#last night i booted up hotel dusk and like

[bmpmp3]

the thing about me is i adore rotoscoped animation with all my heart

[musings-from-mars]

@pollinationweek 2021: Day 1 - Band AU

They had been stranded here on the side of the road for a while now, and Ruby was not handling the fact that their van was seemingly broken down well, all while they were still hours away from their gig. “What do we do?” She asked for perhaps the twentieth time as she paced, her boots thump-thumping against the asphalt.

“We buy a new van,” Weiss grumbled, content with just staring at her girlfriend’s butt as Yang draped herself over the front of the van to check under the hood.

“About a week too late with that idea,” Blake said, also content with staring at Yang’s butt.

“Hey now,” Yang’s voice echoed from inside the van’s inner workings, her feet kicking up behind her. Her jeans were getting caught on the metal, revealing the top few inches of her plaid boxer shorts. So attractive… “I can fix this, don’t worry. I know Big Berty inside and out.”

Big Berty was an early-2000s era transit van with two hundred thousand miles on the odometer and a chipping coat of black paint. It was practically held together by Yang’s very hopes and dreams, and a liberal amount of duct tape.

“Yang, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Weiss said as she stepped closer, glanced down into the van skeptically, diligently avoiding getting any van dirt on her white runners jacket. “Unless you can do magic, we’re not getting anywhere. We should just call a tow truck.”

“How much will that cost,” Blake asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Weiss assured her, alluding to her ability to still access her rich family’s fortune despite being disinherited. It would require a couple calls to a sympathetic butler and a particularly tech-savvy groundskeeper at her family’s manor, but she could acquire funds in an emergency.

“Okay, but how long is it going to take?” Blake added, pulling out her phone. “Because wherever we are, it’s nowhere close to a cell tower, so I don’t think a tow trunk is nearby either.”

“Ye of such little faith,” Yang said, then she tried to shift her position, yelped with pain, fell backwards and bumped the top of her head on the hood of the van. “Fuck!”

Weiss was the one closest by and caught Yang in her arms. “Careful, you dunce!”

Yang gritted her teeth as she rubbed her head with her hand. Then she sighed as she looked at Weiss, their faces close. “Heheh…okay, I’ll admit it. I think Big Berty is taking an impromptu sabbatical.”

“You mean it finally clunked out and we can get a new van?” Blake asked hopefully.

“I didn’t say that!” Yang said defensively, then stared at Weiss a little more. She sniffed and started to feign tears. “Don’t make me give up my Big Berty Baby, Weiss.”

“Someone catch her, I’m about to drop her,” Weiss deadpanned.

Blake volunteered to assume Yang cradling duties as Weiss sighed dramatically and turned to Ruby. “Hey, we’ll be fine. This is why we leave for long trips a day early, remember?”

“But it’s almost nightfall,” Ruby said, looking up at the orange dusk. “Even if we make it in time, we’ll have so little sleep. Gods, this is gonna suck, we’re gonna suck, I’m gonna suck…”

Weiss stepped closer, taking Ruby by the shoulders. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry so much.”

Ruby’s cheeks turned a faint pink, but she shook her head. “I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Weiss looked to the side and pressed her lips together. She remembered the last time they’d had a mishap. It wasn’t a big performance, just a local set at a club back home. But a combination of equipment mishaps, some rowdy club goers, and Ruby being on two hours of sleep at best made for a rough night. “This will be different, Ruby,” Weiss assured her. “We’re far better prepared now. We’ve got this.” She punctuated her point by leaning forward and giving her a light kiss. “Now come sit down while Blake calls the tow truck.”

“I just said I don’t have service,” Blake called while slowly lowering Yang to the ground since their drummer seemed to refuse to stand up.

Weiss pulled her phone from her pocket and threw it to Blake with a tremendous amount of trust that she would catch it. “I have service.”

Blake caught the phone with one hand and looked at her phone. “Full bars? How?”

Weiss didn’t answer, instead turning back to Ruby, who was calmer and more flushed-faced now. “Come sit on the tailgate with me. Maybe if you play something for fun that might help you settle a little more?”

Ruby’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, but she smiled and nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

While Blake called a towing company, Yang stayed on the asphalt for a little floor time, and Weiss and Ruby sat on the back of the van. Ruby had her acoustic guitar in her lap, strumming random tunes and chords as Weiss sat with her, her head on her shoulder. She chuckled as she listened to Ruby play. “You know what would be funny?”

“Hmm?” Ruby turned her head toward Weiss, pausing her playing to listen.

“What if we recorded a song right here? Like, on our future album or something, just out in the middle of nowhere?”

Ruby blinked and looked where she was looking. Besides the road, there was nothing but grass and trees as far as the eye could see. “It is pretty quiet,” Ruby agreed.

“Once we hit it big time, you know?” Weiss continued. “It would be a cool way to remember moments like this, just us in Yang’s shitty van. But hopefully by that time, we’ll have a bus or something.”

“Aww, but then we wouldn’t have to sleep in a pile like we do in the back of the van,” Ruby said with a giggle.

“Says who?” Weiss joked, smiling and kissing Ruby’s cheek. Ruby smiled and leaned against her, then returned to strumming on her guitar, playing a few chords from one of their songs that sounded a bit odd on acoustic, but was nice to listen to either way. Weiss even joined in and sang softly, though it was nowhere near her performance level register, like a soft lullaby. By now, Ruby’s worries about arriving on time had faded. Sitting here while Weiss sang was just fine with her.

Soon, Blake rounded the back of the van and sighed. “Tow truck is coming, should be about an hour-and-a-half.”

“That long?” Ruby asked as she stopped playing abruptly. Weiss sat upright as she looked up at Blake.

“We really are in the middle of nowhere,” Blake said, taking Weiss’ phone from her button-up flannel’s breast pocket and handing it back to her. “I also called the hotel and told them we’d be in late.”

“Should we…cancel the hotel to pay for the tow truck?” Ruby asked like it pained her to say. She set her guitar aside and hopped to the gravel ground, straightening her plaid skirt.

“I told you, I’ve got it handled,” Weiss assured her.

“Sorry, I’m just…” Ruby took a deep breath. “I’m anxious about us missing our gig, or running out of money…”

“Yang,” Blake called out, cupping her mouth with her hand. “Stop taking a road nap and come comfort your sister.”

A few seconds later came the thump thump thump of Yang’s boots, followed by her capturing Ruby in a hug. “Don’t worry sis, it’ll be alright!”

“Egh…loosen up…” Ruby grunted as Yang proceeded to lift her up and crush her rib cage.

“Whoop, my bad.” She gently placed Ruby down and patted her head. “But seriously, though, we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the only gig we have lined up, we have savings, we have, erm, a rich girl.” She gestured at Weiss, who rolled her eyes at her. “We’re good, okay?”

Ruby sighed and looked down, shuffling her feet on the gravel shoulder of the road. “I guess you’re right. I just worry too much…”

Blake stepped up and hugged her from behind. “Hey, while we wait, what do you say we put on some music, raid our snack stash and have a chill sesh until the tow truck arrives?”

Ruby smiled and leaned back into Blake’s arms. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Yang grinned and pulled Weiss into a rough side hug. “Yeah, let’s have a chill sesh!”

Weiss grunted and tried shove herself away from Yang. “No sesh is chill if you’re involved, and you smell like the inside of Berty.”

“Aww come on, you love me,” Yang said as her strength overcame Weiss and pulled her into a proper hug.

“That’s irrelevant!” She claimed feebly, failing to hide the smile that was overtaking her face.

Blake hummed with amusement, then kissed the top of Ruby’s head. “How bout you pick that guitar back up. Maybe that’ll calm them down.”

“You think so?” Ruby asked with a giggle, watching as Weiss still flailed in Yang’s embrace.

