#hotel jobs in usa

[mermazeablaze]

I have worked in the service industry - mainly hotel. & it's not just California (though I am glad for them striking). The service/hospitality industry is where people feel the most justified in treating you like shit. Because it's the 'most basic labor' that most people can do.

But they don't realize. When they can't cook or don't know how or don't want to - they have someone do it for them. Cleaning? You can have someone do it for you. Lawn care? Hire someone. Some place to sleep? A place is prepared & maintained for you.

Do you know what the pay is for *most* FOH (front of house) restaurant workers? $3-7/hr. Because they expect you to make the difference up with tips. Tips aren't wages. I'm going to say it again - tips aren't wages! There are days when business is slow & you still have bills. Or the fact most of the work is part time. & you have to overwork yourself with multiple shifts - if you're even able to get multiple shifts because places overstaff. Some places make you share tips. Or don't let you keep tips at all (it happens).

BOH (back of house) workers get paid $5-13/hr. & they're lucky if FOH shares tips with them (some places do. But again, tips are not wages). & again, most of those positions are part time & overstaffed.

In hotel, even the 5 Star ones. I have worked at a few 5 Stars - the pay is abysmal: $7.25-13/hr. A handful of hotels can go as high as $13.75-14/hr (if you're lucky). Most of those positions are part time, but due to Covid there's an employee shortage. So you'll get full time plus overtime, but at what cost?

FOH at hotel (desk clerk & concierge) typically don't get tips & most hotels frown on it. Meanwhile, BOH (bellhops, housekeeping & room service) get tips (if you're lucky). Some hotels have laundry as a separate department from housekeeping & they don't get tips at all. Spas are a separate entity even if they belong to the hotel & aren't a third party.

People also pay & treat service workers like shit because they believe it's work menial enough for young people to gain experience. Which also adds a layer of bias, "Young people are dumb & don't deserve nice things. They have to earn the right to be treated like a full fledged person by doing this "crappy job" first."

But then it feeds into, "That person is no longer young & still working that crappy job as an adult. Something MUST be wrong with them - dumb, lazy, drug addict, alcoholic, immature, etc."

((& more times than I can count. I have engaged with people who view service people outside of their place of work with as much fear & vitriol as they do homeless people. They flinch & eye you & keep their distance & won't make eye contact. You can almost see their skin crawl. Because in their mind - they're the same thing - people who don't deserve respect.))

& then it comes full circle to, "Ah, you're elderly & need money? Here's this easy job that anyone can do & it's respectable enough for you to do. It doesn't pay a lot. But you're old. What could you possibly need a whole lot of money for? You have a house right? Transportation? Surely, you're collecting SSI or something as your main income? Because you're old & should have your life figured out. Because we should only pay you enough for you to have petty cash - for bingo or something."

So, yes. hospitality workers in Cali SHOULD unionize. & continue to demand better pay & treatment. But so should hospitality & service workers everywhere.

& if you enjoy having hospitality & service workers to make your life easier - treat them with kindness. I don't care if they forgot to act chipper & smile. I don't care if they accidentally got your order wrong. I don't care if the front desk didn't state you're a double platinum rewards member & didn't offer you turn-down service.

TREAT. THEM. WITH. KINDNESS. & TIP THEM.

because i've not seen a lot of coverage on it, hotel workers in LA are on strike right now, too:

(x)

(x)

please remember to support these people as well!

[knowabouthotels]

Hotel Houseman. Full-Time, Albany New York. USA.

https://tinyurl.com/yyt8yymf

[monacohotelr15]

Multiple jobs available

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[bunniwords]

໑ৎ ׁ ׅ♡ ALIBI 🌀

part xxiii - masterlist - part xxv xxiv. ungrateful brat

bunni speaks — they’re so cute i wanna cry… this chapter is a bit shorter but hehe

︶︶ 　 ˚ ᡴꪫ synopsis — you are known for your brain rot anime content on twitter. so much so that you caught the attention of txt’s soobin on his secret stan account and became mutuals. what will become of this new friendship?

more under the cut!

“you know, i do like your hair dark too.”

“okay, but you look at me differently with the blonde hair.”

“i think the blonde is definitely sexy but your dark hair suits you too.”

“well, you’re basically telling me i have to bleach my hair every few weeks now.”

your shared laughter filled the hotel room. the last hour or so, you and soobin were getting readjusted to each other. well… the first twenty minutes or so was spent locking lips on the couch and sharing desperate touches to one another, but eventually the two of you started bickering and definitely flirting like how you normally would.

“you know, i’m going to miss seeing your face like this,” soobin said as his finger traces your jaw, “can’t you just come touring with me?”

“i’d be out of a job,” you joked, still feeling tingles from his touches. you couldn’t seem to get used to them.

“i can pay you,” he offered half jokingly, but you had a feeling he wasn’t joking at all.

“i’m not going to get paid to be your groupie,” you rolled your eyes, “plus you only have one more date left in the states.”

“i wasn’t just talking about the usa portion of the tour,” he said matter-of-factly, “there’s still the second japan part of the tour, macau, singapore, and—“

he stopped when he saw how you looked at him. your answer seemed to be written all over your face, guilt and a small pout. although he knew you couldn’t just drop everything here to join him, but just imagining it had him feeling warm inside. 

“i know it’d be so much fun, but i couldn’t possibly do that right now. no matter how much i’d want to,” you giggled, “we’re not even dating so it wouldn’t even make sense for me to go with you.”

“we’re not?” he asked innocently and slightly heartbroken from your statement.

“well, neither of us asked each other to and you’ll be on tour so i didn’t want to hold you down or—“

“would you be my girlfriend?” he abruptly asked.

“huh?”

“you wouldn’t be holding me down,” soobin told you, holding eye contact while fiddling with your fingers, “ i want you.”

“you’re serious?” you needed confirmation. 

“i’ve been committed to talking to you everyday since we started regularly,” soobin spoke lowly before pulling you closer to him by your waist, “please, be mine.”

“o-okay,” you choked, noticing how close your faces were, “yeah.”

“okay?” soobin wasn’t really asking for confirmation. he already had the biggest shit-eating grin plastered on his face before grazing his lips on yours. 

“yes,” you whispered so softly before fully attaching your lips to his.

