#it fascinates me that in eighteen goddamn years of raising me

[anaalnathrakhs]

manifesting for everyone people who love them how they want to be loved 🙏

[duuhrayliegh]

male chivalry

warnings: okay so there is a trigger warning of sexual harassment and attempted sexual assault, language, men being gross, protective!bucky, angst a bit, i think that’s it, if you see anything else let me know

word count: 3230 :)

a/n: idk why it took me so long to finish this, but it’s here now!!! also this is based off this post from @teaboot (just the op bc the rest of it pissed me off :)) i hope y’all like it. i hope it’s what y’all expected idk, i’m proud of it.

i really hope i did the topics justice, if you don’t think i did, please shoot me a message and help me figure out how to do better. <3

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open! also this is not beta read, so all mistakes are my own.

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

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

It had been about three weeks since Bucky had first met the group of four at the protest. Bucky made sure to check in with Steve and let him know what he was doing. Steve was always worrying about Bucky, which was totally understandable because of everything they had been through.

Bucky’s day was a relaxed one with little to no time to dawdle. Over these three weeks, he had learned more from an eighteen year old than he ever thought he would. It was easier to open up to her, for some reason. Bucky hadn’t fully figured that out yet either, but he wasn’t going to question it.

Bucky had been going to his court mandated therapy with Dr. Raynor, to say they were making progress would be a lie. Honestly, Bucky was making more progress with the new individuals in his life. They knew what he did as the Winter Soldier-- no they know what the Winter Soldier did, Cassie made sure the distinction between the two was crystal clear. Bucky was still a bit cautious around them, not wanting to hurt them or be a burden to them.

It amazed Bucky how open they were with each other. Back in the 40’s, you didn’t express your feelings. Especially if you were a man, for fear of being labeled something unsavory. Even stranger still to Bucky was the encouragement and support that everyone gave to those in hard times. It warmed Bucky’s heart to see Penny comforting Freddie after his recent break up.

“Freddie and Ted had been together a little over six months,” Cassie explained to Bucky one night after the group had dispersed from the dining table. Bucky and Cassie were standing over the sink washing the dinner plates and cutlery. “Freddie was so in love with him. I thought Ted felt the same, but I guess that’s just how it goes, right?”

Bucky shrugged, this was one of his first experiences with modern romance. Dating in the 40’s was very rigid, which was to be expected, but nowadays everything is very fluid. It truly fascinated Bucky.

“I honestly don’t know.” Bucky shrugged as he dried the pristine plates. Just as he began to get lost in thought, Evie pulled him into a subject that he hadn’t thought of in a real long time.

“What was it like with women in the forties, Buck?” Bucky blinked at her and considered his answer carefully. The group had been teaching him how to handle some subjects sensitively.

“To be honest? The last date that I went on was to the World Expo of Tomorrow in 1943, the night before I shipped out to England.” He turned, leaning his weight on the counter behind him and crossing his arms over his chest. “I went with Steve, this was before he was Captain America, so when he was a little ol’ gangly thing. I had hooked us up with two women, one for me and one for Stevie, their names were Dot and Connie, I think.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean, Buck. What was it like with women?”

Bucky tilted his head in question.“What do you mean?”

“What was it like with them? Like, how were they treated as a whole?”

“Oh, uh I think they were treated well? My Ma always told Steve and I to treat women with respect, so we did.”

“Right, but what about everyone else? How did they treat women?” Bucky was confused by the question and he began to think that he was giving the wrong answers.

“Um, I guess I don’t know. I guess they were treated how they are today?” Both of the girls in front of him released disdained scoffs.

“Well, that’s unfortunate, right Cas?” Cassie nodded at Evie and dropped her head in disappointment.

“Why do you say that?” Bucky asked. He was genuinely curious about what the girls were referring to. “I mean, I get that the treatment of women hasn’t always been good but it’s not that bad right?” The girls shared a knowing look, and then Evie sighed. She hauled herself out of her chair and nodded to Bucky.

“Alright, let’s go take a walk, just you and me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, just a couple blocks away to the Walgreens. Sound okay?” Bucky agreed, grabbing his jacket and waiting for Evie by the doorway. “We’ll be back soon, Cas.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea, Evelyn?” Bucky had only ever heard Cassie use Evie’s full name when she was getting in trouble.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine, Cas, I swear.” Evie glanced at Bucky, “Besides, I’ve got a Sargent escorting me, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.” She threw a smile to her older sister whose face was just a veil of worry and doubt.

Bucky and Evie exited the apartment building and neither of them had said anything since. Bucky was wondering what this whole exercise was all about, but he wasn’t going to say anything until Evie did. The pair walked up onto a crosswalk, causing them to stop and wait so Evie was able to turn the man beside her.

“So, before we go any further, I just want to set the scene for you.” She took a calming breath and it was now that Bucky realized that this was the first time that she was noticeably scared. His brows furrowed and he nodded as she continued. “It’s ten o’clock on a Wednesday night and you’re in Brooklyn, walking to your local Walgreens because you need tampons.” Bucky huffed out a small laugh as Evie playfully glared at the man.

“Yeah, yeah. The female menstrual cycle is hilarious as is the pink tax that is put on feminine hygiene products. Laugh it up, James.” She shook her head and pulled Bucky closer to the front of a building. “I’m trying to tell you something, ya asshole. So, you see that it’s dark outside because it’s late but you decide to risk it anyway because you have a flight to catch at four the next morning. You leave your apartment and you are greeted with this.” She gestured to the expanse in front of her.

“Alright, let’s go. And just a word of wisdom real quick before we really get going. Women are considered fragile but I’ve never seen anything as easily wounded as a man’s ego.”

“Wow, that’s quite a pearl.” Bucky caught up to Evie as she made her way down the street.

“So being a woman and even more so, being a woman at night, means that you have to constantly be on guard.” As they were walking, a man in a greasy white tank top passed them. The man’s head turned and he scanned Evie’s body.

“Goddamn, that’s a sweet little body there, baby girl.” Bucky’s head snapped around to the man, but Evie kept walking. Bucky looked over to Evie with concern riddling his features.