“Worth a shot.”

~~~

An hour later, Weiss had fallen asleep in Yang’s arms. The two had laid down in the back of the van on the mattress, and after Weiss got through with her complaining and Yang had pared back her teasing, they’d settled into a close cuddling position and were asleep soon after. Ruby’s soft playing probably helped, as did the gentle breeze that had begun to blow through. The sun was almost set by now, bathing the sky in a deep graying blue.

Blake sat behind Ruby, holding her around the waist she she played with her legs to the sides. She was playing a slow, light tune, low in pitch and a careful rhythm that came and went like a tree swaying in the wind. Blake had said it many times to her before and Ruby never believed her, but Ruby really was the best guitar player Blake had ever met. Even while casually playing while stranded on the side of a road, her music was masterful. Blake felt so lucky to just get to hear it. “I love you,” she whispered.

Ruby hummed and smiled, continuing to play as she spoke, “I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” Blake said, kissing Ruby just above the temple.

Ruby chuckled quietly. “For what?”

“I mean,” Blake said as she began to reminisce. “You’re kinda the reason this is all real. If you hadn’t been crazy enough to convince us all to abandon our sensible career choices and form a rock band, I never would have gotten the chance to fall in love with you three.”

“I did kinda ruin all of your lives, huh?” Ruby said with a giggle. Her playing was slowing and getting quieter.

“Hardly,” Blake said, tightening her embrace around Ruby a little. “Because of you, Weiss got away from her dickhole father, Yang escaped the fate of becoming some bored shop mechanic, and I, well…I’d be in a shitty apartment doing nothing.”

“You’d still be writing,” Ruby pointed out.

“Maybe. ADHD doesn’t do well without motivating factors,” Blake said and Ruby nodded knowingly. “This band, though? My girls? That’s all the motivation I need. I’ve never been this happy.”

Ruby smiled, now no longer playing, her hands frozen in playing position. She didn’t realize she had stopped. “We wouldn’t even get to be stranded here in who-knows-where if not for me, huh?”

Blake giggled and kissed her head again. “Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the wind blow. It was properly nighttime now, stars dotting the sky.

Ruby yawned, finally setting her guitar aside. “Honestly…I’d be okay just sleeping here tonight.”

Blake hummed, turning her girlfriend so she could cradle her sideways in her lap. “Sounds inviting. But a hotel room with a bathroom sounds even more inviting.”

Ruby shuddered. “Don’t say that, I’m trying not to think about needing to use one of those bushes for cover.”

Blake snorted, looking down at Ruby’s face. “You’re such a dork.” She leaned down and kissed her softly, cupping the back of Ruby’s head with her hand. Ruby hummed into the kiss, then placed a hand on Blake’s shoulder and pushed. Blake slowly leaned back until she was lying on the mattress as well, with Ruby parting from the kiss and adjusting to lie on her chest.

“So you’re really happy?” Ruby whispered, her hand resting in the center of Blake’s chest with Blake covering it with her own, she stared up at the Edison bulbs they had strung along the upper trim of the van’s interior, bathing them in warm light.

“Ruby, being in this band is a dream come true. Being in this polycule is a dream come true. Hell, being here right now is like a dream,” she smiled and tugged Ruby a little closer. “I’m more than happy.”

Ruby snickered. “Sappy.”

“I know.” She turned her head to look towards her other two girlfriends, Yang on her side and facing towards them, face partially obstructed by blonde hair, with Weiss held close to her chest, the girl’s back to Blake and Ruby and her face tucked against Yang’s shirt. For a pair who loved to bicker, they sure knew how to cuddle.

Ruby noticed Blake staring and smiled. “I’m happy, too. To get to do something like this with my sister and our girlfriends, I just…” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Dream come true, like you said.”

“Sappy,” Blake teased.

“You started it,” Ruby joked, tucking her nose closer to Blake.

They faded into a natural silence, and soon, Ruby was asleep on Blake’s chest. Blake figured she’d try to stay awake so she’d notice the tow truck arrive, but no way was she moving from this spot until then. The music, the performances, the travel was all fulfilling and exciting, but these moments with her girlfriends were what made it all truly worth it.

Even if Yang was kind of a snorer. And Ruby was kind of a drooler. And Weiss was…Weiss. They were her girls. She loved them with every inch of her sappy heart.

[lostwithoutyouherewriter]

Seaside Kingdom: Chapter 7 Preview!

(Preview of the upcoming chapter for "Escape to the Seaside Kingdom," a Peachline Romance, on AO3)

Despite charging the shot with all of her rage, Pauline swung the racket and missed the escort by the skin of her perfect body. Clearly, Captain Syrup had anticipated the coming strike, swinging her firm arms and legs through the air as she cartwheeled through the hall, landing in an elegant straight stand across from the mayor.

Unfortunately, there was nothing elegant in the movements of Pauline, who took one last wild swing and lost her bath towel in the process.

As the towel fluttered to the floor, Syrup whistled in admiration, her eyes traveling up and down Pauline’s naked body, clearly enjoying the view. 

“Shiver me timbers,” said the captain in that breathy, sensual accent of hers. “Who knew you had the fighting spirit to match such a lovely figure?”

Pauline twisted her hands around the rubber grip, ready to clobber the villainess if she took one step forward. But the more she thought about it, she wondered if this hussy was even worth the effort. One call to the Security Toads stationed nearby would send this captain flying overboard, and she wouldn’t have to break a sweat. Either way, she would make Syrup regret her decision to infiltrate their hotel.

So why did she hesitate? What was holding her back from inflicting every revenge upon this backstabbing beauty? Surely it wasn’t desire, a lingering sensation of attraction from their evening together. How could she think about those gorgeous curves at a time like this, bound in tight leggings that shimmered like dusk? And what good was the memory of the escort’s tanned bosom, such smooth, succulent skin hiding beneath that purple tube top, when all of their loving had turned to a night of terror?

“Leave us alone, do you hear me?” said Pauline, every word dripping with hatred. The racket trembled in her hands. “Just go away!”

Captain Syrup held up her hands. “Wait, please. I came to explain.”

“What is there to explain? You drugged me! You left me to those goons!”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” said the escort, and for a second, Pauline almost believed her. “They… they own us, you see? They control everything that goes on in that club, so when they told me to slip that sleeping powder into your drink, I couldn’t say no. I… I can never say no.”

It was refreshing to hear the woman speak like a normal person. Perhaps Syrup was finally laying her cards on the table, stripping out of the sea captain persona and standing before Pauline completely exposed.

But making herself vulnerable was a truly stupid move, and Pauline bared her teeth like an urban tigress. “It wasn’t sleeping powder. It was a poison mushroom.”

All of the color drained from Syrup’s dark complexion. “Oh my stars. Madame Mayor, if I had known—”

“—you wouldn’t be able to say no.” Pauline stepped back, ready to slam the door on this sexy captain once and for all. “Go f*** yourself, lady. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”

With surprising grace and speed, the escort stuck out her foot and jammed the door open with her stiletto boots. “No, hear me out. You can hate me all you want, but you’re going to want to listen to my offer.”

Pauline pushed against the door. “Not interested.”

“Not even to take down Wario and the rich suit who hired him?”

This prospect created a stillness between them. Syrup was silent, and Pauline no longer pushed the woman out of her life. Instead, she contemplated. She studied the lines of the escort’s face, searching for any signs of deceit, weighing the price of trusting this woman once more against her better judgment.

The rich suit who hired Wario… It could only be Swanky Kong. If there was a chance to wreck his campaign, the same way he tried to ruin her life, should she take it? Was the safety of her city worth taking that chance?

Pauline breathed out, flaring her nostrils, and reluctantly opened the door. 

“This had better be good.”

You can read the story up until this point on AO3:

[katymacsupernatural]

Under the Stars

Dean Winchester x Reader

1400 Words

Written For: @spnquotebingo, @spngenrebingo

Squares Filled: I fell in love with you because you weren’t like anyone else (Quote), Campfire(Genre)

Warnings: None

Summary: Stuck out in the middle of the woods, Dean’s there to make sure everything is okay.

Branches snapped as you continued forward, your feet sinking into the soft forest floor. Pine needles pulled at your clothes, the mosquitoes buzzing around your skin. You were tired and miserable, and it didn’t seem like you were going back to your hotel room any time soon.

“You doing okay back there?” Dean called over his shoulder, leading the way through the thick foliage. His flannel sleeves were rolled back, his strong forearms covered in scratches. He had dirt smeared on his cheek but still seemed to be in fine spirits.

“Are we ever going to get back?” You whined. “It will be dark soon.”

Dean stopped, waiting for you to catch up to him. He rubbed his hands along your arms. “I think we took a wrong turn back there, but it shouldn’t be much longer. I promise. Then I’ll buy you whatever you want for dinner and we can relax in the room. Okay?”

Your smile was half-hearted. You weren’t mad at Dean, it wasn’t his fault. Neither of you had realized that a quick hunt in the woods would turn into a four-hour hike. Dean threaded his fingers with yours, tucking you under his shoulder. “Let’s keep moving.”

It wasn’t long before Dean was once again leading the way while you followed behind. The sun had already started to fade away, barely noticeable through the thick pine trees. It was chilly and damp, your flannel shirt no match for it.

Shivering, you wrapped your arms around your waist just as you broke into a clearing. You glanced around in anticipation, but no paved road or sleek black car was in sight. “Dean, face it. We’re lost,” you sighed. “Any reception?”

Dean held his phone up, his frown the only answer you needed. “What are we going to do?”

Dean spun in a circle, while you glanced on ahead. Another grove of trees was up ahead, the sun a cascading mixture of pink orange and red as it sunk down below. But it was the tire tracks and a built-up fire pit that had you excited. “Dean, look! Someone’s camped here!”

“Then we have to be getting close to civilization,” Dean agreed. “We could follow these tire tracks and hopefully get back to cell reception.”

“In the dark?” You shivered, thinking of everything that could be lurking around in the woods. “I guess. But it beats spending the night out here.”

“You’re right,” Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Better wait the night out, and try when we can see what we’re doing.”

You had never considered yourself to be a needy person. You never needed a five-star hotel or the fanciest clothes. But sleeping out here, in the middle of nowhere had your stomach churning with anxiety.

Dean must have noticed how unsure you were. Pulling you against him, he rubbed your back soothingly. “Listen, I know it’s not the greatest way to spend the night, but it’s better than getting lost even deeper in the woods. We have wood and a fire pit, and you have me. We’ll be fine. Oh, and I have snacks.”

“Snacks?” You were surprised, but then you shouldn’t have been. Dean always came prepared in case he got hungry. He dug in his duffel bag, pulling out a bag of peanut m&m’s, along with a couple of granola bars and a flask of whiskey. “See, we’ll be fine!”

He also pulled out his knife and a small blanket. “You are a lot more prepared than I figured,” You admitted. “But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

He gave you that smile of his you loved. It was a knowing smile, caught between a smirk and a full out grin. He saved it for those times he was caught showing off his brains, which he didn’t do enough to suit you. You liked it when he let his brainy side out.

“Be right back,” he promised, heading into the woods, while you cleared out a spot near the fire pit, settling the blanket down. With the sun setting the mosquitoes had quieted down for the night, the crickets chirping in the distance. If you weren’t so tired and child, you would have thought the night beautiful. But right now a cheap two-star hotel’s mattress sounded amazing to you.

Five minutes later Dean was back, his hands full of branches he had picked from the ground. He began placing them strategically in the pit, muttering under his breath as he worked. “You’ve done this before?” You asked, not picturing Dean as the camping type.

He shrugged. “Sure. There’s been nights where we’ve camped out in the woods rather than pay for a hotel room. Actually it’s kind of nice sleeping under the stars.”

You could already see the stars in the dusk sky, barely shining yet but there. “I don’t mind the stars. It’s the cold, the bugs and whatever else that’s out here that I’m worried about.”

Chuckling, Dean pulled out his lighter. “I think you’ll enjoy it. And then I promise you tomorrow you’ll get a nice hot shower and dinner wherever you want.”

“At the bunker? Your hamburger?” You asked, making Dean smile. “You got it sweetheart,” he promised. Taking some dried grass, he easily started the fire, impressing you. Leaning down, he blew gently on the small flame. The fire took off, and Dean settled down on the blanket, pulling on your hand until you were sitting beside him. Wrapping his arm around you, he offered you a handful of m&m’s.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” He asked you as night fully settled in. The fire crackled and sparked, casting shadows around the area. The stars were brighter now, and you had to admit. It was quite nice.

“For right now,” you agreed. “But later tonight?”

“I’ll be right beside you,” he assured you, squeezing your shoulder assuringly.

Sometime during the night, Dean wrapped you in the blanket, letting you use his lap as a pillow. He talked to you, stories of previous hunts. Funny things that Sam would have shot him if he heard his brother. He kept the fire burning, and with the warmth from it and him, you found yourself nodding off.

The sun was barely starting to filter through the trees behind you when Dean gently shook your shoulder. “It’s time to head out,” he spoke softly, his green eyes vibrant in the dawn light. Yawning, you sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulder. The fire had died down, only embers glowing a deep red. “Didn’t you get cold last night?” You asked, feeling horrible that he had suffered only to keep you safe and warm.

However, he shook his head no. “Between the fire and you beside me I was fine,” he assured you. “It was a nice night.”

Your body was a little sore and stiff as you stood up, but you didn’t mind. Reaching down, you helped Dean to his feet.“Dean, you’re something, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, using the toe of his boots to push dirt over the remaining coals. “No, really. You amaze me. You’re ability to adapt and change with each situation. Never giving up, always figuring out a way to make things work.”

Your comments were getting to him, you could tell. He kept rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, never looking your way. “Well, I’m sorry I get us into these situations to begin with. If I was a…,”

You didn’t let him finish, Grasping his arm with your hand, you forced him to look at you. “Dean, I fell in love with you because you weren’t like anyone else. Because of the huge heart you have, and the way you always fight for those you love. Like the fact that you stayed up all night, keeping the fire going to make sure I wouldn’t get cold.”

“You love me?” He whispered, and you nodded.

“I love you,” you told him again.

A huge smile broke out on his face. “I’ve been waiting forever to hear those words pass your lips. Y/N, I love you too.”

“You know what would make me love you even more?”

He shrugged. “If you got us out of here and found us breakfast,” you told him. Laughing, he wrapped up the blanket, handing you a granola bar before the two of you began the trek down the dirt road, not knowing the Impala was only a mile up ahead.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk  @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags:  @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl   @docharleythegeekqueen​ @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl​ @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @imsuperawkward​ @internationalmusicteacher​ @iwriteaboutdean​  @jayankles​ @jensen-gal​ @justsomedreaming​ @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu​ @linki-locks11​ @littleblue5mcdork​  @lowlyapprentice​   @maui137 @mersuperwholocked-lowlife​ @mogaruke​ @monkeymcpoopoo​ @musiclovinchic93​  @nanie5​   @percussiongirl2017​ @plaid-lover-bay25​   @roonyxx​ @ronja-uebrick​ @roxyspearing​ @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes​ @sandlee44​ @shamelesslydean​ @simonsbluee​ @sillesworldofwriting​ @sgarrett49​ @spnbaby-67​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @spnwoman​   @superbadassnatural​ @thatcrazybookwormgeek​   @thewinchesterchronicles​ @vvinch3st3r​ @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots​ @winchester-writes​ @zombiewerewolfqueen​

[sheerfreesia007]

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 53)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 53)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 2,907

Warnings: Fluff, Seductive words

Tags: @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​, @two-unbeatable-beaters​, @randomness501​, @sevvysaurus​, @paryl​, @talesfromtheguild​, @secretsihideinside​, @agingerindenial​

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711​, @fioccodineveautunnale​

Author Notes: You guys!!! I LOVED this chapter! Absolutely loved it and I am soooo excited to share it with you. I am so proud of this chapter. I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always welcome.

Gif Credit: Googel & Pinterest

         “So it’ll be an easy walk through the woods but if you need to stop just let me know. Alright darlin’?” Jack says as he parks the Bronco. It’s your third anniversary and Jack had suggested taking a nice quiet nature walk in the woods not far from your luxury hotel that he had whisked you away to. Jack had picked the same area that your first mission was in to take you on a small celebratory vacation. Smiling to yourself you slowly climb out of the Bronco and look around you at the woods in front of you. You smirk softly and look over at Jack as he begins to walk around the hood of the truck.

         “Are we going to the safehouse?” you ask playing dumb and tilt your head at him smirking. Your smirk deepens as you watch him falter in step and look up at your with wide eyes.

         “It was supposed to be a surprise.” He states with a grimace and a large happy smile forms on your face as he gets closer to you. Moving to him you wrap your arms around him both hands holding onto your cane as he wraps his arms around you. You both stare into each other’s eyes smiling softly.

         “C’mon Jack how was I not supposed to pick up on that?” you ask kindly. He looks at you with a guilty look on his face. “Besides you’re the most nostalgic and sentimental man I have ever met. I’m kinda surprised it’s taken you this long to get us back here.” You admit to him and his smile widens on his face. He knew you weren’t being unkind when you called him nostalgic and sentimental.

         “Alright Miss Know-It-All let’s get going then I wanna get there before it gets too dark to see.” He says as he rests a hand at your lower back and guides you to the tree line where you can see a hiking trail.

           The woods were beautiful in the late afternoon as you walked at a leisure pace. Jack walked next to you easily keeping pace and not rushing you. The thumping sound of your cane was muffled by the leaves that lined the forest floor. Thankfully there weren’t a lot of roots on this hiking trail so it wasn’t too much of a strain on your knee.

         The silence between you two was comforting and it made the woods around you feel like they were encasing you in their magic. You watched as shadows from the dense canopy of the trees danced along the ground, the light from the sun was only able to break through the canopy in certain areas and it casted sunbeams in the air that took your breath away. You could hear creatures scurrying away from you and Jack as you made your way further and further into the forest.

         The hushed atmosphere made you feel safe and as if you could tell any secret that you held close to your chest without anyone else hearing it. Smiling widely you darted your eyes over to Jack and studied him. He was dressed in a well-worn brown tweed vest over a hunter green button up shirt that he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, and a trusty pair of jeans. His look was completed with his old brown leather cowboy boots and his black Stetson. After seeing the man in suits all the time this was a nice change and you found your heart fluttering with affection to handsome you found him. Looking back down at your own dark wash boot cut jeans you smiled widely again before looking back up.

         “What tipped you off?” you asked with amusement as you two continued to walk. Jack looked over at you and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

         “Tipped me off about what?” he questioned confused. You let your eyes map out your path before turning your head towards him, you didn’t want to fall and injury yourself.

         “What tipped you off that you were in love with me?” you asked with a bright smile. Jack stared at you quietly and you suddenly became self conscious. “Well I mean it’s our three year anniversary together I figured it’d be a good day as any to open up about what brought us together.” You rattled off and waved your free hand out in front of you. You could feel your nerves sky rocketing and making you anxious, like you had overstepped somehow. But as your eyes darted up to look at Jack again you saw him smirking softly at you and you huffed knowing he was teasing you again. “Oh never mind, forget I asked.” You huffed softly shaking your head.

         “Oh no, no, no darlin’. You asked so I’m going to give you an answer.” Jack crooned at you in a soft warm voice and suddenly he was sweeping you up in his arms, spinning you around in the air. You laughed delightedly as he easily set you back down on your feet and looked down grinning at you. “Let’s see what tipped me off that I was in love with you?” he mused teasingly at you and you smirked softly at him as he lazily walked you backwards down the trail. “I would say it was when we sparred that time before our first mission together. I knew I was attracted to you and I was harboring a huge horrendous embarrassing crush on you for at least three months at that point. You were just adorable and sexy whenever you presented facts during briefings and I couldn’t get enough of you. I actually begged Tequila to let me tag along on some of your nights out with him just so I could get closer to you.” Jack explained almost embarrassed by what he was saying.

         You stared up at him in surprise though. You remembered that span of time that he was talking about. When Jack had started showing up to your hang outs with Tequila more often you had questioned Tequila about it but he had just shrugged you off saying that the older agent wanted to hang out while he was in town and the three of you often shared schedules. You hadn’t thought that Jack could actually be attracted to you, not when he was a productive senior agent and you were just an up and coming field agent former lab rat. The fact that he had confessed that he had a crush on you for three months kinda knocked you off kilter. Jack “Whiskey” Daniels was crushing on you while you were crushing on him.

         “Yeah I would say as soon as you managed to knock me on my ass during that sparring I was in love. In fact I’m pretty sure you knocked me head over heels in love with you when you did that.” Jack teased softly and you laughed delighted shaking your head. As Jack set you on your feet and steadied you before grasping your free hand softly in his and starting back on your path. “Yup I love it when a woman shows how strong she is and you besting me did that flawlessly.” He finished as he swung your hands between the two of you while you walked. You chuckled softly and looked down at the ground bashfully. “Now same question for you. What tipped you off that you were in love with me?” Jack questioned warmly as he turned his head towards you. Smiling you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