[aviscarrentals]

i want to play a (racing) game

a series of f1 fics based off of some of my favorite horror movies

charles leclerc- the shining

you, your boyfriend, and a bunch of friends decide to spend your winter break together in a giant hotel. what could go wrong?

max verstappen- it

after years away from your hometown, derry, you suddenly receive an urgent call from your long-forgotten childhood friend, alex, that leads to you returning to the very place you swore you would never face again

carlos sainz- a quiet place

after losing everything you know when the world fell into apocalypse due to the invasion of alien-like monsters with some very sharp ears, you find a new family in the other survivors

lando norris- scary movie (saw parody)

you wake up next to a stranger in a dimly lit room chained to a chair, which is bolted to the floor. luckily, the situation turns out to be more humorous than terrifying (may or may not be 100% based off of the jerma episode of generation loss LOL)

fernando alonso- freaky

you wake up in the body of a middle aged man. but not just any man. a man who also happens to be a wanted serial killer.

george russell- the purge

you and your best friend alex's annoying best friend, george, have to work together to survive the purge night (lily's also there)

pierre gasly- unfriended

you and your friends video call every friday night to hang out together. unfortunately, an angry spirit has decided it wants to spend some time with you guys as well...

mick schumacher- fnaf

after countless failed attempts, you've finally found yourself a new job! the bad news is, it's a night shift and you're scared of the dark. so, naturally, you drag your boyfriend along with you.

alex albon- child's play

when you and your boyfriend unexpectedly have to take in your young niece, you two struggle to make a connection with the little girl. maybe splurging on the cool new doll she's been wanting will fix that.

yuki tsunoda- final destination

what do you do when some random guy that you've never spoken to before tells you he's seen visions of you dying? what do you do when it turns out he was right and death is pretty pissed off?

oscar piastri- the menu

you and your husband have worked non-stop to build a successful, stable life for yourselves. you two really deserve a break. how about a fancy dinner on a remote island prepared by one of the most revered chefs in the entire culinary world?

ollie bearman- scary stories to tell in the dark

it's the final halloween before you have to move away from your hometown and your best friends since birth. hopefully you can make it a night to remember.

lance stroll- the cabin in the woods

you and your boyfriend decide to invite some friends to spend the weekend in a little log cabin in the forest as a way to momentarily retreat from your stressful lives. well you definitely won't be getting any rest this weekend, that's for sure.

logan sargeant- scream (aka yelp)

an eerie masked killer has made its way into your town and is slowly picking kids off one by one. who could it be? is there anyone you can trust? prologue chapter 1

liam lawson- happy death day

happy birthday! i hope you're excited because this will be the longest day(s?) of your life

sebastian vettel- the texas chainsaw massacre

it's summer, which of course means it's time for a roadtrip! unfortunately, you and your friends decided to visit texas, usa, where everything's bound to go wrong (because it's texas, usa)

kimi raikkonen- would you rather

desperate times call for desperate measures, although at this point desperate would be an understatement. so when the perfect opportunity falls right into your lap, who are you to turn it down?

jenson button- halloween

it's halloween! the spookiest day of the year. even though you don't bother participating in silly little holiday celebrations, there are some traditions you can't ignore…

mark webber- 28 days later

the world has gone to shit. even so, you're doing everything you can to survive, despite how hard it is on your own. maybe it would be better if you formed a team?

[nytb]

Flying Private

Being a public figure came with a price – little to no privacy, secrecy, crazy paparazzi – it seamed to be a nightmare, but hidden in-between it’s flaws Alexia found some perks.

The Catalan star’s crazy schedule didn’t help her private life, love life out of the window – for now – Alexia focused on her public appearances, helping women’s football grow.

Trip to Paris here, quick appearance in Rome, little interview in London – Alexia was everywhere.

Behind the scenes, a key piece of the puzzle; Y/N Y/L/N. Joan Laporta’s loyal pilot. They had grown close over the years and when Joan became Fc Barcelona’s president – for a second time – he invited Y/N on the journey.

And so it began, Y/N flew all Barcelona players to every corner in the world; preseason in the USA, basketball games here, European football matches there. Y/N was crucial for Fc Barcelona to keep everyone’s public appearances up while allowing them to get the optimal rest before crucial games.

With Y/N’s little vacation possibilities, Laporta offered the pilot a compromise – whenever the plane was land-bound Y/N was able to do as she pleased. The possibility to travel all over the world, stay at the best hotels, eat the best food; it was Y/N’s dream job.

Unluckily for Y/N, the latest trip to Madrid came with a personal compromise; Y/N had to step in and replace a security member’s role.

All plans out the window now, the loyal pilot followed orders to a T – shadowing the Catalan star during the three day trip, keeping an eye out during meals, making sure that whenever Alexia sneaked out she returned safe and sound.

That night the midfielder’s annoyance at the lack of personal space was noticeable – add that she was in a foul mood and you get an explosive combination; and explode she did. Now safe and sound at the hotel, both Alexia and Y/N were at the bar. The pilot kept a safe distance from the midfielder.

“Is shadowing people like you’re a lost puppy a habit of yours or have you reserved it only for me?” Alexia asked as she approached the pilot, annoyance in her tone.

“I see that your evening has calmed down – for now at least – I will leave you with the remaining security team.” Y/N replied, pointing to the two security guards of the hotel, downing the rest of her drink she added “And seen as how you’re in a foul mood, I will take this opportunity to go and get my well deserved rest in”

The indifference that radiated off of Y/N’s voice was palpable, many people would describe it as cocky – arrogant even – but Alexia found it intriguing.

The Catalan star grew accustomed to everyone treating her a certain way; admiration and love in their voices whenever someone approached her, but Y/N? The pilot treated Alexia like she was any other Joe in the world.

Sitting at the bar now, the midfielder was dumbfounded – watching how the pilot walked away, not even looking back once – she was bamboozled.

Replaying the interaction over and over, Alexia was stuck looking for ways to get back in the good graces of the pilot. The midfielder knew she had to apologize for her bad behavior.

Early in the morning, Alexia made her way to one of Spain’s most famous bakeries: El Riojano. Getting some delicious Spanish pastries, among them Y/N’s favorite: ensaimada, a mallorcan specialty. Alexia made her way back to the hotel – crossing path with the pilot at reception, Y/N didn’t say a word.

Later on, as everyone boarded the private jet headed back to Barcelona, Alexia carefully placed the paper bag filled with pastries on the seat closest to the cabin. At first, Y/N looked at the bag from afar but as she made her way to the front of the plane, she inspected it – looking for it’s owner.

“Is this anybodies?” The pilot asked, looking around a sneaky Putellas popped her head up “I got those for you, a little gift to make up for my behavior yesterday” the midfielder sneaked a cheeky smile in.

For the first time, Y/N didn’t display indifference towards the Barcelona star “Thank you, they are my favorite” the pilot stated to which, very quietly – as Y/N made her way to the cabin – the midfielder whispered “I know”

And thus a tradition was born. During the season, Alexia would go out of her way to purchase Y/N’s favorite pastries, placing them on the seat closest to the cabin. It was their little ritual.

One morning – on one of Fc Barcelona Femenis champions league trips – the team discretely inspected Alexia’s delivery.

