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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

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Secret Love Part 24 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: This is it. This is the last chapter before the finale. I only cried like three times writing this so...take that to mean what you will.

Warnings: cursing, smut (oral, unprotected, soft)

Word Count: 3,275

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With only two and a half weeks before the Avs training camp started, your life felt like a whirlwind once again as you prepared for this next adventure with Cale. There was the paperwork...you’d never seen so much paperwork in your life. There was everything you needed to figure out with leaving your house empty for months on end: setting up a good security system, arranging for snow care for the winter months, purchasing a firebox large enough to hold your quilt and the few other super precious items you had that you weren’t willing to risk.

And then there was the packing. Though you knew you wouldn’t need much, just clothes, some personal items, maybe a few books, it still felt like a massive undertaking. And it wasn’t until you had taped the final box shut that all of this felt real. You were leaving your life in Calgary to start a new one in Denver.

In the midst of everything else, you’d said goodbye to Taylor as he got on a plane to Massachusetts for his first season at UMass Amherst, following in Cale’s footsteps. Then there was the party Laura and Gary hosted, family and close friends sending you well wishes for a Stanley Cup season and the start of your lives together. Your coworkers had also thrown you a party of sorts, wishing you safe travels and happiness in your new position.

It was all overwhelming, you were excited and sad and a bevy of other emotions that came with big changes like this. So when you stepped foot in your house the night before you were sending Cale off on a flight to Denver with you following behind the following morning by car, you immediately paused when the smell of food cooking reached your nose.

Setting your purse and the box from your office down, you followed the scent to find Cale standing over the stove in the kitchen, dressed down in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

“You’re making dinner?” You whispered softly, stepping into his side as he lifted his arm to wrap around you.

“It’s our last night here...at least for awhile.” Cale shrugged. “Thought we should make the most of it.” Kissing his cheek, you wiped away the lone tear that had fallen as you moved to pour the remainder of the bottle of wine left in the fridge into glasses. “Why don’t you get changed and then head outside, I’ve got this.” Cale insisted, looking over at you, expression soft.

“Okay.” You agreed, setting the glasses down before heading into your bedroom to slip into some loungewear. It was hard to believe that you only had two more nights in this house before you’d be leaving it behind. Of course you’d be back, if not while Cale was on a roadtrip or at Christmas time, then next summer for sure. It was still a bittersweet feeling, this house becoming exactly what you’d hoped it would be, a summer oasis.

Grabbing the glasses of wine as you passed through the kitchen, you made your way outside. You’d already moved all of the outdoor furniture down into the basement, so like your first night in the house, you settled yourself back against the wall, looking out across the yard.

It wasn’t long before Cale was handing a plate down to you before settling in beside you, his knee knocking against your own.

“This brings back memories.” He chuckled, sending you a warm smile. “How are you doing?” He then asked, his hand reaching down to lace with your own for a moment.

“I’m a little overwhelmed.” You admitted. “Change is hard even if it’s good change, so just bear with me okay?” This was the first time you were going to live anywhere other than Calgary and it was just a lot to process even if you were looking forward to it.

“Whatever you need.” Cale assured you, his hand squeezing yours. “I know this has all been a lot and I reaffirm my statement that you’re superwoman because you’re handling it all with so much grace. So if you need to cry or scream or anything else, all of those feelings are valid and understandable.”

Though Cale’s hand released your own so that you could actually eat, his body remained in close contact, his knee occasionally bumping yours lightly and his arm pressed close to your side. You didn’t talk much as you ate, but occasionally Cale would throw out a ‘remind me to show you this’ or ‘I need to take you to…’. You knew that it was his subtle way of trying to get you to focus on the excitement of the move rather than the sadness and it was beyond appreciated.

When you’d both finished, Cale took your plate and stacked it with his beside him. He then pulled you closer to his side, draping his arm over your shoulder as his lips grazed against the top of your head.

“You know you’re welcome to fly back home whenever you want.” He whispered. “Whether I’m on the road or not. If you get too homesick you can always come back.”

“I know.” You breathed, just taking in the stillness of this moment with him and the way it contrasted to everything else you’d been feeling recently.

“You’re still sure about this right?” He asked, vulnerability seeping through. Turning your head you brushed your fingers along his jaw, nodding slightly.

“Home is wherever you are Cale. Yes this house holds so many memories already, but it also holds dreams of the future, dreams of a future with you. So yes I’m sure. It’s time to move to Denver, to build a life with you so that when we come home next summer maybe some of those dreams can come true.”

“I have no doubt they will.” Cale murmured. “If not next summer then the summer after or the summer after that. We’ve got nothing but time sweet girl and all I want is to make all of your dreams come true.”

“I love you.” You whispered, laying your head back down onto Cale’s shoulder.

“Love you too sunshine.” Cale replied, his fingers brushing over your skin as the two of you watched the sun start to slowly sink beyond the horizon. When the pretty pinks and oranges and blues disappeared, you pushed yourself to your feet before bending to pick up the empty wine glasses.

Cale followed you inside, locking the door behind you, and the two of you moved through the kitchen, washing the dinner dishes in unison. When the kitchen was clean and dishes were put away, you turned to Cale, tucking yourself against his chest.

“Will you make love to me?” You requested. “Like you did our first night here?” Cale’s shoulders dipped and his eyes swelled with his own tears at your words.

“Yeah sweetheart. Of course I will.” He agreed. “But if you want it like that first night, does that mean I have to wear a condom?” His words reached their intended goal of making you giggle, and you shook your head at him.

“I think you know the answer to that, you dork.” Guiding him back to the bedroom, you kissed him softly, pouring all of the love you felt for him into that one kiss. Just like that first night, Cale’s hands slowly pulled your shirt off of your body and pushed your shorts over your hips.

Then he laid you down in the center of the bed, his mouth repeating the trails his hands had made. You couldn’t help but shiver under his touch because just like that first night, he was making you feel so so wanted and loved.

“My beautiful girl.” Cale breathed, his mouth peppering kisses up along your right arm until he reached your wrist laying limply beside your head. “You’re all I want.” He murmured, his lips featherlight on your pulse point. “You’re all I need.” He added after repeating the action along your left arm. When his lips trailed up further, pressing against your left ring finger, you felt your heart stop and then start, pounding heavily in your chest. “Gonna make you my wife someday.” He promised, placing two more soft kisses to the same spot before turning his head to kiss you gently but deeply.

As he kissed you, Cale’s fingers slipped behind your back to undo your bra, easing the fabric off of you and onto the floor. “God I love you.” He whispered, his gaze lidded as he peered down at you beneath him. Taking just a moment to pull his shirt off over his head, Cale dropped down your body, latching onto your breasts until your nipples were pebbled and hard. It wasn’t until he felt you shiver from that action, that he dipped between your thighs, sliding your underwear down over your hips.

“Just relax and let go for me tonight sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you.” He swore, his lips teasing lightly over your stomach as his thumb slipped between your legs to rub circles against your clit. “You’re always so wet for me.” Cale hummed happily, grinning up at you as first one then two fingers pressed inside you, his thumb not losing rhythm for even a moment.

“Look at me sweet girl.” Cale breathed as he kissed the inside of each of your thighs. “I want you to watch me as I make you fall apart, okay.” Again, just like that first night, there was no rush to any of his movements. The only difference now was that he knew your body better, knew exactly what would make you cum.

With his long fingers brushing your g-spot each time they curled against your slick walls, it wasn’t long before you were whining, your hips arching off the bed.

“Eyes on me love.” Cale reminded, alerting you to the fact that your eyes had fluttered closed. Looking down at him again, you saw the smirk on his face as he scissored his fingers. “Let go sweet girl.” Cale urged, his thumb picking up its pace against your swollen clit.

A breathless gasp spilled from your throat as Cale pulled your orgasm from you, working you through it with precision, a skill he’d gained over the course of your relationship. Sliding his fingers from you, he lifted them up to your lips, urging you to lick your fluids off them. You did taste sweet, just like Cale had said that first night, but having tasted the two of you together before, you couldn’t help but miss that taste in comparison. Once his hand was clean, he settled back above you, his tongue diving into your mouth as he kissed you.

“I love watching you cum for me.” Cale murmured, his hips grinding down on yours gently. “So beautiful.” He smirked, dimples showing as he lowered himself down your body for a second time, this time wrapping his hands around your thighs as he ducked down to swipe his tongue through your folds.

“Cale. Fuck.” You whimpered, your hips rolling down against his face. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, Cale’s mouth on your core was almost too much and he finally had to drape an arm over your waist to keep you still against him.

“Give me another.” He mumbled, pulling back to breathe. “Cum for me again sweetheart.” His head dove back into your core, his tongue slipping inside of you and though you tried to keep watching him, eventually your vision blurred and your head fell back against the pillows as a second orgasm tore through your body.

Even as you cursed and attempted to shove at Cale’s head because it was all too much, he continued to devour you, drawing a sharp third orgasm from your body that you hadn’t expected. You were heaving by the time Cale pulled away, his face soaked with your fluids.

“Holy fuck Cale.” You gasped, your body tingling from head to toe. Cale climbed off the bed for just a moment, dipping into the bathroom for a washcloth to wipe his face on before he settled back in beside you, his hard length poking at your hip.

“You just squirted sweet girl…” He stated causing your eyes to go wide. You knew that that orgasm had felt different but you hadn’t realized why, but now heat was flooding your cheeks as you threw a hand over your face.

“Hey...don’t hide from me.” Cale insisted, lacing his hand with yours as he pulled it away and turned your head so that he could kiss you. “Was hot as hell. Totally going to aim to repeat that next time I go down on you.” The cocky look on his face backed up his words but you still buried your head into his shoulder for a moment as he rolled back on top of you.

When he tilted your head up to his again, he cupped the entire side of your face in his palm, his thumb smoothing over your skin.

“Y/N...c’mon…” He breathed. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I wanted you to give into me completely and you did just that. Frankly you stroked my ego by cumming that hard all over me.” He teased, his lips teasing over yours gently. “So relax sweet girl. Let me make love to you properly.”

“You’re something else.” You declared, shaking your head. “And I love you for it.” You added, pulling him down into another soft kiss.

“Love you too sunshine, more than you know.” Cale replied, shifting backward to shed his remaining clothing. As he settled back over you, he reached for one of the spare pillows you kept near the bed, sliding it under your hips. “Let me know if you like this angle.” He mumbled, kissing you again as he ground his hips against yours, his dick sliding along your folds.

Finally, he lined himself up, his tip just teasing at your entrance. The way he was making you wait was driving you crazy and you attempted to roll your hips up into his, pouting when he stopped you.

“Relax sweet girl. Just feel.” He whispered as his thumb brushed over your lips, forcing you to stop pouting. “Feel the slight pressure of me against you. Focus on the feel of me sliding inside you. Don’t rush, just relax and enjoy.” With your eyes locked on his deep blue ones, you took a deep breath and just settled into the way he felt above you, the weight of him, the faint pressure of him where you needed him most.

Slowly...slower than ever before, Cale slipped inch by inch inside of you, pausing along the way. The slow drag of him against your walls made you whimper because you could feel each and every ridge of him as he moved.

“Oh!” You gasped, watching as his face twisted in pleasure responding in turn to your noises. Everything he was doing felt impossibly languid and as he finally settled inside of you fully, you could barely breathe due to the intensity of it all.

“Shit sweetheart...I can feel you fluttering around me already.” Cale grunted, his tongue slipping out from between his lips. “You’re so warm...feels so good.” With your hips tilted up, he was nestled deeply inside of you, but not uncomfortably so and you felt so full.

“Cale…” You pleaded, fresh sweat forming in droplets all over your skin. In response to his name, Cale started slowly rolling and grinding his hips against yours, his mouth pressing against yours as the heat grew between you. The slow, lazy pace allowed you to feel every single thing. And not just the way he felt inside you, you could feel the flex of his thighs as he moved, the fine hairs of his happy trail brushing against your stomach, the way the sweat dripped down from his body onto yours.

In a way, the lack of sensation had sent you into sensory overload and as you moaned out that you were going to cum, Cale’s pubic bone ground down against your clit and you immediately clung to him as your fourth orgasm of the night flooded over you leaving you gasping for breath. The intensity of sensation was only increased when as you started to come down, you heard Cale moan your name as he spilled inside of you, pumping you full of his semen.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You repeated like a mantra as Cale settled more of his weight on top of you, having lost some of the strength in his arms. Carding your fingers through his hair, you felt your body go limp with exhaustion. Sex with Cale was one thing, but making love was truly something else entirely and it left you spellbound each and every time.

“I don’t know how, but this gets better every single time.” You muttered, your fingers sliding down along Cale’s back.

“It’s because it’s you.” Cale’s voice was muffled by the pillow but you heard him loud and clear and you nodded, brushing your nose against his temple.

“It’s us.” You agreed. “You good hun?” You questioned, not used to Cale being so out of it after sex.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Just gimme a minute.”

“Take your time.” You assured him. Though you knew you needed to separate and clean up, the feeling of him inside you, your thighs burning from the awkward position, was beyond welcome. This was your future. More nights like this. More nights without sex, just cuddled together in the bed you’d share. This was worth all of the stress, all of the sadness, this was why you were moving to Denver. He was why you were moving to Denver.

And though you had to change the sheets before falling asleep that night, tossing all evidence of your lovemaking into the washing machine, the feelings lingered inside of you and those feelings were all you needed to get through the next few days.

You went with Cale to get his things and to say both of your goodbyes to his parents, because frankly you couldn’t handle two sets of goodbyes. Both Laura and Gary had hugged you tightly, whispering for you to take care of Cale and to let him take care of you, reminding you that they were only a phone call and/or a plane ride away.

You’d cried as you left their driveway to take Cale to the airport and you’d cried as you saw him off even though you’d see him in less than 72 hours. You’d cried as you treated yourself to dinner at your favorite restaurant and as you ate a pint of ice cream in the exact spot you and Cale had said your first ‘I love you’s’. You’d cried as you crawled into your bed for the final time alone and you’d cried as you loaded all of your boxes into the car. You’d cried as you did one final check over everything before locking up and climbing into the driver’s seat, sixteen hours of driving ahead of you.

But by the time you had pulled out of your neighborhood the tears had stopped. Blue skies were there to guide you to Denver, to Cale, to the rest of your life. The changes you were making were big, but they were good...the best. And as you listened to your song play over the radio you realized that you couldn’t wait to find out what other changes awaited you in Denver.

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 4 years

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Wherever They May Roam: Dave Mustaine

Dave Mustaine was born on September 13, 1961 in La Mesa, California. His heritage is that of German, Jewish, Irish, Finnish, and Scottish. His family also were practicing Jehovah’s Witnesses. His childhood growing up emerged as a very difficult one as his father embodied a violent alcoholic. His father and mother would divorce when he was only four years old. Mustaine had two sisters that were so much older than him that he thought of his siblings more as aunts. In high school, Mustaine began to use hard drugs very early, eventually working as a drug dealer. Through his customers, he began to learn about British metal bands like Judas Priest. He even had one client that would pay for his drugs with record albums. His first band emerged with Panic in the very early 1980’s. This was a very short lived group as the drummer and one of their sound techs died on the night of their second show. The band slowly started to disintegrate with the final straw being that the rhythm guitarist also died within a year. They never made any official recordings, nor a demo.

In 1981, Mustaine responded to an ad posted in a local newspaper The Recycler from Lars Ulrich seeking a lead guitarist for a new band. The guitarist recalls his first meeting with Ulrich and James Hetfield. "I was in the room warming up and I walked out and asked, 'Well, am I gonna audition or what?', and they said, 'No, you've got the job.' I couldn't believe how easy it had been and suggested that we get some beer to celebrate." They began to record their first album Kill ‘Em All in 1983, but problems had immediately come to the surface related to Mustaine’s membership in the band. Brian Slagel of Metal Blade Records recalls the recording of that album. “Dave was an incredibly talented guy but he also had an incredibly large problem with alcohol and drugs. He'd get wasted and become a real crazy person, a raging megalomaniac, and the other guys just couldn't deal with that after a while. I mean, they all drank of course, but Dave drank more… much more. I could see they were beginning to get fed up of seeing Dave drunk out of his mind all the time." The first time he was fired from the band came after he brought a dog to a recording. The dog jumped on the car of bassist Ron McGovney causing the paint job to be damaged. James Hetfield upon seeing this kicked the dog in a fit of anger, which led to a huge altercation with Mustaine. After the initial termination, he begged the other members to let him back into the group. They did grant him this request, so his firing was canceled. Another incident occurred when Mustaine poured beer into McGovney’s bass guitar, who was unaware when he began to plug it in. He then received a tremendous electric shock leading to him kicking both Mustaine and James Hetfield out of his house. The bass player would leave Metallica shortly after that. In April 1983, the group traveled to New York to record their debut album, but upon arrival they decided to officially fire Dave Mustaine from the group. They cited the reasons of alcohol and drug abuse, aggressive behavior, too many altercations. The band drove him to the Port Authority bus terminal and put the former Metalica guitarist on one back to California. The amount of collaboration Mustaine had with the band in those early days has always been a debate between the current Metalica and him. He would co-write four songs on Kill ‘Em All, as well as two more songs from Ride the Lightning. The songwriter has unsuccessfully contended that he also helped with “Leper Messiah” from Master of Puppets. Upon returning to San Francisco, he worked very briefly as a telemarketer, would leave this job upon earning enough money to get an apartment in Los Angeles. Mustaine would start a very short lived group called Fallen Angels with two of his coworkers from that telemarketing job. The group never played a live show or recorded anything as Mustaine later commented on the group. “We lacked the chemistry, the energy, the spark—or whatever you want to call it—that gives a band life in its infancy."

The guitarist would soon befriend a neighbor living a floor below his apartment that first began as a confrontation. His name was Dave Ellefson, who would soon join Mustaine‘s new lineup for what would become Megadeth. Originally, he was still utilizing the name from his previous effort, Fallen Angels. He had wanted any group that he played with now to present more thought provoking lyrics and a more precise, intense brand of metal music. A drummer Lee Rausch and guitarist Kerry King would join this initial lineup only to be replaced by Gar Samuelson and Chris Polish respectively. In the case of King, he went back to his original group, Slayer. Megadeth's debut album would be released in 1985 on Combat Records entitled Killing Is My Business. The group received a great amount of buzz that by the time they recorded the second album the band had signed to a major label, Capitol Records. The second album, Peace Sells, But Who’s Buying would go on to become a thrash metal classic earning gold record status. Throughout the 1980’s and early 1990’s, the only two members to be a constant with the band were Mustaine and Dave Ellefson. Other members of the group consistently changed from album to album as Mustaine’s addictions to drugs and alcohol only got worse. He would finally quit drugs and alcohol in the late 1990’s permanently. The amazing thing was despite these addictions, the band led by Mustaine in writing all the songs made mostly quality albums like 1992's Countdown to Extinction, 1994's Youthanasia, and 1997's Cryptic Writings. The only one that was really perceived as a mediocre effort came in 1988 with So Far So Good So What. This would be followed by Rust in Peace, which represented a record that made people think that Mustaine was finally clean and sober. Unfortunately, he would use the rest of the decade to struggle with those demons.