“Hey, sweetcheeks! Let me talk to you for a while!” The greasy man was now following Evie and Bucky. “I bet I can show you a better time than he can, baby girl. Come on, let me talk to you.” He reached his hand out, gripping Evie’s arm and pulling her to face him.

“Please don’t touch me.” “Get your fucking hands off her, you dick.” The man took a step backwards away from the pair.

“Well, fine you bitch! I didn’t want you anyway, fucking fat ass.”

“Hey, you don’t just get to fucking walk away, you jackass! Apologize to her.”

“Why should I apologize to her? I was giving her a compliment.” Bucky’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Did this guy just fucking--

“Okay, buddy.” Bucky went to approach the man to settle their disagreement when Evie stopped him.

“James, leave it. Let’s go.” She kept walking and Bucky didn’t want to leave her alone, not after that whole debacle.

“What the fuck was that Evie?” He questioned quickly, she shook her head in response but never verbally responded to him. A few paces later, the pair was about to pass a group of men leaned up against the brick wall behind them. Brown paper bags crunched around bottles were grasped in their hands. Drunken laughter was ringing out through the near empty streets.

“Hey baby! Why don’t you come on over here so we can talk to ya!” One of the men began to step in front of Evie effectively stopping her movement. The eighteen year old took a few steps backwards, coincidentally into Bucky’s chest. His arms came up to meet hers, about to move in front of her in a protective stance.

“Woah, you got a bodyguard baby?” The man tilted his head and stared at Evie. “You know you don’t need him sweetheart.”

“Damn, baby girl. You’re fine as hell.” Another man walked to stand next to the first. “What do I gotta do to get you in my bed?”

“Please leave us alone.”

“No, baby girl I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen.” Bucky stepped in front of Evie protectively.

“I think she told you to leave us alone.” The two men in front of Bucky didn’t waver. Two raised brows and a fit of laughter later, they still maintained their ground.

“Why? You guys going somewhere to fuck? Already got a piece of that ass and don’t want to share it big man?”

“That’s just cold. You gotta share sometime. And it’s just easier to do it now rather than later.” Evie trembled behind Bucky and leaned up so only Bucky could hear her.

“Come on Bucky, let’s just go back to the apartment.” She tugged on his right arm, fingers digging into his soft flesh. Bucky was sure that he would have crescent shaped indentations where her nails laid in because of how much she was gripping him.

Bucky’s eyes flicked up and down the two men in front of him, assessing how much of a threat they were. They were clearly enough of a threat to frighten Evie to the point of wanting to go home. Bucky gave Evie a stiff nod, not taking his eyes off of the men.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going baby? We’re just getting started!” One of them yelled at the pair as he reached out to grab Evie’s forearm. A split second later, Bucky’s left hand balled into a fist and he launched it at the man’s face. A loud crack resounded and a groan left the man’s mouth as he hit the ground. A look of shock fell across the other’s faces as they saw Bucky standing over their fallen comrade. The group took several steps away from the pair, holding their hands up in surrender.

“Don’t you ever touch a woman without her permission, you fucking prick.” Bucky then turned quickly, grabbing Evie’s wrist tightly and hauling her away from the men. Several paces later, Bucky still held a tight grip on the girl's arm.

“Bucky, you’re kind of hurting me.” Evie’s voice broke through Bucky’s barriers. He let up on how fast he was walking and then dropped Evie’s arm.

Worried eyes scanned her body for any bruising, “I’m so sorry, doll. Are you okay?” Evie laughed as she was rubbing her sore wrists.

“Bucky, that’s normal for any woman. Ever.” Shaking her head, she began walking back towards the apartment. “We could’ve kept on going to Walgreens, but I wasn’t sure your fragile heart could take it.” Bucky drew in his brows and a deep frown etched itself into his features.

“What the hell do you mean that’s normal, Evelyn?” He thrust his arm behind them, gesturing to what they just went through. “Nothing about that was normal.” Still shaking her head, the eighteen year old shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s normal for women.” She glanced at Bucky as she continued on her way. “Also, I know that you were probably just defending my honor or protecting me or whatever, but I want you to really think back, Buck. Think about when you were picking up women in the forties, did you ever push when they didn’t want to have that drink with you? Did you continuously ask for them to dance with you?”

“No, I told you. My Ma raised me the right way.” They walked up to the apartment building and Bucky reached for the door handle. Evie began making her up the stairs, Bucky not far behind her. She stopped suddenly, a few flights before Cassie’s apartment.

“What about your friends?” Bucky was taken aback. His memories were still a bit fuzzy about those times, but he could remember clearly enough. Although he wasn’t quite sure what she meant by the questions she was asking.

“What are you getting at Evie?” He huffed while opening the door to Cassie’s apartment. Freddie and Penny were lounged on the couch with an almost empty bottle of wine. Cassie’s head shot up at the sound of the two walking in the doorway. Evie dumped her things off on the granite countertop and turned on her heel to stare at Bucky.

“Did you ever stop your friends when women said no?” The quiet laughter between Penny and Freddie stopped suddenly as Evie’s question hung in the air. All eyes were on Bucky as he gulped and thought back to the times at the bars. Out with Steve and the other Howling Commandos, did they ever do that? He tried to think of a time when they pushed for what they wanted to happen. Of a time when the woman they were pursuing reluctantly gave in because they wouldn’t leave her alone. Evie didn’t wait for an answer, she could see that he was processing everything.

“So why did you stop those guys back there?” Her brows raised and her head tilted in question. Bucky took a deep breath and was about to answer when Evie cut him off. “By punching that guy out there, you’re a hero and we should all thank you and congratulate you for doing the right thing.” She stepped closer to Bucky and the three in the living room understood where Evie was going.

“What do you think would have been said if I would’ve punched him? Sure, you would’ve said something snappy and nice about how I can take care of myself. The general public though? They would say that I overreacted.”

“Easy Evie, he’s still learning.” Cassie said quietly. Bucky was thankful for that, he still did have a lot to learn but it felt like Evie was attacking him. That’s the point, you fucking dumbass. If you had been berating her for putting herself in danger by punching that guy, you would think she was reckless.

“Her point, Bucky, is that the double standard for men and women goes beyond what we expect. Everyone goes crazy for the knight saving the damsel, but everyone hates the damsel for saving herself.” Freddie explained from the comfort of the couch. Bucky nodded, starting to understand the concept. “And her questions about your old buddies. That has to do with the fact that you’re part of the problem.”