“What was that about?” Pati asked, taking the seat besides the Catalan midfielder “What was what?” Alexia played it cool, but her face spoke louder. The midfielder was blushing, looking everywhere but into Patri’s eyes.

“Feeling shy?” Mapi mocked her captain.

This was new for everyone – Alexia included. Usually, she was the bold, direct type; but with Y/N she forgot how to act. Luckily for the midfielder, Y/N was oblivious to the mocking – and as she made her way to the cabin – the pilot picked the little paper bag up, taking one of the ensaimada out and straight into her mouth it went. Sending Alexia a thank you head-nod as she greeted the co-pilot.

It all made sense now.

“OMG” Pina was shocked “You’re sleeping with our pilot??” the mini Putellas asked, the rest of the team waited anxiously for an answer.

“It’s not like that” Alexia defended her situation “I – I just”

Mapi came in like a bolder, mockingly nudging at her captain’s arm “She might have done her ACL in, but girly is still out here scoring” the defender joked.

“Shhhh” Putellas was embarrassed, not wanting Y/N to hear any of the teams shenanigans – for however true they were – she distracted them.

“Yeah yeah… maybe it would be best” Paños stepped in “We wouldn’t want the pilot to be distracted” she further mocked.

Part 2

[bettyfrommars]

Might be too much in line with I'm on fire.. but what about classic a classic motorcycle riding drifter.. that is more than meets the eye... maybe more monster than man and that's why he drifts... idk if that's enough maybe he's drifted into small town USA and he meets reader at like a Truckstop/ Diner that's across from the one hotel in town and over days of her waiting on him (EDS) they strike something up... spicy.. if you will.. maybe he finds her delectable and she finds him mysterious & charming idk just spit ballin

The Drifter

missed connections

out on the highway

blurb 1 blurb 2

monster!drifter!Eddie x dinerWaitress!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, blood, oral (f receiving), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, mention of physical abuse by an ex, mention of PTSD, emotional trauma, 2 lost souls finding each other, a killing, monsterfuqqing, but it’s also a really sweet, fluffy story if that makes sense. wc: 4.2

A/N: I was so excited to get this ask! I had to really pull back on the length of this story because I could've kept writing it forever and will most likely bring back Eddie The Drifter again in some oneshots. I did a quick re-read, but sometimes I just need to post these before I obsess over them for too long.

(Also, when Eddie is thinking about how "damaged" they both are, that is his perception, not mine. I think they are both perfect.)

Eddie had been drifting for a while.  He didn’t want to know anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to know him.  He hadn't been the same since the physical and emotional trauma he’d suffered in The Upside Down.  Steve took him by the arm once and told him he understood what he was going through—that they all understood—and that he wasn’t alone.  Eddie knew Steve and the rest meant well, but they couldn’t understand, and he was convinced no one ever would. Trauma affects everyone differently and for Eddie, it started to turn him into his father, and that was what scared him more than anything.  Dark and brooding with a short fuse, there was a beast living inside of him that had not been there before the ordeal with Vecna; or perhaps, it had just been sleeping.  

He lost his temper with Dustin once, and at the time, he thought he was having a very normal reaction to the situation.  It wasn’t until he recognized the fear in his younger friend’s eyes–the way he backed away from Eddie and put his hands up as if he needed to protect himself—that Eddie knew he had to go.  After years of silent struggle and becoming a hermit more and more, he decided to hit the road.  

He started out in his van, sleeping in it, getting odd jobs wherever he went, staying in town just long enough to make some money, and then he was in the wind again.  He called Wayne from payphones and sent postcards back home to Hawkins once in a while, but not often.  In his mind, they were better off without him.

The second year he was on the road, he ended up getting involved with a biker gang and doing some jobs for them that paid well but were on the wrong side of the law.  Before the Upside Down, he’d been more of a lover than a fighter.  Sure, he had to defend himself a few times, especially from his old man, and he never took shit from people without giving it back, but ever since he almost died, he’d acquired some type of superhuman strength.  There was a transformation that happened in him now, fueled by the adrenaline of his rage, and in the past decade, he’d been paid to hurt more people than he could count. The problem was—he’d started to like it. 

Eventually, he was able to trade in his van for a Harley FXS 80, and he carried most of his early possessions with him.  He put the rest of what he owned in a storage unit in Oregon, and he’d planned to circle back there again one of these days to get it all when he decided to settle down—but years later, he was still on the road.   He’d been using his bedroll to sleep out under the stars the past couple nights, but the clouds told him it was about to rain, and he decided he could use a shower and a real bed for the night.

Red River Junction was less than a dot on a map, a truck stop town with a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to pump your gas, set right plop in the middle of nowhere.  You’d grown up in a town not too far down the highway, and you were still there, in the same trailer your mother left to you when she passed.  You worked at both the Sundown Motel part-time, and at Margie’s Diner, and in your free time, you dreamed about leaving town and never coming back.  

You heard the rumble of his motorcycle before you saw it; chrome pipes growling to a stop as the rider found a place for his bike in the lot.  A motorcycle, or even an entire MC, pulling into the junction was nothing new.  You were the only stop for gas and food for a good fifty miles.

You were staring for so long out the window as he dismounted and took his helmet off, that you overflowed the coffee cup you were refilling and the elderly customer scoffed at you.  He had long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail and bangs that had grown out just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  Black leather jacket, and leather chaps over his jeans. Your attention was immediately drawn to his jewelry: the small hoop piercing in his ear and the chunky rings across his knuckles.  My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels played softly from the jukebox while you made your way to the front to greet him.  The kitchen was slammed with only Big Joe behind the grill, and Leslie was the only other waitress, but she was on a smoke break.  

You fumbled the big plastic menu in your hand when he took his sunglasses off to nail you with those star-flecked eyes.  “Just one for lunch?”

He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked around.  “You still serving breakfast?”

“All day long,” you assured him.  Seats at the counter were all full, so  you offered him a booth, and he slid in without another word or glance in your direction, taking the menu from you with a grunt. You tried not to stare at his scars: the angry, purple one on his neck, and the deep white slash across his chin.  His hands were also flecked with scar tissue from various fights, and punching through mirrors every time he hated his own reflection.

50 year old Leslie was tying her apron and chewing gum when you moved behind her to grab a cup and saucer for his coffee.  “Another grumpy one,” you whispered over the sound of clinking silverware and scattered conversations.  

Leslie raised her eyebrow a few times, resting her elbow on the counter.  “Hell, he can get grumpy with me any day.”

Eddie didn’t say much while you waited on him, and you didn’t think he was paying any attention to you, but he saw the way you splashed a bit of vodka into your soda can behind the counter.  He also caught the way you used that same liquid to toss back a couple pills you scooped out of your apron pocket just before you turned to grab some hot plates from the kitchen hatch.  He didn’t judge you for it or think it was odd being that he’d spent the past ten years trying to find ways to dull his pain.  

