#i have the name and location(town not storefront) picked

[oorevitcejda]

im going to trick my city (nearest,largest, off-rez city) into supporting an LGBTQIA+ furry restaurant disguised as a college friendly arcade

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: August 8th

Well, doing big posts all together worked for a while but lately I’ve been putting it off because it takes a long time to get them done. I think I’m gonna try switching back to answering asks whenever I can fit it in and posting them one at a time instead of waiting until I’ve filled out one of these major collections.

But for now, here’s more ask answers! Thank you for the questions and for all the kind words along with them ^^.

Hello!! I'm here to ask if its possible to get  the game and its dlcs on steam and play it on android?

I’m afraid not. Steam doesn’t have Android builds on their own site and Steam is not cool with keys for other sites being given out for Steam purchases, so you don’t get the Itch version from buying on Steam.

Hello! Sorry to bother you but, I had a question, if we buy the Game on itchio do we get steam keys or would we need to purchase it twice? 

You would have to buy it twice if you want it in both places, I’m sorry. To repeat myself a little, Steam doesn’t like the key trading thing. Itch may support giving keys for another site, but the reverse isn’t doable with Steam and Steam doesn’t even really want you to get a Steam key for buying somewhere else either. So we just don’t mess around with that.

hey, sorry if this is frequently asked, but is step 4 free dlc or paid for? some of your sources are contradicting each other. 

It’s free! There’s a paid wedding DLC, but Step 4 itself is entirely unpaid.

Hello! I just had a quick question, for the Baxter and Derek DLC's will we be able to confess our feelings to them or let them confess to MC? or will it only be one way? (they confess to MC)

Both type of options will be available!

Hey there! I wanted to ask whether or not the Derek DLC is still on track to be released in August since on the steam discussion board it says it will be released mid 2021. I totally understand if it isn't, I'm just really looking forward to it! If you answer then ty! And keep up the amazing work :D 

It’s not, aha. Unfortunately, 2021 wasn’t easier than 2020 as we hoped so things are still slower than planned. It’ll come out late 2021 or early 2022.

Hi! Firstly I just want to say that I LOVE Our Life. I have played a bit of similar games but this one instantly wins for the best one! Everything about it is amazing! I just wanted to ask if Derek would ever lose feelings for MC, like if they make the deal and then MC gets with Cove would he move on? and even if you don't, after "losing contact" would his feeling fade or would he still like MC? 

If you don’t really keep in touch with him and clearly move on with your life, Derek will too and he’ll be over it. But if you are still close as best as you can be, he’ll still think the MC is special. Though, he’ll always support your relationship with someone else if that’s what’ll make you happy.

Hello! Sorry if you've answered this before but: 'How's Lee related to us? Though which momma? And does she share our player-chosen last names? Also, do you know if Noelani took Pam's last name or did it happen the other way round? 

She’s related to Pamela and Pamela’s last name is the one they use, so the MC has the same last name as Lee.

Will we be able to choose which (they or he) we tend to call Qiu by more often, or will it randomly change depending on the moment? 

Qiu knows which pronoun they’re comfortable with at a time and you’ll call them what they’re happy with. And it doesn’t change between lines, it takes multiple scenes or even full Steps for it to switch. So for extended periods Qiu will be totally a guy or fully agender.

Will Step 4 of OL2 have moments?

It’ll be an epilogue like it is in OL1, so it won’t have a bunch of different Moments.

Hello! Just a quick question, is Sunset bird from OL1 based on a real location? If so what's it called? I wanna visit it +_+

ps i love your games so much <3

It isn’t based on one specific town you can go to, but there are a lot of little coastal towns in Cali that have a similar vibe!

Heyaaa ( I hope you're all well ), umm… it might seem kinda stupid to ask but did Patreon members can have a key for the dlc's ( all the steps-released dlc ) even if they became a member this month or later ? (me? saying this cuz it's my case? maybe ;-;), and once again thanks for absolutely all the amazing works on all the games ! u-u 

You wouldn’t get the DLCs for backing there. The Patreon is for extra bonus content/early access, rather than being a storefront to purchase the normal DLCs. Rarely we give them out as a side gift, but it hardly happens and if what you want is the DLCs it’s best to ignore the Patreon and  buy keys for those directly from Itch or Steam. I’m sorry for the confusion.

Hey y'all, love what youre doing w/Terry. Trans rep outside of player customization is so rare and important to see more of so thank you so much. I do have a question and its that does he have a canon sexuality? I know Miranda was said to be straight ace but I dont believe anything was stated for Terry probably because he wasnt revealed to be a guy which changes things. Im also curious if well get answers on how long hes liked Miranda since he may have liked her in step 3 before she liked him 

Terry likes women and Randy likes men! And he did like Miranda back in Step 3.

Will the Wedding Dlc release at the same time as Step 4? 

They’ll come out separately with Step 4 releasing first.

I really love Our Life so much! I've spent over 20hours playing it even though I only got it a week ago! I was wondering if I could make a fangame for Our Life with a different love interest but same plot. Next-door neighbors romance, multiple steps, etc? I'll probably make it on Google Slides though- 

Sure! I hope you have fun with it and I’m glad you love the game.

How does Cove feel about poly relationships? 

He’s got nothing against them for the people they work for, but he’s 100% monogamous and would only be comfortable with a partner who was willing to be monogamous with him.

Idk if this has been answered before but will Step 4 include the option to advance your feelings towards Cove? 

Yep, you’ll be able to determine your feelings and what your relationship is.

In step 4 will there be a chosen to say we live with Cove even as just friends? 

Yeah, you can choose to live with Cove and that can be done when you’re friends.

I just played the game with the MC and Cove being best friends and omg it’s still so damn cute like the wholesomeness of it all is too much for my heart I swear ^.^  Now with that all said I was wondering can we still marry Cove? if we only love him as a friend like let’s say we’ve made deal with him similar to the one we can make with Derek because let’s real no one could compete with what the MC and Cove have even if they aren’t in love. 

It’s great to hear you enjoyed the friendship story! You can live with Cove, but you can’t marry him platonically. Cove has familial affection for the MC if they’re best-est friends. He wouldn’t think to marry someone he loves like family and even grew up with as though they truly were siblings.

Are you still going to be making a DLC for XOBD? :] 

Yes! We’re slowing adding voiced lines and fixing errors.

It makes me laugh that Shiloh's last name is Fields because that's what I put as my last name! So in Our Life when he talked about "Ms. Fields" picking him up I was extremely confused, lol. That dude mimics personalities so much that he stole my surname!

Oh, wow, that’s a very funny coincidence, haha.

hi !! i cant seem to be able to get the scene where mc is able to propose to cove despite being at the 'love' stage and telling him i'd want to get married, are there any other details that im missing out on? the options just dont appear at the end... 

Maybe you missed telling Cove you were in love with him even if you mentioned wanting to get married or you might’ve accidentally said earlier in the game that you don’t want to progress your relationship further with Cove. We haven’t removed them, so you can get the scene again. It’s just kind of easy to miss since there’s multiple requirements. You can read a little guide in the FAQ.

wait what di you need to do to be able to propose to cove? I've been trying but haven't had much luck 

You can check out the FAQ linked above!

does cove only develop a crush on the mc if the mc is also at crush/in love with him? 

Technically, yes. We treat the non-romantic relationship options as truly non-romantic since we don’t want to bait and switch people. But there’s nothing wrong with headcanoning that Cove does have feelings developing for the MC even before the MC has.

Is there a way to make/allow Lee and Baxter to date?

No, they just don’t have enough time together.

We also got a group of asks related to Tamarack in OL2, but I’m afraid the way they talked about people with larger bodies made me not want to post their words, even if the person didn’t say they’re trying to be hurtful. I will separate out the core question and answer it though, so people can know that info.

Does Tamarack lose weight in later Steps?

No, she doesn’t. As for the other questions included, to be honest, I don’t have to explain/defend having romance options of different sizes. I’m sorry if you’re dealing with unhappiness that’s connected to body image, if that’s where the negative emotions are coming from, but even so I can’t meet you on that level and pretend it’s a problem that needs an answer. A girl who simply isn’t thin being a main love interest is just not an unreasonable concept. Also, Tamarack isn’t a lesbian. Yes, she can date a female MC, but that doesn’t undo her actual sexuality, so I’m not sure where that one part at the end was coming from.

I wonder... can we "fight" with Qiu over leader status? 👀

Not really, haha. No matter how cool your MC is, they’re never gonna replace Qiu for the other kids around. So you can either partner up with him, follow him too, or not be a part of all that group politics stuff.

So when I play the game, sometimes I mentally call Cove “Covie/Covey” and that made me wonder, how does Cove feel about being nicknamed? Not like Romeo/Space Cadet/etc. but like pet names relating to his actual name

It’d depend on his age, personality, and your relationship with him! When he’s younger he’d probably be embarrassed, when he was grown he’d probably be more casual or happy about it.

will you be able to date baxter in step 3 while at crush with cove (but not dating him ofc) sorry if this has been asked already. i really love baxters step 4 design btw!! 

Yeah, you can be crushing on Cove and date Baxter if you weren’t already dating Cove. You just can’t be truly in love with Cove and then switch to Baxter.

I just got my friend into our life, and they adore shiloh and derek sooo will there be more of them in the second game? 

I’m afraid not. But you can see plenty more of Shiloh in XOXO Droplets/XOXO Blood Droplets, haha.

I see you haven't gotten any xoxo droplets asks recently but I'm still obsessed with these boys!! I was just wondering if Nate would curse under any circumstance? 

Yeah, Nate does use certain swear words (damn, hell, bastard) on very rare occasions.

Hi there! I have a question about the wedding dlc. Will we be able to plan a honeymoon during the planning stages of it or would it be something that Cove and the mc would rather plan later on? Thank you! Absolutly love the game by the way, definitely one of my favorite games! 

The focus will be on the wedding day itself. The topic of the honeymoon might come up a bit, but there won’t be any choosing of the exact location and such.

Hi! I have two questions and it's completely understandable if you only answer one/neither and I'm sorry if you've already answered either before! First, is there a set year in which OL:B&A takes place (ex: Step 1 being set in 2010 & Step 2 being set in 2016, etc.) or is it simply up to interpretation? Second, have you guys thought about doing a coming-of-age game where the MC has a tough home life or upbringing? (like one of their parents is an addict, a parent being transphobic whilst the player has the option to be trans, or having friends that are influencing them to do drugs, etc.) That's all! Thanks for making beautiful games. <3 

There is a set timeline!

Step 1: 2006 Step 2: 2011 Step 3: 2016 Step 4: 2021 

And we don’t currently plan on making a game like that. The Our Life series exists to be a safer environment for people to play around in and if we did do a brand new series that was harsher edged it’d be something more fantastical and/or plot-driven instead of a different type of modern day slice-of-life growing up story. I’m sorry.

i don’t know if you’ve already answered this, but do you have a guess on when phase 4 will come out? as well as ol2? i’m so excited for both of them, the inclusivity in this game is amazing, you guys should be really proud of it! 

Step 4 will be coming out very soon! OL2 is gonna take until 2023 to be anywhere near completion. But we might episodically release the Steps one at a time as they get done instead of waiting for three to be finished before launch like we did with the first game.

Hello, I was curious if there was an official or unofficial discord server for the game? 

We do have a discord! You can join by clicking this link HERE.

how long do you plan to keep ol's patreon running? 

Hopefully for at least a few more years.

Are you considering ever making merch? 

Yeah, but I don’t know when it’ll happen or what exactly we’ll make, aha. It’s something we want do, just nothing is set.

hi! i just found out about your game a couple of days ago on tiktok (so sorry if you’ve already answered this question) and i was wondering if y’all are ever planning to release it on iOS? 

I have no idea. It’s hard for a small group to get Apple approval and I honestly can’t say if it’ll ever happen or not. Maybe someday, though!

Hi, I love the art style of Our life and I would like to know if the artist has a Twitter? Also, could it be possible to fund more CGs for the game from him/her? So many times, I wish there was one like when the cutscene of the sunshower. 

That’s nice of you to offer. He doesn’t have a Twitter, at least not one that’s public enough to be shared with me. And I’m afraid not. The issue is that the CGs take huge amounts of time rather than there not being a budget for it. He’s gotta make CGs for Step 4, the DLCs, and new character sprites, too. There isn’t space in the schedule for even more. Sorry for that.

Hi, how are you?!

Are you planning on accepting new writers or is it always the same people who write your stories??

Thanks!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t be getting new writers, but we will be hiring a new team of writers for Our Life: Now & Forever eventually!

perhaps this counts as nsfw and I'm sure it has been answered before but what does Cove prefer, chests/boobs or butts? or perhaps both :3c thank you for this wonderful game (and the patreon bonus moment, it was worth all the waiting and more ♥) 

He’s a “chests of all shapes and sizes” kind of guy, haha.

i was wondering- did any of the writers actually grow up by the beach? as someone who's lived in a beach town all their life it really did feel nostalgic to play through our life 1 

I was born and raised in Cali! Though, not right by the beach. We still had to make trips out, but the setting is based on my own childhood memories of small beach towns we went through.

In Derek’s upcoming DLC, will we be able to reference the pact we made as teens? (love olba and xod/xobd so much btw you’re literally amazing) 

Yep, you will be able to talk about that!

Oh, sorry about the Cole being secretly L ask, then!

If you wanted context: Death Note is about this one guy who finds a notebook that kills anyone who you write the name of in there. The guy eventually develops a God Complex and starts mass killing criminals and stuff. L is the one trying to find out who is killing all these people.

Me and my sister first joked about it because I couldn't remember how to translate a word about the way Cove was sitting, so I just did the pose, and it looked a lot like how L himself sits! Then we just snowballed from there, with more and more nonsense connections.

That’s okay! Thanks for explaining. I’m sorry I didn’t know what you meant.

[lieslidoo]

The beauty in the mundane Howl Jenkins X Painter!OC

Part 1: an uncharacteristically early start.

this is really not book or movie accurate I just like the characters so like, MAJOR cannon divergence, love y’all. Have mercy on my soul dear reader, for I have not proofread this fic.

Far beyond the bustling coasts of Porthaven and the lush greenery of the folding valley lay the small village of North Bexley. Surrounded by two mountains of admirable size, it stood snugly as if it had always been there, and as far as Agatha Havenglow was concerned, it had. 

Miss Havenglow was perhaps one of the most well known inhabitants of this charming Hamlet. Had you gone to the village folks and asked about her, many of them would have told you that she was a strange young girl who would have been unbearably lonely if it wasn’t for her sister, Emily Havenglow. 

Some of them, more knowledgeable, might show you around the town and point out the many things she had painted : various hanging signs, storefronts, advertisements and the occasional mural. And If you had asked Mr. Tailor, the town’s baker ( who funnily enough married the village tailor’s eldest daughter Ann) he’d tell you she was “too good for this small town” and that  “She ought to leave us for South Bexley”, by which he’d mean that she should leave North Bexley for better, bigger towns and not, as it may seem, the actual town of South Bexley, which has, as of yet, not been located (and nor do I believe it ever will be). He might then point you in the direction of the Havenglow’s home, at the edge of Silverkeep lake more commonly known as North Bexley Orphanage, where our story begins.

On the first day of the month of may, Agatha was getting an uncharacteristically early start to her busy day. She put on the pair of woolen socks Mrs. Havenglow had gifted her for their last birthday and threw her shawl around her shoulders. The dark herringbone floor creaked as she moved to her nightstand and picked up her journal and her charcoal pencil. And, as she had done every morning before, Agatha drew back the green velvet curtains, opened her blinds, sat on the windowsill and started to draw. She drew the camellias and Irises that Her mother loved so much and the arrowwood her sister had cared for, the wrought iron swing that her and Emily bickered over and the wooden one that Mrs. Havenglow had put in next to it in a futile attempt to bring peace to her garden. The small pond that emptied into Silverkeep lake where the children would once go to capture frogs and feed ducks. Everything held a story, a memory and try as she might, she always felt she failed to adequately draw them.

She was hard at work sketching the small tree stump on which she had once twisted her ankle when her door opened and the familiar scent of Emily’s cinnamon basil tea filled her room. “You’re up early today.”

“You’re painfully observant today.”

The girl joined her sister on the windowsill and, with her tea tray in her lap, waited for her twin to finish her drawing. She had learned a long time ago that this was to Agatha what gardening and baking was to her, her way to make sense of the world around her and to safely interact with it, and there was nothing in the world she loved more than watching her draw. After a few minutes, the pencil stopped moving and the handkerchief stopped smudging and there was peace, both in Agatha’s room and mind.

“Are you done?” “Yes.” “Let me see.” She handed her the journal and took one of the warm cups of tea in exchange. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s so…”  “So what?” “So alive.” The artist snorted at her sister’s praise and took back her journal, setting it on her dresser a bit harsher than she normally would have.  “How was the may dew?”  Agatha asked Emily, her voice still rough from sleep. 

She was referring to a strange custom the girls of Bexley had been doing for centuries. On the first morning of may, all young maidens would run out to the nearest prairie and dutifully wash their faces with the morning dew. It was a sight to behold, pretty women, all in their white nightgowns laying on the green grass and waiting for the sun to shine on them away from the hungry gaze of men and the pressures of marriage. 

“It was intimate, and invigorating.” “Did you go with the other girls?” “Of course! Praying is best experienced in the company of your peers.” “And by praying you mean rolling around in a prairie for half a sunrise?” Agatha mocked. Her sister sneered at her and dangled her legs out the window. The air was crisp and the sun was warm. 

“Oh! The bannocks!!” Emily cried out “I thought you had forgotten” “I could never! its tradition.” Agatha laughed at her sister’s earnest response to what she clearly said in jest. Try as she might she could not recall one time where her sister had forgotten a celebration ; be it holiday or name days, she never faulted. The girl handed her a small bun and took hers, raising it towards the sky. “Merry May-Day Aggie” “Merry May-Day lily.” The bread was still warm and smelled of rosemary, lavender and honey. As the bannock touched her mouth, she thought of the village fête tonight and felt a strange sense of trepidation, something that was quite rare in a village where familiarity and predictability were king. “Are you going to say yes tonight?” She asked. “To what?” “To Lawrence, are you going to say yes?” “If he proposes, yes.” Emily stated, sadness burdening her normally sweet voice “There must be something we can do, have you asked Mr. Tailor? he’ll help us, I’m sure.” “He doesn’t have the money. Lawrence is our best solution, our only solution.” There was a moment of silence and Emily braced herself for what she knew her sister would offer. This room had heard this particular argument unfold a myriad of times and for a moment, Emily was saddened that this was probably the last. “We could run.” “Aggie, no.”  “You could open an orphanage where you want, Agatha argued, you don’t need it to be in boring old Bexley” “Well I like boring old Bexley, and I love Havenglow cottage, and I won’t see it go to waste on some rich stuffy old man who will only use it in the summer.” “So you’ll marry a rich stuffy old man instead?” “Lawrence is not old.” He wasn't, not particularly

“No he’s just boring.” He was, most definitely “What a wicked thing to say!” Emily chastised. “A wickedly true thing to say. He’s not worthy of you goose.” “Agatha…” the girl softened at the old nickname, “don't start, please.” “If you just moved away to a city, even for a month,” Agatha started, “I’m sure you could see that Bexley cottage is not the be all, end all of your life, and even if you don’t, I'm sure you could find a better, handsomer, RICHER man to take Lawrence’s place.”

The girl was not wrong. Emily was certainly the most coveted maiden in North Bexley. A born homemaker, she could steal any man’s heart with her baking prowess and her angelic singing voice. Although her heart had, as of yet not been moved by anyone.

“We don’t have a month aggie, and who’ll take care of this place? Who will make sure no children are turned away?”

“We haven’t had a child in 5 years Emily.”

“Then it should happen any day now.”

“Oh for the love of god!”  Agatha exclaimed, snatching her sister’s hand with her own “Promise me, if there’s a possibility, even a small sliver of a chance you could escape this wretched, pathetic excuse for a…”

“Aggie…” Emily warned

“Marriage, you’ll take it. You’ll try.”

“Aggie, its…”

“Please, for me.”

The girl mulled it over and sighed. Emily could never say no to her sister, being the second born, she always felt like Agatha knew best and she had been shown to be right many times before. The eldest Havenglow seemed to have a sharp sense of intuition and often knew something would happen before it did (be it a stranger entering town, an unknown illness falling upon a villager or an unpredicted visitor at the cottage door). When the girls were children, Emily used to swear that Agatha possessed magic powers, but the girl relayed it to having spent all her life in a predictable and boring small community. After all, she reminded herself, sorcerers were few and far between and she would most probably never meet one in her lifetime, so the idea of her being such a creature was absolutely preposterous.

“Fine, I promise. But if by the time of his proposal I don’t have a better, safer option I will say yes, and I will go through with it. And that’s final.”

Agatha considered arguing further but, feeling the time wasn’t quite right, laid her head on Emily’s shoulder and chipped away at her bannocks.

 A heavy silence fell over the room as both of the Havenglow girls ate their breakfast, their linen nightgowns floating in the wind and their feet snuggly kept warm by the impeccable knitwork of the late Mrs. Havenglow.

Hello there, no Howl in this chapter, but lawd he coming. Had to set stuff up :)

[thestraggletag]

Three Appointments and a Wedding

AN: Hi, @magicalgiven it is I, your Secret Santa! If I’m not mistaken we are both Argentinians in which case commiserate with me over the fucking hot weather we’ve been having. Because it fucking sucks. It was a pleasure to be your Santa, and I’m sorry this fic didn’t get smutty. I tried to add as much spice at the end as I could. It was challenging but fun because the accidental engagement prompt has been done a lot in the fandom so it was nice to try and put my spin on things. I hope you like it!

Prompt: Accidental engagement and consequences.

Summary: Mr Gold would do anything to help his only son plan his wedding, even if it is getting mistaked for the groom over and over as his crush gets mistaken for the bride. Over and over.

Rating: PG-13

He reminded himself that Bae had been clear about his distaste for a big wedding, and Emma as well. As far as they both were concerned they were better off with a simple civil ceremony and a honeymoon in Florida. But Emma’s parents insisted that their only child, their little princess, marry in style, so something grander was decided upon. He had to admit he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He did not have a lot in common with the Nolans- no matter how much David insisted on treating him like best mates whenever they met- but he did agree with them on the wedding. Bae was his only son and he wished to make a fuss about his wedding as well.

So he couldn’t really say no when Bae called to ask him to please take his place at a catering appointment in Portland. He had been summoned to a surprised meeting with a client that was a rather big to-do at his job. He did something related to web design that he couldn’t for the life of him understand, but it allowed him to work from home most of the time and stay in Storybrooke, so he was glad to be of assistance if he needed it.

He arrived at the catering business with a bit of time to spare, introducing himself and letting the person checking the appointment know he was waiting for someone. Not Miss Swan, because apparently she also had urgent business that could not be delayed- she did work in law enforcement, so there was a small chance she wasn’t lying to get out of “boring wedding stuff” as she kept calling it right in front of her mother and likely to annoy her. He had been told she would send Miss Lucas as a replacement, since she knew her way around a menu. He did not look forward to it, though perhaps he could amuse himself with trying to figure out how to raise the subject of the diner’s rent being due next week over talk of canapes. 

“Mr Gold, you got here before me!”

He turned around, a part of him recognising instantly that charming Australian lilt. He looked slightly down to find Miss Belle French, the town’s librarian as of three years. She was dressed, as always, rather charmingly, and looked less out of place in the city than in their small town. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long. The original plan was for Ruby to fill in for Emma, but Granny’s arthritis started acting up so she had to stay and help at the diner. Oh, please don’t tell Granny I told you that or she’ll never forgive me.”

He recalled she was an old friend of Miss Swan’s, from before she came back to Storybrooke, back when she was living in New York as a bit of a rebellion against her parents, doing bounty hunting work of all things. They had been roommates while Miss French went to NYU for her master’s in Library Science and worked at an antique bookstore. He knew only because he knew the bookstore and thought it smart to hold onto that piece of information. Book restoration and re-binding wasn’t his specialty, so it was nice to know of someone he could consult with if the need ever arose.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Miss French. I will even abstain of using the information against Granny the next time she tries to overcharge me for coffee. I hope you understand what a sacrifice that is.”

She laughed and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel overly smug about it, turning instead to open the door for her.

“Oh, Mr Gold, I see your fianceé is here! Lovely to meet the future Mrs Gold.”

He fumbled, his brain too caught up in what had just been said to register the small step on his way. He righted himself just as Miss French stammered a surprised denial.

“Oh, right, I apologise for assuming you would change your name after marriage, Miss Swan. Please, follow me.”

The man, a strongly-accented Frenchman, if his ears did not deceive him, swept past them and deeper into the shop, forcing them both to follow. The back was a rather nice dining area, small but with lots of windows to let in natural light. It was right next to the kitchen, but it still felt private and quiet. They were ushered into a table already prepared for them and served a sample of entrées along with a card detailing the ingredients of each one.

“Well, I suppose it’s an obvious mistake to make, and it would be unkind to correct him, he’d be mortified. I hope you don’t mind playing the would-be groom for a day, Mr Gold. At least we get some nice food out of it.”

“It’ll make a nice change from Granny’s overpriced lasagna.”

She slapped him gently on the arm, trying to conceal her smile, and he was surprised at how nice the gesture felt. Not many people touched him, and less with that sort of uncomplicated ease. He was glad that Miss French felt comfortable around him.

“So, what type of food does Miss Swan enjoy?”

“You should really begin calling her Emma, you know. And me Belle, none of that Miss French nonsense. This is not some nineteenth century pretend engagement, you know. I hope we can consider ourselves a modern pretend couple.” Miss French- Belle- smiled at him over the rim of her water glass before taking a sip. “As for Emma, she likes bar food. If it was up to her we’d serve peanuts and fries for entrées and burgers as the main course. I understand her parents talked her out of it, so perhaps nothing very fancy, but tasteful at the same time.”

He had given up on the day that morning, thinking it would be spent trying to make awkward conversation with a confrontational Miss Lucas, glaring daggers at him from across a rather small table because he dared charge rent for the property her grandmother rented from him. Instead he found himself discussing food and wine with someone he was infinitely more fond of and could not even muster enough grumpiness later in the evening to snark at Bae when he called later at night to thank him for subbing for him.

“It’ll be the last time, pops, I swear.”

.

The week after the catering appointment Bae called him in a panic to beg him to go for him to the florist appointment, also in Portland. He swallowed a few choice words learned in his youth in Glasgow, closed his shop and drove to the address Bae texted him. He was somewhat less surprised than before to find Miss French there, sitting on a bench outside the shop and reading a book. Something niggled at the back of his head but when he greeted her and they got to explain their presence he realised it made a bit more sense. Miss Swan’s job was a bit emergency-heavy and Miss French was the daughter of a florist, so it made sense to send her as a replacement.

She knew her stuff, as he could tell almost as soon as they set foot into the shop, to the delight of the old, red-haired florist that handled their appointment. The librarian engaged her in a rather interesting discussion on the meaning of flowers and the importance of harmonious scents, something he had never considered before. They spent a rather lovely hour touring the greenhouse and browsing through the catalogues, with Miss French- “Honestly, Arran, it’s Belle, you agreed!”- making a game out of it, picking something and having him guess whether it was a choice for Miss Swan’s wedding or a reflection of personal taste. He learned from it that Belle liked blue as much as her outfits had already implied and that she loved hydrangeas, thought them elegant but soft.

“Too soft for Emma. She likes bold colours and is not fond of traditional flowers, so I was thinking perhaps something with bougainvilleas? They have such lovely deep pink colour, almost red. What do you think?”

It was a bit intoxicating, the smell of the flowers, the heat of the shop and Belle French talking about flowers with a passion that stirred something in him that had nothing to do with centerpieces or boutonnieres. It wasn’t until they were out of it, inhaling the crisp evening Portland air, that he realised the florist had mistaken them for the engaged couple as well, and neither of them had made any effort to correct her. Well, that would’ve been rude, he reasoned. No need to put the old woman in the spot.

.

The morning of the cake-tasting appointment he had woken up with the knowledge that he was likely to get a “surprise” call from Bae begging him to “fill in” for him at the cake shop, and he could not even bring himself to feel angry about it. The wedding was, after all, a rather rushed affair, seeing as to how it was not what either the bride or groom had planned for, so allowances had to be made for the couple. That or they both were trying to punish their parents for pushing on them a grander event than the one they had wanted in the first place.

On his way out of town he passed by the library, insisting he would drive Miss French who was, surprisingly, filling in for Miss Swan again. She didn’t seem to mind yet another disruption into her schedule.

“I love Storybrooke, but I don’t mind admitting that it’s nice to go out to a big city every now and then.”

The bakery that would make the cake- one of the few that would accommodate the short notice of the order placement- was located in Bangor, which seemed to merge big-city vibes with small-town charm. The bakery itself was lovely, with a white and beige storefront and a myriad of colourful treats on display. It smelled strongly of vanilla and chocolate inside, and there was a dreamy, romantic sort of quality to the decoration. They were ushered into a warm, cosy room where they spent the next hour and a half tasting different cakes, one better than the next.

“Emma is a bit chocolate obsessed, so I’m leaning towards the chocolate champagne one. It was delicious.”

He tried not to replay in his mind the way she had moaned at the first taste of that one, eyes closing in absolute bliss.

“I still can’t believe that little urchin had me fill in for him again, so I’m not even considering his tastes. My vote is for the strawberry shortcake.”

Belle frowned, idly liking some frosting from her fork. His left hand tightened around the napkin on his lap.

“Isn’t Bae allergic to strawberries?”

“Exactly.”