         “It was when I saw you knock into that brand new lab tech.” you said softly fondly remembering the instance. Jack looked at you confused and you smile widened. “And the fact that you don’t remember what I’m talking about speaks in further about your character.” You said proudly. “You were walking down by the labs on your way to the gym I would assume. You weren’t watching where you were going and crashed into this young lab tech that had just joined the lab. He was a nervous little thing now that I think back on it. But anyway he was carrying a whole stack of files and when you crashed into him all of his files fell to the floor and papers went everywhere. And while I thought you would continue on and not help him you proved me wrong and showed me a different side to you.” You explained softly still smiling widely at the memory you held of him. “You stayed and helped him clean up every last paper apologizing repeatedly as you helped. And when you had gotten every paper cleaned up you made sure that he was alright before you left to continue on wherever you were off to.” You continued telling him and noticed the warm smile on his face.

         “That’s what tipped you off? It wasn’t even a moment when it was with both of us?” he asked confused but still smiling. You nodded your head and licked your lips softly.

         “See by watching you help that lab tech it showed me that you are a compassionate man who helps out anyone and everyone. It showed me that you are a good man and someone that I could safely fall in love with.” You explained ardently as you gazed at him with love filled eyes.

         “Darlin’.” Jack said softly and you smiled shyly before tugging his hand to make him continue walking.

         “C’mon I can see the cabin from here.” You said softly trying to change the subject. Jack allowed you to continue leading him towards the cabin and while your back was turned to him he slipped his hand into his jeans pocket fingering the little jewelry box that was going to change both of your lives.

           It didn’t take the two of you very long to reach the cabin and thankfully it didn’t because the sun was beginning it’s descent in the sky. Dusk was quickly settling over the forest and you could feel the cold starting to creep in. Shivering softly you idly wondered how the two of you were going to get back to Jack’s Bronco in the dark. Choosing not to worry about and trusting Jack to get you home safely you reached for the door of the cabin.

         There was a soft glow coming from the two windows on the front side of the cabin and you tilted your head slightly at that before turning the knob and opening the front door of the cabin. When you walked inside you gasped softly.

         The cabin had been completely remodeled. It was still a one room cabin with a bathroom but the space had new floors, fresh paint and repairs to the windows and doors as well. You looked around the cabin in awe, fairy lights were hung along all the walls and over the large king sized bed that sat on the far right side of the cabin. The lights gave off a soft glow that seemed to encompass the whole cabin. You felt excitement bubble up inside of you at the surprise that you knew Jack had planned. Knowing that this man had put such thought into redoing the cabin where you first confessed your love for him made your chest tight and your heart beat rapidly.

         Turning slowly from where you stood you noticed the small round table that sat on the left side of the cabin by the kitchenette. You grinned widely as you saw the candle lit dinner that lay on it and turned to Jack who was watching you cautiously.

         “You did all this for me?” you asked softly still feeling the tightness in your chest. Jack smiled warmly at you and walked over to you. He cupped your cheeks softly in his hands and kissed you deeply.

         “I’d do anything for you.” He whispered against your lips once he pulled away.

         “Oh Jack.” You sighed out to him and he smiled widely at you.

         “C’mon darlin’ before the food gets cold.” He said softly.

         The two of you ate the delicious dinner that he had planned out for the two of you to celebrate your anniversary. It was a stunning meal of Chicken Parmesan over linguine. There was also champagne and desert waiting for the two of you once you finished your meal.

         “So who did you get to trek all the way out here to lay out our dinner in time for us to come here?” you asked teasingly and Jack smirked over at you across the table. His hand came up to thread his fingers with yours.

         “I can’t give up all of my surprises now can I darlin’?” he teased back at you and you grinned widely.

         “This is beautiful Jack. What made you redo the cabin?” you asked softly.

         “Well the safe house needed it. That night after we had slept here I went to Champ to talk about redoing it so it’d be comfortable for the next agent who had to stay here. Not to mention when you confessed to me I knew I would have to eventually bring you back here, and I wanted it to be redone for that time also.” He explained easily shrugging his shoulders.

         “Oh you knew that you would have to bring me back here, why?” you asked curiously as you turned in your chair to look over at the whole room of the cabin. It really was a lovely cabin now that it had been remodeled.

         “Well to ask you a very important question.” Jack said matter of factly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his words and turned back to ask him what he meant.

         But when you turned back Jack was kneeling on one knee next to your chair holding a small black velvet box open in his hand. You gasped as you took in his whole appearance. He was smiling tenderly at you and his eyes never strayed from your face. Yours darted all around his face taking him in.

         “Darlin’ from the moment I met you down in the lab that fateful day there was something about you that caught my attention. Now I was slow on the pick up but eventually I understood it.” Jack began his speech and you chuckled softly at his words. “While it took me a good while to get it when I truly fully got it, I knew you were going to be it for me. You have become my best friend. My confidante. My partner. My whole world. My darlin’.” He confessed softly to you and you could feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes as your lungs constricted for air. “I want to add another name to that list I’ve got going.” He said to you confidently with a wide grin on his face and you waited with baited breath. “My wife. So darlin’ will you marry me?” he finished softly and you gasped out softly.

         “Yes. Of course I will Jack.” You whispered to him and watched as his eyes dilated and his grin grew even wider. Your own smile was making your cheeks hurt but you didn’t care. Jack hugged you tightly and you felt your heart explode in your chest. When he pulled back he kissed you deeply.

         “C’mere let’s get this ring on you.” He mused warmly to you after pulling back. And you watched as he slid the beautiful ring onto your left ring finger. You admired it quietly and then looked up grinning at Jack. Tears were still gathered in the corners of your eyes as leaned over and kissed him again.

         “It’s beautiful Jack.” You admitted and saw his proud smile.

         “I designed it specifically for you. But it doesn’t hold a candle darlin’.” He confessed warmly to you. You smiled softly at him felt yourself melting under his affection.

         “It really is beautiful.” You sighed out softly as you stared straight into his eyes and watched a soft blush creep up his cheeks. He cleared his throat then and reached for the champagne and flutes that were on the table.

         “C’mon I think this celebration deserves to be in bed.” He said with a wink thrown towards you. You laughed delightedly as you watched him walk towards the king sized bed.

         “Jack Daniels are you trying to seduce me into bed with you?” you asked in a mock outraged tone. You watched as he looked over his shoulder at you a salacious look in his eyes.

         “I don’t future Mrs. Daniels. Why don’t you tell me?” he crooned to you and instantly you felt your body heat up at his words. Future Mrs. Daniels. Jesus, Mary and Joseph this man was going to kill you. With a determined look in your eye you got up from your chair and made your way over to Jack who was now standing at the foot of the bed after setting the champagne and flutes on his end table.

         “You can seduce me all you want Mr. Daniels.” You cooed at him as you placed your hands on his chest and leaned up on tip toe to press a heated kiss against his mouth. Jack groaned lowly against your lips and you shivered slightly.

         “Oh I intend to darlin’.” Jack said seductively before wrapping his arms around you. “Oh I intend to.”

[aurelacs]

Ten of Wands

An Ezra/F!OC Red Dead Redemption AU

WORD COUNT: 3k

CONTENT: mentions of spousal abuse, drinking, 

A/N: Thanks y’all for your patience! There’s only a chapter and an epilogue after this one! Hope you enjoy! Also next chapter will have smut I promise.

This is set in the Red Dead Redemption universe, however there’s no spoilers for either game, and you don’t need to have prior knowledge of the games to understand the fic. I’m just using RDR for the setting and the time period (1899). Hope you enjoy!

chapter list | masterlist | read on AO3

IV. The Hanged Man

West Elizabeth was far more frightening at night. 

The way the moonlight bore through the trees cast long, ominous shadows along the worn path the two bounty hunters chose to take. Annie was tempted to talk, to ask the man where he was taking her, but she didn’t want to push her luck. The dignity he provided her by letting her ride with him was more than likely the only kindness he would afford. So she rode in silence. The sound of the horses hooves beating against the soil the only sound that late at night. It crushed her spine with the weight of the implication and dried up her throat. This was her death march, paraded through the state so far into the evening there would be no one to mourn her, to ask for her final statement, or write down her last words. The bounty hunters, referring to each other only as ‘Morgan’ and ‘Smith,’ talked idly, like she wasn’t there. 

About halfway through the ride, Annie began to recognize her surroundings a little more. Panic began to set in. Even as she was being tied up, the concept of imprisonment and death was so foreign it did little to scare her. To be so close, to have the knowledge that it was, in fact, guaranteed, made her bottom lip tremble. In that moment Annie realized that she didn’t want to die. It wasn’t because of Ezra. Without him, she could live, and she knew that, but she wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted to make it to the end of her life fully experiencing what it was like to not have to look over her shoulder. It had been so long that she forgot the feeling. She wanted to reach Armadillo and feel the sand crunch under her boots. She needed to breathe long enough to forget her husband’s face, to make it to the point in her life where she could call him her late husband.

Her heart sank, low, further than the pit of her stomach, as they rode under the ‘Strawberry’ sign. She thought the river that ran through the town looked better in the moonlight. The sheriff’s office was located next to the hill that housed the hotel. The dark wood of the building blended in with the hill and made it look like the office and jail was built into the soil. It gave the building a foreboding presence, as though the hill and the office and the hotel were a solitary castle looming over her. 

The porch light next to the door was the only light on across the whole town as the two men hitched their horses. Morgan grumbled a faint apology as he hoisted Annie over his shoulder to help her down off his horse. The three of them all stood by the door. Morgan knocked, hammering on the door until the sheriff hollered at them for waking him up. The transaction was nearly wordless. Morgan handed the sheriff Annie’s bounty poster, who then directed Morgan to lead Annie to the cell across from his desk before handing the men their bounty payment. 

“D’you know anything about a bounty for the man she was with? Blonde patch of hair, looks like an outlaw,” Morgan asked.

“Nothing here, but you can always try Valentine. If you’re heading that way, can you let Sheriff Molloy know I got her here?”

Morgan grunted in response and left. 

“Valentine is full up, so you’re gonna be with us for the time being. Sheriff up there’s supposed to come talk to you at some point, but he likes to take his time and who knows if those boys will actually let Curtis know you’re here.”

“What good will talking to me do?”

The sheriff shrugged before lumbering back to his cot and falling asleep. 

Days and nights passed in near silence. Sheriff Farley, as Annie came to observe, wasn’t much of a talker. He snored, loud enough to occasionally shake the floorboards of the office. She learned that Strawberry’s jail had five cells, one upstairs where she was, and four more downstairs, out of sight. Annie overheard Farley one night, as he conversed with the mayor, mention that the downstairs cells were for the more ‘worrisome’ offenders. The statement gave her a spark of hope. She knew it wasn’t often that bounties were put out on women. Maybe he could read between the lines of a woman killing her husband. Or perhaps he merely saw her as less of a threat because she was a woman. Either way, Annie still felt mildly appreciative. If she craned her head hard enough, she could look outside and see wagons passing through the town. The same position gave her the opportunity to feel the sun on her face right before dusk. Her situation was already hard enough, she was grateful to not have to experience it with the ones she heard screaming below her. 

A week into her stay, or what she believed to be a week, Annie gave up all hope in Ezra coming for her. It was a child’s fantasy, to think that he would risk his life and freedom just to save her. She couldn’t find it in herself to blame him, either, even though when she asked herself if she would have come to save him, her answer was a resounding ‘yes.’ What a fool she was to have waited. If she told him, then and there, as he waded out of the lake, how she felt about him, he might’ve been here. Or he would’ve left her. Either way her chest would have been stinging a little less. 

More time passed with no word from Farley on the whereabouts of Valentine’s sheriff, or her life. As a nervous habit, Annie would undo and redo her braids constantly until her fingers ached. She paced around her cell. There was no clock in the office, so she measured the time by the sheriff’s actions. Everyday he followed the same routine: breakfast at the butcher’s stall, sit in his office and read the newspaper, smoke his pipe, taunt the downstairs prisoners, if the sun had yet to go down when he was finished, he would invite the mayor for a drink, where the mayor would talk about his grandiose plans for the sleepy, yet beautiful, town. His talk reminded her of Ezra: weaving tales of splendor, swearing up and down that Strawberry’s beauty could not be contained. The mayor echoed Ezra’s sentiments, convinced that the work he was putting into it would make a difference. Annie was sure that Farley was going to kill Mayor Timmins because he no longer wanted bounties to be advertised in Strawberry. It figured that she would be the last, she thought.  

One morning, maybe three weeks since the bounty hunters had found her, sheriff Farley woke her by knocking on the bars of her cell. A man stood next to him, a handlebar mustache doing nothing to contain the permanent scowl on his face. Farley introduced him as sheriff Molloy, the one from Valentine and Annie’s blood ran cold. The one who would decide her fate stood there, looking unimpressed at the supposed cold-blooded killer before him, half-asleep and half paralyzed from fear. 

“I hope you didn’t pay those boys the full bounty for this,” he gestured over at her, looking sullen and beaten.  

“They didn’t seem to be the most innocent of sorts either. Didn’t wanna cause a fuss.”

Molloy laughed. Farley grabbed his pipe from his desk and made his way outside to give the two some privacy. He stood there silently with his arms crossed for what felt like an hour before speaking. 

“Why’d you do it?”

“That’s it?” He nodded. Annie was confused. Weeks of waiting and that’s all he asks? No hint of a greeting, an apology. She was hoping that maybe the sheriff would tell her how her husband’s family was doing. They would probably be in the front row the day she hangs, but in an odd way her life had felt so sheltered in the months since she killed him that hearing something was preferred to this. To the brusque ire of a man that she knew had already decided that she was going to die for what she did. 

“He hurt me,” she answered.

Molloy scoffed. “I was hoping for a more interesting answer. Not many lady killers ‘round these parts, but they all have the same reasoning.” “Maybe because they’re all telling the truth.”

“Maybe they’re all lying to try and gain some sympathy before they get hanged,” he said as he leaned in closer to the bars. The scowl on his face grew deeper. She started to wonder how many other women in her situation had the misfortune of seeing his face right before a hood was placed over their heads. 

“My husband beat me. He would scream at me if there was a speck of dust on the floor when he came home from hunting. Chased me around the house with a knife if he didn’t like the way I sneezed or walked or spoke, when I did. I let him hurt me for over ten years. I had it.” Annie didn’t realize she had started crying until her voice broke. “It’s been months and I still call him my husband. I still love him, but I’d do it again. If you’re gonna hang me for that, then so be it.” 

“I’m going to hang you for killing your husband, Mrs. Gray. I don’t care whether or not you regret it.” 

Hearing her name felt like a whip cracking. She had gone so long without the sound of it that it was foreign in her ears, like the sheriff was addressing a stranger. For so long she referred to herself internally as Annie Cobb that it didn’t register. It was her trying to move on, trying to turn back into the woman she was before she married her husband, but it didn’t have the same spark. Her identity had always been ‘Mrs. Gray,’ her maiden name taken from her too soon, before she could form herself outside of her husband. But Cobb never resonated. Maybe in her next life she’ll have a name that fits her better, like Michaels, or Robinson. Or Bird. 

The dread that churned in her stomach kept her from sleeping more than an hour at a time. It would jolt her awake with the sudden urge to run, and her heart wouldn’t stop racing until her brain finally managed to process that there was nowhere to run. At the third bout, Annie awoke to find Farley fast asleep, his snores once again bouncing off the wooden walls. Night had fallen, deep and heavily, on the town. It mirrored the night she was first brought back to Strawberry; the lantern once again the only thing illuminating the entire town. It was never intentional. Every morning he forgot, Malloy would grumble on for the rest of the day about the waste of oil. This night, this mistake, however, cost him more than a nickel’s worth of lantern oil. 

Someone entered, not with a knock, but with a bang, stirring the sheriff from his slumber so harshly he wasn’t able to collect his bearings in time to demand an explanation. The glow of the lantern backlit the visitor and made it impossible for Annie to make him out until he spoke, and even then it was only a hunch. Sheriff Farley stumbled over towards the voice, eyes still crusted with sleep and legs uneasy. He managed his way over to his desk, propping himself up with an arm before asking who had the nerve to bother him so late at night. The man closed the door gently, opposite to his grand entrance. Out of the porch lantern light, the office was enshrouded in darkness until the sheriff lit another lantern at the corner of his desk. It wasn’t until the light illuminated the rest of the office that Annie realized. 

“I do apologize for intruding so late into the evening, but I saw the lantern still on, and where I come from that means a gentleman is open for business.” 

Ezra looked different from when she last saw him. He looked a little more ragged and worn down. The bags under his eyes had grown darker. His hair was unkempt and she didn’t see his hat anywhere on him. The blonde patch of hair caught the light just right. Ezra made no attempt to speak to Annie; he didn’t even look her way as he adjusted the heavy-looking satchel that hung upon his shoulder. His kept his deep, brown eyes focused entirely on the sheriff. 

“I recently purchased myself a new abode in this beautiful little town here and my father always told me to start a new journey with alcohol. And who better among the locale to embark on that sojourn with than the sheriff himself?” Ezra reached into the satchel and forcefully placed two bottles of Kentucky bourbon on the sheriff’s desk. He pulled up a chair, not waiting for permission or refusal and sat down, eagerly awaiting his next move. Sheriff Farley eyed Ezra curiously. Nevertheless, he walked over to the cabinet by his cot and dug out two glasses. He smiled up at the sheriff. Not once did the two men take their eyes off one another. 

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“When I said ‘recently,’ it was not an exaggeration.” He leaned back in the chair. Ezra’s body language gave off a kind of confidence she had only seen from him once before: in Blackwater, towering over his debtor. Annie grew worried that he might try the same stunt again. 

“I have always heard the people of Strawberry are of a hospitable color. At least, that is what they say in Saint Denis. It is possible that they simply meant poor,” the sheriff shot him an angered glance, “but hospitality is taught, never bought, wouldn’t you agree, sheriff?” Farley grunted in response. Ezra poured the bourbon halfway into both glasses before drinking his in one go, and encouraging the sheriff to do the same. Sheriff Farley’s eyes shot up to the blonde in Ezra’s hair. The coolness of Ezra’s composure broke for a second, not enough for the sheriff to notice, but enough for Annie to start worrying. She recalled the question the one bounty hunter had asked him when she first arrived and wondered if he made the same connection. 

“Sheriff, please, I insist, drink! There is more than enough for the both of us and I want to make sure your graciousness is equally matched.”

“Is there no way to do this tomorrow,” Farley asked, choosing to match Ezra’s drink. 

“Not according to my father’s superstitions, no,” Ezra chuckled. “It has to be as soon as you sign the deed, and the gentleman I was dealing with for this parcel was quite a character. He absolutely insisted we negotiate until the very last second of the day” He took another swig of the bourbon, this time directly from the bottle. 

“Was it Mr. Rose by chance?”

“The one and the same!” 

Ezra opened the second bottle of bourbon and passed it to the sheriff as he began to tell Ezra stories about the man. Farley eagerly grabbed the bottle by the neck. Engrossed in his tales, he continued to absentmindedly sip on the alcohol, his slowly inebriated mind searching for threads to connect his thoughts. On occasion, Ezra would take a swig from his bottle to encourage him. It was a lengthy plan, but one that seemed to be working. Every time the sheriff tried to stop, Ezra would bring up something else to try and get him talking again. 

‘I have heard that your mayor is a curious one.” 

“He’s trying to run me out of a job, is what he’s tryin’ to do!” He slammed the bottle onto his desk, and Ezra laughed as some of the liquid came sloshing out of the neck and on the sheriff’s hand. Annie’s worry grew again as she peered over to the window and saw daybreak trying to make its way over the horizon. 

“I’m sure the mayor is only doing what he deems best.”

“The mayor is- he’s- the sonuvabitch-” the floorboards shook as the sheriff’s head slammed against his desk, just nearly missing the bottle. Annie wasn’t sure if he was dead or merely sleeping.  

The first time Ezra acknowledged her was as the first snore ripped through Farley’s body. He looked over at her and held a finger up to his lips. As quietly as he could, he toed over to the sheriff’s slumped over body. He gently fiddled with the key ring that hung from his gun belt. Annie could see his hands shaking as he tried every key on Annie’s cell before finally reaching the correct one. She hadn’t realized how long she had been holding her breath until the cell door finally popped open, and the only thing standing between her and Ezra was a couple feet of empty, unfettered air.  

“Missed you, little bird,” he smiled, breaking the heavy silence. 

Tears fell freely from Annie’s eyes, the mix of emotions overwhelming her senses almost to the point of collapse, and she nearly jumped from where she was sat and into Ezra’s arms. Free not only was she of Strawberry jail, but also of any hesitation she might’ve been holding onto with regard to how she felt about him. She buried her face in his neck and took in his scent, something she didn’t realize she missed. His arms gripped onto her something fierce like she would float away and out of his grasp if he didn’t hold on. It was as though the time apart wore away any inhibitions they might have had. The sheer elation of their reunion being the only thing that was on their minds. Ezra came back for her. 

That’s what mattered. 

Tag List: @immundusspiritu​ @borderlinedindjarin​ @aforces​

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Love You Like a Tattoo

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Soft Badboy-ish AU, Fluff (Overwhelming Amounts), Drabble-ish

Words: 2.8k

~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: No one really believes in Jungkook’s girlfriend.  Living in a small town far out of the busy city of Seoul and depicted as the spectrum opposite of Jungkook himself.  He’s covered in tattoos, piercings anywhere he could get them and smokes like he doesn’t care if he loses a lung.  So, when he finds out you’ll be staying Seoul for the summer, he is insistent you stay with him.  Now, he eagerly awaits your arrival after such a long time.  

