#there used to be an apple tree in my front yard that was perfect for climbing and id sit in it all summer reading books and bird watchinf

[poorlittlevampire]

i love this lyric it reminds me of when i was like seven and all the neighborhood kids were out playing and trying to climb a big tree in one of our yards and no one could do it, but i finally found my way up it only for everyone to leave the yard and i couldn’t get down and none of them heard me call to them for help so i had to jump and landing hurt a lot bc i was too high up

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead.

Word Count: 6.1k  

Tags: NSFW. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mentions of Starvation, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan, Mutual Pining, Infidelity

AO3 Link

A/N: This will be a fic consisting of multiple chapters.

Chapter 1: A Man in Need

"Who the hell are you?" you shout as you emerge from your doorstep, pointing your shotgun at his head.

He turns slowly from the apple tree in your front yard, hands now raised to his sides. He swallows nervously like a schoolboy caught in the act as the apple he was holding lands swiftly on the ground. He's tall enough to reach the highest branches with ease, the only ones you've yet to pick clean as you're too lazy to get the ladder.

"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am." He looks at you pleading with his eyes, one of them almost as black as his boots. His exposed hands and forearms are bruised but healing, you reckon the fight he was in must have been a few days ago. His shirt and pants look like they've been slept in for days, the dirt and the grass staining them worse than the sweat. He is wearing an old leather hat, which frames his chiseled face perfectly, tilted enough so you can see his piercing blue eyes. They might be telling you he is a kind man if it were not for the fact that you've caught him stealing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You try to pretend you're not frightened by the hooligan now standing in your property. You hope your voice is as demanding as his presence.

"Please don't shoot, ma'am. I'm... I'm sorry. I just..."

"You what?" You cock the shotgun with authority.

"I'm- I'm just... I'm so... hungry." His voice quivers as he utters the last word, barely audible. He looks embarrassed to admit it but hopes his honesty is enough to save him from an early grave. He holds still as a sign of cooperation. His manner seems genuine to you, his confession matching his appearance.

You hold your position as you ponder what to do next. The both of you are still enough that you can hear the fire in your hearth inside. You have just finished peeling the potatoes so you can add them to the stew you're making. You were hoping to have enough leftovers for tomorrow, but you guess there's enough dinner for two.

"Do you have any weapons?" You don't lower your voice or your shotgun.

"Just a pocketknife, ma'am." The man seems truthful.

"Throw it." He obeys and the knife lands by your feet on the porch. You pick it up and pocket it next to yours.

"You have anything else?"

"No, ma'am. Just some cigarettes." He reaches for one of his pant pockets and retrieves them, dropping them on the floor. He shows you the other pocket is empty before being quick to remove his boots, showing you he has nothing to hide. His hands return to his sides once he's finished.

"Would you like some food?"

He takes a breath and swallows air at the mention of it. "Yes... Yes, ma'am. Very much so." The threat of the stranger subsides as you now realize you are standing in front of a famished man. You slowly lower your shotgun from your dinner guest. His hands remain upright as he waits for instructions.

"Put your boots on. I need to get inside to finish dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." He is quick to stand in front of you, waiting for permission to climb the stairs. Even with you standing on the porch, he's almost as tall as you. Up close, he's even more handsome than you had realized.

"What's your name?"

"Morgan. Arthur Morgan, ma'am." He tips his hat awkwardly. His gaze is weary but pleading for compassion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan. My name is Y/N. Please come in. I reckon there's enough food for the both of us." As he climbs the stairs he looks at you like he's being invited to a Saint Dennis' banquet. "Now, don't go thinking it's anything fancy. I don't have much."

"Anything you can give me I'll be grateful till the day I die." He seems just as obedient without a shotgun pointed at him, even though he towers over you. He carries himself with an undeniable raw magnetism, slightly undercut by a sensible restraint, a quiet but powerful virility. You are not immune to its immediate effects.  

"Well, don't die just yet. Don't need any dead bodies on my property." He tries to pretend to be amused but he can only muster an exhale, looking down at you, staring, mouth agape. You're now so close you swear you can smell the whole forest on him. You start to map out the details of his features like constellations in the night sky. You almost reach out your hand to touch them.

You turn around to enter your cottage just as the idea overtakes you. You realize, under the right circumstances, you might be as obedient to him as he's been to you.

"Would you like some water?" you say as you head straight for the kitchen, already reaching for a glass to serve him. His "yes, ma'am" is barely out before he downs the whole glass, letting out slurping noises of urgency and relief. You serve him a few more times before his chugs quiet down and his thirst is quenched. He removes his hat to reveal his sweaty temple and his luscious caramel hair.

"There is a vanity inside if you'd like to wash up while I finish dinner."

"Thank you." He heads towards your bedroom while you put down your shotgun and get the potatoes. Your two-room cottage is quite small, so you can hear him wash while stirring the stew. Water sloshes in the bowl for sometime before it stops. He struggles with something for a while before you hear the brief unzipping of his pants, the quick fastening of his buckle.

He takes his time but he emerges clean, his skin glowing bright by the light of the fire. He has groomed and rearranged his clothes to appear more presentable, his sleeves buttoned and his collar smoothed. He has tucked in his shirt, doing his best to hide the noticeable blood stains. His hair is swept back, you can tell he spent some time trying to comb it with his fingers. He holds his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim, patiently waiting for your command, looming over you as you cook. By the attentive way he's looking at you, you wonder if your attraction is reciprocated.

"Nearly done, Mr. Morgan." You raise from the fire to cool yourself as the room heats up with his presence. "I'll just set the table. Take a seat." He watches as you place some of your finest dishes and cutlery, arranging it all as well as you can to impress your guest. You soon pour the meaty stew onto your plates.

He stares at the food on the table for a little while, his mouth salivating at the sight. You figure he hasn't eaten anything for days now, surviving on whatever the forest gifted him. Whatever it was, surely not enough for a man of his stature. He moans after he takes his first bites, each one louder than the last. He tries to eat slowly but soon gives it up, ditching any pretense of civility in favor of sustenance. He holds the spoon for the stew in one hand while holding bread in the other, fetching for more of the other as he eats either one.

You try to eat your own meal as you become enraptured by the spectacle. His animalistic mannerisms are oddly captivating and leave little to the imagination. His piercing blue eyes raise from the food to eye you from time to time, ravishing you as he does his meal.

Arthur is on his fourth plate of stew before he begins to slow down. All the bread you had is gone, much to your regret. After you serve yourself a second helping, you drop the ladle and hear it echo in the nearly empty pot. You finish your meal by you reaching for some fruit for dessert, the last of the apples you were able to reach. You place one in front of Arthur just as he finishes scooping up the last of the liquid on his plate.

"I'm sorry I stole from you." He hangs his head in regret.

"Well, you didn't eat it. So I guess you didn't steal it." The peel of your apple lands as a perfect spiral on your plate.

"You're very kind for feeding me."

"I'd like to think that if the situation were reversed, you'd feed me too."

"I'd be honored if you'd let me repay you, ma'am." You know he means it.

You reach inside your pocket and take out Arthur's pocketknife before you hand it to him. "I'll have to think of something." He grabs the knife and begins to peel the apple as you did. "For now, I think I'll just hear your story."

You're on your second whiskey when you pour Arthur his third, relieved you opened the least expensive bottle. It'll be some time before Arthur gets tipsy given what he's eaten. You, however, have reached your limit.  

He's been telling you about how he was ambushed on the road a few days back. O'Driscolls, he says. A group took him into the forest to beat him and left him to die with just some cigarettes in his pocket, no matches. The hunger wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't left him without a coat to keep him from the cold. He was losing hope when he stumbled onto your homestead and saw your apples.

You tell him little about yourself and he doesn't inquire much, thinking it's best not to pry. But he keeps staring at you with those hungry eyes of his and you wonder if he can see there's hunger in you too.

When the conversation dies, he rises from his chair to squat by the fire, reaching for a burning twig to light one of his cigarettes. You stare at his broad back, barely covered by his thinly stretched shirt. You wonder how your hands compare to it in size. Perhaps he has constellations on his back that you can map out too. You'd work your way upward, tracing lines with your fingers between his freckles and scars all the way up to his neck, finishing by feeling his big shoulders under your small hands. You'd be interrupted by him swinging you around so he can face to kiss you, passionately and without remorse. He would plant his own large hands on your small shoulders as you feel the weight of his full desire bearing down on you. You'd grab his shoulders again as he enters you.

He rises back to his chair, interrupting your fantasy. "You saved a man from death today, miss. I'm very grateful."

"Well, you just make sure you get some rest tonight. There's plenty of fire to keep warm. And more whiskey too." You lift the bottle to pour him more but he declines. "In the morning, you can take my horse into town. See if you can get in touch with your folks."

"Oh, I can't take more of your generosity, miss."

"Why not? I insist! I won't need the horse for a few days. I might have some money I can lend—"

"I can't possibly accept that, miss." The idea almost offends him.

"Fine, I won't lend you the money. So you'll take the horse then?" You smile as you trick him into charity.

He sighs. "Well, I guess I will." He looks rather defeated.

"Ok, good." You get up. "Now, you stay where you are while I go get linens to make your bed." You rush to your bedroom before he has a chance to object.

You haven't noticed how dark it has gotten until you see the moonlight illuminating your room, bright enough that you can see your way to your dresser. You light the lamp above it and notice the water in the vanity, muddied with dirt and old blood. The towel he used is neatly folded and placed on the dresser, the act of a thoughtful guest. You pick it up to place it with your dirty laundry and you catch a sniff of his smell in it. A mist of wood, grass, and sweat. Without a thought, you linger on it.

You look at your made-up bed and imagine what it would be like to have it drenched with his smell, his sweat staining the sheets after his vigorousness. You wonder if he'd be as loud as he was during dinner or if he would grow quiet, intensely concentrating on his pleasure. Or maybe he'd focus on yours, his lips seducing yours, first above your waistline and then below. Either way, you'd wrap your legs around him, savoring the feeling. You'd grab his shoulders once he'd surface, the two of you connected at the hips, colliding into each other. Afterward, you'd rest in his arms, his broad back taking up most of your mattress. You'd wash the dirty sheets in the morning but they'd still have traces of him. Just like you.

You wake from your stupor when you remember Arthur is outside, waiting for his actual bed to be made. You take from the armoire a blanket and a spare pillow and you wonder if he'll be able to fit in your old davenport. He most certainly will not. He could always take your bed.

You find him standing by the door as if he's leaving. Not courageous enough to leave without a goodbye. He jolts when he sees you emerge from the bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Look, miss, maybe it's best if I be on my way. I can walk from here. I'll come back to repay you for your trouble." He looks at you like he's scared of what will happen if you let him stay. You suspect that his head is filled with impure thoughts too, now that the hunger in his eyes is deeper.

"But it's already nighttime. There's no point in leaving now." Please don't leave, you think. You could make it worth his while.

"It ain't proper to bother you no more. Especially a woman by herself."

"It's no bother. Or improper, to help a man in need. Besides, I told you you can borrow my horse in the morning."

"I can't accept that."

"Seriously, Mr. Morgan, take what you need." You go to place the linens on the davenport, which is definitely too small for him.

“I think I've taken enough from you, ma’am.”

When you turn around you see Arthur has already opened the door and is on his way out. You rush to him and without thinking you grab his forearm and force him to turn, his figure filling your doorway, illuminated by the moonlight. He looks down at you, surprised by your boldness, his eyes burning with lust. You feel his heartbeat quicken in your hand.

You're brave enough to caress him with your thumb. "Don't go, Arthur."

He doesn't recoil and looks down at you, clearly wanting to accept your proposition. "It's been a while," he admits. He seems so timid yet so needy.

"Me too."

He hesitates for a few seconds before he finally reaches down to kiss you. His plump lips land on yours, softer than any kiss you could imagine him giving. It's powerful enough to titillate every part of you. You catch the smell of your soap on his skin as he presses closer to you. After a moment, he withdraws, still unsure of himself.

You reassure him again. "Take what you need."

You lose grasp of his wrist and feel both his hands reaching to the sides of your neck. He kisses you deeply now, pushing your lips apart to make room for his. You taste the cheap whiskey you served him when the tip of his tongue reaches yours. You grab onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. They're bigger than you imagined.

You lose yourself in his passion, malleable to his sudden force as he begins to overpower you, wrapping his arms around you while his tongue wraps around yours. He finally starts to take what he needs. You receive what you need, too.

Once he eases on you for a moment, you take the chance to lead him to your bedroom, anxious to enact the dirty daydream you just had in there. He follows your trail while kissing and caressing you, getting more confident as he escalates, gradually lowering his hands, from your face to your shoulders, then to your waist, and to your hips, ecstatically enveloping you. You're by the bed when you feel yourself vibrating with lust for the man that's touching you, getting wetter by the minute.

When your back hits the armoire, his pelvis runs into you and you feel his length already hard against you. You lean into him, savoring the sensation, and you guide his hands to your ass, which he grabs greedily, making you sway closer to him. Both of you exchange gasps in each other's mouths. Like at dinner, he sounds louder with every bite.

As much as it pains you, you slightly push Arthur back to start speeding things along. He watches as you begin to work your blouse, opening the buttons you fastened this morning. If you had known how aroused you'd be tonight, you would never have picked the blouse with so many buttons. You were hoping to strip for him, but your fingers are now clammy from the excitement, so you need an extra hand.

"Help me out, would you?"

He reaches for the button you're trying to undo, the one right between your breasts. Once he has access inside, he gets distracted by the visible part of your tits, already peeking through your chemise. He moves his fingertips over them, touching them delicately. The sensation feels like lightning to you and you let out small whispers of delight. You get louder once you feel his whole hand reaching under the chemise, softly cupping a whole breast, his palm now stimulating your nipple.  

The sensation makes you melt under his touch. In return, you lower your hand to reach the growing erection under his pants, making him draw out a loud groan of satisfaction. You watch as Arthur closes his eyes as you continue to massage him, fully riveted by the sensation. The big size on your hand leaves you no less breathless.

It evidently becomes too overwhelming for him and he abruptly stops you and removes his hand. In a strangled voice, he leans into your ear to whisper. “I think I need another whiskey.”

He goes out the door and you watch as he heads to the table, pours himself a drink and downs it with a frustrated grunt. He pours another, trying to settle his nerves, concentrating on avoiding a premature release. You figure it must be a long while since he's been touched by a woman. His erection must be painfully throbbing by now. He probably has no idea how arousing this is.

You go back in the room to open the drawer of your dresser. You cut the rest of the buttons of your blouse with your scissors, you can always saw them back later. You're finally free to undo the rest of your blouse and remove your skirt and chemise, finally naked and free. You return to your bedroom door to tell Arthur the good news.

You find him staring at the fire as it dies down, the drink still on the table nearby. His shirt has now been removed and so has his modesty, it seems. You watch as he unbuckles his pants and frees himself, at last holding his stiffness in his hand. He takes a moment before he starts pumping, languidly stroking his length while letting out small sounds of relief.

You marvel at the sight of the cowboy letting loose, so you decide not to disturb him. You get wetter at the realization that he's touching an arousal you helped build. Unable to contain yourself, you reach for your own sex, trying to find some much-needed relief. For a few moments, you both touch each other to the same lazy rhythm.

“I can help with that, you know?” You come out of the bedroom once you reach your limit, desperate for his touch.

Arthur freezes in place when he sees you standing there, now fully naked with your hair down. You could swear his cock shifts in his hand at your sight. You join him by the fire and, without permission, you resume his handiwork on your own fist while he lets out his audible approval. He huffs louder when you reach for his tip.

When he seems to unfreeze, he cups one of your breasts, as if to steady himself. He lightly massages your nipple with his thumb as you continue to work on his length.

You continue pumping him, fastening the pace as you feel him panting under you and see him close his eyes. You stop before things get out of control, which brings him back to the room.

"Let's get to bed," you suggest.

You lead him inside until you sit on the edge of the bed. It's now your turn to wait for instructions. But you pick up on some of his earlier hesitation, a man worried about unloading himself on you.

“Take me.” Your tone is almost a pleading one. "Take me, Arthur."

The sound of his name on your lips is enough to rouse him. What follows next is utterly exhilarating as he makes you lie fully on the bed, his hands pushing your shoulders down while his cock presses on your stomach. Once he rises, he instructs you. "Spread your legs for me, girl." You do as your told, trembling at his sudden domineering voice.  

You watch as he stands looming over you, his cock fully erect and twitching with need, an erotic image you won't soon forget. He takes a moment to look at you, spread out with your legs hanging, your core exposed. He's surely saving a picture for himself too.

"Mmm so pretty for me." He reaches down and parts your folds. "So wet for me, too." He drags his index up and down, watching as you writhe under the sensation. You wish that he would linger further on your clit but instead he grabs your hip with one hand and puts the other on his length, aligning the head at your entrance, wetting it with your slick. It's both completely thrilling and not enough at the same time.

"You gonna take me good, girl?" He grips your hip more forcefully. You nod for him as you prepare yourself for what's coming. You hold your arms to the side, just like he did when you were pointing the shotgun at him. Just like him, you surrender.

He enters you messily as he hurries inside, clearly impatient to start. He groans loudly and sloppily, almost like a teenager. You cling to the sheets beside you as you take him, adapting to the feeling of being completely filled. Once he's inside, he takes a second to adjust, clearly savoring being inside another woman again.

"Mmm, so good and tight, girl. Fuck. Fuuuck!"

Once he's fully buried in you, he loses no time and begins to thrust, starting off faster than you expect. He looks at you with unapologetic lust. It takes you some getting used to his rhythm and size, but something about his hungry demeanor arouses you enough to dissipate any discomfort. You soon begin to experience a type of pleasure you haven't felt in a long while.

You can't help but let out whatever moan comes out of you, as your senses surrender to to the hooligan now overpowering you. You have quenched his thirst, relieved his hunger and now you're satisfying his most carnal need. Each time he has repaid you with the most obscene noises and lascivious stares. You hope you're repaying him back in the same way.

His thrusts become erratic, a man in desperate need of release. You try to do your best to please him further, but there's not much you can do once he controls both your hips with his hands, allowing him to bury himself as deep within you as possible. When he further angles down on you, you feel more pressure on your clit, wrapping your knees around him, pressing for more.

His pacing is now reckless as he tries to satisfy his hunger, dripping with sweat over you. You're completely enthralled as this complete stranger fucks you so greedily under the cover of night. You feel yourself getting closer to some edge you barely even knew existed.

By the manner he fucks you, you figure his long-held repression will not make him last long, so you're dismayed but not surprised when you feel him approaching his climax. You haven't reached yours yet, even though you know you're very close. You wish he holds on a little longer, but it's too late once you hear him huff with even less discretion and you feel his muscles tensing around you.

Arthur pulls out of you before he comes, spilling white ropes all over your stomach, stroking his own cock to finish. It's a long and deep orgasm, one he's been needing for sometime. He remains in his position, still holding his cock, mouth opened and eyes closed as he comes down from his high. He goes limp, landing next to you with a thud, exhausted and with his eyes closed, unable to move.

Arthur's climax is no doubt the most erotic one you've ever witnessed and the arousal it creates in you is only a burden once you realize you still haven't orgasmed yourself. You get up to fetch a clean towel, cleaning his spill off of yourself and you watch as he lays there, eyes still closed. His chest begins to settle as his breathing calms.