“What problem is that?” Bucky was honestly scared to know the answer but he knew to fully learn, he had to get all the facts, both good and bad.

“Stunting the growth of feminism. Being one of the people perpetuating the fact that it’s okay for men to be violent, but not for women.”

“Violence in the form of defending oneself in any capacity.” In Bucky’s line of work, he sees tons of capable and strong women. Natasha, Okoye, Shuri, Sharon, he could think of so many. Then he tried to think of when any of them got the limelight like Steve or himself.

“So it’s like anytime that there would be press releases for the team, and the interviewers would come and ask us questions,” he paused to think how to word what he wanted to say, “they always ask the guys about like super important things like how we’re keeping the city safe and stuff. But when they talk to the girls, they ask about their workout schedule and if they can wear underwear under their suits?”

“Yes, it’s exactly like that Bucky. That’s just a different form of it.” Evie replied quickly. She came up to hug Bucky. “I didn’t mean to attack you or anything, but this is something that we all feel is really important for you to grasp now that you’re back out there.”

“And now that you can recognize when it’s happening, the next important step is to stop it before it happens.” Penny yelled from the living room as she downed the last of the bottle in her hand.

“I’m so sorry, Evie. I didn’t know.”

“I know, I’m sorry too. You’re still figuring stuff out, but I needed you to see what it was really like for women.”

“Okay.” Bucky nodded. “How can I help this situation?” The group exchanged proud looks.

“Well, educate everyone around you. Don’t let it happen when you’re around.” Cassie said as she walked into the kitchen to crack open another bottle of wine. “And just support women. Push our problems into the public’s eye.” Bucky smiled, he could handle that, he was good at that.

Considering he was on his way to becoming a member of the Avengers, he would be able to influence from up high. He could openly support groups that were run by women, for women. He was used to standing in the background for things he didn’t believe in, so standing for something that he did was going to be a cakewalk.

A concern floated into the forefront of Bucky’s mind. He looked down at Evie, who had just recently released him from her death grip of a hug. “You know how to defend yourself right?”

Evie’s brows raised in a challenging manner, “Do I look like I don’t know how to defend myself?” The man shook his head and smiled as the surrounding group laughed. Cassie poured a glass of wine and cracked open a bottle of beer for Bucky.

They all made their way to the comfy couches to snuggle in for a movie night, satisfied with their teachings for the night.

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Well, in the spirit of feminism, we are going to watch Legally Blonde.” Penny commented as she picked up the remote. “And it’s Freddie’s favorite so yeah.”

The lights clicked off as the opening credits ran for the movie. Bucky looked around his group of friends as they giggled at the screen. Evie had her head in Cassie’s lap and she was stretched across the sofa with her feet tucked under Bucky’s thigh. Freddie and Penny were curled up in the loveseat across from where Bucky was. Pieces of popcorn and glasses of red wine were being passed from person to person, with the exception of Evie who was still underage. The energy surrounding the five of them was something Bucky hadn’t experienced in a long time and he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon either.

A large grin overtook his face, although today was one of the harder lessons for him to learn, he wouldn’t want anyone else to be teaching him.

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

@mishaandthebrits

[thiswasinevitableid]

98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

“These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

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

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

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

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

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

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

[catalinaroleplay]

Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman, she/her

Date of Birth: March 16th, 1983 (37)

Place of Birth: Beverly Hills, California

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Since 2011

Occupation: Development Executive, Director & VP of Title Track Entertainment

Face Claim: Minka Kelly

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Substance Abuse, Overdose, Suicide.

If there is one thing she could wish to the stars, was the chance to reach for them. Every night she would look up at the sky and ask, let me go up there with you and shine bright as you do. The young girl was a dreamer, a free-spirited with a marvelous, creative mind, and the world wouldn’t stand a chance.

It was easy to point Nicole as an ordinary, and stereotypic California girl walking down Sunset Boulevard covered with privileges and her parents’ money to fill a void left by their issues and to be raised by nannies because they were too busy to pay attention to their child. She fit the mold perfectly. But there was far more to her than it meets the eyes, and it only takes one look underneath the surface to know that, actually, it only takes one smile and a conversation.

Nearly impossible to miss the similarities in her features that are the same of a young Marla Templeton, an old Hollywood actress that made her first appearance on the big screens in the fifths and fascinated her audience with her uniqueness, trilling a career that nourishes its importance to this day. Yet, a brilliant career did not mean an equal and easy personal life. Marla Templeton had many failed marriages, only one that lasted more than the others and gave her three children, Mark, David, and Lisa Thompson. It’s not surprising to say that the relationship between them wasn’t an easy one, and when Marla and Peter got a divorce, the children decided to live with their father. Marla just wasn’t suitable to slip into a mother’s role when her career was her number one priority, and she did not want to make a choice. It worked, at first, Peter was more than happy to stay at home and care to raise the children, and Marla was the one making the surprising visits, bringing the expensive presents and taking them on vacations around the world. It wasn’t expected that Lisa wanted to be just like her mother when she grew up, she was bolded, and Marla had no problem with that until it became a case rivalry. At first, it was finally something the two had in common, something to share and talk about. Still, when Lisa was getting more attention than Marla, things got heated, and when Lisa was seventeen, after her first blockbuster — things started to fell apart. The fight with Marla only got worse, her father did not want her back in the house and she couldn’t bear to be with her mother. Therefore, they made a deal, she would walk in line and stand out of the way till Lisa turns eighteen and could go leave life as she pleases also known as the start of her own path to self-destruction. It started with minor crimes, shoplifting for her own amusement, consuming a little pass of the amount of alcohol than the night before just to kill the boredom she felt when she wasn’t inside the set, and walking with the wrong set of company. Her career took the fault as well, and slowly, her new start glow started to burn out and fade. The first trip to a rehab clinic for damage control came not soon after she was caught, drunk, arguing with a set producer. But her reputation, however, was already set as the troublesome alcoholic teenager star and, perhaps, was better to set aside for a while, and it was when she met Levi Padallino. It was an attraction at first sight and nothing more. They only kept it going because there was something to be taken from it on both sides. Levi was good to her reputation, and Lisa had the means to help him get out of the debuts that college would cost. One year into the relationship and Lisa was pregnant, twins.    