-Or-

Jungkook is fucking ready to see his favorite girl bc he’s mega-whipped. (Also rubbing in his friend’s face that she is- in fact- a real person and not some imaginary gf he made up is on his bucket-list)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy shit, really?!” Jungkook who was sitting in the garage with his buddies practically screamed into the phone call he was on.  His friends who sat in a small, not so even, circle around a trash bin with a fire in it silenced as they all flicked their eyes over to him.  The Spring- nearly Summer- air hit the group with a crummy blanket of moisture that the fire burned away.  The garage door open as they sat located on the edge of a suburban area of the city. 

Ashtrays of grey and white and brown cigarettes, a wide selection of brands in which each boy chose to favor. Lighters from bright yellow disposable lighters to metal Zippo’s sat snug in the pockets of each boy.  A can of beer or cola in someone’s hand at all times. 

Jungkook had excused himself from a conversation about the next piercing one of his friends- Taehyung was going to get that shifted from a conversation about trying to talk Hoseok into finally getting a tattoo.  Hoseok was shockingly the cleanest skinned boy with only a few ear-piercings to his name. He almost got a septum piercing but wussed out at the last minute. 

He moved from the corner of the garage to the outside, stepping into the moist, damp air that almost teased a rain shower later into the night.  He leaned against the outside wall, phone held to his ear with his tattoo-covered arm. Pushing anxiously at the stub pierced through his tongue with the roof of his mouth. 

“You’re serious, right?  You’re not trippin’ on me because I will literally fight you if you’re pulling some prank, girlfriend or not.” 

“Did you cry when we Skyped like a week ago because I stubbed my toe on my dresser?” 

“You kicked it so hard your toenail started bleeding!” He defended as you laughed on the other line. You, his girlfriend of 3 years laughing at him. Jungkook just huffed, a smile on his lips as he shook his head. “Okay, fine.  I won’t fight you, but I’ll throw stuff at you.  What’s soft to throw?  Flowers maybe?” 

“What a charmer,” you told him. 

“I try really hard just for you,” he snickered.  Jungkook stayed silent as you told him about your plans to travel from your small little town on the coast to Seoul for the summer.  You told your folks that since you wanted to go to the University of Seoul once you finally racked up enough money, that you wanted to test the waters of city life.  

Of course, there was still a lot you had to prepare for.  Temporary living arrangements, means of travel (you’d probably walk to take a bus everywhere), estimates of how much money you’d need to actually survive a summer in Seoul, etcetera.  You had thought about calling the cheapest hotel you could find and trying to negotiate a reasonable rate for such a long stay. 

“Just stay with me, babe,” Jungkook sighed into the phone.  “It’s just me in that apartment, I don’t mind sharing.” 

“I totally forgot you moved out of your mom’s place!” You exclaimed as he just let out a fit of small giggles.  “If you really don’t mind, could I bunk with you?  I’ll pull my weight, I promise!” 

Jungkook rolled his eyes.  “Wow, do I want my girlfriend living with me?  Hmm, that’s a toughie,” he reached into his pocket, grabbing his nearly empty pack of cigarettes with his lighter inside.  Pulling one, white toxic stick and placing it between his lips, he pushed his phone to his cheek with his shoulder as he cupped around the bud and flicked his lighter.  Waiting to make sure the wind wouldn’t snuff out the flame and it would actually light.  

Taking a drawl from it, he pushed his air out.  Watching as a puff of grey smoke wafted into the dusk air.  Sun nearly out of sight behind the identical houses as the sky threatened a navy hue with clouds scattered around like cotton balls. Breathing through his nose he sighed.  It was definitely going to rain tonight.  

You laughed sarcastically through the phone as he faintly heard your mom calling you down to eat something.  He scowled a bit, knowing how late it was at the moment and you hadn’t eaten yet.  

“Coming!” You shouted to your mom as you started talking to Jungkook again.  “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Tell me when you’re coming into town, okay?  You can stay with me and we can work everything out after that.” 

“Okay, I will.” Jungkook could hear the smile in your voice and he wished you had Facetimed him instead of a phone call so he could see it. 

“I miss you,” he told you before you were ready to cut the call.  Him hearing you roll out of bed, abandoning your books he was sure was sprawled on your bedspread. 

“I miss you too.  I’ll see you soon though,” you reassured. 

“You better.” 

It was a few minutes later when Jungkook was walking back into the garage, taking one last drawl of his smoke as he flopped himself down into his cheap, folding-camping chair.  Snuffing out his cigarette in a glass ashtray that almost needed to be emptied, he took a can of iced soda from a small cooler at his side and chugged a good half of it. A hefty blech following. 

“Is Loverboy done talking to his girlfriend?” Hoseok teased in a mocking tone.  Jungkook rolled his eyes.  His friends were solely convinced Jungkook was fibbing about his relationship and you altogether.  Not having seen you before and being so different from him; they all called bullshit. 

Jungkook flipped a solid middle finger at his friend as he erupted in stomach laughed, kicking his knees up as he stomped.  Jungkook craned his neck back, letting it hang as he starred at the white garage ceiling. 

“Girlfriend phone call or not,” Namjoon started as he finished his second can of beer for the evening, “what was the fuss about?  You yelled then went outside?  Hiding something maybe?” His smirk on his face was so obviously screaming ‘did you go outside to talk about your fake relationship away from us?’ and it made Jungkook was to throw his stupid beer car at his head.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he hissed.  He kicked his boot covered feet up, stretching them out as his heels bounced on the concrete floor.  “Y/n was talking to me about what she’s going to do when she comes down this summer,” he casually announced with a relaxed wave of his hand.  

There were approximately 4 seconds of silence before his friends were shouting or bounding from their camping chairs or crates they sat on and rushing to his side.  Grabbing him or his chair, nearly knocking him out of it.  He braced himself, tucking his boots back under his chair to stable it as he straightened his back. 

Voices of his friends bombarding him with questions of when you’re coming, for how long, why and if they’d get to meet him.  It was only an hour later that Jungkook literally had to run to the nearest bus station to get away from his friend’s just to go home. So much for having a drunk night in the garage. 

2 weeks later and Jungkook was dressed in a too expensive Adaias white shirt, black lining the edges and black strips running down his shoulders in a trio. The shirt leaving his arms open for everyone to see his tattoo littered arms and watch strapped around his left wrist. Tucked into his black jeans that run down the thick of his thigh to the slim of his calf.  His boots hitting his shin as the short strings remained untied to accommodate for his jogging. His hair was curled and wavy  from the humidity as his bangs hit his eyes. 

He jogged his way to the train station, descending the stairs from the streets to the underground railways.  Hoping down from step to step, careful to mind his footwork before he was waving between people.  It was still early in the morning, only 8 and the crowd wasn’t completely awful yet. 

Stopping and leaning against the back wall in front of your station and out of every other person’s way, he gathered his breath.  His heartbeat in his chest, but not entirely from his run here.  He wanted time to speed up so he could see and feel you that much soon.  He pulled his phone from his (unfairly deep) jean pocket and shot you a text. 

Jungkook: I’m here. Look for a handsome tattooed stranger when you step off. 

You: I was taught never to talk to strangers. 

Jungkook chuckled at your response, shaking his head as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket.  His smile he wore not wiping away once as he grew giddier with each ticking second the giant clock above his head let pass. 

30 minutes later and he was watching your train screech to a halt.  Listening to the hydraulic-powered doors hissing open before he was scanning through the push and pull crowd of people.  

“Jungkook!” He heard you before he saw you. Though he quickly locked onto your frame, dragging a suitcase behind you, another slung around your back and wearing an impossibly brightly colored rainbow-striped shirt that tucked only into the front of your black shorts.  

He laughed as he went towards you before he was barreling into your front, knocking you back a few steps as he lifted you to your toes.  Arms under you and around your waist, he shook you around like a doll as he pushed his face into your hair.  A few older adults stopped to awe before moving on and a few even sent eye-rolls from such public affection.  

He put you back down as he kept his hands on your waist, thumbing over your shirt and smiling down at you to the point his cheeks ached.  “God, I missed you,” he murmured as he pushed his lips to your forehead.  You giggled as you started convincing him to move and actually leave the station. He agreed, but only after he grabbed your rolling suitcase in one hand and snatched your hand in his other. 

Jungkook leads you to his apartment as you both step inside. Dragging your suitcase into and up out of the entrance landing, Jungkook wheels it away as he kicks off his loose, untied boots.  You untied your own hightops- a gift from Jungkook on your birthday- as you were soon up and following after him as he took off with your suitcase hostage. 

He entered his room, flicking on the light.  You looked around. “It’s so weird not seeing it through your computer webcam.” Jungkook chuckled as he collapsed the handle to your suitcase and lifted it onto his bed before unzipping it.  You dropped your backpack as well. You stopped him before he could start digging through your stuff to help you unpack. 

“What,” he laughed.  “Afraid I might see your Hello Kitty panties?” You opened your mouth in a fake offense as you were quick you bring your ankle up, yank off your sock and throw it at him. “Hey! It’s too early for nasty sock wars!” He soon was sitting out in the hallway, waiting for your all clear to come in and actually help unpack.  He laughed as he heard you murmuring inside about how your Hello Kitty panties happened to be very cute. 

Jungkook had previously cleared out two of his dresser drawers for your unmentionables and PJs for your visit.  Also separating his closest down the middle.  Left side for him and right for you, a hanging cubby for shoes in the center for the divider. When you called for him, he went and helped you unpack your clothes, some in which he commented that he hadn’t seen before.  

You embarrassingly admitting to shopping for new clothes just before coming here to show off.  You wanted to look nice since you’d be with him for so long.  He just cooed as he kissed the top of your head.  

Makeup, shampoo, conditions, skin and hair treatments, slippers, medicine, toothbrush, hairbrush- all sorts of your things soon filled his apartment along with his.  Seeing it all, it felt so much more like home.  

It was 10 when everything was said and done and Jungkook was sat on the couch in the living room. The morning sun bright as it came through the balcony window.  You were in the kitchen, or leaving it now, with a water bottle.  The cold bottle chilling your hand as Jungkook called you. 

“Y/n,” he whined as he sat slouched.  You trotted over to him as he reached for you like a child.  “Come here,” he told you.  

“Wait a minute,” you told him with a smile as he just shook his head. He sat up quickly, grabbing around your waist and leaning back, taking you back and down with him.  Falling beside him on the couch as he pulling your legs over his lap.  Interlocking his fingers around your stomach, he leaned on your shoulder, the crown of his wavy brown hair pushing into your cheek. 

“I’ve waited long enough,” he lowly whispered.  Keeping his head tucked into your neck, he closed his eyes.  Finally able to sit and bask in the scent, warmth, and presence that is you, he was blissful.  He had missed you so much and he hated the fact that you lived so far off.  If Jungkook didn’t have such a good job here, he probably would've moved to you.  Though, you told him numerous times to stay here- stay where he knows best.  

He relaxed so completely as you traced along the tattoos crawling up his neck and disappearing down his back under his shirt. You giggled as he nuzzled into your further, moving to wrap his arms around your tighter and bring you closer.  

“You’re warm,” he murmured.  

“You are too,” you told him back, brushing your fingers into his hair and rubbing his neck.  You both sat like this for hours.  Talking about small things, sitting in silence and basking in each other until you had drifted off into a nap as Jungkook sat you against his chest to snooze.  

Occupying himself with his phone (and sneaking a few pictures of you too), he was soon being paged by Jimin at the tattoo parlor he worked at.  Sending a reminder that even if you were coming into town, he still had to work.  He had 3 tattoo appointments lined up for the afternoon, not mention what walk-in jobs they may have. 

He told him he’d be in, but that there was a 100% chance he was going to bring you along with him.  Jimin didn’t argue, waiting eagerly to meet the Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend.  The squeaky clean sweetheart. 

He woke you up 10 past noon as you groaned and shook your head, trying to will away the bully who is trying to wake you up.  He just chuckled as he blew in your ear, making your shiver and cover it up before he was pinching your nose. 

He laughed when you opened your eyes and swatted his hand away, scowling at him and not the least bit threatening to look at.  The receiving end of what you called a glare was just utter cuteness in the eyes of your boyfriend. 

“Time to wake up, I have to go to the parlor today and you’re-” he poked your cheek- “coming with me.” 

“Okay?  Why am I coming to work with you?” 

Jungkook hummed as he pats your thigh as you moved to get off him, stretching.  “Well, two reasons.  One, I missed you.” He extended one finger before extending a second. “Two, my friend works there and he and the rest of my friends all believe you don’t exist.” 

“Excuse me?” You bit back a smile, cheeks between your molars.

“They think I made up some fake girlfriend story because I was single for so long.”  You busted out in laughter, holding your stomach as he just rolled his eyes and got up off the couch.  

“That’s ridiculous!” You cheered as you got up too, trailing after him to the door as you both slipped on your shoes.  Jungkook weaving your fingers together before leaving and keeping them together until he walked into the parlor, the bell signaling his arrival.  

The look in Jimin’s face when he saw that Jungkook really did have a girl hanging off his arm was priceless.  It wasn’t too much later he called all the guys over and you were introduced to them one by one as Jungkook’s girlfriend, Y/n. 

[ussgallifrey]

Date Night (18+)

✦ Summary: It had been seven long and tiring months since you became parents - you were finally ready for a night off. ✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader ✦ Warnings: Explicit 18+ sexual content, minors do not interact ✦ Word Count: 2.7k ✦ Playlist: Here

[Masterlist]

You can hear Rebecca squealing in the other room as you finish applying your makeup. Bucky probably has her jumping in the air or is tickling the backs of her thighs and round little tummy. You wanted this so badly, just one night away with him. After nearly seven months of motherhood, where you only left the house for pediatrician appointments and shopping trips - all with the baby in tow, you deserved a night off.

Her breathy little laughs move closer, soon her head is peeking around the door into the bathroom. Bucky carefully holding her in his arms as her little hands smack the wall in excitement.

“Ma! Ma! Bubba bub maba ma!”

You smile in the mirror at her before turning to swoop her up into your arms, “Hello, little Becca Bear! Look at you! Yes, look at you!”

Her legs kick happily in your embrace, grabby hands reaching for your hair, as she blows drooly bubbles with her mouth.

Bucky moves around the door, looking like a fucking dream in his leather jacket. He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Your mom just pulled in.”

Shifting Becca onto your hip, batting her hands away from your hair, “Okay. Think we have everything ready. I have her schedule written down.”

He grins as his little girl reaches out for him. Dropping a kiss to the top of her head, letting her wrap a wet hand around his vibranium finger. Desperately trying to bring it up to her mouth to slobber on.

The bags were packed, milk was in the fridge in carefully measured out bottles, an overly detailed play-by-play schedule was clearly written out on the fridge. And you still felt like you were forgetting something. You could tell that he was feeling it too. 

“There’s my granddaughter!” Becca was swooped into a tight hug.

And as Bucky put your bags in the car and you gave the rundown to your mom, you still felt that growing sense of anxiety in your stomach. 

Her hand was gentle on your arm as you finished explaining the meal plan for the night, “I was the same way the first time you stayed with your grandmother. Just try and enjoy it together, she’s in good hands.”

Becca squealed as she was tickled under the armpits. 

She was with the best person for the job. Not to mention the three constant SHIELD agents on standby outside the perimeter of the house. You had made the move three months ago. Leaving the comfy apartment in the Heights for a spacious farmhouse upstate. It was so damn hard to leave that little slice of paradise, feeling like you were leaving part of yourself behind - so many memories were there. But Becca was starting to move around, rolling mostly, and it quickly became apparent that a tiny studio wasn’t going to fit your needs anymore.

To the small town, you were simply known as the Smith family. You were a freelance graphic designer that worked from home and your husband worked in the city an hour north. It was safer this way, for you and Rebecca. SHIELD was constantly monitoring the area, agents were stationed in safe houses nearby, and of course, you were an agent and your husband was the Winter Soldier. You could tell it still wasn’t enough to ease the worry in his eyes some days.

“Now, she can take Tylenol if they’re really bugging her. I have the dosage circled there, four hours between doses. Teething rings are in the freezer, she really likes the blue one.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just - ” you gripped the straps of your purse, trying to remember if you had everything in order. Eyes sweeping the room, double checking the setup. Gaze falling to the happy girl in your mother’s arms, chewing on her necklace with content little slobber sounds.

Bucky’s hand is a warm anchor on your shoulder. Standing behind you, feeling every bit of fear you’re experiencing. 

“If we don’t go now, we never will.” He presses a firm kiss to the side of your head, staring at Rebecca.

She is hugged and kissed and kissed once more by both of you before you force yourselves out the door. 

Giving a bright laugh as Bucky opens the car door for you, such an unusual happening these days. His arms were usually too full with the car seat and bags. Gazing into the side mirror as he drives down the dirt driveway, blue house and porch lights fading into the distance. Grandma and Becca waving from the doorway.

Bucky’s hand finds a resting spot on your upper thigh, warm fingers giving a gentle squeeze. You glance into the backseat, staring at the gray car seat base.

“This feels so weird,” you murmur.

He nods, lips drawn tight, “I know.”

Your hand settles over his as you move through the dusk-lit streets. Golden street lights blur by as you merge onto the freeway. The breeze through the cracked windows is gentle and warm. Fearing the thoughts bubbling up in your head with each passing moment, you reach for the radio. An upbeat funk song plays through the speakers.

Driving through the city, past the college, and late-night dinner-goers. You settle down in an upscale restaurant. Enjoying a glass of wine and a shared plate of kettle chips. Conversation is easy and warm. Giving out the smallest bits of information about his last recon mission, casually glossing over your intel work. Planning a shopping trip at the end of the week.

“We should do a roast.”

“Think I have a bag of potatoes in the pantry. Can have it in the slow cooker for the day, no problem. Mmm,” you pause around a bite of chicken, “We need more wipes too.”

And then you were back to Rebecca. She did this the other day, do you remember when she did this, can you believe we have a seven-month-old already, I can’t believe how big she’s getting, I wonder if she’s already sleeping?

Savoring the sweet taste of cheesecake, he grabbed your hand. Fingers rubbing across your knuckles. “You look beautiful.”

You finish the last of your wine, “That jacket needs to be worn more often.”

His smile is smooth and bashful as he looks down, the faintest blush falling on his stubbled cheeks. You let your fingers entwine on the tabletop, a flirtatious foot running up and down his calf under the white linen tablecloth. Dipping a finger into the strawberry topping, lazily sucking it off as you stare up at him. He smirks as he waves down your waiter.

Gripping your side tightly as he guides you out to the car. Sneaking a hand down to your backside before you get in. You give him a little look of fake surprise, batting his arm playfully as you duck into your seat. He moves around to the driver’s side with a throaty laugh.

He carries your bags down the hotel hallways. Broad chest looming behind you as you unlock the door, breath hot on your neck. As you turn on the table light, he drops the bags by the door and puts the deadbolt in place. Letting his jacket fall on top of the bags, kicking his boots off into the open closet as you slide your own shoes off. Turning back to look at him, all rough and ragged and God damn gorgeous.

Moving towards you with a slow stride, blue eyes dark and piercing, he pulls off the gray cotton t-shirt and flings it behind him. Large hands find a place on your hips as he leans down for a firm kiss. His lips are soft as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the embrace, tasting the steak and beer - that wouldn’t actually get him drunk - lingering there. He steps closer, pushing a leg between you. His knee presses in against your dress, rubs up along your aching center.

You smile into the kiss when you feel his hands reaching low, tugging the hemline of your blue dress up. You part as he pulls it up and over your head. Looping your fingers through his belt, you tug him closer, baring your teeth at him.

Bucky moves his warm hand up to cup your face, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the white comforter on the bed. The vibranium hand is cool on your bare hip. Moving your own hands back around to his butt, grabbing a handful as you push up into him. His teeth scrape along your bottom lip as you try to push your tongue into his mouth. 

Dipping your hand into his pocket, you pull out the leather wallet and toss it on the bed behind you. Pushing the knee between your legs further up, bending it to rest on the bed, he guides you down onto the soft sheets. Hair pooling around your head, you gaze up at him as he unbuckles his belt. He pulls the dark-wash jeans down and kicks them off against the wall. Right hand moving down to readjust the growing bulge in his red briefs. His gaze never leaving you. 

Squeezing your legs together as he moves back over you. Resting on his elbows on either side of your body, making the bed dip as he settles down. Your hands move into his hair as he kisses you with a deep longing, moving down your neck to suck and bruise the sensitive skin.

Warm fingertips dance along the top of the black nursing bra - the only one that fit you anymore, unfortunately - moving carefully and gently to avoid any sudden pressure. You rock up against his knee, growing impatience.

Dropping a kiss to the top of your breast, he picks his head up with an amused smile, “There’s usually a crying baby right about now.”

You stop grinding, hands moving to rub up and down his biceps, “I know. I’m still waiting for it, to be honest.”

Bucky gives a warm laugh as he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Come here, doll.”

Moving up to the headboard, he pulls you into his lap. Lazy hands moving to your hips as you grind against him with a languid kiss. Hands run down his chest, fingers skating over the scars and bruises as you move. Fingers splayed over your ass teasingly tug at your panties. You pull your hands away to unclip your bra, tossing it somewhere over the bed. You feel a twitch of fabric against your core as Bucky gives a small groan.

He flips you over, laughing when your head hits the pile of pillows. Moaning when he drags his tongue down your chest. Licking along the fading stretch marks on your stomach and hips. Hooking his fingers into your panties, he pulls them down your legs and tosses them away. Staring down at you with darkened eyes, he lazily rubs his bulge.

“So fucking beautiful, baby.”

