#he currently lives in my alleyway and has been asking if he can rent a room in my house

[aceospadesart]

Solf J Kimblee, aka the Bastard (proper noun) (derogatory)

also some face plane practice that i botched I can’t believe i spent two hours drawing this cockroach’s hair and doing the shading correctly

[fueledbyapplepi]

Hii I was wondering if I could rq Mikey, Baji and Mitsuya with a gn! s/o who is the sole provider in their household? and the guys only find out because they saw their s/o while they were at work? but they didn't know they even had a job bc they kept it a secret? it's perfectly okay if you aren't up for this rq! I hope you have a good day/night!!

Given it All | Mikey, Baji, and Mitsuya

- The boys with an s/o who's a breadwinner of the family.

warnings: mentions of family problems

genre: fluff, angst

A/N: Writing this made me kind of emotional because I have friends who are the main providers for their family and I see them work very hard. This one's for all the independent and hardworking people out there <3

Mikey (Sano Manjiro)

Another day. Another one.

Mikey loves feeling your hands. They're soft and smooth against his calloused fingers. He'll feel the palms in your hands every moment he gets. He always felt like a baby being caressed by your soft hands.

But there seems to be a detail in your hands that he can't miss. Every time you two see each other, Mikey would notice the burns and red marks on your hands.

"Y/N, what happened to this?" he asked.

"Oh, it just got itchy again. You know, the usual," you replied, trying to brush off the topic.

It has always been like that. Each time that Mikey points it out, you always try to avoid the topic or reason out that it's just a scratch. And it's not like he's saying that you're a liar, he just knows that there's more to that than just a mere scratch.

Which is true.

You didn't really want to lie to your boyfriend. It's just that, it's something that it's hard for you to open up and talk about.

At a young age, you were forced to live by yourself. Your mother died at a young age, while your father was a drunkard - eventually getting out of the picture.

In order to provide for yourself, pay for rent and other fees necessary to make a living, you worked hard. Currently, you're working full-time at a family restaurant where you're assigned at cooking. Although this was a daily task for you, you never fail to get yourself burned from the boiling oil.

It wasn't an easy life especially living alone. But at least, you have your boyfriend by your side to get by.

Now that you're shift has finished, you were tasked to throw out the trash at the back before you leave.

As you were about to walk away from that alleyway, you heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N?"

Looking at the source, it was your beloved boyfriend with a questioning look on his face.

"Mikey? What are you doing here?" you asked, anxious about how you'll explain this to your boyfriend.

"I just finished beating up some guy," Mikey said as he pointed out to a dude who passed out on the further part of the alley. "How about you?", he continued as he looked at your uniform and an obvious face that's waiting for an answer.

You knew this day would come. You just didn't expect that it would be today.

Sighing, and taking deep breaths, you explained to Mikey your story and why you work here.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell me?" Mikey asked as he caressed your cheek.

"It's hard for me to talk about it. I'm sorry for not telling you," you said as you looked down.

"Hey, it's okay," Mikey said. "I have a better idea,"

"What?" you asked

"Why don't you just sell Dorayaki and I'll buy all of them every day. Then you'll be rich," Mikey said jokingly.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

"But seriously, live with us!" Mikey said with such a happy look on his face.

"Eh?" you asked confused.

"Live with me, Emma, and gramps! I'm sure they'll be happy to take you in, you're my s/o after all," Mikey said, "Plus, you wouldn't have to work this hard if you don't have to pay for rent," he continued.

Your heart felt like it's floating in the air. How can you have such an adorable and loving boyfriend?

"I love you, you know that?" you said.

"Thank you so much, Mikey,"

"It's nothing," your boyfriend said as he kissed your hands. "You're like family to them after all,"

Maybe, the true family you've been looking for was always been by your side.

Keisuke Baji

You sleep early but the bags under your eyes were noticeable for your boyfriend.

Baji always thought that it was weird that the eyebags under your eyes were evident. Not like it's a bad thing though. You're still beautiful as ever in his eyes.

It's just that you always tell him that you sleep at 8 in the evening. Yet here you are, looking like you pull an all-nighter every day.

Maybe it takes you hours before you actually go to sleep? That's possible. But what if you just don't want to spend the rest of the night with him? Is it possible that you're getting tired of him?

It's only been months since you've started dating, but Baji couldn't blame you if you get tired of him.

But it's not like you don't want to hang out with your boyfriend. Hell, who doesn't want to hang out with theirs and experience late-night dates and night rides right? Especially if it's with Baji.

It's just that, you don't have the luxury of spending the night with your boyfriend. Being the eldest of a family of four, you have to work and provide for the needs of your mother and your two younger siblings.

To help your family, you work two part-time jobs every night. One is being an employee at your local convenience store and the other is being a kitchen staff at a local pub. Two jobs might be heavy, and tiring for you, but it's what helps you and your family to get by.

Your boyfriend knew nothing of this. You know that Baji's a great guy, but you're afraid of embarrassing the 1st Division Captain of Toman, so you just try to hide it and make lame excuses.

Tonight's the usual night. Same excuse. Same job.

Currently, you're responsible for the counter at the store. It's past midnight, and you wish you can catch up to some sleep. But you know you can't since you'll be unable to get your minimum wage.

As you're looking at the countertop, someone suddenly handed Peyoung yakisoba.

"Baji's favorite" you smiled as you thought to yourself. Oh, how you miss your boyfriend.

"And that'll be 145 yen," you said as you look up at the customer.

Well, that was unexpected.

"Baji?" you said, seeing your boyfriend's face.

"Y/N? You work here," Baji said, with a confused look on his face.

"Sadly, yes," you said.

"Well, care to share this with me?" Baji said as he pointed out the Yakisoba.

"I have a 15-minute break. Sure," you agreed. Thinking now's the time to explain.

As you and Baji met at the small parking lot, you immediately explained.

"Look, Baji. I'm sorry for hiding this. I want you to know that I'm the breadwinner of the family that's why I can't hang out at night with you. I didn't tell you because I don't want to embarrass you," you rambled as you look anywhere but Baji.

"Embarrass me?" Baji said, walking closer to you.

"Y/N, I'll never be embarrassed at you. I'm proud of you, okay?" your boyfriend said, reassuring you. "I just wished you trusted me more,"

"I'm sorry, Baji," you whispered as you hug him. "I love you."

"Text me okay? I'll pick you up so that you won't have to walk," Baji said as he smiled at you.

"Thank you," you said, with tears threatening to fall.

"You're welcome," Baji said as he kissed your forehead, "Now, let's eat okay?" your boyfriend said, excitement laced in his voice as he opened the Peyoung yakisoba.

Mitsuya Takashi

You're a busy bee. That's for sure.

Whenever Mitsuya invites you on dates on the weekends, you weren't available because you're busy.

When he invites you to have dates after school, you always have to decline because again, you're busy.

He understands it though. Mitsuya knows that you have to study hard for your siblings and that you have to take care of them as well. As someone who always looks out for his younger sisters, Mitsuya knew that it can be hectic sometimes.

What he doesn't understand though is the fact that it's evident that you're trying to hide something from him. He's not that oblivious when it comes to you. Especially after dating you for months.

You're bothered with it too. As much as you love your boyfriend, you're embarrassed about the job you have. But it's not like you have any choice. The job pays well and is enough to make a living for you and your two younger brothers.

After school and on the weekends, it is true that you're busy. Busy with the maid and butler café that you work on.

It's embarrassing enough to be dressed like this. But being seen by the love of your life? That's a different level of shame.

Now that you finished with your shift, you felt the exhaustion on your body. Standing and serving customers isn't a joke anyway. You didn't even bother to change out of your uniform. You just wore a hoodie over it, not caring about the frills of the clothes peaking underneath.

As you were walking home, you heard the familiar sound of an engine. Turning around, you saw a familiar face.

"Ehhh? Y/N?" Mitsuya said, stopping his motor beside you.

"What are you doing?" he continued, eyeing your clothes and looking at you as if he's waiting for an explanation.

"Mitsuya, I can explain," you said as your face reddened from embarrassment.

"Hmmm, I'm listening," your boyfriend said with an unreadable expression.

"Well, uhm, you see, I work at this café that requires us to dress like this," you said as you pointed out to your clothes, "But I don't do anything bad though! It's just we dress like this," you further explained, waving your hands.

"You look cute," Mitsuya smiled "I kind of hoped you just told me sooner. I would've made you some clothes,"

"Huh? You're not mad?" you said, surprised.

"How could I be? My s/o's working hard. Plus, I get to see you in cute clothes. What's there to be mad of?" Mitsuya said as he smiled at you.

"Baby, I love you," you said as you looked at your boyfriend with adoration.

"I love you too. But take me there someday okay?" Mitsuya replied grinning.

You just nodded and blushed at the idea.

[pixelwisp-archive]

Itadakimasu!! | Part 5: I Didn’ Ask (Written Chapter)

word count: 1.7k

Atsumu Miya was handsome, that was an undeniable truth. So naturally it would make sense that his identical twin brother would be, well, identical - and yet, you couldn't help the state of shock you found yourself in as you stood before him, your once buckling knees relieved of their pressure as his very large arms grab the box from your hands with a grunt ('lemme take that, looks heavy'). In all honesty, the fact that he was that good looking pissed you off, and watching him be kind, albeit taciturn, to you after bullying you for a month straight on Twitter (okay, fine, it was a mutual bullying, but he definitely started it) only made your scowl deepen. Your eyes narrowed at his back and you turned toward the van with a huff, finding another, perhaps lighter box to take inside.

  "This place has been collecting dust for years, ya sure you guys can make it work?" Miya's voice was deep and rich, every syllable dripped with his Kansai accent. The unfamiliar sound made your chest bubble and you had to stop yourself from outwardly groaning in frustration. You crossed the threshold of the new place and your mouth fell open as you took in the shops current state.

The shop was- well, let's just say there was a reason it was so cheap. Even still, your eyes glittered at the potential you saw. The exposed beams looked in near mint condition as the sun filtered through the windows and soaked the unstained wood in a warm morning glow. It was empty, save for some appliances that definitely looked antique (the thought of being able to restore them made you drool), but the space had more than enough room for café style seating, and maybe even a section for a corner library or a stage for live music. The stairs to the two bedroom apartment that resided directly above the shop space, where you would be living, was tucked away in a hallway off to the side. You made a mental note to make sure it was a bit more livable than the current shop situation downstairs, and motioned for him to settle the boxes along the main counter.

"We're planning on restoring the kitchen within a few weeks, then setting up a pop up stand out front to make revenue while we renovate the rest. Hoping to be fully open come summer." He merely hummed in response as he brushed off the dust left on his hands. You were caught up in your own world, detailing in your brain every minute detail you planned on changing when Kuguri stumbled in through the front door, giant box obscuring his vision as he tripped over the step. "Ah, careful, looks fragile." Miya rushed over to help, taking the box and allowing Kuguri to steady himself. Kuguri blinked, warmth hitting his cheeks as he mumbled a small thank you.

“Don’ mention it,” came Miya’s slightly strained reply as he set the box down next to the others. The room fell into a less than comfortable silence and you tried to look anywhere other than at the man currently standing in your dining area. Kuguri cleared his throat and tightened the grip on his suitcase as he made his way over the stairs. "I'm gonna go check out the apartment. I'll be back in a bit." You shot him a pleading look but he mouthed a quick 'sorry' and scurried off, leaving you alone with the Other Twin.

More uncomfortable silence. You felt warmth rush to your face as you grew more flustered with each beat, neither of you willing to break the tension that had been slowly pervading the air around you like a dense fog. The suffocation ended up winning out over your stubbornness and you turned your head to look at him, embarrassment flooding at the sight of his eyes already on you.

"Uh, thanks, you know, for the help." He gave you a tight, forced smile, uttered a quick 'yer welcome', and began to make his way towards the side entrance. Arms crossed in front of you as you watched him open the door, the tiny alleyway and side entrance to his own shop coming into view. Miya paused at the open door and turned his head to look over at you, a smirk settling on his face.

"By the way, little creepy of ya to stalk us and rent out the space next to us. What are ya lookin' for here? I hope you know this new development doesn't change anythin' between us." Your eyes widened at the sudden change, your brain working overtime to try to process what he said. Once you had caught up to the moment, you scoffed.

"Oh please, Miya, as if. The world doesn't revolve around you. We bought this place over a month ago." His eyes shone with something you couldn't quite place and he let out a small chuckle, one that sounded far too innocent in comparison to his hard gaze. "Whatever you say, Paradis." You scrunched your nose at the familiar nickname, shaking your head.

"Don't call me that; I have a name, you know." Miya turned around to face you fully then, the smirk ever present as he leaned against the frame, his hand still grasping the handle to the shop door. "Ah yeah? You guys don' mention names on your Twitter, and I was always too (again, petty) lazy to bother lookin' it up," he drawled, deepening your frown in response.

"It's L/n Y/n." Miya's lazy smile upturned ever so slightly.

"Ah, I didn' ask, but thanks." 

Embarrassment crashed over you once again and you felt the heat creep up your neck and ears. Your glare seemed to be filled to the brim with hellfire as you bore holes into his back. He turned to leave, and you followed after him, taking hold of the doorknob and watching him make the short distance back to Onigiri Miya's side entrance.

"I noticed you call me Miya, it's quite formal of you,” he noted, now at his own door. You let out a less-than-ladylike snort and waved your hand. "I wasn't being formal - coincidentally, I just also didn't bother looking it up." He laughed then, and it was a nice laugh, and you hated how nice it was with every fiber of your being.

"Osamu," he said, the smugness oozing off him, as if you were just dying to know his name and he decided to humor you. You stepped backward to make room for the door.

"Ah, I didn' ask, but thanks," you mocked, accent and all. You threw a shit eating grin and a quick wave his way before promptly shutting the door. When you saw what seemed like the five stages of grief cross his face in a span of a few seconds, you knew that putting Osamu Miya in his place was going to become your favorite past time.

Based on the way you two had tweeted each other over the last month, Osamu had deduced that you were probably a woman. What he wasn't expecting, however, was just how cute you ended up being. If you had been anyone else he probably would have been nothing short of a perfect gentleman; carrying all the boxes, smooth talking his way through conversation, and working himself up to asking you out. Unfortunately for him, though, there was just something about you that got under his skin, and he genuinely couldn't figure out what it was.

Osamu stood alone in the alleyway, giving himself a moment to process the last forty-five minutes of his life. Paradis Bakery, the company he's been openly beefing with on Twitter for the world to see, not only opened a second location in Osaka, but moved directly beside Onigiri Miya, in the place he had been looking into purchasing for at least six months now. The abandoned café was supposed to be a plan B in case Tokyo had to be pushed off for a few more years - being able to expand Onigiri Miya would have been huge for them if they couldn't swing the Tokyo location, and Kita had been more than open to the idea of expanding. When you said you purchased the café over a month ago, he remembered inquiring about the place at least two weeks prior to Atsumu's visit to your bakery, and the owner mentioning that someone had put in an offer. The sheer coincidence honestly creeped him out more than anything; he didn't like the feeling that fate was behind this because if it was - why?

Osamu shook off the goosebumps and decided he'd worry about fate intervening when it actually decided to do so. Turning toward his own shop, he hustled into the store with tense shoulders and a furrowed brow. Why was he so worked up? He's well aware that he's the one who started the whole social media war between you, and it's not like you guys actually had any reason to hate each other - you were just doing it for the attention. So why does he have this familiar feeling of contempt coursing through him at the mere thought of you?

"Osamu, are you okay? Ya sleep well?" Osamu snapped his attention to Kita, who was standing in the kitchen, already beginning food prep for the day. Kita's knife paused its assault on the spring onions as he waited for an answer.

"Ah, yeah, I slept fine Kita. Ya meet the new neighbors?" Kita nodded, resuming his ministrations. If you didn't know Kita, you would have just assumed the polite smile was just that - Osamu knew better though, and the slight upturn had a hint of what looked like mischief behind it. He gulped at the thought of Kita plotting.

"I met L/n. She's very nice." Osamu face scrunched at the mention of your name, which didn't go unnoticed by Kita, who's eyebrow shot up in surprise.

 "You don't like her?"

"She's...fine." Osamu walked into the kitchen, putting on his apron as he washed his knife in preparation for the salmon.

"Honestly, I'm surprised, I thought you'dve taken a likin' to her if anything." Osamu grunted in response. "I dunno what it is, but there's just somethin' that rubs me the wrong way."

"Give it time, she may warm up to ya."

Osamu doubted that.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Fun Facts - 

Tendou got an earful when you called him that day, and he bit back a laugh every time you angrily mentioned how hot Osamu was (’Oh my god his face??? his arms??? Why’s the universe gotta have favoritism for the worst people’) 

After hours, Kita also got an earful from Osamu - and he also had to cover his smile with his hand whenever Osamu angrily mentioned how cute you looked when you scrunched your face up. (’-and then she snorted, actually /snorted/, at me and while it was adorable it was rude as hell. She’s rude as hell, Kita.)

Kuguri rushed upstairs partly because he couldn’t stand the tension, but mainly because he wanted first dibs on bedrooms. 

A/N: ahhh I’m SO sorry for such a long wait, I never intended to take nearly a whole ass week to post - I started a new job this week with weird hours so I had to adjust, plus this chapter actually gave me a little bit of grief haha (thank you lark for pulling my head out of my ass multiple times). But exciting things happen!! Y/n finally meets osamu and its awkward and annoying and they’re both so hot what do we do oh no~ I’m very excited to see how their relationship progresses through the next few chapters lol. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy, feel free to pop into my asks if you want to talk about the fic, or your day, or would like to be added to the taglist!! As always, thank you so much for reading, I love you guys!

Taglist -

@larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @fucktheworlddude @doctorspencereid @keiarma @cherriechurros @halesandy @k3nma-fairy @jewlmin @tabipleats​ @kaleidoscopekai​

[jmnjmnjmn]

Eternal beings | Chapter 1

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Key words: supernatural, vampire.

Word count: less than 3,000

Warnings: swearing,  sadness, jealousy, mentions of murder

Inspo board

Masterlist

In the spirit of Halloween I decided to write a whole series about Vampire!Jungkook. I know should’ve been posting it throughout October and not on Halloween... Bare with me okay? There’s more to come.

Walking through the city at two in the morning isn’t as cute and mysterious as it may seem. The streets are empty and dark despite the street lights being on and every noise sounds like a forecast for something dangerous, especially when you're a girl walking home from work by yourself. You recently took up night shifts at the convenience store you were working at part time. Your boss was more than happy when you announced to her that you can work nights for half of the week. It was always hard to find people for those hours. With all of your classes at college being online this semester you had more time to work and earn money for rent and other things. You actually liked working at night, because there weren’t many customers then if any at all, so you had freedom to spend most of your time at work reading magazines, studying or sitting on your laptop. The only drawback of working at that time though was the walk home.

You pulled the steel grating over the door and locked it slowly in the faint light of the neon sign above the door. Before walking away you pulled on the padlock to make sure it’s definitely locked right. When you didn’t feel it budge under your fingers you turned on your heel and started speed walking home. Your apartment wasn’t further than twenty five minutes away from the shop and though it felt like a short stroll during the day at night it almost always seemed like a pilgrimage. “Fortunately for me-” You thought. “-the summer is in full swing and the nights aren’t so cold anymore.” You shivered at the thought of walking home in winter time. On the other hand the increase in temperature caused all sorts of shady people to come from their homes and clubs out onto the streets. For example you already walked past more than a dozen of drug deals and were cat called by drunk men leaving the bars so many times you couldn’t count anymore. And that’s only this summer season.

Despite all those unpleasantries you kept working and getting the money you desperately needed to pay the rent for your small flat and lead a decent life in the city. And because of those same unpleasantries you came up with a special system of walking home from work that made you a tad bit more comfortable and it went like this. First: leave the shop with earbuds in your ears, but no music playing, walk with big strides and your head up to notice any potential danger and stay alert no matter how tired you are. Second: walk only the bigger streets with street lamps and businesses on them, preferably ones that are open at night so there’s always someone to run to for help. That part wasn’t too hard since you worked right in the center of the city and lived close by. You smiled to yourself, thinking of the deal you cut on your current apartment. You were subletting from one of your college friends who left to study abroad for a year. He didn’t want to break the lease on his place and not have something to come back to when he finishes his studies, especially since his apartment was in such a perfect location for a young student. That led him to looking around for someone to sublet to and… Tadah! You got a beautifully furnished, one bedroom apartment right in the city for a price that was unheard of in that area. Only downside was that you had to vacate the place in less than ten months.

A loud sudden sound pulled you out of your thoughts, but what followed made your heart skip a beat. A sound so faint it was barely hearable, but clear enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“Please, n-no.” The voice definitely belonged to a male. It sounded as if its owner was struggling to breath out the words. You heard him inhale sharply and ask again. “P-lease, stop.” His begging words sent a shiver down your spine. Something really bad was happening around that corner. “N-no.” You felt your shoulders tense up. You didn’t want to get involved with something dangerous, but you couldn’t just walk by a possible assault or maybe something worse. You tightened your grip on your bag and started to walk back quietly. Your instincts started to kick in slowly as you made the difficult choice between the two possible options. Fight or flight.  “Flight.” You  thought to yourself. “From a safe place I will call the police. I promise.” You sweared in your head to the man around the corner.

“Stop.” Said a second voice also belonging to a man by the pitch of it.

“Please.” The first man said. “Please.” He repeated now with more strength in his voice. Within a second you heard shuffling indicating a fight broke out between the pleading man and his attacker. You started pressing in the police number on your phone and started moving faster as the noises started getting louder and closer to the alleyways exit. The very same exit from which you were trying to back away from.

“I told you to stop.” The second man repeated himself. Right when you were just about to turn the corner and start running to safety with the police on the phone two men fell to the ground in front of the alleyways exit. Both of them in disheveled suits. The older one, which you assumed was the previously heard beggar, was clearly losing to the other man. You made your last step back and tried to turn to the side to start running when you heard the losing man speak. 

“Help me.” He  croaked looking in your direction and blowing your already weak cover. Standing in the shadowy street you thought he wouldn’t be able to see you backing away, but he did and his attacker now saw you as well. “H-elp.” He tried to repeat his statement, but the other man pushed him to the ground getting rid of the bits of air in his lungs. “What should I do?” You asked yourself. The nerve connections in your brain made a snap judgment for you. The scene you had before you looked just as frightening as comical. What even was this situation? Two well dressed men, who you would think are well behaved and well above resulting in physical fights if you saw them in the shop you were working at, were playing some murderous tug of war right in front of you in the middle of the night. As you realised the oddity of the situation it stopped being so scary all of a sudden. “They’re just drunk office rats fighting in an alley.” You thought to yourself but didn’t put your phone back down in case things escalated to something more dangerous. You continued to back away when the standing man spoke.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself?” He asked in an authoritative tone, but you weren’t going to listen. You turned around and made a step to your left wanting to reach the main road again and get away from this bull. “Stop.” He said tiredly. You turned the corner and started to run before he could say or do anything more to you. You pressed the green button on your phone screen calling the police.

“112.” Said a female operator on the other side of the phone after just a short moment. “Hello. There’s a fight going on near my house. Two men. It looked pretty bad.” You said nervously.

-

You woke up the next morning around noon. Having already forgotten the events of last night you got ready for work. You were covering a shift in the afternoon at the shop for your co-worker Jimin. He worked there a couple of months longer than you, showed you the ropes on your first day and since you got along pretty well you became work friends. You decided not to eat breakfast at home and just grab something at the shop. Just like that within twenty minutes of you waking up you were out the door. 

The mid day was warm but you had your jacket in the bag ready to be put on in the late hours of the night when you’ll be walking home. You turned the corner to get to the main street and have a stroll to work in the sun when you were met with a hoard of policemen blocking the sidewalk. You crossed the road and took a different route than usual, not bothering to think twice about the reason the police were where they were right now.

As you entered the shop you noticed Jimin watching television on the small screen hanging over the cigarette shelf. The bell over the door rang when you closed it and Jimin instantly turned his head towards you, greeting you with a warm smile as you walked towards him.

“Great to finally see you.” He said, taking off his name tag.

“You’re only happy to see me today, because I’m relieving you of your shift.” You joked and he laughed quietly. 

“Only today.” He said smiling and let you behind the counter. “I have to run. Yoongi’s probably already waiting for me.” He waved you goodbye, grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“Go. Have fun.” You called after him smiling.

You turned the volume down on the TV and cranked it up on the ancient radio on the counter. Jimin always watches TV at work while you prefer listening to music and shuffling through magazines or newspapers. You pinned your name tag on and started looking for a good read as a bell rang signaling an arrival of a customer. You picked a fitness magazine and leaned on the shelves behind you and started reading about “the benefits of doing squats”. After a couple of minutes the customer who earlier entered the shop came to the counter with his pickings. You scanned the last item when he asked you to turn on the volume on the TV. You pushed the “+” button on the remote and was about to tell the man the amount he has to pay for the items when you heard the speaker's voice on TV describe something horrible. 

“... A gruesome murder. Victim: a man in his thirties, possibly a nearby office worker. His exact identity is still being confirmed by the police.”

“Horrible.” Said the customer. “And so close by. Who would do such a thing?” He asked, sounding truly concerned.