The librarian laughed, which he was rather surprised by. Very few shared his rather dark sense of humour, most found the content and his delivery of it rather off-putting. He tried not to preen at the idea. 

“Might want to hold on in killing him until after the wedding. After all, we have invested quite a few hours into the preparation already. Feels more like our wedding, in a way.”

He choked on a rather lovely piece of red velvet cheesecake, fumbling for his glass of water to try and wash it down. He realised the danger he was in, all of a sudden, perhaps too late. His crush had been safe when he had not had much of a chance to interact with the librarian and get to know her. But spending entire days with her had changed things, giving his feelings depth that he did not entirely appreciate. His instinct of self-preservation was urging him to do something. Say something mean or cutting, or close himself off. Perhaps invent some business emergency and leave, letting Belle figure out on her own how to get back to town. If she was cross with him, if she hated him, if she decided to keep his distance, he would be safe.

But, surprisingly, he found that he was rather tired of feeling safe, and of pushing people away.

.

“You know, we didn’t do half-bad in the end, all things considered.”

He turned around, tearing his eyes away from his son and his new wife trying to waltz. He was sure someone was filming it, anyway, and he’d get to tease Bae about it later. Belle looked absolutely stunning in a Halston dress, an architectural number in navy blue with a champagne-coloured lining that peeped from the folds of the skirts and a bit of a train in the back, the hem landing above the knee at the front and below it at the back. It was a far cry from what most women were wearing, in particular the friends of the mother of the bride, but it was exactly what he had expected from her: bold, flirty, and the slightest bit of out place in a small town, without really seeming to realise. Her lips were a lovely deep, dark red and smiling wide. At him, of all people.

“Yes. The flowers do look splendid, Miss French. You have quite an eye for it.”

She hooked her arm through his, looking admonishingly up at him.

“It’s Belle. Unless you’ve decided I cannot call you Arran anymore.”

If he were stronger, he would politely insist on calling her Miss French, thus gently reestablishing their more formal dynamic. It would be safer, certainly. But he found himself unable to muster the energy for it. It was a happy day, and he was ecstatic as the father of the groom should be. Seemed like the occasion to do what he wanted and not necessarily what he thought was best. Indulge a bit.

“Belle, then. I rather like how you pronounce my name, seems a shame to make you stop.”

Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. He tried to remember how many glasses of champagne he had drunk, but could not recall. He had indulged there too, but that was only because he had been sitting next to David Nolan for dinner and he had kept trying to talk to him about sports. He had made the mistake of trying to discuss the UEFA Super Cup, but that had only led to ten minutes of David Nolan referring to football as soccer and displaying no understanding of the rules of the game.

“So, how’s the proud father? Was it all you hoped it would be?”

He looked around. The venue was lovely, a manor outside Storybrooke that was used exclusively for events like weddings and such, with extensive gardens and lovely, broad balconies. The Nolans had secured the place, seemed they knew the owner and had been able to pull some strings. It was decorated a bit like an enchanted forest, in shades of silver, gold and bold touches of bright pink and dark blue.

“Well, Bae remembered his lines and didn’t step on Miss Swan’s train at any point so the wedding has exceeded my wildest expectations.”

He glanced again towards his son, dancing something a bit more lively with Emma and looking infinitely more at ease doing so. They truly suited each other, and he was glad of that. Glad that Bae would know, hopefully, nothing but love in his family he meant to build for himself.

“It’s a lovely song. Would you care to dance?”

A tricky question, since the answer was both a resounding no and a desperate yes, but he merely pointed towards his cane as a way out. It seemed he was not the only one emboldened by drink, however, if Belle’s flashing eyes and red cheeks were anything to go by.

“Oh, come on, just some gentle swaying. We could go outside, if you don’t wish others to see. It’s a bit stuffy in here anyway.”

There was no way for him to deny her, nor did he wish to anymore. He let her lead him out, into one of the terrace-like balconies attached to the ballroom, and wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting his own to wrap around her waist. They soon fell into a slow, easy rhythm, lazy and yet strangely exhilarating. He felt loose and tightly-wound at the same time, and could not decide whether he liked the feeling or not.

“It really is a lovely wedding, by the way.”

“Yes, I think we did rather well, all things considered. Certainly more than what Bae deserved, taking into account how little he worked for it.”

She tugged on his hair, he assumed as a way to chastise him. It had rather the opposite result, sending a jolt of fizzy pleasure up and down his spine.

“You rather enjoyed it, admit it. And I did too. In a way it’s sad that the wedding has happened and our outings are at an end.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, teeth worrying her lower lip the slightest bit. He got the feeling that there was something he was not seeing or sensing, some signal he was not quite deciphering. But it was getting rather difficult to think, with the champagne in his veins, and the feel of Belle in his arms and the way she smelt like orange blossom. 

“You look lovely, by the way.” He realised he hadn’t told her, and it seemed like a major oversight. “Stunning, really. Gorgeous. Too good to be wasting your time out on the balcony with me.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? When had he lost complete control of his bleeding mouth?

“Don’t say that. I like spending time with you. A lot.” She bit her lip again and he wondered if his blood pressure could take it. “Actually, I was hoping we could spend more time together, if you wished it.”

There was no mistaking the flirty turn of her lips, or the coyness dancing in her eyes, even to an expert in self-denial such as him. He tried to form words to reply to her, something along the lines of “Yes, please” or “Is it tomorrow night too soon?” but his vocal cords were suddenly useless, and in a sudden panic that she would interpret his stupid silence for a rejection of her advances he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her stiffen in his arms for a second, saw her eyes widen in surprise, but the next moment she was pressing back against him, tipping her head back to better capture his mouth with her own. She took absolute control with a quiet, fierce determination that he found incredibly erotic. He was happy to reciprocate, to tighten his arm around her waist and open his mouth to her, his left hand tightening around the handle of his cane with something that felt like petulant frustration at not being able to simply drop the damned thing hold her properly, perhaps delve a hand into her hair, feel if it was as soft as it always looked. 

She seemed to read his mind, for she maneuvered them clumsily towards the rather tall balustrade. He eagerly leaned against it before dropping his cane in the nick of time to catch the librarian’s leg, which sought to wrap itself around his waist. Her obvious, undisguised want was disarming, making him forget himself in a way he had never allowed himself to-

“Papa, what the fuck?”

“Belle!”

Both him and Belle startled, with her regretfully taking a few steps away from him, leaving him to notice the chill in the air. When he glanced at the entrance of the balcony he saw his son and Miss Swan, looking radiant in her Vera Wang dress and also, bizarrely, quite smug.

“Hey, Bae, didn’t see you there.”

His accent barely made the words intelligible, but there was no helping that. He always lost control of his brogue when he was nervous.

“Clearly!” Bae sounded shrill, more child than man. Reminded him of the infamous temper-tantrums the lad had thrown once upon a time. “How could you? At my own wedding?!”

Fuck, he was right. He had been caught fucking making-out and almost doing God-knew-what just a few bloody steps away from his son’s wedding reception. What was the matter with him?

“I mean, why couldn’t you wait? I had almost won the bet!”

What?

“You only had to last until after the wedding! I was so close, pops! And you were doing so well!”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad. Now remember, Bae, you promised at least two dances with Regina’s sister. At least she’s unlikely to hit on you at your own wedding, so there’s that.”

Emma smiled up at her new husband, kissed his cheek, turned him around and directed him back towards the ballroom with a not-so-gentle smack in the ass. She smiled, gave Belle a thumbs up and an “atta girl” and walked out of the balcony, closing the French doors behind her.

“What the fuck was that?”

[prose-for-hire]

All the better to scratch you with

Pairing: Spike x reader (platonic)

Request: A concept? Or possibly a request? Imagine Spike regularly going to a beauty salon to get his nails properly manicured and painted and he and his beautician are bickering bbfs. I just had that vision and thought you would like it XD (maybe you could write it, if you want to)

Requested by: @therapieliteratur

Warning: Mention/implication of Spuffy. Reader has a boyfriend that isn’t Spike. Mention of character death from season 5.

A/N: Set like early/mid-season 6. I made it an x reader, hope that’s okay. It was meant to be a bit shorter but I had fun. 

Spike stalked down a deserted alleyway, the pitch-black night casting shadows like spectres around him. He would have to be quick if he was going to make it. He couldn’t get caught, not like this. The wind picked up, trees making cruel faces at him and reaching as if to point out his location as he briskly stalked past.

He kept his head down, a fast-pace as he rounded the corner. He checked around him as he came closer to his destination, making sure the street really was clear. The last thing he needed was for people to see. For them to know what he truly got up to after dark.

He entered the little storefront, bell ringing, knowing that although all of the lights were off in the front it was open. Spike raised an eyebrow when he saw who was waiting at the desk for their next booking. Your nail salon was highly sought after, by all kinds of humans and demons. You grinned at him and gestured for him to follow you.

“My, what sharp nails you have” You mutter, taking his hand with a little grin.

“All the better to gouge your bloody eyes out with” He replied, but there was a little glint in his eye. His appointments with you were the highlight of his month sometimes. He didn’t come that often, depends where he managed to get his money from but he liked your company. You and he tended to gossip, between bickering, and it was enjoyable.

“Scratch would have been better – less wordy. More to the point” You offer, starting to buff after shaping the nails, “All the better to scratch you with, for example”

“Well, sometimes a poetic threat is more menacing than ‘to the point’. I hate being all fangy and ‘grr’” He explained, you knew all about vampires and such, Spike started to come to you because this was where Drusilla used to get her nails done, “Anyway what do you know about anything - you’re a sodding nail technician” You give him a look and worked in silence for a while.

“You wanna pick the colour or can I surprise you?” You smile sweetly taking out a selection of pinks you always tried to entice him with. It annoyed him sometimes, but he was fond of you so he put up with it. Plus, you did a hell of a job.

“Black, thank you” He raised his eyebrows, to emphasise his repsonse.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with mystery mauve? It’s real cute, look” You show your own nails off to him. He compliments them, but stubbornly sticks with his old favourite. After a while, you sigh again and he gives you a look as if to tell you to spit it out.

“I happen to be well educated, actually. Beauty is my passion - my calling if you will. Much like you and maintaining a terrible excuse for a nailbed apparently” you pulled a finger up to show him and he scowled a little but let you carry on with his nails. You sighed, shaking your head, people really liked to assume about you in the job you did. It was annoying.

“All right, love, you know you’re my favourite sodding person in this horrible little town” He offered quietly, his version of an apology, “…but tell anybody I said that and I’ll be drinking from your brainstem right quick” He hissed.

“But if you drank from my brainstem, you’d have to live with your sorry excuse of a paint-job. I’ve seen you – that time I ran into that demon and you stopped it? You hadn’t come in for months and your nails were horrible by anybody’s standards” You pulled a face at the memory, “I had nightmares, woke up screaming over the mess you had made of your fingernails” You added, shuddering at him.

“That was cutting – really, my heart’s crushed” He put a hand against his chest to demonstrate this which made your eyes bulge.

“Nails!” you warned him, you weren’t going over any of it again, “I wasn’t trying to crush your heart, just splinter it a little” You smiled, carrying on with the job.

Spike spoke of some of his problems for a while as you listened, chipping in when you could. He never told you the name of the mystery person he was pining for, but you had your suspicions. He then asked about you, which made you sigh as you thought about another recent argument you had with your boyfriend.

“My guy’s been avoiding me again, something about a ‘busy social life’ that apparently I’m not invited to” You sighed, you were glad Spike was here - he was your favourite client and he was as good to vent to as he was to listen to.

“You’re too good for him, love, I’ve said it already”

“Well, he’s kind when he wants to be and he only shouts when I’m being a bitch to him” You replied, frowning as you thought about it.

“I’ve told you before, you need me to come and give him a good scare and I’ll do it. About bloody time somebody showed him the bumpy part of a forehead” Spike left out that he would be using the bumpy part of his forehead against the soft part of your man’s nose if he could. From what he’d picked up over the last few months, your relationship wasn’t going to last very much longer. He thinks you deserve better anyway.

“Anyway, did you see Buffy Summers recently? Her hair has never been so short, what do you think?” You said, gauging his reaction as you waited for the polish to dry. Your salon was attached to the hairdressers Buffy comes to get her hair cut in. She was friendly and you felt a bit sorry for her after her Mom died.

“I don’t think much of it” Spike said a little too quickly. You looked up, raising your eyebrows but he was looking outside, checking the sky to see if it was starting to get light out. You opened all night, offering beauty needs to the creatures of the night.

“Well, I think it’s cute, she’s got the face for it. Whereas if I went that style I would look like a potato” You say, still looking at his face. For someone that prides themselves on being scary, his heart was pretty much always on his sleeve.

“Your hair’s nice as it is. Keep it that way” He said, but you just rolled your eyes. You’d change the style every time he saw it, saying each time the newest was his favourite on you. There were some new extensions that had just come in that you were planning on styling and trying out.

Eventually, after some more bickering over the merits of acrylic nails over more natural nails, you were finished. The black looked good and you were pleased with your work, little did you know he would get in a fight on the way home and mess your beautiful work up. Spike tipped surprisingly well, which might be why it took him so long between appointments and promised to be back again soon.

“Bye, Spike!” You call as he stepped through the door, “I’m sure Buffy will really like them” you teased, not able to just let him off. You waved at him as he rolled his eyes, sticking his two polished, well-manicured fingers up at you as he left.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance Part 19/? - Nome Part 20/? - The Future Part 21/? - A Hero’s Welcome Part 22/? - Up to Speed Part 23/? - Expect Further Delays Part 24/? - The Welcome Wagon Part 25/? - Fugitives

Alone and on the run from the law, Peggy and Kay have to decide what to do next.

-

ince Kay’s bunker was a no-go, they ended up spending the night in an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of the Pine Barrens.  This was exactly as creepy as it sounded, with no electricity, and rats and raccoons nesting in it.  It started to rain around midnight, drumming on the roof and coming in through the long-broken windows.  Peggy and Kay broke up some pieces of the stair bannister and used them to light a fire in the fireplace, and by that flickering light, they tried to figure out what to do next.

“I don’t suppose you can go back in time again and start over,” Peggy said.

Kay shook her head.  “This was a one-shot thing.”

“I see.”  Peggy thought for a moment.  “When we’re caught, I’m going to tell them you kidnapped me.”

“Cool,” said Kay.  She sighed heavily, hugging her knees to her chest she stared into the flames.  Peggy noticed that her root were growing out, coming in darker than the blonde, although by the firelight it was impossible to say quite what colour they were.

“Everything was supposed to be better,” Kay said.  “Steve was supposed to get the happy ending he wanted, with you and James.  HYDRA would be rooted out once and for all before they could really get their claws into the government.”  She reached up to scrub at her eyes with her fingers.  “The Red Room would be destroyed.  I don’t know if I’d be able to force Howard to hug his son once in a while but I was going to try.  I don’t know if I’d be able to do anything for Clint or for Bruce… I’m not going to live that long.”  She shrugged.  “And after that… I don’t know if we can destroy the Infinity Stones with the technology of this decade, but if anybody could figure it out, it’s Howard Stark.”

She hadn’t been joking when she said she had an extensive to-do list, Peggy thought.  Most of the items on it meant absolutely nothing to Peggy, but she could tell they were things Kay cared about very much.

Which made for one odd omission.  “What about you?”

“The Red Room,” said Kay.  “That’s the code name for the place where they raise girls into spies.  If that doesn’t exist, then I won’t be drafted into it when my parents abandon me.  I don’t know what will happen to me, but even starving on the streets of Volgograd would be better than that.”

Peggy thought of some of the things she’d seen at that facility in Siberia, and shuddered.

“The thing is,” Kay added, “I know I can’t do it alone.  I need you guys.  If you’re in prison and Ste… and Captain America’s off shaking hands with his fans, then I can’t do it.  I might be able to do it myself in the twenty-first century, but not now, I don’t know enough.  Even if I did, it would be so much easier with help.  I had one shot, and I ruined it.”

She fell silent then, and Peggy wondered what it was she wanted.  Reassurance that everything would be okay?  Peggy couldn’t give her that.  “Well, you certainly didn’t improve things by taking us both on the run,” she said.

“Probably not,” Kay agreed.

Peggy wrapped her coat around herself to use as a blanket, and lay down with her own elbow for a pillow.  “In the morning,” she said, “we should head to the nearest town and turn ourselves in.”

“Then what happens to Steve?” asked Kay.  “And to James?”

“At the moment I’m primarily worried about what happens to me,” said Peggy.  Steve was doubtless worried about her, and about Sergeant Barnes, and if Kay said was true, Barnes did need help, but Peggy was not in a position to do anything about that right now.  Her focus had to be on her own survival, both physical and political.  “If I wasn’t going to end up in prison before I certainly am now.”

“I know,” said Kay.  “I’m sorry.”

“Apologies don’t do a lot of good at this point,” Peggy told her.

“Apologies never do a lot of good for me,” said Kay.  “I’ve always been the one who throws the other guy over a cliff.  Looks like nothing’s changed.”

- 

Peggy woke up early, stiff and cold from sleeping on the floor.  The fire had burned itself down to a smolder, and Kay was gone.  For a moment Peggy was furious, thinking the other woman had abandoned her, but then she rolled over and discovered Kay’s red purse, still sitting there on the floor.  Had she simply left that behind, or was it intended to tell Peggy she was coming back?

She got up, stretched the kinks out of her neck as best she could, and went to look out front.  The car was still there, and Kay was sitting in the driver’s seat.  When Peggy came closer, picking her way between the puddles and the rotten boards of the front steps, she found that the radio was on.

“They haven’t said anything about us yet,” said Kay, “but I’ve only been here about ten minutes.  Weather’s supposed to be nice today.”

Peggy climbed in the passenger seat to listen for herself.  There was a weather report, and then it began talking about Captain America.

New York Senator Elect Vernon Masters brought the Captain home to Brooklyn last night to tremendous fanfare, the announcer said.  Captain America will be embarking on a tour of the state capitals, along with the Senator Elect and industrialist Howard Stark, who was instrumental in locating the wreck of the German bomber.

“Of course they don’t mention Jason,” grumbled Peggy.  If anything, he had more trouble getting recognition for his achievements than she did.

“They don’t mention us, either,” Kay mused.  “That means they don’t want people knowing we’ve escaped.”

“Specifically, Thompson doesn’t want people knowing,” said Peggy.  “He must be dreadfully tired of people escaping from him.”

“He ought to take better care of them, then,” snorted Kay.  “You still want to turn yourself in?”

Peggy had to think about it.  “I think we’d better,” she said.  “But not to Thompson.  We need to find a pay telephone, and I’ll speak to Daniel.”

They drove into the nearest town, where they found a little diner to order breakfast.  Kay clearly had no appetite, nibbling at her toast and forcing herself to eat her scrambled eggs.  Peggy didn’t feel very hungry, either, despite some grumbling from her stomach.  She got through about half of it, and then pushed her plate away and checked her watch, which was still on Los Angeles time.

The moment it reached eight-thirty AM, she went outside and picked up the pay telephone.  “Hello,” she said, “I’d like to make a long-distance call.”

She gave the number for the storefront in Los Angeles, and waited while switchboard operators across the country made connections.  Finally, the line picked up, and Rose’s somewhat staticky but familiar voice said, “good morning, Auerbach Theatrical Agency.”

“Good morning,” said Peggy.  “May I speak to Mr. Auerbach, please?”

“Peggy?” Rose asked.  “Where are you?”

“I can’t say,” Peggy replied.  “I just need to speak with Daniel right away.”

Rose lowered her voice.  “You can’t,” she said.  “He was arrested yesterday, just after you left!  What’s going on?”

Peggy’s insides turned to ice.  Daniel had been arrested… because of course, Dottie had told Thompson that Daniel had colluded with Peggy in letting her out of jail.  She’d probably implicated Mr. Jarvis, too.  This wasn’t just about what would happen to Peggy anymore, not at all.  This was about what was going to happen to all of them.

“I… can’t say,” Peggy repeated.  “Listen, please don’t tell anybody I spoke to you.  We’re all in a lot of trouble.”

“All right,” said Rose.  “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet,” said Peggy.  She hung up the phone and stood there a moment, digesting what she’d just heard.  ‘Borrowing’ Dottie to get the sample of Zero Matter had been Peggy’s idea.  Daniel and Mr. Jarvis had helped, but none of it would have happened without Peggy, and now they were possibly all going to hang for it.  Would pleading that they’d done it to save the world do any good?  Not likely.  Masters’ lawyers would argue that there must have been other options.  It was just that in the hurry of the moment, Peggy hadn’t been able to think of any.

Kay was waiting for her outside the phone booth.  When Peggy opened the door, her eyes went wide.

“Sit down,” she ordered.  “Put your head between your knees.”

“I am not going to faint!” Peggy snapped.  “Daniel has been arrested as well, and Mr. Jarvis.  I don’t know if she’s implicated Howard and Jason or not.”

“Oh.”  Kay covered her mouth.  “This is… this is all my fault…”

“No, it isn’t,” Peggy said.  “It’s mine.”

“If I hadn’t been here…”

“Even with you here, we wouldn’t be in trouble if I hadn’t had the blindingly stupid idea to break Dottie out of jail to begin with!” Peggy informed her.  This sensation of crushing weight on her chest, as her bad decisions rained down like bricks to bruise and bury her… this must be what Kay had felt last night when Thompson had tried to arrest them for treason.  If so, Peggy found herself reacting to it in what had to be a very similar way.

“Bugger it,” she said.  “You are a bad influence.”

“I know,” said Kay.

“Do you have any more change?”

Kay dug into her purse for some coins, and Peggy lifted the receiver again.  “Hello, operator.  I would like to make a long-distance call.  Can you get me the California FBI office in Sacramento?”

She didn’t actually know if the FBI opened as early as the SSR, though it seemed likely, so it was a relief when she heard a receptionist pick up and greet her.  “FBI, can I help you?”

“Good morning,” said Peggy, affecting an American accent.  “May I please speak to Agent Ned Russel?  This is his wife, Alice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman replied.  “He’s still in New York, working on a case.”

“I thought he’d been taken off that case,” Peggy said.

“I don’t know the details,” said the receptionist.  “I think he was reinstated as a favour for somebody from another agency.  Would you like to speak to the chief?”

“No, no thank you,” Peggy said.  “I’ll see if I can call him there.  Goodbye.”

She hung up, and turned to Kay again.  “I have an idea.”

The black SSR vehicle they’d been driving so far was far too recognizable to take back into the city, so the women left it behind and stole a green Ford coupe they found parked beside the diner.  Peggy drove this time, as they headed north back towards the city.

“What’s your plan?” asked Kay.

Peggy took a deep breath.  “The easiest, although perhaps not the most legal, way to get everybody I know and love out of trouble is to make sure Dottie cannot testify,” she said.  “Masters and Thompson didn’t make their move until they had her, so she must be the cornerstone of their case.  We remove Dottie again, and they have nothing.”

“Makes sense,” said Kay in a deadpan.  It was impossible to tell what she thought.

“Unfortunately, we cannot get in to see her,” Peggy went on.  “Last time I got her out by wearing a disguise, but that’s not going to work again.  The police guarding her know me now, because I was in there to see you, and there’s the possibility that Dottie herself will raise the alarm.  And you certainly can’t go in because they know you as well.  However, we know somebody who probably has every right to be there, we know that he is slightly terrified of both of us, and we possibly know where he eats lunch.”

It was with that in mind that they parked their stolen car behind the Automat up the street from the telephone company building.  The lunch rush had just ended, and Peggy could see Pearl standing by the back door on a cigarette break.  She approached.

“Hi, Peggy,” said Pearl.  “What are you doing back here?”

“I need to see Angie right away, privately,” said Peggy.  “It’s very important.  Don’t tell anybody else I’m here… and tell her it’s Phone Company Business.”

“Ah… all right,” said Pearl.  She dropped the remains of her cigarette on the pavement and went inside to get her co-worker.  Angie appeared a few minutes later, looking concerned – she knew very well what Peggy meant by Phone Company Business.

“What’s wrong, English?” she asked.

“Angela Martinelli!” Kay exclaimed.

Angie blinked.  “Do we know each other?”

“You’re going to be in Stark Pictures’ Captain America movies,” said Kay, “opposite Burt Lancaster!”

“Ignore her, she thinks she can see the future,” said Peggy.  “Listen to me, Angie… did we frighten Agent Russel away permanently?”

“No, he had his lunch here today,” Angie said.  “He didn’t sit in my section.”

Peggy smiled.  “Excellent,” she said.  “Here’s what we need you to do.”

[nate-santos]

Friend or Dough || Nate & Orion

TIMING: Early January LOCATION: Fondante’s Inferno PARTIES: @3starsquinn @nate-santos​ SUMMARY: Rio comes to get some late night sweets CONTENT WARNINGS: Just sweet fun!

It was long past dark by the time that Orion finally left the Scribrary. A glance at his phone as he hiked through the woods to get to the closest parking lot where he could pull the car up told him that it was just past two in the morning. He weighed his options. He could drive back to the house and try to scrounge up some food. This late in the night, that wasn’t exactly ideal. But the late hour didn’t leave many options either. He was more than familiar with the Fondante’s Inferno than any normal, sane person probably should be. One perk of living with his nightmare of a family came with a seemingly endless allowance that allowed him to divulge in any sweet tooth craving he had. Now, he didn’t even want to know how much money he had dropped at the bakery since he had moved out on his own. He had a bad habit of dropping in at late hours and ordering in bulk to keep at the Scribrary as his own personal self serve buffet.

By the time he got to the bakery, it was inching closer and closer to that three in the morning deadline, and Orion rushed into the shop in a hurry, out of breath and already offering apologies. “Hey! I’m sorry. So sorry. I don’t mean to keep you any later than you’re already here. I was hoping to get here before you closed.” He tried perusing the leftover goods as he rested his palms on his knees and tried to catch his breath. There wasn’t much that wasn’t good at this bakery, ran by a guy around the same age and wildly more successful than himself clearly. Luckily, the guy seemed incredibly nice. “How’s it going tonight? Busy day?” At almost three in the morning, it wasn’t any surprise that Rio found himself as the only remaining customer in the place. But he always recommended the place to others and hoped that during normal hours the place stayed busy.

Late nights didn’t bother Nate. Sure, it was his shop and he could set the hours, but late at night, the town seemed to become a more peaceful place. Plus he never wanted to alienate the previous owners’ regulars, even if he never seemed to have what they were looking for. The usual “after bar” crowd had just finished filtering out and Nate looked at the clock. Three was coming on quick and he hadn’t seen his most regular regular yet. His brow furrowed and he set about sweeping up and cashing out the register, happy to be alone for a bit. Easing his way back into the storefront had been harder than anticipated. More than one of his usual customers had apparently shifted in his subconscious to be more monstrous than friendly and it was difficult to focus when the old woman you’ve known your whole life was staring at you with glowing red eyes.

Like a tornado, someone rushed into the shop, breathlessly looking over the day’s last fresh pastries. Nate spun on his heel at the sound of the door, nearly tripping over the dustpan he’d just dropped, only to feel relief wash over him like a tidal wave. “Orion! Hey!” He propped the broom against the counter as the rush of adrenaline eased its way through his body. “You know you never have to apologize for keeping me late, you’re my best customer,” he laughed, prepping a few boxes for whatever the guy picked out tonight. “Not so busy, mostly just pick ups and stuff. But not too shabby.” It was more than a relief to say that Orion looked entirely and perfectly normal. Regular human, no scary teeth or hands or scales to be seen. “What’s keeping you out so late?” He asked, already putting a few of the older pastries in a box.

Nate was always a friendly face, and someone that Orion was especially happy to give business too. It was only a plus, or to go too far into a pun, the cherry on top, that the food was incredible. The two had found a sort of easy groove with each other. Rio showed up at odd hours and bought way too many baked goods at once and Nate was incredibly friendly about it and even seemed to specifically make things that he knew Rio liked. The latter of which had not gone unnoticed by Rio, who was especially thankful. “Oh I’m sure that’s not true. I’m sure there are plenty of other good customers that show up during like… normal people hours.” Rio laughed nervously, never quite sure how to properly accept compliments. “Besides, you make it very easy to want to come back.” Deflecting with his own compliments was usually the best line of defense that Rio had. “Oh you know. The usual.” Rio shrugged, trying to think of exactly what the usual was. He hated lying, even to people he didn’t necessarily know very well. “I get caught up in an assignment or studying and end up staying too late.” That was about as truthful as he could be to someone that didn’t know about the Scribrary. “Wanted to make sure I stopped by before you closed though. Wouldn’t want to miss out on whatever you came up with today.”

Nate chuckled as Rio perused the goods. “Sure, but boring people come at normal hours and what fun is that?” It was a joke, but Nate wished it was true. What he wouldn’t give for all his customers to actually be normal again. His smile flickered for only a moment before he was back to his jovial self. Something about Rio always brought this side of him back to the forefront. It was like the accident never happened and he could joke and have small talk without the fear that now always lingered in the back of his mind. “Speaking of,” Nate said with a glimmer in his eye before racing to the back mid sentence. “I’ve got something for you to try!” He called, rummaging through boxes to find the new recipe he’d been playing with. Carrying it gingerly back out to the front as if it were some precious heirloom, Nate presented the tarts to his patron. “Chocolate blueberry tarts with a hint of lime. I know it sounds weird, but seriously.” Nate made the chef kiss motion with his hands. “Maybe these will help get you through the late night study sessions.” He could tell there was probably more to it than just studying late, but Nate didn’t like to pry. If people wanted to let him into their lives, they would. It never did any good to try to force your way in, especially when it’s really none of your business.

