#he’s being terrorized by beautiful brunette women who care about him…

[jimmyspades]

chase away my heart and heartache

[sylverstorms]

Fantasy Cruise

This piece is made for a very special someone, @standoutofthecrowd as a gift. The characters in this story are original and do not belong to any fandom. If you give it a read, I hope you enjoy ❣

Warning! The rating of this is M for Mature themes. ;)

They called it the Fantasy Cruise.

The hyper-luxurious ship of not-so innocent dreams, which promised to make anyone’s fantasies a reality during its five-day trip across the Mediterranean.

Well. So long as the money was there for an individual to afford one of its limited, mind-boggingly expensive tickets. Whoever said dreams were cheap clearly hadn’t heard of that cruise.

The advertisements all over the world promoted the experience as ‘starring in a romance movie’. And wouldn’t anybody be excited to star in their very own epic adventure?

“No.” Quinn deadpanned, dragging her luggage behind as she followed Lena into the fifth circle around the same deck, where their cabins were supposed to be.

“What do you mean no, stupid, isn’t this amazing?!” the other girl asked excitedly.

Quinn wondered what exactly was so amazing about getting lost on a piece of wood floating into the vast blue sea. Her glare met Lena’s back without much of an impact.

“No means no. It’s fine at best.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Quinn! Just look at this!” the redhead said, turning around to throw an arm around her shoulders and motion towards the polished-to-a-sparkle saloon, as if that would change the brunette’s entire worldview. “I won us free holidays to the world’s sexiest cruise. You should be beside yourself with excitement right now and buying me a shit ton of drinks as thank you!”

Quinn shook her head. “Correction; You won a trip for you and Mike –but then you had to go and break up and drag me into this, at the last moment.” As always. The woes of being a best friend.

“Because your single ass could really use what this dreamy ship has to offer.” Lena stated.

“It could also use some rest and relaxation at my grandparents’ seaside house.” The brunette countered. “Instead of being the wingwoman to the universe’s most annoying redhead.”

Lena grimaced. “And a sucky wingwoman, at that. Most of the guys I’m interested in come onto you.”

“Except I’m a tad too gay to care.” Quinn let out a small, exasperated sigh.

“Well, then this cruise is your chance! There are a ton of girls here and I can guarantee they aren’t straight as arrows, hon.” Lena replied. “Tell you what. When we find our rooms, we’ll take a look around. And if nobody exists to catch the great Quinn’s interest, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the trip.”

Quinn’s brown eyes immediately lit up at the sound of that.

“I should be offended at how much you perked up just now.” The other girl commented. “But, anyway. Do we have a deal?”

They shook hands. “We got a freaking deal.”

It only took another hundred turns to find their respective rooms.

…

Quinn was no stranger to waiting for Lena to get ready. The woman could show up anywhere from a quarter to an hour later than their arranged meeting time, so it was nothing out of the norm.

Alone in the empty corridor, Quinn checked her smartwatch, then leaned back against her door with a bored huff. She could already feel the ultra-comfy, queen-sized bed within calling her name, but if she gave into the urge to rest Lena would surely come in like the human wrecking ball she was and ruin it for her.

Giggles from down the corridor reached her ears, then.

Two girls were walking towards her, one raven-haired, the other blonde. Quinn didn’t really pay them any mind, until they were close enough to tell the cute laugh belonged to the blondie.

The stunning blondie.

Quinn hoped –but wasn’t betting on it— that she was subtle in her double-take. Because as soon as the beauty entered her field of vision, all else faded into the background. The girl’s hair was shining like silken strands, her pink lips glossy and glistening, absolutely kissable, her pretty face and killer body taken straight out of a dream.

Hazel eyes met brown for a single, earth-stilling second.

Then the girls were past her and Quinn blinked, checking the blonde’s back out before she disappeared around the next corner.

Damn, she thought. Maybe all that crap about fantasies coming to life weren’t complete bullshit, after all.

“Why do you look like a fish out of water?” Lena’s voice came, shattering the dream to pieces.

“Because I felt like one, waiting for your sorry ass to get ready. Move it or I’m going for a nap.”

“No, you’re not~ we’re hitting the pool.” Lena sing-songed.

Ugh. Maybe I can find someone to keep her busy for the next four days. Quinn thought. She’s happy, I’m free, win-win.

If she only knew…

…

“Hey. Hey look.” Lena whispered. Quinn huffed over her drink. “How about that guy? How would you rate him?”

“Why do you assume my answer’s gonna change? All guys get a zero out of ten from me. Period.”

“He’s an eight at least.”

“Sure, Lena.”

“How about that sexy over there, who’s been staring at your abs for the past ten minutes?”

“Hm?” Quinn turned, following her friends’ gaze under her glasses.

The drink nearly dropped from her hand when she saw the blonde from earlier on the other side of the crystalline pool, fair skin glittering from suncream. The brunette’s throat went dry.

“Ah, now she’s speechless.”

“Tsk. Don’t be an idiot, she’s probably not even gay.”

“Do you have eyes? Even I can tell she’s interested.” was the immediate reply.

“From this distance you couldn’t tell a dude apart from a girl, you idiot.” Quinn teased with a smirk.

“You’re the idiot if you don’t act fast and another girl chats her up first. Remember; We’re here to have a good time. Stop being uptight; There’s your good time, all blonde and waiting for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Lena, whatever you say-” But her friend was already rising from her sunbed. Quinn didn’t pay her any mind, at first, thinking she was just going for a swim or for a guy that caught her eye.

Instead, five minutes later, much to Quinn’s terror, the insufferable redhead was taking a seat right beside the cute blonde.

To say the brunette rushed to the other side of the pool would be an understatement. She could not recall a single instance in her life where she ran faster. It was practically teleportation.

“Hello, girls. This one has had too much to drink so excuse me, I’m taking her away~”

“Lies, they needed to know you have the hots for blondie but you’re too pussy to make a move-” the redhead began.

Quinn covered Lena’s mouth with a hand, pulling her into a headlock with the other. “Shh, don’t listen. We’re leaving. Sorry for the interruption.”

“Sad.” Miss Cute Blonde spoke up with a shy smile. “So… you’re not interested in me.”

“I… did not say that.” Quinn replied, heart suddenly in her throat. “I also didn’t say I don’t want your number.”

“Oh, good.” Another darling smile.

God. Head empty, girl too pretty. Quinn mentally slapped herself to get her shit together. “And definitely didn’t say I don’t want to see you at the bar later. At, like, ten o’clock.” Thank whatever higher power graced me with this sudden bravery.

“Maybe I’ll be there.” The blonde said.

It was only after Quinn went back inside with her friend in tow that she realized she didn’t even ask for the girl’s name.

“You’re welcome.” Lena laughed.

“Shut up…”

“You’re such a useless lesbian, by the way.”

…

Night had well settled over the ship. The massive pool at its pinnacle stood illuminated by both the moonlight and the soft LEDs within it, creating a beautiful setting, equal parts calming and seductive. Perfect for drinks and dates.

Quinn adjusted her blue button-up shirt as she walked out into the deck, greeted by the wonderful sight. There were tons of well-dressed people all around, but her eyes caught on one individual only.

“Hi.” She greeted, surprised she could speak at all, with the gorgeous blonde right there and dressed up just for her.

“Hey.”

“You look beyond beautiful. Only problem is, I can’t keep calling you ‘cute blonde’ in my head.”

“You look sexy. And you can call me Paisley, Quinn.” she replied in her sweet voice.

“You… know my name.” Don’t blush, don’t blush—

“I asked your friend.” came the shy admission.

“Yeah? What else did you ask about me?” Quinn smirked, slipping into the stool next to hers.

“Um… if you like girls…?”

“If I like you?” Feeling bolder, she raised a challenging eyebrow.

“If you like me…” Paisley chuckled there at the end. It was a sound that shot straight to Quinn’s heart.

And that– was worrying.

Because this was quite literally her dream girl in front of her... except she’d already paid the price of dreams, before. It had felt similar, then, since the first moment. A zap, undeniable attraction. An instant connection. And then… she’d been left bitter and alone.

Cold. Afraid to approach women for anything other than one quick, meaningless night.

“I think it’s quite easy to tell I do like you. A lot of things about you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, that melodic voice. How come a girl like you is single? That’s a crime.”

“Um. Long story, I guess. How come a girl like you is?”

“Long, unhappy story.” Quinn grimaced.

“I have time.”

They ended up chatting the night away, until the small hours of the morning.

…

The deck had nearly emptied.

Paisley and Quinn were walking side-by-side, admiring the dark waves as they gently lapped at the stark white shell of the cruise. It was time to say goodnight, but both were hesitant to go. To break the moment. To lose the chance for more.

Slowly, they turned to face each other.

“I had a great time.” Quinn began. “Thanks for the amazing company.”

“No, thank you…”

Neither moved to leave. Instead, they gravitated closer. Perhaps it wasn’t a smart move. Perhaps it would only lead to more trouble in the end. Perhaps it was fated. Perhaps it was fleeting.

But.

Quinn knew she would regret it for her entire life if she let Paisley slip away without first knowing exactly how soft her lips would feel against her own.

“So…” She began. “In the hypothetical scenario I wanted to kiss you before we go… would you like that?”

A brilliant smile, enough to rival the moon in its shine. “Hypothetically… I would.”

No more needed to be said.

The lock of their lips spoke the rest for them. Slippery, soft, tasting of daiquiri and strawberry lipgloss, that kiss was everything.

That kiss was the beginning of everything.

…

A full day had passed and they spent every moment together.

Swimming, laughing, trading interesting little facts and life stories. Trading kisses. What they had was a bond that formed so suddenly yet so powerfully it defied even logic.

As love often did.

And it was love. They both knew it, instinctively. Perhaps they weren't ready to admit it, perhaps the word was scary to fully register, yet that didn't make it any less true.

Every kiss fed something more than desire. Every caress, over an arm, over the gentle curve of a neck or a thigh, carried more than a physical aftershock.

They both knew they were on the same page on what they wanted, come nighttime. It was a wonder they hadn't ripped each other's bathing suits right by the pool so far. But they could only play nice for so long.

Quinn could feel her skin alight with want at every wayward trail of Paisley's nails on her. She wanted to have everything with the girl, even if it was just for a few days, just for one unforgettable night. They could worry about the rest later. They were already in too deep, anyway.

Paisley's back pressed against the door to her room. Her mouth was already onto Quinn's, tongue over her own, soft sighs and breaths filling the nonexistent space between their bodies.

Quinn's hands slipped under the blonde's top, caressing her tight, quivering stomach.

“Ah, at this rate we'll never make it inside.” Paisley panted.

“Good. Then whoever comes this way will know you're mine to have.” Quinn replied. Her teeth caught the sensitive shell of an ear. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For them to walk in on us like this? With my hand in your pants, rubbing you slowly?”

“Mmh.. Fuck...”

“With my fingers in your pussy, working deep?”

“Fuck Quinn...” Paisley groaned, pushing herself down on the thigh trapped between her legs. It only made the ache at her center worse.

Quinn couldn't help but rub herself against her, to ease her own lust. Their lips locked again while Paisley fumbled blindly for the electronic lock. It was a wonder they got the door to open with how focused they were on each other. Quick steps took them to the plush mattress at the far end of the room.

The brunette pushed gently, taking great pleasure in how easily her lover allowed herself to fall. Pale wrists were pinned onto the bed while thirsty tongues and bodies sought each other out...

But then they both pulled back. Paused. Stared into each other's eyes. The mood shifted like the wind before a storm. All the previous lust melted into something softer and far deeper, the urgency muted as they slowly started peeling each other's clothes off.

“You really are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.” Quinn whispered.

“You're the most stunning I've seen.” Paisley said back, a hand caressing her brunette's strong shoulders.

As much as she wanted to melt under the ministrations, Quinn wanted to bring her girl to that serrated edge of bliss, first. Thus began her descent down the marble plane of the blonde's neck, pausing to mark the skin with her teeth before soothing it with licks and kisses, enjoying every hitched breath she drew.

God, she feels so good...

With a light caress over Paisley's thigh, her mouth licked over a hard nipple, paying it the proper attention before moving further down. Her blonde was quivering by that point, non-verbally begging for her release. Every muscle taut, every breath shallow, eyes blown into swirling black pools. She was breathtaking.

Everything about the moment was.

When deft fingers finally dragged over soaked flesh, the reaction was as immediate as it was loud. Quinn decided she could easily get hooked on the sound and repeated the same motion with her tongue, from bottom to top.

She could feel in her mouth how ready to topple over the edge Paisley was for her. How she tried to last longer but couldn't help it. Quinn didn't think she could wait any longer, either. She needed to see her unravel more than she needed oxygen, right then.

With the insertion of fingers and a powerful suck, Paisley was crying out into the room, arching, clenching and contorting for her. Quinn, brought to the edge by her voice alone, couldn't help but grind down on her leg to mirror her release.

They both lay together after that, basking in the quiet closeness of their afterglow, hands roaming, worshiping, until the sunrise greeted them with its golden glory.

...

“I'm scared.” Paisley admitted between them. “That when the cruise ends, so will we. And I'm not ready to let this go tomorrow.”

“Neither am I. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.” Quinn said. “I haven't felt this way before. I don't generally feel things so... powerfully.” But this one slipped right under her defenses, somehow.

“But how will we make this work? You live here. I live on the other side of the world.” The blonde lowered her head, expression overtaken by sadness. “We'll just hurt to be apart.”

“We'll hurt, yes. But we won't 'just' hurt. Every relationship comes with pain— I think it's unavoidable, whether one’s partner is near or not. The question is, whether that pain is worth it. And I'd rather hurt yearning for you than for not having you at all.”

“I— I don't know what to say...” Paisley trailed off. “I only know I can't bear to lose you.”

“You won't lose me if you don't let me go. I will never abandon you, never let you face this shitty world alone.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

A promise sealed with a kiss and intertwined fingers below a gorgeous sunset.

And as it turned out, love can defeat any obstacle if it's real and true. Physical restrictions don't matter when it comes to what the heart needs. Distance bends before it. Even time can. Laws of physics and reason cease to apply.

The heart will love what it is meant to love.

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out At Night

Chapter 2: Say My Name. A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me

Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con. 

              Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell. At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her. “Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop. “Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant. It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.

Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room. Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes. “Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.

‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself. The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.

Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?

The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away. “Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.

Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.

‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence. “Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister. Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.

When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!” “Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason. ‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.

One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first. “We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”

Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head. “M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.

“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.

The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure. Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”  

Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend. “P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”

The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.

“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.

“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.

“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.

Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.

Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare. “How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu. Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up. “Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother. Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.

‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers. “P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye. “See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice. In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.

With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.

Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.

She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.

“DESMOND!”

She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.

“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”

[alphacrone]

title: for better or for worse pairing(s): Zen & Kiki, Zen & Kiki & Mitsuhide tags: au - canon divergence, arranged marriage, manga spoilers summary:

In a world where Zen never meets Shirayuki, he is still expected to marry. Unfortunately, Kiki is the best choice among his suitors.

Or, Zen has many awkward conversations and realizes something about love.

-

Zen Wistalia, second prince of Clarines, was 20 years of age when his brother commanded him to marry. 

It wasn’t that Zen misliked women, or even that he had grand dreams of finding true love. But Zen had never been comfortable in the company of noble ladies, who did not share his interests in sword fighting and horseback riding through the mountains. He loved his mother dearly and looked up to Queen Haki like an older sister, but the only woman who’d ever truly understood him was Kiki and she, unfortunately, was not an option. 

“I don’t understand the issue,” Izana said, only the barest hint of frustration in his tone. “Lady Kiki is one of your closest aides and a dear friend, is she not? That is a better choice than most in our position ever have.” 

Zen clenched his jaw. “She is…” he hedged. 

“Then it is her appearance?” Izana continued, casting his eyes down to the papers on his desk. “She’s grown lovelier since the days of being mistaken for a boy. But perhaps you prefer a brunette, or something else entirely…” 

“Kiki is very beautiful,” Zen snapped, more out of habit than anything. He’d grown very protective of her when she first arrived at the palace, and there had been more than a few hushed comments on her boyish appearance. “That’s not the issue.” 

“Then, my dear brother,” Izana sighed, bringing a few slender fingers to press at his temples. “What is the issue? I thought, of all the acceptable candidates, Kiki would be the best option—no, the only option. You’ve refused marriage interviews with any other lady. Please.” He cast a tired gaze at Zen. “Enlighten me.” 

“She’s in love with Mitsuhide.” 

Zen smacked a hand over his mouth, horrified. He hadn’t meant to tell his brother anything of the sort. 

Izana blinked once. Twice. Then he closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Is that all?” 

“What?” Zen froze, mouth agape. “What do you mean? I couldn’t do that to her or Mitsuhide.” 

“What is it you would be doing to either of them?” Izana asked, idly picking up one of his papers and examining the contents. “It’s not as if they are ever going to marry.” 

Zen pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know that! When Kiki returns to take her father’s place-” 

“Kiki has already proposed to Mitsuhide,” Izana said without looking away from the document, reaching out to grab a pen. “And he has already rejected her.” 

It was said, for many years later, that every soul within a mile radius of the palace heard Zen’s strangled cry that day.

“He did what?! ” Zen slammed his hands down on Izana’s desk, scattering papers everywhere. Izana glared at him. “Why did he- How could he- Why didn’t she tell me?!”

“I didn’t ask,” Izana said drily. “I was quite too busy discussing the logistics of an heir marrying a crown prince with her and Lord Seiran.” 

“Kiki knows about this ?!” Zen slammed his hands down again, knocking over an inkwell. Izana stood swiftly, righting the bottle and tossing a handkerchief onto the spilled ink to soak it up before it could stain his work. 

“Of course she does,” Izana snapped, tossing a few books to the ground, out of harm’s way. “Because, unlike you , she understands her duties to her family and to her country. If you are to ask for her hand in marriage, Lady Kiki Seiran is ready to accept.” 

The blood in his veins turned to ice and Zen’s hands went cold and numb. Kiki, the third friend he’d ever had, the only woman who’d ever treated him as a peer, was willing to marry him. For life! For her whole life, she’d- she’d what? Support him? Work beside him? Dance with him at balls and parties? She did all of those things already, usually with a sword in hand. Perhaps…

But there were other things that came with marriage, things that resulted in heirs . Zen’s face burned at the idea of seeing his friend naked, of doing... things with her. He’d never even kissed a girl before, and now he would have to- he shook his head to rid himself of the thought. 

“This is my ultimatum, Zen,” Izana said, voice heavy with an unleashed sigh.  “Either make Kiki your fiancé, or I will choose another woman for you.” 

Zen buried his face in his hands, too overcome to respond immediately. Finally, after a long, torturous moment of silence, he nodded. “Okay,” Zen whispered. “Alright. I’ll talk to Kiki.” 

Izana tilted back his head, shoulders drooping as if he’d just set down a heavy burden. “Thank you,” he said, and it sounded sincere. “I do think you will find happiness in each other.” 

“Thank you, brother,” Zen said. He thought of his sister-in-law, the way she threw everything she had into her duties, the way her eyes lit up when she caressed the growing roundness of her belly. Haki certainly had not been in love with Izana when they’d said their vows, but every day the two of them worked together to find small joys in their marriage. 