“Twelve thirty, sir.” You said politely. That’s exactly why you didn’t like watching TV at work. This particular television set was about twenty years old and had an antenna so crooked it played only three channels, two of them being news. There was no day there wouldn’t be bad news. A natural distaster, an economic crash, a new riot or war somewhere in the world or, like today, a murder. The man scanned his card and left with his things. As the door was closing behind him you reached for the remote to mute the TV again.

“Estimated time of the murder is thirty minutes after two in the morning.” Said the speaker and you quickly put two and two together. Glancing at the screen you reached your shaky hand for your phone and started searching the internet for more information on the event. A cold shiver went down your whole body when you read an article header stating the place where the “gruesom murder” took place. It was that alleway near your building. You dialed your friend Taehyung’s number still looking at the screen, waiting for more details to be described by the news anchors.

“The number you are calling is unavailable.” You heard an automated message and hung up the phone. “What the hell do I do now?” You whispered to yourself. “I called the police last night and described the situation as well as I could.” You thought. “It’s not my fault they didn’t intervene… Or did so too late.” You explained to yourself. “Still, shouldn’t they have my number saved somehow? And shouldn’t they be calling me up right now for questioning? I was there after all.” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you could have seen a murderer last night. “Maybe it wasn’t them.” You started wandering. “Maybe they left right after they saw me and someone else did… That.” Another announcement by the news anchors pulled you out of this train of thought. “Police just confirmed the identity of the victim. Thirty five year old (Victim’s name), an office manager at (Company’s name) was brutally murdered last night on Third.” You covered your mouth with your free hand when the picture of the victim popped up on the screen. It was the man from last night, the one that lost the fight. “His body was found by a passerby over four hours after the murder took place.”

“Impossible.” You breathed out. “I called the police right around two. How is it that they didn’t send anyone to check on the situation?” You thought and dialled Taehyung’s number again.

“The number you are calling is unavailable.”

“Shit.” You hissed. You really wanted to talk to a friend right now and figure out what to do. Taehyung was your closest friend right now, you knew each other from highschool and hung out all through your first years of college to this day. You dialed the police number once again in the last twelve hours.

[whattodowithace]

Save Our Souls (Byeongkwan)

Title: Save our Souls

Paring: Byeongkwan (Ace) x Reader

Genre: Spice/superpower AU

Word count: 2618

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

My soul is sold to a demon: no, no, not a literal demon. Rather, a villain. There’s no such thing though, right? Superheroes and villains. That’s what you believed in when you were a kid. That used to be me too. But that’s not how I feel anymore. I don’t know if I believe in a hero, but I believe in villains. Because I grew up with one.

Have you ever watched those movies where the girl has a cute next door neighbor and they fall in love and live happily ever after? Yeah, well, that’s not how me and my neighbor turned out.

Kim Byeongkwan was a quiet boy. Him and his parents moved next door to us when I was in sixth grade. He was shy, and sweet. I had a bit of a crush on him in eighth grade, I will admit. But that soon passed when my parents started inviting him over for dinner sometimes.

His parents were workaholics and he was always stuck at him alone. So my parents would invite him over for dinner, my mom would ask him a million questions. All to which, he would give one word answers or none at all.

After dinner, me and him would sit on the couch together and watch a movie or play a video game. Needless to say, my crush on Byeongkwan faded when I realized we didn’t have much in common.

Then, we grew up. We remained neighbors. He went to the same school as me, but that was all. My life continued on like normal. Then we graduated High School. Byeongkwan’s parents left for overseas work, leaving their son in the old house rent free for who knows how long. While I moved and got my own apartment a few miles away closer to the city of Chicago.

I changed jobs a few times but I was settled in my new job as a teller at a bank. A modest job, I know. I could have gone to collage but didn’t much feel like being weighed down with debt. And I liked my job. I had good friends. My life was good.

Until one night I was awakened to the sound of fists banging on my front door frantically. I sat upright in bed and went to look out the peephole of my door.

I saw a man with battered clothing, his body scratched and bruised and covered in blood. He was barley standing, a pained look on his face. Byeongkwan.

I open my door and Byeongkwan’s eyes lock mine before he crawls inside and lays down on my living room floor, his body shaking and convulsing horribly.

“Byeongkwan, let me call an ambulance” I say, wiping away his sweat drenched hair from his forehead.

Byeongkwan grabs my wrist, stopping me. “Please.” He chokes out, “Don’t. I came to you because you’re the only person I felt I could trust.”

He lays his head back against the carpet as another severe shaking fit takes over his body. His blood soaking my carpet. The veins in his neck popping from his neck as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

I stare down at him, worry filling my chest. Unsure what to do. “What happened to you?” I mumble as I rest my hand on his chest. His skin burning hot.

Then, he stops moving. His entire body relaxes as he eyes close. I freeze, thinking he’s dead. I’m about to call an ambulance anyway when a green light glows through his veins. His entire body lit with the green light. Slowly the light fades, leaving the room dark as my heart thuds against my ribs.  I stare at him, eyes wide. His eyes open suddenly and i back away from him. Suddenly nervous.

Byeongkwan’s eyes are a light, glowing shade of green. His irises look like cat eyes as they lock onto me. Byeongkwan sits up quickly, running a hand through his black sweaty hair.

“Byeongkwan,” I whisper, his eyes darting all over my apartment. “Are you okay?”

Byeongkwan’s eyes meet mine, and a feeling of true fear washes over me. I knew then, before he even spoke to me, he had changed.

“I’m just fine, baby.” He says coolly. A smirk on his lips.

~~~~

That was six months ago. Come to find out, Byeongkwan had been walking home from work one night and a nearby power plant thats on our neighborhood road exploded. Byeongkwan happened to be walking past at that time and the electricity hit his body dead on.

He should have died. Actually, he did die. Until a powerful force entered his body, taking in his weak state and giving him powers. This is what Byeongkwan told me when I asked how he got these sudden powers.

The powers I’m referring to? Teleportation and shapeshifting. But he was also given superhuman strength and an increased  IQ.

But this force giving him these powers, is evil. Slowly the Byeongkwan I grew up with changed. He became more devious, harder to handle. And now, he’s blackmailing me to keep his secret. All the while he steals and commits crime without ever getting caught. The police never even know who did it. Because he can shed his skin like a snake and slither into the night.

Here’s the thing; I’m not a killer. I can’t just turn him in. People with superpowers down live in Chicago or anywhere else in the world. They aren’t real! (This is what I try to reassure myself)

But if I turn him in, he’ll be a lab rat. A subject to thousands of tests for the rest of his life or until they decide he’s more useful dead than alive.

Even if I turn him in, he’s too fast. They will never find him or catch him. And if tell, he can have my family killed in an instant. And I can’t kill myself. I tried that. He found me and caught me before I could jump.

Understand this isn’t sweet Byeongkwan that I grew up with. This is so much different. This Byeongkwan will threaten to kill and you will believe him. Because he flashes you his Cheshire Cat grin that sends chills down your spine and you become afraid. And you believe him.

And this Byeongkwan has entrusted me with known his new found power. So my soul, in a way, is sold to this man. Because for the safety of the human race and my family I cannot tell another living soul who he is or what he is capable of. My devil who I’ve sold my soul to.

But he’s also a guarding angel. Because of his power he can teleport extremely fast. He can be in Jamaica one minute and be by my side the next. This serves him well because I never truly leave his sight. He proved his point when I was leaving work one late night, the streets empty and dark. A few teenagers grabbed me and pulled me into an alleyway, thinking they could have some fun.

Then, there was Byeongkwan. His jaw set and his hands in fists. He beat the teens so badly they could only lay on the pavement and moan. The next minute, Byeongkwan had me in his arms and we were inside my apartment. Safe and sound.

The scary thing; when Byeongkwan was beating those teens, I saw a glint in his eyes. A strange look as if he enjoyed what he was doing. And I don’t think he would have stopped had I not told him to.

He’s my demon on one shoulder. But an angel on the other.

~~~~~

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night with a gut feeling something is wrong? It’s like when you wake up and stare at your desk chair a little too long because your brain is convinced there’s someone sitting in it.

This is the feeling I wake up to. My back is drenched in sweat causing my shirt to stick to my skin. My eyes search my room for the cause of my anxiety.

My balcony window is open, cold Chicago air blowing in, making my currents flap in the breeze. I feel a chill go down my spine when my eyes lock on a pair of bright green eyes in the corner of my room.

“Hi, baby.” Byeongkwan gloats, his voice deep.

I lay back against the pillow. Knowing what he was going to ask next. Every month, Byeongkwan would stop in like this. And he would ask one question, and it was always the same question.

“You haven’t told anyone, right?” He asks as he stand up to full height.

I sigh and press my palms against my eyes. “No. For the millionth time, no.”

Byeongkwan smirks against the moon light, watching me laid out in bed. I let out a gasp when his body weight is suddenly on me, his legs straddling my waist.

“What are you-“ I begin to protest, but Byeongkwan puts a finger to my lips, his face inches from mine.

I watch as his glowing green cat eyes lose their glow, his old eye color returning.

“You’re so good at keeping secrets.” He whispers. His finger trailing down my neck and even further down my chest. The sensation sent a chill up my spine, but at the same time I couldn’t seem to will myself to make him stop.

Byeongkwan smirks at me widely, leaning his head down to my neck before whispering, “Keep up this good behavior and I’ll reward you.”