You get back in bed and kneel beside him, your eyes surveying every part of his incredible physique, his cock now semi-hard after being inside you. You rub two of your fingers in your wetness before you place them on your clit and move them in circles to find your pleasure again. You're still very aroused and it's not long before you feel the beginning of your climax again. You keep staring at Arthur, his body reason enough to titillate you further. You look at his length, already missing having it inside you, so you slip a couple of fingers in you. They're not even close to replacing him but they provide enough pressure to continue building your peak.

You keep watching him and keep thinking of him thrusting into you when you start to let out sharp whimpers, panting as you inch closer to release. They're loud enough to make Arthur wake from his exhaustion and you watch as he props himself up on his elbows, enjoying the view of your self-gratification. But just watching isn't enough for him.

"Let me."

He places his fingers on top of yours, which are now circling your clit at a fast pace. You let him learn the rhythm of the motion and then you remove your hand, squirming as you feel him directly pleasuring you. It happens just in time as it's only a moment until you finally come, erupting wildly under his unyielding touch. He works you through your orgasm until you finally collapse next to him, unconsciously searching for his chest and placing your semi-lucid head there.

You feel him wrap you in his arms, caressing your back as your breathing eases. "That was beautiful, girl."

When you open your eyes after a while, you notice the lamp in your room has gone out and the both of you are now bathing in the moonlight, only accompanied by the sounds of the surrounding forest. You soon notice Arthur's deep breathing under you and you realize he must have fallen fast asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of the past few days, enjoying the safety of your bed. A man now fed, fucked and sheltered.

Although you don't want to, you slowly remove yourself from him. You cover him with your quilt but not before gazing at his full body again, already missing it on top of you. You move to the side of the bed he doesn't occupy, small enough to have you lay on your side by his side. You fall asleep to the sound of his deep loud breathing. Two perfect strangers satiated in the moonlight.

—

It's a regular morning for you, waking up alone in your bed, eyes opened and staring at the wooden ceiling. But this time you feel your insides a little sore, a welcomed reminder of last night. You turn to look at Arthur's place, now empty but his outline still visible on the sheets. You map it with your fingers as you wonder where he is, still burning with the memory of him inside you.

You get up and dress in clean clothes you pick from your dresser, a simple blouse and skirt with fewer buttons, pretty enough that he might like. You tie up your hair in your usual practical bun. You douse some expensive perfume on your neck, a small strand running between your breasts.

You guess it is about seven by the morning's light outside. You step into the porch as you watch Arthur next to the apple tree, in the same spot where you found him yesterday. He's picking the remaining apples on the top and placing them on a basket. The sight of his chiseled body under his clothes is enough to flare the arousal you thought you'd extinguished last night.

He sees you when he retrieves the last apple, perched over a lower branch. He brings you a full basket with a small grin on his face, a man whose basic needs seem to have been entirely fulfilled.

You can't help but smile too. "You stealing from me again, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, miss. Thought I'd finish what I started and get them down for you." He sets the basket at your feet, like an ancient priest offering it to a deity. "Now no one can try to steal them again."

"Wouldn't want any competition, huh?" You tease him as he approaches you, his hands on his hips, sweat running down his brow.

He licks his lips before answering. "No, ma'am. Wouldn't dream of it."

"You hungry?"

"I'm still full after last night."

You giggle slightly at his insinuation before you lead him back into your kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Arthur helps make coffee while you prepare the bacon, eggs and sausages. The meal feels a little off without some bread, but you barely notice in the presence of your company.

Arthur is telling you an amusing story involving a donkey on his passing through Armadillo, letting you peek inside his previous life before he made it to New Haven. It pleases you that he is a traveling man, besides clearly being a resourceful one. He grows quiet when you ask him what he does for a living. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the tension brought on by the vague answer he gives.

He gets up to help you clear the rest of the dishes on the table. "I best get going if I'm gonna make it to Valentine before noon."

The mention of him leaving stings you. "You can go get Amber. She's on the stable out back. She's real friendly."

"May I?" Arthur points to the basket of apples and when you nod he grabs two of them, taking a big bite out of one. You see him drool a little before he walks out the door.

You busy yourself with the dishes before he comes back. All the while you feel a pang in your stomach as you think about him leaving, wishing you could spend the night together again. Flashes of last night burst into your consciousness, making you relieve it deliciously. You feel yourself filled with lust again before it's even eight in the morning.

When you catch Arthur leading Amber to your yard, you realize that if he's a man of his word he'll have to come back to return her safely back to you. Maybe you'll cook dinner for him again. Maybe he'll take you once again. You head out for the yard with your mind made up to ask him to come back.

"It's a nice trotter you got here. Well fed too." He pets her neck, much to her delight, and he feeds her the other apple he grabbed. "That's a good girl." His wording sounds like an echo from last night.  

"She like carrots too. I've put some inside, some beans and corn for you too. Don't want you going hungry again." You hand him a satchel you've prepared for his journey into town.

"Much obliged." He nods in thanks and places it on his shoulder, which barely shifts at the weight of it. He steps forward as he begins his goodbye, halting just as he hovers above you.

"I'm very grateful to you, miss. For everything." He whispers the last part as a dirty little secret that only you two share.

"Well, I'm glad I could be of help." You fidget with your fingers, too afraid to ask him to stay, too cowardly to say goodbye.

"I'll come back to bring Amber. And to repay you. I promise." He emphasizes the last part like it's a sacred vow.

Arthur lingers over you and you wait for his next move. It looks like he's going kiss you goodbye but instead he takes a few steps back and mounts Amber instead. He gives you one last look and one last nod before he urges her to trot and you watch as he gallops out of view. His absence leaves you cold and sullen, mended only by the promise of his return.  

You decide not to spend the day wallowing, instead being grateful for the night of passion you just experienced. You set out to do the remainder of your chores before you resume your knitting. When you finish with the kitchen, you tidy up the rest of the living room. You put away the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. You relight the fire in the hearth. You put away the linens on the sofa that have been sitting there all night, unused.

You turn around in your bedroom to find the bed still unmade, his outline still traceable. You go to remove the quilt from the bed when it hits you. You catch a whiff of his smell again, this time all over your sheets, right where he had you. You catch a few stains of dried sweat where both of you laid, asleep and awake. Traces of his spend and your slick. It's his pillow that most delights you as it smells so intensely of him, it's almost like he's there again.

Like he's there again, pushing you downward, telling you to spread, filling you whole. So pretty for me. Taking you, over and over. So good and tight, girl. Fuck. The memory is too strong for you to resist it, so you lay down again, right where he had you. You use your fingers to try to mimic his movements and vigor. You cannot match them, but they are enough to make you come again, this time while he's still inside you, and you repeat his name out loud as you do it. You lay your head on his pillow as you come down to earth again. That was beautiful, girl. You remember his promise to come back, the possibility of him taking you again surely enough to power you until his return.

It's midmorning when you decide to get up and finally change the sheets, as much as it pains you to lose his scent. You decide to leave his pillow untouched, a souvenir of your unexpected affair, now lying atop the fresh bed linens.

You set out to do the laundry, hoping it dries with the afternoon sun. You wash the sheets first, then your clothes and undergarments, followed by the towels. You take a second to look at the embroidery you stitched on the hand towel you used to clean Arthur's seed off of you.

It's only when you see his initials that you think of your husband. 

--

A/N: Already working on chapter 2! Feedback is welcomed!

[imastrangeone98]

Vitamorte - Chapter 2: The Barrier

(A/N: I've been watching a lot of resident evil speedruns lately, so that inspired me to pick up this story again. No other explanation required cuz no ones gonna read it but me XD)

No warnings, but Leon is an overprotective hubby. Also it hit me that I haven't said where this would take place in the main timeline; it takes place between death island and re7

Chris knocked on the door.

A farmhouse wasn't what he expected for one of the best government agents and virus researcher. It was a nice place- a typical 2-story home with a lazy, old white shepherd lounging on the patio, a front yard with an apple tree and a swing, and no neighbors around for miles.

Perfect for privacy.

The dog lifted its head and wagged its tail.

"Hey, Milky," Chris chuckled, leaning over to pat the good boy on the head. "You're still kicking, huh?"

Milky panted and rested its head again.

"Who the hell is that? I swear I didn't order a-" The door swung open, revealing the one person Chris was hoping to avoid- Leon Kennedy-Kim himself. And it seemed like Chris was the last person Leon was expecting, too. Because he froze immediately at the sight of his colleague, lips curling into a fierce scowl.

"I thought I made it clear that I'm on break," Leon scoffed. "Whatever it is, I ain't hearing it until at least a month."

"Well, you're in luck, because you're not the one I'm here to see," Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Is Sarah in?"

Leon stared at him, eyes piercing. "What are you-"

"Dad! Mom said pie's ready! C'mon, let's eat!"

Leon glared at Chris, but ultimately swung the door open. "Shoes off. We don't want dirt in the house."

Chris wordlessly obeyed, figuring that getting into Leon's good graces at the moment would get him better results. But as he shut the door behind him, he heard footsteps pattering in the room next door, and a head of blond hair popped out.

"Whoa, it's Uncle Chris," the little girl gasped, before she darted back in the room. "Zane, come on, Uncle Chris is here!"

He chuckled. Grace hadn't changed a bit since the last time he saw her. Still as energetic, bouncy and innocent as ever, a spitfire image of her mother with her dad's hair.

And then Zane walked out- tall for an 11-year-old, black hair, with Leon's piercing blue eyes to match. He smiled at the older man. "Hi, Uncle Chris. You look older."

"I feel older," he laughed, ruffling the boy's hair. "You got taller, I can tell."

"And hungrier. Boy tears through three bowls of rice like there's no tomorrow," Leon grumbled as he set out plates and cups. Grace finally snuck out to dash into the kitchen, giving Chris a small wave.

"...Are you here for work again, Uncle Chris?" Zane whispered, eyes fixed on the kitchen to make sure his sister was out of earshot. "More bad stuff?"

"Yeah." Chris sighed before patting Zane on the back. Kid was always too smart for his own good. "But don't worry. With me and hopefully your mom on the case, it shouldn't be too bad of a problem."

"So it's Mom..." Zane stared off into the distance before shaking his head. "Dad's not gonna like that."

"No, he isn't."

And speak of the devil, Leon reemerged from the kitchen holding a pitcher, and the very person Chris needed followed close behind, a large pie in hand.

"When Leon told me we had guests, I didn't realize I called the pest control," Sarah Kennedy-Kim cackled, setting down the pie to pat his shoulder. "What's the greatest bug killer doing in my house?"

"Catching rats," he sighed. "I could use a hand in getting a few strays."

She stared at him. Chris fidgeted under the intensity of her gaze.

"Really, now?" she finally said. Sarah plopped on a chair and cut some slices of pie, gesturing for Chris to sit.

Leon huffed, then passed over two hefty slices to the children, wordlessly motioning for them to head up the stairs. Zane caught on quickly, and after grabbing glasses of lemonade, prodded his sister to follow him up.

The two waited until there was a click of a door, and only then did Leon speak. "No."

"Leon-"

"Shut up," he hissed. "She left the field a long time ago, and for damn good reason. You want someone to risk their life, you ask me, but leave my wife out of this!"

"It's not that easy." Chris laid his palms flat on the table. "There's some shit going down in Chile. Some unknown disease is turning people into... something. Supergeniuses. Or freaks of nature." He leaned closer to the scientist. "I don't care whether it's a virus, parasite, or some other bullshit. You're the leading expert on this; I need you on this case."

Sarah hummed, but said nothing else for a solid second. Leon's brows furrowed.

"You've got Rebecca Chambers," she said simply. "She's a genius. Why not ask her?"

"I thought about it," he admitted. "But Rebecca isn't meant for dangerous field work. And more importantly..." He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the scientist. "She's not a gambler. Not like you are. I need someone who's willing to break the rules."

Leon scowled. Sarah shrugged, unfazed.

"Rebecca's fairly good at bending the rules." She poured a glass of lemonade and slid it over to Chris. "But I'll let it slide for now. What's the problem?"

"This." He slid over several pictures. Sarah picked them up and studied them, Leon leaning over her shoulder to take a peek. "Word has it that the disease that's infecting Los Duermos infects the mind- turns the people into-"

"Zombies." Leon waves his hand. "Mindless, dumb, bitches to take down. Shoot them in the head. Simple."

"That's the thing," Chris sighed. "They're not dumb corpses shuffling around. They're fully sentient, not driven by whatever virus or parasite is in their bodies. They're vastly more intelligent than they used to be. Apparently, a good chunk of them even act normally, going about their lives as they used to. But that's the lucky ones. The unlucky folks..."

She studied another picture. Her eyes narrowed. "Who the hell is..."

"Their bodies change drastically; it's like plastic surgery without going under." Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. "They all look the same. Man, woman, or child. They all look like Alex Wesker. With not even half the brains. They're mindless, dumb..." He looked at Leon. "Bitches to take down."

Leon scratched his chin. "It's like Simmons on steroids."

"No kidding." Chris leaned back in his chair. "You see why I need you now? We don't know what the hell is going on, and we need sharp eyes on the ground to get the info we need."

"An army of super geniuses and mutated Weskers..." Sarah mused. "Well, I guess-"

"Sarah," Leon whispered harshly. "This isn't a good idea. You know what happened last time."

She hummed. Chris looked at his folded hands.

"In his defense," she said, "I got kidnapped. It's not exactly field work in the slightest."

"But it still happened," he growled. "I'm not letting that happen ever again."

She silently took Leon's hand in hers, rubbing soft circles in his skin. He instantly softened, and brought her hand to his lips. Chris looked away, giving the couple a brief moment of privacy.

"How long do I have to decide?" she finally asked.

"Tomorrow morning. That's the latest."

She sighed. "I'll let you know by then."

Chris nodded; this was likely the best outcome he was going to get. He stood up and pushed his chair back in.

"Are you gonna finish that?"

He turned around to see Leon pointing at the untouched slice.

With a huff, he sat back down.

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

A/N: when I was first writing this years ago, I couldn't figure out how to write this, but now it comes a bit more naturally

[bike42]

Tuesday July 23

Back to Windigo (6.9 miles)

Apple Watch 7.24 miles, total time 3:28, 28’ average with break time, 558ft elevation

The rain tapered off during the night, and it was the coldest night so far. I used the head mummy function on my sleeping bag which is very rare for me! It was still plenty dark outside when the alarm went off at 5am. We dressed and packed up the tent using our headlamps, and when we emerged from the tent you could just see a faint light through the thick canopy of trees.

Jeff started the stove to boil water - turns out we had too much white gas (fuel for the stove), so he burned some off … but we just didn’t know! We had hot drinks and granola with powdered reconstituted milk for a quick breakfast. We cleaned up, finished packing and were hiking out of camp at 7:02am. The sky was overcast, so in the dull light it was still kind of tough to see - didn’t need the headlamp though!

We hiked 0.4 miles to the junction of the Greenstone Ridge Trail, then took a left. We were moving fast, as this gang can do when they’re motivated! We took several short breaks, and one extended break, and had the fastest average pace of this trip. With about 2 miles to go, I dropped back and enjoyed the forest. It was clear we were going to have about 4 hours before our scheduled flight!

The trail was really nice today, hardly any foliage obscuring the trail. The weather was perfect - nice breeze and thin high clouds.

Jeff had been scanning the ridge lines, determined to see a wolf, but that would be unlikely. We saw some probable scat, but didn’t hear them at night as I did last time I was backpacking here 25 years ago.

We arrived back at Windigo about 10:30am. Gary stopped at the store and bought tokens for us all to shower. I didn’t have clean clothes, other than the yoga pants and tank top I’ve been sleeping in, but I took a hot 5 minute shower anyway and it felt fantastic.

When everyone had showered, we met on the deck of the store. Most of us bought lunch, I had a nice cold beer with my sandwich. Then I felt a nap coming on, so I went and laid on a picnic table and fell asleep so hard I had no idea where I was when I awoke!

About then, we got word that our flight was delayed until 7pm due to mechanical issues. Ugh. We’re largely a good natured group, and took it in stride, but we sure hoped would not be camping another night!!

Jeff and I went inside for ice cream. I turned my phone off airplane mode, and looked at what messages came in. There is a super weak guest WiFi at the Ranger Station - not enough for beginning to post my blog though.

I unfurled our tent and dried and cleaned it up - it did well in the rain last night, but a lot of dirt had splashed up onto it. Felt good to have that taken care of! That spurred a lot of action from our group, opening their packs and drying things out - it looked like a yard sale on the back deck!!

After everything was repacked, we relocated to the front deck to a table out of the sun. A plane came in about 4pm, and the guys rushed down to the dock to chat with the pilot. He said the bad news was this wasn’t our plane, but the good news is our plane will likely come tonight!

Tam went into the store and bought a bottle of wine. We enjoyed the breeze and the view from the deck. Dan spotted a female moose splashing around in the water along the distant shore - so cool!! A little later someone noticed a cow and calf in the shallow water! Intermittently, we’d go back into the store for more drinks and food: soup, pulled pork sandwiches, snacks - it was cheap and convenient!

At 5:30p, an off duty ranger came to entertain on the deck with his acoustic guitar and some original songs. The funniest was GIARDIA sung to Van Morrison’s “Gloria!” We enjoyed the music, and were very excited to see our plane arrive at 6:30pm! We threw on our packs, for a last hike to the dock.

There we met the pilot, Steve, who like Mike, inspired great confidence! He explained some of the issues today - weather in Grand Marais, then this plane lost the alternator. He “dead headed” back to Michigan and changed it out. Because of the direction of the wind, we taxied out pretty far, then back towards Windigo when we took off. Fun to see the people on the deck waving to us.

Also because of the wind direction, we flew over the island, which the Park Service discourages. On this flight, we used the headset communication devices to talk with Steve. The guys, especially Kent, were really into talking about the engine and the gauges.

We landed about 7:30p, which is actually 6:30p in Wisconsin … off schedule, but the best airplane delay I’ve ever experienced!

Kent drove us back to NorthStar, arriving around 9pm, although it felt much later than that after such a long day and early start. Tam and I took a sauna, I had a shower and happily fell into my comfortable bed.

Wednesday morning we had eggs, bacon and toast - easier to be cooking in the kitchen. We lingered around the table, talking about highlights of the trip. Tam presented us with a large rock - I’d admired it on the beach and unbeknownst to me, she'd picked it up and they’d all signed it with a sharpie … it must have added an additional 5 pounds to her pack!! Dan read us the poem he’d written for our trip - making us laugh and cry as always. They all left mid morning, making me a bit sad another adventure has come to a close, but as always, working on plans for the next one!