In 2002, the guitarist briefly disbanded Megadeth after a serious arm injury caused him to rethink how he would even be able to play in the future. He was able to successfully rehab from this injury, so the band went on, but with an entirely new lineup. This meant that long time collaborator Dave Ellefson was asked to leave the group. He would not return to Megadeth until 2010. Dave’s reasoning at the time was that he asked too much for his own songs to be played. “I hated being around these guys so when the arm injury happened, it was a welcome relief and an indication that I had to stop." In 2003, Mustaine also turned to Christianity. He began to look at other areas besides the beliefs held by Jehovah’s Witnesses. His description of this transformation was described in a way only Mustaine could possibly describe. “Looking up at the cross, I said six simple words, 'What have I got to lose?' Afterwards my whole life has changed. It's been hard, but I wouldn't change it for anything. Rather go my whole life believing that there is a God and find out there isn't than live my whole life thinking there isn't a God and then find out, when I die, that there is." As had always been the case with the band, Megadeth would release a new album every 2 to 3 years almost like clockwork. In 2010, Mustaine would release his autobiography entitled A Life in Metal. By this time, the war with former bandmates in Metallica began to thaw a bit. He would play five songs with the band at their 30th anniversary concert. A year later they would all tour together as part of the Big Four tour including Anthrax and Slayer as well. Surprisingly, the guitarist has been happily married since 1991 with a son and a daughter. More recently, health issues have come to the forefront including spinal stenosis which he claims was from years of headbanging. In 2019, Mustaine was diagnosed with throat cancer, but he says now that he is cancer free. One thing overall that has always concerned Mustaine is his legacy and place in the history of heavy metal guitarists. He has always been supremely confident in his ability as he noted in this interview. “To be the No. 1 rated guitar player in the world is a gift from God and I'm stoked about it…” In 2009, he gave an interview to Classic Rock Magazine that revealed this telling insight into the man. Mustaine was talking about learning he had been named the number one heavy metal guitarist ever in a book by Joel McIver. “It was especially sweet when I found out that Joel has written books on Metallica. Every page I turned, I became more excited. I get to Number 5 and it's Kirk Hammett, and I thought, 'Thank you, God'. At that point it didn't matter [which position I was]. To be better than both of them [James Hetfield and Hammett] meant so much – it's been one of the pet peeves of my career and I've never known how to deal with it. All I thought was – I win!" Upon reading this statement, one could partially see why Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield did not want him in the group.

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thesvenqueen · 4 years

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Sleepy Hollow

Rating: M (for some gore-ish stuff, it is sleepy hollow after all)

Pair: Kristanna

Words: 8,728

Note: Was blessed to be able to write a Halloween theme fic for the Kristanna Zine Calendar this year. The best and greatest holiday there is let’s be honest, so decided to be a bit spooky with it as it should be. So, here we be with this and also, major shout out to @punkpoemprose for putting it together & thank you @feistypaants for reading through this monster and just being a good friend :D Really had fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy reading it as well :)

The town of Sleepy Hollow, Kristoff decided, was like a small ink blot on a map: noticeable to those who paid mind but one most deemed was not big enough to worry over. It was a grungy village, barely a town even with it’s small population. He was sure that in Spring it was a cute town, one filled with flowers blooming and blue skies but not now.

Now, the town of Sleepy Hollow was masked in grey. A dark, gloomy air seems to have set in over the village. Which given the circumstances, fit the bill.

Kristoff wasn’t at all excited when they’d offered, more like forced, him to come to the small town to investigate a mystery. One that had plagued it’s inhabitants for well over a few weeks now.

Strange deaths, specifically beheadings, were plaguing it’s residents. Creating an air of fear that sent most villagers scrambling to their homes or wherever they were heading even during the day as Kristoff had witnessed earlier.

Three people had died thus far, according to the reports, all as gruesome as you’d think. There were no relations, as far as George Westergaard could tell. He was the leader of the town, newly established as his father had been one of the victims just days earlier. Even he, who knew everyone and everything that went on within the village, could not distinguish the truth of the events.

The towns folk had convinced themselves that it was a curse, a story as old as the town itself that had come to haunt them.

It was said, according to Mr. Westergaard, that a soldier long ago from the American Revolution who had been killed had now risen again to find his now missing head.

Stories such as these used to fascinate Kristoff, now however it just made him roll his eyes. The idea of an apparition rising from the grave, come to torture the town in search of his “missing head” seemed absolutely ridiculous. Surely it was a towns member out for revenge of some sort or conducting a dark plan with a grand result.

It was Kristoff’s job as a constable to establish the truth behind the mysterious deaths. It was a paycheck sure, but he had a feeling they’d put the job on him as no one else would take it.

A large man, they most likely thought he’d be able to handle himself fairly well here. No fear of their dear constable not returning. However, he had a hunch that his fellow coworkers would not mind if he never returned. They didn’t hate him per say, more hated his methods. Kristoff fought for truth, for justice while many of his other fellow constables rather work for the pay and nothing more.

It was infuriating at times, to be ignored, to be silenced, to have your conclusions and evidence completely looked over in favor of some ridiculous theory that would garner more money. Kristoff hated it, and them, but he swore himself to a duty, to protect and save those he could. So he did, begrudgingly, till he could find the path that was destined for him.

As his mother used to say, they all were destined to go down a path, it was up to them to discover it.

For now, it seemed, that path was leading him to this god forsaken town.

---

She was the last thing he expected to find here. He’d been told there was only one inn, a small place along the outskirts.

Judging by the building itself, and the rest of the town, he expected an old maid who’d be hesitant to give him a room. Kristoff had prepared himself to argue with the woman as he traveled through the forest, noticing the slight unease he felt as he journeyed.

It was as though eyes were on him, watching him as he traveled on Sven towards the inn.

Still, Kristoff tried to focus on the task at hand and not the oddness in the air. He ruffled his hair as he made his way to the door, adjusting his jacket as he knocked. It only took a few moments before someone appeared.

“Yes?”

Kristoff blinked, staring at the woman who’d answered the door. She was no maid, oh no. She was young, near his age he surmised, with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. “Um..” he stammered, shaking his head to gather his thoughts, “I’m here for boarding?”

“Oh!” the woman called, opening the door as she smiled at him. “You must be the constable everyones been talking about, please do come in!”

Kristoff followed her, still taken aback at her beauty. He didn’t expect to find someone so stunning, so completely opposite of Sleepy Hollow.

Anna Rendell, as he’d soon discover, was co-owner of the boarding house. She and her sister owned it, taking over after the tragic death of their parents years before.

She was a bright, vibrant light, a complete contrast to the town she called home. It showed even in her clothes as she was sure to wear vibrant colors, a flower in a field of weeds.

Anna smiled constantly, laughed at nearly everything and talked whenever someone would listen. Which, now with his arrival, became Kristoff more often than not.

She’d question him on his work, on his previous cases, what he’d learned or what even the city life was like. Whenever he’d go out to investigate or question someone, Anna would always be up waiting with a cup of tea and questions prepared.

It was surprising, to Kristoff at least, to see someone so interested in the work he did. She’d ask questions that even himself didn’t think to consider, pointing out certain observations that Kristoff had not seen.

He wouldn’t lie in saying it was beneficial, to talk his thoughts aloud, but he couldn’t help but feel a hint of suspicion.

“It sounds lovely.” She said dreamely one gloomy afternoon, both stuck indoors as a heavy rain moved through. “I dream of going to the city.”

“Really?” For some reason, the idea of that surprised Kristoff.

“Oh yes.” Anna said, putting down her tea, her red hair falling into her face just so and gods did Kristoff wish he could push it back himself. “My sister does not know but, I envy city life. Though this town will always be home I…” She looked around the room then, seeming to take it all in, “I hate it here. Too many bad and horrid memories that I wish to get away from. Especially now.”

Kristoff nodded at her, understanding as he took another sip of his tea.

“Though I doubt Hans will want to move there...he doesn’t love the idea of the city as much as me it seems.”

Ah, the wedge and thorn in Kristoff’s side.

Hans Westergaard. The youngest of the largest family in town, and the most powerful, next to Anna and her sister. The Westergaards had a tight grip on the village, owning several small shops and being in a position of power for many years. Seeing as they had thirteen siblings, including Hans, they had more than enough family to hold the town within their grasp.

Anna’s father & grandfather also held leadership roles, though not nearly as strong, but they seemed to have been well liked by all. A far contrast to that of the Westergaard family who were more respected out of fear.

Naturally, the two powerful families would come together in marriage to keep hold of their influence in town. After meeting Hans, however, he was surprised that Anna would fall for such a man.

He was, in short, a snob. There was not an event, dinner nor conversation that Hans found something he did not like, making sure to comment on the fact itself. He seemed to destane the town and every resident, except for Anna. Though, there were a few times Kristoff wondered if that was even remotely true.

Hans was everything Anna wasn’t. As Anna would speak with the residence with grace and kindness, being sure to treat all those around her the same as anyone else, Hans would be sure to put everyone down with his words and piercing eyes.

It seemed more and more as Kristoff spent time with them both that the marriage was simply one out of convenience, and not out of love.

They were the same age, seemingly the only ones to be so except for Anna’s sister who Anna claimed was not the marrying type.

Kristoff had only seen her sister a few times, moving around the house to assist in cleaning and managing, but she kept to herself most days.

Didn’t matter to Kristoff much, he’d rather spend more time with Anna if he could anyways.

“You think he may change his mind?”

Anna hummed, frowning towards the fire, “Highly doubtful. His family is here, along with their business. He claims he’ll have a hand in the business someday so he doesn’t want to go too far if that was the case.”

Pity, Kristoff thought, following her gaze into the fire, he’d take her to the city, anywhere she asked in a heartbeat.

But he wouldn’t tell her that.

---

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving Sven carrots.”

“I think you mean, spoiling him.”

That earned him an eye roll. “I’m merely showing him some love and appreciation, that’s all.”

“Are you saying I don’t do that?”

Sven brayed and to add to injury, nodded his head as though to say yes. Anna threw her head back in laughter, the sound making Kristoff’s heart race.

A sound he hoped to hear again and again if he could.

“Traitor.” He murmured to Sven, earning him another bout of giggles.

---

Another murder, another death and one that Kristoff is taken aback by.

It’s another Westergaard, a middle brother named Brom.

This wasn’t in a field or within the forest while he was traveling, but instead in his own home.

It’s a gruesome scene, one that even gives Kristoff pause. The horseman, or whomever it was, left no one behind.

Brom’s wife was also taken, lying near her husband within their home.

The mortician places a cloth over his mouth, eyes wide as he steps into the scene. “Good God.” He mutters.

Kristoff watches the man, how his hands shake as he slowly makes his way to the victims. He watches everyone, from George to even the curious villagers outside. He must be keen to everyone’s reactions, to their emotions, to it all.

It only takes one slip up to give it all away.

A surprising note was the appearance of Mr. Westergaard. He was the burgomaster of the town now sure, and though it was his duty, Kristoff found it interesting and almost perplexing that the man was able to step foot into where his brother had died.

Still, the man stood beside Kristoff, jaw clenched and Kristoff took note of the paleness on his face.

It was duty, then, that brought him into the door. Nothing more.

The mortician, to his credit, looks over the bodies dutifully. He takes his notes, jots down what he sees and information he gathers from the tools in his kit and then stands a few moments later.

“Well?” Mr. Westergaard spoke, eyes never leaving from his brother’s body. His voice shook just ever so.

“Same as the others, sir.” The mortician said, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. “Clean, smooth cut by a sharp instrument. Most likely an ax as the witnesses claim.”

The man nodded, still staring at the victims that lay on the floor.

“Anything at all unusual?” Kristoff asked.

“No sir.” the mortician said, taking his leave before another question could be asked.

Kristoff took inventory of the room, scanning over everything within. Dinner was on the table, now cold but set as though they were ready to eat.

The one thing that seemed out of a place was a glass. It was a spare, an extra, as the two full plates of food had their own already filled. This one was on its own, away from the others and empty.

Though as Kristoff peered inside, he saw remnants of what he presumed to be wine.

“Was your brother expecting anyone?”

“I don’t…” Kristoff looked back to the man, George’s head bowed and shaking, “I don’t know, to be honest with you.”

Kristoff nodded, asking his next question gently, “Anything suspicious or odd happen at all lately? Anyone angry with him or...?”

Mr. Westergaard shook his head, “No sir I...everything seemed perfectly fine. He was friendly to all as far as I was aware. Never heard a complaint about him…”

Kristoff stayed quiet then, thinking over his thoughts.

Whomever came to his home last night, they came under the guise as a friend and left as anything but.

---

It was later than Kristoff intended to stay up, the fire merely a few crackling embers now.

His brain was going a mile a minute, exhaustion nor sleep overcoming him and so, after lying in bed he made his way downstairs to the living room.

He’d been attempting to read a book, the name escaping him and really, he couldn’t focus on the words along the pages.

Rubbing his hands across his face, Kristoff groaned in frustration.

“Kristoff?”

Startled, he jumped slightly, turning to find Anna standing in the doorway. Her hair was down, a thick blanket wrapped around her that was so large it engulfed her.

“Anna?” He asked, confusion in his voice. “It’s late, why are you up?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

Fair.

“Can’t sleep, too much going on.”

“Oh,” She said, looking down to the floor, “I suppose you’d want quiet then to go through your thoughts, I can--”

“No, it’s ok. Truly.”

She smiled at him, a soft, sweet smile that Kristoff came to favor. “Thank you.”

He watched her move to the love seat, sitting down and tucking her feet beneath herself and the blanket. She wrapped the thick blanket tighter, her eyes to the fire, and after a moment, Kristoff asked, “What’s keeping you up so late?”

Anna bit her lip, a telling sign that Kristoff learned meant she was nervous, “Nightmares.”

“Oh.”

“Childish, I know…” Anna said with a huff.

“No, nothing wrong with having a nightmare.” Kristoff said, “Well, obviously having a nightmare is not the most ideal, but it’s not childish.”

Anna looked to him, the small smile returning. “Thank you.”

“If you don’t mind...what was it about?” Anna looked away once more, causing Kristoff to sputter to recover, “I mean...if you want, you don’t have to but sometimes, I know for me, it helped to talk about them...get it out of your system so it’s not stuck in your head anymore.”

Anna sighed, looking over to him again, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Would never.”

Anna chuckled then, seeming to enjoy his teasing. When she stopped, she spoke again, “It was the horseman.”

“Understandable.”

“I know...I know he’s not real, he can’t be but…”

“Dreams have a funny way of making you think otherwise.”

“Yes, that they do.”

Kristoff watched her, saw the worry and fear behind her eyes and he felt a pull, a tug to open himself up. To talk.

“When I was little, I used to have nightmares all the time.” Not able to face her, he looked to the fire, staring intently into the burning embers as he felt her eyes on him. “My mother, bless her, she would tell me tales from her homeland. Some were fun, spritely adventures but others didn’t bode as well with me.” He paused, the old memories of his mother tucking him in, holding him close as she murmured the tales to him as she fell asleep coming to mind. “I had nightmares about fairies for weeks.”

“Wait, what?” Kristoff looked over, a smirk forming on his face at the view of Anna smiling wide, a giggle in her voice, “You had nightmares about fairies?”

“Hey, to be fair, I was barely 10.”

“They’re harmless.”

“I know that now, but I was terrified of them back then.” Kristoff chuckled at the thought, “Used to fear being led astray by them.”

“Or wake up with knotted hair.”

That made them both laugh. They stayed up a while more, talking more of old fairy tales they’ve been told, what they’d feared when they were kids, what bits of mischief they got up to.

Apparently, and not surprisingly, Anna had gotten into quite a lot.

Somehow, they’d both dozed off, Kristoff awakening to the embers of the fire nearly gone. Anna was fast asleep on the love seat, curled up and wrapped tight within her blanket.

He nearly left her there, seeing how comfortable she was, but something told him it wasn’t right. So gently, cautiously, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her room.

He didn’t miss the small hum she made as he held her, nor the way she seemed to bury her head against his chest.

---

The inn was just over the hill, the familiar end of the path just coming into view.

“Faster Sven.”

The horse grunted, winding through the trees as he made his way up and up.

Kristoff should have known not to stay within town into the night, knew the risk of the killer turning his gaze toward him. He knew the chances and yet he still dismissed them.

Now, clutching his side as he felt warm blood pooling into his hand, he hated himself for dismissing the idea so easily.

They’d been surprised. Traveling slowly through the forest, taking their time as to allow Kristoff to think over the events of the day when he’d emerged.

Kristoff had felt the hair on the back of his neck raise, catching his attention before he saw the man and horse behind him.

It was a black horse, completely engulfed and nearly camouflaged in the night if not for the shine of the moon. But the horse was not what gave him pause, what made him pull back the reins.

The rider on top of the horse was cloaked in black from head to toe, if the rider had a head. Where a head was supposed to be, there was nothing. The collar of the cloak surrounded nothing but air.

Kristoff had simply furrowed his brows at the figure, confused but also hyper aware of just how far he had left to return to the inn.

The rider acted quickly, the pain hitting Kristoff before he realized the man, or whatever he was, had even thrown something.

He’d clutched his side, realizing he’d been deeply grazed by what he could only assume was a thrown knife.

“Sven, GO!”

The chase had started, both galloping through the forest. He could hear the galloping hooves even now still close behind him, noting the sound of knives whizzing past didn’t come anymore.

He’s out of weapons. Kristoff realized, looking back to see that the idea was only partially true. Instead, the rider now held a large, iron ax, seeming to gleem in the light of the moon.

No way the rider would risk throwing it, but if he got close enough…

They were at the top of the hill now, the inn just below them and Kristoff leaned forward as far as he could to try to get more speed.

He was lightheaded now, the feel of the reigns no longer recognizable in his hands as they began to go numb, but he tried to hold on till he reached the inn.

As they made it to the bottom of the hill, he realized he didn’t hear hooves behind him anymore. He glanced back, just able to make out the image of the horse and rider stopped at the top.

Odd, Kristoff thought, why not follow?

Another bout of searing pain came over him, causing Kristoff to clench his eyes closed as they came up to the front of the Inn.

Kristoff all but fell out of the saddle, stumbling to his feet as he heard a door open somewhere in the distance as he leaned against Sven for support. He managed a step, looking up to see a familiar head of red hair running to him, a muffled voice of concern and calling what he thought was his name, as his legs gave out from under him and he collapsed onto the ground.

---

Anna simply stared at him, eyes wide with shock at the tale he told of the night before.

He’d awoken to find himself in his bed, his side aching. More surprisingly, he was shirtless, shoes removed, and the wound was now clean & stitched up.

He’d gone to sit up, grunting as he did and he heard his bedroom door open to reveal Anna coming in with a tray in hand.

She’d managed, with her sister’s help, to get him into his room. They’d addressed his wound, removing his shirt in the process to get a better view and to be able to clean & stitch it.

He’d slept all day, Anna at his side as she’d wiped his brow, cleaned his wound, gave him water while he laid unconscious.

She’d explained everything as she handed over a warm cup of tea, a toast with jam as well for good measure that Kristoff ate greedily.

As he ate, Anna had checked his side, looking over to be sure it was healing as best it could and he prayed she’d missed the dark blush that came when she touched his chest without hesitation.

It was then Anna had asked for an explanation, to what had brought him injured and nearly dead on his feet in the middle of the night.

Story now finished, Anna turned her now pale face to the flames, eyes still wide.

“So...is he real?”

Kristoff sighed at that, rubbing his hand over his face, “No, he isn’t real.”

Anna whipped her head back at him, now confused, “But you saw him yourself? The headless horseman nearly killed you just a night ago.”

“He may have appeared headless Anna, but he was no apparition. He was real, he was human. It was a disguise.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“What apparition or ghost do you know of that can throw solid objects?”

“This is different though, he could manage it I’m sure.”

“Anna…”

Anna bit her lip then, clenching her hands as she looked at him in worry, “I just...I don’t want to accept the fact that someone in our town is killing us, killing innocent people.” She looked down then, shoulders slumping as she did, “It means one of our own is a trader, a murderer and...that’s honestly a more terrifying thought than an ax wielding ghost.”

“I know,” Kristoff said gently, trying to ease her worry. “I’ve seen what some men will do for their own gain, how they’ll risk everything for ridiculous splendors.”

Anna looked at him then, a sad look on her face, “I can only imagine all you’ve seen, especially in the city.”

“The city is not as kind as you think, unfortunately.”

She bit her lip once more, and Kristoff wanted so much to lean forward and rub his thumb across it, to will her to stop. “It’s just...whoever this is, they have no care for what they do.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean...they have complete disregard to those they’re hurting, to those they’re taking away. They killed Han’s father, the burgomaster of the village of all things. It destroyed Han’s, he didn’t leave his home for days after that. Then the pastor, the farm boy too, now Brom and god’s even his wife couldn’t escape their ax and now you I...”

He stood then, coming over as tears began to silently fall down her cheeks. Kristoff knelt in front of her, gently taking hold of her hands as she took a shaky breath.

“I fear the worst for us all. Who they could go after next and what if...what if it’s us?”

“No harm will come to you Anna, or your sister.”