Unwrapping one of the tarts, Nate held it up for a little cheers. It was customary at this point for them to try some of his new creations together and while they weren’t all winners, they were usually still pretty darn good if he said so himself. Nate was a little apprehensive about this batch, given that he’d been low on yeast and had to dip into his bread delivery box to make the crust, but it couldn’t actually be sentient, right? That was just a marketing gimmick. “Cheers! To late nights and delicious sweets!”

Orion laughed with Nate, ignoring that there probably wasn’t anyone in town more boring than Rio himself. Sure, terrifying and arguably exciting things seemed to happen around him. But those all seemed adjacent to the hermit that Rio actually was. At least that’s how he wanted to be. Between the hunter heritage, the supernatural library and the part where he may or may not have murdered his parents he felt like he should be a lot more interesting than he actually was. “Well I can’t say that I’m not super boring. My book bag is filled with like twenty pounds of random history books and autobiographies. But I appreciate the compliment anyways.” Nate got sidetracked quickly, rushing into the back. Through the doors, Rio could hear him search until he pushed back out into the main area holding a tray of what looked to be some kind of tart or pastry. Rio’s face brightened, but he didn’t react until Nate actually named the sweets. “Oh my god. Did you say blueberry? You’re a god send.” Rio clapped excitedly, swinging the book bag off of his back and dropping it onto the floor with a heavy thud. Nate had always been open to asking Rio’s feedback on some of the new creations. When it came to sweets, Rio was practically a raccoon. He would eat just about anything Nate offered, and he usually ended up liking it. Though Nate must have picked up on how much Rio loved pairing blueberry in his pastries. “My two favorite things!” Rio raised a tart in the air before biting into it. The odd trio of flavors may have sounded strange, but the combination blended perfectly and Rio released a happy sigh after two more bites to finish the thing off. “Holy crap that’s so good. Thank you for sharing this!” Rio licked his lips of any leftover chocolate before speaking again, “The bread tasted a little different this time. Good, just different. Is it something new?”

Nate had always felt like Rio was a kindred spirit, and tonight was no different. “I don’t think that’s so boring,” he replied before taking a bite of his own tart. Nate loved his historical books, even if it seemed a bit lame at times. Biographies were some of the most interesting stories out there. “You know the saying, Stranger than Fiction?” He smiled, taking another bite. Man, he hit it out of the park with these. Nate closed his eyes for a moment, letting the flavors sink in. Baking was one of the few things that brought him complete and utter peace and this flipping tart was no different. He’d really have to make more of an effort to find his secret bread admirer, ‘cause this batch of yeast had done wonders for the recipe. “You really like it?” He asked through a mouthful of blueberries. He could always trust Rio to give him an honest review, but it seemed more and more likely that the kid was gonna enjoy anything he gave him. “I tried a new type of yeast,” he answered, his face falling a bit. “Can you really tell?” Sudden insecurity gripped him, pausing his glut fest mid bite. No...something else was gripping him...Nate’s eyes traveled down to the half eaten tart in his hand that seemed to now be grabbing his hand back. “U-uh...O-Orion?”

“I think you’re one of the few then.” Orion laughed, thinking on how many people would find something like reading biographies incredibly boring. Even if they knew the subject was supernatural. Luckily, Rio had found quite a few friends that appreciated his lackluster hobbies. Even if they themselves didn’t find it super interesting, they never held that against Rio. In fact, it came in handy sometimes. “Real life is definitely a lot weird than anything a fictional book could sell me.” Rio agreed, unsure how much Nate actually knew about how weird real life actually was. But now wasn’t the time to fall too deeply into that. Right now, he wanted to focus exclusively on enjoying these ridiculously good sweets that Nate had brought out to try. “Of course. It’s hard not to like something you make.” Rio admitted, savoring another bite before he tried to answer Nate’s question. Admittedly, Rio didn’t know if the enhanced senses included taste. But he knew that he had always been pretty good at picking out individual flavors. Plus, he actually tasted the flavoring in la croix. Apparently that wasn’t normal. “Oh uh- yeah it’s nothing bad. I’m just sensitive to-” Rio’s bad excuse for an explanation was cut off when Nate said his name again. Rio met his confused look and glanced down at his hand, the tart that was on it seemed to be… moving. And sticking onto the man’s arm. On instinct, Rio flung his own tart onto the ground and slid away from it. “Um. What is that?! Nate drop the tart!”

Talk about stranger than fiction. Nate’s eyes went wide as dinner plates as he begun trying to flick the tart off his hand, his heart racing. “I can’t! I can’t get it off?!” All thoughts of how pleased he’d been to hear how much Rio had enjoyed his baking had dissipated, thrown out the window by tiny dough hands. “Get it off me!!” Nate flung his hand as hard as he could and the little tart thankfully flew off, landing with a dull smoosh on the counter. Apparently this act had betrayed their very existence as the half eaten tart was joined by the four untouched pastries. Gracelessly, they each sprouted a foot or a hand or an arm, limping around the counter with surprising speed. “What the heck- I’ve made a monster!!” Nate grabbed for a weapon, coming up with only a flour covered rolling pin. Better than nothing. He slammed it at the tiny monsters, wondering if Rio even saw these things too or if it was another of his hallucinations.

Orion was hopping back and forth from what foot to another, frantically waving his arms as he tried to figure out what the heck was going on. Nothing about monster bread had ever shown up in any of the Scribe books that he had read. Why hadn’t monster bread shown up? The passing thought that Rio would need to write his own entry only vaguely crossed his mind before he pushed it to the side to move beside Nate after he got the tart detached from his skin. The other tarts were starting to move now too, pieces of the bread morphing and extending into shapes resembling limbs. “What the-” Rio mumbled, trying to think of what could have possibly caused something like that. Nate grabbed a rolling pin and was smacking at the counter now while Rio stood back and stared at the man in a daze. “Be careful!” Rio finally yelled when he broke from the daydream. “How the heck is this happening right now?"

Judging by Rio’s reaction, Nate wasn’t the only one who could see the little creatures. At least that was a small relief, though the moment quickly faded as a tart-monster leapt off the counter, launching itself directly at Orion’s face. “Look out!!” Nate jumped back, slamming his rolling pin down on another tart, catching its little, deformed leg and flattening it. “I don’t know!! I- what are these things??” Panic swelled up inside him and Nate wondered if this is what people meant when they always said “oh yeah, anything can happen here in White Crest,” as if crazy nonsense like this occurred all the time. “I used- a new- yeast!” It was the only variable. When the delivery message said it was sentient, Nate didn’t take that literally. “Ah!” He yelped, jumping back from a one armed little tart that was eliciting what would arguably be an adorable sound as it attempted to tie Nate’s shoelaces together. “How do we make it stop??”

A piece of evil baked bread launched itself at Orion, but before he could move to swat it away a rolling pin swung down and smacked it midair. “Uh- Thanks” Rio stared at the splattered bakery item on the ground, still managing to slowly move as it slowly puffed itself up. “Great question. I wish I had a better answer.” He couldn’t help but think back to the watermelons that had tried to kill him and Skylar. Why was food so hell bent on murdering people in this town? Regardless, he made a mental note that he needed to try to look into an explanation after this. Not that now was the time to be scheduling study sessions. “New yeast. Right.” This was literally monster bread. Jesus Christ. “We uh-” He paused to consider their options. Hitting the things didn’t kill them. If they could piece themselves back together he wasn’t sure cutting them up would either. “Bake them? Like uh- for a long time?” Rio suggested, sliding forward and using his heel to stomp on a piece of bread trying to… trip Nate to death? Rio still wasn’t clear on their motives.

Nate had once been an athletic guy, never on the baseball team but he’d play in the yard with his brother all the time growing up. Never in a million years did he think any of those skills would come in handy regarding keeping him and his friend safe from literal murder bread. Every gremlin they smacked down or flattened seemed to immediately rise again and Nate cursed the gifted yeast. What a sick joke! “Burn them?” Nate’s face fell. Sure, it was probably their best option at stopping the things once and for all, but it hurt his baking heart to think of intentionally burning his newest recipe, especially when it had originally gotten such a glowing review from Rio. He wanted to cry, but was instantly derailed as he tripped over his shoelaces. “Ok - but let it be known I hate that I have to do this,” he whined, kicking his shoes off as quickly as possible. “Preheat that oven and turn it all the way up!” He pointed at the small convection oven behind the counter and began to try and pile all the little monsters up on a baking sheet.

“Noted!” Orion yelled, darting forward and vaulting over the bakery counter. He chalked it up to mostly dumb luck plus a decent amount of his own training that he had jumped and slid across the counter so easily instead of tripping and falling over it instead. Growing up, his body had always been quick to remind him that strength and agility didn’t fix clumsiness. Then again, adrenaline seemed to help his body work without relying too much on the anxiety frying his brain. He made his way to the oven, swatting away a piece of tart, an actual thing he actually had to do right now. This town was exhausting. Rio spun the dial of the oven, turning it as high as it could go. Another tart launching itself at Rio, grabbing onto his clothes and crawling up his shirt. “Ew, ew, ew” Rio repeated to himself as he slapped aimlessly around his body until he finally got hold of the baked good. He pulled it off and tossed it into the oven. It had only just begun heating, but Rio shut the door and made his way back to the counter. Couldn’t a two in the morning bakery run just be normal?

Trying to keep all the struggling tarts on one single surface was proving more difficult than Nate had imagined. Luckily Rio seemed to have gotten to the oven and though it wouldn’t be nearly hot enough just yet, they could at least start chucking some of these monsters in. “Here! Catch!” Nate flung the baking sheet up, attempting to toss the little beasts through the air and towards the oven, his eyes moving from his target only momentarily when he stomped down on a spare piece of dough that had fallen off. Abandoning the sheet, Nate started grabbing the few tarts that were left and started throwing them like it was the bottom of the ninth and his life depended on it. “Ok, last one then slam that door shut and pray this works!!”

As far as life dangers went, Orion didn’t think that creepy living bread made the list. Still, the idea of something he had just taken a bite out of was alive and moving was beyond unsettling. Rio heard Nate call out and he looked over in time to see a pan being flung in his direction. He darted forward, grabbing onto the pan and moving back over to crack the oven open enough for him to dump them inside. Before long, Nate had started chucking the bread in Rio’s direction. Rio grabbed what he could, dropping them in and bending down to scoop up any that he missed. Finally, Nate was done. A quick glance around told them that they had grabbed all of the remaining pieces that could be seen. Rio left the oven closed, resting against it to make sure that it stayed closed. The little monsters didn’t seem particularly strong, but he wasn’t ready to take any chances. He didn’t look at the window into the oven. He didn’t want to see them against the glass, trying to get out. Bread or not, he had no interest in watching something that moved get burnt to a crisp. “So uh… this was pretty weird, right?”

Nate deflated against the counter, wiping off a few crumbs from his face. “Weird is an understatement, I think…” He dropped his head onto the wood, his cheek squishing against the cool surface. “I don’t- I’ve never...have you??” He couldn’t even begin to describe what he’d seen. It didn’t make any rational sense. As the adrenaline poured out of his body, no longer needed to keep him in defense mode, Nate felt himself sink to the floor like a puddle. To say this was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him might be a lie, but this wasn’t like when he looked at some people around town and they looked like horrific monsters. That was a hallucination, something wrong with his actual brain. These...Rio had seen these too. Nate looked up at his friend. “What would do something like that?? How is that r-real?”

Orion refused to take any pressure off of the oven door. He didn’t think the now crisping pieces of living bread had the strength to open the door, but they were also all stuffed in there together. He had seen enough gross horror movies to know that weird things like that could combine together and grow in size or something else equally awful. His plan was to keep this door closed until the things in there looked like charcoal. Only problem was that he didn’t actually want to look to see what they looked like. “No. Definitely never seen anything like that. That was a first.” He really thought that he had reached some sort of imaginary wall in terms of being surprised by supernatural creatures. Good to know the bar could always be set higher. “So judging by your reaction I’m going to guess that your bread does not do that on the regular?” Surprisingly, Rio found himself almost amused by the situation. For someone who was constantly freaking out about everything, Rio was a bit confused by his own reaction. Though he supposed in the grand scheme of things, the bread wasn’t nearly as deadly as most of the other things that Rio got attacked by. “That honestly makes me feel so much better about how often I eat here. I was about to be a bit worried.”

Nate almost laughed, running his hands through his hard. “No...no randomly coming to life is usually not on my menu.” He scooted up to his knees, peering over the counter at the oven. From here, it didn’t look like there was any movement within, but Nate was glad that Orion seemed to have the same thought about not leaving the oven door unattended. He cracked an exhausted, waning adrenaline smile. “Why, you think I should add it? I think they’ll be a crowd pleaser!” It was impossible not to make light of what had just happened. It was just...entirely ludicrous. Nate half expected himself to be dreaming. “I don’t normally make a habit out of using random ingredients...but…” Nate shoved himself to his feet and started rustling through a drawer, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper and handing it to Rio.

“CONGRATULATIONS. We heard you like to BAKE. A friend has subscribed you to WEEKLY DELIVERIES of SENTIENT BREAD. Please ENJOY this PAINED SOURDOUGH BREAD STARTER. We look forward to sending you more SENTIENT BREAD. We CONGRATULATE you.”

“I got this about a month ago and...well this is the yeast I used to make those tarts...this is just a joke, right?”

Orion laughed sarcastically, emitting a sigh as he still struggled to capture his breath. This hadn’t been particularly exhausting physically, but the whole ordeal had drained him. It didn’t help that it was the middle of the night. “Yeah I uh- think it’ll get a real rise out of customers.” Rio cringed at his own joke and made a mental note that puns probably weren’t for him. He grabbed onto the piece of paper that Nate offered and read it over multiple times. What the heck was this? And who would send it? And why were there so many capital letters? “So someone sent this to you? I guess… as a joke?” Rio didn’t find it particularly funny personally, but to each their own. Admittedly, the bread hadn’t exactly been dangerous. At least, not that they had seen. Maybe this was all some sort of weird prank? Fae could be particularly mischievous, maybe this was all some elaborate ruse? “I mean, if it is a joke I don’t really get their sense of humor.” Rio laughed nervously and scratched at the back of his head, “But I guess it could be? Maybe you shouldn’t use anymore of it though?” Rio tossed the note onto the countertop and sighed again. What a night.

Nate couldn’t help but snort at the pun. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe he was just losing his mind, but making jokes right now felt like the right thing to do. He slumped against the counter, his head resting on his hands. “I don’t think it was so funny either...but also I didn’t think sentient bread was a real flipping thing.” His brows furrowed as he glanced behind Rio to see how crispy the critters were getting. “I’m definitely not gonna use any more of it.” He looked up at Rio sadly. “Please promise me you’ll keep eating my desserts...I promise they’re not all animated and trying to kill you.”

By some miracle, the box that Nate had packed for Orion had survived the chaos and was left mostly untouched by the creepy bread. He could see it on the counter  Looking through the box, Rio laughs slightly and closes it again, leaving it on the counter. After what felt like an acceptable amount of time, he finally took a step away from the oven, slowly pulling his arm away and ready to press up against it at any moment. But he didn’t have to. There was no resistance against the oven door. Whatever those things had been, Rio didn’t think they were going to be moving anymore. “Don’t worry. It’s going to take a lot more than some living bread for me to give this place up. Your food is too good.” He grinned, but there was a sigh behind it. The late hour was finally catching up to him, the adrenaline finally wearing off. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go ahead and pay for my stuff and head out. It’s pretty late. And I wasn’t expecting… that.”

Nate ran a hand down his face and looked at the oven apprehensively. Rio stepped away and nothing came crashing out, thankfully, but the baker wasn’t ready to turn off the heat just yet. “Oh good,” he breathed with a sigh of relief. “Of course! Of course, actually y’know this one’s on the house. I uh...consider it a promotion for trying my last new delicacy ever.” Nate slid the box closer to Rio and grabbed a broom, setting about clearing up what he could before he left for the night. There was no way he was doing his full closing checklist, not after the attempted murder via baked goods, but he could at least get some crumbs up while he waited for those things to get even a little more crispier. “Seriously,” he led his friend out, flipping his open sign to closed. “Thanks for being here...I can’t imagine dealing with those things by myself. And I swear to never use mysterious baking supplies ever again.” Now he just had to figure out where he put the rest of that tearful pumpkin...

[floralelu]

Le Fleuriste Episode 1:

WARNING: CONTAINS VERBAL, PHYSICAL ABUSE, AND MENTIONS OF SCHIZOPHRENIA

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: The plan was to take his mom out for Mother’s Day. Lunch, a little shopping, something casual. That is until Lucas spots the boy outside the flower shop.

[A/N:] Hello!! Welcome to the first chapter of Le Fleuriste (The Florist) co-written by Kenzie and I (Emmy), this is our first time collaborating on a fic and we are very excited to share it with you. Thank you for reading!!

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“Oh come on, Arthur. You’re just jealous that I have a girlfriend and you don’t.” Basile exclaimed.

“I’m not jealous, just pissed because now you’re just going to spend all your time with her and not the gang.” Arthur sighed.

“Are you saying you’re gonna miss me when I’m away?” Basile approached Arthur and pinched his cheeks. Arthur smiled and rolled his eyes. Yann and Lucas both looked at each other.

“Uh, guys? Do you have something to tell us?” Yann chuckled under his breath.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m the only gay one in this group right?” Lucas and Yann both leaned back into the couch while laughing their asses off.

The apartment was quite small, only 2 bedrooms, but they made it work. Lucas didn’t mind not having a bedroom, unlike the other 3 guys who shared the rooms. Arthur and Basile shared one bedroom, each of them having separate beds of course. Yann made his statement about how sharing a room would disrupt his “sex life”, as if he has one ever since breaking up with his co-worker, Emma. Lucas moved in after the guys rented the apartment. Lucas would never forget that night.

———————————————————————

Lucas was freezing, and his clothes were soggy with both his tears and the rain that had started earlier that afternoon. His brain felt cloudy, just like the sky. He could see it in his line of sight, the light at the end of the tunnel, the apartment. He sprinted up the steps as fast as his legs carried him, maybe he should exercise more often, but that didn’t matter now.

Lucas walked up to the door and knocked, it was late but he was sure they would be up. However, they hadn’t answered the door yet, maybe they were at a party?

Lucas knocked again, louder this time, even calling out Yann’s name.

“Yann? Yann, please open the door! It’s bad, my dad left and my mom...just please open up!” Lucas kept banging on the door.

“Lucas?” It was Basile.

Finally, a familiar face after seeing only strangers among him for the past few hours. He was thrilled to see Basile in his blue and white striped boxers and a baggy t-shirt.

“Do you know how loud you’re being-” Lucas cut him off with a bone-crushing hug. He needed this. Baz returned the embrace and wrapped his arms around him.

“Lucas, I’m sorry to ruin the moment, but you’re getting me wet.” Both of them laughed.

———————————————————————

Lucas was grateful, he could never repay the gang for taking him in without question. They were his everything and he loved them, and they loved him back. The gang has been together since the beginning of high school, they’ve been through everything together. Yann was by Lucas’ side when he came out to him, the guys supported his sexuality and they thought nothing less of him. He couldn’t have asked for a better group of friends.

“Lucas? Lucas?! Lucas!” Yann shouted, swinging Lucas’ phone in his face.

“Okay! Okay! I got it.” Lucas snatched his phone from Yann’s grip. It was his mother. “Hey, Mom! What’s up?”

“Lucas! Do you have any idea what day it is?!” Lucas pulled the phone away from his ear. Damn, she was angry.

“Uh, Sunday?”

“It’s Mother’s Day! You know, the holiday where you spend time with the person who gave birth to you? Do you know how hard it was pushing your abnormally large head out of my-” Lucas cut her off.

“Okay, Ma, I get it. Do you wanna meet up somewhere then? Lemme pick you up in ten, okay? How about lunch and some shopping? Sound good?” Lucas could charm his way out of any argument. After all, what mother couldn’t love her son?

“Oh, honey! That’d be lovely. I’ll see you soon! Love you most!”

“Alright, Mom. See you in ten and I love you more than most.” He had won her over.

——————————————————————-

The taxi pulled up in front of Lucas’ childhood home, he hadn’t seen it since the day he left. He shuddered just thinking about it.

———————————————————————

“I can’t stand you anymore!” Lucas’ dad screamed. He slapped Lucas’ mother across the face. “You no good schizophrenic bitch!” He repeatedly kept slapping her.

“Dad, stop! You’re hurting her! She can’t help herself, you know that!” Lucas raised his voice over the wails coming from his mother.

“You stay out of this, Lucas! You don’t know the shit I’ve been through with this woman. You don’t know how hard it is to take care of her, you don’t even help with it. You’re so selfish, Lucas. Thinking you can get by with partying with your friends every night? The world revolves around everyone, Lucas, not just you.” Lucas’ heart was even more shattered than before.

“You get out of here. You have no right to talk to my son that way.” His mother stood up, her face bloody and bruised from the countless beatings.

“Your son? He’s our son, not just yours.” His dad gripped his mother’s arm to the point where his knuckles turned white. A tremor went down Lucas’ spine.

“Not anymore.” His mother broke free from the tight grip encasing her arm. “You need to leave.”

——————————————————————-

“Lulu! How are you, sweetie?” Lucas’ mother rejoiced as she stepped into the taxi.

“I’m doing alright, Mom. The real question is, how are you? I know it’s been almost a year, but I wanna be sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, Lulu. Today is going to be fun. I’m looking forward to it, speaking of, where are we going for lunch?”

“Disco Danish Cafe! Manon has been dying to try out some new sandwich combinations on us and Alexia will have her spring cookies out. I know how much you love her cookies.” Lucas can recall many times when he and his mom would go to Alexia and Manon’s cafe to escape Lucas’ abusive dad. They were memories he would cherish forever.

“Just like we used to! That sounds lovely, dear. You’re so thoughtful.” She put her hand on top of his, which was resting on the seat between them.

“I love you, Mom.” Lucas looked over at his mother, tears pooling in his eyes.

“Oh, honey, no time to be so emotional. I love you most.”

“More than most.”

King’s Grove was the hub for life in Annecy, a town outside of Paris. It had cobblestone streets and picturesque storefronts. The Disco Danish Cafe was located at the corner of King’s Grove and Queen’s Avenue. The Cafe wasn’t necessarily a 70’s disco theme that you’d expect from the name, but the interior decor was like an American diner straight out of the 1950s with checkered floors, teal booths, neon lights, and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling that spun and sparkled when it caught the light coming from the storefront windows. Baked goods lined the display front windows, but as well as in the cases at the front counter of the bakery.

The masterminds behind the most popular bakery in town are Alexia and Manon. They had started the bakery once they graduated from high school and to say it wasn’t a life-changer would be an understatement.

Manon is head chef and baker. She’s not as artistic as her talented best friend and co-worker, Alexia, is. Manon is one for flavors and tastes rather than decor. Manon loves the cafe with all her heart and loves putting smiles on all of her customer’s faces when they take the first bite of her delectable dishes and baked goods.

Alexia is the decorator behind all of the cookies and cakes in the display cases and was the one behind the interior decor. Although Manon wasn’t crazy about the whole idea at first, once she saw the Pinterest boards that Alexia created, she was in. Alexia has an artistic eye that no one could change. She’s the one who always decorates and writes the eye-catching specials on the blackboard that sits outside of the cafe. Alexia even screams artistic with the constant change in her hair color.

“My girls!” Lucas shouted when he waltzed into the cafe. People glanced up and stared at Lucas, but he didn’t care, he got to see his best girls!

“Lulu!” Manon and Alexia looked up and said in unison, they ran from behind the camera and hugged him tightly.

“It’s been a while, Lucas. Where have you been?” Alexia questioned.

“Yeah, it’s almost been a year,” Manon agreed. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, um, I’ve been dealing with family issues,” Lucas looked at his mom who was standing next to him. “I’m living with Arthur, Yann, and Basile now.”

“Oh my god, I can’t imagine how that must be,” Alexia chuckled.

“Yeah, fuck, those boys can be a mess sometimes, ” Manon shook her head and laughed.

“You don’t even know the half of it, but I’m not here to talk about them. I’m here to try out your new recipes! I know we’re looking forward to it.” Lucas gestured to his mother.

“You got it!” Alexia and Manon hurried back into the kitchen to prepare the food.

———————————————————————-

“Oh! Manon, Alexia you did an amazing job you two! This looks delicious!” Ms. Lallemant studied the food with her mouth practically watering. “You two are just so talented.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lallemant,” Manon bowed.

“Alexia, these sugar cookies! Gosh, how do you even come up with this stuff? Thank you so much for making them,” Even though this was Ms. Lallemant’s hundredth time here, she was still just as astonished as if it was the first.

“My pleasure.” Alexia smiled and curtsied.

“Talk to you guys later?” Lucas asked.

“Of course! You better stop by more, our business is just suffering without you,” Alexia joked and Lucas rolled his eyes.

Lucas was thrilled that he got to spend this time with his mom, even though he forgot it was Mother’s Day. He even got to see a couple of friends. He didn’t know he needed this kind of time out away from the stress of finding a job and his own place. He had countless nights of restlessness and no sleep whatsoever. He was glad he could finally relax with his mom just like the good ol’ days.

After lunch, Lucas settled that they would visit the bookshop after his mother had spoken about a book that her friend at one of their book club meetings mentioned. Lucas figured the least he could do for her was buy her something, especially after all of the trouble they’ve been through in the past year.

The Book Nook was across from Disco Danish Cafe. It was a small shop that Emmy and Kenzie had rented out for a couple of years now, and it was the hangout for all of the bibliophiles. It had quite a cozy feel. There were brown vintage leather couches throughout the store among the endless shelves of novels that traveled up the spiral staircase to the second floor, the walls were painted a creamy caramel color, and the place was dimly lit with the storefront windows supplying most of the lighting among the building beside a few key lamps here and there and the large antique chandelier that hung above the counter. The rectangular-shaped counter was in the center of the bookstore where Emmy and Kenzie were most of the time. In the back was Nookie’s Coffee, where Arthur and Basile worked. Nookie’s Coffee had the most delicious croissants and tea, even though their specialty was supposed to be coffee.

Outside, Ouba, a once stray pomeranian, greeted Lucas on the porch steps of the store. Kenzie and Emmy took in Ouba and made her the mascot of The Book Nook, plus she kept the kids entertained while their parents went in to take a look around. Basile would call Ouba his dog because he found her first, but it seemed that she took a liking to everyone except him. Ouba liked Lucas especially since he snuck her treats.

“Sorry, girl. I came unprepared today.” Lucas frowned at her and scratched her behind the ears.

The doors to the shop were open which brought in a nice breeze. Emmy and Kenzie spotted Lucas.

“Hey, Lu!” They both called. Lucas adverted his gaze from the oh so adorable pomeranian at his feet. They both raced to him and wrapped him in a group hug.

“Oh my goodness, it’s been so long, Lucas,” Kenzie hugged him tightly.

“Okay, guys. I kinda can’t breathe here.” Lucas choked out. Immediately they pulled away from him.

“Lu, we wouldn’t get so carried away with our tight group hugs if you just come by more often,” Emmy remarked. “What have you been up to?”

“It’s a long story, maybe another time.”

Kenzie and Emmy both frowned.

“Well, we have lots of hot new releases on our shelves, and I know Basile and Arthur are off today, but if you want a coffee just say the words and I’m on it,” Kenzie mentioned as she returned to the counter, picking up her copy of Carry On.

“Yeah! Just let us know if you need anything, also it’s nice to see you back here Ms. Lallemant.” Emmy smiled at her.

“Even better to see you two.” Ms. Lallemant smiled back.

Lucas, after wandering the store for twenty minutes, finally found the book his mother was looking for. Lucas purchased it and handed it to his mom.

“Oh wow, Lucas! You really shouldn’t have!” His mother gasped in surprise. Lucas rolled his eyes as they made their way out of the shop.

“Come again!” Kenzie called out, waving to the two.

“And soon!” Emmy added.

They made their way next door to Frizzies, a brand new record shop that had just hit King’s Grove. It was really different from the other pristine and neat shops along the street, this one had a hippie style that somehow complemented the other shops quite nicely. Yann, and Alexia’s friend Emma, worked there together. Even though they broke up 6 months ago, they’re still best friends and make a pretty good team.

The smell of incense poured out of the shop’s doorway, Ms. Lallemant turned her nose up at it, but that didn’t matter once she saw the shop’s decor.

The brick walls were lined with different records, all from bands Lucas had never heard of. Fairy lights suspended from the ceiling and added a sense of calmness to the atmosphere. Tapestry displaying the store’s logo hung behind the counter which was located right as you entered. Emma was in the back of the shop reorganizing records.

“Hey, Emma!” Lucas called out once they entered.

Emma glanced up from the crate of records that were resting in her arms.

“Hey, Lucas. Welcome to Frizzies! This is your first time visiting, yes?”

“Yup, my mom’s too.”

“Two newcomers? Well, let me give you a tour!”

Emma came and stood between Lucas and Ms. Lallemant and hooked her arms with theirs, guiding them through the shop.

“I know it may look small, but there’s a lot to see. Here we have the 80’s rock section, oh and there’s the 90’s pop section over there,” Emma pointed here and there. “Here’s our stage, we have live music on Fridays and Saturdays, and on Sunday’s we have Poetry Night.”

Lucas and Ms. Lallemant oohed and awed at each aspect and detail Emma pointed out to them. She was right about there being a lot to see.

“And here’s the counter, and the cash register, and the...oh goodness I’m dragging this on aren’t I? Well, I’m sure you can find your way around, everything is labeled pretty well.”

Emma wasn’t wrong about that.

“This is just a splendid little shop isn’t it, Lu?” Ms. Lallement continued to gaze and study around the shop.

“Is it ever!”

Lucas walked over to the window, where the 90’s rap section was located. Lucas started flipping through when something caught his eye outside the window.

