#//As things stand; she anticipates her life ending at around her early 50s as a result of it all

[orphiicheartd]

Even with Traveler successfully Saving her, the fire Hu Tao had put forth to continue the ritual still sheared years off her lifespan in her desperation to further fuel the flames of purification. Hu Tao has yet to tell anyone of this, but she wouldn't be surprised if Zhongli or especially Baizhu are well aware of that fact.

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost! Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Chapter 2

Chapter 2!!! I'm busy with school and assignments and looking for a summer job and starting my final thesis, but I write when I have time and energy to do so😊

Let's ignore the fact that I posted this a few hours ago, but deleted it because I came up with something that I really wanted to change so I'm posting it again now

Content warning: Talk of possible stalking and breaking in (not really what's happening, but it's mentioned?), mention of blood.

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“Come on, what else could it be?”

“I’m not being haunted, Donna,” you groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose between two fingers. You glance around the small café, fairly empty of other patrons at this time of the day. The two of you sit next to the large windows, watching as people walk and drive by. It’s a weekday, middle of the day, so most people are likely still at school or work.

Donna is an old family friend. Used to be your neighbour when you were a kid and would often babysit you if your parents couldn’t find another babysitter. The two of you grew close until she got married and moved to the states briefly, before returning with her wife. It’s rare the two of you get time to see each other, but it’s always nice when you do.

You swear she hasn’t changed a bit since you were a kid. She’s in her early 50s, you’d guess, and still just as full of energy as she was all those years ago. Her wife is a bit of a mystery to you, but you know she travels a lot for work.

And that Donna loves her more than anything.

“What else could it be?” Donna repeats for the hundredth time. “You’re being followed by something; we both know it,” she insists. Donna has always been fairly enthusiastic, or at least interested in, the afterlife and ghosts and whatnot. You, not so much. Sure, it is intriguing, what happens after death and all the different views on the subject, if ghosts and spirits exist. Intriguing, but not very believable in your mind.

“You know, there was that terrorist attack in that tunnel a few months ago. A lot of people died there, I heard there was a soldier that passed, too,” she continues, her tone more serious now.

Donna always seems to know things. Sure, the attack, its casualties, have been public knowledge, at least some part of it. But Donna always seems to have more information than even the news do. You always joke she must have someone on the inside of all these things. “Something like that,” she’d respond.

You told her about everything as a joke, to try and ease your own nerves. She ended up taking it way more seriously than you would have anticipated. Maybe you should have predicted that, in hindsight, but at least she doesn’t seem to think you’ve lost your mind.

And sure, you promised yourself you wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, that you’d just go on with your merry life and ignore it, assume it’s a figment of your imagination. But you trust Donna, you wouldn’t be surprised if she knows you better than your parents do. Probably better than you do, if you’re being honest. And things really are getting out of hand with your ghostly friend. Roommate, squatter, stalker, whatever. You’re not sure what to call him, but it’s all too real to really keep ignoring it.

He’s in your goddamn home, your sanctuary, your safe space. Where you haven’t yet allowed even some of your friends to visit, you’re not sure if your coworkers even really know where you live. And this- this thing has invaded it, made himself right at home. Begging, yelling at him to leave you alone, to leave your home at once. The train station and the bookstore were manageable, at least. This? No. No way. This is your home, your apartment. It’s yours! You live alone and you quite like that, thank you very much.

You swear you see the shadow shake and shift, as if trying to hold in his laughter. He does seem to give you more space after that, though; instead of standing right next to or behind you, he stands in doorways, corners of rooms. That’s something, you guess.

And that’s the other thing. He’s so human, you often mistake him for an actual person standing in the corner of your room. It’s like having an extra clingy roommate, following you around the apartment. At least you can shower and change your clothes in peace. (That’s what you think. He’s not snooping or being creepy, of course not! He’s just lonely, needs the comfort of being with someone.)

It’s almost freaky how used to it you’ve gotten. It has been, what, a few months? You know by now that he, whoever he is, isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

The shadow in the corner of your eye no longer freaks you out nearly as much. You still don’t know who he is, or was, why he’s here and with you of all people, but you accept it. Not that you’d have a choice in the matter, anyway.

You watch movies with him. You see him next to you on your couch, almost feel his weight on the cushions, as if sitting next to a real, living person. Somehow, you can just tell when you’ve picked something he likes. The air around you feels different, more relaxed. He looks like he’s leaning forward in his seat, sitting on the edge of the couch when the movie gets exciting or interesting. You hear him laugh, not even the airy sound it was before, but an almost proper one.

He audibly groans if you pick something he doesn’t like. Might even throw a pillow on the floor or keeps turning the tv off. You’ll either scold him and keep attempting to turn it back on until he gets bored and gives up, or you’ll give up first and put on something he might like more. Problem is, you’re both stubborn beings, and might “argue” over the movie for a long time.

During horror movies you find yourself leaning towards him, looking for that feeling of safety he provides. It always takes you a moment to realize you can’t curl into his side, with his arm around you, like you would if he was physically there.

As more time goes by, you see more of him. He becomes more refined, quite literally. Going from a shadow in the corner of your eye, disappearing the moment you try to look at it, to what you’re sure is a human man. You can’t exactly see the details of his features, his face, but there are some things that are certain.

He's tall. Taller than you, at least. Muscular, too, by the looks of it, and wearing some sort of gear. Military, maybe? Donna did mention hearing of some soldier who died in those tunnels some months ago. Or maybe you’re being haunted by some terrorist who has taken a liking to you. You sincerely hope it’s the first one, though.

And then there’s the very obvious gunshot wound to his temple, oozing blood down the side of his face and neck. It drips down his chin and vanishes before hitting the floor. It’s more visible in darkness, or in the light of the moon and stars. You do your best to ignore it, there’ll be time to ask about it later. Surely not a subject he’d be very open to discuss or reminisce over.

At some point, it starts to feel nice to have some company over, even if it means you get little to no privacy. His presence makes you feel safer, in a way. You’re not sure if he could do much if someone was to break into your apartment or harass you at work or while running errands, or if he even would do anything to help you, but it still feels almost like having a guard dog. A dog that no one else can even see, unless he wants to be seen.

That’s what you think, at least. You see him because he wants you to. There’s not much concrete evidence of how ghosts really work, so you’re mostly going on what you’ve read about the subject and different cultures, and your own gut instinct.

You know your ghost can talk, too. A little bit, at least, not quite full sentences. You’ve heard what you swear was a laugh, a groan, mumbled words. He’s getting stronger, and you’re certain he will answer your questions, eventually. You’ll be patient.

One evening, you ask for his name while getting ready for bed in the bathroom. You see his hulking figure behind you in the mirror, dark shadow almost looking like he’s leaning against the wall. Not that you were expecting any response, but it’s still disappointing to not get one. The bar of soap at your sink gets tossed to the floor. “It was just a question, you know. No need to start throwing stuff around if you don’t want to answer,” you mumble as you pick it up. It’s back on the floor as soon as you turn your back to toss your clothes in the laundry basket.

You wake up feeling cold that night. Glancing at the clock, it’s barely past midnight. You close your eyes, wanting to go back to sleep; having an early morning tomorrow, you want to at least try to get a proper night of sleep.

Something’s wrong, though. It takes you a while to realize what exactly that is. It’s cold, unusually so even under your thick duvet. A weight behind you in bed as you lie on her side. An arm around your waist, weighing you down. Someone’s cold, hard chest pressed against your back.

This is a dream. A fucking nightmare. It must be.

Feeling the weight shift behind you, a cold breath of air at the back of your neck, wakes you up rather quickly. The panic settles in slow, creeping up as you process the situation, eyes wide open.

You squeeze your eyes shut, considering your options. You could tear that arm off you and make a run for it. Scream as you go, get the attention of your neighbours; the middle-aged lady whose name you haven’t bothered to learn, who is always so quick to blame you for any and every sound she hears. Or you could just go back to sleep, ignore your problems until the morning, or until the person behind you decides to do something. Just- just ignore it until then.

Or you could turn around and see who it is.

What if they’re not even asleep? Watching, waiting for you to react?

You try to rationalize it, you always do. Always have a plan, always prepared for anything.

Not this, though.

How the hell could anyone ever be prepared for waking up to something like this?

You try to move, to slide out of bed, moving so slow the person behind you wouldn’t notice if they’re truly asleep. Their grip only tightens around your waist, stilling your movement. You hold your breath.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!

What’s a person supposed to do here, in a situation like this? You’ve heard enough horror stories – stories from real life, real people, not mere fiction – about how these things usually end. A woman living alone, someone forcing entry to their home after weeks, or even months of stalking them, getting to know their schedule, their workplace, their life. Every option, every possible action you could take has its risks, and your mind in running a million miles per hour.

You decide to turn, the pure fear getting to you. Fear of simply not knowing who this person is, why or how they’re here, in your home. In your bed.

You turn, moving slowly and carefully again, to face whoever is in the bed with you. Your heart pounds in your chest, the fear and anxiety or what or who you’ll see terrifying you to your very core.

There’s nothing there. In the dark room, you only see the moonlight peeking through the blinds, not doing much to light your room.

There’s nothing there.

Your eyes close and you take a deep breath, telling yourself it was some fucked up dream that just felt too real. You have been stressed out lately, more so than usual, so it's not that out of the question that it would start affecting you in different ways.

You promptly choose to ignore the still cold to the touch indentation on the mattress beside you.

You don’t even notice the now familiar eyes watching you from the corner of your bedroom.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!🌷

Also, I've been very busy and stressed recently, mostly with uni and assignments and starting my final thesis. I've found writing this to be sort of relaxing, like a way to get my mind off of things when it gets too much and my brain turns to mush. :)

[betterillusionist]

The Ravenwood Bulletin

The two Necromancers arrive at their study spot early today. Not because they're brimming with excitement to continue their self-study efforts, but rather to partake in something they once enthusiastically anticipated.

Boris found them an old radio tucked away in a shadowy corner of the library and let them have it. It's made of sandy orange wood and as big as Malorn's head. Him and Duncan spent some time cleaning the thing of all its ancient dust. Rushing up to the table, he can still see the lingering cloud from the other day, a slight gray haze in the dim candlelight.

Malorn and Duncan shove each other out of the way as they try and take a seat in front of the radio, fighting to be the one to turn it on. Beforehand, they'd have to fight with their fellow students to reach the radio. Now it's just them.

Radios were only allowed in the classrooms for the Ravenwood Bulletin, serving as morning announcements and miscellaneous news. Once the Bulletin was over, they'd be turned off and shoved away into some corner until the next day.

But no class was more excited for the radio than the Necromancers. At least, Malorn has never heard any wild stories about the other classes fighting each other to get to the radio, to have the honor of turning it on in front of their fellow classmates, and being its designated guardian until the Bulletin concluded before ceremoniously tucking it into its designated shelf behind the teacher's desk.

Malistaire made it a competition, a daily test of knowledge and skill. It also made sure that all his students were at least there on time for class.

Duncan wins the fight, his hand slapping the power knob and twisting it to 'On'. The radio hums to life with heavy static. Malorn lets out a defeated laugh and gives his friend room to fiddle with the tuning.

"Just like the good old days," he comments. Duncan nods back wordlessly, his concentration fully on the old radio before him.

There was a time at the very start of their educational journey at Ravenwood where it was pure morning chaos. Dark Sprites flew through the air; the only spell any of them knew how to cast at that time. By the end of the day, everyone would walk out still covered in purple fairy dust.

One of the first rivalries to appear amidst the chaos was between Malorn and Duncan. They'd each turn up far too early just to fight over the privilege that was the radio, even if they still had to get through their fellow students later on. There were even some days where the rest of the class would simply stand around and watch them spar.

"Ah!" Duncan exclaims as the radio buzzes with music. Malorn lets out a sigh of relief. The Bulletin will be starting shortly. Side by side, the two Necromancers make themselves comfortable on the bench and leans in close to the radio's tiny speakers.

Finally, the music comes to an end, and Boris' voice rings out, "Good morning, students of Ravenwood! This your morning Ravenwood Bulletin with your host, me! Boris Tallstaff.

"Student news: Let's have a round of applause for Regina Flametalon for getting first place in the annual Ravenwood Science Fair. Her steam golem really stole the show."

Humoring the radio voice, Malorn claps his hands twice to celebrate.

Duncan just rolls his eyes. "This is the third year in a row."

"Maybe you need to get into engineering, then," Malorn replies. His friend shakes his head hopelessly.

"Students living in Firecat Alley are advised to be careful on their way to and from class; an explosion was heard last night-"

"Gretta," the two Necromancers groan in unison. This isn't the first time she's made it into the news, though her name is no longer mentioned since she was fired. Everyone still knows who it is, though.

"Now for something we can all look forward to: Professor Wu's Baking Bash has finally been confirmed to be taking place next week after being postponed due to poor weather. Many students will be there selling baked goods, and 50% of all profits will go to the Marleybone Disease Research Facility in honor of Sylvia Drake."

An aura of darkness blasts Malorn, making him turn his attention away from the radio for a moment to check on his friend. Duncan's eyes shine with malice, though it quickly fades once he notices Malorn's concerned stare.

"Those Theurgists sure are lucky," Duncan says, his voice full of resentment.

"You shouldn't hate them because they got a new Professor before us," Malorn replies. "Things... happen."

His empty words, however, fall of deaf ears.

"Spiral news: Marleybone officials have released an advisory for foreign travelers amidst a sudden spike in crime, recommending anyone looking to visit or vacation to cancel their plans until the current crime wave is brought under control.

"But never fear! You can still take a vacation to Mooshu this summer. It was recently voted 'the most beautiful World in the Spiral', with their tranquil nature hikes and stunning ancient temples. For those looking for a relaxing getaway, I'd highly recommend paying Mooshu a visit.

"In other news, a star shower will be starting tonight, stemming from the old tail remnants of the comet Xibalba. It's peak will occur at around midnight and is predicted to end tomorrow afternoon.

"Finally, to round out your morning announcements, by popular demand, the Ravenwood Bulletin will be bringing back the 'Around the Spiral in a Week' column in the Bulletin's weekly newsletter. It was originally cancelled due to the old writer leaving the writing team. However, a new writer has finally been found to carry on the Bulletin's longest-running column. The Ravenwood Bulletin team thanks you for all the letters and lobbying for the return of the column.

"That's all the news for now. Thank you for listening to the morning Ravenwood Bulletin, and have a magical day!"

There's a soft 'click', and music comes back on the radio's speakers, the signal for Duncan and Malorn to pull their ears away from the wooden box.

"How nice of Boris to have found this for us," Malorn smiles.

"Good memories," Duncan wistfully nods in agreement, though a frown quickly befalls his face. "No news about Malistaire, though."

"I'm sure there will be something about him soon," Malorn replies somewhat hopefully. He's doing it mostly for Duncan. Somewhere deep in his aching heart, he doesn't think their Professor will be returning to Ravenwood any time soon...

"Well, time to get to work," he adds, forcing himself past his dark thoughts. There's no point in mulling over stuff beyond his control.

With an incoherent grumble, Duncan stands and makes his way to the other side of the table as Malorn moves the little radio, still playing its soft music, underneath his bench. Usually, the radio would be off by now, but since the two of them are in the library, what's the harm in leaving it on for a little while longer?

[americasass91]

Revenge on Ransom

So since I had so much fun writing my last fic, I just had to indulge on another one! This one is starring everyone’s favorite Mean Sweater Murder Daddy, Ransom! I didn’t intend for it to be this long. But I’m really quite happy with how it came out! Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading!! This is of course for @stargazingfangirl18​ and @navybrat817​ #shamelesshoesforchris

Prompts:

“Please don’t go”

“Don’t you dare take another step”

Words:5.4k

Rating:Explicit(I mean come on, it’s Ransom)

Warnings:Smut, Angst, Embarrassment, Ransom being an asshole as usual

“A threesome.”

You scoff and roll your eyes while continuing to rub circles on your lover’s taut stomach.

“Of course you’d say a threesome. Such a typical male response.”

“What? You asked me what some of my fantasies were and that’s one of them sweetheart.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow and glance down at the unfairly attractive man below you.

“At least be original with your fantasies. And besides, you expect me to believe that you, Hugh Ransom Playboy Drysdale, have never had a threesome?” You quirk your eyebrow as you look at his stupidly handsome face in disbelief.

He smirks at you. “Believe it, sweetheart. I mean I’m aware I’m a sex god, but I’ve never divulged into more than one woman at a time.”

You once again roll your eyes. “Okay pretty boy, whatever you say.” You lay your head back down on his chest, enjoying this rare moment of cuddling between you 2. Yeah sure you guys were, well whatever you were, you still never put a label on it. But Ransom usually didn’t spend a lot of time cuddling.

“What about you, baby girl? What’s another fantasy of yours. Besides tying me up, which won’t be happening anytime soon.” He starts running his fingers through your hair, instantly making your eyes droop. You adored when someone played with your hair.

You did have another fantasy in mind. You were debating on whether or not you wanted to share. It was rather different. Then again the last time you had revealed one of your fantasies to him (public sex) it led to the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. It also led to you getting kicked out and banned from Saks Fifth Avenue.

You’d never had this fantasy before, it was all his fault really. With his stupid toned, body. And his stupid bulging biceps. And his stupid handsome face. God you really hated him sometimes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you should know I’ve never had this fantasy until I met and started sleeping with you. So, it’s your fault really.”

He smirks down at you. “Well go on and share with the class, baby girl.”

You look away from him and stare down at your hand that’s rested on his toned stomach. “Okay, so I know this might sound crazy but I’m super attracted to your arms. Like they really do it for me. So one of my fantasies is riding your bicep.” Your voice got quieter near the end of your admission.

His fingers stop running through your hair. You tense up waiting for his reaction. You chance a glance up at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, no expression on his face.

Next thing you know you feel his chest start to shake. He starts laughing uncontrollably. He has tears in his eyes. He reaches up to clutch his pec. You’ve never seen him laugh this hard before.

You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you start untangling yourself from him. You just want to go crawl in a hole and die. You knew you should’ve just kept it to yourself. You feel his hand grab your wrist.

“Oh c-come on, sweet-sweetheart. You don’t h-have to leave.” He tries telling you in between fits of laughter. You yank your hand away and grab your clothes, standing to pull them on.

He finally realizes you're actually going to leave and stands up and gets in front of you. “I’m sorry baby girl, it just caught me off guard. Plus it’s just stupid. Really? You get to have my cock and you want to ride my bicep?”

You look up at him, cheeks still flushed red. “Sorry but you asked. Can we just forget I said anything? Go back to how it was before?”

He reaches forward and grabs your hip and pulls you closer to him, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “Sure thing, my strange little girl.”

“You’re not going to tell anybody about this right? I know you like to brag to your friends about our sex life. Kyle is still giving me shit about getting kicked out of Saks.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone about your stupid fantasy, Y/N. Now can we please just go back to bed? I wasn’t quite done with you yet. Please don’t go.” He tries pushing you towards the bed but you reach up your hand and push against his chest.

“I can’t Ransom, I’ve got to go home and start on my thesis. I’ve been here for 3 days now. I can’t keep putting it off.” You walk around him and grab up the rest of your stuff.

“Oh, so since I won’t let you indulge on your stupid fucking fantasy of riding my arm, you’re leaving. That’s a real bitch move, sweetheart.” He brushes past you and slams the door shut to his bathroom.

You stand there in disbelief. You really did need to go home and work on your thesis. And yes part of you was leaving a little earlier than planned but you didn’t really feel like being laughed at and judged anymore.

“God you are such a prick!” You scream at the closed door. You turn and stomp your way down the stairs and grab your coat and purse by the front door and slam it behind you.

You don’t hear from Ransom for 4 days. Which honestly you’re surprised you hear from him this early. Usually when you guys fight, you’re the one texting or calling him first. And yes you are aware of how pathetic that is but you love the douchebag, unfortunately.

Just as you’re taking a break from your thesis to watch a little Netflix, your phone starts to ring. You glance at the screen and are surprised to see Ransom’s number.

“Hello?” You pick up after the fourth ring.

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen I just wanted to apologize about how I acted when you had to leave. I’m sorry. I know your thesis is important and I was being selfish. Is there any way you can find it in your heart to forgive me?”

You have a few thoughts that run through your head. First thought, you wondered if this was really Ransom. You pulled your phone away from your ear and double checked the number. Yep it was him. The Second thought was while the apology was really sweet, you noticed he didn’t say anything about your little reveal to him. That was fine. Maybe he was respecting your wishes and pretending it didn’t happen.

“Thank you Ransom, your apology means a lot. I’ll forgive you.” You head into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Thank you sweetheart. I miss you. How is your thesis going?”

“Great, I’m actually taking a break for the day, I don’t want to burn myself out.” You head into the living room and plop down on the couch, grabbing the remote to get Netflix ready.

“That’s a good idea, beautiful. So does that mean I can see my girl tonight?” He sounds hopeful as he asks.

“Sure, your place or mine?”

“Actually some of the guys wanted to get together tonight and they are bringing their significant others so I was hoping you would want to come with me?” Once again sounding hopeful.

“Sure, it would do me some good to get out of the house. What time?” You glance at the clock on your wall and see that it’s 3:30.

“They want to meet up around 7 if that works for you? I could come over now and help you...relax.” You can just feel his smirk through the phone.

“As amazing as that sounds I really need to try to get a nap in. I’ve been working on my thesis non stop and haven’t gotten much sleep, is it ok if you just pick me up later? I’ll stay the night with you to make up for it.” You grab the blanket off the back of your couch and get comfortable.

“Sure, sure sweetheart. You go ahead and get plenty of rest. You’ll need it for when I get you home later.” He all but growls into the phone.

You clench your thighs together in anticipation. “Sounds good handsome, I’ll see you around 6:30?”

“Yeah, sounds good baby. Get some sleep, I love you.”

Once again you pull the phone away from your ear, Ransom rarely ever tells you he loves you. Sure he shows it, ok sometimes he does, but he rarely ever says it. He must feel really bad about how he treated you.

“Love you too, babe. Goodnight.” You hang up and set an alarm for 5 so you’ll have plenty of time to get ready. You put Friends on Netflix and drift off into a peaceful sleep.

You arrive at the bar with Ransom at around 6:50. Ransom helps you out of his Beemer and practically drags you inside. “Whoa, is there a fire? What’s the rush?” You say as you almost trip through the door.

He stops and looks back at you. “Sorry, Y/N.The last one to show up always has to pay the bill.” He turns his head and searches the bar for his friends.

“It’s not like you can’t afford it. Oh look there they are!” You smile and wave at them as you start walking towards the table. You actually don’t hate his friends entirely. Kyle is here with his girlfriend Kate and Todd is here with his fiancée Lily.

You quickly grab a seat next to Kate, she’s become a real good friend of yours. You wrap her in a hug. You say hi to everyone and turn to see Ransom standing there looking at you. “Hey babe, you gonna sit?”

“Yeah, just going to go get us some drinks first. What’s your poison tonight sweetheart?” He asks as he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the back of the chair next to you.

“Hmmm. I think an amaretto sour sounds amazing.” You smile up at him and he nods and heads to the bar. You turn back to Kate. “So are we the last ones to arrive?”

She laughs. “Nope, we are still waiting for Zac to show up. So everyone can thank him for the drinks tonight!” You inwardly cringe. Zac was the one friend of Ransom’s you couldn’t stand. You thought Ransom was a trust fund prick baby. Nothing compared to Zac. He walked around assuming his shit didn’t stink. You had asked Ransom once why he was still friends with him and Ransom just shrugged and said he was his longest friend. Going all the way back to childhood. So you put up with him for your boyfriends sake.

Ransom comes back with your drinks at the same time Zac shows up. He greets everyone and settles down right across from you. “Hello, Y/N. Nice to see you again.” He gives you a wink that makes you try your best not to throw up in your mouth. Ransom puts his arm around you and starts talking with Zac about some sports team or something. You’re not quite sure. You turn your attention to Kate as you, her, and Lily get into a discussion about the current gossip of the town.

About 2 amaretto sours later and it was just you and Kate left at the table. Todd and Lily left around 9:30, needing to get home to relieve their babysitter. And the rest of the guys were currently playing pool.

“So how have you and Ransom been doing? I remember you said the last time you guys were fighting a lot.” Kate asks as she takes another sip of her third cosmo.

“We’re doing great actually. Not fighting as much. I’ve been staying over a lot. So you know we haven’t been sleeping that much.” You giggle as you take another sip. Kate giggles with you, knowing how insatiable Ransom can be what with all the stories you’ve told her.

“Not gotten kicked out of any more stores have you?” She teases. “Oh my god that was one time!” You groan. “And totally worth it.” You wink at her as you look towards the guys. Ransom looks up at you and bites his bottom lip. Uh oh. You know that look. The last time he looked at you like that, you ended up pinned between him and the bathroom wall. Not that you minded.

“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom, babe. I’ll be right back.” Kate tells you as she grabs her bag and heads towards the back of the bar where you know the restrooms to be. You grab your phone and start mindlessly scrolling through Insta.

You hear the chair pull out from beside you. “Well hello there gorgeous, why are you over here all by yourself?” You turn and see Zac leaning casually against the table, looking at you expectantly. “Oh, I’m just waiting on Kate to get back. Are you having fun playing pool?” You ask trying to be polite while silently praying he’ll leave you alone.

“Nah, they aren’t much fun to play against. I already kicked their asses.” He smirks as he scoots just the tiniest bit closer to you. You glance over at the pool table and see Kyle and Ransom hanging up their cues, getting ready to head back. You inwardly sigh in relief. “Well that’s nice.” You don’t really know what else to say to him.

Kyle and Ransom make their way back over and sit across from you and Zac. You smile at Ransom and try to silently tell him you’re ready to go. He just brushes you off and turns to Kyle, engaging him in another sports conversation. You roll your eyes and smile once you see Kate coming back.

“Hey boys, done playing already?” She wonders as she takes her seat back beside you. “We were tired of getting our asses kicked by Zac here.” Kyle jokingly says as he takes a swig of his beer. You get ready to turn back towards Kate when Zac puts a hand on your shoulder and leans closer.

“You know I’d let you ride my arm if you wanted hot stuff.” Your eyes immediately go wide as the table goes silent. You can’t seem to tear your gaze away from your hands. “What the hell Zac, that’s a fucking weird thing to say. Even for you.” Kate says disgustedly, glancing at you and seeing your expression.