He thought you were too beautiful for this deadbeat town; too sweet, too kind.  He noticed the bruise on your forearm and the vacancy in your eyes and he felt an instant kinship with you: the damaged recognizing the damaged.  

When you came to clear his empty plate, he asked you if the Sundown Motel was a decent place to stay.  It was the only motel for miles and he didn’t care how decent it was, he just wanted a reason to keep talking to you.

“Sure, it’s great,” you shrugged.  “If you like bedbugs and carpets that look like a violent crime took place recently.”

He met your eyes, and there was a moment of levity there that lightened both of your spirits if only for that moment.  

“I’m cool with bedbugs,” he brushed his tongue between his lips.  “It gets lonely on the road, it’s nice to have some company.”

He told you his name was Eddie after he read yours off of your name tag, and when you came back from seating a table full of seniors who were on a bus tour to the casino, he was gone.

He left you a generous tip, though, and after hours of getting tipped in quarters and loose change, it felt good to have some solid cash in your pocket.  His motorcycle was gone too, and you wondered if he’d decided to hit the road or stay the night.  

You told yourself to forget about him, that he was just another drifter you’d never see again, but the evening had other plans for you.  

You were supposed to have the night off from both jobs, but Susan at the front desk of the motel begged you to come down and work the check-in desk for an hour while she went to pick her kid up.  You wished you could say you had some big plans, but that was absolutely not the case, and so you rolled your car up to the back lot behind the dumpsters and changed out of your orthopedic shoes and into something less drab.  

You thought it would be an easy hour to space off and read a book, but ten minutes after you clocked in, two guests locked themselves out of their room.  It was a two-tier motel, and as you made your way up the concrete steps with the husband and wife in question behind you, fumbling with the keys, you caught sight of Eddie a few rooms down, and your heart jumped into your throat.

He was sitting in the plastic chair in front of the door to his room, smoking a cigarette, stripped down to jeans and a wife-beater.  His hair was still wet from his shower, hanging down his shoulders, showcasing the patchwork of scars that covered his flesh.  

He didn’t make eye contact, but he saw you. In fact, he knew you were on your way a few minutes before that, because he heard your voice, and it made him stay and light another smoke.   He flicked his ash and waited for you to let the couple into their room.  

On your way back to the stairs, the soda and snack machine blocked your view, but once you rounded the corner, there he was again.  

“Is your room satisfactory, sir?” You put the keys in your pocket and stood tall, pretending to act professional.  

Eddie met your eyes then, staring up through his lashes, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.  “Disappointed I haven’t found any bedbugs.”

You coughed a laugh, swaying on your feet.  “Give it time. They come out at dark.”

Eddie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’d also learned never to miss an opportunity with how transient his life was.  His attraction to you was not purely physical, which was a rare occurrence for him. 

He shifted in his seat, a silky curl of gray smoke passing from his lips.  “Are you free later tonight? Can I buy you dinner?”  

Suddenly shy and baffled as to why he’d have any interest, you lowered your chin and shuffled your foot. 

 “I-I’ve got a boyfriend,” you cringed as you said it.  Tony had cheated on you and left you more times than you could count.  He took off a couple days ago after he knocked you around, and you had no idea where he was, but you continued to hold onto this strange sense of loyalty for him.  Perhaps it was because you were convinced he was the best you could do.  

“Did the tough guy do that to your arm?” Eddie asked in a low mumble, his eyes lingering on your bruises.

You covered the marks with your other hand, reflexively.  “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” you always felt like such an idiot when you defended that loser, but you didn’t know how to stop.  

“Well,” Eddie smashed the butt in the ashtray by his chair and stood up to full height. One nipple under his white tank was hard, but the other one seemed to be missing.  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were too stupefied to move, you just stood there holding your arm, waiting for him to go back into his room.

But Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to give you one last look.  “You deserve a lot better, sweetheart. If he puts his hands on you while I’m around, I’ll fucking kill him.”

—------

You thought about Eddie’s words for the rest of your shift.  When it was over, you drove the ten miles back to your trailer, took a shower, and found yourself driving back to the motel, as if your will was no longer your own.  

“What are you even doing?” You hissed aloud to yourself as you parked behind the Sundown in your usual spot.  It was dusk now and you accepted the possibility that he’d probably invited a different woman out to dinner by then, but any amount of reasoning couldn’t stop you.  You checked the scene first, looking up from the main parking lot to catch the flicker of the tv in his room to let you know he was, indeed, still up there.  His motorcycle was safe in its place, too, and you realized you hadn’t even prepared what to say.  You were an anxious mess, but you were also hungry for him in a way that was foreign to you.  

You hadn’t known much comfort or safety in your life, but you felt those things when you were around Eddie.

After standing at his door for a good 5 minutes, you finally found the courage to knock.

Eddie opened the door while your knuckles were still on the wood.  His eyes looked you over, offering a buck of his chin in appreciation. “Well, well. You are a gorgeous bedbug.”

Your cheeks burned hot at the complement.  “I had some free time, so I thought I’d just check and see how you were doing, if you have everything you need.”

Eddie braced his shoulder against the door jam, giving you a squint. “So, you came to check on me while you’re off the clock? Damn, that is good service.”

You flexed your hands, forcing a laugh, trying your best not to just turn around and run away.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.  “Do you want to come in? Cause we can —”

“I’m not hungry.” You answered, bolting inside of his room when he extended his arm as an invitation, before you lost your nerve.

“Neither am I,” Eddie agreed.  But, he was craving something else.  

He locked the deadbolt and made sure the curtains were closed.

—-----

There were very few words left to be spoken as your lips collided with his, meeting with equal levels of urgency.  You kept trying to kiss him deep and desperate while your hand palmed him through his jeans, but he held you off a bit with soft pressure.  He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb while he kissed you, giving individual attention to your top lip and then the bottom one.  He kissed down your neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste you, making you gasp—you’d never been worshiped with someone's mouth before.    

Breathing heavy, he started to unbutton your shirt.  “Is this okay?” He asked, wondering how far you wanted to take it.

“Yes,” you gulped.  “Please.”

Once you had his shirt off, you bent down to kiss and lick his scars—it was an unspoken act of acceptance that made Eddie’s cock twitch.  You weren’t used to being cared for in bed, and Eddie could tell by the way you hurried to push your jeans down and bend over so he could take you from behind.

“Not like that,” he whispered, using strong arms to lower you to the bed while he shimmied your jeans off.  He got on his knees and scooped up your hips, nudging your pussy through your underwear with his nose, and then he planted kisses across the wet spot and along your inner thigh.  The animal inside of him loved your scent; he wanted to bury himself in it, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped him.  