Across the street sat a flower shop, Barney’s. There was a boy outside of the shop rearranging the flower displays, shifting pots and pulling out bundles of one flower and replacing them with another. His back was towards Lucas, so he wasn’t able to see his face, but there was something about him that kept Lucas from looking away.

Lucas could see an older woman coming down the sidewalk. He saw her mouth move, but couldn’t make out what she had said. It wasn’t until the guy looked up and turned towards the woman’s direction that Lucas realized she had called out a name.

His name.

Moving towards her, the guy wrapped the woman in a hug. Though the angle looked awkward because of the guy’s height, she was quick to place her arms around him.

The woman was the first to pull away, moving around and standing with her back towards the record shop. Lucas sucked in a breath. From this angle, he was able to see the guy’s face.

Even while wearing an apron that was covered in what Lucas assumed was dirt, the boy looked like something Lucas had never seen before. His hair, which Lucas had decided at that moment, was the most beautiful golden brown he’d ever seen. The boy ran a hand through it and Lucas wished he could be the one to do that. The boy was nodding as the woman said something. Even from this distance, Lucas could see the crinkle’s around the boy’s eyes as he grinned at the woman. Within seconds, the happy look that was on the boy’s face disappeared and was replaced with a frown. Lucas watched the boy’s eyes find interest in the ground as the woman put a hand on his shoulder. She pulled him in for another hug just as Ms. Lallemant called Lucas’ name.

“Lu, did you find anything?” Lucas’ attention was pulled away from the window.

“Uh,” Lucas looked down to see he had stopped on a NAS vinyl, “I think I’m gonna get this one.” He held it up for her to see.

“Perfect,” she smiled at him, “I’ll meet you up at the register, okay”

Lucas nodded his head, “Sure.”

His mom smiled at him and turned, walking towards the register. Once he turned back towards the window, he looked in the direction of Barney’s but the boy was gone. Getting closer to the window so he could see better, he saw the woman walking back down the sidewalk.

Maybe he’s in the shop.

Lucas turned around and quickly walked to the register, setting the record on the counter.

“Just this one,” Lucas pulled his wallet out of his pocket and quickly handed Emma his money, “keep the change.”

“Woah,” she laughed, “are you in a hurry or something?”

“Uh… something like that” Lucas grabbed the bag that Emma put his record in.

“Bye, Ms. Lallemant. It was nice seeing you!” Emma smiled at the older woman.

“You too. I’ll have to come by more often, it’s nice seeing you kids”

Lucas, who was waiting very impatiently, looped his arm with his mother’s.

“What do you say we stop at the flower shop across the street? Maybe see if they have your favorite?” Lucas opened the door and they stepped outside.

“Oh, Lu, that would be nice.”

Barney’s Floral and More had been a staple of King’s Grove for as long as Lucas could remember. When things weren’t as bad with his parents, Lucas remembers his dad taking him so they could pick flowers out for his mom. Barney’s was to the left of the Cafe. There were two tables on either side of the door that were filled with plants and flowers of all kinds. Smaller tables and shelves held the same things around the bigger tables as well. Lucas could see that the boy had put most of the flowers on the left table and smaller plants on the right. There were bunches of lavender in a bucket next to the chalkboard that read their mother’s day special. Since the front of the store was all glass, Lucas was able to see inside of the store, but he couldn’t see the boy from before. The signature green and white striped awning that stuck out from the roof made the shop look like something from the movies.

They walked across the street and sitting right inside the window was a bouquet of red, white, and pink roses.

“Look,” Lucas pointed so his mom could see, “right there in the window like they were waiting for you.”

Lucas’s mom smiled, “It’s perfect.”

Lucas tugged her towards the shop’s door. When the door opened, a bell rang and somewhere in the shop, Lucas heard a “Welcome in!”

Maybe it’s him. Lucas felt his heart rate pick up.

“Hello?” Lucas called out

“Just a second, Woah!”

Lucas and Ms. Lallemant jumped as something clattered to the floor, the echoes of glass shattering made its way around the shop.

Lucas walked towards the noise. He peeked his head around a slightly large display of daisies. There was a boy staring at the mess on the floor, but it wasn’t the boy from before. Lucas shoved the disappointment he felt to the back of his mind.

“Are you alright, hon?” Ms. Lallemant asked from behind Lucas.

The boy jumped, “Oh, yes! Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. This is the second vase I’ve dropped this week. Give me two minutes to clean this up and then I’ll help you.”

Ms. Lallemant nodded, “Take your time, um?”

The boy stepped forward, sticking his hand out so Lucas’ mom could shake it, “Idriss.”

Ms. Lallement shook his hand, “No need to rush, Idriss.”

His earring moved as he nodded his head. Lucas’s mother pulled him towards a shelf of painted pots, pointing out one that had a raccoon painted along the side. After a few minutes, Idriss came back to where they were standing.

“So, what can I help you with today?”

“There’s a bouquet of roses in the window,” Lucas pointed so Idriss knew which ones he was talking about, “I’d like to buy them.”

“Oh,” Idriss’ eyes grew wide, “well, those are in the window for display. We’re not supposed to sell them.”

Lucas looked back towards his mom who was still occupied with the pots. She pulled one off of the shelf, turning around to show Lucas when she caught him looking.

“What? Is there something wrong?”

Lucas let out a sigh, “Idriss says they can’t sell the display in the window. Sorry, Mom.”

“Oh, don’t apologize, Lu. They’re just flowers. I’m just glad I got to spend today with you.”

Idriss cleared his throat and Lucas turned his head towards him,

“Let me see what I can do, yeah?”

Lucas beamed at him, “That would be great, thanks, man.”

Idriss took off to talk to the boss, so Lucas and his mom were left alone again.

“Lucas, I promise it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t need them.”

“Mom, it’s mother’s day, I’m getting you flowers.”

She shook her head, “So stubborn.”

Lucas grinned, “And you love me-”

A voice cut Lucas off, “Hi.”

Lucas whipped around. There, standing a few feet in front of Lucas, was the boy from outside. Lucas had thought he was beautiful while standing inside of Frizzies, but he was even more beautiful up close.

Ms. Lallemant spoke, “Hi, my son here keeps bothering Idriss about the flowers in the window, and I understand that they’re a display piece, which is why I told Lu that I don’t need them.”

The boy thought for a minute, “Well, it is mother’s day,” he smiled, “You can have them. Let me get them down. Idriss, will you ring them out?”

“Sure,” Idriss looked at Lucas and his mom, “If you’ll follow me.”

The three weaved their way through the tables of flowers, finally making it to the counter. Idriss hit a few buttons on the register and told Lucas the total. Lucas pulled out his wallet and paid Idriss. Just as Lucas was turning around, the boy came towards them with not just one but two bouquets of flowers.

Lucas stared, “Oh, uh, I only paid for the one?”

The boy nodded, “I know.”

Ms. Lallemant took the lead, “That’s so kind of you.”

A small smile made its way onto the boy’s face, “It’s no problem.”

The boy started to hand Lucas the flowers when Ms. Lallemant spoke again,

“And what was your name?”

The boy slid the flowers into Lucas’ arms, his hand brushing Lucas’ own. As he spoke his eyes connected with Lucas’

“Eliott.”

[cycwrites]

Switching Gears Part 1 - Feud

Words: 4200

Rating: M (Eventually. I think.)

Tumblr Master Post

Also on AO3 and FFN

A/N: A Staubrey AU that came out of an incredibly random conversation on Discord (that people other than me were having) about how popular bicycles are in some cities and that there can actually be too many for the number of bike racks in some locations. So, I said I wanted to see a bike brawl.

May have been intended to be part of Staubrey week as Friends to Enemies, but I’m a lazy writer.

Thanks as always to @tiny-maus-boots for the constant encouragement.

Special thanks to @aliciameade for giving me the nudge I needed for the title.

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

~A~

“Hey, that was my spot!”

Aubrey frowned at the brunette who was swinging one incredibly long leg over her bike.

“Pardon?” Taking out one earbud, the other woman looked over the top of her sunglass at Aubrey. “Did you say something?”

“I said, that’s my spot.” Aubrey gestured to the rack. “I was waiting for the other person to leave.” Truthfully she’d lost track of time while checking her phone and hadn’t noticed when the bike she’d been waiting for had left but that still didn’t excuse taking her spot.

“Oh.” The brunette shrugged. “There’s one right there that’s opened up.” She pointed two racks down and pulled out a chain from her backpack.

“Then you use that one, I was here first.” Aubrey couldn’t believe that people still didn’t observe common courtesy. It was just as annoying as when someone pulled into the parking spot she’d been patiently waiting for.

“It’s just a bike rack; we’re all in front of the same building.” Ignoring Aubrey’s scoff she knelt and wrapped the chain around her front tire and the rack. “Nothing worth losing your cool over.”

“I am not losing my cool!” Aubrey insisted, though maybe it was louder than she intended as several other people looked at them as they passed by them on the way into or out of Stretch It Out, the dance/yoga/fitness studio that Aubrey visited almost daily.

Staring Aubrey deadass in the eye, the other woman pulled out a lock and fastened it in place. “You should try yoga, might help you unclench a little.”

“Unclench?!” Aubrey couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman.

“Yeah,” the brunette stood easily, one long finger circling in front of her own face. “You’d be cuter if you didn’t have that pinched expression.” She plucked her sunglasses off and settled them on top of her head. “Though,” her head tilted and her eyes flicked up and down Aubrey’s body. “I kind of like that nose flare you’ve got going on right now.”

Aubrey saw red and by the time she’d blinked it away all she saw was a brunette braid entering the building in front of her.

“Did she just walk away from me?” Aubrey stared for another couple seconds until she realized she was making even more of a scene by sitting on her bike and talking to herself. With efficient movements she slipped off the bike and walked it over to the next rack. As if nothing had happened, she locked it up and made her way into the building.

Aubrey spent the entirety of her spin class thinking of what she’d say if she ever saw that smug brunette again. So what if she liked that particular spot, it wasn’t anything unusual for someone to have preferences on things. Sure, it wasn’t like ‘Cheers’ and she wasn’t Norm to be greeted by shouts of her name when she pulled up, but she’d been chaining her bike there more often than not, at least four days a week, since she moved to town three years ago.

“Great job, Aubrey!” A cheerful voice called over the music and Aubrey’s eyes snapped to the front of the room where the instructor, Flo, was beaming at her. “That’s the kind of energy I like to see, yes!”

Aubrey looked down and realized she had a death grip on the handles and was powering through whatever the current exercise was. Forcing herself to relax she eased back on the tension, not wanting to wear herself out before the end of class. When it was over, she moved to the next room and stretched out muscles that were definitely more sore than normal.

‘I am so going to feel this tomorrow,’ Aubrey thought as she took a shower. ‘Might have to skip the Friday class.’

Feeling calmer she changed into a fresh set of bicycle shorts and tank top before heading back out into the late afternoon sunshine. She certainly wasn’t looking around for a certain annoying woman to give her another piece of her mind. Except maybe she wasn’t thinking of where she was going and, moving on autopilot, went to her bike rack and was confused by the fact that hers wasn’t there. In fact, for one brief moment she thought her bike had been stolen before it all came flooding back to her. Moving to her bike, she knelt to remove the chain, starting to wrap it around her seat post before a thought struck her.

It was beyond petty, she definitely recognized that, but still found herself walking back to the… the...  interlopers bike. Casually, she wrapped the chain she still held around the frame and the rack. Then, before she could think twice, she snapped her lock around it and stood up, moving quickly back to her own bike and sliding it free of the rack. Pushing it to the road, she took her place on the seat and secured her helmet. Just before she put her earbuds in she heard a loud “What the fuck?” behind her. Unable to resist, she looked over her shoulder.

The brunette was crouched by her bike, tugging at Aubrey’s chain. “What kind of asshole would…” She broke off and looked up, her eyes searching before locking on Aubrey with a furious intensity. Aubrey gave her a smug grin and finished putting in her earbuds as the other woman took a step forward. “Why the fu-”

The rest of it cut off by her music, Aubrey turned her back and gave the bell mounted on her handlebars a jaunty ring before she took off down the street. Her good mood completely restored she headed to her favorite bike shop to replace the chain and lock that had been lost in a very good cause.

When she’d first moved to town a few years ago, it was because she was tired of LA and its constant bustle and rush. She wanted to live somewhere she could slow down and not always feel like she was falling behind just because she wanted to take a breath once in a while. As she’d packed up her tiny apartment that almost cost more than the rental house she was using until she got her own, she decided that she was going to get a bicycle and use it to explore her new home.

In her research she found several shops but had originally dismissed One for the Road because the name made her think of drinking and driving and anywhere that would even vaguely promote that was obviously not a place to be taken seriously. So, once she arrived, she’d started down her meticulously researched list with high hopes. By the time she’d gotten to the bottom of it all of them had been checked off for one of two reasons: They had talked down to her or tried to get her number from the second she’d opened the door. Or both.

One day she had been taking a walk through an as yet unseen part of town when she happened to look up as she was passing a small, unassuming storefront tacked onto the end of the strip mall she’d been perusing. It had lacked all the flash of the shops she’d visited over the past three weeks but the name was definitely familiar: One for the Road. Since it couldn’t be any worse than the other dozen places she’d checked out, Aubrey made her way inside.

Beca Mitchell may have been a small package of sarcasm wrapped in flannel but she was extremely knowledgeable about bicycles and delivered her information without any of the condescension or thinly disguised leers that Aubrey had found elsewhere. She’d asked Aubrey her reasons for wanting a bike, where she’d wanted to go with it – merely city streets or if she wanted to also take it into the mountains that weren’t very far away – and began to show her different models based on her answers.

When she’d left she had a new bike and her first friend in her new home. Over several return visits to adjust things here and there or pick up a few accessories – like a package rack on the back so she could ride her bike to the store and get more than would fit in her backpack – the two of them had become closer than Aubrey had ever been to anyone in LA. In addition to a platonic ‘date night’ every Friday, they had lunch or dinner at least twice a week – though they usually managed more than that – and that was where Aubrey headed after leaving the fitness studio.

By the time she got to Beca’s shop her mood had continued to improve and she was singing softly under her breath with her music as she pushed her bike through the door. Pausing just inside she turned off her phone and looked around. To the right was a slender Asian woman working over a bike mounted to one of several repair stands along one side of the main room. Two eyes peered around the front tire and blinked at her.

“Hey Est…” Aubrey hesitated, studying her closely. “…Lil…” She trailed off again, clearing her throat awkwardly. “How are you?” It was lame and she knew it, but talking to Beca’s assistant sometimes proved… difficult. She waited for a response but the other woman only stared at her for a moment more before going back to whatever she had been doing before Aubrey walked in.

‘Must be Lilly today.’ Aubrey thought to herself as she walked her bike to the back of the store and tucked it behind the counter.

She never quite knew how to react to the mechanic as apparently on any given day she either went by Lilly or Esther and you wouldn’t know which until she talked. Or, rather, if she didn’t. Beca had tried to explain it once but Aubrey refused to believe that any story that had someone declaring “Satan left my body!” could have any truth to it. It was far more likely that the woman had a split personality, one more outgoing than the other. ‘Still,’ she thought as she made her way back to Beca’s office. ‘Might as well stay on her good side. Just in case.’

“Anyone home?” Aubrey knocked on the doorframe and leaned against it.

“Hey, Aubrey.” Beca said as she looked up from her computer. “I’m almost ready for lunch, just need a few.”

“No problem.” Aubrey shrugged off her pack and dropped down into the visitor chair tucked into the corner. “I’m also going to need a new chain and lock.”

Beca’s brow lifted. “Really? How did you manage to lose that?”

Aubrey bit her lip. “I wouldn’t say I lost it, exactly. I know where it is.”

“Okay, hold that thought.” Beca held up her hand. “There’s obviously a story but if I don’t get this done Lilly doesn’t get paid on Friday.” Beca looked back down at her laptop. “The last time I was a day late she quit for two weeks and I’m not losing my best repairwoman just before the summer starts.”

Aubrey settled into the chair and crossed her legs. She knew she had about five minutes to come up with anything other than the truth or she was going to be teased mercilessly for the next two years. Except her normally sharp mind wasn’t being cooperative and she still hadn’t come up with any other plausible explanation by the time Beca closed the lid to her laptop and focused back in on Aubrey.

“Alright, spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.” Aubrey deflected even though she knew it was a lost cause.

“Then why are you touching your throat?” Beca tilted her head. “You only do that when you’re nervous.”

Aubrey yanked her betraying hand down into her lap. “There is nothing to be nervous about.” Which was true, except maybe she knew she’d reacted badly to something minor and stupid and now that she had to explain it, felt even pettier than she knew she’d been earlier.

“Uh huh.” Beca leaned back in her chair. “You know you’re going to tell me and might as well just get it over with.”

Aubrey sighed. “Fine. I locked it around someone else’s bike at the studio.”

“What?” Beca frowned. “Why… would you…?”

“Someone took my spot.” Aubrey muttered and looked away.

“Aubrey Posen you never mumble and whatever you just said was quieter than Lilly on her silent days.” Beca leaned forward again, her tone confidential. “Was she hot?”

“What?!” Aubrey blinked. “Why would you jump to the conclusion that it was a woman?” She realized she was touching her throat again and forced herself to relax.

“Because the only time I’ve seen you anything less than confident was when you were interested in the owner of your studio.” Beca turned around and dug into the mini fridge in her office. When she turned back she had two bottles of beer. “Don’t give me the drinking and riding speech. We’re walking to lunch.”

Aubrey shrugged and took the bottle after Beca had taken off the cap. “I save that for special occasions now. So what? I thought the owner was pretty, sue me.” She took a drink to shut herself up.

Chloe Beale was not only a gorgeous redhead, but also was one of the nicest women Aubrey had ever met and she’d made Aubrey feel welcome the second she’d walked into Stretch It Out. She was also beautiful and Aubrey had felt an instant attraction that had, over time, faded as she’d never found the right moment to see if her interest was returned. Either Chloe was greeting people at the front desk, which was never empty, or somewhere else in the studio. She knew Chloe well enough that she felt comfortable greeting her by name if they passed, but it wasn’t like they’d had time to sit down and chat. And Aubrey never quite worked up the nerve to ask her to lunch before she’d decided the moment had passed.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Beca took a sip of her own. “She’s also the only woman I’ve heard you call pretty.” She tilted her head. “I was starting to think I was going to have to start getting the names of women who come into the shop for you but… Maybe I don’t have to.”

“Shut up,” Aubrey laughed despite her annoyance. “I can find my own dates, thank you very much.”

“Did you have your number etched on the chain or something?” Beca grinned behind her bottle before she took another drink of her beer. “Hoping she’ll call you to chew you out… or to do something else with her mou-”

“No!” Aubrey interrupted quickly and shook her head. “It’s… it was just stupid, Beca.”

“Now that you’ve confirmed there is a woman, I have to hear the whole story. You never admit stupid things without a lot more teasing.” She sat back in her chair and waved her hand. “Continue.”

Sighing, Aubrey relented. “I’d gotten to the studio and someone was in my spot.”

“They assign you spots when you join?” Beca frowned. “That’s… weird.”

“They don’t. I just… I just like that particular spot. It’s right up front and usually available when I go.” Aubrey took another drink as a stalling tactic.

“You do sometimes get set in your patterns and ideas about things.” But Beca said it without malice and Aubrey took no offense. “I remember you telling me about how you avoided my shop based on the name and never even looked at the glowing reviews all my customers had left me.”

“Gee you’re so humble,” Aubrey teased.

“I’m the best and that’s why my Dad gave me controlling interest before he went gallivanting off to Europe with his new wife.” Beca lifted one shoulder. “Plus I’ve been working here since I was sixteen, so I know the bikes and make sure to keep up on the new innovations.”

“If you’re the best, why are you in this strip mall instead of in a big building with a big flashy showroom?” It was something Aubrey had wondered before but never got around to asking.

“Because I hate people.” Beca shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll expand, but until then I’m good with the customers I have right now.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I’m going to let you distract me with talking about the business, Aubrey.”

“Fine.” Aubrey pursed her lips before continuing. “The person who was in my spot – yes my spot,” she said pointedly when Beca smirked at her, “was getting ready to leave. She was unchaining her bike, so I pulled out my phone to check my email. I was answering my brother’s latest nag to come visit him on his next leave at home and didn’t see them leave. By the time I looked back up a new person was pushing their bike into the rack.”

“How dare.” Beca murmured.

“And I wasn’t expecting it, because obviously I was standing there and waiting – like any polite person with a parking spot – and may have told her to get out of my spot.”

“Woman, confirmed.” Beca said sagely.

“You want the story or you want to make fun of me?” Aubrey snapped.

“Both?” Beca lifted her brows. “Both are good for me.”

“Sorry,” Aubrey shook her head. “I didn’t mean to rip your head off.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got a thick skin. But please, continue.” Beca made a show of drawing an invisible zipper across her lips.

“But she didn’t move and just locked her bike up while staring at me the whole time.” Aubrey frowned when Beca snickered. “It’s rude, Beca.” Aubrey took a drink of her beer, feeling annoyed all over again. “Then she told me to try yoga because it might help me unclench.” Aubrey gritted her teeth when Beca almost snorted out the mouthful of beer she’d just taken.

“Is she still alive?” Beca gasped as she finally managed to swallow the liquid instead of spraying it all over her desk.

“Yes, Beca.” Aubrey said tartly before taking a breath and then pausing. Maybe she shouldn’t tell Beca the rest of it; it would only give her more ammunition.

“Surprising. And for that you sacrificed your chain and lock?” When Aubrey remained silent, still considering her options, Beca searched her face. “Oh, that’s not the end of it, is it.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I’m starting to regret how well you know me.” Aubrey picked at the label on her bottle. “You’re not going to believe me if I say it was, are you?”

“Nope,” Beca said cheerfully. “So you might as well tell me now in the safety of my office instead of at lunch. In public.”

Aubrey sighed again. “She said… She told me I’d be cuter if my face wasn’t so pinched, but apparently my nose flares when I’m angry and she kind of liked it.” Aubrey snapped her mouth shut; she hadn’t meant to say that last part. It had no bearing on anything else and now she’d never hear the end of it.

“You know what I got out of that?” Beca said after a moment of silence. “That she thinks you’re cute.”

Aubrey huffed out a breath. “Of course that’s all you heard.”

Beca shrugged. “So, was she cute?”

“I literally saw red, Beca.”

“That… is not an answer, Aubrey. So my assumption here is – yes.” Beca took another drink. “Office or public, Bree.”

“She was taller than me, legs like a giraffe, brunette hair in a braid.” Aubrey said as casually as possible.

“Giraffe, huh?” Beca mused. “What color eyes?”

Aubrey drained the last of her bottle. “No idea, sun was in mine. Are we done? Can we go to lunch now?”

“Sure, Bree.” Beca finished her own beer. “Just as soon as you tell me why you did the thing.”

“I don’t even know,” Aubrey admitted. “I’d blocked it out during the after class stretch and my shower and when I came out I saw her bike in my spot and thought my own had been stolen. Then when I remembered the whole thing – which apparently did wonders for my energy while in class, I might actually hurt tomorrow – I got angry all over again. I had unchained my bike and the stupid thought popped into my head that it’d serve her right if I locked her bike to the rack.” She couldn’t help blushing with her next admission. “So I did.”

“I think that’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you admit and I’m so proud right now.” Beca wiped a fake tear from her eye.

“Shut up.” Aubrey felt her embarrassment begin to fade. “It was dumb, I know it was. But… she just was so…”

“Hot?” Beca offered.

“Infuriating.” Aubrey sneered. “Smug.”

“Hot,” Beca said again, grinning.

“Whatever,” Aubrey rolled her eyes.

“What kind of bike did she have?” Beca asked suddenly.

“What?” Aubrey blinked and frowned. “I don’t know; why do you want to know?”

Beca shrugged. “Professional interest.”

“Well, I don’t remember.” Aubrey said but Beca just stared at her. “Ugh, fine. One of the Canyons. I don’t know which because they all look alike.”

“She’s serious about bikes though, those German bikes can cost a pretty penny depending on what model.” Beca mused then made a sour face. “Probably goes to that German Amazon’s shop.”

Sensing the tables were about to be turned in the teasing department, Aubrey kept her face blank. “What was the name of it again? I can never remember.”

“Das Speed Machine.” Beca said in her most deadpan voice then rolled her eyes. “Stupid name for a shop. I think she did it just so she could shorten it to DSM and slap their name on every product they sell just to jack up the price.”

“That’s right.” Aubrey nodded. “Does that guy still follow her around and do half her talking for her, like she’s too good to do it herself?”

“Yup,” Beca nodded slowly. “I’ve always wondered about their relationship.”

Aubrey shuddered. “I don’t and don’t you dare put that thought in my head.” She half laughed but smothered it quickly “You know what I think?”

Beca looked at her warily. “Do I want to know?

“I think you have a thing for her.”

Beca shot upright in her chair. “What?! I do not!”

“You stutter and flail whenever she’s around.” Aubrey waited for half a heartbeat. “And stand on your tiptoes.”

Beca gaped at her. “That… that means nothing!”

“You also thought her sweat smelled like cinnamon.” Aubrey pointed out. She’d been waiting for the right moment to use that line and the glee she felt at finally being able to was probably sadistic.

Beca’s eyes widened. “How was I supposed to know there was an elephant ear vendor behind us!”

Aubrey crossed her legs primly. “Because your race ended at an outdoor fair and you had just pointed at it and said you wanted to get one.”

Beca’s mouth worked but nothing came out for several long seconds. Finally she slumped in her chair. “Maybe I just need a taller pair of shoes.” She looked up at Aubrey, one eye closed. “But I do not have a thing for her. She’s not my type.”

“Oh?” Aubrey prompted when Beca didn’t continue. “Tall and smells like cinnamon isn’t your type?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Beca shook her head. “No – condescending and rude as hell. One day, though, one day I’m going to beat her and it will be glorious.” She sighed and her eyes went distant.

“And I’ll be there cheering you on,” Aubrey agreed as she stood up. “Lunch?”

“Yup.” Beca stood up and pushed her chair in, grabbing both bottles of beer. Detouring behind the counter to recycle them, Beca called out, “Lilly, you’re in charge. Please try not to scare anyone off again?” Without waiting for an answer, knowing one wouldn’t be heard even if it was forthcoming, Beca led the way out of the building.

When they reached the sidewalk, Aubrey pulled her sunglasses back out. “You know, you’re one to talk.” She put her sunglasses on and turned to Beca. “Why do you still call it One for the Road when all it does is make you sound like you advocate drunk driving?”

“Because my dad thought it was funny. Besides, you vetoed my alternate name idea.” Beca accused as they walked toward the restaurant.

“You can’t name your business The Cycle-Path just because you think it’s a funny play on psychopath. Which you are not.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Probably.”

“Buzzkill.” Beca muttered. “Just for that, you get to buy lunch.”

“It was my turn anyway, so nice try.” Aubrey tilted her head back and let the sun warm her face. It was a nice afternoon, the walk was short and she was about to have a great lunch with her best friend.

She definitely was not thinking of a certain, long legged brunette and what she’d say if they crossed paths again in the future.

[gatsbyjwilson]

The Highlight Reel (A Cautionary Tale)

“Uh huh. And you say you went to Parnidge University and studied film?”

“P-Partridge, Sir.”

“Huh.”

Two gleaming black eyes stared back across the cluttered, coffee-stained desk to examine the short, spindly, and overdressed specimen opposite them. 

“T- Technically I studied accounting with a minor in film- my Mom told me to do that in case ‘The whole Hollywood Thing doesn’t work out.’”

It was remarkable how the beady little man sitting nervously in front of the heavy-set producer was able to keep his armpits dry. It was the hottest day in June, and the sun had only just begun to creep towards the West over the hills. Donny had already removed his jacket and loosened his tie, and even with the rickety old fan spinning precariously over the desk, Don was sweating up a storm. The pencil-neck opposite him, on the other hand, seemed acclimated to the hotter-than normal weather. “Kid’s so thin, maybe they can’t wring no sweat outta him no more.”

The fat man allowed himself the shadow of a chuckle at the thought.

“So uh, why aren’t you applying to be an accountant?”

“That’s not what I want to be, Sir.”

“So why the hell’ve you majored in accounting?”

“I’ve been wondering that myself.”

Those beady, tight-knit eyes wandered across the room. Maybe they were searching for a way out, maybe they were just admiring the torn and faded posters on the wall of an ancient age forgotten long ago- the early eighties.

“So-”, The past-his-prime producer started, wiping his brow with a stained Roy Rogers napkin, “You wanna be a comedian.”

“Well, I’m already a comedian, I want to host my own late night show.” Cracking his first non-forced smile, the eager young man continued- “It’s been my dream since I was a little boy watching Letterman on my little rinky-dink TV.”

At this, Donny was now thoroughly amused.

“Heh. You wanna know what my dream was as a kid?” He said, as his fat lips curved into a long, unnerving grin, “A Janitor. Always had my eyes set on a spiffy blue uniform- cleaning up, lending a helping hand- then I realized how much of a shit job that is.” His coffee-stained teeth once again receded past his swollen jowls, resuming his exhausted, resting face. Dropping the paper clearly in the already resume-stuffed wastebasket, he once again drew his discouraging grin and spat- “I’ll think about it.”