“Well just ask her, it’s a fantasy of hers. One Ransom doesn’t want to participate in. So I thought I would offer up my services.” He starts chuckling, squeezing your shoulder a little harder. Kate looks at you with an odd expression. “What’s he talking about, Y/N? Is that really one of your fantasies?”

“That’s fucking weird.” You hear Kyle mutter under his breath. “What kind of freak are you dating, Ransom?” He turns towards Ransom with a chuckle. Ransom looks at him and starts chuckling himself. “I don’t know man, we were talking about fantasies the other night and she told me that was one of hers.”

You honestly couldn’t believe that he was sitting there talking to Kyle like you weren’t even in the room. You could feel the stupid tears start to well up. You had to get out of there before they fell. You push your chair back and grab your coat and purse. Ransom stands up with you. “Oh come on, baby. It’s funny! We can all laugh about this!”

You were having a hard time finding humor at your expense. You asked him specifically not to tell anybody and he fucking did it anyway. And to Zac of all people! God what an asshole.

You don’t even spare him another glance as you head for the entrance. “Y/n? Are you ok? You’d don’t deserve to be treated that way.” You turn around and see Kate standing there with a worried look on her face. “I’m fine, I just can’t be around him right now.” You see Ransom hurriedly coming toward you. “I’ve gotta go.”

You run outside and look around for a cab. Of course you don’t see any. “Y/N! Where are you going?” You start walking down the street. You know if you look back at him you’ll start crying. God what an asshole. You can’t believe he told your secret.

“Y/N! Will you stop acting like a bitch and come here so we can talk?” Oh, now you were pissed. You whip around and find him still a couple feet away from you. “Excuse me? I’m acting like a bitch? You’re the one who told your perverted friend my fantasy about you. What does that make you?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh my god why are you so upset about that? I told him because it’s fucking hilarious! My pathetic, dumb baby is so turned on by me she wants to hump my fucking arm. It’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard. Of course I had to tell someone!” He starts walking closer to you.

You take a step back for every step he takes towards you. “No Ransom it’s not fucking funny! You fucking asked me what fantasies I had and as my partner, I trusted you enough to tell you. I thought I could confide in you. That we shared something but clearly I was fucking wrong.”

“Dear god what is wrong, are you on the rag or something? Is that why you’re so upset?” He had at least stopped moving towards you.

Well that pissed you off even more. “Jesus fucking Christ. I’m dating a fucking child. Correction, WAS dating a child. Not any more I’m not!” You turn around and stomp down the street. Now more pissed than anything.

“Don’t you walk away from me, sweetheart!” He had now caught up to you and grabbed your arm, turning you towards him. “You don’t get to turn your back on this relationship!”

“What relationship Ransom! If I can’t trust you with a secret that I specifically told you not to tell anyone then what do we have? You promised you wouldn’t say anything. And on top of all that, you made me feel so stupid to even have those feelings in the first place!” You can feel the tears again. You yank your arm away.

“You expect me to not laugh and not make fun of your stupid fantasy when it’s something as stupid as humping my arm?” He throws his hands in the air, looking at you like you’re insane.

“Yes Ransom I do! Because I seem to remember a few months ago you confided in me that you wanted me to fuck you with a strap on and did I laugh or judge you? No!”

Ransom looks around wildly. “Jesus, will you shut the fuck up about that! I don’t want people knowing that!”

“Why not? It’s ok for you to judge me and make fun of me for a fantasy but it’s not ok for me to tell people YOU LIKE TO SOMETIMES GET FUCKED IN THE ASS?” You screamed the last part as loud as you could. Looking past him to see Kate laughing so hard that Kyle had to hold her up. Zac just gives you both a look of disgust.

“Fuck you, Y/n. We’re done!” Ransom turns around and starts walking away. “THANK GOD! AND HEY I WANT MY STRAP ON BACK.” You smirk triumphantly and head the opposite way down the street. Ready to go home and cry your frustrations out.

It’s been about 2 weeks since your whole ordeal with Ransom. According to Kate, he’s been miserable. Good that made you feel a bit better.

You hated that in spite of everything, you missed him. You were in love with him. Those feelings weren’t just going to go away anytime soon. He tried calling and texting you. You didn’t have the energy to answer.

You were currently working on your thesis when you hear a knock on your door. You get up and open it assuming it’s Kate. She had been checking on you every other day. Instead you meet the blue eyes of your ex.

“Hello, Hugh. What do you want?” You cross your arms over your chest and stand in the doorway so he can’t get inside.

You see him wince when you call him by his first name. “I just wanted to talk, Y/N. Can I come in? Please?” You stand your ground. “No, whatever you want to say to me you can say it here. Go ahead.” You raise your eyebrows expectantly. Waiting to see what pathetic excuse he has.

He sighs. And that’s when you look at him a little closer. His hair isn’t as neat as it usually is. His eyes are red. From crying or not sleeping, you can’t tell. Your resolve breaks just a little. “I just wanted to apologize. Do I have to do it from the hallway?”

You sigh and step aside, letting him in. “Fine, you have 5 minutes.” You tell him as you head towards the kitchen counter and lean against it.

He nods his head. “That’s fair. First off I just want to tell you how sorry I am. I’ve thought a lot about everything these past few weeks and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m an asshole.”

“Wow it took you the full 2 weeks to realize that huh?” You knew you were being a bitch, you didn’t care. He deserved it.

“I deserved that too. But what I’m mostly sorry for is how I treated you. You were completely right. It wasn’t fair of me to make fun of your secret. And to tell Zac. Whom I’m no longer friends with by the way. Not after he hit on you like that.” He makes eye contact with you and cautiously takes a step forward.

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. I should’ve come after you as soon as you turned away from me. I regret that the most. Because despite what you believe, I do love you, Y/N. So damn much. These past few weeks have been hell. I can’t sleep without feeling you next to me. I know I’m asking for a lot here but is there any way we can start over? It’s killing me not having you in my life. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can't let you go. You’re too important.”

By now you have tears falling, but so does he. You’ve never seen him cry in front of you before. God you hate him! You don’t want to forgive him that easily but you also want to go and hug him and soothe him until he stops crying.

“I don’t know, Hugh. You really hurt me.”

“I know baby, I know. Let me make it up to you. I’ll never betray your trust again, I promise.” He puts his hand over his heart and stares at you hopefully.

You can feel your walls breaking down. Dammit.

“Okay Ransom. But this is the last time, I swear to God.”

You’ve never seen a smile that big grace his face. He strides towards you and grabs your face. “Thank you, baby. You won’t regret this.” He tilts his head until his lips are touching yours. You smile into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him a bit closer. “You want to watch a movie with me?” You ask as you pull away.

He nods. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

You head over to the couch together and get comfortable. You’re leaning into his side with his arm around your shoulders. You finally find a movie you think you’ll both enjoy and hit play.

You both last about 40 minutes before the making out starts. You started it. You couldn’t help it. It’s been 2 weeks too long. You’re now straddling him with your hands fisted in his hair. You grind down on his evident bulge and get a groan from him. He has his hands on your hips, moving you harder down on to him. “Baby, should we move this to the bedroom?” He whispers in your ear as he moves his lips down your neck. You quickly hop off of him and skip to the bedroom. Not even bothering to see if he’s following, knowing damn well he’s right behind you.

He turns and shuts your bedroom door and saunters over towards you. He grabs your hips and pulls you against him. He goes in for another kiss but you put your hand up to his mouth. He pulls back with a confused expression.

“You know if you’re really sorry, you’ll let me indulge in a fantasy.” You smirk up at him. “Oh yeah, what did you have in mind, beautiful girl?” He asks as he starts nipping at your neck. “I think you should let me tie you up and take advantage of you.” You giggle into his ear.

He pulls back away from your neck to look you in the eye. “Is that what you want? To tie me up so I can’t touch you? To ride my fat cock and take your pleasure from me?” You shiver in anticipation and nod your head enthusiastically. “Alright sweetheart, just to show you how sorry I am, I’ll let you tie me up.”

You jump up and down and clap your hands. “Ok, strip for me big guy.” You don’t wait around to watch, sadly. You head into your closet to find some scarves you can tie him up with.

You find some that you think are going to be sturdy enough and head back into the bedroom. You find Ransom sitting against your headboard, naked as the day he was born, stroking his enormous cock. You lick your lips at the sight. “See something you like, babygirl?” He smirks, knowing you do.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You head over and tell him to lay on his back. He obeys obediently and stretches his arms and legs out. You start by tying his feet to your four poster bed. Once you're confident he’s secure, you head over and start tying his left hand to the bed. Once you get it tied you ask him to try to break away. He does and is not able to. You head over and tie his right arm the same way as his left.

Once he’s all tied up you back away and gaze at your work. Nodding in satisfaction you make eye contact with him as you start slowly stripping. He bites his lip as he stares hungrily at each new body part that comes into view. “Fuck baby, I need you so bad.” You glance at his cock and see he’s standing proud and at attention for you.

“All in good time, handsome. I’ll make it worth your while, don’t you worry.” Once you get completely naked you grab your panties off the floor and crawl up and straddle him right above where he wants you most. “I don’t think you’ll really need to be talking” You let him know as you stuff your panties in his mouth. His lust blow eyes look amused at your sudden dominant side. He thinks you’re adorable pretending to be a dom.

You start by pressing kisses down his neck and slowly moving your hips until you’re right above his cock. You lower just enough so that you can grind your drenched pussy on him. He groans and pushes his hips up into you as best he can. You glance up at his restraints and see he’s pulling on them and trying to get free. And then your gaze moves down to his bulging arms. That’s when the lightbulb goes off in your head. You lean down until your mouth is at his ear. “Well I guess since you’re all tied up I can go ahead and fulfill my other fantasy.” You whisper as you climb off of him.

He looks confused and pissed. Until you straddle his right arm and smirk down at him. “I’m taking what I want from you, right?” He eagerly nods and flexes his muscles, making you groan out in the process.

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re really straddling his arm. You’re getting what you wanted. This almost never happens. You start off with a slow grind. You are so fucking wet. You know you’re drenching his arm and it’s running to the sheets. You don’t care. You feel so empowered. The feel of the vein in his arm dragging across your clit is exquisite. You start grinding a little faster, a little harder.

“You like me taking what I want from you pretty boy?” You glance down at him and he’s just looking back at you with lust blown eyes. He nods his head. You look over at his cock, it’s angrily leaking precum. “You’re such a slut for my pussy aren’t you, Ransom? Getting all worked up at me riding your arm. What a whore.” You spat as you pick up your pace, smacking his face in the process. You earn a growl from him. You know you’re gonna cum soon. You can feel the coil tightening. You throw your head back and moan his name out loud, grabbing your breasts and pinching your nipples.

Ransom has never seen anything so erotic in his life. Why was he denying you this in the first place? He doesn't remember. He’s so entranced watching you get yourself off on his bicep. He has to stop himself from coming.

It’s there, you feel it. You grab a fistful of his hair and grind down just a little harder and you feel the coil snap. You come so hard, your legs are shaking, screaming Ransom’s name. You have to grab onto his chest to keep yourself upright.

You glance down and see that he’s breathing heavily, cock leaking cum. “Awe does my poor pussy slut need to come?” You tease, letting your breathing calm down before you crawl towards his cock, ready to let him blow his load in your mouth.

You lower your mouth and kitten lick the very tip of his cock causing a loud growl to erupt from his chest. You are about to stuff him down your throat when a thought occurs to you. You sit back on your knees and look over at him. He’s looking back at you with an incredulous look on his face. “You know, I don’t really think you’re quite sorry enough yet for what you did to me. I think you need to lay here and think about it some more.” You tell him as you get off the bed and grab for your clothes. You start redressing and glance back at him.

He’s beyond pissed. He’s trying his hardest to pull at the scarves to break free. He’s yelling at you. It’s all mumbled around your panties that are still lodged in his mouth.

You head over to the door and open it. You turn around before leaving the room completely and look back at the pathetic man tied to your bed. “Maybe next time you want to laugh at one of my fantasies, you’ll remember this moment, Hugh.” You smirk about to close the door behind you. Ransom must have gotten the panties out of his mouth because the next thing you know, you’re being yelled at.

“Don’t you dare take another step, Y/N, you bitch! Get the fuck back here and untie me you fucking cunt!” You just close the door and laugh and head to your couch seeing that Netflix is still pulled up. You pick your favorite episode of Friends out and settle in. You turn it up to drown out Ransom who is still rudely yelling at you. You smirk to yourself and decide you’re going to leave him tied up for at least a couple of episodes.

[kindofinprogress]

What. A. Git.

Harry Potter fell in love at 18.

At least, that’s how old he was when he realized he was in love. He’d felt quite at home in this state so surely it must have happened when he wasn’t looking. Perhaps it happened when he was 16 and playing quidditch with her in the back garden of her home or later that year when an untamed amount of anger filled him at the sight of another boy near her in all the ways he’d wish he could be. Maybe it happened after their historic first kiss in front of 50 of their peers or the subsequent, equally as historic (although much more private), “walk” after said kiss. Maybe it was later, when he was 17, sometime in the nine grueling months he had to spend away from her- where all he could do was try and not think about how much he missed her. Distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that, right? Or, it could have happened the second, the very mind-clouding moment, that he got to hold her in his arms again after those nine months and the battle that ended the war in which he lost so much. But not her. She managed to come out on the other side and he couldn’t thank enough deities about it if he tried.

Whenever it was- he was sure he was fully, irrevocably, assuredly, enduringly, and all of the other painfully cliche words one could come up with, in love exactly one month after she left on a train for her last year of schooling.

Harry Potter was pitiful. That’s the word that Ron used, anyway. Well, if not being able to stand missing Ginny, his Ginny after the longest, grueling month of his life then that was fine. Alright, perhaps it was possible he’d had worse months so maybe he could tone down the dramatics. But, Harry rationalized, last year he had countless “worst” months- one right after the other in what at the time seemed like an endless string. And even back then he would have given up the world to be able to drop everything and get one good look at her. And he could do that now- quite easily and with a lot less at stake.

Read on AO3

It was after dinner at the Burrow where Harry sat in a room eating a delicious plate made by a stern and loving woman who’s laugh and annoyed tuts reminded him of his Ginny, sat next to a man with his Ginny’s wonderful curiosity, and surrounded by her brothers who had a mischievous edge to their jokes which only his Ginny could rival that he decided he would do just that. Drop everything and go see her- no matter how pathetic that made him in the eyes of his best mate.

Dinner was a more quiet affair these days. Spirits had livened up just enough at the end of September to where everyone could joke and ask each other about their days with genuine interest because they didn’t always end up back at sorrow-filled points but not enough that not at least one persons’ eyes welled up with tears by the end of the night. Or that someone had to excuse themselves when they almost mentioned Fred. But tonight, it wasn’t the collective longing for Fred to fill his seat at the dinner table or the mention of Teddy and the painful reminder that a 60-year-old woman and an 18-year-old man were now his main caretakers rather than his young and kind parents that created a knot in Harry’s throat. It was the mention of Ginny and the oh-how-busy-she-must-be fussing over her too-short letters home and her oh-so-important exams at the end of the year. After she came up Harry was in no mood to answer questions about his training, or if he and Ron would want the leftovers from tonights’ dinner, or to stay ‘round for after dinner drinks with the boys. Harry did stay, not from a lack of trying to leave though. Ron practically plucked him out of the floo and forced an ale into his palm. “Lighten up, we’ll see them at the end of October in Hogsmeade. No need to let a few miles soil our night.”

So, fine. Harry stayed and sulked over exactly one drink. He bid the clan of red-headed brothers goodnight while Ron went to the loo. Harry got home, put on his pajamas, washed his face and wrote a quick note to Ginny to meet him in the Shrieking Shack on the following night- October first. It was a Thursday and Harry figured it was too early in the year for any professors to be dishing out detentions to a castle full of grieving students and it wasn’t a special feast that night so the only thing that might get in his way would be Hermione’s time table.

The next morning, after about 5 more “you’re absolutely pitiful”’s from Ron, and a detailed description of exactly what he was to tell their training Auror his excuse for skiving off in the middle of a work week Harry set off for Hogwarts.

He arrived in town with enough time to stop by the Hog’s Head and grab dinner at the dusty bar and a quick conversation with the aloof Aberforth. The night’s air was well chilly as he made his way to the old, creaking shack and it wasn’t much better from inside. Harry made quick work to try and warm the place up with some charms but only managed to make it bearably stuffy before the door from the secret passage swung wide open and a red blur launched into his chest. Harry took in her flowery scent and dug his fingers into her hips bringing her as close as possible to him. Ginny looked up and met his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but bring his mouth to hers. The kiss was simple and all-consuming. It made his mind swirl. When he finally broke it and got a good look at her face he couldn’t help the soppy grin that overtook his features. It was so easy to let the world melt away and feel so happy with his Ginny around.

“Hey, you. You didn't just come all the way here to stare at me all night did you? We have pictures for that sort of thing you know.”

“Sorry.” He blurted. “No, that’s not what I came for. But it is quite fun. Be quiet and give me about another minute, would you?”

“Harry!” She giggled and swat at his arm. She leaned in and gave him a quick peck before untangling herself from him. “Why did you come? Is everything alright?” Her expression softened with concern in a way that made her look so absolutely endearing Harry swept her up and rightfully snogged her. When they broke apart, panting and out of breath minutes later he apologized again. “Sorry- couldn’t help it.”

He gave her a sheepish smile suddenly feeling just as pathetic as Ron had painted him to be. “I just. Er- I missed you. Is all. And I- I just wanted to see you. Is that okay? I’m sorry, you didn’t have anything important going on did you? Practice? I don’t even bloody know when you practice and I just made you drop everything because I’m a pathetic sop. I’m sor-”

Ginny shut him up with one of those small pecks that took his breath and all coherent thoughts away. “You silly man. Of course it’s alright, Harry. It’s more than alright. I’ve missed you too. I do have to admit you made me nervous with that note. It didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, bugger. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, it freaked Hermione out enough to let me off the hook from studying with her tonight. We’ve been going over the same bloody chapter all week, Harry! I know you warned me but Godric, Hermione is boring me to tears and I think she’s enjoying it!”

Harry laughed and they exchanged another small moment of pure bliss. She had a way of doing that, Harry noticed. Filling a moment with everything. Filling him to the brim with happiness in the most minute ways. In that moment Harry wondered if that’s what his father felt for his mother. Later, Harry would reason with himself that James must have- for if anything was worth falling in love and marrying a girl straight out of school in the middle of a war that that feeling -this feeling- must have been in.

“Please, do carry on about your wild school year full of studying and classes.”

“Oh, only if you promise to drone on about your stuffy old coworkers and shoes that pinch your toes.”

“Hey, I’m serious! I want to know everything. I know you don’t put it all in your letters. I can tell your hand gets cramped when your writing gets all crooked and starts leaning on its side- which happens in every letter so I know you haven’t included everything you’ve wanted to.”

So Ginny spent the next half hour telling Harry about everything she felt was too little to write in her letters. Truthfully, she thought they were too little to be mentioning now when they had such a short time together but he truly seemed to be enjoying the conversation so she kept on only so he would keep looking at her like that. Like she was enchanting and everything. Ginny got the sudden courage to do something she’d been terrified of for weeks. “I had my career meeting with McGonagall my first week.” Harry searched deep in his brain for something to say to that- try as he might he couldn’t think of any specifics to ask- surely she’d mentioned this to him before. It was one of the most important meetings 5th, 6th, and 7th years had yearly and Ginny must’ve- “I didn’t mention it before because what we talked about just kind of happened. I just blurted it out without meaning to and she encouraged me, Harry. Me! She really thinks I’m capable of it.” Ginny let anticipation hang in the air for a second- reveling in the way she had Harry’s undivided attention. “She’s getting scouts from all over to come watch me play! I’m going to play quidditch professionally, Harry! Well, maybe. I have to be impressive enough for them to actually offer anything but-”

“You’re going to be amazing, Gin. Those scouts won’t know what hit them.”

“Oh, Harry. I knew I was right to wait to tell you before anyone else.”

Harry’s heart swelled with pride. He felt like he’d won a prize at that. It was in that moment that Harry realized he needed this for the rest of his life. To be the first one she shared good news with, to never miss out on being her biggest supporter, to get to watch her smile like this. To be around for all things Ginny Weasley.

It was ridiculous, then, the thought that before this visit he hadn’t known he was in love with her. She was Ginny Weasley. Beautiful Ginny who had boys falling at her feet, kind Ginny who took care of everyone she came in contact with, brilliant Ginny who was quick as a whip, brave Ginny who fought in a war at age 16 and faced much darker still at age 11- his Ginny. His talented, talented Ginny who was going to be a professional athlete. How cool was that? She was so cool and brave- his Ginny. Just looking at her now, talking a mile a minute, blushing at the confession that she’d been worried about her family’s reaction to her decision- about his reaction, eliciting confidence- he knew he was head over heels in love. She deserved the world and Harry would do anything to be the one to personally hand it to her.

Harry spent a while celebrating with Ginny and reluctantly left her to go to bed -way past her curfew- after about her tenth yawn. With promises to write and see each other soon Harry left on his way home feeling much lighter than he had in weeks.

Harry had always thought when he felt love for the first time it would be a bit more climactic than this. But strangely, this felt much better than any notion of falling in love he’d built up in his head. This was easy… natural. Nothing dramatic or flashy just… just the sheer act of being with Ginny was enough. And he was so fine with that.

It wasn’t until much later- in the early hours of the morning when Harry was finally crawling into bed that he realized he hadn’t even told her he loved her. What. A. Git.

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chap.6

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 6 “Blue Sky Athletic” out now!

AO3 Link

The hotel room was quiet, the Italian sun hadn’t risen yet. Illumi sat himself up in bed and started to mindlessly comb through his hair. He had excused himself from the fashion show the previous night as early as he could. Because he couldn’t stand the lights. The music. The smells. The people.

Yet he was going to return the next night. There were contacts to be made, images to be upheld, a new name to be made for himself…

And he didn’t have to be alone.

A single text message to his butler:

“Illumi: Get me the keys to a Mercedes AMG GT Black series and leave me be the rest of the day.”

.

.

.

Killua had run away from home for the first time when he was 10 years old, with the intent to stay away. His father had scolded him about neglecting his studies, and in response he snuck out through his window with a backpack stuffed with a few clothes and snacks. In the end, a butler had caught him before he was able to sneak through the fencing around the large property.

He was undeterred and proceeded to perfect his means of sneaking away from the mansion. By the next summer he was able to consistently make it into town and stay there for an hour or two before a butler eventually found him. Though he wanted to, he never went further than that. Afterall, where was he supposed to go? A young boy traveling without adult supervision would attract attention almost immediately, and it wasn’t like he had friends he could visit (And the risk of running into his father or grandfather when visiting Alluka was too great).

But what if he had a place to go? He was older now, old enough to travel by himself for sure, and money wasn’t a problem as long as his lazy brother would stay blissfully unaware of his credit card expenses. Neither Illumi, his father, nor grandfather were home to surveillance him. Milluki barely registered what happens in and around the mansion. Kalluto was young enough to be bribed and trust his big brother when he tells him to keep quiet.

The setup couldn’t get more perfect. Now or never.

Killua shouted down the hall that he didn’t want dinner, peppered with swears here and there to underline anger, and he told Kalluto that if anyone were to set food in front of his door, he was free to take it for himself or Milluki. His CD player blasted metal music loud enough to give the impression of a moody teen dealing with anger issues, but not too loud as to prompt his mother to come in and turn it off herself.

Another cautionary glance down the hallway before he closed and locked his bedroom door from the inside. Now or Never.

Killua grabbed his pre-packed duffle bag and executed his well-practiced escape via window. His mother would regret the day she removed the bars framing it, foolishly thinking that Killua was ‘grown up’ enough to stop his escape attempts.

A cold breeze grazed his face, and the young boy granted himself a couple of seconds to take it in, wild hair gently swaying in the wind. Of course, he was not going to leave forever. It would only be a matter of time before someone went to retrieve him and lock him back in, chiding him about his ‘responsibilities’ that he couldn’t care less for.

But I won’t make it easy. With that thought, he gave the mansion one last middle-finger, before he quickly turned and headed towards the edge of the property that was closest to town. By now he had the surveillance pattern of the guard dogs memorized and knew exactly where the brick fence was covered by enough ivy to enable easy climbing. Soon enough, Killua was treading through the thick forest in a steady pace. He tried to listen for signs of someone coming after him despite his heart drumming louder in his ears.

Usually he’d be calm, collected, non-caring for breaking out. But this time was different. This time he had a destination in mind, wouldn’t be collected so easily. The grip around his phone tightened. He wondered how long it would take someone in the house to notice. Who would be sent after him; A butler? Would Illumi be called back? His father? How severe will the punishment be-

A branch snapped into the boy’s face, pulling him back from wherever his thoughts were about to wander. The lights of the town became clearer in his sight with every step. It wasn’t a big city by any means, but he didn’t need it to be. All he needed was a cab driver to who accepted credit and didn’t ask question.

In the end, an older cabdriver, he must have been in his sixties already, shrugged carelessly at the request of the young boy to be driven to the airport, mumbled something about rebellious youth and getting paid regardless. Killua discarded the duffle bag into the trunk of the car and sat himself down in the backseat as he fumbled with his phone. The Radio played some repetitious top 40s song about being young and freedom and friendship and following your heart, and he couldn’t help but snort at how grossly it fit.

The sun set against the horizon, the town steadily disappeared behind him, until it was completely out of sight. Every new meter the car cleared was the furthest Killua had ever made it away from home alone.

Ping.

His phones alarm startled Killua out of his thoughts once again. A single discord notification.

GON: Good morning! =v=

The runaway looked through the windshield of the car, in the distance an airport started to come into form.

Kil: morning, did u sleep okay?

GON: Like a baby :p

GON: How’re you?? Did you get your PC back yet?

Kil: about that actually

He handed the driver his/Millukis credit card and lifted his bag over his shoulder. No one ever told him how much to tip a cabby, so he assumed 50% was about right.

Kil: remember how you told me to give you a heads-up if i ever came over so you could clean?

GON: Yeah?

Killua took a quick peace-sign selfie in the large entrance of the airport, in front of the arrival/departure board, and send it promptly in their chat.

Kil: get cleaning.

.

.

.