[blsm-m]

This past month, we celebrated one year since we moved into our historic dream home. Today, I’m so excited to share a lengthy tour of most of the rooms in our home and the decor we’ve been adding. I am embracing a slow renovation for this home. I expect it may take five to 10 years to complete all the renovations I have planned, but for once in my life, I am in no rush. Let’s begin with the exterior. I have always oohed-and-ahhed over this home for as long as I can remember (since high school age when I first got my driver’s license). I have always had feelings about this home, so when we decided to move back to our hometown we wrote a letter to the owners asking if there was any chance they would sell and they did. We feel incredibly lucky and never looked at any other homes. She’s the one! The one hesitation I had about this home was that the interior was heavily renovated in a modern way. I wish it had come with more original character, so we vowed to prioritize adding as much antique charm as possible. Recently, we hosted a home tour with hundreds of local people walking through our home. I was so happy that many people assumed the antique-inspired renovations we have done were original to the home. That remains my biggest goal! Porches – Porches are so romantic to me! I love having my morning coffee on the porch or watching the kids run around with fireflies. It’s the perfect place for popsicles and Halloween decorations alike. Playhouse – We added a playhouse. It’s actually in our front yard (you can see it in the corner of the first pic above). We have a large lot and a ton of trees and our house is very set back from the street (so it is charming and not obtrusive). But I will say, it’s the most I’ve ever enjoyed not having an HOA. I can’t wait to decorate the playhouse for Halloween and Christmas. Landscaping – In this photo, you can see a bit of our front yard. We’ve worked really hard on the yard since owning this home. I’ll have to show you more in the future. Last fall, we added two apple trees, two cherry trees and a fig tree. We are planning to make a few improvements each year until it’s our perfect secret garden space. We added a magnolia tree as I was reading Magic Lessons at the time and I became obsessed trying to incorporate inspiration from the book into my home. Daybed Swing – People always ask us if we really use the hanging daybed and the answer is yes, all the time. My husband likes to sneak out there to watch baseball on his phone and I snuggle the girls there all the time. Our favorite time to lay on the daybed is when it’s raining outside. Sources: Patio Rug, Round Table, Bistro Chairs, Hanging Plant (similar), White Chairs. Entry – From this angle, you can’t see that the other side of the door is a warm pink, but you can see my bat door knocker. And our cute little pug, Pumpkin. Diamond Wood Floors – I’m SO glad we chose the two-tone floors. I will be honest, I was nervous! I LOVE how they turned out. The dark color is the color for our entire home and the light color is used on in this space for the pattern. They were done by a wood floors company at the same time we refinished the floors throughout the home. For the round crystal chandelier, we found it from Pottery Barn. It looks just like an antique (with much simpler install). We ended up using the smaller size in the entry and the larger size at the top of the stairs. Swans – I have started many vintage and antique collections since moving to this home. Swans are a big one. I love how they are both beautiful and creepy. I collect a lot of brass items including candlesticks, butterflies, bells and boxes. Stairs – I spent a very long time choosing the art for the stairwell. What do you think? The portrait is a pastel and I love her so much. The little ting piece above is by Esther Pearl Watson, one of my favorite folk artists. For the runner, I went with this light colored runner because it was the best choice at the carpet store we went to.

In hindsight, I wish I had gone with antique runners and one day if these need to be replaced I probably will. For now, we are loving the light colored runner. Seating – In the front section of our living room, there was a little extra room so we added a checker and chess game table along with antique chairs. Turns out my children LOVE checkers and all my bad karma from being too competitive as a child is coming back to haunt me. The bench is super special to me because it came from my grandmother’s home. I have thought about painting it since it’s lighter than the entry table it sits beside, but so far I have left it alone. What would you do? Living Room Decor – I absolutely love our living room. We use it so much and in so many ways beyond simply watching TV. We went with a frame TV this time and I’m always surprised when people really think it’s a painting. When we first moved in, we did a short round of renovations that primarily included practical fixes and decor. This room got a lot of love. We added a new antique-inspired fireplace, pressed ceiling tiles, dentil moulding and a ton of oil paintings. Sources: Chesterfield Sofa, Pink Velvet Chairs, Rug (similar), Floor Lamp. Fireplace Renovation – For the fireplace, I knew I wanted to go with electric fireplaces because I wanted something we could use in all seasons (with and without heat) to add a cozy glow to the room. We went with this fireplace insert (we used it three times in the living room, our bedroom and my husband’s office). Love it! The paint color we used in our living room is Oyster Bay by Sherwin Williams and the tile color on the fireplace surround is Oyster Shell by Fireclay Tile. Antique Collections – Since curating a layered look takes a long time, I decided to start with the first floor and work my way up. SO currently our living spaces downstairs are very full of art and antique finds that bring me joy. Over time I plan to add more. This is a plan that can take years, but I enjoy it a lot of prefer not to rush it. Powder Bathroom – Our powder bathroom on the first floor is the one most often seen by guests so I decided to go all-in—filling it with paintings from floor to ceiling. The woman in the center-right in the yellow blouse is my grandmother Corina and for sure she’s the inspiration for the whole space. Bar Cart – I currently work as a cocktail writer most weeks (see our cocktail recipes) and in doing so for more than a year I have amassed a huge liquor collection. It’s split between here and the dollhouse bar (below). Learning new cocktail recipes is one of my passions. I found this art piece at Scout Design Studio and the wooden swan shelf is an eBay find. Green Paint – I love the color in this room- it’s Farrow & Ball’s Green Smoke. It’s such a unique, moody green and notice how it looks wildly different from photo to photo. Art Collection – This photo by Julie Blackmon started it all for me, as far as my art collection goes. My sister purchased it for me, as a gift, a couple years ago right before we found this home. Since then, I have been steadily building an art collection. Fun fact: 75% of the furniture in our home is antique that we sourced locally. The flea markets in this part of the country are incredible. I have always admired antique furniture and having the chance to build our space based on it has been really fulfilling. Dollhouse Bar Cabinet – The dollhouse bar has a fun story behind it. One night, I was rewatching my favorite movie “Knives Out,” and I noticed that the giant dollhouse in his living room was actually a bar. I looked them up immediately finding that they run between $6,000 and $20,000 (I know, right??!). The next day, I found one on an estate sale auction and was able to win it for a fraction of the retail price. To me, this is the best evidence I’ve found that we’re living in a simulation designed in our imaginations. Dream big, dream weird, friends! I’m kidding/not kidding.

Kitchen Island – Our kitchen is the main room we have not renovated, aside from matching the hardwoods and adding this 10-foot island. I found the green stools from Schoolhouse Electric. I am mulling over design ideas slowly and we plan to complete it in the next few years. This kitchen was very spare on storage, but had a lot of extra wall space so we added some white storage cabinets. That has been a big help. Hidden Trash Can – Here you can see the part of the kitchen we kept as is, and a solution we came up with to make it more functional for phase one. We added this double trash can and built out the counter to make it deep enough to accommodate our coffee gear. Above that, I added a brass pot rail to store our copper pots. Breakfast Nook – This little breakfast room right off the kitchen was such a fun jewel box to decorate. I do the majority of my food blogging in this space since the lighting is usually best in here. The built in corner cabinets are my favorite original feature. Stairway Landing – Now, we’re moving up to the second floor. This landing at the top of the stairway goes all the way around to access our bedrooms, the laundry room and my office. I decorated it with vintage mirrors all the way around. Bedroom Fireplace – In our bedroom, we added a fireplace. For the design, I pulled inspiration from my favorite horror movie, Rosemary’s Baby. We built this fireplace as a replica to the one in her apartment from the movie. When building new pieces, I find it really helps to reference a historic photo and stay as close to it as possible. The wallpaper and painting in this room are from artist Lulie Wallace. I’ve been a fan of hers for more than a decade and have loved every evolution of her work. The painting makes me smile every day. The biggest departure we took from the movie design is instead of a black marble surround I chose a tile that coordinated with our wallpaper. We used Fireclay Tile in the color Peabody. Antique Lighting – Lighting was a huge project for me this year. The home only came with a few chandeliers that were antiques from the early 1900s when it was built, but we added dozens more. I will be honest, it’s almost always more steps and sometimes antiques even need a full rewiring. To me, it is worth it and a major way we added charm back into the home. Kids Bedrooms – Our girls are old enough to choose their own bedroom themes now. Nova chose a space and science theme. Marigold chose a princess bedroom. This photo shows my favorite peek through of the house with a floor to ceiling kids library for our 8-year-old daughter. Kids Bathroom – This is a children’s bathroom. We are still in the process of decorating it. The wallpaper is Hygge & West Storyline in the color Delft Blue. The paint color is Farrow & Ball’s Breakfast Room Green. Moody Office – My office is the most moody space in our home and since it’s a very small room, the wallpaper and intense red paint color made a huge impact. I found this rolltop desk from Marketplace. The display of small gold frames is the first spot in our home where I decorated with family photos. I hope to add a few more moments like this. My snake is by Paige Dorsey Barnes. I commissioned her through Liz Lidgett gallery. Someone remarked that it looks like “Adam and Eve” theme, which was not what I was going for, but I love it. Guest Bedroom – We are moving up to the third floor now. This floor consists of two guest bedrooms (we have a lot of family and friends with young kids), a full bathroom, a lot of bookshelves and a bit of living space. The guest room has a lot of angles so I knew I wanted to use a busy wallpaper. I chose the London Rose Wallpaper which is an OG. The paint color is Foxy Brown by Benjamin Moore. We used this jute rug with flowers. My favorite wallpaper and color combination in the whole house! The kids guest room is set up, but not very decorated yet.

We chose Setting Plaster by Farrow & Ball, which is a soft beige pink. The twin beds look antique, but they are from Chris Loves Julia’s PB for kids line. Sources: Beds, Rug, Quilt, Chandelier. Saved the best for last. I am thrilled with how this sweet little nook turned out. It’s surrounded by our home library and the perfect little tea party spot. Butterfly Nook – We used the Hygge & West Butterflies wallpaper in the color parchment for this small nook. I am strongly on team when it doubt, wallpaper the ceiling too. I love the cozy, vintage feel it adds to this space. More Home Posts: Let me know if you have any questions or need any extra links in the comments! xx- Elsie

[bethestaryouareradio]

Nature's Yuletide Jewels

“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Everywhere we go, lights are twinkling, Christmas trees are glistening in windows and parks, and gigantic shiny balls are hanging on front yard trees.

Holiday cheer permeates the air as we hum carols and children pine for the jolly white- bearded man in the red suit to land his flying reindeer on their rooftop soon.

The most miraculous part of this festive season is how the landscape lights up with lots of colorful berries, bushes, and cones that we can use to decorate naturally. For the first time in years, my Christmas cactus is blooming in December! In the past, it bloomed at very odd times. The cascading stems and beautiful blooms create cheerful table displays. The vibrant tubular flowers arrive in shades of red, pink, and white. I’m thrilled that my pink Christmas cactus finally is on schedule.

Pine, fir, redwood, spruce, and other conifers retain their needles throughout winter. I use this time of year to do my pruning so that the cut boughs may be added to my mantels, counters, and front porch as wreaths and garlands. A big bonus is that these evergreens add that nostalgic Christmas aroma throughout the house

I also collect pinecones and magnolia cones to incorporate into my displays. The red seeds of the magnolia cones add a touch of elegance to holiday decorations. All the cones can be left natural for a rustic and sophisticated look, or they can be spray painted to match any style.

Holly is a classic Christmas plant renowned for its sharp, pointed, glossy green leaves and vibrant red berries. Adorn with shimmering lights and the yuletide symphony begins!

What about mistletoe, you ask? Doesn’t everyone want to kiss under the mistletoe? Mistletoe is a parasitic plant with green leaves and white berries that are poisonous to humans and some animals. Globally, there are 1300 species spread by the sticky seed from the berry either attaching to a bird or other mammal or consumed by them. The Anglo-Saxons witnessed that mistletoe grew where birds left their droppings. In Anglo-Saxon, “mistel” means “dung” and “tan” means “twig”, thus the name mistletoe means “dung-on-a-twig.” Not as romantic as most of us thought! For several years baskets of mistletoe flourished on my beautiful cottonwood tree until these “witches’ brooms” killed my host tree and it had to be removed. From that day forward I kissed the mistletoe goodbye!

Pomegranates and persimmons offer a departure from traditional holiday decorating, infusing a touch of nature beauty and symbolism into arrangements. The deep red color of pomegranates is associated with the merry spirit of Christmas. In many cultures, pomegranates symbolize prosperity, fertility, and abundance. The distinctive round shape and shiny crown resemble a fancy ornament, and their jewel-like seeds are delicious and nutritious as edible décor.

The warm orange tones of persimmons may seem more appropriate for Thanksgiving, yet the sweet, chewy texture of Hachiya varieties is the perfect ingredient in a Christmas pudding while the crunchy, apple-like quality of a Fuyu is fabulous in a festive salad. A bowl of persimmons is elegant as a table centerpiece with its symbolism of good luck and joy.

When it comes to Christmas cherished memories, live trees offer the biggest bang of tradition and aesthetics. While artificial trees are practical and cost-effective, the joyous experience of choosing a living tree creates a connection to nature and environmental sustainability. Purchasing a live tree supports agricultural endeavors as Christmas tree farms replant and replace trees that are harvested. These farms contribute to increased green space. Live trees are biodegradable and can be recycled into mulch and compost. Be on the lookout for the days that your tree can be placed curbside for recycling. With a live tree, there is the opportunity to select a tree that fits your preferences of type and fragrance including fir, spruce, pine, cedar, or cypress. You can also purchase a container conifer which can be moved to a patio or balcony after the holidays and redecorated the following year. If you have room in your yard, it can be planted and decorated annually in celebration of Christmas.

Walk around your landscape to discover the yuletide jewels in your garden. Nature always wears the colors of the season and the spirit.

Don’t forget that it is the season of giving so consider a donation to your favorite charity.

May Santa Claus fill your stockings with peace, health, and prosperity. Wishing you a magical Christmas.

Happy Gardening. Happy Growing.

Garden “To-do” advice before the end of December:

1. Fertilize trees, shrubs, ground cover plants.

2. Apply snail bait around plants susceptible to snail and slug damage.

3. Lower the soil pH for better color and overall appearance on acid-loving plants by applying soil sulfur.

4. Shut off irrigation systems.

5. Monitor watering needs during extended dry periods.

6. Start to rest and relax. Winter is sleepy time. Read The Lamorinda Weekly.

For more gardening advice for all seasons, check out Growing with the Goddess Gardenerat https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/books. Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia Brian is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3. Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com. Her newest children’s picture book, Family Forever, from the series, Stella Bella’s Barnyard Adventures is available now at https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. Hire Cynthia for writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. Cynthia@GoddessGardener.com  

Share StarStyle® Empowerment 

For photos vist: https://cynthiabrian.substack.com/p/botanical-brilliance?

[alice-angel12x]

☁Centaur!Shouto x reader

It was a bright hot summer day, not even a cloud in the sky. It would be a perfect day for a good centaur racing, I would say.

"And what a beautiful day here in our small town of Seris. The perfect weather for a good Race, right Aizawa?" Present Mic's voice boomed over the arena.

"Augh. I would be at home asleep right now," Mr.Aizawa complained.

"Anyway it's the last lap for the race and number 27 Endeavor with rider Hawks is still holding first place, with number 1 All Might with rider Night eye on their tail. Which is exciting cause both centaurs have won both Preakness Stakes, and Belmont Stakes. If either one wins they will be the next triple crown," mic explained.

He was right the race was heated. All Might started to catch up with endeavor, but Endeavor was still in the lead by a nose.

"We're not going to win this," Night eye sighed as he eyed up Hawks and his centaur.

"Don't give up nighteye, we can still win this. The hurdles are the last obstacle," All Might gasps as he continues to run full throttle.

Up ahead were a few rows of fences laid out 176 yards away from the finish line.

As the two centaurs leaped over the fecenes, Endeavor failed to time his leap and knocked over the fence. Causing him to trip and send his rider flying. All Might and Night eye made it past the fences and sped ahead to take the win. As endeavor watched on as he felt the glare of his owner in the stand.

Farther away was a small pen that held the little colts, that also watched the race.

"Man did you see that, All Might Won. Know he's the triple Crown," A young colt Izuku said in awe.

"Ha, when I become a strong stallion, I'll be the next triple crown," Katsuki said confidently.

Shouto a young colt was in awe of All night's strength and aura. He wanted to be strong like him.

___________

When Shoto and Endeavor returned home, their life changed drastically. Their owner Figs started to do the bare minimum to take care of them. It got so bad that endeavors mate Rei died of malnutrition. After that loss in the race, Fig took out his anger on the centaurs.

Endeavor wasn't any better. Every day he forced his colts and fillies to run and train. His oldest son died of exhaustion from Endeavor, and lack of nutrition from Fig.

The other two siblings were eventually sold to other owners. Leaving Shouto alone in that old barn. ____

"Faster Shouto, you never be a triple Crown with that speed," Endeavor said as he whipped Shouto.

Shouto kept running till he came to an abrupt stop, as he threw up near an old tree. Endeavor cracked his whip as a warning to Shoto.

Shouto gasped as he got back but and ran till dawn.

"Humph, you have lots of room for improvement. Get to your stall and rest. We're continuing this tomorrow," Endeavor said not even looking at Shouto.

Shouto said made his way to his stable as he waited in his stall. Eventually, Fig came and dropped two nearly rotten apples in his food pale. Shouto grimaced and Fig noticed. Which did not make him happy.

"What not good Enough for you. You little s***!" Fig shouted as he grabbed a hot kettle and threw a cup's worth of boiling water at his face.

Shouto screamed in pain as he clutched the left side of his face.

"NOW YOUR PLACE. I OWN YOU!" Fig yelled in anger as he stormed out of the barn.

Shoto looked over to his father's stall, which was across from him. Only to see that his father just stared at him with no emotion. He simply shook his head and turned away.

It felt like the who world shatters as he felt nothing anger towards his father, Fig, Everything. From that day he refused to train or cooperate. Which lead to Him being beaten, whipped, and starve.

"How long are you going to stay on your foolish strike? I won't benefit you in the long run," Endeavor said as he went to sleep.

But Shoto didn't reply as quickly dug up the spare key to his stall. Quietly he unlocked his stall, then the barn door. Once outside he locked the door and made a run for the forest.

The forest was dark and quiet. It felt like Shoto was walking for miles, but didn't feel safe to rest anywhere in the forest. As he continued onward, Shoto tried and fell down a steep hill and hurt his right front leg. He cried out in pain as the pain was almost bearable. He limps forward and Eventually gets out of the forest to see... A barn out in the distance.

At first, Shoto was confused, did he walk in one big circle. Sadly he was too tired and sore to keep walking. As he collapsed where he stood.

The sun peeked above the horizon as the rooster crowed into the morning sky. Sunlight poured into the barn where Shouto laid. His eyes slowly open as he pushed himself upright.

It took him a few seconds to realize he was in a barn. He quickly got to his feet only to feel a sharp pain him his front leg. Cried in pain as he bumped into the side of his stall. It caused A huge ruckus as the stall across from his stirred. He closed his eyes tight expecting his father to scold him, only to hear a different voice.

"Hey keep it down over there. So of use are still trying to sleep," a young voice called out.

Shouto looked over to see a young centaur colt. Around his age with odd purple hair and baggy eyes.

Suddenly another voice calls out.

"What's going on over there?" A female voice asked this time.

Another centaur filly, as his age was in the stall next to the purple guy. She had fair skin and jet black hair tied into a ponytail.

"W-were am I?" Shouto asked.

"You are in a barn on the Aizawa family's land," The girl explained. "I'm Momo by the way. And this guy is Shinsou," she introduced.

"Shoto," Shoto said simply.

Shouto quickly inspects himself and sees he is covered in bandages. His coat and hair were all muddy and messy.

Suddenly the barn door opened revealing a young girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes. She looked a year or two younger than Shouto.

She came into the barn and started to drop apples, carrots, and some oats into their food pale. Shouto backs up to the corner of the stall, suspicious of the new human. The girl eventually comes over to his stall with a smile as she places his breakfast in the food pile. Shouto glared at her the entire time. Though she didn't seem to be bothered by that, as she continued her chores.

"Momo, who is that?" Shouto asked.

"That is y/n, she is one of the caretakers here, she is also my partner in pageants," Momo said proudly.

"Bad experiences with humans, Shouto?" Shinsou asked.

"You could say that,'' Shouto said.

Eventually, y/n came back with some bandages and cleaning supplies, and entering Shouto's stall. He tensed up as he saw her approach him. She slowly got on her knees and got slightly closer to him.