And then he’s gone. His body vanishes and the only thing I have to prove he was there was the lingering feeling of his smooth skin against mine. My face flushes at his words; my mind spinning with what they could possibly mean.

~~~~~~~

I lay on the couch after a long day at work, my eyes closing from drowsiness. I hadn’t seen Byeongkwan for two months now. I was beginning to think maybe he had left. Maybe I actually had my life back.

I sigh at the thought, hoping that was indeed the case. I lean my head against the plush pillows and feel myself drift off to sleep to peaceful dreams with the TV still on.

At some point, I turn over, my arm going beneath my head. It registers with me that my couch feels surprisingly cold and hard.

I feel a gust of wind run along my neck, blowing my hair onto my face. My eyes come open and I sit up quickly. I’m not home anymore. And I know instantly who moved me without me ever knowing. I’m lying on a concrete floor of a renovated building. With the way the wind is blowing I know I’m on the top floor.

The walls of the building are only boards, a shadow of walls that aren’t yet complete. Plastic wrap hands from the ceiling and flaps in the breeze, casting ghost like shadows across the dark building.

I stand up and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, my heart in my throat. Then, from the wall in front of me, a portal like hole opens up, it’s smoke like appearance twists and turns like a raging thunder storm.

Byeongkwan steps out from the portal, a smirk on his lips, his green eyes boring through mine. He wears a long black trench coat with a white button down shirt underneath it. His hair is slicked back and several rings encase his fingers. I can tell instantly all of them are expensive, but stolen.

“Hello, darling.” Byeongkwan greets, his voice sweet but his smile sinister.

I let out a shaky breath, “Byeongkwan, what do you want?” I ask, trying to keep the shake out of my voice.

Byeongkwan walks slowly over to me, his boots clicking on the concrete floor as he walks.

“I have a confession to make.” He says, his voice deep and his eyes roaming over me.

“Are you actually going to come clean?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my words.

Byeongkwan stops inches in front of me, his green cat eyes searching my face, making me swallow nervously.

“No... but I realized something that I think is important to get out.” He says, stepping a bit closer to me, making my breath hitch.

Byeongkwan leans his head down, his warm breath fanning across my cold cheeks. “I’m of the belief that you’ve bewitched me.” He whispers in my ear.

My eyes widen and I feel my body freeze. Words refusing to leave my throat.

Byeongkwan sees me struggling and chuckles. “Didn’t you know, baby?” Byeongkwan asks, his smirk widening. “I’ve actually had a crush on you since we were young. But the shy me that came to your house was never going to admit that. But now, things are different.”

Byeongkwan wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him, my body flush against his.

A black portal opens up behind him and he pulls us inside. When I open my eyes again we’re back at my place. I lay on my couch like I’ve never left, but Byeongkwan hovers over me, his body weight on mine.

Byeongkwan runs his tongue over his teeth as he stares down at me. A chill going down my spine, but a feeling of desire washing over me as I stare into his powerful green eyes.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Byeongkwan whispers deeply. His hands finding mine as they take my wrists and pin them above my head, making me squeak involuntary.

His nose runs along mine, causing me to lose my breath, his hips pressing against me and pushing me harder into the couch. Byeongkwan runs his nose down my neck, causing goosebumps to rise.

Byeongkwan lets out a breath against my neck, hot air brushing against my skin. His lips meet mine and I feel my eyes close, a feeling of surrender going through me. Not because Byeongkwan is a villain in this world and I’m powerless against  him.  But because I want to surrender to him to see how far this goes.

Byeongkwan lets out a moan against my mouth, his tongue sliding into my mouth before his teeth gently take my tongue and bite it.

Byeongkwan pulls away and bites my jawline, making my back arch involuntarily.

“If I have it my way baby,” Byeongkwan whispers between kisses and breaths, “I will have you moaning my name.”

“Do you always get what you want?” I ask, my breath coming in too fast. My head spinning.

Byeongkwan meets my eyes, his hands leaving my waist to wrap around my waist, my hands going to his toned chest.

“Not always.” Byeongkwan answers as his tongue flicks at my ear. “But this is the only thing that really matters to me.”

I take his face in my hands, my thumbs running across his cheeks, his eyes staring into mine. For the first time in months I feel like I’m not scared of this devil that possessed my life. Rather, I felt drawn to him. Like a forbidden love that was irresistible.

I lean in to kiss his lips but I feel his body slip away from me. He stands in the kitchen doorway, the moonlight from my window highlighting his dark skin.

He must see the let down in my eyes because he smirks at the look in my eyes, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be coming back for you to finish this later.”

He says, before he vanished. Disappearing through the smoke like portal.

My devil with green eyes possessed me. And now I feel like my life is really going to change.

MASTERLIST

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Partake of Me

You and Vergil are out on a mission when an insatiable hunger rears its ugly head. You would ask the handsome devil beside you to lend a helping hand if it wasn't for one problem...you haven't told him that you're a vampire. Can you resist the allure of his blood? Or will you give into the temptation known as Vergil Sparda?

This is my first time writing for a request. I hope it’s everything you wanted, my dear vampire anon! 

Prepare yourself for some blood and spice! 😘

The allure of the night sky never ceases to amaze you. A cluster of bright twinkling jewels swim in a vast sea of black while the harvest moon illuminates the surrounding buildings and roads with its ethereal glow. You remember the wandering walks in the middle of night during your youth, staring up at the stars in wonder as you imagine what it would be like to live another life besides your dreadfully boring one. Little did you know what twists and turns your life would take…for now you stalk the streets as a vampire, a true daughter of darkness, no longer living at all and in no way is your life boring anymore.

You have a deeper comprehension for all that goes bump in the night than most, embodying one of the many dangers that lurk in the shadows. Shortly after your introduction into vampirism, you travel around for a time and hone the skills your dark nature gifts you with…until one day you came upon an interesting opportunity in the paper. A shop called Devil May Cry is looking for mercenaries willing to do tough jobs that require supernatural and paranormal expertise. This piques your interest and you immediately call the number listed by the wanted ad. It has been a few months since then, and you quite enjoy the challenges that present themselves during this line of work. You especially enjoy the presence of a certain white-haired gentleman that frequently accompanies you on these jobs.

Vergil Sparda, the twin brother of the man who owns the shop, is no normal man. During your time with him you find him to be just as dangerous and deadly as you. It is being the kin of the demon known as the Legendary Dark Knight that gift him with powers you have witnessed for yourself multiple times. Well, that and his sword, the Yamato. You admire how calm and collected he is during battle, flashing and slicing through enemies with ease. It also does not hurt that he is easy on the eyes. His striking face and unwavering silver gaze never fails to trick you into believing you can breathe again…because the Son of Sparda is absolutely breathtaking.

Too bad he wouldn’t think the same of you if he found out what you truly are...

Your eyes roll at your sullen thought as you and Vergil make your way down a deserted alleyway. Both of you just spent the entire night investigating a lead for a mission in the older parts of this bustling neighborhood. When both of you fail to see the connection in the information you have gathered, Vergil suggests getting a couple of rooms at a nearby motel. That way both your minds may reassess the situation with a fresh perspective after proper rest. You gladly go along with this plan, longing to clean your guns and change your clothes. It also saves you from coming up with an excuse to find shelter from the dawn’s first light.

When you took the position at the shop you may have neglected to tell them about your vampiric nature. You have found through experience that one should always be careful with who you tell such a secret. And considering that the shop focuses on supernatural threats, you did not want to reveal what you really are in case they see your mere existence as a threat. It may be a bit presumptuous, but a healthy dose of paranoia always keeps you safe. You do not have the luxury of having someone watch your back in this solitary life.

But now you are regretting your decision to keep your vampirism a secret as the insatiable hunger for blood slowly builds up inside you. This is usually not a problem since you always bring plenty of blood packs with you during a mission, but when you check your travel bag they are nowhere to be seen. You forgot the one thing you need to survive, to keep you sane…and now you are paying for it as you summon all of your willpower to keep your hunger under control.

The handsome devil walking beside you does not help your endeavor as your mind obsesses over what his blood would smell and taste like. Your eyes wander over and steal glances at his collar, longing to tear it away from his neck and sample what the Dark Slayer has to offer. Vergil catches you a couple of times, making you turn your head away as you pretend to be surveying your surroundings with high alertness. Your insidious paranoia almost convinces you that he knows your secret.

He sees you for what you really are: a blight on the world that needs to be destroyed…

You shake your head, casting out all your fearful notions from your mind as you finally arrive at the quaint motel. Vergil scans your face with a critical eye, his silent way of asking you if everything is alright. You smile at his concern and nod your head. Being a vampire comes with its fair share of hang ups; such as always being paranoid no matter how safe you are…or the habit of obsessing over something you desire, driving yourself mad until you have it in your possession. You have the misfortune of currently suffering from both afflictions, craving the well-mannered devil holding the entryway door open for you while also afraid of him using the Yamato against you.

Your body shudders as the image of your fictional final death runs through your mind. The poor front desk clerk regards you warily as you ask for a room, completely forgetting that you usually ask for two rooms when you stop for the night at places like this motel. Vergil raises an eyebrow at this, but does not correct you as he peers down at you with those keen eyes. You avoid meeting his gaze and drum your fingers on the desk testily as the clerk puts you down for a room while going on about the amenities of the motel. As soon as the room key is in your hand you dash down the hall, doing your best to keep a normal pace as you walk straight to the door of your rented room.

As you raise the key to unlock the door your sharp sense of awareness detects the sudden presence of Vergil close behind you. “Y/N,” he addresses to get your attention. You look over your shoulder and lock onto his intense gaze, doing your best to ignore the overwhelming body heat emanating from him. “Are you well?” he questions, a bit of worry laced in his tone. “You seem…distraught.”

“What?” you mutter as your hand fumbles with the lock, distracted by the steady cadence of his heart beat close to your ear. “No, I’m fine. Just tired and frustrated. I just need some rest, that’s all.”

Vergil studies you closely. You know that your answer is weak, but it is taking all of your willpower to not latch your fangs into the irresistible neck currently over your shoulder. His eyes dart over to the key clinking against the handle as your trembling hand attempts to unlock it. He swiftly leans over and places his hand over yours, causing a series of shivers to cascade though your body from his warm touch. And his scent…like fresh snow first thing in the morning after a winter storm. It overtakes your senses as it begins unravel the last strand of control inside you. He gently guides the key to its proper place, slides it into the keyhole, and turns it for you.

“After you,” he murmurs in your ear. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, steeling your resolve against the temptation known as Vergil Sparda.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you bow your head and turn the handle of the door.

It almost pains you to step away from him as you enter the room. Your body is physically twitching as you examine the plain walls and furniture, taking note of the one lone bed in the middle of the room. Vergil closes and locks the door behind you before sweeping the entire room in his usual search for hidden threats or traps. You do not even bate eye at this as you set your travel bag down on a nearby table. If you had rented a second room you would be doing the exact same thing, except your search is for holes or crevices that may let sunlight in and promptly covering them up. When the room passes his inspection, Vergil heads over to the windows and starts to draw the curtains closed. Seeing the moonlight drift through the glass and illuminate his gorgeous profile stirs the ever-growing desire for him inside you. The calm beat of his heart, the feel of his radiating body heat, his amazingly intoxicating scent…

Your hunger demands to be sated…NOW.

You clamp down hard on whatever remaining power you have left to keep yourself from doing anything foolish, like jumping Vergil and taking what you want. That insatiable need clawing at the back of brain can only mean one thing…you are very close to entering a frenzy. Not good, not good. If you were to feed on anyone now you would most likely drain them of all their blood. You’ve really fucked up now. So, even if you put aside your fears and ask Vergil for some of his blood, you could not vouch for his safety. The very thought of causing fatal harm to him…

No. I cannot risk it.

Vergil’s imposing back is still facing you as he closes the last curtain, so you know he has not noticed your frantic state yet. I must not let him see me like this. Your mind hastily formulates a plan to put some distance between the two of you as fast as possible. You take your phone out of your travel bag as you conjure up a smooth lie. “I’m going to go outside and see if there’s better signal.” You walk over to the door and reach for the handle. “I’ll, uh…be right back.”

“Going out for a drink?”

Your hand pauses just inches away from the door as the room echoes with his confrontational inquiry. You glance sideways at the cocksure devil standing across the room. “W-what are you…talking about?”

Vergil turns around and faces you with a challenging glare. “I am no fool, Y/N…I know what you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vergil.” You turn away from him, whispering paranoia rattling your brain as you struggle to keep yourself together long enough to just get out of the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

The distinct sound of the Yamato slices through the air. The hunger inside you turns into panic. This is it…this is how you meet your final death: at the hands of the man you adore deeply, despite being eternally damned. How fucking cliché can you get? you thought, knowing that in your weak state you stand no chance against him. You prepare yourself for the inevitable spiel of needing to cut you down and the biggest fight of your undead life.

A delectable scent wafts under your nose. Your supernatural senses become hyperaware as it focuses in the indistinguishable smell of strong, thick…blood. This blood triggers a memory…sitting with friends around a campfire in the dead of winter, laughing and sipping spiced wine. The hunger comes back in full force as your head swivels around unnaturally fast towards the source. Vergil’s left hand is gloveless. A deep gash has been cut into his palm as he holds it out, his blood welling up into a small pool. Just the sight it has you baring your fangs as you behold the tempting devil currently smirking at you.

“It seems I’ve injured myself,” he observes nonchalantly. The sight of his smug face angers you, but it also gives you a moment to reign in the hectic storm swirling in your head as you fight the urge to pounce him. You want to tear your eyes away from his redolent nectar, but they stay glued to his hand. There is no doubt that Vergil sees the feral glow of your eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room.

“Don’t…” you weakly plea as your body begins to tremble. “I can’t…”

“Would you be a dear and take care of it for me?” he taunts as his bloody hand tips ever so slightly. Your predatory eyes follow the lovely trail as it drips down, building and collecting at the edge of his hand before a single drop forms and begins to fall…

Instantly, your primal instincts kick in. Your phone drops from your hand as you lunge at Vergil faster than a bullet from one of your guns. He grunts as the force of your abnormally quick approach takes him off guard, sending him straight to the floor. You straddle his waist and grab his wrist, bringing it close to your face as you inhale its sweet fragrance. You sigh in ecstasy, slowly slipping into a hazy stupor as your body shivers in excitement.

“You’re a lot stronger than I anticipated.”

Vergil’s voice breaks you out of your hungry daze as you stare down at him. His fierce eyes meet your own predatory gaze as he props himself up with his free arm. He is oddly calm for a man who was just knocked to the ground by a bloodthirsty vampire. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what you have just done and immediately let go of his wrist. Before you can even think about retreating, Vergil wraps his arms around in a vice grip, effectively trapping you against his body. You struggle against him a bit, trying to break free, but it is in vain as you used what last bit of strength you had getting within this devil’s grasp.

“Is the blood of the Son of Sparda not good enough for you?” he sneers by your ear, his grip tightening around you as your body continues to fight against him.

“No!” you wail. “Your blood smells…so good,” you admit as you deeply inhale the succulent scent.

Vergil withdraws from your ear and presses his forehead against yours, forcing you to stare up into his inquisitive gaze. “Then what is stopping you from partaking of me?”

You swallow down your fears, mustering up the courage to speak truthfully. “I’m…really low on blood and…really close to giving in…to a frenzy. I don’t want…to lose control and...” You trail off as the thought of hurting him makes your body shake uncontrollably.

“I am well aware just how hungry you are,” he affirms softly, the gentle tone of his voice taking you by surprise even in your crazed state. “Which is why I am offering my blood to you.” He lifts his bloody hand near your face. Your eyes shoot back to it instantly as you start to pant frantically. Vergil places his lips next to your ear again as he continues to encourage you. “It is too close to dawn and I very much like to keep my partner from becoming ash.”

“Vergil,” you whine as you look away from his hand, opting to stare at the ceiling instead of burying your face into the crook of his enticing neck. “I-I wouldn’t forgive myself…if I hurt you.”

“You will not hurt me.”

You shake head. “No, I can’t-”

Suddenly, your view flips as Vergil swings you around and anchors you down to the floor with his unbloodied hand by the neck. He traps your legs in between his muscular thighs as he stares down at you. “Stop being stubborn and take my blood,” he commands impatiently.

You vigorously shake your head again as your body wriggles underneath his weight, refusing to give in to his demand for his own safety. “I would rather burn to cinders in the sun than give myself the chance of harming you in any way,” you swear with total conviction as you feebly attempt to escape from his immovable hold one last time. Try as you might you cannot make him budge as the last of your strength wanes. You see his familiar scowl before closing your eyes, summoning every last ounce of control you have to restrain yourself from giving into his tempting offer.

You feel him lean away as a low rumbling growl fills the air around you. A few moments pass before you feel his hand cup your face, smearing warm blood onto your skin. You press your lips into a thin line as you desperately try to keep yourself together beneath your wicked captor. His thumb tenderly strokes your cheek as his other hand loosens and slides to the back of your neck. All is quiet and calm. You convince yourself that Vergil has finally decided to end your suffering. But then, he quickly raises your head and you feel something press hard against your mouth…

His lips. Your eyes snap open as you gasp in shock. This proves to be your undoing though, as you suddenly taste liquid life pour into your open mouth. As soon as his blood touches your tongue the most gratifying moan escapes your throat. Your tongue starts to explore his mouth its own accord, searching for every last drop as your hands grip his perfectly slicked back hair. He lifts you up off the floor and moves your legs to straddle him as you sit on his lap, all while never breaking away from your ravenous kiss.

You purr in pleasure at this new arrangement as you begin to grind against him, lost in the taste of his demonically blessed blood. And Vergil does not just sit there and let you kiss the him into oblivion. You feel his hands roam over your arched back, your bent legs, and pert bottom as his hips meet yours with his own grinding thrusts. His tongue continuously challenges you for dominance, sometimes relenting to your ravishing tongue, and other times viciously pushing his way into your mouth to do some exploring of his own. Both of your growls mingle together to form a primal serenade, utterly intoxicated by its beat as your bodies sway against each other.

Vergil’s hybrid blood is very complex. Every time you think you got the flavor down another just bubbles up, demanding to be completely savored. The taste is reminiscent of the memory it evokes, dark fruity wine blending harmoniously with spicy cloves and sweet honey. You can even taste the smokiness, along with the surprising note of something floral…violets. His blood makes you feel exquisite as you relish every last sinful drop.

Eventually, all the blood in his mouth is devoured and your instincts scream for more. You tear away from his mouth, gasping from the intensity of his bloody kiss as you let your head fall back in pure bliss. Vergil’s arms wrap around you tightly, making sure you do not try to run away from him again. You see his velvety lips curve into a smug grin as he chuckles, extremely pleased that his diabolical plan has motivated you to give into him. A part of you wants to berate him for his deviously seductive ploy, but you can no longer resist the allure of his devilish blood while it courses through you.

Your hands relinquish their grasp on his hair as they glide down his neck and rest on the zipper of his vest. Vergil takes this as a promising sign. He removes his coat along with his other glove. You slowly pull the zipper as far as it will go without unbuttoning the outer lay of his vest. Your sharp eyes hone in on a pulsating vein underneath the smooth skin of his neck as you peel away the collar. It calls to you…beckons you to come closer…your face rushes in and nuzzles the crook of his neck, fangs scraping along that glorious vein but not baring down just yet.

You always get a thrill out of this moment, enjoying the feel of a warm trembling body in your arms as their heart beats faster in fear and anticipation. But this is different. This was no ordinary person you have in your embrace. This is Vergil Sparda, the devil who dares to stir the hungry lust of a vampire. His body does not tremble…it thrums with power as you feel his guttural growl through his throat. And his heart beats in anticipation, but you can tell there is no fear exuding from him…his very presence is thick with desire and arousal.

Vergil presses his lips against your ear as his hands rub your back. “Drink of me,” he whispers sinfully. “Take me inside you and get strong, my Evening Star.”

His wicked words are all the encouragement you need to stop denying yourself and finally give in. You hiss softly as you sink your fangs into his neck, moaning as his blood gushes into your mouth. Vergil grunts at your bite, hips thrusting up into you as he holds you close. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you begin to suck his blood, letting yourself get carried away by the rapturous waves of lustful satiation. You meet every thrust of his hips, grinding in time with every draw of his red nectar. The feel of his prominent erection through his pants as it slides over your aroused core adds a teasing tingle to the mind-blowing sensation of blood streaming through your body.

You lose track of time as you take your fill of Vergil's blood. By now, you would be sucking on dry and dead artery if he was a normal human being. But his heart beat has not even slowed…on the contrary, it seems to have slightly increased in speed since you started feeding. His heavy and labored breathing puffs by your ear as his hands explore every inch of your body again, slowly memorizing the plains and slopes of your deadly form. You moan loudly against his neck as his sensual touch brushes over your inner thighs and the curve of your breasts. There was no doubt in your mind…this is going to end with you writhing in pleasure around him as you take another part of him inside you.

You feel his warm calloused hand grip your hair and pull you away from your luscious feast. You snarl in displeasure at the interruption, but Vergil’s demanding lips stifles your angry protest. Your mouth instantly opens up to him, letting him taste his own blood as your sneaky hands flash across his chest and remove his vest in a matter of seconds. He purrs lowly in gratitude as he wraps your legs around his waist and swiftly stands up off the floor. You clutch onto his shoulders as he grabs your ass with both hands and squeezes you closer to him as he walks over to bed.

Vergil kneels and sits you down on the edge of the bed. His lips leave your mouth as he begins tearing your clothes off, kissing and licking every bit of skin he reveals. You groan as he lavishes your breasts with his demanding tongue, flicking and teasing your nipples. He glances up at you as he takes one breast into his mouth, nibbling and sucking it firmly. The feel of his teeth gently grazing against your sensitive skin has you gasping and sifting your hands through his hair, bringing his head closer to your chest as he gives your other breast the same treatment.

You cannot take his teasing anymore and snap into action. A feral growl leaves your lips as you use blood to boost your speed and strength. You tug Vergil away from your breast and pull him on top of the bed, hurriedly ridding him of his pants, boots, and underwear. He blinks curiously up at the ceiling as you hastily rip the rest of your clothes off your body just as fast, eager to ride the very hard cock currently on display for your eyes. Before you can mount him, a blur of blue pops up behind you. One moment you are standing by the bed, the next you are slammed on top of the covers.

It is your turn to blink curiously up at the ceiling as Vergil chuckles beside you. “Nice try,” he quips, shifting his body over yours as he peers down at you with a grin on his face. His hand brushes your cheek in wonder. Soft fingertips swipe the blood still smeared on your face and brushes it on your mouth, coating your lips in his unique shade of red. Your tongue peeks out and greedily licks your lips, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Your eyes dart over to your bite mark on his neck as blood trickles from it. The beautiful red streaks on his chest make your fangs elongate at the sight. A couple of drops drip down and land on your chest. This does not escape Vergil’s notice as he moves his fingers away from your mouth and swipes some of his dark nectar off your skin and offers it to you. His cock twitches between your thighs, making you whimper as your legs spread wider, inviting him closer as you suck his fingers clean.

Vergil growls as he moves closer over you. He nestles himself between your thighs and his hips begin to grind against you ever so slightly, teasing you with his cock as it slides back and forth over your slick entrance. You cry out in frustration around his fingers as your arms and legs pull him even closer to you, silently begging him to end this sweet torture. He chuckles softly as he removes his fingers from your mouth and takes your chin, pulling you up to meet his lips in a searing kiss. Your arms encircle his neck as his tongue pokes and prods the cavern of your mouth before breaking away and resting his forehead on top of your head.

“How do I taste?” he asks while staring deeply into your eyes.

You bite your lower lip in thought, unaware of your sharp fang pricking your tender skin. “Like warm mulled wine on a cold winter morning.”

“Mmmmm.” He nuzzles his face closer until his lips are a breath away from your mouth. “How strange. The way you describe the flavor…I wonder…” His tongue pokes out and swipes at your bottom lip, lapping at the fang currently puncturing it. You gasp in surprise, releasing your lip and giving his naughty mouth an opening. He captures your lower lip with his teeth and softly nibbles as his tongue continues to lick and taste a small sample of your blood.

You sob as your dripping core aches with need, rocking desperately against his hard length in an effort to relieve the tortuous tension. “Vergil…please…” you whimper softly as you push against his body in vain. He must be compensating for your strength because now you can barely move beneath his weight.

Vergil releases your lip and buries his face close to your ear. “I can feel your sex quivering,” he marvels as he pumps his hips, easing some of the tension between your legs as the deep tone of his voice sends chills down your spine. “Does the thought of me partaking of you make it ache for my cock?”

Your body practically buzzes with exhilaration at his intimate suggestion. “Oh fuck…” you mumble as your head turns to the side, already baring your neck for him.

Vergil chortles in amusement. “I admire your enthusiasm, my dear, but I need to hear it from your lips.”

You groan in annoyance as you glare at him. His silver eyes lock you into an intense gaze, waiting patiently for you to give the word. If you could still blush your cheeks would be as red as the blood staining your lips. You lean your face in and softly press a delicate kiss against his pouty lips. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would end up in your current position, underneath one of the most powerful and handsome men you have ever met, naked and wanting. Yet here you are…about to utter some of the most erotic words you have ever spoken as you stare longingly into his eyes.

“Drink of me. Take me inside your body as you become one with me, Vergil.”

The pupils of his silver eyes dilate dramatically as your sensual request flows from your lips. A long rumbling growl emanates from Vergil’s throat as his mouth slides down your neck, causing darts of pleasure to shoot straight down your core. You thread your fingers through his white hair as his lips pause over the crook of your neck and give a tentative nip. You bite down on your lip hard, holding back a pleading whimper as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance.

Vergil bites down hard on your neck just as he slams his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. A satisfying yelp of pain escapes your mouth as you cradle his head close to your neck, your wet heat twitching delightfully around his generous length as he begins to steadily thrust in earnest. Vergil hums indulgently as he licks and sucks your neck, seemingly enjoying his own luscious feast. Your head falls back as a series of euphoric moans spills from your lips, the delicious feeling of his lips, tongue, and teeth along with the long strokes of his cock bringing you to rapid orgasm.

Vergil’s ardent pace never slows as he rides through your blissful orgasm, grunting against your neck as one hand slips under the small of your back and guides your hips into his thrusts to prolong your pleasure. Your legs squeeze firmly around his waist and your hands clench his hair tightly in an attempt to anchor yourself while the rapturous ripples run through you. All your fears about being shunned by the extraordinary man currently above you melt away as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. You never thought you could feel so full, so warm, so…alive.

When you finally start to come down from your fervid climax, Vergil moves his other arm around your shoulders and scoops you up to sit astride his lap, hips never slowing their zealous drive as his relentless mouth nips and licks his bruising mark on your neck. The feel of your own blood trickling down your back and chest sparks your insatiable need for his blood once more as you begin to follow his lead, bouncing up and down in his lap as you eye your own bite mark close to your face. You strike out with your fangs during the up stroke of his thrusts, clamping down hard and drawing out more of his flavorful nectar. He growls fiercely as his hips pause for a moment, cock twitching slightly inside you when your fangs bare down on him.