You fell back on the bed and covered your face with one hand.  “Wait, I’m—not many people have done that—I’m not sure how to—”

Eddie finger pulled your underwear to one side, exposing your slippery lips for his tongue to flick.  “Do you want me to stop?”

You arched back at the sensation of his mouth on you.  “No, no, please don’t stop,” you urged, putting your hand on his head to gently cup his ear, the one with the silver hoop.  

He moved away just long enough to pull your underwear all the way down your legs and off, maintaining eye contact with you.  He didn’t rush, he took his time, and kissed his way back up your legs to the prize.  

The gentle and precise way he swirled his tongue on your clit had you stammering his name with a few curses in between.  As his attention to your bundle of nerves built your arousal and it spilled down your slit, he dove his mouth down a few times to taste it and drink you, shivering at the pleasure it gave him.  He couldn’t help it, he had to reach down to grab his cock so he could fist it while his mouth brought you closer.  The taste of your hormones in your slick had pre-cum wetting his tip already.  

Tony had only gone down on you a few times, and he never really seemed to enjoy it.  But Eddie was one of those who could eat a peach for hours, as they say.

“Right…there…” you hushed, startled as you felt the wave of an orgasm rise.  Eddie zeroed in on that spot with just the right pressure, fluttering his tongue as he sucked.  His other hand milked his cock in long strokes, taming the beast from cumming too soon, moaning warm breath against your cunt.

“Eddie!” You cried out just as the release took you and wracked your body, like a spring popping out of a tight coil, unraveling.  Eddie pressed his mouth closer to lap you up, feeling your body vibrate as he held your hip in place.

He only broke the seal made by his mouth once you were too sensitive, and your limbs dangled off the bed for a minute, unable to move. 

It didn’t take long for you to start coaxing him up on top of you, spreading your legs out, begging for him to be closer.  He met your kiss with deep, soul-searching need, and you whined at the sensation of his tip sliding up and down your slick.  But, then he hesitated, and pulled up to meet your eyes.

“Inside of me,” you begged, nodding.  “I need you inside of me.”

And yes, that was what Eddie wanted too, but now there was another problem.  

Eddie’s ears pricked at the sound of footsteps outside the door.  He sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence.  He slid off of you and stood, watching the door while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his stiff, aching cock into place behind the denim.

Shuffling up onto your elbows, you were about to speak, to ask what was wrong, but Eddie silenced you with a finger to his lips.  He tossed your jeans over and motioned over his shoulder for you to put them on in the bathroom.

There was something about the whole situation, and Eddie’s sudden silence, that unnerved you, and so you scampered off the bed as quietly as you could and did as he asked.

There were no lights on in the room, except for the infomercial on the mute TV, but the bright moon illuminated the walkway outside enough for him to catch sight of someone pacing out there.  

Finally, there came a heavy knock and a voice.  

It was Tony, and he shouted your name.  “ARE YOU IN THERE? HUH? You fucking whore!”

You buttoned your jeans and all of the blood ran from your face.  Eddie turned his head to look at you.  The adrenaline of pure fear pumped through your body as you froze in place. 

Eddie put his hand out, motioning for you to stay right where you were, behind him.  

Tony pounded on the door again.  “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME! One of my guys said he saw you go in here with some fucking dude.  IF YOU’RE FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE I’LL KILL YOU, you goddamn bitch!”

By “one of his guys” Tony meant one of the other drug dealers in town, who were generally crawling all over the motel, leeching off of the clientele.  Eddie looked deceptively calm as he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slow, and you walked over to grab his arm, to warn him that Tony was a crazy motherfucker, and you’d just go with him so Eddie wouldn’t get hurt.  

But Eddie motioned for you to hide, so you did.

“Hold up, man,” Eddie was moving now, heading to undo the deadbolt and you cringed, pushing back as tight as you could between the wall and the bathroom door.  

Once the door was unlocked, Tony stood there heaving, looking Eddie up and down.  Tony was big in a stocky way, but not big like Eddie, and he enjoyed that flash of fear that lit over his adversary’s eyes at first glance.  Sure, the guy had some obvious prison ink, but that didn’t mean shit to Eddie.  

“Where is she?” Tony demanded, pushing in.

“Where’s who, man?” Eddie was being so casual about it, and you were  trying not to scream.  

Eddie shut the door and quietly locked it behind him

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, and then he spun on his heel; his eyes were pinned and doped-out.  “Don’t act dumb, man.  My fucking girl.  Someone said they saw her come up here.”

Tony walked up to Eddie and started poking him in the chest.  “Tell me where that fucking whore is before I make you my bitch.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next—for the transformation and the carnage.  You witnessed it all through the crack in the bathroom door as if you were watching a horror movie. 

Eddie changed, in an instant; the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the teeth in his mouth turned jagged and sharp, and his eyes went completely black.  His massive, clawed hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground.

You muffle a scream with your hand, watching Tony gargle and spit, his limbs flailing.  

Eddie’s lips stretched to speak around his fangs.  “She’s not your girl anymore,” he growled.

Eddie strangled Tony with one hand  until he lost consciousness, and then he threw him to the bed like a rag doll, pouncing on top of him.  He proceeded to rip his throat open with his teeth; blood squirted on the wall and across the door where you were hiding, misting you in the face.  

When he was finished, you made your way out of the bathroom.

Eddie was still a monster as he got off the bed at the sight of your approach.  His clawed hands twitched at his sides, his hair dripped with blood, and his skin from nose to chest was bathed in crimson.  His black eyes assessed you, waiting for you to scream or try to run—-but you didn’t.

You got close enough to touch him, to run your hand up his chest to feel the blood between your fingers, and then brush some bloody hair behind his ear.

Eddie frowned, wondering why you weren’t afraid of him, wondering why your desire for him didn’t seem to falter.

You parted your lips, watching the red drool drip from his teeth.  “Are you okay?"

Your mouths found each other again, tasting the tang of your own blood as one of his fangs pricked your lip.  You each did frantic work of unzipping each other’s jeans as Eddie scooped you up to lay you on the floor.

While the last few pumps of blood shot from Tony’s artery, monster Eddie spilled his seed inside of you, throwing his head back with a howl.  

Now, there really had been a crime committed in that room, and Eddie would need to be on the road again, gone by daylight.  

Maybe this time, you’d be going with him.  

[crazyinlovewithbucky]

“don’t fill your void with me”

“Свою пустоту мною не заполняй”

Pairings: Villain!The Winter Solider!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: this takes place in an alternative universe where Hydra took over the world and the winter soldier killed all Avengers and he became the leader of Hydra and he’s controlling the whole world. He saw you one day and he determined you were his and he made sure of that. making you live very comfortably as his “favorite” mistress and he turns very very soft with you.