Gon paced around the house as if driven mad, he mumbled about preparations, and food, and accommodations, more to himself really than to Mito who sat at the table, gentle smile on her lips.

“Gon, it’ll still be almost an entire day till he gets here. I’m sure he won’t be disappointed. Now remind me again, his parents are really okay with such a spontaneous visit to a virtual stranger across the globe?” Her smile was warm, but her eyes drilled threats into him.

“We’re not virtual strangers! We’ve been talking for months; I probably know him better than any of his siblings!”

“I’d just feel a bit more at ease if I could have talked with his parents in advance. What if he has any illnesses or allergies I’d need to be mindful of? What if there’s an emergency and I need their contact information?”

Instead of admitting that he did not think of all of that, Gon chose to smile with more confidence, “I’ll just make sure there’s no emergencies! I’m not a little kid anymore!” He stepped closer to where she was seated and rested with his arms and head on the table. “He’s a really good friend and hasn’t been feeling well. I think this could be really good for him, and it’s not like I have many other people to hang out with around here. But if you are really that concerned, I promise that he’ll write down his parents’ number and address! So, it’s okay, right?”

The woman sighed in defeat and brushed through Gon’s unruly hair. “You really are a troublemaker with best intentions. Don’t make me regret this.”  The young boy beamed in response and pulled his guardian into a hug. Before he could promise that he wouldn’t, she raised her voice again, “But don’t think this will get you out of studying.”

Gon groaned in agony, though it was quickly followed by another laugh. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I do, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded once in a while. Now go fetch the cot from the garage, or do you want your friend to sleep on the floor?”  

With an energetic nod, he sprinted out the room, leaving Mito alone in the room as she tapped her fingernails against her cup of tea. Her eyes wandered to an old picture of Gons father. He’s becoming just like you. She didn’t know if the thought made her want to laugh or cry.

.

.

.

Gon was a bundle of nerves the entire drive to the airport. Killua had offered that he’d take a taxi from the airport to Gons home, but Mito insisted that they’d meet at the airport (“Just to be sure, you know?” And Gon didn’t know).

He tapped his fingers at increasing speeds against the interior of the red Subaru XV, and watched as the scenery outside transitioned slowly from deserted dirt roads to busy highways to the even busier parking area of the airport.  

Would Killua even recognize him? Would he be able to recognize Killua? He’d like to think so, but then again, people always said celebrities look different face-to-face than on TV. His heart was beating hard and fast against his chest, but a smile never left his face, strained in anticipation of the best kind.

Mito sat down in a designated waiting area, exhausted from a long drive. She considered asking Gon to sit down as well but disregarded the thought as he fidgeted and started to pace again. Excess energy needs to be let out somehow.

“The plane has already landed, right? Shouldn’t he be here already?” he blurted out, nervously bouncing on his heels.

“He’s probably still waiting for his luggage, things like this take ti-“

“Gon!” Mito got cut off by a voice that shouted his name in such a familiar way, so recognizable that it was almost startling.

He whipped around, and his eyes caught onto the silver hair in the distance immediately. There was Killua. He looked like he had just jumped out of any of the pictures that Gon had ever seen of him, messy hair, bright eyes, pale skin, and a confident yet laidback smile.

It took about 5 seconds before Gon had cleared the distance between them, and he wrapped his arms around the other boy in a big hug. Killua hesitated for a moment, before he returned the hug, and patted Gon on the shoulder.

“It’s really you!”

“Who else could it be?” Killua snorted.

“I don’t know! But it’s still so weird to, just, have you here now!”

They spent what felt like an eternity looking at each other, laughed and giggled and commented on each other’s features, more defined than any picture could do. Killuas eyes sparkled in the low airport light, and Gon tried to burn every detail of his face into his memory, his long eyelashes, the creases of his eyes, and his sharp smile. Everything looked so natural, so right, and Gons heart stumbled over itself.

“So, would you like to introduce your friend to me, Gon?” As Mito spoke up, both boys pulled out of the hug with a jump.

Killua quickly held out his hand and stood straight, “I’m Killua, thank you so much for letting me stay over for a bit, miss. It’s nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand with a giggle. “You can just call me Mito or Auntie, alright? And it’s nice to meet you too, thank you for getting along so well with this little troublemaker.”

Gon felt heat rush to his cheeks but couldn’t bark a complain before Mito ruffled a hand through his hair. “How about we all grab something to eat, and then had home. You must be starving, Killua. Do you like burgers?”

The boys cheered in unison, and the group headed towards a fast-food chain.

And if Gon didn’t notice how easily he and Killua fell into step next to each other, too deeply invested in conversation about flights and food and seemingly the entire world, Mito surely did.

[classicmollywood]

Stormy Weather: The Life of Lena Horne Review

Here is review #2 for Out of the Past’s 2020 Classic Film Reading Challenge! This book I just finished a few days ago and have been dying to talk about! So let’s talk about Stormy Weather: The Life of Lena Horne by James Gavin. Before opening this book, all I knew was Lena Horne was one of Hollywood’s first Black starlets and that she had acted in a couple of films. Oh my, did I learn way more than I anticipated. 

Lena Mary Calhoun Horne was born to a middle class Black family in 1917. Horne’s upbringing would shape her adult life. Lena’s parents had her and split pretty much immediately, with her dad leaving her and her mother. Lena would always have a loving fondness for her father, Teddy, but her mother was a different story. Lena’s mom, Edna, wanted to be an actress and would blame Lena and say she was the reason why Edna never fulfilled her dream. Horne’s grandmother, Cora, was very fundamental in the early Civil Rights Movement and taught Lena to always be poised, sound educated, and NEVER to show your emotions. 

Lena Horne in the early ‘30s, right before her Cotton Club days, via A Trip Down Memory Lane - blogger

Lena began her career at the Cotton Club in 1933. She believed her dancing and singing abilities were lacking, but she was eager to learn and was pretty, so they brought her on. Horne went from nightclub to nightclub, band leader to band leader, trying to learn how to hone her craft. She didn’t necessarily choose her career, but went along with it anyways.

Everywhere Lena went in the club scene, there was rampant racism. A lot of the clubs she would entertain at wouldn’t allow Blacks to enter the front door, would say they were integrated when they weren’t, or would be flat out whites only. 

Lena Horne performing in a nightclub circa the ‘40s, via Doctor Macro

This caused a racial identity crisis that would haunt Lena for the rest of her life. One common theme throughout this book was that Lena was considered too light for Black audiences and too dark for white audiences. When she went to MGM in 1942, the studio wanted to be more progressive, but honestly had no clue what to do with its first Black starlet. Lena would drip with disdain on how the studio treated her in future interviews. She felt she was for the most part placed into movies as a stand alone entity, so if the studio needed to cut her scene for the Jim Crow south, they could. 

Lena’s film debut was in Panama Hattie in 1942, with one of those stand alone scenes. Horne’s first real acting chance happened in the musical, The Cabin in the Sky in 1943. She also starred in Stormy Weather that same year. Both films had all Black casts. Throughout the rest of the ‘40s, Horne would do a song here and there in a random film. She was to look pretty while singing and that got old real quick.

Lena Horne and Bill Robinson in Stormy Weather, via The New York Times

James Gavin does a good job in giving first hand accounts of Horne and stays as unbiased as possible. A lot of these interviews revealed a complex Lena Horne. Horne could be fun and a joy to be around, or could come off as icy and distant, and if you did anything that upset her, she could drop you at a moment’s notice. It seems she did that to a great deal of people, however, there were two people she wanted to get rid of that kept coming back - her mother and her first husband, Louis Jones. Her mother remarried but would show up every now and then insisting Horne owed her whatever she wanted. Jones wanted a domestic for a wife and Horne was too busy trying to become a star. They had two children together, Gail and Ted, and were involved in an ugly custody battle, that ended with Horne getting custody of Gail and Jones getting custody of Ted. This caused a distance between Horne and her son, that she regretted immensely. Horne and Gail had a complex relationship as well, but they knew each other a bit more intimately.

Lena Horne with her children Gail and Ted, circa the ‘40s or ‘50s, via Pinterest

After Horne didn’t get two roles she truly wanted - the role of Julie in Showboat (1951), which she had already in a sense done on-screen with a cameo in Till the Clouds Roll By (1946) where she performed songs as Julie, and the title role of Pinky (1949), a light skinned Black woman who passes for white. Both of those roles went to white actresses: Horne’s good friend Ava Gardner played Julie and Jeanne Crain played Pinky. Horne would note that they would use her special Max Factor make up to darken the skin of white actresses, and to darken her herself. 

Gavin also discusses Horne’s racial identity crisis with two specific sections: one talking about her marriage to a white man, Lennie Hayton, and how she tried (and felt she failed) to be active in the Civil Rights Movement. Horne loved Hayton, but didn’t want to hear chatter about her intentions of marrying a white man, which is why she kept turning him down when he proposed. Once they got married, she was accused of turning on her own race because she married a white man. At times, Gavin describes Horne’s frustration with Hayton due to his indifference on racial injustices. The two stayed married until Hayton’s death in 1971, but were separated for a while before he passed. Horne would say Hayton was her one true love after he was gone.

Lena Horne and Lennie Hayton, via Pinterest

Horne always felt like she was set to a higher standard because she was the first Black starlet and had to represent her race in the best possible light. She would turn down roles the NAACP director Walter White deemed represented their race in a stereotypical way. When the Civil Rights Movement was gaining momentum, many asked “Where’s Lena?” Horne felt like she wasn’t doing enough and decided she needed to go south to prove she was for the cause. Horne would meet Civil Rights Legends such as Martin Luther King Jr, John Lewis, and Medgar Evers. Horne would stand behind King and Lewis during the March on Washington and even speak, saying loudly, “FREEDOM”. Even though she tried so hard to help the movement, her anger at racial injustice and the fear of not doing enough would be another thing that haunted her for the rest of her life.

Lena Horne speaking to a reporter during the March on Washington, via Huffpost

Gavin also highlights Horne’s recording career and how she had a bit of an insecurity when it came to her singing. Her records never sold as much as she wanted them to, and she felt like her voice was never good. Horne had so many musical style changes and tried to stay relevant to the changing fads and felt like she always faltered. 

Lena’s 1957 album cover for Lena Horne at the Waldorf Astoria, via Discogs

Gavin portrays Horne’s complexities in a sensitive way. He mentions how people viewed Horne as fun, icy, standoffish, stubborn, etc, but he always backs up what could have motivated her to act that way. I think in describing anyone it is important to give as much information as possible and not just holding onto a couple of descriptors and saying them over and over with no explanation. Gavin doesn’t do that at all.

Gavin’s book taught me that Lena Horne was a strong Black woman, in a sense because she wanted to be and also because she felt like it was who she needed to be. Horne paved the way for so many great Black female singers and actresses, but she felt like she had to fight tooth and nail to get some sort of positive recognition. Horne’s complexities make her more than just a starlet on a pedestal, they make her human. 

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Violet Skies

Pairing: Bucky X OFC

Summary: When Bucky tries to get away from yet another moment of chaotic change he’s faced with a reminder that fate, sometimes, is kind to those that wait. 

Warnings: Smut and a truckload of feels. 

A/N: I don’t know how @littledarlinhavefaithinme does it but for the second time one of her writing challenges has sent me on a journey I didn’t expect but am so happy to have gone on. (Prompt in bold.)

I hope y’all can forgive the lack of series updates in lieu of this (lengthy) one-shot.

Oh and I finally said, “Fuck it,” and made an OFC so feedback is very welcome. ALL the thanks to @wonderlandmind4 for being my beta to make sure I stayed on track with not slipping into my insert habits. She's a goddamn blessing y’all. 

I hope you love it pumpkins! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @handplucked @jewelofwinter @whiskeywinter89

(If you should be in my perma-tags and you’re not here let me know so I can fix it!)

Bucky needed to get away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the new friendships he was forming or the posh new digs he’d been granted courtesy of Pepper Pots and the Avenger’s Fund. He was deeply grateful. Even so, it was all so much so fast and he desperately needed to disappear to clear his head.

As he tears down highway mile after highway mile heading south, memories of another time when he needed the same freedom, fill his mind.

Unbeknownst to him, the summer of 1943 would change his life forever. In July they informed him that he was one of the best shots they’d seen in a while—he’d be an invaluable asset in the field. All Bucky heard was that they wanted him to be a killer. That knowledge sat like a brick in his gut for weeks.

When they gave him leave to return home for a stint in August he couldn’t bring himself to head straight back to Brooklyn. After all, how could he look his Ma in the eyes and tell her what they wanted him to do…

Instead, he’d done the same thing he was doing now. He ran south.

The New Orleans he pulled into would be different than the one he encountered all those decades ago. He knew time and the brutality of nature would have changed the city forever, but as he rode into the French Quarter he was pleasantly surprised to see so many things had remained the same—on the outside at least.

The last time he was in this city he had stayed in the cheapest hotel he could find. To say it was questionable would be giving it too much credit. This time, he decided he’d give himself the benefit of a decent stay. The Soniat House was central and nice, but it still had an older feel that soothed him. He liked knowing he wasn’t the oldest thing around.

It’s too early to check-in when his bike pulls up, Sunday morning. He didn’t have a plan, no sites he necessarily wanted to see and no memories he’d allow himself to seek out. All he wanted was peace. The easiest way for him to find that was to move, sitting still too much—especially alone—let his mind wander to things he’d prefer to forget for now. So, rather than linger in the lobby, he leaves his bike and heads into the Quarter on foot.

Despite it being fall the warmth and humidity are still heavy—he loves it, if he never had to be cold again in his life he’d be happy.

After a few blocks, he finds himself in Jackson Square, staring up at the beautiful facade of the St. Louis Cathedral. A steady stream of locals and tourists head into the sanctuary for Sunday morning mass. He can’t help but laugh at himself—once an altar boy.

He hadn’t stepped foot in a church since he’d been free. Some part of him felt unworthy, maybe even a little afraid. After everything recently he longed for something familiar though. With slight hesitation he joins the flow of people, taking a seat as far back as possible.

A few things were different in the ceremony but for the most part, the cadence was as he remembered. He ignored the automatic urge to take communion, watching others with just a touch of envy. Would he ever feel like he deserved to do such a thing again?

The homily was oddly fitting. The priest spoke on forgiveness—not the kind that comes from some benevolent being but the kind from within.

“We must all forgive ourselves, especially in the wake of The Blip, for the things we did to mourn, heal, and survive. After all, if our heavenly father can forgive us these things, who are we to stand in defiance of his wisdom?”

And who says God has forgiven any of us anything? Bucky thinks, bitterness filling his mouth.

When the service ends he tries to slip out without having to shake the Father’s hand. The size of the crowd prevented that though and he found himself face to face with the kindly man.

He grasps Bucky’s hand, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you for your service soldier.”

Bucky’s heart kicks up, “How did you-”

The priest laughs a little, “You’ve got the look son. Have a blessed day.”

“Thank you, Father.” He forces a weak smile and heads away from the crowd.

An all too familiar restlessness had settled over him since the priest had clocked him for a soldier. It was the feeling that came over him before a mission, similar to the feeling that hangs in the air before a thunderstorm, itchy and electric. He hates it.  

Heading for the hotel once more he handles check-in. Since he rode his bike down he’d packed light but this also meant that settling in took not nearly long enough.

He showers, hoping the steaming hot water will wash away this feeling of anticipation but it does nothing. Staring at his reflection in the foggy mirror, tired eyes, grey dusted bread, long hair dripping with water, he comes to a decision.

With a plan in his mind, he changes quickly—slipping into a pair of dark slim denim, a black v-neck tee, and his light bomber jacket—sure it was warm but he’d rather not deal with the stares.  

It only takes him a few blocks to find an open barbershop. Swallowing his nerves he steps in.

In a little over an hour he stares, dumbfounded, at a reflection, he can’t quite connect to. This is a different man, someone who died in 1945 and couldn’t possibly be sitting here. This was the James Buchanan Barnes in the Smithsonian, the one in history books.

No, he says to himself, this is me. He still has his beard, albeit groomed, he’d never had a beard back then. The hair is similar, short on the sides and long on top.

This is me, he repeats. Like Sam said, he’s not either Sergeant Barnes or The Winter Soldier—he’s both, all the experiences, good and bad, coming together to make him who he is.

“You clean up real nice son,” the man, who couldn’t be more than 50 says with a smile.

He returns the smile, “This is all you, sir.” All while thinking, I’m likely old enough to be your grandfather.

Despite the man’s protest, he pays him three times the cost of the services plus a tip. What was the point of having money if you didn’t use it like this?

Some of the anxiety lifts after he walks from the shop. He feels lighter like he left something behind there to be swept up and tossed. The rest of the afternoon is spent eating, poking his head into a few shops, enjoying not having anything he feels he has to do.

Evening begins to fall as he watches the Mississippi from a bench in Woldenberg Park. There’s a touch of pleasant coolness to the breeze now, lifting some of the dense humidity he’d grown used to throughout the day.

He breathes in the air, curling his fingers behind his head as he leans his face up to the sky, eyes sliding shut. Being by the water always brought him a sense of peace.

It’s not that he’s tired but closing his eyes feels nice. Soon his muscles relax and he allows himself to doze just a bit. When he opens them once more the sun is just peeking above the horizon, a swatch of orange beneath a violet sky.

Instantly his mouth goes dry as a voice from the past whispers to him about another lifetime and a violet sky.

—

Sweat drips in rivulets down his back. The brass band chases away all other thoughts that could fill his mind. Cigarettes, whiskey, and the smell of the woman next to him fill every other sense.

He’d lost track of time. Was it day two or three? Was this the fifth gal he’d take back to his squalid digs? When did he have to leave? He had to leave right?

His head began to spin.

“James?” The woman next to him tugs on his sleeve. He doesn’t respond, unused as he is to hearing that name. “Hey, James?”

“Huh?” He looks down at her. “Sorry.”

“I don’t wanna bust your chops soldier but you’re lookin’ pretty sauced.”

“Guess I am,” he slams back the remains of the whiskey in his glass.

“Why don’t you take me back to your place then?” She coos the question against his ear. Her hands wander down his torso, grabbing his belt to tug him close.

This isn’t what he wants. Sure, she’s pretty enough but he’s too warm, too drunk, and too morose for this. He needs air.

“I hate to ditch a dame like you but,” he pushes her back, “I’m gonna have to call it a night.”

“What? Are you serious?” She looks so offended, he wished he cared.

“Yeah. Have a good night, Carol.”

“It’s Mary!” She yells to his back. He doesn’t acknowledge her as he makes his way through the crowd to the door.

Once outside he’d hoped for relief but in this southern climate, the sun being down didn’t do much of anything for the heat in August. He barely makes his way down the street before stumbling into an alley to relieve his stomach of the whiskey sloshing around in it.

“Fuck,” he groans pressing his forehead against the bricks. They’re barely cooler than his skin but it feels good none the less. He heaves once more before stumbling to the other side of the alley and collapsing.

A lump rises in his throat. He forces it down along with the nausea, cradling his face in his hands. Home. He needed to make his way home. But home meant facing the future…

“You doin’ alright down there?” A velveteen voice croons from somewhere above him.

With effort Bucky forces his eyes open locating the source of that sweet voice. A woman leans over the edge of the second-floor iron balcony of the building he just wretched on.

“Been better. Sorry.”

“Stay there,” she calls down before disappearing.

He very much wished he had the gumption to run and hide. But his dignity was just going to have to withstand this particular embarrassment because there was no way he was going anywhere fast.

In a few minutes, a woman steps onto the sidewalk. Once he gets an eyeful he feels a little soberer and a whole lot lousier. This wasn’t just some bland bird. The woman swaying toward him was, simply put, stunning. And she had undoubtedly just watched him hit bottom.

Excellent, he thinks.

“Here,” she kneels down holding out a glass that looks damp with condensation.

He does a double-take, unable for a moment to think about anything but caramel skin, freckles, full red lips, and the most fascinating eyes he’d ever seen. At a glance, they could be called grey but truly they were silver, rimmed with coal-black lashes and filled with tender concern.  

“I’m so-sorry ma’am,” he stutters trying to force himself up straighter. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance.” Right now he’s happy he could blame the whiskey and heat for his burning ears.

“You’re not a nuisance.” Her voice wasn’t exactly the predominant southern drawl he’d been hearing in the city. There was something else to it, softer, foreign even. “Drink this, it’s just water.”

“Thank you.” Gratefully he takes the glass, gulping down the contents with relief.

“Better?” He nods. “Good. Now,” she pulls the stopper off an unmarked bottle and hands it to him, “drink this. It’ll take the edge off.”

He eyes her suspiciously for a moment, searching for some kind of malice, as he takes the small bottle. Cautiously he sniffs it. The contents don’t smell bad, a mix of mint and a smell that made him remember summer lightning. Strange, but honestly he didn’t give a damn. Without any more hesitation he drinks it.

There’s a moment of zinging through his whole body and then… nothing. Not even the uncomfortable drunken haze remained. Yeah, he still felt a little intoxicated and his abdomen was a touch sore from vomiting but all in all his faculties seemed restored.

“What the hell is that?” He studies the bottle, looking for some kind of identifying mark. There’s only a little wax from where it had held the stopper and a slight greenish tint from the liquid that was once inside.

“Magic,” her voice sounds mischievous. He looks up at her and she winks.

Bucky laughs a little, “Well, whatever it was you could make a fortune selling it.”

“Maybe,” she stands, extending a hand to help him up. Once on his feet, he dusts his trousers off, more to buy time as he searches for something to say than thinking he could actually fix his rumpled appearance.

“Apologies for chucking up on your place here…” Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth. He chides himself.

The woman only laughs, “Oh this isn’t mine. I was just at some awful party. Really, you did me a favor by picking this spot to lose it.”

He grins, “Well, in that case, I guess we’re almost even.”

“Almost?”

“Let me buy you a drink and we can really be square.”

She raises an eyebrow, gesturing to the other side of the alley. “Haven’t you had enough booze?”

He shrugs, “You worked your magic. I’m ready for another round.”

Those fascinating eyes narrow then soften. “Alright. But you only get one magic potion a night so if you end up in another alley you’re stuck there.”

“Fair,” he flashes her a wide smile.

“Let me take this back inside,” she holds up the glass. “I’ll be right back.”

Without a word, she hustles into the building. Honestly, a part of him doesn’t expect that she’ll be back but in just a few minutes there she is, tucking one of her tight dark curls behind her ear as she heads out to meet him.

“Glad you came back,” he smiles at her as she approaches.

“What, think I’d run off?”

“Wasn’t sure if a lamb like you’d really wanna go grab a drink with a drunk you met in an alley.”

“How d’you know I’m such a lamb, huh?” Her eyes glint with the kind of moxie that really gets his temperature up.

“You did just come to my rescue back there,” he thumbs back to where he’d been sitting.

“That makes me a hero, not a lamb.” Multiple rings glint on her fingers as she sets her hands on her ample hips.

“True,” he concedes. “Ya know, I didn’t catch my savior's name.”

She smiles, “Antoinette.” She pronounces it in the French style, the first syllable making a soft sound as it crosses those lips. “But you can call me Toni.” It’s beautiful, perfect for her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Toni,” he holds out his right hand. She takes it, soft skin sliding against his callouses, “I’m Bucky.”

“Pleasure,” she nods. “Come on, let’s get that drink.”

She takes a few confident strides forward as Bucky stares at her retreating form for a moment. The open back of her halter dress is as tantalizing as the sway of her hips.

“Damn,” he whispers under his breath.

Pausing she swings her head back, a broad grin on her lips, “I know it’s a fine view but it’s rude to keep a lady waitin’.”

Bucky laughs, “Must’ve left my manners with my dignity in the alley.” He catches up, taking her proffered arm.

The joint she leads them to doesn’t look like much of anything from the outside. There’s no street entrance, instead, they wind their way back through an overgrown courtyard and enter through a door that’s seen better days—in fact, Bucky was a little worried the thing was going to fall off the hinges when she swung it open.

As soon as they’re in, he hears low notes of a sax playing a smooth song. Down the dim hall, they follow the music until reaching an intricate wooden door guarded by a doorman.

“Wondered if we’d see you tonight Miss Toni,” the dark-skinned man flashes her a broad smile before giving Bucky the once over. “We do have a dress code ya know,” his tone far harsher than when he’d spoken to her.

Bucky’s not sure what to say. He looks like he’d been rode hard and hung up wet and he knows it.

“Oh come on, Cal. The Yanks havin’ a tough time is all. Make an exception for me?” She pats the man's lapel, batting her eyes up at him.

“Fine, but only cuz that cure-all you gave my mama has her up an’ about again.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Her tone is sincere.

“But if the boss wants him out-”

“I’ll handle it, Cal. Thanks!” She grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him into the bar.

Violet shades cover all the lamps, paired with the haze from the cigarettes the room has an ethereal glow. People murmur quietly around small tables and in cozy booths, not a one speaking so loud as to interrupt the lone man on the stage playing that sweet melancholy sound.

Bucky doesn’t even realize that she left his side, nor that he’s been watching the man play for so long until she taps his shoulder, two drinks in hand, and nods her head toward a back corner booth.

“Thought I was the one gettin’ the drinks,” he says as soon as they slide into the booth next to one another.

“You seemed to be enjoying the show, didn’t seem right to interrupt.” Toni sips her martini, a satisfied look crossing her features before continuing. “Besides, not like I paid for it.”

“Got another beau up there,” Bucky tosses her a grin and takes a sip of the whiskey. It was fine stuff.

“Hardly,” her eyes slide around the patrons, “bartender owes me several.”

“Seem to have a lot of people in your favor.”

Her shoulders lift in a shrug, eyes diverting to the olives in her glass.

Bucky decides it’s a sensitive topic and switches tracks. “What’s this about me bein’ a Yankee anyway?”

“You are, aren’t you?” Her gaze slides up to meet his, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“What gave me away?”

“Oh come on,” her shoulder nudges his, “with that accent? How could you be anything else?”

“I don’t have an accent!” He plasters a look of mock offense on his face for emphasis.

“And neither do I,” she says with a snort.

“What is your accent anyway?”

“Creole. Don’t hear too much of it in the city these days.”

“Not from the city?”

“Not exactly.” Those shadows again. “Smoke?” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a cigarette case.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Bucky pulls his lighter out before she has a chance. “Let me,” he lifts the flame to her cigarette before his own.

She takes a drag. “The boy does have manners,” tendrils of smoke accenting her words further.