Vergil’s teeth finally release their hard grip as he trails crimson kisses up your neck until he reaches your ear. “You taste like pomegranate cider on a warm autumn night.” The deep sensuous timber of his voice describing the taste of your blood evokes a whimpering moan from you as he goes on titillating you with his seductive words. “So rich…” His hands start caressing you, smearing your blood across your back. “So sweet…” One of his hands glide around to your chest, forming red lines as he fondles your breasts. “You are temptation made flesh and I cannot resist you.” His hand dips lower towards your abdomen, teasing you with his touch just above where you are joined with him.

"I want to consume all of you.”

A cry of passion escapes your lips as you feel deft fingers circle your delicate nub in a steady rhythm. You throw back your head and moan at the sight that greets you. Vergil’s mouth is completely covered in your blood, desirous eyes staring at you as he moves against you with renewed vigor. He grunts harshly as he pulls you into a heady kiss, tongues sweeping and tasting each other. Your hands leave his hair to do their fair share of painting, stroking and spreading his blood all across his chest as you feel your pleasure coming to a head again. It climbs higher, higher, and higher still…until you feel the distinct pulse deep within you clench down hard, causing you to break away from his mouth as you completely shatter in his embrace. It takes a few more hard and deep brushing thrusts before Vergil joins you, roaring and grunting as he releases his hot seed inside you.

Moments pass as you slowly drift back down from your pleasurable peak, panting and sighing in satisfaction. Vergil hums his own long rumbling purr of contentment as his hips gradually come to a stop. He cradles your shivering body against his chest, rubbing your back gently as the last remnants of your mind-blowing orgasm dies down. All is quiet and calm again, except this time you are not dreading your final death. Instead, you are positively glowing as your frenzy finally recedes from your mind, letting you think with clarity once more. You feel a tiny pang of guilt as you notice the really big bite mark on his neck. He did not show pain when you feed, but you still feel bad for being rough...so you decide to heal it. You carefully lick the mark clean, nuzzling the tender skin as the wounds fully close.

Vergil loosens his hold to appraise your appearance. He hums as his lips, still coated in your blood, curl up into a smug grin. “You’re looking quite sated now, my Evening Star.”

Your earlier agitation at him comes back with a vengeance. With great celerity you reach out for a nearby pillow without leaving his lap and give him a decisive smack aside his head with it. “That's for playing dirty,” you snarl as you show no mercy with the pillow. “You cocky,” whap! “Insufferable…!” whap!

He somehow manages to catch your speedy hand before it lands another hit. “I wouldn’t have had to provoke if you weren’t being such an obstinate woman,” he barks back as he rips the pillow from your grasp. You grumble irritably as he slams his lips against your clamped mouth, coaxing you with his tongue for entry as he lays you back down on the bed. He traps you under his muscular body once more as you resist him, giggling when you cannot deny him anymore and returning his kiss with playfully fervor.

“And,” he starts as he breaks away from your lips. “I don’t ever recall you complaining as you sat in my lap,” he notes as he gives your cheek a peck. “…having a feast that only one such as I can provide.” Another kiss lands close to his bite mark.

You roll your eyes, but do not argue since he is technically right. Damnable devil, you thought, lightly laughing as you survey the mess you have both made of the cheap motel bed. Blood stains are splattered all across the plain white sheets, but at least the bedframe is still intact. The air is heavy with the scent of blood as well. You inhale deeply, taking in that sweet fragrance before letting out a blissful sigh. Your skin starts to feel sticky as the blood you both painted on each other starts to congeal. Raising your head up to his chest, you playfully lick his nipple, catching some of his blood on your tongue.

Vergil grunts and shoots you an irritated glare. You smile innocently as your tongue takes another swipe, humming at the familiar taste. He lets out an indignant huff. Then he smirks and shakes his head fondly. “As much as I find the idea of you licking me clean intriguing…I believe a shower is in order.”

And with that he disengages from your warmth and carries you to the small adjacent bathroom. As you wait for the shower water to warm up you marvel at the lovely pattern his teeth marks made on your neck in the small mirror above the sink. He comes up from behind and wraps his arms around you, asking you how long it will take to heal. You explain that you could use some vitae to completely close the wounds in seconds, but you want keep it for as long as possible. He smiles at your words, kissing your temple before leading you into the hot shower.

While you both wash each you ask how he knew about your vampirism. He admits that it did not take him long to catch on, noticing details such as you not eating meals, your very pale complexion, and the very obvious fact that you refuse to work during the day. You wonder aloud why he did not confront you about it sooner. He just shrugs, saying it was not his concern so long as you continue to be a reliable partner. This makes your heart soar as you thank him for not judging you by your dark nature. He smiles softly as he turns off the water and pushes aside the flimsy shower curtain, helping you step out with a steady hand. Vergil grabs a towel and begins to dry you off. He tells you that he only judges someone by their actions. He also confesses that he believes you to be capable woman with a brilliant mind and a deadly aim with both guns and pillows. You giggle and let him know that his compliments would assuredly turn your cheeks pink if you were mortal.

When he is done drying you, he throws that towel back on the rack and grabs a fresh towel for himself. As he dries his hair you let him know that you are going to see what you can do about the poor bed. He wishes you luck as you head out of the bathroom in search of spare bedsheets. You find some in a tiny closet and set them aside as you get started on pulling off the bloody sheets off. Vergil soon steps out of the bathroom, his usual slicked back hair now down over his eyes, and he helps you not make a bigger mess as you deposit the soiled sheets onto the floor. Luckily, no blood made it onto the mattress, so you spread out a fresh sheet and blanket. You climb into bed and pat the spot beside you eagerly.

Vergil quirks an eyebrow as he slides in beside you. “You know,” he began as he pulls you close, “your unforeseen decision to rent only one room convinced me that you were finally going to reveal yourself to me.”

“Ugh,” you grumble when you remember your amateur blunder and begin explaining yourself. “I forgot to bring my blood packs, and by the time I realized my stupid mistake I was so close to snapping and…” You sigh as you look away in shame. “And I didn’t want to bother you with the burdens of my curse because I wasn’t sure if…I couldn’t-”

You feel warm fingertips take your chin and gently turn your head back to meet Vergil’s sympathetic gaze. “My demon heritage has many advantages,” he states as he cups your cheek and guides your face towards his wonderful neck. “…such as letting my vampire partner gorge herself without worry.” You nuzzle his neck before pricking his skin with your fangs, being careful not to make another mess as you gently suck his blood. He sighs in content as he pets your hair. For the first time in a very long time you feel comfortable, protected…safe.

“Partake of me always,” Vergil whispers close to your ear. “You don’t need blood packs for as long as we're together.” With one firm swipe of your tongue you close the modest bite mark before looking up at Vergil in surprise. His lips press an affectionate kiss on your forehead. “We must keep your fire burning strong, my Evening Star.”

“Why do you call me that?” you inquire as he grabs the blanket and snugly tucks both of you under it.

“It’s a reference from one of Poe’s works.”

“Poe? As in Edgar Allan Poe?” you question curiously. “Huh…how fitting that a dead dour man reminds you of me.”

“He wasn’t always full of gloom. Poe was quite the romantic as well.”

“Hmm.” Your eyes begin to droop you lay your head on his chest. “What about the…poem?” You feel him nod slightly to affirm your guess. “Is it romantic?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Vergil rests his chin atop your head. “Shall I recite it for you?”

“I would like that,” you say quietly, trying hard not to drift off as his lyrical voice paints a beautiful image:

'Twas noontide of summer,   And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits,  Shone pale, thro' the light Of the brighter, cold moon,  'Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens,  Her beam on the waves.    I gazed awhile    On her cold smile; Too cold- too cold for me-  There pass'd, as a shroud,  A fleecy cloud, And I turned away to thee,  Proud Evening Star,  In thy glory afar, And dearer thy beam shall be;  For joy to my heart  Is the proud part Thou bearest in Heaven at night,  And more I admire  Thy distant fire, Than that colder, lowly light.

“Mmm,” you mumble, slowly falling, falling… “Being your Evening Star sounds…lovely…” and finally, you let go and slowly slip into a state of repose.

You always thought you were more like the moon up in the dark sky, cold and alone as you shine in the night. But as you lay in Vergil’s arms, hearing the lull of his strong heart beat and the comforting warmth of his skin, you no longer feel cold and lonely. For once in your undying life you feel…cherished.

Perhaps you are not like the moon. With Vergil by your side, you feel more like the twinkling stars: proud, glorious, and never alone as they eternally burn together.

Read on my Ao3

My Master List if you want more. 

Read the follow up here.  ❤

Tagging: @drusoona, @thedyingmoon, @clevermentalitybeliever, @yepps

[herownwrite]

Woman in Baltimore Unable to Go Home During Pandemic, Because of Squatter

I’ve been silent about something during the whole pandemic, but it’s time to open up. I’ve been following the conventional wisdom about not discussing legal matters publicly, but with COVID related court closings causing delay after delay, I need to say this. I have been unable to go home. I’ve been couch surfing in my partner’s home for 9 months, because an abuser has driven me out of my own home, and he will not leave.

Some people in Baltimore may remember me from about 10 years ago. It will become clear why I’m going back this far, so bear with me. As a member of Friends of The Senator, I served a dual role of advocating for the preservation of the historic Senator Theatre, while also honoring the legacy of the former owner’s efforts, and trying to protect him from what I saw as an abuse of power against him. I don’t regret caring about the beautiful theater, or trying to protect someone from abuse. What I do regret is my failure to see clearly the former owner’s role in his own downfall, and my participation in his blaming of others. I regret any pain my actions may have cause others in the community. I’m sorry. To quote Monty Python, “I apologize for that, but I think you’ll find this a bit more interesting.”

After former Senator owner Thomas Kiefaber lost his business and his home, I thought it was unfair that he would become homeless after serving the community for many years. About 2 years after he lost the theater, I invited him into my home. I was trying to give him a chance to get back on his feet. I regret this most of all.

Cut to 2020. Mr. Kiefaber is living in my basement. He hasn’t worked in over a decade. To the best of my knowledge, he hasn’t looked for work in over a decade. When he first lost the theater, he had people willing to hire him, but he preferred to nurse his wounds. He’s been nursing them for over a decade, while his mental health has steadily deteriorated. He’s been in and out of legal trouble, and as far as I know, he is still on probation for malicious destruction of property and breaking and entering: crimes he committed against his own sister.

What has Mr. Kiefaber been doing to fill his time, if he hasn’t been working? You may ask. The answer is, he’s been indoctrinating himself into a far right, alternate reality conspiracy world, and posting irrational rants on facebook. In these rants, he periodically calls for the deaths of public figures he disagrees with. He has often expressed sympathy for known white supremacists, and reveled in misogyny. Mr. Kiefaber would undoubtedly claim that he is not a racist and does not hate women, but I beg to differ. “FAKE NEWS!” He might scream, in response.

The other thing Mr. Kiefaber has been doing to fill his time is endlessly modifying my garden, and sometimes my house, and bringing home other people’s discarded items that he finds in the alleyways, junking up my property. His endless projects started with me asking for a little help maintaining the pond in my backyard, but they quickly devolved into endless modifications, which I never gave him permission for, and endless piles of junk he claimed to have some use for. I lost the use of my own backyard at least 4 years ago.

His endless unauthorized modifications have included digging up and killing almost all of the plants that I originally had in my garden, switching out the back basement door for one that I do not have a key to, and putting a kitchenette into the basement for his own use, which I still haven’t even seen. He has been expressly forbidden, in writing, 4 times in 2020, from continuing to make modifications to my property. The most recent changes, after these written notices, have been stripping the paint off my front door in preparation for painting it, painting the basement steps, and sticking a couple of 2 x 4s up under the siding on the back of my house, thereby causing the siding to stick out from the wall by about 5 or 6 inches at the bottom, and creating a funnel for rodents and cold air to get into my kitchen walls.

I’ve been asking him to move for over 4 years. He has ignored every request, hint, and written notice. I have chronic pain from Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, and it severely impacts my ability to work and make a living. I’ve been working as hard as I am able all this time, while Mr. Kiefaber has been sitting around listening to conspiracy theory internet broadcasts, and deciding whether or not he can spare any money for his rent that month. The stress has been slowly killing me, and I have informed Mr. Kiefaber, on several occasions, that I can barely afford my mortgage. The last time I told him that, around October 2019, I raised the rent on him. That was when he decided to stop paying me almost completely. At this point, he is delinquent since January.

Around the first of this year, I concluded that he will never leave, unless he is escorted out by the sheriff. In February, I psyched myself up for what I knew would be a long battle ahead, and told him I was about to start the legal process of having him removed from my property. After this, he ranted, raved, cursed, muttered, screamed and shouted obscenities for 3 weeks solid. I got little to no sleep for 3 weeks, and at the end of this time, I had a nervous breakdown and fled my home, afraid for my life. I filed a peace order against him, but then the pandemic shutdown hit. The courts closed, the peace order was never served, and there was a moratorium on evictions. Since March 12th, I have never been inside my own home without an escort.

Finally, at the end of July, 2020, when the CARES act eviction moratorium ended, my attorney sent him a 60 day notice to vacate, which is all the legal notice that Baltimore City requires. He ignored that notice too, and as of now, he is still living in my basement. I was supposed to have a hearing about his failure to vacate the property on December 7. With the toll from the virus spiking again, the District Court has now closed again, and postponed all such hearings indefinitely.

I can’t take much more of this, so I have decided to speak out. Being away from my home, with a person I can’t trust in the basement, during the pandemic, has been an absolute torture. It has been impossible to focus on much else.

My small eBay store has taken a big hit from the pandemic, with my vintage jewelry sales down by about 60%. I had to move my small business to a temporary location. I have to completely rethink my business now, since it will not survive in its current form. I can’t even focus on that. Although our mail carrier has been extremely helpful, I have been unable to reliably get my mail. I have had several temporary forwarding orders expire. I was unsure whether I would get my stimulus check, or other important mail. I can’t be sure that I’m not missing important notices or bills.

Mr. Kiefaber has more income than I do, in the form of a monthly government check; he also has occasional income from his 1/4 share in a million dollar commercial property. But every time he is reminded that he has to move, he pleads poverty, and makes it clear that he expects me to provide him charity. He has turned me into an economic hostage, and put me at risk of losing my home.

I have had enough. I am outing this abuser.

[doof-doofblog]

"You Have Lost Everything!"

Monday 2nd November 2020

Hello again everyone! Hope you're all having a good week, regardless of the new lockdown! It's been a bit of manic week for me as I don't know whether I'm coming or going with my own personal issues, but thankfully everything seems to be a bit more clearer now. Anyhow, let's jump right into Monday's episode. The previous episode ended on such a big cliff-hanger, I'm looking forward to seeing what this episode has in store.

From what I can tell, the episode starts the day after the events of the poker game. Martin and Ruby are discussing what happened. Does Martin perhaps feel guilty? He probably shouldn't have left his friend while he was so vulnerable and weak. But I love the fact that something doesn't fit right with Martin, he thinks that Suki must've known about Kush's gambling problem, otherwise she never would've toyed with him the way she did. Ruby plays dumb and and mentions that Suki only got lucky and that Kush should've been more careful. To me, it's like they're on two different sides, Ruby is wanting to ruin the Slaters, while Martin is just wanting peace, but something tells me Martin is going to flip when he finds out his wife is behind it, possibly causing his children to be homeless.

Meanwhile, at the Slaters - everyone appears to be gathering their things together in attempt to come up with some money. They're trying to sell their belongings to be able to afford a deposit for another place to live. Kush tries to console them telling them he's going to try and sort it. But Kat, Stacey and Jean don't have much hope. Kat declares that Kush is a gambling addict, to which he is still in denial. I do fear for the Slaters, I'd hate to see them down on their luck. Kush promises to try and fix his terrible mistake as Kat receives a phone call about another cleaning job, it may be rubbish but it seems they have no choice. They need all the money they can get right now.

At Jack's, Denise has come round to collect the rest of her things only to discover that Jack has already gathered her things in a box for her. They have a little quick discussion and Jack applauds Denise for taking Raymond in and states that he's lucky to have her. Even though they have sadly decided to go their separate ways, you can see they still care deeply for each other. Jack asks whether Phil has kept or word and whether she has heard from Ellie, Denise confirms that Ellie has simply disappeared. Phil has kept to his word for the time being so it would seem, but how long will it be until that changes?! Suddenly, Isaac calls Denise - we can heard crying in the back ground and Isaac is calling for Denise for help as Raymond is crying. It's going to take a long time for young Raymond to settle, but hopefully in time he'll start to enjoy his new family home.

On the Square, Honey is getting herself ready to meet with the police officer who is supporting her after her horrific ordeal. Jay approaches her and she asks whether they'll be to meet in the park later on, Honey doesn't feel quite ready to tell Billy what has happened, she certainly doesn't want the children finding out. As Jay and Honey agree to meet each other later on, Honey leaves to go and see the police officer, only as she leaves Billy approaches Jay and starts asking questions on who Honey is seeing. He states the fact that by the look of what the lady is wearing, it could either be an estate agent or police. He asks Jay what's going on but Jay is reluctant to say anything. But as Billy turns to ask Honey herself, Jay stops him in his tracks and instructs him to get inside, how is he going to find the words to explain what's happened to Honey?!

In the Cafe, Kheerat has joined his Mum, she appears to be gloating after her big win the previous night. As Kush walks in, he sheepishly approaches the Panesar's and asks whether they can have a quick word. Suki, at first, doesn't seem interested. She states that a bet is a bet, but Kush tries to plead to her and explains if it was just him, he would've moved out by the weekend, but there are children involved here, she needs to take them into consideration also. She agrees to hear him out and makes a slight dig if he's ready for another poker game, even though he's got nothing left to gamble. Kush begs her to give him a few more days just to scrape some money together, but Suki points out he can barely afford to pay the current month's rent. She even think's she's doing him a favour - Erm, how?! - Kush sees that his pleas are going on deaf ears, as he walks out slowly, Kheerat compliments his Mother on how clever she is. He makes an interesting statement, she has never won a poker game in her life and somehow she's managed to swindle Kush into losing their house. Can Kheerat smell a rat? I really don't think it's going to be long until Kheerat stands up to his Mum. He appears to be the only decent one out of the family and you can see he doesn't agree to the decisions his Mum has made - Jags, the Slaters, who is going to be her next victim and what is it going to take for him to finally break?!

Haha! Sorry but I have to mention Rainie and Stuart again, out of all of this doom and gloom happening with multiple families at the minute, it's just nice to see Rainie and Stuart enjoying married life. It's just that little bit of comedy that we need. Rainie's emotions are all over the place, considering she's pregnant. I just loved her outburst about the make-up artist using her lippy on a corpse. Of course, Stuart is trying his absolute best to support his wife, but it looks like she's driving him round the bend with her mood swings. I personally think they make a brilliant couple, they bounce off each other really well. What do you guys think? What is you opinion of Stuart and Rainie being together?

At the park, Honey is waiting patiently for Jay, she looks up and notices Jay is approaching with Billy following along behind. She greets him politely, making very little small talk as it's clear she doesn't want him knowing anything. But as Billy begins to speak and apologises to her, she realises that Jay has told him everything. When Billy asks what the police have said, she confirms that Paul had been arrested and she's waiting on hearing the results to confirm whether she has been sexually assaulted or not. She also informed them that the police had found the video on his phone of her lying in the alleyway. Billy is horrified to learn what Paul has done, he can't seem to keep his rage to himself and announces he's going to kill him, but Honey stops him in his tracks and claims that his reaction is the reason why she didn't want him knowing, because she knew he'd respond in that way. She points to Jay and mentions the fact that Jay is half his age and has been brilliant towards her, shown her every bit of support he can. As Billy walks away, Jay confides in Honey that he was trying to the right thing, he felt if he told Billy, it would give Honey that extra bit of support, but Honey explains that Billy does mean well, but he will never change his ways. Is anyone else sensing there could be a bit of romance on the cards for Jay and Honey? They're spending a lot of time together recently, I mean, of course Jay is trying to be there for Honey during her horrific ordeal, but could something grow between the pair and could they potentially end up falling for one another?!

Ooooh the next scene grabbed my attention straight away. It seems really interesting. Jean is on the Square, announcing to her neighbours what has happen to her family in recent events. Informing them that Suki is making them homeless, throwing them out on the street within a week. It looks as if she either pleading for help or she's trying to get the community on her side. She tries to explain to her friends and neighbours that the Panesar's are all out to get them, But before she can make anymore statements, Suki stops her in the path. Informing everyone that it was Kush who betted their house away, to which Jean responds (the truth) the she played him! Ooooo I do hope it'll all come out, everyone will see how dirty Suki is! Kheerat will disown his Mother, Martin will blame Ruby for causing his children to go homeless. Ooooh it's all going to kick off I can see it coming!! It may take a bit of time for it to come to light, and honestly I can't wait to see the reaction of people when it does! Meanwhile, as Jean is out on the Square with her neighbours, Martin decides to visit Kush at home. At first, Kush doesn't want to hear what he's got to say, as he's had an earful from everyone else. But Martin is just being the best friend he can be and has simply just come round to see how he was doing. Something tells me that he kind of blames himself as he was the one who introduced Kush to poker, but Kush reassures him that he is not to blame. Kush explains that before poker he used the gyms to get away and get rid of all the anger and kind of give himself some breathing space, some head space, but since the lockdown and the gyms being closed, he's felt lost and it turns out her turned to poker to relive that feeling of getting away from everything. Kush explains to his friend that he will sort things out, he considers even giving his Mum a call, but Martin says that he will be able to help him, but the first thing Kush needs to do is to admit that he's an addict, as that would be the first step to take control of the situation.

Out on the Square, Jack has delivered Denise's things to her, as she thanks him for dropping it off, Jack informs her that he's done a bit of research on Ellie during recent events and he tells her that 4 of her properties were raided, and it just so happens that Phil managed to get Raymond away on the same day. Jack seems think there is a coincidence, but Denise doesn't want to know anymore. As far as she's concerned, her son is home where his belongs and he's safe. It's understandable why Jack is trying to look out for her, I get that he's concerned about Phil, but Phil does still have a right to see his son, he is Raymond's Dad after all and I don't believe he would ever put Raymond in danger. Phil may have a bit of a reputation as being a hard man, but the one thing he would never let come to harm is his family, and I think that should be something that both Denise and Jack need to remember.

Am I right in thinking that in the next scene, Honey confirms to Jay that there was no sign of any sexual assault?! Maybe Jay chased Paul off before he could go through with his vile attack, which means Jay pretty much saved Honey. Honey discusses how Billy must be in the pub right now, downing his third pint in a way of dealing with the news he's been given. Jay informs her not to worry about Billy, she needs to focus on herself and try and get better. He politely says goodbye to her before leaving for work, BUT just around the corner, we see a very shaky hand holding a brick. Oh no, Billy! He's hiding behind a wall as he watches Paul leave his house - so it looks as if he's been let out on bail - Billy watches as he walks away and slowly begins to follow him with the brick in the hand, but before he can do any damage, Jay rushes to stop him. Jay tells him this is not the way to be helping Honey. I do feel sorry for Billy during this conversation, for him, it's like the past is repeating itself. He explains to Jay that the same thing happened to Little Mo after they got married, fans will remember that during one particular episode, Little Mo was left alone in the Queen Vic cleaning up and someone broke in and sexually assaulted her, all that could be heard were screams coming from the hall. He admits to Jay that he couldn't support Little Mo through her ordeal and he fears he won't be able to do the same for Honey, so instead he decides he needs to act as the man he should be. But Jay reassures him that beating the guy up won't make up for what happened to Little Mo, and it won't make up what's happened to Honey. It seems that Jay's words hit home and Billy eventually drops the brick.

Back with the comedy duo, Stuart and Rainie. After Rainie lashing out on their beautician, Stuart has been left to do the make-up for the deceased. I think it's brilliant how he walks in covered in make-up, and even stating that the body he was working on was smiling at him every time he walked around the room, which clearly made him feel uneasy. As they're discussing advertising for a beautician, Tiffany is informing Keegan (two characters we haven't seen for a long time!) that she's trying to find a job to save up to pay for Keegan owning his own sandwich stall on the market. It looks as if Rainie overhears their conversation and asks Tiffany whether she does make-up, it's then that Tiffany confirms she's almost a qualified beautician. Something tells me that Rainie is going to offer the job to Tiffany, BUT will Tiffany accept? For some reason, I can't see Tiffany working in an undertakers, but who knows? If she's desperate for the money, she might grab the opportunity with both hands! Meanwhile, Martin finds Ruby in Walford East and confides in her that he feels he's to blame for Kush's gambling addiction. He informs her that Kush is convinced that someone set him up, to which Ruby once again, plays dumb. She tries to console her husband and tells him that he's trying to be the good friend, which Kush really deserves right now. Oh and isn't it a coincidence that while they're having this conversation, Suki just happens to be walking around the restaurant. Martin clocks to her presence and as she walks past him, he makes the very snide remark that if she actually did play him, then she is just disgusting! It looks as if those words hit Ruby hard, is she seeing that this is also hurting her husband as much as it is hurting the Slater family?! Could she be feeling some form of guilt? Will it end up eating her up and will she come clean to her husband?!

At the Panesar's office, Stacey is cleaning out her desk and belongings. As she mentions to Kheerat that she'll leaving as she'll probably have no where to live in the next couple of days, she disrespects his Mum right in front of him. But Stacey can see right through Kheerat, she knows he doesn't approve of his Mum's actions and she tells him to tell that he doesn't agree. Suddenly Suki walks through the door and Stacey makes herself scarce. Kheerat tries to persuade his Mum to let the Slater's stay, he noticed that the shop was quiet all afternoon. If her actions to what she's done to the Slater's start to make an affect on the community, no one will want nothing from them and they will struggle with their businesses. Kheerat tells her that if all goes to pot she'll have to start working for him. Suki then possibly realises that her son has a point and changes her mind and announces that the Slaters can stay, under one condition, their rent goes up! So once again, they're playing to her tune again! How many times has she put the rent up for the Slater's alone? Two, three times? She assures her son that she always gets what she wants, one way or another! Ooooo I do hope that one day Suki will get her comeuppance, whether it be from the Square or from her own children.

Back at the club, Jack looks like he's called a meeting with Callum. Callum asks whether he wants information on Phil then he really isn't interested. But something doesn't sit right with Jack, he brings up the topic about Ellie's properties being raided and stating the fact it was the day that Phil got Raymond back. Callum comes up with the excuse that he heard something being mentioned in a night club and tries to explain that he no idea that the property was Ellie's! I kind of feel like Callum is keeping his word to the Mitchell's. Now he's been made one of the family, he can't turn his back on them because it would mean turning his back on Ben also. Jack informs Callum that even though Denise is struggling with Raymond, she is trying her absolute best to support the young boy. He warns him that if he does anything to ruin it for her, then there will be hell to pay!

The last scene of this episode, Kush is seen sat alone in the house, we see him react as he heard the front door opening and closing. It looks as if he's hoping it'll be Kat, but Stacey appears and informs him that she's gone out for a drink with some unknown security guard. Kush looks absolutely devastated and distraught. It's becoming clear to him that he has made things incredibly worse, not just for his family but for his relationship with Kat also. As Stacey yells at him, he puts his hands to his ears, trying to block it all out until the issue becomes louder and louder and he yells at the top of his voice "I'm an addict!" - He finally admits it, even though the truth is most likely ripping him apart inside. Stacey only wishes he could've admitted it earlier, she tells him that Alfie lied to Kat repeatedly and he was supposed to be the good one. But now he's not just lost the house, he has lost everything!