Warnings: heavy smut, some fluff (if u squint), villain bucky turns sweet, oral (f receiving), jealousy, dark themes, dark!bucky to soft!bucky, dom bucky, lots of praise + lots of praise in Russian.

This was inspired by Яд by Erika Lundmoen

please read my author note it’s very important!

AU/N: this is only part one and still working on part two. thought I’d make this only one part but it was too long I had to cut it into two parts. I need to remind you that English is not my first language so excuse any misspelling or mispronunciation of any words or any grammatical mistakes lol. Hope you enjoy this dark fantasy I had of Bucky as I was wondering how he would be still a villain. Also, this was heavily inspired by ‘Yad’ (Яд) by Erika Lundmoen, I love this song so much and it always reminds me of Bucky in his Winter solider era. Enjoy loves xx

PART 1.

You sighed before swallowing that last sip of the red wine glass that the air hostess brought you. This was already your 3rd glass. You looked through the window to the dark clouds and the night sky as you kept thinking and wondering how you get here in the first place. It was somewhat a normal Friday late afternoon, you were getting ready for the evening, and your –rich new– friends have prepared for you. They were setting you up with a blind date, they said it’s a very handsome guy who's an heir to a big industrial company. You weren’t amused that much as none of them know your secret or your secret lover.

Then you remembered him, your secret mysterious lover, who’s the reason you’re living this lavish rich lifestyle. You remembered six years ago, on the news, you were watching Captain America getting brutally killed by none other than The Winter Soldier himself. You watched the fall of this new organization of superheroes and agents called “The Avengers” and the new world order seeing light under the hands of The Winter Soldier. Hydra ruled and controlled every country in the world, including the USA. It was three years ago when you saw on the news that every leader and all the rulers of Hydra were killed and it was an inside job. The Winter Solider rebelled and killed every single one of them and he, alone, became the new Hydra leader, recruiting super soldiers and making the biggest army of super soldiers known to man.

A year ago, you were just a normal waitress girl, in a hotel restaurant, minding your own business and working just to make ends meet. You weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth and your upbringing was very normal and somewhat poor. Until one day your boss came and told you there will be a very important diplomatic meeting that’s happening in the hotel and he assigned you and two of your coworkers to wait on the leaders and diplomats. On this same very evening, you saw him for the first time. The Winter Solider. Bucky Barnes. Captain America’s best friend who was brainwashed by Hydra and was under control for decades. He was so charismatic, terrifying, very handsome, and absolutely dangerous. Just like a fallen angel, just like Lucifer himself. You were drawn to him at first glance until he noticed you and made eye contact with you. Your heart skipped a beat then, there was a connection between you both, you were certain of this as at first glance, you saw his face change emotion and he was staring at you.

-

“барышня, only 5 minutes till landing” You were brought back to reality from that memory train you were on by the sound of the bodyguard on your left. you nodded to him with a smile and fastened your seat belt around your hips.

Looking back at your past now made you wonder if you actually deserve to live this life or not, to go everywhere with a private plane like the one you’re in now. To live in the finest, most luxurious apartment in Brooklyn, to have rich friends and live a rich lifestyle, to attend galas and be the face of many luxury brands, all because of him, all because he liked you the first time he saw you, all because he promised you to make all your wishes and dreams come true only if you became his, all because he wanted his “favorite one” to be separate from the other women and to live like a princess whose all her dreams are granted.

In fact, you didn’t ask for any of this at all, but you loved the idea that he made all of this for you just because he thinks you’re worthy of it. In the end, you were “his favorite”.

The plane landed in the small very private airport near his mansion in Russia. you had your fur coat covering you. At least, you were dressed very fancy for the ball you were going to with your friends to meet your blind date. As you were about to leave your apartment, you were met by Bucky’s super soldiers' bodyguards at the front door of your apartment, telling you that The King wants you now. So you didn’t argue, you nodded and just took your bag and phone and left with them. This was your deal with him, him giving you whatever you want and desire in life, and you being available and there whenever he calls for you or want you. He has the plane ready for you and super soldiers protecting you and going everywhere with you, in case something goes wrong.

The guards guided you into the mansion and into Bucky’s suite which took up the whole second floor of the mansion. You walked with them till you arrived in front of the door of his office then they left you there alone. You knocked slightly.

“входить” his voice was deep and calm, you just felt butterflies in your stomach as you were very anxious and excited to see him, it’s been nearly a month since your last meeting with him and you missed him dearly. You opened the door and entered and as soon as you closed it behind you, he looked up from the pile of papers in front of him, his hair was perfectly combed, and he grew his beard, which was a very new look on him but also a very sexy one. He grinned widely as soon as his eyes met yours. “ahhh моя кукла”. he stood up from behind his desk and you walked closer to him and he moved closer to you too.

He kissed you very deeply and passionately before hugging you tightly, you hugged him back and buried your face in his neck. “Missed you so much, кукла” he whispered in your ear and kissed your neck softly.

“Missed you too, James” you smiled softly and he started to rub your back slightly.

You didn’t actually know how to address him, didn’t know if you should call him sir, king, soldier, Bucky, or James. You never actually asked, but you found James to be just perfect as you felt weirded out to call him sir or king. ‘James’ was good enough based on the relationship you both had, you were not actually lovers or boyfriend and girlfriend to be intimate and call him Bucky and yet you both weren’t platonic or had a strict respectful relationship to call him sir. so ‘James’ did the job perfectly.

At least, he didn’t complain about whatever you call him.

He removed your fur coat slowly and looked at your body and your fancy dress. “You look so beautiful,” he held your hand and spun you around to take a good look at the dress. It was a tall tight dress that hugs your curves perfectly with a very long slit on the left that shows your whole left leg from your upper thigh to your left foot. It was burgundy colored with a black sheer silk attached to it that gives the dress a matte look under lights. “did you get all dolled up for me?” he smirked at you when his eyes left your body and met your eyes.

“Well, umm-,” he leaned back on his office desk and sat on its edge and pulled you to him slowly “you didn’t give me any heads up that we were supposed to meet so I was actually going to a ball party with a bunch of friends” you looked down to your hands playing with his black suit’s blazer, trying to hide the truth that you were going on a blind date.

The thing you didn’t know about Bucky is that he is very good at reading body language and the second you broke eye contact and said that, he knew you were hiding something and that’s not the truth. But he didn’t want to confront you yet about it so he took it slowly. “Oh really?” he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as your chests now touching and he has a perfect view of your boobs as it’s pushed up from the tight dress. “what kind of a ball party?” he moved his head and start kissing your neck.

“A normal one.” you bit your lower lip as his kisses now moved down to your shoulders and collarbone.

“normal one? what kind of a ball is that exactly?” he chuckled while his right hand moved down slightly and he started rubbing your left butt cheek as his kisses never stopped and his lips moved down to your chest, leaving more kisses.