"Hello, there I'm y/n. I just want to change your bandages," She said softly. "And what's your name?" She asked.

Shouto didn't say anything as he tried to back away from her even more. Y/n slowly started to get closer only for Shoto to snap at her. She remained calm as she held out her hand, as it started to glow a light blue.

Suddenly all of Shouto's fears and anger began to slip away. So did his energy as he slowly laid on his side. Then y/n got to work on his bandages. Once she was finished she started to stroke Shoto's hair. Shouto didn't mind this as he leaned into it.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it. Though you really need a bath,"  Y/n giggled slightly.

The bath was a whole new experience for Shoto. He could feel her massaging his muscles, and scrubbing deep into his dirty coat. He had never felt so relaxed in his life before. But after it, he never felt too fresh and clean before. As Y/n began to rub a dry towel on his head, and then down his body. Without even knowing he was slowly leaning onto y/n.

"Shouto... My name is Shouto," He finally answered.

"That's a lovely name," Y/n said as she continued to brush his hair and coat.

Y/n cleaned him up and left him to rest for the day. As Shouto laid down in pure bliss for the first time. He felt fresh and clean, with a full stomach for once.

"Maybe living with them a little longer wouldn't hurt," Shouto mumbled to himself.

------------------ x

Part.2 coming soon. I hope you liked it and have some requests for me. Soo sees you next time.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 1

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship

Length: 1.4k

Notes: Okay, here we go! Giving our babe Frankie an ending he deserves, with a few bumps along the way for fun. Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛

It was almost comical, you thought, at how different the realtor's listing was, compared to the real thing. You’d seen it enough times in bad Hallmark romances: city girl buys a property, property is falling apart, city girl miraculously has the funds to fix it up with the help of the perfect farmer neighbour.

This was reality though and you had already poured your life’s savings, which amounted to very little after all the surprise debts had been paid off, into this farmhouse. 

The "Quaint New England farmhouse, filled with the patina of a bygone era" was a wreck. Nothing to be done about it now, though. The crumbling two-story, just a few minutes drive from the small Vermont town, hadn’t been occupied in over a decade and was now in a total state of disrepair. 

Swallowing back your tears, feeling the burn behind your eyes and the hot swelling in your throat, you told yourself there wasn’t time for a breakdown. You first needed to take stock of the depth of damage, decide which rooms were habitable enough for the time being, clean, unpack, and prepare yourself for this new life.

The next few hours went by in an exhausting blur. By late evening, there was a larger-than-expected pile of rotten, broken, or otherwise unusable furniture in the driveway; your meager few belongings taking their place. On top of renovations and remodeling it appeared you would also be refurbishing. 

Sitting on the porch in the one spot where you felt confident the decking wouldn’t crumble beneath your weight, you looked over your list.

 3 cracked windows (can wait?)

 no running water in kitchen (ASAP FIX!)

 missing shingles (bad??)

 deck boards and upstairs bedroom floorboards rotten

 carpeted bathroom

 questionable smell coming from attic space 

peeling wallpaper/paint EVERYWHERE

Folding the list and slipping it into your back pocket, you made your way back inside to discover one last glaring issue, previously unnoticed until now. The electricity had been shut off.

Well, fuck me sideways...

Deciding it was too late and you were too tired to deal with anything else today, you settled for the flashlight on your cellphone for light. Eating the apple you had nicked from the motel lobby the night before, you laid back in your makeshift bed on the floor and gazed around your new home.

Your home.

The first thing you had ever owned on your own.

First, the corner of your mouth quirked up then you quickly allowed it to flourish into a grin. It may be a piece of shit, but then again, you were always attracted to broken things with the innate need to fix them. Maybe this time you’d actually succeed. With that sobering thought, you settled down into your sleeping bag and were quickly asleep.

Frankie couldn’t believe his eyes when he drove past the old McClure farm. Some fool had actually bought it! Chuckling to himself, he could already imagine the gossip that would spread through town tomorrow, everyone clambering to find out who had moved in.

He had moved out this way five years ago and was still considered the “new guy” in town. Hopefully, the new arrival would take that mantle and everyone could start using Frankie’s actual name. 

He’ll probably just be dubbed “newer guy”...

Breathing out a huff of a laugh at the thought, Frankie began to turn down his driveway. The long, meandering drive leads to a barn surrounded by rows and rows of apple trees.

Two weeks after having moved in, you’re certain you’ve met, or at least seen, everyone from the town. Muffins, pie, casseroles, and even a case of cider had been brought over by a few of the braver townsfolk who drove out to say hello. While they may have been thinly veiled excuses to come snoop, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. The food was delicious, and best of all, it was free.

She had stayed for most of the afternoon, helping you clean and setting her kids about to do menial chores. The eldest, Cole, was sent scurrying up the road to tell his dad to bring Gerta. ... You dared not ask.

The very first visitor was a neighbour from just down the road. “Jacquie,” she had informed you over the noise of her four kids running around the yard, “How do you do?”

She said it with the barest hint of a southern drawl and you instantly fell in love with the soft cadence of her voice. With a beaming smile and a surreptitious wipe of your dusty hand on your pant leg, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. 

A short time later, the most devastatingly handsome, all-American-looking man you had ever seen climbed out of a tractor and started carrying a large object towards the house, Cole at his heels. 

“Jac, babe, where d’you want her?” He called, voice straining a bit due to the weight in his arms. Smiling at you, he nodded his head in greeting, "Hiya, neighbour! The name’s Mark"

“Oh, I don’t need it,” Jacquie replied airily “I just wanted an excuse to watch your muscles at work.”

With a roll of his eyes, that did nothing to hide the adoring sparkle in them, her husband carried his load to the side of the house and with a thump, set it down.

Turns out that Jacquie had a fondness for naming EVERYTHING and Gerta was their gas-powered generator. Claiming they had no use for it, Gerta was yours to keep for as long as you needed her. Which, you had to be honest, was looking like a good long while. Willing away the tears, not for the last time you were sure, brought on by her kindness, you settled for giving her a bear hug. It wasn’t until you heard a little voice calling “Mama?” that you realized you had been clinging to Jacquie for longer than could ever be considered acceptable.

Pulling away gingerly, you started to apologize, quickly stopped by her hand coming up in front of your face, making you involuntarily flinch. 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry!” She started to exclaim before taking a deeper look at you. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head to the side and hollered at Mark to gather the kids and head home.

“I’ll be back past bedtime, so come give me y’all kisses now!” She lovingly bossed her brood.

Once they had cleared out, she turned to you, gently taking your hands in hers, and said, “Now, where do you want to start?”

“What kind of voodoo, witch doctor, hippy-dippy magic do you possess?!” you asked with a laugh while sniffing back the lingering tears. 

You had just laid out your entire life to a complete stranger. She had sat there, the whole time, holding your hands and your gaze while you had talked. Everything, you had told her absolutely everything. From the California upbringing in an affluential family to marrying your Highschool Sweetheart days after graduation. The sudden move, his surprise enlistment, his changing demeanor, the beginnings of abuse, all ending with his death while stationed overseas.

The pathetic Death Gratuity from the military barely covered the truck. You’d had to sell everything in order to settle all remaining debts. Your parents had offered to move you back home but the thought just made you ashamed. Moving back home? Being seen as a victim, being pitied by those who had seen your potential wasted? No way.

“Nothin’ supernatural, Darlin,” she assured you, after taking a deep breath to steady herself. It appeared that your emotions had started to affect her as well, you noticed with chagrin. “just the power of a good friend and a strong cider.”

Then came the aftermath. The debt collectors, the funeral without a body, his family claiming anything of value and you meekly allowing it, unaccustomed by that point to standing up for yourself. His grooming of you had started so early, and so slightly, that no one had seen it happen. He had controlled every aspect of your lives; it had made you feel like a fool during that first month as a widow. How could you not know about the multiple maxed-out credit cards? The ignored truck payments? The bank loans?! 

That comment made you look around and laugh, breaking the morose atmosphere in a flash. Scattered around the two of you were at least a half dozen bottles of the alcoholic beverage, which you had both sipped on during your sad monologue.

“Ahh, so it’s the maker of the drink I’ll have to kiss,” you proclaimed with a laugh. “I just saved a fortune in therapy bills!”

With a sly smile, Jacquie nodded, “That you will, send him my best when you do.”

Part Two

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

The Day The Music Died

Summary:

“This’ll be the day that I die,” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told.

Natasha never wanted to hear that song again.