“A few. Don’t get your hopes up.”

On the stage, a small band has replaced the lone musician. Just a bass, drums, sax, and piano. More than enough though. They begin a slow but swinging tune that gets a few folks on their feet.

Bucky notices you watch them, a serene expression on her face.

“You happy just watchin’?” He asks as she finishes her drink.

Immediately she looks at him as though she forgot he was there for a moment. “I… yeah, usually. I… Well, I come here alone a lot.”

“That’s hard to believe.” He touches her fingers gently with his own as they both stamp out the remains of their smokes.

“On the house, Miss Toni,” the bartender says, depositing two identical drinks on the table.

“Thanks,” she smiles at the man.

“At this rate, I’m not gonna get to repay my debt.”

“I’m sure you can think of some other way to repay me.” She leans a little closer, moving her hand to slide her fingers between his.

“Hmm,” he hums, running his thumb across the surface of the rings on her fingers. Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he lifts her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. Beneath the table his free hand sliding just above her knee.

Eyes locked on hers, lips still hovering over her hand he says, “Why don’t we start with a dance?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As the two of them dance one, two, three dances the bar fills with patrons. He’s not sad for it. The more people on the dance floor the closer he could hold her, the more excuses he had to breathe in her intoxicating scent of woodsmoke, roses, and a spice he can’t name.

No one’s doing the Lindy here. Everyone is dancing slowly, moving to the rhythm of the music and their partner.

Sometime in the middle of the fourth song the two of them stop moving, save for a slow sway. Those eyes of hers drawing him in. He lowers his lips, catching hers. To his relief, she returns his affection.

Eagerly she pulls him from the dance floor and back to their secluded booth. The larger crowd makes this space feel even more private, hidden. He’s glad of it.

Bucky presses her back into the corner of the booth, kissing her hard. Those soft lips open to him and he tastes her, something sweet with a hint of gin and smoke.

With effort he pulls back, smirking at the little pout on her face. She wouldn’t be pouting long.

He slides close, lifting one of her shapely legs over his. He curls an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into him. With her cheek on his shoulder, his body angled just so, and the privacy afforded by the booth he trails his other hand up her skirt, sliding his fingers around her underwear.

When his thumb slides across her bud he can just make out the little gasp she releases over the music and the crowd. Steadily he strokes, her body reacts, hips pressing up, demanding more.

Toni lifts her face up to his eyes glassy with desire, and kisses him until a small moan trips over her tongue.

“Hush now doll,” he croons into her ear, “don’t want anyone to come ruin the fun.”

He can feel her breath quicken, feel her shudder a bit beneath him.

“You like that,” he nips a little at her ear. A hand flies to her mouth to catch the sound. “Thought so. Come on sweetheart.”

Just a little more and… She buries her face in his shoulder, hand gripping his shirt tight as she comes hard.

Bucky moves his hand, wrapping her trembling form in his arms. For some time he holds her like this, comfortable, and admittedly a little self-satisfied.

Suddenly he feels her hand grab him, fingers deftly caressing his cock through the fabric. His breath catches as he looks down at her smirking face.

She lifts her lips to his ear, applying just a touch of pressure, “You think that makes us even?” Her teeth sink into his ear lobe causing his hips to thrust up, pressing into her grip. “Nowhere close.”

In moments they’re in the courtyard. Bucky presses Antoinette against the crumbling brick wall, pinning her arms to her sides as he trails kisses down her neck and collarbones.

“Bucky,” she groans pulling at his restraint.

“Come to my place,” he says in a gravel tone after kissing his name from her lips.

“Bet mine’s closer.”

“Lead the way then,” he releases her.

The block to Toni’s digs takes several times longer than it should. Neither of them able to go more than a few feet without pausing to taste the other. There’s a moment when Bucky isn’t sure they’re going to make it to her place before having one another.

They do make it though.

Toni stops in front of a shop, the sign above the door reads: “Madame Antoinette’s: Palmistry, Cards, Assistance.”

“You’re a… fortune teller or somethin’?” He asks as they walk through the suspiciously unlocked door.

“Or somethin’.” She pulls him by the arm through the small waiting area lit by the street lights to a room filled with bottles, pouches, herbs, and other strange paraphernalia with one lamp glowing in the corner. The next room is clearly where she tells her fortunes, dark, save for one thick candle burning in a lantern.

Bucky freezes, an entirely new desire overtaking him.

When she takes a step to head out of the space all she manages is to stumble, anchored by his unmoving form. Confused she looks back to him.

“Did you wanna gawk at the decor or me?”

His gaze slides from the velvet covered road table to her face, trying his damnedest to keep his features and tone even. “Read my fortune.”

“No.” Her tone is final. Once more she pulls at him but he doesn’t budge.

His hand grips hers tighter before tugging her into his chest, “Come on.” He gives her what he hopes is a confident grin.

“I said no,” she pushes against his chest and takes a step back.

“Why not?” His brows knit.

Toni looks at the floor, at the table, and finally back to him. “I don’t tell soldier’s fortunes.”

“I didn’t-”

“You didn’t have to. I knew.”

He doesn’t want to know how. “So you’ll take a soldier to bed but not read his palm?”

“Because I know my bed holds nothing but good things,” she spits. “The fortune of a soldier is almost always bad news.”

Silence hangs, the air between them crackling. “Besides, if you need the cards to tell you what the product of war is maybe you should reconsider, soldier.” It’s his turn to look away.

She strides to the doorway they’d been heading for. “You coming or not?”

“Please,” his voice is thick with emotion. When he’s able to meet her gaze again he can feel the tears sting the backs of his eyes. Closing the distance between them he grabs her hands in his, immediately her expression softens.  

“Even if it’s bad. Please, Toni. I just… I gotta know.” He’s begging, likely losing any shot he has with her too, but it doesn’t matter. “I don’t even care if everything you tell me is bullshit. I just… I need somethin’…”

“It won’t be,” he cocks his head in confusion as her eyes drift to the table. “From me it won’t be bullshit. It will just… be.”

“Ok. I can take it. Better than not knowing.”

Subtly she shakes her head, pulling free from his grip and walking toward the candle. Bucky doesn’t move as she lights a thin stick, using it to light another white candle on the round table.

“Sit,” she commands. He does as he’s told.

Taking a deep breath Antoinette lays her hands on the table, palms up. “Give me your hands.”

He stares at her hands, suddenly nervous. “Don’t you need cards or-”

“Do you want this or not?” He nods. “Then give me your hands and shut up.”

When her hands close around his her eyes slide shut. For a few seconds everything seems normal but then he’s overcome with the strangest sensation-it’s like he’s floating and yet weighted down all at the same time, his whole body feeling the way a limb does after you’ve sat on it too long, numb yet tingling with sensation.

She releases his hands and he recoils instantly. When her eyes open he could swear that just for a second they were… glowing. It happened so fast he couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of was the steady stream of tears flowing down her freckle dusted cheeks.

“Tell me…”

Her voice is low, resonant, “You will become everything you fear. Ice will live in your veins. But only one hand will drip with blood, the other will remain snow white.” His breath leaves him. “But they will never know these things.”

Somehow he knows who she means—his family.

He almost doesn’t ask, almost doesn’t want to know… “Do… do I die… there?”

“No.”

“Oh, well… I guess that something right?” He tries to force a half-smile, he’s pretty sure it just looks like a grimace.

True sorrow filler her eyes before she has to look away from him. “There are far worse fates in this world than death, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky tries, he really does, to keep it together, to be a man. He’s not strong enough though, not for this. The sob bursts from his lips before he can stop it. Desperately he covers his mouth as if he could put it back.

Before he can protest his face is enveloped in the soft black fabric of her skirt, one hand holding his face against her abdomen, the other wrapped around him. He doesn’t resist, flinging his arms around her allowing the tears to take him.

Toni’s soft hands pull his face up to look at her once his sobs quiet a touch, “Come upstairs, Bucky.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, Toni, but I don’t think-”

“Shh,” she slides a finger over his lips. “Trust me. Please.”

Stepping back she grips his shoulders, guiding him up from the chair. In a haze of emotion he follows her blindly out of the room and up a narrow staircase. It opens into a large open room with windows and balconies on both ends.

Past a screen toward the back balcony is a large, brass fourposter bed. Beside it she stops, fingers making quick work of his shirt buttons, sliding the garment off his shoulders and pulling his undershirt over his head. He doesn’t stop her when they wander to his trousers. In moments he’s in nothing but his shorts.

Wordlessly she unties the neck of her dress, letting it fall to reveal her chest as she unzips her skirt. In another situation he’d never be able to resist those curves, but right now, how good he’d feel between her thighs is the furthest thing from his mind.

She removes her underwear and steps past him, climbing into the unmade bed. Turning he sees open arms beckoning him to join. Understanding dawns along with an immense wave of gratitude.

He makes his way into her bed, glad to press his back into her soft warmth, allowing her to hold him tight.

Toni presses gentle kisses against his left shoulder and begins to hum a pretty, soothing song. The melody accompanied by the soft whirr of an unseen fan and her reassuring presence soon rock Bucky into a deep, dreamless, sleep.

Soft morning light filters through the lace curtains casting intricate shadows on her sleeping form. One arm is curled tight against her chest while the other is tucked under her pillow. Through lids still heavy with sleep Bucky takes in the features of her serene face.

A mahogany curl lies over her closed eyes. Ever so carefully he tucks it back into the red-brown mass splayed across her pillow. Despite his best efforts, her brows knit for a split second before her lids slide open to reveal those silvery eyes. They remind him of full moons.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he lets his finger trace the line of her high cheekbone. Her lips curl softly in response, reaching one and caressing his rough cheek in kind.

Closing the small space between them in one motion, Bucky kisses her tenderly. Turning her body to fully face him she returns his affection. He runs a hand down her side and around her back pulling her close against him, the warmth of her body making him ache.

She slides a hand between them, lightly scratching her nails down his chest and abdomen. When she reaches his hips she grips him, pushing him to his back as she rises to her knees.

He doesn’t resist her—deft fingers coaxing his shorts off before studying the planes of his abdomen, the curve of his hips, the tense muscles of his thighs. Not once though does she touch the one place on his body that is begging for it. Each touch elsewhere causes his cock to jerk painfully, desperate for contact.

Lips curled into a coy smile she leans over him, the tips of her breasts barely touching his chest. Lowering herself, she presses her body against him. He ruts against her, the soft flesh of her abdomen driving him wild.

She lets out a low purr, close to a laugh, “Patience.”

With her mouth teasing the tender flesh of his neck he lifts his hands to feel the curve of her spine down to her ass. Gripping the supple flesh there he tries to lift her, wanting to take her now. She reaches back, grabbing his wrists. Compliant, he allows her to pull them away, pinning them by his head.

Bucky had been with other women in the past. Never had he found himself in this position—he was utterly besotted.

When she covers his mouth with hers, he can’t help but groan with desire. Her lower body shifts thighs lifting to flank his.

Rising onto her knees the light shines on a bit of moisture on her stomach. A tiny touch of embarrassment rises in him but is obliterated when she catches it with her middle and ring fingers, brings them to her lips, and slowly sucks them clean. He can’t even breathe.

Those same fingers descend the length of her body and slide between her legs. Her lashes flutter, hips rising to her own touch. She removes them, glistening.

Before she can stop him he takes her wrist, drawing her hand to his mouth. Much as she had done, he tastes her, his tongue flicking the tips of her fingers. He holds her eyes with his, watching them widen as her breath hitches.

Toni leans down to him once more, shifting her hips forward. This kiss is unlike anything else he’s ever felt—he buries his fingers in her hair, not wanting her to stop, not wanting the humming in his chest to stop.

He can feel the heat of her hovering just above him. His cock twitches up and just barely touches the soft hair.

Lips still locked together, she reaches back to guide him into her.

Bucky thrusts up, the warm tight feeling of her sending tremors through his body. Their eyes open when he does so both frozen mid-kiss, breathless from the feeling of being joined like this.

Neither move at first. The connection somehow enough to satisfy for a time.

Untangling his fingers from her curls he grips her thighs. With a fluid swoop she rises, holding her hair back with one hand. Never looking from him she begins a steady rolling motion with her hips. He’s slack jawed with the feeling, unable to fathom anything better than this.

She runs her hands down to her breasts, taking her dark pink nipples between her fingers as he pushes himself deeper inside of her. He releases one of her thighs, wanting nothing more than to make her feel as good as he does.

As his thumb moves over her clit her head falls back, a dark moan filling the room. Her body arches, one arm braced behind her back the other holding onto his forearm, silently begging him not to stop.

“Bucky,” she whispers, tongue thick. Her hips move into a faster pace.

When her orgasm crashes into her he sits up, twining his arms around her back to bring her shaking body closer to his. Toni lifts herself just enough to wrap her legs around him, allowing him to push deeper within her.

As he moves slowly, his fingertips trace goosebumps on her spine, the feeling that they’re one being is otherworldly.

This is what it should feel like, he thinks, what it should always feel like, like magic.

“What are you?” He whispers, feeling her walls tighten around him.

“Yours,” she responds.

That’s all it takes to tip him over the edge.

His fingers grip her ass, pushing their pace a bit faster. She braces herself against his shoulders.

“Antoinette,” he breathes, unable to make another word rise to his lips, unable to ask.  

“Yes,” she answers his unspoken question.

His whole body tenses, brows knit, a low groan rumbles from deep within him as his muscles release. With a need he can’t quite name his mouth seeks hers again before they fall—panting, sweat sparkling on their skin—back into the embrace of the bed.

“You don’t have to go, not yet,” she says as her fingers absently run through the hair on his chest. Rising on an elbow she turns those bewitching eyes on him, “Just stay until tomorrow at least.”

He tries not to dwell on how she knew where his thoughts were without him saying a damn thing. The truth was he didn’t want to go.

“Ok, tomorrow,” he agrees before catching her lips with his.

Tomorrow turned into another tomorrow and before he knew it he’d been falling asleep in Antoinette’s bed for four nights.

In truth, it was all a sweet blur. Languid days spent exploring New Orleans by her side. She’d tell animated stories of the city as they walked—painting such a vivid portrait of events and people from decades prior that if he didn’t know better he’d think she lived it.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile as folks from all walks would stop them to thank her for some cure she’d provided, some guidance she’d offered. Without hesitation she’d stop anything she was doing if someone made a request of her. More than once someone had whispered how lucky he was to be in her company as if he could somehow be unaware.

He’d seen people in his life who wore their goodness like a badge of honor, something they hoped people would laud them for. Not her. It was just who she was. Each time he was reminded of this it also served to remind him that she’d never be his, not really. He wasn’t destined for such goodness.

When the sun lowered beneath the river they danced in clubs he’d never have found otherwise. Drank in music, and liquor, and each other like they’d have all the time in the world to do so.

Now, he lays in her bed, studying the curves of her body through the open French doors, unable to fathom how he’d just had her and yet his body is already begging for more.

The new moon kept the sky dark and little light from the city touched the back balcony—even so, her caramel skin seemed creamy, almost luminescent.

He rolls from the comfortable confines of her bed, padding out to join her. Without hesitation, she leans her body into his as he comes up behind her. Plucking the cigarette from her fingers, he takes a deep drag, his free hand caressing the soft skin of her abdomen.

“Tomorrow,” she sighs, her head falling back onto his shoulder to be able to see his face. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

He had decided to do so earlier that day, he just hadn’t known how to tell her. “Yeah.” She nods in acknowledgment, turning her gaze back to the summer night, twining her fingers tightly around his.

They make love slowly almost reverently the next morning. He doesn’t want to forget a single thing about her.

As he sits on the edge of the bed his stomach flops over at the thought of getting on the train that evening. He rests an elbow on his thigh, leaning over to cradle his head in his hands.

“Don’t go.” Her tone is suddenly frantic as she turns him back to face her, sitting on her knees in the middle of the mattress.

“I have to Toni,” he shifts his body to be more squarely on the bed. “I gotta see my family before…” He can’t manage to finish the statement.

“But you don’t have to go. Not to Europe.” She grabs his hands, gripping them with all her might. “We could run. I have enough money tp go-”

“Where would we run, Toni. The whole damn world is-”

“Not the whole world! We could go to Mexico City. Or maybe Saint Domingue, live on the beach, spend every day in the water…” Her fingers trace the outlines of his face, “Please. Don’t go. Don’t… you don’t have to…” He knows what she can’t bring herself to say.

“I’d be yours you know. I’d say yes.” The twin moons of her eyes are huge, imploring, tempting. Tenderly he takes her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles, shaking his head.

“You deserve someone much better than me, Toni.” Someone better than what I’ll become…

“Don’t assume you know what I deserve,” shadows darken her expression. “You’re a good man, Bucky, you deserve better than what you believe, better than what fate has given you.” Her hand covers his heart before her eyes squeeze closed as if in pain. He feels that same tingling as he had when she’d told his fortune.

“Toni?” His tone drips with concern.

When she looks back to him her eyes brim with tears. “Please,” she says once more.

“I can’t darlin’. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I went AWOL. I got a duty and I’m gonna do it.”

“Then promise me something,” she takes his hands in hers.

“Anything, Antoinette, anything.” He means it.

“Remember, they can’t take this from you,” her fingers poke above his heart. “Nothing they do, nothing, will stop you from being James Barnes in here.”

“I’ll remember…” He kisses her softly. “I promise.” Even if he doesn’t believe her.

Even though he has to leave soon he can’t resist pulling her to the bed again.

Just one more time, one more and leaving will be easier, he tells himself.

He’s wrong.

Just before evening they stand outside the train station, holding on to one another so tight it almost hurts.

“It’s not too late,” she says against his lips after another hard kiss, “you can change your mind.”

He just shakes his head, smiling sadly.

Under the light of sunset, she’s radiant. The orange’s picking up the red in her hair and the warmth of her skin. He’d never meet someone like her again.

There’s something he needs to know, even if it’s not an answer he wants.

“Will I ever see you again?” Speaking the question aloud makes his heart constrict. Her gaze is distant, as she seems to look through him, the tingle beneath his skin there again.

Toni looks up and the sky, voice far away, “Under another violet sky, in another lifetime, our paths will cross again.”

“I’ll look forward to that lifetime then,” because clearly it would be better than this one. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

An announcement cuts him to the bone. Final boarding.

She grabs his face in her strong but delicate hands, the metal from her rings pressing to his skin. “I will never forget you, Bucky Barnes.”

“I won’t forget you either.” She looks away as if in doubt. He decides one final kiss will convince her. “I won’t.” He stares into her eyes, willing her to believe him.

“Until the next time.” He’s relieved she didn’t say goodbye, there were too many goodbyes coming for him. She kisses him once more releasing him.

“Next time,” he nods and runs to catch the train.

Once in his seat he looks out the window seeing her. He slides the window open.

“Don’t forget your promise!” She yells up.

“I won’t, Antoinette. I swear!”

He watches the tears slide down her face until she’s out of sight… forever.

-

A tear slides out of the corner of his eye before he can catch it.

He’d broken every promise he made to her. They took his heart, they took her. When he’d come down here, she wasn’t even on his mind. Hell, had he even remembered those extraordinary five days with Antoinette until now?

He doubles over on the bench, arms wrapped around him.

Memories were a double-edged sword. They connected him to who he was, who he’d been before, but fuck they tore at his soul in a way that made him long for nothingness again.

Here was someone else to mourn, someone else to ache for. She was probably resting in one of New Orleans’ elaborate cemeteries now, next to whatever man got lucky enough to hear her say yes.

Maybe he’d find her. Bring flowers, say he was sorry…

Her home had been in the Quarter, he could find that easier, faster, than a grave. It was as good a place to start as any.

Hands shoved in his jacket pockets he begins to walk in a direction that feels right, eyes glued to the sidewalk. Looking at the sky just made the ache worse, made her sweet voice ring in his ears again.

Turning a corner, not paying attention to anything but putting one foot in front of the other, he careens into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” He hustles to grab a can of coffee rolling toward the street.

“It’s ok,” a soft voice says. “My mind was a world away.”

The coffee can’s metal body creaks a bit as his left hand closes a little too tightly around it. Slowly he turns to see a mass of mahogany curls and ring covered fingers gathering the other fallen groceries into a reusable bag.

Every bit of breath is sucked from his lungs when twin moons look up at him. He staggers back like he’s been struck.

“An - Antoinette,” he stammers.

A massive smile lights her face, “I told you our paths would cross under a violet sky, didn’t I?” His jaw hangs open, eyes blinking rapidly trying to clear her from his vision, as she steps toward him. She grabs the coffee can from his grip before he breaks it.

“Trying to catch flies, Bucky?” One bejeweled finger lifts his chin.

There are a million things running through his mind as he tries to make sense of this—but nothing will come out.

She turns, “Come on, my place isn’t far.” Before she walks forward she throws a smile his way and gives him a wink.

Of their own volition his feet trudge after her.

It’s the same building he remembers but the sign advertising fortunes is gone. Instead it seems the bottom shop is a specialty bookseller. Patronage by Appointment Only read the letters on the still unlocked door.

His head spins as he follows her through the strangely familiar yet different space and up the back stairs.

Her living space was still open and airy though it now sported a proper small kitchen close to the front. And when he looked toward the back he saw the light glint on a familiar brass bed frame.

“Coffee?” Toni asks, as though this is just a normal thing.

He stares at her for a minute, stuck at the top of the stairs, as she moves about the kitchen. She sets a brass kettle on the island burner and pulls a French press from the open shelves. After scooping coffee into the container she finally looks at him.

“Did you like chicory? I don’t remember.”

“I,” his voice cracks. He clears his throat, “I don’t remember either, honestly.” Trance like he makes his way to the small round table close to the front balcony, collapsing into the wooden chair.

“It’s good. I promise.” The kettle screeches. She pours water into the press.

When she sets it on the table she doesn’t look at him. She turns back to the kitchen. He can’t stand it. His left-hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist with cool metal fingers. Languidly she looks back at him, meeting his eyes full on.

“Is this real?” Bucky knew that dreams could feel as real as anything. The terror that this is a hallucination grips him. Toni’s expression is soft as silk as she gently touches the side of his face, he fights to keep his eyes from closing at how good it feels to be touched like this.

“I am very real, Bucky.”

Despite how insane this is he believes her—knows she’s telling the truth, that he’s here, she’s here, this is real. He releases her wrist and she unflinchingly takes his left hand for just a moment before heading into the kitchen for mugs and cream.

She sits across from him, sliding a mug over, “That needs a few more minutes. Worth the wait though.”

Coffee is the furthest thing from his mind.

“How… how are you still alive?”

A smirk makes her eyes sparkle a bit. “Well, technically the Antoinette Desmarais you knew is dead.”

“Oh?” He laughs a little at the ridiculousness of this whole thing, “So… How long have you been dead?”

Her smirk turns to a smile, “Roughly 70 years.”

“Damn,” he forks his fingers through his hair. “Guess I missed the funeral then. Wouldda sent flowers but, pretty sure I was technically dead then too.”

She shrugs, “It was a small private affair. Most of my funerals are.”

“Had more than one?”

“A few,” she presses down the plunger on the French press before pouring the coffee. “That was my second. Had my third in ’96.” He watches her put a splash of cream in her coffee, normally he took it black but he follows her lead.

“The government gets a little suspicious if you just keep goin'. But if you die and leave your estate to your namesake, well, that’s fine.” She sips her coffee, “Guess you don’t have to worry about that though.”

“Nah,” he tastes his own cup, remembering that he did like this unique flavor back then. “For better or worse they’re pretty damn aware of me.”

Silence hangs for a few moments before he can’t bear it any more. “You didn’t answer my question, Toni… How?”

“Would, ‘I’m a witch,’ be sufficient enough?” She looks up at him through her thick dark lashes. He narrows his eyes, she sighs, “Didn’t think so.”

“Long story short… I was young, stupid, had power, thought I could do anything I wanted…” Her shoulders hunch forward, eyes on the coffee in her cup. “I… I went too far. Crossed a line. Someone came to stop me and I… I killed him.”

Bucky studies her, unable to imagine her doing harm to anyone.

“Just so happened he had a lover, someone far more powerful than me.” She shields her eyes a bit, cradling her forehead, “Bit of life advice, don’t piss off an ancient powerful sorceress, never ends well.” Leaning back, she tries to force something like a smile.

When he doesn’t speak she continues, “She punished me. In a way that, at the time seemed like a gift-”

“Immortality,” Bucky says in barely a whisper. He remembers the fortune she told, that there were worse fates than death. She would have known.

“No,” she shakes her head, “immortality is—well that costs far more than I was worth to her, no she cursed me with life. A long, long life. I called her a fool, a bald hag--childish nonsense. But… well, I guess you’ve discovered for yourself.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes when she looks back to him, “There are few things more painful than to watch everything and everyone you’ve known and loved die.”

“I didn’t watch,” he slides his right hand over hers, “but I do understand.” That’s why he’d ran down here, the weight of loss was too much.

Her fingers slide through his and for a time they stay like that, linked across the table, across decades, sharing an experience few would understand. It would have been enough to sustain him through another lifetime he thought.

“You’re taking this all rather well,” she lifts a perfectly shaped brow at him.

“A few months ago I woke up face down in the dirt to a wizard telling me that somehow five years had passed and that I needed to go through a glowing portal to help save the world again…” He chugs the remains of his coffee. “I also met a talking raccoon and tree. So… yeah… I’ll roll with just about anything after that.”

She laughs, “Well, I’m glad you had a primer on weird before we met again.”

He lets out a small laugh too, he left out meeting a god and the million other small things that still felt unreal to him in daily life.

“How long?” He asks sliding his thumb over the rough surface of her rings.

“Lose your manners again? It’s rude to ask a lady her age.” She smiles at him before finishing her coffee. “I was born here in 1821, one month to the day after Napoleon died.”

“So when we met you were…”

“‘Bout 120? Yeah.” She pours more coffee into her cup, releasing his hand, “Close enough to your age now I bet.” He nods.

“And you’re still here…” He motions around the space.

“Well, I wasn’t born here-here. I was born in New Orleans though. And I didn’t stay here the whole time, I just come back home when I need something-”

“Familiar,” he finishes the thought, knowing the feeling far too well.

“Yeah. The city changes but the Quarter, she’s kinda like me—we get older, get get a little rough around the edges, a little worn down, but we’re still standin’.” Toni’s expression is almost wistful.