With a tense bow, Zen left the King’s office, hurrying away to his own wing of the palace. He needed to talk to Kiki, then yell at Mitsuhide, then- 

Zen huffed in frustration. Were he a coward, he’d have let his brother choose someone—anyone—else and live with the consequences. But Zen was too bullheaded to let his brother make that decision for him, and so his stubbornness would trump the terror he felt at the idea of asking Kiki to marry him. 

“Zen!” 

That voice...was not one Zen wanted to hear just now. He turned to see Mitsuhide approach and he felt all his earlier anger well up in him. 

“ You ,” he hissed. “You idiot !” 

Mitsuhide stopped in his tracks, hands raised in defense immediately. “What? What did I-”

“You-! Kiki proposed to you?!” Zen jabbed a finger in Mitsuhide’s face. “And you rejected her ?!” 

His aide’s eyes grew wide. “I-I-” He grimaced. “Yes. I did.” 

Zen stared at him until Mitsuhide averted his gaze. He knew the man before him could be thick at times, even downright stupid, but this …

“Don’t bully him, Zen. He’ll cry.” 

Startled, Zen jumped as Kiki approached, face far too placid for someone approaching the man who’d turned her down and the man who was reluctantly planning to propose. Zen frowned. “I think he deserves to cry a little.” 

“You know, I asked King Izana to let me tell you about this,” she said with a sigh. “I assume you’ve just come from speaking with him?” 

“Yeah,” Zen said. “I, uh. I think we need to talk?” Despite himself, Zen felt his face turning pink. Mitsuhide clearly noticed, because the fear in his eyes turned to concern. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between Zen and Kiki. 

Kiki nodded, still far too stoic. “Zen is going to propose to me, I believe.” 

The silence that fell was staggering. Zen’s face burned like he’d stuck his head in an oven. Mitsuhide’s eyes grew comically large. Kiki, the demon she apparently was, had the gall to smile, just a little. 

“Y-y-you-” Mitsuhide sputtered. “P-p-pro-pro-pose?”

Kiki looked at Zen. “Am I mistaken? The King seemed certain you’d choose me over a stranger.” 

“I…” Zen rubbed at his forehead. “I didn’t imagine Mitsuhide would be here for this conversation.” 

“Really?” Kiki looked genuinely surprised. “I imagined he would be here for every step of our marriage.” 

Despite his better judgement, Zen asked, “ Every step?” 

That, it seemed, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Kiki’s impassive stare turned dark. Mitsuhide doubled over, hyperventilating. The hallway was suspiciously devoid of staff.

“That’s not what I meant!” Zen exclaimed, gripping at his hair. “I just- fuck .” 

“Maybe I should leave the two of you to talk,” Kiki said, slapping Mitsuhide on the back as he struggled for air. 

“No,” Zen groaned. He could feel a headache forming in the base of his skull. “No, you and I need to talk about this.” 

“What is there to discuss?” Kiki asked. “It would be mutually beneficial for us to marry. Your brother and my father approve. We don’t hate each other. It seems logical.” 

“Don’t you find it weird?” Zen asked, his voice shooting up an octave. Next to him, Mitsuhide was still wheezing, so Zen joined Kiki in pounding on the man’s back. “The idea of marrying me ?” 

“Not particularly,” Kiki said with a shrug. “I’ve always known I would probably need to marry for political benefit, not love. Since my love belongs to Mitsuhide, who can’t return it, then I’d rather marry someone I care about than someone I don’t.” 

The sound Mitsuhide made sounded like a cross between a dying cat and breaking steel. Zen sighed and moved to rubbing comforting circles in Mitsuhide’s back. 

“Okay, but what about the...intimate parts of marriage? Heirs will be expected…” 

“Zen.” Kiki cast him an incredulous look. “Did no one prepare you for that when you were younger? Does Mitsuhide need to give you the talk? He can explain how it works.” 

“I know how it works!” Zen protested. “But isn’t it weird, doing it with someone you don’t...love? Love like that?” 

“I have three cousins, all girls,” Kiki said, hand stilling on Mitsuhide’s back. “All of them married much younger than me, all to strangers. They all have children now. As nobles, we are raised with the understanding that we will have to copulate with someone for whom we bear no feelings.” 

Shame and embarrassment stung the back of Zen’s throat. “So you...aren’t scared?” 

Kiki’s gaze softened. “Of course not. It’s you .” 

“ I’m scared,” Zen admitted, pouting a little. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” 

“Aww…” Mitsuhide cooed. Zen smacked the back of his head, causing him to fall to the ground. 

“It would take more than sex to do that, Zen,” Kiki said drily. 

Zen looked down at his feet. “You’re right,” he said. “But things will change.” 

“They will,” she agreed. “But then, they always do.” 

Zen swallowed back his worries and smiled, genuinely. Then, unceremoniously shoving Mitsuhide out of the way, he bent down on one knee, reaching out for Kiki’s hand. She gave it to him, returning his smile. 

“Kiki Seiran, would you do me the pleasure of becoming my wife?” 

“Why Prince Zen,” she deadpanned. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Zen pinched her arm in retaliation, then placed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand.  Kiki turned her grip to haul him back to two feet, and they stood there for a moment, hands clasped in a familiar gesture of comradery.  This was what their relationship was built on: trust, loyalty, and years watching each others’ backs. If it was like this , Zen thought, then maybe marriage wasn’t so scary. 

A loud, watery sniff came from the floor, and both turned to see Mitsuhide watching them with emotional, teary eyes. “You guys ,” he said, then pulled them both into a tight hug. “You’re both- Zen, you’re so grown .”

“Oh, don’t even ,” Zen sniped, trying to wriggle free. “I’m still angry with you. Kiki, did he make you cry? Be honest with me, I’ll put him to work in the stables if he did.” 

Kiki cast a look between the two men. “I did find myself getting a little misty-eyed, now that you mention it.” 

Mitsuhide gasped. “You did not -” Then grunted as Zen pulled him into a chokehold. “ Kiki- help-” 

“Oh, no,” Kiki said. “I consider this a wedding present from my fiancé. I’d like to see how this fight ends.” 

Zen laughed and let Mitsuhide break his grip, then yelped as the older man lifted him off the ground. Kiki hid a smile behind her hand, watching her closest friends wrestle, and Zen felt a weight lift from his chest. 

It wasn’t a storybook romance, this love of theirs; it wasn’t a romance at all. But when Zen was with Kiki and Mitsuhide his world was soft and warm and safe. These were his friends, the people he loved most in the world, and while their dynamics would change and relationships would grow, this —the family he’d found for himself—would be the only love story he’d ever need. 

[kalypsichor]

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part seven

summary: You’re not jealous of the fact that girls on Tinder love George, you’re not. John may or may not be sexually attracted to metaphors. Paul may or may not have a professor kink. Ringo is just vibin’ like always. Gigi Hadid terrorizes your dreams. Oh, and y’all finally get the McLennon sandwhich you asked for.

warnings: 2k words of the usual bullshit, some english major bashing, actually it’s just john bashing ( sorry @spaceyantique​ ), i love english majors, and miscommunication babey!

masterlist and parts one | two | three | four | five | six

i’m writing this draft at 3 am. it’s a new low for me. oh, and the poem mentioned in geo’s tinder is lyrics from ‘for you blue’

“Well, it is a flattering picture.”

You have to agree with Ringo. The two of you are perched on the couch, peeking over George’s shoulder at the Tinder profile. John and Paul are sharing the armchair, snickering at something. Probably another scheme. Bastards…

The photo is the one John had snapped a few days ago of George in the kitchen. He’s got this brilliant smile on his face, just having taken his first warm shower in weeks, and he’s gloriously naked from the belly button up. It’s a little blurry, but it captures George’s happiness—though you privately think that no picture could ever really do the boy justice. Take that, stupid Tinder girls.

“‘George.’” Ringo reads the bio out loud. “‘Twenty-one. Majoring in horticultural science, looking for a girl to put the ‘ho’ into it.’ This is terrible,” he says rather gleefully. George turns around and gives his friend a betrayed look.

“You missed the best bit. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You looked at me, that’s all you had to do.’ What’s that?”

George goes stock still. Slowly, his head turns to John and you swear you can hear it creak like a door hinge.

“You.” The word shakes from his throat with a quiet rage. “You looked through mY DIARY???”

“YOU HAVE A DIARY?” Ringo screeches. Paul has the common sense to look a little frightened, but his boyfriend, who borrows a brain cell from Paul from time to time, does not.

“You write beautiful poetry, George,” John croons, and you have to physically hold George down to keep him from tackling the dumbass. Paul, getting flashbacks to the Shower Debacle, shudders.

You, on the other hand, are trying to wrap your head around the bio. Poetry? About who? That didn’t sound like it was about just anybody. Lucky girl, your mind hisses. Or boy. You immediately try recalling every single time George has brought up a classmate. Your brain sputters a bit and spits out an answer to one of the questions you’d skipped on your first midterm yesterday. Except now it’s fucking useless, isn’t it????

Ringo speaks, bringing you out of your downward spiral into insanity. “Hey, the app says you’ve got a match.”

Frowning, George taps on the notification. “But I haven’t even looked at anyone’s profile.”

“I did you a favor and swiped right a couple o’ times,” John says. George groans—no, the sound does not turn you on a little—and hangs his head forward. By ‘a couple,’ John must’ve meant a couple hundred, because George’s phone is blowing up. The only thing keeping George from hurtling the phone right into John’s smarmy little meerkat grin so hard that he shits pieces of it out for weeks is your hand on him. The warmth of it is radiating out from his shoulder to his chest and sweeping down to his toes. When you take your hand away a few seconds later, thinking it had overstayed its welcome, George has to try very hard not to sigh.

“This one is cute,” Ringo comments. The notification had read ‘Maureen Super Likes You!’ and the phone screen is now showing a pretty brunette, around your age, smiling up at George.

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested.”

He didn’t say she wasn’t cute.

“Wait, wait!” John scrambles out of his armchair, nearly pushing Paul off in the process. George’s thumb pauses where it’s hovering over the ‘delete’ button for the app. “Come on, Geo. You haven’t gone out in years. Like, since high school. Since… since…”

“Pattie,” Ringo says. You and Ringo hadn’t known the other three in high school, but, as always, he was good with names.

Pattie? George has never mentioned a Pattie...

“Yeah, Pattie!” John lights up. You wish people would stop saying her name. “Pattie Boyd. Man, she was a catch… I still remember her blonde hair. And those long legs. She looked like, uh… who’s that model?”

“Bridget Bardot.” Ringo, again.

Paul is mirroring the sour look on your face, though he obviously has a better reason for it.

“No, who the fuck is that? I meant Gigi Hadid. Isn’t that why you dated her?”

“She did not/” George protests. “And no, John, unlike some people, I care about more than just looks.”

At this point, Paul looks as though he’s about to cry. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m more than looks, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean you, obviously.” But George’s words are lost under John, who leaps back into the armchair and coos at his boyfriend.

“Macca, you know I love you for more than your looks. You’ve got that big old brain, and you’re the best artist in this whole school… it’s just a bonus you’re so pretty too.”

Paul seems satisfied by this. Stupid fucking English major. John could get anything his way with just a few words.

“John’s right, y’know.” You and Ringo mouth ‘y’know’ at each other and erupt into giggles. “You’ve got to put yourself out there more. You’re in your third year of uni and you haven’t even dated a single person. There’s only one more year before you’re out in the real world! And the sea will be much, much bigger then.”

George scowls, unimpressed by Paul’s little speech. “People aren’t fish, Paul. And I’m vegetarian, so I don’t condone catching them.”

“It’s a metaphor!” Paul cries, throwing his hands in the air. John nods and makes eyes at him as if metaphors were the sexiest thing in the world. He’s probably into that. English majors.

“You tell ‘em, babe.”

The doorbell rings, banishing any homicidal thoughts from your mind.

“That’ll be the takeout,” you say. George flies so quickly to the door, desperate to get out of the situation, that you feel a little gust of wind. You hear him say something to the delivery person and then he’s coming back into the living room, take out boxes in tow and a big smile on his face. Nothing makes the boy happier than food. And maybe leggy blondes that look like Gigi Hadid, your brain suggests, and you sigh.

For a good ten minutes, the conversation is put on hold. You’re all broke college students, after all, and getting Chinese is like a luxury.

“What’d you get?” you ask through a mouthful of food, looking over George’s shoulder. He’s sat back down on the floor in front of the couch again and he lifts the box up so you can see it.

“Veggies with fried noodles. You?”

“Same.”

“Twinsies,” George says solemnly, and you high five over it.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, John and Paul share an eyeroll.

“I got shrimp fried rice if anyone cares,” Ringo pipes up from next to you. You bump your shoulder into his.

“Of course I care, Ritchie. Wanna trade a shrimp for my broccoli?”

He nods and you both chopstick over the terms of the trade. George’s grin drops a little. John and Paul roll their eyes even harder.

After a while, having devoured their food like it’s the Last Supper, you’ e all pulled out your phones. You scroll through Instagram and send a funny post to the flat’s group chat, and everyone laughs simultaneously. Everyone except George, who… has opened Tinder again. Christ, how does he have so many matches?

Well, why wouldn’t he? He’s cute… and funny… and gives the best advice when you’re down…

And you’ll be sharing all that with some other girl if you don’t do something about it.

“Why do these girls keep asking about my teeth?”

You scoff, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. George’s sexy vampire teeth are yours and yours alone to appreciate, thankyouverymuch. “Probably have oral fixations, the lot of them.”

John does a whole body shudder and you all turn to stare at him. “Don’t fucking talk to me about Freud. That Psych course tore my GPA into shreds.”

“Right, like you care about your grades so much.” You lean back against the couch. “What was so bad about that class, anyway? I enjoyed it.”

“Professor Pang fucked me.”

“WHAT—”

“Fucked me over! Jesus, I dunno why my mouth just had a seizure there.” John cradles Paul’s face in his hands, trying to smooth away the frown on his face. “Paul, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s a Freudian slip, that is,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when John turns to glare at you. Ringo starts humming Hot For Teacher under his breath. John leans over and smacks him.

“The only teacher I’ve got the hots for is you,” John says, turning back to Paul, and you and George make gagging noises. “Professor McCartney…”

“Professor?” Paul’s Pout (yes, with a capital P) turns into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“I think I’ve been bad… shall I serve detention for you?”

“Okay, just go!” You point towards their bedroom. “Please leave the immediate vicinity right fucking now.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” George says. The two horny bastards giggle and scurry off in the direction of your finger, door slamming behind them.

You go to bed that night with a belly full of noodles and a brain full of thoughts that keep you turning and tossing in bed. And when you finally do fall asleep, you dream about Gigi Hadid, cackling as she chases you around with George’s stupid little towel.

***

Your second exam the next day goes miserably.

Okay, maybe you’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad—you’d done a fair bit of studying that weekend, invigorated to overcome the Coffee Incident. Still, you couldn’t stop thinking about George the whole time, and him swiping through Tinder, and whoever the hell that Pattie girl is.

Okay, stop it. You can’t hate her for dating the boy you like. Us women have to support each other, the rational part of your brain tells you.

You grumble all the way back to the flat, fighting with the reasonable part of you. Eventually, you give in. Rational You is right. Hating on a chick you don’t know is what makes up eighty percent of Hollywood’s bullshit romcoms. Yes, you are going to be a good person and take the high route.

That all goes away when you open the door.

John and Paul are standing in the kitchen, whispering furiously to each other. You only catch the tail end of what they’re saying—

“-didn’t think he was actually going to do it!”

—before John sees you in the doorway and smacks Paul on the shoulder.

“Heyyy there,” John says. You immediately know something is wrong. You walk shut the door behind you and eye Paul’s smile warily.

“What are you two doing?”

“Erm, we were making a sandwich for you.” Paul gestures exaggeratedly at the plate on the counter, which John holds up at shoves in your direction.

“Yeah, we knew you’d need a little pick me up after the test.”

You look around the flat carefully. It’s awfully quiet. Ringo’s at his twelve o’clock lecture, but you should be able to hear…

“Where’s George?”

This slaps the smile right off of their faces and neither of the boys can put it back on quickly enough for you to not notice.

“He’s doing yoga,” Paul says at the same time John blurts out,

“He went to visit his mum!”

Paul glares at John and you feel something twist in your gut. “Yes, you see...” Paul looks frantically to the ceiling. God won’t help you out of this one. “George went to pick up his mum… and they’re at yoga together!”

You walk into the kitchen, crossing your arms. “Louise lives in Liverpool,” you say slowly.

“Yup,” John says.

“And the yoga studio is ten minutes away from our flat.”

“Yuuup.”

You can’t believe he’s still keeping this up. “And the drive from here to Liverpool is four hours. And George doesn’t have a car.”

“Yuuuuuuuuu—”

“Oh, I can’t take it anymore,” Paul cries, ignoring John’s frantic shushing. “George went on a date with that Maureen girl from Tinder. He’s at the coffee shop now.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You must’ve said this out loud, because Paul gives you a sympathetic look. After a long moment of silence, John once again offers you the plate.

“Sandwich?” he asks, trying for a smile that comes across more as a grimace.

You take the sandwich and throw it right into the trash, plate and all.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Drowning In Womb Water (Prologue)

[The Handmaid’s Tale AU]

i liked this AU so much that i decided to write a prologue for it. enjoy :)

Word count: 1013

———————

The shriek of a baby filled the sick room. The tiny, writhing, fluid-coated thing is lifted from between its exhausted mother’s legs and wiped down.

“It’s a boy,” The midwife announced with a beaming smile.

The Commander standing at the doorway cracks a hint of a smile. His Wife clapped her hands together with a blissful expression. The Handmaid lying on the bed looked desolate and tired.

“What shall his name be?” The midwife asked the Commander and his Wife, pleasantly ignoring the actual mother of the child. The Handmaid herself doesn’t appear to care very much, though.

“A hearty baby boy like this deserves a strong name,” The Commander said, peering down at the pudgy little thing. He seemed pleased at how big he was, and not at all concerned about how difficult that would have been to push out for his Handmaid.

A whimper then caught his ears. He looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes at his Handmaid, only to realize it hadn’t been her, but one of the young servants his neighbor’s Handmaids had brought along. He rolled his eyes at her distressed expression.

“Alfred,” The Wife said. She glanced up at her husband and he smiled down at her. She whisked the baby into her arms and cuddled it close to her chest, to her dry breasts, as if it really were her own.

“Alfred,” The Commander echoed. “It’s perfect.”

“...Alfred? Please. What an old name. I could do so much better.”

“...Shh.”

“...Who, me? What did I say? Nothing, that’s what. You’re the one being noisy. I’m just standing here. Being still. A model Handmaid, me.”

The Commander peered over at the far side of the room, narrowing his eyes at the whispering pair of Handmaids. One bowed her head in an apologetic gesture, the other dared to raise her chin and put on an angelic expression. He huffed loudly through his nose.

“Come, my dear.” He said, escorting his Wife out of the room. Instantly, once he’s gone, a certain tension in the room is lifted.

“You buffoon,” Aragon hissed at the woman beside her. “You could have had us both hung.”

“Oh please.” Anne rolled her eyes. “You can’t be hung with your bun in the oven.” She pat the three month bump protruding from under Aragon’s robe, smirking at the way she doesn’t move away from her hand. “Besides, we were just gossiping. Alfred is an awful name.”