Word Count: 3437

Also on Ao3 here

~~~

Natasha stares at the bandages wrapped tightly around Clint’s left wrist, eyes locked in on the red spots where extra blood had been soaked up by the gauze. Clint’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, softly drumming along to the song playing from the radio as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the old back road.

“I can feel you staring.” He says, snapping Natasha out of her trance. Clint takes his eyes off the road for a second to catch her gaze. “Nat, I’m fine. I promise.” It’s not going to change what happened, but he still tries. These types of missions were always hard on Natasha, and it’d only been made that much worse when one of the target’s bodyguards had managed to catch Clint’s forearm with a knife, dangerously close to critical veins. There had been a lot of blood and although Nat was easily able to stitch his skin back together, the close call had scared her - even if she refused to admit it out loud.

“I know you’re fine, idiot. It’s impossible to get rid of you.” She snorts and sends him a small smile. The radio cuts into a commercial, advertising their station and morning talk show before launching into another song.

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

Natasha frowns at the song as an alarm bell begins to blare in the back of her head at the notes that drift out of the speakers. She furrows her eyebrows at it, a sinking feeling coming over her. Images from another time threaten to overtake her, and she’s too weak to stop them.

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

A blonde little girl, only five years old, prances around the front yard. She’s barefoot and wearing her pink sparkly sundress, hair pulled up into pigtails as she tries to catch a ladybug. Natasha watches from her perch among the tree branches. Mom Melina is kneeled on the ground as she works on the garden in front of the house, planting new flowers to replace the dead ones. She’s brought her portable stereo out, sitting it on the porch and playing at full volume. Natasha isn’t even aware of what song is playing until Yelena is running up to the porch, begging her to play it again. Mom Melina does. And then plays it again with an amused smile and quirked eyebrow when Yelena asks for a third time. Yelena cheers with joy as it starts again and rises to her tip toes as she begins to twirl and dance to the music.

Nobody knows what it is about the song that Yelena likes so much, but she loves it. She constantly asks for it, so much so that Melina loads it onto a cassette tape and keeps it in the car just for her. Natasha doesn’t quite understand what most of the lyrics are talking about, but she decides she doesn’t mind the song for Yelena. In a way, it fits- Yelena is the picture perfect little all american girl, apple pie personified.

Natasha’s frozen in her seat. She pleads with herself to move, to turn off the radio. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows what verses are coming next, and her breathing catches in her throat as they start. These words hold no comfort for her anymore.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Her sister’s high-pitched voice singing the words, a beat behind as she moves her hands cheerfully, lost in the rhythm of the song. She’s buzzing with excitement- ready for her promised big adventure, too young and oblivious to notice their parent’s anxiety or her sister’s internal crisis happening in the seat next to her. Natasha can’t look at her sister, she doesn’t want her to see the panic she knows is written over her face. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked out the window, trying desperately to commit everything to memory. The red, white, and blue lights that light up the night, the football game where a band plays and people cheer, the abundance of restaurants where families are sat enjoying dinner. The normalness of it all makes her angry - how can all these people be so casual when her world is falling apart at the seams? Yelena begins to sing the verse about dying, and it takes everything within Natasha to not snap at her. She can’t bear to listen to her little sister singing about dying, so blissfully unaware of the possibility of the verse becoming true at any moment now. Natasha should say something to her, tell her to stop, tell her what was happening. But the lure of pretending one last time is too great for her to give away. She doesn’t say anything.

Did you write the book of love

A photo album, thick with pictures of them all sit on the shelf. It’s Natasha’s favorite thing in the house, and she often sneaks out of bed to stare at the photos. Realistically, she knows they’re all fake. But if she tries hard enough, thinks long enough, she swears she can recall the events. Thanksgiving had been fun; the food had been the best she’d ever tasted. Their summer vacation had been at the beach, and she swears she can feel the sun warming her face and the sand between her toes.

And do you have faith in God above

If the bible tells you so?

She and Clint had gone to a church once, as part of an undercover mission. She’d ended up having to walk out in the middle of the service. It had been too much. She could never believe in it, even if she wanted to. No loving God would ever create the horrors she had seen before her 13th birthday or give her a family purely to steal it all away so violently.

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Natasha’s feet hit the ground, still en pointe, as she lands the perfect Grand Jete. She tosses her arms out in the landing pose and holds it for a second before excited clapping breaks her concentration. Yelena sits there, smiling wide as possible, clad in her own black leotard and pink tights. She’s in the younger classes, not as advanced as Natasha yet, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Yelena scrambles to her feet, crossing the floor to stand next to her sister.

“Teach me, teach me!”

It’s a complicated step, and Natasha knows she’s not ready for it just yet. She doesn’t want her to get hurt.

“I’ll teach you when you’re older, okay?” Yelena nods, and turns to the mirror, copying Natasha’s arm positions.

Natasha tries to force another breath into her lungs, but it’s harder now, her throat and chest constricted. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to block out the flashbacks that continue to assault her.

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rolling stone

But that’s not how it used to be.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen goddamn years since Natasha had seen her sister for the last time. She refuses to let herself think of what might have happened to her. It pains her to think of her baby sister, who had once been so full of life, in such a horrid place.

Natasha wraps her arms around herself, arms holding each other tightly. She digs her fingernails into her skin, attempting to give herself something else to focus on and ground her. It doesn’t work.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the Levee was dry

Them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And signing this will be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Natasha doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuffed into this shipping container, crowded against a hundred other little girls. They’re all dirty, all starving, all terrified. The scent of sweat and urine threatens to suffocate them, the air hot and heavy.

She has tugged Yelena into her lap, arms protectively crossed over her torso to hold her close- hasn’t let go of her since the second they were put into here for fear of losing her amongst the other girls. She’s so tiny, and Natasha doesn’t trust any of the others.

Yelena stirs, a small whimper falling from her lips. Natasha tries to shush her gently, but it doesn’t work, and her sister keeps squirming. Her cries are starting to grow in volume, and one of the girls next to them sends them a dirty look.

“Yelena, Yelena. I’m here. You’re with me.” It’s the only words of comfort Natasha can offer her. She wishes she could tell her they were okay, that she was safe, that they were going to be fine. Instead, all she can do is assure her that her older sister had her. Yelena had stopped calling out for her mom a while ago, after her calls went unanswered and she finally realized no one was coming to rescue them. Natasha shifts them around, turning her back towards the others and away from prying eyes. Natasha turns Yelena on her lap, so that Yelena is facing her. “Yelena, look at me.”

Yelena shakes her head, so Natasha gently cups both sides of her face, titling her face up so that she has no choice. Yelena doesn’t resist, just locks her tear-filled eyes onto Natasha.

“I’m scared,” Yelena sobs through hitching breaths as her body trembles.

Natasha clutches her tighter and brings her closer, so close their noses are almost touching. “Don’t cry, Lena. Just sing with me.” Yelena frowns at her in confusion, and Natasha starts to sing under her breath, quietly, so that Yelena is forced to quite herself down and focus to hear the words.

She starts with the chorus, the part that Yelena knows and likes the best. “Bye, Bye, Miss American pie,” Natasha sings. The corner of Yelena’s lips quirks up in recognition. Nat pauses, prompting Yelena to sing the next line herself.

Her voice quivers, but she sings it anyways. “Drove my chevy to the levee…” Natasha nods in encouragement and joins her for the next verse. “But the levee was dry.” They sing the next few lines together. They near the last two lines of the chorus though, and this time, Natasha can’t allow her to sister to sing the last line. They hurt too much, they’re too real.

So she interrupts Yelena, skipping forward past the “Day that I die” line and jumping right into the next verse. Yelena doesn’t even question it, just follows her sister’s lead and allows herself to be completely absorbed in the whispered song.

Natasha sings almost the entire song to her sister, doing her best to remember as many lyrics as she could, and then starts over. She keeps singing, over and over again, until her voice starts to crack, and Yelena’s eyes are slipping closed in exhaustion.

“Tasha?” Clint calls, picking up the tension in his partner. She doesn’t respond, just stays frozen in her seat, locked in her own little world. “Hey,” He calls, a bit louder this time. He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on her shoulder gently. “Nat. What’s going on?” She’s shaking.

Instead of answering, Natasha claps her hands over her ears and leans forward, bending at the waist so she can rest her head atop her knees. She’s shaking her head, muttering something under her breath.

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

“Teach me, teach me!”

“…When you’re older.”

Natasha never got the chance to teach Yelena that ballet move. She wonders just how many other promises to her baby sister she’s broken.

“I’m going to pull over, Nat, okay?” A male’s voice comes from somewhere close by. His hand moves from her shoulder onto her back, to rub small circles on it.

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

She had never felt so stupid. Standing on that airway strip, holding a gun out in front of her, blocking Yelena. She had let her fall into the lie, childishly believe that maybe, just maybe Dad Alexei loved them like he said he did. As Alexei kneels before them, showing no sympathy to his daughters tears, she realizes that had never been the case.

The chorus starts again, and she feels bile rise in her stomach. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” Natasha remembers how she had stolen that gun from a solider, shoved her sister behind her and threatened to kill numerous grown men for touching her. How desperately she had clung to Yelena when they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been ready to give up her sister, not ready to say goodbye to the American dream lie they had built side by side. “Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the levee was dry” The memory of Yelena’s face during those few days had haunted Natasha’s dreams for years. It had frightened her- even more so than the men with oversized guns. She had never seen her sister, who laughed at everything and loved the world with everything in her, look so despondent. She had tried telling her jokes to pry some kind of smile out of her. It didn't work. “This’ll be the day that I die” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told. That day, when dad Alexei handed them back to Russians soldiers, they had both died. Died only to be remade and ruthlessly forged into something new, nothing more than weapons of mass destruction and trained killers.

There’s cussing to her left that pulls her back halfway to the present. She’s in a car, and she’s covered in vomit that runs down her front and onto her chest and lap. Clint has a hand on her, and he’s telling her just a second, Nat.

“Clint?” She asks, still slightly confused. She can still feel the weight of a smaller body on top of her, feel the soft blonde curls against her chin.

“I’m here, Tasha. Hold on.”

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time to start again

Countless little girls standing in a straight line, blank expressions, awaiting their next commands. They’re all mirrors of each other, no identity left for any of them to cling onto. Natasha scans over each girl, searching for the blonde waves she knows so well. She can’t find her.

The song drags on as Clint navigates the car off the road, coming to stop. He jumps out and jogs around, flinging Natasha's door open. She doesn’t move, so he reaches in and unbuckles her before slipping his hands into her armpits and pulling her out of the car. She tumbles to the ground, falling onto her knees.

And as I watched him on the stage

My hands clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

Natasha catches Dreykov’s eyes on them, and she tightens her hold on Yelena’s hand. Her sister makes a small noise - she’s going to have bruises with how tight Nat is holding her- but doesn’t pull her hand away. Natasha curls her free hand into a tight fist, ready to swing if need be.

Dreykov says something to the men with guns next to him and points a finger at them. The soldiers start moving forward, and Natasha backtracks, tries to back up but Yelena stumbles at the sudden change in direction.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Natasha screams her sister's name, gripping onto her as tightly as she can. Soldiers have hands on them both, ripping them away from each other. Dreykov is standing several feet away, a tiny smile on his face. Yelena is shrieking, hands desperately trying to keep her grasp on Natasha with all the strength in her six-year-old frame.

They lose their grip on each other and are dragged apart. Yelena’s voice dies out as they carry away the only thing Natasha had left.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie -

“Turn it off!” Natasha pleads, before promptly vomiting even more onto the ground. Clint’s hands support her head, keeping her from falling. “Off, please. I can’t. Turn it--” Clint’s hands leave her for a second as he scrambles over her, reaching through the open passenger door and slamming the power button on the radio.

Natasha lets out a breath, thankful for the silence. With the song no longer playing, her head is beginning to clear, the painful images retreating somewhere she could lock them away again.

“All done?” Clint asks her. She spits out one last string of bile and nods her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Clint helps her sit up and lean against his leg. He doesn’t rush her, just allows her to sit and try to regain control of her breathing as he combs his fingers through her hair.

When Natasha can finally think again, she frowns at herself in disgust. “Sorry,” She apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her. Clint reaches over and opens the backdoor, grabbing his go bag and digging around until his fingers find one of his clean T-shirts. He yanks it out, closes the door. “Can I help you change, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He’s honestly not even sure if she could change herself right now, with how much she was still shaking, but he gives her the choice anyways. She shrugs her shoulders, her way of accepting help without actually having to accept. “Okay, arms up.” Natasha raises her arms, and Clint carefully tugs her shift off her by the collar, making sure the filthy outside never touched any of her skin. He crumples up the shirt into a ball and tucks it in a bag. He bunches up his shirt at the neck hole and slides it over her head before gently guiding her arms through. It takes a lot for his partner to get to this state, and his concern grows with every passing second that goes by and Natasha is still out of it. He fixes the shirt over her torso, making sure she’s completely covered and then sinks down to the ground, leaning his back against the wheel of the car. There’s a soft breeze in the air, the slight chill nipping at their skin a welcome distraction. “C’mere,” he says, and guides Natasha into his side. She tenses for a moment, but then lets her head drop onto his shoulder, allowing Clint to take her weight. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeats, and this time Clint doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s not apologizing to him, but someone not in their presence. He doesn’t push it. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, on her own time. He has guesses though. Clint had an older brother, and he knows what a protective but burnt-out older sibling looks like. He’s seen the way her eyes linger on certain little girls in public before snapping back, caught the way she had once brushed her fingers over a fabric doll with pink hair on a store shelf, heard the way she is able to understand children’s speech without any effort. She’s never mentioned a younger sibling before, but sometimes in her sleep, she mumbles a girl’s name, her hands clenched in fists as if trying to hold on to her.

He presses a kiss to her temple, a silent promise. He won’t push her- He doesn’t need to know exactly what happened. He knows how to support her and how to take care of her when she needs it and for now, that’s enough.

Years later, Natasha will press her forehead to an adult Yelena’s, both panting from the fight, Yelena upside down and laying in the wreckage of the red room. Dreykov is finally dead, by Yelena’s hand. Yelena cracks a joke, and Natasha smiles. They’ll never again be those little girls they once were, but they’ve finally found each other.

[sw124]

BonelyHearts Reader Insert

{Female!ReaderXSkeleton household}

Camping! Pt.1

It was nippy outside, no question there. But you couldn’t beat the sheer beauty of it all. The field was vast and filled with rolling hills turning the loveliest shades of tan from the upcoming winter season. There was not a tree for miles around. You stretched your arms back, breathing in that beautiful air, it was so crisp it would put an apple’s skin to shame. You let out a long breath, watching it curl into its own cloud before quickly dissipating.

“So pretty here...” you whispered to yourself.

“Human! Have you found a spot yet?!”

You turn to see your gaggle of skeleton friends all unloading things from the van, you smile and wave to Papyrus.

“One sec ok I think I found a great spot for us all!”

Happily you half-jogged down the little hill you were standing on and scoped out a nice spot, it was flat and void of twigs and leaves. You stamped the ground to be sure there weren’t any spots waterlogged from rain, but no the ground was perfectly dry and level.

Back up the hill you run and call out. “Guys over here, I found the perfect spot!”

Back down you raced and skipped around the spot, the first skeleton over the hill was Blue with the picnic table; a perfect sign that this spot is claimed by someone. Blue hands you the table and you set it up, he runs back over the hill. The next skeleton to come over the hill is Papyrus with some of the chairs, all neatly marked with everyone’s name on the back of each unique chair, including yours.

You take them and set them up in a line; to both keep them out of the way and to let everyone choose where they’d like to sit when things get ready. Boss and Ash were the next couple of skeletons over the hill bringing the tents. Poplar was close behind carrying some bags, Nox and Rus were the next two over the threshold carrying two large boxes.

You rushed back up the hill to the van and met up with Red and Sans who were digging stuff out of the van. You came up and collected what they just took out and went back to the spot, you set the things down and went back for more. Stretch passed you carrying some of the sleeping bags. You couldn’t help but imagine everyone plus yourself as a bunch of worker ants. You were the one to get the last of the things, the box labeled ‘plates, utensils and cleanup’.

You just reached over the crest of the hill, you watched as Boss and Papyrus began laying out the tarps for some of the tents while Nox and Blue set up the canopy tent, Stretch and Rus were getting the sleeping bags sorted out. Of course Sans was already napping in his chair, you walked over to Ash, Poplar and Red who were getting the portable fire pit ready. You set the things down and grabbed a bucket nearby, you turned to the skeletons.

“I’m gonna go get some water and firewood!”

“Wait human!” You paused as Papyrus walked up to you...Sans neatly tucked under one arm. “Take Sans with you, he needs to do something productive instead of lazing about!”

Sans gave you shrug after Papyrus sat him down, you smile and take his hand.

“Its not that far, lets go lazy bones.” You just had to giggle seeing the blush form on his face.

You and Sans didn’t have far to walk, the communal area was at least just a yard away. You paid for fire wood, making sure to have extra just in case also filling the bucket up with water. You told Sans to teleport the wood back to the campsite you’d be fine walking back with the bucket.

“Actually, I got a better idea.” Taking your hand and in a blink of an eye, the both of you were back at the campsite, firewood and water in hand.

“Ah you’re back! That was quick!” Papyrus took the bucket from you as Sans sat the fire wood down by Red.

“The hell- I don’t know how to start a damn fire, why you putting it by me?” Red growled.

“Well someone’s gotta know, other wise we’re gonna be ‘burned out’ by the end of this.” Sans chuckled, a echo of groans is heard.

You took the initiative, while Sans and Red went back and forth you began setting things up for the fire. Ash and Poplar watched, you balled up some dry-dead grass and layered some small twigs on it. Taking out a lighter you packed you lite the grass, after you got the smaller fire going you started layering on the wood. In a matter of a few minutes you had a nice fire all set.

“Fires ready.” You said, you felt a little proud seeing everyone’s expressions.

“Anything else that needs to be done?” You asked, surveying the layout.

“If you could set up the cooking station under the canopy that would be nice.” Said Poplar, Ash helping him stand up.

Nodding you went to the canopy and start unpacking, you unpacked the snacks first but kept the perishables like the fish inside the cooler along with the vegetables. You took out a large pot, pasta, ramen and other things and set them on a separate fold-out table; preparations for tonight’s dinner. You had just set out the last of the snacks when you heard Nox curse, you look to see him knelt down by a peg and holding his hand.

“Nox, you ok?” You walk over.

“I’m fine, I just caught the side of my hand with the hammer.”

You were quick to take his hand and inspect it, a habit of yours whenever someone had gotten an injury no matter how minor it was. Nox grumbles but doesn’t take his hand away, you gently rub his hand between yours to sooth the wound before standing back up. Giving him a sweet smile, was it your imagination or was he blushing.

“I’m setting up some snacks for when you boys are done, drinks too; I’ll let you know when there done.” You left before he could give you a reply, you had a task to complete.

You arranged the small snack bags into two groups, one side was for the shorter skeletons the other for the taller skeletons. Of course it had everyone’s name written on the baggies but this just made it simpler. Next were the drinks, coco and coffee. You took great pains to make sure the coffee was just right too, you brought a special hand grinder for the coffee beans.

The coco you decided was going to be just as special, you were going to make it just like how your parents did back when you were really small. As you were finishing everything up, something caught your attention. You turned and saw at least a few yards away a giant RV party bus pull in, it was blaring popular club music, you could feel the ground vibrating from it. You wrinkled your nose a little, the smug oozing off the thing was almost too much. You tried to tell yourself it might just be a family and their kids put the music on loud as a joke.....you were dead wrong. The people that stepped out were four young men. You wrinkled your nose again, everyone else around the campground were either elderly/young couples or families. Not these wannabe campers...

You turned back to your task, just ignore them and things would be fine. You took the pot of hot coco and poured them into some mugs, next was the coffee and whatever the boys put in their coffee. You basically memorized everything these boys put in their drinks. You had just finished pouring the last cup when you heard Papyrus’s triumphant laugh. You turn to find a rather impressive sight, three tents but they were all connected with small extension tunnels, length maybe a single meter?

“Whoa...” you whispered.

You had two large tents sandwiching a slightly smaller one in the middle, you walked over and marveled at them. Papyrus walked over, his hand proudly placed on his hips and chest puffed high.

“Yes a magnificent sight indeed human! A friend of ours lent this to us, the tent on the left over here is where I, Boss, Poplar, Rus and Stretch will sleep. Our brothers will be in the tent on the far right and you will have the center tent!”

You blinked, the center tent was yours? You unzipped the front and looked inside, for goodness sake the center tent could fit five fully grown adults it was so huge! It had pockets to fit your phone too, you looked to and saw two opening ‘doorways’? Tentways? Whatever it was called you looked inside and goodness both sides were massive, but then again it probably was for the best since they were fitting five tall skeletons...and five short ones. Thankfully you found you could zip up both sides for privacy.

“What do you think human?” Asked Papyrus.

“Really amazing!” You couldn’t lie, this was impressive.

“Nyeheheh! Thank you human!”

“Well I’m glad your done cause I’ve just finish setting up the kitchen and have some hot drinks and snacks ready.”