As her expression is focused out the French doors, Bucky argues with himself. He’d gotten off that bench earlier with the intention to apologize to dust and bones because he thought he owed her that. Now here she was, as beautiful and alive as the day he met her, and the thought of admitting his failure seemed impossible.

“Don’t,” she says in a voice like velvet. He stares into her knowing eyes. “You don’t owe me a goddamn thing Bucky Barnes.”

He shakes his head, “I do though. I broke my promise.”

“No,” she sets her cup down, grabbing both his hands fiercely, “you didn’t.”

Weakly he tries to pull back but she won’t let him. “Antoinette… I… If you only knew what I’ve—I forgot you, forgot…” he pulls one hand free to point at his heart, “Forgot this.”

“No,” she says again, “you didn’t. If you did you wouldn’t be here.” He looks away, unable to find the words to tell her just how wrong she is.

She sighs, “You do know I have the internet, right? I may be over 200 but I’m not dead.” He looks back, confused.

“James Buchanan Barnes fell from a train in 1945, was presumed dead. After the events at the Triskellion, he’s now known as the longest-serving POW in history, forced to take the mantle of the Winter Soldier and commit heinous crimes in the name of his captors.”

His stomach drops. Faster than any normal man could manage he shoots from the chair, sending it screeching back. Unable to leave her yet though, he leans his head against the frame of the French door, attempting to breathe.

Almost soundlessly she comes up behind him, placing a soothing hand on his lower back. He flinches at the gesture.

“But you fought back,” she takes a shaky breath. “If they had taken your heart you’d still be The Winter Soldier, but no, Bucky Barnes is standing right here in my kitchen. Because you kept a promise you made all those years ago, to a woman you hardly knew.”

“You don’t know,” is all he can manage without breaking.

“I do.” She lifts a hand to cup his cheek, turning him to face her. “I didn’t see exactly what would happen to you, prophecy is never that simple nor clear, but I felt the void, the despair, the cold. I felt it then and I can see the scars in your heart now.”

He covers her hand with his, eyes closing. “I shouldda gone with you. Should of listened.”

“Yeah,” she huffs out a dry laugh, their clasped hands lowering, “lived out your days on a beach, peacefully. But fate will have what she wants, I knew it couldn’t be.”

Something occurs to him, “You said you’d say yes then. But…” She looks like she’s hardly aged, “You would have stayed the same and I’d be…”

“Dead? Likely so.” Her smile is tender, “But living one lifetime with you would have been worth the pain of lettin’ go I think.” He shakes his head, eyes sliding shut, unable to fully comprehend why he’d be worth that.

“And for what it’s worth. No one said that offer had an expiration date.”

“What?!” His eyes shoot open in disbelief.

Toni’s rich laugh fills the room, “Mexico City is still there, there’s plenty of beautiful beaches around the world to see too.” She presses close to him, “And, it’s a little old fashioned but… I believe I would still say yes to this,” she points at his heart just as she’d done before.

Bucky’s chest constricts. Without thinking he cradles her face in his hands and kisses her. She tastes like coffee and memories, her scent of roses and wood smoke and spice filling his nostrils. Her body melts into his, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back with just as much intensity.

He breaks the connection, pushing her back just enough to look into her face.

“Antoinette, there are things…” how can he tell her all the reasons she should run, all the reasons she should take it all back.

“You can tell me everything or nothing in time, Bucky,” she traces his lips with her fingers. “It seems that, for once, time is on our side.”

As the violet sky above them faded to navy and a fall breeze filtered through open doors—the two of them relived the feeling of hot summer nights from years past and dreamed of a future together that, though far from perfect, would maybe be a little less lonely.

[jgroffdaily]

With Frozen 2 now playing in theaters, I recently sat down with Jonathan Groff to talk about making the highly anticipated sequel. During the wide-ranging conversation, Groff talked about when he knew they were going to make the film, how the film pushes away from the norm by not having a “villain” and instead features the main characters grappling with their own growth and change, Kristoff’s ‘80s inspired song that has adults laughing out loud, how the filmmakers have flipped what the male love interest is going through by having him struggling with how to communicate to the woman he loves, what it will take to get the cast to perform all the Frozen music on tour, what song he was sad to see not make the finished film, and more. In addition, he talked about the status of Mindhunter season 3, if he’s had any pressure to get on social media, if he thinks Frozen 3 will happen, the difference between the West End and Broadway theater audiences, and a lot more.

Check out what Jonathan Groff had to say below.

Collider: So let’s jump into the most important question.

JONATHAN GROFF: Okay.

When do you start filming Mindhunter season three?

GROFF: (laughs) I don’t know. TBD.

I know [David] Fincher’s making a movie, so that’s going to take him out for at least eight months.

GROFF: Yeah, we couldn’t do it ‘til after he was done with that.

Yeah. It’s still not fast enough. I saw Holt [McCallany] recently and mentioned that to him as well, and I basically have said repeatedly I need 50 episode seasons.

GROFF: Oh my God. And you know that he and I would be so down. We’re ready. We’re ready. Whenever the call comes, we’re ready to jump.

Yes. I just want to start the interview off with the most important thing.

GROFF: I love you for that.

Yeah, listen. I love that show, and all of us on the site love that show.

GROFF: Oh, good.

It’s so good.

GROFF: Good.

I can keep on going, but I’m going to stop. So, jumping into why I get to talk to you, first, let me start by saying congratulations. The pressure, or the difficulty of making a great sequel to such a beloved movie is really hard, and you guys did it. Do you know where you are today and what day in the promotion process it is?

GROFF: I do.

Because you guys have been going nonstop.

GROFF: I jumped on. So the group went to Toronto, but I’m actually doing a revival of Little Shop of Horrors right now off-Broadway, and so I know that this is day three of my promotion experience, because I left the show on Sunday. I got here on Monday. Our first thing was on Wednesday… Oh no. So, it’s day four. I already messed it up. It’s day four. (laughs)

So you must’ve put it in your contract for Little Shop that you… Disney must’ve said you have to be able to promote?

GROFF: Yes. In May when the director of Little Shop, Michael Mayer, called and asked me to do it, I said, “Oh, I’m not doing anything this fall, except I have to have off for these two weeks.” And they said yes, so they knew it from the very beginning. They hired an amazing actor named Gideon Glick, who I did Spring Awakening with back in the day, to replace me for these two weeks.

Have you done anything on the West End?

GROFF: I have, actually.

My question is, and I’ve been asking this of all the actors I talked to who do theater, do you notice a difference between the audiences in the West End and Broadway?

GROFF: Yes. The biggest, I think, difference [in the West End] would be less vocal, less standing up, less standing ovations. It’s just a cultural difference in that Americans are more apt to jump up and clap and be more vocal throughout the course of any given performance, and the Brits are a little more reserved.

Do the Brits ever do the standing ovation at the end?

GROFF: Yes.

So when they do it, they mean it?

GROFF: A hundred percent, and the two times that I’ve been in the audience of a West End show where it’s felt like an American audience was The Book of Mormon and Hamilton.

Oh yeah.

GROFF: Yeah.

And you felt that energy?

GROFF: Yeah. I was like, “Well, I could it be in New York right now. This is how crazy these shows are making the audience, even in London.” I remember also Lin [Manuel Miranda] telling me that the difference between — because I did Hamilton on Broadway for almost a year. And then they took it to London, and he said that it was the same reaction except when Aaron Burr sings, “I’m keeping her bed warm while her husband is away” randomly in his song Wait For It, it gets a huge laugh in London. Never had a laugh in America. There’s the one difference between the British and the American audience.

That’s so interesting.

GROFF: So bizarre, right?

It’s also very bizarre.

GROFF: I know.

Switching gears completely — I appreciate you sharing the theater stuff — how early on did you know that the sequel was going to get made, and how long did you have to keep it a secret?

GROFF: I didn’t know early on at all. Probably a year and a half after the first one I found out that they were making a second one, and it was sort of like, they announced that they were making, they asked us to do it and they announced it sort of all at the same time, so I never felt like I was really keeping a secret.

Oh that’s not bad.

GROFF: No, not bad at all.

My favorite part of this movie is, besides the animation and everything, I love that there’s just no villain, that there’s no guy or girl trying to get her powers or come between them.

GROFF: Yeah.

It’s so refreshing.

GROFF: Yeah.

And it’s really so well done. Can you sort of talk about that aspect of the film?

GROFF: Yeah, I think that really, ultimately, the biggest challenge sort of that each of the characters have in kind of a general way is grappling with their own self growth and change. So Idina [Menzel] is scared of, but excited to follow, the voice that’s calling to her, and that sort of trickles down then into all of the characters. So Anna’s learning how to let her sister go, and let her sister do her own thing, and leave her to her own devices to survive. Olaf is asking really challenging existential questions about life as he gets older.

Of course.

GROFF: And Kristoff is ready to take his relationship to the next level with Anna, but he’s really not good at communicating and expressing himself. Then halfway through the movie is given an amazing ’80s inspired rock jam to be able to do so. (laughs)

That song — little kids are not going to get it. When I saw it last night, the adults in the audience were laughing hard.

GROFF: Right.

So talk a little bit about how that song really plays for adults.

GROFF: Yeah, totally. Bobby and Kristen Lopez told me that they were going to try and get a song in for my character in the movie. I thought, “That’s so nice of them to say that, but it just seems… How are you going to make the mountain man sing? I want to hear the girls sing. I want to hear Idina belt out a hundred numbers. Who wants to hear Kristoff sing?” I couldn’t figure out story-wise, because they’re so passionate and invested in storytelling as opposed to just writing catchy songs. And they thought of this amazing arc with Kristoff of him trying to propose and not being able to, and then ultimately getting frustrated by his inability to do so and busting out on this ’80s song, which I think that a lot of dudes, particularly parents of the kids that are coming to see the show, like you said, can relate to that genre and that time period in the ’80s as a way to really let it go and self-express. And Kristen Anderson-Lopez mentioned earlier, they wrote Let It Go for Elsa in the first movie and it inspired all these girls to feel their power. On the flip side of that, in the second movie, here is a song for a male character that perhaps will invite boys to get in touch with their feelings. Sven says, “You feel what you feel and your feelings are real. Come on Kristoff, let down your guard.” And so if little boys all over the world are hearing that, hopefully they’ll be inspired to express themselves.

It is pretty crazy to realize the first movie has been seen — I can’t even imagine the amount of people around the world that have actually seen the first movie, repeatedly.

GROFF: Yeah, right.

And to realize that this movie is going to be seen by maybe even more people.

GROFF: Yeah.

The power of the messaging in these movies is more important than I think a lot of people realize, and having that positive message… like your character is so different than what is normally written for the male love interest, if you will.

GROFF: Absolutely. I mean, that’s what I loved also about the first movie of Frozen is that the true love in the movie is between sisters as opposed to a woman looking for a man’s love, and even in the first movie, Kristoff, one of his lines in the beginning to Anna is, “You can’t marry a man you just met.” Whereas in all the old sort of Disney fairytales, it’s love at first sight, and one day my prince will come. So in the first movie, they sort of inverted those ideas, and made it more modern, and more contemporary, and more feminist. And they’ve done the same thing with this movie and with all of these characters, and particularly with Kristoff. Normally the girl is pining after the man, and the man leaves, and then she sings an emotional song, and this is the reverse, where Kristoff is struggling with how to communicate to the woman he loves. Then she goes off on an adventure without him, and he’s left alone to sing about his feelings. So very cleverly, the filmmakers have reversed that in this movie.

A hundred percent. I brought this up with a lot of other people. What will it take for you guys as a group to either do the Hollywood Bowl or go on tour where you play all the songs from the first Frozen and Frozen 2, as well as the cut songs that never made the movie?

GROFF: Yes, sign me up. Sign me up. I would do it in a second. All they would have to do is ask. I would do it in a second.

Okay, so you’re receptive to this?

GROFF: Absolutely.

Can you talk about some of the songs that you — because obviously Kristen and Bobby told me that the ratio on this one was that they only said they wrote seven songs that didn’t make the finished version, and on the first one they wrote like 2- something.

GROFF: For the first movie they wrote 20 songs?

But it makes sense though, because the first one they’re still figuring out the voices.

GROFF: The world of everything. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.

Yeah. So like you’re writing, and writing, and writing to find the voices and find the movie, and in the sequel, they know the voices and the characters, so it makes sense to have written less —

GROFF: Yeah, there’s only so many places it could possibly go. It’s not like anything could happen, because the characters have already established who they are.

Did you have a song or two that didn’t make the finished film that you were sad to see go?

GROFF: I recorded a song while we were shooting Mindhunter, and I was in Pittsburgh, and I drove to New York on the weekend to record this song called “I Want to Get This Right.” And it was when in the story Kristoff was going to try and propose to Anna at the very beginning. It was not an ’80s jam. It was almost like a Jackson 5 kind of, like, uptempo R&B song. It was really cute, and I loved it, and I loved singing it, and it was Kristoff’s song, and then it became sort of a Kristoff-Anna duet song. I recorded it in New York over a weekend, and really felt like, “Oh wow. This is a huge part of the story that he’s trying to propose and he’s singing to her and it’s this proposal, so I don’t think the song is going to get cut, because it’s really like a part of the narrative of the story.” Then a couple months later, I come into a recording session, this time it was in Pittsburgh, and they were like, “So we changed the story and we cut your song. But we’re gonna write you another song, and it’s going to be an ’80s jam where Kristoff really, like, lives in his feelings.” I thought, “Oh, that’s so nice of them to say that, but surely that’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard and that will never happen.” And then it did.

Right, exactly. It all works out, because that song is fantastic.

GROFF: Yeah. Right, right.

Mindhunter — I can’t believe I get to bring this back. It’s a really great performance you have to do, and how much do you sort of submerge into that reality when you’re filming? Are you able to sort of shut it off and turn on Frozen, if you will, on like a weekend or on a weeknight when you have to go record something? That has to be challenging.

GROFF: The thing that’s similar about, I can’t believe there is a similarity, but the thing that is similar about Mindhunter and Frozen is that with Mindhunter, you’re working for David Fincher, which is like the ultimate safety net. You just know that you can do anything, you can try anything, you can throw it all up against the wall, and he’s going to go in and put together something great. So there’s this safety net as a performer that allows you to take risks and do things because you know he’s got this. You know?

Sure.

GROFF: Then on the flip side with Frozen, I just trust Jen and Chris and Bobby and Kristen so implicitly. They cut the song. It was a great song that I recorded, and they cut it because it didn’t work for the movie. They are very ego-less about the work that they produce, and they’re all very committed to the best possible story they can tell, and so in the same way in going to work for Frozen, it’s like I just make myself available to them. I just try and be as creative as I possibly can with the stuff that they give me, and throw it all up against the wall and see what sticks, and let them put it together and make whatever they want to make.

One of the things I want to bring up is that you are, unlike a lot of your cohorts, not on social at all. Or am I wrong about this?

GROFF: No, you’re correct.

Have you not had any pressure from a publicist or an agent? “You know, if you want to do Instagram, it wouldn’t be that bad.”

GROFF: No, I haven’t. I really haven’t. My agents and my publicists, they all, thankfully, get me, and so they totally understand that it’s just not my jam.

Sure.

GROFF: I feel like in order for it to be great, and positive, and productive, you have to really want to invest in it, and I hate how much I look at my phone already with text messaging, and so I just didn’t want to add another element to that.

Do you ghost on some of the social formats?

GROFF: No, I really don’t.

Really?

GROFF: I know, isn’t that crazy?

Because a lot of people say, “Oh, I’m not on Instagram.” But then they’ll be like, “But I ghost on it. I have a private account that nobody —

GROFF: No, I really don’t. I really don’t. Isn’t that weird?

No, I actually think it’s very healthy.

GROFF: Okay. It’s sort of ignorant. In certain ways ignorance is bliss where I’m sort of unaware of opinions and things like that, because I’m just not on social media at all.

Look, I think it’s an unhealthy obsession when you see people constantly taking selfies in every possible place just to… It makes me crazy, but that’s just me.

GROFF: It’s weird. Ironically, in the theater at Little Shop when we were in tech, I was the one with my phone out videotaping and taking pictures of everything, because I was like, “This is so much fun and I want to capture it.” And everyone is saying, “Why are you taking pictures? You’re not even on social media.” And I’m like, “Oh no, this is just for me to look at later.” So I do take a lot of pictures. I just keep them to myself or I text them to my friends or whatever.

So I have to ask you. Do you think in your gut feeling — because I know they have not talked about a Frozen 3 — but in another five years that there could be another?

GROFF: I mean, after the first one, I couldn’t even have imagined a Frozen 2, to be honest. When they said they were making a second one, I was thrilled to go back to work, but there wasn’t a piece of me that could have comprehended how you further the story. And then Jen and Chris and Bobby and Kristen came up with, I think, it’s a true masterpiece, and there’s never been a [theatrical animated] musical sequel made ever to a Disney film. So they broke ground with that. I think I would do anything that they do. I’m just following their lead.

Sure.

GROFF: I have no gut feeling about whether or not there will be a third one. I would just do whatever they asked me to do.

On that note, congratulations.

GROFF: Thank you.

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2019

Movies

The number in parentheses is year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. 

01 The Death of Stalin (17) does a neat trick of building goodwill for Steve Buscemi’s Krushchev, then brutally pays that off in the last few minutes. 

02 Sorry to Bother You (18)

03 Support the Girls (18)

04 Paddington (14)*

05 Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (16)

06 Eighth Grade (18) probably the most terrifying movie I watched all year, if you didn’t watch it through your fingers, who even are you?

07 Morvern Callar (02) much less bleak than the book, but then, nearly anything would be

08 The Favourite (18) revolting and beautiful. 

09 Columbus (17) a really lovely movie about architecture and parent-child relationships.

10 Bring it On (00)*

11 The Land of Steady Habits (18) feels wackier than your average Holofcener, but still a good watch. 

12 Spotlight (15) i was really bowled over by this, and wasn’t expecting to be. Workmanlike filmmaking, but an extraordinary story, well-told.

13 The Killing of a Sacred Deer (17) Barry Keoghan is a blank, but somehow compelling screen presence. This one has an ending that made me bark with laughter.

14 Legends of the Fall (94)

15 Moneyball (11)* if you don’t feel like watching anything in particular, you can always watch Moneyball

16 If Beale St Could Talk (18) very beautiful, but I failed to connect with it on any other level. 

17 For Keeps (88)

18 Abducted in Plain Sight (17)

19 Oscar Shorts (Animated) (18) the offerings were very sappy this year, but the winner was decent! Lots of Toronto content (weird). 

20 Oscar Shorts (Live Action) (18) *unquestionably* the worst one of these won ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21 Velvet Buzzsaw (19)

22 Vice (18) ugh

23 Friends with Money (06)

24 Can You Ever Forgive Me (18)

25 Bohemian Rhapsody (18) haha what. was. that.

26 Mars Attacks (96)*

27 Paddington 2 (18)

28 Buffy the Vampire Slayer (92)*

29 Shoplifters (18)

30 Blindspotting (18) jacked Ethan Embry in a supporting role?! Whither? Howso? Wherefore?

31 Witness (85)

32 Harry & the Hendersons (87)*

33 The Matrix (99)*

34 T2 Trainspotting (17)

35 Blockers (18)

36 The Slums of Beverly Hills (98)

37 Can’t Hardly Wait (98)*

38 Avengers: Infinity War (18)

39 Iron Man II (10)

40 Isle of Dogs (18)

41 Chinatown (74)*

42 To Live & Die in LA (85)

43 Age of Innocence (93) Daniel Day-Lewis manages to make Newland Archer compelling, where in the novel he’s...the worst?!

44 Shopgirl (05)*

45 The House (17) didn’t sustain all the way through, but then, that’s how mainstream comedies often go. 

46 The Beguiled (17)

47 Badlands (73)*

48 Poetic Justice (93)

49 The Empire Strikes Back (80)*

50 Calibre (18)

51 The Kindergarten Teacher (18)

52 Hounds of Love (17) a nice little Aussie thriller, set in the 80s

53 Kicking & Screaming (95)*

54 Octopussy (83)*

55 Jaws (79)*

56 Lover Come Back (61)

57 Frenzy (72)

58 Always Be My Maybe (19)

59 Certain Women (16) took a while to get to this one, but it’s as great as they say it is. 

60 Baby Driver (17) all flash, little substance.

61 Sneakers (92)

62 Roadhouse (87)*

63 Bull Durham (88)*

64 Ghostbusters (84)*

65 Booksmart (19) I think this will improve on multiple viewings, though I loved the soundtrack and the mix of characters. 

66 Hereditary (18)

67 Rebecca (40) George Sanders as Rebecca’s cousin is BRILLIANT

68 Vertigo (58)*

69 The Dead Don’t Die (19)

70 Crawl (19)

71 Dazed & Confused (93)* If you don’t watch this once a summer, what is wrong with you?

72 Jackie Brown (97)

73 Talk Radio (88)

74 The Guilty (18)

75 Killing Heydrich (17)

76 Lady Bird (17)*

77 Billy Elliot (00)*

78 White House Down (13)* Channing Potatum saves the White House!

79 The Film Worker (17)

80 Whitney (18)

81 Mascot (16)

82 Apocalypse Now (79)* technically I’d only seen the Redux version from the early 2000s, so the regular cut is new to me. 

83 Apollo 13 (95)*

84 Psycho 2 (83) the twist is very guessable, but there are a couple of nice-looking scenes.

85 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (04)*

86 The Bodyguard (92)*

87 Murder Mystery (19)

88 Wildlife (18)

89 The Stepford Wives (75)*

90 Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (71)*

91 The Natural (84)

92 The Other Boleyn Girl (08)

93 Speed (94)*

94 Opera (87)

95 That’s my Boy (12) haha what?!

96 The Big Short (15)

97 Elizabeth the Golden Age (07)

98 The Glass Castle (17) when I read the book, I genuinely thought it was fiction, it’s so insane. 

99 Dawn of the Dead (78)*

100 All About Eve (50) lady on lady violence is a special thing

101 La La Land (16)

102 Morning Glory (10) remember Rachel McAdams?

103 Casino (95)*

104 Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (06)

105 Pet Sematary (19)

106 Clue (85)*

107 Her Smell (18) amazing soundtrack and the songs were well-chosen. Heartbreaking musical moment in the final act. 

108 Bobby Sands: 66 Days (16)

109 She’s Gotta Have it (86)

110 Good Morning (59)

111 Hustlers (19) I didn’t connect with this as much as the reviews led me to believe I might. 

112 Nocturnal Animals (16)

113 Kill Bill Vol 1 (03) I’d only ever seen the second one before, being a non-Tarantino completionist.

114 Fried Green Tomatoes (91)* I watch this more than anticipated...

115 Steel Magnolias (89)

116 Notting Hill (99)*

117 A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (19) the tiny city models were inspired!

118 National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89)*

119 Let It Snow (19)

120 Frozen (13)

121 The Irishman (19) most interesting as a sort of pastiche/reckoning on the part of Scorsese about his other gangster films. Really outmoded view of unions. Definitely could have been edited down if anyone were able to come to it without undue reverence, but I did love the bit about the fish.

122 Girls Trip (17) actual plot is beside the point. 

123 About a Boy (02)* I always think of this as the “vomit and sweaters” movie, anyone else?

124 Animal House (78)*

DOCUMENTARY : FICTION - 4:120

THEATRE : HOME - 9:115

TV Series

01 Russian Doll - I think I would have enjoyed this more if it hadn’t been bingeable - would have made a nice week-by-week discussion sort of show. I loved to watch the changes between re-ups of our major characters, and I think the actual plotting would reward re-watches. 

02 Catastrophe S4 - A satisfying ending to an excellent show, with very charismatic leads (and deeply weird supporting characters). Had to write around Carrie Fisher’s death, and I’m sure did a better job of it than Star Wars did. 

03 Friends from College S2 - More of the same, which is what I was after. A show like cotton candy (but with more infidelity). 

04 High Maintenance S3 - A lot more of this season took place outside of New York City, which was a great change of pace. And a great deal more information about The Guy and his own life; both difficulties and successes included. 

05 Losers - This was a great little docuseries on Netflix that I didn’t hear a lot of people talking about - it’s about sports losses, but unusual sports ie curling, figure skating and the like. You’d think it would get repetitive, being as it’s always about recovering after loss, but it doesn’t! I wish they would make another season….

06 Shrill - a tight six episode dramedy about an alt-weekly journalist in the Pacific Northwest, based on Lindy West’s memoir of the same name. John Cameron Mitchell as her boss (based on Dan Savage) stands out of the ensemble cast, as does Annie’s roommate played by a British standup Lolly Adefope.

07 Broad City S5 - I haven’t always kept up with Broad City, but I came back to it for its final season, and thought it did a good job of setting its characters up for big changes in their lives. 

08 I Think You Should Leave - It’s easy to assume that all sketch comedy is terrible and always will be, but then you see this, and throw your TV out the window (due to all the laffs)

09 Fleabag S2 - Everything you’ve heard is true, this season is goddamn hilarious and ridiculously sexy. A huge step up from the first season, which was already pretty fantastic and incisive. 

10 Fosse/Verdon - Musicals are not particularly my bag, so I’m sure there was a lot that I missed in terms of references, but the lead performances ably carried me through all of the time jumps and various performances. 

11 Stranger Things S3 - Say it after me: d-i-m-i-n-i-s-h-i-n-g r-e-t-u-r-n-s! Maya Hawke kills it, though. 

12 Big Little Lies S2 - Unnecessary, and (if possible) even sillier than the first season.

13 Lorena - Part of the ongoing quest to rehabilitate the maligned women of the 1990s, this gave me tons of context that I had no idea about at the time, due to being a dumb kid. 

14 Glow S3 - I felt like I was losing steam on this series this year, but episodes like the camping ep kept me coming back. A great ensemble, though some unusual character choices (like a certain kiss *cough*) took me out of it by times. 

15 Lodge 49 S1-3 - I’d kept hearing about this show, so I finally sought it out. I can’t say it was amazingly compelling (I almost dropped it after the first season) but it’s definitely an oddball of a show, slipping from setpiece to setpiece with little regard for logic. For me, a background show. 

16 Chernobyl - This show really gave me the Bad Feeling, humans were definitely A Mistake.

17 On Becoming a God in Central Florida - Kiki in a trashy mode, not as infinitely appealing as the version she pulled off in the second season of Fargo, but scrappy and industrious nonetheless.