How in the world is Kush going to be able to fix things? How is he going to be able to make it up to Kat and the rest of the family? I just want to thank you guys for reading, I'll be back very soon with another post! Enjoy the rest of your day folks! Please feel free to message me on your thoughts and opinions on what's currently happening in the soap, I'd love to hear from you! Love you all xXx

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Date Night

(I have these bits of Hunter fic that currently live nowhere but my computer, so I am giving them a public airing.)

From her spot in the parking lot, McCall eyed the squat, brick, nearly windowless building and thought with some relief that it very much did not look like the kind of place that one went for a date. Granted, when Hunter told her to bring her bowling ball and meet him at the alley, it hadn’t sounded like a date then, either, but it was Friday night, they were a couple of unattached, opposite-sex adults, and the two of them were deliberately spending off-duty time together. For like the eighth Friday night in a row. With some Saturday nights thrown in for good measure.

Back in college, she’d had some girlfriends who claimed to have accidental sex on occasion. McCall was never sure quite how the accident was supposed to have occurred. Sorry, I tripped and didn’t see your penis there…apologies! But now McCall had, if not an understanding, an appreciation of how relationships could take an unexpected twist, almost without you noticing at all.

At first, it was very clearly not dating or anything remotely like it. She’d had a quarter ounce of metal dug out of her spine a few months ago, a tiny fraction of alloy with the power to change human history, even if she was the only human involved. They’d offered the bullet back to her once it was no longer evidence, and although she had held hundreds, thousands, in her hands, this one had felt impossibly light. She’d felt light, too, at times transparent like the ghost she might have been, tethered to the earthly world only by frustration and pain as she fought to regain control of her body and her life. But at other times, it was a different kind of light, a happy giddy kind as she realized she was still around to enjoy chocolate fudge ice cream, long bubble baths, and beating the snot out of Hunter at gin rummy.

It was natural back then that he came around on his off hours; he was working, she was not. They had ordered takeout and rented old movies, talking and eating and laughing until one or both of them ended up asleep on her sofa—or, if she were feeling particularly achy on that occasion, in her bed. She hadn’t questioned the physical intimacy because all sorts of doctors and therapists had been touching her at that point—she’d initially needed a lot of help—and so if Hunter helped her off with her sweater or rubbed the feeling back into her feet it was just more of the same.

Except then she got better and still they had movie nights. That was okay, right? Friends did that sort of thing. It wasn’t like she was hot to get back into the dating scene. She could only imagine how that would go:

So…what have you been up to lately? Oh, just having major spinal surgery and coming to grips with my mortality—yourself?

She figured eventually there would be a Friday when Hunter would rather chase some scantily clad blonde than sit on the couch with her, and that would be that. But so far, he just kept asking her out, and alarmingly, she just kept right on accepting.

Okay, it wasn’t alarming at first, she reminded herself as she got out of the car. It had only gotten weird last weekend after the pizza and that second bottle of wine at his place. An impromptu game of footsie broke out when he tried to steal her end of the ottoman, one that ended with his legs pinning hers down and her squirming and giggling.

“I knew you were trouble when I first saw you,” he’d said.

“You’re the one who came looking for me,” she’d reminded him as she had continued trying to get away, albeit not trying very hard. It was late and she was full of wine and pizza. “If I’m trouble, you like it.”

“Maybe.” He’d grinned and leaned over, ostensibly to stop her struggling, but it put him deeply in her personal space. “But you liked me back.”

“Actually, I thought you were a pain in the ass.”

“Hmm. What I’m hearing is that you were checking out my ass.”

She’d laughed. “No, that was you, checking me out. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Honey, you were standing on a street corner in hot pants. The entire world noticed.” His voice had dropped to a suggestive murmur, and she’d become acutely aware that he was lying almost on top of her, their legs intertwined and his mouth only inches from hers. Heat had flooded her face. “Besides,” he’d continued, sliding his hand around from her hip to the small of her back, bringing their bodies closer together. “I wasn’t checking you out. I was just trying to figure out where you kept your gun.”

It’s upstairs, in the bedroom. The response had been right there, so easy. She just had to say the words and see what would happen next. But she’d hesitated and the moment broke apart, Hunter rolling off of her and moving to turn up the lights. Show’s over, folks.

At least this Friday their non-date was on neutral, if strange, turf. Lenny Z’s bowling alley was dark and smelled like cigarettes and beer. The decor was tacky and weird--old bowling trophies, 70s movie posters, and what looked like a collection of water pistols mounted on the wall. She found Hunter waiting for her near the shoe rental, dressed in a dark gray T-shirt and the usual jeans that went on forever. He was holding a bowling ball bag and chewing a toothpick—my, the man certainly did like to keep his mouth busy, didn’t he—and he stuck out like a sore thumb as practically the only white guy in the joint.

“Hi,” she said, looking him up and down. “No ‘Slammer’ shirt this evening?”

“It’s at the dry cleaner,” he said as he tossed away the toothpick. “I see you brought your ball with you. How’s it working out?”

She hefted the bag with the ball in it, which he had gifted her with some months ago—after her other serious stay in the hospital. “I don’t know. This will be my first time using it.”

Hunter smirked. “Virgin ball, eh? You want me to oil it down for you?”

“Ew, no. Keep your hands on your own ball, thank you.” Around them, the place vibrated with the loud thunk of balls hitting the alleyway and the smack of pins crashing down. The crowd was heavily male and older, with an especially rowdy group or two over in the corner. One sported red shirts with black trim, and the other wore gold shirts with black lettering. “This is an…interesting spot you picked to get together tonight, Hunter.”

“I didn’t pick it,” he said, and before she could inquire further, a familiar voice called out to them.

“Sergeants! Welcome! Thank you so much for coming out on this fine spring evening.” McCall shot Hunter the ‘what the hell have you gotten us into now’ look as Sporty James approached, arms spread out as wide as his smile.

“Sporty,” she said by way of greeting. “I didn’t realize you were a bowler.”

“I am a man of many talents, McCall. Too numerous to mention.”

“Let’s not mention them, then,” Hunter said, deadpan. “You’re the one who asked for this meeting, Sporty, so get to it: what is it we’re doing here?”

McCall was interested in the answer, but her attention was momentarily drawn to the glint on Sporty’s bowling shoes. “Are those rhinestones?”

“Fashion first, last, and always, Sergeant.”

She noticed then that Sporty seemed to come from the red-shirted tribe, and up close, she could see that the lettering said ‘Black Cats,’ complete with a feline logo. “The Black Cats?” she asked him. “You didn’t up and join a gang on us, did you, Sporty?”

“You wound me,” he said, pretending to pout. “This here is my bowling league. Cats because we are of course hep cats, and black because, well…” He gestured at his face as though it should be obvious. “It’s the finals tonight, us against the Golden Oldies, and we’re going to take those suckers down.”

Hunter rubbed his face with one hand. “And you called us down here because…?”

“Because the Golden Oldies are a bunch of lyin’, cheatin’, no-good sleazy-ass—“

“We get the picture,” McCall said, interrupting him by laying a hand on his arm. “That still doesn’t explain why you called us.”

“They’re cheating. Doctoring the balls mid-game, I suspect, but I haven’t been able to catch them at it. That’s where I was hoping you two fine officers could provide some assistance.”

“We’re homicide detectives,” McCall said, folding her arms.

“Well, if they cheat us out of that trophy and the money, there’s gonna be a homicide, believe me.”

“Great, call us back then,” McCall said, and she moved to leave.

“No, wait, please.” Sporty shifted to stand in front of her, his hands out, palms up in a pleading gesture. “There’s 3Gs at stake here, and if they get it, that would be…theft, right? Grand larceny!”

“No, it would still be piddly ass cheating in a bowling league,” Hunter replied.

“Come on, don’t make me beg, man. You’re already down here, right? Just watch a few frames, see if you can pick up on what they’re doing.”

Hunter glanced at her, his expression a cross between amused and exasperated. “We’re already here,” he agreed. “And your ball has yet to see any action.”

McCall repressed a sigh. “Fine,” she said. “One game.”

They rented some shoes and took the lane next to the tournament groups, edging around the gathering crowd to get to their spot. “You want a beer?” Hunter asked her.

She scratched the back of her head. “I don’t know—are we on duty?”

“It’s Friday night, and I’m wearing shoes that could practically walk around on their own. I’m getting a beer.”

She grinned. “Make it two.”

Hunter brought back two foamy plastic cups, and she withdrew her ball from its case. The weight felt substantial in her hands, its curve as smooth and pink as a baby’s bottom. “Well? Are you ready for another devastating loss?” she asked, giving her ball a light smack for emphasis.

“You won by two points last time,” he replied with a scoff. “That’s hardly devastating.”

“I don’t know. The hour-long pout afterward suggests otherwise,” she replied dryly.

He frowned and waved her down toward the lane. “Beginner’s luck, that’s all. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She bowled an eight for the first frame, whereas Hunter got a spare. “There’s your two points right there,” he said, looming over her. “Are you devastated yet?”

“Shut up and keep bowling. There’s a lot of game left to play.”

After three frames, Hunter was leading by eight. In the neighboring lanes, the tournament was getting underway. Sporty caught her eye and gave her a meaningful nod toward his opponents in yellow, and she bit back a smile. 

Hunter followed her gaze and shook his head. “He’s really taking this seriously,” he said.

“Hey, don’t forget there’s a trophy hanging in the balance here,” she said. She watched the men from the Golden Oldies idle around waiting their turns, but she didn’t see any suspicious behavior. “This might be the weirdest stakeout I’ve ever been on,” she muttered to Hunter as she leaned down to check the score.

“Hmm, yes. They’re watching us as hard as we’re watching them.”

She glanced over, and sure enough, a couple of guys immediately jerked their heads back around to their game, having been caught staring. “Well, we don’t exactly blend in,” she said. “This is not the typical spot people would pick for their date.”

She left him sitting there and took up her ball again, casting it down the alley in a swift, smooth motion. The pins toppled with a satisfying crack, all ten down in one try. She clasped her hands in glee and turned to Hunter to gloat. He made a disgusted face at her, and she laughed with delight as she retrieved her ball for another go. These days, physical motion only brought her joy.

When she was finished with the frame, she led Hunter by seventeen points. “Not bad,” he admitted grudgingly as she came to watch him total her score. “Also: this isn’t a date.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Earlier, you said people wouldn’t pick this spot for a date. We’re not on a date.”

She felt her cheeks go warm and hoped he couldn’t see it in the low light. “I know that and you know that—I meant what the rest of them think.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You think they believe we’re on a date?”

“Well, what do you think they think?” She put her hands on her hips.

Instead of answering, Hunter got up and took his turn, and in the process, whittled her lead to six. He returned and took a long sip of beer before tallying up the score. “No way they think this is a date,” he said, his eyes on the paper, pencil in his hand. “You’re not selling it.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Me? Why do I have to be the one to sell it?”

He shrugged and looked up at her. “Because you’re the woman.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Because I’m the woman?”

“It’s just how it is. Everyone assumes the guy involved is always out to score some action, so his behavior is a constant. The only question is whether the woman is picking up what he’s putting down, if you get my drift.”

She’d seen plenty of women get his drift and then some. “Oh, is that so? The problem is that I’m not picking up what you’re putting down? So far, all you’ve put down is a losing score and a two-dollar lukewarm beer.”

“Hey, I gotcha that ball, didn’t I?” The gleam in his eye said he was teasing.

She repressed a smile and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Out of curiosity,” she said, “what would I have to be doing to prove this was a date?”

He straightened up in the plastic seat. “Well, for one thing, you wouldn’t be standing way over there.”

There was about five feet of space between them, and so she took a couple of steps closer. “How’s this?” she asked.

He frowned. “I think now maybe it’s like we’re distantly related. Like third cousins.”

She took another couple of steps, so that she was standing inches away from his leg. “How’s this?”

“Better, but…” He reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward him. There wasn’t anywhere left for her to go except into his lap. “Ah,” he said as he sat her down on his thigh. “There we go. See? Now this is more convincing.”

The feelings from the week before came rushing back: the warmth at her middle, the way her skin prickled at his physical proximity, the heady, dangerous tingling that they were playing with fire. They were still holding hands. She let her thumb rub against the inside of his palm, and she swore she felt him shiver. “So, it’s a date now?” she murmured, turning her face toward his. She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at him.

“Well, it looks like one,” he replied. He reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his knuckles, stroking gently. “It checks a lot of right boxes. Two people, some sort of evening activity, alcohol and physical contact. I bet we’re pretty convincing at the moment.”

“But?” Her voice was a whisper now.

“Intent,” he said, dropping his hand with a sigh. It fell heavy on her thigh, and his fingers trailed over the denim in an absent gesture. “You need intent for it to be a date.”

“Ah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Motive.”

He smiled back at her. “Exactly. Motive is everything.”

She shifted in his lap so they were almost facing one another, leaning into the same shared space. “So if we wanted it to be a date, it could be.”

“Hmm, yes,” he said, sounding distracted. His hand was creeping up her thigh again, making her catch her breath. She put her hands on his shoulders, unsure whether she was going to pull him closer or push him away. He nuzzled her collarbone and she knew he must be able to feel the pounding of her heart.

Her eyes fell shut. “Hunter…”

“Hmm?”

A raucous cheer went up from the lane next to theirs, making her jump. She remembered this was show, that they were being watched. But when she glanced over, she saw instead a guy standing near the back with a bowling ball. He took something out of his pocket, a powder maybe, and surreptitiously rubbed it on the ball before shoving it back in his trousers again.

“Hunter,” she said again, this time on alert. “Did you just see that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice full of regret. “Get him over here.”

She signaled for Sporty, who cast an anxious glance at his team before making the trek across the lanes. “Tense moment right now, McCall. Can it wait?” “We spotted someone doctoring a ball,” Hunter told him, and Sporty’s eyes grew big.

“I knew it! I knew it!” He was practically jumping up and down. “Which dude was it?”

“Not a dude,” McCall told him. “A cat.”

“Uh, say what?”

“That guy over there?” Hunter put his arm around Sporty and turned him so they could look together at the rotund man in a Black Cats jersey. “Check his pockets and you’ll find the goods.”

“But that’s Iverson,” Sporty said, confused. “He’s on our team.”

McCall raised her eyebrows and spread her hands. “Still want us to hang around and book someone for grand larceny?”

“Uh, no. No thank you. I’ll, uh, just have a private chat with the gentleman. No need to say anything to anybody about this, you dig?”

“Not saying anything to anyone about this would be the greatest pleasure of the whole escapade,” Hunter replied, deadpan, and McCall looked down so he wouldn’t see her smile.

Sporty hurried off, and they were left standing alone again on their not-really-a-date. Hunter gave her a ghost of a smile. “Where were we?” he said, and she willed herself not to blush. It wasn’t like she could just climb back into his lap now.

“You, uh, you were telling me your criminalistics theory of dating,” she said. 

“Dates require motive.”

“Right.” He gave a short nod.

She scuffed the ground with her toes. “Do they also require premeditation?”

He tilted his head as he considered the question for a moment, and then he nodded. “Yes, one party has to ask the other party out, with intent, and that’s premeditation.”

“Okay,” she said, “but what if two people are not on a date but then the mood changes and they…you know.”

“I don’t know.” He looked concerned and innocent. “Explain it to me. Use vivid words.”

She gave him a playful shove. “You know—hook up. Have sex. Whatever. But with no premeditation. Is that a date?”

“No.” He paused for effect. “That’s a crime of passion.”

“Ooh.” She winced as he laughed at his own joke. “I think it’s time to get out of here.”

“Past time,” he agreed. “I’m starting to like these shoes.”

Outside, they were quiet as they crossed the parking lot to her car. She opened the hatch and set her bowling ball inside, and Hunter took the opportunity to set his down on the pavement. “Thanks,” she said, “for a truly bizarre evening.”

He chuffed a breath and looked beyond her into the night. “Yeah. Not the strangest Friday night I’ve ever had, but it’s up there.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then she fished her for her keys inside her purse. “I should get going.”

“No, wait a sec.” He caught her arm gently and held it. “I, uh, my cousin Andy is getting married up in Santa Barbara. July 17th. I thought maybe, if you’d like, you could come with me.”

She went completely still as they watched each other. His eyes looked black in the low light, and below, his fingers trailed lightly down the inside of her arm. Intent. Motive. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was right there in his gaze. She swallowed with difficulty. “I’d love to, but—”

“Oh,” he said quickly, drawing back like he’d been burned.

“Rick, wait.” She reached for him but he’d pulled far enough away that she couldn’t touch.

“Forget it.”

“I’d love to go,” she said again, “but I can’t. I won’t be here.”

He looked up in surprise. “What? Vacation?”

“No, I’m taking a summer forensics course from the FBI at Quantico. I applied before I got shot, and I didn’t think I would even get in—and in fact, I didn’t initially. I was wait-listed. I just found out today that I made it.” She tried a smile. “I think maybe taking a bullet to the spine might have upped my chances, you know what I mean?”

His smile was forced too. “You think they want to do a unit on you?”

“I was going to tell you earlier…”

“Forget it,” he said again, shoving his hands in his pockets, but she was sure she never would. “When do you leave?”

She bit her lip. “Next week, and it’s a six-week course. I’ll be back mid-August.” “Six weeks. That’s a long time.”

It hadn’t felt very long when she’d signed up for the course, back before she’d nearly died and come to life again. Now she knew. A lot could happen in six seconds, let alone six weeks. She reached out again, and this time, she found him there. She took his hand. “It’ll go by quick,” she said, sniffing back her own emotions. “You’ll see. I’m sure you’ll barely have time to miss me.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” She noticed he didn’t pull away his hand.

“Okay, then, so the wedding is off. How about one dinner before you disappear on me?”

She had no business saying yes. For a hundred reasons. A million. The amount of packing alone she had to do this week—she didn’t even want to consider it. “Dinner,” she said, considering something else instead. “You know, Hunter, that sounds like pre-meditation.”

He yanked his hand back. “Actually, II was thinking Italian,” he joked.  When she didn’t laugh, his smile vanished and he fidgeted with his collar.

She considered some more and gave him a slow smile. What the hell, she thought. If it’s awful, I’m leaving for six weeks anyway. “I think it’s a date,” she said, fingering one of his tiny buttons. He stopped squirming.

“It is?

“Mmm-hmm. I’m the woman, remember? I get to decide.”

***** Notes: if I recall correctly, this was a challenge fic that had a bunch of required elements, including bowling. ;)

[faithambr]

Priceless Epilogue

Previous Chapter 

Master Post

Author’s Note: So this is the end! I had finally finished this story! Thank you for being so patient with me (especially @itsxanna)

Five years later

The unknown.

That’s what she has been afraid of for the majority of her night. She knew that the unknown may not be at her side, yet her heart was telling her otherwise. Maybe I should go out more often. she had thought as she was quickly adjusting her neon mini dress out in the alleyway. But he said I should go out and work. 

Her heart stopped at the thought of her new boyfriend. She knew that she had to do things for him, yet she didn’t expect it to go this far. She had figured that maybe if she was doing everything that he was telling her to do, he would love for eternity. Her mind was reeling at the thought of what she had to do for him, as a car was approaching her on the side of the road. Maybe this would be better for me. she thought , not knowing what the future may hold.

“Why hello young lady.” the man in the car had said directly to her, causing her to feel uncomfortable.

“Hi.” she responds while trying to come up with a sexy smile. “Whatcha want?”

“Well what do ya got?”

“Everything around the world,” she answers, “just for you.”

“How much?”

“Well,” she replies back as she leans up against the car, “how much you got?”

“Twenty bucks.”

“Twenty bucks won’t even get you a handshake.” she stated with such anger.

“Girl, I’m just trying to help you out!” the driver counters back as he drove off.

No wait! she had thought, not knowing what else to do. Please don’t go!

Her heart had stopped at thought of losing money and not being able to give to her boyfriend. She knew that her new boyfriend may do something to her, yet she didn’t know what. Maybe he’ll be nice to me. she thought as she saw a young man walk on up to her.

“Hey,” her whispers calmly, making her feel comfortable, “how about a $100.”

“Hmm...” she replies, not knowing what else to say.

“Come on follow me.” he says to her as he leads her on down the alley.

__________________

She can’t be no older than fifteen. Kristoff had thought while he was leading the young girl on out of the alley. She’s only a child.

Even after five years of doing this, he still couldn’t believe how old some of the girls were coming out of the life. At least they’re safe and getting the help that they need. he thought while they were heading to the sleazy motel that he was renting for the night. Maybe this girl could be saved. 

He knew that this girl may have an actual chance. A chance where she could earn her GED and go to college. A chance where she could feel love again from anyone; especially in a place that is built for second chances. Sven would love to see his place being used for good now. he had thought while his heart was pounding at the thought of the other girls currently living there.

After Sven was killed that day, Kristoff had made a promise to himself and to Anna. A promise where he would help other women, like Anna, to get out of the life. A promise where both Anna and his son would have a much better life now. And these promises are meant to be kept. he thought as he quickly glanced down at his wedding ring. His heart was pounding at the thought of what was going to happen next, as he opened the door to the motel room. Normally the working girl would just head straight to the bathroom to get herself ready; however, this young girl was doing something completely different. “So what would you like?” she had asked as she sat down on the bed.

“Well what’s your name first?” Kristoff counters back, catching the young girl off guard.

“Destiny.” she answers, as Kristoff sat on the opposite bed across from her.

“Destiny,” he began, “would it be okay if someone else would join us for a bit?”

“Sure.” she answers with a small shrug from her shoulders.

“Thank you.” Kristoff smiles as he got up and went to the motel door.

That girl is going to be okay now. he thought while he was opening up the door. She’ll be safe with us.

“Hi.” his wife, Anna, had smiled after he opened the door.

“Hey.” he smiles back at her.

“Is she here?” Anna had asked as she slowly walked on past Kristoff.

“Yes she is, Anna.” he answers. “Here, let me help you.”

“Ah thank you, Kristoff.” Anna whispers as her husband gently guides her to the bed.

“Hi there,” Anna smiles directly at the young girl, “what is your name?”

“My name is Destiny.” the young girl had answered Anna. 

“I know that your name is Destiny,” Kristoff began while he was holding on to Anna’s hand for comfort, “but what is your real name?”

“Kelly.” the young girl answers with uncertainty.

“What a beautiful name Kelly.” Anna lets out in a soothing tone.

“Thank you.”

“Kelly,” Kristoff continues, followed by a gently squeeze from his wife’s hand, “would it be okay if we tell you a story?”

“Sure.”

“About five years ago,” Anna began with some tears in her eyes, “I was just like you.”

The young girl just sat there, listening intently.

“I was told to do things with men. Things that I didn’t want to do.”

The young girl nods with uncertainty.

“I was treated horribly by these men. These men had made me feel worthless on the outside. But I had hope and faith in God.”

A simple squeeze form her husband’s hand had made her feel much better.

“My husband was the one that had taken me to my pimp, but he was the one that had saved me.”

“She is the most beautiful soul that I have ever met.” Kristoff adds with a small smile to his wife.

“While I was there,” Anna continues, as she nestled close to her husband’s shoulders, “I have learned that no man could take my faith away from God.” 

The young girl gave her a confused look.

“And that I am special in His eyes.” Anna smiles, knowing what is in her heart is true. “Now here I am with my husband and I have a new life in me.”

“That’s nice.” the young girl whispers.

“Thank you.” Anna smiles.

“Now I know that you’re only here for the money,” Kristoff began, hoping to catch the girl’s attention, “but there is so much more to you than just being used for anyone’s advantage.”

“Really?” Kelly whispers with her own tears forming.

“Kelly,” Kristoff smiles knowing that they were getting to the young girl, “you are worth so much more to Him than the $100 right there. You can do great things in your life. You can be anything you want. You just remember this....”

“You are priceless.” Anna continues for her husband, causing the young girl to break down into tears.

They both knew that they were able to reach out to the young girl. At least she’ll be safe. Anna had thought as she held the young girl in her arms. Just like everyone else. Her heart was melting at the thought of adding someone new to their growing family. She knew that the young girl would fit right in, no thanks to how old girl was. Maybe she’ll go to school. she thought while all three of them were heading on out the door. She could do so much better.

“Anna,” her husband had interrupted her thoughts, “are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” she answers, knowing that everything was going to be okay.

“Okay.” her husband smiles as he helps her and the other girl into the car.

“Kristoff,” Anna jokes a bit, “you know I’m not a whale right?”

“Well I know that,” he chuckles while he was getting the car started, “but I just want you to be careful.”

“Hey don’t worry about us, Kristoff.” Anna smiles fondly at her dear husband. “We will be okay.”

“Okay.” her husband adds as he kisses her on the cheek, followed by an absent-minded rub on her small swell.

“Now are you ready, Kelly?” Anna had asked with a smile over at the young girl.’

“Yes.” the young girl had answered, making Anna smile even more.

“We should be home soon.” Kristoff whispers to Anna, with his heart beating faster than ever before.

“Alright.” Anna whispers back to her husband followed by a warm smile.

______________________

It was about midnight by the time they all had settled down for the night. At least everyone is happy to be home. he thought as he sat at the edge of their bed. He knew that the girl would soon have a better chance at life. He knew that the girl was going to be okay, no thanks to the other girls accepting her into their extended family. Maybe she’ll be able to go to school. he thought, knowing how Anna would feel.

His heart was pounding at the thought of Anna, as he took a glance at her. He knew that Anna was happy to be with him, yet he didn’t expect to marry her soon after they had met. At least she loves me. he thought just as he heard some rustling at their door. Just as much as I love her.

  “Dad.” a voice had whispered loudly through the door. “I need help.”

“Okay.” he answers as he got up and went straight for the door. “What is it, bud?”

“I had a nightmare,” his son answers, causing Kristoff to grumble under his breath, “and I was wondering if I could sleep with you and Mom?”

“Sure honey,” Anna had answered for her husband, “come and sleep with us.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“Hey Brayden,” Kristoff began with a warning look towards his son, “no messing around. I want you to head straight to bed. Got it?”

“Yes Dad.” his son answers as he snuggles on up with Anna.

“Kristoff,” Anna whispers to her husband as he sat back down at the edge of their bed, “he should be fine. See he’s falling right to sleep.”

“I know.” Kristoff whispers back to his love.

“Look how peaceful he is, Kristoff.” his wife had stated with a soothing tone, while she was gazing at Brayden’s sleeping form.

“He sure is,” Kristoff smiles while he was laying right next to their son, “but he seems to be a bit too old to sleep with his parents.”

“Well I don’t think so, Kristoff.” she lets out with a yawn. “He loves being with us.”

“I know.” he replies back, “Hey I thought about you today, Anna.”

“You did?” she smiles, making Kristoff’s heart flutter towards her.

“Yes.”

“Dad,” his son stirs from his sleep, “can I hear the story please?”

“Sure bud,” Kristoff groans in frustration, making both Brayden and Anna giggle, “but promise that you’ll go straight to sleep.”

“Yes Dad.”

“Alright bud.” Kristoff smiles as he began their story. “When you were a little boy, Dad had done some very bad things.”

“Bad things where I had to go and stay with Grandma?”

“Yes,” Kristoff answers, “but I was going to make things right. Make things better for you.”

“Oh.”

“So anyways,” he continues as their son was snuggling right his arms, “I found a job where I had to transport some goods to a very bad man.”

While Kristoff was telling the story to their son Brayden, Anna was listening with such intense. Her mind was replaying all of those memories long ago. From both her and Elsa speaking English to Kristoff, to when she was able to save her sister from Hans. At least we both have a new life. she had thought as she felt their little girl move about inside her. Her heart was fluttering at the thought of her new life that they both have been given. From Elsa going to school to become a doctor, to Anna falling in love and raising a family with Kristoff. At least I love being a mother. she thought while she watched her husband continue on with their story.

“Then you were able to find Mom and rescue her?” their son had asked, followed by a yawn. 

“Correct.” her husband answers. 

“And so your dad was able to rescue from a very bad man.” she adds followed by a smile from her husband.

“A villain named Butthead.” their son smirks, much to his parents dismay.

“No his name wasn’t Butthead,” Anna gives her son a curious glance, “but he was definitely a villain.”

“I know.” 

“Anyways,” Kristoff continues on with the story, “your mom and some of the other girls needed a place to stay.”

“So your dad and I were able to buy this house.” Anna adds making their son smile.

“Then your mom and I got married.” Kristoff states with such fondness towards Anna.

“And lived happily ever after.” Brayden yawns with such satisfaction.

“Yes.” Anna smiles back to her husband.

“Now do you remember what I have said to both you and your mom, Brayden?” Kristoff had asked just before their son had fallen fast asleep.

“That we all are priceless in God’s eyes.” their son lets out with a long yawn just as he was about sleep.

“That is right, bud.” Kristoff whispers to their sleeping son. “Now good night.”