“It truly is,” Wheezed the Handmaid lying in the bed. The others bustled over to her immediately. Aragon clasped one of her clammy hands in her own.

“Oh, Beatrix,” Aragon murmured as she brushed away some stray sweaty locks. “You did wonderful, dear. Simply wonderful.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” Beatrix grunted. “That was hell.”

“Well, it’s over now.” Anne said, smoothing the unruly hair on her head.

“For right now...” Beatrix muttered.

All five Handmaids in the room tended, knowing exactly what she meant. Beatrix would soon be filled with yet another unwanted load of semen, another restless fetus, another baby that she wouldn’t be allowed to keep. They all would.

Because they were Handmaids—the last fertile women in the world. Sexual servants to men and their families. Made only to breed until they couldn’t anymore.

Another whimper snapped them all out of their grim thoughts. Aragon and Anne turned to their companion, one of their Commander’s servants, a young girl with long blonde hair and striking moon silver eyes named Joan.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Aragon asked softly. She noticed the way the girl had her arms wrapped around her stomach.

Joan nodded. “I-I think so...” She said. “M-my stomach just hurts a little. That’s all.”

“Ooh poor dear,” An older Handmaid named Margaret (her Handmaid name was Ofpole) cooed pitifully.

“Did she eat something bad?” Another Handmaid, a brunette woman named Jane Parker (Ofgeorge was her Handmaid name), asked.

“I’m not sure,” Anne answered. “Did you, Joan?”

Joan just shrugged a little and looked away shyly.

The poor girl has always been very reclusive and anxious ever since Henry employed her as a servant nine months ago. She was quiet, clumsy, and always so stressed out, but she was absolutely brilliant on the piano. Aragon, Anne, and the other Handmaids wonder if that’s the only reason she’s kept around, seeing as she wasn’t the best at anything else.

“What did you think of the birth?” Anne asked, hoping to take the poor girl’s mind off of her discomfort.

“Huh? Oh, uhh...” Joan looked down sheepishly. “It was kinda...weird.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why was it so slimy?”

Beatrix actually laughed. It was refreshing to see her darkened expression flicker off of her face, even for just a moment.

“I’d rather it be slimy than dry,” She said. “Makes it easier to push out.”

“Ew.” Joan said, causing another uproar of giggles. Then, she winced and her hands flew back to her stomach.

“Maybe you should go sit down, honey.” Aragon suggested with a worried look. “We’ll leave soon, alright?”

Joan nodded and shuffled over to one of the chairs against the wall.

“Try not to worry,” Anne told Aragon softly. “Stress is bad for the baby.”

“Oh, shut it,” Aragon batted her away playfully. She looked back at Beatrix. “What did you want his name to be? You baby.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Beatrix admitted. “I didn’t think there was a point. I was going to lose him anyway.”

“Oh, come on, Bea,” Anne nudged the woman. “I know you can do better than ‘Alfred’!”

Beatrix laughed a little again, then thought it over.

“Ashton. I like Ashton.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Aragon smiled.

Then, there was a sharp whimper, followed by a yelp. The Handmaids turned around and stared in shock at Joan...

...and the trails of red streaming down her legs from underneath her dress.

“Wait,” Anne gaped. “She’s- that’s her- that means—”

“Oh god no,” Aragon muttered in horror.

Joan looked up at them, her own terror contorting her pale features, and squeaked out, “Am I dying?”

[ekhap]

The Beginning

And, with the first post on this account minutes ago, I am proud to present my first story for this tumblr - the Beginning. Bandit/Montagne, Rated T

Read it here! or below!

“I need you to look at me, okay? Look at me – everything is going to be okay. I swear.”

It wasn’t. He’s lying through his teeth and Dom knows it.

—*—

When Dominic Brunsmeier joined Rainbow, it was the break of a lifetime. He could start new – create a whole new persona that only Elias would see through. A persona that he could feel comfortable in.

Harry calls it a coping mechanism. Dom, though? It’s an asset of the highest degree.

Only when he joined and was faced with 18 new faces – he had never even heard of a Monika Weiss or Marius Streicher in the GSG9 – that he realized his mistake. These weren’t his buddies in Hell’s Angels, or even the normal workaholics in the GSG9, but battle-hardened professionals. Quite frankly, they could care less about how he presented himself. So he made them care.

Luckily, this didn’t make him too many enemies. In fact, he buddied up with the SAS bum who insists everyone call him Smoke. He says it’s to add to his mystique, but Dom just so happens to know that it’s reallybecause if another colleague calls him Jamie he will go feral.

A former alcoholic and a father to an adopted daughter. Yet again, someone who simply does not care who or what he is, but how much he can drink, prank the others, and win bets. They sabotage the coffee machine justright to make Thatcher infuriated when his tea taste like metal, and they giggle like schoolkids getting away with something.

Then, Dom’s eyes wander. Aurelia “Six” Arnot takes regular trips to other countries to scout out other counter-terrorism unit. American, Canadian, Brazilian, and Japanese men and women join the already-crowded halls of Hereford, and Dom thinks.

Thinks about how close the Spetznaz are, yes, but specifically how Kapkan and Glaz always drift towards each other before Fuze and Tachanka. How Rook looks when he gets off the phone after talking in excited French. How Thermite gravitates towards Pulse, who could really care less. How that traitor Smoke smacks Mute’s behind before demanding he make out with him. And then how Mute does. In the middle of the workshop.

Dom thinks, and he doesn’t like the thoughts his brain is spitting out.

—*—

“Please, put a little bit of effort in, Dom, we got to get you out in one piece.” A shot rings out in the distance.

The mission was supposed to be quick. The hostage was in a small holding cell, awaiting execution. Six had told them that they most likely had twelve hours to raid the Spanish cell of terrorists before they executed the hostage. A woman named Miriam, a scientist at the peak of her career, but the other operators could care less.

Dom cares. He remembers. Doesn’t do anything with the information, but she deserves a name. He missed his when he was undercover.

Bad Intel, he can imagine Six’s voice saying. He’ll be in the hospital when Ash gives the debrief, and he can imagine the casualty report - soclose to being pristine. Too bad he got shot, but at least it wasn’t dear Miriam.

Who the fuck is carrying him, anyways?

—*—

When he first approaches Marius, it didn’t go as successfully as he had hoped. Though, he should have expected that, as asking him directly, “Want to come back to my place,” with no preamble at the local bar would have made anyone confused. If Dom was being honest, though, the way he spit out his drink was hilarious.

When Marius awkwardly tries to explain that sorry, I’m not interested you in that way, Dom’s eyes are already drifting. There’s a brunette in the corner showing off her cleavage, but she’s giggling with her friends and raiding a party isn’t Dom’s style. Right now, anyways. A guy with a strong face sitting three bar stools away from Marius, exactly Dom’s type, except for the fact that he’s drinking tea. At a pub not a mile away from a military base. That strong face is already only surface level, in Dom’s eyes.

When Marius asks if he’s paying attention, he looks back down at the poor engineer blushing, as if he was putting himself out there.

“No, I wasn’t.” Dom says, kisses Marius on the cheek, and before Marius can retaliate, confidently strides off. Monika comes out of the bathroom and looks at Marius quizzically before he shakes his head.

So, no, Dom’s first journey into Rainbow’s pants didn’t go specifically as planned, but he still tried, didn’t he? And so what if it stung a bit to see Marius blushing at Doc the next day, Dom’s mind had already moved past any thought of the awkward engineer. Surely. And so what if Doc was confused when Marius thanked him profusely for the chocolates, and asked him out. Finally. It was all a part of Dom’s plan.

If he couldn’t do the job, someone else can do it better.

—*—

It’s an agonizing turn of the head to see his savior’s face. Previously, he had just lolled his head back and was happy that someone decided to check if he was alive or not.

Strong jawline. Hard-set eyes. Balaclava obscuring everything else about his face.

“I’m going to adjust you, alright? Tell me if you’re in pain.” It’s a French accent, and oh if luck would have it that Doc was carrying him out of the building. After Chimera and Truth or Consequences, there was the off-chance that it was Lion carrying him out, but Dom doubts that he would make any effort after Dom told him he deserved to get punched by Thatcher. And after he told him that he could fuck his sky daddy if he loved him so much.

Finally, the man stops walking, adjusts his hold on Dom, and digs his fingers directly into the wound site. It’s all Dom can do to groan to try to make his savior aware.

He gets the hint, and moves his hand so it’s gripping a bit further up on his thigh.

—*—

Then something happens a year into Rainbow. August 13th, exactly. A day of mourning for Dom, but for those that don’t get the hint, a day to throw presents at him and act like they care.

Some of them do, actually. Smoke gets him an explicit t-shirt he found online with a woman sitting on a man’s face. Elias throws him a gift card and tells him to go buck wild. Marius, surprisingly, gives him an intricate machine made of inter-locking gears that all turn simultaneously. It’s an invitation, though not the same one Dom extended at the bar. It sits on his desk that he never uses, now, and reminds him why he still talks to the engineer endlessly infatuated with the doctor.

First, Rook is comforted by Elias. This sets the springboard for the two men to snap together like magnets, almost worse than the disaster couple in the SAS. They’re awkward, cute, and fawn over each other and it makes Dom want to hurl every time he sees them interact.

Second, Blitz introduces Montagne to him. A man that matches his namesake in how he towers over Bandit, but shocks him with how nice he is. He stands in stark contrast to the bubbly Rook, excruciatingly serious Doc, and analytical Twitch with his niceties.

Gilles, he says his name is. But everyone calls him Monty.

Third, Dom goes drinking. This, in of itself, would be hardly worth mentioning, but drowning in the reminders of his brother, how Cedric could have been here instead of him and Dom would have been just as happy for him, he looses sense of time at some point. His last memory of that night is sizing up a short woman with cropped black hair, and he wakes up in a bed with Monty, clinging to his arm.

So, technically, the something happens one day after, but it’s all the same to Dom.

After staring at the mountain of a man for entirely too long, he begins to wake up. Stretches the arm that’s free, shakes himself out a bit, all before he opens his eyes.

They’re a beautiful icy blue.

“Good morning,” Gilles mumbles.

Dom simply moans. Quietly. Staring at his neck.

Then, it all hits him. His head starts pounding, and he feels like throwing up violently into the nearest receptacle. He turns onto his back and groans openly.

“Here, take this,” Dom glances over and sees two pills extended out. He gingerly picks them up, and is offered a glass of water. He takes it and takes greedy gulps. Gilles chuckles lightly next to him.

“So, uh,” Dom starts, forcing himself to look back at the man, still holding the glass of water and no longer clinging to the other man’s arm. “How was the sex? Because, really, I cannot remember any of it.”

“Dom, we didn’t- I would never-” Gilles begins tripping over himself to explain himself. It’s endearing. Almost. Gilles stops and clears his throat. “I, uh, Elias called me, and asked me to check for you at the bars in the area. He said he checked the three closest to Hereford but had to get back to base. He said that he would’ve called Marius but he wanted to make sure that you came back in one piece. I found you slumped in a bar stool, and I brought you back to base, but you-uh, didn’t have your key readily accessible. So, here we are.”

“So here we are.” It’s a story that makes sense. He hasn’t been able to pick anyone up since his days in Hell’s Angels, when he shaved his head and looked more intimidating than attractive. But, there is one question.

“So why the hell am I wrapped around your arm?”

“You wouldn’t let go of me last night, I was going to sleep in the living room but you’ve got a surprisingly strong grip when drunk, you know?”

“So I’ve been told.”

—*—

The blinding light of the sun forces Dom to close his eyes, and when he’s roughly laid down onto a stretcher that he realizes, yes, he survived that ordeal, and no, he didn’t lay on the floor for a period of time after getting shot in nearly the same spot.

It’s hard, but he turns his head towards the man who saved him and sees the massive riot shield that could only belong to one man.

—*—

Nothing changes. Monty is the highest form of the good – the perfect person to fall in love with.

So Dom doesn’t. It’s easy, he was in denial about who he really was for seven years, what’s a flight of fancy.

Except he keeps happening.

The two go out drinking. Dom, for the first time, goes a month without blacking out. Then two. Then he stops keeping count. As Elias becomes more and more infatuated with Rook, surprising even himself with how much he could dote on another man, Monty becomes a permanent figure in Dom’s life.

It’s disorienting. And almost unwelcome if he wasn’t so… Monty. Stable, kind, awkwardly funny Monty.

Then he mentions an ex-wife, and everything is almostperfect. Why get your hopes up when they have no chance of being interested in you? After all, Monty has never expressed interest in anyone, no man nor woman, so the most logical solution is that he’s straight and retired from dating.

Then, of course, Dom ends up in Monty’s lap desperately making out with him. Or bouncing on his cock. Or mouth filled with that same, succulent-

And he always wakes up in a slightly cold sweat, slightly panicked, feeling just slightly off. He can’t even look at any of the other people at the bar without thinking but what if? And, really, it’s too hopeful for Dom’s liking.

When he brings it up to Smoke, the other man’s cheeks are flushed from an interaction with Mute. It’s the only time that he seems to have for Dom anymore, but he doesn’t mind, not with a mountain of a man slowly wedging his way into his life as a permanent figure. Just ask him, mate he said. Worst he can say is no, but he’s wrong. It could be somuch worse.

—*—

What happens in the next few minutes is a solid blur for Dom. He sees Doc’s face, eyes full of judgement as if it was his fault he got shot through a wall. Stares at Monty’s back as he debriefs Ash on the situation, who writes it down diligently. Feels a piercing pain in his thigh as the bullet is taken out, and he finally, finally, slips into the unconscious world.

—*—

He doesn’t ask Monty for anything. It’d be too rude, to ask the man who graces him with his presence for more than that. He basks in the man like a cat in the sun, and when they get drunk enough to crave physical contact, Dom files those memories away for lonely nights. Never reaching what Dom would deem perfect, but who can claim to have that, anyways?

Time passes. He finds out that before everything, Monty was considering going to a music school for the cello, and Dom can’t help but chortle imagining the trained killer sitting on a stage, brow furrowed in concentration as he plays. Monty delves deep enough into Bandit’s past to find the trauma, and they spend a night in Dom’s room, the owner crying into the other’s arms.

File, file, file.

It’s years later, with their relationship built on respect and genuinely enjoying each other’s friendship that Flores is recommended to the new Six, Harry, that Bandit takes a good look at his life. Desperately clinging onto a crush that could have otherwise been easy enough to push underneath a pillow and suffocate, should he have chosen to cut off all contact.

He thinks about Goyo and Blackbeard, whispering with smiles on their faces, then fighting five minutes later. Kapkan and Glaz always carpooling. Elias and Rook considering getting a bigger apartment.

It’s so fucking unfair. But fair isn’t what Dom asked for, did he?

Flores waltzes into Rainbow, and smiles when he talks about his husband. How if Rainbow proved stable enough, he’d fly him out to live in Hereford. Picture perfect, the essence of stability.

So Dom makes a move. Sees his surroundings, and refuses to remain, what he sees, as an outlier.

—*—

When Dom wakes up, he’s in the nearest hospital. The clinical white lighting blinds him for a second, but when he comes to his senses, he takes a look around his room.

It’s perfectly clean, no flowers, personal items, or anything, really. The clothes he wore on the mission sit in a neat pile in one of the two chairs, and in the other sits the mountain of a man who Dom has come to rely upon. Sleeping peacefully, his head lolled forward. He’s too perfect to disturb.

Luckily, staring at Monty seems to have done enough to disturb him, and he begins his long process of waking up that, so far, Dom has only seen once. The scrunch of the shoulders, raising of the elbows, big sigh, all before he opens crystal blue eyes.

What beauty, wasted on Dom.

“Hey,” Dom says, voice gravelly. He would cough but he worries Monty would see him as sick or weakand he worries about Monty worrying.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” And there it is, the slight smile, just a bit slighter since last time he saw it.

“Should I ask about the sex or is that too far?” And, yes, there it is, the killer smile that could make Dom faint again.

“It was alright, would’ve been better if you weren’t bleeding out, but,” he reaches a hand out to Dom’s face and strokes his thumb over the cheekbone. It’s so comforting that Dom has trouble breathing for a second. “I was thinking, though.”

“That’s never good.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not.” He takes the comforting warmth away and grabs a hold of Dom’s hand. “But I think, once you get out, we should talk. Does Augusta’s sound good?”

And Dom flashes back.

Do you think we could go somewhere different? He asked.

Somewhere different how?

Augusta’s has great food, even Maestro approves of her cooking.

Are you asking me out?

And Dom shuts the fuck up and shakes his head.

“Augusta’s sounds perfect.” And Dom can’t stop smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, Monty wasn’t lying on the battlefield. It could, just maybe, be alright.

[floralfloyd]

A Field of Flowers - Samuel Castell Chapter 9

Hey all! I hope everyone had a great weekend. Did anyone get up to anything interesting? Let me know in the comments :) As promised I’ve got a chapter written for you all to read, hope you enjoy 

Chapter 8      Chapter 10

Bang, bang, bang. A loud knock awoke Recorder Castell and his beloved Luce from their slumber. It was dawn in the settlement and the warm Virginia sun had began to rise on the new day.

Wrapping her maroon coloured shawl around her shoulders, Lucille moved to sit at the small table as Samuel moved to answer the door.

“Marshall Redwick, how can I help you so early in the morning?” he asked as he rubbed some sleep out of his eyes.

The Marshall stepped into the small home, no care on whether he was welcome inside or not. His sword clung to his side, shining in the morning sun. “We have arrested Mistress Woodbryg and its seen to that Mistress Smith decides her fate.” His voice boomed through the house as he turned to face the couple. An emotionless expression presented on his face.

Lucille furrowed her brows at his words “Me? Shouldn’t the law decide what shall be done with such a case and at a time more suitable than the crack of dawn, sir?”

“The Governor has decided to keep this down low for the moment so that it doesn’t cause any panic throughout the settlement. There’s nothing more rewarding than a productive morning, so, what will it be ma’am? Bear in mind that women don’t often get an opinion in the matter of law and politics in this colony”

She let out a soft sigh as she gazed over at Samuel before coming to a conclusion “I don’t feel safe with her roaming around here and I get what faces her if she is to go back to England unmarried. Is there anyway of sending her to another settlement, one upriver?”

The Marshall nodded “that is possible, I’m sure any man there would be happy to take a wife. I’ll notify the governor of your decision and then on the next boat she’ll be transported to another settlement.” He then turned to Samuel “I bid you and your maiden a good day” turning on his heels, Redwick left with a triumphant smirk on his face.

The brunette girl rubbed her temples as she tried to comprehend what had just happened, a headache beginning to form.

Samuel moved to stand behind her chair, massaging her shoulders with his large hands “that’s it over with now, Luce. Although, it could have been handled later on” he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on her hair “I have to do some work after church, I’ve suggested to Mercy that you both could begin making flower arrangements for our wedding, since you seem to have a keen eye for beautiful flowers”

Smiling she turned to face him, taking her hands in his. “Your idea sounds perfect, I look forward to taking a stroll in the field to pick such flowers but for now we must get changed to attend church. I don’t think Reverend Whitaker would condemn me turning up in my white nightgown” letting out a soft giggle she got up from her chair “I pressed and washed your Sunday bests yesterday, they’re laid over the dressing table.” Lucille began to lead him to get changed.