18 Show Me a Hero - I’d put off watching this for years, it felt like it was going to be too dull (housing policy in Yonkers?) but it’s great, and larded up with Bruce Springsteen songs, obvs.

19 Great British Bake Off S9-S10 - I’d also held off on watching this for a long time, out of loyalty to Mel, Sue, and Mary Berry. But I needed some comfort viewing towards the end of the summer, and the new hosts and judge do an able job, although the show’s tropes are feeling a bit well-worn at this point. 

20 Righteous Gemstones S1 - A rollicking ride for sure, with a great cast. Your mileage/patience with Danny McBride may vary, so keep that in mind, naturally. 

21 This Way Up S1 - A small show starring the fabulous Aisling Bea, about mental health and families and some nice comic physical acting. Oh, and in case you were watching The Crown and crushing on Tobias Menzies’ version of Prince Phillip, he plays a hot dad love interest in this, which gives you all the Tobias you’re looking for, without the PP racisms. 

22 The Crown S3 - This is the first season of the big cast switchover, and I thought it stuck reasonably well, once we were in it an episode or two. This season concentrated even less on Elizabeth herself, preferring her sister, husband, and (newly!) her children.

[xoexoxhoe]

Come Over (Part 4)

A/N: The story continues! Just a 💥warning💥guys- This part of our story can be really sensitive to some people as it talks about some pretty serious stuff involving pregnancy. Please know that I am in no way trying to offend anyone! We purely write this for the sake of story/character development, and we hope you guys enjoy it regardless. Happy reading! (A/N below for more information and lots of love)  

Relationships are a two way street; Be careful of road blocks 🍃

Mingi (Ateez) & Y/N

💥Warning: Sensitive topic on pregnancy issues 💥

Life had been simple as of late, and you had no objections. You and Mingi had been stronger than ever for the past three years jetting around the world, meeting new friends at the university publishing company you both work for, and also writing short novels here and there for your own pleasure. But this year, it was different, and you could feel it. Mingi hadn’t been home lately, always staying late at the office to complete tasks he picked up and allowed others to drop on him. Occasionally you’d stay, helping him edit papers and finalize pieces for the local newspapers, but for the past two months you were more tired than anything else. Each day Mingi would have to cook dinner because standing at the kitchen stove for long periods of time made you weak and unable to be coherent for the rest of the night. Mingi always told you that you should go to the doctors office, but of course, being the stubborn girl you are, you never did.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, my pain is too bad today.” You laid in bed as he walked through the door from work, “I made you kimchi stew and picked up fried chicken on my home today, I hope it’s enough.”

Mingi leaned against the door frame of your bedroom, “Y/N, don’t worry. I could’ve made it myself.”

You waved a hand at him, “Baby, no offense here, but you don’t make kimchi stew very well and you know it.”

“Well, there ya go! The truth is out. I shall stick to writing and editing college papers, shamelessly getting shaded by my girlfriend about not being able to cook.” He made his way into the kitchen, still ranting about your coy behavior.

“Hey! I can still hear you, Song Mingi! You better watch your tone.” You laughed in bed, adjusting the cooling pad you slapped onto your forehead.

Before you knew it, Mingi was back in the room with a tray of bowls containing rice, stew, and vegetables. He placed the tray down on your nightstand and waved his hand, signaling you to lean forward from your position so he could crawl behind you. He wrapped one leg around your waist and placed the other alongside your hip. Mingi leaned over to the tray, handing you a spoon, a bowl of rice, and a bowl of kimchi stew. “You need to eat, baby. You don’t look good.”

You leaned into him, closing your eyes, “I made an appointment for tomorrow. I feel like I have anemia or something.”

He began to scarf down his food, talking with his cheeks slightly full, “Good idea, babe. I’m worried- need me to take off of work with you? I can tag along.”

You pat his leg, “Thank you, but I think I better go on my own. One of us needs to make an income in this house.”

Mingi planted a kiss on your cheek, “Well call me if you need me, okay?”

The next morning, you walked with Mingi to the subway station, holding his hand and laughing about the Netflix original you both watched the night before. You kissed him goodbye as you got off two stops before him, giggling as you watched him wink at you while the train slowly made its way into the dark tunnel ahead. The doctor's office you always went to took you in quickly, each nurse making you feel the most comfortable that you’ve ever been in a while during these kinds of visits.

Dr. Ko walked in, smiling as she bowed, “Good morning, beautiful! How have you been?”

“So great, thank you so much! How are you?”

She tilted her head back and forth, “Getting old, but who am I to judge, right?”

You bowed your head, “Dr. Ko, you don’t look a day over 30.” Which was completely true. This lady had the skincare routine of a Kardashian and the looks of Hyolyn if she were to be in her prime 50’s. You always told Dr. Ko this, only to find her laughing and shaking her head, placing gloves on her hand as she assessed you.

“So, Y/N, what happened, my dear? What brings you in today?”

“I’ve been feeling extremely weak for the past two months, and I don’t know why, Dr. Ko. I’ve been eating well, Mingi has been cooking for me. But every time I stand for too long, it feels as if I’m going to pass out.”

Dr. Ko narrowed her eyes quizzically, “Have you been on birth control, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows knit, “Um- Yeah, I have been, why?”

“Would you mind if we take a pregnancy test? I want to rule it out before we proceed with anything.”

You shook your head in complete agreement, “Of course! Do what you gotta do, Doc.”

After an agonizing fifteen minutes, Dr. Ko came into the room, “Miss Y/L/N, we have a lot of talking to do about becoming a mother.”

Your eyes widened, your heart rate increased, and you could feel your stomach churning with excitement and nervousness. “Excuse me?”

Dr. Ko dragged out an ultrasound machine, “I don’t wanna give you false hope, but your pregnancy test came out positive. I just want to confirm it through a fetal heart rate check, if that’s alright?”

You nodded your head, still unable to comprehend what the hell was actually happening. The room was spinning once Dr. Ko spread the ultrasound lubricant over your flat stomach to which you thought would not be housing any children anytime soon, but here you are. Dr. Ko began to circle the cold jelly over the surface of your abdomen, trying her hardest to locate the fetus. She eventually found it, taking a picture and showing it to you, but now was time for the true test. Your mind raced with anticipation.

“I’m going to turn on the doppler,” Dr. Ko flicked something and awaited the beating heart of a baby to become present, but nothing came on. She continued to go around your stomach, attempting to find a heartbeat somewhere- anywhere. Your heart sank, you felt it in your soul. Just as one happy thing was beginning, it was soon coming to an end. “It’s still a little early, my dear. Maybe we can schedule an appointment for next week and we can reassess?”

You just stared blankly at the ultrasound monitor, seeing the bean sized fetus on the screen. Tears began to stream down your face and Dr. Ko took you into her arms, “My dear, do not cry. We will figure this out.”

The subway ride home was agonizing, and you couldn’t help but to think of the image of your unborn child on that screen. You reached home and slid down against your bed, hitting the carpet in defeat. You reached into your purse, calling Mingi through tears, “Baby I-”

“I’m on my way home now, Y/N. Don’t worry.” He hung up, and you brought your knees to your chest, awaiting his return. As soon as he flew through the door, you started to bawl even harder. He grabbed your shoulders, “Y/N, what happened? Who hurt you? Did someone say something on the subway?”

You shook your head, handing him an envelope. He tore it open and dropped the ultrasonography photos after reading Dr. Ko’s note of ‘Undetectable Fetal Heart Beat’ on the back of them. He dropped to his knees next to you, holding your hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing them with all his might, “Baby, maybe it’s too early, okay? Let’s figure this out next week.”

You agreed, “That’s what the doctor said… will you come with me?”

“Of course. Always.” He hugged you again, bringing you up into bed and tucking you in. You woke up abruptly at around 1:00 am, rushing into the bathroom and throwing up into the toilet. You felt as if your stomach was ripping itself apart. You felt a warm sensation alongside your thighs and you reached a hand between them, bringing it up to your face only to see clots and a dark streak of blood coursing down onto your tile floor. You screamed, immediately, hearing Mingi jump out of bed running into the bathroom in a matter of seconds. He picked you up, calling an ambulance, not letting go of you until you both were at the hospital getting evaluated by a doctor. Two hours had passed and a series of blood tests, labs, and other OBGYN consultations occurred before the head doctor of the ER came in to speak with you and Mingi. He sat at the edge of your bed, and you already knew what words would come next.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Y/L/N, but you just had a miscarriage. You were unable to keep the pregnancy. Now, we don’t know exactly why, but please remember that we here at the hospital will do anything we can to help you grieve through this troubling time.” He pat your leg and shook Mingi’s hand, walking out of your room somber and disappointed with himself.

All you could do was cry in your lovers arms, blaming yourself for whatever had happened, and never looking at your life the same.

💥I know this was a really heavy chapter, fellow readers. Just wanted to extend a loving hand that if you or a loved one have ever experienced this, you are not alone, and we stand with you! My messages are always open if you ever need to talk! Thank you so much for your constant support, and I promise to do the same for you all!💥

Down to read more? Links below for the continuation of the series!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[painted-cherries]

lingering

pairing: mark tuan x reader

warnings: mention of a gun and drugs, but no use and no death or shooting.

genre: fluff, slight angst but purely for the sake of plot I swear

words: 2.4k +

request: “ Can I have mark tuan soulmate au where he's a workaholic cop,and doesn't believe in soulmates, but then falls for her when he sees her? Please and thank you. Hope this makes sense :) “

a/n: yes! I am a fool for a good soulmate prompt, especially with Mark, he has the perfect image for this. I may or may not have projected my love for B99 in this fic as well... I am still accepting requests! You can drop one in my inbox if you click here.

March had passed, spitting out the few last cold fronts and mini snowfalls it could before April would take its place. Spring was on the verge of spilling to full bloom; what better time to find your soulmate than when the earth is renewing herself with luscious evergreen and flowers? The search for one;s soulmate is always random, but typically when someone would least expect it. There had been stories of people finding their respective partner in little moments like needing to borrow change in line at the cafe, or even sharing a seat on the bus. Every situation was very unique to each couple, and it was hard to anticipate when or where they’ll meet- sometimes in not very graceful situations. Spring time meant that there would be a plethora of new soulmates discovering each other; spring was a popular season, as well as that small period of time where fall slowly freezes into the coming winter. Many of these couples could be found around every corner and on every curb, hand-in-hand grateful to finally find comfort in someone’s arms. The soulmate system is a work of wonders for everyone right?

In the spring, Mark could be found working overtime at the station, catching up on potential hours he missed in the winter, when he had left to visit family for the holidays. He dreaded those visits, despite being able to see his family, the extended was always hounding him about not seeking out his soulmate more actively, He was well into his mid-twenties now, and was still without a girlfriend, let alone a wife. The truth was, Mark was already committed. He worked every day at the station, and not unwillingly. He practically begged other for the shifts that they didn’t want, and the chief himself had to limit him in his overtime that he worked so often. Mark Tuan was married to his job, and that’s how he preferred to live his life. His job gave him a type of natural high. Car chases, and drug busts exhilarated him. to no end. He was constantly working new cases and excelled so high that other detectives were practically begging him to assist them on their cases. 

He would go on and on for hours about a new murder or robbery that was filed to anyone who would listen- if he even had time in the first place- but love was not up for discussion. He had never trusted the link between soulmates- he thought it was madness that two people could be destined to be together for the rest of their lives without knowing or choosing to be with said person from the get go. He didn’t believe in predetermined destinies; he had grown up on his own accord with the ideology that we create our own fates, that we choose what we do and who we love- if we want to love at all.

The controversial animosity he felt for the soulmate idea was something he would never express to anyone- not his parents-who were happily put together by through their souls- or especially his friends, whom most of them had already fallen victim to the link. He had witnessed it everywhere and anywhere, yet he still refused to believe that there was another person out there who was destined to be his forever, before they were even old enough to know what love was. 

The day was young, and on this fine Monday, Mark Tuan was unsurprisingly working yet another shift at the Los Angeles Police Department. He walked with a spring in his step and clocked in. Mark’s daily routine never changed. Sometimes his hours shifted, but that was the most change he had seen since he became so invested in his work. Every day he would wake up and take a shower to wake himself up since he wasn’t naturally very upbeat in the morning. After that, he would eat exactly one bagel with as much cream cheese as he desired, and a banana as he walked out the door on his way to work. That was how he lived; he ate the same thing, combed his hair the same way, and worked the same shifts. It was monotonous, but Mark wouldn’t prefer it any other way. He didn’t need anything different because he obtained his thrill in car chases and drug busts, making arrests and receiving praise for his work.  

Today he was going to follow up on a lead that he had found the day before. Recently the department had finally discovered some lower level criminals that could bring them right to the door of their most wanted: a man who ran all of the drug deals throughout LA, a man that only referred to himself as The King... Not humble or subtle. His real name was Jackson Wang, and he wasn’t even on the down low. This man flaunted his success, but his ability to slip away from the LAPD is what kept him out of a cell to this day.

Mark sat at his desk skimming through files and prepping for the endeavor; he and his partner, Jinyoung, were planning to have an undercover meeting with one of The King’s best dealers, hoping that his arrest could help them locate where every single one of Wang’s hide outs were so that he could no longer slip through the department’s fingers, or more specifically Mark’s. He had been working the case tirelessly for the past three months, and he was tired of letting him get the best of him. Today was going to be a big day, he could feel it in his bones.

He was deep into the case file when Jinyoung walked up, and sat a chocolate muffin on his desk next the open manila folder. 

“Okay what time did you want to head out for the rendezvous spot?” 

Mark looked up from the paperwork and tore a piece of the muffin top off and popped it into his mouth.

“Well I was thinking,” he said with a mouth full of muffin. “that maybe we should go early and scout potential spots that he could escape in case he knows it’s a set up.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want me to see if Officer Kim and his partner could provide some back up?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “No ask Sarge if he’ll cover us. Those two aren’t bad cops but this bust could really lead to a big break in our careers.”

Jinyoung let out a sigh of relief and nodded his head in agreement. Yugyeom and Bam, as he liked to be called, always managed to get on Jinyoung’s nerves. They excelled at policing minor things like busting large college parties at night shift, or giving tickets to people who jay walk downtown. This was a large scale deal that Mark didn’t have time to play around with, and Sargent Lim Jaebum would be great for the job. He was refined, and took things seriously. He helped the captain keep things in order but was still a great friend to get a drink with. He was able to appropriately set a boundry between the workplace and friendship, and Mark knew that he was reliable no matter what the circumstances.

“Okay Tuan, you ready to head out?” Jinyoung called out. 

“Let’s go make an arrest fellas,” Mark replied as he excitedly stood from his chair, and walked out the door with his gun and badge in hand. 

The ride there consisted of a comfortable silence, and JB followed the two in his own car. After scouting for spots that the other two could maintain in case of a chase, Jinyoung dropped Mark off a block from the empty, blocked off parking garage that they were using as a meeting point, and drove off to remain inconspicuous. 

Mark took out his phone and started so scroll through meaningless social media so that he could remain undercover. He was always very hyper aware of his surroundings, as a detective should be. He thought about how warm the air was, just now realizing that the weather was finally changing. He thought about how it was practically yesterday when the weather would barely go above 50 degrees, and it hit him how quickly life was moving by. It literally hit him. Mark had the air knocked out of him when he felt himself collide with another person that was walking in the opposite direction. He landed hard on his back, and the person that caused it came tumbling down with him. 

“Oh shit I am so so sorry,” the person said in a hurry. He opened his eyes to see a young woman being to scramble off of him, and stand. She offered a hand to him, and the moment he took it, he felt a warm sensation spread throughout the cavity of his chest. He could barely get a good look at her before he realized that he was minutes from being late to meeting Wang’s dealer, and took off, muttering a ‘thanks’ under his breath. The girl stood there stunned, shocked by the sudden pull towards the strange man, and confused that he hadn’t stopped to acknowledge the obvious link between them. She wasn’t sure of the reason he ran off so quickly, but she decided that if that was her soulmate then she needed to know who he was, and proceeded to follow him.

Mark couldn’t stop seeing the small glimpses of her face after he ran off. He couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth that has taken over his better judgement, even as he comes face to face with what could be his big break in busting this underground drug ring. His mind was so preoccupied that he couldn’t help but flinch when the dealer slammed the grams of coke on the table between them. 

“Three grams of coke like discussed. Now where’s my payment, pretty boy?” the man spat at Mark.

“I-I have it right here just a moment,” and he pretended to fumble for his wallet. On cue he counted 5 seconds from when the man asked for money, and pulled out his PD badge exclaiming “LA PD”, just as Jinyoung busted into the building as they planned.

“Oh shit,” the guy grunted to himself, and not wanting to take an inventory loss, he grabbed the goods and started to run out what had appeared to be a blocked off exit, but opened for the man with ease.

“Jinyoung! Let JB know they’re taking the southwest exit now!” Mark said as he sprinted after the man. 

This dealer had obviously been trained to avoid being caught at all costs; he was using every resource available to keep Mark four steps behind him at all times. He dumped over crates, threw things carelessly behind him, and ran up the stairs from the lower levels nearly three steps at a time. Now more than ever, Mark cursed his short legs. Once the two reached ground level, the man narrowly slipped past Jinyoung after attempting to knock him to the ground. Mark ran past his partner and was so hyper focused on the perp in front of him, he didn’t notice the woman who was approaching him, oblivious to the chase happening before her. For the second time that day, Mark Tuan landed flat on the ground alongside a mystery woman with an unforgettable gaze.

Mark blinked and could hear the sarge yell from a distance, “LET’S GO TUAN, PICK IT UP.”

He began to recollect himself from the ground, this time he was up on his feet  before the girl in front of him. He offered his hand to her like she did the time before, almost like fate was trying to rewrite their meeting herself. The woman took his hand, and stood before him, brushing her disheveled hair from her face. This time around, Mark got a proper look at her face. He felt his pulse nearly pop from his veins, and his heart fell to his feet and remained there on the sidewalk, stunned. He knew in that moment that this was it, he was becoming what he would categorize as a victim to the soulmate link. But in this moment it didn’t feel like he was a victim. He felt light. There was sunshine pouring from his soul, shinning bright from the hollow behind his eyes and his rough touch on her small hand was weightless. 

‘Who are you?” was all he could ask.

She felt his aura engulf her. This time he lingered long enough for her to notice his more than handsome features. His jawline was strong, tense because she knew this wasn’t an experience he had ever anticipated, especially at this timing. His features were solid and defined, almost as if he had been a model in a past life. But that didn’t matter because he was meant to be hers in this lifetime, until the sun’s light burnt out and the tides stopped crashing for the moon. She placed a hand on his face and grazed it softly, dragging her thumb over his lip ever so slightly. The silence was broken when JB’s voice claiming that he and Jinyoung had caught the dealer, rang out loud over the earpiece he wore for undercover operations such as this one.

“My name is Mark. Ask for me at the LA PD,” he said to her quickly before taking off to help his friends with the arrest. 

As Mark ran, he couldn’t help but think about the woman now clearly identified as his soulmate. He was no longer worried about the countless days he would endure working to bring himself a peace of mind that he couldn’t obtain alone. He thought about the radiance in her eyes, and how even standing together made him feel something whole rather than apart and scattered. He felt her touch linger on his lip and cheek. He continued to feel her ghost touch as he handcuffed the man, and even after arriving back at the station, floating around on a high that wasn’t from booking a criminal for once. He no longer felt it lingering after he saw her waiting at the front door of the department, and walked straight up to her, pressing their lips together then and there before she could even utter a ‘hello’ to him. He pulled back and looked at her with a smile that he had never produced before.

“I’m y/n,” she said with a grin.

Mark no longer felt like a man with a blind fate, but a man who had a new blind faith in a love he didn’t know he was waiting for.

[dreamca7cher]

Dreamcatcher Dallas Concert Write-Up

Now that I’m back home and have had time to process the trip, I’m finally ready to write about the experience. It’s gonna be hella long, so strap in! Even now, it’s still kind of hard to believe that it all actually happened. It’s like one of those things that feels like a dream while it's happening ya know?  A friend and I drove up from Houston early Wednesday morning, and arrived in time to grab our merch without any problems. I’m actually pretty impressed with the quality of the goods, they’re definitely not top quality but not cheap either. I had heard Studio PAV had problems organizing the lines and setting up before the concert at the previous stops, but everything seemed to go pretty smoothly by this 3rd tour stop. I was on the fence about the Over the Sky event due to the $200 entry fee, but finally caved when I saw one of my friend’s solo photos. I met up with some friends with 7-Dreamers and we hung out until it was time to go in for OTS at 4pm.

I bought my OTS ticket the night before the concert, and I think there were still some left the last time I checked, but I would guess there was 60-70 of us in there. We were arranged in 2 rows of chairs and then when the girls came out, it was so unreal. I mean I’ve seen them before last year at the LA fanmeet and KCON but maybe I just forgot how beautiful they really are. They were absolutely radiant dressed in angelic white outfits and smiling happily - they probably got some much needed rest in the time between Chicago’s Sunday concert. They did a Q&A session where they answered some questions the fans had written. Filming/pictures were not allowed so I don’t remember much. Some of the answers were pretty basic or things I had heard before. A highlight was Yoohyeon saying she would be a cockroach if she could turn into any animal bc they’re hard to kill lmaoo. Then came the solo photos with our own phones, which I had nervously been anticipating for hours. You could quickly indicate which pose you wanted to go with, lots of people did hearts, rock on signs, and the standard cute kpop poses. One guy did the dab and promptly got heckled by the crowd lol. When my turn came, it all happened so fast that I don’t remember looking directly at each of them. I felt like I would burst into flames like in Indiana Jones or something XD. I first thought about doing the dual heart thing with whoever was going to sit next to me, but I chickened out lol. Then I was going to do rock on until I saw that a lot of other people went with that, so I just decided to do a thumbs up. It all worked out in the end, I could never have dreamed that Jiu would touch my cheek in a thousands years. I think I’ve peaked in life haha. After the photos, the girls went on stage and did some short mic tests, and then we were all ushered back outside.

At this point it was about 5pm, so we still had 3 hours to go until the concert actually started. I’m so glad I got VVIP bc that meant I didn’t have to jump in line and stay there for hours to keep my spot. It was maybe like 40-50 degrees F outside, but not too windy so it wasn’t too bad. I had fun just hanging out and talking with my friends, tho the only bathroom was a gas station across a busy street. The venue was located in this kind of industrial area-turned bar street. Very hip, I think they chose a good place. Finally, around 6:45, we hopped in line according to our VVIP number and we were let into the venue on time. From here we still had to wait an hour for the concert to start, and it was all standing so I’m glad I wore comfortable shoes. The VVIP section was barricaded off from the rest in case you needed to leave and come back, but I was in the 4th row dead center, so I didn’t want to lose my good spot. I wished I had at least gone to the bathroom first, but for once I actually somehow lasted through the full 3 hours.

At 8, the lights dimmed and they started playing some of DC’s songs, and shortly the girls finally came out to a raucous applause. There were 2 people right in front of me wearing these tall headbands with words in Korean on them, which was kind of annoying. And some of the people in front were filming holding their phones way above their heads.. The girls themselves even said to please not do that or use professional cameras, which they still ignored. Come on people, at least observe basic concert etiquette! Nothing could sour my mood though, as what followed was pretty much the best, most action packed 2 hours I’ve ever experienced. They performed the same song set from previous stops, so I won't list every single song. They sang all the title tracks interspersed with unit performances and brief talking parts. I really enjoyed the songs where they just played around and interacted with the crowd, especially the encore set. Sua of course had endless energy and was a real crowd pleaser all night. She played around with a stuffed elephant, tiny pink cowboy hat, and a Handong head cutout during the encore. The Taki Taki and 7 Rings covers naturally killed everybody, and TT/Bad Boy were probably the other crowd favorites. Siyeon was really funny, and her confidence was exemplary, especially during Overdose. I'm biased, but I was really impressed with Jiu's dancing in person. She gave 110% during the choreo, and still somehow managed to incorporate little bits of fan service toward us. All night she was hyping up the crowd, flashing rock ons, and just generally being the loveliest person ever. She almost had us convinced that she was the maknae but Gahyeon was just too cute all night, esp when she couldn't get her coat buttoned up at one point. Yoohyeon tried to help, but messed up and mismatched the buttons which was hilarious. She was kind of subdued all night I feel, but you could see the Rachel in her come out at times, which was very endearing. And Dami was just effortlessly cool, no better way to describe her. All her parts got loud screams from the crowd. Near the end the girls left the stage for a while as the crowd screamed for an encore. Then they came back wearing the tour t-shirts and did the fun songs with no set choreo. I was jealous of the front row since the girls would often crouch down to wave at the phones or throw hearts and stuff at everyone during this time. Of course I should shut up bc I can’t imagine T3 and T4 could see much from the back of the venue since it wasn’t stadium seating :/ At the end, they didn’t even look that tired which was insane after 2 straight hours of non-stop dancing. And Dreamcatcher’s choreo is way more complex than most other groups too! They are truly consummate professionals of the highest degree. Above all you could just tell how much work and effort the girls put into every performance, and beyond that - how thankful they are to InSomnia for the love we show them. They thanked us many times for coming and promised to return as 7 someday. They also made us promise to visit them in Korea lol.

During the hi-touch and group photo after, they must have been really tired but still greeted us with smiles and photocards. It was sad to finally leave the venue, but I have so many happy memories to last a lifetime. This was my fourth kpop concert, and it unquestionably topped them all. It was truly an incredible experience all the way through. I would pretty much describe it as a perfect day, I’m so happy that they finally came for a US tour. If anyone is still able to make it to future concerts, I highly, highly recommend going! It really could be a once in a lifetime experience.

[nikitasbt]

Raise the Red Lantern (大红灯笼高高挂 ,1991) by Zhang Yimou

Three pivotal features of early Zhang Yimou’s films are the spectacular usage of colours, the sublime visual beauty of the photography and breathtaking performance of director’s key collaborator Gong Li who makes the viewers sympathize her characters or adore them. All these features culminate in Raise the Red Lantern which is considered among the greatest modern Chinese films and one of the most remarkable features of the 1990-s. The third feature-length film of Zhang Yimou has made him one of the most acclaimed Chinese directors, even though the final version of the film was banned in China for a period, possibly for obvious allusions on the Chinese society suppressed by the authoritarian regime.