You turned to get the drinks as Papyrus called everyone together, the skeletons all propped their chairs around the fire as you passed out their snacks, coco and coffee. You made yourself a cup of warm butterfly pea tea and sat down in your own chair. Rus softly blew across the top of his coco to cool it down before taking a sip of it, you smiled seeing his eyes light up.

“W-Wow...did you buy a new coco brand?” Rus looked at you, stars dancing in his eyes.

“No, I just made coco the way my parents did. No instant coco or coffee for this camping trip!” You giggle.

Ash smiled wildly as he tasted his coco along with his brother, Nox was inspecting his coffee, inhaling its steam to be sure you did a proper job in preparing his drink. You slyly rolled your eyes but didn’t hold it against him, good coffee is hard to come by or make right. Stretch though was not as picky and spoke up.

“Heeeeey this is pretty good, you sure you didn’t use the instant stuff?”

You knew he was poking fun at you but shook your head, you turned back to Nox, you caught a glimpse of his eyes going wide before returning to normal...followed by a fox like grin.

“Well my dear you certainly have been paying attention to my lessons on coffee haven’t you?” He purred.

“Yes, even I must admit you do have a way with making a good cup of coffee.” Replied Boss sipping his own cup.

Blue, much like Rus had stars dancing in his eyes, if the coffee was a little more cooler he might have chugged his entire mug down in a single go but it was still nice and hot so he had no choice but to sip. Red seemed to be restraining himself from downing his own cup as well. Papyrus and Sans were the last to speak up.

“Wowie human this is truly amazing!”

“Yeah, what did you buy?” Asked Sans, looking into his cup.

You smiled. “If you really want to know, I used milk, butter, sugar and coco powder all mixed together in a small cooking pot. My parents would make that kind of coco all the time in winter when I was really little, when I heard we were going camping I thought I’d share it with you guys.”

“Thats really nice...” said Ash, you smile at him...you were making a lot of skeletons blush today.

Papyrus spoke up next.

“So human, what shall we do now that we’re set up?”

[To be continued..]

[A fanfic reader insert for the fan-game @bonelyheartsclub I hope you enjoy and I will be planning more in the future with gender neutral or male centered readers, I hope you enjoy. Also I kinda guessed on what drinks the boys would like so don’t rag on me about getting drink choices mixed up ok? I’ll make corrections when I learn more about the boys]

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Lust

Summary: When August finds himself in a little town in the UK after his last meeting with Hunt he needed to lay low. And what better way to lay low than “dating” the town’s most favorite preschool teacher. Though with time he grew bored. That was until her Daughter visited them for her summer break....

Pairing: August Walker x Katherine Fraser, August Walker x Adelaide Fraser

Wordcount: 4.5k

Warnings: Step Father/ Step Daughter, Age Gap, Dom vibes, smut (Oral; male and female receiving; unprotected sex), Masturbation, Voyeurism, choking, infidelity

A/N: This has been on my mind for a while. A new take on every porn ever lol Please read the warnings. No one in this story is actually related to each other. It’s just my brain running on overdrive 

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

“John? John, are you awake? I have to go…” Katherine didn’t want to wake him, but she knew how much he hated it when he woke up and there was no one around. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as his brows furrowed, before his blue eyes snapped open.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“It’s just after 5. I’ll be back late today.”

“Okay.” He yawned.

“My daughter will be coming from university today for her break. I told her that you would be here.”

She saw John nod while turning towards her, the bed sheet slipping just enough to make her consider calling in sick. He smirked at her, fully knowing where her mind just went.

“I’ll be here waiting. Got some work to do anyways.”

“Her name is…”

“Adelaide and she’s a little shy but you told her about me, yes. I know. Now go before I rip that dress off.” He growled seeing her grin, before she leaned down and kissed him goodbye.

It had never been August's plan to go to the UK after this… unfortunate event with Hunt. Thank fuck he got out of there before the helicopter went down. Everything was ruined. Everyone he had played for years knew who he really was. So he had to lay low. He saw that the CIA pronounced him as dead. They really should know better by now….

Meeting Katherine in a bar and her falling head over heels for him, well John, seemed to be just what he needed. Nobody would suspect the helpful new boyfriend of the town's most loveable preschool teacher to be one of the most wanted men in the world.

And he got some pussy out of it, so it really could be worse. But August was bored. Sure he now had another name and was slowly building himself a new identity to pursue his plan. But he missed the thrill. The adrenaline when he was about to pull a trigger.

Groaning he pushed himself out of bed, walking towards the shower. Maybe Adelaide would bring some kind of excitement into his currently boring life. He never had been a Step Dad before...

“Oh my god. Thank you so so much.” Adelaide ended the call.

“You got it?” Brandon asked her. She smiled as she looked at him and couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him.

“That was Mr. Grant. I got the job. I’m gonna be working for the MI6 after my graduation.”

“Fuck… That’s hot. My girlfriend is gonna be a secret Agent.” He grinned.

“That means I get to learn more ways to kick your ass.” She smirked.

“I’d like to see you try.” Brad challenged her. “We’re here. And you are sure it’s okay if I stay until the weekend?”

“I asked my mom. She’s okay with it. Her boyfriend should be home….” Adelaide said, turning her head. Her childhood home was still the only place she really felt like home in. There still was the apple tree in the front yard she had planted with her father when she was little. At least that’s what her mom told her. He had passed away when she was only five years old, and the memories seemed to face the hold she got.

“That’ her boyfriend?” Brad asked and she looked around finding a man doing push ups on the grass. He looked tall, his gray muscle shirt drenched with sweat and clinging to his back. She couldn’t see his face only the dark curly hair, clinging to his skin.

“Wow…” She gasped, letting her gaze wander over the body of the man who now knelt on the grass, giving her a perfect view of his perfect ass. He turned around and she was met with the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“I think you’re drooling, Addy.” Brad teased making her shake her head, coming out of her trance. Was it hot in here?

“Fuck you.” She hissed. “Sure when?” He asked, making her shake her head and chuckle.

August grinned to himself as he saw the girl sitting in the car. Of course he had noticed her starring. She looked just like her mother, but younger. He felt his cock twitch only thinking about how perfect and soft her tits…

“You must be John.” His train of thoughts was interrupted as Adelaide walked over to him. He rubbed the non existent dirt from his pants before he got up.

“And you must be Adelaide. Your mother has told me so much about you.” August smiled. “Sorry. I thought you’d be here later. I was planning to take a shower and not be sweaty when I meet you.” He lied.

“Oh… Oh that’s okay. And please call me Addy.” She looked up at him.

“Do you need help getting your stuff in?” He asked.

“Oh no. Brad is gonna help. Brad?” She turned around and August allowed his eyes to wander down her body just a bit before she turned around.

A boy not older than 22, laid his arms around Adelaide’s shoulders introducing himself as Brad. Her boyfriend. For some reason August felt a rage deep inside of him as he watched him touch Adelaide. Like he owned her.

“Well… I’m gonna take a shower. You staying for lunch, Brad?” August asked.

“Actually I’m staying till monday. Her mom told us it was okay…”

“Oh. Sure. Well… I’m gonna grab something to cook for lunch after I shower, and let you two settle in.” August smiled before he turned and walked inside.

To the outside August looked like the perfect suburban boyfriend. Getting groceries and making lunch for his girlfriend's daughter and boyfriend. But August was everything but that.

The unmistakable sounds of quiet moaning reached his ears and he felt himself getting hard again. It’s not like he hadn’t touched himself in the shower thinking of just how tight Adelaide’s pussy would feel around his cock.

Quietly he walked closer to her room. The moaning got a little louder, the closer he got and he rubbed his hand over his already hard cock. They hadn’t even been home for two hours and they were already fucking. Oh to be young again... He knew she had just turned 21. He would run a full background check after lunch.

He stopped at the door feeling his pants getting uncomfortable tight as Brad moaned loudly, obviously close to finish.

“Cum with me.” August heard him whisper and Adeleaide moaned. Faster than August anticipated Brad groaned and finished and Adelaide whimpered like the worst porn actress he had ever heard.

August waited a moment then the shower at the ensuite could be heard. He was about to turn around when he heard a quiet moan again. He decided that it was now or never as he slowly turned the door knob and opened the door. Of course Adelaide startled as she saw the door opening. About to cover herself up, she saw John standing in the door, his arms crossed, his eyebrow raised. She was just about to say something when he nodded his head once towards the bathroom and then put his index finger in front of his mouth, to tell her to be quiet. Confused, she looked at him letting her eyes wander, seeing the prominent outline of his cock through his pants. She swallowed. He nodded once at her as if to challenge her and against all odds, fully knowing that this was her mothers boyfriend who was standing fully clothed in front of her, she let her legs drop open and started to touch herself.

It took all his willpower for August to not fuck her into the mattress and just stand there, watching her fingerfuck herself. The sounds she was making drove him insane. The shower went off, just when she orgasmed. Seeing her look at him, her eyes full of lust he winked once at her before he closed the door quietly. Grinning he went to the bedroom. He had to take care of his boner. And… he had to make a plan. A plan on how to fuck his girlfriends daughter without losing his girlfriend.

“John….” Katherine moaned loudly. August had her on all fours in front of her as he pumped into her. He had her hair wrapped around his hand riding her like the whore she was.

“Yes… Scream my name….” He groaned, slapping her ass again. She whimpered as her body began to shake her orgasm taking her by surprise. This was the first time since Adelaide got here that they had the house to themselves, as she dropped her boyfriend off at his house and August didn’t even wait for her to be out of the driveway as he had pressed her against the wall and his cock buried deep inside of her cunt.

“Cum inside me….” She moaned.

“Fuck…” He growled, thrusting hard as he came pumping his cum inside of her. She collapsed down into the mattress and sighed.

“That was… insane. I love it.” She turned around to lay on her back. August looked at her, smirking, before he slapped her thigh.

“Gotta use the time I can make you scream for me.” He got off the bed.

Downstairs Adelaide was sitting at the kitchen island, her panties uncomfortably damp. It was wrong. The man was her mothers boyfriend. Some would say her Step Dad. But there was something about him that seemed to consume her whole mind. She couldn’t look him in the eye ever since their first… encounter. And the worst part was that she caught herself thinking about him. Yesterday she even imagined that it John who was fucking her instead of Brad. She ignored the way he looked at her, when her mom wasn’t looking. Letting her head drop to the cold marble she groaned. She had to get out of here.

“Oh you’re back already?” She heard his voice behind her. She breathed in deep before she turned around. “Yeah just got back… Fuck….” She said with big eyes as John walked over to the fridge completely naked. He looked over his shoulder.

“Want something to drink?”

Her mouth dropped open but no words seemed to come out of it. August chuckled to himself as he saw her expression and grabbed a bottle of water before he closed the fridge and walked over to her. And she really tried to not look but he was just so…. big.

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as he stopped in front of her.

“My eyes are up here.” He whispered, making her startle.

“I… Should go to bed.” She said, her throat dry.

“Make sure to use some ear plugs. I’m not finished with your mom yet.” He smirked down at her. “Or… don’t make too much noise, when you work your little fingers inside of that pretty cunt, hm?” He winked before he turned around and left the kitchen.

It had been almost two weeks and Adelaide was sure she would die because of the sexual tension between John and her. John didn’t make it easier for her. He seemed to know just what to do and how far he could go to drive her insane. Yesterday he had waited for her sitting on her toilet seat after she showered.

There was no denying that John wanted her. And he didn’t seem to care what her mother would think if she would find out. But Adelaide… She loved her mother. More than anything in the world. She could never betray her trust like that. But she also couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if John would fuck her. A real man. She loved Brad. But not once had he been able to make her cum. He had been her first and she was wondering just how much she was missing out. And gathering from the sounds her mother was making every. single. night. John knew what he was doing.

“I’ll see you in two days, Sweety.” Her mom kissed her cheek. She would be going to a conference and leaving her alone with John.

“I’ll miss you.” Adelaide smiled hugging her mom. She felt his presence beside her before his arm came down on her shoulder, making her close her eyes.

“I’ll take care of your girl, Katherine.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss her.

“You two have fun.” Katherine smiled and waved before she closed the door behind her.  Adelaide had been alone with John several times. But not with the knowledge of her mother returning in more than 48 hours. His arms still lay on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help a shiver running down her back. His fingertips caressed the skin of her upper arm. This was the first time he had been touching her at all.

“I have to take care of some business today, but should we cook dinner later?” He asked, looking down at her. He could feel her heartbeat and the softness of her skin.

“S… Sure….” Adelaide said, wetting her lips.

“Okay.” He smiled, before he let her go and walked to his office.

It was early afternoon when Adelaide couldn’t take it anymore. She only had her bathrobe on, having taken a shower earlier in hope to cool her off but it seemed to have the opposite effect. An idea had come to her mind. A very, very bad idea. She had no clue when John would be back. Pulling her drawer open she grabbed the dildo she had bought some months ago. It was bigger than Brad but probably not as big as John’s. Definitely not bigger as John’s. It had a suction cup attached to it, and Adelaide made her way towards John’s office.

It smelled like him. She left the door ajar to hear him coming home as she let her fingertips run over the massive wood desk.

This used to be her mother's office. She didn’t even know what he was doing for a living. She never asked. Though it probably would only take a little digging to find out more about him. But he had clouded her mind with the filthiest thoughts to a point, that she was even considering betraying her mother. She couldn’t think straight without her mind going to John. How he would hold her. How he would make her do whatever he wants. And how she would thank him. Sighing, she sat down on the chair. It was a simple wood chair. With the dildo still in her hand she slipped her bathrobe open, letting it fall off her shoulders. She imagined what he would do if he found her here. Would he bend her over the table? Slap her? Fuck her mouth? She whimpered at the thought. Letting the tip of her toy wander over her body, her other hand caressing her breast. She has been wet ever since he had let his fingertips brush over her arm. Getting up from the seat she attached the dildo on the seat. Spitting in her hand she rubbed it making it wet before she lined up with it and slowly sank down.

August had the groceries in a bag in one hand, his phone in the other when he got home earlier than intended. The meeting he had went to shit and it seems like the apostles needed a stronger leadership than intended. Walking to the kitchen he grabbed the scotch and filled his glass. Getting his shoes off he made his way upstairs to change his clothes when he walked past his office. He bit his lips as he saw Adelaide sitting on his chair naked, as she moved up and down. He was hard instantly. Leaning with his shoulder in the door frame he sipped his drink, watching her. She was trying to be quiet, that he noticed, but the sounds she made as she apparently rode her toy… She must be so wet.

“John….” She moaned quietly and August desperately wished it was his real name on her lips. He couldn’t take it anymore and opened the zipper of his pants.

The noise Adelaide heard made her stop and look up seeing John standing in the door. He had a glass in one of his hands, his other hand slowly pumping his hard cock.

“I…” She stammered.

“Oh… don’t let me stop you, little princess.” He smiled at her as he slowly walked closer.

“You look so beautiful. So close… Are you close to cum?” He asked. She breathed in deep before she nodded.

“Then go on.” He smiled, stopping on the other side of the desk. She looked up at him as she slowly began to ride her dildo. Unintentionally she bit her lip as she watched the drops of precum on the tip of his cock.

“Ever sucked a cock that big?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Do you want to?” He asked, a challenge in his tone.

“I… No one ever…” She shook her head, breathing in deep. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Oh little princess.” He walked around the desk, stopping just in front of her. “I’m gonna teach you. But you have to keep riding that toy of yours.” She swallowed, continuing to ride as he let the tip of his cock draw over her lips.

“Open up.” He whispered, bringing the glass to his lips as Adelaids parted hers. He pushed his cock in and she moaned as she tasted him.

“Fuck… Just what I needed.” He groaned, feeling her tongue. She took more of him while she was getting closer to cum. When he hit the back of her throat he moaned.

“We are going to work on that. When I’m finished with you you will take my cook balls deep in your throat…” He sighed taking another sip of his drink, before he sat the glass down.

“I really want to fuck that mouth of yours… Ready?” He asked. She didn’t get to nodd, before both of his hands framed her face as he began to fuck into her mouth. The thought alone had made her wetter than ever before in the past, but now… With John fucking her mouth…

“You’re close, little princess?” He growled. She moaned.

“Then cum.” He forced and she moaned loudly around his cock and felt herself wet the chair.

“Fuck… did you just squirt all over my chair? Fuck….” He groaned, pulling his cock out. He replaced her mouth with his hand and only moments later he released himself on her face, coating her in his cum.

Out of breath he looked down at her. He ran a finger over her face, dipping into his cum before he brought it to her lips. She sucked eagerly and he smiled. Leaving his pants open he grabbed his glass and stepped away from her.

“Clean that up before you come down. I’m making pasta with salmon.”

They hadn’t talked about what happened in his office. She had cleaned everything up, washed her face and met him downstairs for a very delicious dinner he cooked. She couldn’t put a finger on it but something seemed off about him. Well… apart from the whole wanting to fuck his girlfriends daughter thing.

Her mother had been home for almost three days now and Adelaide had taken the time to check what she could find out about John. John Walker. Sadly it was a common name and she didn’t know anything else really about him. And she couldn’t just go up to him and ask. If she would be working for the MI6 she could just run a face recognition, but that was years away.

She would be leaving in three days with mixed feelings. On the one hand she couldn’t wait to be back at university. Back into her old, boring life, without John. And also without Brad. She had ended things with him the day after the office incident. It was bad enough betraying her mother like that she couldn’t take betraying him too. She had just brushed her teeth, it was almost 2 am, when she got back to her room and had to cover her mouth, stopping the scream at finding John naked in her bed. He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re leaving on wednesday.” He said. She nodded.

“I’m gonna miss you, little princess.” She desperately tried to look into his face, but he was just… there. His strong arms angled, as he lay with his head on his hands. His muscular hairy chest, rising with every breath he took. Letting her gaze wander, she could see his cock resting against his stomach. Why was he always hard around her?

She took a deep breath and switched off the lights in her en suite bathroom.

“What kind of sick game are you playing, John?” She asked, walking over to her drawer, to get her sleeping clothes.

“August.” He said. She turned around.

“My name is August.” He clarified.

“Right. And I'm October.” She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me or I’ll have to punish you.” He growled. This shouldn’t have an effect on her, but it did.

“Okay. August.” She said, and somehow the name August seemed to fit better to him than John.

“What are you doing naked in my room?”

“I’m here to fuck you, little princess.” He pushed himself up from her bed and walked over to her.

“My mom is sleeping across the hall.” She whispered, afraid on being caught.

“Then you’ll have to be quiet when you cum on my cock.” He grinned. August tilted her chin up.

“No one ever made me cum but myself.” She whispered. August grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it over her head leaving her naked in front of him.

“That’s because I haven’t fucked you.” He whispered back before he picked her up and kissed her hard. All thoughts seemed to disappear from her mind, as August lips collided with hers. Crossing her legs behind his back she let her hands wander into his hair, pulling him even closer. He lay her down on her bed, his lips wandering down her body, his hands playing with her tits. She had beautiful tits. The perfect fit for his hands. Pinching her nipple she cried out.

“Sh… Quiet.” He reminded her as he kissed himself down her body. He breathed in deep as he stopped between her legs, one of his arms holding her down while he let the fingers of his other hand softly wander over her pussy. He looked up, seeing her bite her lip.

“Let’s see how many times I can make you cum.” He whispered, before he leaned in to kiss her pussy.

No one had ever gone down on her. She desperately tried to keep herself grounded, but when August tongue dipped inside of her while his finger softly circled her clit, she exploded. Pressing her hand against her mouth to quiet her moans, she shook beneath him soaking him in her juices.

“That’s one.” August said smug, before he got up.

“Next one is on my cock.” She felt the tip as he played with her pussy.

“You gonna use a condom?” She asked.

“You’re on birth control?” He asked, she nodded.

“Well… if you’re clean, I most certainly am.”

The thought of him being the first to cum inside of her, made her shiver.

“Don’t tell me no one filled that little cunt yet?!” He asked. He pushed the tip in making her bite her lip. She only shook her head as he pushed deeper. She felt his fingers on her clit.

“Fuck that’s so fucking hot.” He groaned. They both sighed when he was balls deep.

“Such a tight warm pussy…” He bottomed out only to slam back in her eyes rolling back.

“August….” She whimpered and his name, his real name coming off her lips, seemed to shortcut his brain. He began to slam into her, his hands slapping her tits. She already was a sobbing mess and he only just started. He began to roll her clit, wanting to make her cum again.

“I’m close… Fuck i’m so close.” She whimpered, meeting his thrusts. One of his hands wandered up her body grabbing her neck, before he slowly choked her. He felt her tighten around his cock, as her eyes rolled back and she whimpered her orgasm washing over her. Adelaide didn’t care if she would rot in hell for what she was doing if August was already fucking her like the devil. She was shaking so hard she didn’t notice August pull out and turn her around so she was on her knees. Pushing her upper body into the mattress, she slammed back into her pussy and fucked her like his life depended on it. Grabbing her hair he pulled her towards him, making her cry out.

“This pussy belongs to me now.” He whispered against her ear, as he pumped into her.

“I will be the one you think about from now on whenever anyone is fucking you. God… If we had more time, I’d fill that pretty ass of yours too.” She whimpered at the thought alone and heard him chuckle.

“You like that idea?” She only moaned in response feeling her next orgasm approaching.

“I’m close little princess. Are you gonna cum for me again?” He let go of her hair, both of his hands grabbing her tits as he fucked into her from behind. August pinched her nipple and she came again. Breathing rapidly she opened her mouth in a silent cry as August fucked her through her orgasm.

“Fuck… Fuck I’m gonna cum.” He groaned against her ear, and she felt him swell and twitch as he pumped his cum deep inside of her. It was a weird feeling, but she loved it. He breathed hard, dropping his head against her shoulder.

“I really am gonna miss you little princess.”

“Me too, August.” She whispered. Me too.

3 years later

“There is a high level suspect in room 3. I want you to go in with Agent Christian and observe.”

“Understood.” Adelaide said. She smiled at Agent Christian who opened the door for her. She looked at the man sitting chained to the table and she had to remind herself on how to breathe.

“Mr. Walker.” Agent Christian said. August looked up at the man before his eyes fell on the woman who was sitting down at the table beside the man. He hid his surprise, but he couldn’t hold back his grin.

“Well if that isn’t a sight for sore eyes.” He grinned at Adelaide. The Agent looked at Adelaide before he looked at August again, giving Adelaide a second to gather her thoughts.

“Shall we start?” August asked, finally looking away from her.