***

Leaning back into the well-worn seats of his Camaro, the previously well-postured man dropped any hint of optimism and sank into the seat, loosening a cheap coffee labelled ‘BENJAMEN’ from its holder. The sun was well-set by now, and pounding rain had settled nicely into the area, draining remorselessly over the Hollywood Hills. A hole in the roof above the passenger seat had begun to drip into the car, but at this point Ben didn’t care. Wrenching himself into an upright posture, he drew a small notebook from his pinstriped breast-pocket. He crossed out Happy Times Studios from the list, marking the end of the page. Two straight months of interviews and cheerful schmoozing had left him with nothing. No money, no job, and no prospects. The drive from Ohio was a long one, but the beat-up, sickly orange 90’ Camero had made it, with some minor repairs. Ben was preparing to make the drive back in the morning. After 30 minutes of traffic and unconsciously turning to the empty slot where a radio should be, he pulled up to a tan apartment complex and turned the car off. He turned melancholically to the window. Still rain. 

***

He unlocked the door to his apartment, soaking wet. At least he was home, he thought, stepping into a strategically placed land mine of cat dung. A long, drawn-out sigh emanated from his gaunt visage. Not bothering to wipe them, he kicked his shoes off and went instinctively towards the TV remote. He slumped into the leather couch, resting his feet on the broken ottoman he had propped up on a stack of books. He flipped the TV on just in time to see Tom Hanks laugh uproariously at a witticism Conan O'Brien had uttered. Ben leaned over to a half-empty Coors gathering dust on the floor by the couch. He picked it up, sniffed it, and began to sip. His eyes began to glaze over, resting unfocused on the technicolor tube TV. His cat walked steadily over to sip from the pool forming on the floor from the Coors that had leaned out of his hand as he fell asleep, drifting off into peaceful, dark, unconsciousness. 

“ARE YOU A SKILLED WRITER, DIRECTOR, OR COMEDIAN???? DO YOU WANT TO BE RICH, SUCCESSFUL, AND FAMOUS???? THEN COME VISIT HIM AT 304-”

Ben shot up, knocking the ottoman off of its improvised leg. He breathed heavily, drenched in sweat. He looked around for the source of the blaring job offer. The TV played only static. He looked over at his clock radio. 3:00 AM. Silent as a mouse. Was it possible he dreamed it? More than likely, he supposed. His fatigue, momentarily lost, returned to him. “3 AM,” he thought. “I haven’t had dinner.” Ben moseyed on over to the refrigerator, drenched in the harsh fluorescent glow of his nearby lamp. He opened the door and leaned down into it, taking a pause and closing his eyes to enjoy the stream of cold air that trickled from the machine. Ben looked down into the crisper drawer, pulling out the bottom ra-

“AVENUE!!! HE’S WAITING TO SEE YOU!!! AND HE KNOWS HOW SKILLED YOU ARE, BEN!!!”

He shot back, slamming his head against the roof of the refrigerator. He fell backwards, landing hard on the linoleum floor of his kitchen. He heard it- that time he really heard it. And it said his name. His eyes darted back to the TV, which continued its inhuman lullaby of crackling sound. Nothing. Absolutely Nothing. Ben would have thought it was a friend playing a trick on him, if Ben had any friends to play tricks on him. He had left that all back in Ohio. No, this was something different. He looked to his cat, who, obviously startled by his fall, stared intently at him. He got up, ambled over to the couch once again, and lay down. He reached over and turned on the remote. The TV shut off with a fizzle of static electricity. 

After 10 minutes of trying, the same warmth of sleep eluded him. He lazily opened his eyes again, peering across the room to the short hallway that led to his real bedroom and the bathroom. The cat, seemingly curious, meandered into the darkened hall. He came back a few moments later and came close to Ben’s face, and licked his nose. At this point, he was too tired to care, and continued to sluggishly watch his companion walk back to the hall and stop at the mouth. The cat remained at the entrance of the hall and meowed. A beckoning, perhaps, to another cat that had gotten into the building somehow. Ben remained on the couch, until the cat turned back to him, meowed again, and turned back to the hall. It was a quick movement, like a deer turned to a hunter in the forest, piercing black eyes shooting back at the predator. 

The cat stared for what seemed like hours, unblinking. Then, in a moment of eerie stillness, the cat walked forward, being swallowed up by the darkness. With his only entertainment having left him, Ben turned to face the ceiling. “I think I’ve finally lost it,” Ben thought to himself. There was no real explanation for what he heard, besides maybe his mind thinking it heard certain words in a mix of wordless sound, the same way his eyes tricked him by making him see moving shapes in the darkness. He sat upright, gazing out at the city below. “Three in the morning and still buzzing,” he thought. The rain had ended, so Ben had put his shoes back on and donned an inconspicuous, faded, bomber jacket. Being an insomniac, he had gotten used to taking nighttime walks to clear his head and spur him into sleeping. He took his keys off the counter and walked out, prepared to take his last looks at the city he had dreamed about.

He resolved not to take the Camaro, lest he fall asleep at the wheel and never see the light of day. Instead, he began to walk into the heart of the city. The opioid epidemic had stuck this part of town hard, and it was hard to find a street corner without some junkie muttering to himself or dancing off to wonderland thanks to the needle in his arm. Tonight was different, though. Perhaps some good samaritan had opened up a new homeless shelter, for tonight, the streets were clean of addicts and alcoholics. He walked through streetlight after streetlight, closed storefront after closed storefront, the scenery so decrepit and frequent it seemed the walls were simply repeating themselves every block. Coming to a four-way intersection, Ben looked up at the street signs to get his bearings and begin to head home. The chill of the night breeze had finally set into his bones.

When he looked up, the street names were unknown to him, so he had the option to either double back on Ciacco Street or turn onto Sordello. He attempted to look for the shining lights of the Sunset Strip to give him some sense of direction, but the boarded up shops and apartments stooped far too high for Ben to get a sense of his location. He turned onto Sordello, and passed by a fenced-off psychiatric hospital. What was left of the sign read ‘ST. BERN  RD A  YLUM’. A small pink sheet on the front of the wrought-iron gates read ‘CONDEMNED’. Mildly unnerved by the rotting exterior of the place, Ben pulled his jacket tighter to him and continued on. The chill still clung to him, no matter how close he pulled it.

Rounding another corner past the asylum, he walked onto a long, dark, and eerily quiet street. He stepped out onto the road and looked down. Cobblestone paving. He was in a far older part of town. He looked back to the corner he had just rounded and saw only darkness at the cutoff. The last streetlight he had passed had gone out. The new street was oddly clean. The chill had left his bones, he remarked. He still had no idea where he was. He decided to find some 24 hour bodega and borrow their phone. None of the lights in the shop were on, except for a small decorated lantern that hung over a wooden sign.

Ben walked closer to the sign, peering up at the faded paint. ‘FOUST’S APOTHECARY’, it read, and he pushed open the wooden door with the same name written on it in gold lettering. There was the brief chime of the door’s petite silver bell.  It was a small shop with a counter and hardwood flooring, all neatly polished. He looked beyond the counter and saw a shelf with columns and rows of bottles marked with tiny labels that were impossible to read without a magnifying glass. He sat down in a leather bar seat and ran his hands over the wooden counter. Was it open? Would he have to-

“I wasn’t under the impression that we would receive customers tonight,” Remarked a thin old man dressed in scarlet from the corner of the shop. “Not many people show up here at all, so I’d hardly expect someone, especially at this hour.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that- you see my car is at my apartment and I got lost while walking, and-” 

“Oh, slow down a bit, young man, I know exactly why you’re here.”

Ben’s brow furrowed slightly, and the man in the corner put down his dense manuscript and stood up to shake his hand.

“Well you need medicine! Why else would you have wandered into an apothecary at this time of night. You’re in your hour of need, and no one else will help you. Well, as it so happens I am just the man you seek. Doctor Johann Faust- at your service.”

He walked around the counter with long strides, removing some bottles from the shelf and placing them on the counter with a swiftness Ben hadn’t expected from such an old man. 

“That’s very kind of you Sir, but really I just need to borrow your pho-”

The scarlet man cut him off- “Yes, yes, just a minute, I’ll get to that. You happen to have some more pressing matters, I believe.”

At this point Ben was too tired to interject, and elected to simply lean on the counter and let the scarlet-clad doctor rattle off his sales pitch.

“Benjamin, I am a man who solves problems. And many times they aren’t simply illnesses of the mind or of the body. They’re illnesses of the soul. Have you ever felt like you were simply meant to do something, but you are impaired somehow? This is an illness of the soul, you see. You were always meant for the silver screen, but the cruel and ignorant men above you simply wish to stop you from rising to the top.”

At this, Ben sat up. He had never told this man his name, much less his plight of reaching his dream as a host. He wanted to get up and leave, but everything around him told him to not move and stay exactly where he was. He could leave, but the back of his mind kept him in his chair. The impending, screaming sensation that if he left now, he would lose out on a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity. 

“H-How do you know that?” Ben sputtered out. “I never told you any of that.”

The old man stopped what he was doing and stood up straight. He turned around and peered into Ben’s eyes. It was only now that he realized that the Doctor was quite a bit taller than him. The velvety voice began again:

 “You didn’t need to. It was all written there on your face. You see, all throughout my life I have seen poor, innocent people suffer because of the actions of those above them. How is it that the people who should never lead become the mightiest of the mighty? It’s just so... unfair. So I make it my business to help those less fortunate people achieve their goals. All pro bono, of course.”

Ben looked back at the eyes of the frail man in front of him. He seemed so kind, so purely helpful, like an innocent child who simply wants to help another reclaim the swing set he was pushed from. But his eyes… They spoke of something deeper, something darker and more purely maleficent than anything Ben had seen before. The Doctor turned and returned to his task. The pillowy baritone of the pharmacist resumed:

“I can help you, Ben. You and I both simply want the same thing. To bring joy to everyone. To dethrone the ignorant simpletons who have made themselves the kings of kings.”

The man turned to face him once again, and placed a small vial of a dark, glittering liquid before him. “Fallacem Argentum- a very rare and specialty concoction. It has the rather helpful  effect of making anyone seem hilarious and confident- the two most important qualities of a show host, don’t you agree?” Ben instinctively reached for it, but his hands were guided away from the vial by the Doctor. “I’m afraid, Benjamin, that you need a prescription for this, and that’s something you simply don't have. However,” The Doctor started, holding the bottle up to the light, “I can write you one- in exchange for a small favor.” Ben was fixed on the vial. Everything was leading up to this. This is what he needed. This is who he was. Ben had already disturbed the pharmacist by intruding at this late hour, so if he could repay him with whatever favor he needed, it would be only fair.

“Anything.”

A thin smile crept up the sides of Foust’s face, contorting his features to reveal a deep eagerness at Ben’s agreement.

“There will come a time when I require your service. At a time least expected, I will be there to claim what is rightfully mine. That’s all there is- I’ve already collected the down payment before you left.”

With this, the Doctor placed the bottle in front of him once more, and Ben grabbed it unimpeded.

“How does it work?” He asked, eyes still locked intently on the bottle. 

“Simply take one drop for confidence and humor, two drops for fame and fortune, and three drops…” The Doctor’s face fell a bit. He looked from the bottle to Ben’s eyes, which had momentarily broken their gaze from the bottle. 

“Three drops for what?”

“Three drops, my boy, will lead you down a path you may never want to walk. Three drops and your fame and fortune will be… eternal. But all who have tried have regretted it. They were simply too weak-willed for it, I suppose. They just didn’t have the Passion. Best to just stick with two, then.”

The pharmacist produced a small red-leather ledger and placed it in front of Ben.

“Simply sign here, a good hearty handshake, and then you’re off.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The eager smile returned to the Doctor’s gaunt face. Ben suddenly found himself holding an ornate fountain pen. The handle was made of what seemed to be polished obsidian, and the deeper Ben peered into the side of it, the more he wondered if he would lose his mind in the endless, spiraling darkness. Ben was so tired. If he just signed, he could go back to sleep and be left alone. All he needed to do was-

A short, clear tap on the ledger indicating where he was to write his name brought him back to reality. He paused, reading over the names. So many people… Who was this guy? Wait a second- what was he doing here? He needed to get home, to feed his cat, to-

Before he knew it, Ben had signed the paper quickly, and the pen, suddenly wielding an immense weight, dropped from his hand. The scarlet man closed the book and placed both it and the pen in his breast pocket. He offered a bony hand.

Ben shook it.

The face of the pharmacist was whipped into utter delight. He let loose a deep, hearty chuckle. All previous refinement lost, he said-

“You can go.”

***

Ben started up in his bed. It was dawn, and the rays of the California sun had finally broken through the blinds to wake him. Everything that had happened the night before seemed fuzzy. Ethereal. Unreal. He walked over to the large bag of cat food and filled a bowl marked ‘EMBERS’. He looked around for the cat, who usually came running at the slightest hint of food. The soft pitter-patter of his feet never came.

Ben didn’t think much of it. After all, cats were lazier than most humans. He rose from the food bowl and suddenly stopped. His eyes were locked with an inky black vial on the counter.

He paused for a while, the memories of the previous night flooding back to him. The Asylum, the empty streets, the unnatural chill of the nocturnal air settling into his bones- it all came back. The eyes of the Doctor. Even now, he felt the endless abyss behind them boring holes into the most secluded parts of his being.

He put one hand on the bottle, and sloshed the liquid inside around. It was dense, like mercury. He debated simply tossing it out and considering the events of the past night a ‘stress-induced psychotic break’. “I would, but I paid for this-” He paused for a moment to briefly recall the events of the previous night once more. How much did he pay for this? Faust had said he wrote the prescription as a favor, but he had no memory of what he had given him in return.

He momentarily shook himself back to reality and looked around for Embers. He walked toward the hall where he had watched the cat slowly enter the previous night, but stopped at the entrance. 

“I’ve already collected the down payment.”

The Doctor’s words echoed back to him now. He stared into the hall, which even now in pure daylight was held in a subtle darkness, with the door to the bathroom being closed and the windows in the bedroom covered by the curtains, which had been drawn shut. He lingered for a moment, and turned to face the bottle once again. 

It felt like days, staring into the inky liquid in the bottle. Considering what he would do with it now that he had it. “How bad could it be? Two drops of anything can’t kill me,” He thought to himself. He went to the cupboard above the counter and removed a small coffee cup, placing it down next to the bottle. He put it under the faucet and filled it. Then, carefully unscrewing the lid of the bottle, he drew some of the liquid into the dropper and held it for a moment, careful not to release any of the pressure from his fingertips.

He kept the dropper suspended above the water.

“One drop for confidence and humor, two drops for fame and fortune, and three drops-”

Two drops of the onyx liquid fell into the cup. Ben’s hand held still over the cup for a moment, as if to tempt fate for another drop to fall from it. None did. He downed the cup. The liquid was bitter at first, but his tongue quickly acclimated to the taste. He recognised it from somewhere, but couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like a childhood dish with a main element removed- enough to offer the memory, but merely a shadow of what it truly was.

He stepped out into the air, which had changed rapidly from a blazing heat yesterday to a room-temperature atmosphere. Perhaps it was a few degrees too cold. The sudden focus on the sensation of the air on his skin reminded him of how fervently his sneakers chafed. It seemed completely normal, and yet, a creeping uneasiness stayed with Ben no matter where he went.

He began to walk toward his favorite cafe, a small, unambitious little shop owned by an immigrant family from Japan. Nice folk, yet the mother had the unappealing tendency to stare with intense scrutiny at anyone who entered. As a consequence, it was always empty. This was a bonus to Ben. 

He walked in, and offered a slight wave to the mother’s 10-year-old boy, who sat in the back corner of the sun-bleached shop playing something on his GameBoy. The wave, to Ben’s dismay, went unnoticed. The mother, Pauline, emerged from the backroom and gave a warm smile, which was quickly snuffed at the sight of Ben’s wrinkled flannel. 

“The usual?”

Actually, I was thinking a rum and coke this morning.

“Actually, I was thinking a rum and coke this morning.”

A brief, yet hearty chuckle emanated from Pauline. Where had that come from? He didn’t know, but he was proud of it. “A nice way to start my last day here.” Ben thought to himself.

“If you find one, get one for me too.” 

Pauline began making a double-shot espresso, Ben’s favorite, and he left the cash on the counter and sat down. He looked out the large glass windows to gaze lazily across the street. The sun was in the first third of the sky, and the smell of the coffee had brightened his mood. Today was going to be a good day.

He went up to the counter and took the espresso. He resumed sitting, and took a long sigh. In that moment, Ben seemed to be held in a peculiar stillness, as if his entire life had been slightly blurred, and only now came into focus. He noticed every little thing. The pallid creak of the plastic chair he was sitting in that accompanied every slight movement. The furious, yet practiced clicking of the GameBoy. The dull hiss of steam from the coffee makers. It all seemed so real, so present, and yet- so disconnected. Despite the lucidity in which he viewed his surroundings, Ben couldn’t find himself immersed in it. He felt held within his own interior stillness, quiet and unnoticed by the outside world.

He stepped out of the shop and began to walk back to his apartment. Just then, a neon-swept teenager on a skateboard shoved a flyer into his hands. The teen sped past and absentmindedly shouted “Come to open mike night at The Hooligan House!” Ben looked down at the dry pink paper in his hands. “Why not?” He postulated, “What the Hell?”

***

The atmosphere of the comedy club was tipsy and jovial, with silver-tongued crooners smooth-talking to well-dressed ladies scattered throughout the club. People of all sorts were here, and the only one who felt out of place was Ben. He slipped into one of the front-row booths and sat down. A waitress came up to him and he asked for a beer. He sipped the foamy liquid courage and turned towards the stage.

“Uh, welcome to open mike night here at California’s own HH.”

The dull announcement was met with thunderous applause and cheers from across the club. The obviously stoned, flannel-clad man continued.

“Basically the rules are you have a max of five minutes, no racist or sexist shit, y’all know the drill.”

A man dressed in a loose polo went up. He flashed a cheesy smile, grabbed the mike with familiar confidence, and began:

“You know, I recently had to put my mom in a nursing home.”

The audience met this with sympathetic sighs.

“Yeah, her house parties were loud as hell- I couldn’t get any sleep. This bitch had to go.”

Uproarious laughter showered the comedian. His routine consisted of the same type of jokes. He presented his eighty-year old mother as a virile teen going through the angst that puberty brings on. A couple other people went up, and something deep inside Ben said:

Get up there. Show em’ what you’ve got.

Ben scooted out of his seat and briskly walked up to the microphone. There were scattered claps throughout the establishment. In an effort to hide his shaky hands he gripped it with both hands and began. He peered into the black faceless mass that was the crowd. He paused for a moment, trying to remember his jokes. He cursed under his breath. He’d left his book at home. I suppose he’d have to improvise. His mind was blank- he frantically racked his brain for anything resembling a joke when he heard a voice, perhaps his own, begin to speak.

“So the other day I was walking home, and I saw this homeless guy sweeping the streets with a branch.”

Small chuckles came from the crowd. The voice continued, and Ben was in a trance- was the voice his own? He’d never know. All he knew was that he was talking and it was working.

“First of all- good for him for keeping his community clean.”

A hearty laugh came from the crowd. Ben relaxed his grip.

“It’s not every day you see someone like that. I was honestly so surprised I just kinda watched him do it. At least he’s trying, right? Just look at him go- sweeping in two directions so the dirt stays in the same place. By far the most responsible crackhead I’ve seen in a while. He compares only to good ol’ Stabby Power-washes-the-street. Both upstanding men in the community.”

Ben continued on, caught in a stupor of the limelight- The words flowed effortlessly out of him- he didn’t need to think and they were already there, sent out to the crowd for them to devour. He finished his set and sat down. The audience cheered. The stoned manager from before came out and wished everyone a good night. People got up to leave, and as Ben was putting on his coat, a hand gripped his shoulder. Ben spun around and was face to face with a well-dressed little man in his forties, who stood a good foot shorter than him.

“Rick Barnaby- Talent Agent.”

He flicked a sleek black business card out to him and thrust it into his hands.

“And you got talent, kid. Real talent. The way you had that crowd busting their guts? Beautiful. Listen, gimme a call if you’re interested in working as a writer or something. There are tons of small studios in the hills that would love a guy like you!”

The balding man clapped him on the shoulder and walked away. Ben couldn’t help a smile from flooding over his face. He turned to the bar and asked to settle his tab.

The cheeky comedian from earlier sat at the bar, staring at him.

“You know, you’ve got chops, I’ll give you that. Guys like Barnaby are small fry- He goes after every wide-eyed comedian who can get a chuckle out of these idiots.”

Any previous levity was gone from the comedian’s face. He emptied his glass and got up.

“You want my advice? Wait until the big names go for you- but for that you need a club a lot bigger than this one.” He turned to the barkeep and gestured to his empty glass. “That one’s on him.” The now-sullen comedian quickly departed.

Ben begrudgingly paid his tab, along the extra charge for the other comedian’s drink. He stepped out into the sweet Hollywood air. The city glistened across the darkness. It was like the whole place was stuck in a haze of limelight. Before, He was nothing. Now, the city was his. He stepped off into the darkness.

***

  Ben awoke yet again into a day he thought wouldn’t happen. He once again stared into the inky black liquid. He strode past the untouched food bowl, eyes locked in place with the vial. He outstretched his hand to it, but quickly withdrew it. He got another mug and placed it near the coffee maker.

All who have tried it have regretted it. They just didn’t have the Passion.

He picked the mug up again and filled it with water. He placed the mug on the counter next to the vial. What was he doing? The Doctor had said that all who have done it have regretted it.

Because they didn’t have the Passion.

Ben looked at the vial again.

“I have passion.”

Yes, Benjamin, you do. The people who regretted it didn’t have the same fire you possess.

“W-what if I don’t? What if it’s really not in me?”

There are always a million reasons not to do something. All this worry is so… negative. Let go of your inhibitions.

 Ben unscrewed the cap and dropped the third drop in. He downed the cup. The taste was the same alluding flavor- but he was more passive to the subtle bitterness now. He knew that this was truly him.

He stepped out into the daylight- ready to make his way in the world. He was gripped by the strong sensation that the world was his. He had the fire. He had fought for this. Now it was time. Time to become the man he always wanted to be.

He stepped onto the crosswalk, not noticing the flatbed truck hurtling out of his peripheral vision. Ben took his last step with profound purpose. And all the world was gone.

***

“AHAHA, HOLY SHIT!”

Ben was in a leather armchair, face to face with a slender, neatly dressed man sitting across a dark mahogany desk. He was cackling and slamming the desk with laughter. Every beat against the hard wood was deafening. The true sadistic nature of the laugh made Ben fall sick to his stomach.

The fireplace burned brightly behind the still-laughing man. The eager flares mimicked the chaotic swelling of the laughter. All around the office was dark wood. He wanted to turn around, but fear kept him in his place.

“Ohh, ohh, oh my goodness-”

The man’s face rose from his desk and he wiped a tear from his eye. His skin color was an aggressive crimson. A horrible realization dawned on Ben. The truck- wait- How did he survive? Unless… The realization shot into him brutally.

“That is, without a doubt- one of the best ones I’ve seen. I mean, you took the third drop and, like, immediately get hit by a truck. I mean, hot damn. Wow. Really, really, great stuff. Okay- let’s take a little look-see at your file here.”

A bright red folder produced itself in a quick burst of flame. The man opened it and began to read, mouthing most of the words. Wild expressions darted across his face with every new sentence, most of them being jovial surprise.

“Excuse me but what am I-”

The man made a ‘Shut-your-mouth’ gesture with his hands and Ben fell silent. Ben put a hand to his mouth and felt around it. He gagged- It was sewn shut. He traced his fingers over the stitches and let loose a muffled scream. The scream was met with not even an apathetic glance from the man. He kicked his feet up onto the desk and sank back into his leather chair. He tossed the folder into the fireplace behind him. 

“So, uh, normally Paul, the demon in charge of your case, would be the one doing this, but he’s uhh, kind of busy right now, so here I am. You know, I almost turned down this overtime shift. But this… oh this is definitely worth it. Now, unless you’re a full-blown brickhead, you’ve probably figured out where you are by now.”

The demon let loose an excessive, toothy grin.

“You can talk, genius.”

Ben took in a sharp breath and felt around his lips. No stitches, no scars.

“W-wasn’t I h-h-hit by the t-t-”

“Ehh, wuh-wuh-wuh, buh-buh-buh, Speak up, moron. Yeah, you’re in the ol’ H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks all right. In here for a doozy of a sin, too. Deal with the Big Guy, huh? How’d you manage a score with the head honcho ‘round here? Ya sleep with him?”

The demon once again launched into cackling laughter.

“Naw, naw, I’m just giving you a hard time. Don’t take it personally.  I do this to everybody, it’s sort of my job. You get it.”

Ben looked around for cameras. Perhaps this was some sort of practical joke? He thought if perhaps he just waited a bit, a man with a clipboard would come out and tell him he made tonight’s news, and that California 48 would be televising his reaction to the prank.

No such relief came.

The... Demon? Man? Hapless actor? It didn’t matter. The beet-red, snappily dressed thing that sat across from him was nothing short of delighted to be looking over his file. Ben gathered the courage to look around. A ludicrous amount of mahogany. Behind him, at the back of the room, was a large aquarium with a beefy coconut crab. 

“You know, that’s the crab that ate Amelia Earhart..”

“What?”

Ben turned back around to face the demon, who was leaning far across the desk, studying every aspect of Ben’s terrified expression. The demon sank back and looked at his watch. 

“Oh, shit. We gotta get you out to hair and makeup right now.”

“W-what?”

The demon immediately grew a short beard that didn’t cover his chin, and a puffy afro.

“SAY ‘WHAT’ AGAIN! I DARE YOU, I DOUBLE-DARE YOU!”

Ben fell backwards, out of his chair. His head hit the hardwood with a bang. An intense, sharp sting immediately pulsed from the back of his head. The demon once again launched into violent laughter, and then pulled him upright in his chair again. 

“Oh, my bad, guy. I can’t have you all fuzzy for what’s about to happen. I was just kidding about hair and makeup, by the way. You go out just as ugly as you are now.”

Hair and makeup? What the hell was he on about? There wasn’t any-

A neatly dressed, presumably female, demon with her hair in a tight bun quickly opened the door and leaned in. 

“You’re on in five, Cal.”

“Thanks, Toots.”

She looked at Ben and squealed excitedly.

“Is that the guy?”

Cal responded cheerily, “Yep. In the… well, I guess you wouldn’t say flesh.”

The assistant once again squealed excitedly, and then quickly left and shut the door.

Ben, collecting his bearings, sputtered out,

“Look, I think you have the wrong guy. I-I’m not a bad person, I j-just-”

Cal looked at his watch and smiled.

“Showtime!”

He snapped his fingers, and it felt for a brief moment that a fireball had covered Ben. Not enough to burn him, but enough to flash-heat him and startle him again. This time, he was behind a dark red curtain. The neatly-dressed demon from earlier was right next to him.

“I’m Prinne. I’m an Assistant Executive. I just wanted to say, on behalf of all of us, how much your sheer stupidity means to us. Really it's… inspiring. Oop- this is you. Bad luck!”

She scurried off somewhere, and the heavy curtains swept open before Ben, momentarily blinding him from the industrial lighting. He briefly heard,

“... Ben Harding!” 

A jazz orchestra flooded out an upbeat piece, as Cal walked over and moved him to a plush suede couch. He could barely hear anything of the swarm of cheers that washed over Ben. Cal sat down at a desk next to him.

“Isn’t he great, folks?! Look at that- two arms, two legs- the works!”

This was met with guffawing laughter. The crowd quieted down, and Ben’s focus turned towards Cal. Cal was beaming, and he took a sip from a cup that Ben was positive wasn’t coffee.

“So, Ben. I always start my guests with the same question-”

The crowd finished his sentence loudly.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

Ben stuttered, his mind blank.

“A-a TV show?” was all he managed to get out.

Cal turned to the crowd inquisitively.  “What do you think, people, did he get it?”

There was a loud mix of ‘Boos’ and cheers. It was impossible to hear what the majority thought. Cal started again- “I’ll give you a hint, pal. I told you earlier.”

Ben somehow turned paler than he was before.

“Oh, God…”

“NOPE! NOT FOR YOU!”

Deafening laughter resumed. Ben knew what it was. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t bring himself to admit the reality he was facing.

Cal answered for him:

“You know what, guy? I’m a kind fella, so I’ll take that pale, mortal face o’ yours as the correct answer! You’re in…”

Once again the crowd responded.

“HELL!”

A red, flashing marquis sign lowered, illuminating the word. The crowd burst out with laughter once more. As Ben stared directly up at it, he began to weep uncontrollably. This was simply too much to handle. He wanted to go home! He wanted to hug his mother! He wanted to see his cat again!

“What’s that? Your cat? Why would you want to see him again? HE’S THE ONE THAT BROUGHT YOU TO OUR ATTENTION!”, Cal shouted with sheer glee.

Ben was confused beyond words, beyond thought. Cal continued.

“That’s right! He did! If you still want to say ‘Hi’ to your little buddy, then good news! He’s here in the audience tonight!”

A spotlight wheeled around to shine on Embers in the front row, sitting upright, like a human, waving a paw at the cameras and smiling to the extent that a cat could smile.

Cal began again-

“You see, I don’t know if you realized this, but cats just tend to walk between Hell and the mortal plane all the time! It’s just kinda a thing they do. I think the real tug-at-your-heartstrings of it all was the fact that even though you loved him, even though you fed him, even though you cleaned up his stanley steamers all his life, he still couldn’t give a rat’s ass about YOU!”

The crowd busted a gut at this statement. Ben was speechless, staring at the dark, shapeless crowd. The spotlight returned to Cal.

“Alright, folks, It’s time for one of my favorite segments. You know the one-”

The crowd returned-

“GIVE! HIM! MORE! EYES!”

Ben, still weeping, let loose a scream of complete and utter fear  for his existence. He tried to get up, but his legs simply wouldn’t allow him to do so. He beat on his legs with his fists, seemingly endlessly, hoping to get them to work, so they could speed him out of this waking nightmare.