Nicole Eva Padallino was born two minutes after her twin brother, Lucas. And four years later, Levi was long gone. Baltimore was more appealing to him than his children. After all, he already got what he desired and it was a free ride to Med School and an internship in one respectful hospital, Nicole and Lucas would be just fine in the hands of Lisa: she had the money to cover it up. Is money, isn’t it? What makes the world turn around and cover wounds left open. In truth, Levi knew the kids were not fine at all because Lisa Thompson was struggling with her own addiction and was yet to seek help, to admit it to herself. And that only left Nicole and Lucas to be raised by nannies, to watch their mother barely stand by herself, sometimes forgetting to pay the bills or show up to work, and it was the twins that at a very young age learned that they were responsible for keeping their home a functional one. Of course, having staff around the house did not make the burdened weigh as much as someone with fewer privileges, Geraldine, their mother agent turned to be like an aunt and came as great help from time to time. She dealt with Lisa better than anyone because she could not afford to lose her best-selling client, sober her up, and put her in the car to show up on the set for work. In the meantime, the kids would stay at home with their nannies, tutors and doing their best to keep the problems hidden from everyone else, especially their grandmother, when she would show up to check it if they were okay. They would put on their best show because truth is, Marla turned into someone else at the minute she settled her eyes on those children. For her, they were her second chance of being better when her own child was vanishing right in front of her eyes. She did not see hope for Lisa anymore, she never did but now was definitely too late to do something else. But she was a good grandmother, the best, she would play along with the stories they create in their head to excuse from their chaos and misery that life outside those stories was. Marla gave them their first camera, to register their adventures in homemade movies and while Nicole was a bit resilient to the present, Lucas loved it. He recast Peter Pan, Lion King, Hercules, Batman, and even his sister to play Anastasia.

One night, however, when Marla came to the house to find that the power was cut off, the staff was two months without payment, and the kids were living off from frozen pizza because Lisa was on the verge of going bankrupt. She took Nicole and Lucas out of the house when their mother came stumbling drunk through the door, again, with a nameless man as she has done countless times. They were thirteen, and Marla legally became their guardian after Lisa was admitted to rehabilitation. It was very public and very traumatic for their family, but no one took it as hard as Lucas, but neither saw the signs, not until when they were sixteen and Lucas committed suicide. Nicole’s entire world crashed in front of her. The twins were too attached to one another because they have always been the only family they could count on: best friends and siblings. He was her better half, and she knew nothing without him. He was her hero. How can a normal functional and loveable teenager be able to act? All he left behind was a film, his final project for movie class was a documentary to say goodbye, goodbye to her. A goddamn movie to say goodbye, but it still wasn’t enough and Nicole suppressed that pain, that feeling. But it was only the beginning because she had another curving ball to face when her father decided to show up at the funeral.

Levi was back in California, working at Cedars Sinai for the past three years but never had the nerve to tell anyone until Marla tracked him to tell his son has passed. And there he was, back in her life, but why was he there to begin with? He was a stranger to Nicole. The only thing she has of him was his last name. When he stood there, he hugged her and invited her to a stroll later and to meet his family. The family, just like the one Nicole and Lucas always wanted: with parents that remember your birthday, that makes you feel safe during a thunderstorm, that sit together to eat dinner or to light up the Christmas lights or to pick up the presents or someone that cares enough to fake snow prints on the floor and wrap presents to celebrate to holiday in the next morning. A normal childhood like in the movies they used to watch. Their house was cold and empty almost every Christmas. If they were lucky, Lisa would come home with a treat from the party she had just attended or Geraldine would take care of buying each a gift. But maybe, with Levi and his family, this could be her chance. He asked her to move in, but her grandmother was against it, Nicole decided to stay, even though no place feels like home. After all, the thought of living with her father is a close shot to having a home, but she wasn’t ready for a huge change.

Yet, Nicole went beyond to show her father how good of young woman she has become. The perfect American girl, captain cheerleader, senior prom queen, excellent GPA, and dating life make all her friends jealous. She had planned for her future. Though, as she began to share her dreams and give him a chance, the brittle truth comes out from her father. Levi was never interested in having a daughter. He already had a family of his own and was making sure to take care of them and that was what he wanted. He wanted Nicole to speak to her mother and grandmother to annul the contract he signed when the twins were born that said he had to pay for tuition when they decide to go college since Lisa paid for Levi’s entire Med School. Needless to say, she was devastated because her mother wasn’t great, but yet she was still there and never walked away, and neither did her grandmother. Nicole decided he would pay, Lucas wasn’t there anymore, but she was and college may not been been her first plan but now? She would make it her mission.

Nicole got into Stanford with a major in biology; she could hate every minute of it, but there was one thing she was good at and that thing was: when she puts her mind into something, she went the distance. It was for her, her mother, and Lucas. The first part was to get her degree in biology and then go to Medical school. But, what she was going to do with a medical degree? She had no idea. To spite her father and make him pay more? All she wanted was to travel, to see the world. The woman never had the time to think of herself. She always lived to help others survive through days and be pleasing for the needs of others. This was supposed to be when she was going to find herself, but there she was, acting for what knows what end.

If there was ever a God… he was a cruel, manipulative bastard.

Yet, Stanford was a surprise she did not expect, she found not only a family there in the form of her best friends. But love, partnership, and her true calling because who would tell that she would pick up from where her brother left? It started with her finding his old camera when she was visiting her grandmother for Thanksgiving, watching some of their old homemade movies, and flipping through old notebooks and diaries — they were quite the duo. She cried the entire night. It was unfair, it was a crushing pain upon her chest like no other and a feeling she has been carrying around for so long that she doesn’t seem or doesn’t know how to get rid of it. It was too much, and for just a second, she thought was what Lucas felt? It was until she found his diaries, and she did not want to read. But something pulled her to do so, and there was a light into a part of her brother she never saw before. It gave her a just a bit more comfort. Going back home, she took the camera with her and started to work with it, just recording her friends, making little videos of her day like Lucas used to. She did not have much money, she saved whatever her grandmother sent her and her father only paid what was he legally requested to do so, so she started to work on a little coffee shop outside the campus and met a band, it was where it changed for her.