“Just a normal ball party, James” you sighed, feeling more frustrated as you are getting more turned on by his touching and kisses and you feel yourself getting wetter, you can’t stand wearing your panties anymore, it’s getting more uncomfortable as you are soaked down there.

“A normal ball party where rich people gather around for whatever reason, stuffing their faces with crab cakes and drinking champagne until they’re passed out,” you said with an annoyed tone as you can’t just stand the teasing anymore.

The relationship you had with Bucky was just casual sex every now and then unless that was what you thought it was until 8 months ago, he started to show more feelings, starting saying “I miss you”, “I want you”, “you are beautiful”, “my girl”, “my favorite girl”, “my doll”, “baby girl”, but never the word “love”. He started being more romantic. Taking you on dates, of course, they were secret private dates as he was a known criminal and he shouldn’t be seen in public at all but with his power and money, he can rent or buy any restaurant or place in the world just so you both could enjoy your time and dates together.

He was very gentle with you, protecting you, getting you a big apartment in Brooklyn which was like 3 blocks away from his childhood home, he didn’t mention that at all but you knew it when you went to the Captain America museum and explored the whole room dedicated to Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, Captain America’s best friend.

You learned a lot about him, actually about the old him. Now, he’s just the winter solider, the cold blooded murderer who killed all his superiors and killed the avengers and is now running the Hydra organization and having the biggest super soldiers army in the universe.

But at least, he had a soft spot for you.

He moved his hands to the back of your thighs and lift you up, your legs wrapped quickly around his waist, which was sort of a habit as he loved picking you up like this, like his small girl. he kept looking at you and murmuring I miss yous and you look so beautiful, against your lips while kissing you and walking towards his bedroom, there was only a wall between his office and his bedroom. he opened the door, and his room wasn’t unfamiliar to you but you were just amazed every time by how big and wide it is. The ceiling is so high up and the walls are filled with paintings and mirrors.

He put you on his king-sized bed and you just laid on your back, looking at him. He smirked at you and moved his hands down your dress and took off your panties, freeing your soaked cunt from the now-uncomfortable material. “So, it was just a normal ball party with normal rich friends, huh?” he held your left ankle and pulled it up, and rested it on his shoulder. you nodded and saw him undoing the straps of your heels and taking them off. “Are you sure about that, кукла?” he gave you a very intense look and at that moment you knew that he knows you were hiding something so keeping it hidden won’t do you any good. “You know I hate it when you lie to me.” he rubbed your ankle and calf slowly, giving it a simple soft massage.

“I am not lying to you” Your tone was serious. “My friend, Emma, she set me up on a blind date with this guy,” you saw his facial expression get more tense and his hand tightened on your ankle a bit harder. “I mean, no one knows that I’m- umm, that we-… you know, together” Your tone was shaky as you started to get more anxious as his grip hardened on your ankle. “they just thought I’m single and wanted me to have a date so-..”

“So you decided to dress and doll up for a strange man, didn’t you?” he cut you off suddenly as you can see he started to get angry.

“No, they don’t know about us. No one knows. So I’m just playing the part. acting it. That’s it.” you said with a sad tone, breaking eye contact with him and looking up at the ceiling and huffing. this is truly what you felt like. Playing a part in Bucky’s world. Being nothing more than his sex doll and his mistress. You hate the fact that you wanted him and wanted to be with him forever and you just can’t handle living this lifestyle anymore. Yes, it’s a blessing but you didn’t want all of that, you didn’t ask for any of that. You just wanted him.

“Well, this dress is no good anymore. Can I tear it apart?” he put your left leg back again on the bed and pulled your other leg by the ankle and on his shoulder and removed your heels from this one too.

“Why isn’t it good anymore? I think it’s pretty.” you looked at him confused, not knowing what the dress has to do with anything.

“It is pretty but now, for me, it’s what you wore for another man’s eyes and not mine. I hate it now.” he pulled it up to your upper thighs and your legs are now bared to him.

“But what am I going to wear when I leave? Can’t just be wearing my fur coat. It’s freezing outside.” he chuckled darkly at your words and looked at you with a dark smirk on his face.

“As much as it would be so fucking hot of you to not wear anything except for a fur coat, I can get you any other dress that you want,” he grabbed the dress from its slit on your left thigh with his metal hand and ripped it open until the dress was fully ripped from the left side. “anyways, you’re staying for the whole weekend with me, I don’t want you wearing any clothes at all.” he moved up to meet your eyes and he pepper kissed your jawline. “and if you got cold, you can wear my clothes, my wardrobe is all yours, милая” he ripped and removed the dress from your body, leaving you fully naked underneath him.

you moaned slightly as his hands roamed your body, massaging and rubbing your boobs while his tongue is attacking your lips and mouth, kissing your hungrily. You opened your legs more for him, signaling to him where you wanted him the most. he removed himself from on top of you to get undressed. He removed all of his clothes and got on top of you again, kissing you passionately then starting to kiss you all over. Leaving marks and love bites all over your body, showing you who you truly belong.

“ты моя навсегда, куколка” his voice is raspy and deep, he moved his head down and kissed and sucked on your nipples, of course leaving marks and love bites on your boobs too. You were so needy for him and a part of you was glad that he was as much as needy for you as you are of him.

“James, please. I need you so bad. Please fuck me” you whined and opened your legs more for him. he pulled his head up and looked at you with nothing but pure lust in his now dark blue eyes.

“No, baby doll. No fucking. I missed you too much to just fuck you. I’m going to make love to you ‘cause you deserve this, honey. you’ve earned this.” he kissed your lips passionately but you were just startled, confused, and slightly shocked. You kept wondering why he would say such things and do such things. It’s the first time you ever see him being like this to you or talking like this to you. You were sick of these feelings you have for him and he was just toying around with them.

“You make love to someone you love, James. What we have isn’t love” You looked directly into his eyes with a concerned look on your face.

“Maybe you are right,” these words went straight to your heart and smashed it. You had a little hope he would correct you and tell you he loves you. “But tonight, just pretend that we’re in love. act it like you just said you’re acting it and playing a part.” you wondered if toying with your feelings like this was his way to punish you for what you just said about playing a part in your new life. “make me make love to you. make me show you how you’re supposed to be loved. Or at least humor me, принцесса” his mouth never left your face or your body. He couldn’t stop kissing you and leaving marks everywhere on your neck and body. You weren’t sure what his intentions were by what he just said. A little part of you hoped he meant what he was saying.

You felt his cock twitch against your thigh and felt him leaking. You couldn’t hold it any longer and you lift your hips up to meet his. Signaling to him that you need him. “I’ll give you whatever you want, just let me take my time with you first. I missed you too much” He said between breaths and kisses as he’s now moving down, kissing and leaving love bites all over your belly. “missed this belly,” he kissed your belly button. “missed my little ladies,” he grabbed your boobs with his hands as his mouth kept going down to your lower belly.