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

“Would you like some more white ones or the pale blue ones, ma’am?” Mercy asked as she gathered the flowers, they had picked into a wicker basket.

Lucille’s long dark auburn hair blew in the gentle breeze as she gazed over the flowers that grew in front of her. “I’d maybe go for some more of those Bellis Perenis’, if we have too many it can simply be weaved into my hair as I wish to wear my cream dress”

“You will be most beautiful, ma’am. The most gorgeous Mistress in Jamestown. Oh, I am so lucky to have the most wonderful mistress. Master Castell is one lucky man, I tell you” she smiled as she snapped the stem each flower before placing them gently in the basket.

“And I can assure you that Pepper Sharrow will be the most happiest the day that you both join in marriage. It’s a wonderful feeling when you find your true love” she smiled as she linked arms with Mercy “lets head back and begin binding these into bundles, shall we?”

The two girls sung and laughed as they skipped their way back to the settlement, it was like a whole weight had been lifted from both their shoulders as they watched the boat move up the river, transporting the woman who had brought terror and fear to both of their beings.

Samuel smiled as he walked back from the town assembly, he watched as Mercy and Lucille sat outside binding the flowers together. If it wasn’t before now that he realised that he had fallen deeply for Luce he surely would’ve realised with the sight that was before him. She was so selfless and beautiful, oh and her laugh, it would carry in the wind and could brighten anyone’s day. He came to a stop inf front of them and leaned against the wall of their home “I see you both are enjoying yourselves?”

Lucille smiled as she got up to greet him with a soft kiss to his cheek “My dear, we’ve had the most wonderful afternoon picking out flowers. Mercy had the idea of using some twine to bind them together into little bundles, aren’t they lovely, Samuel”

“Very much so, I can’t wait for the day we join in marriage its going to be wonderful. I’ll leave you both to finish while I put my papers away” smiling he kissed her hand before moving inside to tidy his stuff away and start on supper.

The girls hummed softly as their dainty fingers worked at binding the flowers together and tying the twine into pretty bows.

Supper was eaten as quickly it was served, all the bending down to pick flowers in the Virginia sunlight had worked up an appetite for Luce. As she sat cleaning the bowls and wooden cutlery Samuel puffed on his pipe.

“What would you think of adding some window boxes full of flowers to our home?” she asked as she lifted the pail to empty it put the door

Samuel puffed out some smoke before placing the pipe back in his desk drawer, moving to wrap his arms tightly around her waist. “I think it would brighten the place up. Its as much your home as it is mine, it’s our home. The Castell’s” he smiled placing a kiss on her cheek “maybe one day we’ll have little ones running around too”

She let out a soft giggle as she leaned into his embrace “Slow down, we’re not married yet. One step at a time, besides we’d need a bigger home” Luce smiled as she moved out of his arms “early night sound like a good idea to you?”

“Always does on a Sunday evening” he said as he moved with her to their bed, pulling her close and drifting off into a slumber.

Creaking of the floorboards woke Lucille from her sleep, moving out from Samuel’s arms she followed the soft glow of the candle near the door.

Mercy had been woken by the noise of footsteps rushing past outside, she stood at the door with the ceramic candle holder trying to see what or who was up at such a time rushing about the settlement.

Lucille stood behind her about to ask what had troubled her but as she opened her mouth the sight before the two shocked them enough for them to let out a loud scream.

Tagged: @supernaturalee​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queensdivas​ @what-wicked-delights​ @likesomekindofcheese​

[cowandcalf]

10.14 - Spoilers

Random thoughts, no particular order.

Danny has some workdays off. He sits in a bar, at 10 am, alone, watching TV. I haven't decided yet if this is a sad picture or if Danny's having a good time, some me-time, away from the normal daily routine… I really don't know. Maybe he's somehow heartbroken over Grace being at college, far away from home, far away from her Danno. It might be all about a dad who must get used to the fact that his daughter grows up. And that hurts, a lot, especially Danny. He's a great dad. Because Danny doesn't look relaxed in this first scene at the bar, more like deeply immersed in serious thoughts. So maybe his face expresses all about the changes in his life he can't stop from happening.

Steve's worried about Danny and I know he has his reasons. So, it really might all be about Grace and college and moving away from home. Steve's looking out for his boy the only reason for his early call to check up on Danny. Okay, I mean Danny must have left the house around what time? 8:30 am? 9:00 am? Something like this? So, he's seen Steve just a moment ago, had a cup of coffee with him. He even petted Eddie before he went to drive off to this bar. And Steve is separated from Danny for how long exactly? For about 2 hours tops? Before Steve decides it's time for a call, to touch base, making sure he's fine. I mean…this, yeah, this is what I live for.

Steve calls Danny, asking him how he's doing. And it's not anywhere near lunchtime but Steve asks Danny to join him, to grab a bite to eat for lunch. Danny has this day off and Steve can't stand the thought thinking Danny might overthink things, having a bad time, a somber mood. Whatever. Anything is good enough to pretend it's all about caring instead of admitting he only wants to hear Danny's voice. Steve's worried, he misses him��

(Damn, right this moment, in the middle of writing this text there's some other thoughts popping up…GAHH!)

How could I forget about that? OHmYGoD! Steve has just had this awful moment with Eddie! He was terrified Eddie might die on that highway, disorientated, run over by a car. Steve's all shaken up emotionally. He can't really admit that fact to himself, not yet at least, only later when the vet is there with him…I got a little of that myself today – talking about anxiety… So, the call to Danny is also to calm Steve down from the recent, shocking events because Eddie is much, so much more than just a dog to him.

Eddie is the main supporting pillar of Steve's fragile world he hides in his heart and his shattered, scarred soul. Steve is still upset and who does he call? Danny.

He calls, just as Danny would have called him and he checks up on his boy. What a great, tender, comforting moment. Steve doesn't see Danny at work due to his short time-out, though Danny still lives at Steve's place (…if he hasn't forgotten his key…) and Steve sees him in the evening for sure but he wants to eat lunch with Danny although he knows Danny is off to have some good time with whatever he's coming up with. The call Steve gives Danny is similar to the one Danny gave Steve in 10.01, exactly the same. I love this continuity. Warms my heart and the inside of my body down to my little toes.

Danny and the unknown, sexy woman. She's a natural beauty. I love everything about her. From her hair to her fair skin, down to her curvy, hot as hell body, to the way she's dressed, wearing the badassery-is-my-first-name tag like she invented also sensuality. I appreciate the absence of heavily put-on make-up. She's gorgeous and perfect. What a woman!! Whoa, she's freaking hot! And so damn far away from Danny's comfort zone, it makes me want to bite something. That pick-up scene where she just entered the bar to catch up on Danny was a total turn-on, so special, totally out of the ordinary, so hot! Holy shit! This sexy brunette plays with Danny and makes one hot move on him after the other.

God, she's so sexy, full of sass and wits and she swaggers into the bar and within seconds she hits on Danny and it knocks me off my feet with the wave of passion and lust and joy of life breezing my way. Bow chica bow wow!

Danny goes with the flow. How could he not? Steve is still important, and he takes the call. Danny would never not take a call from Steve. But after that Danny's world spins out of control. This woman seduces him into a state where Danny's cock rules his body. They go and have a hot fuck in the woman's bathroom of that bar! Danny stumbles into a tiny, confined space with no windows and only walls around him and he's fine! I have a great live-sex-movie in my head with Danny having this impromptu sex and that's why I have to use other words! Let’s be dirty! He bangs her, right there, from behind, and Miss Sexy-and-Brunette has one palm spread wide against the mirror, and with her other hand she clamps the rim of the counter to catch the heavy snaps of Danny's hips against her ass. God, they watch each other in the mirror, Danny takes her from behind, face red and flushed from arousal and joy and a tiny bit embarrassment that he even sees himself fucking a stranger in a public toilette. A hookup, not even knowing her name and she lifts her skirt and pulls her panties aside to let Danny glide into her wet, hot pussy. Jesus!

I mean, what the hell? (I love Danny’s wet spots under his armpits on his shirt after the sex, that's a great detail.)

The absolute cutest thing happens afterward. Danny has never done this before..just savor this...Danny has never fucked a stranger in a bathroom. He’s not so adventurous and this all-in now or never guy and it shows a tiny bit in the way of his movements which aren't all that confident, just a tiny bit insecure but the desire is there, burning like a wildfire. I mean the red-kissed, sore skin on the sexy brunette’s throat makes my knees go weak.

We know how Danny approaches his women, not like this. He's very much hesitant, insecure, shy, careful, cautious that this event right there with Miss Sexy-and-Brunette?? This renders me damn speechless. Wow! I'm sure Danny calls her (the unknown, sexy woman he just had sex with) Vivienne in his head. I see him whispering hot nonsense in her ear while he comes inside her, and her eyes grab his gaze and lock on. She's so damn self-confident. Who had the condom? That had to be Miss Sexy. I really don't think Danny plans such an act on purpose. He has never done this before!! And he's a bit shaken from his courage and he's so damn sexy with this touch of shyness and the way he speaks to her afterward, coaxing her into giving her a lift…wow, man, Danny's such a hot a stud when he sets his passion loose!

I have no idea if they had had a chance for a relationship. It wasn't the question anyway. But Miss Sexy-and-Brunette is from the East Coast, she loves Jersey, she gets movie/baseball/football (?) quotes. She knows 'Romeo's'…she's such a great gal and I literally can see Danny falling in love iwith her just because she so very different compared to his previous women. She's a wild one and I'm not so sure if Danny could have handled her. Really, I'm not so sure. But she sounds perfect.

Everything that happens afterward seems to be fate, just bad luck, even if it kills you as a viewer, you can't turn back the clock. It's so terribly heartbreaking and this strong, incredible woman dies without telling Danny her name. She's outstanding and a tough she-warrior till the end. She fought so hard, she was so brave and everything...but it wasn't enough. God, I cried for both of them.

Danny had the hottest adventure in the morning because of her, Miss Sexy-and-Brunette and because of her asking him questions about his life Danny came up with some damn honest answers.

For example, Danny told her that Hawaii isn't the worst place to be. He said 'Hawaii 'grows on you'. Or when 'Vivienne' asks about Danny's reason for being in that bar and he answers the reason might be his ex-wife. And Rachel comes up and we get to know that Danny and she tried to make it work and they failed, again. As Danny said, they're better off as friends. So, Rachel's out of the picture. Hopefully forever.

But Life has other plans and this wonderful, sexy morning turns in another haunting, dark, life-sucking event. Danny relives a terrible nightmare – the one where his partner Grace got shot, that day 9/11, right next to him and he couldn't save her. It happens again that a woman dies in his hands. The circumstances are brutal. Danny has experienced paradise and heaven, love and passion, despair and bone-deep grief within hours. He's a mess. He can't deal with anything at the moment. He had it, this spark and it's gone, forever lost, seconds later.

And what’s with Steve? There's also some heavy shifting on the emotional side happening. He opens up to his ohana and we get some deep insights into his heart and his well-guarded feelings because of Eddie. He's honest with the vet-lady and it hurts my heart to know his job always comes first like as if he has no idea how to create a personal life. He would want a relationship with someone, but he can't fit it into his life and the vet-lady wasn't as important as it had to be to make it happen.

In the end, Danny and Steve are single again. They try hard to make things work, but it's not happening. Steve needs Eddie to get through his days and his ohana is always there for him. It breaks my heart how much everyone loves Eddie. Eddie has gone through the same war terror as Steve and neither of them came out sane and healthy. Both of them carry a heavy, invisible burden and that ties the bond between them even tighter.

Steve is going to break down when he gets to know what happened to Danny while he was hat home. God, he’s going to be a mess, too.

At the end of the day, Steve will do everything in his power to be there for Danny. They end up sitting on the couch, leaning into each other and helping one another to get through this mess that is life and love. But they always have each other. Danny lives at Steve's, Danny's single again, Steve's also single and one day, I'm sure of it, one day they stop being so stubborn and they will kiss and snuggle on the couch and they know they'll grow old together because they love each other deeply and uniquely.

There are so many more details. But again, let’s stop here. Thanks so much for reading!

Season 10 is quite outstanding. Great episode. It was poetic, sad, heartbreaking cinema.

[leighas-life]

Review Of Meg, The Trench, Primal Waters, Origins By Steve Alten

Meg #1 (4/5 stars)

*I didn’t write a review for this one, but my thoughts for the second 2 sum up how I feel about Meg (and probably the series as a whole when I finish it.)

The Trench (Meg #2) - 3.5/5

***Trigger warning: Rape is mentioned, along with the person being tortured, there were two attempted rape scenes, one quite graphic and incest.*** The author needs a better editing team. The writing style was good and enjoyable for the most part, although one thing stood out which was the repetitiveness. Jonas felt his temper flaring practically every other page. There was a lot of flashing. How many times can a person flash a smile, or flash their eyes in anger, flash this, flash that....? "For a surreal moment" is also used many times. Once you notice the repetitiveness, it is almost impossible not to notice, which brings you out of the story. Another thing that stood out that took away some enjoyment was a lot of telling instead of showing. Too many characters. I gave up trying to keep track of them. 99% were not important, just written in to be killed. I like how Masao treats Jonas as a true son and not a son-in-law. They have a couple of sweet father-son moments. The actions scenes were suspenseful. I truly felt Terry's terror as she goes through the stuff she went through. There are a couple of characters I hated so much and admit, I was hoping they would die, so Steve Alten is good at writing characters you hate. I do plan on reading more, as I love the entertaining value in these. Some of the triggering and problematic things you can overlook if you go in knowing what to expect. I hope the books get better as the series progresses.

Primal Waters (Meg #3) - 4/5 very problematic stars. 

TW: Because yes, this will have triggers, like the first two. Misogyny, implied/mentioned sex between adults and underage girls, suicide is mentioned, abortion is mentioned, slut and fat-shaming (blink and you might miss the slut-shaming, but it is there.) *** You can go into a vintage horror (or any genre) novel and expect some dark and nasty stuff, including how females are treated, and hey, maybe you even like those books, despite the problematic elements. Those books were a product of the time. I'm honestly not judging your taste in books, because I read them, too. It is nice to be able to turn your brain off sometimes. That being said, the way females are treated in this book just doesn't make sense. Because it is about killer sharks, does that mean it is marketed toward men and that is why all the girls are treated like eye candy, along with underage eye candy to boot? It is just cringy how Terry is described. (The Asian beauty with almond eyes.) I wasn't even at the 30% point and already suicide was mentioned, two instances of underage sex mentioned (with an adult) and one instance of what seems like a forced abortion (man paying for and probably making the underage girl abort her baby), and a cheating scumbag. (And later on in the book there are slut and fat-shaming.) Oh, and of course some shark kills! Which is the real reason to read these, right? Why in the world would Jonas let his underage daughter be one of the "Candy Girls" without even saying a word of protest? “I was hoping you might be able to use Dani behind the scenes, you know, assisting the film crew . . . something to keep her busy.” “Behind the scenes?” Erik laughs. “Your daughter’s eye-candy, Professor, and we can never have too much of that. Dani, as soon as you get settled, come find me and I’ll hook you up with wardrobe. They’ll pick out some nice bikinis, maybe a few after-hour numbers. We’ll pay you to be one of our Candy Girls, my pet name for our Daredevil groupies.” “Excellent.” Danielle’s gloating smile tweaks her father’s blood pressure. *** Also, I can do without shaming people for having body hair. It was just a silly and unneeded line. "God, I miss California. If I date one more woman with hairy legs, I think I’ll—" *** Erik points to the bow where a cocoa-brown African-American woman in a white thong bikini is posing before a photographer and two cameramen. “Not much of an actress, but who cares, she makes—” “I know, great eye-candy.” So, we have an almond-eyed Asian beauty and now a cocoa-brown African American...can't we describe POC without using food? And you don't have to keep reminding us that Terry's Asian as well. We remember! (Later on, there is an olive-skinned Italian as well.) I saw someone call these books "Shallow Entertainment" and they sure are that! I notice that he really likes to go into detail of describing how a female looks, using words like "shapely" a lot. Also, I noticed he points out skin color and eye color of the females often, but only one time did he mention the eye color of a man. I wonder why it is? So we know what eye color the females have when we fantasize about them? I mean, he writes them like "Eye Candy!" The girls on the boat are even called "Candy Girls" by the camera crew. It is basically "Girl's Gone Wild" with stupid daredevil stunts that get people killed. How has this film crew not been sued and how are they allowed to show the deaths on tv? I've never watched the real Girl's Gone Wild, but this book is similar to the Piranha (2010) movie, if you remember the GGW film crew, well, yeah, this book is like that, but with some hungry sharks and people who don't use their brains. Of course, the sex and nudity in this are not graphic or anything, but you get what I mean. That is because Steve does a lot of telling, and not showing. All the people in this book that get put in danger (and end up getting killed) are getting what they deserve. I would never say that about a real-life situation, toward a real victim, but seriously, these characters have bricks for brains. The camera, still looped around his neck, bounces against his chest— —calling out his name. Brian stares at temptation, his fear momentarily subsiding. 'The whale’s dying. Angel’s got to be circling below, waiting to feed again. One shot, just a quick one before you lose the light, then get to shore as fast as you can.' He stops paddling, allowing the kayak to drift as he glances back at Charlie. 'Calm and steady and the Meg won’t even know you’re here. One great shot of her next attack, just one killer shot.' 'Sorry Charlie, but that’s life in the food chain. Damn, this looks good. Okay, Angel, one more time for Daddy while we still have the light. Definitely a cover shot on National Geographic, maybe even Time . . .' This is why I root for the shark! A certain thing keeps happening in this book and jarring me out of the story. Steve Alten has a broken way of writing what are supposed to be suspenseful moments. Personally, I don't like this style. I don't know how to describe it, so I will show you. Balancing atop the wall, he runs back to the arena and the safety of the bleachers as fast as he can— —nitrogen bubbling in his bloodstream. Fergie bounds over another swell and pulls hard on his control strut— —as a powerful updraft catches the kite. Losing the wind, he plummets—a seabird with clipped wings— —as the Megalodon breeches, its head rising at him like a missile, its jaws yawning open, offering an impossible target to miss. Devin flees— —only to be confronted by an even bigger nightmare. This way of writing might be fine if it only happened a couple of times, but it is littered throughout the whole book. One last thing I want to add about Dani, which is a spoiler-ish. [Dani starts off as a teenage spoiled brat; there is no way to say it nicely. I liked how she grew and eventually stopped being such a pain, and she and her father started to see eye to eye again.] Don't get me wrong, despite my complaints, I really do like these books. As I said, it is nice to turn your brain off and enjoy some B movie type books.

Meg Origins (Meg #.05) 2/5 stars.