Becoming friends with the band that used to play there, she started to produce, direct, script, edit their videos, and publish them online until they went viral. Soon, so did her name. But Nicole has settled in finish Stanford, so she started to work with the local bands while taking classes, it was her and one of her best friends that was soon to become her partner. And when she finally graduated, she was free. The girl decided she did not need revenge or anything from her father, she was going to drop from the idea of going to Med School and move to Los Angeles to pursue filmmaker but first, she was going to travel. She was finally twenty-one and she has received the trust fund of both Lucas and hers, she knew Lucas’s money was going to be made into something else, but hers, she was going to take for a gap year. Somehow, her first place was Brazil, and it was a life change for her because a visit to the town of Pedro Leopoldo and everything she once knew believed it was true, changed. She visited the old house that belonged to Chico Xavier, the works there picked her, and even if she was a non-believer she opened to experience and took the letter in hands. A gasp of air, she was sitting in the midfield crying in her hands but the content of the said letter was kept a secret. The message from her brother. Until she attended a concert in 2004, in Buffalo, NY, Nicole felt her soul be more filled and healed than ever before. Her faith was her own, she did not scream to anyone, not even back in Los Angeles when she started to search more about Spiritism and attend the weekly speeches. It was something she decided to make her own.

Her career started to blossom and with it, the desire to not be known using her father’s name and she decided to change but she also did not want to use her mother’s or grandmother’s — something having to do with raising her on her own. She then started to use a stage name: Nicole Ainsworth. And that name was growing, she used half of Lucas’s trust to open the Title Track Entertainment and the other half was donated to a foundation to help kids with mental health issues. Nicole’s name was growing first on the internet with producing documentaries for pop music artists and directing turns and awards. It was until her big break as a producer that worked on Frozen, shortly after, then as a director came after directing a number at the Oscar and receiving a call to direct and produce: The Greatest Showman. She made a name for herself and started choosing projects to build a great portfolio, working with Disney and Marvel’s upcoming projects for their streaming platform.

After all of the years of life throwing complications her way, often making Nicole doubt herself, one of her biggest dream came true ─ her first child with her partner, Harry. Baby Noah was their biggest project and came when they least imagined, but just when they were both ready, the only problem? Both are freaking about being super protective parents to the point where you can only enter the house with hand sanitizer and slippers off and foot protection on. As well as her responsibilities of being a parent, Nicole still manages to practice Spiritism while preparing for future projects with her company, Title Track Entertainment, but taking time to enjoy the quaint island of Catalina during the time of her maternity leave.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Illustrious | Lyrical | Vehement 

Negative: Overwrought | Appetent | Paradoxical

Nicole Ainsworth is portrayed by Carol.

[momscookingthebooks]

Chapter Reveal & Pre-Order Link

Title: Behind the Wall – Novella

Author: Jane Harvey Berrick

Publication Date: May 26, 2017

#ChapterReveal #BehindTheWall #JaneHarveyBerrick #Novella

Add to your Goodreads TBR: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35102646-behind-the-wall

Synopsis:

Prison. The place where dreams fade and hope dies.

That’s what it’s meant for the five years that Garrett has been behind bars. But now hope is on the horizon and he’s daring to dream again: small dreams, small hopes.

Getting his GED would be a start. If only his prison-appointed teacher Miss Ella Newsome wasn’t so damn sexy.

As Garrett and Ella start to play a dangerous game, the price could be higher than either of them have guessed. This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heart ache and even more heat.

Pre-Order Link:

Amazon: hyperurl.co/vehpb7

Chapter 1

Garrett “Hey, Garrett. Check out the new teacher, man.” Hudson’s voice was quiet, so as to not attract attention. I’d been in this shitty classroom for thirty seconds and I was already itching to leave. It brought back too many bad memories. But getting educated was a condition of trying to get my parole. I could put up with any amount of crap to say goodbye to this hellhole. I glanced up, sighing inwardly when I saw that Officer Reynolds was with the teacher. Some of the guards were fair, treating us okay, but some, like the asshole in front of me, got off on making us remember which side of the bars we were on. But I figured I’d been inside for five years—Reynolds was in for life, even if he did get to leave every night. Once I was out of this sewer, that was it, done. I was never coming back. Not again. My gaze drifted to the woman standing next to the Warden’s poster boy for prison brutality. She looked nervous, but was trying to hide it by standing straight, keeping her chin up, meeting a man’s eyes without prejudice or promise. I turned away. Sure, it was nice to have a female to look at, but anything longer than a quick glance would have Reynolds burning my ass. Besides, she wasn’t my type. I liked my women to look like women: tall, with tits and ass, big hair, lush lips, and a ballsy attitude. The new teacher was kind of small, although she had a nice rack. Her hair was a pretty auburn color, but it was short, not even chin length. Nothing for a man to grab onto. And not a scrap of makeup. A man dreamed about scarlet lips in a place like this. I could see her hands shaking as she stood behind the desk, holding onto her schoolbag like it would save her from drowning. Not in this classroom, sweetheart. She wouldn’t last. She looked as if a stiff breeze would blow her over. Reynolds rapped his baton on the desk to get our attention, but the only person who jumped was the new teacher. I was amused to see a warm flush rise up her cheeks. I could tell by the irritated glance she threw Reynolds’ way that she was annoyed with him as well as herself. Reynolds looked as though he was about to start one of his lectures, telling us how we was shit and not worth the money spent on keeping our asses in prison, but the woman stepped from behind the desk and started talking. “Hello, class,” she said, walking to the front as her blush faded. “My name is Miss Newsome…” My mouth dropped open, and every swivel-eyed pervert in the room was transfixed by our new teacher. She had the smallest waist hovering over the biggest ass I’d ever seen. Hourglasses didn’t have anything on her. I scrubbed my hands over my face. One hour of sheer hell coming up. “I wish I did knew some her ass,” mumbled Cooper from the back of the room, echoing the thoughts of every man here. “Who said that?” roared Reynolds, stalking down the gap between the desks that were bolted to the floor. “Cooper, you show some goddamn respect or you’ll be spending the next six weeks in solitary!” Reynolds’ face had turned a reddish-purple, and I wondered if we’d be lucky enough to watch him stroke out. Movie night had been cancelled for the last month, so the boredom level was at an all-time high. But then the teacher cleared her throat, her voice stronger although still high pitched with tension. “As I was saying, my name is Miss Newsome, and I’ll be your teacher for the rest of the semester…” “We ain’t got no semesters here,” muttered Chiverson. “Just one-to-three for felony assault.” Reynolds growled out another threat. Miss Newsome ignored him, approaching the front row, giving those lucky bastards a ring-side view of a knee-length charcoal gray skirt stretched tight over those wide hips, and a plain white shirt that did nothing to hide her fuck-me curves. She was obviously trying to go for spinster, but she’d lucked out on sexy librarian instead. I was doomed. I’d never pass my GED with her as my teacher. I raised my eyes to the ceiling, praying to some higher power that I definitely didn’t believe in. It was only when the room went silent, no man even breathing, that I realized she’d stopped by my seat. “Am I boring you already, Mr. … Garrett?” I saw her eyes dip to the number printed across my prison scrubs before checking her clipboard for my name. I didn’t know which surprised me more—hearing her say my name, calling me ‘mister’, or the sass in her voice as she did it. Girl was tougher than she looked. Yep, screwed. Royally fucking screwed. I realized that she was still waiting for an answer. “No,” I said, dropping my eyes to her hips, before squeezing my eyelids shut. “I mean, no, ma’am.” “Good!” she said brightly. “I look forward to your full participation in this class.” “Party— what?” asked Jakowski, sitting at the desk next to me, his voice hopeful. Her eyes softened a fraction as she turned in his direction, and I couldn’t help noticing that they were large and brown, like a puppy or Bambi’s mom before she got shot. Ah, shit. “Participation,” she said calmly. “It means that I want everyone to join in during my classes, not sit there thinking about what you’re having for dinner.” A soft rumble of amusement rippled through the room. Reynolds looked furious. But then again, that was pretty much his resting bitch-face. “I’ll do my best to keep the lessons interesting,” she went on. “But we have a lot of work to get through. I know you’re all up to the challenge because you’ve been specially selected—you guys are my top class.” I looked up at that. I’d never been top of anything, unless it was a hot woman. I saw a lot of the other guys eyeing her with disbelief and mistrust, too. “I mean it,” she said softly, as we all hung on her every word. “Mr. Michaels, the Warden, is very keen that everyone in this class gets their GED. It’s my job to make sure that you do. But I’ll need your cooperation to achieve that. I promise that I’ll make every effort to help you, but you all need to promise me that you’ll try, as well. So, I don’t want anyone in this classroom sitting silently because they don’t understand. If you have a question, you raise your hand. Please remember that you learn by asking questions. Don’t be macho about it—ignorance isn’t bliss.” I felt her gaze on me again, but I kept my head down. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Garrett?” I didn’t like her picking on me, and I frowned at my rough hands clasped together on the empty desk. “Answer her, boy!” snarled Reynolds, rapping his baton next to my fingers, making me snatch them away fast. “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the buttons of Reynolds’ uniform to keep from punching the bastard. Yep, those eighteen months of mandatory anger management classes had gotten through to me: think first, punch later when you won’t get caught. Miss Newsome cleared her throat, bringing attention back to her. I drew in a breath, and as she drifted past me, the faint scent of summer flowers hung in the air. I didn’t think she was wearing perfume, so it must have been her shampoo or soap, but whatever it was, the smell was all woman. I breathed deeply again, feeling a mixture of anger and dizziness at having something so enticing, near but out of reach. “Those of you who graduate my class will have the opportunity to move on to college-level courses.” At that point, most of us lost interest. We hadn’t succeeded in school and we hadn’t succeeded in life. What made this college-educated bitch think she could give us anything we needed? Sensing she was losing us, she went on brightly, her voice a little more shrill than it had been a minute before. “And I’ll be looking out for a teacher’s aide as we go on—so maybe you can impress the heck out of me.” Looking around at the bored, disconnected expressions of the other prisoners, it seemed unlikely. “Okay, so I thought I’d start off with a poem by Oscar Wilde, ‘The Ballad of Reading Gaol’.” Her voice gained strength as she read, but fuck me, what a depressing fucking poem. I listened to the rise and fall of her voice, but I tuned out most of the words.

“I never saw a man who looked

With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.”