“Good night, love.” Anna kisses their sleeping son on the forehead. “Kristoff?”

“Yes, Anna.” her husband answers.

“Thank you,” Anna lets out with a small cry, “for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” her husband cooed as they were settling themselves in for the night.

“Kristoff,” Anna whispers, “you are right about one thing.”

“And what is that, Anna?” her husband whispers back.

“That we all are priceless in His eyes.” Anna answers with such gleam in her eyes.

“You are right.” Kristoff smiles as he held his family close. “We all are priceless in His eyes.”

As Kristoff was watching his family fall fast asleep, he knew that those words were true. For we all are priceless in His eyes.

The End! 

[thewritingsofafemalehunter]

Unknown Part Two

Tags: @donnaintx , @clea-nightingale

Warnings: blood, swearing, werewolf

Word count: 3201

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader, (eventual) Dean x Reader

(Y/N) collapsed onto her bed with a satisfied groan her entire body was stiff and sore from spending all day in a variety of chairs taking midterms for several hours, and on top of that, she was mentally drained from it all as well. She yawned as she stretched cracking a few of her joints in the process which caused her to moan in satisfaction at doing so. Sitting up she rolled her neck, before standing up, all she really wanted to do right now was to curl up on her bed and sleep for the rest of the day that wasn’t going to happen though until she put on her pj's. 

“Hey, you still up?” Jensen’s voice sounded through the door and she jumped slightly at his sudden appearance.

“Yeah I’m still up, you can come in if you want.” She called out as she walked over to her dresser and pulled open the first drawer searching for her pajamas.

“I’m a little surprised that you’re still up actually.” Jensen’s voice filled the room and (Y/N) looked over her shoulder at him as he stepped into the room her heart spiking a little at the sight of him and she mentally slapped herself for her heart doing that.

“Well I wouldn’t be if I had just worn my pajamas to my tests today but I hadn’t so here I am, anyways what do you want?” (Y/N) asked turning back to her dresser to continue looking for her clean pajamas.

“I was wondering if you wanted pizza for supper tonight or if you were up for it?” He asked and (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder at him to see him leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Pizza night and chilling on the couch?” (Y/N) suggested and Jensen smiled at her nodding his head.

“Sound perfect to me, the usual pizza toppings?” He asked and (Y/N) nodded smiling at him.

“Fantastic, now leave me to get dressed in better clothes.” She fake commanded and he gave her a little sarcastic bow before he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Smiling to herself (Y/N) pulled out her largest pair of sweatpants that she owned which happened to be a pair that she stole from Jensen Junior year of college after they decided to get an apartment together to help each other pay rent. Next, she pulled out one of her long sleeve shirts and quickly changed into those, a small sigh of satisfaction leaving her when she took off her bra and threw on the shirt. Fully dressed she grabbed one of her blankets off her bed before walking out of her room and into the kitchen just as Jensen was hanging up the phone.

“Alright, we’ve got thirty minutes to finish getting ready,” Jensen said upon noticing her and she saluted.

“Aye captain! I’ll prepare the drinks, you go get change.” (Y/N) stated and Jensen nodded once.

“Excellent plan soldier.” He said and he started walking to his room. (Y/N) giggled at the extra swagger he put in his steps as he walked to his room and she rolled her eyes, throwing her blanket over her shoulder she walked over to the fridge. Opening it up she grabbed a beer for Jensen and then went about making herself a hot chocolate. Minutes later (Y/N) was curled up on the couch with a blanket over her lap, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands, two plates and a bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of her, with the TV playing some random tv show that she was too lazy to change.

“Well don’t you just look comfy?” She turned her attention towards Jensen as he walked into the living room sitting down beside her and she smiled at him.

“Oh, I am very much so, care to join me?” She asked lifting up the blanket with one hand and Jensen hesitated for a moment in thought before he slid over towards her and took the hot chocolate mug out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table. Before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, throwing the blanket over his lap while she snuggled into his side. (Y/N) sighed in content as she laid her head on his shoulder wrapping her arms around him as he grabbed the remote and wrapped an arm around her the two of them happily cuddled up on the couch watching some random horror movie.

A blissful smile spread across (Y/N)’s face as she watched the movie the stress from today seemingly melting away in that moment like it so often did when she and Jensen spent time together. There was always something about Jensen that to her felt like home and it just wasn’t the fact that they had grown up together, there was just something else there. There was something about him that just not only seemed to feel like home to her every time she was with him, but that seemed to always calm her down as well whenever she was on the point of breaking down from school or stress or life in general. And whatever that something was for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what it was that caused that in her, sometimes she thought that it was just because they had grown up together but most of the time she knew that wasn’t it. She chuckled when Jensen jumped beside her at a sudden jump scare from the murder.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Jensen whined poking her, which only caused (Y/N) to laugh more.

“I’m sorry but it’s funny.” (Y/N) said as she looked up at him smiling and he rolled his eyes, faking a great deal of his annoyance with her.

“I don’t understand how you aren’t scared by horror movies.” He grumbled and (Y/N) shrugged or at least made a small motion that would have been a shrug if she wasn’t currently leaning against Jensen’s side.

“I just don’t find them all that scary, I mean if you break down the movies like half if not all of the jump scares in them are exactly the same and always happen around the same time no matter what movie you’re watching. Plus humans who are hard to kill aren’t scary.” (Y/N) said removing herself from his side and grabbing her hot chocolate off the table while he stood up to answer the door.

“You’re only saying that because you’re a mythology major who has read about things a thousand times worse than a machete-wielding kid who didn’t get hugged enough as a child,” Jensen said before he answered the door and (Y/N) chuckled looking over the back of the couch at him.

“See you know they’re not scary too, and yet you get scared by sudden jump scares. Hey Misha!” (Y/N) called lifting up a hand and waving at him when Jensen opened the door.

“Hey (Y/N), long time no see, how are midterms coming?” He asked and (Y/N) faked a shiver.

“Hey! No shop talk! This is pizza and horror movie relax night, there will be no talking about those accursed tests.” Jensen said in an overdramatic way that had (Y/N) giggling.

“Yeah what he said.” She responded and Misha laughed, shaking his head.

“Of course, of course, shame on me. Anyways that’ll be $15.90.” Misha said and Jensen nodded pulling out his wallet and giving him a twenty.

“Keep the change man, I’ll see you tomorrow for football practice?” Jensen asked and Misha nodded.

“Yep see you tomorrow, hope you get better (Y/N),” Misha said as he leaned around Jensen and waved (Y/N) waved back.

“Thanks, Mish! Next time try to take thirty minutes!” (Y/N) shouted back and Misha laughed.

“Ah no thanks, I like my job, throw some traffic my way and then maybe!” He shouted back and Jensen laughed as he closed the door behind Misha as he walked off.

“You know that’s a good idea maybe we should find a way to do that next time.” (Y/N) said as she stood up from the couch and walked towards the kitchen grabbing some paper plates out of the cupboard before returning to the living room as Jensen was setting down the pizza.

“And what have cold pizza? No thank you.” He said as he took the plate that (Y/N) offered him.

“What are you talking about? You eat cold pizza all the time?” She stated her stomach growled as she watched him open the pizza box revealing the (f/p/t) topped heaven.

“Yeah in the morning, not when I order it.” Jensen shot back as he took some slices before plopping back down beside her.

“Fine, fine, fair enough.” She muttered leaning forward and grabbing a couple of slices while Jensen hit play on the movie. Sitting back up she settled into the couch with her pizza in her lap watching as the chick in the movie ran away from the killer.

(Y/N) its heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she pushed herself faster and she could hear her blood rushing through her ears as she pushed herself faster and faster. She had to get away, had to get somewhere safe and regroup, had to find a way out of this situation. Behind her, she could hear the werewolf crashing after her as she leads it through back alleys away from the major part of the city. Narrowly (Y/N) took a corner and ducked into the back of a random building only to come into the back of a small restaurant or cafe kitchen. Chest heaving she looked around at the kitchen, so far no one had noticed that she was standing with her back pressed against the door. Weapon. She needed a weapon. Nothing in here was going to help her in here but she just needed something to defend herself until they could catch up if they ever found her. On the other side of the door, she could hear the werewolf crashing through the alleyway and she took a couple more deep breath before dashing forward into the kitchen.

“Sorry! I need to borrow this!” I shouted as I grabbed a knife off the counter.

“Hey! Thief!” One of the chef’s shouted but (Y/N) didn’t stick around to get caught by them as she rushed back out into the alleyway, banging the door closed behind her.

“Hey! Ugly!” (Y/N) shouted squaring her shoulders and standing her ground as she looked at the werewolf who’s attention whipped towards me.

“There she is!” The door to the kitchen whipped open and a bunch of the chef’s hurried out into the alleyway.

“Get back you idiots!” (Y/N) shouted glaring at them as the werewolf snarled and slowly started advancing towards me. The chef’s looked towards the werewolf and all of them screamed and hurried back inside, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at them she turned her attention back towards the werewolf.

“Come and get me.” She motioned with the knife and the werewolf roared, pure and animalistic rage as it launched towards her. (Y/N) ducked away from the attack, slashing out in a wide arch as she did cutting the werewolf in the stomach, she rolled to the side when she hit the ground and jumped into a crouching position as the werewolf turned back to her a snarl on its face. (Y/N) didn’t let the werewolf make the next move as she launched herself at the werewolf taking it by surprise as she tackled it to the ground. Raising the knife she quickly brought it down, stabbing it in the shoulder, there was no way she could kill it with the kitchen knife all she could do was piss it off and make sure to keep its attention on her. The werewolf clawed at her as she rolled off of it catching her in the side and tearing into her shirt and skin, white-hot pain flared in her side and she forced her scream into a hiss as she landed on her knees. For a few life-threatening seconds, she stayed there kneeling and trying to overcome the pain while the werewolf struggled to pull the knife out of its shoulder.

Composing herself, (Y/N) forced herself to stand up there was nothing she could do about the wound in her side she still had to get away as fast as she could. She still had to get somewhere safe this little act may have cost her a shirt and given her a wound but it brought her just a little more time. Pressing a hand against her side she began to run again, heading towards the road since that was the most likely place they would be. Behind her, she could hear the werewolf snarling and then a loud bang as the knife was throw away from it and into a nearby dumpster.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” (Y/N) cursed. Her strides slowing as she ran the action causing her to lose more blood than she should be and she could sense the werewolf getting closer. She had just reached the end of the alleyway, the light from one of the streetlamps illuminating the entrance to the alleyway, aided by the lights from the restaurant. The next thing (Y/N) knew as she entered the ring of light, she was on the ground and the pain in her side was renewed tenfold. Above her, the werewolf dug its claws into her shoulders and she struggled against it but that just forced the claws in further, her breath was ragged as she struggled to breathe through the pain and the blood loss as black dots clouded her vision. Hot, moist, breath fanned out against the back of her neck causing her hair to stand on end and she felt a drop of saliva land on her neck. If she had the energy she would have felt disgusted but at this point, she wasn’t even sure if she could feel her fingers let alone an emotion. Distantly she heard someone shouting her name and then the sound of a gunshot just as the darkness overcame her.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Come on wake up! Wake up!” Jensen’s voice was full of worry as he gently shook (Y/N) attempting to wake her up. (Y/N) it's eyes snapped open and she sat up suddenly her heart pounding and her chest heaving, her eyes were wide and frantic as she looked around the apartment like she expected the werewolf to suddenly show up and her hand flew to her side expecting to feel the wound there but there was nothing. With her hand still on her side, she began to calm down as she came back to reality the dream fading to the back of her mind as she looked back at Jensen who was watching her with a worried expression.

“(Y/N) are you ok?” He asked and (Y/N) stared at him for a few more seconds mentally telling herself that it was just a dream, none of it was real, but god had it felt real.

“Y-Yeah I’m fine.” She finally said and Jensen looked at her skeptical.

“You sure? You were moving around like you had a nightmare.” His voice was calm and soothing as he reached out and placed a warm hand on her surprisingly cold shoulder. (Y/N) hesitated before nodding.

“Yes, I’m sure……….I think I’m just going to head to bed Jay.” She told him her voice small and soft as she stood up.

“Alright, need me to do anything?” He asked and gently she shook her head.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.” (Y/N) said and he nodded.

“Alright, goodnight (Y/N), let me know if you need anything.” He said watching as she walked to her room and she gave him a thumbs up over her shoulder before entering her room and collapsing on her bed. (Y/N) didn’t end up falling asleep though, instead she laid there under her blankets and staring up at the ceiling above her, the dream replaying before her mind’s eye and for some insane reason she couldn’t shake the feeling that it seemed familiar to her like she had seen it before, or experienced it before. Which was crazy because none of that was real it was all just a dream.

~Elsewhere~

“How’s she doing?” Dean asked as he walked into his rooms, his eyes briefly going over Sam before landing on the sleeping form of his girlfriend and staying there. Sam looked up from his laptop and over at Dean who was standing in the doorway a cup of coffee in his hand, and Sam had to admit Dean looked a little more rested than he had a few hours ago which was good.

“Nurse came in and told me that she’s doing fine physically but there’s been no significant change in her brain activity,” Sam informed him and a disgruntled sigh left him as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Son of a bitch.” Sam gave his brother an apologetic look as he looked towards the bed again. He missed his best friend the bunker didn’t feel the same without her, it was lonely and quiet without her, without Dean for that matter because he hadn’t left her side since this all happened. That was another thing, while he was hurting he was sure that Dean had to be hurting more there was no way he wasn’t, this was the love of his life they were talking about. At least Sam was pretty sure she was the love of Dean’s life, he had never seen Dean act the way he does around her when he’s around other girls.

“I’m sorry Dean,” Sam said as he closed his laptop and stood up from the chair but his words seemed to bounce off of Dean as he walked into the room and took his usual seat at her bedside. Sam walked up to his brother and patted him on the shoulder.

“I’ll go and get you a change of clothes, and some deodorant, you could use it,” Sam stated trying to get some sort of reaction out of Dean.

“I don’t smell but thanks, Sam,” Dean responded, leaning back in his seat. Not exactly the rise he was looking for but at this point, Sam would take it, it was better than anything else he’d gotten since this all happened anyway. With a heavy sigh, Sam walked out of the room to head back to the silent empty bunker, and he couldn’t help but stop outside the cathedral sending a silent prayer to God hoping that just once he would listen because lord knows that he and Dean needed a miracle at this point.

[brerediddy]

more than survive - chapter 7

Jeremy's second session with the SQUIP wasn't as tiring as the first, but he also hadn't done much in the realm of physicality. The man required that he bring his suit so that tests could be run on it. Part of the boy’s brain told him that this was a horrible, no good, very bad idea. What if the SQUIP decided to sabotage it, or something? Regardless of his concerns, the suit had been handed over. When his hesitance was showcased, the villain had simply reminded Jeremy of what - or rather, who - was on the line.

After the appointment was over, Jeremy took his suit back and decided to make up for the pit in his stomach with some good, old-fashioned, vigilante justice. He changed in an alley, leaving his clothes hidden behind a dumpster. Not the most hygienic place, but better than nothing.

The boy ventured out along rooftops and power lines. Dusk was setting in and encapsulating the city in a low, hazy light. The brightness of the buildings guided him along each street and he remembered why he loved protecting the city so much. He considered how it felt to get this view as often as he wanted, how beautiful the sunset was from the top of skyscrapers. How cool it was to find a car thief or a small-time robber and know instantly that he would win. That was an opportunity that most people would never get - and he had it constantly! Jeremy watched the city from one of his favorite spots, his legs dangling over the side of an indescribably tall building. He wasn't sure of what was inside the exterior, but he often saw lights flickering off and on at odd hours, so he assumed it was a business of some sort with overworking associates.

Jeremy wondered if he’d ever have an office job someday, if Spider-Man was really all there was for him. Not that the heroism wasn't enough  but he surely couldn't keep it up forever. On second thought, he probably could. He figured that he was likely to die young anyway, what with his current track record. He considered the possibility of a future where he was just normal and for some reason, he couldn't picture it.

The boy was pulled from his thoughts as his phone rang. He jumped ever so slightly, tearing his eyes away from the streets. Michael was calling him. Jeremy pulled his mask up just enough to free his mouth of the muffled noise that the fabric could produce over the phone.

“Hey,” Michael’s voice greeted. “What's up?”

“Not a whole lot,” Jeremy said. He refocused his eyes on the pedestrians and cars and lights. “Just finishing up some homework.”

“C’mon, dude, it’s Saturday. Give yourself a night off,” the other boy chastised kindly. He cleared his throat and then added, “I was calling to see if you want to come over tomorrow. We could rent a movie, or something. I reorganized my room and it's no good if I can't show it off.”

“By ‘reorganized’, do you mean that you alphabetized your games and moved your record player off of your desk?” Jeremy gave a small laugh.

“How'd you know?” Michael spoke, his smile evident through the phone.

“You hate change, Michael Mell.” Jeremy pushed a pebble over the side of the building and watched it fall...and fall...and fall. “I would love to hang out with you tomorrow, though. You pick the movie and I’ll be there.”

“Great. Can't wait,” the taller boy said. “What homework do you have, anyway? I have nothing.”

“Make-up work from earlier this week,” Jeremy answered smoothly. As Michael responded, his eye caught movement down below. What was it? Guys messing around or something more? He observed the scene, one man chasing another, and his senses finally gave him some warning. A small tingle trailed along his spine.

“And Christine is so funny, did you know-”

“Michael, sorry, I have to go. I, um, I think my dad is calling me,” he said quickly. He stood up and brushed himself off, preparing for the confrontation.

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” As the line went dead, Jeremy pocketed his phone and pulled his mask down. Time for some fun.

He swung down to the alleyway, making sure to be quiet. He wasn't sure if the attacker had a gun and there was nothing more important than the safety of the victim. As he lowered himself down, he could make out the situation. It was a typical mugging and the attacker didn't have a gun but rather held a knife. The other man was pressed against brick and looked panicked, his hand reaching into his pocket for what could only be assumed to be a wallet.

Jeremy cleared his throat loudly and planted his feet firmly on the ground a few feet away from them. “What's up, guys?”

“Spider-Man,” the victim gasped.

“Get out of here. This doesn't concern you,” the mugger spoke with a grumble.

“I mean, it kind of does.” He gestured to the spider symbol on his chest and said, “Vigilante justice, and all.”

“Do you want a knife in your chest, kid?”

“Aw, you would do that for me?” Jeremy responded in his best faux-amazed voice. In an instant, he shot a web out to apprehend the man’s knife. The mugger, his face red and his fists curled, lunged for the boy. The other man took the opportunity to run away, not even glancing behind him.

“Listen, Spidey, I need to make money somehow. I don't appreciate you interfering with my business.”

“I don't appreciate you robbing people. It's actually a really shitty thing to do, man,” Jeremy said. Before the man could respond, he was webbed to the brick wall. Jeremy pulled his phone out to call the police and stared at the now-defeated robber as he did so. “Hello, 911? Yeah, I found a robber in the alley on 36th and North. Looks like Spider-Man got to him.” As the call ended, he gave one last glance at the man and began to walk away.

“Hey! Come back here!”

Jeremy continued on, ignoring the yelling as he shot a web to a nearby lamp-post and swung away from the scene.

-

Jeremy spent the next day at Michael's house, relaxing and watching movies and letting his mind numb a bit. Being with the other boy always reminded him of fireworks, not in the stupid cliché way but in the sense that when fireworks are on display, nothing else mattered for those fifteen minutes. Head held to the sky, ears focused on music. Nothing else mattered. He figured that everyone needed someone like Michael in their lives—just not his Michael.

They had a great day together and then the smaller boy climbed out of bed at five in the morning and jostled the other awake.

“Where are you going? It’s too early,” Michael asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I have a project that I need to work on before school. Sorry. I’ll see you later,” Jeremy whispered in response. Michael nodded, his sleepy brain not even thinking to inquire more. Once he fell back to sleep, Jeremy ran a hand through his best friend’s hair gently, gazing at his peaceful features before turning to leave.

His third session with the SQUIP seemed more rigorous than the previous ones, only because the villain had attached electrodes to the boy as he was told to repeat stunt after stunt. Something about monitoring brain activity. He wasn’t a fan. He felt like a monkey doing tricks and made sure that the SQUIP knew about his displeasure.

“I need to know how your brain-waves work, Jeremy. What kind of study would it be if I didn’t do this?”

“A slightly more ethical one.”

“Tsk-tsk. You know well enough by now that ‘ethical’,” the SQUIP spoke, making air quotes with his fingers, “Isn’t really my style.”

Jeremy grumbled something about how horrible the man was to which he responded, “Twenty push-ups, kid.”

-

The fourth SQUIP-Session, as Jeremy liked to think of it, wasn’t horrible. It had been a mediocre day of school and as much as he hated the villain, at least it was something to do. Actually, he didn’t really do much—but he did sit on the rough asphalt as the villain typed away on his tablet.

The teenager kicked at a few rocks and asked, “What are you even doing?”

He crafted another line of code and then said, “Typing,” with a rather chastising tone.

“Right, but,” Jeremy spoke, “Why am I here, then?”

“Because you’re going to test this out for me.”

“The code?”

“No, kid. This.” The SQUIP held up a gray capsule roughly the size of a tic-tac.

Jeremy’s chest felt all tight and weird again. “What is that ?”

“I guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” The man pressed a few more buttons and let out a sigh. “Alright, I guess this is it.” He held the pill out in the palm of his hand.

“This goes against literally everything that I’ve ever been taught,” Jeremy said as he picked up the capsule. He could see staggered blue lines, branching out all around the casing. “It looks like a hard drive.”

“It essentially is, Jeremy. Now just swallow it.” The boy must have looked hesitant because the SQUIP added, “If you won’t do it, then I can gladly find a new test subject. Maybe one named Michael?”

Jeremy furrowed his brows and stared at the SQUIP coldly. “I’ll take it. I will,” he murmured. “Just give me a second.”

He thought of Michael. Michael with his perfect hair and kind eyes and friendly smile. He thought of that soft tone that the other boy only reserved for him. He thought about all of the times that Michael had been there for him in the past, all of the times he had saved him without even knowing.

Jeremy figured that maybe when this was all over, when the SQUIP won, maybe he would let the two of them go free. Maybe they’d move to Europe and find a countryside where no one has ever heard of superheros. Maybe he would just be with Michael and they’d both forget about their hometown and how Jeremy had handed it over willingly.

“C’mon, kid. It takes twenty-four hours to activate. You’ll put me behind schedule.”

In one swift motion, he swallowed the pill.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Time: Chapter 8

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language Word Count: ~3,586 A/N: Although it would make my job easier, I never want to belittle Sharon Carter in how I write her. No matter what anyone says she’s a badass and essential to the Civil War story line. Besides, why would you want your romantic rival to be a pushover? Where’s the drama and passion in that? Same deal with Nat. Also, sorry this took so long. I have no excuse except that I’m lazy trash. I wanted your time in the base to feel like this, but I think it felt more like this. Translations: Tut mir leid, ich warte auf jemanden - Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“I haven’t plotted anything, Maren!” you said, distraught. How could she suspect you of plotting the assassination of UN officials from your produce stall in Romania? “Please,” you said, eyes pleading.

She glared at you as she called the hotline number, face resolute. You swore and ran out of the stall, one thought on your mind.

You had to find Bucky.

You snatched a paper from a newsstand as you ran, eyes scanning the page for any information that might help you. According to the report, the Avengers weren’t authorized to take part in the capture of Bucky.

You knew that wouldn’t stop Steve, though. You gasped, suddenly remembering you still had his number on your American phone. You thanked yourself for deciding to carry it around with you, just in case. You yanked it out of your bag and powered it on. The screen blinked to life after a moment. It adjusted to the date and time and the full battery bar flashed at you and you were once again thankful you’d thought enough ahead to keep it charged.

All at once, your phone was barraged with texts from a number you vaguely recognized. One flashed across the screen and you saw the words “It’s Steve.” You quickly dialed the number attached to the text, looking around in panic. Everyone around you went about their day normally, not noticing you were inches away from a breakdown. The phone rang and rang until eventually you got Steve’s voicemail. At least you assumed it was. You recognized the pompous voice of Tony Stark. He had apparently recorded Steve’s voicemail for him. You didn’t pause to listen to the sarcastic remarks he made, hitting the end call button with a frustrated groan.

If Steve wasn’t picking up his phone, there was a damn good reason... or he was technologically inept, which was also pretty likely. He was nearly a hundred years old now, after all. You fought the urge to smash the phone onto the pavement, instead choosing to try and think through the situation.

You had to get to Bucky and warn him before someone else found him. If they truly believed that he was the UN bomber like the reports said he was, they weren’t liable to take him in quietly, especially with his history as the Winter Soldier.

Shit. Think, (Y/N), think. If I were Bucky where the hell would I live to hide from the world government? You racked your brain for somewhere in Bucharest that fit that description. He didn’t own a house. He needed somewhere he could lay low. He had to pay for everything in cash, so the place he stayed would have to allow rent payment in cash. From the research you did for your aunt you knew only a few places allowed that, but they were scattered across the city. It would take you hours to search all of them and that was if you were even allowed into the complexes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a large military vehicle speed across the cross street. Your stomach plummeted. You stared after it for a second before you raced after it. You’d never seen a truck like that before in your two years of living in the city. You couldn’t see inside, but if you could you knew you’d see soldiers. They knew he was here.

The part of the city it was headed towards was quieter. You lost sight of it pretty quickly, but others followed after it. Due to glimpses of them through alleys and around corners, you were able to guess where they were headed. It was an older part of town, but was close to an airfield. You were running down a quiet  side street when someone grabbed your arm and yanked you into the alleyway.

“Shit!” you exclaimed before a hand clapped over your mouth. Your assailant spun you around and, if not for the hand still over your mouth, you would have announced to the entire neighborhood that Nick Fury was in the alleyway by screaming his name in surprise.

“Can you keep it down?” he asked, raising a critical eyebrow at you. You nodded your head vigorously and he removed his hand.

“What are you doing here, sir?” you hissed, glancing at the entrance of the alley.

“I still know people in the government. I got wind of this impending shitstorm and was worried you’d get caught in the middle of it, being close to Rogers and all,” he said quietly, leaning back against the wall.

“But I’m not the one in the middle of it! Grant- I mean, Bucky- He’s innocent! I have to get to him to warn him!” you said, anxiety getting the better of you, and made a break for the street. His hand closed around your arm before you made it more than a foot.

“Wait, wait. You’ve been in contact with Sergeant Barnes? For how long?” he asked, shocked. You didn’t think the man had ever been or ever would be surprised in his life, but you just proved that wrong.

“I didn’t know for sure that it was him until just now. I thought Bucky was dead, and the man I’ve been spending time with just looked like him,” you said, quaking under the look he gave you.

“You thought it was just some big coincidence that a guy who looks, sounds, and acts exactly like Captain Roger’s former best friend found you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously.

“Alright well when you put it like that it sounds kinda stupid, but so does believing that a dead guy’s up and walking around, alive as can be!” you whisper-yelled at him.

“You never talked to Steve, did you?” he asked, shaking his head in annoyance.

You shook your head. “I turned my phone off as soon as I left D.C. so he couldn’t track it ” you said, holding up the phone in question.

“Normally I’d tell you that was smart, but, damn, you made Steve’s life so much harder than it had to be. And from the sound of it, you made yours more complicated, too,” he said, glaring from the phone to you.

“Wait, Steve knew Bucky’s alive? This whole time?” you asked, blood draining from your face.

“Yeah, found out the Winter Soldier was Sergeant Barnes during the SHIELD take down. He’s been trying to find you ever since, but I’ve been keeping him off your trail. Stupid mistake on my part, apparently. He could have gotten you and his Bucky back in one fell swoop,” he said, crossing his arms as he stared down at you.

You felt like your knees might give out. Something he said earlier nagged at you. “You said something about Steve. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s going after Bucky?” you asked, eyes wide with fear.