Anna looked down at him, “How can you say such a thing with such confidence?”

“Because I won’t let them.” He said, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand, losing himself in her blue eyes, “Anna, I will not let anyone lay a hand on you, I swear it.”

She smiled then, one that made Kristoff’s heart soar at the site.

There was a moment, a feeling that filled the room that Kristoff was sure Anna noticed as well as her smile fell as she licked her lips lightly. He watched her as she did, looking back to find her eyes intently on him, her cheeks red with what Kristoff could only assume was a blush.

He decided to take a chance then, feeling a pull to lean forward slightly in hopes that maybe she’d follow.

She did, following his lead as she leaned down towards him, her eyes leaving his as she looked down at his lips.

A door slammed open then from below, making them both jump and Kristoff move to stand.

Immediately, Kristoff missed the feel of her hands in his.

The moment was lost, the air thick with awkwardness as footsteps echoed below them.

“Anna?”

Anna stood, confusion on her face as Hans' voice called after her from below. “I should…”

“Yes.”

Krisotff kept his head bowed, avoiding her gaze as she hesitated for a moment, but just a moment before she headed out the room and down the stairs.

He dressed quickly then, berating himself for even trying, for even thinking he should try.

She was engaged for fuck sakes. If they’d been caught she’d been ruined, casted away and he’d be to blame.

Idiot, he thought as he made his way down the stairs. How could you be so selfish?

“Hans, that’s kind of you but I’m fine, really.”

“I just wanted to be sure.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Anna said as Kristoff came to the final step, their voices carrying as he made his way to the living room. “But it’s you I’m worried about. Brom just died, are you sure you’re alright? I expected for you to be grieving with the rest of your family.”

The couple came into view then as Kristoff came to the doorway. They stood in the middle of the room, Hans’ arms wrapped loosely around Anna’s waist.

Kristoff clenched his jaw at the site, wishing it was him who was holding her instead.

Stop it.

Hans looked over at him, causing Anna to turn as well.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Kristoff said with a solemn nodd, trying to sound as respectable as possible.

Hans glared at him, Kristoff not missing how his grip tightened around Anna. “I appreciate the kind words, but I wish they were not needed.”

“It takes time to solve these things, I’m trying my best.”

“Maybe your best is not enough.”

“Hans.” Anna said, whipping around to look up at him, “He is doing all he can.”

“That may be so,” Hans said, releasing his hold on Anna and taking a few steps towards Kristoff. Never before had Kristoff been so thankful to be as tall as he was, as now he was able to look down on the snooty man before him. “But will it be enough?”

“I can assure you, it will be.”

Hans hummed, casting his eyes down and Kristoff did not miss where his eyes had landed before he looked back to him “That remains to be seen.”

---

Kristoff fully expected Anna to avoid him, to leave him be after the mishap in his room the day before. It had been a mistake, at least that’s what he told himself to ignore the sadness that lingered from his failed attempt.

Instead, Kristoff was surprised to find her acting as though everything was just fine.

He eyed Anna during breakfast the next morning, watching as she hummed over the eggs, asked what his plans were for the day in case she needed to prepare for anything. He wanted to apologize for his boldness, for nearly ruining her good name by a selfish move.

Her smile though, the way she moved around with such happiness, completely carefree of all that was going on, kept him from speaking.

He answered her questions with a smile, chuckled at her antics but it did nothing to heal the twinge of pain in his heart.

---

It was midday Sunday, one that had been surprisingly sunny.

Anna had decided to take advantage of the fact and had convinced Kristoff to come along to the town to walk through the market. They’d decided to walk to the town, to take in the moment of fresh air and sunshine.

“It won’t be anything like the city but, it’s nice all the same.” She said, her arm looped through his as they came up to the edge of town.

He looked at her, seeing the broad smile on her face, taking advantage of the moment to squeeze her hand lightly. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

It was. Though not near the vast expanse of venues and goods the city would have, the village did well having everyone gather near the town square. They sold what they had: fruits, bread, sweet pastries, meat, fish. It was a wide variety for such a small population, impressive even.

Kristoff had been able to see more townspeople than he had the weeks staying here. They were all smiling for once; no one hurrying to their homes, to escape the roads in case they ran into the supposed horseman. They greeted him warmly, chatted about the day, the weather, the food or things they were selling.

Anna seemed to be exactly in her element, asking them all about their families. How their jobs were doing, if their sick relative was doing better, if they ever did get the pup like they said they were. Each family had a new subject, one that only Anna seemed to recall.

Seemed the sun had brought some light to the town, a change within them that nearly reflected the light Anna held every day.

Then it happened.

A scream echoed through the village, coming to the square that made everyone freeze.

Kristoff looked around, having the advantage to see over everyone and spotted the woman. She was desperately trying to scurry away, crawling on the ground away from behind the shop off in the distance.

Instinct kicked in and he darted towards the woman, realizing as he came closer to her that he’d seen her earlier before but he couldn’t place a name.

He came to her, kneeling down in front of her as she shook, mouth still agape in pure horror. “Madam,” Kristoff said, trying to pull her eyes to him and away from whatever it was she saw, “Madam, miss, please you need to calm down.”

Kristoff reached to touch her shoulders, but the woman flinched away, not even looking to him to see who he was.

“Eliza?”

Kristoff turned, seeing Anna standing above them now. “You know her?”

She nodded as she knelt, “She’s the school teacher.” Anna grabbed his arm, pushing it down. “Let me, go see what’s happened.”

It was then he heard more people coming, a gasp and cry from behind them. Kristoff looked to Anna, wanting to be sure before he left her. She smiled at him, reassuringly, and then he stood.

He turned to see a small crowd already forming, some turning their heads just so and showing the same look of horror that was on Eliza’s face.

“Step aside.” He called, pushing through the crowd. No one seemed to move, nor breath for that matter. There was a recognizable air of fear surrounding them, one that made Kristoff prepare himself for what was before him.

The scene made Kristoff freeze.

It was another body.

A headless body.

The murderer had struck once more, but not in the dark of the night. No, they did it when everyone had become comfortable, had been off enjoying a beautiful day and seeming to forget the deaths that had recently plagued them.

The man was well dressed, and Kristoff knew immediately that he had to be a Westergaard.

He remembered someone mentioning, either today in the market or during his time here, that one of the brothers was seeing the school teacher. In fact, they were set to marry within the coming months.

“My gods, no, Rupert!”

Kristoff looked over, seeing George standing beside him, completely pale as he had been days before. “Your brother?”

George nodded, tears forming in the man's eyes. “I just spoke to him...just moments before but…”

“But?”

George glared at the body, then looked over to Kristoff. “He had to meet with someone, said they wanted to speak with him about something.”

Kristoff knew the look in the man’s eyes all too well, saw the anger and recognition burning within them. It wouldn’t take much for the anger to turn to pure rage, and that could make a man do horrid things. He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let an innocent man turn into a monster.

Kristoff moved, coming over to him wrapping his arm around his shoulders to appear as though he was comforting the man. In reality, Kristoff held George tightly, keeping him in place and not running off to commit another crime.

“George.” Kristoff whispered, seeing the man clench his jaw, “George, listen to me, who was it that he was meeting? You have to tell me.”

“Why?” He said, turning to look at him, “Why must I tell you?” and not kill him myself.

“You’re a good man George.” Kristoff said, hoping desperately his words would hit something, anything to calm the raging man in his arms. “You kill them, then I’ll have to arrest you and take you away. Think of your wife, your children.” That struck a nerve, the right one as Kristoff felt the man slowly begin to stop resisting. “Let me do the justice, let me handle them.”

A moment past till George finally nodded in agreement, looking back to his fallen brother.

“Who was he meeting with George?” Kristoff asked, already knowing the answer.

“Hans.”

Kristoff nodded, releasing the man as he turned to make his way back through the crowd and to find Hans. He felt George behind him, following him as he pushed through.

The mortician came up to them, huffing and puffing, asking for an explanation. George took the initiative, beginning to explain the death along with who was behind all this.

Kristoff’s eyes narrowed, looking around them realizing that someone was not here.

Eliza was now standing, a few other ladies around her, comforting her as best they could as she sobbed openly to them.

But Anna was not with them.

“Oi,” Kristoff called, catching one of the ladies attention. “Where is Anna?”

“Miss Rendel?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, she was helping Eliza but said she had to go, mentioning something about finding her fiancè.”

Fuck.

“Did you see which way she was heading?”

“Believe to his residents to inform him, poor dear--”

Kristoff heard nothing more as he took off running.

---

In hindsight, he should have asked exactly where Hans’ home was. Better yet, paid attention to when Anna most likely mentioned it’s whereabouts before.

He wanted to run back, ask the woman where exactly the home was but he didn’t have time.

In the beginning, Hans had been a suspect merely because of his last name. Kristoff considered the idea of a blood feud, anger that sat within the children and they disguised their deed by killing the pastor and the farm boy.

But, Hans made mistakes.

It hadn’t been announced openly, Kristoff only learning about it from George during a late dinner at his residence, that Brum was to take over managing the shops. It was a work in progress, one that required extensive paperwork as technically, it was supposed to go to George. Though seeing as George had his hands full enough now being the new leader of the village, he passed it on to Brum.

No one outside the family, spare for Kristoff and the family lawyer, knew of the exchange. When he died along with his wife, Kristoff knew immediately it was a family member behind the attacks.

The pastor and farm boy had been merely a decoy, one to try to throw suspicions away from a family killing and to scare the residence, perhaps to try to push his brothers out of town to spare the bit of blood on his hands. The spreading of the story of the tale of the horseman only helped push the narrative and fear, while also helping keep the true identity of the killer from reaching the surface. Two brothers and their families were already preparing to depart after the death of Brum, three moving right after the death of their father.

George hadn’t been surprised, mentioning how his brothers never really did like it here.

“Most of them dreamed of a new life elsewhere, to create and have their own hold somewhere that wasn’t passed down.”

Kristoff couldn’t blame them. Creating their own life with no assistance was something more to be proud of than helpings given on a silver platter.

With that, there were only six brothers left to manage.

Something Kristoff was sure Hans would easily go through as he saw today.

Killing another brother, in broad daylight, was an act of desperation. Hans was getting impatient, wanting his hand deep within the town fortune now.

Rupert being the oldest left was most likely to be given control of the shops now, and again, Hans made a mistake taking him out so quickly.

Kristoff had known immediately upon realizing who it was that laid dead behind the shop that it was Hans, but he needed complete confirmation from George before he could do anything.

Thankfully, he did.

Now though, now he was on the clock.

He should have never left Anna alone, the possibility of her becoming a victim herself was always probable though highly unlikely in Kristoff’s mind.

Mostly because with Anna, Hans would be greatly more powerful with her on his arm. Killing her, before the marriage, would lead to him getting nothing from her. It was far more beneficial to marry her, to keep her close until the marriage was made official.

Therefore, Anna had been safe, for now at least.

It took Kristoff longer than he’d like to see a home that he recognized as Hans. He moved towards the front of the home but stopped, knowing he couldn’t enter through the front or it would give him away, potentially putting Anna in more danger than she already was.

So quickly, he ran to the back of the home, jumping over the small fence.

Coming to the back door, Kristoff pressed his ear gently to the wood. He could make out two voices, one he could recognize anywhere.

Anna was here, but more importantly still alive.

For now at least.

Kristoff grabbed hold of the door handle, slowly turning it so as to not make a sound. The Gods seemed to be looking over him as he was able to open and push the door open with barely a squeak.

It was then he heard the voices more clearly.

“--lie to me Hans.”

“I’m not lying Anna dear, I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know it was you!”

That made Kristoff freeze, the house becoming deathly still at Anna’s accusations. He held his breath, standing still in the doorway.

“Anna.”

“You spoke of coming into a fortune, of getting your own when we met. You talked so eagerly about how you were going to come into the business, especially after your father died. I wasn’t suspicious then, but I should’ve been.”

“Anna, I’d be very careful--”

“Laura had told me about the deal, about the shops going to Brum.” That was technically a lie, Kristoff having been the one to mention the new deal coming into play to her during one late night discussion. Though Anna had gone to talk to Laura to get more information about it, as Kristoff had only heard mention of it and not the full details, returning that day with the biggest smile Kristoff had ever seen on her face at the notion she’d helped him with his case. “They were delighted, thrilled but she strictly told me to tell no one. That no one in town knew, except for the family.”

“Dearest--”

“When they died, I knew. I knew then but I dismissed it, not wanting to think you could ever sink so low as to kill your own family, your own brother, your father.”

“You knew nothing of my father.” The change in Hans’ tone made Kristoff pause, his eyes widening in surprise at the venom that came with his words. “He was a proud, selfish git, caring for no one but himself.”

“That’s not true, he cared for you deeply--”

“I was the thirteenth son, he didn’t give a shit about me.”

“Yes he did!”

“He left me nothing!”

“That’s a lie!”

Hans laughed then, “A few thousands pounds? What the fuck am I to do with it in this town? I didn’t want his money, I wanted the town. He practically gave me nothing.”

“You wanted the power.”

“Yes, sweet dearest. I wanted the town in my grasp and mine alone. I wanted the town to look to me as their leader, as their keeper of it all. The money meant nothing without a bit of power at play.”

“And Brum threw a wrench in the whole thing.”

Kristoff heard Hans groan, footsteps moving a few paces in a room at the front of the home, just a couple of yards in front of Kristoff.

“Not just Brum, George with his generous self gave it away. Gave the shops, the family business away like it was nothing. To Brum of all people. I was the one that helped stock those shelves since I was a child, I was the one that ran them when the others didn’t want to, and yet I get no say in anything. I get nothing.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to them?”

Hans barked a laugh, “Talking is useless, you learn that quickly in a large family.”

Kristoff placed his hand to his waist, finding his revolver sitting in his holster. The room was now feet away, so he kept himself pressed tightly against the wall to avoid being seen.

“So I came up with a plan, deciding if Father wasn’t going to give me what I wanted, then I’d do it myself. I didn’t have the time nor the patience to wait for him to die, so I sped it up a bit.”

Footsteps moved across the floor, Hans' voice seeming to be just behind the wall Kristoff was pressed against. He needed to look inside, to spy where Anna was but he needed to be sure Hans was not looking to him.

“Of course I knew suspicions would immediately turn to the family, to the many sons he had. So, to save face, I took the pastor as well. Poor man was on the way out anyways.”

Hans’ seemed to move across the room, but still it wasn’t safe enough.

“The farm boy hadn’t been in the initial plans but the fools in this town still talked of one of us killing Father. I heard someone mention the tale of the horseman and I knew, I knew I had to run with this new idea. So, I found some old clothes and played the part, he just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”

Kristoff took a slow breath, deciding he had to take his chance now. He peeked around, careful to not lean too far.

Anna was against the far wall, pain and furry on her face. She stood tall, her eyes firmly on Hans who stood to Kristoff’s left, his back to him.

“Then George broke the news about Brum, and I was livid.” Something broke then, a glass figure smashing to the ground. Anna shrieked, jumping back slightly at the show of anger. “The idiot just gave him everything, all of it like it was so easy to do. And oh, did Brum love it. He loved every bit of it the fucking brute.” He said through grit teeth, “I couldn’t let him have it. Not the one chance I could have at power till I was able to go for burgomaster.”

“I knew you went to see them that night.” Anna said through tears, Hans laughing once more at her.

“Oh yes, I did. The wine was lovely, the food bland as always.”

“I knew then,” Anna said through a shaky voice, though Kristoff watched as she stood tall in front of such a maniacal monster. “I knew but I ignored it, I didn’t want to believe it until today.”

“Ah, poor Rupert, another one that’d gotten in the way.”

“Eliza had told me, today in the market. Said she had big news to tell me, something she and Rupert were so excited for. That she was waiting for him to return from meeting with you to tell me.”

“The blabbermouth.” It was then, Hans being out of view with his back turned that Kristoff stuck his head out. Anna spotted him immediately, their eyes meeting for just a moment before he ducked back behind the doorway. He couldn’t move yet, couldn’t act as he needed to hear Hans’ confession, but letting Anna know he was here was enough. “Guess she’ll be next.”

“There won’t be a next,” Anna said firmly, raising her chin at him, “I won’t let you lay another hand on someone. When Kristoff finds out…”

“Kristoff won’t know.” Hans said, venom dripping with his words now. He turned, Kristoff moving back before he could be seen. “The idiot is too engulfed with the idea of a potential horseman apparition to even be looking at me. I made sure of that.” There were footsteps towards the wall Kristoff was behind, the sound of a drawer opening, something heavy being pulled from inside. “If only my aim had been better that night.”

“He knows where I am Hans, he knows I’m with you.”

“No matter, he still won’t hear a word from you.” Kristoff risked another peak and didn’t need to see anything more than the ax in Hans’ hand to move. “Shame really, I was quite looking forward to our wedding.”

Taking a step into the doorway, Kristoff fired before Hans had even so much as raised the ax. Anna ducked, Hans crying in pain as the bullet struck him and fell to the floor.

It was silent then, the smell of gunpowder filling the room along with a soft ringing echoing within the home.

Hans didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.

Kristoff kept his gun to him, moving hastily to kick the ax from his hands. He knelt beside him, seeing a pool of blood beginning to form underneath Hans. Still not convinced, he pressed his fingers to his neck.

Hans Westergaard was dead.

---

Kristoff had tried to extend his days in Sleepy Hollow for as long as he could manage, unable to bring himself to leave so soon after the events that took place.

Anna had cried in his arms after he’d saved her, tears he assumed were of sadness and anger.

He’d find out, later, over tea back at the inn with her once again tucked deep within her blanket that she’d tell the truth.

“I wasn’t sad, not for him at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was...well, I was angry more than anything. Angry that such a horrible person could do such a thing, with no care, and it being him. That I had trusted someone like him.”

“He fooled everyone, not just you.”

“I know but...it was infuriating all the same to have fallen for it all. To be blinded to him.”

“You weren’t though, you knew. You’d known for a long time.”

“If I’d acted sooner though…”

“We couldn’t have.” He’d assured her, grabbing her hand, “It was too soon and we didn’t have enough to prove it.”

“I know I just...I feel like such a fool.”

“You are no fool Anna Rendel. You solved this case just as much as I did. You’re the smartest, bravest person I know. Better than any constable that’s for sure.”

Anna laughed then, “Now you’re just trying to make me smile.”

“I’m not.” Kristoff said, the seriousness in his tone ceasing her giggles. “You truly are the brightest person I’ve ever met.”

That had made her smile, though it fell soon after.

“I just wish I could stop crying. He doesn’t deserve these tears.”

“Nothing wrong with crying.” Kristoff said, encouraging her, “You’re not crying for him, but for everyone else. You’ve been through a lot, we all have. You have to let it out somehow.”

She’d smiled at him once more, but the tears followed soon after, falling fast and hard. Kristoff held her close, holding her against his chest until the last tear fell.

---

It was now or never.

Kristoff was finished packing, the last of his things gone and stowed away in his luggage.

This was it, the final day and he had to ask, had to know.

Finding Anna was easy enough, she was humming along in the kitchen, the sound catching his ears and bringing a smile to Kristoff’s face.

She must of heard him coming down the stairs, for as he entered the kitchen she spoke:

“If you’re willing to wait, I have lunch nearly ready. That way you won’t be hungry when you travel.”

“Oh um,” Kristoff was caught by surprise, seeing Anna look over her shoulder at him from where she stood at the counter. “Thank you I think that I--”

“Oh! And I put a bag of carrots with your things as well, for Sven. Don’t want him getting hungry either.”

She was avoiding, dodging his words and Kristoff had a sneaking suspicion of why.

She doesn’t want you to say goodbye.

The notion made his heart flutter.

“Anna.”

“I hope you will come visit, at least once? The town is quiet lovely when there is not some murderous wealthy, snobby, piece of--”

“Anna.”

“Either way, I know it must be a journey so I understand if you don’t want to--”

“Anna, come with me.”

Anna stopped then, standing completely still and Kristoff realized he’d let the words slip out before he could even fully get her attention.

Idiot.

Slowly, she turned to face him, looking to him with surprise. “What?”