“Aww, I think he wants to go.” Cal made a harlequinesque frown at this comment.

The crowd boomed back more laughter. Cal continued,

“Don’t worry, stupid. This next segment isn’t about you. We just want you to watch.”

Cal gestured to a platform where a man strapped to a board rose out of the ground. His mouth was sewn shut, as Ben’s had been earlier. Cal walked over to the pot-bellied, balding man and began, placard in hand.

“Our next contestant on G.H.M.E. comes to us from Snerling, Indiana. Gabriel Mortson, welcome to Give Him More Eyes!”

He screamed a suppressed wail of terror.

“Now Gabey-boy, you sexually assaulted over fifteen minors in your time on the mortal plane! How do you plead, asswipe?!”

Gabe once again wailed a muffled cry. Cal resumed,

“Sounds like ‘guilty’ to me, folks.” The crowd cheered in agreement with the verdict.

Cal bellowed another sadistic laugh and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a thousand cuts ripped across the man’s entire body. He tried his hardest to scream, but nothing came from his tightly-shut mouth. Blood oozed out of every cut, and one by one, human eyes that looked exactly like Gabriel’s own quickly festered from each cut. The muffled scream went on endlessly. Ben’s eyes were fixed, even through the tears. No desire had ever been as strong as Ben’s was for death then. What he believed was true death, an endless, peaceful sleep. Cal’s joyous expression reminded him that his belief was not the case. Gabriel, drenched in his own blood, receded down into the floor of the stage once more.

“Benny Hill! Back to you, buddy. You are an ‘especial’ case. For you, dear friend, we have a game we rarely get to play. This one is reserved specifically for people who make deals with the Big Fella!”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheered again. A small stream of urine trickled steadily down Ben’s pant leg. Cal continued.

“The rules are simple- walk down this hallway, don’t open any of the doors, and just leave!”

Ben was confused. There must be a catch. Ben was sure of it. Nothing Cal said would ever be trustworthy. Not after what he had seen.

“Alrighty then, Ben-to box! Best of luck!”

Ben saw Cal’s hand move to snap his fingers, but he was gone before he could have heard Cal’s snap. It was odd. He looked down an average hotel hallway. It looked exceedingly calm. The carpet was a stripe of red with beige on both sides. The walls were a neutral cream. Each of the doors had a small, excellently polished door knob on them. He took a step forward. There was no sound, no creak. Ben took another, and was startled by a loud crunching behind him. 

He swiftly turned around, and was put somewhat at ease at the realization that it was simply an ice machine. He resumed his path forward. That was when he heard the first voice.

“Benji?”

A soft, frail voice came from the first door on the left.

“M-mom?” 

Ben’s hand instinctively went towards the handle. He caught himself and whipped it back, holding both of his hands tightly in his armpits.

“Benji, please… please come in. I want to see you. Where did you go, Benji? Why did you leave me?”

Ben tried his hardest to shut out the voice by clamping his hands to his ears. It did nothing. The voice continued, as Benjamin picked up the pace moving forward. The voice grew louder and louder, coming from every door that he passed.

“Benji… Benji, please!... BENJI!... BENJI!”

The farther he got from the first door, the louder and more demonic the voice became, until it was an unholy shriek, cutting deeply into his ears, punishing him, until at once it stopped. Ben fell to his knees and assumed the fetal position, crying loudly and uncontrollably. He laid there, weeping, until he heard that voice in his head once more.

“Keep moving.”

He got up and wiped the tears out of his eyes. He turned around, and he had passed about a dozen doors by then. Only six remained before the slightly open door at the end of the hall. There was a soft golden light coming from the edge, but he couldn't see what was out there. He heard an old TV turn on inside one of the rooms.

“Now, It’s The Late Show- with Ben Harding!” 

Ben continued on, passing through the doors, each one playing a variation of a late-night talk show hosted by Ben. That was, until he came to the sixth door. It was the only door with a small brass door plate in the shape of a star with ‘Benjamin Harding’ inscribed on it. Behind it, he heard:

“Where is he? He needs to be on in two minutes! We can’t have this stupid show without this stupid host!” He then heard light, but stern footsteps pace around the room. Under the door, a shadow danced accordingly. The voice behind the sixth door was the softest. Still, Ben found it the most alluring. His hand slipped out of his armpit and gently onto the knob. The handle was nice and warm. Ben was cold. Perhaps someone has opened a window. There was the same chill in his bones as there was that night. That chill that inched him forward, towards the warm, convenient shop. He felt as he did when he held the drop of the liquid above his cup. 

No turning back now.

But there was. He turned to his left, and saw the final door. It’s light was warm, but not enough to warm him the way he felt the sixth door would. Ben took one final look at the sixth door, and slipped his hand off the knob. Somehow, he could feel the crowd’s disappointment, even without hearing them. That was his victory. For the first time all night, he cracked a smile. He had won. He would fix his mistake. He left the sixth door behind and exited through the final door at the hall. It was warm, just as he thought. He was standing in a field of wild wheat. He turned around and the door was gone. “Ohio.” He thought. He saw abandoned train tracks to the East, and started walking that way. It was a serene afternoon. Not humid, but breezy. A single cloud hung in the sky, moving across the horizon. He walked toward the tracks, and with a single, intense ‘thwack’, he was greeted with the loudest laughter that the crowd had let loose.

Searing, unbelievable pain shot through his leg. Ben dropped to his knee, and tried to pry off the bear trap he had stepped in. It wouldn’t budge. He looked up, and the kind, serene sun was gone. All there was was the harsh light and the crowd. Cal knelt down with him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was tearing up with laughter.

“YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE, YOU IDIOT! I’M AFRAID THAT SHIP HAS SAILED!”

The crowd continued its tsunami of deafening laughter. Ben’s section of the stage was being lowered into the darkness, just as Gabriel had been. All Ben heard before the darkness was the crowd’s inhuman cackling, and Cal’s voice say:

“That one’s going on the Highlight Reel for sure!”

[wwwafflewrites]

The Not-So French Mistake

Chapter 4: Siege of Sunshine

Sam was going solo in his search for water. There were several people gathered around the local market, but a boy who looked to be in high school was the most attentive of the group.

Sam asked him: “What’s going on?”

“We can’t get in,” the teenager panted, fanning his face in a vain effort to cool himself. His cheeks were flushed rosy and sweat trickled down his nose, while visibly straining to remain strong for the townsfolk. “The doors are melted shut.”

“Melted?” Sam’s gaze darkened and he stared at the storefront. It was a metal door; melting such would have required extreme equipment, but there it was, a puddle of molten metal pooling on the sidewalk, which took thousands of degrees to heat up. There was something very wrong here.

“All right…” He searched for another way in. Upon finding one, he announced, “Everyone cover your eyes!”, and he proceeded to kick the window down with the point of his boot. The impact had the glass collapsing onto the tile of the market with a glittery shatter.

Sam wiped at the sweat building into beads along his forehead and swept his hair behind his ears. His gaze met the long-missed treasure among the town: bottled water.

He beckoned for the teenager to follow him into the store and marched up to the fridge which had remained a relieving, frigid temperature. “What’s your name?” he asked the teenager sincerely.

“Caleb.”

Sam snatched a few bottles from the shelf and shoved an armful into the teen’s chest. “All right, Caleb. I need you to hand these out to the people outside. Everyone. Yourself as well. Only allow small sips though; you don’t want to shock their system.”

The boy nodded in appreciation, gripping the load and rushing outside to deliver the vital supplies.

Sam took his own bundle, half-dashing toward the crumpled figure of Sydney and a hovering Castiel. He distributed the water to nearby individuals and lingered as the angel persuaded Sydney to drink. “Are you..?” he began to ask, but his question fell short. It was rhetorical; of course she wasn’t okay. Nobody here was.

Digging into his pocket, Sam seized his phone and dialed. The automatic voice answered tauntingly, and there was a long beep. “Bobby,” he said urgently as he eyed Sydney, who was rousing. “There is something really wrong. Dean had to take a few people to the hospital because of heat stroke. It’s bad down here. Call me when you can.” Sam hung up, and a gnawing sensation lit his gut in worry. “He said he was watching the phones,” he murmured. Something was wrong.

Sydney was slow to rise to her feet, but eventually, she achieved such. While rocky on her toes, she was persistent. “Sam, Cas, go for Bobby. He could be in serious trouble. I’ll keep supplying the water. Dean said he would be back soon, right? I’ll be fine.”

Sam and Castiel shared a skeptical look,  but Sam nodded. “Just don’t get into trouble and keep yourself hydrated. I’ll call Dean, so if he doesn’t meet you here, there’ll be a search party. Don’t let it get to that. Trust me, we’re efficient.” He inspected his pockets until he recovered a phone and handed it to her. “There. I always have a spare phone on me. Call us if anything unusual happens.”

With that, the pair withdrew to scavenge for a working car to hijack, which was rather difficult, considering half of their wheels had melted. Sam did the math, and it took roughly a thousand degrees  of heat to melt rubber wheels, mind you, while the air around then only ranged around a hundred or so.

This was undoubtedly their kind of gig.

After they had hijacked the closest vehicle in the shade, Castiel was first to speak. “You believe she will stay?”

Sam snickered at the concept. “Uh―no. That’s why I implanted a tracker on the phone. Dean can locate it, too. Comes in handy during hunts gone wrong and runaway friends, you know?” He could recall a few cases it had been convenient.

In a normal circumstance, they would have let her leave, willingly. However, they didn’t know the angels’ beef with her, nor did she have any family she could contact, and as a teenager, that was hazardous. They weren’t going to release her knowing perils that lay ahead of her, or worse, unknowing.

Castiel dipped his head with a drained smile. “You’re rather deceptive, Sam.” It was a compliment. A second later, a whiny protest originated from the angel’s lower abdomen. Cas’s reaction was a priceless mix of shock and dismay.

Sam laughed, “I think your stomach disagrees. Don’t worry, I plan on getting you some food before we search for Bobby. We can’t have you going on nothing. What do you think about having a burger?”

“I would like that.”

Sam appreciated the spell of time gifted to him with the angel. He admired Castiel, but even more, he envied Dean. How couldn’t he? His brother had been gifted a best friend from heaven, and all Sam had ever earned were a few filthy comments depicting him as ‘the boy with the demon blood’, as if he had been a flea hitching a ride on a demonic bloodhound. Looking back, Sam could only visualize himself in that exact foul and impure way. He had been disgustingly feral, and such a betrayal should not have been pardoned. While Sam had been delusioned, he had ignored the pleas of his family, and there was no excuse for that.

Sam envisioned what still-angel-Cas would have said if he had listened in on Sam’s dark musings. ‘Do not dwell on the past, Sam. You have long been forgiven by the Lord.’ Yeah, that seemed about right. Sam had always disliked when Castiel tuned in on his mind, but he was correct; Sam had built a surrounding nest of his own self-loathing. While cozy for a time, the twigs were beginning to rot and decay, and eventually, Sam would need to wrestle away from his comfort-zone and stoop to the ground to build a new nest. Metaphorically.

Castiel had never endorsed in Sam’s attempts of diversions from his self-hatred. It was no wonder he got along with Dean; he was just as stubborn.

Sam recalled their past conversations. ‘Sam, you are no idiot, you are far from pathetic, and you most certainly will not lose me as a friend.’ The angel had been taken aback by such dark contemplations that had lurked within Sam’s mind.

‘Quit knocking around in my head, Cas.’ He had been defensive.

The angel had cast a brooding look of empathy to his tall companion and had replied gently, ‘They were very loud, angry thoughts, Sam. Angered and distressed natured thinking is… similar to covering your ears at a rowdy concert; I can't―fully omit them. I had not meant to invade your privacy, as you say. However, they were not true to any extent. I would not lie to you.’

Sam actually livened at the positive memory. He would always be encouraged by the humble consolation he had received from Cas, whether or not the angel knew such. It eased his conscience knowing his brother and Castiel, an angel, would eternally forgive his unforgivable, repetitive lapses of error. Sam felt lighter in his seat.

Snapping out of his bout of daydreaming, he balanced his attention from the road to fishing out his mobile phone and swiftly panning through his contacts until it highlighted Dean. After nearly swerving into a sharp turn sign, he handed it to Castiel. “Could you call Dean?”

Cas took the device, thankfully and sufficiently experienced enough with cellular devices to press call, and put the phone to his ear.

The wavering ringtones rang for three beats before cutting out into Dean’s voice, “Sam? You all right?”

“Hello, Dean.” The angel greeted.

The connection was fuzzy, static buzzing behind Dean’s voice. He was tentative. “Cas? Where’s Sam? He okay?”

Sam glued his eyes to the road and spoke clearly, so the phone picked him up. “I’m here, Dean. Bobby never answered the phone so Cas and I left to check on him.” Sam dreaded this part; this was the moment Dean would realize the missing chunk of information.

There was that expected delay. “…where’s Sydney?”

“Still in town… helping.”

“Sam!”

Sam rushed to defend his actions, “Hey, I gave her my spare phone so we can track her and she can call. You think I trust her to follow through? You know I’m not that careless.”

A low grunt fizzled through the speakers. Steely eyes and a murderous tick in his jaw: it was undoubtedly decorating Dean’s face. After a pause, Dean’s voice sounded through again. “Cas, did you get anything to eat?”

Cas put the phone to his mouth in impulse. “Soon, I will get a burger.”

“Good for you, buddy.” A static rustle signaled that Dean was in motion. “All right. Well, I got them to the hospital; they should be fine now.” Muffled padding of feet crackled on the other end. “The sun quit it’s antics about a half-mile back..”

Sam nodded. “ I think there’s a radius set around the town, so the sun only has its full strength there.”

"Yeah, whatever, dork.” Dean said.

“This is good, Sam,” Cas intoned. “This means the sun has not been harnessed to its full potential.”

“Yeah, or it’s being directed toward something.”

Dean sandwiched the phone between his shoulder and ear as he fiddled with his keys to the Impala. He elbowed the door open and slumped into the driver’s seat. “Then we have an official case.”

Sam considered it, “According to the location of Bobby’s phone, he was taken pretty far out. I doubt his absence was a coincidence.”

“No, never is.” Of all the cases they had self-employed themselves to, there were never coincidences―never two clashing supernatural beings occupying separate hauntings in the same compass to create ‘coincidences’. They knew that much. Each monster had their own niche, their own job and purpose, and if two overlapped territories, they generally drove the other out.

“I’m worried they’re trying to lead us away from the fight, Sammy. Lure us out with Bobby as the bait.” Dean ignited the engine, “I’ll go get her; you get Bobby. You at least found some water back in the town, right? It’s like a desert there.”

“Yes,” Cas assured him, cupping the phone with both hands. They had taught him how to hold a phone, right? Sam recalled having done so. Twice.

“Good.” Dean cruised, coasting along the asphalt road, his mind at peace. Scenery rolled on by; trees whisked, shrubbery barreled in a variance of green lines, and clouds flew past like saucers. “Good. Call me when you find Bobby.” Blip.

Sam offered an open palm for the phone and pocketed it once in his possession.

“Do you often track your friends?” Castiel was merely curious.

“Heh, well… we rarely keep friends long enough to do that, most of the time.” Sam set his jaw to mask his inner heartsickness. “But, yeah. Um, Dean and I keep tabs on him. He juggles all of our messes without batting an eye, so we always felt we should do the same.” He kept his facial expression solemn.

Cas reflected on that. “I suppose that is the cost of your profession. I have no desire to believe you deserve such, though.” From observing the Winchesters dark and unpleasant daily lives, Castiel had concluded that a hunter’s life was the cruelest and most unfair career a man could undertake. Every hardship had Sam and Dean sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears.

It took a considerable amount of elbow grease and straining to solve the predicaments Castiel’s brothers had abandoned and left for the Earth to suffer. The consequences that the angels should have endured had befallen onto humanity. To Castiel, that was the most cheating and dishonorable way to serve God: to ditch your troubles onto broken, righteous souls only to shield your own selfish life.

To say he respected the Winchesters was a grand understatement. He was honored to serve them and was repeatedly awed by their will to save and protect among strangers. They risked everything, expecting no payment in return, or worse, expecting negative consequences. Castiel reminded himself of this whenever he questioned his alliance with the hunters and their quest to liberate the world from evil. Cas owed them everything; they had showed him the privilege of freedom and how to fight for it.

Not once had Dean refused giving his service and aid. He would abandon his dreams and wishes to fight in a war he had not started. With no hesitance! All Dean had ever longed for was a family, and all Castiel had ever wanted to do was to grant him such a pure desire.

Something within Castiel fumed at heaven and his father. Why must life be so corrupt? For what reason can’t those who do good earn good? He didn’t understand why Dean had accepted that so easily. Didn’t the Winchesters understand they deserved the world?

His clenched hands naturally twisted into his lap as he seethed. He looked to Sam, anticipating confirmation in Sam’s eyes, but he only looked sad. Oh, he remembered sullenly; he had forgotten humans could not read thoughts, and neither could he, any longer. However, by the pinch of Sam’s lips, Cas could tell the thoughts were self-loathing. The angel shrunk instantly, anger having vanished.

Perhaps, they do not understand their worth. Not yet.

Sam hovered his foot over the break, observing the new atmosphere. They had entered an urban town. It was contemporary, each townhome resembling the following, with a few individual components added for personality.

It was welcoming, and to Castiel’s delight, a congenial diner stood a few blocks away.

Tags: @queen-bubble, @rosaren2498

[insfiringyou]

BTS - 2 years later. PART ONE..(Suga x Jeong-sun)

Contains: Fluff. Angst. Sexual tension.

Yoongi bumps into his ex girlfriend, Jeong-sun, for the first time since his military enlistment. 

This is part of our headcanon universe (find out more about the ongoing plot and original characters etc here) and is set three months after Yoongi finishes his military enlistment. The last time he saw Jeong-sun in person was two years before in a supermarket (read here.) 

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

(Photo credit goes to https://bangtan-sonyeon-scans.tumblr.com/)

Read content below the cut

Yoongi raised his clenched fist to his lips as he spilled a series of low, rough coughs into his hand. He thought the walk downtown would ease the increasingly tight sensation in his chest but the physical strain, combined with the chilly air outside, only made his cough worse. At least, he thought, it got him out of his apartment. Sighing, he looked around at the storefronts which surrounded him; he had been walking almost aimlessly for the past forty five minutes, following his own legs trustfully as they led him around the city but, until this moment, he had not realised where he was. Some of the canopies which adorned the store fronts seemed familiar but others had changed in the two years since he last walked through these streets. He had little need these days to go through this part of town and, in the year prior to his enlistment, he had subconsciously avoided it. While his location took him by surprise, he realised after a few moments that he had no need to worry. A lot had changed since he entered the military and, if Jeong-sun was still living in Seoul, she would have undoubtedly moved on from this area. Smart, determined and tenacious, she was too good for this run down part of town.

Another series of painful, retching coughs caught him off guard and, spinning on his heels, he changed direction towards a parade of stores across the street, heading towards the store in the middle. Walking through the small car park in front of the pharmacy, he saw that the sign above the door had changed; the previously independently run store was now owned by a big company chain he recognised. The Anglicised name and logo were instantly familiar and the exterior of the property was likewise updated; windows had been replaced with more energy efficient panes, the fittings shiny and a new neon cross adorned the window display. 

Yoongi entered the store, free of any visible customers or staff, and walked automatically to the medicine aisle. That little had changed since he had last been here and he found the bottles of Covonia almost immediately. Picking up the first one he saw and glancing at the price, he wasn’t sure if it was inflation or the new chain taking over, but the cost had gone up by a third since he had last bought a bottle. He was considering this, unsure why it had struck him as such a big deal, after all, a lot had changed since he had been away, when the loud, jarring sound of smashing glass brought his attention away from the bottle in his hand and to the woman standing at the end of the aisle. Her wide, brown eyes were fixed on him and his heart leapt in response, making him clutch the bottle tighter in case it slid from his grasp. It took him a moment to drag his eyes away from her face to the mess on the floor in front of her. Bright pink fluid coated the previously shiny floor, running into the gaps of the tiles and filling the air with its sickly sweet scent. 

“Hi.” Yoongi said automatically, rapidly. 

“Is everything okay?” A female called from behind the store counter, her voice inquisitive. 

“Yeah, fine.” Jeong-sun shouted to her colleague, turning her head away momentarily before glancing, a little warily, at the crate’s worth of broken Calpol. She looked as though she couldn’t quite believe she had dropped it, her expression was dazed and she blinked slowly. 

“Hi.” She said, a little belatedly, looking back at Yoongi. Her uniform was different; a pale blue and white pinstripe number rather than the plain blouse she used to wear, but she otherwise looked the same. It could have been two days since he last saw her instead of two years. “It just slipped…” She murmured in explanation, her voice distant. He felt sorry for her. 

“I needed cough medicine.” He explained, a little breathlessly, sounding winded. 

There was another delay as she caught up with his words. It was obvious his presence in the store had completely startled her and she was still trying to process that he was truly there. “Are you sick?” She asked, her voice equally bewildered and concerned. 

“Nothing to worry about.” He muttered automatically, realising, in hindsight, that after all this time he still didn’t want to worry her; the thought of causing her any distress was too much to bear. Frustratingly, his body chose that moment to let out a single, low cough and he clutched his closed fist to his mouth politely, lowering his head. 

“Are you still smoking?” She asked once his voice had dyed down. She sounded curious with a hint of reprehension and he couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Is this a checkup?” He quipped, meeting her gaze once more. Her eyes were wide and incredibly expressive before she even spoke; they glistened in the strip lights of the pharmacy and her jaw seemed tense and pronounced as she clenched her teeth, trying to remain calm.

“We could make an appointment.” The words left her mouth before she had time to think it through. 

“When are you free?” He replied just as quickly and they stared at each other for a moment, realising the implication of their words. He took a moment before dropping his gaze to the floor, a nervous grin flashing across his lips which uncovered his pink gums and white teeth. 

“I heard you were…away.” Jeong-sun said, allowing herself to glance at him properly now he wasn’t looking directly at her. Her eyes lingered on his dark hair which was shorter than she had seen it before. “Are you back for good?” She finished, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. Yoongi noticed and found his pulse racing. 

“Yeah.” He replied softly, suddenly aware of the space between them and how neither of them seemed able to cross it.

“That’s good.” Her voice came out almost a whisper and Yoongi couldn’t help but look at her once more. Another paused filled the air before Jeong-sun looked down at the floor. “I have to clean this up.” Nodding slowly, she made a move forwards, awkwardly stepping around Yoongi as he did the same, them both politely keeping their distance from each other as a matter of course.

“I’ll help you.” He said eagerly, his voice full of guilt. It was his fault she had dropped the crate and he hoped she wouldn’t be chastised for it later.

She smirked but shook her head. “We can’t pay you.” The joke came out flat and a little stiff and he realised that he was likewise nervous. While everything about her was familiar, he felt timid and jittery around her. 

“I’m not broke yet.” His voice was likewise low and constrained. 

She seemed not to hear him as she anxiously darted from the aisle to go out back. He heard a couple of murmurs from the counter as she quickly explained the accident to her co-worker and left the shop floor. Bending down slowly, he started to pick up the larger fragments of glass, feeling responsible for the mess. She came back a minute later, dragging a bucket on wheels with one hand and holding a neon yellow sharps container with the other. She glanced at Yoongi with interest as she picked up a dustpan and brush from the container.

“I didn’t think you would still work here.” He said as he swept a couple of pieces into a pile. He found the words came out easier when he wasn’t looking at her. 

“Why?” She asked. 

He shrugged. “The sign’s different.” He didn’t explain that he also thought she would have moved on by now. He realised, a little sheepishly, that his life hadn’t changed much since then either. He finished piling the glass and stood up as she swept past him, brushing the shards into the dustpan. 

“It was a hostile takeover.” She joked, her shoulders beginning to relax as she explained. He allowed himself to take a step closer to her, being careful to avoid the pink puddle of liquid. “We got to keep our jobs though.” 

“That’s good.” He leaned forward to pass her the sharps container. “Has anything else changed?” He asked casually, trying to hide his interest. 

Shrugging, she filled the bucket carefully with glass. “I’ve had a new shower installed.” 

“Same apartment?”

She nodded. “I have new curtains as well.” 

“Good. I hated your old ones.” 

She laughed warmly, familiarly, causing his chest to grow pleasantly warm. “What was wrong with them?” She grinned as she looked at him. He was bending down beside her, making their eyes level.

He shrugged easily. “They weren’t you.” He said honestly.

“Yu-jin gave me them.” She explained with a smile.

“That explains it.” He quipped. It took her a moment to realise why the conversation suddenly felt both familiar and comforting. He hadn’t forgotten the name of her friend, despite having only met her once, four years ago. She laughed softy and there was another pause before Yoongi spoke up.

“Is that the only thing that’s changed?” His voice came out slow and cautious but she understood its meaning immediately and answered him quickly. 

“I’m not seeing anyone, if that’s what you were asking.”

“I wasn’t sure.” He said honestly, his cheeks staining a little pink but otherwise calm as he passed her one of the blue cloths from the bucket she had brought out the back, coughing a couple of times into his palm.

She hesitated. “It’s been a while…a couple of years.” 

“What about the accountant?” He asked, wondering after he said it whether he was prying too much. He felt relieved when she answered, un-bothered. 

“Seung-yoon?” She took a moment to consider this. “He was too tall for me.” She shrugged easily. 

“It must have its advantages…” Yoongi quipped in reply, his chest fluttering with butterflies but keeping the conversation light. He sensed that she was being reticent on purpose, not wanting to uncover too much about her relationship with the older man. He wondered if it had been that bad for her or whether she was trying to spare him from hearing about it. 

“Like what?” She asked, eyebrow raised. 

He shrugged indifferently. “Reaching the top shelf.” 

Instead of laughing, she gazed at him, curiously. “Where you there?” She eventually asked. He realised what she was asking immediately and met her eyes.

“At the house party?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Not long.” He admitted, a little uncomfortably. 

She nodded once. “I thought so.” He thought she sounded almost relieved and wondered whether she had been afraid that he had heard the news from one of the other members. “Why did you leave?” She asked. 

He opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it, taking a moment to gather himself before he spoke up. “Isn’t that obvious?” 

She was silent for a moment as she looked at him wistfully. “I didn’t know you’d be there.” She said softly, her voice sad and full of regret. He knew, from her expression, that she would never have attended the party if she had known he would be there, boyfriend or no boyfriend. She had told him, on the day they broke up, that she didn’t want to hurt him and, in their three years apart, they had equally tried their best to keep that promise. 

He nodded slowly. “Me neither.” There was a pause as she wiped the last smudge of Calpol from the tiled floor and realised how long she had been there on her knees with him. She looked around the store a little flummoxed, as though waking up from a dream. “I’ve got to go.” She murmured as she got to her feet. “Can you call me?” Her voice came out as breathy and flustered as Yoongi felt.

He stood up and shook his head guiltily. “I don’t have your number anymore.”

“Oh.” There was a moment as she realised what he had done, but dismissed his apology quickly. “Then I’ll call you.” 

Everything seemed to be happening very quickly; a direct contrast to the last ten minutes which had drifted by abstractly, as though they had been the only two people in the world. Jeong-sun glanced back at the work counter to see if any customers needed to be served and was shocked to find a couple of people waiting patiently. Her older co-worker had disappeared into the back room to sort a delivery of prescriptions. “You haven’t changed it?” She asked hurriedly. 

He shook his head. “No.” He coughed, his shoulders heaving heavily as his small frame shook beneath his pale blue jacket. Jeong-sun reached behind him and took a bottle from the shelf, passing it to him. It had a green label.

“This one’s better.” She said fervently. “It has eucalyptus oil in.” 

“Thank you.” He replied, returning the Covonia to the shelf as she rushed off to serve the line of customers. He watched her go a little bemused, not knowing how to feel but unable to ignore the somersaulting, sickly-sweet feeling in his stomach and chest as he heard her voice carrying from the other side of the aisle as she apologised to the customers for the delay. He had spent the past three months living his life in a strange sort of daze but now, for the first time since he had left the base, he felt like he was home.

***

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[the-lady-bryan]

Weird Dream - 11/26/2019 - “Ryan Reynolds will fucking KILL GOD if he has to be Green Lantern again.”

So...... this is a bit of a weird one. I overdid it yesterday and exhausted myself. Add to this a cocktail of cold/flu meds, my normal pain meds, and a garlic burger from steak-n-shake with a strawberry-banana shake not long before bed and this is what you get.

So I was part of a film crew. I have no fucking clue what my job was. But I had to be on set like, all the damn time.

And we were on location near where I lived.

Ryan Reynolds and his wife were having another baby and Ryan was like "I guess I should do some actual work for a while" and that was why he was in the movie. It was a superhero movie, but nothing related to Marvel or DC. But like, Ryan wasn't the main star of the movie because in his words, "The costumes are too damn much like Green Lantern. I will kill God before I'll put on green screen capture spandex again." and I'm like "okay, fair enough. So.... should we tell Matthew Lillard he's got the leading male role then?"

So, Matthew Lillard was the leading male in the movie. He was pretty cool, and totally rolled with the Shaggy God meme. It was awesome. But he's not the main character of my dream. Me, Ryan Reynolds, this other guy who everyone called "Brian" but his name was some foreign name literally nobody could pronounce so the dude literally just picked a random name off a bookshelf and said to call him that, and this woman named Vivi - who was playing Ryan's girlfriend in the movie but she was like “yeah, my wife ordered me to get his autograph or don’t bother coming home like, ever” kind of attitude towards the entire ordeal - we were the main people in the dream.