Fury sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t here, honestly.”

“I have to go find them,” you said, turning on your heel to run away. Again, he caught your arm and held you in place.

“If you go find them right now you’re more likely to get yourself killed than anything else. The task force has a lot of trained men in there trying to take Barnes down. Rogers will have his hands full keeping him safe. He can’t worry about you, too,” he said, voice apologetic but stern.

“Take him down?” you asked, turning to look at Fury with barely- concealed terror. “As in kill him?”

He sighed, giving you a long, unreadable look before he nodded.

“Let me go,” you said, voice low.

“And what will you do if I do?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

Your jaw clenched as you searched your mind for an answer.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he asked, smirking slightly.

“No!” you yelled, exasperated. He looked around to see if your yelling had attracted any attention, but no one seemed to notice your outburst. “I know I can’t help them in a fight, okay? But I need to get to them, Mister Fury... they mean everything to me,” you said, eyes pleading.

His jaw flexed as he deliberated.  After what felt like an eternity, he pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen a few times, staring down at it with his good eye. “They’re taking them to Berlin,” he said, dropping your hand as he looked up from his phone. “A secure facility along the Havel River. North side. I can’t get you details, but I know someone who can. Meet them at Weißes Hirsch. It’s a pub on the north end of town. Do not go to the base itself. However, If you decide to ignore that part- like I think you will- then definitely don’t talk to that bastard Everett Ross or Tony Stark. Ross’ll try to use you as bait and Tony’s not in the best head space right now.”

He gave you a resigned look as you wrote down the pub’s name. “Thank you,” you said, sincerity clear in your voice.

“Don’t thank me. You three haven’t come out of this alive yet,” he said as he turned to walk away. You didn’t want to waste a second, turning on your heel and running out of the alley towards your aunt and uncle’s home. You had plans to make and little time to make them.

Within the hour you’d packed a duffel bag with any essentials for a week’s travel and booked yourself a bus ticket for Berlin, Germany that left later that evening. You’d be in the city by tomorrow afternoon. You said your goodbyes to your aunt and uncle, promising an explanation for your sudden departure later. Your uncle was nice enough to drive you across town to the bus station.

You slept fitfully on the bus, thoughts not allowing you true rest. You arrived in Berlin around noon and called for a cab to take you directly to the pub, whose name translated to the White Deer. You knew little German, but were able to direct your driver to the well-known pub. As you stepped out of the cab you realized you had no idea who you were looking for or if they were even there. You walked into the pub and your anxiety was assuaged when you laid eyes on a conspicuously inconspicuous redhead at the back of the room. Even though she was dressed casually, you spotted her immediately. You hefted your duffel bag over your shoulder and trudged to her table.

She smiled politely up at you. “Tut mir leid, ich warte auf jemanden,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.

“You’re waiting for Nick Fury, right?” you asked. She didn’t so much as flinch as she slowly reached under her jacket for what you assumed was a gun. “Hold on, hold on. He sent me. He told me you could give me some answers about Steve and Bucky,” you said quietly, hoping no one would hear you except her. Slowly she returned her hands back to the top of the table, gun absent, and she motioned for you to sit. 

“No offense, but who the hell are you?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Ha, well. No one special. Just someone very concerned for a couple of stupid boys,” you said, placing an elbow on the table and resting your head on your palm.

“What’s your name?” she asked as she looked you over.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you told her. You weren’t sure if it was wise to trust the famous Black Widow with your actual name, but you needed to trust her and she needed to trust you, it seemed.

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Steve mentioned you a few times. At least, he mentioned a (Y/N). What are you doing here?” she asked giving you a hard look.

“Nick Fury told me you might be able to help me.”

“With what?” she asked, looking curious and a bit confused.

“I have to help them. Bucky and Steve. Bucky’s innocent. He’s been with me in Romania for the last two years. He couldn’t have been with me and go on a bombing run in a different country at the same time,” you explained, hoping she would believe you.

“Do you have any proof?” she asked as she leaned back and gave you an unimpressed stare.

You groaned. You were hoping she wouldn’t ask that. “No, he’s paranoid. Didn’t want me to take any pictures of him, even after I promised I’d never post them anywhere. Said phones could be hacked and that it wasn’t me he didn’t trust, but the tech itself,” you said.

“If what you’re saying is true, then you’ll just get yourself into trouble if you say you’ve been with him. They’ll think you’ll be part of the assassinations-”

“I don’t care. Please, I have to help, or at least try. I need to try for both of them. I know Steve’s in deep shit, too, now that he’s helped Bucky. He didn’t do it, Miss Romanoff, and I don’t want Steve to take a fall for it, too,” you pleaded. “And if you don’t help me, I’ll march into that building by myself,” you said, face set in determination.

She leaned forward, suddenly tense, and stared you down. You felt anger rolling off of her. “I am trying to help you. I tried to help Steve, too. I told him going in to save Bucky would only make things worse. He didn’t listen, either, and look where that got him: him, Bucky, and Sam grounded. Criminals,” she seethed.

“Steve had to go in. They had orders to shoot for the kill,” you argued. “At least he’s alive. They both are,” you said, glaring at the woman in front of you.

She sighed, leaning back against the booth. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.”

“Please, let me at least see them,” you pleaded

She stared at you for a long time, deliberating, before she seemed to make up her mind. “If I take you, you can’t speak about any of this to Ross, the Deputy Task Force Commander. He’s completely convinced that Barnes is behind the bombing, and he’s committed to seeing all three of them locked away. He’ll use you to get to them if he has to. Stay away from Tony, too, while you’re at it. Tony isn’t as fanatical about it. He still wants Steve to join them and thinks all the shit that Steve and Bucky have gotten themselves into can be undone by Steve signing the Sokovia accords, but Steve won’t budge. It’s driving Tony insane,” she said, staring at you seriously.

You’d begun nodding your head in agreement before she’d even finished. “Fury already warned me about Ross. I’ll blend into the background; I should fly right under his radar. Same with Stark. I doubt he stops looking at his reflection long enough to notice anyone else, though,” you said, smirking.

Natasha’s face twisted into a grimace. “Tony cares; more than you’d think. But I can see how you’d think that. He’s a humanitarian but also an insufferable ego maniac,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “So, we have a deal?” she asked, holding out a hand.

“Deal,” you agree, shaking her hand once before you both drop your hands. You slide out of the booth and grab your bag from under the table.

“If anyone asks, you’re one of my contacts checking in,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at you as she opened the door to the pub.

“Alright, sweet. Do I get a secret agent alias?” you asked, suddenly excited.

“Do you need one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at you as she opened the door of a black Audi A4 on the street outside of the pub. She popped the trunk so you could throw your bag in the back.

You shrugged. “I thought I might,” you said as you tossed your heavy duffel in the trunk and hopped in the passenger side.

You saw her roll her eyes as she pulled out of her parking space and began racing off down the street. “Fine, then you’re now Elena Dalca. Don’t bother giving yourself a story. You’re pretending to be a spy, now. They don’t give away information on themselves. People probably won’t even believe that’s your real name on principle. Feel free to change it every time you introduce yourself just to fuck with people,” she said, grinning wickedly.

“Isn’t this base high security? Like, really high security? Will they just let me in?” you asked, unsure.

“They’ll let you in if you’re not carrying any weapons and I tell them to,” she said. She glanced at you, looking you up and down once. “You’re not carrying weapons, right?” she asked.

“No, of course not!” you said defensively.

“Wait, how did you plan on getting in if I didn’t help you?” she asked, giving you a sideways look.

“Well I didn’t have a solid plan yet, but Plan B was getting arrested by the guards,” you said, grimacing.

She groaned. “That doesn’t even count as a plan,” she said giving you an exasperated look as she turned a corner.

You glanced around you as she drove; you were going further into the city. You occasionally spotted the Havel River through the buildings. “No, it really isn’t,” you said, frowning. “But it’s all I had. I can’t very well break into the base with my nonexistent super strength or teleport them out with imaginary magic powers.”

She snorted at that. “You’d be surprised what one normal human can do,” she said, smirking.

“Okay I’m also not a well-trained kickass super spy,” you said. “But I acknowledge your point.”

She smiled at that, but it quickly slid off her face as she rounded the corner.

A huge building towered over the Havel, part of it on one side, more parts on the other. It was connected buy a large sky bridge. What got your attention, however, was the crowd of people running out of and away from the building, their fear and confusion clear even from a block away.

“Guess we won’t have to worry about sneaking you in, now,” she said as she pulled up onto the sidewalk and parked, scattering scared pedestrians. She opened the door and jumped out and you followed suit. “Forget your bag for now, we have bigger things to worry about,” she said, jogging towards the guardhouse. You nodded and followed her.

“I’m guessing this isn’t normal?” you asked, panting as you tried to keep up with her. 

“My definition of normal is a little skewed, but if you’re asking if this is supposed to happen, then the answer is no, it’s not,” she said as she pushed past panicked people. Suddenly she whirled, grabbing your arm. “Stay out here. If there are people attacking the base, you’ll just get yourself killed,” she ordered, turning back towards the building. She pulled out a gun as she ran, face set in determination.

“Wait, Nat- Oh, hell,” you groaned, as she disappeared into the crowd. You glanced around, looking for a way to help. You were unwilling to sit there and twiddle your thumbs, but didn’t feel like walking into death, either.

After you heard an explosion somewhere you couldn’t see in the compound followed by the sound of something huge hitting the river you couldn’t handle being stationary anymore and ran into the building. You gasped when you saw Natasha laying on the floor, gasping as she cradled her neck. A pretty blond was groaning on top of one of the destroyed cafe tables to your left. You ran to the blond first. She was closer. She seemed alright overall, just a bit shaken up. You offered your hand and she grasped it, wincing as you helped her up.

“Thanks,” she said, giving you a small, tight smile. You nodded and ran over to Black Widow, who looked even worse.

“Natasha, are you alright?” you asked, hands hovering, unsure exactly what was wrong with her. She seemed to be in one piece, which was a plus.

“Fine,” she croaked out as she stood, stumbling slightly. You wanted to argue that she was not, in fact, fine, but you liked your bones not broken.

“Agent Romanoff, who is this?” came a voice from behind you. You turned around and realized it was the pretty blond you’d just helped up.

“Agent Dalca. She just arrived to report to me, but stumbled upon this mess instead,” Natasha said before you could speak up.

“Got it,” the blond said, apparently buying Natasha’s bullshit story. “Let’s split up. Natasha, you can canvas the upper floors. I’ll go with Agent Dalca to search the lower floors,” she said, turning to head towards the stairs. The building appeared to be on lock down. You sent Natasha a glance, panic barely concealed. Her gaze flicked from you to the blond before she nodded once.

“Go with Agent Carter. Here are the keys to the car we drove here, just in case you need a getaway car. It’s not bugged or being GPS tracked, I made sure of it. Don’t go for your stuff without me; you’ll never get back into the building on your own. Stay calm and get back to me asap,” she whispered as she pulled the keys to the car out of her jacket pocket and tossed them to you. You shoved them in your pocket as you ran after Carter and bit back your panic. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Agent Carter pulled open the door and you followed after her, sparing one last glance back at Natasha, who had seemingly vanished. The sight wasn’t comforting. You began searching the levels below the ground floor. If you weren’t so tense, you’d be shocked at how huge the building was. Somewhere through the third level, Sharon got a call. She left you alone to survey the room you’d been searching together and went into the next room, shutting the door behind her.

Only, she was in such a rush she didn’t close it all the way. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, instead trying to use this chance to escape to Natasha, but her words drifted out into the otherwise empty, quiet hallway, and something she’d said made you freeze in your tracks.

“Steve, this is a huge favor-” she hissed, sounding angry and a bit resigned.

Steve? As in... Steve Rogers? She’s on the phone with Steve?

You inched closer to the door as quietly as you could and carefully pushed it open so that you could see her. Her back was turned to you.

Steve must have been talking for a bit. Eventually she spoke again and you strained your ears to make out her words.

“Fine, fine. I get it. You said you need all the gear we took and some stuff for Barnes, too?” A pause, then “Alright, got it. Meet you there. You better be right about all of this,” she said, ending the call.

She turned around and you realized a second too late that you probably should have moved back to the other room. She spotted you watching from the crack in the door and in a flash she’d jumped over the tables in the room, papers scattering to the floor as she went. She wrenched the door open and pulled you inside, throwing you into a table as she slammed the door and locked it. Before you could right yourself, she was on top of you, hand on your throat.

Although she wasn’t completely cutting off your oxygen supply, it was distinctly uncomfortable. “Alright, if you’re an agent of Natasha’s I’m just going to come right out and say it: you’re shit at your job. How much of that did you hear?” she asked, hand squeezing your neck slightly as she glared down at you.

“Enough to know you want to help Steve and Bucky, too,” you choked out, hands clawing at her wrist.

“Help them, ‘too’?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at you.

You nodded as much as you could with her hand around your neck. “‘S why I’m here. Bucky’s innocent. ‘M here t’help ‘im,” you said, gasping. Her grasp on your neck loosened to almost nothing and you greedily sucked in air.

“Steve just said the same,” she said, staring down at you, sounding cautious.

You nodded, trying to ignore the pang in your heart at the way she said Steve’s name. “I’ve seen Bucky every day for the last three months. It wasn’t him who bombed the Accords meeting,” you said, willing her to believe you.

Something clicked in her head. “That’s why you’re here, right? To try and clear Barnes’ name of the bombing? That’s why Natasha helped you get in?” she asked, finally removing her hand from your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing your neck tenderly. She stared at you, looking for any signs of deceit. Seeing none, she stood, extending her hand to help you up. How the tables had turned. You took her hand and she helped you to your feet. You watched as she paced the room, thinking.

After a minute she stopped and turned to you. “You heard all of that, right?” she asked.

“Most of it, I think. You were on the phone with Steve. He asked for his gear back, along with new gear for Bucky? It sounds like you’re going to meet him somewhere with it and it’ll likely get you in loads of trouble,” you said.

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s most of it. We need to get Steve and Sam’s gear out of lockup and snag some equipment for Barnes as well. I could use your help, though,” she said, voice filled with trepidation.

“Anything to help them,” you said, determined.

“If you’re willing, you could be a diversion while I get their gear to them. Getting in and out of the vault isn’t the problem right now while everything’s still a mess. It’s getting all the way to them without getting caught. My car is sure to be tracked,” she explained.

“Oh, I think I might have a solution to that,” you said, pulling out the keys Natasha gave you. “I have a car that’s free of tracking devices and bugs, courtesy of Natasha herself. She was using it to sneak around, so I know it’s clean; She wouldn’t let herself be tracked,” you explained. “We can swap cars. I’ll go one way in yours and you’ll go to the boys in the other,” you said, smiling at your ingenuity.

“Not you?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “You seemed so eager to help them a moment ago; I’m a little surprised you don’t want to go to them,” she said, studying you closely.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “And which one of us has a better chance of getting to them if this plan goes awry? The girl who works at a produce stand or the highly trained secret agent?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Yes, I want to help them and, hell, I want to see them again so badly, but no. It has to be you,” you said, tossing her the keys.

She smiled at you, pocketing them. “Alright, it sounds like we have a plan. Let’s go break into a high security vault,” she said, smile widening as your face paled.

“Lead the way, ma’am,” you said, motioning grandly to the door.

“Call me Sharon,” she said as she unlocked the door. “Sharon Carter.”

“I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Turns out Sharon was right. Everything was in chaos. The men that had been guarding the vault were still knocked out or dead from the earlier attack. According to Sharon, a man had posed as the doctor sent to psychoanalyze Bucky and had somehow reverted him back into the Winter Soldier. He’d wreaked havoc on the place and then disappeared into the Havel River with Steve. In the confusion, Sam had escaped with them. Forces were focused on finding them, not defending the now mostly empty building. While you and Sharon searched you’d stumbled across a black duffel that you knew could be easily confused with your own. You brought it with you, hoping it would fit all of the gear.

Sharon found the right vault using the cataloguing computer outside of the entrance to the vaults. Your first stop was the armory where you picked out some clothes you knew would fit Bucky; it wasn’t much but it was better than the jeans and thin shirts he’d been wearing when you last saw him. You threw some pistols in for good measure; standard military guns. The feel of the weapons in your hands brought back memories of the Battle of New York. You threw in an SMG for good measure, followed by a few boxes of ammo for each gun.

Sam and Steve’s gear followed. The suits fit into the bag, as did Sam’s wings, but it took a lot of shoving and cajoling to get Steve’s shield to fit. It made the bag bulge awkwardly, but together you managed to zip it up.

You moved to lift it off of the floor and nearly threw out your back. “Fuck, this is heavy. Take one side,” you said, holding onto the handle at one end.

“Oh, hell, you weren’t kidding,” she said, grunting as she grabbed the other end.

“This has got to be the least stealthy thing ever,” you said as you and Sharon made it up to the main floor.

“You’ve never seen Steve try to spy on someone,” she said, chuckling.

“He thinks he doesn’t draw attention? Looking like that? He’s practically a skyscraper. A ripped, handsome skyscraper,” you said in disbelief.

You both froze when you heard voices coming down the hallway. Sharon threw the shoulder strap on, wincing as it dug into her shoulder. You pretended to talk about places to search and the status of the building as a couple of armed agents ran by, giving Sharon a curt nod as they passed.

When they were out of earshot, you both went back to carrying an end. “We need to get out of here quickly. They were headed for the vaults. I don’t know how long it’ll be before they discover the gear’s gone,” she said, picking up the pace.

You groaned. This was difficult to begin with, but moving faster only made it worse. Still, you managed to keep up with her.

Five agonizing flights of stairs later, you were on the main floor, walking out the door. The guards at the main gate were still too preoccupied with getting everyone else taken care of that a quick glance at Sharon’s badge was all you needed to get out with the huge duffel.

“Where’s the car?” Sharon asked, huffing under the weight of the bag.

“Halfway down the block on the sidewalk,” you said, tilting your head to the right.

As you got close she popped the trunk. You maneuvered over to the back and set the larger duffel down. You yanked your duffel out (it felt feather-light by comparison) and shoved the heavier one in. The car’s end dipped ominously before the shocks righted it again. Sharon slammed the trunk shut and pulled out the keys to her car.

“You’re looking for a silver Cadillac ATS-V coupe. Fourth floor of the garage across from the base. Get out of here as soon as possible. Head west out of the city,” she said as she walked to the driver’s side. “Oh, and here,” she said as she dug into her pockets. She pulled out a small wad of euros and handed it to you.

“Thanks.” you said, pocketing the cash. “Steve has my number. Call me when you reach him so I know when it’s safe to ditch the car; I’d rather not be caught if I can help it,” you said, giving her a lopsided smirk.

“Got it,” she said, sliding into the car.

“Go save those boys,” you said, smiling a you shut her door.

She nodded, smiling determinedly at you as she pulled off the sidewalk and sped down the road, taillights disappearing around the corner.

You hefted your bag over your shoulder and walked quickly but as calmly as you could to the garage she mentioned. You took the elevator, knowing your legs wouldn’t make it up four flights of stairs with your bag over your shoulder. Using the key’s unlock button, you quickly found the car as it beeped at you from across the garage, reverse lights flashing at you. You threw your bag into the trunk and only had a second to admire the beautiful exterior before you hopped in the driver’s seat. You peeled out of the garage, trying not to think about how illegal it was to drive in a country you didn’t have a license for. You used the car’s built in GPS to head west, out of the city like Sharon instructed you.

You’d been driving for about twenty minutes before your phone rang in your pocket. You fumbled for it for a second before you pulled it out and pressed the green accept call button.

“(Y/N),” the person on the other side of the line said. You’d been expecting Sharon, so Steve’s deep voice surprised you.

“Stevie?” you asked. You were slightly appalled with yourself at how easily you slipped into using Rosie’s old name for him.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Sharon found you, then?” you asked as you searched for a place to pull over and ditch the car.

“Yeah, she did,” he said. You heard him say something else to someone next to him, but he must have held his had over the speaker; his voice was muffled and you couldn’t make out the words.

“Is Bucky there?” you asked before you could stop yourself. You pulled into a parking lot that was next to the nearest bus stop you found. You tossed the keys on the driver’s seat and left the door open, hoping someone would come along and steal it; it might buy you more time.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Steve said. Once again you could hear muffled talking. Apparently it was Bucky he’d been talking to.

“Can I talk to him?” you asked, unsure, brows furrowed in confusion. You would have thought he would have wanted to talk to you immediately.

There was another short, muffled conversation before Steve spoke again. He sounded... angry? Annoyed? It didn’t seem like it was directed at you, though. Bucky, then? “Listen, (Y/N). We have to go. I’m sorry. It’s important. Really important. If we make it out of this, meet me at Rosie’s old place in Brooklyn. Get out of Germany as soon as possible, before authorities catch on that you helped us and Sharon,” he said.

“Steve, what-”

“We love you, sweetheart. Stay safe,” he said, warmth suddenly returning to his voice.

“Steve, you can’t just-” you began, but the beep of him ending the call interrupted you. You angrily tapped the call back button on the phone. You were slightly livid when you got a pre-recorded message telling you the number was unavailable. You tried once more for good measure, but got the same message.

You groaned in frustration and spotted the bus coming down the road out of the corner of your eye. You quickly looked up the word for airport (as well as how to pronounce it) on your phone. The bus slowed down to pick you up, coming to a creaky stop as it opened its doors.

“Flughafen?” you asked the bus driver. He nodded and said something you didn’t understand beyond the word “Ja,” pointing down the road the direction he was going. You knew that one, at least. That meant yes. You hopped on the bus, shoving some euros to the driver. He began to make change but you waved a hand at him.

“Nein, nein. Danke,” you said. That was about your entire German vocabulary there. He shrugged at you and you moved to take a seat on the back of the bus, maneuvering your enormous bag around the seats, and placed it next to you.

Using your phone and the sudden influx of time you’d just found, you booked a flight on the next plane to JFK Airport in New York. With that done, you called three people. Your aunt and uncle were first; You informed them you were going back to America for the foreseeable future, thanked them for letting you stay with them, promised you visit at the behest of your aunt, and told them you loved them.

Next, you called Dean, who seemed surprised to hear from you.

“Thought you weren’t coming back for a while, Boss,” he said. Had his voice gotten deeper? It sounded like it did.

“Dean, did you burn down my cafe?” you asked teasingly.

“No, ma’am,” he said earnestly.

“Dean, I thought we were past you calling me ‘Boss’ and ‘ma’am’,” you said, exasperated.

“Sorry, (Y/N). Old habits die hard,” he said, apologetic.

“It’s alright, dear. My apartment still in one piece, too?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Want me to get it cleaned up for you?” he asked. His thoughtfulness made you smile.

“That would be great, Dean. I’ll be back in about twelve hours,” you said.

“That soon?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“Yeah, something’s come up,” you said evasively. If he noticed your purposely vague answer, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Alright, I’ll try to have everything ready by then,” he said. You could tell he was already barking orders to the other people working at the cafe. It was about 8 am there. The cafe had been open for two hours already.

“You’re the best, Dean,” you said smiling.

“See you soon, (Y/N),” he said happily. “Have a safe flight.”

“Will do,” you said, ending the call.

You sighed and leaned your head against the windows of the bus. You tried not to think about how Bucky hadn’t talked to you. If he was right there it should have been easy for him to just.. say something, anything, to you. And even though Steve was telling the truth, something was off. He’d sounded annoyed and angry after you’d asked if you could talk to Bucky, but you could tell it wasn’t directed at you.

Could it be that Bucky didn’t want to talk to you? That would elicit that reaction from Steve, but that was impossible. Steve said it himself. They were headed straight towards danger. You might not see them again- Bucky would never-

Your thoughts swirled ominously in your head, making you dead to the world until it came to a jolting stop. You realized you’d arrived at the airport. You hopped off using the back door and clutched the strap of your duffel, trying to lessen the pain of it digging into your shoulder.

You pushed all of your thoughts about Bucky and Steve to the back of your mind. This would take all of your attention. Airports were tricky when you spoke the language everything was in, but this would be an adventure.

“New York, here I come.”

Chapter 9

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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[a-pen-in-the-paw]

@aegliriellcalamaethor said : “ The world is in need of more good Ross Poldark x Reader fics” 

Well, I don’t know if this will fulfill your wish, but I wrote a Ross x Reader fic. 

Not Unlike Thunder

Thanks to @brandywinebridge-twentymiles for the betaing

The storm tears up the night sky and you run, pulling your shawl around your shoulders. The used piece of garment cannot protect you from the wind, let alone from lightning bolts if they choose to strike you. Your father always told you to avoid the tall trees in a thunderstorm because they were the most likely to get hit, but also to stay away from opened areas: just like the field you’re crossing, in fact. The tall, wet grass flogs your legs and cuts your skin, but you cannot afford to stop. Your heart is thumping like the one of a fox chased by Sir Bodrugan’s hounds.

The rain is dripping from your hair and onto your face. It would be mixed with tears, if only you took the time to measure the real disaster of your current situation. Sometimes, when there is no hope, there is nothing left to cry for. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad end: to be roasted to death in the middle of this field. It’d be better than to die as a beggar; from exposure and starvation in an alleyway in Truro. Because that’s what’s waiting for you since you’ve no family left and nowhere to live. You could always sell your body for a bit of wine and bread, but it’s not an enviable fate either. The world is never kind to poor, unmarried, orphan girls like you.

Thunder rumbles over the moors like a charge of cavalry. You reach a fence, and, as you try to climb over it, a nail gets caught in the fabric of your petticoat. You try to keep your balance, but you lose it at the last second. You fall over to the other side and hit your head on a sharp rock.

A burst of pain crosses your skull. Disorientated for a moment, you manage to sit up and when you touch the side of your head, warm blood soils your fingers.

The sky lights up again and strikes so close to you that you can feel the earth tremble from the shock. You get on your feet again. Ignoring the pain, you resume your desperate run. You’re not even sure where you’re heading. It’s not like you have anywhere to go. For now, though, any shelter would do: any place to escape the fury of the elements.

A hundred steps further, you make out the shape of a barn. Without thinking about the consequences of trespassing on private land, you head in that direction. The barn is adjacent to a house, but no light filters from the windows. Hopefully the owners are not at home, and no one will notice your presence.

You reach the door. Fortunately for you, it’s unlocked. Inside, the air smells of horse, goats and oxen. It’s almost reassuring in its familiarity.

Stumbling about in the dark, you finally find a heap of hay and you sit down in it.

You skirt is in pieces already, so you tear up a shred of it to wipe the blood from your face the best you can. It has started coagulating and despite the rain, your hair is matted with it.

A sudden noise makes you lift your head, but you soon figure out it must be the wind playing with the door.

All the running managed to keep you warm until now, but your clothes are soaked wet. Soon, you start to shiver. If only you could get a hold of a blanket, or anything that could keep you from freezing. Maybe the only solution left is to bury yourself in the haystack.

“Who’s there?”

The voice, low-pitched and rough, not unlike the thunder outside, makes you jump out of your skin. Standing at the door of the barn is a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. The man is holding a lantern in one hand and a gun in the other.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out of it. An irrepressible shudder takes your voice away.

“Show yourself, or I’m coming to take you out myself,” he orders. This is the tone of someone not accustomed to be disobeyed.

Perhaps if you stay very still, he’s going to go away. This is wishful thinking, of course. He knows you’re there.

He takes long strides, pointing his firearm in your general direction. Fear makes you almost nauseous. He looks savage, with a stern frown and a long scar marking the side of his face.

“Abandon whatever you thought you could steal from me, get out of my property and go back crawling to your master’s feet. Tell George I know what he’s doing,” he growls, but then the lantern light reveals your features and he stops dead in his tracks. He hesitates, confused, and he lowers his weapon. You’re not what he expected to find creeping into his barn in the middle of the night. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing here?” His tone is harsh and even if he’s not displaying aggressive behavior anymore, he still terrifies you.