Kristoff coughed, looking anywhere but her before taking a breath, gathering his courage and walking to her. He grabbed her hands, looking at them and seeing how small, how perfectly they fit in his palm.

“Come with me.” He whispered, unable to look at her just yet. “Come with me, if you want to of course, to the city. I...I have never known my path, my true direction but now...Anna,” He looked up then, looking into her wide, blue eyes. “My path, my direction is you.”

There was an audible silence, both calming and nerve wracking all at once.

It was broken by the sound of Anna giggling, a sound that reminded Kristoff of soft bells.

Then, her hands went to either side of his face and pulled him down to her, her lips finding his.

He blinked, fully taken by surprise by the bold move, then followed her lead and kissed her back, overwhelmed by all that was Anna. He held her tightly, letting his hand slip up to the base of her scalp, holding her head in his hands.

He could feel her smiling against his lips, humming at the feeling.

When they finally pulled back, her hands now gripping his shirt, she smiled up at him, the blush on her cheeks bringing out her freckles in the most beautiful way.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #kristanna zine calendar #jessica writes #sleepy hollow

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Tightrope

No one has yelled at me about my portfolio. This is worth like a quarter of my grade and it’s so I can get certified someone please YELL AT ME.

I’m being dramatic I’m only sort of sorry.

But this is inspired by Tightrope by Michelle Williams from the Greatest Showman!

__________________________

From the moment he first asked you out, you knew that dating him would be less than ideal. But you knew when he asked you out, again and again, kept calling and texting, spending every free minute he had with, causing you to fall in love, and learn to adjust to life when the most important person in the world to you is almost never with you.

“You know your life is going to be hard while he’s traveling all the time for games.”

“Why don’t you try to find someone who’s a safer option?”

“I don’t get why you would want to be with someone who can never be there for you when you need him.”

Telling your friends was easy, they were just happy that you finally found someone so you’d stop moping around about being single.

Telling your family about having a serious boyfriend, on the other hand, was stressful; they had never met or even heard about someone you were dating before. You were convinced that they would think you were lying. It was bad enough they had told you before that if you don’t find a boyfriend soon, you’re going to be alone forever. But when you told them your boyfriend was Jake DeBrusk, they were ruthless to point out that he was: A. Canadian and probably spending his offseason at home in another country. B. A professional hockey player who traveled more than half the year. C. Never going to be home between games, practices, or other promotional team events. And D. Probably not really your boyfriend because how could you land a professional athlete like him. You found yourself trying to defend the relationship you were more passionate about than any of the ones you had before.

“Look, this is the life I signed up for. Being with Jake is like-” you pause to think of how you can even begin to put it into words to tell your mother. “It’s like this non-stop adventure that comes with this breathtaking view. Like everything I see around me is this perfect place that we never want to leave. Like the whole world is ours to explore and enjoy. Like, we’re walking on a tightrope where we could fall at any minute, but it’s the thrill of being with him.”

Like, yeah, it’s hard when you’re having a hard day at work knowing that you have an empty apartment waiting for you. But, up on the tightrope, he would the one to catch you if you should fall. You knew that.

“Well, I just think there’s no point in having a boyfriend if he’s not there to be your boyfriend. Why sail the sea when you’re safer on land?”

“Mom, I’m dating Jake. End of story. You haven’t even met him to know if you like him or not.” you say, hanging up the phone. You were going to hear about that the next time you were on the phone with her, but you were tired of hearing about how hard your life would be now that you were with Jake.

You and Jake had decided to tell your families on the same day. You both had to do it over the phone since Boston was nowhere near where either of your families lived. His conversation had gone a lot better than yours had.

“Hey, I know it’s hard. But we knew this months ago when we start dating,” he says, taking your hands in his from across the table. “It’s worth it for me. If it’s worth it for you, too, then we’re going to make the world our own.”

You can’t help but laugh at how poetic he got all of a sudden. This was a boy who previously only found love for hockey, his grandmother, and Oreos, now he feels that same love for you.

“Whatever life throws at us, we’ll get through it, alright?” The sparkle in his eyes made you believe him. He would catch you if you fell.

The next day was a road trip. One week, on the other side of the country. You’ve done this before, coming home knowing that he won’t be in the same city as you to come see you if you get lonely. You thought you would be fine.

What you didn’t think is that it would be the hardest week of your life.

Your boss had called you into his office to scream at you over a mistake you made on one of your client’s accounts. It wasn’t even a big mistake; you entered the wrong number that changed the overall amount owed by twenty cents. You got screamed at over twenty cents. You coworker slammed more work for you on your desk because she ‘didn’t have time to do it’ since she ‘had to go make dinner for herself.’ Bunch of bullshit.

By the time you get home, it’s nearly eight o’clock. You’re exhausted, starving, and all you want to do is sit and cry. If Jake were in the city, you would call him. If he weren’t getting ready for a game, you would call him.

Fuck it. He’s your boyfriend. Even if he can’t talk right now, you can leave him a message for him to call you back.

“Hey you’ve reached Jake. I’ll call ya when I get the chance.” you hear his voicemail come through the speaker on your phone.

Feeling the tears practically begging to start pouring, you try to spit out, “Hey, babe. It’s me. I know you’re getting ready for your game against the Sharks, but -” you pause because you would have let out the ugliest sob imaginable if you didn’t. Choking back tears, you finish, “Call me when you get the chance. I just want to hear your voice.”

As soon as you press end, the tears start pouring. You can’t help but sob. Because of the hard day at work. Because Jake isn’t in the city. Because you’re starting to think your family is right. Because you need someone there for you.

He would hopefully be done with the game before you fall asleep. At least it was Friday, so you didn’t have to be awake early tomorrow. You could stay up to wait for him to call. You make some dinner out of whatever could be thrown in the microwave while you open some wine and start drinking straight from bottle. The only thing you can do to take your mind off everything is drink the night away and binge watch The Office.

You must have fallen asleep, because you’re jolted away by the same sound that your alarm gives off to wake you up for work. You must have turned on the ringer of your phone, setting that as your ring tone back in college if your roommate called you after a night out. A yellow heart emoji shows up as the contact name, a picture of you and Jake after one of his games, taken by one of the Garden staff members pops up. You had gotten your mind off your day, but remembering that you called him caused all of those emotions to come flooding back, tears rolling down your cheeks before you could even answer the call.

“Hey!” you say, trying to sound as happy as you can. “How’d the game go?”

“You’re crying. You were crying when you called me, too.” you hear his voice on the other end, hushed and worried.

“Yeah. I just had a hard day today. It’s no big deal.”

“If you’re upset about anything, then it’s a big deal to me.”

You can’t help but smile, even though he obviously can’t see it. You take a breath, letting out a sigh, “It’s just stupid work stuff, my boss is just dramatic.”

“Hey, Jakey, we’re going out to celebrate!” you hear one of his teammates in the background of his call.

“Sorry, I’ll catch up with you guys, I’m on the phone with my girl.”

“Don’t miss out on stuff because of me. You’re not even with me, don’t let me hold you back.” you say, still smiling, feeling better anyway.

“I spend so much time with those buffoons, what I’m missing out is spending time with you right now. So tell me about work. Who am I going to go mess up once I’m back in Boston?”

You laugh and spend the rest of the night telling him about work, him telling you about the game, and just talking like you do whenever you spend the night together.

It had to be about four in the morning in Boston when he finally said, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you drag out, sleepy and struggling to stay awake.

“I love you.”

He had never said that before. You sit up, suddenly feeling a burst of energy. “I love you, too.”

“I’m gonna turn in, we have an early day tomorrow to get to Los Angeles. I’ll call you at some point tomorrow?”

“Ok. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

No matter what, he would keep you on that tightrope. He would be there to catch you if you fell, wherever he was.

#jake debrusk #jake debrusk imagine #boston bruins #boston bruins imagines #bruins #bruins imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #tightrope

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years

Text

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 8

Previous Days

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series. I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series. There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some.

Friday, December 20

Friday was finally here and it was a welcomed reprieve from the week she had had. The brightest spots were Jack’s daily adventures for her. She was looking forward to the notebook and the ways it would appear back in her life.

A knock on the door caught her attention. Looking up from the article she was editing, she grinned at Bill. Pushing her chair back, she made her way to the door, pulling him into a hug. “Well, well look what the cat drug in.”

“It’s good to see you too.” He grinned walking into the office and sat in the plush chair as she made her way to her own chair. “How have you been?”

She grinned, capping her pen before looking over at her long time friend. “Good. . . things have been really good.”

“I saw the front page article, congratulations.” He praised, watching a blush float across her cheeks.

She shook her head. “Thanks . . . it turned out really good. What’s new with you? Saw Darcy yesterday - he said that he’s been undercover. Know anything about that?”

“He’s been tightlipped about what he’s getting up to but he promised that we’d meet up with drinks in the new year.” Bill shrugged. “I get sporadic texts from him, much like you.”

Holding up her hands, Kat giggled. “I’m sorry . . . I’m the worst friend ever. But you know how the holidays get . . . especially for the Plumber family.”

“They still doing the ball on Christmas Eve?” Bill asked, raising an eyebrow.

Groaning, Kat threw her head back against her chair. “No, they’re going out to California to visit Ryan and his family then to Arizona to visit Chris.”

“So what are you doing for Christmas?” Bill’s eyes went wide, looking over at Kat, watching her reaction as she mentioned her two older brothers.

She smiled. “I’ll be with Jack’s family. Mom and dad decided that they wanted to travel instead of being home for the holidays.”

“At least you won’t be alone . . .” Bill nodded, reaching into his bag for something, handing it over to Kat. “I actually have another reason for stopping by.” Her eyes lit up, accepting the notebook from him. “I was asked to bring this to you.”

“Thank you!” She grinned, letting her fingers dance along the cover of the book. “So you’ve seen Jack today?”

Bill grinned. “Yes, we had coffee together this morning. He clued me in on what you’ve been up to and all the adventures he’s led you on.”

“He wants me to see the magic in the season.” Kat smiled softly.

“And have you?”

She bit her lip, thinking back on the last seven days, slowly nodding. “Yea, I have.”

“Good to hear.” Bill pushed himself to his feet, giving her a look. “Today’s your last day of work before the new year, right?”

Nodding, she smiled. “It is. Want to meet up on the 27 or 28 for drinks?”

“That sounds like a plan. I’ll text you.” He headed to the door. “Merry Christmas, Kat.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Bill.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving her in her office alone. Cracking open the notebook, she found the correct entry, leaning back in her chair to read.

Kat,

Merry 8th day of Christmas! Bill was oh too eager to deliver this to you, saying something about sporadic hearing from you.

Anyways, I’m sending you to somewhere you’ve never, ever been before in the city but I have a feeling this will be one of your favorite places to visit. Head over to 230 Thompson St, New York, NY 10012. Once you arrive, look for Ash - you’ll know her when you see her.

Have fun today!

Grabbing her bag, she stuffed her laptop in it. She looked at her desk, making sure she had everything before walking to the door, flipping off the light, knowing she wouldn’t be back in until January 6.

As she made her way to the elevator, she wished her coworkers “Happy Holidays” and “Merry Christmas” before pushing the button, waiting for it to arrive. Grabbing her phone, she quickly typed in the address Jack had given her as she stepped onto the elevator. She felt herself descend as her map app mapped out a route to wherever Jack was taking her.

Heading to the familiar subway station, she quickly paid, making her way to the A Platform, joining others as they all awaited the train. She grabbed her phone, grinning seeing a text message from Jack.

Go easy on Ash, please?

Where exactly are you sending me? She typed back, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

You’ll love the place. Order the Hot Chocolate, it’s one of the best in the city. But seriously, go easy on Ash.

She paused in her typing as she thought. Jack had never mentioned Ash before so she was kind of scared of what Jack was dragging her to. I promise I will go easy on Ash. Anything you want to clue me in about Ash?

She’s wicked smart so she’ll keep you on your toes.

She laughed, stepping onto the train. I have a question for you.

What’s that?

She took her seat, texting him back. Will you ever join me on an adventure?

She watched the bubble bounce before disappearing before bouncing again. How do you know that I’m not at every single one with you?

She raised an eyebrow at his cryptic text. Are you at every single one of them with me?

I’ve been at most of them. I think I’ve only missed one because there weren't any good hiding places. And time will tell if I will be joining you on an adventure. Now go, have fun with Ash and don’t be too hard on her.

She pocketed her phone, shaking her head at him. He could be the sneakiest person she had ever met when he wanted to be. She leaned back in her seat, her body swaying with the train as it screeched into the station. Gathering her bag, she headed up the stairs, leading to the street level. After consulting her map, she headed towards the address.

She quickly jumped out of the way, avoiding being plowed over, shaking her head as she continued her journey to the location. Double checking the address, she paused in front of a nondescript building with big bay windows. Pulling open the door, she made her way to the counter, pausing to breathe deeply, inhaling the comforting smell of coffee while her eyes swept around the shop. A young girl occupied a booth but other than that, the cafe was empty.

“Hi, how can I help you?” A woman stepped out from the back with a bright smile on her face. “I’m Avery.”

“Hi Avery. I’m Kat. Can I get a hot chocolate?” Kat smiled, as the woman grabbed a mug and nodded.

“If you want to grab a seat, Kat, I’ll bring it out to you.” She said, starting to make the hot drink.

Kat looked over at the young girl before making her way over her booth. “Excuse me?”

The little girl looked up from her game of Bananagrams with a smile on her face. “Hi, are you Katherine? If so, you can sit down.”

“I am. Are you Ash?” Kat asked, sitting down in the booth across from her.

She nodded, taking a sip of her own mug. “I am. Mom owns the cafe.”

“So how do you know Jack?” Kat asked, putting her bag next to her on the bench.

The woman came over and set her mug of hot chocolate down, grinning at Ash and Kat. “Jack and I went to elementary school together. I’ve known him since we were kids. He is often in here sketching or picking up a coffee when he’s on this side of town. He mentions you a lot.”

“Oh he does?” Kat grinned, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “This is really good.”

Avery laughed. “Thank you. And Jack is a good guy. You make him very happy.”

“Thank you, he does the same for me.” She took a moment to let her eyes sweep the cafe. “Ash mentioned you own this place. It’s pretty cool.”

Avery sat next to Ash. “Ash and I always enjoyed going to cafes to sit hot chocolate and play a game but there weren't any cafes that had board games so I decided to open one about 2 years ago. We’ve had some success, especially with the college kids.”

“That’s really good. Jack mentioned that once I visited this, it would become a favorite and I’m happy to say that he’s right. This is really cool.” Kat grinned.

Putting her hands on the table, Avery looked between Ash and Kat. “I’ve got some things to do in the back, but it was really nice to meet you Kat. Ash, don’t bother her, alright?”

“It was nice to meet you as well.” Kat smiled, looking over at Ash. “I was hoping to play a game or two of Bananagrams if that’s okay with you, Ash?”

Her eyes lit up as Avery smiled at the two of them. “Have fun.”

Dumping all of the tiles on the table, they each took 21 tiles as Kat motioned Ash to go first. “So you and Jack are dating?”

“We are. We’ve been dating for 5 years.” Kat nodded, laying down her tiles as Ash concentrated on doing the same.

“How is he as a boyfriend? Is he as big of a dork as he’s a friend? Are you two going to get married?” She asked, tongue poking from between her lips as Kat giggled.

“He’s a good boyfriend; he is sweet. He is a big dork under all of the sweetness. And I hope so.” She smiled. “Ash, how old are you?”

“Nine, almost ten.” She grinned, looking up at Kat. “Jack tells me I’m too old for my age. But I often kick his butt at Bananagrams - he’s not very good at the game.”

Kat laughed, thinking back on her text message conversation with Jack and him telling her to go easy on Ash. Now she knew what he meant. “I bet you like to read, don’t you?”

“I do. How can you tell?” Ash asked, looking over at Kat.

She pointed to the table. “I don’t know I would’ve known what cranny meant when I was 9.”

Ash giggled. “That was a vocabulary word a couple of weeks ago.”

Kat used her tiles to form the word “cat”, grinning at Ash. “When was the last time you saw Jack?”

“Uhhh . . . yesterday, I think.” She tilted her head, thinking back on the day before. “He came to tell momma and me you were going to be stopping by. Oh, you need to read the notebook - I forgot to tell you.”

Grabbing the notebook from her bag, Kat flipped it open, smiling at Jack’s scrawl.

So you’ve met Ash and Avery. Avery was my first girlfriend when I was 6 but I was more interested in dirt and trucks than having a girlfriend so it didn’t last long. But we’ve maintained our friendship throughout the years.

Did Ash ask you allllll the questions? She told me she was going to quiz you about everything, including how I am as a boyfriend. Don’t be sharing all of my dirty secrets, Katherine.

Anyways, I wanted you to experience a cute little cafe that had a ton of board games options that you could sip your hot chocolate and enjoy a little competition.

But let’s talk about your competitiveness - you swear up and down that you’re not competitive but you are, in your own way. You love to compete against yourself - pushing yourself to write your best article yet or beating Race in whatever game you two play. Did you play sports as a kid? Because I could see you playing soccer and rushing to get the ball or softball with a wicked curveball.

The most competitive I’ve ever seen you is when we play scrabble, which is why I’ve put my foot down about playing that game with you. But it’s the one time that I see your tongue poke out between your lips in concentration, determination written on your face at coming up with the biggest point word, while trying to figure out where I’m going to go next.

So, I want you to write down your favorite competitive moments from your life. Tell me all the times your competitiveness got the better of you - I’m looking for some juicy childhood memories, Kat.

She grabbed her pen, giggling at Jack’s words. Ash looked up at her with a grin. “Jack being silly?”

“Yes, he is. Let me write this real quick and we can continue our game, alright?”

She nodded, as Kat started to write. She wrote about playing soccer as a kid and tackling kids as she tried to get to the ball. Or the time she wanted to learn how to play softball because her older sister played. She attempted to pitch in a softball game but the ball ended up in a window, breaking it, officially putting an end to her softball career. She went on to write about writing for her high school’s paper, and having to rewrite an article because it wasn’t good enough in her opinion - she rewrote it and it ended up being one of the best she wrote in her high school career. Jack had her pegged - she was more competitive with herself than others.

Now Ash should have something for you - you might have to ask a couple of times but I gave it to her for safe keeping.

Enjoy your game of Bananagrams.

Love you,

Jack

“Hey Ash?” Kat asked, looking at the girl. “Do you have something for me?”

Ash grinned, looking around the cafe. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

Smiling at her coyness, Kat gave her a look. “Jack said he gave it to you for safe keeping.”

“He did but I may have hidden it within the cafe.” Ash grinned, as the bell above the door rang. Kat and Ash looked over. She squealed seeing Jack walk through the door.

Kat watched Ash rush into Jack’s arms as he laughed loudly at whatever Ash had just told him. She grinned when he looked over at her. He whispered something to Ash before making his way over to Kat, pulling her into his arms, brushing a kiss on her lips. “Hi love.”

“Hi yourself.” She wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “You’re a welcomed surprise.”

Jack pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m taking you to dinner. Ash keeping you on your toes?”

“She was being coy about what you gave her. She said that it was hidden around here somewhere.” Kat’s eyes lit up in suspense.

Jack laughed. “I told her to go get it so you can open it.”

Ash returned with a bright red box in her hands. “Here you go, Kat.”

Taking the box from Ash, she quickly unwrapped it, handing the paper over to Jack. She popped open the box, smiling at what laid inside. A “K” scrabble tile charm was nestled into the cotton as she looked up at Jack with a grin. “Thank you, I love it.”

“Good.” Jack pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good job, Ash.”

“Thanks. Can we finish our game before you leave?” Ash asked, looking over at Kat.

She nodded, as Jack walked over to the counter to talk with Avery as they finished the game. Ash threw her arms up in the air in victory. “I beat you, Kat.”

“You did, kiddo.” Holding out her hand, Kat shook Ash’s hand. “Congratulations. Keep up the good work and maybe I’ll beat you next time.”

Ash grinned. “You’ve got it.”

Grabbing her bag, Kat threw it over her shoulder, lacing her fingers with Jack’s before saying goodbye to Avery and Ash, promising she’d be back. Jack said his goodbyes before tugging Kat out of the shop and down the street.