Your smile is warm and relaxed as you take him in. His cock straining against the confines of his briefs. Holding out a hand, he lets you pull him down. You move together just like you used to - all slow and leisurely. The sense of need and want and desire was there, burning under the surface of each touch and caress. But there was no need to hurry.

This wasn’t the time for hidden kisses and frantic quickies wherever you could manage. A baby isn’t crying, a cat wasn’t jumping on the bed, chores didn’t need to be finished, work wasn’t in a few hours. It was just the two of you. In the little world of your own creation, just like you had lived when you were in the apartment; the place where time and responsibilities and outside commitments didn’t exist.

Bucky ruts up against you with deliberate thrusts, sucking a mark onto the junction of your neck. Gentle fingertips grazing down your body, skirting your thigh, and finding your wet center. Fingers brushing up against you, coated in your wet slick. A thumb languidly rubbing your clit, a hot mouth on your clavicle.

Hands tighten in his hair, pulling him close for more, right there, god yes. Brushing a chaste kiss to your lips before gliding down the bed. Bucky pulls your thighs further apart, trails his tongue up to your core, moaning a prayer into your cunt. Licking the words of unsaid poetry into the burning wetness between your legs.

Pulling his hair as you groan loud and unabashed - there’s no reason to muffle yourself here, and he knows it. He gazes at you over the valleys and hills of your body as your back arches in ecstasy. Breathy moans growing higher and higher as you pulse with the waves of your orgasm. He takes everything you give him, face shining with cum and saliva as he sits up on his arms, a wicked smile in place as he looks down at you.

Relaxing into the comforter, running a hand through tousled hair, you stare at the head of his leaking cock peeking out from the top of his briefs.

“Want you,” reaching out to him with a murmur.

He surges down, crushing his lips against yours before leaning back. As you grab his wallet, pulling the condom out, he’s tearing his briefs off. His proud pink member juts out, wrapping a hand around the glistening head as he strokes himself. He takes the wrapper from you and tears it with his teeth, rolls it on with ease. And then he’s crawling up your body, bending your left leg with his hand as he lines himself up.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” he groans as he slides in, head dropping down with a laugh.

You smile up at him, run your hands up and down his arms reassuringly as you squeeze around his cock. He drops an open-mouthed kiss to your chest, thrusting in slowly, savoring the stretch and feel of your warmth. You let him set the pace, relaxed and easy; as though he plans to spend the whole night doing just this, no other cares or worries - just this.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you draw him closer. He folds himself over you, head hovering over your shoulder, wet kisses dropped to your hot and sweaty skin. You bite down on his neck, hard, when he hits that spot ooh, just right there, fuck, baby, yes!

Pulling your leg from his waist, he hikes it up and over his shoulder, thrusting deeper, pace increasing as sweat beads on his forehead. Sore and aching for more, you grab a rough handful of his hair and force a kiss to his plump lips. He growls into it, biting your bottom lip as he rocks into you.

The vibranium hand next to your head mechanically whirs as he forces all of his weight on to it, sinking down into the fluffy comforter. Grunting rough little yeah, yeah, yeahs as he sinks into your aching core at a blistering pace. Cumming with a guttural groan, his teeth scraping your ear as you squeeze around him. 

Ragged exhales as he regains his footing. Soft kisses are given to sensitive skin and red bruises. His eyes shine as he sweeps the hair from your face, a look of complete wonder as he leans down to kiss you with a gentle passion.

Cuddled down into the sheets, your back leaning against his chest, a warm hand tracing designs on your arm. The soft sounds from the TV play as background noise as you pass the bag of vending machine candy back and forth. Snaking a hand up to his face, pulling him down with a grin to kiss him again and again.

Flicking through the three photos of Rebecca that were sent your way: drooling over her teddy bear, covered in mashed carrots, sleeping on your Mom’s lap. You both missed her. Even just one night away, as heavenly as it was, was too long.

Bucky wraps you into a tight embrace, your fingers dance over the plates of his metal arm. Kissing the side of your head, he hums, “Happy Anniversary, doll.”

For tonight, he’s all yours and you are all his. Tonight, you can celebrate a year of marriage, just being Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. In the morning, you’ll revert back to Ma and Ba, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You turn your head, craning your neck to look up at him, savoring the moment. “Happy Anniversary, baby. Now let’s sleep like we haven’t had it in seven months.”

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[stardancerluv]

All Flowers Must Bloom Even in Winter

Part 9

Summary: Ghosts come to visit

@theblackmaskclub more of John’s past...

Her dark red hair was twisted and twined, her green eyes met his and then looked past him.

“Hi John, good to see you. It’s been sometime.”

He reached for her hands. “It has but there were things I had to take care of.”

She withdrew her hands and put them in her lap. Her food, remained untouched.

“What is the matter?” It can’t be that I wasn’t around, he mused.

“Nothing.” She said flatly. “Just existing out here.”

He drained his glass. “Come with me let’s walk along the ocean.”

“If you want.”

******

He was used to boots sinking into the soft sand. It made him wobble a little but if anyone would ever be able to see John Bishop on unsteady feet it was her.

The salty air, swirled around them and he rather enjoyed the scent. It was different the the air regions of Yuma or El Paso. He stopped and grabbed her.

“You are a ghost.” He shook her. “What happened to you?”

She finally met his eyes, and she crumbled. If he wasn’t already holding her he was certain, she’d be a heap in the said. He pulled her close.

Being that close to someone again felt alien to him, but his body remembered the feel of her curves and softness so, his tension and unease melted away. He took a handkerchief out. “Here.” She took it. Seeing a rock, he gently walked them to it and holding her, he sat down.

“Will you talk to me? You never had a problem bossing me around before, huh?” He tried to keep things light. This woman, the only one he ever tolerated to bossing him around or having some kind of gumption, well other then his mother was now in pieces.

Usually, those kind of women were bothersome but not her. So concern, took seed was already growing and was wrapping its way around his stomach and heart. Not that he loved her, he knew that much but he did care for her.

Sitting up, she pulled and tugged and soon her hair was wild around her once again. Like he was used to seeing. She looked out the ocean, her eyes had grown red, from crying.

She looked at him then, she told him everything. The war, had hardened his stomach. He had seen so many brothers in arms die horribly. Guts being ripped open, limbs shot off and the agonies of slow painful deaths.

What she told him, made him ill. He walked away for moment, he stopped just before his boots could be lapped at by the salty ocean. He looked out, he knew what he had to do. He’d hunt these men down. He’d kill them like dogs, they were. Raping and woman for over a week would not go unpunished. They took her soul. She was a shell of the woman, he once knew.

He walked back to her. “Do you have any place you can go?” He swallowed. “I don’t want you there anymore.”

She shook her head.

“Alright. I will talk to the owner where I am staying. He owes me. I will make sure you can live there.”

*****

She had always, been an amazing artist. He had always told her, that if she ever drew those wanted posters he’d be done for, he tease her with a chuckle but now with the paper he supplied she drew pictures of the three men who held her captive.

Making, sure she was comfortable. He got what he needed, then he went hunting.

He laid in wait. One, he found after taking a trip the barber’s. That one was easy, he cut his throat, letting him bleed out in alleyway

The one, he made angry by winning at poker repeatedly and after a few casual insults, the man asked him for a duel and with a smile curling his lips he accepted and shot him dead in the street, John could be quite fast when he wanted too.

The last one, the ringleader took more time, and John had convince the whore to leave his sleeping side. He paid her triple. When the dog was snoring away, he woke him up, he met those bile grew eyes, and with a gun pointed at his heart John shot him dead. He had to know he was going to die. Of the three, he brought the largest bounty to John’s Wanted Bill, he was the son of some Texas Ranger.

When he came back, after two long weeks of hunting he cleaned himself off and then went to go see her.

She had told him, that the news of the killings had traveled fast. She had been worried but was thrilled he had won over their evil, and that part of her past was dead.

They celebrated, they shared some drinks as he told her how he handled things. Later that night, she tried to seduce him. He held her back, knowing she was still filled with anguish and pain from what they did to her.

Though, he promised that once she was fully healed. He would show her how he could reign in his passions now, he was not the mere boy she had showed many a great thing to.

It was in the middle of the night when he thought about how he was eager to get back out to the west with his brother and their gang of men. More trains and banks were laid out before them, and there was still his desire to settle and raise up a town.

He hated leaving them in the winter. Maybe she could come with them, see the west. See a winter in all its glory and maybe even share in a real Christmas with him. Maybe one of his men, could make her happy, he distantly hoped.

A sharp cry that startled him from his musings. He knew who that cry belonged too. Practically, leaping from his bed he crossed the hall. Turning, the knob finding it locked he slammed his entire body into it. The wood, the hinges whined but easily gave to the force behind him.

Looking, wildly he found you crumbled in your chemise, coming around bit back a scream and immediately grabbed and threw away the knife away. He held her close, and pressed a hand into side. His hand was soon warm and sticky as your life poured out.

“What did you do ?”

Her watery eyes, met his. “I can finally be at peace. John, you saved me.”

“Not for you to do this.” He rocked her, he would not scream and upset her further. He swallowed the anguish.

“You said yourself. I’ve become a ghost.” A cynical, chuckle escaped her lips. The scarlet that flowed over his hand now came from the corner of her mouth. “I can be your ghost.” A smile danced and then faded from her lips. “Live John. Rob those banks. Take those trains. But love too damn it. You need to share that heart, its there.” Her lips slackened and she grew heavy and still in his arms for the last time.

******

The wind, the ice tore at him. Damn, being in San Francisco that month had softened him. Now nothing but ice and snow were seen for miles.

“What is the name of this damn town ?”He yelled to Vic as they trotted in.

“No idea but there is a hotel and a brothel.” He yelled back.

“What has the better accommodations?” John, pulled hat tighter down on his head, the wind in this storm was brutal.

“Hotel!” He shouted. “Apparently, they have a singer from the east. Pretty girl, Ryans said.”

“Alright! Make sure some of the men take rooms in both. This town will be happy to have our money.”

Huh, a singer from the east. He had not been back home to the east in years, almost ten. Maybe, she had stories. He slid off his horse and as the wind, tried to steal his hat away, there was a flicker of movement and he looked upward.

*******

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you.

“Welcome, home John.” You sweetly said as reached into the oven and took out the corn bread. Its sweet smelled filled the air. “Looks, like it came out perfectly.” He remarked as he came up behind you.

You nodded. “It will go wonderfully with the butter I jus made.”

“How did I get so lucky with you?” He whispered into your ear. Sighing, he held you a little closer, as he felt you ease, rest against his.

“Because you are a good man.” Turning your, head you pressed a kiss to his cheek. All of you turned then, your eyes searched his. “John, are you ok?”

“Of course.”

“Settling, in like this for man of your ways...”

“I have always wanted a home.” Momentarily, his thoughts wandered again. “If we’d be in east, we would have had someone making that butter and that bread.”

You smiled letting her hands linger in his inky strands. “Were you a big deal John?”

He nodded, smirking. “Maybe, as comfortable as one could be in the north life was and is always hard.”

“Yes. You have done so well.”

“Y/N, I would taken you to and see plays. Maybe, I’d be a pillar in our community.” He chuckled. “Instead, I am an outlaw who is enjoying the idea of a town growing around the two of us.”

You smiled. “That is pretty exciting.” You paused, sighing. A shadow fell over your eyes.

“Blossom, don’t shrink away, what are you thinking?”

“You have been so far away, even before you left to personally pick the glass for the rest of our windows. It was as if ghosts were dancing in your eyes.” You looked away and then back at him. “I was worried I did something or this life.” He silenced the rest your mouth and gently grabbed your mouth.

You always had a way of knowing him, far better then he could have ever imagined. “I was, Y/N.” He took his hand away. “Ghosts did visit me.” He raised his eyebrows. “They are ones that remind me of how wonderful it is to be at this point with you.”

You smiled then. “Well, then they can visit whenever they want.”

“Little blossom?”

Hmm, you made a soft question sound as your eyes met his, your fingers were deep in his hair. “Vic, is coming at dusk for dinner.”

“I will make a stew.”

“Good, but blossom your husband needs you. It has been far too long, since you’ve been under him whimpering his name.”

He felt you tremble.

“Well, then I am all yours.” A wicked smile curled your lips.

Moments, later you were squealing as he put you over his shoulder and carried you up to the bedroom.

@shantellorraine some more memories..

[cd-stories]

Jim’s Office Adventure

It had been four years working as an administrator within a typical manufacturing company. Apparently our company made something to do with automobile engines, but it was all beyond me. Just get the job done well and people saw me as professional and hard working. In the modern world it was accepted that guys could be administrators just as much as girls could be mechanics and to tell the truth, so long as I got the work done I was pretty much off everyone’s radar. Just ‘that guy in the admin team’ I suppose. If I thought about it I guess I should have known that it would all come out eventually, but I never imagined anything quite like what I’m going to recall here.

I was the only guy working in the administrative department with five other women under Lucy, the head administrator. We all got along, but that’s about as far as it went towards me. I still didn’t feel part of the collective, but didn’t feel any animosity from the other girls either. They were friendly enough, but, let’s say, I wouldn’t expect to be asked out on the town with them. I had been cross dressing for what now seemed like a very long time. Initially it was shifty rummaging through female relatives drawers, longing glances through lingerie catalogs as a teenager, ending up with a rather extensive wardrobe of clothes, shoes and underwear now.

Living by myself allowed me the privacy that I liked to practice my fetish. I never really wanted to be a woman, but just loved the sensuality and power I felt dressing up as one. It always seems so unfair that women had all the glamour and fun! And I always felt a new confidence when I went out dressed up that I didn’t have in my ‘regular’ life.

My physical appearance helped a lot. Partly it was down to luck and my genes, but also diet and exercise that maximized my physical assets. I was naturally tall and skinny: 5 ft 11 in my bare stockings. Regular work outs at the gym kept me toned, avoiding bulking out too much! This left me with slender, shapely legs and kept my body and shoulders slim.

At 23 years old I looked young and fresh, and my mother’s genes had blessed me with a boyish delicate face and appearance. As a result I normally found that I had to try to ‘butch’ up for my daytime persona with crisp white shirts and shapeless trousers!

Like a lot of crossdressers I’d tried to give it all up, bundling all my clothes into bins and swearing to stop it all (usually after some near miss…), but it always seeped back into my life. At the time I was happy and comfortable with my lifestyle. I had a nice steady job during the day and an alternative female persona for evenings and nights out.

Each existence was separate and never crossed-over except for really extra-ordinary circumstances. But then this is all about one of those occasions, which led on to so much more… Work officially finished at 12:00 on a Friday, but I had too much work to finish and had to carry on into the afternoon. Tonight I had other plans though.

Tonight I was meeting up with some of my ‘girl’ friends (my crossdresser friends) in town and had a weekend break planned. We’d booked a minibus for us all to go down to London for the weekend, spending some relaxing time in a posh 5 star hotel and evenings in some of our favorite alternative clubs. I couldn’t wait to get dolled up ready for our mini-adventure. The big problem was that I needed to be ready at 4:00 pm, which didn’t give me time to get home, change and get into town. That meant breaking my major ground rule of mixing business and pleasure. I had to get ready and dressed at work, and I had to bring in my weekend clothes to work. They were sat in my weekend bag, which I had brought in early and stashed out of sight under my desk. By 2:00 almost everyone in the building had left for the weekend.

There were a still a few engineers and executives about, but I was sure I hadn’t seen any girls around. I was planning to make a break for it to the ladies, so once I was inside there I was safe. A lot of the lights had already been turned out and the day was turning to winter dusk outside. I finished up my work and now it was time for me to get dressed up.

Handily the women’s toilets were located just out of sight from the office door a little along the corridor. By now I hadn’t seen anyone pass our office door for 20 minutes. I was certain there was almost no one else left here, but I felt a little tingle as I got up with my weekend bag to sneak to the ladies. With my heart beating hard I left the office and turned left down the corridor, pausing at the water cooler to take a slow drink and pretend to read one of the company’s motivational pieces on the news board. “OK, this is it,” I thought after no one had left the ladies for a good 5 minutes, “All the admin girls have left, it’s now or never”.

Confidently I picked up my weekend bag, slung it over my shoulder and moved quickly and quietly down the corridor, past the men’s room, and with one last cautious glace over my shoulder slipped into the sanctuary of the ladies toilet. My heart was still pounding as the automatic lights flickered on. No one in here — phew! Just to be sure I went into the second to last cubicle and locked the door. Now I could relax a little and get into my dressing routine. I quickly stripped off and filled the carrier bag I’d brought along with all my day clothes.

Last night I had spent a luxurious evening bathing, waxing, shaving and moisturizing my entire body. Now I stood for a moment enjoying the feel of my hands gliding over my soft smooth body. Sitting down on the loo I pulled on a pair a silky hold up stockings, the light fabric gliding easily up my freshly waxed legs. And with my pair of black leather boots that went up to just below the knee zipped on at least now I would appear ‘normal’ from under the toilet door in an emergency. Feeling much more relaxed now, I could really go to work on my female image. First I attached my wonderful C cup silicon fakes and blending in the edges with some foundation. I then got out my pocket mirror and starting to apply my makeup. Not too much, but enough to bring out some of the natural feminine look to my boyish face.

By keeping it low key I could normally pass without too many unwanted double takes. So, I applied some of my favorite foundation followed by a light dusting of blusher to bring out my cheekbones. Next I put on some dusky eye shadow to match my hazel color, followed by coal grey eyeliner to open up my eyes and the first coat of mascara.

My favorite subject at school was always art: who knew being so handy with a brush would come in so useful! The only real splash of color was reserved for my crimson lipstick, with a touch of lip gloss.

Tonight I was going for elegant and stylish, so standing up again I slipped on a delicate lacy black thong, followed by the matching bra. Then I wriggled into my killer Little Black Dress. I loved this dress and always pulled it out for a good night out. It hugged where it should, hid my worst bits and fitted like a dream.

I guess the way the hem line ended just below my stocking tops helped too! Next I applied some pre-prepared crimson painted nails and while I waited for them to dry I brushed on a second coat of mascara and fluttered my eyelashes to myself in my mirror. Finally I took my favorite brunette bob wig out of the box in my weekend bag and fixed it into place. It was a modern cut that angled forwards and down with a straight cut fringe.

It went very well with the young-classy-thing I was going for. With some luck I might make someone’s night in the bar tonight! Once I was happy with my appearance I gingerly opened the cubicle door to check myself out in the bathroom mirror and make any final adjustments. “Woh, cute honey,” I thought to myself.

I whispered another silent prayer to the cute gym instructor that had come up with the routines that had added shape to my cute ass. Just need a few tweaks to my blusher, tidy up a stray hair or two and I’m ready to hit the streets! I turned back to the cubicle and picked up my makeup bag off the toilet seat and put it next to the middle sink. I then leaned down to retrieve my day clothes and stuff them into my weekend bag. Now fully dressed I was enjoying the snug fit of my clothes and as I bent to pick up my bag I relished the feel of my black dress’s hem inching up the back of my thighs to reveal a peek of stocking top and bare flesh. Mmm.. that felt good as I kept one leg straight and paused bent over double reaching for my bag.

Just as I was enjoying the luxurious stretch down the back of my leg, I froze mid bend as I heard the outer door suddenly swing open. Panicking I stood upright again, but didn’t know what to do. The inner door opened and I heard heels tap across the tiled floor. “OK… OK… keep calm and casual,” I thought to myself.

My heart was beating so hard in my chest I felt sure anyone in the same room could hear. Clutching my bag I returned to the sink where I had left my makeup kit. By looking down slightly I could keep the fringe of my wig concealing my face. With some luck she’d go to a cubicle and I could slip out without any questions or confrontation.

Flicking my eyes up to the mirror I saw that I looked good enough to pass, it was just a pity I couldn’t do a final touch to my makeup. With a feeling of dread I felt the presence of someone walk behind me and take up position at the next sink. “Why had I taken the middle sink?” I thought to myself. “Oh no, now I’ve got to stay and do something at least else it looks odd.”.

I took out my blusher brush and touched up my face, trying desperately to look calm and collected. Glancing to my left in the mirror I saw Helen, one of the senior executives styling her hair with her fingers and a small can of hair spray. “Idiot!” I thought, “Of course there was Helen as well as the office girls.

I’d forgotten about the one female executive who could be working late in her office!” “God, these long meetings play havoc with my hair!” she said. “I’m sure it’s the air conditioner, but I always come out of that room looking a mess.” “Yeah, I know what you mean,” I mumbled in my feminine voice, desperate for something to say.

“And I’m supposed to be going out tonight,” she said, “now it’s too late to go home and I’ve got to keep these stuffy work clothes on.” So far she seemed far too preoccupied to notice me much, so with gathering confidence I chanced a longer look to my left. She was wearing a modern cut navy blue skirt suit, with a white blouse underneath.

The suit suited her figure well and true to Helen’s form the skirt was that little bit shorter than necessary for business. I had to admit that she looked good, just as she always did. She was rather short, under 5ft I estimated, but her sensuous curvy body and larger than average chest more than made up for it. Matching navy blue 3 inch high heels also helped disguise her height, with the added bonus of making the most of her heart shaped rear. And if she wasn’t eye catching enough there was the shock of fiery red hair which contrasted so well with her creamy white skin.