“August Walker, I’m Agent Christian and this is Agent Fraser.”

“Fraser… I once had a girlfriend with the Surname Fraser....” August smirked.

[lukealvezhimboextraordinaire]

Also, 22 and Philoise if you want to write anything….👀👀👀👀👀

Emily I promise you I love them and I'm so sorry I'm submitting you to the crap below but the purpose was to write so I can't really allow it to stay on my drafts until I find a way to make it decent. Also it is not edited because I am on my phone but tomorrow, I promise.

22. Pile of leaves. 

Ever since he could remember, Phillip Crane had loved Autumn. It was a paradox; plants all around the world prepared to die and Phillip thrived on it. 

But people didn't understand. They never did. The falling leaves, the rotten flowers, the sad, hollow trees, none of that was the conclusion of the story. It was the beginning; a chance to start again. Every autumn the smartest inhabitants of earth disposed of the parts of themselves that they no longer need, the parts that had become a burden. And every spring they blossomed. 

Phillip wished he could get rid of the parts of himself that weighed heavily on him during fall, just like plants. 

Autumn had been George's favorite season too. But for entirely different reasons. 

His brother had loved the smell of fresh baked apple pies filling the whole house first thing in the mornings, the long evenings hunting for wild mushrooms in the nearby woods, followed by a thoughtful recounting of the day's gatherings — the proud owner of the heaviest basket getting a warm cider on the way home in the form of a prize. George could spend hours raking their red, orange and yellow covered yard, stacking up dry leaves into the perfect pile. And then he would call for Phillip, urging him to come join him at the feet of his marvelous creation. More often than not the soft mountain was so tall that little Phillip was left in awe, struggling to catch a glimpse of the top. And then George would slide his hand into his, and, together they would jump into the perfect heap of pointy tiny leaves. 

It was during the golden glow of the late evening sun that George would come into their secret treehouse, balancing two mugs of heavily spiked cinnamon (barely) hot chocolate in one hand while climbing the ladder with the other. 

How dearly he missed his brother, Phillip thought, feeling his eyes burning with unshed nostalgia. 

Two delicate arms wrapped around him from behind, a warmth he had come to crave engulfing him. He couldn't see her but he knew she was on her tiptoes, perky nose peeking over his shoulder. 

"The cadets want to know if the pile is ready, Captain." 

The urge to laugh filled his whole body. It still was an odd sensation, the tickling in his low belly spreading to his limbs, the blood in his veins rushing to their destiny, the way his heart hammered inside his chest. Odd but amazing. 

Phillip nodded, whipping his eyes with the back of his hand in a way he hoped was subtle. "Please, inform the cadets," his voice was laced with a fake pompousness, a poor attempt at imitating a naval captain, "that their presence is inmediately required." 

Childish giggles filled the air. Both adults remained still in place, pretending, to the kids delight, that there was nothing disturbing their peace. Identical fond smiles adorning their faces. 

"Well, Captain," Eloise began, "I promptly told them to make haste. They ought to have a good reason for their delay."

"Hum, we must start without them,domh you think, Commander?" 

But before Eloise had the chance to reply, our heros were viciously attacked by tiny creatures with sharp nails. 

"Nooooooo!" One begged. 

"Wait for us!" The other exclaimed. 

And the couple just laughed, counter attacking with the most lethal of all offensives; tickles. 

The yard filled with laughs ranging from a soprano to a bass and everything in between. 

When they calmed enough, they stood in front of the pile of leaves — it was big and still left Phillip in awe but it no longer held secrets.

Hand in hand the four of them leaped into the stack. Together. As a family.

Phillip Crane had loved fall as a kid. As an adult, somehow he had ended up falling in love with spring. 

[chilling-seavey]

Seasons Change (d.s.) - ONE

↳  A/N This one already holds a special place in my heart and it has barely even begun! Might be a bit slower on updates because I want to make sure it’s perfect for us all. Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for your unwavering help with plotting this storyline out, @randomlimelightxxx for your excitement and help, and of course, @jonahlovescoffee​ for being my hype girl and the best mayor’s wife anyone could ask for ;)

↳ Summary: Everyone knows everything about everyone in this small rural town in east Connecticut and the handsome single father who owns the farm down the main street seems to always be the talk of the town. Balancing the care of his acreage, raising his school-age son, and coaching the local boys’ hockey team keeps Daniel busy; but his mind never strays far from the expansive and vibrant flower gardens planted outside his farmhouse.

↳ Word Count: 2520

↳ Warnings: This story touches on topics such as loss of loved ones and grief. Nothing too detailed but read at your own discretion x

If you weren’t looking, you would miss it. An hour-and-a-half drive east of Hartford, Connecticut rested a small town that barely occupied more than an intersection of space in time. On your way east towards state lines, a rectangular green sign half covered by an oak tree would welcome you to Lincoln – Population: 200. You’d leave the town before you even realized you were in it if you weren’t paying attention but maybe that’s how the locals liked it.

People moved to Lincoln to get away from the bustle of the city…it was full of those people who had ‘let’s ditch this town’ mindsets and set down roots in a section of the world where they wouldn’t be bothered. It was the type of town that lived in the lyrics of a country song: picture perfect homegrown peace where everyone knew everyone and everyone had a place. It was easy to know everyone in a town like Lincoln. Driving in from the city you would pass a white paneled church, a few small single storey houses with lengthy driveways, the red trimmed general store, a brick sided restaurant, a run down and rusted mechanic’s shop, and catch a glimpse of the small community center just past the park before being enveloped by the nothingness that middle-of-nowhere Connecticut was known for.

Not much happened in Lincoln – at least nothing that was worth noting. Sometimes a car would break down and a city dweller in a designer suit would find his way to the general store to ask for assistance or, more often, a coyote would be rumoured to be roaming at night but that was the extent of the excitement. The most exciting thing to do outside of day to day work was play hockey and it seemed to be the town’s pride and joy of a pastime. There was no such thing as ‘hockey season’ as hockey season was year round in the small town of Lincoln, Connecticut. The community center housed an ice rink that could be melted down to a basketball court but everyone stayed for the hockey. The Lincoln Lighting Junior and Senior leagues were usually the talk of the town. The school-aged boys (ages 7-13) played for the juniors and the later teens and most of the fathers played for the senior league. The captain of the senior league was the coach of the juniors and he owned one of the few farms a few paces north of the main intersection.

A father of one and the best hockey player Lincoln had ever seen, Daniel Seavey was more than one could expect from a small town man.

He wasn’t your everyday potato farmer with uneven tan lines or a body that housed more beer than muscle and, in fact, he was the talk and the eye candy of the town. At only twenty-nine, Daniel was the best of the best in Lincoln: best hockey player, best coach, best farmer, best guitarist, best father; and he had the sandy brown hair and sky blue eyes of a heartbreaker to top it all. At six feet tall, Daniel was slim and handsome, and yet had the muscles capable of running a farm and shooting slapshots like you wouldn’t believe. Daniel was quiet and polite and he innocently humoured the wives of the town as they flirted with him in front of their unimpressed husbands.

But no one could be mad at Daniel. Not when he was the first and only widow Lincoln had ever seen.

Marigold Seavey was twenty-six when she died in her bed at their farmhouse in the early hours of the morning. Her passing was the first major event to ever shake the town of Lincoln. Everyone knew everyone in this town and, that being said, everyone knew what a sunshiny soul Marigold was. Daniel, especially, seemed to have his light burnt out once she was buried behind the church at the corner of town. Some of the folks in town will tell you that the saddest sight they had ever seen was Daniel standing at the foot of his wife’s grave after the funeral with his six-year-old son holding his hand and the two of them crying silent tears into the fresh fall soil.

Despite Daniel’s quiet persona, he was strong and he knew he had to be for the sake of his young son. He couldn’t wallow in his grief for long since he had a son to raise and a farm to tend to and the generosity of the townsfolk certainly helped him to stay on his feet after his wife passed.

It had been a year-and-a-half since Marigold died. Daniel had just turned twenty-nine as March moulded into April and the winter chill was starting to fade into spring and the second birthday without her wasn’t any easier. The birthday cake baked by his neighbour wasn’t as delicious as Marigold’s classic lemon cake she would make him every year but he politely thanked the woman and dared not complain. Daniel would never complain over the niceties of the townsfolk.

That’s what came with living in such a small town; everyone had everyone’s back.

It was the first Sunday of April and the first truly nice spring day of the year. With a crisp breeze in the air, it was only just warm enough to discard the winter jackets and most of the town was gathered in the large backyard of the mayor’s house for the usual after-church brunch. On the colder Sundays, brunch was held in the main restaurant but everyone preferred to gather in the fresh air and over the crisp green grass of the mayor’s house as soon as the weather permitted.

The mayor’s house was the largest and had the most land outside of the farms that were just north of the main intersection in town. Jonah – known by the locals as such since he didn’t like the formality that came with the title of ‘Mayor Frantzich’ – and his wife Jocelyn kept a pretty house on the edge of the little town. They could be what you call the ideal small town family with two kids, a dog, and white picket fence – enough backyard space for it to be the perfect spot for weekly brunch.

The town children had space to play and stretch their legs after sitting for an hour in church and the yard was filled with the shouts from their games. The adults lingered around the yard in various little circles, nursing freshly squeezed orange juice in spring-themed clear plastic cups and talking amongst themselves.

Daniel did a lot of listening during Sunday brunches, standing amidst one of the groups of parents as they talked about school, clubs, and work. Marigold was always the chatty one of the two of them…without her, Daniel felt out of place.

“What about you, Daniel? Think the frost will be gone to break ground this week?”

Jack spoke first, a shorter man with unruly brown hair and enough tattoos to surprise anyone with the fact that he raised an apple orchard. He owned the farm beside Daniel’s and was one of his closest friends in the town.

Daniel thought for a moment and scuffed the toe of his dress shoe against the grass. The cold ground was still pretty solid and the chill in the air still had them all wearing blazers over their Sunday button-ups.

“Only if this cold front lets up.” Daniel answered. “I’m hoping to plough by next week at the latest.”

“Everything’s been going well with the farm and your boy?” Jonah asked, his hand tucked around his wife’s waist and he raised his opposite hand to his mouth to sip his juice.

Daniel shifted on his feet and gave a shrug, his eyes drifting past the group of parents to easily pick out his shaggy haired brunette son across the yard with the rest of the kids. At almost eight-years-old, Lennox was the light of Daniel’s life; his little hockey star, helping hand, and the one whom his late wife’s smile and spirit lived on in. It had been a hard year-and-a-half for the two Seavey boys but Daniel was relived that he could hear his son laugh again, his audible glee reaching to the far edges of the mayor’s property and to his father’s ears.  

“It’s been…fine.” Daniel sighed, his eyes lingering on his son as he answered Jonah’s question, “Lennox has been doing well…his grades are better this year which I’m relieved about. I just…I already sold the sheep and half the chickens and the second cow last spring to try and tame some of the workload but it’s still a lot.”

“Running a farm on your own isn’t easy.” Jack said, “I know how much work it takes for two owners let alone one.”

“We’re here to help with whatever you need.” Corbyn assured him. “I can give you deals on whatever you need from the shop as often as I can.”

Corbyn owned the general store in the center of town and was the bachelor of Lincoln. It wasn’t like there were any women to date in such a small place full of cookie cutter rural families but Corbyn was very happy as he was: running the store and being the eyes and ears of the town.

Daniel shut down his generous offer politely as he looked back to his friends, “No, no. I don’t want that…thank you though. I’m just worried the garden will suffer. With so much to do with ploughing and planting and coaching…I don’t know how much time I���ll have for the flowers.” Daniel let his gaze drift back to his son playing across the grass, “Lennox is too young to tend to them himself but he loves the gardens so much so I don’t want yet another thing to disappoint him.”

“Have you thought of hiring someone?” Jonah asked.

“Like a gardener?” Daniel hummed, “I dunno.”

Corbyn sipped his drink, “Is it in the budget?”

“I think so.” Daniel shrugged, swirling his orange juice in his hand. “Never thought about it. Mari always took care of the flowers so…”

“I have a family friend who’s pretty good with gardens…I’m sure she’d be more than happy to help out.” Jocelyn offered.

Daniel chuckled under his breath, “That’s…a nice offer but I’m not looking to put anyone out of their way. They’re just flowers after all.”

But everyone knew that they weren’t just flowers to Daniel. They were Marigold’s flowers.

Jack tisked at Daniel’s hesitation, “Well if it’s in your budget to hire a gardener and you know the gardens are important to Lennox and yourself, then why not give it a try? You don’t have anything to lose.”

Jonah only added onto the argument, “She’s been wanting to come visit Lincoln for a while now. Why don’t we invite her to town and she can stay with us and you can give her a look over…if you think you want to hire her then you can.”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of his juice as his eyes found his son again. It was habit. Lennox was already running for him at top speed across the grass and Daniel set his cup down on the table just in time to welcome his seven-year-old’s energetic jump at him. He scooped him up with one arm and a tired grunt as he hiked him up onto his waist and Lennox held onto him around his neck, giggling as the other kids ran over after him.

“Daddy’s safe. You can’t get me.” Lennox told them matter-of-factly.

Daniel smiled proudly and linked his hands under his son’s bum to hold him up securely. At almost eight, Lennox was a bit heavy to hold but after nine years of farm work and working out for hockey, it wasn’t much of an issue for Daniel to hold him. He’d never complain regardless.

The other kids found their parents, gladly taking sips of juice or pieces of cut up fruit after a tiring chase around the yard. Jonah and Jocelyn’s seven-year-old twins found their way between them and helped themselves to the few snacks on the table. They were the closest to Lennox’s age – although a few months younger – and the boy of the set of fraternal twins was on the junior hockey team with him.

With the parents busy for a moment with their children – Jack was helping to fasten his daughter’s curly hair back in her headband – Daniel pondered the previous offer. His son rested his head against his with his small arms slung around his neck and Daniel could feel each of his gentle breaths rising and falling his chest. Everything Daniel did was for Lennox. He bit his lip.

“No rush.” Jocelyn said to him, reassuring their offer as if she could see his hesitation, “Just let us know.”

“Thank you.” Daniel said honestly.

“The Herron’s are coming over.” Corbyn whispered to the group and right away they shifted awkwardly as the family approached. Daniel let out an anticipatory sigh.

If you ever thought of jealousy, you would think of Zach Herron; father of two boys who weren’t very good at hockey and husband to a wife whose eyes liked to linger on Daniel’s biceps a little too much. Zach envied a lot of Daniel…maybe even envied him that his wife was dead. He would never admit that out loud though.

“Seavey.” Zach greeted as his family approached the group with his petite platinum blonde wife on his arm. He glanced around to the others, “And friends.”

There was a dull chorus of replies.

Zach continued, “I’m still willing to buy your horses off you. You know I have a generous price to offer.” 

Daniel chuckled lightly, “Yes, I know. But the horses are not for sale and they never will be.”

“Daniel would sell his house before he sells those horses.” Jack said. The group laughed lightly at the truth behind that. 

Lennox wiggled from Daniel’s arms and he set him down to join up with the two Herron boys who had just come over. The children gathered together at the other side of the table and chatted excitedly. Daniel picked up his orange juice.

“Daniel,” Zach’s wife set a hand on his bicep, her face filled with nothing but dramatic concern, “how are you holding up?”

“I’m doing fine, Katie, thank you.” Daniel replied politely.

She sighed, “It would just be a terrible shame to see your beautiful gardens go to waste; I overheard you talking about it from over there. Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

Zach’s annoyed scoff had Jack smirking into his orange juice. Corbyn and Jonah exchanged amused glances between themselves. Daniel offered Zach’s wife a small polite smile.

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but Jonah and Jocelyn already offered a family friend who’s in the business.” Daniel looked over at the couple again, with slight thankfulness in his eyes, “And I think I will gladly take them up on that recommendation.”

Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @midnightpsychic @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

[starlightrows]

The Perfect Day

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Dangerously high levels of fluff!

Summary: Paz goes out of the way to make your birthday special!

AN: Second time posting this, the original got deleted by mistake! This was created to celebrate my birthday! Loosely inspired by @maybege soulmate!paz!

Your nose twitches at the sweet smell of cocoa and coffee as you begin the pull towards wakefulness. The heavy blankets and duvet that keep you warm is being pulled back, and you can feel gentle breath being puffed onto your cheeks. He places gentle pressure on your forehead, again on your temple trailing down to the apple of your cheek to the tip of your nose. By the time he reaches your lips you can’t contain your sleepy smile. His laugh is deep and hearty between gentle kisses, coaxing you into opening your eyes.

“Good morning birthday girl,” he smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your face up to his to nuzzle your nose against his, feeling extra cuddly from his wake up kisses.

“Good morning,” you reply

“Made you breakfast,” he says, you open your eyes and sit up with him.

“Oh! Thank you honey,” He brings a bread tray forward, loaded with a massive plate of what you correctly assume to be savory waffles, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. He sits on the bed cross legged in front of you, placing the tray between you.

You excitedly dig, enjoying the crispy exterior of the waffles and rich chocolate laced into the coffee. He sits back enjoying his coffee, and the fruits of his labor.

“Paz, there is so much of this. How early did you get up to pull all this off?” You ask, because even with both of you eating there is a lot of food.

“Not as early as you think, this is turning out to be more of a birthday brunch than a breakfast” he smiles sheepishly. You glance at the clock on his dresser. He’s right, it’s a quarter past 11. He let you sleep in well past your normal lazy day wake up time.

“I figured if I was going to make your favorite breakfast anyway, I might as well make a lot so we can save some for the next few days,” he explains

You can’t help but smile, it was a thoughtful gesture, but if he didn’t put them away soon you’d sit there and eat the whole platter full!

When the bunch was finished, you helped him take the dishes downstairs, despite his protests.

“It’s your day love, is there anything you’d like to do?” He asks while washing the utensils you’d used to eat.

“Well with all the fresh snow on the ground, I was thinking we could pull out the snow shoes and do a hike. We could try the lookout loop again,” you reply, peeking out the massive front window at the snowy driveway and dense forest just outside the cabin. While the ground may be covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky is free of heavy cloud cover “it’s pretty clear out today, hopefully we’ll be able to see the valley this time,”

“Yeah, sounds great. I can pack the hiking bag if you want to go pull the snow shoes out from the equipment closet,” he tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. You nod and slammer off to find the snow shoes.

Half an hour later, you and Paz are sitting on the bench under the covered back porch wearing snow pants, lightweight thermal jackets, beanies and gloves; strapping the snowshoe attachments to your heavy snow boots. Paz carries the big hiking bag that houses your emergency supplies and water for the wintertime hike, while you carry the smaller bag that has snacks and a blanket for the look out point.

He gives you a hand up, and lets you lead the way to start out the hike. You’d done this hike together many times before, once you started moving you almost didn’t need to think about it. He fell in step just behind you and the two of you shared easy, fun conversation as you hiked the familiar path up the mountain. Air was still and cold, but you felt amazing, kept warm by your insulating layers and the movement of your body. This hike was beautiful as it is in the summer months, but winter was its own kind of beauty.

The last mile or so to reach the lookout point was the hardest part, Paz’s long strides made it somewhat easier for him and you laughed as he passed you on the uphill climb. Just like he always did. He welcomed you at the top with a gentle hand, leading you to the lookout point. This place was special to the two of you. You’d come up here dozens of times together, he’d proposed to you on this spot, and a year later you’d gotten married at the top of this mountain.

“You were right,” he said, directing your attention out over the valley. It was pristine and perfect. The valley was like a bowl, fully surrounded on all sides by steep snow capped mountains. The lake in the center was a deep dark inky black, without so much as a ripple on the water. The lack of breeze in the chilled air made everything still. It was absolutely gorgeous and exactly what you had been hoping for.

Paz helped ease the pack off your back, and fished the blanket out from the bottom. He did his best to dust off one of the massive boulders you often sat on when coming up here, and spread the blanket out over it.

You sat together on the blanket enjoying crisp apples, sour gummy worms, salty jerky and of course passing a thermos full of cocoa back and forth. The only acceptable lunch for a day hike you claimed.

Before long you and Paz packed up your blanket and small amount of trash back into the bag, and triple checked to make sure everything was just the way you had found it. Together you set off back down the mountain, leading for home.

As the two of you neared the edge of the forest, Paz reached out and snagged your arm.

“Shhh, look!” He whispered pointing through the trees towards the cabin. You followed his gaze and the direction of his finger. Your eyes went wide, and your jaw slacked in elated shock.

Through the trees you could see it, a massive bull moose, leisurely strolling through your backyard about 30 yards away from where you and Paz stood. You had to cover your mouth to suppress your giddiness. Moose are your favorite animal, and one of the more rare animals to see on this side of the mountain. This was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and certainly the closest you’d ever been to one.

Of course you were well aware of how dangerous they are, so being protected from its view by the trees at this comfortable distance was the best and safest scenario for you. But this was also the coolest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to you! Eventually the Moose trotted along and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the property. You shared a look with Paz.

“Oh my god! That was a little intense,” you said following him towards the house

“I know. I’ve never seen one that close in my life. I almost wish we’d had a camera,” he replied.

You sat together on the back porch once more, removing your snowshoes, and kicking the remaining snow off the bottom of your boots. Once inside both of you stripped out of your snow pants and coats, leaving you in base layers and socks. You hung up the heavy gear in the entryway closet, and collected the extra bits that could go in the wash like socks.

Paz approaches you leaned down a bit and kissed the top of your head.

“If you let me rinse off real quick, you can take a bath while I work on dinner,” he offers

You hum at the attention of his kisses, “How can I say no to that. Its a deal babe,”

True to his word, Paz jumps in for a very quick shower just to get the sweat off of his body. He emerges from the bathroom with wet hair and warm skin. He gives you one more lingering kiss before letting you run off to draw a fancy bath for yourself.

Meanwhile he busies himself in the kitchen to make sure he’s got enough time to finish dinner, that he had secretly already started that morning, as well as the dessert he had planned.

By the time you’re coming back downstairs looking very cozy in an oversized knit sweater and leggings, dinner is on the table and dessert is just going into the oven. The table is set for the two of you with your favorite meal, and a nice candle in the middle. You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“This is so romantic, you did all this for me?” You gaze lovingly at the beautiful dinner awaiting you.