That penetrated—so many times I’d looked up at the patch of sky above the exercise yard and tried to remember what it felt like to be free. Free to stare up at the sky and not have to watch my back at the same time. From the corner of my eye, I saw a black guy I didn’t know raise his hand, making the teacher stutter and pause. “Yes, Mr. … Haslett?” “Ma’am, we already know all about prison. Rather we’d study somethin’ else.” Her mouth popped open and her eyes screwed up. Ah hell! Surely she wasn’t going to cry? If she did, she’d never put a foot in this classroom again. “Oh,” she huffed, sounding flustered. “Yes, I see.” I was fascinated by a bead of sweat that escaped her hairline, running down her cheek and disappearing into her prim collar. I expected her to wipe it away with those long, slim fingers. But she acted like she hadn’t noticed, even though the classroom was rank with humidity, sweat and failure. “I just thought…” she waffled on. “I thought … no, you’re right. Well, we could study a poem about love—about love and hate? Would that be better?” The black guy twitched a shoulder. “You’re the teacher.” Miss Newsome laughed. It was such a bright sound, easy, such a contrast to the tense, angry or bored voices I heard around me the rest of the day. Something tightened in my chest. Six months. Six more months, then maybe I can find myself a woman who laughs so free and easy. I enjoyed the view of Miss Newsome’s ass as she walked back to her desk, the rhythmical sway of those full hips, the way her skirt swung around her knees. Pretty fucking mesmerizing. She started rummaging through her enormous pile of books. Her lips were moving, and I guessed that she was talking to herself. Her pile was huge, and she was in danger of tipping over. But the thought of her ending ass up across her desk made my prison uniform uncomfortably tight. And if the expressions of the guys around me were anything to go by, she was having the same effect on them. Miss Newsome had better watch her cute ass and not get caught in an empty classroom with any of these goons. There’s only so much restraint a man has. I frowned at the thought of someone violating teacher-lady. No, that pissed me off. Goddammit! Now I’d feel obliged to keep an eye on her. I slumped in my seat, sighing heavily, only noticing the stink-eye she gave me when Hudson elbowed me in the ribs again, grinning broadly. She snapped open the book she was holding like she was about to shank me with it, and with a final glare, began to read. “Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.” She lowered the book, her face flushed, and when she glared in my direction again, I guessed she must still be mad at me. Great. “The poet, Robert Frost, was inspired by the fourteenth-century Italian poet Dante and his description of Hell. The worst offenders—traitors—are in a fiery hell while bound in ice. And isn’t that contradiction an apt description of love?” There was a moment of silence before anyone spoke. “That poem is the shit, ma’am!” said a guy to my right. “Like how a woman gets you all hot and angry, then freezes your ass off ‘cause you didn’t get her the right kind of candy. And how it gets you fired up that she can be so cold, and all you can think of is warming her up till she burning like a Fourth of July firework.” “Yeah, and then you blow your fucking load and it’s a loud bang and all over,” laughed another guy. “Watch your damn mouth, Fisher!” Reynolds yelled. “You will respect your teacher and keep your language clean.” “It’s fine, really,” Miss Newsome said weakly. Reynolds turned to her slowly. “With all due respect, ma’am, these animals will take advantage any chance they get. You’ve got to let ‘em know who’s boss.” She flushed with anger and embarrassment, but for the rest of the lesson, she could hardly get a word out of anyone; no one wanted to be on the wrong side of Reynolds. No one wanted to end up in solitary on his watch. It was the quietest poetry discussion that I’d ever seen. And I couldn’t even spell party— partycipation… As the bell rang for chow time, the little teacher looked almost desperate. “Thank you all for today,” she said, smiling like she’d just chewed on a juicy lemon. “I’m afraid there’s homework—but nothing too much for the first time. I’d like you all to write a page on the subject of ‘the best day of my life’.” Benson raised his hand. “Was it when you graduated college, Miss?” “What? Oh no! I mean what was the best day of your life?” Benson stared at her gravely. “Well, let me see now; I been incarcerated for nineteen years, and might get paroled next winter. I’ll have been in stir more than half my life. Ain’t been a whole lot of best days.” She blinked rapidly, then gave him a soft smile. “Maybe you’d like to imagine what your best day would be like?” He stared back at her, then nodded solemnly. “I reckon I’d like that just fine.” She smiled with relief. “Good, good. And the same goes for the rest of you. If you want to imagine your best day instead, that’s okay by me.” As we filed out of the room, Reynolds watching our backs like the answer to the Universe was written on them, the teacher gave us each a lined sheet of paper and a blunt pencil. “Write small,” she teased. When she handed me my paper, her smile slipped. And I can’t tell you how bad it hurt that she’d smile for every motherfucker in here, but not for me.

About the Author:

Jane is a writer of contemporary romance fiction, known for thoughtful stories, often touching on difficult subjects: disability (DANGEROUS TO KNOW & LOVE, SLAVE TO THE RHYTHM); mental illness (THE EDUCATION OF CAROLINE, SEMPER FI); life after prison (LIFERS); dyslexia (THE TRAVELING MAN, THE TRAVELING WOMAN).

She is also a campaigner for former military personnel to receive the support they need on leaving the services. She wrote the well-received play LATER, AFTER with former veteran Mike Speirs. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk1CyB8c0xA )

Author Links:

Web: http://janeharveyberrick.co.uk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jharveyberrick

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JHBWrites/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/search/pins/?q=jane%20harvey-berrick

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jharveyberrick/

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6458246.Jane_Harvey_Berrick

Amazon Author Page:

https://www.amazon.com/Jane-Harvey-Berrick/e/B00A6RIMUC

[ghoultyrant]

FoZ Notes 18

Alright, we finally are having the plot start moving. Kinda. In any event a decent amount of stuff I felt like making notes of is happening.

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

Saito literally glowing after him and Louise affirm their love. Neither of them notices. [You know, I’d forgotten about this because it doesn’t come back]

Fouquet giving money to Romalian orphans out of kindness. This is apparently just a thing with her. Oh, excuse me, to Albionese orphans in Romalia. So she's got loyalty to her country, I guess?

Also, Wardes is back. Apparently him and Fouquet have been hanging out in Romalia for... some reason... since Albion lost the war. He's been reading some secret Romalian book detailing historical events involving people revolting against Church power etc, among other books he's been reading in this period. Apparently Fouquet stole it for him.

Wardes mother was a researcher at the same facility Eleanore works at. She researched history (I guess she was an archeologist?) and 'earth history' (??), eventually went crazy, sexist commentary ensued because the author STILL cannot make up his goddamn mind. It's heavily hinted that the Wind Stone Catastrophe I've been spoiled on is her Go Mad From The Revelation moment, which she for some reason decided to not tell anyone about. Wardes is now trying to follow in her footsteps. Why? Because he semi-accidentally killed her when he was twelve by giving her a shove at the top of some stairs, so he's felt guilty ever since.

So. The fuck does that have to do with his original plot of wanting to become God-King of Halkeginia? [No, the story makes no attempt to explain what his original storyline was about]

Romalia knew Wardes and Fouquet were here the whole time, did nothing until just now because Reasons.

Josette has never felt happiness in her entire life. It takes her a bit to recognize it when she first experiences it. She's fully aware Julio is just using her, but loves him such that she's fine with that, which would be creepysweet except she's like the fifth such character at this point, so really it's just plain creepy. Especially since they're all women.

I am getting REAL damn tired of Romalia knowing everything everywhere all the time EXCEPT when they fail to know a thing that it would actually be plausible for them to guess at. (eg Joseph being the Gallion Void mage) The story almost never makes the slightest effort to justify it. It's ridiculous.

More generally, Julio is a goddamn Sue of the highest order. More so than Saito! That's nuts!

Isabella has a knife that talks. Unclear if it's a knife-person or just a knife-radio. Later narrative implies it's a radioknife.

Tabitha saying she isn't foolish enough to help a religious fanatic -to the Pope. Gutsy.