So what did you think of Ash? She was a lot of fun to write. What do you think of Kat’s adventures so far? There’s more coming up - four more days to go! Feedback would be wonderful!

#Newsies #Newsies Fan Fiction #Newsies Holiday Fic #writing #jack x katherine #Twelve Days of Holly Jolly Tidings

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hystericalweenie · 5 years

Text

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Two: Overthinking

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this part’s so short! I have more ideas coming but they wouldn’t have fit right in this chapter ://

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Brief mentions of sex, nothin’ too bad.

PSA: Everyone please stay safe out there! Protect your elders, family members with chronic illnesses/diseases/etc., and all those whose immune systems are extremely vulnerable to this virus!

My eyes peeled open at approximately three in the morning. The room was still dark, my naked figure still remained on top of George’s, and the previous events were clear as day in my head. This uneasy feeling rested in my stomach, a feeling of guilt, and it made me want to throw up. Feeling so vulnerable, like I’d exposed so much of myself to a man I barely knew, it was a new sensation and I felt almost angry at myself for my actions. Why did I let this man perform such an intimate action on me? Why did I do the same to him? It made me even more uncomfortable that we didn’t have a label on our relationship, that all he thought he was to me was a coworker.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to sob my heart out and curl into a ball by myself, in my own bed. But, instead, I lay on top of George in my naked form, our skin flush against each other, as I fought back tears that threatened to spill from my confused y/e/c eyes. I wasn’t sure why I was so emotional, why I felt so exposed and guilty for having oral sex with George. Bree did this all the time, right? This felt different though, maybe because of the fact that we had an unlabeled relationship and the fear of being abandoned had been taking over me. Or, maybe, it was a sense of shame that I’d let myself lose my self control and got lost in the intimacy.

Wherever this guilt and shame feeling was coming from, it was eating me alive and I had no idea what to do about it. I wondered how George would react when he awoke. Was he expecting me to leave, like a one night stand would? I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, because I, most certainly, did not believe this to be a one night stand. I wished he would talk to me, that his eyes would flutter open and I’d be able to tell him how guilty I was feeling. I wished I could interrogate him with a label, because I needed to know what this meant.

I couldn’t help the tears spilling out now, they dragged down my face and pattered onto his chest like raindrops. I wanted, so badly, just to be in my own bedroom, by myself without the worries of George seeing me cry and asking ‘what’s wrong’; there was too much wrong with my head at that moment, far too much to explain to him and if I’d tried, he’d no doubt think I was a lunatic. I sniffled, wiping my eyes quickly before I heard him stir in his sleep. I froze, stilling my body, hoping that I hadn’t woken him up. With one of his arms snaked lazily around me, his breathing returned to its previous steady rhythm.

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

I was wrong; he didn’t go back to sleep.

I sighed, feeling his fingers begin to trace patterns on my bare back.

“I’m just thinking,” I answered back, my breath against his skin.

He rested his chin on top of my head.

“What about, love?”

Love. Why did he have to do this to me, to make me feel so warm and safe after all of those feelings I’d been having? Why did he have to confuse me even more? Curse this handsome British man.

“What last night meant,” I admitted.

If it wouldn’t come out now, it’d come out eventually. I didn’t see any point in lying anymore. His fingers stopped abruptly against my back, before quickly resuming. I felt his warm breath against my hair, feeling him press his lips against my scalp.

“What do you want it to have meant?” he questioned softly.

I brought one of my own fingers to the bed, tracing the flannel design on the sheets in hopes of making this conversation easier for me.

“I didn’t really want it to be casual,” I confessed, my eyes focusing on my finger tracing. “I’m not one to have casual sex, not that we actually had sex, but I think oral sex still applies,” I blabbered nervously.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he muttered into my hair. “I really like you, Y/n. I was actually quite worried that you’d leave in the middle of the night.”

My eyes widened at his confession, butterflies making my stomach feel sick.

“I like you too, George. I’m just a little overwhelmed right now, I think.”

My finger led to his arm, tracing over the veins that traveled from the backs of his hands to his forearms. His skin was soft and warm, and I found this simple action comforting my anxious head.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he offered, now brushing his fingers gently up and down my back, differing from his previous design tracing.

“No, thanks.” I traced my fingers up to his biceps, feeling him shiver under me as he reacted to the movement of my gentle fingers. “I’m feeling a bit better, actually,” I mumbled against his skin.

I felt him press his lips against the top of my head, keeping them there for a moment. I wondered if he was inhaling the scent of my lavender shampoo.

“I like this,” I added softly, moving my fingers down to the back of his hand. “I like just laying like this.”

He moved the arm I’d been tracing and wrapped it around me, joining his other arm. I felt him brush his cheek against my hair, nuzzling me. I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face as he embraced me lovingly.

“Me too.”

The second time I’d woken up that morning, I was feeling much better in contrast to the first time. Knowing George’s feelings for me and feeling him embrace me gave me some of the comfort that I’d needed. I turned my head so that my chin rested on his chest, as I watched him sleep. He looked so calm, there hadn’t been a single frustrated crease on his face. His bruised eye was a greenish yellow hue that day, signifying that it was properly healing, and the scab on his lip had reopened from last night’s activities. I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip, checking for any blood. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine instantly.

“Has my alarm gone off?” he asked, his accent accentuated due to its raspiness and exhaustion.

And as if on cue, the alarm on his phone blared. He groaned, his head tilting back in dramatic agony before reaching for the device and turning it off. He put his phone back down, before returning his attention back to me. A lazy smile took over his lips, his eyes swollen with sleep as he looked at me. His arms removed themselves from my back, as both of his palms grasped each side of my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, as his eyes observed my face.

My cheeks heated instantly before I gained the confidence to roll my eyes and push myself off of him.

“C’mon, we have to get ready for work,” I reminded him. My eyes widened. Work. “Shit, I have to get to my apartment.”

“Do you want me to whip up something quick for breakfast before you leave?” he offered.

I frowned, realizing the sun had already started to rise through the curtains of his room.

“I don’t think I have time,” I chewed on my lip. “But I really wish I did; I still have to shower after last night,” I reminded him.

He smirked at the mention of last night.

“Alright, at least let me walk you out to your car, then,” he pleaded.

I gave him a toothy grin.

“Of course.”

I changed into my clothes after the long process of looking for the fabrics strewn all over his floor. He copied my actions until the both of us were fully dressed and ready to leave. I grabbed my purse on the way out, which had been sitting in his kitchen. The chicken parmesan recipe reminded me of the way we washed dishes afterwards, how he’d told me about missing his family in England and how his father was Australian. Conversations like those, conversations about childhood and life before we’d met made me fall more and more in love with George.

As we made our way to my parked car, I leant against the door and looked up at him. The way his skin glowed underneath the rising sun, the way the beautiful colors washed over him and made his hair look golden. I slipped my tongue between my lips and fisted the collar of his shirt, bringing him to my lips. His arms immediately snaked around my waist as our lips moved intensely against one another’s, returning to our perfect rhythm. I could feel myself melt under George; he was absorbing me by the second and I knew I would be too far gone soon enough, but I didn’t care anymore.

We finally released, as I gave him one last peck to savor the taste of his lips, the taste of him.

“I’ll see you at the office?” I smirked, watching his blissful expression. I hoped I was having the same effect on him.

I drove away, leaving him looking fucked-out. But, God, I loved it.

As soon as I entered the apartment, I was immediately met with Bree’s wide hazel eyes.

“I will tell you everything later,” I promised quickly, before hopping into the shower and taking possibly the fastest shower I’d ever taken in my life.

I threw on a dress, a jacket, and wedges and left the house, not even caring to do my makeup. I sped to work, praying that I’d be on time. And after rushing into the elevator and speed-walking toward my office, I was finally able to breathe regularly. I looked across to my brunette friend, my lips curling into a smile at his presence.

“You’re back today?” I queried, logging into my computer and settling into my chair.

“I am,” he confirmed, winking at me with his signature smile.

“Let’s get this mother fucking show on the road, then, shall we?” I clapped my hands together, opening my documents that I’d already written and sending them to him.

After work, I went out to retrieve my CBD oil for the article before returning to the apartment. But as soon as I turned the knob, Bree was shouting from the couch.

“Tell! Me! Everything!” she begged.

I rolled my eyes, throwing my purse and my bag from the pharmacy onto the small kitchen table before making a seat next to her on the couch.

“We did not fuck,” I stated.

“But you did something, right?” she asked, her eyebrows raising.

I nodded slowly, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. She scooted herself closer to me.

“Well, what the fuck did you guys do?” she urged.

“Well, first, he taught me how to make chicken parmesan–”

“Y/n,” she interrupted, dramatically begging.

“We had oral sex,” I confessed with a sheepish smile.

Her bushy eyebrows furrowed at me.

“Wait, so he ate you out and you sucked his dick?”

I rolled my eyes at her raunchy language.

“Yes,” I sighed.

She stilled, her eyes boring into mine.

“Did he make you cum?”

The memories replayed in my head; the tightening feeling in my stomach, the shaking of my legs, the curling of my toes, his tongue; how could I have not orgasmed?

“Yes!” I practically screamed. “God, it was amazing.”

She threw a fist in the air.

“Thank fucking Lord, Y/n has finally got a guy to make her cum!”

I rolled my eyes, but it was true.

George was the first guy to ever make me cum. Who would’ve thought?

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader fic #x reader #fanfic #fanfics #1917 #1917 cast #dean charles chapman

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epicstuckyficrecs · 5 years

Text

2019 New Writers Fic Rec

After seeing some Discourse on Twitter, I decided to make a fic rec with some of my favorite new writers! All of these writers only started posting Stucky fanfic in 2018 or 2019. So here are some “new” writers and some of my favorite fics from them! (in no particular order)

PS: sorry for not putting the trope, word count and rating as I usually do, I wanted to try and make this fic rec quickly!

PS2: also sorry if I chopped all your summaries, but some of them are hella long and this post is already... pretty long.

PS3: this went way past “favorite new writers” and just became “great new writers” because I wanted to prove a point, oops.

verzacefatale

You be yours and I'll be mine : “Oh, god. We got married, didn’t we?”

14-Inch Cock and a Few Hundred Bimbos : There are some things in life, Steve muses as he stares down at his crotch, that nothing can prepare you for. His dick suddenly growing six inches in length and another two in girth, just because he opened a box in a Hydra dug out that maybe he should have read the instructions on before he did? How was he to know it was literally magic that would make his cock grow huge?

2bestfriends

Collar Full of Chemistry : AKA a fantasy BDSM romance featuring heavy mutual pining, feelings denial, and enough kink to blackout a bingo card.

Like Real People Do : AKA the "Lumberjack Steve/Twink Bucky" fic of our hearts.

deadonarrival

100,000 Miles And Feeling Very Still : Steve Rogers took a job at NASA and his life is pretty okay. Maybe not great but he has some good friends and things seem to be mostly stable. Except one day their new astronaut recruit walks in and everything in Steve's life goes upside down.

Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark (WIP): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school and is working on his international relations masters. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth.

voxofthevoid

(series) couldn't get the boy to kill me (ongoing): Captain America and the Winter Soldier are a terrifying duo on the field, working together with a well-oiled precision that tears through their enemies. Captain Rogers and Agent Barnes are distant coworkers, all polite nods and mission briefings. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are fire and gasoline; the sparks between them have no choice but to roar into raging infernos.

happily ever after has bite marks in it : In which Bucky is aggressively okay with his self-imposed exile from society, and Steve is a werewolf who’s nothing like the Brooklyn boy Bucky still dreams of.

darling heart, i loved you from the start (but that's no excuse for the state i'm in) : Or, the one where Steve saves the mind stone for last and decides to fuck the timeline beyond all recognition, which regrettably involves crawling delicately up Hydra's asshole and less regrettably involves showering a very confused Bucky Barnes with affection.

(series): i'm guilty of treason (i've abandoned control) : S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Bucky Barnes is captured on a mission and meets Commander Steve Rogers, the erstwhile Captain America.It escalates quickly.

four dreams in a row where you were burned : When Steve uses the last of his Pym Particles to travel to 1944 and save his best friend, he doesn’t have a plan beyond leaving behind the battlefield and living his life alongside the people he loves. But the life that finds him is not the one he expects.

deisderium

much tattoo about nothing : Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

(series) tits out, lads : On the walk back from Azzano, Bucky keeps touching Steve's chest. Then he touches it some more. And more.

Let Them Eat Cake : Bucky wanted to know why their new pastry chef had gun calluses on his right hand.

deep dive : In which single dad Bucky Barnes has a crush on his daughter's dive team coach and thirsts awkwardly.

thot through the heart (and you're to blame) : In which Bucky is a baby vampire, a disaster, out to have a good time, and hopelessly in love with his roomate; and in which Steve has a few secrets of his own.

Political Animals (WIP) : or—Steve’s best friend is the U.S. Constitution and he can’t seem to stop fucking a hot Republican. They shouldn’t fall in love, but somehow they do.

thedoubteriswise

time on my hands (could be time spent with you) : "You doing okay, kid?” Steve releases a breath, deciding how honest he wants to be. No point in lying. No point in telling the truth, either. "Glad to see you.""That’s not what I asked, but same to you, punk."

honey don't feed it, it will come back : He’s stroking the cat’s fur, which is soft and fine now that it’s clean. He looks so open and inviting. Steve doesn’t close his eyes, watching Bucky’s gentle fingers and trying to come up with a plausible excuse to go touch him.

Ill With Want : Bucky pretends to be asleep when Steve crawls into bed, too tired to feel guilty over the quivery pleasure that settles in his belly when Steve’s arm brushes his. He drifts to sleep in a comfortable haze and tries not to wonder where this feeling was two hours ago when he had Marie in his lap.

steebadore

Controlled Release : Bucky's just having a little trouble...finishing. Completing the mission. He can squeeze the trigger but he can't make the shot is what he's saying. Which is why he's here, loitering outside a nice brownstone in Park Slope, trying to find the courage to knock on Captain Come Control dot com's door for his three o'clock appointment.

it takes a lot to know a man : Bucky flips to the next page, and the world around him grinds to a halt as his brain struggles to process what he's seeing. The noise of the train fades and static fills the inside of his head as he looks down at the sketches of the metal-armed guy without the mask. It's—that's him. It's Bucky's own goddamn face staring back at him from this stranger's sketchbook.

AidaRonan

Quench : Or the one where archeology intern Bucky Barnes meets actual archeologist Steve Rogers and reaches levels of thirst scientists once believed to be theoretically impossible.

Carnal Synchronicity : AKA A Tale of Two Stevies

Fraternizing With the Enemy : Steve and Bucky are both the presidents of their respective fraternities. Steve thinks Bucky's frat is filled with selfish party animals who care about little else. Bucky thinks Steve is a giant pretentious douchebag who owns too many Lacoste polos. They hate each other. Passionately.

lockedlocke

I just need you to show me : A quick google search tells him that the app he needs to get for something quick and easy, with no strings attached is Grindr. He downloads the app while he watches a bit of a Simpsons episode. It doesn’t take long, and when the app is downloaded, he looks at black icon with the yellow mask.

Pride : So here he was, at Pride despite the fact that he’d rather be at home. It’s hot, boiling and his feet hurt a bit from standing all day. Converse might be nice shoes, but Jesus they were terrible for his knees.

mcwho

it never hurt nobody : “I thought we agreed that that was creepy.” “No,” Bucky says slowly. “I asked you what you thought about people calling their boyfriends daddy, and you said you thought it was creepy, and then I asked you what the hell you’d done with my grey sweater after you did laundry, and we never talked about it again.”

(series) the serum amplifies : Little PWPs about Steve and Bucky’s sex life and the serums effect on it.

missandrogyny

don't know where i'm going (but i'll get back to you and me) : AU where Bucky is an assassin who just can’t seem to kill Steve

LeeHan

The Right Partner : Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

The Best Way to Wake : James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something.

amethystkrystal

Taking This One Step At A Time : In the weeks that follow, Bucky's omega urges start going haywire, and he realizes that night with Steve may have left him with more than just a fond memory.

Realignment : After assembling their own Infinity Gauntlet, the Avengers defeated Thanos and brought back everyone who disappeared. But their victory came at a great cost: in order to take the Soul Stone, Steve had to sacrifice the Captain America mantle and all the super-soldier strength that came with it.

cydonic

Home Is Wherever I'm With You : This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

deadto27

The Sweetest Spark : Steve Rogers runs a successful business. He has great friends and a great life. It seems like he has it all. So why is he sitting in a diner on a Friday night alone? Maybe he's just a little lonely. Maybe Bucky Barnes can help with that.

Maybe This Christmas : Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

NachoDiablo

Reconcilable Differences : AKA, "What To Do When Your Zany Fake-Relationship Scheme Actually Works."

odetteandodile

If Only In My Dreams : Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction.

So I Took a Faithful Leap : Bucky doesn’t fall and Steve doesn’t crash. The Howling Commados take out the remaining Hydra bases…and then they go home, just like all the other allied soldiers. Steve buys a farm in Washington state, and tries to relearn how to be at peace.

Art Thief, Heart Thief : Agent Steve Rogers is facing a series of art thefts that has him stumped, and looking for a break in the case. Convicted art thief and general high end criminal Bucky Barnes wants to make parole and happens to know all of the right people who could make Steve's job easier.

Under the Hawthorn Tree : A young man wanders into the woods one night, and wanders until he isn't a young man anymore—but something else. Seventy years later, another man follows him. Inside of a magic ring, they meet.

canistakahari

don't threaten me with a good time : Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Heckin' Chunker for Love : On the inside of the big floor to ceiling window of the office across the street, someone has used Post-it Notes to spell out a message: W H A T I S Y O U R C A T ’ S N A M E ?

(TBR) All of Your Love is Sunlight : Sometimes the path to happiness involves bad timing turned good, a butt plant, and a little everyday magic. For Steve and Bucky, it's all that and more.

birdjay

(TBR) STAR PLAN : He’s the most gorgeous thing Bucky’s ever laid eyes on.He’s his new tentative boss. Maybe. If this interview goes well enough, anyway. “So, Mr. Barnes?” Steve asks, blinking at him from across a particle board table. “You ever work security before?”

stay : The platform buzzes, and suddenly goes quiet. The cycle has finished. Bucky doesn’t bother to look. There’s no way Steve’s coming back when he has the chance to stay. He moves to walk away, to move on with his life, somehow. “Buck -- ?”

(TBR) The Conservation of a 17th Century Painting : Steve can’t even remember the last time he’s spoken to someone actually interested in art, who coincidentally is also someone he’d like to bang. Actually, no. He’s never had that happen.

dragongirlG

Searching Every Lonely Place : After the Battle of New York in 2012, Steve searches for Bucky with the help of the Avengers as he bumbles through a series of comedic misunderstandings with undercover HYDRA agents.

Reclamation : The Winter Soldier’s mask never falls off when he fights Captain America on the overpass and the helicarrier. That doesn’t stop the Soldier from recognizing Captain America and wondering why the man’s face is haunting his scattered memories.

megs_bee

Nothing Good Ever Happens On A Tuesday : Recently discharged soldier James Barnes is back in Brooklyn, down an arm and missing five years of memories, but he’s got his PTSD mostly under control, a fancy metal prosthetic, and what’s starting to feel like it could be a half-decent life. What he doesn’t have is any memory of the kid looking at James and asking him, “Are you my daddy?” -- or the gorgeous blond guy standing next to her.

A Ghost Before You Were a Ghost Story : “I’m sorry to wake you, Sir, but there appears to be an intruder on the roof. ”Tony finds the camera showing a figure standing alone on the roof, black tactical gear blending into the black night sky. Barely a shadow among shadows, save for the glint of silver along the figure’s left side. The Winter Soldier.

VenusMonstrosa

Extant : After a sudden and violent storm forces the crew of Insight III to perform an emergency evacuation, astronaut James Barnes was believed to have died and was left behind on Mars. Two years later, Commander Steve Rogers still refuses to let go. Fortunately, so does Bucky.