If you read and liked Meg, this tells the story of when Jonas first met the prehistoric shark. This book is interesting, to say the least. However, some of the writing was dry, dare I say boring. There were some repetitive chapter openings that annoyed me. I guess the editing team didn't notice. Once you notice these repetitive things, it is hard to keep from noticing them and it takes you out of the story. For example: In the Prologue "Captian George Nares stood defiantly on the heaving gun deck." In Chapter 1: "Captian Richard Danielson stood defiantly on the main deck." How does one stand defiantly? Do you stand in a Superman pose, with your hands on your hips? There were so many characters. I wrote a list of characters in case someone was important later on. Large casts are often forgettable. I counted about 20 characters (Plus some more that were not given proper names.) 90% of these people were not important. I liked how there was a nod to the Jaws movie. "Good God, Man! That's more than half the length of the Challenger. A creature that size... we'd need a bigger boat." Steve didn't copy Jaws. Maybe he was inspired somewhat, but the storyline of Meg is completely different from Jaws, yet people are going to still scream copycat. Misogyny, treatment of women. One girl in this is only known by her big boobs. I think she's given a name, but that's about it. You can tell this was written by a man by the way characters describe women. "...tan, oiled breasts two swollen grapefruits in the skimpy red bikini." "...hawkish eyes moved from the pair of jacks in his right hand to the D-cup breasts barely contained beneath the brunette's olive-green tee-shirt." How do you know they're D-cup? Did you measure them, or did she tell you? "Hey, so my boobs are d-cup." These are grown men, but they sound like they are teen boys who just discovered boobs. I'm not a prude by any means, but I can't say I liked this manner of describing people. I notice the men are never described this way. Don't get me wrong, I really do like these books. So far. Meg Origins should be saved only if you are a die-hard fan of the series, though. None of it is new info. It just goes into detail of what the first book already mentioned.

[fatandnerdy30]

Little Orphan Spider Chapter 5

Monday morning was a good one for Peter. After talking to Ned, he felt calmer and was able to get some sleep. So, with a yawn, the boy got dressed and chucked shoes on when he heard a knock and Mr. Martin poked his head in.

"Morning, new Intern!" the man said with a happy smile. Peter jumped at that. It was today!? "Oh shi-oot!" he corrected at a look from the home's director. "I completely forgot about the internship!" Now excitement and terror fluttered through his heart, but the boy couldn't keep a smile from his face. "That's good! Breakfast is being served right now, so hurry up, or you won't get your usual amount. I seriously don't know where you put all that food," he said good naturedly. "Well, growing boys and all that." Peter grabbed his bag, checked his web shooters were there, and headed downstairs. As usual the 'cafeteria' was packed full, all the boy's talking about their classes, or just goofing off. It made Peter smile, but it also hurt his too sensitive ears. He had to know if there was a way to turn down his hearing, or if it would stay like this forever. Getting online, he smiled at the cook, who winked at him and gave him a huge helping of oatmeal with three slices of toast and a big scoopful of eggs. Peter downed the school-type food in minutes and took off, following a few of the boys that were going to school. The minute the brunette walked into the hallway, he noticed everyone was staring at him. At first he thought there was something on his face, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. But, when nothing came off, he had to wonder what they were all staring at until he saw Ned talking to MJ. MJ was a pretty girl, with curly brown hair and eyes that shone like topaz in the sun. But, Peter didn't like her at all. Nope. So when he got closer, and Ned turned, he smiled at them both. "Hey loser," MJ said with a smile. "Hey yourself. How was your weekend?" Peter felt a familial connection with his two friends, and felt like he could be himself with them no matter what. But, that wasn't all the way true. MJ didn't know his secret, so he still had to be careful. "Protested for women's rights," the girl said, pulling a book out for homeroom. "Played Counter Strike," Ned lied. He was helping Peter all weekend with his patrolling. The bell rang and the trio made their way to their first class, and sat together. The class went by fast, the two boys arguing about who was the better Anakin, but decided to call it a draw when the bell rang. "See you, losers," MJ said with a smirk, shaking her head at the boy's antics. But, that frown turned into a frown when she noticed Flash coming towards them. He had a look on his face that was meant for his target; Peter Parker. Peter's senses tingled, but he didn't dodge the punch that was aimed at his back and let it hit him, crying out when his kidney took the brunt of the force. "Hey Penis! Getting ready for your fake internship?" the bully smirked, pushing the boy into a locker. "I'm sure the whole school's gonna want proof. So, maybe you can get the Avenger's autographs, huh?" He smiled evilly. "Or, maybe one of them will take you in! Awww, little Orphan will finally have a mommy and daddy! Or, they'll see how dumb you are and kick you out on the first day." With a final puch, the bully left, his friends laughing around him. Peter was boiling at the bully's words. Even though he was used to them, he still let them get to him sometimes. The bell rang and Peter forced himself to calm down. "Come on, guys, we'll be late." He walked away from his friends, head hanging as he walked towards his next class. After that, Flash left him alone, mostly. At lunch Ned continued their Star Wars debate, which was quickly settled when MJ threw a roll at both their heads and calling them 'super nerds'. Flash was still bothering his victim during the day,  calling Peter Orphan instead of using the boy's name, but the brunette refused to listen. When Chemistry class finally came, Peter felt relaxed and sat at the table in front of the beakers and Bunsen burners. This was his world, his calling. So when the teacher started droning on about a new chemical compound they were making, Peter was busy mixing more spider webbing in the bottom drawer of the desk, making sure to take notes as well as mix. Once the class was finished, Peter quickly put his mixture into a brown bottle and slipped it into his backpack. Chemistry was the last class for the day, and then he was free....but he wasn't. Peter longed to be above the buildings as he usually was after school. But, he was still excited to be going to his internship, even if he wished he were going through the air, it was still pretty cool. Peter stepped off the subway at the bottom of Stark Tower and had to stare up at it. It was so beautiful, with the sun bouncing off all its windows....he had to wonder what it would be like to just hang off the top and see everything. He had been wanting to do so for the longest time, but with Mr. Stark on his tail recently, he didn't want to chance it. So, he had to go in through the front door. The boy walked through the automatic doors and had an automatic geek-gasm. Technology was all over the place, from the walls to the scanners, an Irish voice coming from each one after she had finished scanning each person. "This is so cool," he whispered. He wasn't looking where he was going, when suddenly he walked into what he could have sworn was a wall wearing clothes, but when he looked up, he stared into a frowning face. "School tours aren't scheduled," the slightly chunky man said in a firm voice. "O-oh! I know, um...I'm here for the, uh, the internship? Y'know, Peter Parker.." He waved at the last part. The man didn't move, just continued to stare at him, until Peter got his school ID out, showing it to the living wall. "Here? See? Peter Parker..." He flashed a smile, then it disappeared. "Front desk," the man said, his voice still firm. "Okay! Thanks!" 'Geeze that guy was happy,' he thought as he walked towards the front desk. "Bag," another security gaurd said suddenly, pointing towards the scanners. "Oh, oh yeah. Here ya go." The teen gave his bag over, glad he didn't have his spider-suit now, and walked through the scanners, waiting for a moment while the blue light ran over his body. "Clear. Oh, and congratulations on starting your internship, Peter Parker," the voice said, making the boy smile. "Thanks, scanner lady!" He grabbed his bag once it was cleared and walked to the desk. "Hi, I'm-" "Yeah, I heard Friday. So, you're the kid everyone's talking about, huh?" The blonde woman smiled, making Peter blush cutely. "Adorable. You already have an ID made." She handed over said card and gave the boy a wink, making him turn even redder. "Good luck, hun." Peter nodded and left, his face hot as he got into the elevators with a bunch of suit wearing adults. That's when it hit him, he didn't even know where to go! He was about to call out to the desk lady, but the doors closed at that moment and the elevator started moving. Peter looked around nervously, wanting to ask one of the adults, but they were all on their phones and he didn't want to bother them. So, he just rode the elevator with them until they all got off and followed them. He looked around for someone to ask, but he couldn't find anyone. So, he walked down the hall a little bit until he came across what looked like a gym. Seeing people inside, he peeked his head in. "Excuse me?" he called quietly, and nothing. "Excuse me!" he called a little louder and waited. Finally the people in the gym stopped what they were doing and Peter found himself staring at three Avengers. He stiffened when he noticed Hawk-Eye and Captain America staring at him, his face going white. "What's a kid doing here?" Steve asked Clint, who shrugged. "Damned if I know. Hey, kid? You lost?" It took a minute for the kid to nod and the man had to smile. This kid was cute. "What are you looking for?" "Um..I'm looking for the, uh, the in-intern labs? I st-start today.." Steve furrowed his brow. That voice...it sounded so familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Wait, intern? How old are you kid?" Clint put his staff down and walked over to the boy, noticing how he flinched back. "Um, I'm in high school....but, here's my ID! I, I just didn't know where to go." Peter blushed. He couldn't believe he was this nervous, when he'd already met Hawk-Eye, even though the man didn't know it. "I got lost, and there was no one to ask." "Why didn't you just ask Friday?" the archer asked, his brow quirked. "Leave him alone, Clint. He's just a kid on his first day, I'm sure he's nervous. Friday?" "Yes, Mr. Rogers?" the AI answered. "Can you please tell-what's your name?" "Peter," the boy answered quickly. "Peter here where the intern labs are?" "Of course, Mr. Rogers. Please go to the elevators, Mr. Parker. I will take you to the correct floor." Peter was about to leave, when he turned back, his face heating up again. "Thanks, Captain, sir. Have a good day." and he hurried down the corridor back to the elevators, knowing full well the two were still watching him. "I didn't know we were hiring kids," Clint said, shaking his head. "How old is he, twelve?" Steve chuckled. "He has to be pretty smart for Tony to take him on in any way. Just leave it at that," he said and walked back to the weights. "Intern labs," Friday's voice told Peter. "Thanks...Ms. Friday, was it?" "That is correct, Mr. Parker." "Oh, you can call me Peter, if you want Ms. Friday. Thank you so much for bringing me here." "You're very welcome, Peter. Have a great first day." "Thanks Ms. Friday! Talk to you later!" Peter rushed out of the elevator and into the lab just as it turned three-thirty, panting from having ran all the way. "Hello?" he called. A second later, a blonde woman came out from behind a machine and her eyes turned quizzical. "Hello, sweetie. Are you lost?" Peter was getting so tired of hearing that today. "No, ma'am. I'm here for the internship?" The boy held up his pass. "Peter Parker. It's my first day." It took a minute for the woman's face to light up. "Oh, you're adorable!" she squealed, running over to him. "I'm Gwen Stacey, Peter. It's nice to meet you." Instead of shaking his hand, she reached out a hand to ruffle the head full of curls, giggling as the boy made a face. "I'm glad you made it on time. I was starting to worry." "Oh, yeah...I got a little lost," Peter hurriedly said, then blanched. Why did he tell her that? Why couldn't he made something up that sounded cooler? "You too, huh? I admit, even I get lost in this building still. It's just too big!" Gwen lead the boy over to a station and pointed to a lab station, fully equipped with everything Peter had been wanting. "So here's where you'll be working, though, I will tell you, Mr. Stark made your project himself." At that Peter almost fell over. "Wh-what?!" he cried, his eyes getting to the size of dinner plates. "Yeah. He told me he called it the 'Baby Monitor'. It's just because you're so young, he didn't want you getting into the more advanced or dangerous projects." Peter's happiness ended right there. He made a face and groaned. Why did everyone have to make his age a thing? He could handle more advanced things... "I'll leave you to get settled. The coats are over there, but I don't think we'll have any that fit you, though...." Gwen tapped her pen to her lip. "But, I'm sure we can come up with something, so just take the smallest one for today." Gwen turned when she heard a voice calling her and sighed. "I have to go, but just have fun, okay?" She ruffled the boy's curls again and walked off. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tony Stark was angry. No, he was more than angry. He was pissed off. Fury had called him, reprimanding him for not getting the annoying spider on their side yet, or even finding out who he was...which was also getting on Tony's nerves. He had been trying to find out for months who the man was, but every plan he made, every drone he sent after the crime fighter, was dodged or foiled. He couldn't explain it. He pulled up a video of his last encounter with the spider and examined it. It seemed as if the small man knew exactly where Tony's drones were coming from without looking. So, he must have a radar, right? Or, could it be something else? Tony looked over the footage again and again, but each time left him further from any clues, and it was starting to get to him. "Tony? You okay?" The man turned to see his fiancee standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hands. She walked over to him and handed the mug to him, looking at the video. "Spider-Man again, huh? Any luck?" Stark groaned, letting his head hit the table, wincing at the pain. "Not a single fucking thing....and I'm getting angry. Fury's been up my ass about this for weeks now, demanding I find out who this guy is, or at least turn him over to our side....but every time I try, the guy tells me the same thing." Pepper made a sympathetic noise, her fingers running through his hair. "Then why not tell Nick that the guy doesn't want to join and leave it at that?" Tony gave her a look from the table that screamed 'hell no'. "Why? Because it's personal now. I will find out who this guy is one way or another." Now his stubborn pride was getting in the way, but Tony didn't care. When he set his mind to something, he didn't let it go. The man sat up and sipped his coffee. "But, what do you need? Besides to bask in the glory that is me?" Pepper rolled her eyes at that comment. "This came from the King of Jordan today, about the little 'incident' that happened in his country that's now worldwide news?" She handed her fiancee the tablet which already had the article on the front page. "I have no memory of this, so it didn't happen. Tell Air Jordan that I was simply on vacation with my beautiful fiancee and I have no recollection of it besides the glorious moments in the bedroom." The strawberry blonde smiled and smacked his shoulder. "He wants a formal apology for destroying a temple, and as your CEO, the public also needs something that says you care, because that temple was being made into an orphanage." At that, Tony had a spark of guilt. "Then, apologize for it, and send the country some money to make a better place for the kids." Pepper shook her head. "Nope, not good enough. We have to show the world that you care about the children of the world, and throwing money at them isn't enough." Tony didn't like where this was going. "No...no, no, you know how I feel about kids. They get messy and their hands are always sticky, plus, how am I supposed to take care of a kid when I need parental supervision?" Pepper laughed. "I agree with that, but this has to be done. I'll make sure it's an older child that can take care of themselves, you'll be there to offer some guidance and a job once the month is over. Unless, you wind up wanting to adopt the child." She giggled at the face her fiancee made and shook her head. "Who knows, fatherhood may do you some good. I'll make the announcement and all the arrangements. You will have to keep the child for at least two months." Stark groaned at that, but then something clicked. "Hold on...the new intern. I remember reading something about him...Friday, pull up the file on the new intern." "Yes, boss," the Irish AI said, putting said file up on Tony's desk. The man's eyes read the boy's information and he clapped his hands. "Yes! This, this is the kid, definitely. Plus, he's a little genius, so it will be like talking to a past me." Pepper walked over and made a noise at the boy's picture. "He's adorable! Look at those curls! Ok, I'll make the arrangements." She kissed Tony on the cheek, feeling his rough stubble against her lips. "I'm sure he'll be great, Tony," and she walked out, already pulling out her phone to set things up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Peter had logged onto his monitor and the first thing to show on the screen was the screen saver, which was a large pacifier installed with a baby crying. The boy's face went red as the other interns laughed at their own stations. He swore Mr. Stark was just trying to kill him of embarrassment. Clicking off the screen, he logged in, creating a password he would remember, and got straight to work on his first project. It seemed easy to do, create a system firewall. So, he set to work, trying to code in an algorithm, but he was denied at every turn. What the heck? He tried again, when suddenly Friday's voice came from his station. "I'm sorry, Peter, but that is certain programming is off limits for the Baby Monitor file." Peter groaned. How did Mr. Stark expect to get things done? But, then he had an idea. "Ms. Friday? I'll need your cooperation, if that's okay? I want to override at least a few of the 'protocols' in my file so I can work some projects. Can you help me?" The AI was quiet for a minute. "I don't think that's a good idea, Peter. Mr. Stark has made this system to keep you safe." "Yes, but I've been doing more complex algorithms in school for years now. Please? I want to impress Mr. Stark, show him what I can do." "Fine. But I will inform Boss on what you are doing." "No! At least, not yet. Let me get this done, then you can tell him?" He looked at his monitor with big, brown puppy eyes. "Please Ms. Friday?" "Fine. I will help you, but I will inform the Boss when it's complete." The boy smiled and hacked into the system, finding his protocol file. He wished Ned were here, this was more his thing, but he had to do this alone. So, hacking into the folder, he found the level of security and balked. He was at a zero? How old did Mr. Stark think he was? Shaking his head, Peter changed them all to level two's, to keep Ms. Friday off his back, and backed out. "Okay, done. Thank you, Ms. Friday!" "I still do not approve, Peter." "I know, but I had to do something!" With that, he got to work on the firewall, now so more challenging than it had been with the lowered security level. When he was finished, he had a full firewall in place, protecting all of his future work. He smiled happily as he double checked his work before pushing back, looking around the room for Ms. Stacey. When he found her, she was in a group that was arguing over something. Curious, the boy got up and walked over, peering over one of the older intern's shoulders. Oh, they were fighting about how to figure out a problem. He studied the equation for the chemical compound, completely in his element before going over to an empty board, still unnoticed by the group. He wrote down the problem, studied it for a moment, then got to work on it. Ten minutes later he was standing in front of a fully solved equation. "Uh, hey guys? Is-is this what you were fighting over?" Gwen turned and looked at the whiteboard with a stunned expression. "Oh my God!" she ran over to the board, her eyes flitting to everything. "This is....you solved it!" She gave Peter a hug, which in turn made the boy blush a bright red. "Oh, this is going to make Mr. Stark so happy! And, once he finds out you solved it, he'll definitely want to meet you! Oh, exciting!" She went back to her group, who were all giving Peter a thumbs up, which the boy blushed harder at, and he scurried back to his station alone.

[omgrachwrites]

Ocean Avenue (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: When Darcie Baker - the daughter of a police officer - breaks her misfit friend’s heart at 16 she regrets it everyday even after she graduates though she knows she can’t go back and change what happened. Everything changes when over 10 years later she meets the gorgeous mechanic.

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad Bucky :( mentions of sex

Words: 2147

A/N: I’m sorry for the fact that it’s slightly late, and I’m going to be using Eoin Macken as a face claim for Liam bc let’s be real, he’s gorgeous, it’ll all be made clear when you guys read this part! Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged, I love you all very much! xxx

Part Six

Bucky was running some hair product – that cost him a bomb and made him smell like a flower if he used too much of it – through his still damp hair, making it more tousled than it naturally was already. He had a split second of surprise when he heard his front door open and close, and the sound of sneakers resonated through his apartment. It was Steve. Steve had a key to Bucky’s place so that he could go over there whenever he had had his night terrors or he was suffering from PTSD or he was just lonely.

In turn, Bucky had a key to Steve’s apartment, they were together so often that they might as well just live together. Even though they were best friends they were pretty different people so it’d probably be a danger to their friendship if they decided to move in together full time. Bucky was buttoning up his white shirt when Steve knocked on the door and strode into the bedroom.

“Looking good pal,” Steve chuckled, clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

Bucky beamed at him, his cheeks dimpling and the corners of his eyes creasing, “thanks man, so do you,” he paused for a second as the two of them descended into the kitchen, “are you sure that you don’t mind me tagging along?”

Steve shot him a look that said, ‘are you being serious?’ before he actually replied, “of course, it’s not an official date or anything; quite a few people are coming down. Thor and Loki are in town so they’re coming and a couple of Peggy’s friends from the hospital are coming too. I don’t think that Darcie is coming though, I think that she told Peggy that she had plans,” Steve assured him.

Bucky sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and proceeded to chew on it as he shrugged, “it really doesn’t matter to me whether she comes or not. I don’t care,” that was honestly the truth and it felt so good to not be lying about it.