So Ryan, Vivi, and Brian's hotel reservations were shot to hell and since we were going to be in town for only like a week, I was like "we got extra rooms at my family's house. Y'all could stay there. I'll call my husband and let him know to prep three guest rooms." So that happens. Husband, son, and my mom are off somewhere else, but there's three rooms prepped for the three guests.

So after a few days we get the filming done, and we're all just chilling at this restaurant in my hometown and everyone's having a good time. And then I get this call and go outside to take it and while I'm out there I hear screaming and shit and like a dumbass I go and investigate.

And there's these people dressed in like, better versions of the movie's hero costumes, and there's this monster looming over their dead bodies and I'm like "nope." and I'm about to nope out of there when this green bracelet shoots off from one of the bodies and the dude ends up in regular street clothes and my brain goes "FUCK FUCK FUCK NO! I'D RATHER KILL GOD!" and I try to run from it but it snaps on my wrist and suddenly I'm in like this badass green costume and I'm fucking powerful as hell. And I have this weapon. It's basically just a chain with a hook on the end. And that's when I realize I'm a dude because damn there's no room in this damn hero costume and i can totally sympathize with a lot of the guys during filming now. Anyway, so this monster's gonna beat my ass and I'm trying to run away because I'm not gonna fight this fucker if it killed some other people with whatever it was I had now. But I end up having to fight it and I kill it. And it turns back into a person and I recognize the person as some girl I went to school with. And this ring slips off her finger and darts off into the dark.

And that's when I see a flash from nearby and turn and there's Ryan, Vivi, and Brian. And Brian's got his phone out and had just taken a picture and I'm like "guys, i honestly can't explain this shit" and Ryan's like "Fuck me. You're a goddamn superhero. A real god damn superhero."

And I'm like "I'm really not. I don't know what the fuck is going on." And then I'm like "how the fuck do I get out of this thing? Is it like, do I just think about it? Do I say a magic word? Do I just take the mask off? Or is this like, a Power Rangers thing where I can take off the mask and still be in the suit but to get out of it I literally have to say Power Down or some shit?" and as I'm saying Power Down, that's exactly what fucking happens and I'm like "great. I'm some weird ass power ranger meets green lantern shit."

So I take the other three to the other bodies of the dead hero people and they're just.... gone. And I'm like "but y'all saw the monster, right?" and Ryan's like "None of you slipped acid in my beer right because if you did you need to tell me now." and i'm like "fuck this i'm going home." so we all go back to my place up the hill from the main road in town.

I ended up waking up and having to deal with my kid for something and then I went right back to bed.

When I dropped back into dreamland, I had just missed the train, and the plane, and the bus, and the blimp that the rest of the film crew were using and the boat we all arrived on to wherever this was had already left and i'm like "fuck me. i'll never make it to california with everyone" and then i see Vivi and she's like "oh, there's a small charter plane leaving soon. you can ride with us." and lo and behold, when i board the charter plane with Vivi, there's Brian and Ryan and some other people from the film crew's special effects team.

I call my husband to let him know what happened and he's insisting he sends the private jet out to me and i'm like "Babe. Baby no. You don't need to send the jet. I'm fine. I got a ride with some friends. It'll be fine." and everyone else is snickering and joking around and laughing at me, until i'm like "yes, I KNOW you have more money to throw around than Tony Stark but fucking hell babe you don't need to send the goddamn jet! No I will NOT tell you which fucking airport it is!" and "I swear to god if you fly the fucker yourself I'll rip your spine out through your throat and feed it to Fluffy!" and that shuts him up and the others as well. and when I get off the phone Vivi's like "Fluffy?" and I'm like "our super fucking massive caucasian mountain dog. i mean, it was at the house when y'all were there. how did you not see it?" and Brian's like "i thought that was a fucking BEAR!" which causes everyone to laugh. and then Ryan's like "y....your married to the only guy richer than Tony fucking Stark and you never bothered to tell anyone?!" and i'm like "well, yeah." and Ryan's like "i don't feel so bad about stealing your really nice towels now."

we never make it to california because the plane crashes, but i manage to save myself, Brian, Ryan, and Vivi with my superpowers. Though we do get banged up a bit after crashing into a small town storefront. and Ryan's like "no. No, don't send the private jet with the jacuzzi tub and the strippers and the warm towels. i'll just take THE RICKETY FUCKING CHARTER PLANE!" and i'm like "IT WAS A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME!"

So my phone's broken. no one else has service. and there's like, a major emergency situation going on outside the plane crash itself and there's another of those fucking monsters and i have no control over powering up. it just sort of happens. and then i fight the monster. and i'm getting pretty good at this.

so i hack the thing's head off, and it turns back into a human head and so does the body and the necklace it was wearing shoots to Ryan and he's like "no! NO NO NO NO NO! FUCK!" and he gets this bright neon pink suit like mine and it's got a miniskirt instead of pants/leggings like mine does and i'm laughing my ass off at him. but he has this massive fucking sword that's practically bigger than he is. And he's got this fucking tiara, too. and it's just so hilarious but at the same time he totally manages to pull this costume off.

And we end up powering down and exploring this place mainly to find a working phone. but as we explore we find that more and more we're fighting monsters. like, lesser monsters than the ones with these weird power accessories.

we end up coming up on a boss fight situation and rescue this one woman from a big ass monster and ryan manages to cut the thing's ear off which reverts it back to a human and this earring comes off and flies over to the woman we just saved and she ends up in this golden armor suit like our's with like, a roman soldier's skirt thing. anyway, she thanks us for rescuing her and it turns out she's a princess from an alternate dimension that's been bleeding over into our own. and these accessories that have been giving me and ryan powers and turning people into monsters are part of a collection of items belonging to the queen of her kingdom in this alternate dimension and when worn they bring out the wearer's inner self, be it good or bad. and the only way to stop it is to remove the object, but in doing so it kills the wearer.

and Ryan's like "so my inner self loves neon pink and wants to wear a mini skirt. okay. sure. fine. this day can't get any weirder anyway. but at least i'm not in CGI green spandex." and i'm like "you're never going to let that one go, are you?" and he's like "no. my dying breath will be a complaint about that damn movie and i'm going to keep flogging that dead horse until it's nothing but mush, and then i'll stomp it like a barrell of grapes turned to fine wine. but this wine will be bitter and foul and will kill anything it touches. just like that green lantern movie."

It's clear Ryan still has a sore spot for that movie.

So anyway, me, Ryan Reynolds, Brian, Vivi, and the princess go on this epic quest to save the world from the merging of dimensions.

Brian and Vivi end up getting costumes, too.

Weird montage time skip and we've been separated from the princess, and our power accessories have been stolen somehow but we're still alive which doesn't make any sense and it means that part of what the princess said was a lie. We end up kicking this one monster's ass in Texas and seize it's power accessory, and it's a keychain. and Vivi's like "how the fuck are we supposed to wear it?" and i'm like "I have an idea." and i slip it onto my middle finger, and the ring part of the keychain resizes to fit my finger and suddenly i'm in this badass black version of my green suit armor thing and instead of the chain/hook combo i've got a fucking badass keyblade. because the keychain was a fucking Kingdom Hearts piece of merch. and it's a good thing this happened, because we get ambushed and i have to fight the monsters off. we end up holing up in an abandoned lingere store - and yes there's lots of jokes at Vivi's expense but I remind Ryan that his "inner self" is basically just a neon pink version of himself in women's clothing with a giant sword and they shut up.

i end up managing to get a landline phone and call every number for my husband i can think of because it's been months since i saw my husband, and i manage to get hold of him on a number i hadn't expected to work and he's so relieved to hear my voice and he tells me what's been happening in the world and i'm like "wait.... did you say YEARS?!" and he's like "yeah..." and i'm like "but it's only been like five or six months!" and he's like "it's been ten years." and i'm like "fuck me...." and he's like "i didn't remarry. i knew you weren't dead." and i'm like "how'd you know?" and he's like "seriously? you don't even wear a fucking mask when you're fighting monsters! green looks good on you." and i'm like "what?" and he's like "richer than tony stark, remember? i've got fucking sattellites shooting these fuckers from space! you don't think i couldn't get google earth pictures of my long lost spouse fighting monsters and trying to save the world?" and i'm like, fucking hysterical. and i'm trying to find out where he is, and i'm so relieved to hear that him, our son, my mother, and even Fluffy are alive and well, but he won't tell me where they are because "things have changed. it's not safe to tell you on the phone. hell, nobody uses phones anymore. nobody knew if the phones even worked anymore." and i'm like "i'm on a landline. that might be it."

anyway, now relieved that my family is alive and safe, and i find out a bit more about the world situation, i return to the others for the night.

weird time skip montage of fighting monsters and getting more powers for the others, and it's final boss fight time. we've hooked back up with the princess, and we contain the big bad and then, inexplicably, i'm killed. we're all killed. and we don't know what happened.

cue weird cutscene situation like when Scott Pilgrim got that game over fighting against the last evil ex, Gideon, and the whole desert thing with the extra life do-over thing. only THIS TIME we manage to win the big bad bossfight. and at the end, the day is saved. the dimensions un-merge and we go back to our lives. the world is normal again and time goes back and reverts to what it was before all of this started.

and i'm back in that restaurant. and i get a call. and it feels like i've done this before. but i go outside and i take the call and i hear screaming. i again go check it out like a dumbass, and THIS TIME i get there soon enough to see the heros get killed but this time there's no magic bracelet thing to make me a green warrior but i find a weight in my pocket and check it and there's the keyring. and i use it. and i'm back in my badass form with the badass keyblade, too. and it's fucking awesome. and then i remember that i've done this before and i'm about to kill the monster but then there's a neon pink energy blast and the monster is disentigrated and there's Ryan fucking Reynolds in a neon pink miniskirt and this time heels, too. Like something out of goddamn Sailor Moon or some shit. and he's got a glowing neon pink laser gun and i'm like ".....shit. we're in New Game Plus mode now aren't we?"

And Vivi pops up and is like "oh shoot! you two still have powers but we don't!"

Everything goes like, hyper fast, and me and Ryan are fighting monsters and shit and THIS TIME we don't even bother with the charter flight from hell and just call my husband to send the private jet.

And the giant dog Fluffy because I want my big fluffy gonna fucking fight a bear and win sized doggo.

And this time the plane doesn't crash and we don't meet the princess in that small town. instead my husband examines the acessories using science and engineering and shit and he's like "okay. so.... i've got good news and i've got bad news." and i'm like "bad news first babe." and he's like "so this keychain? i bought this for you for christmas and lost track of it." and i'm like "how is that bad news?" and he's like "i got it for you before we were married you idiot. i haven't seen this thing in seven years." and then he's like "but the good news is that i recognize the energy in it. remember that quantum energy i've been experimenting with that put Stark and his arc reactor to shame?" and i'm like ".....yes......" and he's like "that's what this is. but somehow it's like, weaponized." and i'm like "okay. now how do we fix this?" and he's like "honestly, i haven't a fucking clue. but it's really fascinating, isn't it?"

so we find out that the bracelet i had before, and the necklace, and pretty much all the ORIGINAL accessories we had started with the first time did in fact come from this alternate dimension and shit. that wasn't a lie. but the replacement ones we found along the way are from our dimension and somehow were imbued with this weird ass quantum energy. and my husband being the only person who knows even just a bare minimum about the stuff on the entire planet is like "i can experiment on one and see if i can learn more or upgrade it or something."

and that's what he does. ryan hands him his keyring with a little spacey ray-gun on it over and my husband experiments on it and he manages to at least change the outfit from Sailor Moon styled to something with a bit of actual armor on it, but he can't change it from the mini skirt and heels unfortunately for Ryan. This is after using it himself just to see what would happen and he ended up in neon pink iron man armor with a giant laser rifle. which was fucking hilarious.

we also learned that we could combine them and use two at a time and when we did i ended up with a keyblade rifle hybrid thing and black and neon pink elven armor like from fucking Lord of the Rings. it was fucking glorious! And when Ryan Reynolds tried using mine and his together he ended up in a Slave Leia bikini in black and neon pink with a laser pistol the size of car key and it was vaguely key shaped.

Anyway, what was determined from these tests and experiments was that these items from our dimension had somehow become imbued with these energies and were stronger than the ones from the other dimension because they originated here while the other objects originated elsewhere and the engergies they carried from elsewhere as well.

So we end up going and fighting evil monsters and stuff like the first time, but are able to come back to base and have a sort of save point system? New Game Plus mode is weird as fuck. And my big dog gets a charm for his collar and he ends up transforming into this armored tank of a beast that Ryan Reynolds likes to ride into battle. It's so fucking odd.

Weird montage time skip dream thing and we're at the final battle. We've met up with the princess every so often in our adventures over years and not months. and in those years we've learned some of the lore of her dimension, like the fact that the queen had banished her after becoming evil and the accessories collection ended up being stolen by an evil sorceror and scattered through dimensions. and each dimension they went to fell to the evil queen and our dimension is the last one to stand against her and shit. me, Ryan, Vivi, and Brian don't really care. we just want all this weird shit to end.

So we fight the big bad, AGAIN. and it's so much easier this time because again, we've already done this. and then after we defeat it, we expect cut scene type of scenario like last time. but THIS TIME the Princess is like "oh snap! the ancient relics of my dimension have been brought together and summoned my mother the queen!" and now we have to fight this EVEN BIGGER BAD! and we do, and it's hard and so fucking tough but we win by combining powers together and yay teamwork i guess. and when the queen falls, it turns out she banished her daughter the princess, yes, but not because the queen was evil.

PLOT FUCKING TWIST! IT WAS THE PRINCESS ALL ALONG!

and with her dying breath the queen begs Ryan to stop her daughter and then dies in his arms. and her crown falls off and breaks into five pieces. and we each take on and hook it onto our power devices and i add one to Fluffy's collar and holy fucking hell it's like the epic boss battle of all boss battles and we nearly die so many fucking times and we know that if we die this time, it's not just game over. it's world over. existence over. the universe is doomed type of over. it should be noted now that Ryan Reynolds was no longer in a neon pink miniskirt after adding the piece of the queen's crown to his power keychain. Oh no folks. his piece of the crown had an emerald on it....

and let me tell you folks.

this is the wildest dream i've ever fucking had. because only in my wildest dream will i ever see Ryan fucking Reynolds so fucking angry to be dressed as the green fucking lantern Hal Jordan again, riding the back of an armored tank of a fucking dog that's become this fucking massive eight story tall BEAST in shining platinum and purple armor, while Ryan Reynolds is screaming at the top of his lungs that he will fucking kill God himself while weilding a neon pink water pistol sized laser and he's just fucking charging into battle with this unearthly scream of rage and somewhere, for some reason, i just know Matthew Lillard felt like someone walked over his grave and was like "zoinks" and i have no idea how the fuck i even knew that but i did.

and when he's done, the princess has been obliterated and Ryan's like "......did i do it? can i take this fucking suit off now? i'd rather have the mini skirt and heels back. fuck, i'd rather have the Slave Leia look."

And then, it's over. And we're powered down and the day is saved and the dimensions unmerge and just....

that's it. that's all there was. time doesn't reset again. existence just..... is. the day is saved and we just....

are there.

and then i woke up.

and let me tell you, if i get dreams like that every time i eat a steak-n-shake garlic burger with a strawberry banana shake, then by the gods i'll eat it every fucking day for the rest of my life because that. that was fucking brilliant and wild and just omfg. that was awesome.

[themadamelibrarian]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dean Winchester/Human!impala Characters: Human!Impala, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Meg Masters (Demon) Additional Tags: First Time, Fluff and Crack, Vaginal Sex, Transformation, Puns & Word Play, Oral Sex, Sentient Impala (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Magic, Human Female Impala (Supernatural), Loss of Virginity Series: Part 34 of One-Shots & Reader Inserts Summary: Dean has been wishing really, really hard lately.

Note: This work was inspired by an RP. Thank you to everyone who played this out with me. Without Sam, Meg, and Baby this piece would not have been possible.

Forgive any grammar or other spelling errors. It's not a 100% beta'd.

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To say that he was shocked when he stopped in front of the coffee shop would have been an understatement. What Dean Winchester was experiencing made him doubt his ability to drink large amounts of alcohol. It had started off as such a pleasant day.

Sam was off in the next town picking up some rare book that Dean didn't care to remember the title of. His brother swore that the bunker didn't have it in the extensive library, so that left Dean to his own devices after their latest hunt. So, he had spent the day doing some needed maintenance and giving his "Baby" a thorough cleaning. Cleaning himself up afterward, he headed to a bar not far away to shoot some pool, drink some beer and maybe find some company.

After a few hours of fun, he left the bar and made his way out to the parking lot where he'd left the car, only to find that it was gone. With a yell of frustration and enough swearing to make a sailor blush, he started walking down the street in hopes of locating his car and beating the hell out of her thief. That was until he reached the coffee shop.

As he passed by he didn't register any movement until he heard a feminine squeal of delight.

"DEAN!" was the last thing he heard before he had a girl wrapped around his neck hugging him for all she was worth. When he didn’t immediately respond she pulled back and looked at him with a thousand-watt smile. “It’s me. Baby.”

“SONOFABITCH! Baby?” he asks with a tone of total disbelief. She nods vigorously and once again pulls him into a shoulder crushing hug. Not knowing what else to do, he wraps his arms around her waist. As he holds the car made human, he sees Meg standing behind her with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. He removes Baby from his shoulders and moves so that he is between the two women. “What did you do to my car?” he growls at the demon.

Meg points to her own chest “What did I do? I didn’t do a damn thing but help her out when she wandered into the store searching for you.” she finishes with a wave of her hand to indicate the couple standing in front of her. Dean takes a step forward with every intention of choking the life out of the demonic bitch in front of him when Baby grabs his bicep.

“No Dean, it’s true. I was lost and couldn’t find you, but she was going to help me. Where were you?” Baby sounded truly distressed as she explained but Dean just couldn’t believe that Meg had nothing to do with this sudden transformation of his precious Impala. It must have shown on his face because Meg came forward with her hands up level with her chest in a gesture of surrender.

“Look, I really do want to help. I’m tired of being a Demon with all the torture and evil plots. I just wanted a chance to redeem myself, to do a good deed for once.” she says on the verge of tears.

Dean looked between the two women, trying to figure out all the angles when he realized he didn’t have enough sleep or alcohol to deal with this. “Ok, you wanna help Meg, then you're gonna help me find out who did this. No tricks, no bullshit. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear.” Meg answers.

“Good, you go see what you can dig up. I’m gonna take her back to the hotel and call Sam,” he tells Meg. Then he turns to Baby and takes her hand and leads her away from the storefront “We’ll figure this out.” At the mention of his brother's name, Baby becomes excited.

“Oh Sammy, where is he? Is he here?” she says with a slight bounce in her step.

“No, he’s the next town over getting books,” Dean says with as much patience as he can muster. Baby doesn’t say anything but she looks at the ground in disappointment. They continue to walk down the street, past the bar, towards the motel when Dean’s phone begins to ring. Taking his hand out of Baby’s he reaches into his jacket pocket and answers. “Yea?”

“Hey, I’m on my way back. Man, you should have seen that collection of books. Not just supernatural stuff either.” Dean rolled his eyes as his brother, Sam, babbled into the phone about his trip.

Dean interrupted his verbal flow. “Sammy, that’s great you could get your nerd on, but I’ve got a situation here. So haul ass back to the motel.”

“Why what’s going on? You okay?” Sam asked with an edge of panic in his voice.

“No, yea I’m not in danger, at the moment, but ..Man I don’t even know how to explain this…” Just as Dean was gathering his thoughts Baby starts jumping up and down beside him with a grin.

“HI SAMMY!!” she yells loud enough for Sam to hear over the line. Dean watches the exciting display and for the first time noticing that the girl next to him is cute..in fact, she’s better than cute. With those clear blue eyes and dark hair and legs that...’stop that’ he chastises himself and comes back to the phone conversation just in time to hear Sam going on about not speeding down the highway to help him “take out the trash”. Baby having heard Sam’s comment over the phone looks like she’s about to burst into tears.

Dean continues to argue with Sam over the phone “No, Sam she’s not someone I picked up. It’s ..dammit. It’s the Impala, someone or thing turned her into a girl..a really hot girl. And I need your help to figure this shit out because man..this is fucked up.. beyond fucked up...I just ..just get here fast.”

“Fine Dean, I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” Sam disconnects the call and Dean pockets his phone after texting Sam his location. Seeing Meg rubbing circles over Baby’s shoulders as she leans on her shoulder. Running his hand over the two-day-old stubble on his chin he lets out a huff and continues to walk to the motel.

“I’m not trash, am I? she asks Dean. He looks into her clear blue eyes and a little part of him breaks. Sam is so going to get his ass kicked for that comment later.

They entered the hotel room and are greeted by the site of Crowley standing in the middle of the room. “Hello, Squirrel.” Dean is tempted to draw his gun as the King of Hell gives Baby standing near the door a cursory glance, but Crowley continues to talk. “So, do you like it?”

“Do I like what?” Dean asks

“Her of course.” Crowley points to Baby.

“You did this? Why did you turn my car into a woman?” Dean just can’t fathom why Hell’s Monarch would go to such trouble.

“We all know what an attachment you have with your vehicle, it’s almost obscene. I have my reasons but all you have to do is say thank you.” Crowley says with a smirk.

“Turn her back, now.” The hunter decides that he’s had quite enough of the whole situation and just wants this whole weird day to end with him waking up tomorrow morning with the Impala in the parking lot.

Baby approaches the men and stands just behind Dean “But, I don’t want to go back.” He stares at her trying to get a grip on the anger he was feeling at the whole mess Crowley had created, but when he looks into her eyes and saw the pleading look she held, he knew he was screwed.

“Are you sure?” she is asked and when she emphatically nods, Dean drops his head with a sigh

“Hear that Squirrel? It sounds like the lady has decided.” Crowley smugly replies.

Rounding on the Crossroads Demon, Dean squares up his shoulders and stares Crowley down. “Listen up, if she wants to stay human for a few days, then fine. But the minute she says she wants to turn back, you get your ass up here and do it. You understand me?”

“Perfectly. Until then.” Then the king is gone without another word. Dean knew he would have to find out the reason behind all this. But like he said before, one issue at a time. He turns around and finds Baby beaming her smile at him.

He walks over to the other side of the room and goes to sit on his bed. Baby waits until he is comfortable and sits down beside him. “Thank you for not making him change me back,” she says as she leans her head on his shoulder. He looks down at her and is just about to respond when he hears her stomach growl. She looks down and puts a hand to her abdomen. “I think my tank is on empty.”

He smiles at that. He can’t help it really she’s just too damned cute for her own good. Or for his. “Well, we can’t have that. We should go get you something to eat. Come on."

Just as the two of them are getting ready to leave, there is a knock on the door. Dean goes over and looks through the peephole, the opens the door. “Hi, Sammy.” The youngest brother comes barrelling in but stops short when he sees Baby.

“Dean, who is that,” he asked his brother as he looked between the two of them.

Before Dean can start to explain Baby shouts “Sammy!!” and runs forward throwing her arms around him. He looks back at his older brother with a panicked look at the slight girl hangs off his neck.

“Sammy meet Baby. She likes to hug.” Dean explains with a shrug and a smile at his brother’s discomfort.

Baby lets go of Sam and look at him with sad puppy look that could rival his own. “Do you really think I’m trash?”

“Yea, Sammy do you think my Baby is trash?” Dean says as he crosses his arms with a shit eating grin. Sam looks between his brother and the woman in front of him, too stunned to say anything. After letting his brother suffer for another minute, Dean takes pity and pulls Baby away from him. “Don’t worry Baby, Sammy loves you. Now let's go get you a burger and pie.”

Sam gives his brother a look of disgust as they leave the room, muttering “Jerk” as he walks by.

When they reach the bar, Dean finds them a booth while he goes to the bar to find a waitress to come to take their orders. When he gets back he finds Baby settled in one side of the booth with Sam seated next to her showing her the menu. It wasn’t until he saw his brother paying attention to the woman that he felt an ugly tendril of jealousy trying to worm its way into his mind. He squashes the feeling, reminding himself that the woman in question was his car. A really hot woman who used to be his car.

Just as Dean’s seated himself in the booth across from Baby, Meg approaches the table and sits beside him. Dean looks at her and says “It was Crowley.” She’s about to respond when she sees Sam glaring at her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the youngest Winchester asks.

Meg looks at him, stunned at the amount of venom in the question. “I’m helping.”

“Sure you are. Dean, why is she here?” Sam says turning his glare to this brother.

Dean looks over at Meg. “She’s helping.”

“Like hell she is.” Sam spits, glaring daggers at her. “What are you really doing here?”

“I wanted to help” Meg defeatedly explains. Sam scoffed as he got up and walked out of the bar. Meg sighed and followed after him, trying to get his attention. “Sam wait!”

Dean watches them leave the table and is torn as to what to do. He can’t leave Baby behind, but he’s not entirely comfortable with letting Sam confront a demon, even one who wants to not be evil, alone. With a final glance at the woman across the table from him, he gets up and puts a couple of twenties on the table. “Baby, don’t go anywhere I’ll be right back.

Outside, Sam is trying to put as much distance between himself and Meg as possible.“No, get away from me, Meg!” She runs up to him and grabs his arm, turning him towards her.

“Sam, please! Listen to me, I am trying to do good here and I am trying to redeem myself okay?”

“Bullshit, Meg. Why should I trust you? You’ve possessed me, kidnapped me, and tried to kill me!” He said as glared back at her.

“Fine, don’t trust me?” She pulls out a demon blade and hands it to him, then raises her arms up. “Then kill me, Sam! You got the knife, and here I am.”

“It’s not that easy,” he said as he looked between the blade and her. Just as Meg was going to speak, Dean came running out to where they were standing.

“Whoa, what the hell is going on,” he said as he eyed the blade that Sam had been holding.

“Nothing,” Sam said, just as Dean’s phone had begun to ring.

“Yeah,” he answered the phone, only to hear Baby’s voice on the other side.

“Dean, there’s a man here and he wanted to buy me a drink,” Baby said as a scruffy looking “redneck” guy was rubbing his hand up her thigh. “And he wants to know if I taste as sweet as I look?”

“Dammit,” Dean muttered to himself. “Baby, tell him no. Don’t let him do anything to you, okay? I’ll be right there.”

The guy had taken the phone from Baby and smirked as he talked to Dean. “Dean, you left her all alone and I think she needs some company. So, I’m happy to oblige.”

“You listen to me you redneck asshole, she’s mine you got that. MINE! You lay one finger on her and I will end you.” Dean growls into the phone. All he heard on the other end was the guy laughing as the line is disconnected. “DAMMIT. Sammy, I gotta go back. Some neandertal is trying to pick up Baby.” he explains before he turns on his heel and rushes back to the bar.

After Dean turned back to go to the bar, Sam glared Meg down, following his brother. Meg sighs in exasperation and followed them back. When Dean entered the bar he saw the guy tight in Baby’s personal space and all he saw was red. Without saying a word he charged over to the table, grabbed the guy and proceeded to toss him to the ground. When the larger set man attempted to get up Dean gave him several swift kicks to the ribs and gut, waiting for him to get up again. The man moved like he was going to come up swinging, but Dean simply opened his jacket to flash the handle of his gun and gave the man on the ground a look that let him know that if he tried to come at him, he just might not get up again. Eyes widening at the implications of what he saw in the eyes of Dean, was enough for him to turn tail and run.

Sam let his brother take care of the problem patron, but kept a close eye on the situation in case it got too out of hand. When the fight had ended, Sam resumed his seat next to Baby and Dean sat next to Meg across from him. Picking up her menu, Meg tries to take small glances up at Sam without letting him see her do so. Baby’s stomach growling broke the silence and everyone looked over at her.

“I think my tank is running low,” she rubbed her stomach as if trying to get the rumbling to stop. Dean waved down the waitress to take their orders. Sam refrained from ordering from the waitress and instead stood up, sighing as he walked over to the bar. The waitress completed writing in her pad and with a nod went back to the kitchen, placing the order.

Several minutes later the waitress comes back with the food and Baby dives in with zeal, making almost pornographic sounds with every bite. Dean watches her eat, barely touching his own food, trying not to react to the noises she makes. Clearing his throat he decides talking is better than fantasizing about being the straw she sucks her drink through. "So Meg, you sure you're ready to live as a human again? It's been a while since you've had to deal with all the mechanics of being one of us."

She shrugs as she takes a drink of her whiskey. "At least I won't be able to be exorcized. You don't realize just how uncomfortable that really is."

"But you'll be mortal and all the fun that comes with that," Dean says wryly.

"At this point Dean-o, it'll be worth it to me." She goes back to studying her drink until Sam comes back to the table with his drink and sits down. Dean notices that he appears calmer than before, but he knows that his brother can bury his emotions just as well as he can if needed. The waitress brings the check just as Baby finishes the last of her milkshake. Letting out another moan of satisfaction, she leans her head on Sam's shoulder and closes her eyes.

"I think my battery is running low. I can't seem to have the power to move." She explains into Sam's shoulder. Sam chuckles at the way of this new creature explains things.

Turning his head he says something to low for Dean to hear over the ambient noise of the bar. She nods in response and before he realizes what is going on, Sam is pulling her towards the edge of the seat and then scoops her up into his arms. Dean makes sure that enough money is on the table to cover the check and he and Meg start to follow them out. As Sam is carrying her out the door he hears her ask if Meg can come back with them. He can see Sam tense up and the question then nods. When he looks back at the demon he notices that she’s carrying two whiskey bottles and he doesn’t even want to know where they came from. As they walk back to the motel he watches Baby nuzzle into Sam’s neck and that’s when he feels it. That nagging feeling of jealousy. He shakes his head trying to push the thoughts of ‘mine..my baby’ out of his head, but it doesn’t work. With a sigh, he speeds up so he can pass his brother and open the motel room door.