The Pope replacing Tabitha with Josette is intended as a plot to bait out Saito and company because of fucking course.

Guiche views stealthy action as un-noble. No wonder he's so shit at his attempts to court a zillion women without them knowing about each other.

Oh hey now WE are using 'Skillnir' to fool enemies. Skillnir apparently require blood from the person you're wanting them to imitate... which raises the question of how Romalia got a sample of Saito's blood without him knowing. This is a dumb plotpoint.

Kirche will fucking murder you if you kill Tabitha. No hesitation. That's pretty darn close, emotionally! It’s more emotion than she’s shown for, say, Colbert, who I’ve utterly failed to mention her having the hots for after his ridiculous non-death because it’s an idiot plotline.

Saito is fucking baffled by someone having seemingly changed their face with magic. Don't think too hard about how Louise told him about the bastard-hiding place with its face-changing magic, you know, last volume. That was a whole volume ago, how dare you expect the author to remember things from so far back!

Abruptly, we're told Earth Stones are a thing and are necessary for golem production. Okay, cool. Fuck you, you horrific piece of shit, this is either some of the worst planning I have ever seen or some of the most blatant, disrespectful retconning I have ever seen. We should've been hearing about this in Volume Fucking One. Volume Two at the latest, where we were introduced to Wind Stones. We should not be hearing this nonsense in VOLUME EIGHTEEN.

Abruptly we hear that the Pope, when traveling, has to stop and bless people, thank people, etc etc. Why has this never cropped up before, then?

Chikasui -the girl of face-changing and Isabella's right-hand woman as far as I can tell- showing up as a man. Is she a shaspeshifter?

You know, I only just realized the "Mountain of the Fire Dragon" is actually something we heard about back in Volume One. Holy Continuity, Batman!

Really annoyed that Tabitha being pulled from the Pope's carriage doesn't cause Vittorio's men to second-guess their loyalties. Their outrage seems to be over, essentially, casting aspersions upon a man who should be beyond reproach, and then the aspersion turns out to be true. They ought to be horrified and/or outraged to discover that Vittorio has abused the trust that everyone puts into him, NOT blithely, angrily fighting for him like nothing has changed. [Reader note: Saito and company accuse the Pope of kidnapping Tabitha, basically, the Paladins are all “His Holiness would NEVER and how dare you claim otherwise!” and then out comes Tabitha and they don’t acknowledge how this contradicts their belief in the man]

Also getting tired of Vittorio and Julio insisting people should trust them, as they totally have a good reason for it honest! Nope, don't care. Behave in a manner not worthy of mistrust before you demand trust, assholes.

I'd be thrilled to see Saito calling Julio on his manipulative womanizing bullshit if he wasn't a massive goddamn hypocrite. Also because it devolving into a fist fight while Tabitha, Kirche, and Louise stand by and watch is idiotic nonsense. Earthquake interrupt! Vittorio makes a comment that implies this is the Wind Stone Catastrophe. Specifically, Fire Dragon Mountain takes off. Julio claims this Wind Stone issue is why they need to retake the holy land... which explains fucking nothing.

Ugh.

Ridiculous claims that half the landmass of Halkeginia will rise up and this will cause a land war. Guys? You remember Albion? That place people live on right now? I know you do, because you're mentioning it in this conversation. In fact, this will INCREASE the amount of land available to Halkeginia! There will definitely be chaos and death, but you're all wrong ANYWAY.

Oh and we learn Brimir made a device that's in the holy land that requires four Void Mages to activate and which will somehow fix this. Dude. It's been 6000+ years. Even shaving it down to 5000 since Halkeginian years are shorter than Earth years, that's way the fuck too long. It's probably rust and dust, or at least buried. This should be obvious to everyone. Yes, I know, there’s those stupid preservation spells, but the plot itself seems to have entirely forgotten about them.

Why did all this stupid shit happen? Because! In true Shonen style, Julio wanted to fight Saito! Okay, so? What, Vittorio obligingly did a bunch of pointless bullshit to accommodate his familiar secretly being hijacked by an Entity? This is not an explanation that makes any kind of sense.

Of fucking course there's a spell for turning a wand's tip into a whip. And of course Eleanore knows it. As an aside, Malicorne is a masochist. It looked that way for several volumes, but A: I thought he was nobody important, a temporary character and B: it was ambiguous. Nope, he likes being whipped. sigh

Aaaand Louise saying she's "not a child anymore" seems to be taken by everyone as a shocking admission that she's had sex. Oh god she's had sex with Saito. I need brain bleach.

Naturally, Tristain digging into the Wind Stone issue causes them to agree to participate in the Crusade. This is stupid. The stupidity is unending. I'm having trouble making myself keep reading in the face of the biggest, most world-building-est plot twist of the series being such a crock of shit on every level.

Luctiana gets Ali to accept this mission he hates by virtue of refusing to marry him if he denies her the "greatest adventure" she can imagine. Because she wants to come along too, you see. Bidashal Just As Planned this, pretends innocence when Ali calls him on it. [Wait, did I mention Luctiana and Ali before? I don’t remember that being in my previous notes, did I lose the original notes or is this misplaced? In any event they’re both Elves. Luctiana has a fascination with ‘barbarians’, which is her entire character aside from being pedobait, while Ali has basically no character at all]

Oh fuck no. No, don't have Louise throw away her noble title to be with Saito. This is heinous bullshit. (Okay, it doesn't actually happen, but that Louise would consider it worth it horrifies me regardless)

Something I ought to have mentioned back on Volume One: magic lamps. Thing is? They've never been explained. Who makes them? Why are they in noble houses/institutions, but nowhere else? What powers them, given that magic is chant-based? They're just... present, and questionable worldbuilding.

Elves murdering bandits. Ali purports to dislike killing, but none of the Elves seem upset at the gruesome deaths they're inflicting. Wow, what pacifists. I am very convinced.

End volume 18.

------------------------- In which we finally learn about the Wind Stone Catastrophe and learn that Romalia's Crusade is not just fanatical religiousness. Oh and we finally see a bit of Elf culture/lands.

Alternative summary: Stupid Nonsense Pileup. Like a thirty-car pileup, but of stupid nonsense.