“Of course,” he wraps his arms around you too, giving you a loving squeeze. He pulls away, and invites you to sit. The food is delicious, perfectly cooked just the way you like it. As you finish a timer goes off back in the kitchen.

You look past him into the kitchen, then turn your eyes back to him. “Paz?”

He grins mischievously, and gets up to pull dessert from the oven. It’s a small chocolate cake, and from the looks of it he’s attempted to make a lava cake with a gooey fudgy center. He turns it out onto a dish, and pulls the mold up and off it. He looks rather proud of himself. He sticks a single delicate white candle in the middle and deftly lights it. He sits it down in front of you with the warmest most genuine smile.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says “Don’t forget to make a wish,”

You giggle and give him a gentle smile, “I don’t know what more I could possibly wish for,” He grins at you. You do know what to wish for. You wish to be this happy every day. To feel this loved and cherished every moment for the rest of your days. You wish he would feel the same love and devotion coming from you. And you blow out the candle.

He produces two spoons and you share the dessert, finding its rich spongey cake to be without a shadow of a doubt the best dessert you’ve ever had. And you make sure to tell him that.

“I must be the most spoiled woman in the world. Breakfast, dinner and dessert! Will you at least let me help you do the dishes?” You ask when the plate has been all but licked clean of his chocolatey confection.

“Not a chance. You’re gonna go pick a movie,” he tells you, taking the plates into the kitchen to be washed. You laugh and shake your head, but acquiesce.

He joins you in the living room, and tumbles onto the couch pulling you on top of him to snuggle. In the end you choose an old favorite movie of yours, one that still makes you laugh despite the obviously terrible jokes. You’re half heartedly paying attention, more just basking in the warmth of Paz’s chest and the nostalgia of the film. Paz is not paying attention to the movie at all. He’s stroking your hair, and memorizing every detail of your face looking so blissful and content. Despite having been married for two years now, and together for two more, he could still spend an eternity studying your face and find something new or cute or amusing.

Your gaze drifted up to meet Paz, and your smile seemed to melt into a wider sleepier smile as you exhaled deeply.

“Good birthday?” He asks

“Mhm...” you nod “Perfect,”

[onfreckledwings]

hoping you’ll see (what your love means to me)

15x20 fix-it songfic. shameless feel-good fluff. because our babies deserved the world.

When Dean dies on a Thursday in November, Cas is there to welcome him at the proverbial pearly gates. Sort of.

He can’t really even call it a gate. It’s blue skies, sloping mountains, pine trees, and open fields. The sun shines more brilliantly and warmer here.

The air breathes cleaner; the breeze is cool and languid.

He doesn’t realize he’d been walking until he comes to a stop, dirt swirling around his legs. Nothing hurt: not his hip, not his knees, his back, or chest.

Nothing.

“Well at least I made it to Heaven,” Dean murmurs to himself. In the next moment, Harvelle’s appears a few yards away.

“No way.”

He walks the short distance before standing in front of the bar, and he’s smiling so wide and he can feel his laugh lines on his cheeks and the crinkles of his eyes.

Harvelle’s Roadhouse

The same neon lights in the windows, the same sign. Everything is exactly the same.

“Hell yeah,” and then he’s walking up the porch and has a palm on the door before he stills.

Dean shuts his eyes briefly before opening them with a silent chuckle. He knows who’s there. Even before he turns his head.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turns around to see Castiel standing a few yards away.

He feels his face cracking from smiling so wide, and he feels his eyes stinging with tears behind them. He faces Cas fully now, hands shoved into his pockets, and begins to walk towards him.

He ducks his head, almost shy, and glances up at him through his eyelashes. “Castiel,” he greets with pressed lips, eyes gleaming.

Heaven is strange, he thinks. He feels no sense of unease here. No nerves, no jitters. He only feels contentment. Peace. Joy.

Cas tilts his head in that fucking adorable way he does, and Dean can feel something behind his ribs melt. He stops when they are a few inches apart.

Cas’s eyes are bluer than Dean has ever seen them. Moss green and ethereal blue.

Sky and Earth.

The wind gusts gently around them. The blades of grass dance.

Cas lifts a hand and places it on Dean’s left shoulder. Cas’s shoulder. Dean smiles a small, watery thing.

“Are you...real? How-” and Dean trails off. He somehow already knows the answer. Cas squeezes his shoulder and smiles.

“Yes. It’s me.”

Dean’s eyes well up and his nose starts to tickle. He looks up to the sky and wets his lips in that way he does to hold tears at bay, before meeting blue again.

Dean reaches between them and grips Cas’s always-crooked tie. Cas looks confused at first, maybe even a little scared. But when Dean’s free hand comes to cradle the side of Cas’s neck and lets his fingers brush the strands of thick hair at its nape, Cas’s face smooths out and he stands a little taller.

One lone tear breaks free from the corner of Dean’s eye, and Cas’s thumb is there to catch it as he sweeps it over his cheekbone before cupping his jaw.

Dean tugs him close before snaking his arms around Cas’s waist under his trench coat and hugs him close, face buried in the angel’s shoulder. He melts when Cas envelopes him, cheek resting against his crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns against Dean’s back.

“You’re early,” Castiel whispers.

Dean gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, well...I’m a dumbass.” And then he’s inhaling slow and deep against Cas’s skin. Cas smells like sweet summer rain, the crisp air of fall.

He smells like Cas.

“And I missed you,” he murmurs against the warm swath of exposed skin on the angel’s neck before pressing a feather-light kiss there.

Cas seems to melt at the contact and grips Dean tighter. Dean feels fingers card through the short strands of his hair and Cas’s other hand comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head.

“I missed you too.”

Something occurs to Dean then, and he lifts his head to meet Cas’s eyes. His hands travel up Cas’s arms until they rest on his shoulders.

“Hang on...how did you get out? How did you get here?”

Cas simply smiles and gives Dean a knowing look. “Jack may have had something to do with it.”

Dean unfurls a bark of laughter from his chest before grasping that tie again.

“That’s our boy.”

Cas smiles again, and Dean thinks he’ll never ever tire of seeing it.

His eyes flit between Cas’s and his lips and back again, and he flattens his free palm on Cas’s chest, just over where his heart would be.

“Cas,” he begins, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “about what you said..before you left-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean,” Cas offers quietly. “I don’t expect-”

“Well that’s good,” he cuts Cas off, “‘cause I wasn’t really plannin’ on talkin’. I’m shit with words.”

Cas blinks quizzically. “Wha-” but he trails off when Dean grazes the stubble of his cheeks with the soft pads of his thumbs.

Dean starts to tremble slightly when he cups either side of Cas’s jaw again.

He dives in.

Their mouths slot together perfectly; Cas’s is warm and soft and pliant, and Dean brushes his tongue against the crease of Cas’s lips, and Cas lets him in.

Dean knows then that he’s in Heaven.

*

Everyone’s here.

Dean’s eyes scan the entire barroom from the table where he and Cas sit: at the bar, there’s Ellen, Jo, Ash, Bobby, and Karen discussing their hunting glory days. Charlie and Kevin are huddled with their laptops at one of the booths (because there’s WiFi in Heaven, apparently), and are probably discussing the latest sci-fi series or some other nerdy thing.

John and Mary are sitting at one of the candle-lit tables, holding hands and murmuring in each other’s ears that is always met with soft laughter.

Rufus is there too with Aretha at one end of the bar, Johnnie Walker Blue in hand. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man smile the way he is right now, so earnest and genuine.

Missouri and Pamela sit at the table nearest to Dean and Cas, talking about when Pamela séance’d Cas after Dean was rescued from Hell.

“I think he was just trying to show off in front of his boyfriend,” Pamela teases with a laugh as Missouri drops her face in one hand.

“Good Lord,” she marvels. “Some first impression there, Castiel. Burning out a woman’s eyes? Oh!”

Cas ducks his head. “It was an accident, I assure you,” and Dean can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy.

Pamela pats Cas on the back. “All in the past, sweetie. No harm done. Well, no permanent damage anyway,” and then tilts her head back in laughter. Dean can’t help but snicker.

Everything is fucking perfect.

Contentedness blooms in his belly, warming his insides until he feels like his body is humming. Everybody he has ever loved and lost in one room.

Sam, Eileen, and the others will be along, Bobby had said. And he feels complete peace knowing that Sam is in good hands, and that they will take care of each other until their times come.

Dean sits back in his chair, glass of wine in hand. They’re a bottle and a half in, celebrating Dean’s arrival, and his head is buzzing in the best possible way.

He glances at Cas from across the table through his eyelashes.

His trench coat, suit jacket, and tie are all draped on the backrest of the chair, because we gotta get you out of this holy tax accountant get up, man, and if he’s honest, Dean wants to feast his eyes a little.

Cas’s white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, and Dean’s mouth goes a little dry at the naked dip of his collar bone. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Dean marvels at the ripples of muscle and bone in the angel’s forearms, his fingers itching to touch.

Dean smiles. His cheeks are warm, and something curious blossoms behind his ribs.

“Dean?”

He snaps out of his trance and meets Cas’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes that he’s been caught staring.

Dean smirks. “Mhm. Jus’ enjoyin’ the view.”

Dean almost dies (again) when Cas blushes and ducks his chin with a roll of his eyes.

Yeah, he can get used to this.

The jukebox in the corner starts playing a new song, and Dean straightens in his chair with a wild grin.

“Oh hell yes,” he shouts with a slap to the table, wine bottles and glasses clattering. “I love this song. C’mon Cas, you’re dancin’ with me.” He stands and reaches for Cas with an outstretched hand.

Horror flashes across the angel’s face. “Dean, no. I’m a terrible dancer. I couldn’t-”

“Well, that makes two of us then” he says and grabs Cas’s hand and pulls him to his feet. “Come on. My ‘got-dead’ party, my rules.”

Cas groans and throws his head back with a grimace as he lets Dean guide him to the dance floor. “‘Got-dead’ party? Really?”

“Yeah, yeah, shhh,” Dean smirks as he turns to face Cas. “Here, lemme lead.”

Dean clasps Cas’s hand with his own and draws them to his chest, his other hand wrapping around his waist coming to rest on his back. Cas’s free arm mimics Dean’s.

Attached at the...everything.

Their mouths are inches apart, and Dean’s bowed legs go a little weak as he stares into Cas’s eyes. The lighting in the bar changes to ambient, almost candle-like glow.

Lying beside you, here in the dark,

Feeling your heartbeat with mine.

Softly you whisper, you're so sincere;

How could our love be so blind?

They sway somewhat in tune with the rhythm, but Dean’s a little wine drunk and accidentally steps on Cas’s toes. More than once.

“Sorry,” Dean giggles—giggles?— and lets all of his weight lean into Cas, who accepts it willingly. Dean’s lips press against his temple, and Cas hums appreciatively as Dean starts to sing low into Cas’s ear.

We sailed on together,

We drifted apart,

And here you are, by my side.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say.

So here I am, with open arms,

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

“‘s how I feel about you, you know,” Dean murmurs as he nuzzles the bolt of Castiel’s jaw. “I’m not good with words, but..,” Dean slurs and sucks a gentle kiss into his neck. “This could totally be our song.”

“Dean…” and Dean pulls back slightly at the crack in Cas’s voice. Tears spill over from those cobalt blues, and Dean’s thumbs are quick to catch them as he frames Cas’s face.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” he says through a smile, licking his lips. “You’ve got me. You always have. And I’ve got you, so…” he smiles and presses the softest of kisses to Castiel’s mouth before resting their foreheads together.

They never stop dancing.

Living without you, living alone,

This empty house seems so cold.

Wanting to hold you,

Wanting you near,

How much I wanted you home.

Now that you've come back,

Turned night into day,

I need you to stay.

“I love you,” Castiel says, and he brings their joint hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Dean’s knuckles.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut and nods knowingly. It may be a little easier to accept love up here, but sometimes old habits die hard. Even in death.

“Me too,” he murmurs, and he wraps his free arm even tighter around the soft, curved line of Cas’s waist for emphasis.

So now I come to you with open arms,

Nothing to hide, believe what I say,

So here I am, with open arms;

Hoping you'll see what your love means to me,

Open arms.

As the song ends, Dean thinks maybe this could be his forever. Surrounded by family, both given and chosen; blissful in his angel’s arms. The love of his life. The one who has saved him more times than Dean can count. At utter peace knowing that Eileen will take good care of Sam, and he looks forward to the day when they can all be together once again.

Until then, he’ll take this. The life he’s always dreamed of but was too scared to hope for. A life of love, warmth, comfort, and peace.

A life after death.

And he’ll think, maybe, just maybe, he deserves it.

fin.

@blacklightguidesnic tortured me this morning and put this incredibly soft scene in my head. here you go ♥️

[lucky4in]

Magic Interferes in New Orleans

Prompts from Piccadilly's book #3

Words used: ☆matriarch ☆throat ☆impossible ☆vinegar ☆apology ☆slice ☆microwave ☆raspberry ☆choose ☆snore

God! I can't take it. The dread is killing me. I'm losing all the blood in my fingers with how tight I'm squeezing the steering wheel. The honking around me is not helping. I can feel everyone's fear collectively as we sit in agitated traffic. Stress. Fault. Jitteriness. Indifference. Panic, panic, panic.

God, I hate being an empath. I can't even hear my own thoughts. I need to breath! Yeah. Take deep breaths. I'm not far from the U-turn lane. So what if traffic is moving 1 millimeter a minute? The storm can't be faster.

Hooooonk!

Beepbeep!

I have to get out of this situation before I have a sensory overload.

From my front and my rear, I'm surrounded by vehicles. I can't move back, I'll hit someone. I can't move up, because they'll think there's space to move and I'll be more stuck than before. Looking to my right I realize the road across the gate is fairly empty. That last car I saw go that way was 40 something minutes ago.

I gulp loosening my grip from the wheel but still holding it firmly in my palms. Taking a breath I turn the wheel and step on the gas. My car races through the grass and crashes though the metal gates. With a screech, my tires are finally rolling and I'm off. Towards the dark clouds like a fool running blindly into a lions den.

When I finally catch sight of the curling palm trees and the flying debris, my weariness is replaced by anger. We had a plan. A simple schedule. Prepare emergency food, water, and medicine, flashlights and documents, locate nearest shelters, fill up gas tank, clear the yard, and turn off the power. When the evacuation order is set, I would be too far away at the time, so my husband would get the kids from home and we...would...evecuate.

Evacuate.

We would meet at the nearest shelter with our separate cars...

Unfortunately, my...sweet...dearest mother decided to take it upon herself to pick up the kids herself...and NOT evacuate. Instead, she wanted her grand babies to feel safe during the storm and cook them a nice meal...at her house.

I almost had a heart attack when my husband said they weren't there. Instead, a note was attached to the fridge reassuring us that my elementary school kids, including a baby, did not infact disappear off the face of the earth. She wants them to feel less threatened and stressed over this "flood nonsense". Make it seem like a regular thunder storm.

Except it's not a thunder storm! It's a hurricane!

I told my husband not to worry about it, I will get the kids and be ok. The hurricane is suppose to be a bad one, the weather man said. Anything left undemolished by the storm by the end of this would be a miracle. Hopefully it won't be my sanity. I swear, she's impossible.

By the time I get to her house, the streets are flowing with water and clawing up her driveway like waves at a beach. I step out and my shoe kerplunks into the water. I groan, feeling my ears eject hot steam. I stomp onto her porch with a squish, squish, squish and jam the key into the lock.

I kick the door open and slam it shut, my anger seeming to accelerate as soon I step inside. I cringe a bit, noticing my youngest asleep on the couch.

"DON'T SLAM MY DO-" my mother sticks her head out through the kitchen doorway and spots me.

"-Oh, hi baby!"

I stretch a tight smile, coaxing my child back to sleep. "Hello, mother."

"You came just in time. I just need to get a few things done before we eat."

And there she is. Like always. Not worrying about a thing while marinating apple cider vinegar on peices of pork. Probably to slice into the-

Sniff, sniff.

-gumbo. Her calm persona was infuriating. Almost insulting.

"Too bad my son in law couldn't be here. He'd love to stuff his face with the beignets" she continues.

"He's at the shelter. Kinda like we're suppose to be" I say, honey tounged and all "which begs the question..." I lean in, my palms face down on the table. "Why aren't we there right now?" I sneer, bringing my voice down.

"Because there's no need to. You know that" she says simply.

"Maybe in your case, but not mine. You just felt entitled to do things your way. Like you always do. I had everything under control and-and you had me worried."

"You know nothing was going to happen to these kids. I knew nothing was really wrong."

"If you really felt so aloof about this, you should have stayed yourself. You can't just up and take my kids like that. We've talked about this."

She finally looks at me, turning away from her task. "I should be free to see my own grand kids whenever I want to."

"I would have probably excepted that, if we weren't in the middle of a god damn hurricane-"

"Momma! Momma look!"

I was interrupted by my two children excitedly telling me that a pie was on the way. All while showing me their hands, proof of a raspberry massacre. Animated. Passion. Triumph. Pleasant. I ruffle their heads with a quick "good job" and they ran off together. Their happiness almost cures my frustration. It does calm me down a bit though.

"Is is so much to want to keep your family safe" my mother asks.

Aaaaaaand its back.

"Is it so much to just listen to me? To just let me do things my way? I am in no less danger than you are just because I dont have the same... tools that you do."

"It looks like it puts you in a lot of danger if you have to evacuate the city. You could simply come here so momma can protect you."

"That makes me look like a normal person, mom. The streets are already flooding and a ton of people just saw me go the opposite direction. I look stupid and suspicious." I'm taken back to my teen years. Having a similar conversation with my mother. "Not everything can be solved with your protection. I can make my own decisions. But instead you undermine me and tamper with everything around you. Just because I dont have it, doesn't mean I cant keep my family safe or simply be a mother. How about, for once, you let mother nature do her job."

"Your father made this house with his bare hands, rehydrating himself with his sweat. No one is touching this house. Not even Cosmo's or Gaia or whatever." She huffs and turn away. A puff of steam emerges over her head, indicating she opened the pot of Gumbo.

"Well, when your the Matriarch, you can start making the rules around here."

Realizing an apology isn't coming, I groan restricting myself from wrapping my hands around her throat. Its silence between us, as there is after every altercation. Especially when the house is mentioned, cause it's always Papa's house. He passed away before I could even learn to speak his name. Mama always told us about Papa. How she met him, how he put her on her feet and built a house for her (it was told he even built the bricks holding this house up), how his devotion to his family and the love of his life lasted until death did them part.

"What makes you think I'm going to be the next Matriarch?" I ask, slipping in the kitchen chair.

"You will. It's a family tradition that you need to uphold. And you are the only girl conceived by me." She answers, this sounds almost rehearsed.

"Why don't the others take your place?" I ask, for the millionth time.

"It's only rare that a boy has ever been in place of a woman. And once a girl was brought in, he was removed immediately."

"If it's that simple then crown them and get it over with."

"Oh, do you think it's that easy"? She quizzes, slowly turning to me.

"Knowing you, probably not."

"Hyde is much more coordinated than that. If they really didn't think you were worthy, we would have known, but I always knew you were special."

Here she goes again. Hyde,, is supposedly the person that gifts the family with magic, life, and girls. It's the spirirt who thrones and dethrones us. No matter who we are. According to mom, the next Matriarch could be good or bad, Hyde has a plan for them in the end.

Along with Papa's stories, Hyde was always directed towards me because I was the only girl, excluding my half sister. Truthfully there was no way to know if Hyde was actually real. I'm not even sure if my parents have seen it. Mom would tell me tales at night of different women throughout our generation, chosen by Hyde and how I would be like them someday.

Perfect.

"Hyde doesn't give you this gift for no reason" mom reassures "they always have a plan. You can't see everything in a negative light. What if Hyde chooses Clio and you-"

I stop her at the mention of my youngest name.

"I'm not putting that responsibility on my kid" I say sternly, though It probably won't matter what I tell her "Especially if, no offense, she ends up like you. Completely dependent on Hyde's gift. IT didn't give me any when I was born, like the rest of you, and I'd like it to stay that way."

Silence once more.

"Perhaps you're afraid-"

"I'm not afraid-"

"-its okay."

"-Of this imaginary ghost."

"Sure, keep believing that. But when it happens~" she sings.

"When it happens to me, pigs will fly" I sneer, memories of that same sing song tone prodding at me.

She says nothing.

"Just let it go mom, it's just not meant to be. I'm not a child that you can hide under your wings when hail comes. However your gifts came to be, Hyde, the house, whatever, it must've skipped a generation."

She continues to stir. She sputters "but-but the family-"

"-The family doesn't know what's best for me and neither do you. I know I'm the only daughter to the Matriarch. I know I wasn't born with any gifts like my siblings. I know refusing my path makes me an ungrateful child and Hyde will handle me" I say reciting what I also heard throughout my life "But that's not my life. And I'm not defenseless."

She freezes. More silence.

"And, I mean, it's not like having voodoo is easy. It consumes you and it messes a lot of things up. This worlds order and the next."

"That's what the council is for" my mom mutters finally.

"Oh, right. The council. The same family who's just as dependent as you. Do you even remeber a time where you haven't used your gift and actually did things yourself?"

...

...

"Don't you ever think of letting go of this life? Doing things for yourself and not the family? Hyde? Papa's house? I notice how this changes you as you age. If this is the answer to our problems I wouldn't mind the sea taking this house away for a while-"

"Mama! Mama!"

"Wow, look."

I follow my kids voices and they seek for me, a glimmer of wonder and awe in there wide pupils. My 2 boys are pointing to the window in the living room. My sleeping child is now up, standing on her toes to see what her brothers are looking at.

As I begin to walk In the living room, they're rushing back to the kitchen. I take a peek and see a part of the lawn, including my rental car but the road and the neighborhood is gone. A large amount of visible debris is covering up the world around-

No.

No.

That's not debris. That's not wind.

I follow my kids. They've opened the screen door and ventured into the back yard. I race after them and stop in my tracks. The water barrier has followed us to the backyard. My kids are screaming and dancing in the sprinklers as the hurricane is trapping us in its second eye. The oceanic barrier is circling around is, refusing to touch the property. With my kids instructions I look up, the sky is dark above us like it's the dead of night, yet inside the barrier, its murky like a cloudy day.

I can't concentrate. Excitment. Curiosity. Shock. Chills.

I sigh as my daughter wobbles to me and I scoop her in my arms. I can see it now, worst hurricane in 6 years and the Crobitt house still stands. This is similar but not related to the instance when a pair of swings at the run down school across the house seemingly froze in the air a few years ago... CIA is currently investigating...

I gather my children inside, they were starting to go towards the rushing ocean and who knows what'll happen. I shut the door with a defeated sigh and sulk at the table. The beneits sit gracefully with their powder sugar and I worship it by stuffing it in my mouth.

"I told you..."

I look up. My mothers eyes are glowing that familiar bright green and she has that devious smirk on her face. She always gave me that look as a child as if she's trying to tell me something. That, or it's to prove something, which I still dont know. I dont think I ever will.

"...you're father built this house. No one is taking it from me..."

...

...

"Now, elbows off the table."

-------

If you like to write or be creative, perhaps you need inspiration, go check out this book! Its the best!