Steve’s baby blue eyes widened in surprise and he was more than a little bit shocked, “since when? You’ve really changed your tune Buck, have you forgiven her or something?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t forgiven her and it’ll take me a long time to do so, if ever but,” he paused as he contemplated his following words, “I don’t want to hate her anymore, it’s far too exhausting and I can’t be bothered with it any longer. But anyway, technically this is your third date man, are you sure that you guys don’t want to be alone. After all, we all know what happens on your third date,” Bucky said with a smirk as he grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and he handed one to Steve.

Steve was silent for a second as he twisted the cap off of the bottle before he took a long swig from it, “nah man, we slept together on the second date,” he confessed it so nonchalantly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide as he felt immensely proud of his best friend that used to be so awkward around pretty women. However, it was slightly dulled by the fact that he was a tiny bit disappointed that Steve hadn’t confided in him. Though, Bucky respected Steve’s privacy but it didn’t stop him from pouting just a little bit.

“What? Why didn’t you say anything, how was it?” Bucky blurted out his questions as Steve tried his best to conceal a snicker as he rubbed at his freshly shaven jaw.

“I’m almost certain that Peggy wouldn’t want me broadcasting our first sexual encounter together,” he said reasonably and even Bucky had to give that one to him, “also, it was really amazing,” he muttered as a light blush lit up his features.

“Yeah of course it was, you little slut,” Bucky joked as he drained the last drops of his beer and he patted Steve on the back, “c’mon dude, are we ready?”

Steve nodded as he followed suit and grabbed his jacket along with his keys, “yeah, let’s go.”

It was a bracing night that caused the two men to huddle their faces into their jackets, thankful that the bar that they were going to was only a couple of blocks away. From the minute they entered the bar Bucky realised that he couldn’t smell the foul stench of stale beer, cigarettes and sweat. He also noticed that the floor wasn’t really that sticky when he was walking on it, the more his eyes scanned the bar the more he was realising that it was a lot nicer than the bars he was used to going to.

Bucky gave Steve a questioning look and Steve ducked his head, a sheepish sort of expression on his face, “I wanted Peggy to be somewhere nice, I didn’t want her to be in those awful bars that we usually frequent.”

“Jesus Christ, Rogers you’re such a sap,” Bucky snickered as he punched Steve in the arm.

Steve glared at him as they walked to a little side room where the darts board and a snooker table was, on the way Bucky winked at the blonde barmaid who was showing too much cleavage, chuckling as she simpered at him. The table that Peggy and her friends were sitting on was facing the main room so they didn’t feel to out of the thick of it.

The pretty brunette was sitting there with two women from the hospital, one with orange hair, and the other blonde, an older man with waves of dark hair. Sitting right in the middle of the group was Sam Wilson, Darcie’s best friend. Sam nodded at Bucky as he and Steve approached the table, Bucky returned the greeting.

Peggy beamed as Steve leaned down to kiss her and she grinned at Bucky, “hey Buck.”

“Hey,” he smiled and gave her a little wave, Peggy introduced him to Bruce, Carol, Wanda and Sam, it was clear that she obviously didn’t know that they already knew each other.

Bucky shot a text to Thor to tell him and Loki where they were sitting, for the first half an hour or so the group had a few civilised drinks with a couple of shots in between. However, when Loki and Thor showed up with so many shots that every person had two each everything changed. Loki and Thor had always brought the party, even in high school. The more drunk Steve and Peggy got the more into PDA they were.

Bucky and Sam shared a glance before Sam spoke up, managing to break the couple apart, “how about we have a few rounds of darts? Boys against girls?” he suggested.

Everyone cheered their approval and they headed for the dartboard, “thank god for you man,” Bucky laughed with Sam for a moment, it was kind of nice since they didn’t really speak at all in high school.

“Hey, anytime pal,” Sam snickered as the two men stood to score the game.

Halfway through the first match Peggy let out a gasp and she spoke in a high pitched squeal, “yay! You’re here!”

Bucky turned to see where Peggy was walking to and he saw her, clad in an emerald green dress that sparkled with silver shoes and accessories. Half of her hair was pinned up into a bun; the rest of her dark hair cascading down past her shoulders, her skin glowed underneath the artificial light of the bar. She looked beautiful but perhaps it was just his drunk mind giving him bad ideas, his jealousy was definitely due to the alcohol that he’d consumed, or maybe that’s just what he was telling himself.

Darcie positively beamed as she kissed Peggy on the cheek, gave Sam a hug before she slipped her arm back through the arm of the handsome man that was by her side, “everybody!” Peggy called, gathering everybody round, “this is Liam and he’s a firefighter,” she giggled drunkenly as the man pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled warmly at everyone, offering his hand for them all to shake.

“It’s great to meet you guys,” he nodded as he wrapped an arm around Darcie’s waist as she smiled brightly at him. Bucky nodded and smiled tightly around the lip of his beer bottle, gripping Liam’s hand perhaps too hard before sitting back in his chair.

If he was sober Bucky would feel a little intimidated but he didn’t tonight, he just felt pissed off, especially when Darcie offered him a charming smile and a meek, “hello,” acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Bucky raised his head slightly as her eyes lingered on him, “hey.”

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

It had been a little bit awkward at first, when Liam had suggested that they meet up with her friends after their date, she hesitated because she knew that she would see Bucky. However, Liam was so sweet with his boyish charm and gorgeous Irish accent that she couldn’t possibly refuse him. Though, she wished that Bucky didn’t look so gorgeous tonight with his perfectly dishevelled hair and his crisp white shirt that was rolled up to his bulging forearms and a couple of buttons were popped open.

After a while though, it turned out to be quite relaxed, she had missed Loki and Thor with their ridiculous jokes that put everybody at ease. It had soon come out that Darcie had attended high school with Thor and Loki, much to Peggy’s surprise. Thankfully, they hadn’t mentioned that Bucky had gone to the same school yet. At the present moment Loki was laughing about a movie they had studied in film class.

“I’m pretty sure that as soon as the Captain started singing Edelweiss, Darcie here genuinely started weeping,” he teased as he ran his fingers through his deep brown curls as he laughed.

“Hey!” Darcie giggled as the whole table apart from Bucky laughed, “I definitely wasn’t the only one who cried and that scene is so beautiful by the way,” she beamed happily as Liam squeezed her knee gently and his warm lips kissed her cheek.

“You’re right,” Thor smirked, “you definitely weren’t the only one, I’m sure that Barnes shed a few tears too,” he let out a booming belly laugh before the whole table went silent.

Darcie felt her stomach drop as she exchanged slightly panicked glances with Sam, Steve and Bucky.

“I didn’t know that you two went to high school together,” Wanda laughed and Peggy gave Darcie a weird look and she almost shrank back into her seat. Originally, Darcie had told Peggy that she knew Steve because their families were friends.

“Neither did I, were you guys friends or something?” Peggy asked, trying to sound as casual as she could.

Before anybody could reply, Darcie burst out, “no!” the table went silent at her outburst and she got a lot of strange looks, she didn’t even look at Bucky. If she had, she would have seen the look of hurt on his face, “we didn’t really know each other, right?”

She looked over the table at Bucky, his jaw was clenched and he drew a deep breath in through his nose, making his nose flare, “right,” he confirmed in a tight voice.

“I need some air,” without waiting for a reply she swallowed the last of her drink before she walked outside and she sat on the hard stone wall with her head in her hands.

She was sitting there for a couple of moments on her own, wondering how and when it all went wrong. The door suddenly banged open as someone sat next to her, she turned to face her companion and was surprised to see that it was Bucky; she had expected it to be one of the girls or Liam.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice as Bucky lit up a cigarette and she didn’t have the heart to scold him, he took a drag before replying.

“Liam seems like a nice guy,” he simply said, his voice sounded a little weird but Darcie just chalked it up to the fact that he had been drinking.

“He is,” she smiled despite herself, “Peggy introduced us.”

“Hmm,” he made a non-committal noise as he took another long drag, it was silent for a couple of moments before he spoke up, looking at her for the first time since he’d come outside. Darcie wished that she didn’t see the hurt that filled his eyes, “every time we take one step forward I feel like the universe pushes us five steps back, ” his gaze flickered down to look at her lips.

“What do you mean?” Darcie whispered even though she knew.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” he sighed sadly as they proceeded to sit in silence together.

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

@void-imaginations @theonelittleone @dreamacoholic @thesswintersoldier @harryngtonewithyourshit @iamariotgrrl @wavyjassy @nobody444

[averagemarvelbitch]

Undercover Love / STONY

Summary: The hospital bills keep on coming and Steve doesn’t know how to help his mother. He decides the army is his best bet. Destiny has a different idea, though, and puts Dr. Erskine and Project Rebirth on his path. Soon, he becomes Captain America and a special forces SHIELD agent with a dream team, ready to take on even the most dangerous missions.

A few years later, Director Carter’s nephew is kidnapped by the Ten Rings and it’s Captain America and the Avengers to the rescue! Falling in love with said nephew wasn’t on Steve’s plans, but he isn’t complaining.

Director Carter might complain. If she ever finds out.

TAGS: Secret Agents AU / Stony / Alternate Universe

Chapters: 4/?

Read on AO3

---

Margaret Carter was proud to say that she had lived a very eventful and interesting life. She had become an agent of the Strategic Scientific Reserve in a time when woman were relegated to answering phones and taking messages, quickly proving her worth in every field mission and soon rising to become one of the most prominent agents in the history of said agency. Then, when the SSR ended, she joined her old friend, Howard Stark, and founded the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistic Division, also known as SHIELD, a peacekeeping organization whose primary goal was making the world a better place and fighting those who sought to destroy it. She had worked hard and relentlessly all her life, always focused on her work as the Director of SHIELD, making no time for love or romance. Margaret had never much cared about such things, had never really dreamed of a white picket fence with a lovely wife and a couple of children playing in the yard, not even when her darling Angie had been alive, God bless her soul. She simply did not have the time or the inclination to love and care for a child as a mother should. And she wholeheartedly believed that until the day Anthony Stark had been born.

Anthony had arrived on a Thursday, in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms Malibu had seen in years. Peggy had arrived a few hours after the birth, absolutely soaking wet despite the umbrella poor Jarvis held for her all the way to the door.

“By God, Howard, how you can live in this godforsaken place is frankly beyond me”, she had complained, taking her shoes off at the door and graciously accepting a towel from Jarvis.

“Trust me, Peg, you’ll change your mind once the sun comes up and you see the beautiful view of the beach. There’s nothing like it”, Howard replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek with a smile that could light up an entire room.

“I doubt it. Now, where is my godson?”

During her pregnancy, Maria Stark had fallen victim to the newest tendency amongst the rich socialites of California: the all natural birth. She had insisted that little Anthony should be born in their home, surrounded by his loved ones as opposed to a hospital full of loud machines and strangers. She had nearly driven her husband insane with worry and, despite his very passionate speeches about her safety as well as the baby’s, she’d had the final word on the matter. And so, Anthony had been born in the mansion’s master bedroom, with the help of a very competent midwife and under Anna Jarvis’ watchful eye. Margaret heard the unhappy wails of the baby before she and Howard had even entered the room. The ever proper Maria held the baby awkwardly in her arms, looking nothing like the very composed socialite Margaret knew her to be, her eyes dropping lightly most likely from the tiredness brought by the very difficult birth.

“Would you like to hold him?” Maria asked in greeting as soon as her tired eyes landed on Margaret, carefully lifting the small, blue bundle in her arms in the brunette’s direction. She accepted the baby, cradling his head as she raised him closer to her own face.

“Hello, my darling Anthony. I’m your aunt Peggy”, she whispered softly to the baby, whose wails soon turned to quiet whimpers as he watched the beautiful woman with his big, brown eyes, “I’m the one you come to when your father is being terribly stupid. You’ll notice it tends to happen with surprising frequency”, she explained to the newborn baby, earning a faint laugh from Maria and a very annoyed hey from Howard himself. Margaret, however, heard none of it, too enthralled by the baby in her arms to pay attention to anything else. I will always be here, my dear, she promised him quietly with a kind smile, for whatever you may need.

Throughout the years, Margaret kept her promise. She was there for every birthday, every Christmas and every Easter. She taught her little boy how to behave like a proper gentleman and how to make proper tea.

“This tea is hot”, a very young Tony complained, grimacing as he swallowed the sweet liquid.

“Well, of course it’s hot, my darling. It’s tea. Tea is hot”, Margaret calmly explained, taking a sip from her own cup.

“Mommy and daddy always drink cold tea, it’s called iced tea. It’s really good!”

“That is not tea, dearest. That is filthy water with sugar. This”, she said, gesturing to their cups, “is tea. I’m surprised Mr. Jarvis hasn’t taught you that”.

Tony shrugged, taking another big gulp from his cup, “He always makes a funny face when mommy and daddy drink it, though”.

She smiled. “I’ll bet he does”.

She also taught him how to stand up for himself and, of course, how to throw a proper punch, a lesson that had gotten both of them in a lot of trouble when Tony came back from school with a purple eye and a proud smile and an exasperated Jarvis right behind him, waving a paper in which she could swear she read the word suspension. She took him to zoos, and picnics, and parks. She told him stories about secret spies who fought for a better world and fell in love with sassy waitresses. She spent hours on the phone, listening as the young boy recounted his day and shared with her everything that had happened. They were inseparable, even when separated by thousands of miles, and Margaret loved the boy more than she’d ever loved anything or anyone in her entire life, including her darling Angie, which was why, when that fateful call came, she dropped everything (including a very important meeting with the Minister of Defense) and went straight to Malibu, a whole new level of anger burning inside her chest all the way there.

It had been a Wednesday and a very busy day when the call came. She had been so focused on her conversation with Agent Fury that she’d almost missed the call. She quickly answered the phone, apologizing to the young agent for the interruption while assuring him it was too important a call to miss, and almost passed out with worry when she heard her darling boy sobbing on the other end of the like.

“Tony? Tony, my darling, what’s the matter?”

“Can you come pick me up? Please, aunt Peggy? I wanna leave”, he begged between sobs.

“My darling, what’s happening? Are you hurt?”

“Daddy is angry with me and he’s scary and Jarvis is not here, please, Aunt Peggy?”

Margaret was already on her feet, telling Fury to secure her a jet right that moment while trying to calm her godson down at the same time.

“Where are you right now, dearest?”

“I’m in my room. Please, please, will you come here, please?” the child begged once more, sniffling.

“I’m on my way, my dear. I’ll be there as soon as possible, you hear me? You stay in your room, alright?”

She called Jarvis as soon as Tony hung up, desperately trying to reach the butler who did not pick up the phone. She would later find out that Jarvis was busy receiving the most disturbing news in the hospital, being held by his crying wife as the doctor explained his chances of survival. In that moment, however, she couldn’t help but curse the butler as she sat on the plane, worried sick about her darling boy who had sounded so terrified over the phone. She arrived at Malibu a few hours later, taking a cab to the mansion. Margaret wasn’t stupid. Howard and she had been friends for many years, a friendship that had started based on their mutual desire to prove their worth in a world that constantly told them they were not enough. She knew the man’s qualities and she knew his flaws. On her last visits, she had noticed how there was always a glass of scotch attached to Howard’s hand, how fast he lost his inhibition, slurring his words as he talked about lost hope and business difficulties. But, most of all, she had noticed how his eyes always seemed to narrow every time he turned his attention to Anthony.

Margaret entered the mansion without as much as a greeting to whoever had opened the door, marching purposefully up the stairs and straight to her godson’s bedroom. From the end of the corridor, she saw Howard banging his hand on the door of said bedroom, screaming obscenities, a bottle of scotch securely on his hand. He barely had time to turn his head towards the sound of clacking high heels on the wooden floor before he felt his nose break under Margaret’s fist. Howard fell backwards like a sack of potatoes and did not move anymore. The maid standing behind him screamed, hands on each side of her face, eyes wide in terror.

“That is quite enough of screaming, thank you very much”, Margaret reprehended the women, who kept staring at her like she had just grown another head, “Take Howard to his bedroom and make sure to leave some aspirin by his bedside, I’m sure he’ll need it later”.

She knocked softly on the door. “Anthony? Everything is alright now, my darling. Open the door”.

She heard the lock turning and gasped when the door opened, revealing her little boy. Anthony had a very red mark the size of a hand in his right cheek and the skin around his right eye was slowly turning purple. Margaret wanted to scream. She wanted to march into Howard’s bedroom and tear him limb by limb. She wanted to take Anthony away from that house and keep him safe and sound. Instead, she did the only thing she could do. She scooped the young boy in her arms, whispering soothing words in his ear as he cried, scared and confused as to why his father, the man who was supposed to love and protect him, would cause him such suffering. Margaret stayed there the whole afternoon, holding the little boy in her arms until Jarvis arrived. He had heard from the maid what had transpired in his absence and went straight for the little boy’s room, quickly taking him from his godmother’s arms, apologizing to his young sir for not being there when he had needed him most. His words were calm and soothing, but Margaret could see the anger burning in his eyes. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one enraged by what had happened.

Later that night, she and Howard talked. She shouted at him, her anger getting the best of her, even going as far as threatening to take Anthony away from them. And that was when everything changed. Howard stood up from his chair, a cold expression in his face as he informed Margaret that, should she try such thing, he would have no problem exposing her preferences to the public. She knew exactly what he meant, although it was hard to believe a man she had once called friend would use such thing against her. It would bring me no pleasure, Peggy, he had said in a firm tone, but I’d do it. That boy will carry my legacy and you will not take him from me, you hear me? And so, that day, Margaret and Howard’s friendship had ended. The Director of SHIELD knew she stood no chance. The world wasn’t yet ready to embrace the love between two women and should word of her love life get out, Margaret would lose everything she had fought for her entire life, including access to her darling Anthony. That day, Howard promised to never again lay a hand on the boy, but she knew that wasn’t enough. She could see the man her friend had become; his cold eyes said it all. She knew there would be other forms of abuse and she would have to watch, helpless, as this shell of a once great man destroyed her darling boy’s spirits, unable to protect him from it. That day, Margaret’s heart broke in a thousand pieces, never to be fixed again.

And so the years had passed as she watched the abused bestowed upon her godson. Anthony, however, never once lost his natural glow. He stood his ground, staring at his father in defiance, never once wavering. Margaret could not be more proud of her darling boy. But as Anthony grew, his sense of self worth diminished. He thought of himself as unlovable. After all, if his own parents did not care for him, then how could anyone else? And no matter what Margaret or Jarvis or Ana did, they could not convince the young boy that he was loved and it broke their hearts a little bit more every day. As time went by, Jarvis passed away, Anna soon following him. Anthony was sent to a boarding school, where he spent every holiday season alone. At first, he would call his godmother every day. After a while, the calls became rarer and rarer until one day they simply stopped coming. And Margaret wept, unable to do anything but watch her boy from afar. She sent him cards and gifts for him birthday and Christmas. She called frequently, although Anthony rarely answered. She had expressed just how proud she was of him when he joined MIT at fifteen and stood there in the middle of the crowd, applauding him when he received his diploma, his parents nowhere to be found. She was there to hold his hand as people from all around the country paid their respects to Maria and Howard Stark. What a privilege it must have been to be raised by such incredible people, they would say and Anthony would nod, trying so very hard to hold the tears that threatened to fall from his big, brown eyes. Despite her best efforts, Margaret was unable to shield her darling boy of the horribleness of the world and she hated herself for it.