Raise the Red Lantern based on a very clear and dramatic narration set in China in the 1920-s, a few years before the outbreak of the Civil War which would last for 27 years. The story revolves around 4 mistresses of a rich landowner living in a large compound. There is a room for decent suspense, tragedy and soap opera in the story which is being shown from the eyes of the 4th wife 19-years old Songlian (portrayed by Gong Li) who arrived in the house recently. She is an educated girl from a middle-class family. However, as her father recently passed away, the family didn’t have any sources to make living resulting in forcing Songlian to become the youngest wife of rich master. She has not chosen her fate, yet she has obeyed just like the other wives did and like the women have been doing for centuries. But Raise the Red Lantern is not just a story of a suppressed young girl.

Shortly after settling down in the new house, Songlian learns the life in the house is defined by the set of ancient laws and traditions. For example, everyday master makes an announcement which of the women would be chosen to spend the night with him. After decisions, the servants are requested to light the red lanterns next to the favourite mistress’s house. The chosen woman gets the best treatment, selects the meals for everybody and receives power for some time – as long as it is not stated the lights would be lit near to the other house. So in fact, the master uses women like dinner outfits. Moreover, Songlian learns her living space on this planet would be now squeezed to the square meters of her house and courtyard: she would never go out anymore. This fruitless life starts being annoying and traumatizing very fast.

As time goes by, Songlian realizes the entire house is overwhelmed by the intrigues, gossips, violence and different sort of sins. All the mistresses certainly don’t love the husband, as they were forced to this marriage. Yet they adapt to life in isolation and start fighting for master’s favour granting them temporary power within the house. Moreover, a servant of Songlian Yan’er (Kong Lin) is also playing a game dreaming of becoming another mistress. Songlian collides with the first wife in her 50-s (played by Jin Shuyuan), second mistress Zhuoyun (Cao Cuifen) offering friendship and beautiful but dangerous and jealous third mistress Meishan (He Saifei) who is a former opera singer. All the women are rarely called by name as they are treated like another adornment of the compound. They have nothing to do, apart from serving their master. To see them in this desperate state is disturbing, but Zhang Yimou in a great way shows indifferences in their personalities and ways to deal with such life.

Songlian initially is not willing to adapt to the rules and games to win the master’s favour. Zhang Yimou shows the will of an educated girl to rebel against the oppression and traditions she is forced to become part of. Though, in no time pretty much to her own surprise, she finds herself in the center of all intrigues. The environment breaks her down very fast. She hates her life, but she starts fighting fiercely for the power in this house. She employs different methods such as lying, being cruel with the servant, setting up the other mistresses and so no. Her pointless life is now a fight for the red lanterns to be lit by her side. She is smart, but the other mistresses are playing the game not worse than Songlian. Another layer of narrative shows how Songlian changes gaining the power within the house. Despite being a slave de-facto, she is not able to stand against this tantalizing desire to oppress the other victims just like her. She becomes corrupt and more and more violent. The story becomes very entertaining and catchy, the suspense of it is quite good, though many twists of the plot can be easily anticipated. The house ends up with a tremendous tragedy resulting in violence, blood and insanity Songlian falls into.

Raise the Red Lantern can be also interpreted as a metaphor to the oppressed society in general (especially, the Chinese society). We see a master representing the power or monarch who commands the other people’s lives. The viewers never get a proper look at him as he is shown to be sort of anonymous power. His face is shown just once or twice for split seconds from the far distance. His servants are forced to live according to the rules. Though who obey might get favour, while those who try to rebel get destroyed and could be even killed. After a while, the members of society find themselves adapting to life conditions, seeking the ways to manipulate the master and trying to do everything for his favour. People set each other up, betray and murder dreaming to hold the symbol of power in their hands – the red lantern. Though, this symbol is just an illusion as in fact everybody is enslaved. This is a simple but obvious metaphor to the society oppressed by the authoritarian regime.

The third film of Zhang Yimou is a complex psychological and political drama with several layers emerging slowly as the plot advances. The different dimensions are problems of Raise the Red Lantern to open as the characters change and compete. The drama of films is just great, and it literally haunts the viewers for quite a long time after watching the film.

Above all, as it has been already mentioned the most important part of Yimou’s feature-length films is their exuberant visual style. Zhang Yimou proves to be a great master creating such a cold and desperate environment with usage of dim grey light, an abundance of grey colours, and brilliant decorations of a castle-like compound where the women are trapped. The main colour is red though, not grey. Arguably, the red colour is the most important for Chinese culture symbolizing many things. In Raise the Red Lantern this is the colour of power and desire, and the scenes with red are always bright and charged with some tension. It mixes with grey colours and dim lights very well. The photography is absolutely spectacular as the film is very attentive to every littlest detail. Arrangement of all these lanterns and decorations is just breathtaking. Visual style is slightly influenced by Hou Hsian-Hsien’s early films such as City of Sadness. Moreover, Hou has produced Raise the Red Lantern.

The visual part and camerawork enhance the story in the best possible way. Many plans are absolutely beautiful, especially the takes from the house’s rooftop. The frequent close-ups focus attention on the fantastic actors’ performance, out of whom Gong Li and He Saifei are stealing the show to contribute in film’s overall success. I also enjoyed the music written by Zhao Jiping for Raise the Red Lantern. These haunting sounds of drums and lanterns getting extinguished stay in the head for a long time. Moreover, the Chinese songs that Meishan sings are exquisite and sublime.

Raise the Red Lantern has gained positive feedback and attention in the Western world. Later, Zhang Yimou would have written and directed many other films pleasing the Western taste, yet he remains among highly acclaimed directors in China whose drama Raise the Red Lantern is remembered as one of the finest pieces of his work.

[strewnlimbs-blog]

www.InkIt&SinkIt.com

@lin-rinku​ Alright, I’ve finished one drabble request. This is your Soulmates and Online Dating, hope you have fun! When Ink It & Sink It went online at first many thought it to be an extreme invasion of privacy. People were paid money based on either the amount of common, unique soulmate markings they found, or they were paid larger sums for more desired celebrities. Politicians, actors, the wealthy, anyone who normally didn’t display their marks to anyone.

Now, the website was a more welcomed relief to many who browsed the hundreds of thousands of photos daily to try and find themselves on someone’s arm.

Many things could be found in the ink-like markings that stained people’s skin. Preferred patterns, interests, hobbies, favorite shapes, anything related to who the individual was meant to be with. It was a seemingly unnatural event that began before anyone could remember. Since there had been people… there were markings. It was discovered in the last 50 years that humans had an octopus-like, muscular pigment reaction they had little control over. What linked them, and what caused them to produce patterns like they did in one main area was still a mystery.

All markings had stages to inform their wearers just how close, far, or bonded with their soulmates they were.

So when Oswald noticed one evening his simple inner forearm markings had wrapped around his forearm completely, all in a smokey grey, he was horrified. He’d met his soulmate that day at some point, but because of his suit and layers he’d never noticed when it was that the sides and back of his forearm became littered in precise stains.

It started out with a small set of question marks on his inner wrist, four of them in total with two upwards and two upside-down, one after the other. He was as confused as the markings were and 19 at the time. That was the time his soulmate was somewhere in his city.

After that, the closest he’d ever gone to his soulmate was between 7 to 12 blocks away when odd pixel characters and what might have been spacecraft appeared up his forearm with several more question marks. His markings were a mess of splayed interests.

Now though, now he had markings wrapped around his forearm entirely, different angular patterns and something that looked like a kind of science or math thing. To be honest, it was far beyond his wheelhouse.

Whoever was his supposed soulmate was probably some lanky, young, 20-something that played games all day. Anything from couriers to informants could be his soulmate… luckily, it was decidedly someone new. And if they were his soulmate then he’d end up loving them no matter what they looked like… It was all some sort of trap, he hated it.

He had a criminal underground to run.

He had no time for these games.

Unfortunately for Oswald, his curiosity was a downfall.

If his soulmate was the kind of social outcast he expected them to be, he knew they’d post their markings online in order to find their match. It was going to be all too easy to find himself in their desperation. And when he knew what they looked like, he could officially reject them in his mind and move on. He bet he’d hate them. His markings wouldn’t darken at all because he didn’t care.

And he never would.

Four days later and still nothing in the new postings looked like him.

How could someone not want to find him? Him! Of all people! He was powerful, wealthy, influential, handsome, why wouldn’t someone post their markings if not to at least brag to the public about who they matched with.

Unless…

Unless they were dead.

Unless something happened to his soulmate that was beyond their control and they hadn’t been able to post about him. That had to have been it. Otherwise someone should have been knocking on his door.

For the time being, Oswald had been covering his markings with different foundations and concealers, attempting to have his markings stay hidden. Even if his sleeve rolled up, if he shook hands, or raised his arms. He didn’t want a peek of his markings getting out.

He’d shove them in his soulmate’s face first and demand to know who they were and why he shouldn’t kill them on the spot. That would leave an impression that hopefully would run them off.

Oswald would be able to live his life burden free once more. And maybe if he got them scared of him or hating him then perhaps he could get the markings to fade to nothing? It was worth a shot.

Markings could change, in very rare cases, but he was a rare kind of person. He could have nature itself bend the rules for him just this once.

The next three days were spent with Oswald’s soulmate in mind, taking stops to the same places he went the day his markings expanded his arm, but either no one showed the markings or he didn’t want to ask strangers who had him for fear of what he might find.

Well.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

That night, one week from the day that his markings expanded, he took a picture of his freshly washed markings, posting them online anonymously. He kept his name and status as far away from the site as he could, trying to be the regular Joe Blow trying to find his match.

Within two hours, he had a message to a dummy email account he made mentioning someone was sending him a private connection through the site. Not to seem too excited, he let it sit for a couple hours, checking the message he got before he went to bed.

‘Hi. I am reasonably sure, beyond a doubt in fact, that you have me on your arm. And if this looks like you, I believe we are matched.’

It was mostly to the point, the message coming with an attached picture of what was seemingly a lean forearm, a sweater pushed up to the elbow, hand appearing long with the thin fingers spread.

Along the skin were soft grey lines, some standing on their own and others thatched together. What looked to be rubber-stamp styled penguins occupied his arm, though there were only two. One larger and one smaller. Along with it an umbrella that looked suspiciously like the ones he had embroidered on his shirt cuffs. What appeared to be musical bars across the man’s inner wrist and bands of lace taking up filler areas.

He had seen faked markings before, ones meant to be for him. Usually incorporating murder, crime, some sort of knife display. Those were what people saw, these… no one would associate him with lace.

He never touched it, never had it around in public eye. Even in his manor, there was no lace in sight. And he knew the pattern on the forearm in the picture. That was from the one thing of his mother’s that he refused to get rid of after her death. A lace shawl she wore on breezy summer days.

Something never connected to him, but he loved it.

That was too personal for this to be fake.

‘I would say that, yes, that does look remarkably like what I’d identify with. Who are you?’

‘If you don’t mind I’d like to remain nameless for now. I know who you are though, Mr. Penguin. And I’m keeping things secret for… security reasons.’

Security reasons?

‘What is so important that you can’t tell me who you are?’

‘I might be… in some way, connected to something involving you and I don’t want to get too close just yet. Soon, I promise! Give me another week?’

‘I don’t seem to have much choice until then, do I?’

‘I’m afraid not. I have to go, busy day ahead of me tomorrow, but… could we talk again?’

‘It seems that we’re destined to, so I imagine I can make time.’

‘Wonderful! Okay, we will exchange pleasantries then. Goodnight, Mr. Penguin.’

Oswald didn’t bother to return the sentiment, leaving his computer with a confused scowl. This was ridiculous, he was acting so inappropriately for his position. Here was some, likely, civilian at his doorstep, claiming to be his partner and he was in no place to be taking some bright-eyed Gothamite into his realm of underground activity.

And still, the next night, he sat in waiting at his computer. His anticipation was through the roof for when the other would message him again. When the ding went off, he couldn’t help but scramble for the mouse, nearly knocking over a glass of whiskey close by himself.

‘How was your day, Mr. Penguin?’

How was his day…? How was his day? This person was honestly asking how his day was?

‘Are you sure you’re allowed to answer that without getting too close?’

‘...’ ‘Just how much criminal activity is in your day that you can’t answer how it went?’

‘I can guarantee my day was full of much less criminal activity than one might believe.’ ‘It went well, this is my first chance to relax today so I’m taking advantage of it.’

‘Sounds like you try to run a tight ship.’

‘Oh, I do. There is little room for error in my business.’

What did he do? Was he giving preferential treatment because he knew? Was he approaching this differently than he would with another because of the markings?

Who was he kidding, of course he was. This was the natural reaction, he was going to be taken in by the thought, the romance of finding a partner. Drat… No problem. He was aware of what he was doing and why, he could curb that behavior quickly.

‘Thank you for asking, few people do. How was your day?’

Damn it.

‘Trust me, I know how you feel. And you’re welcome, it’s the little things that can make a difference. :)’ ‘My day was full, I can’t speak too much about it. Criminal activity and all. What I can say though, is that I find it fascinating how many ways you can crack a human skull with something as small as the right force and a quarter.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You’d be surprised the kind of damage simple pocket change can do in the right hands. Or in a crack in flooring or a sidewalk. Very few times is it lethal though. People can have things impaled in their brain and still function as they had or with only minor impairment.’

‘Is this the kind of conversation you always hold with new partners?’

‘I must say, it depends on the time of year. From late spring to early fall there is quite the boost in tourism in Gotham, and anything from gift shops to street vendors become so much more common. Even little things like Scout cookies. It produces a lot of opportunity for pocket change, and that gets a brain thinking.’

Oswald leaned back in his chair, seeing how the other didn’t seem to understand that a regular person wouldn’t begin a conversation like that. Let alone carry on with it when it was pointed out. He was… defending that this was his topic of focus?

‘What can I call you?’

‘Mr. E.’

Mr. E. Mister E. Mistery. Mystery…

Damn it.

‘I am not calling you Mr. E. That is to say that you’re a mystery and I refuse to walk into that word play.’

‘That disappoints me a little, but unsurprising. You can call me Ed.’

There a name. Even made up, he could work with that and not a stupid alias. And especially not an even more stupid name like a super villain from 1953.

‘Well, Ed… Tell me all that you can about cracking a human skull with pocket change.’

To Oswald’s surprise, the Ed he was talking to had a surprising amount of ways to maim a man with a nickel. Ed had a lot of anatomical knowledge in general, or just general knowledge, he seemed to be well read.

Well read. Smart. Criminal activity…

Either he was someone’s informant, accountant, specialized torturer, something like what he had with Mr. Penn or the Dentist respectively. Or he was one odd civilian. It could really go either way. The night though, was overall enjoyable, Oswald staying up until Ed had to part himself from the chat, heading to bed in order to sleep before work several hours later.

Ed told him about how to browse the mobile site, where to go for messages and how it worked. Ed also seemed to be quite technically capable.

Oswald didn’t expect half way through his day in the morning to get a picture of a cadaver with several pieces of long grass sticking out from wounds he had. He looked like a bruised and broken mess. Even from only the waist up.

‘A dead man is found in the middle of a field, no footprints on scene. He had an unopened package with him. How did he die?’

A question? A scenario? A… riddle?

Oswald set his phone back down, focusing on the meeting he was in with several other men large in the Gotham underground. They were all sat around a circular table in a restaurant Downtown, business nearly concluded with the more frequent personal stories that were being shared.

Where would Ed have gotten a body? That didn’t look like an average picture on the internet, that looked like an actual picture. One he took on his own phone and sent. When business was finished, Oswald took out his phone, typing a message and claiming it to be to a lackey.

‘Ed. Is that an actual body?’

He had to wait, but eventually a reply came eight minutes later.

‘...’ ‘No?’

‘Don’t lie to me, I know what a body looks like, Ed. Where did you find that?’

‘Do you give up on the riddle?’

So it was a riddle.

‘I don’t know. Fell?’

‘In a field?’

‘I don’t know what buildings are in a field, I’m not a farmer. Are there tire treads?’

‘What?’

‘Tire treads. Did someone kill him for his package and dumped him from a vehicle?’

‘No… Do you give up?’

‘Then I don’t know. A plane? Helicopter? Some flying device? He fell from one of those.’

‘You are close! Parachuting incident. His parachute didn’t open and he hit the ground. Quite the brain teaser, don’t you think? :)’ ‘Also, I borrowed the body from work. I’ve waited some time for the right one to come in for this, though this foliage isn’t correct for a field crop… I assumed that this was the closest I’d be able to find naturally.’

Ed was… so, so odd. He borrowed a body? Where did one borrow a body? Was this a service he could buy in on?

Sometimes one needed a body.

‘Naturally? You were willing to stage a body with leaves from a field crop to be able to fulfill your visual for your riddle?’

‘Well… yes. Accuracy is key in most riddle descriptions so it can be solved.’

It seemed so obvious to Ed, of course that’s how things worked. Why would you not go for 100% authenticity? Why not have a body on hand in order to fully express one’s wishes? And use a corpse to ask a riddle, of all things…? He was an oddball.

Intriguing though.

“Penguin? Penguin, what’s your take on this?”

Oswald was taken back to reality by one of the large men asking him a question to something he knew Oswald hadn’t heard. The smallest of the group rolled his eyes with annoyance, tossing a hand up to give a dramatic, unsure gesture. “Have you tried strangling?”

“For… the dinner my mother-in-law insists on?”

“If she’s rowdy it might help calm her briefly. I don’t judge the methods if the results bring the desired outcome.”

‘How was your day?’

‘After your… interesting afternoon surprise, uneventful. A party to attend in a few days’ time. Nothing extravagant, a birthday gathering. And yours?’

‘My coworker did not understand my riddle setup like you had.’

‘Whaaat? ...Now, how could that be?’

Why would anyone understand that completely? It made sense why someone would question that, even in his line of work. Though different questions, there’d be questions.

‘I don’t get it either, I thought I made it quite clear. ...Maybe I need to be more obvious? Maybe I need a new approach?’

‘Maybe you need to think twice before you try to use a corpse as a quiz towards everyday citizens that don’t understand a morbid twist on an interesting game?’

‘You thought it was interesting?’

‘It was at the very least… a surprise. Intriguing. It certainly spiced up my lunch meeting.’

There was an awkwardly long pause, Oswald staring at his screen for over ten minutes before a reply came back. Whatever the pause was for, he supposed he could wait, but he had other things he could be attending to. Ed was just… a special case.

He was doing it again…

‘We can’t yet, but when possible… Would you be interested in meeting for coffee or tea somewhere? There’s a cafe Downtown that boast they have the most comfortable chairs and it plays live lounge jazz on Wednesday afternoons. They’re actually quite good.’

Oswald leaned back in his seat, thinking of the offer. Who knew when that thing would be finished. It could be weeks from then. Special treatment or not… it had been some time since he went out casually. And if Ed didn’t want anything from him it would be a rare occasion to not deal with grubby hands trying to pry his money or power from him. Hm.

‘I will have one of my men accompany me, as you may understand, but he will be by an exit. Overall, it sounds agreeable.’

‘You’ll go? Oh. Okay, then yes, your man should have no issue finding a space for himself to watch, I… Good! I hope we finish this soon!’

‘I hope you do not disappoint me. I look forward to this, Ed.’

Oswald, covered in layers still, unable to witness the slightly darker shade his markings took, the two forming a connection over the anticipated meetup. He wouldn’t notice until he got prepared for bed, taking off his suit and shirt to see the darkened stain more obviously on his pale skin.

Drat…

Although they had just over a week to wait, the messages continued each night. The amount depending on when Oswald finished his business for the day and when Ed had to pack it up for sleep. Still, they exchanged words regardless of the amount.

They made plans to meet using one of the mystery man’s days off in order to have time on the appropriate day to hear the music play that Ed suggested. Oswald still didn’t know what it was Ed exactly did, but somehow he could be involved at this point.

He had ideas of what the other did, but no confirmation.

Oswald waited in the cafe on one of the seats, that truly was as comfortable as advertised, one of his men sitting in the corner with a paper in his hands to blend in better. The underground boss checked his watch, having arrived early to be polite, but even as the time ticked to their agreed upon meeting hour… no one approached him. He still didn’t know what Ed looked like in order to pick him out of the crowd, but Ed knew who he was. Mr. Penguin. He was waiting for anyone to call him such.

As ten minutes ticked by, he wanted to be upset, though a glance to his phone and the site had confirmed Ed sent a warning he’d be late. For what reason, he didn’t specify, but that he’d be late. It was proper warning before they were to meet so… he supposed he could let that slide.

Twenty three minutes late, but truly who was counting, the door was pushed open by a man with an armload of items. He seemed to struggle somewhat between his balancing act and the door, but managed to slide his way into the cafe with only slight troubles. Oswald ignored the noises, sat back to the door as he didn’t need to be anxiously staring at every person that walked in.

Footsteps by his chair, however, got his attention. Oswald’s eyes stealing a glance from as far as they could see without him moving his head, noting the well polished, well worn, brown leather shoes that stopped next to his chair.

“Mr. Penguin?”

The name drew Oswald’s attention upwards, following long legs covered by reasonable khakis. A working class set of pants. Eventually the pants were covered at the waist by a faded, green sweater over a white dress shirt, black tie barely peeking over the collar of the sweater. He was tall. Not outrageously thin, but he was slender and tall. In one arm he must have held four or five boxes. Long fingers clasped around several objects to help steady them against his chest.

A long neck attached to a square jaw, cheekbones that could cut glass, large glasses that fit his face well. Brown, chestnut hair parted off center and combed into place with what looked to be extreme care and precision. Hmm.

“Ed?”

The tall man lit up with a smile, trying to extend a hand to shake, but nearly dropped his payload on the floor. He smiled with some embarrassment, instead putting everything on the table in front of Oswald’s seat and sat across from the crime lord. “Uh… Hi! I’m Edward. Edward Nygma.” He offered his hand with much more success now, somewhat out of breath, though glowed with an ease and cheer that Oswald couldn’t deny was pleasant to see.

Not infectious, but pleasing.

Oswald met the handshake, never minding a formal introduction. “Oswald Cobblepot, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face, Ed.” He took in the table with curiosity, raising a brow before his attention returned to the man across from him. “So what is all this?”

“These are… well they are meant to be for you, but… I wasn’t sure what to get. And then I thought about it, and decided against one thing for another, but I didn’t have time to go back to the apartment and get rid of the first thing. So then I carried two, but then came across something else, and…” Ed gestured to the table with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to be more late, so I took them all with me.”

Oswald snickered with some amusement, leaning forward in his chair with elbows resting on his thighs. “Well, let’s see what you brought. Display it all.”

Two different bouquets, a teddy bear, and a knife later, but Oswald had to say that he was relatively surprised by the gesture. Normally that was not something someone tried to do for him. Though he didn’t need any of it, he could at least show appreciation for the effort.

The meetup went as well for a first physical meeting, both men having at least two cups of tea while they were in the cafe. They spoke vaguely of life, Oswald unable to describe of many things he actually did, but Ed still listened carefully. He asked questions, but took them back if he wasn’t able to find out about the answer.

The two took in Edward’s markings, the man allowing Oswald to look at every detail of it in person, though the stain was reaching a stage of dark grey, surprising both men at its color. It made Oswald peek under his sleeve, his slightly lighter, but it too was darker than that morning.

Oswald kept his markings hidden, not wanting to have them exposed at all in public. He didn’t want anyone else catching an eye and snapping pictures, relating him to the post already made online. And Ed understood that, the two continuing conversation until Oswald had to leave.

The man reading the paper in the corner walked over, collecting what Ed had brought to take to the car parked outside, leaving the two alone to say their parting words.

“Well, Edward, this was surprisingly positive.” Oswald spoke, standing up from his chair and supporting himself with his cane. “You’ve changed my perspective on these… connections.” He described as he raised his marked arm, twisting it under his visual judgement, staring hard at his sleeve covered limb.

“I’m glad it turned out as it has.” Edward returned the sentiment, standing as well with his hands joined in front of himself. “Should we… do this again at a future date?”

Oswald nodded, walking away from his chair. “We should.” He agreed, getting halfway to the door with his guard coming back to walk him from the building to the vehicle. “Only next time, Edward… Don’t be late.”

[boogiewrites]

An Act of Nature.

Here, have some Hopper smut.

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader

Word Count: 6458

Summary:  You move back to Hawkins, luckily you hit it off with a friend of your step brothers. When Chief Hopper finally gets around to asking you out, what is it going to take for the two of you to find time alone? An act of nature?

Warnings: It’s smut. Two grown ups going on dates and then finally getting to have sex. Swearing, consensual sex between two adults, some dirty taking, suggestive dialogue.

My Masterlist.

A/N: I had to take a break from my main fic Before and After and do some one shots to clear my head, so this is one I ended up writing last week. (Also, this: Not the fun kind of Daddy Issues ) I wasn’t going to post it, because I thought it might be boring and well, just not that good. lol A few days later I receive an Ask, requesting a “snowed in with Hopper” plot, as I’m currently living in the middle of a snow storm and wanting to draw inspiration from real life. This is what I had already written. I know that seems like a lie, but it was just some of that sweet, sweet coincidence I love. So thank you anon!

The original request:” Anonymous asked:as a request for the snowstorm thing: you invited Hopper over for a date at your house and while he’s there, there’s a snowstorm and you’re both stuck in your house (and then smut if possible)?? “

Here are the tagged folks, if you’d like to be added or removed, just leave a reply and I’ll see it! Any positive feedback or messages are appreciated. Thanks!

@whatmakesmebeme-tblr @sleepylunarwolfh @elevenofmages @alahmorah @norcula @undiscl0sed-desir3s @atari-writes @jobean12-blog @miss-harleenquinzel @kiwiphroot @ashphoenix105 @ambeazyyy @riotguuuurl @warriorqueen1991 @misbehaving-f0r-days @divadinag @wefracturedmotivation @flamehairedwritings @earinafae @beltzboys2015-blog @gettinjoyful @lucifer-in-leather @nerdysuperchick 

This originally started as just a trip to Hawkins to help plan your step brothers wedding. Which was your job in a town far away from Hawkins. It ends with making the decision to move back to Hawkins to help take care of your aging parents. Now you're left rebuilding a business, long commutes, late nights, early mornings, it's hard work and you're a busy woman. Luckily for you, you find mutual attraction in one of your step brothers friends you'd hit it off with at the wedding. He's started turning into your favorite thing about this place.