“No, you look great,” I replied “Just maybe lose a few buttons on your blouse and add some more makeup and you’ll be OK for bars.” I couldn’t believe what was going on here. I needed to leave and here I was having a conversation with one of the high level management dressed as a woman! I’d be lucky to keep my job if she realized.

“Oh, thanks,” said Helen. “Could I borrow some eyeliner? I don’t keep any at work.”

“Sure,” I replied, cursing myself for mentioning makeup. I rummaged in my makeup bag and passed her my eyeliner, without turning away from the mirror. I continued to tweak my hair and makeup while Helen concentrated on applying eyeliner. She finished what she was doing and passed me the makeup.

I turned to take it and fumbled it with the rest of my makeup back into my weekend bag. “Right I better get going,” I said, still trying to avoid eye contact with Helen. “OK. Me too, I’m about done in here. Thanks for the eyeliner again.” “No problem,” I replied. Turning to leave, we both made for the door and for an instant I looked straight at Helen.

There was a slightly quizzical look on her face, and then it was gone. I opened the door and pushed my way out into the relative freedom of the corridor. “Looks like you’re on for a big one,” she commented as she followed me out “What are you planning?” “Um… I’m meeting some friends in town and we’re going. down to London,” I mumbled.

“Uh huh…” she answered “… well you have fun” she finally said.

Still on edge I turned to go, but was called back after three steps. “Excuse me,” said Helen. “I hate to do this, really I do, but you do work here don’t you?”

“Sure,” I replied casually, screaming on the inside, “down in the finance office with Sue.” “Oh, just I haven’t seen you around much. Are you new?” “Yeah. I transferred from the Northern branch 3 months ago.” “Ah right I see.” There was another long pause, “sorry to do this, but can I see your ID? We’ve had a few security breaches recently and you can never be too careful.” “No problem,” I replied. I squatted down next to my weekend bag and made a big show of rummaging inside searching for my ID. Desperately I thought “What am I going to do now? I can’t show her my card!” “Sorry, I must have lost it somewhere,” I said with maybe a little too much confidence.

“Right.” said Helen. She sighed and finally added, “Well, would you mind coming with me while we sort all this out?” “Sure, but I do have to go soon you know.”

“Yes, this will all get sorted quickly one way or another,” she replied ominously. Feeling like I was falling in a dream I followed Helen back through my office past my desk and towards her executive office along the far side.

I’d never ventured into her office before and I was surprised how nice it was in here compared to out in the drones section. There were large windows down one side of the office, looking out over the landscaped grounds our office block sat in.

A large desk dominated one corner of the spacious office, with a wall of books and files to the left of it. In the opposite corner to the desk was a low coffee table surrounded by 6 easy chairs. Evidently this was where the deals were made.

The only other furniture to be seen were a selection of large foliage plants dotted around the room, Helen’s black leather high backed office chair and a further standard office chair pulled up to the other side of the desk. She went behind the desk and sat before motioning me to sit opposite her.

“OK then…” she said, “sorry, what did you say your name was?” “Rachel,” I blurted out, “Rachel Stevenson” “OK then Rachel. We need to find your ID in a hurry or get you cross checked with Security. What’s it going to be?”.

By now I’d resigned myself to losing my job and life as I knew it, so it was either humiliation now with Helen or humiliation with Helen and a selection of security guards as well. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. I tried to think of something clever and then it hit me.

“I am sorry but the truth is I am just here to fill in for Jim. You see, he’s my close friend and he wanted me to finish some of his work. Since, he had done me a big favor a few weeks ago; I came in to help him. Apparently he had some personal work to complete today. I am really sorry.” I said timidly “I shouldn’t have done this. Please don’t call the security.”.

“Well, why didn’t you say it before,” Helen exclaimed, “I know Jim, not personally but I have heard a lot about him. He’s a good worker. He must have had something really important to call you in.” Stunned, I just nodded.

I couldn’t believe that she really said that. I felt a moment’s pride at the realization that she hadn’t recognized me and believed my story. Helen got up from her desk and eased down finally. “You can go now” she said with softness in her voice. “Thank you so much,” I replied. “Have a nice weekend,” Helen said and we both walked out of the office.

I held my breath until I was out in the corridor. After what seemed an eternity, I was finally out of the building. I checked the time and there was still time to catch up with my friends. What an afternoon it turned out to be.

The End

[starbuck09256]

A Howl in the Moonlight

@xfilesfanficexchange @mulder-even-if @today-in-fic

I got the awesome Christina who wanted a Season One fic with Howling as the key word, she left it up in the air for some fluff, smut, goodness and I sure hope I delivered that. Sorry for the delay. It’s 11:12 pst so sort of made it? 

NSFW

Fictober day whatever... lol

She feels the crunch of the leaves beneath her boots as she runs through the dark forest. The night noise resonating in her ears with the burning of her lungs. She can barely make out Mulders long frame in the distance he stops suddenly and that’s when she hears it, howling into the night. Her eyes go wide as she searches for the animal that made it. Trees and dense forest along with the dark shadows cause her to pull her hands up with her gun, shining it into the moonlight. She sees Mulder his hands outstretched like hers, gun at the ready as a large animal leaps towards him. She screams and fires hoping like hell she doesn’t hit her partner. 

There is so much blood, she can’t tell if it’s the large dog she hit or Mulders, he isn’t responding to her screaming his name. Tears sting her eyes as she tries to push the 100 pound canine off of him. 

“Mulder… Mulder” she mutters into the full moon as blood seeps into her clothes. 

“Scully” he stuppers and she gasps in relief. 

“You ok Scully?” she pushes hard at the back of the dog, trying to free her partner. 

“Yea, you?” 

The dog whimpers. Mulders voices laced with fear 

“he… he bit me,” in that moment she sees for the first time, his panic face. 

2 hours later

She’s sitting on his motel bed, freshly showered and dressed in some loose fitting fbi sweats and shirt. She waits as she hears the shower finally shut off. She swallows hard, worries about the animal being infected with Rabies. Worries that her partner a man whom has changed her whole life in just the last year will fall victim to horrible infection and never solve his sister's disappearance. Her anxiety is rising while she goes through his medical records. He’s not the best at willingly going to the doctor. Their frequent hospital trips make it hard to shift through if he ever had any vaccinations for the virus. She pinches the bridge of her nose sliding her glasses off and swipes at her face. She thinks about Bear in Alaska, how those tiny worms brought down a 180 pound man in mere hours. Her lips quiver and she bites it to try and stop herself from crying. He opens the door, a white hotel towel wrapped loosely around his hips. His brown locks sticking up in all directions. His muscular chest gleams in the harsh fluorescent lights scratches down the front red and angry cause her to gasp. He starts to remove the blood soaked bandage from his arm, so she can redressed it for him. The ticking of the clock cuts through the silence like a knife. 

“I can’t seem to find out if you had a recent rabies shot.. I thought maybe after the Arctic incident we both..” but her voice fades off as he shakes his head.

 “I don’t think I did, I wanted to get back up there so badly that I uh.. Just told them I would do it later.” 

Her eyes capture his. 

“They are still waiting on the blood tests from the dog.” 

“You mean werewolf” 

“That animal was not a werewolf Mulder,” she scoffs. 

He could be dying from a preventable disease and he wants to argue with her about werewolves. 

“Scully I saw it change it was a man running towards me and then it ...shifted.. And that's when it howled and attacked me, I’m infected. You have to lock me up so I don’t attack you when I change.” 

She stands up in pure anger, files fall to the ground and the fact that she isn’t wearing any shoes makes him chuckle at her small frame. 

“You aren’t going to change into anything!! You are going to get headaches, muscles spasms, hallucinations and then you are going to DIE!” 

“There is another full moon tonight Scully, we have to figure out a way to keep you safe when I shift.”

She grabs her medical bag and pulls him back into the bathroom. She hops up on the sink, pulling him between her legs so she can clean his wounds on his back. She tries to work efficiently cleaning each area firstly, ripping open packaging with her teeth. He says nothing, save for a small gasp when the coldness of her fingers brush against his back. She tries to keep her composure as she finishes his back wrapping it in bandages. She touches his shoulder gently to turn around, her eyes face his broad chest and the deep red marks across his stomach. She applies liberal amounts of the ointment hoping that if he doesn’t die from Rabies at least he won’t die from some other infection. 

“These look really bad Mulder,” she mutters. 

She wants to cry with how much he frustrates her, he is more concerned about shifting into a mythical creature than the fact that only 10% of people survive once infected. She hasn’t known him long, but recent events have made her question her feelings about him. He is stubborn, and so very smart. He is caring and kind, compassionate and fierce, all the things she has always admired in men. He isn’t like her other lovers he questions her, challenges her in ways that make her mind race in excitement. Now though now all that can be torn away. She might never get to know if they could have been more. He sees it then, her anger, her fear. He reaches down, to this incredible woman, who makes him work for everything. He wraps his arms around her as she shuffles a sob into his chest. He strokes her back to comfort her, even though he is getting as much comfort from this as she is. He kisses her hair lets her hands roam across his back as the large scratches sting a little. She pulls back looks up at him a sad smile on his lips and he can’t help himself. He leans down and kisses her, she tastes wonderful. Her lips are like mini pillows full and soft his tongue searches for hers. His fingers dance through her hair as his lips linger on hers. She sighs when he pulls back as her leans down to rest his forehead against hers. 

“You won’t let me die Scully.” he strokes her cheek with thumb as she lets out a deep sob. 

The phone rings his hand trails down her arm as she hops off the counter to answer it. The light of the morning dawn seeps through the blinds and the countdown til dusk begins. 

12 hours later

They’ve been through the evidence over and over. He is still convinced that he will turn tonight, he’s made a trip to the army supply store. After the local sheriff refused his request to lock him up in a cell so they could document his transformation. Scully sits uneasily on his motel bed, the extra handcuffs, rope along with a video camera are set up. If he is going to spend his days howling in the night as a rugged animal he wants full documentation for science. Scully hasn’t said much since the confirmation of Rabies came back on the dog. She has tried to argue with him, let him know that the chances of his survival are dismal. She’s even requested another round of blood tests for him but the results won’t be ready until tomorrow at the earliest as they had to send them out to another lab. She wanted to take them herself, but Mulder wanted her to stay with him. 

“Come on Scully, I’m dying you want to deny me my last wish of you documenting me changing into a werewolf?” 

She of course scoffed at his request and post marked everything to send immediately. His symptoms wouldn’t manifest for a few days anyway and there was nothing she could do to save him. Rabies is preventable beforehand but not after. They had little option than to wait and make him comfortable as his body fought the disease. So now here she sat with a video camera and a half naked Mulder who was working on tying ropes together to secure him to a hotel bed post. 

“Is it really necessary for you to be in just your boxers Mulder?” 

“Ah Scully I thought I’d give you free looks before I’m gone that way when I haunt you in your dreams you will have accurate details.” 

She can’t help but roll her eyes even though all she wants to really do is roll her hips against his. His kiss was sweet but short and now she is craving it, like he craves sunflower seeds. 

“Ok Scully, I need you to help me tie my hands together with the cuffs at the top.” 

“Mulder this is pointless if you shift into a werewolf clearly you wouldn’t have a thumb to make the cuffs even effective!” 

Mulder looks at her with the same deadpanned look she gives him. 

“Humor me, alright?” she throws her hands up and climbs on the bed next to him where he is outstretched his feet spread apart and his arms stretch out above.

 “Mulder, it's hard to reach around…” she can’t reach the other part of the cuff. She turns and her face is inches from his. He leans up again and kisses her. 

“Mu..” 

His lips suck on hers and she opens her mouth to let his tongue slide in. She can’t help the moan that escapes as his hand still with half of a cuff on it pressed into her hair to keep her kissing him. As if she needed more reason. She knows this is a bad idea, knows that she shouldn’t get involved with her partner, but now he is scared like her and for some dumb reason they have chosen this path to numb the anxiety. He pulls away and her lips chase after his, he smiles wide and kisses her again as his fingers press down her side to her thin waist. His other hand grabs her hip and she gets the hint and straddles him leaning down to keep kissing him as her lips now linger on his stubble caressing his skin as he reaches up to cup her face. 

“Oh.. umm sorry…” she stammers and starts to move her leg. 

“I uh.. Can reach now.” 

“I kissed you Scully, and I’d like to keep kissing you until the day I die.” his smile is smug. 

She slaps him on the arm. 

“It’s not funny Mulder! This whole thing is not funny!” he laughs. 

“Mulder I’m serious you have no idea how this disease is going to affect you.” 

“Scully I’m going to shift into a werewolf before any of that happens and you need to be ready to shoot me.” 

“I’m not going to SHOOT YOU!” she practically sobs. 

True to form though she locks the cuffs around his wrists to the board. She swallows hard. 

“Kiss me” he says and she does, kisses him for all he’s worth and he shifts his hips up to bump her against him. She pulls back her lips red and swollen. 

“You have to tie up my feet too.” 

She shimmies her body down his to the rope he’s tied at the end. She secures the knots. Her father taught her all the nautical knots when she was a child. Mulder grins at her as the streetlights outside come on and the sun disappears beneath the earth. She sits in the chair the video camera pointed at Mulder, her loaded gun in her lap. An hour passes and Mulder is still there strapped onto the bed. He’s spent the last 20 minutes reciting all the facts he knows about werewolves to her. If he does change soon, she might end up suffocating him anyway. 

“Mulder, please can we just sit here and not think about the horrible things you are convinced are going to happen?” 

“Scully once I turn into a werewolf I won’t be able to communicate and I will attack you. Surely you want to memorize my voice too?” 

“Why don’t we turn on the tv?” she suggests. “Maybe your werewolf self likes Star Trek.” 

“I think the problem is you have to open the blinds.” 

“Ah, so you can’t change unless you are in the moonlight?” 

“Just you know open the blinds so the moon can get in.” 

“Shouldn’t we try to not change you into a werewolf if it’s a possibility?” 

“Scully this is for science.”  She scoffs opens the curtains wide letting the darkened sky shiny onto his skin. 

2 Hours Later

Scully is sitting in a chair looking at Mulder filing her nails. 

“I think Fido is appropriate or Spock! That would be a great werewolf name.” 

She turns to Mulder who squirms with the restraints he is unamused. 

“The moonlight has been shining on you for almost 2 hours. Can you please just admit that this is ridiculous, Mulder?” 

“Maybe I just really wanted you to tie me up Scully.” he mutters the hint of defeat evident in his voice. 

“Maybe we should save the kinky stuff for a little later in our relationship.”

 She comes to his right foot to untie him. Just then he flinches and starts to struggle. She jumps back as his body shakes and withers. 

“Mulder!” she screams. Then she hears him laughing. 

“I’m sorry Scully, I had too. I’m sorry.”

 “I can leave you like this you know! Let the Rabies take your body and mind while you lay on this crappy bed.” he laughs some more. 

“I really had you,” she goes to untie his foot 

“you had nothing.” she mumbles.  

She crawls towards the top straddling him and uncuff his hands. 

“You are beautiful when you are angry you know.” 

She stares down at him. “I must be breathtaking now then.” 

She finishes uncuffing his hands sitting on his stomach painfully. 

“Scully, I’m sorry, really.” 

“You could die from that bite you understand that right?” 

He pulls her into a hug. His lips find her pulse points. Softly kissing up to her ear. 

“Scully I think I had a rabies shot not too long ago. Really” 

''That’s not what your records say Mulder.” 

“You yourself said I was missing several hospital records.” 

He cups her face giving her soft kisses. 

“I’m like 99% positive,” 

“Well Mulder what do you want to do now? Since you aren’t a werewolf or dying.” 

He grins as he trails kissing down her neck. His hands find the bottom of her top fingers trace lightly against her stomach. He lifts her shirt off, the moonlight shines against her pale skin and soft pink bra. He follows it’s path kissing every part of her he can. She moves her hands up and down his skin careful of his scratches. His mouth finds her again and he is consumed by her deep kisses. He moves so that she can lay beneath him as he pulls at her pants and panties.  Her fingers hook his boxers and slide them down. As he moves his head between her legs. Just as she pulls his head up and they kiss again her fingers grasping his cock at her entrance they hear a howling in the moonlight. 

[doriscahill]

Walking memories

It’s winter and my daily routine begins to sort out. My language slowly progresses. My room at my host family begins to feel like a home. My daily 5 mile walks to and from works were transitioned beyond my sore feet. I could finally absorb my surroundings. The details, the bread, the potato sandwiches and ladies with daily vegetable stands.

They were always there. But now, I could see them as if my sight was taken. I  stumbled on linen and material shops to make my way in. It was at these make shift stores, nestled in older buildings on the main street I haggled for huge soft purple blanket and a traditional pattern throw with fringe. Its there the word for pillow case and pillow where taught. Showing pictures from my Cell phone, saying I need this!

Piece by piece over a few weeks my room filled with these and other objects; small mirror and bright lamp, a curtain to hang on my door to the hallway, a knob to screw on my broken draw. A bit of privacy in a house of 8, making my life somewhat normal.

Americans are less social then Georgian culture in certain ways. We generally, are not inspecting each others comings and goings. At every turn, a question “where are you heading, then when are you coming back?” At least 6 of the 8 asking, the baby only cooed, one after another bopping in an out. Checking in with me. This local behavior embraced my walks too. Metro areas in American you’d think only someone would ask for directions and scurry a way. 

Then I discover this coffee gig. Not a gig exactly. Coffee is a round the clock  social event. I know I was sent to three months of boot camp style training on this, but finally, I see what what those lessons were about. 

My first experience where I encounter a super friendly stranger and it became a coffee event,  It was this tiny coffee shop, easy to miss, if not for the sign board on the street walk. Daily,  I see the sign, but where is this coffee? I had been seeing these signs, but only thought to stop and stare when it could be a good coffee.  Ah yes, there it is right under my nose.  A tiny non standard width glass door, maybe 28 inches wide.

Georgia’s door openings are inconsistently size, in fact much of the building code is lax. Wires for electric and internet are shared and tangled in various knots on various poles that  criss-cross. Doorways should be slowly opened as stairwells can be removed but “not” the door! Mornings I would find glass on my 2 X6 deck with glass from fallen windows above after a good thunderstorm, that opening was not a door exactly, it was a window you climbed out of. 

Yes, back to coffee. I walk through the narrow door. A woman who of course speaks Russian or Armenian   breaks out in Armenian first.  I live a hour and half from Armenia’s capital, Yerevan. Armenians are the most industrious of business people, they own many of the shops and there is friction over this. I need know to use my Georgian to get my coffee, the term for want and coffee are simple for me now and its understood, but that does not deter conversation. 

I learn they sell  instant coffee, JACOBs and it is sugar on steroids. Her machine for making it is broken, which on many other visits it was broken, so  she boils a pot of water, retrieves a very tiny cup, fills it with the dusty powder;  Cost 30 cents or 50 cents. I am sitting in a very tiny chair, more like a stool or child’s chair. For that small transaction,  we talk for an hour likely,  because a friend is now joining us in this crammed room. I learned much about her on my many visits. She did not own the shop, which is common she worked for the husband or brother.  They sold cigarettes too.  Tobacco smoking is cheap and fashionable. Women do not smoke openly, but men do on every corner. This money gathering  is the same with beauty shops too, a man will come by and take the money, sometimes twice a day. 

My coffee exploits continued, the yarn shop, the cake shop, the bread shop. Socializing is part of your goals in Peace Corps, lucky me. I had standard answers by now, and a few silly Georgian canned joked. Like men or husbands are crazy, but I only have one! Church too, but that stone floor is tough on the knees, but after church when I found the Catholic church with pews,  I was hauled into a 3 hour coffee at a home with no escape route, a cup of soup boiled for days and cookies. Half hour good, 3 hours with all the neighbors tricky when your stared at and spoken to in a second language. 

Occasionally, then more routinely, I stopped at the one of two western style hotels in town. At first for the guaranteed western restrooms. Later would buy a real cappucino or Turkish coffee (traditional, small cup), best compared to espresso taken with nice cold glass of water. Often eat there, as the food was guaranteed safe.  The business manager had schooled outside Georgia and was literate in English. We had met on my projects early in service.  At first the discussions entailed much of the priorities to develop tourism, not the same as coffee with the ladies shops, he is not a lady. I learned a lot and felt this bond of friendship developing.  

Fun to think back on, its felt as though you’re in school again but your not when your first meeting people.  I found myself learning more Georgian and for me, it was important to discuss topics with emphasis even if my vocabulary was weak. My new friend was a second tutor, but, a crush or sorts. No, a crush it was. 

In learning the word for important, I wanted all to know how it important is was for me to visit places and go all the places. And how I loved nature, we had these values in common as we sipped coffee, now a few times a week. In fact, twice I was offered a ride so I would not have to walk back to my host home.   The crush is developing. 

At  coffee on a day no different day than another, he starts our talk that leads  “I will take you and I will call you tonight!” Oh, “sure” and before you know it “here’s my number”  One evening shortly after the call comes “the car is broke” we were to visit a start gazing spectacular above the castle” Me,  “no problem”, but an hour later as the dusk moved to evening another call came “the car is fixed!” meet “us” at the bottom of the hill. 

Days leading up to this, became a bit of a fantasy. He was clearly younger, best guess 42 at the most, but its enjoyable to listen to those younger, bright with dreams. I meet that night at the bottom of the hill by the gas station. Joined  him in his 4x4  SUV in the front and saw a  chaperone  aka guy friend in the back. He never spoke the entire trip. 

Later, other instances when I lived alone at my apartment, it was explained. Men were not allowed to come up the stairs alone and knock at your door. 

We drive up the dirt road, listening to the story of how this will be the most wonderful tourist spot, but there is no running water, at the top. Well it most certainly would.  And we discussed this water needed, me insisting on good restroom and how there is a natural brook not too far. At the top it you could see the immense Castle (thousands of year old border fortress), lit up with lights that shined gold in the distance. Above the starts shone well in the dark sky as the dust settles late at night. I did not want that minute to end. 