---

Margaret was walking from one side to the other, the clack of her high heels hitting the cold floor echoing through the empty corridor.

“They are late”, she complained, her English accent much more accentuated, as it usually happened when she was angry or nervous.

Before Agent Hill could answer, the doors on the far side of the corridor opened to reveal a very dirty Anthony on a wheelchair, followed closely by his Lieutenant friend and the Captain himself. Margaret quickly walked towards her godson, kissing his bandaged forehead carefully.

“My darling boy, you are the reason half my hair has gone white”, she said with a smile and tears in her eyes. Anthony smiled back at her.

“Sorry, auntie. Oh, and, next time, please send a better team? I had to do all the work myself”, he complained halfheartedly.

Margaret shook her head with a quiet laugh, kissing his forehead once more before letting Rhodes take him to the bedroom, “I’ll be with you in a minute, Anthony”, she promised, watching both man disappear into the corridor before turning to Steve, a very serious expression in her face, “I received your report, Captain. It seems we’ve both come to the same conclusions”.

“The Lieutenant Colonel was the one who brought it up, ma’am. But he doesn’t believe the leak came from the soldiers or anyone in the Air Base”.

“I agree. The Ten Rings were too well informed. I believe someone very powerful paid them to eliminate my godson. I have my suspicions, but I can’t be certain”, she said with a thoughtful expression, glancing to the room where Anthony and Rhodes were, “Did Anthony see your faces?”

“No, ma’am. The Winter Soldier, Hawkeye and I remained with our faces covered the entire time. The Black Widow, however, was exposed”.

“Good. Romanoff is an excellent spy and I have a job that she would perfect for. You three, however, will have a different mission. I believe that whoever made an attempt on my godson’s life will most likely try again. He must be watched carefully. However, knowing Anthony as I do, he will outright refuse a bodyguard”, she explained, and then smiled at the Captain, “Tell me, Rogers, have you ever gone to college?”

---

Leave a comment and/or ask to be tagged // Feed my caffeine addiction

[snowbellewells]

Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)

I’m so sorry that this is a few days late!  A certain savior and pirate were not working with my muse and I had a lot of grading to do besides.  I hope you will still enjoy and I’ll endeavor to get the next chapter to you on time.

As always, I’d love to hear what you think!!

And once again, I just can’t thank @wingedlioness enough for this beautiful, gorgeous banner.  I love it so much!!

chapter eight ~ come and light my eyes

by: @snowbellewells

Looking at the frilly, cream-colored curtains in the upstairs room Ruby and her Granny have given her at their B&B, Belle finally found herself able to pull in a deep, calming breath, trying to reassure herself that all will work out right in the end.  The material over the partially open window fluttered in the brisk, chil air and she found herself wanting to walk over, stick her head out and breath in huge lungfuls of the fresh breeze, so long contained in the close dark of Regina’s prisons, both pre-curse and during it, that now she had a moment to reflect on the change Belle could not get enough of the open sky and simple freedom.

She turned to the women with her, Ruby, whom she somehow already felt a kinship toward, as she and her brother had been the ones to finally set her free, and Snow White herself, princess turned schoolteacher, who still took a bit of getting used to - the Crown Princess of the realm wishing to be her friend was a bit stunning - but who seemed to be anxiously awaiting her opinion and to see if there were anything she could do to make Belle more comfortable.

“It’s lovely,” Belle offered, not sure what else to say.  Anything would be an improvement on the sparse, cement abode with a mere cot to sleep on that she had spent 28 years inhabiting, and the safety of being somewhere not under either the Evil Queen or Rumplestiltskin’s control was all that truly concerned her.  She was mostly just grateful her friend had helped her to find lodging at all, though she had no money to pay for it or any idea what she was doing in this odd “Land Without Magic” so different from the Enchanted Forest she had known.  Her fingers were already itching to find books on the history and makeup of this new realm.  Her mind and curiosity, which had for so long been starved, were finally able to dig in and learn at her pleasure once more.

“Thank you, so much,” she added, looking to Ruby, though the tall, leggy brunette was already waving away her gratitude with an easy grin.  “You didn’t have to do this for me, on top of giving me my life back.  How will I ever repay you?”

“No need for that, honest!” Ruby answered quickly.  “We almost never have all our rooms claimed.  You can tell,” she gestured to the open window, ��that Granny was airing it out because it had been empty for quite a while.”

Belle still shook her head, incredibly touched by the kindness and generosity of the woman who stood before her, even - to her own embarrassment - as she tried once more to explain that she’d find some way to pay them back or return the favor, she felt her eyes filling up with tears at Ruby and her Granny’s caring.  She couldn’t be sure if it was because she’d had so little human contact at all for so many years, or if it was the gentle concern and friendship she was being offered over the brute force and callous mistreatment she had suffered, but Belle was more than a bit overwhelmed and almost beyond words.

In this case, it was the former princess Snow White who seemed to know better what to do.  The pixie-haired women beside her offered an understanding half-smile, reaching over to give her a light one-armed hug.  She searched Belle’s eyes, as if genuinely hoping to determine if she had overstepped her bounds, and then offered sweetly, “It’s a lot, believe me.  We all understand.  Everyone here was lost, scared, and confused when the curse first broke.  We’ve all had a bit of time to acclimate though, and we were living every day lives in this world.  You don’t have any of that to fall back on.  Give yourself some time. You’ll get there.  And you can always call on us.”

Ruby nodded along enthusiastically - her agreement clearly total.  “That’s right. We’re all in this together now.  Besides, I can’t even imagine how strange all this modern world must seem coming at you at once. Like Snow said, Regina’s curse sort of uploaded a modern persona who was at home in this place to most of our heads.  You didn’t get that, so the least we can do is help where we can.”

Belle felt her shoulders lower somewhat from where they had hitched up with tension, and she released a calming breath with the two other women’s assurances.  There was no sense in continuing to fight them; she needed the help and the basic human companionship, and they seemed eager to give it.  “Well, I’m still much indebted to you,” she added, but I’ll gladly accept your offer. You and your Granny - and your brother too…” Here Belle paused as her cheeks flushed prettily and she glanced down at her fidgeting hands before hurrying on.  “You’ve all been so good to me - more than I could possibly merit - and I’m grateful.”

Ruby shot a knowing, sidelong look at Snow upon Belle’s clear blushing at the very thought of Graham, to which the princess gave a small nod of acknowledgement and pleased smile in return.  She didn’t comment though, and motioned for Ruby to carry on without teasing or drawing attention to their already flustered new friend.

The female werewolf had already determined this for herself, even as her eyes twinkled and she couldn’t completely hold back the toothy grin she gave herself. She was glad to see her adopted brother’s good heart, bravery, and honor recognized and appreciated.  More than that though, she also believed that this poor woman, held prisoner for so long by the same malicious queen who had so scarred and tormented Graham, might be good for him; might be able to understand what he was still hunted by in a way neither she nor anyone else could.  Perhaps they could help each other move on.

“Don’t even give it another thought!” was all she said, enthusiastically waving away any of Belle’s lingering concerns.

Snow spoke up again, an idea lighting her face as it came to her pleasantly.  “You know who needs to come talk to you?” she asked Belle eagerly. “Henry!”

“Henry?” Belle’s curious brow crinkled, having not yet met the eager little boy. “Who is he?’

“My grandson,” Snow explained, warming to her idea with growing enthusiasm.  “He’s Emma’s little boy.  It was Henry who figured out the Evil Queen’s curse and brought Emma here to break it and set us all free.  His storybrook might be just the thing for you to look at - it has all of our stories, and he’d be thrilled to show it to you.  I took a few personal days off from school, but I’m still set to pick Henry up from there this afternoon. I could bring him by and you could meet him. Looking through those stories would help you get a sense of who’s who here, and maybe even remind you of some of your own tale.”

Not surprisingly, Belle looked excited by the plan as well.  “That would be wonderful!” she enthused.  “Are you sure he wouldn’t mind?”

Snow shook her head vigorously. “Of course not.  He’ll love it! And I’ll clear it with Emma so she knows where he is and won’t worry.”

With a decisive nod, Belle returned her new friend’s smile.  “Then it’s a plan!” she affirmed.

~~~~*****~~~~*****~~~~

David and Graham had followed the hidden passage all the the way to Regina’s family vault in the cemetery and found nothing. Though they benefited from knowing the tunnel was there and could at least be somewhat prepared if she tried to attack them by surprise, it wasn’t as though they could completely block the entrance point from someone who wielded magic. Regina could certainly apparate herself wherever she chose.  Still, they at least knew a point she might choose and could be on the lookout. It might also serve as an extra exit if they needed to get out of the office in a hurry or try to do some surveillance on the Mills mother and daughter team of terror.

Despite all that, it wasn’t really the helpful break in their search or the advantage on Regina they had hoped they might find.  Regardless, not much else was going to come from their standing in the dark, all too close to the Evil Queen’s probable lair, except for her appearing and catching them when they had no magical firepower of their own, nor even a game plan to defend themselves. Turning to head back the way they had come, both men began retracing their steps through the passageway back toward town.

Thankfully, their return walk was as uneventful as their trip out, and by the time they were once more at the sheriff station, it was time to lock up for the night.  After doing so, they headed toward Granny’s, knowing that was where they were likely to find their friends and family members at this late dinner hour, and both of them were more than ready to eat besides. However, as they stepped into the enclosed courtyard outside the diner, David reached out to place a hand on Graham’s shoulder, asking him to stop just a second.

“What is it?” the sheriff asked, curiously looking at his realm’s once-Prince with an arched brow, not sure what he might have in mind.

Charming, who was now long since more comfortable as plain David Nolan, seemed to flounder for a moment before he could speak.  He held the former Huntsman’s gaze steadily, but his mouth opened, then closed again silently before he could force out the words. When he finally did, the guilt and pained gratitude painted across his face was clearly recognizable. “What my wife told you earlier? About the debt we owe you? How you spared her life and then paid horribly for it?  It’s true.  I owe you more thanks than I could ever give you as well.  If not for your mercy, I would have lost my True Love forever. That’s a fate I cannot comprehend. Not only that, we would never have had Emma. My daughter exists because you spared Snow’s life, and then - even when Regina held your heart - you helped me to escape her dungeons to find Snow and wake her from the sleeping curse.”

Graham shook his head, looking embarrassed by the praise; in fact, he seemed almost unable to meet David’s earnest eyes.  “I don’t know about all of that.  It seems that you and Snow White would always have found each other, no matter what.”

The shepherd monarch shrugged good naturedly, but he still gave the other man’s shoulder a lingering squeeze before he released his grip.  “Be that as it may, I can’t quite believe we would have managed all our close calls and reunions without even more cost, if not for your aid.”

“Please, your Majesty,” Graham pressed, bowing his head slightly and continuing to look more than a bit flustered and overwhelmed with the Prince’s gratitude than he knew how to take in stride. “Think no more of it.  What else could I do?  She was innocent, and even at the risk of her own life, she still thought only of her people rather than herself.  When the chance came to free you, to let you reach her in time and save her once more… well, I couldn’t do otherwise. You were every bit as worthy and true as your princess; neither of you merited the terrible fate Regina had in store.  Not only was I merely doing what was right, it also gave me a small moment of defiance, of acting as myself against her rule, after what I feared would be unending darkness in her clutches.”

David seemed to be the one who was embarrassedly uncertain of the honor bestowed on him by those words of his humble but noble former subject.  He was visibly battling real emotion to press through and offer his final words on the matter; his voice intense and determined to make the man before him, who had given up so much for David’s family, who had not even been able to remember his sacrifice until recently, understand. “Clearly neither of us wants to dwell on painful moments of the past, nor have someone lavish praises on us for only acting as we felt we must. Just know that I consider myself at your service, Huntsman.  I recognize the price you paid, and the life I now enjoy, which would have been lost twice over without your heroism. Snow and I will always be in your corner if you have need of us.”

Shaking his head in reluctant acquiescence, knowing he was not going to convince the other man to forget what he felt he owed Graham left the matter at that. In truth, he was touched that they, his monarchs, would be so appreciative and hold him in enough esteem to wish to return the favor.  In some small way, it did his mending psyche at least a modicum of good to know that something worthwhile had come from his imprisonment, from the scars he had borne and still harbored within. He could see that at least it hadn’t been for naught.

By then, both men were sufficiently discomfited and ended the exchange with a clasped, firm handshake before heading into the diner to reunite with the rest of the group. The reciprocal understanding and newly cemented alliance was not forgotten, but it was not something which needed continual restatement with further words.

~~~~*****~~~~*****~~~~

Meanwhile in the ramshackle forest cabin where Emma and Killian had taken refuge, the evening chill had begun to retreat from the warmth of the newly started fire in the hearth, flickering light from it patterned the walls of rough-hewn log almost cozily in spite of the tense events they had weathered and the emotions pulsing vividly between them, silent but inescapable, and Emma felt, nearly stealing the breath from her lungs.

Killian’s eyes sought her out, honing in on her with a focus that left her frozen in his intense azure stare, unable to move, or speak, for a second absolutely certain that this must be how he stalked and caught his prey in his wolf form. Whatever quarry he was after must find itself transfixed by that predatory gaze and not even find the will to run for its life. Blinking almost dumbly, Emma tried to shake her wits back into gear, mouth dry and opening and closing uselessly as she attempted both to escape Killian’s ensnaring eyes but not completely flounder at the beauty of the rest of him on display before her in the glow of the firelight.

She lifted the quickly cooling washcloth and bottle of peroxide she clutched in each hand apologetically, not at all sure what to do with herself or the simple items she’d found to hopefully help him. Though Killian did still sport a shoulder almost completely purpled with dark bruising and a clearly gaping wound where the silver bullet had passed clear through, it was already knitting itself back together and had nearly ceased bleeding.  Though there was a disturbingly reddened slash down his deliciously distracting - ‘no, Emma, stop right there!’ she chided herself internally - furred chest, where she knew Gold had practically sliced him open to get to his heart, it too was already closed, looking tender but no longer life-threatening as it had appeared when she’d burst in upon the scene in the clearing.  His whole torso sported various smaller gashes and cuts, but when she thought of what had almost happened, and that possibility made her swallow down a shuddery breath of a sob, none of them were as horrible as she had frankly expected him to bear.

He did still have a thin trail of blood running down that arm to his maimed left hand, however. Finally settling on a focus where she could do some good, Emma stepped forward hesitantly, but still nearer with each pace, drawn to him despite her fear of somehow injuring him further, of getting herself so entangled that she couldn’t pull away, of caring for this man so much more than she had ever intended. When she stood before him at last, her eyes did flick to his waist, taking in every bit of him as he stood there exposed and seeming more than a little frozen himself. Doggedly, she drug her eyes back to Killian’s mouth curved to give her a more gently subtle version of his knowing smirk, and tried to ignore the tell tale heat of the blush spreading over her cheeks and down her neck and chest.

When she took his wrist, Killian offered her his arm, holding it out willingly at her unspoken request.  Gently, she brought the cloth to his skin, cleaning gingerly at the dried blood.  Though he winced a bit, Killian didn’t flinch away and stood still for her ministrations, watching her with something akin to tender though stunned disbelief.  Emma found herself wondering what had happened to him in the past, about the loss to match her own and then some that she could read in the depths of his blue eyes, just how long he had been alone, and if he genuinely was as unused to someone caring for him when he was hurt as he appeared to be.  Her own lonely heart went out to his in that moment, understanding more clearly than ever just why she might be so drawn to his side.

When the long cut was a last cleansed to her satisfaction, Emma tossed the washcloth to the side and unscrewed the cap on the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.  Biting her lip uncertainly, she glanced up in a bit of warning to say, “This might sting a bit,” before pouring a healthy amount over the gash in his forearm to prevent infection.

Killian hissed in a sharp bit of air, looking at her with a surprised expression as he exclaimed, “Ah! Bloody hell, what is that?”

Emma snorted at his reaction. “It’s just peroxide - and quite a waste at that, seeing how much I got on the floor and that you seem to pretty much heal yourself anyway.”

Reaching for the towel she’d also brought in with her, she dabbed away at the excess moisture as Killian’s frame seemed to relax once again. Before he could protest that she needn’t worry herself or that it wasn’t necessary, she studied the treated gash a bit longer before she slowly, deliberately leaned over his forearm still cradled in her grasp, to press her lips along the marred skin.  Slowly, while her mouth still lingered tantalizingly, she looked up to meet his breathless gaze through her fluttering lashes.

Her patient’s eyes widened almost comically as she did so, nearly panting as if he were suddenly as breathless as she felt. If he were in his wolf form, she almost felt his tail would have been wagging. The conjured image made her bold, willing to give him the raw truth as much as she would normally hide it away.  Straightening, Emma reached to brush the fringe of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead back with delicate fingers before finally whispering hoarsely. “In all honesty though, Jones.  I thought I’d lost you there for a minute.” Emma didn’t love how scratchily raw and agonized her voice sounded just then, didn’t easily let loose this much emotion, worry and fear for someone who could so easily break her if she let him. Yet, she didn’t have any choice.  She couldn’t withhold it from him.  Killian needed to know she cared, and somewhere in the depths of her own being, Emma felt she needed to be able to care that much, to give herself to someone without having to hold back.

Killian brought his right hand up to cup her cheek warmly, looking as if there were so many things he wanted to say in response that he didn’t know where to start. His strong fingers caressed along her jaw and Emma leaned her head into his touch, simply enjoying the contact for several blissful seconds.  Her eyes closed and she hummed in pleasure under her breath, wanting to savor the moment, the goodness, after such fear that it had nearly been taken from her.

She had to finish though, or she might never get it said. Blinking back moisture from her eyes, Emma finally managed, “No, Killian, I mean it. I’ve lost enough in my life.  I can’t...I can’t lose you too.”  Her voice wavered pitifully to her own ears, but Emma bit her lip and held the tears back, turning her face into his hand as if trying to absorb his warmth and hide within the comfort he provided.

Coaxing her back to meet his eyes, Killian offered a crooked smile, indeed touched and more than a bit overcome himself. He couldn’t have even let himself hope this tough, guarded woman he’d first felt himself pulled toward would come to care that much for him, the gift of such affection was something he’d long believed would never be his again. “Oh Swan,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a survivor.”

She huffed out a breath at his shaky attempt at humor. Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to argue, not at all ready to joke about the close call or to picture him not surviving.

“Besides,” and now his crooked smile turned a bit wicked, teasing her playfully and relieving the intensity between them, “you clearly have my back.”

She cackled almost breathlessly at his humor, the charged moment breaking as he waggled his brows playfully. Smirking, she arched her own in flirtatious comeback, responding gratefully to the lightened mood.  Her hands snaked around his wiry frame, tracing up his muscled back, lovingly caressing old, healed over scars and the tight contours of his heated body before slipping lower to squeeze his rump in her roaming hands. “And what a nice back it is,” she winked in return.

“Is that so?” he chuckled, looking more than a bit flushed and pleased with himself as he swept in, taking his turn to pull her closer and trace her curves.