Being a party planner, in general, you had plenty of excuses to stop by the station. Just between the permits and fire code questions, it would've been easy to make opportunities to see him. You found yourself driving into town to find out things that could be easily answered in a phone call by another person. But you always wanted to speak to the Chief, and it sure seemed like he always wanted to speak to you.  Between your conversations over cigarettes at the station and an accidental run in at the same place for lunch once, you'd not been out with Jim, but you wouldn't say no if he asked.

Today, you're making your way to the station again. You're having the same issue with a certain pain in your ass, Mr. Jones, who keeps fighting you on the ownership line of his and the wedding venues properties. He was making it impossible to set up the venue. Your client wanted 50 tulle bowed white chairs for the ceremony, exactly where Mr. Jones said you couldn't put them, and by God, you were going to get your client those 50 tulle bowed white chairs. You've pulled the surveyor and blueprints for the land from the city. You've even called Jim on him for moving all your event gear overnight, which is not on his property. This old man was stressing you the fuck out and you were done with it. Your face reads angry as you walk up to Flo's desk. "Good to see you again Ms. Y/N," Flo says, looking up over her glasses as she types. "The Chief is in his office, do I need to buzz him up for you?" her voice is full of implications, and all of them true. Flo found your thin veiled back and forth with Hopper amusing. "Mr. Jones is moving my stuff again." you speak softly but angrily, the more you think about it, the more animated you become. "He's screwing with my business and I'm not going to stand for it. He's done this 3 times already." you let out a loud noise of frustration as Jim appears out of the doorway to his office. "Afternoon, Y/N." he says, stretching as he saunters up to you. "Hey Chief." you sigh at the sight of him. "Jones again?" he asks you, taking a sip from his mug, looking at you over it. "Yes. He's being an asshole, and he knows he's in the wrong, and he's messing with my work, my business and it's stressing me the hell out, Hop." it all comes out much faster and louder than you mean it to. "Woah, hey, honey, he's not gonna mess up your work." he raises his arm, walking you towards his office. "Come on, at least you won't be yelling at the whole office this way." he laughs as he shuts the door behind him. You sit in the chair across from his desk, you cross your legs and arms, foot moving up and down in anger. He settles into his big chair across from you, leaning on the top  of his desk with his elbows. You just look at each other for a few seconds, you feel compelled to apologize for your angry reaction. "I didn't mean to yell, sorry." you say, it sounds much sassier than it's meant to, but you are speaking more quietly, at least. "It's fine. This is what? The fourth time you've had to come to me about this?" he lets out a small huff. "I'd be mad as hell about it too, honey." his empathy placates you, it's a welcome feeling to have someone understand your frustration instead of demanding more. "Thanks," you say sincerely. "It's nice to have someone agree with me instead of dealing with rabid, whiney, brides and mother-in-laws who can't be satisfied." you let out a sigh and uncross your arms, resting them on the arms of the chair. "Yeah that sounds...terrible, yeah." he laughs, and you join in for a brief moment. "I don't know how you do that, it'd drive me crazy." "Coming from the Chief of Police...that's pretty bad." the laugh that comes out of your mouth, full of self-pity at your situation for a moment. "But I can deal with Jones. So don't worry about it." he knocks on the wooden desk in front of him, giving you a quick wink.  "I'll go by and make sure we reach an understanding." he gives a sly smile. "I hear using bars of soap in a pillow case works pretty well, doesn't leave too many marks." you answer sarcastically, your anger subsiding slowly, you can tell by the grin that finds itself on your face from your conversation. "Do I need to run a background check on you?" he jokingly narrows his eyes at you. You huff and roll your eyes, giving him a small laugh, indulging him just a little bit. You sigh and there's a weighted silence in the room for a moment. You don't need to stay too long. "It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have a week off after this event," your head tilts back dramatically, "This one has been so stressful and it's so close to being over and I can get my check and get some damn sleep." you sit up in the chair, preparing to leave. He nods in approval. "Sounds like you need a break." He sits forward, anticipating your exit. "You taking a week off for any particular reason?" he asks casually, he is a cop after all, always the observant one. "No. I just packed my schedule so tight after coming back here. Too many late nights and early mornings so close together.  I have to stop before I burn out." you stand and he moves to the door. "Oh, well I wouldn't know anything about working hours like that." he answers sarcastically. You both stand close and give each other flirty glances in the brief seconds your bodies pass each other in the doorway. He walks you down the hallway, out the front doors, you already have your hand digging in your purse. In an almost synchronized way, you both pull cigarettes out of your packs with your lips, and light them, taking a hit as you lean back. "You have any plans for next week yet?" he asks, you side eye him, not turning your face towards him. "A whole lot of nothing. I just needed to decompress." you exhale a cloud of smoke. "I assumed I'd figure it out as I went." you shrug. "What day is this wedding on? Saturday? The one I'm beating up an old man for." he grins, nudging you with his elbow. You acknowledge his gesture with a smirk. "Saturday, yeah. I plan on leaving as soon as they start dancing." your eyes widen, daydreaming and anticipating that moment of relaxation when you realize the job is over. "I can't wait to not have to hear about white chairs with tulle bows anymore." You look over at Jim to elaborate. "The chairs are what Jones is being a dick about. And this woman," you let out a sharp exhale of smoke,"Well she wants her damn chairs, I'll tell you that. They mean more to her than her actual marriage from how she acts." you gesture with your hands as you speak. "I have nightmares about this wedding, man." you mumble, "So much tulle..." you repeat, shuddering. Jim's face is full of amusement as you end your story and look back at him. "I can't wait for it to be over." "Well, after you've recovered, would you be interested in going out with me and doing something next week?" You fight the smile that threatens to give away your excitement. You act like you are making a decision, looking up at his face, you let the excited smile break through slightly. "Yeah, I'd be interested." you respond, tilting your head at him, you wrap your lips around your cigarette. He gives you the same smile back, mimicking your actions. His voice goes lower than you've heard it before, it rumbles through your body. "Then I'll be seeing you next week, sweetheart." he finishes his cigarette. "I'll call and we'll figure it out, no need to add more decisions for you to make right now." he turns back towards the building. "Unless you find another reason to come see me before then." he shoots you a knowing glance. You let the whole mischievous grin spread across your face as you finish your cigarette. "Maybe I will. You might be arresting me for assault if you can't get Jones to listen." you smirk and adjust your purse. "Well if you do, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement." he answers very playfully, you bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to hide a smile that reads way more than friendly. "I'm sure we can, Chief." you let out a small, low laugh as you turn to walk to your car. You wished there was a way to know if the tingling running over your skin was physical excitement or the reaction to the dark gaze Jim was giving your body as you walked away.

Jim kept his promise and took care of Mr. Jones for you. The climax of the job came and went, you went home and crashed, hard, months of overworking catching up with you. You woke up to your phone ringing. You look over at the alarm clock by your bed, 1:27 PM. "Ugh, shit." you groan, moving towards the phone on your nightstand. You had slept for over 12 hours. "Hello?" you answer, sleep still very heavy on your voice. "Wow, you really weren't lying about crashing afterward, were you?" the deep rumble of Jim's voice woke you up through the line. "No...no I wasn't," you answer, rubbing your eyes and yawning into the receiver. "I just woke up, sorry." you clear your throat, rolling over to your back. "What's up, Chief?" you ask, your voice sounding less like gravel. "I didn't mean to wake you up, sweetheart. I wanted to make sure I made plans with you like we discussed." "Mmm Hmm" you manage in response. "I'm game for whatever, Jim." you roll onto your side. "You wanna go out? You wanna stay in?" you spoke, giving him options. "You wanna do it tonight or when can you with work?" your brain was starting to function again. "Tonight would be great." You take a big stretch, hiding your noises from the receiver of the phone. "Let's do something with as close to 0 stress as possible." you suggest. "Does that exist?" he laughs. "Depends, what are your vices?" "Vices?" he asks. "Yeah, what do you do to relax?" "I'm afraid I'm not great at relaxing, sweetheart, you might have to take the lead on this one." he jokes, but you assume that's probably true. "Alright then, let me think for a minute." It's the first date, even though you know each other a little bit already. Don't want too casual, not formal and low stress. "Santino's on South?" you suggest, "I work with them on catering all the time, they're good people." "Can't say I've eaten there before." "It's good, there's a bar, it's not stuffy." you want to make sure he knows you aren't going into this expecting him to make a fuss over you. "Well, you've talked me into it." Not like he would disagree with anything you suggested at this point. ------------ You go out with Jim, it was as close to 0 stress as you could've gotten on a first date. Although a bit mouthy, as usual, he was a gentleman. You eat, you drink, you take your time, you flirt heavily. You end the date at your place, you part at your door after a promise to do this again soon. The period to the end of the date, a perfectly respectable, but lingering kiss. Your busy schedules make a second date come later and be shorter than either of you wanted. You only find time to go see a movie together, but horror movies always make for a great date in your opinion. Jim seems amused by your lack of fear while watching the movie, he finds you very charming. Wishing he didn't have to get back to work immediately after your, already short, date, he makes up for it with an intense kiss that bordered on making out before he parted from you. He later regrets this decision when he can't stop thinking about that small little moan you let out while he was kissing you. More time passes, it's always like you're both busy at the wrong times. The winter weather had moved in fast this year. You found yourself listening to the news, worried about getting out in this for your date. The phone rings. "Hello?" "Hey sweetheart." you hear Jim's apologetic voice over the line. "Evening, Chief." he gets straight to the point. "I'm afraid with this weather coming in, I don't want you out on the roads, even with me." he sounds like he dislikes this fact as much as you do. "Yeah I was thinking the same thing, unfortunately." you dramatically pout since he can't see you. "I'm sorry about this, sweetheart. I haven't had the chance to spend as much time with you as I'd like, I was looking forward to tonight." he speaks low, giving away his intention with his tone. You were really in need of some stress relief and you had hoped Jim might be the one to help you out with that tonight. "Well," you pause, trying to make sure the words came out like you meant them to, "Can you just come to my place instead?" you ask, no need to put on a front that you both aren't wanting the same thing at this point. "To your place?" his voice hints at the smile that must be on his face from your casual tone on a weighted suggestion. "Yeah," you respond confidently, although you spin the phone cord in your fingers, fidgeting. "That is, if you don't mind taking a chance on getting snowed in with me." you add flirtatiously, you hear him wet his lips. "I wouldn't mind that at all." he states factually, his tone deep and dark, you imagine his fingers rubbing over his mouth and chin at your forwardness. "I'm all stocked up and ready for the storm over here. I've got food, booze, and candles. All I'm missing is you." you sound like you're making a hard sell when he's already agreed. "You been missing me, sweetheart?" he bypasses your cute retort and goes straight for another flirtatious remark, with a tone to match. The rumble his words send across your skin, makes your thigh muscles tense. "I wouldn't be asking you to come over if I hadn't." you push back with a feminine but low tone of your own. You flip your hair back out of flirtatious habit. You hadn't gotten to see Jim as much as you'd wanted in past few weeks, but that didn't mean you hadn't been thinking about him.  You hear the closed mouth noise of amusement he makes against the receiver. "Then I'll be over later, after I finish up here." you can hear the fabric of his uniform rubbing against itself. "You know where to find me, Chief." you close in a playful tone. You let out a giggle at yourself after you hang up. You felt like being bent over the back of the couch as he walked in would be more subtle than the flirting you just did. You didn't mind the grin that pulled at the corners of your mouth that wouldn't go away, or the tingling across your skin when you'd slip into a daydream about his hands on you again. Your muscles ached with anticipation. You watched the snow falling outside from your window to soothe your impatience. The view of the far edge of town from your window was peaceful, no one was out, everyone huddled up for the incoming storm. The glass was painfully frigid under your fingers, your breath fogged the glass. At least you had everything you needed to ride out the storm, and now you had a man to ride it out with too. Another body would help once the electricity went out. You smiled and bit your lip, leaning on the window sill, lost in thought. Jim had made his way up to your door, he happened to try the doorknob before knocking and sure enough, you'd left it unlocked. He peaks through the door and see's you looking out a window, bent at the waist, your weight on one arm on the window sill. You were biting your nails, eyes not focused, but directed out into the street. "We just leaving our doors unlocked at night now?" he asks, his deep voice surprising you and making you jump. You turn towards him, your hand on your chest. "If you're watching for me, I parked on the other side of the street." he says, knocking his boots on the doorway. "I wasn't, I just like watching the storm," you explained, trying to regain your cool. "I was expecting you, so I left it unlocked in case I got busy and couldn't get to the door." "Uh huh." he says, his tongue pushing against his teeth in a taunting way, he might've believed you. "I have no reason to lie." you laugh and lay the throw you had around your shoulders on the couch, revealing the off the shoulder, oversized sweater you wore for the evening. It was warm and it had an option for showing a little leg and cleavage if you wanted. "You don't look very busy." he states. You tilt your head and narrow your eyes at him, giving him an entertained laugh. "I was cooking earlier-" you stop yourself quickly, turning to move around the couch towards him. "And you need to turn off this Chief talk." you scold him, hanging his jacket in the closet. "Enough with the cop interrogation tactics." you wave your hands in the air as you speak, you make your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge and motioning for him to join you. "What would Jim like to drink? Because that's who I wanted to hang out with tonight." you tease him, pushing his shoulder as he bends to look in the fridge. He side eyes you before reaching for a beer. Over the next few hours, you slowly break down that barrier Jim keeps up when he's in police mode. You stroke his ego, you feed and flirt, slowly closing the space between the two of you. You found yourself having fun, not just feeling like you were killing time before you decided to have sex. You'd gotten distracted by yet another story about your brother's younger hijinks from Jim when the storm knocks out the power. The electric whoosh of noise following the darkness falls over the town. You don't move for a few seconds. "You don't have to go deal with this do you?" you turn your face to him, sitting on the couch next to him, the low light from the windows creating blue shadows across your faces. "Nah, that's the power company's problem, sweetheart." you swallow and nod, glad he doesn't have to leave yet. You make your way to the window in your living room, pulling back the curtain to look out over the town, the moon reflecting off the snow-blanketed ground, illuminating everything with a gloomy sunshine. Your fingers start to sting on the glass, you withdraw to your kitchenette bench where you'd put your box of candles. You carry the lighter in your mouth, placing the candles all over your apartment, Jim has already risen to help. The last place you put the candles in, is your bedroom, you're moving things around to make sure you don't burn the place down when you hear Jim's heavy footsteps walk down the hall and stop in your doorway.

"These are the last of them." you say low, focusing on the fire in your fingers. You take a look around, the chill of the outside air starting to creep in the house already, the storm blowing is the only noise in the whole town. You let out a long sigh and put your hands on your hips, relaxing. "Something wrong?" Jim asks. You turn to him with wide eyes, surprised. "Oh, no. I've always liked when the electricity goes out." you motion to the lit corners of the room "The darkness, the silence, I just find it really relaxing." you let out another sigh, trying to lose your tension. "You're not worried about the storm?" he asks, moving farther into the room. You're looking out your window, distracted, the snow blows hard and fast, making your view look like television static. "No, not really." your flirty grin greets Jim, "Especially not with you here." you turn to him, shutting the curtain back. "And why's that?" he asks, moving slowly and intimidatingly towards you, you hold your ground as he pushes through your personal space. The floorboards creak, from the pressure of his steps, breaking the silence as he stalks closer. "Well," you pause, stopping to look up at him, just inches away from you. You let your fingers find and rest very lightly on top of his shirt buttons. "You'll keep me safe, won't' ya Chief?" you ask, your voice low, you suddenly don't want to play anymore. With dark eyes and a heavy brow, he walks you slowly back against one of the walls of your bedroom. "I don't think you invited me over here because you were worried about me keeping you safe, sweetheart." he implies, his hands finding their way to your hips. "Well, not exactly..." you pout, looking away, playing coy for a moment. You bring your gaze back up to meet his. "I have missed you, but, I invited you because I wanted to make sure we'd finally have time to fuck." you give him a self-assured smile, looking up through your lashes. His lips curl up devilishly into a smile. One of his hands moves across your lower back, pulling you close. The other hand slides up your body, from your hip, up between your breasts, onto your neck and behind your head. His fingers nesting into your hair in a fist at the base of your skull. His smile was making more than just your heart melt. "That's what I've been waiting to hear." he whispers as he seals the space between your bodies. He goes in hard, your body thudding against the cold wall. He pushes his weight against you, the hand in your hair he uses to control your head, baring your neck to him, he makes his way down it, his large hands start roaming through all the places you've wanted him to touch. He grabs your ass, moving to squeeze your waist before he whole hands your breast, pulling down the shoulder of your sweater to expose your skin to the cold air of the room. He finds your mouth again, your noses fight against each other as he messily kisses you. Your tounges moving together, your open mouths letting your rising noises escape when your bodies part. You have one leg hitched up, his hand grips your hip and thigh, holding it against him, he lands a firm open palm to your ass and groans. He wraps his arms around you, almost lifting you to turn your back against the bed, your calves bumping against the edge. His hands are on your hips, his fingers kneading into your flesh, he gives you a small push in the direction of the bed, you let yourself bounce onto it, torn away from his hypnotizing mouth. You see his hands go to take off his shirt, you take off your socks and peel away your sweater. You crawl up the bed, laid out and posed, waiting for him to join you, your fingers lazily run over the swell of your hips. The air is cool and the light low, the sky outside has been black for hours by now. The faint roar of the wind outside, the crackling of the candle wicks mingle in the silence to make everything feel more urgent. The quiet sounds of your wet mouths, your breathing, skin hitting skin, it all feels heightened on a night like this. He stops, his belt off and pants undone, shirt long gone, he palms himself for a moment, running his tongue over his bottom lip while he looks at you on the bed. You bite your lip and reach down to rub yourself over your panties as you watch him touch himself.  His large body slides almost on top of yours, the frantic motions of hands, his mouth moves along your shoulders and chest. Your chest is rising and falling fast, his mouth finds one of your nipples. You let out a small gasp as he sucks on you with a groan. His hand running back up and grabbing the bulk of your hips, pulling you closer. You bite your lip and watch as he sends waves of pleasure through your body. His fingers find your other nipple, mimicking the motions of his mouth. You squeeze your fingers in his hair, pushing his mouth against you as you moan. He looks up at you and through pursed lips, you breathe out, "Yes," you whine, "Fuck that's good." he closes his eyes and focuses, he continues to eagerly work your tits with his mouth and hands, tongue flicking and lips tugging as the ache between your thighs grows. You move one of his hands between your thighs, his eyes roll back and he moans into your breasts he feels the wetness that's already made it's way to the outside of your panties, you roll your hips against his hand. He lets out a dark laugh he disconnects from your nipple with a long lick of his tongue. He moves up to your neck, his mouth finding your ear. His hand is rubbing back and forth over your panties. "Look how wet you are for me." he says it like you've done something bad.   You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whimper out, "Mmm Hmm." as you move your chest and hips against his body. "You’ve been thinking about me doing this to you all day, haven't you?" he groans out, his hands roughly yanking your panties down your legs. You nod against him, moaning into his mouth as he starts to kiss you deeply again. "Mmm Hmm." you answer, all you could manage to say at this point, you nod and spread your legs as you kick the panties across the room. "I've been thinking about doing this to you too." he growls, his teeth biting your bottom lip, as he slides his fingers between your pussy lips, down across your clit, to your opening, just applying the lightest pressure before returning to stroke downwards again, your hips bucked every time his fingers would drag across your clit. You throbbed, swollen and sensitive, he made your lips tremble with every touch. "Fuck." you whine loudly, your head falling back as he stops to focus on your clit, his mouth on your ear, breathing steadily into it, matching the rapid rising and falling of your own chest. He continues until your panting against him. Your eyes cross as he pushes two of his large fingers completely into you. Your mouth drops open, you let out a shaky exhale followed by a sharp pitiful breath before letting out a guttural moan. He smirks against your skin. "You like that, baby?" he asks, his lips on the curve of your ear. He keeps steadily pumping his fingers into you, stretching and moving them inside you, making you gush. "Yes, fuck, more." you demand, fisting your hand into his hair. He lets out a low laugh, his lips start working on your throat. He reangles his arm, pushing into you with as much pressure as he can. He pounds his fingers into you, stopping to circle your clit with his thumb from time to time, you let out another moan, your back arching as your tits bounce with every thrust against you. You feel yourself getting lost in the pursuit of cumming on his fingers, but you're reminded of something you'd much rather have inside you as he presses himself against your thigh. He feels so hot and heavy through the fabric of his pants, you palm him as he works on your clit, he curses under his breath. "I'd rather have you pounding me with this." you instruct, pressing your lips against his ear, your tongue dragging across the edge. "Fuck, baby." He lets out a huff of breath as his mouth finds yours again, you're sliding your hands under the waist of his pants, he takes the hint and finally gets completely naked, leaning over your body, between your legs. Your skin against his is hot, covered in a thin veil of sweat, the cold outside long forgotten. His cock weighs on your lower stomach as he kisses you, hands back in each others hair, you feel him twitch as you moan against him. You reach between your bodies, slowly stroking his length against you while you rock your hips. He replaces your hand with his, he circles your clit with the head of his cock as he positions himself. You angle your hips, your legs already up and eager to wrap around him. He lines himself up with your entrance. He drops his upper body against yours, you feel him push against you as his lips work deliciously against your own. You make needy noises against him. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks as he leaves open mouth kisses down the side of your neck. "Yes, Hop, Please." you say in a breathy whisper between kisses, "Fuck me." you say in a whine as your head pushes against the pillow it laid on. With a hand wrapped around your thigh, he uses his grip on your hip to bring your two bodies together. As he slides deep into you, your mouth opens, a small squeak of a moan escapes as he pushes inside you completely. Your eyes shut as your head falls back, your body adjusting to him. A line of curses fall from your lips in the form of small moans. You feel his fingers clench around your thigh, his forehead pressed against your shoulder. He lets out a long exasperated groan at the feeling of you around him at last. "You feel so fucking good." he whispers, as he starts to move in and out of you. Your arms around his shoulders, you just listen to the sounds of both of your bodies breathing heavily, the small smacks and moans building. Your hands run down his chest as he raises up, holding your legs far apart at the knees, he pulls you by your hips, burying himself deeper inside. He closes his eyes, his lip between his teeth as he starts to fall into a rhythm, rubbing up against every sweet spot inside you. You're bouncing off of each other, he's focused as he continues to pound hard and steady into you. Your hands wander as you rise to meet his thrusts, you run your thumbs over your nipples as your tits bounce while he fucks you. You're writhing beneath him. He's making you give up the most pathetic and whiney moans as you feel your orgasm building in waves, making your skin prickle against the air. "Fuck, look at you..." he brings his weight onto one arm, straight out next to you on the bed. You raise your head back up towards him, his gaze is dark, his mouth set slightly agape while he runs his tongue over his teeth, watching you. Your mouth is parted and wet, your touching yourself, your hair falling around your face as he watches you fall apart underneath him. You hold his gaze, panting out praise as he fucks you even harder. "Yes, fuck, baby, yes." you cry out as his hands just barely touch your hardened nipples as they rub up against his rough hands from his thrusts. He's losing composer as he roughly grabs your breasts, using them as leverage as you start to pulse around him. "Fuck." he growls, closing the space between you when he feels you fluttering around him. You both fall back into sloppy, wet kisses as you move your hips against each other, moaning messes. His deep and steady pace make you start to shiver. "I'm close." you say between moans. He takes his hand to the side of your face so you look at him, but you turn your head and take his thumb into your mouth. He groans, giving you a few particularly rough thrusts as you suck on his thumb, it helps hold back your needful sounds, and drives Jim crazy. "God Dammit, baby." he breathes out heavily, his eyes closing for a moment, feeling you tighten around his cock from his words. He regains composure and uses his thumb to turn you towards him. "Look at me, sweetheart." he runs his thumb across your bottom lip as you moan around it. He feels you convulse around him again. He leans in, pushing his face into your neck, reaching between you and rubbing your clit as he finishes you off. "You gonna come for me?" he asks, his lips press against your skin. You arch against him, your body vibrating. "Yes. Fuck. Yes." you chant, your fingertips press into his broad shoulders as you let out one loud sudden cry before he starts kissing you, deeply through your orgasm. "That's it, come for me." he groans, feeling you crashing around him, he can't help but let go with you. With long fluid strokes, he comes inside you. You're both still coming down, mouths mashing against each other as you both keep swearing. He keeps lazily rocking into you until you've stopped shaking and he's gone soft, only then does he stop kissing you. You're dazed in the best way. You let your post-orgasm smile spread across your face as you both lay there looking at each other for a moment. He feels compelled to smile down at you. He admires how your soft skin seems to glow, and how the swell of your breasts pushed against him looked and felt. He pushes some of your hair back, looking you over while you do the same to him. He gives you a brief but soft kiss. He pulls away from you, falling into the bed next to you, you almost immediately shiver.  You get under the covers and Jim follows your lead. He doesn't object when you snuggle up to his chest, wiggling against him to warm up. You plant a kiss on his chest and rest yourself against his warm body. You feel like you're being watched and open your eyes to see Jim looking you over as he runs his hand lazily up and down your back and hips. "You're gorgeous, you know that?" he asks, leaning in and giving you another kiss. He makes a satisfied hum and tightens his grip on you, placing his head on top of yours. You let out a small squeak of a yawn and he laughs. "Tired there, babe?" he asks, his hand caressing the side of your face. "Mmm Hmm" you nod. "I always fall asleep after a good orgasm." you state, snuggling into the warm softness of the bed and his body. "And that was an amazing one." you add softly. He chuckles to himself. "I'm gonna fall asleep, Hop." you look up at him, "I'd prefer if you stayed but, I also won't be offended if you don't." you say, laying back down and getting comfy. "I didn't plan on going anywhere." he pulls the covers up over you both and lets you get settled. "Good. That means we get to do this again before you leave." you mumble happily, sleep and sex making it so you didn't care to show that you liked Jim and wanted him to stay around. "Whenever that is, with this storm." he pauses, looking out the window, "I don't care how bad it gets if it means we finally got to do this." he lets himself settle against you. "It only took an act of nature to make it happen." you joke, a smile still reading on your face despite your closeness to falling asleep. You fade fast, between the exertion and the rise and fall of Jim's chest, you can't fight the sleep off, no matter how much you were enjoying the first indulgent post-sex moment between the two of you.

My Masterlist.