My now very close friend was supportive when my mom fell ill with her first heart attack. We spoke about family and how that is all that really matters.  Family is so important to culture in Georgia. About half way through my service he found a local girl and married and within that year had their first child.  I slowed my coffee visits  and arranged for others to take me all the places. When I stopped the last time in May 2019 and shared my trip to America would be for awhile, they seemed so sad. And I was too. Not even a hug as my good bye was in the open. 

You’re not told or maybe you do not understand  how much you will miss people after Peace Corps. I will make it back one day for coffee.

Thanks for listening! doe

[narcissusneverknewme]

The Grand Hotel

Somewhere below the Grand Hotel

There is a tunnel that leads down to hell

That’s Simon’s voice. No one in this place could ever mistake that voice. Not singing, not speaking, not crying. If they heard it for the first time in a hundred years, or a hundred thousand, they would know it. The few short months that had past since it last filled these lifeless halls had certainly not begun to mar the memory of it.

There was a time, when first it became familiar, that the inhabitants of that once-silent building would have done nearly anything to escape his voice.

Now, they drift slowly from dark rooms and deep corners of the Dumort, pulled from the shadows towards its bright, seemingly magnetic sound.

Take the dumbwaiter, the laundry chute

Then sneak through the hall past the boys shining boots

Deep within the hotel, Stan finds himself floating out of his room, into the passageway. Blinking slowly as though still waking up, he sees the others filling the hall. It’s strange, surreal, to see so many people moving in harmony. They all mirror Stan’s gradual, almost involuntary movements and dreamy expression. Slow eyes hover over one another before turning upward, as though they could peer through the ceiling to see the source of the song many floors above.

Turn left at the courtyard, through the old garden

Where all the bellhops smoke with the guards

And then you run to the old lake house

Down to the old lake house

Run to the old lake house where it begins

Simon’s singing. He hasn’t sung in a long time. He hasn’t been home in a long time.

Home. Somehow, this moment is the first time he’s realized that the Dumort is his home. As dark and strange and full of bloody, tear-stained secrets as it is, it’s his home.

He plays his guitar with ease, the rhythm and chords coming to him freely. The words are harder. He hears them again as he sings them, thinks about them like he’d never heard them before.

Under the floorboards there's a deep well

That leads to a spring that sprung up in hell

Hell . The word had entered his mind with new meaning after his death.

When he’d woken, lungs filling with earth and body aching with cold, as he’d clawed his way through six feet of suffocating sod, as the crushing feeling of being buried and unsure of the way upwards had choked him as effectively as the dirt filling his mouth and nose, the word had flickered briefly through his head, then was pushed aside by desperation.

When he’d emerged only for cold and panic to be replaced by hunger, burning hunger, the word was still there, in the back of his mind.

When he’d realized what his afterlife really was, he’d thought it again. He was a monster; not as in a “bad person,” an actual monster. Dangerous, predatory, unable even to live without sucking the vitality out of other human’s veins. He was a devil, and he was trapped with himself for eternity. That, he’d thought, was as literal an interpretation of “hell on Earth” as was possible. He’d thought then that he understood.

Now, as he sang in his favorite nook, tucked away with his guitar on the penultimate floor of the Hotel Dumort, he knew that Hell was not pain. It was not fear, nor thirst, nor demons. He knew now that to be damned was to fall--  to be cast out. It was separation. It was the knowledge that his loss and isolation were his own choice. It was guilt. It was sin. It was his own betrayal of those he’d loved.

That's where old devils danced and kissed

And made their blood pacts in the ancient myths

Simon can picture in perfect detail Raphael’s expression when he’d declared Simon a traitor. He wishes he couldn’t. He wishes the memory of that look wasn’t so much clearer than all his others, like it was branded on his mind. Like it’ll be there when time has erased every other memory.

Maybe one day he won’t remember what Raphael’s laugh sounded like. Or the defiance in his face when Simon had seen the mark the cross around Raphael’s neck burned into his skin. Or that half-repressed smile he’d worn the night Simon made Raphael dance with him. Lily had wolf-whistled from what she clearly judged to be a safe distance, she was lucky Raphael was feeling generous: he’d ignored her, lips turning up just a bit more.

Simon’s clan had been his family, and he’d owed them loyalty. He had not given it. If he still remembered his treachery when every other memory had faded away, he’d deserve it.

And running through forest they screamed in chorus

While piercing fair maidens' chests with their horns

Raphael stands on the rooftop of the Dumort, hands stiffly at his sides. The sun is safely tucked beneath the horizon, but colors linger in the sky, traces of daylight still in the air-- it’s his favorite time; the most human time.

Dusk always evoked a certain longing in Raphael. When he’d first found himself confined to the night with the rest of the dark things, the sunset had been painful. The grief he’d felt at seeing it had been unexpected and overwhelming.

It was fitting in a way, death had become his domain, and the dying sun was the only light permitted in his life. The first time he’d watched it set really knowing that he’d never see it rise again, the pain he’d felt had left him breathless. It was like someone had punched a hole through him, leaving his lungs gasping and his chest empty.

But time dulls everything, even for the undead. It had been years since the gloaming had brought more than a dull twinge to Raphel. Tonight is different.

A single floor separates him and the sound of Simon’s voice. He’s singing, a song that manages to be both playful and melancholy. Raphael can’t help listening, he can’t ignore the soft sound of Simon’s voice anymore than he can ignore the ache in his own chest. As the sun rays recede, the pull Raphael had felt-- the need to be out here, breathing in what light he can-- fades with it. Something else tugs at him, another kind of light calling to him.

And then they lay in the grass 'til the dawn came

Sleeping away 'til the dawn came

Lay in the grass where now stands the Grand Hotel

The vampires are all stirring now, gravitating towards the big spaces where they’ve danced to this voice before.

The maître d' and a fancy chef

Silver's real, the liquor's top shelf

Play some tennis, swim in a pool

Stroll the garden, shady and cool

Simon’s always reminded Lily of living things, growing things. He’s crept into their hearts in such an unexpected way. He’d had them all wrapped up in his clutches before they’d quite known what they were about, like vines twining around a tree.

When he hadn’t chosen them, when he chose the Nephilim, when he chose her , Lily had felt his vinelike fingers, coiled around the clan’s hearts, shredding through them like thread through butter.

She’d been angry, then sad, and then… she’d wilted. Simon had brought humanity and energy back into their lives and then he’d taken it away again. Without it, she couldn’t even stay sad. She’d just grown lethargic, sinking further into apathy than she’d ever done.

Now his music, his emotion, the barely-there sound of one of his legs vibrating with excess energy, fills the hotel again. Lily feels it rousing her. The song is full of thoughts forlorn and wistful. It reminds Lily how much she misses life. It’s nostalgic and challenging and she isn’t sure she likes it.

You won't care that the devils

Won't mind that the devils

Won't know that the devils are near

Simon knows that the sun is setting, that the hotel will be waking up soon, and he’s afraid. He’d done what he could to atone for wronging Raphael, he’d found Camille and endangered himself to capture her. When things went south (as they inevitably did) he’d proved just how remorseful he was; just how loyal to Raphael and the clan; just how dedicated to Raphael’s safety. In return, Raphael had told him he was allowed back in the hotel. That was two weeks ago.

Yesterday, Simon finally got up the courage to return, but he couldn’t imagine just waltzing in the front doors. Bursting in like a student 15 minutes late to class on the first day, all eyes turning to him to sit in judgement. So he’d snuck in before the sun set and the Dumort rose.

He’d sat down to wait for the others to wake, but he’d run out patience, run out of nerve, after only a few moments.

The music had been meant to calm him. He was trying to keep his mind off his impending reunion with his fearless leader and the clan. It isn’t working. At all.

He wants to see him, them. But he’s scared, and so, so sorry.

Somewhere below the grand hotel

There is a tunnel that leads straight to hell

The Dumort used to be a kind of hell for Simon, he thinks idly as his fingers pluck the strings. He thinks it might have been a kind of hell for all of them.

But no one comes up for the souls anymore

They come for some comfort and for the dance floor

And hiding sharp horns under fedoras

Do not disturb signs instead of a chorus

The vampires are standing in the lobby and the stateroom. They’re all listening now, eyeing each other to see who’ll give in first. None of them have ever been able to resist.

Finally, Lily offers Elliott her hand. They dance. Others begin dancing in pairs, or small groups, or even alone. It’s nothing like a vampire party. The lights are low, the music is soft and clear, and when they dance it’s slow.

Elliott’s hand is almost warm where it holds Lily’s. That’s probably impossible. Lily isn’t sure.

As they dance past, Lily notices that sad, ever-silent European couple. They’re holding each other in a way that looks stately and rigid, moving in a traditional, elegant dance. They’re looking into each other’s eyes. In the second that Lily watches them, she can see that they’re communicating. She thinks maybe they’re still in love.

They toss and turn 'til the dawn comes

On soft sheets 'til the dawn comes

No one sleeps at the grand hotel

Simon lets the music soothe his anxiety as much as it can. Tonight, whatever it holds, whatever welcome he receives from his clan, from Raphael, tonight is going to be pivotal.

Room service, mini-bar

Scented soaps, chauffeured cars

The low light of the room takes on an otherworldly glow as the twilight in the window wanes. The bodies continue their unhurried dance.

Stay a day, stay a week

Here's the tunnel, take a peek

Raphael’s feet have been itching to follow the sound. He can see the lights of the Stateroom filtering out onto the abandoned sidewalk below where he stands on the edge of the roof. He can see the shadows of his clan, swaying to the sounds of Simon’s guitar.

There’s a breeze, but he doesn’t feel it. There’s the scent of strangers on the wind and the sound of the city is all around him, but Raphael can’t sense any of it. He feels only that longing for sunlight, tugging him downwards, urging him on. Into the the stairwell, down, down, along the hall… He moves at speeds only a vampire could, but it takes too long . There’s a hole in his chest and a song in the air and he needs to reach it before it’s gone.

Just call up your friends at the front desk

Any hour at the front desk

Simon hears footsteps, but can’t make out who they belong to over the sound of the guitar and his own voice. He’s really got to work on his vampy senses. He should have heard whoever it was wake up, let alone get this close to him.

For a moment he wonders who’s going to round the corner and find him hiding in the alcove.

When it’s Raphael he’s surprised to find himself… unsurprised. And, more remarkably, unafraid.

He looks in Raphael’s face, properly for the first time since that horrible day a few long months ago. The features look exactly as he remembers them in that moment, but the expression is totally different. There’s something startling there, something deep and searching. Something that looks like fear, or possibly hope.

Call up your friends at the Grand Hotel

It’s him. Of course, it’s him, Raphael already knew that. But it’s different to know than to see.

He’s tucked into a weird shape, trying to fit all his limbs plus a guitar into a small alcolve. The leg his instrument isn’t resting on is bouncing wildly, out of time. Whether the motion is powered by nerves or simply pent up energy, Raphael doesn’t know.

Simon looks up, from the guitar as Raphael nears, fingers not pausing, voice not faltering. His eyes meet Raphael’s, and they’re full of the same light they’ve always been. Of course they are. And Simon and Raphael look at one another, both seem to be asking the same question. For a moment, Raphael isn’t sure if they get the same answer.

Suddenly, Simon’s face breaks into a wide smile, and it looks like a sunrise. It feels like a sunrise. Raphael can’t help it: He smiles back.

You'll always have friends at the Grand Hotel

The End.

[dahliawolfe]

Retribution

Sam and Dean stand in the back of the crowd, watching as the young woman tosses a handful of dirt over her mother’s grave. The preacher prays, and people begin to disperse.

“That’s her, right? The daughter?” Dean asks, eyeing the mocha skinned young woman, more of a girl, really, make her way out of the cemetery.

“Yeah. That’s her. Jade Munro.” Dean nods and heads to the parking lot surrounding the cemetery. Dusk is just beginning to fall, and he’d really like to wrap this up before night falls completely.

The parking lot is nearly empty when they arrive at the cobalt Mustang at the edge of the asphalt.

“Ms. Munro,” he calls out. The woman pops up from behind the car, her arms reaching over her head to unzip the lace dress that’s hugging her body. She gives them a smirk and wave.

“You’re the hunters, then?” she asks, sliding the lace over her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin. All of her skin, save for what little is covered by her lace bra and panties. Dean and Sam turn away, out of respect.

“Uhh… What? No!” Dean chuffs. How the hell did she know.

“Yeah right. Look, I know what Holly did. I know she was a hunter. And I also know that she wasn’t killed in a bear attack.” She was right. Holly Munro was one of the best in the business. But she’d always claimed to have kept it from her only child. “You can turn around now. I’m decent,” Jade announces.

“How?” Sam asks.

Jade shrugs, sliding her feet into combat boots. “I’ve known for a long time. I found her journal when I was 10. I just let her believe whatever she wanted. Wasn’t like she was ever home anyway. So, what’s our first move?”

“Excuse me? No. There is no ‘we’. You’re not involved in this,” Dean argues, voice hard.

“Look, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve got a few hunts under my belt, myself. So, it’s either with you, or alone. But I’m going to kill the son of a bitch that killed my mother.”

“Holly sent us to take care of you. You’re a kid, and we’re here to get you set up somewhere safe and keep you away from this stuff.” Jade barks out a laugh.

“A kid? Dude, I’m 19.”

“Exactly,” Sam replies with a huff.

“And how old are you? 23? 24?” Jade asks him, a smirk pulling at her cheeks.

“25,” Sam replies, dejectedly. Jade grins.

“Well, look, you’ve heard my terms. I’m doing this. With, or without you.” Dean sighs.

“Fine. But you stick to us like glue.” Jade salutes them before tossing her funeral clothes in the trunk and slamming it shut.

“Sir, yes sir.”

Back in the Impala, Dean is fuming, and Sam knows that the blow up is coming. Jade is definitely getting under his skin.

“Dean, calm down. It’s her mom. She has the right to help get justice.”

“Justice, Sam!? That’s not justice. It’s revenge. And look where it’s gotten us! Do you feel any better!? Cuz I sure as hell don’t!” Sam sighs. He knows that he’s not going to get anywhere with Dean when he’s acting like this, so there’s not much point in trying.

…

It’s nearly dawn when they pull into the Oak Ridge Lodge. Jade pulls in smoothly beside them and parks, jumping out of the car before Dean has even put Baby in park. The elder Winchester shakes his head. He unfolds himself from the front seat and heads to the office.

…

“Jade, you take the bed closest to the bathroom. Sammy, take the bed by the door. I’ll take the couch,” Dean instructs when they enter the room. He dumps his bag on the couch and heads to the fridge to put the six pack he’d picked in the cool air. Jade places her bag on the bed and rifles through it, digging out some clothes before making her way to the bathroom.

“Dean, that thing ain’t sleep-able. Just crash with me. It’s not a big deal,” she invites. Dean studies her, then the couch, then her again before nodding.

“Fine. Thanks.”

…

Dean is laying stiffly on the edge of the bed when Jade returns from the bathroom. She’s wearing a tank top and boxers. She slides in on the other side of the bed and curls up, back facing Dean. It’s silent for a few minutes before Jade speaks.

“Dean,” she whispers. Dean’s eyes snap open.

“Yeah? You ok?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to spook you. I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. And for letting me come with you. I know you didn’t have to do that, and it means a lot.” Dean turns his head toward her.

“It’s not going to make you feel better, ya know? Killing the thing that killed your mom. It won’t help.”

“I know. But it’s what she would do for me. So, I owe her that much.”

“Fair enough.”

“You…You’ve lost someone too, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean whispers brokenly. “My mom and dad. A demon. Almost took Sammy too.” Tentatively, Jade takes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know it’s hard.” Dean gives her hand a little squeeze, letting the room fall silent again.

The next morning, Sam, Jade, and Dean sit down to eat breakfast at the motel diner.

“So, I figure we head out to Sarvis Creek. It’s in the Routt National Forest, and it feels like it might be the best bet for finding a wendigo,” Sam says, clicking the keys of his laptop.

Jade chokes. “Wait. Wendigo? Really? Aren’t those like super rare?” Dean nods.

“Yeah, but we ran up on one a few years ago. It does fit the M.O.”

“How do we kill it?”

“Fire.” Jade’s eyes are a little wide as she takes in Dean’s words.

…

“You ready for this, Kid?” Dean asks as they park in the forest’s visitor center’s parking lot.

“I’m ready,” she assures, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She pulls her hair out of the strap, brushing it out of her face and over her flannel covered shoulder.

“Wait, guys, what is this?” Jade calls as they round the back of the visitor center. Sam and Dean join her and look up.

“What’s what?” Sam asks, squinting.

“That,” Jade says, leaning up on her tiptoes, pointing to markings on the wall of the building.

“Anasazi drawings. Probably warning about what hides in the woods.”

“Anasazi? Do people still communicate that way? With hieroglyphs and stuff?”

“Some do.”

Night falls early in the forest, and Dean builds a fire. Jade camps herself on one side of it, looking forlorn.

“What’s up, Jade?” Sam asks, offering her a bottle of water.

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

“About what?” Dean asks, sitting next to her.

“Just, ya know. My mom. She did this stuff by herself all the time. And then one time she just didn’t come back. And I used to be so angry at her for being gone. And when she was home, I was awful to her. I would stay in my room and avoid her. I’d refuse to tell her I loved her or give her a hug. I was a terrible daughter.” Dean takes her hand.

“You were a kid without a mom. And it’s understandable that you were mad. You had every right to be. And Holly knew that. She also knew that you loved her. Even if you wouldn’t say the words, she knew. Trust me. We always want that one last time to tell them how we feel, but we don’t always get it.” Jade gives him a small smile before laying her head on his shoulder.

…

“Jade. Jade!” the voice wakes her up. Why is Dean calling her in the middle of the night. The fire has died out, and Jade can’t see to the other side of the clearing, where the boys are, so she stands up, intent on following the voice.

“Dean? Dean, what is it?” she asks, walking away from her sleeping bag. She tiptoes further away from the embers of the fire. “Dean!” she hisses. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Jade!” The voice echoes around her, and she freezes. She has no idea where the voice is coming from. She hears a thump behind her and turns, screaming at what she sees.

“Dean!” she shrieks, as a claw rakes down her left arm, shredding the skin.

The creature standing in front of her is hideous, and she’s glued to the spot for a few seconds, until Dean’s, “JADE!” tears through the air.

Jade turns on her heel, running as fast as she can, but the thin, cold hand that wraps around her throat and draws her forcefully back is much stronger and much faster. She slams into the creature’s body, forcing the air out of her. But not for long.

“Dean! Sam! It’s him! Help! Turn left!” She knows that her odds of not being eaten but the creature under her are greater if she keeps yelling, telling the Winchesters where she is. The wendigo clamps a hand over her mouth, its smell nearly making her gag, and yet, she continues to scream.

Soon, but not nearly soon enough for Jade, she hears loud footsteps running toward them. That’s when she feels the creature jump. Then heat, and the sensation of falling. She hadn’t realized that her eyes were closed until they sprang open, just in time for her to slam into the ground. Her leg was on fire, and the ground was much harder than she was hoping, and flaming bits of wendigo were flying all around her, but she was alive. So, she gives a small smile, and let’s the darkness draw her in.

…

“What the fuck?!” she splutters as the cold water hits her face.

Sam tosses the canteen to the ground, reaching to help Dean lift Jade to her feet. “OWW!” she hisses when she puts weight on her left leg.

“I know, Jay. We’re going to patch you up. It’s gonna be ok,” Dean reassures, scooping her up.

“What happened? Did we get him?”

“Dean got him with a Molotov cocktail. He’s dead.”

“Good. Should we like…” she was getting woozy again. “Find his cave or whatever?”

“Just rest. I’m gonna get you back to the hotel and fix you up, Sammy will take care of the nest.”

…

A few days later, Jade, Sam, and Dean are packed and ready to leave. And the youngest hunter’s stomach is in knots. She doesn’t want to leave the boys. She’s grown too attached.

“Ready to go?” Sam asks, coming back in from packing the cars.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Jade replies, struggling to her feet. Sam helps hoist her up, and she gives him a grateful smile.

“Alright, Losers. I figure we’ll rest up at Bobby’s for a few days, then we’ll find a new hunt. Let’s hit the road. I need a burger.”

“Wait. ‘We’?” Jade asks, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, ‘we’. You got a problem with that?”

“Not at all, Dean. Not at all.”

The end.

Want more Jade Munro? Let me know.

Word count: 1893

[writerjodie]

Renegades: The Secret

Assassin’s Creed: Renegades - The Secret (Chapter Six)

-

Glittering and shimmering with the endless spotlights and chandeliers, the hotel the Assassins arrive at is stupidly grand and fancy - well, Lisa hardy expected anything less, is was built with Templar money after all.

Throwing a quiet thanks to the driver, Alexios slips out the car, extending an arm to help Lisa out after him. No sooner as they vacate it, their car shoots off, immediately replaced by whichever Templar next to arrive.

“Good Evening, Deimos,” the doorman greets, the tiny bronze cross on his lapel marking out his allegiance, “And who is your lovely lady companion?”

The question comes out friendly enough, but both Assassins know enough to be sure of the meanings behind it; she is an intruder.

“This is my girlfriend, tonight we call her Agrona,” Alexios explains without pause, his arm coming to red around her waist.

Raising his brows, the doorman pushes open the door for them.

“You big shots and your nicknames, eh...have fun,” he laughs, already turning to the next guests.

Freezing at those words, Alexios quickly smooths his features out and drifts into the hotel lobby, where other Templars linger - all in various states of sobriety. Not spotting any of his associates, Alexios shuffles them towards the gold painted reception room, where a vast buffet spread awaits them all.

Mouth watering at the delicious foods, Lisa struggles to control the grumbling of her stomach as she grabs a plate, piling it high with Greek delicacies. She barely notices the absence of Alexios - who has finally found his friends - until she hears a voice from behind her.

“Ah, a fellow fan of Moussaka,” the speaker calls out, gesturing to Lisa’s plate of the dish.

Nodding dumbly, Lisa struggles to swallow the mouthful she’s been chewing when she sees the face of her speaker. God damn her it's the American Grandmaster, Haytham Kenway - the very man she failed to kill not a month ago.

“I’ve never seen you at these meetings before, so I’d garner that you’re new here,” Haytham continues to talk, grabbing himself a plate of the delicious aubergine and lamb, “Allow me the privilege of knowing your name, I’m Haytham,”