Entering the room, Sam lays Baby out on the bed and Dean couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Sammy, I got this,” he says gruffly as he moves to the bed. Sam recognizing that his brother was in a strange mood, so he backs off rather than start a fight.

Dean watches him back up and then turns to Baby who’s curling up on the bed. “Come on Baby, you can’t sleep in those clothes.” she rolls over and looks at him with sleepy eyes.

“Can I sleep without my clothes?” she asks as she stands up with a stretch. Dean almost chokes on his own saliva at her matter of fact question and tries not to stare at the bit of midriff that flashes during the stretch.

“Um...no. Not with Sammy and Meg in the room,” he says turning to grab his duffel to find clothes for her to sleep in. Baby walks up beside him, leans in and whispers. “But I could if it were just you in the room?”

Dean chances a glance at Sam and sees him trying not to laugh. “Oh shut it Sammy.” he snaps before grabbing Baby’s hand and leading her into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Meg looked at Sam as he sighed and turned to look at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Baby wanted me here. What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem,” Sam scoffed as he got up and left the motel room, heading towards the office. Meg sighed as she quickly got up, and chased after him.

“Sam! Will you stop and just talk to me?” she shouted as she kept walking behind him.

“Leave me alone, Meg!” Sam shouted at her as he got the key from the office and went to the hotel room, hurrying inside. Meg had popped inside, without him knowing, and stood there with her arms crossed. Sam sighed but then turned around only to be met my Meg. “Dammit!”

“Sam! Please just hear me out,” she said as she took a small step forward.

Sam sighed and finally gave in. “Fine. Explain, then leave.” Meg took a seat on the end of the bed.

“Can you sit down, please? I can’t explain with you like that,” she said. Sam stopped, not realizing he was pacing. He then grabbed the desk chair and sat in it backward, in front of her. “Thank you.”

Meg took a deep breath before looking at Sam “I am so sorry. I know how much I’ve hurt you and so many others. I followed blindly behind a man I call my father.”

“Go on,” Sam said, not buying anything Meg was saying.

“Sam for two thousand years I have been a demon, and I am so tired of it. I constantly have to sit there and make sure I am not going to flip my switch.”

“I have a feeling you’re holding something back,” he said as he crossed his arms on the chair.

“I want your help. I don’t want to be a human anymore, Sam. I want to be human again.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

“I’m tired, Sam. I just want to be happy.”

“Fine, but we’ll get to the bunker tomorrow and I’ll help you. I’m gonna take a shower,” Sam said before disappearing into the bathroom. Meg stood up and looked around the room, and made her way to the bathroom door.

Meg knocked on the door and leaned against it. “Sam? Do you mind if I stay here?” When she didn’t get an answer, she shrugged and laid on the spare bed.

A few minutes later, Sam walked out of the bathroom, barely covered by the towel. He took a step back and looked at Meg in surprise. “Oh, I thought you would have been gone by now.”

“I asked you if I could stay. You probably couldn’t hear me,” she said as she sat up a bit. “Do you want me to go?”

Sam sighed and shook his head as he grabbed his clothes and went back in the bathroom to change. When Sam came back, Meg stood up and took off her ripped leather jacket and looked down at her shirt that was covered in blood.

“Do you, by chance, have clothes I can borrow? I kinda have blood all over my mine”

“Uh, yeah. Here,” Sam said as he walked over to his duffle and grabbed a shirt and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she whispered as she walked to the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, and took a quick shower, rinsing herself off.

As she was in the shower, Sam laid back on the bed and started checking his phone for any messages. A few minutes later, Meg walked out of the bathroom, with slightly damp hair, and Sam’s shirt, which swallowed her completely.

Sam looked up from his phone and took in the sight of Meg. Sam hadn't thought of Meg as anything but a bitch-ass demon, but at this moment, he looked at her with something else.

Meg tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear before slightly bending over to pull the blankets off the bed. Sam couldn't help but look at her and her exposed skin. Meg laid on the bed, and looked over at Sam, just as he looked away.

"Do you think it's going to hurt?"

Sam cleared his throat and moved a bit before looking back at her, "yeah, it's going to hurt a lot." Meg nodded before sighing and resting her arm behind her head.

Sam had kept his eyes on her legs and thought to himself 'Damn she is so-, No Sam. She is demon remember?' Sam shook his head and looks back at her 'screw it.'

Sam stood up and walked to Meg's bed as she looked up at him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I gotta try something," he said before sitting beside her and kissing her, full of passion.

Caught by surprise, Meg's eyes widen, before closing, and started moving her lips with his. When Sam pulled away and looked down at her, she looked up at him, full of thirst, and pulled him into a much deeper kiss.

Sam moved on top of her and began running his hands up her legs. Meg reached up, wrapping her hands around his neck and grinding up against him.

Sam let out a small moan as he became hard at the touch of his cock against her naked skin. Sam reached down and slipped the borrowed shirt off her and ran his hands up her body as she laid there, looking up at him and biting her lip.

Sam leaned down and started kissing her neck roughly as he slipped his hand down to her clit, and began rubbing gently in circles. Meg moaned out a sweet moan as she arched her back, and tilting her head to the side. Sam took his free hand and slipped down, undressing out of his shorts, revealing his hard cock.

"Are you sure," Sam asked as he rubbed his cock against her opening.

"Yes, Sam please," Meg begged as Sam smirked and slipping his large cock inside of her.

"Oh damn Meg! You're so tight," Sam said as he started out slowly, then started picking up the speed.

Meg began moaning louder and louder the deeper that he had went. She arched her back and began digging her nails into his back.

Sam flipped the two of them over and smirked up at her. "Ride me, baby."

Meg bit her lip as she began riding him slowly, knowing it would tease him. Sam groaned out in pleasure and started thrusting his hips up into her, making her throw her head back and moan out loudly.

Sam had gripped Meg's waist and slammed his cock into her soaking wet heat. Meg screamed out a moan and rolled her hips in circles, hoping to make him hit his climax since she was so close to hers.

"I'm going to cum," she moaned out as she moved against him faster.

"Look at me, baby. Cum for me," Sam said as he slammed into her harder. Meg looked down at him and screamed out a moan as she hit her climax and came around his throbbing cock.

"Oh shit," Sam yelled out as he climaxes shortly after, and slowed down to a stop.

Meg pulled Sam's cock out of her and laid on the bed beside him, panting. ************* Dean had no clue that his brother had left the room because he was too preoccupied with the fact that as soon as the bathroom door shut, Baby began stripping off her clothes. He tried to avert his eyes but he found them drawn back to her with each layer she removed until she was down to nothing but a pair of panties. He finds it very difficult to think of anything other than kissing the woman in front of him, even though he knows she was a car not more than five hours ago, but ‘damn’ was she gorgeous. The battle continued inside his mind until he was snapped out of it by her calling his name. “Dean, are you okay?” she asks with her eyes wide in concern.

“I’m fi..fine.” he stammers slightly. He watches her smile as she reaches for the shirt in his hands and before he knows it he’s stepping into her space, taking ahold of her shoulders and pressing his lips to hers. At first, he was afraid that he’d made a mistake when she didn’t immediately return the kiss and he was about to disengage to apologize when she grabbed him by the shirt and deepened the contact. He revels in the feel of her soft lips slowly caressing his when he remembers his brothers just on the other side of the door. He reluctantly pulls back from the kiss. “Baby, we can’t do this. Sammy’s just outside.” Baby tilts her head to the side as if listening.

“No, he isn’t. I heard them leave just as we came in here,” she says matter of factly. Dean gives her a confused look and then opens the door to peek out. She was right, there’s no sign of his brother. He turns back to Baby with a grin before he pulls her in by her hips and once again kisses her. Not content to taste just her lips he moves along her jaw as he sucks wet kisses into her skin while his hands skim over her sides until he gently cups a breast in his hand, lightly rubbing circles to the soft flesh around her nipples. Baby moans loudly, then just as quickly she lets out a shocked gasp. Thinking that he’s hurt her in some way he leans back to look her in the eye.

“What happened? I didn’t hurt you did I?” he asks trying to contain the edge of panic starting to creep up on him.

“I don’t think so. It’s just that I feel strange.” she glances down and Dean follows her line of sight. Seeing that she was indicating that the feeling was coming from south of her waistband, a devilish smirk plays over his lips as he reaches down slowly and runs a finger over her cloth covered mound. A moan releases from her that sounds so close to the rumble of the Impala on idle that it takes Dean back for a moment before he leans forward and whispers into her ear "I always loved that noise.”

Bending down he scoops her up into his arms and carries her out of the bathroom to his bed. Setting her down on the edge of the mattress he steps back and begins to strip off his clothing. Baby’s eyes widen as he stands before her naked, his cock fully erect and jutting out proudly from his pubic hair. He sees the look on her face and looks down at himself. “What’s wrong?”

“Will that fit?” she asks with worry in her voice.

He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I always get parts that fit my Baby.”

Before he had a chance to join her on the bed, Sam comes barging into the room “I forgot my bag.” Sam looks horrified at the scene before him and then it suddenly turns into a look of barely contained laughter. At the sight of Sam standing there, Baby lets out a squeak and pulls the blankets over her body. Storming over to Sam’s bed fully naked, he grabs his brothers duffle. “GET OUT!” Sam catches the bag and heads out of the room but not before points to the lock. After he shuts the door Dean can hear him laughing as he walks away. Dean makes sure that the door gets locked and then turns back to the bed.

Seeing her hiding under the covers he stretches out beside her. “What are you doing under there?” he asks as he pulls a corner of the blanket down.

“That was embarrassing,” she says as a pink blush paints her cheeks.

He smiles softly as he lays a small kiss to her nose. “Nothing to be embarrassed about Baby Girl. Sam’s just an asshat.”

She gives him a smile and slides the cover from her body. “It’s just, Sammy and I aren’t as close as you and I are. You know me better than he does than anyone does. You know every single inch of my body.” She takes his hand in hers, gently stroking his fingers “You can build me with your bare hands.”

He strokes the side of her face before he dives in giving her a hungry kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth savoring the taste. Moaning into the kiss he wraps her arms around his neck pulling him closer and begins to run her hands across his back. Dean continues to massage her mouth with his as he runs his hand down her stomach, sliding his hand underneath to stroke the outer lips of her pussy. With each pass of his fingers, he draws out rumbles and moans until he pushes deeper and presses against her clit. “Dean...Dean... I think I’m leaking.”

“That’s okay, I’ll clean it up,” he says as he kisses along her jaw. She gives him a confused look as he winks at her before nipping and kissing his way down her stomach. Peeling her panties off as his lips reach her hips. Baby leans up on her elbows to see what he’s about to do. He places his hands on her knees and slowly spreads them apart, causing her to tilt her head. With a quick smile, he leans forward and runs his tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top, stopping to flick his tongue against her clit.

Baby falls flat to the bed “OH MY CHEVY!”

At her exclamation he licked her again, repeating the same motions as before, gathering the taste of her on his tongue. Moaning in pleasure he wraps his lips around her clit and begins alternating between sucking and flicking the bud. Baby begins to moan louder as she feels pleasure pulsing up her spine. “Dean...Dean... I feel...” she pants. Knowing that she must be getting close, he slowly inserts a finger inside of her wet cunt, twisting his wrist until his palm facing up so that he could move his finger in a 'come here' motion over her sweet spot. As soon as he pressed upward into her g spot she let out a cry that Dean would have sworn could have been heard in the next state, let alone the next room. He continued to piston his finger into her pussy, making sure to hit that spot as often as possible until she was a writhing panting mess.

“D...Dean..something is happening.” she cried out.

“I know Baby, just relax and let it happen,” he says before returning his mouth to her clit. As he feels her walls start to flutter around his finger he flattens his tongue and presses hard against her button. That was all she needed to be pushed over the precipice of her climb. Her orgasm crashed over her causing her to bow off the bed screaming Dean’s name. He rides out the waves of her aftershocks and when she’s stopped shaking he climbs back onto the bed and kisses her.

She breaks from the kiss and looks at him with an almost shy appearance. “Am I as sweet as I look?”

Dean runs his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sweeter Baby. You taste so good, it's better than pie”

Baby grins happily at the admission and kisses him deeply. She runs a hand down his chest, hesitating at his navel before taking his cock in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Dean moans loudly at the feel of her warm hand around him “Damn Baby Girl.” Giving him a few tentative strokes she relinquishes her grip to push him onto his back and straddle him. Pressing her sex against his erection and grinding her clit against him. "Mmmm...Deeaann... I think I have a part missing..."

He settles onto his back and thrusts his hips forward seeking more friction."I have just the thing.” Dean takes hold of her hips, lifting her up and then taking hold of his cock, he gently rubs his tip against her opening. "Are you ready to take me for a ride"

Baby smirks down at him. "You sure? It feels like I'm missing...a cylinder maybe?" When he nudges against her opening she glances down and nods. "I'm gonna ride you like a highway."

"I have no problem with that." He says as he pulls her down, slowly pushing his length into her. Baby closes her eyes as she sinks down onto his cock. A higher pitched moan leaves her mouth as she takes the rest of him in all. She kisses him and smirks. "It's a perfect fit."

Dean groans loudly as the tight, wet heat encompasses him. "I told you I always get parts that fit." He says with a huff as he thrusts upwards, encouraging her to move with his hand on her hip. She rumbles at his words and starts to meet his thrusts. She starts a little off, but soon she finds herself in a glorious rhythm. Sliding his hand up her side he grasps her breast, alternating between massaging it and rolling the nipple between his fingers. His thrusts become stronger and deeper as she finds her rhythm. "God, you feel so good. Are you ready to cum again Baby Girl?" He pants as he trailed his hand back down to her clit, running his thumb over the bud.

Baby shifts and moans at the new angle Meeting his thrusts hard, using his chest as leverage. "YES! DEAN please!" She starts to feel her second orgasm quickly approaching. "Ohmychev...Dean, I'm so close!"

Dean leans up on his elbow and thrusts faster as he rubs Baby's clit. "Come on Baby, give it to me. Cum on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me." Bringing his finger down to meet his thumb, he gives her clit a slight pinch as he continues to egg her on with words.

That was all she needed to send her over the edge. She came harder the second time than she did the first. Squeezing and clenching around his cock hard. She screamed his name and her eyes shone like headlights. “There you go Baby, ride me good. Ride your highway.” he groans at the feeling of her spasming around him with such ferocity that it brings him crashing over the edge. Spilling his seed inside of her as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. "BAABYY!" He roared as he met his completion.

As they come down he gathers her into his arms, letting her rest on his chest, catching their breath. Baby kisses his chest and pants. "Dean...that was...amazing..."

Dean chuckles "damn straight it was. I'm glad you liked it, cuz I thought it was awesome"

Baby gently rolls off of him, letting out a soft moan as he slipped out of her and laid next to him. "I think you nailed my tune-up." “Nothing but the best oil changes for my Baby." He says as he tucks her against his chest and pulls the covers over them. " Now, let's get some sleep."

Nuzzling up against him she softly whispers. "Dean...did you mean it when you said you were going to be with me until the end?"

Dean smooths his hand down her side before wrapping his arm around her waist. Kissing her head he mumbles into her hair "I Love you, Baby, you’re with me until the end of it all.”

She smiles against his skin. "Till the end of the highway." She closes her eyes. "Love you too," she mumbled before falling asleep.

Library Card Holders Below: Please reblog this link to share it with others.

@copperseraphim

[vellichor-lux]

“Hello” (if it's okay to ask!)

  It was a busy evening in Kugane, as it usually tended to happen in this beautiful port town. People of various races and upbringings were coming and going, illuminated by the golden street lights and the beautiful full moon in the night sky above.

  It was all quite exquisite to most people, but Kamui wasn’t most people right now and he just wished his shift would hurry up and end. Scarcely had he set foot on Kugane this morning, than his mother quite literally grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him to the shop, saying something about being busy and something about thanking the Twelve he was here to take care of the customers. He barely managed to hide his luggage in the shop so it wouldn’t be in the way. So there he was, deflecting and answering questions of a regular customer and family friend who last saw him a little over 16 years ago, when he was once more helping his mother in the shop as a teenager. Though his mum was now an old Au’Ra woman, she was definitely not looking like she’d be in her twilight years. After retiring from adventuring and having her son, she’d taken up blacksmithing and armorsmithing, eventually becoming good enough to have custom orders coming in and opening her own shop- “The Golden Naginata”, she’d named it, and it was located in a comparatively quiet corner of the market, at least partly convincing him that his mum may have Yakuza customers. Well, regardless, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, considering he’d picked up goldsmithing from her, further developed his skills during his time in Ul’dah and Limsa and also fullfilled his own share custom orders when he was around.

  “Thank you, good talk haha, have a good night sir,” he said, finally being rid of this geezer of a Hyur, allowing himself a moment to sigh and slouch in relief before straightening his back again and looking prim and proper for the next customer. Not too late afterwards, his eye caught a figure approaching the storefront- a lean Miq’ote with long, white hair and dark red eyes -quite handsome, in his mind- wearing rather nice clothes and a fair share of jewelry, which Kamui had to stop himself from trying to analyze every little detail about their make. He adjusted his black-rimmed glasses and purple jacket, put on his most polite smile and tone and greeted the man.  “Good evening and welcome to the Golden Naginata, sir! Unfortunately Mrs. Kaisuri is busy at the moment, so I’m covering the storefront for her. How may I be of service?”

[lovestruckay]

Uchiha MC Bonus Scene: "Flower Shop"

A/N: Find the main story on FFN + AO3! This bonus scene is a deleted scene from chapter seventeen and shows Madara’s experience buying a bouquet for Sakura from the Yamanaka Flower Shop... and the consequences that follow.

After passing by a sprawling flower shop on his way to Sakura's apartment, Madara had, on impulse, decided to pick up a bouquet of flowers for his old lady. Turning around, he had parked outside of the large storefront and, passing beneath a banner displaying the name ‘Yamanaka Flower Shop’, he entered the building. The gentle tinkling of a bell sounded as he swung open the glass door and, as he passed the threshold and into the air conditioned building, he was met with the soothing aroma of flowers and the quiet sound of upbeat music.

Faced with a startlingly vast plethora of flowers before him, he quickly became overwhelmed with the sheer amount of plants contained within the store. Flowers of all shapes and sizes dominated the many aisles in the shop and blanketed the simply painted building with bright shocks of unique and plentiful colors. Bewildered by the sheer quantity of flowers before him, he was grateful when he was able to zero in on his goal: red roses.

Satisfied at having found his prize, Madara strode forward to grab a particularly charming bouquet of the crimson flowers. As he reached out to pluck the bundle of flowers from the bucket of water they sat in, he was interrupted by the sound of a familiar, feminine voice.

“Jeez, I didn’t know Sakura’s old man was so old fashioned. Bo-ring!”

Blinking in surprise, Madara raised his head to find the source of the voice and was horrified to discover Sakura’s friend sitting behind the counter on the opposite end of the store, a smirk spread across her face. He tensed when he realized that not only was the woman one of Sakura’s friends but that she had been the one who had, when he had accidentally met all of Sakura’s female companions, openly ogled his shirtless body. The same woman who had made sure to tell him to inform the unattached members of his family of her own single status before his departure.

“Er, you’re… Sakura’s friend…” he greeted awkwardly, his gaze flicking down to her name badge. Ino.

“Best friend, actually,” Ino corrected before she loosely gestured to the bouquet he had been about to pick, “So, you gonna be boring and get her plain old red roses? You should know that Sakura is a bit more picky than that. Don’t you want to, you know, impress her?”

Madara narrowed his eyes at the blonde criticizing his choice in flowers. What was wrong with red roses? They were a classic!

Turning to face the aisles of hundreds of flowers laid out before him, dozens of different species of flora overflowing the shelves they occupied, he wondered if perhaps he could do with a bit of creativity. Especially if what this woman was insinuating was correct. After all, not only did he want to express to Sakura how much her love and acceptance meant to him but he intended to ask her to move in with him that night.

Perhaps it would do him and his chances some good if he brought his old lady a bouquet with a bit more thought put into it…

Those yellow ones with the red edges looked quite lovely.

As Madara walked over to the water bucket containing a bundle of the flowers that had caught his eye, Ino’s voice rang out through the shop once again. “What, are you trying to tell her to beware? That’s kind of concerning coming from you, biker guy.”

His gaze snapped back to Ino, unsettled. He knew flowers had hidden meanings but beware?

Turning back to the choices in his immediate vicinity, he spotted a bucket of white flowers with yellow centers, their pleasing aroma strong enough to be smelled from where he stood. When his hand hovered over the six petaled flowers, the woman’s voice called out once again.

“Was there a funeral? Should I be worried?” she questioned, quirking a finely manicured eyebrow at him.

Madara scoffed, his hand flopping back to his side as he turned to glare at the blonde happily perched behind the counter. She returned his glare with a sly smile, unbothered by his displeasure.

“You know, I could help you out here… for a price,” Ino suggested, perching her elbow on the counter before her and resting her chin on her palm.

“Oh? And what would that be?” he asked as he walked up to the counter, crossing his arms across his chest.

He was very familiar with the sound of an offer about to be made, the tone of a deal to be struck. As he looked down at the deceptively innocent looking woman before him, he wondered how well she could haggle and what her starting price would be for such a task.

“What I want is information. Sakura has an Uchiha now, even psycho Karin has one too! I want one of my own,” Ino explained, pouting up at him.

Madara grimaced, horrified to hear this woman speaking of his family members as if they were trophies to be collected. “You are a… very disarming woman, do you know that?”

“I just know how to get what I want,” Ino laughed in return, waving her hand in dismissal, “So, do we have a deal or what?”

His eyes narrowed. “What sort of information are you looking to get from me? You’re dreaming if you think I’ll be giving you the phone numbers or addresses of my club mates.”

“As if. What sort of sane person would go on a date with some random girl who called them or, even worse, showed up at their house?” she scoffed in response, “What I want is the location of one of your next club runs, one like the run you had at that Sound Four concert. It’s not exactly like you all have a website where I can go to find this information out.”

“I can see why you’re Sakura’s friend. You’re devious, aren’t you?” Madara sighed, glancing back to the bouquets of red roses nearby.

He should just get Sakura some roses and be done with it. Although his old lady was worth so much more than just that… Not to mention this Ino woman would surely get back to Sakura about this particular interaction.

He was never coming near this place again.

“Well, if getting the perfect bouquet for your ‘old lady’, better known as my best friend, isn’t that important to you, well…” Ino shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to get a bunch of funeral flowers instead.”

“I’m tempted to give you Obito’s information just because your ruthlessness would match his…” Madara grumbled in response, leaning against the counter.

“The one with the bandana over his eye? Yeah, he’s cute, but he’s not my type.”

Madara’s eyebrows rose high onto his forehead. “It’s concerning that you already know the names of my officers.”

“You do know that Sakura has a facebook right?” Ino deadpanned in response, “That Obito guy has a weird sense of humor, by the way, he sounds like a serial killer. All of his comments on Sakura’s posts are creepy. And I’m not even going to talk about their perverted little book club.”

“Perverted little…? Ugh… Those two and their books,” Madara muttered before rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’d never understand those two and how they bonded so bizarrely over Jiraiya’s dirty novels. Part of him wasn’t sure if he even wanted to understand.

“Listen, you better give me something good here if you want results,” she declared, her sly smile now replaced with the look of a haggler who knew they were going to get the best deal.

Madara stared down at the blonde before him as he thought, allowing the silence to stretch between them. He realized that this wolf of a woman had backed him into a corner and that, if he wanted to get out of this bargain on top, he’d need to give her fresh meat. As he stared into her far too perceptive eyes, an idea occurred to him and he nearly smirked at the brilliance of it.

Two birds, one stone.

“Very well then. Perhaps you’d be more interested in someone closer to your age?” Madara began, noticing as her posture changed to reflect her interest, “I’m sure you must have seen him if you make a habit of perusing Sakura’s facebook. The only one of our group with curly hair?”

Ino leaned back in her chair as she gazed up at him. “Go on.”

“His name is Shisui, although somehow I’m sure you already know. When he’s not at the clubhouse, you can usually find him at his studio downtown.”

“Studio you say? What kind of studio?”

“An art studio,” he answered nonchalantly, “He’s an artist. A painter.”

“He paints!” Ino crowed with excitement before clearing her throat and turning to look to the side with feigned indifference, “I mean… Artists can be so fickle.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps you could find out for yourself. After all, the Nadeshiko branch of the club will be working security for a women’s march out of town here soon. While I can’t spare many members of my branch for the event at this time, Shisui and a few others volunteered to help out,” Madara explained, not failing to notice how her eyes flicked back over to him as he spoke, “They’ll be out with the protesters, marching with them and making sure they’re safe. I’m certain he’d be more than willing to chat about contemporary art if you brought him a couple of porters.”

Ino hummed in approval as she watched him with the eyes of a cat who had spotted their prey, “You Uchiha really outdo yourselves, you know that? Gorgeous and feminists? How rare is that nowadays?

“Do we have a deal or what?” he shot back, narrowing his eyes at the blonde.

“Hmm…” Ino considered him for a long moment before finally nodding, “I suppose. Give me the address.”

“Flowers first and then you get your info.”

“Smart move,” Ino laughed before standing from her stool with a dramatic sigh, “Let’s see, let’s see…”

Madara’s gaze followed Ino as she walked up and down the aisles, gathering various flowers as she hummed along to the song playing on the radio. Some of the flowers she considered, rubbing her chin in thought, before either abandoning or collecting them. When she returned, she had an armful overflowing with her finds.

He watched silently as she worked, expertly trimming and arranging the flowers into an intricate bouquet of red and pink with white accents among the petals. Some of the flowers she had chosen wound up in a pile next to her intricate bouquet, not deemed acceptable for her slowly forming masterpiece. As she finished her work, tying a sage green ribbon around the stems and wrapping them in a protective plastic sheath, he wondered if she purposefully chose the colors of his club and the color of Sakura’s hair for the bundle of flowers.

When Ino set the bouquet on the counter, finally finished with her work, Madara could admit that he was surprised by how pretty the arrangement was. Even if he couldn't name a single flower in the bunch he could appreciate the work Ino put into it.

She was quick to ring him up, Madara swiping his card before she handed him his receipt with a sly smile. He stared down at her for a few heartbeats, the blonde and her smile unphased as she stared back. This woman was shrewd, calculating, and remorseless.

She would make an excellent sergeant at arms in a club.

Madara grabbed a pen, a fake flower taped to the top, from a small vase filled with glass beads before flipping over his receipt and writing the information for the women’s march on the back. Once finished, he flipped over the paper, tearing off his information from the top to avoid this ever coming back to bite him.

“This never happened,” he informed in a low voice as he returned the pen to its vase.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Cough up your end of the deal,” Ino growled back, holding out her hand expectantly.

Madara handed her the receipt and, after she checked the writing on the back of the paper, she smiled up at him in a way that reminded him of a predator.

“Pleasure doing business with you. Thank you for coming to the Yamanaka Flower Shop and have a beautiful day!” Ino singsonged, the practiced farewell of her shop making the entire exchange feel somehow unreal.

“You too,” he replied simply, gathering up his bouquet and retreating from the store.

The gentle ringing of the bell as he passed through the glass door and into the bright sunlight outside only added to the haze of leaving that exchange behind him. He felt startlingly drained by the interaction with Sakura’s friend, more so than even some negotiations he had made with outlaw clients in the past.

Madara was careful as he loaded the bouquet into the saddle bag on his bike, hoping that the ride to Sakura’s apartment didn’t ruin his purchase. After all he had gone through to get it, he just hoped that Sakura would like the bundle of flowers.

Although Madara nearly felt bad for throwing his cousin to the wolf at the flower shop in order to get them… Nearly.

Perhaps with a woman like Ino at his heels, Shisui would finally abandon the lingering infatuation he still harbored for Sakura and leave his old lady alone once and for all.

~~

That night, after finally tiring one another out in bed and finally finding the energy to don their sleeping clothes, Madara and Sakura had emerged from her bedroom with the intention of eating a late dinner together. With her dressed in nothing but his shirt and her panties, she had gone to collect the bouquet that she had abandoned on her couch following her confrontation with her parents.

After pressing her face into the bundle to smell the fragrant flowers within, she carried the bouquet into her kitchen, a delighted swing in her barely concealed hips. She filled an astoundingly hideous, frog shaped vase with water and placed her gift inside, proudly displaying her flowers on her kitchen table.

Turning to face him with a bright smile, she had thrown her arms around his bare shoulders, Madara immediately looping his arms around her waist to bring her closer.

“Thank you for the flowers, Dara, I love them,” Sakura thanked, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’m glad you like them…” he hummed in return, deeply satisfied, before curiously asking, “Do you know their meanings?”

“I have no idea. I don’t know a thing about flowers, honestly,” Sakura laughed as she happily nestled against his chest, “They’re very pretty though.”

Madara felt his breath leave his lungs in one burst at her admission. Sagging in defeat, he dropped his forehead against her shoulder with a groan. Of course Sakura didn’t know anything about flowers. He should have known that that wolf Ino was playing him for a fool. He should have just gotten Sakura roses like he had planned and he could have avoided that whole interaction.

He could have also avoided the guilt he could feel creeping in when he realized just who he had sent after his young cousin. If Ino had tricked him so readily, there was no way Shisui would stand a chance...

“Is something wrong?” Sakura asked, concern in her tone at his sudden moroseness.

“I think I might have put Shisui in danger,” he grumbled against her neck, feeling more like he had placed a hit on his cousin than anything else.

“What?”