Through The Woods : There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

BlueSimplicity

(series) You Are Responsible For What You Tame : After the events in DC and on the helicarriers, and the realization that his friend Bucky Barnes is still alive, Captain Steve Rogers swears that he will do anything he can to find him. It is easier said than done, as Steve searches desperately for any hint or clue that will lead him to his friend. Steve searches, but Bucky does not want to be found. And so begins their game of cat and mouse, as Steve does everything in his power to convince Bucky to come home.

GoldBlooded

A Midsummer Knight's Dream : Sir Steven, knight, alpha, and baron of a small countryside estate, receives an invitation to a Royal Tournament: It’s a winner-take-all competition, and the prize? The hand of Prince James, the kingdom’s most eligible omega, in marriage.

Feast On This : Steve, Sarah, and Bucky are headed down to Florida to visit the Barnes family for Thanksgiving. Bucky's tired of the interrogation about his love life from his Ma, and Sarah suggests the simplest solution would be for he and Steve to fake it for a few days. How hard can it be, right? After all, they've shared a bed before. After all, it's only pretend... Right?

Luck of the Irish Stroll : Every year Steve and Sam go on the Irish Stroll Bar Crawl, and ever since their first time on the Stroll four years ago, Steve and Sam cross paths with Bucky and Natasha. Every year Steve’s world is rocked by the gorgeous, blue-eyed man that has captivated him since they first locked eyes fighting over a couple of pints of Guinness from the bartender. But Steve's starting to want and need more of Bucky... will this be the year he can make it last for more than one night?

girlbookwrm

(TBR) (series) The Hundred Year Playlist : Steve and Bucky, start to finish. "Come on, pal, it's me. Take another hundred years if you want, I'll still be here."

sidereal : Captain Rogers never did a self-portrait; we can only speculate who his soulmate — or soulmates — might have been.

ClaraxBarton

Holding On : “Your poll numbers are way down, and we need to get them back up.”

stfustucky

Salt & Sugar (collab with GoldBlooded) : Steve Rogers is a bigshot celebrity chef in New York City, and Bucky Barnes is a classically trained pastry chef in Moscow. When billionaire and mutual friend Natasha Romanoff calls on them to collaborate for her Memorial Day Benefit Gala, they both brace themselves to spend the week working with some jerk they're bound to hate.

Honestly, Fuck Brooklyn : Or, the one where it takes yet another apocalypse for the somewhat oblivious Bucky Barnes to figure out that his dorky artist boyfriend Steve is actually Captain Goddamned America.

writeonclara

How to Woo the Winter Soldier : Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #best new stucky writers

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dfroza · 1 year

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“Listen, stay alert, stand tall in the faith, be courageous, and be strong. Let love prevail in your life, words, and actions.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 16th and closing chapter of the letter of 1st Corinthians:

Now I call you, just as I did the churches gathering in Galatia, to collect funds to support God’s people in Jerusalem. On Sunday, the first day of the week, I want each of you to set aside an amount, as God has blessed you, so the funds will be collected by the time I come. When I get there, I will send those you recommend by your own letters to carry your generous and gracious donation to Jerusalem. If you think it seems appropriate for me to travel with them, then we’ll go together.

Get ready. I will come your way after traveling through Macedonia. For I’m just passing through Macedonia and will probably stay with you through the winter so that you may provide for my next journey (wherever that may be). I want to reconnect with you, not just pass through; if the Lord is willing, I hope to stay awhile. But until Pentecost, I plan to stay in Ephesus because, not only has God opened a significant door here for me to serve, but also there is a lot of opposition against me.

If Timothy comes, see that he is comfortable and untroubled; his work is the Lord’s, as is mine. No one should treat him badly. Send him on to meet me in peace because the brothers and sisters here and I are looking for him. You shouldn’t expect to see our brother Apollos, although I tried to persuade him to come to you with the rest of the brothers and sisters, because now is not the best time for him to come. When it’s his time, he will come.

Listen, stay alert, stand tall in the faith, be courageous, and be strong. Let love prevail in your life, words, and actions.

Finally, brothers and sisters, I call on you to follow your leaders. People like those in the house of Stephanas—you know they were among the first believers in Achaia, and they have devoted their lives to serving God’s people— I urge you to submit to the authority of such leaders, to every coworker, and to those who offer their backs and shoulders for the work. I celebrate the arrival of Stephanas, Fortunatus, and Achaicus, as they have supplied me with what you could not. They have been a breath of fresh air for me as I know they are for you, so respect and honor those like them.

The churches in Asia salute you. Aquila and Prisca send a heartfelt greeting in the Lord along with those who gather at their house. The entire family in faith here sends their greetings. Be sure you greet one another by a holy kiss.

This closing greeting is written by my own hand—Paul’s: May those who have no love for the Lord be cursed. Maranatha, “Our Lord, come!” May the grace of the Lord Jesus be with you. My love to you all in the name of the Anointed One, Jesus. [Amen.]

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 16 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Churches are often characterized by words such as “independent” and “autonomous.” But one would be hard-pressed to find any of these ideas in the Scriptures. Instead, Paul seems to be modeling submission and interdependence. We must always consider others and shape our actions to bless them. But he does not stop there—it is clear that we are responsible to care for one another in physical and monetary ways. What might Paul say to the church today, given the drastic disparity between the wealthy churches of the West and the brothers and sisters in the rest of the world who lack food, water, or shelter?

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 17th chapter of the book of Jeremiah:

Eternal One: Judah’s sin is engraved on the tablets of their hearts, inscribed on the horns of their altars with an iron tool, tipped with a diamond point. Their children remember their pagan altars and the sacred poles used in idol worship beside leafy green trees on high hills. I will see that My mountain in the land, your nation’s wealth, and all your treasures will be handed over as plunder to your enemies. I will even give your pagan high places to pay the cost for the sins you committed all over Judah. You’ll let this inheritance I gave you slip through your fingers. I will make you slaves to your enemies in a land you have never known because you have stirred My anger into a roaring fire that will last forever.

Cursed is the one who trusts in human strength and the abilities of mere mortals.

His very heart strays from the Eternal.

He is like a little shrub in the desert that never grows;

he will see no good thing come his way.

He will live in a desert wasteland,

a barren land of salt where no one lives.

But blessed is the one who trusts in Me alone;

the Eternal will be his confidence.

He is like a tree planted by water,

sending out its roots beside the stream.

It does not fear the heat or even drought.

Its leaves stay green and its fruit is dependable, no matter what it faces.

The heart is most devious and incurably sick.

Who can understand it?

It is I, the Eternal One, who probes the innermost heart

and examines the innermost thoughts.

I will compensate each person justly,

according to his ways and by what his actions deserve.

Like a partridge that hatches eggs that are not hers,

so is the person who gains wealth unfairly.

In the middle of his life a fool’s money will abandon him.

In the end he, too, will be shown for what he is—a fool.

Jeremiah (to God): But from the beginning, Your throne of glory,

our holy place, has always been exalted.

O Eternal One, the hope of Israel,

all who forsake You will be put to shame.

Those who turn their backs on You will be written in the dirt,

because they have forsaken You, the spring of living water.

Heal me, O Eternal One, and I will be healed.

You alone can save me; to You alone do I sing my praise.

The scoffers keep mocking me, saying,

“Where is the word of the Eternal you keep talking about?

Why haven’t His words come to pass?”

You know I have not run from my calling—

I have been a shepherd to Your people as You commanded.

I have not secretly desired the day of disaster and sorrow.

You know everything I’ve spoken to these people,

because it was the task You’d set before me.

Do not turn and terrify me.

Be my refuge when the dreaded day of reckoning comes.

Bring shame on those who persecute me, but save me from that shame.

Bring terror on them, but save me from that terror.

Bring them to the day of disaster; shatter them, destroy them with double the destruction.

Eternal One (to Jeremiah): Go, stand at the public gate of Jerusalem, the one through which the kings of Judah come and go; then take up your post at the other gates around the city. Say to them, Listen, you kings of Judah, you people of Judah, you citizens of Jerusalem, and any who pass through these gates. Listen to the words of the Eternal; this is what He says: “For the welfare of your lives and the good of this city, be careful! Stop violating My Sabbaths by carrying your loads through Jerusalem’s gates on the Sabbath day. Do not bring your loads out of the house on that day—do not work at all on the Sabbath. Keep the Sabbath day holy as I commanded your ancestors all those years ago. But even then, they did not listen or pay attention to Me; instead, they stiffened their resolve not to listen or accept any instruction from Me.

“But if you will listen to My words and obey Me by not carrying your loads through these city gates on the Sabbath, if you will live differently on the Sabbath, differently from the rest of your week by not working on it, I promise Jerusalem will be your home forever. The family of David will always reign on his throne here. The kings and rulers of this land will pass through these gates in chariots and on horses. As for their officers, the people of Judah, and the citizens of Jerusalem, they will live securely in this city forever. People will come from Jerusalem’s surrounding villages and the towns and the regions in Judah. They will come from the territory of Benjamin, from the rolling hills in the west, from the hill country, and from the Negev wilderness. They will bring their burnt offerings and sacrifices, grain offerings, incense, and freewill offerings to the Eternal’s temple. But if you refuse to obey Me—if you continue to bring your loads though the gates of Jerusalem on the Sabbath even though I’ve separated that day as a time of rest—you will be punished. I will kindle a fire to these very gates that cannot be quenched, and all Jerusalem will burn—even her palaces.”

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 17 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, September 17 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the significance of Rosh Hashanah:

Rosh Hashanah begins this evening at sundown and runs through the following day...

====

"When they had come together, they asked Him, saying, "Lord, will You at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?" And He said to them, "It is not for you to know times or seasons which the Father has put in His own authority. But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses..." (Acts 1:6-8).

Now in this context the disciples had supposed that the festival of Shavuot, or "Pentecost," would finally herald the advent of the kingdom of Zion, and their supposition made sense, especially when we remember that Shavuot marked the "climax of Passover," the time when the Spirit would write the Torah upon the heart, and so on (Jer. 31:31-33). Similarly, there are many believers today who look to Yom Teruah (i.e., "rosh Hashanah") to signal the advent of the prophesied "End of Days" leading up to the atonement of national Israel and the second coming of Messiah, and again, this supposition makes sense, especially in light of the miraculous return of Israel to their ancient homeland after thousands of years of exile, the present conditions of the world, and the various prophetic signs that indicate the imminent time of tribulation for world, and particularly for Israel. And yet, despite all that, we are admonished to remember that "no one knows the day or hour" (Matt. 24:36) and that "it is not for you to know the times or seasons which the Father has put in His own authority."

When we consider the "appointed times" of the LORD, we must remember that they are His appointed times, not ours, and therefore our focus should be directed to Him and not on our own understanding (Prov. 3:5-6). God gives us wisdom, and He certainly imparts revelation to us in our daily lives, though we “walk by faith (כִּי בֶאֱמוּנָה נִתְהַלֵּךְ) and not by sight” (2 Cor. 5:7). We surely see prophetic significance in all of the mo'edim (holidays) of Torah, and we can discern the general times and seasons (Matt. 24:32-33; Luke 17:26; Luke 19:44), but nevertheless, "We know in part and we prophesy in part, but when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away. For now we see through a glass darkly (i.e., ἐν αἰνίγματι, "in riddles" or by "hints," the Hebrew word is chidot: חידוֹת); but then "face to face" (i.e., panim el-panim: פָּנִים אֶל־פָּנִים): now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known" (1 Cor. 13:9-12).

What is most important is the law of mercy (תורת הרחמים), the very essence of Torah, friends (Deut. 10:12; Micah 6:8; Zech. 7:9; Matt. 23:23). The principle that "the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath" (Mark 2:27) means that our heart connection with our heavenly Father is what is of utmost importance, and that the holidays - though important, meaningful, and significant - are a means to this greater end. Friends, if we miss the "weightier matters" of Torah, we miss the point of Torah altogether... Shalom lekha.

"To a good and sweet holiday in our Messiah Yeshua, friends!” (לחג טוב ומתוק בישוע משיח חברים)

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Numbers 29:1 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/num29-1-teruah-jjp.mp3

Numbers 29:1 Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/num29-1-teruah-lesson.pdf

9.15.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

But when God made the world, it was a precise, divine, and perfect creation. So what does it mean that after each thing He created “He saw that it was good”?

The answer to this question is that seeing isn’t just about gathering information, it is also a way of communicating. That’s why eye contact during a conversation is so important; it makes both people feel acknowledged and valued.

Now, let’s apply this to the classroom. When the teacher takes attendance it is not just about noting who’s present and who’s absent. It’s a silent but powerful message to each student: “I see you, you matter to me, you have value.”

Returning to the creation story, when God looked at each part of creation He wasn’t inspecting it for quality control. Instead, by gazing upon His creations He was making them good! Anything, or anyone, that God looks at gains divine importance and value. That is why God looked at each creation after its completion and declared them all to be good.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

September 17, 2023

The Name Above Every Name

“Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name.” (Philippians 2:9)

Three primary names for God are used in the Old Testament: Elohim, Jehovah, and Adonai. In the New Testament, both Jehovah and Adonai are translated as “Lord” (Greek kurios) and applied to Christ. This word is also applied occasionally to human “lords” but is specifically used as a name or title of God or Christ no less than 663 times.

His human name was Jesus (“Jehovah is Savior”), but this is used by itself only 22 times in the epistles—always with special emphasis on His humanity. Although it was the common name used repeatedly in the gospel narratives, it is significant that the disciples and other believers almost always addressed Him personally as Lord, never simply as Jesus. Unbelievers and demons, on the other hand, never addressed Him as Lord.

The name Christ means “anointed one” and is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew Messiah. Thus, Christ is His divine title as God’s anointed prophet, priest, and king; Jesus is His human name, as our example and Savior; Lord is His title of spiritual relationship to those He has saved. All three names are of paramount importance. Thus, Peter said: “God hath made that same Jesus...both Lord and Christ” (Acts 2:36). His “full name,” so to speak, is therefore “the Lord Jesus Christ.” This complete name is used over 100 times; Christ and Lord are used even more.

In the great testimony of His coming exaltation, Paul says He has been given “the name” (the definite article is in the original) above every name. At this “name of Jesus” (with the “of” indicating the possessive—that is, “the name now belonging to the man Jesus who died on the cross”), every knee must bow, and every tongue must someday confess “that Jesus Christ is Lord” (Philippians 2:10-11). HMM

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strawberryrosemothman · 4 years

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Top 5 shows/YouTube channels you'd recommend?

Achievement Hunter/LetsPlay

A cast of about 11 people play video games Very badly. I’m going to break this down into different series because honestly? They produce a Lot of content, and not everything is for everyone. I probably won’t elaborate on series within series so if you wanna know, drop me an ask?

Minecraft:

Their longest running series at over 400 episodes, Minecraft Lets Plays run from soothing (Let’s Builds, Skyfactory One at most times, some of achieveland) to the most stressful thing you’ve ever seen (Ya Dead, Ya Dead and the King series). They’ve done builds, they’ve done mod packs, they’ve done servers, it’s wild.

GTA V:

Split between races, Heists, and Things To Do, their GTA V is their second longest running series with 402 episodes at the time of writing. It’s spawned an entire set of alter egos known as the Fake AH Crew, and has created some fairly iconic moments. I would recommend their Heist videos, especially Michaels Heist and the Criminal Masterminds series, as they’ve some of my favourite.

GMOD:

The Achievement Hunter cast is very very good at lying to each other, so they found a game where they can do that. Split between Prop Hunt, Trouble in Terrorist Town (TTT), Murder, and their own creation “Death Snail”, they have roughly 130 episodes of lying, shooting, and betrayal, it’s great.

Play Pals and Battle Buddies:

Putting these two together because they’re both pairs of people playing video games badly.

Battle buddies features Ryan Haywood and Jeremy Dooley playing FPS games pretty well (such as Wolfenstein, Doom, Far Cry, Portal and more). I think there’s lore but honestly? I have not being paying very much attention

Play Pals is Michael Jones and Gavin Free being Very Very Bad at games. They’re currently playing “Please Don’t Touch Anything”, but they’re also known for Human Fall Flat and Super Bunny Man

Hardcore [Game]:

The hardcore series sees Achievement Hunter take a family friendly game (such as Monopoly and Mini Golf) and introduce High Stakes and wacky costumes. It’s Fun, it’s Manic, and I don’t know how some of them are still alive tbh

Off Topic:

Off Topic is the official Achievement Hunter podcast. Each episode is roughly 2 hours and there’s over 200 episodes. Usually it’s getting drunk and talking shit, but like, it’s funny

Red Web:

Red Web is a new achievement hunter podcast, hosted by the “AH Twins” (Trevor Collins and Alfredo Diaz). It explores online mysteries and cryptic stories spanning the decades. Available wherever you listen to podcasts

This Just Internet:

Fiona Nova attempts to teach the rest of Achievement Hunter about memes and Tik Toks. Includes up to date memes at the time of each episode airing, a revolving cast of three hunters + Fiona, and a recent section about and featuring community made memes

Let’s Roll:

The Achievement Hunter board game show, currently hosted by Larry the Games Wizard. Includes a wide range of board games, including some recurring ones like Coup, One Night Ultimate, and The Red Dragon Inn. Always fun to watch them screw each other over (this time with cards)

AH Animated:

Little 2-3 minute clips from across everything Achievement Hunter does, but this time animated by some Extremely talented people. Always very funny, and usually include good callbacks to earlier points that are fun to spot.

Between the Games:

Ever wonder what happens when you lock 11 overgrown children in a room together? A lot of property damage. Usually it’s messing around with food, throwing things at their rapidly deteriorating ceiling, or causing the most pain to themselves and their coworkers (seriously, these guys are a health hazard)

Umbrella Academy

Seven siblings try to survive in a world of superpowers, time travel, the apocalypse, and other basic threats.

Season two has just come out on Netflix and it’s actually pretty good?? Very bingeable. Trigger warnings for guns, knives, drugs, war, gore, bombs, blood, and cults. Season two also deals with racism and homophobia (although it does this very well, without using really bad slurs (I think, can’t remember that well))

Watcher

Y’all remember the Ghoul Boys, Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara? Well they grabbed Steven Lim and started their own channel, Watcher.

It has some really good series, such as “Weird And/Or Wonderful World”, “Are You Scared?”, and my personal favourite “Puppet History”

Murder Room/On The Spot

I’m lumping these two very different series together because of their ever suffering host, Jon Risinger

Murder Room:

In the near future, the Justice System is dead and instead they lock a jury of four people in a room with the Host and an AI named Jessica. They get 30 minutes and a bunch of clues to work out who did it and hand an immediate death sentence to one of three suspects.

This is a completely finished series of 10 episodes, available on YouTube with video, or on podcast apps. Each case is completely different, the jury is never repeated, and it can be both really fun and really stressful. Trigger warnings for death, blood, gore, knives, guns, smoking, and drugs

On The Spot:

Join two teams of two players and the ever suffering host, Jon Risinger, as they battle it out in different improv comedy games to find out who can make Jon regret his life choices the most. None of the points matter, but then again nothing really does

It’s got actually funny improv comedy, 15 complete seasons that you can jump around in, and games that can be really creative at times. Trigger warnings for guns and knives in some episodes, I haven’t seen them all so I can’t exactly say what else there is (sorry)

Unraveled

In this Polygon series, Brian David Gilbert (The man with the Energy of a feral raccoon on energy drink) gets way too into video games. It’s like if Mythbusters replaced explosions with video game lore, and still managed to get the same effect

#asks #long post #im so sorry i went Off

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 5 years

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The Invisible Cord (reboot) - Chapter 4

Previously

November 2011 Somewhere in rural Virginia

My office is plastered with articles, news reports, and various pictures of mythological creatures. I run my eyes over the now-familiar makeshift wallpaper and begin to hate the lack of personal touches. What I see before me is an empty life.

I have a few pictures on my desk though. There’s one of Scully and me on the beach during our Mexican vacation a few years back. Her skin is freckled, sun-kissed, and makeup-free. Her toothy smile helps ease the ache that threatens to overwhelm me most days.

Then there is the first Christmas we had with her mother after I was no longer considered a fugitive. Bill had been there and I got to meet Scully’s younger brother Charlie. Charlie and I got on right away. Bill, however, was the same as ever, maybe worse. But Maggie was just happy to see us again. When Scully and I wound up under the mistletoe Charlie started chanting for us to kiss and Maggie happened to have her camera ready. It’s a sweet photo, colored lights cast the photo in festive lighting as we kiss.