“It’s nice to meet you Haytham,” Lisa gets out, finally swallowing her mouthful, “Tonight, I am Agrona,”

At the name, Haytham pauses, beckoning her to follow as he moves away from the table.

“Agrona, that’s a Greek name if I ever heard one, but going off your accent alone - you’re clearly a Brit,” he muses, “Tell me, what’s another Brit doing here, in Athens?”

Retaining her calm smile, Lisa internally panics - he’s suspicious, damn him he’s suspicious.

“You got me there, Haytham,” she laughs, hoping this act will get him off her back, “Agrona is not my true name, but my boyfriend Deimos insisted on giving me that name tonight, said it part of the fun,”

“Ah, Deimos! I have not spoken with him properly for some time, do tell him I would like a chat before the night is up,” Haytham doffs his cap at her, as he scoots off to greet some other Templar, leaving Lisa to frown at her Moussaka. So, Alexios has been speaking to Haytham for ‘some time’, has he? Hmm, what was that lie he spun her; he’s only spying?

A loose sigh escapes her as she winds her way through the crowds, back to where Alexios chats with some other guests. Patiently, she waits until they finish chatting to speak, shovelling forkfuls of food in her mouth as she waits.

“Master Kenway said he’d like to speak with you,” she mutters once his companions have drifted off.

Taking the plate from her hands and slamming it on the table beside them, Alexios blinks at her.

“He spoke to you?” he snaps, ushering her out of the grand, golden room and into the dusky gardens, “What else did he say?”

At her escorts reaction, Lisa’s eyes narrow, and she takes a step closer to him, disregarding of his fin tux.

“You nearly shat yourself when I mentioned Haytham,” she hissed, “You’re not spying here, are you? You’re in with them, aren’t you? You’re a fucking Templar too,”

With a final glance around the garden, checking for any onlookers, Alexios grips Lisa shoulders and shoves her against the stone wall.

“You- you don’t get to make accusations like that” he snarls, elbows pinning her against the callous wall.

Save for those two, the lantern lit garden is utterly still and silent, its endless flowers and olive trees covering the sea of stars high above.

“No denial then...you told me no secrets, and once again you’ve lied to me, to the Brotherhood,” she grips at his arms, nails digging into his skin through the sleeves of his blazer.

“Be quiet,” he intoned, “I abandoned them and their way of thinking long ago - I work for the Templars now,”

Hissing beneath her breath, Lisa struggles to break free from his imprisonment, only to be further wedges as he uses his leg to pin her in place.

“Traitor,” she mutters, drawing blood with her nails.

“Listen, sweetheart,” harsh, cold fingers grip her chin, forcing her to look at his him, “I know a lot about you, and about those you love - or loved - and I can tell you now that the Assassins have been lying to you,”

Backlit by the burning glow of the lanterns, Alexios’ eyes turn molten as they trail down her chest, to where the Yggdrasil pendant rests. His fingers follow the same path as his eyes, sending shivers of goosebumps rippling over her skin at the lightness of his touch.

“What?” she hums, forgetting her anger at him for a second, “What? No, no, you don’t get to blatantly lie to me any more!”

Finally, she breaks free from his grip, and storms away from him, back to the door of the hotel. She is met there by a stoic Haytham, who looks as if he’s been there a while.

“You think I lie? Fine, ring Achilles now and ask him where Shay Cormac is,” Alexios yells after her, trapping her between him and Haytham.

Eyes looking anywhere but the two men, Lisa stiffens at the mention of his name.

“Shay Cormac is dead, he died on his last mission for the Assassins, he died before I could say goodbye,” she whispers, voice cracking at her own words.

“When was his funeral? Where was his body?” Alexios continues, his voice harsh and loud, “And where did your lovely necklace go after he ‘died’?”

The pewter pendant burns against her skin, feeling heavier than the entire world. Vision blurred with tears, Lisa pushes past Haytham, pushes past other Templars until she reaches the doorman.

Wordlessly, he buzzes for her car to pick her up - which it does in record time.

Far too soon for her liking, Lisa is back on the deck of the Adrestia, her face splotchy with tears, which the dusk breeze blows away with cool fingers. Looking out across the still waters, she frowns at the reflection of the stars when her fingers betray her once more, and her phone works its way into her hands.

Without thinking, she flicks on the screen, coming to a stop when she reaches the contacts page. It’ll be early afternoon for the Assassins in New York, quiet hours.

Her finger stabs the call button before cowardice can stop her. She presses it to her ear, involuntarily shivers as she hears the click of her call being answered.

“I need to speak to Achilles, now,” Lisa orders, before the person on the other end can speak.

“Lisa,” the unimpressed voice of Hope Jensen comes over the line, “You know this line is for emergencies only? A chat with Achilles is hardly-”

“I said NOW,” she shrieks, earning a few odd looks from passers-by.

Judging by the silence on the phone, Hope has listened for once.

“Lisa? It’s late in Athens, what are you calling this old man for?” the voice of Achilles comes next.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lisa readies herself to speak. It’s now or never.

“Where is Shay Cormac?” she finally asks, tears threatening to spill again, “And before you tell me he’s dead...I know he isn’t,”

A little, white lie - but if it gets her the information she needs…

“Oh,” comes the reply, “How did you-”

“That doesn’t matter, just tell me where he is,”

Silence.

“I can’t. I don’t know. He ripped his locator out long ago,” Achiles sighs, relenting to Lisa’s harsh tone, “But it would be wise of you to avoid looking for him, Lisa, he betrayed us for the Templars - he is the enemy now. You’d do well to forget-”

Lisa doesn’t bother listening to the rest of his words. She hangs up the call with a stab to the screen, and drops her phone into the sea without a second’s thought. That’s enough of that.

Silently, she slips into her cabin, shedding her jumpsuit in a matter of seconds. The makeup is wiped off, and her hair is swept into a more utilitarian ponytail. With a face like stone, she pulls on her leggins and a top, covering it with her new hoodies.

She nearly storms out straight after tugging her boots on, but she rushes back in time to remember her twin hidden blades. The first one goes on her arm, but she waits to put her second one on.

Flicking the blade out, she positions it on her other arm, right where the scar of her locator chin is. Just a quick stab in, then flick it out. Oh, this is going to be painful.

Biting back a scream, Lisa stabs her arm, twisting her blade to flick out the locator chip - as planned. The chip is deeper than expected, but still easy-ish to get out. A quick stop in the first aid bay has the hole cleaned out and dressed, before her other bracer and blade go over the top of it.

The Assassins can no longer track her, nor can they contact her. She is free to roam as she pleases, and the first place she heads to - by memory of the car trip - is to the hotel, where the droves of Templars await.

Luckily for her, Alexios and Haytham are still in the garden when she arrived, dropping in from above on silent feet.

“You’re back,” Alexios mutters, unsurprised.

“I am, and I want you to take me to Shay Cormac,” she asks, keeping to the shadows with her hood up.

Silently, Haytham rises to his feet.

“Okay,” Haytham agrees, ignoring the protests of Alexios, “But first you must do some things for me, for Deimos here,”

Hm, in doing so, Lisa will betray her order and all she has worked for. But perhaps...she knows there are good techies in the Brotherhood, no doubt they can set up a good comms system for her.

Yes, she will do what Alexios should’ve done. She will be the inside man for the Assassins, she will spy on the Templars and get to the bottom of Shay Cormac betraying the,.

“Whatever you want, consider it done,” she purrs.

Oh, this is all too easy.

[imsickoftheseshadows]

London - A Short Story.

Harping did not define the emotion I experienced, for several months, after Axel had left me. 

Of course, Axel was not the only man I had pined for; in fact, there was Jack, the other musician who had flown across the Atlantic at summer’s close; there was Tim, a film professor at my university, and Enrique, a South American artist who had told me he was possessed by the devil. But Axel, the New York singer and delicatessen owner, had been special – He was thirty-five, six-foot three, and rail thin, with a vague Williamsburg air that was pretentious enough to clot a Californian cocktail. His first record, evocative of Blade Runner’s score, was perpetually spinning in my bedroom. He was a frequent collaborator with James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem, who I had admired twice as much as Axel, though had little fantasies about (I will admit I had developed crushes on several of my favorite artists, though James was lower on the totem pole aesthetically than someone of Axel’s caliber).

This recollection isn’t about Axel, but I cannot tell this story without him.

My twenty-first year had proven uneventful – I still spent too much time in collegiate cafes, scrolling through online-dating profiles, and reflecting on whether or not I would ever be ready to leave my comfortably suburban dwellings. I sensed a trace of finality about this season. It was my last autumn enrolled in university, and I would be deciding whether to pursue a professorial path, or obtain stability between the walls of a cubicle. My distraction, Axel, visited biyearly, when we would meet either at The Standard or The Roosevelt, and I would make the pilgrimage to Los Angeles. Already half a year had passed, and Axel was not to return until the following January.

My town was in its final stretch of Indian Summer on this particular evening – The saffron sun unfurled the paper night, brittle and arid. I settled into my bedroom, arrested by the mushroom clouds of milk enveloping my black tea. Halloween was a fortnight away, though I would be spending it in class. I thought about Axel regularly, simultaneously a daydream and a diversion, envisaging the perpetual cigarette dangling from his mouth. Tonight, he weighed heavy in my mind. I picked up my phone, and began to stalk his social media.

Nothing remarkable, I thought, as I peered at his posts. One of Axel’s newest videos, a capture of him expertly playing with a Moog synthesizer, had an entrancing, obscure comment. My ex-girlfriend told me she hates music. The commenter was familiar. I tapped on his thumbnail. The eyes, mass of ginger hair, and Cheshire grin, were reminiscent of Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange. His profile betrayed him. Beneath his portrait was the name of his band, which I instantly recognized as the English musicians who had scored my first break-up, and had several alternative hits in the US. Lovehurt, I recalled, and began to murmur the lyrics. I thought nothing more of it, and decided to follow him.

I returned to my homepage, and began to think of getting ready for bed. A silent banner flashed across my screen -- GeorgeGibson has followed you. I reclined, falling betwixt my pillows, and held my phone over my head.

No harm in liking a few of his photos – Is three years ago too far? I sensed my desperation. I was in bed, fully-clothed, and it was nearing midnight. My tea had gone cold, and my cat was fast asleep at the foot of my bed. George was sensationally attractive, though I couldn’t imagine being so ambitious as to write to him.

My phone vibrated with another notification.

Hello Madame, it read, in the form of a direct message. I hesitated to respond. Is this really happening? I rolled over onto my belly. Where are you from, I typed. It’s quite late here.

I live in London, he replied. Have you ever been?

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

We corresponded via WhatsApp over the course of two months – He sent me music; I responded with poetry. Facetime became our preferred mode of communication, though the time difference made it difficult to coordinate our video chats. I began to fear that our contact would eventually taper off, especially when my boredom seemed so conclusively quelled. I blocked Axel, in case George ever asked about us.

I’ve never left the country, I wrote, but I’ve always wanted to see England.

He had spoken of the prospect of me visiting him in prior conversations – I conjured up possible stories to tell my family, if I hypothetically, unexpectedly set off for London. We’re still strangers, I thought. Constant correspondences or not – But when will I ever have the chance to take a trip like this again?

I basked in this quaint fantasy by making an appointment to apply for a passport. No harm in having one of these on hand. I drove down to Orange County, two hours south of my house, to retrieve a copy of my birth certificate. My passport arrived within two weeks. Tickets to London were unreasonably cheap, though I had heard London in January was brutal. I wavered between fiction and reality – George, the famed musician, and George, the friend I had made, so eager to take me to the stationary shops with Italian stamps from the 1970s. I checked plane tickets daily, and told George I was on the verge of making a life-altering purchase.

Know I can only spend a couple of days with you, Taylor, he typed. My band will murder me if I’m away from our recording session for more than a weekend.

I was at my local café, alternating between sips of black coffee and bites of an overcooked frittata. My bangs had grown long enough to tuck behind my ears – I nervously fingered each strand, calculating my response. Christmas was to come and go, as though the seasons had become perpetually stagnant. It could rain for days, and the sky would still be a blaze of azure at dusk.

It doesn’t matter, I answered. The tickets are mine, and I arrive three weeks from today.

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

I feigned connectivity issues. I silenced all notifications, and then turned on Airplane Mode. I wanted to be certain – I wanted to be confident that not a single person, even those I had entrusted with my private line, would contact me for the next five days. LAX was bustling with people, and I was anxious to remain remote until we were tens of thousands of feet above the technicolor skyline. I had no idea that there was one terminal for all departing international flights. I wore three sweaters to lighten my carry-on, and arrived six hours before my flight.

My parents did not know I was leaving until I boarded the plane. My mother sobbed when she found out, and I consoled her by stating I would phone her the second I landed. I didn’t. My story was simple: I was off to London for a girl’s trip with one of my best friends from high school. It was a spontaneous, last-minute decision that we decided we had to do before graduating college.

George was concerned. How could you not tell your parents, he had written, moments before I boarded the plane. My story was partially true – It was spontaneous, as in, I would have never left America if I hadn’t felt compelled to conduct a transatlantic, pseudo-love affair. George had urged me, and now my departure was met with cool reserve. I started to question my mental state. I ordered three glasses of wine, one after the other, upon takeoff. 

I touched down in London around 10 in the morning, and the ground had been veiled by impenetrable clouds, as though I had fallen into heaven – all was in reverse. I noted the specks of cars lining the roads in the opposite direction; the silver buildings and the lush foliage. The tarmac was barely visible from my window, but the jet bridge was clear – and on the other side would be a man and a city, and he was to be my tour guide for the first two days.

Before dealing with border control, I hurried to the airport’s restroom. No toilet seat covers. I caught a glimpse of my reflection -- Perspiration ruined my hair and the little makeup I had applied. Fortunately, I had a spare pair of hoop earrings in my purse, but my complexion remained ghastly. I rushed through the border, anxious in line. I quickly handed over my unblemished passport to the border control officer.

“Who do you know here?” I paused, searching for the answer in the lines of my arrival card.

“It’s a friend – An Internet friend, whom I will be checking into the Hilton in Islington with.”

The officers, an elderly man and towering woman, exchanged dubious glances. They asked for more information. I acquiesced, thrusted my return ticket in their faces, and after several minutes, was allowed through.

The escalator was in sight, and I began to sense an onset of anxiety – I am in a foreign country, about to check-in to my first hotel. I stumbled over my carmine suitcase as I approached the exit; my luggage matched my tired eyes. The heels I had worn so well in Los Angeles were unfit for cobblestone streets, and I clumsily found him, in the front of the crowd, with a ticket for the Heathrow Express in his right hand. 

We embraced, and upon contact, my visage colored damask rose. 

He was five-foot-eleven, and wore a brown bomber jacket with black leather boots. He pursed his lips, full and heavenly, while I stared, in awe. George was cool in a European sense – He owned boots, and trainers, and foreign vintage labels, but was a minimalist and adored neutral colorways. His accent, crisp and clipped, was warm, and I instantly wondered what it would be like to miss him after only two days.

He took my luggage with his left hand, and we dashed toward the train.

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

We arrived at the Hilton in a black cab. He upgraded my room. We made love for an hour, and I thought I was going to faint.

“I want to take you around Islington,” he whispered. 

Morning had bled into afternoon, and we were languorous, lazy and lounging. I happily obliged, sensing the ghost of passion about my being. I changed into a dress, and reapplied my eyeliner, but remained equal parts self-conscious and jet-lagged. Does he find me as attractive as he did online? It was frivolous to question this, though my mind was tainted with uncertain thoughts. He put on his trousers, then laced up his boots. My parka, bought at a discount, was colossal for my frame. He smiled endearingly, and we took the elevator to the lobby.

I was clumsy against cobblestone, my ankles buckling beneath me – George caught me twice, and kissed me with each fall. We arrived at a bijou cocktail lounge in Clerkenwell, which appeared to be a repurposed home – the corridor led into segregated rooms, with hundreds of vintage books along each wall. We both had whiskey – This will wake you up. I quietly quaffed my drink, while he took apathetic sips of his. He grasped my hand.

“It’s so lovely that you’re here,” he paused, studying my expression. “Are you feeling okay?”

I was drowsy, disengaged, and enamored. The stained-glass windows could not hide the somber skies, yet I gazed at each cloud lovingly. Everything was perfect.

He took me to another lounge, and then to the British Film Institute, where I imbibed a glass of Malbec in the café. A Hot Chip song boomed through the stereo, and he reminisced the time that he played at a festival with them. Alt-J played next, and he discussed his disdain. I finished my drink and wandered toward the gift shop, where I searched for obscure British DVDs, blissfully unaware that they were region 2 locked (until arriving home). I hung onto his every recommendation, as a schoolgirl would a handsome instructor. I chose Jean-Luc Godard cinema critiques and Stanley Kubrick’s photo book. He picked up a copy of Caligula.

By nightfall, we had arrived at our final bar, which was two-stories, with the bottom floor having been fashioned from a basement. A beautiful woman in a blue beret was reading Proust by the entrance, and he commented on the pretentiousness of the lounge. We went back to the hotel shortly after, as my exhaustion had faded into delirium.

I woke up around 2 am. I noticed that he had spilt tears of wine; red vino, according to the bottle, a Tempranillo. I think I had it in Echo Park one lonely summer ago. The crisp, white sheets were speckled with blood. He turned over, noticing that I was awake – He kissed me, and I realized that I was ravenous, for the first time since leaving Los Angeles. 

He went to buy us a kebab, England’s guiltiest pleasure (I found this out much later). He left the BBC on, and the reporter was exploring Donald Trump’s ascension to the presidency. Not here. I changed the channel, and absentmindedly flipped past an Amy Winehouse documentary. I began to thumb through my newly acquired Jean-Luc Godard book, then sifted through the treasures of the day.

By the second chapter, the door swung open, and George appeared, grinning, with a fistful of candy and two kebabs. I pulled the covers over my head as he fell into bed next to me; devouring the kebab, popping open a can of Coca Cola. He unfastened his duffel bag, and revealed bags of chips not sold in America. I clasped the delicacies close to my heart, and dissected the Reese’s Pieces bar.

“You don’t understand,” I laughed. “This is a novelty to me!”

We finished our respective dinners, and slept until noon.

Our room was littered with candy-wrappers and wine bottles; our ardent affair had been in view of several landmarks – the London Eye was in sight, and Big Ben was covered in scaffolding.

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

The following day, George showed me his favorite stationary store, Present & Correct. He bought a stamp book, and then promptly lost it at the second scarlet pub we went to. We began our afternoon at a café, where everyone drank their coffee black and from a French press. The coffee was rich enough that creamer was unnecessary – I tasted it slowly, for pleasure, and because I knew he would be leaving at midnight. We went back to the British Film Institute, and he explained a music project he conducted, where he had recorded the sounds of London, while I examined other books from more obscure directors. I kept forgetting that I listened to his music for a number of years before knowing who he was. He stopped speaking for a moment, and shyly reached for my hand.

“George,” I paused. “Do you really have to leave tonight?”

He waited, appearing distraught. “I want you to come be with me in the summer. Can you do that?”

We sauntered to another pub, each one more grandiose than the last. I began to drink out of apprehension, dissolving my worry with each swallow. I wasn’t sure if he noticed – If he did, he didn’t seem to mind. I grew bored of the pub; I grew exhausted of our reservations. I remained awestruck, which translated into perceivable uneasiness, and called for medicinal drinking.

We stopped in Charing Cross, London, after mindlessly walking through the city. He stopped to show me his old apartment, which was built beneath one of the many cobblestone streets. I was two glasses of wine in, and twice as lecherous. He took me to Foyles, knowing such bookstores had fallen out of popularity in America. I bought a book on witchcraft, a Gustav Klimt novel (solely because of a chapter titled “Klimt’s Women”), and an autobiography entitled Art Sex Music (a friend I met later would call this his curriculum vitae) at George’s urging. I didn’t want to forget my fleeting emotions, nor him. I knew our time together was rapidly dissipating. The sky had blackened, as had my mood, though the wine began to enhance my synthetic insouciance.

George chose an Italian restaurant – Why not beans on toast? I knew nothing of British cuisine, and trusted his selection. We sat next to a heat lamp outdoors, in the frigid night, as there were no seats left inside. I peeled off my homely parka, even though I was cold, to remind him of desire. We caroused some more, and I embarrassed myself with comments of a dramatically wretched past – A lack of female friendship, men in power that had plagued my adolescence, and inappropriate commentary on my familial ties. He politely beamed the entire way through, even as I mistakenly slurped my pasta, and messily consumed a slice of his pork pizza. I poured the remainder of the Tempranillo into my glass, and asked him again to stay.

I was not immune to the social anxiety I faced at home – Abroad, I was aware of my unpalatable Californian accent and absence of fashionable clothing. I became hyper-conscious of my unnaturally stiff disposition. He was understanding, but courteously, clinically so. I knew I would be infatuated with him for months after our transatlantic love affair -- I silently wondered if he would ever tell Axel about a young, nameless brunette girl from Los Angeles, who flew across the Atlantic Ocean to make love to him.

He walked me back to the hotel, as I half-smiled and asked him to be with me one final time.

“We’re never going to see each other again.” I spoke with finality.

“I know we will. I’m coming to Los Angeles soon, don’t cry.”

As soon as the door slammed shut, I undressed, filled the bathtub, then mourned my solitude – a constant sob ebbed and flowed. I wrote, incomprehensibly, in my sanguine, store-bought moleskin journal. I took my phone off airplane mode. I sent him a thank you note, fully understanding that I would never see him again. Several moments passed, and twenty text messages from my family came through. I turned on the BBC, and stayed up all night. I became pragmatic at the break of dawn.

I texted my friends, those of which who had known of my secret trip, and then fell into fits of laughter, for two reasons:

I had no idea why I was crying at the Hilton, in a double bed, and God, I had gotten stupidly wine-drunk.