and hard. They heard pounding on the bathroom door.

"This is the manager. Open the door now please!" The female voice called out. But that didn’t slow Bishop down, or stop either of their moans. If anything, it made Bishop fuck Samantha faster.

Harder. Which made both of them moan louder. He was fucking her as hard and as fast as he could.

"I need to cum." Samantha said, panting.

"I’m almost there." Bishop replied.

"Wait. Are you wearing a condom?" She asked. But Bishop didn’t answer.

He just went faster. Moaned harder.

"Don’t cum inside me. I’m not on the pill!" She yelled while moaning.

"I’m cumming." He said loud, forcefully. Just hearing that instantly made her cum. But he didn’t slow down. She could feel him empty himself inside her for a minute straight.

Once he was done, he put Samantha on the ground and started pulling up his pants. She stood there, unsure if she could move. He got dressed, and without saying a word to her, walked out the door. Even though he walked past four employees, he walked out confidently, smiling. As the door shut behind him, Samantha slid to the floor in an exhausted, satisfied pile of flesh.

So remember dear reader. The sin isn't giving into those needs and desires. The sin is not living those fantasies out of fear. Because if you suppress those needs long enough, they might just take over and drink deep from the fountain of depravity.