The third and final photo is one that’s been on my desk for as long as I’ve had one. One of Samantha and I when we were kids.

Hidden inside the top drawer are two photos that are too painful to have in plain sight.

The first is of Scully, William, and I on the last day we were together as a family. We are looking at William like he was the first baby ever born. Maggie took it when she came into the apartment to see us just sitting on the bed admiring the baby. Scully is sitting between my legs and I’m wrapped around her. The photo rips open the wound every time I see it.

The other is a shot of Emily that Scully was able to get her hands on. She is sitting on a swing with a big smile on her face. That photo does other things to me. Along with the pain of loss is bloodlust for the people who’d killed her. The smiling little girl just reminds me that she was never truly mine while she lived.

These pictures rarely leave the drawer. They sit under a pile of papers hidden away until the moments when the pain becomes too much. When the tide of memories overcomes me I lay the pictures out side-by-side and wallow in the pain. And then I wait. Wait until Scully comes home.

These days all that I live for is Scully’s comings and goings. In the mornings I go on a three-mile run before lifting weights in the basement. After that, I shower, shave, and then sit in my office. I do some work on the book I’ve been writing for the past eight years. Or maybe I’ll just lose myself in some pornography.

The days go by slowly and after making dinner, I practically count the minutes till Scully walks in the door and I can kiss her, hold her, wrap myself in her warmth or offer some up to her on the cold nights. We eat and do the dishes and curl up in front of the news or a movie. Sometimes we play games or get drunk, or sometimes we just talk.

Today I’ve been restless though. I think about calling a cab and going into the city but I have no idea what I’d do once I got down there.

The clock tells me it’s 4:40, too late for Scully’s lunch. That’s usually my excuse for going downtown. I know she’d be happy to see me but I don’t want to show up while she’s in surgery and be forced to deal with another one of her coworkers. I’m even less social these days.

My fingers twitch over the keyboard and I search the one thing Scully tells me never to look up: 2002 adoption records.

A year ago I found the record of a baby who matches William exactly. He was listed under the name ‘Van De Kamp’. It didn’t take Scully long to realize that I’d been looking for him and she begged me to stop, knowing if I did end up finding him we’d be desperate to go to him, undoing the future she sought for him when she’d given him up.

Today the urge to find his record is too strong and I silently apologize to Scully before I type in the name. Before I can press the enter button though, an email notification pops up in the bottom right corner. It’s from a blocked address which intrigues me.

I get the occasional email from old sources about paranormal activity. When it seems important or interesting enough I’ll travel to wherever they are and check it out. Since I was exonerated, the biggest change is how free I am to travel. This email though is something else.

Mr. Mulder,

We know there are many mysteries in your life that have never been solved, as well as many wounds that have never been healed. We have the answer to one of those mysteries. If you are willing we can reveal some of the workings of the sub-government. One that we both know runs everything. We must warn you this information will be dangerous for both you and Dr. Scully, but I can promise you both that it will be worth it. Both of you must make the decision to take part. If you are interested in what we have to say respond to this email with a simple ‘Yes’ and you will be sent further instructions.

Kurt Crawford

My brows furrow- ‘Kurt Crawford’- Where do I know that? Then I remember the bland face of the clone that had helped me find Scully’s ova all those years ago. The clones called Scully one of their mothers and wanted to help me find a cure for her cancer and infertility. They were all destroyed before they could be of much help; at least I thought they were all destroyed.

Kurt’s use of the word ‘we’ instead of ‘I’ makes me uncomfortable. There could have been some of his clones that survived after being raised on the farm with the Samantha clones I suppose. The memory comes back with painful clarity of the little girl wearing my sister’s face. Dealing with the clones has only ever brought me trouble. The writer of the email might not even be Kurt Crawford, it could all be some kind of trap. Either way, I decide not to make a move until Scully comes home.

By the time I get back to my search for William, I have enough self-control to close the tab and go for another run. Scully will be home soon. And we’ll figure it out together.

_________________

November 2011 An hour outside Washington D.C.

“How much longer do you think we have?” May asks as she shifts her position.

“An hour,” comes the short reply from Samantha.

“What will we do when we get there?” May asks sounding like a child asking ‘are we there yet?’.

“We’ll get hotel rooms for ourselves, eat dinner, and sleep,” Samantha responds again.

I can practically hear May’s eye roll.

“C’ mon. You know what I mean.”

I swear I see a small smirk cross Samantha’s face but it’s gone before I can be sure.

“Nothing significant will happen until tomorrow. We have to find a safe spot to meet our contact and then we’ll see what happens.”

“See what happens? Really? So we’re basically flying blind?” May exclaims, moving again accidentally pushing her duffel into my side.

I shoot her a dirty look and she rolls her eyes but settles down in her seat.

“We have a plan.” Kurt interjects.

“You just don’t know what it is,” May snorts, flapping her hand around in the air, “Do our parents even know about us?”

The silence from the front seat is discomforting.

“Well?” I ask leaning forward.

“No. But we have been in contact with them,” Kurt answers.

“They all live around D.C?” I question.

Kurt shakes his head, “May’s parents are separated. Her mother lives in Maryland and her father in Georgia. Your parents live about an hour outside of D.C.”

The mention of my parents makes my stomach flip in excitement.

“D.C. seemed like a good place to meet. May, your mother takes monthly business trips into the city where she will be tomorrow. April your mother works in the city.” Kurt continues.

“So they will all be there?”

More silence.

“We do not know. We have contacted all of them. Now we wait,” Samantha says.

#the x files #txf #msr #the invisible cord #clarices fic #emily sim #the x files fanfic #txf fanfic

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hamliet · 6 years

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MDZS meets MBTI

The Myers-Briggs Personality type is older than the Enneagram, and consists of sixteen types based on four different pairs of personality traits: Introversion vs. Extroversion; Sensing vs. Intuition, Feeling vs. Thinking, and Perceiving vs. Judging. To be clear, none of these categories are black and white–for example, all Feelers are capable of using logic, and Thinkers have feelings and care about people–but it’s a cool way of understanding personalities.

I’m not going to do every character, but simply the characters I think are most important and the ones for whom I have the most information to analyze (some is def guesswork). :P Also, this is just my opinion and definitely open to debate! MBTI isn’t a science; it’s just something I do for fun.

Wei WuXian-->ENFP “The Campaigner”

Unlike many of the others, Wei WuXian’s type seems very, very obvious. He might be the most ENFP to ever ENFP.

The ENFP personality is a true free spirit. They are often the life of the party, but unlike Explorers, they are less interested in the sheer excitement and pleasure of the moment than they are in enjoying the social and emotional connections they make with others. Charming, independent, energetic and compassionate... if they’ve found a cause that sparks their imagination, ENFPs will bring an energy that oftentimes thrusts them into the spotlight, held up by their peers as a leader and a guru �� but this isn’t always where independence-loving ENFPs want to be.

Lan WangJi-->ISTJ “The Logistician”

Why yes, Lan WangJi is the exact opposite of his beloved Wei WuXian. He’s another one that seems pretty obvious to me.

ISTJ personalities are no-nonsense... ISTJs have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details...

ISTJ personalities adhere to established rules and guidelines regardless of cost, reporting their own mistakes and telling the truth even when the consequences for doing so could be disastrous. To ISTJs, honesty is far more important than emotional considerations, and their blunt approach leaves others with the false impression that ISTJs are cold, or even robotic. People with this type may struggle to express emotion or affection outwardly, but the suggestion that they don’t feel, or worse have no personality at all, is deeply hurtful.

Jiang Cheng-->ISTJ “The Logistician”

Yes, the same type as Lan WangJi, just a tad more bitter. Personality tests, even if two people seem to fit a type extremely well, can’t define someone, because people are just so infinitely more complex. The part about being taken advantage of reminds me here of how Jin GuangYao points out that people took advantage of Jiang Cheng’s need to prove himself to drive a wedge between him and Wei WuXian.

ISTJs’ dedication is an excellent quality, allowing them to accomplish much, but it is also a core weakness that less scrupulous individuals take advantage of. ISTJs seek stability and security, considering it their duty to maintain a smooth operation, and they may find that their coworkers and significant others shift their responsibilities onto them, knowing that they will always take up the slack. ISTJs tend to keep their opinions to themselves and let the facts do the talking, but it can be a long time before observable evidence tells the whole story.

Lan XiChen-->ENFJ “The Protagonist”

Sadly, this description is pretty accurate to Lan XiChen’s strengths and also his flaws--in particular in terms of his relationship with Jin GuangYao.

ENFJs radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. They find it natural and easy to communicate with others, especially in person, and their Intuitive (N) trait helps people with the ENFJ personality type to reach every mind, be it through facts and logic or raw emotion. ENFJs easily see people’s motivations and seemingly disconnected events, and are able to bring these ideas together and communicate them as a common goal with an eloquence that is nothing short of mesmerizing.

The interest ENFJs have in others is genuine, almost to a fault – when they believe in someone, they can become too involved in the other person’s problems, place too much trust in them.

Jin GuangYao-->ESFJ (?) “The Consul”

This one I’m less certain of--FJ seems certain to me, but I/E and N/S is a bit debatable. I think he best meets the description of “the Consul” though.

ESFJs are more concerned with fashion and their appearance, their social status and the standings of other people... ESFJs love to be of service, enjoying any role that allows them to participate in a meaningful way, so long as they know that they are valued and appreciated. Coming to terms with their sensitivity is ESFJs’ biggest challenge – people are going to disagree and they’re going to criticize, and while it hurts, it’s just a part of life.

Nie MingJue-->ESTJ “The Executive”

Less certain of E or I than for the other three, but the way he failed to overcome the challenge of how not everyone processes the same way seems very ESTJ to me.

ESTJs are representatives of tradition and order, utilizing their understanding of what is right, wrong and socially acceptable to bring families and communities together. Embracing the values of honesty, dedication and dignity, people with the ESTJ personality type are valued for their clear advice and guidance, and they happily lead the way on difficult paths.

ESTJs are aware of their surroundings and live in a world of clear, verifiable facts – the surety of their knowledge means that even against heavy resistance, they stick to their principles and push an unclouded vision of what is and is not acceptable... they expect their reliability and work ethic to be reciprocated – people with this personality type meet their promises, and if partners or subordinates jeopardize them through incompetence or laziness, or worse still, dishonesty, they do not hesitate to show their wrath...

The main challenge for ESTJs is to recognize that not everyone follows the same path or contributes in the same way.

Nie HuaiSang-->ISFP “The Adventurer”

Interesting name for a timid HuaiSang, but I really do think he is an ISFP. He is notably one of the few Nie Sect leaders who doesn’t seem at risk of dying from a qi deviation, and hence his less brutish way of ruling might actually, in the long run, be good for his sect. (NMJ would be proud... maybe.)

ISFP personality types are true artists, but not necessarily in the typical sense where they’re out painting happy little trees. Often enough though, they are perfectly capable of this. Rather, it’s that they use aesthetics, design and even their choices and actions to push the limits of social convention...

If these goals and principles are noble, ISFPs can act with amazing charity and selflessness – but it can also happen that people with the ISFP personality type establish a more self-centered identity, acting with selfishness, manipulation and egoism.

Wen Qing-->ENTJ “The Commander”

Another one I feel fairly confident in. Wen Qing is a boss queen who gives birth to one of the series’ most iconic lines: “thank you, and I’m sorry.” She’s able to win the respect of Wen RouHan and even some people who hate the Wens, and thinks outside the box, theorizing on core transfer but hesitant to actually try it when she isn’t fully confident.

ENTJs are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. But unlike their Feeling (F) counterpart, ENTJs are characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves.

Wen Ning-->INFP “The Mediator”

I was torn between S and N, but I went with INFP because he is more focused on thinking about possibilities--in fact his arc is about learning to be confident in his own possibilities and to explore them.

INFP personalities are true idealists, always looking for the hint of good in even the worst of people and events, searching for ways to make things better. While they may be perceived as calm, reserved, or even shy, INFPs have an inner flame and passion that can truly shine.

Jin ZiXuan--> ESTP, “The Entrepreneur”

Does he have enough of a personality for me to really analyze him? Maybe not but I like him a lot. He is motivated by what seems like pride at the beginning, but we later realize he cares deeply about the people around him and genuinely cared for Wei WuXian because his wife did.

Inspiring, convincing and colorful, they are natural group leaders, pulling everyone along the path less traveled, bringing life and excitement everywhere they go. Putting these qualities to a constructive and rewarding end is Entrepreneurs’ true challenge.

Jiang YanLi-->INFP “The Mediator”

Shijie was indeed the mediator between her two brothers, and it’s her legacy of love and kindness, of wanting Wei WuXian to live even at the expense of her own life no matter what he’d done, that makes a huge difference.

Luckily, like the flowers in spring, INFP’s affection, creativity, altruism and idealism will always come back, rewarding them and those they love perhaps not with logic and utility, but with a world view that inspires compassion, kindness and beauty wherever they go.

Jin Ling-->ESTP, “The Entrepreneur”

Jin Ling is the hardest one to pin down and I’m mad because he’s one of my favorites. He is highly emotional, but I think he’s an ESTP like his dad.

Entrepreneurs keep their conversation energetic, with a good dose of intelligence, but they like to talk about what is – or better yet, to just go out and do it. Entrepreneurs leap before they look, fixing their mistakes as they go, rather than sitting idle, preparing contingencies and escape clauses.

Lan SiZhui-->INFJ “The Advocate”

My type.

INFJs indeed share a unique combination of traits: though soft-spoken, they have very strong opinions and will fight tirelessly for an idea they believe in. They are decisive and strong-willed, but will rarely use that energy for personal gain – INFJs will act with creativity, imagination, conviction and sensitivity not to create advantage, but to create balance.

Lan JingYi-->ESFP “The Entertainer”

He’s pretty easy to figure out. I constantly wonder how he fares in the Gusu Lan Sect.

...they love putting on a show for their friends too, chatting with a unique and earthy wit, soaking up attention and making every outing feel a bit like a party. Utterly social, ESFPs enjoy the simplest things, and there’s no greater joy for them than just having fun with a good group of friends.

Xue Yang-->ESTP “The Entrepreneur”

ESTPs are the likeliest personality type to make a lifestyle of risky behavior. They live in the moment and dive into the action – they are the eye of the storm. People with the ESTP personality type enjoy drama, passion, and pleasure, not for emotional thrills, but because it’s so stimulating to their logical minds. They are forced to make critical decisions based on factual, immediate reality in a process of rapid-fire rational stimulus response.

A-Qing-->ESTP “The Entrepreneur”

Yes, I think A-Qing is the same type as Xue Yang, which doesn’t surprise me because they are actually extremely blatant foils in the story. It’s funny the description notes how observant ESTPs tend to be, because that’s something A-Qing absolutely is, noticing Xue Yang’s minuscule changes in expression and keeping her from trusting him, and Xue Yang is also incredibly observant of her words to realize she might just not be blind after all.

With perhaps the most perceptive, unfiltered view of any type, ESTPs have a unique skill in noticing small changes. Whether a shift in facial expression, a new clothing style, or a broken habit, people with this personality type pick up on hidden thoughts and motives where most types would be lucky to pick up anything specific at all. ESTPs use these observations immediately, calling out the change and asking questions, often with little regard for sensitivity. ESTPs should remember that not everyone wants their secrets and decisions broadcast.

Xiao XingChen-->ISFJ “The Defender”

The following description really reminds me of XXC especially after he hears the story about Xue Yang’s love of candy as a child, and every single day thereafter buys him and A-Qing a candy.

ISFJs take their responsibilities personally, consistently going above and beyond, doing everything they can to exceed expectations and delight others, at work and at home... Naturally social, an odd quality for Introverts, ISFJs utilize excellent memories not to retain data and trivia, but to remember people, and details about their lives. When it comes to gift-giving, ISFJs have no equal, using their imagination and natural sensitivity to express their generosity in ways that touch the hearts of their recipients

Song Lan-->INTJ “The Architect”

There’s not as much to go on for Song Lan, but what we do have seems to suggest INTJ to me, particularly in how someone who would spend years looking for a friend would refuse to consider that Xue Yang might have changed at all.

INTJs are simultaneously the most starry-eyed idealists and the bitterest of cynics, a seemingly impossible conflict.

Yu ZiYuan-->ESTJ “The Executive”

Welp. The Purple Spider is definitely an Executive.

#mdzs #mbti #mao dao zu shi

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keepseaveyweird · 5 years

Text

Requested- yes! by the best @coolkidcorbyn - blurb idea! what if you worked at a diner and the boys stopped in really late one night bc they are traveling on tour and they are super sweet ofc and y/n has a moment with one of them and later finds a napkin with a phone number and :)

a/n: I changed it just a bit and I’m sorry I take a million years to do literally anything but it’s finally up and a lot longer than a blurb lmao

word count: 2938

She frowned, watching her friends all at the concert without her. Her friends meeting them after the show and singing along to their songs from the crowd. She wanted to go, wanted to see the boys so bad, but she didn’t have enough money and her small diner job wouldn’t give her extra hours to afford it. So instead of singing her lungs out, she sat at work in the middle of the night, sad she missed out on such a fun opportunity to see her favorite band.

She hated the night shift, hated everything about it. Hated the random chores she had to do to make her shift more productive, hated sitting around doing nothing because no one wanted to eat at 2am. Hated weekend night shifts even more because then it was crazy at 2am, filled with drunk or high kids from the local high school who were impossible to work with and never tipped. She much rather preferred the busy mornings filled with old, retired couples who would chat her ear off and tip like no other. Work mornings when the sun shined and the birds chirped and the small town she lived in actually felt alive.

It was not one of those morning though, instead it was a dead Wednesday night. The sun had gone down hours ago, kids had gone home to rest for school the next morning, business men finished their meetings and went home to their families. It sucked living in a drive-by town right off the interstate, where truckers just stopped for a quick break, families used the bathroom so they could continue their road trip to wherever they were going. It lacked fun, lacked excitement and she couldn’t pray enough for someone to come in or for something amazing to happen.

Having stood around, chatting to the one cook on duty for hours, she heard the bell on the door ding, indicating someone had walked in. Her eyebrows crinkled, as well as her co-workers, because it was 1:30 in the morning and no one ever stopped by at those hours. So to say she was surprised when she walked out to see five boys laughing as they continued to trickle in was an understatement.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her knees buckling as she rounded the corner of the counter. They hadn’t noticed her yet, too busy yawning and rubbing their eyes to notice the girl running back to the kitchen to collect herself. Because it was her favorite band, her favorite boys in the whole world that she thought she missed out on, but instead received a surprise visit. She knew they’d pass by on the tour bus, the diner being on the way to the next city, but she didn’t know they’d stop, didn’t think this opportunity would actually happen. So she checked herself in the mirror, fixed her jean skirt as well as readjusted the apron around her waist and walked out as calmly as she could.

“How are you guys doing tonight?” she smiled grabbing menus from behind the counter.

“Great,” Jonah grinned, “how ‘bout yourself?” he was so friendly, so smiley and charming at this hour she couldn’t imagine what he was like when he was fully awake, fully energized. The other four smiled, nodding and mumbling as well, Corbyn making eye contact with her and becoming a shade of red.

“As good as I can get,” she said, leading them to a table near the front and away from the window, just in case because she knew they didn’t want to be spotted. They all sat down, each thanking her for the menu she placed in front of them, nicer than she ever could’ve imagined them to be.

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu, my names y/n so just let me know if you have any questions” she told them, leaving them as she ran back to the kitchen.

“Thanks y/n!” you heard Corbyn yell a bit as he yawned once again.

What the hell is happening, she thought, leaning up against the counter as she let out of huff of air, the older man laughing at her.

“They giving you a hard time?” He asked her as he continued prepping vegetable for the morning.

“No, not at all they’re so nice,” she explained to him, “but you know how I wanted to go to that concert tonight to see my favorite band?”

The man gently nodded, remembering her complaints earlier that night as she drowned her sorrows in coffee, “that’s them,” she pointed out the doorway.