And then, as though a match had been struck, the fuel between them ignited.  The heartfelt confessions gave way to assurance that let them plunge forward.  Hands grasping, mouths melding, the physical caught up to the emotional as they tumbled to the floor before the fireplace, tangled together on the blanket Killian had dropped, finding exactly the type of healing they both needed.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @kiwistreetswan @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @allofdafandoms-blog @branlovesouat @capswantrue @quicksilvermad @winterbaby89 @kday426

[somaybeimbiased]

Demons 

(One-shot from this AU)

They were all failures; that’s why they ended up together.

 At first it wasn’t because they liked each other, or because they would benefit from each other, or because they knew each other. They first became a coven out of convenience. They were all washouts; a familiar that couldn’t keep a job because he was too clumsy, a drude that was usually too tired to haunt nightmares because he couldn’t sleep during the day, an incubus that feeds on sex and relationships but couldn’t keep a friend, a poltergeist that had too much of a conscience, and a fallen angel that spent too much time praying in a futile attempt to get back to heaven. But really, finding each other and moving in together was the best thing to happen to them.

It was a normal day for the five demons who had opened a coffee shop of sorts. They owned a hipster chic shop that sold drinks for different kinds of things as Taemin and Key had taken up potion making. They sold drinks to make you sleep, drinks to make you calm, lustful, angry, and just about any other emotion. Their shop thrived in the heart of Seoul, the magic of their drinks kept hidden to everyone but them.

It was around 6pm and Onew, Taemin and Minho were busy at work. Minho was able to work in the kitchen cleaning and organizing as he didn’t need to apparate to do so. The other four could see him, so if he just kept his movement of things out of sight, no one would know that a poltergeist was doing dishes. Taemin was at the front counter; his angelic beauty and mysterious aura drew customers into the shop, and his boyfriend and his familiar, Onew was working diligently behind him, pouring up the brews they’d made the night before.

Taemin knew their shop was being watched; the same three men in all black had started coming in two weeks ago and would spend a large chunk of the day sitting in the corner booth after buying nothing more than bottles of water.  Minho has also hung around them to listen in on conversations and actions they made; watching as the men in black suits took pictures of Taemin and Onew at work during the day. Key had also mentioned that men in similar attire order three bagels from them every night during their delivery only hours when Jonghyun was on delivery duty. These reasons are why an emergency meeting has been called as soon as they closed in two hours. It was a Saturday night, so they closed early with no delivery that night.

Key and Jonghyun walked into the shop promptly 5 minutes before closing and got busy helping close, but Key noticed that one of the 3 men were missing as the other two left. He mentally made a note to Jonghyun who could sense his boyfriend’s uneasiness as he locked the doors. The two looked around the main area as Onew and Minho picked up behind the counter, Onew cleaning the pot of decaf amour he had knocked on the floor minutes before.

Minho felt the shift in atmosphere from Key and Jonghyun and went to see what was wrong. Seconds after Minho appeared in front of Key and Jonghyun a large crash was heard from the

women’s bathroom and Onew yelped, dropping the coffee cup he’d been sipping from.

“Taem was cleaning in there.” he said quietly a worried expression covering his face.

“Minho, go check first.” Key said to the poltergeist, pointing towards the bathrooms. Minho promptly disappeared and then reappeared seconds later.

“Guys, it isn’t pretty. One of the black suit men has Taem in some sort of net thing that brought out his true form, wings and all.” Minho said, eyebrows knotted together in fear for one of his best friends. Onew gasped and hopped over the counter in a second, ready to fight to free his boyfriend but Key stopped him.

“Wait. These guys want us to show them what we really are right? Let’s show them then.” He said with a devilish smirk.

“Onew, go get the healing potion ready just in case we need some, and the three of us will get Taem, don’t worry. Jjong, Minho let’s go.” The incubus said,  shifting  into something a little less than human. He had fiery red hair with little horns and a long tail, his skin tinted a light pink.

Jonghyun shifted into a dark creature with long, sharp claws and a sickening grin with sharp teeth.

The demons had made plans to deal with unwanted visitors, ways to eliminate them without worry of the public knowing.

Minho first appeared in the bathroom again this time, inside one of the stalls and he began making knocking noises to distract the man in the black suit from his struggle with Taemin who seemed to be out of it, but was still putting up a fight with the net. He used this distraction to open

“Who’s in here?” The suited man called out into the bathroom.

Minho flipped the lock and let Key into the bathroom to try reason with the man.

“Hello sweetie, what brings you to our little cafe?” Key said in a sickly sweet voice, shifting into what the suited man wanted to see, a brunette woman with large assets.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Never mind that sweetie. Can I asked what you’re doing with my pretty friend there?” Key asked, approaching the man and leaving the door open for Jonghyun to slip in. Key latched onto the man’s arm, smirking at him with his devil cat-like smirk and let our a lustful aura in the air.

“I-uh it’s my job, he needs to be-um eliminated”

“No dear, I’m- uh afraid we can’t have that.” Key said faltering slightly at the man’s words.

The man blinked, the spell broken, and in a flash a special taser that he’d used to apprehend Taemin was used on the incubus as well. Key fell to the floor, shifting back into his natural form, jerking violently.

Not a second later a large shadow appeared on the wall and Jonghyun stepped out from the wall, looking beyond angry. “You’ve made three wrong moves today. One, coming into our shop. Two, capturing my dear youngest brother, and three; hurting the one I love the most. Now. Prepare for a night terror.” Jonghyun said, eyes turning white. Seconds later a sickening snap was heard followed by cries of agony and anguish, pleas for mercy and blood curdling screams, then all at once, the screaming stopped with a thud. Laying on the ground was the suited man, blood dripping from his mouth, dead.

Jonghyun let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and his eyes returned to normal along with the rest of his body. He dropped on the floor next to Key and pulled him close. Minho yelled for Onew and he approached the netted fallen angel.

His hand felt like it was set on fire as soon as he touched the rope. He let go with a hiss and he realized that this was no normal rope. He looked to Taemin who was tangled into the rope, whimpering and weakling trying to set himself free and he cringed at the pain the youngest must be feeling.

Onew rushed in and went to the rope, set on tunnel vision. He ignored the burning and he pulled and quickly untangled the rope, freeing Taemin. He hugged his boyfriend tightly and planted kisses all over his face. Taemin weakly cuddled close to the elder and sniffled. Onew pulled two bottles out of his pouch, hanging one to Key who was still shaken up after the shock he was given, and he opened the other and held it to Taemin's mouth. “Drink this. It’ll help.” Taemin drank the liquid quickly, and felt himself cool down slowly. After a few minutes, Onew had everyone move into the main area to rest on the couches, and he carried Taemin, careful of the younger’s large black wings that hadn’t gone yet.

Taemin smiled up weakly at Onew, “You are truly the best familiar, and boyfriend.” he whispered.

A/N This is the piece I wrote for @flrite for winning the giveaway! I hope you enjoy!

[kdfrqqg]

French Perfume Part 14

Crowley x reader Summary: Reader receives a gift from a secret admirer. Reader learns about her special gifts. This part of the story Crowley and the reader have been dating for a bit with some complications. Warnings: language, sexual talk but no smut

Word Count: 2.5 K

Catch up here: French Perfume Series

The promise of Dean’s tacos with all the bad fats lead your nose to the savory smell of the kitchen.  Cas was helping Dean put the tacos together and Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop up clacking away on the keyboard.  

“No computers during dinner.” Dean told Sam as you and Crowley sat down.

“But I think I got us a case.” Sam complained.

“Don’t care.  They can wait until after we eat.” You watched the two brothers argue.

“Really Dean?”

“Yes, really!” Dean could be King of the sass when he wanted to be. “I’ve been cooking for an hour and it’d be nice to have a family meal.  The monster will still be there in thirty minutes.”

Sam mumbled something before putting his computer on the counter just out of arm’s reach. “So can we talk about the case?” You asked Dean.

“Yeah, sure, we can talk about work.” Dean replied.

“Ok so what do you think it is?” You turned and addressed Sam.

“I’m thinking it’s a wraith.”

“Ooh ooh I call dibs on being the crazy person this time.” You shot your hand in the air, knowing typical wraith MO.

“You’re going on this hunt, Love?” Crowley asked out of concern.

“Yeah, I’ve been itching to hunt something for awhile.  I’ve been so focused on solving our problem. Is that ok?” You weren’t used to asking permission but you thought it was necessary now since you had someone actually waiting for you at home.

He took your hand, “yes of course, just be careful.” He kissed your cheek.

Dean brought over a huge tray of food, “Alright dig in.”  Cas and Dean sat next to each other and Dean reached for Cas’ hand before whispering in his ear. By the smile on Cas’ face you could only assume it was ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you’. Dean looked at you “I’m guessing that charm thing works.”

“Oh yeah!” You nudged Crowley a little. “Cassie, thank you so much again. Oh, Baby, we should do something nice for your mom.”

“Agreed, maybe a nice condo in Boca.” Crowley hummed, you winked back in agreement.

Everyone grabbed at the food, you noticed how you and Crowley were holding hands and Cas and Dean were still as well. You couldn’t help but think Sam needed someone too.  “um we are going to have to get you a girl cause you are now the fifth wheel, Sammy boy.”

“Well when I meet someone, I’ll bring her around.” Sam told you sarcastically.

“You know who you would be great with.” You smiled.

“You told me before, I don’t think so.” Sam cut you off not wanting to go down that rabbit hole again.

“Oh no, you don’t get to say something like that and not tell the class.” Dean commented.

You look at Sam and he motioned you to tell everyone, “I think him and Jody would make an awesome couple.”

“Oh Miss Mills, she is lovely. Good choice.” Crowley chimed in.

“How did I forget? You two went on a date once.” You chuckled before you punched him in the arm “never hurt her again.”

“Oh my honor.” Crowley wrapped his arm around you.

“No, no, no, Jody is like our mom. She is the wrong choice for him.” Dean argued.

“Cas, tell him that I have a keen ability to make a love match.” You glared at Cas.

“It is true, she is able to determine compatible souls.  I would trust her, Siphons like Cupids pull their powers from love and are able to sense a possible match.” Cas clarified.

“Ok let’s hear your reason why.” Dean addressed.

“Hear me out guys,” your hands were expressive, “so men marry their moms right?”  

All the guys shook their heads except for Dean. “But he didn’t know his mom.”

“Sam may have not known Mary but he had you as his mom.  And Jody is probably the closest thing to a female version of you, Dean.”

“What? I don’t see it.” Dean kept playing devil’s advocate, knowing that you wanted the best for Sam.

“Really! She’s strong, smart, compassionate, loyal.  She is an amazing mom and kick ass hunter.  She is totally you.  Oh plus she’s hot for an older woman.” Dean tilted his head and conceded to your points.

“Ok ok, next time we’re up in South Dakota. I’ll see about asking her out.” Sam threw up his hands. “But I make no promises.  She may not even like the idea.”

“Dude have you seen you? She’s gonna like the idea.” You said with a fake New Jersey accent.

“So are Cas and I, a good match?” Dean asked.

“Oh yeah, cause girls always marry their fathers.” You chuckled and Sam spit out his beer in laughter.

“Oh my God. I never saw that before but damn Cas is so much like Dad.” Sam high fived you.

“Is not!” Dean got flustered.

“Is too!” You yelled back.  “I knew John.  When you first meet Cas he was totally John maybe not so much now, but it’s still there.”

“Fine. If I won’t with Cas, who would you pair me with?” Dean asked.

“That’s easy, Donna.” You replied.

“Now that I definitely see that too.” Sam said.

“She is very beautiful and nice.” Cas added.

“Dean loves himself some lady cops. Remember that hot blonde one in that little town in Texas that I bet you I could pick up. Damn, she was fine.  I rocked her all night.” You brought up.

“Wait you like women too?” Crowley looked at you surprised/excited.

“Ahh yeah, I guess we never really talked about that.  But if you ever want to spice things up I don’t mind sharing you. We could pick up a cute blonde or brunette with big boobs, she’s gotta have big boobs, and we could lick you like a lollipop.  Or better yet you could pound her while I lick her good.”

“On that note, I think you just gave all the men at the table a boner.” Dean joked and looked at Cas’ growing crotch area. “Don’t worry hunny, I’ll take care of you in a bit.” Dean nibbled on Cas’ ear.

“That is so hot.  I volunteer as tribute whenever you two want to spice things up.” You giggled, getting a side eye from Crowley. “of course with my boyfriend’s permission.”

Within a few hours, you and the Winchesters were on the road headed to a small city somewhere in Colorado.  Dean saw you smiling in the rearview mirror only 30 minutes away from the bunker, “you really are going to miss him aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” You smiled taking the time to properly blush and think about how much you really were going to miss him. “But this is good.  Us off to hunt monsters together.  This is my first hunt since Crowley and I got together. Nothing’s changed right?”

“Ummm have you seen those powers you got. Yeah, that’s a game changer now.” Dean commented.

You formed a blue ball of light from your hands, “I guess you’re right. I can’t wait to use these in action.”

“(Y/N/N)” you hummed at Sam, “I wouldn’t use those too openly.  If other hunters find out they may try and kill you.  They don’t know you like we do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You made the glowing orb disappear.  “It’s not something that I would show to just anyone and I know to only use them when I’m really in trouble.” Both men looked at each other with silent nods knowing that you understood what it took to keep your powers a secret.

It was little harder than you were hoping to get yourself inside the facility since it was an retirement home that the wraith was terrorizing and not a mental institution.  So here you were three days later, pushing little old Ms. Gill down the hallway in a wheelchair, she was a nice lady who went to the bathroom a lot but it could be worse.  Sam was working with Mr. Thompson, who was a mean old son of a bitch that kept pinching your ass.  While Dean on the other hand was in charge of some of the more incapacitated patients, plus he was a favorite of all of the nurses.  Even though he was with Cas, he could still pull out the charm that made all the ladies swoon.  It didn’t take you long to try and test everyone with silver or a mirror that would have had access to the patients.  This was beginning to wear on you, who the hell was it? You needed to gank this bitch and soon.

The phone in the pocket of your scrubs vibrated as your turned the corner to Ms. Gill’s room.

Crowley: Love, I miss you. Be careful.

You smiled and looked down at your feet before replying back.

Y/N: I miss you too.  I love you.

Ms. Gill noticed your demeanor change, “You look happy today.  Was that from your boyfriend?”  

“Yeah it was.” You smiled.

“What’s he like? You know a girl like me hasn’t gotten any in a long time.” Ms. Gill explained making you chuckle.

“Well he’s sophisticated, handsome, a lot older than me.”

“Not like me older?” she questioned.

The truth was closer to yes but you knew you had to lie. “Um no, no he’s-he’s in his fifties.  So it’s still a May December relationship.” You sat in the chair next to the bed.  “Oh but he’s so caring and generous, the perfect bad boy.  My brothers don’t really like him.  Well they’re starting to come around, it’s been the hardest on Dean because they were friends before we started to date.”

“Like good friends?”

“Yeah, he helped Dean through a rough patch.”

“He seems like he might be one.” She told you.

“Yeah, that’s crazy to even think about but yeah, yeah I think you might be right.” You agreed.

That evening trio went back to the motel with no leads.

“I’m telling you it is the janitor.” Dean proclaimed.

“Dude, I flirted my ass off to get him to stand in front of that mirror.  It’s not him.” You sassed back.

Dean sighed, “You’re right.”

“Maybe we’re looking this wrong.  Could it be a patient?” Sam stepped in.

“Well it ain’t Mr. Thompson, if that’s what you’re thinking.  I smacked him good with my silver ring after he grabbed me.”  You told them.

It was back to the drawing board, laptops opened up and you were sitting on the bed while the Winchesters sat a the small table by the window.   You were about to fall asleep after researching for few hours, when Jarrell popped into your room.

The guys immediately jumped up with weapons drawn, “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” Jarrell yelled.

You leap up and went to him taking his hands. “Jarrell, what are you doing here?”

“The King sent me. The demons must think he is weak and they are trying to change the timeframe of deals from 10 years to 5 years.” He informed.

“What?  Hell no!  They can’t do that.” You turned to the brothers, “I gotta go stop this.” you hugged both of them, and they kissed you on your cheeks.

“Just be careful, Kid!” Dean said as he squeezed you.

“I will be.  I know just what to do to get these bastards inline.” You marched towards the door, right before you hit it you vanished into thin air.

You appeared right outside the main doors to the throne room.  Pushing the large wooden doors open with a great deal of force, you made your entrance.  The heels of your boots made a loud banging noise that quieted the room quickly, “What the hell is going on here?” You asked in an authoritative voice as you walked towards Crowley.

“Your Majesty, we were just suggesting that we reduce the amount of years someone is given after selling their soul.  This would increase our soul collection by 20%.” The Demon cowered in front of you.  It was clear to everyone that the demons feared you more than Crowley now. He normally held them in contempt and was agitated with them, where as you looked for any redeeming qualities they may have so when you were pissed your whole personality changed.

“No, no, no, no, nooo.” you almost sang your displeasure with their ideas.  ���I don’t think so.  First off your plan is short sighted,” you said, looking to Crowley for his approval, “sure you want to increase your numbers now but once word gets out that we’ve reduced the amount of years people get, they won’t want to deal with us anymore. If anything, you wanna increase your long term numbers, then you need to give them more years!” you let that sink in for a moment, the demons started to whisper to each other. “Jarrell?” you tried to find him in the crowd, he was almost always in the back.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” he came forward.

“What would an extra year or an extra five years have meant for you to be with your wife and daughter?” you compassionately asked.

“It would have meant everything, Your Majesty.” Jarrell responded.

“Think about it.  More years is the way to go. Hell, we should be thinking about ways to help them buy back their souls.”  The demons murmured amongst themselves again.  “That is probably not a discussion for today but y’all need to think about.  Believe me we will not be hurting for the numbers. People will still sell their souls, but what we offer is a service and in the service industry you always want to give more to your customers.”

You took Crowley’s hand indicated that you were done speaking, “That settles that.  This meeting is adjourned.” Crowley told them.  The demons exited the room, “Darling, that was brilliant.” He kissed your forehead.

“I didn’t overstep my bounds, did I?” You chewed the inside of your mouth.

“No, I’ve been thinking about increasing the number of years for a long time now.  It’s good to know you are on my side.”

“I’m always on your side.”

“Can you stay, Love?” He asked.

“I want to but we have a wraith to gank.” You sighed not wanting to leave his side.  

“I understand.” Your bodies naturally gravitated towards each other until arms wrapped gently around each other.  He kissed you deeply burning the breath from your lungs, his lips moved smoothly over yours. “Just remember, you can always pop over here and get a little lovin’ anytime you’d like.” His words made you chuckle.

“I’ll have to remember that Baby.” You told him before he let you go back to work.

You popped back into the motel room startling the Winchesters. “Jeez, you are just as bad a Cas.” Dean told you.

“Sorry about that.” you said to them as you looked into the mirror, your lips were all swollen and red.  You loved that feeling of being loved by Crowley.

“And?” Sam asked pulling you away from your day dream.

“Oh yeah there was stay of execution.” you informed.

“Because of you?” Dean questioned a little surprised.

“Yeah, because of me.” you chuckled at yourself, still not believing that you just commanded a room of demons and they actually listened.

“Wow, you might actually change hell.” Dean said as he handed you a beer.

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