You stare at the musket in his hand and his grip around it.

He considers yourself wordlessly for a moment and seems to get to an agreement with himself. He unloads the weapon and tucks it in his trousers. When he makes another step toward you, you jerk back with a squeal, curling into a ball to protect yourself, convinced you’re going to get grabbed, punched, kicked… or worse.

Slowly, he squats down to put the lantern on the ground and be at your level. “Shhh, it’s alright, lass.” He shows the palms of his hands to you as a sign of peaceful intentions. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You stare back at the scarred face. A strange man, no matter what he says, is always a threat to young women: that much you know. This one is obviously a lot stronger than you are and has piercing dark eyes: he could well be the devil himself for all you know.

Whereas you’re wary and afraid, he studies you with an opened curiosity. Your torn up skirt is exposing your legs to his gaze and you wish you could cover yourself up.

“Where are you from?” he asks, a lot softer than before.

You gulp and find your voice again, though it comes out shaky and weak: “Penpol. I’m from Penpol, sir.”

“Penpol… that’s on Warleggan land, is it not?”   

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you doing here, so far from home?”

Every nerve, every fiber of your being tells you to run away, but you’re paralyzed. “My father, my mother… my siblings… they all died of the putrid throat,” you explain, tearing up unexpectedly. “I wasn’t able to pay the rent on our cottage, so Mister Warleggan kicked me out.”

Something in his eyes hardens, like the hot metal from a forge plunged in cold water. He rises and takes the lantern as he does. “Come,” he simply says.

You choke back a sob. “No, please!” You join hands as you beg him. “I’m sorry I trespassed, but please don’t throw me out! Let me stay here for the night, sir! I promise I won’t take anything and I’ll be gone at the break of dawn. You won’t ever hear of me again! Please!!”

He sighs. “Easy, lass. I’m not throwing you out.”

“You’re not?” you sniffle.

“I’m not. I’m inviting you to my house.”

You smooth the front of your corsage, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Come now,” he insists when he sees your hesitation. He outstretches a hand to help you up. “Don’t stand there gaping. This is no place to sleep, unless you’re a goat.”

You ignore the offered help and pull yourself back on your feet. You feel dizzy all of a sudden, but you follow him out of the barn and under the rain to the front door of the house. Even if you’ve wanted to resist, you don’t have enough willpower. You’re too exhausted.

He shows you into the parlor and you stand in the middle of the room, gawking at your surroundings while your host lights some candles. There are shiny chandeliers, a clock and nice furniture. This is the house of a man with some means.

“Sit there,” he tells you, pointing a finger at one of the benches near the fireplace.

You do as you’re told.

Your host drops his tricorn hat on the table. He hangs his musket back on the wall, pulls off his gloves, sheds his coat and rolls the sleeves of his shirt on his forearms. Unlike most gentlemen you’ve crossed path with, he has a body that had been sculpted by real farm work.  

He crouches in front of the fireplace, stirs the embers and adds a log. “What’s your name?”

Restless, you swallow and play with the remains of your skirt, but, in the end, you choose to answer his question with honesty.

His unquiet expression is hard to read. “My name is Ross Poldark,” he introduces himself in turn.

This is an apt name, you think, because now that you can detail him better, you realize that everything about him is indeed dark: his mane of raven curls, his strong eyebrows and the shadow of stubble dusting his jawline. The name does ring a bell, however.

“Ross Poldark? The famous recluse?” you exclaim without thinking. “I thought you were just a tale!”

His face lights up and he burst into laughter. The eyes you thought to be two bottomless wells are suddenly sweetened by a touch of honey.

“Apart from avoiding the people of my own class, I’m not sure what I’ve done to earn such a reputation.” He smiles. It makes him look so different…mischievous… attractive.

He too can see you better from the light of the fire and his face falls. “Wait, you’re hurt!” he realizes, noticing the traces of blood on your cheek and temple. In a second, he’s in front of you and reaching for your face. You flinch and evade his touch.

“Please, let me take a look at it…” he insists.   

Tentatively, you bend your neck and let him inspect your scalp.

“Who did that to you? Was it George? One of his men?” he questions. All the warmth is gone from his demeanor.

“No,” you breathe. “I fell and hurt myself climbing down a fence.”

Without a comment more, he goes to the kitchen to fetch some supplies and comes back in the parlor where he proceeds to clean the blood from your cut. In complete silence, with precise gestures, he concentrates on his task.

The hand that holds you still, in a soft grip around your face, is large, calloused and warm. You can feel all the contained strength in those fingers.

Somehow, despite the distrust that lingers at the back of your mind, you catch yourself staring at his mouth in fascination. These lips, what would it feel like to be kissed by them, you wonder. Can they be caressing and supple sometimes, instead of pinched in displeasure?

“Here,” he says, freeing you, “it looked worse than it was, but I’m going to bring you to my friend doctor Ennys tomorrow so he can take an expert look at it.”

“I cannot go to the doctor, sir,” you protest. “I’ve got nothing to pay.”

“Don’t worry about that. What you should worry about is that you’re still in wet, dirty rags.”

He leaves again and when he comes back, he’s carrying food and clothes: an old skirt that belonged to one of his late mother’s servants and one of his own shirts. He averts his eyes and busies himself by slicing bread and putting the stew to heat in the fireplace as you get changed. Your pulse is fluttering, knowing that he could turn around or look over his shoulder and see your nudity any time, but he doesn’t.

The skirt is a bit too short, baring your naked feet and ankles to halfway up your calves. The shirt, on the other hand, is too large for your frame and billows out around your waist and arms. The fabric gives out a manly scent. It had been washed, but not enough to get rid of the musk entirely. It’s oddly comforting and troubling at the same time.

Feeling flustered to be presenting yourself in his clothes, you sit at the table. You cross your arms over your chest, in a way to shyly shield your breasts from his gaze. If this sight has any effect on Ross, he’s careful not to let it show. He puts a bowl of stew in front of you. “Eat. You must be starving.”

And you are. It’s been days since your last proper meal.

He pours himself a glass of port and sits across from you. He watches you wolf down the content of the bowl with a crooked smile.

“More?” he asks with a spark of fondness as you clean the last ounces of stew.

You nod and he takes your bowl for a second filling. It disappears almost as quickly as the first one.  

“You’ve been so good to me, Mister Poldark,” you tell him once you swallowed your last mouthful. “I have nothing to repay you.”

He shakes his head and starts clearing the dishes from the table. “I’m not expecting anything in return.”

As he leaves again and you hear his footsteps on the stairs leading to the second floor, you feel a sort of cold invades you: one that has little to do with the weather. Since your family died, you’ve barely had human contacts. Nobody showed you any form of kindness, compassion or even charity. The people from your village had been avoiding you. It wasn’t natural to their eyes that you had been the only one of your family to survive. Rumors started to spread that you had poisoned them. But Mister Poldark, he hadn’t try to reject or hurt you, quite the contrary in fact.

When your hosts shows up in the parlor again, with a pillow and a blanket for you to settle on the carpet near the hearth, tears you hadn’t seen coming start spilling on your face. “Please don’t leave me down here on my own!” It’s the second time tonight you’re begging him. You can’t help but cursing yourself for being so weak and pitiful. “I can’t face it! I just can’t! I’m cold and I’m afraid!”

He stares at you, disconcerted. “Are you asking me to be allowed to sleep in my room?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor. I won’t trouble you at all! You won’t even know I’m there.”

He rubs his face with both hands. A part of him is sensitive to your distress and wants to help, the other sees how much this could be a bad idea. “You and I know it’s not wise or proper.”

“Please, sir. Nobody’ll know. I won’t tell a soul.”

You can see his resolve falter at the sight of your face bathed in tears. “There is no carpet on my bedroom’s floor so you’ll sleep in my bed,” he decides. “But I warn you, if you toss, turn and kick, you’re going back downstairs.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

He blows the candles out in the parlor. You wipe the tears from your face and you follow him upstairs.

He slips under the covers of the large bed fully clothed and you imitate him. You marvel at the sensation of the mattress under your back. This is the most comfortable bed you’ve ever slept in. It almost seems unreal.  

Propped on his elbow, Ross watches you with the same impish smile he had earlier. “You’re just like a little cat, aren’t you?” he chuckles. “I find you in my barn and feed you, and before I know it, you end up sleeping on my bed.”

You blink at him. “Does that displease you, sir?”

“I don’t know what to make of you just yet,” he admits. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingertips brush your cheek in a way that makes you tremble. A very shameful kind of heat pools at the bottom of your stomach. You have this insane need to curl up against him: to know what it is like to be in his arms.

“Mister Poldark?” you whisper, not even knowing what it is you mean to ask him.

“Listen,” he begins. He pauses, long enough to erase a remaining tear from your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. “You are very lovely… but you’ve been through something awful, and you are craving a kind of reassurance and affection I can’t give you. I would be taking advantage of your situation. It wouldn’t be right.” He caresses your face one last time. It only leaves you aching for more. “Sleep now. You need it.” He kills the light of the last candle on the nightstand. “Good night, lass.”

“Good night, sir.”

He rolls over to his flank. His back and shoulders are like the wall of a living fortress separating your half of the bed from his, but you can hear his quiet breathing on the other side and you wonder if his eyes are still opened.

[bongaboi]

Revons Plus Grand, Chapter 7

Revons Plus Grand

Chapter 7:

Classical Gas

Really though, the results of the matches on Wednesday had little impact on the collective mood to Georgette Lemare and Sadako Shimohara catering to the gladiators of football on the men's and women's sides, the proud men and women of Paris Saint-Germain, the soul of a metropole beating like a drum, strumming like an acoustic guitar on a full tank of melodical biodiesel. This is your life, live it, live in the now.

That was all they did. They got up at 6, had breakfast, packed lunch and headed down to the street where Mr. Sami would shuttle them to work. At 7, they would report to the Camp des Loges to prepare the rooms and the facility for the players. At 9, the men, followed by the women, would have their scheduled morning sessions. Lunchtime would see the two of them prepare the meals for the teams.

After their lunch break, the two teams would continue practice before adjourning in the afternoon, at which the girls would clean up the mess left by both teams before clocking out at about 5 or 6 in the early evening. Then Mr. Sami would shuttle them back to their apartment in Boulogne Billancourt, a short walk from the Stadium.

Saturday came, and both teams were on the road again. The two girls had received their stubs and cashed it in on Friday evening. Both were each paid 600 euros a week, which was more than twice a regular cook in France earned per month, on average. Combined with the subsidized rent, it was a decent living for the two of them. Strangely, though, Georgette and Sadako were being summoned to the Camp des Loges in the morning to meet with Mr. Benoit Rousseau.

"According to the owner, he personally requested that both of you step in to help with matchday preparation, such as preparing the change rooms and moving uniforms to the laundry and all of that," Benoit explained. "Normally, you would be doing this for home games but since we are on the road, he decided to have you experience this so that you know the process."

"Wow, that is something I didn't know," said Georgette.

"Also, the team we are facing is from Dijon. And you know what Dijon is famous for..."

"Mustard," she and Sadako said with a smile, looking at each other with a giggle.

"So he decided this would also be an opportunity for you to take a quick visit to the heart of the city and make a special run to a certain store that has the best in the world. It's this one right here." A visual.

"Oh, I know this place, from our world," Jose told Sadako. "This is La Boutique Maille."

"La Boutique Maille?"

"When I was younger, my mother would take me to Dijon on a carriage and bring me to this place and we would buy mustard in this cute looking jars. The mustard we have in Normandy is fine, but this city is where the best in the world is. There is no other place on this Earth that does mustard as correctly as Dijon. It's mustard heaven!"

"I guess this is a great opportunity for us to go out on the town out there, while getting the boys set to do battle," Sadako said slyly, winking. "Work and play? A-OK!"

"That what you say."

"Allez, Ola, Ole!" The two of them laughed like mindless schoolgirls frolicking on a Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grande Jatte, the Ile de la Jatte, located north of Neiully-sur-Seine.

"So, let's pack this up and get ready to transport out materials to the Stade Gaston Gerard, both of you," said Benoit. "The store is a 35 minute walk away to the west."

"Yes, Mr. Rousseau!" they both said.

"Benoit will be fine from now on. You have my trust." They beamed as they continued to transport the materials on to the coach with the team's mistakable livery. They were also wearing special track suits, and in an interesting touch, their personal insignia was placed next to the crest. Naturally, the cat tracker jumped in and was stationed on Georgette's lap to pet. As authorized by the staff, she was wearing a skirt and white thighhighs.

The coach, after being loaded in full, headed down the A6 toward Dijon, exiting Paris and heading southeast, passing by the Fontainebleau Forest, a regional park in Morvan and a number of small towns along the way. Georgette was listening to modern music for the first time on her issued iPod Touch 6, enrobed in a PSG case. Sadako had an iPad Pro pressed on the window, sitting still.

"What are you doing?" asked Georgette to Sadako.

"Filming the countryside," she replied.

"Are you going to compile it somehow for a film?"

"Set it to the music in this thing and perhaps submit it to our folks."

"Oh my, really? Carry on, then." Sadako nodded as Jose sighed, continuing to melt in watching the pictures of rural life in central France.

"So this is Dijon," said Benoit to Sadako and Georgette as they got off the coach. They were outside the Stade Gaston Gerard, the home of Dijon Football Cote D'Or. Dijon FCO, currently 13th in the Ligue 1 standings, a recently promoted side under manager Olivier Dall'Oglio. They had been eliminated 2-1 midweek on the road by FC Girondins de Bordeaux, managed by Jocelyn Gourvennec and needed to rebound in a big way before their manager faced the sack.

"So what do we do, Mr. Benoit?" Sadako asked him.

He handed them umbrellas. "You have two hours to do whatever visiting you want, but at 3 p.m., you must report to the stadium right here so we can go over how to have the room set up. You will be given instructions from our performance manager, Mr. Martin Buchheit, who will be on his way. Also, mind the weather. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Benoit!" they said.

"See you in a bit. Enjoy the city!"

The two girls walked down the Boulevard des Strasbourg, passing by some rustic homes and some newer homes. Sadako continued to film the scenes of SUVs passing by, and she was only able to do it because of their power, which allows them natural protection from the rain. Nonetheless, for posterity, the two of them were holding their team-issued umbrellas courtesy of Benoit and their devices were not wet at all. As they walked through narrow alleyways and old, tall buildings and churches, including the Eglise Notre Dame de Dijon, Georgette was listening to some interesting ye-ye music, including a particular one by a woman named, interestingly, France Gall.

"Je suis une poupe de cire

Une poupe de son

Mon coeur est grav dans mes chansons

Poupe de cire poupe de son

Suis-je meilleure suis-je pire

Qu'une poupe de salon

Je vois la vie en rose bonbon

Poupe de cire poupe de son

Mes disques sont un miroir

Dans lequel chacun peut me voir

Je suis partout la fois

Brise en mille clats de voix

Autour de moi j'entends rire

Les poupes de chiffon

Celles qui dansent sur mes chansons

Poupe de cire poupe de son

Elles se laissent sduire

Pour un oui pour un non

L'amour n'est pas que dans les chansons

Poupe de cire poupe de son

Mes disques sont un miroir

Dans lequel chacun peut me voir

Je suis partout la fois

Brise en mille clats de voix

Seule parfois je soupire

Je me dis quoi bon

Chanter ainsi l'amour sans raison

Sans rien connatre des garons

Je n'suis qu'une poupe de cire

Qu'une poupe de son

Sous le soleil de mes cheveux blonds

Poupe de cire poupe de son

Mais un jour je vivrai mes chansons

Poupe de cire poupe de son

Sans craindre la chaleur des garons

Poupe de cire poupe de son..."

"I think I am inspired," said Sadako to Jose.

"What are you feeling like doing?"

"Those illustrations by Dadeu that we saw on Wednesday? I want to do some myself."

"You should try it out on your tablet later, I think that's what it's called. Anyway, here we are," said Jose as the two of them reached a store with a black exterior and gold writing. "Moutarde Maille. This is it."

"Hold my hand," Sadako said, gulping.

"Such a baby," she deadpanned. She noticed Sadako sucking her right index. "And stop sucking your finger, this is a public place!"

"Eheheheh..." And so they were inside.

"Bonjour and welcome to La Maison Maille," said the shopkeeper.

"Good afternoon," Sadako and Jose said with a bow.

"My name is Josh and I am the manager of the store here. Is this your first time here?"

"For my partner, yes," said Jose, "but I have been here before..."

Sadako looked at her suspiciously. "Are you going to tell him the truth now?" she shot back through telekinesis. From this point forward, both of them were only talking to each other in French, unless otherwise directed.

"He wouldn't believe me," she replied through telekinesis, "so..."

"So if you've been here before, we want you to know that we have a new variety of mustards available," said Josh. "Since Valentine's Day is around the corner, we have gift boxes for your loved ones, and we also sell vinegars and other special products. Did you have anything in mind?"

"What do you recommend, Mr. Josh?" asked Jose.

"Well, as we mentioned, we have some giftboxes that you can consider for a purchase but our best sellers are our mustards from the pump," he replied.

"Mustard from a pump?"

"Directly from the source, very fresh and high quality, in comparison to our regular mustards, all natural, made with the best ingredients possible, highly prized..."

"Wow...can I see?"

"Follow me, this way." The two girls followed Josh to the pumps. "So, here at La Maison Maille, we pump our mustards into these ceramic jars." He handed them sample jars.

"Cool, are these...?"

"These are handcrafted ceramic jars, and after they are filled, they are then sealed. As you know, with refrigeration, these will last a while with proper use. We have seven different varieties that can be obtained from the pump. Here's a sample." He produced a couple of tasting spoons and provided a couple of samples.

"Mmmmm," Jose said. "Delicious. Is this truffles?"

"Black truffle and chablis. One of our best sellers."

"My gosh...so good!" She wanted to sprout cat ears and a tail again but she had to restrain herself.

"I detect some honey in this," Sadako said.

"Indeed. That is rosemary honey, another popular flavor. Both are limited edition," said Josh with a smile on his face. "So, does this give both of you an idea of what you want to buy?"

"Well," Georgette said with a scheming look on her face, "actually..."

"Actually?" Josh's right hand had unknowing given Jose's bust an expanding squeeze, complete with lewd effect. He had no idea...

...until minutes later. "Oh, mon dieu..." An overwhelming groan of defeat could be heard from Josh as comical smoke came out of his head to go with a massive bump while the two girls left the store. They bought two jars each of every mustard from the pump and a gourmet collection box that they carried back to the team bus. With this, they had enough mustard to last them the entire time they were expected to be with their employers.

"He was about to grope me out in the open," said Jose, nonplussed with a vein on her head as they returned to the Stade Gaston Gerard, the rain subsiding a little. "At least he made up for it by giving us half off. The pervert!"

"But you don't make a fuss when I do it, right?" Sadako reminded her sternly and with a hint of clever glee on her sadistic lips forming a sideways three.

A finger to Sadako's lips that were full of a million ideas for a touch of a women to melt the heart a woman. "Yes, but right now, we are working. This is work. Understand?"

"Yes, dear..."

As they loaded the contents in a special case and placed it in the coach, Benoit came in to meet them, and Martin was with him as well. "Ah, both of you! Welcome back," said Benoit.

"Mr. Benoit, we have returned!" they both said, saluting. Jose's eyebrows were still twitching from the traumatic experience.

"At ease. So this is the performance manager. I want you to meet him. He will take it from here. Martin?"

"Good afternoon, I am Mr. Martin Buchheit, performance manager for PSG," he said, shaking hands. "Before the contest, we prepare the change rooms for the players and coaches. I'll show you how it's done so that you will be accustomed to the preparations without further supervision. Follow me." After a nod, the two girls followed Martin to the visiting change rooms after receiving their credentials which would last the rest of the season.

Meanwhile, back in Petersburg, Hikari Karibuchi and Naoe Kanno were watching the cat tracker film Sadako and Georgette hang up jerseys, prepare shorts, socks, jackets, pants, cleats, practice balls, and so on and so forth, with some scenes in slow motion, set to an instrumental version of France Gall's Eurovision-winning song, so much that Martin himself was amazed at how fast they picked it up.

"Allegedly they call this inside access," Nao said to Hikari, munching some popcorn.

"Inside access?"

"All-access look at the workings of that shitty team. Tch! I don't know if I will even forgive them if they don't win the game against a bunch of low-skilled low life provincial mustard boys who were tossed out of a cup competition a few days ago."

"Low-skilled low lifes, you say? United we stand, divided we fall. As one, in the hole..." Nao nodded as the cat tracker walked through the change room, showing the different players that are scheduled to be on the traveling list. On the screen popped up the Mick McCarthy meme of "One In The Hole, You Say?" prompting Hikari to laugh like a full-blown idiot mixed with a hyena on hiatus from sanity and into full frontal hysteria. O #HikariKaribuchi.

Nao looked at her tub and held it upside down. "Shit, I ran out of popcorn." She pointed to the kitchen, her arms forming what the alternate dimension called a "dab." On the screen, a picture of Zlatan Ibrahimovic relaxing in his easy chair, looking smug as ever with his mustache and ponytail, showed up, with the caption, "Somebody pass the popcorn."

Hikari got up from her seat. "Right!" A couple more large tubs with extra chocolate toppings were in order. As she left the room, the song ended in its entirety.

Nao peeked fron under her dabbing arm. "Heheh." Her eyes glinted with a bling on the wing. Oh Naoe Kanno, you precious thing.

Following the match, the bus driver shuttling Sadako and Georgette back to their apartment in Boulogne had elected to drop them and their culinary supplies at the door. Mr. Sami had the night off due to overwork and would be fresh for his next shift the next day after drinking some guarana beverages imported directly from Brazil.

Sunday, the team was needed to do more training. Midweek, the club would be facing Lille OSC, who had an interim manager in Patrick Collot who replaced the dismissed Frederic Antonetti midseason. Les Dogues, as they were called, were dispatched of by PSG in the Coupe de La Ligue but were still in the hunt in the Coupe de France and could salvage their season by running the tables in the remaining stages.

"I wanted to try something different, a new style because I don't need the same outfit and appearance every time," said Jose, her fist pumped after putting on her signature underwear following a morning bath with Sadako, who was also getting dressed.

"Can you explain? I don't understand." They were lounging on the sofa in their underwear, the cat tracker watching the two of them discreetly. The Eiffel Tower was illuminating in the distance, a beacon of hope to the West.

"I want to change my style and look like someone else on our squad," Georgette said, letting down her hair with an angelic sigh.

"Huh? What are you...eh?" Sadako was concerned Jose was going to cut her hair, or something even more threatening that would put their rock-solid relationship in dire straits.

"Eheh..." Jose eyed a big blue bow with PSG's crest on it, tied her hair back with it, parted her bangs a certain direction, and gave her bust a bounce three times, causing her to orgasm profusely. "Haaaaah..."

"!" Sadako's nose was about to bleed but she held it in, miraculously. Georgette's chest had the exact size of a certain squad member recovering and returning to the team...to reunited with someone she knew so well.

With a giggle, Georgette turned around to Sadako, doing a contrapposto. "Well," she said, in a slightly more adultlike voice but still adorable, "how do I look, Sa-da-chan?"

"Eh..." It dawned on her like the rising sun. Beat. Of. The. "WHY DO YOU LOOK AND SOUND LIKE FL-er, no, HIKARI'S BIG SISTER!?"

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, it's just, it's just...I...I...!" Sadako went up from behind Georgette and gave her breasts a nice squeeze.

"HYAAAAAAAH!" Georgette cried in pleasure, causing Sadako's flower to empty itself out and stain her black lace panties.

"They are truly real. I love it. I don't need to really use a pillow anymore when your cleavage gives me all the comfort I need, and they're bigger than mine's and it doesn't affect you at all." A nipple tweak here and there, as Sadako's hands were under her bra, threatening a timely strap slip of suggestive seduction. "It's what I dreamed of when loving you like I do, Jose! It completes me! I am alive again!"

They shared a long kiss, a trail of saliva separating their lips. Georgette giggled as the two of them went back to the bedroom to continue getting dressed. "That was so that you can get the lewd stuff off your chest and focus on work. Your breakfast before the breakfast in a way, okay?"

"I guess so, but how did you do it? It's a really developed size, even for someone like you. Why did you choose to look and sound like Takami?"

"Because we are 18, we are working adults, and we need to be extension of the image of PSG being a sexy club for sexy players playing Le Sexy Football. Baby. Flight Lieu-er, Takami should be working here, she would be a nice motivational boost and a great helping hand to the boys."

"All those raging hormones and long dicks out for Le PSG, Paris Saint-Germain...or, what if I told you PSG really stood for Paris, Sadako and Georgette?"

"Eh?"

They looked in the mirror after getting dressed. Sadako lifted the chin of Georgette, whose breath was hitched. "Look at my eyes. They are red. Yours are blue. Rouge..." She whispered after coming in closer. "...et bleu." And a kiss.

"Seems legit, Sada."

"Now I know what Hikari loves to melt into the embrace and body of her big sister. It feels so delicious. Nice work, my dear, dear Jose. Rrrrr."

"I'm glad you liked it."

She stretched and looked outside the skyline, winter's cold still coming in for February. In the distance, a busker was playing La Mer on his accordion. "Ahhh, but my love, Jose, you may even say it was destiny for us to even be here working for this club. All the pieces fall together. And it doesn't get any bigger than this."

"Ohhhh yes it can. Remember, at this club..."

"We dream bigger," they both said, laughing. Taking their duffel bags full of toiletries and food and water, the two of them went down to the shuttle, where Mr. Sami was waiting.

"Hey, Mr. Sami," asked Jose, eating a massive breakfast roll as the shuttle made its way down the road, "when did you get here?"

"5 in the morning, Ms. Jose," he said with a thumbs-up.

"That early?"

"Yep. It may be Sunday but have a long shift today and I was so beat with having to do other work for other patrons that the boss told me to take Saturday off to sleep. Woke up refreshed like a rooster and ready to go."

"Speaking of which, Jose," asked Sadako, "isn't the emblem of Gal-er, France the rooster?"

A sweatdrop came down Georgette's head. "Um, Sada? Did you forget that...?"

"The Gallic rooster, which is actually a wordplay, or pun, on the Latin work gallus, meaning chicken, and Gallia, or Gaul, another name for France," Sami said. "Indeed, our mascot for the 1998 FIFA World Cup was a rooster named Toofix. Bet you didn't know that girls."

"The more you know," Sadako and Georgette said in unison, sweat drops all around.

"But you also know something? Later, actually, waaaay later in the night tonight, after midnight our time, to be exact, something will be going on in America."

"What's going on there?" asked Jose.

"Have you heard of this thing called the Super Bowl?"

"What's that?" asked Sadako.

"It is one of the biggest sporting spectacles in the early part of the month. There are commercials, a pregame and halftime show, and the game itself, which is a game of American football."

"American football?" Georgette wondered. "I think Shirley knows what this game is, Sada."

"It is said to be a variant of the football we watched, but it's a different code with rules, variations, stoppages of play and violent, dramatic collisions. And lots of beer is drunk at this event too," said Sada.

"Shirley said she was from West Virginia, so..."

"I think there is supposed to be a few universities that field teams that play this sport, which is also called gridiron due to the line demarcations resembling as such. Also, the goalposts are off a different shape. It is actually a variant derived from football and rugby union, according to this guide here to the match."

"Who left that here?"

"It was another tourist from San Diego, in the American state of California in the south, who was unhappy that his team, called the Chargers, in the professional division called the National Football League, departed for neighboring Los Angeles. So he left it there. I was supposed to pick him up. But apparently, I heard the news that he had hung himself at some place in the 19th arrondissement."

"He killed himself?" Sadako exclaimed. "That's horrible! Why?"

"According to the report from the Gendarme, he was reported to have also said, 'death to Trump and death to America.' He also killed a few other bystanders before he hung himself. I could not get myself to even continue my work so the boss allowed me to get some sleep since he didn't want this to be a distraction."

"Sorry to hear that, Mr. Sami," Georgette said. "But still, I wish I could be able to watch the game live, but it's so late in the night for that. Everyone's sleeping, except maybe the expatriates."

"Speaking of expatriates, the Patriots are playing the Falcons at a stadium called NRG Stadium in the American state of Texas. The Patriots are a team from Boston represented all of New England, the northeast corner of the country. The New England Patriots. As for the Falcons, they are based in the capital of the America state of Georgia, Atlanta. Thus, they are the Atlanta Falcons. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I do, somewhat. But still..." Sadako looked on concerned as Georgette's head was bowed in defeat while petting the sympathetic cat tracker. "I wish I could get up to watch it."

"The DVR feature on today televisions allows you to rewatch any show or event you may have missed."

"Really?" Sadako exclaimed. "Good news for us, right Jose?" A few tears could be seen coming down her empty eyes. "Jose? Are you all right?"

Georgette lifted her head and turned to Sadako, forcing a smile. Just like how Takami would do it. Truly in character. "It can be helped, right Sada-chan?"

Sadako paused. "She even talks exactly like her," she thought to herself. But missing the big game across the Atlantic was going to be a sacrifice that the two of them would have to bear.

Or was it...? The strains of "Classical Gas" by Mason Williams played on the coach's radio as the shuttle continued to roll toward the Camp des Loges in the pouring rain.

END CHAPTER 7