He leaned over to peak out the open door, a chuckle leaving his mouth, earning a glare from y/n.

“This isn’t funny! What do I do?” she sighed, putting her elbows on the counter, head in her hands as she ran her hands through her hair.

“How about you go take their order?” he suggested with a smirk. So, with as much confidence as she could muster, she left the back room and approached the boys who seemed to be giving Corbyn a hard time. They didn’t seem to notice y/n approach, except for the blonde who tried his hardest to hide the slap he gave to Jack’s thigh, but it was no use as Jack groaned and hunched over.

“You guys know what I can get started for ya?” she asked, pulling out the notepad from her apron.

Zach laughed, slapping his menu down onto the table cheekily, “I think Corbyn knows what he wants!” he cackled. She didn’t get it, didn’t catch onto his joke, though she did notice the glare Zach received from him before he faced you with a smile.

“I’ll just have pancakes,” he told you, “please.” The other four couldn’t help but snicker under their breaths, making Corbyn roll his eyes.

“Of course,” she smiled at him, trying to keep her cool. He handed back his menu, his big hand grazing hers while doing so, and his face turned yet a deeper shade of red, something she didn’t think was possible. The other’s orders were taken, mostly chicken strips, and she headed back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, y/n,” Daniel smiled as she walked away, earning a smile as she whisked herself away.

Before she could even hand him the ticket, the old man pointed his spatula at her, fierce and concerned.

“The blonde one, he likes you.” He smiled.

“First of all, which one?” she joked, as Daniel was still sporting his dyed hair, “second of all, that’s false. I’m just the waitress whose here to take their orders. They’re tired and delirious and are like that to everyone.” The old man rolled his eyes, taking the ticket from her hand to begin cooking as he continued to explain how she was wrong.

“I was your age once, was a young man myself. I know lust and young love when I see it, and the blonde with the big eyebrows has it for you,” the older man spoke, facing away, towards the grill. She peeked through the hole in the wall where dishes were served during the busy morning, to see four boys facing Corbyn, deep in conversation over something out of earshot. Suddenly, he looked up and their eyes met through the metal hardware, both freezing for a second before looking back down awkwardly.

He couldn’t be attracted to me? Right? She thought to herself as she waited for her coworker to wrap up the band’s late night dinner.

She couldn’t help but admit Corbyn was her favorite, that he made her laugh with almost every word, every move he made from the comfort of her phone screen. Couldn’t help but be transfixed by his voice and the way he’d answer questions in interviews. Couldn’t help but adore his love for space and marvel at how truly smart he was, even when he made dumb decisions or said something that would maybe contradict that fact. So as they sat there in her lobby, she couldn’t comprehend the fact that maybe Corbyn thought she pretty. That when she came out from the back he couldn’t help but admire her.

“y/n? Are you good?” the cook waved a hand in front of her face, breaking her out of her thoughts as he pushed five plates across the table to her. She thanked him, loading them up on a tray and taking it out to them, where she noticed the moment she came into view they all directed their attention to either her or Corbyn.

I have to know, she thought to herself. As she handed each their food, receiving a ‘thank you’ from each of them, she decided to save Corbyn’s for last as she placed his plate in front of him.

“Thank you so much, these look great.” he told her, looking at her with the prettiest smile in the world. A smile so warm that it could melt the polar ice caps and in that moment y/n was convinced this boy was the cause for climate change.

She placed a hand on his back, taking him by surprise as his eyes widened a bit. Like when a little kid gets caught doing something bad, or when the lights turn on when trying to sneak back in after curfew. His band mates couldn’t help but lose it, tears falling out of Jonah’s eyes as he was laughing so hard, and she didn’t understand what was so funny, didn’t know that the intense conversation they were having was a pep talk for Corbyn as he was so intimidated by her.

“No problem, just let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you guys.” She smiled, looking at Corbyn who was now more red than imaginable while the boys continued to laugh.

“Oh,” Zach started, “I think Corbyn needs to get-” but he was cut off.

“NO!,” Corbyn yelled, “I don’t need anything else, I am perfectly fine, thank you y/n,” he said quickly, and if looks could kill, there would only be four members of Why Don’t We after that night.

The boys ate while she stood there talking to the cook, taking their time as Jack tried to stay awake from their busy day.

“You should tell them you’re a big fan, ask for a picture,” the old man suggested after she had explained to him who they were.

“I don’t know,” she teetered, “I don’t wanna seem like one of those weird fans. Meeting them tonight was enough for me.”

“I think you’ll regret it,” he shrugged.

“Whatever, I’ll figure it out,” she told him, ringing up their check.

Walking out with a check in hand, she grabbed all their plates while Zach and Jack napped on each other and Daniel and Jonah continued to harass Corbyn.

“Do I just pay here?” Jonah asked you.

“Actually you can just bring it up to the front when you guys are ready and you can pay there,” she told them, pointing to the front door where a case of homemade pastries were as well as the cash register. Suddenly, Daniel and Jonah eyed one another, silently scheming.

“Hey Jonah, I gotta use the bathroom real fast before we hit the road, you need to go too?” Daniel said standing up, Corbyn catching up onto what was happening, his face scrunched, concerned and worried for his own dignity.

“Yeah, me too. Corbyn could you pay for us and we’ll meet you outside?” Jonah smiled, shaking the other two awake and dragging them along, not giving Corbyn an option as he threw his debit card at him. He didn’t know what to say, could only stand there and plan how to murder each of them once they were back on the road.

It was silent as y/n lead him to the register where he handed her Jonah’s card, their hands brushing again. And Corbyn felt it, a surge of heat radiating through his body and he had never felt like that before. Especially with a stranger, someone he knew nothing about, only a name.

“I’m sorry about my friends,” he blurted, “they’re all idiots,” he shook his head with a small smile, because no matter how much he wanted to kill them, his love trumped he had for his brothers trumped his want to bury them all alive.

y/n smiled, because she knew, knew all too well that they were in fact idiots but she loved each of them for it. And with a sudden boost of confidence, she decided to tell him that.

“It’s okay,” she laughed, “I’m actually a huge fan of you guys. I wanted to go to your show tonight but I had to work.” His eyes widened, a smile stretched across his face.

“Really?! You’re so chill I never would have known. I’m sorry you missed the show, but…. You can’t tell anyone but I think I can get you tickets to the one tomorrow” he winked, using the confidence she was radiating suddenly to build his own.

“Wait, what? Are you serious?” she asked, a smile encapsulating her face. And Corbyn was mesmerized by it, by her bright eyes and bubbly personality, even though it was almost three in the morning.

“Yeah for sure, on one condition,” he told her.

“Oh no, what is it?”

“You have to tell me who your favorite member of Why Don’t We is,” he chuckled, leaning against the pastry case, “and why.”

y/n groaned, her hands covering her face, “you’re kidding?”

“Nope,” Corbyn laughed, popping the ‘p’.

“Fine,” y/n said, putting her hands up in surrender, “but if you thought I was chill before you might reconsider,” she warned.

“Give me your best shot,” he laughed.

“Okay well unfortunately enough… you’re my favorite,” she blushed, “and I’m not really sure why. It’s like you don’t even have to try to be funny, but whenever I’m watching interviews or listening to you I can’t help but laugh. And your voice is incredible, well all of you are incredible, but you just sound so different and I love your tone.”

By then Corbyn was tomato, red from all the praise he was receiving, because he wasn’t expecting him to be her favorite. Was expecting Daniel or Zach, but he couldn’t help the butterflies he was feeling in his stomach, the way she made him feel, he was just so amazed by her. Amazed by her willingness to be so open, ability to sound so mature while basically fan-girling and he was entranced by everything about her.

Who is this girl? He thought to himself.

“And you’re just so kind and caring and the way you talk to your fans is just so lovely. And you’re so humble and down to Earth even though you have every right to be the most cocky piece of shit on the planet, but you’re not. You’re just one hundred percent you and I love it, I respect it and I love watching you guys grow as artists,” she said, using her hands to explain everything she was saying, “and now you probably think I’m some crazy fan,” she face palmed while he laughed.

“No actually, I don’t. Thank you, thank you so much, for everything you just said. It means so much and I’ve never heard anyone say any of those things,” he said with a smile, something he had been doing since the moment he walked in, “most fans don’t know what to say, or they’re super shallow about their responses. It was nice hearing something different for a change.” He said.

“Well, I’m happy I could be a change in that for you,” she nodded. The other four boys came out of the bathroom, smirking as they the tail end of the conversation.

“Guys! She’s a fan!” Corbyn pointed excitedly.

“Oh my gosh, really? But you were so cool? I didn’t think you knew us?” Daniel said with a grin. The five offered to take a picture with her, the cook coming out with a smile on his face as he held the phone in his hand to take it for them.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Corbyn rushed out to the tour bus and came back with envelope in his hand, giving it to her.

“They’re not front row, but they’re as close as we could get,” he told her, a smile on his face.

“Thank you so much, this means the world to me, you don’t understand!” she said, opening it up as he watched. She pulled out two lanyards and two ticket stubs.

“An extra one incase you wanted to bring a friend, and,” he paused, pointing to lanyards, “two backstage passes for ya.”

“You’re kidding? I can’t take these, it’s too much,” she said, trying to give them back, but Corbyn put his hands up.

“It’s no problem,” he said, beginning to get a bit nervous, “but I was wondering if maybe after the show tomorrow, you maybe wanted to possibly- uh- I don’t know… do something with me? Like a date?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck.

y/n blushed, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The four laughed as they grabbed Corbyn’s shoulder, informing them they had to hit the road.

He turned around, waving goodbye, a smile engulfing his face, “See you tomorrow y/n!”

“See ya tomorrow, have a safe trip!” she yelled, as she skipped back into the kitchen, still totally not believing what had just happened was real.

“I told you telling them would bring you something good,” the old man smiled.

And y/n had never been so grateful for any advice as she decided on what to wear for the date with Corbyn ahead of her.

Tag list: @kvd963 @katie-avery @coolkidcorbyn @technolilly@mycollectionofnuts @joyus-jack

@daniels-beanies @annabseavey

@deanismymom @lavienenchanel

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moonbeambucky · 6 years

Text

The Price of Gold (Part 1)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2211 Warnings: sports talk, brief mention of real life gymnastics sex abuse scandal

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This is my submission for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. Congrats!! My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Your eyes blinked a few times to disrupt the strain of staring at a computer screen for far too long. You had almost rubbed them with your fingers but thankfully remembered you were wearing makeup and looking like a raccoon is not something you wanted to do, especially not at work.

You were in the homestretch of making edits to your article In Depth, a monthly feature you were proud to be writing for over the last year. You had come a long way, writing for your high school’s newspaper to today working for ESPN in New York. Your determination to work in sports journalism led you to leave your home of sunny Florida for the bitter cold of Illinois for college. At Northwestern you honed your skills, covering the various athletic games of your school for their website which ultimately led to an internship at the Northwest Herald. After being hired you spent years working up the ranks until you were offered your position with ESPN. Life was good.

Stretching your arms out you yawned deeply, reaching for your nearly empty mug of coffee, but you were relieved to know that you finished ahead of schedule and sent it for review. The publishing date for your Cristiano Ronaldo article had moved up significantly since he became the first player to score 100 goals in the UEFA Champions League.

After a long needed stretch you walked to the office kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee before returning to your desk. Sipping on the warm brew you checked emails, a smile stretching across your face as you replied to Neymar’s agent who was securing dates for your interview with the popular footballer; a trip to Paris on the company’s dime to do so is an added bonus.

This is what made the difference in your writing, the reason why your articles were so popular. You didn’t just interview the athlete, you spent time with them, observing the person they truly were outside of the court, field or wherever they had to be “on”, yet you had a natural way of relaxing them, allowing the person behind the athlete to shine through.

The ringing phone is a welcomed interruption from the computer screen. Alyssa, your editor’s assistant, is calling to ask you to come upstairs. Normally being called into your boss’s office would be panic inducing but you quickly learned that was just how Susan Treston was; she wanted to bring the best out in everyone and would often call people in to brainstorm ideas or give them praise.

The elevator doors opened and you made small talk with Alyssa before she ushered you inside the large office with floor to ceiling windows and a beautiful views of Central Park that always knocked you off your feet. Taking a seat in front of the desk you rubbed the chill off of your arms from the cool air conditioning. Glancing around you looked at Sue’s photos with different athletes, chuckling at the height difference of her and Shaquille O'Neal.

Susan walked in briskly, harshly clearing her throat from a gulp of coffee as she greeted you and sat down.

“Ahh Y/N. I just skimmed over the Ronaldo piece. Great stuff!”

“Thanks Sue,” you replied, beaming a smile of pride at her comment. “You’ll get the Brady article by tomorrow,” you said with confidence, knowing you were almost through with it, along with a few more that were close to finishing. Sue smiled back, appreciating all of the dedication you had to your work. “Oh and I think I’ll be packing my bags soon!” you nearly sang, excited at the prospect of going to France.

“Yes that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re from Spring Hill, right?” she asked.

Your head tilted in slight confusion, wondering what your small Floridian hometown had to do with Neymar. “Um yeah,” you hesitantly replied, trying to hide the concern in your voice.

“Do you know Lance Tucker?”

Her question halts time, like a car that stopped short by slamming on the brakes, feeling as if your body bounced back against the seat in slow motion. Your heart began to beat a rapid rhythm as queasiness washed over you. Suddenly Sue’s office feels hot, unbearably humid much like the weather you grew up with. Beads of sweat begin to pool around your hairline and your jaw is so tense you feel as if your teeth will shatter. Your heels dig into the carpet as you mull over her question.

Who doesn’t know Lance Tucker? The gold and silver gymnastics medalist whose cocky face was plastered all over Wheaties boxes and magazines alike after his wins, and again in recent times after the controversies surrounding him. But you know what she’s asking, do you know him.

Lance grew up in Spring Hill too and despite wishing otherwise you knew him. At four years old your family moved across the street from him and you became fast friends. You hadn’t seen him since you were in high school and he was focused on training for the Olympics. You hadn’t spoken since though a small part of you wished the reason was because of the intense training or his newfound celebrity status after winning but no, your friendship ended before that.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you finally replied, “Yeah, of course I know him, he’s famous ‘specially for a small town but, uh, I don’t know him,” you lied.

“You went to Springstead High School, like him?” she questioned though it felt more like an interrogation.

Forcing a relaxed expression to help mask your lies you smiled before answering, “Yeah but I don’t think we were in the same grade. I might have seen him in the halls but I don’t really remember, it was so long ago, you know?”

Sue shrugged, seemingly accepting your answer. “Either way, I want you on this one.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Your next In Depth, with Lance Tucker.”

No. This can’t be happening. You repeat that over and over again as you find yourself stuck in a nightmare. Your trip to Paris has been rerouted to Hell, and truth be told you would rather interview the devil because at least you know his character unlike… You shudder at the thought of that man.

You began to explain and pathetically beg to her about how much work you’ve put in to making arrangements for the Neymar interview, even telling her about your latest inside tip on how he might be traded. “I can bang out a great story. We’ll be breaking major news Sue!” you tried desperately to sell your idea to her but she shook her head.

“I’ll have Josh break Neymar, I need you on this one.”

“Why?” you attempted to hide the anguish in your question. “Why me?” you practically whined.

“Tucker is opening a gymnastics facility in Spring Hill.”

Your head tilted in confusion. Lance had quickly abandoned his hometown after winning, moving to Los Angeles to continue his career and his “brand.” He endorsed everything from sneakers to chapstick, living it up in a cliffside mansion with a rotation of beautiful women before he eventually became a coach for USA Gymnastics Women’s Team until the scandals hit.

There was a sexual harassment claim and a former student accused him of fathering her child. He was cleared of all accusations and the paternity test backed that up but in light of the allegations against USAG’s team doctor Larry Nassar, Lance was dropped by the Olympics Committee, stating they wanted to bring in fresh talent when in reality they wanted to distance themselves from anyone with negative press attached to them.

Lance had stepped away from the spotlight over the last year, something that surprised you greatly considering that once Lance had the taste of fame he soaked it up like a sponge. He resurfaced briefly a few months ago when it was reported he was making an appeal against the committee's decision, requesting to be reinstated.

“Sue, I think I’m the wrong person for this. Heather has covered more gymnastics and I think she could…”

“You’re wrong Y/N,” she stopped you mid-sentence. “With the scandals behind him Tucker could still make it in L.A., I want to know the real reason he chose Spring Hill and you’re the best person to get that from him.”

You nod, pressing your lips together, feeling the uncomfortable tension that hung in the air. Your hometown connection is her ticket to getting the story and there was nothing you could do about it. You left her office with a forced smile, resting your forehead against the cool walls of the elevator as you rode it down to your floor.

Alyssa would be sending you Lance’s contact information. You have two months until print, knowing if any major news in his case broke sooner so too would your story. As the doors opened you wondered if you should press the button for Sue’s floor again, confess the truth about your connection with Lance and why you couldn’t do this article. Then again, maybe it would work against you. You prided yourself on your objective journalism, something rare in the media field today.

Your last words to Lance echoed in your head, “I never want to see you again!” You remember the conviction you felt, the fire in your veins, the anger that boiled your blood all masking the sorrow that burned beneath the surface.

“Hey, d’you wanna go to the Knicks game tonight? Chris bailed on me,” the cheery voice of your coworker Heather asked.

Exhaling a sigh you replied, “Wish I could but I have to get started on my next In Depth”. Your response prompted her to ask who the article would be on and swallowing harshly you said his name for the first time in years, “L-Lance Tucker.”

Heather’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in surprise growing into the largest smile you’ve ever seen on a human being. “Holy fuck Y/N! Are you shitting me?” she nearly shouted over the quiet office causing a few people to glare in your direction. “I’m so jealous of you right now!”

“You really shouldn’t be,” you grumbled.

“Are you kidding? He’s hot as fuck and you’ll be spending so much time with him. Remember when Twitter thought you were hooking up with Steph Curry?”

You laughed uncomfortably, “Um yeah that was not cool,” remembering how many times you apologized to his wife Ayesha on behalf of the internet and thankfully she understood. “I don’t want anything to do with Lance Tucker!”

“Why not?” Heather nearly scoffed, the typical reaction one might have considering they didn’t know him like you did.

Your emotions where starting to get the best of you, all this talk of Lance making it feel like the walls were closing in. “I… I just don’t like him... or gymnastics okay?!”

“Pffft, well that’s a lie,” she laughed. “We covered Rio together, we went crazy over Simone Biles’ wins!”

“Everyone knows women’s gymnastics are different,” you chuckled. “The truth is,” the truth in part at least you thought, “I’m giving up a huge article with Neymar for this. I even asked Sue if you could have this but no, she wants me ‘cause of the ‘hometown connection’”, you quoted with your fingers.

She gasped, turning a few more heads as she shouted, “You’re from his hometown?!”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t know him,” you firmly lied again.

As Heather rambled on about her crush on Lance Tucker your thoughts drifted you away like a cloud, one that was dark and heavy, ready to burst and rain down on the world below. Your history with Lance was in the past and if it wasn’t for this stupid assignment that’s where it would have stayed.

Heather left you to continue working and you stared at Alyssa’s email with Lance’s contact information for a solid five minutes before composing your own email.

It was past five and you had rewritten what you wanted to say at least fifty times, reviewing it now for the tenth time. You cringed while reading it; the email laced with lies and buffed up language to play to his ego.

Dear Mr. Tucker,

My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a journalist at ESPN. I would be very interested in featuring you and your incredible athletic accomplishments for my feature “In Depth”. I would love to discuss your Olympic wins, the opening of your upcoming training center and of course get a firsthand account of the unjust actions taken against you by the US Olympics Committee. I would be honored to hear from you so we can arrange to meet in person.

Best,

Y/N

The mouse hovered over the send button and with a quick click it was gone. You felt queasy, knowing he was going to get that email. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize your name, you couldn’t be the only Y/N Y/L/N in the world. Yet a link to your biography on ESPN’s website was part of your email signature. If he didn’t recognize your name he would definitely recognize your photo. Even a pompous, cocky asshole like Lance Tucker could never forget his first love.

PART 2

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