“but I missed this pretty girl the most.” you could feel his hot breath against your soaked cunt now, gushing more at the new nickname he gave to your pussy. he groaned when he saw you gushing and your slick is wetting the bed underneath you, making a mess everywhere. he looked up at you and you locked eyes with him while he slowly licked a long stripe between your folds, never breaking eye contact. This sight alone had you crying out and shutting your eyes while throwing your head back on the pillows.

Bucky kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud and sucking on it. He was really taking his time, he wasn’t fast or hard. He was simply just eating you out, slowly, gently, like he actually wants to taste you. You were so needy that you wanted more than that. You started pushing your hips more into his face and grinding slowly. “Greedy aren’t we, my little girl?” He got up and wiped his chain from your glistening slick with the back of his hand.

He got on top of you again and pressed his lips against yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance and you opened your mouth happily for him, licking his tongue and tasting more of yourself. “Do you know what do you taste like?” he broke the kiss but his lips were right above yours. you shook your head slightly and bit your lips. “Like fucking peaches.” he pushed his tongue into your mouth again, kissing and licking it all over. “You taste like fucking peaches, especially your pussy.” you moaned into his mouth “You’re driving me insane, принцесса. Guess peaches are my new favorite fruit”.

He buried his face in your neck, attacking the sensitive skin again with kisses, especially that sweet spot that gets you all turned on and horny. As if you’re not going to lose your mind already from how horny you are. You could feel his tip pushing slightly on your clit and you were just a moaning mess at this point. “Ready for me, love?” he lifted his head and rested his head on your forehead, locking eyes with you.

“Always, Bucky” you whispered, his whole expression changed. his eyes widened a bit at the sound of his name slipping out of your mouth like honey. He hadn’t heard this name in so long, and you say it like this had his heart beating faster, if he wasn’t in love with you before, he believes now he is.

………………………………………………………………..

PART TWO

[torakowalski]

I'm trying not to say "sorry for the delay!" every time I post because there's only so many times you can say that before a delay becomes... Just the speed at which I post.

Anyway, I started a fancy new job last week and I'm knackered, but luckily so is Steve. So here he is! Finally at his first games!

(part one | part eight)

Seoul is... Wow, Seoul is like nothing Eddie has ever experienced. After roaming the US for two years, he thought he was pretty well travelled, but it turns out that he was a super embarrassingly wrong.

Jonathan Byers loaned Eddie his camera (with strict instructions on how to take care of it) and Eddie has already sent a roll of film home to be developed, despite having only been here three days. He's also sent about a dozen postcards and had one thirty-second phone call with Wayne where he just had time to promise he wasn't dead and wouldn't become dead, before his money ran out.

Now, it's sometime in the evening and he's lying on his bed, pretending that he isn't fully fucked up by the thirteen hour time difference between here and home. He keeps thinking about how it'll be early morning in Hawkins, that he's basically in the future right now. He rolls over, grabs another postcard and addresses it to Dustin.

Greetings from the future. Today's lottery numbers are...

Then he flicks a drop of ink and deliberately smudges it across the paper.

He's busy laughing at his own cleverness, when there's a knock on the door. Expecting the incredibly helpful woman who runs this hotel, Eddie rolls off the bed, and pads barefoot over to the door, opening it with an, "Annyeonghaseyo."

Steve, standing on the other side of the door, smiles at him and says, "Have you learned the whole language yet?"

"I'm not Robin," Eddie tells him, before grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. "What are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, running a hand through his hair to push it back off his face. It doesn't look like there's any product in it, and he looks tired, standing there in a plain white t-shirt and his red and white Team USA tracksuit pants.

"My roommate brought one of the athletics girls back to our room, so I said I'd give them some space."

It's been two days since they last saw each other and Eddie wants to hug him, or kiss him, or maybe climb him like a tree, but he's not sure what the rules are.

They've barely had a chance to talk about anything since that first kiss three weeks ago. Dustin insisted on coming back to their hotel room with them for a sleepover that night, and then Steve has been training with the Olympic coaches every hour since.

They've kissed four times in total. The last one was four days ago in Toronto Airport before they boarded the longhaul flight to Seoul. Then Steve headed to first class with the rest of the swim team and Eddie to cattle, clutching his brand new passport.

He'd spent eleven hours wedged between an international student and a very chatty Korean grandma. Every time he went to pee, he spied on Steve through the little curtain but only managed to catch his eye a couple times. Steve looked happy, making friends in the team, and being brought complimentary bags of peanuts. He'd looked like he belonged.

"Well, welcome." Eddie gives Steve a bow then wishes he hadn't. That's what he'd do for anyone, and Steve isn't just anyone.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but hopefully at least kind of fondly.

"Thanks. I'll make myself at home."

He throws himself down onto the bed, stretching out his arms and groaning. Eddie's mouth goes dry watching him, wondering if it'd be okay to follow him down.

Steve closes his eyes for long enough that Eddie thinks maybe he's just come here to nap. Then he blinks up at Eddie, and holds out his hand.

"Lonely?" Eddie asks, stepping close enough that Steve can push his fingers between Eddie's.

"I mean, I wouldn't say no to some company." Steve pulls on Eddie's hand, pulls again. Eddie thinks for a second then rolls up onto the balls of his feet, so the next time Steve tugs, Eddie spills forward and right down on top of him.

Steve wheezes on impact, laughing out, " You shit," when he gets his breath back.

Eddie looks down from about two inches above him. They're almost nose to nose, so close that Steve's eyes are a blur of green and brown. "Sorry, is this not where you wanted me?"

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's middle, rubs his fingers along the hem of Eddie's shirt. "I guess there are worse places for you to be."

He smiles and Eddie smiles, then Steve lifts his head and Eddie lowers his and they're kissing. Again. Some more. First kiss in Korea, fifth kiss overall. Eddie wonders if they'll ever do enough kisses that he stops counting.

Then he tells himself to stop hoping for a future and focus on right now.

Steve's kisses are slick and measured, so Eddie tries to slow down to match. He shifts a little to the side so he isn't totally squashing Steve but Steve makes a protesting noise and hoicks him back on top.

"I'm too heavy," Eddie protests. He's never laid on top of someone before, but he's gotta be, right? He's a full grown adult man.

"I like it," Steve says, like that's the end of the argument. Then he pulls Eddie back on top of him and kisses him and, well, that is the end of the argument.

"How long can you stay?" Eddie asks once he's kissed every part of Steve's face that looked kissable (all of it) and is thinking of moving on to his neck.

"Curfew's ten and it's -" Steve lifts his arm to check his watch over Eddie's shoulder. " - ten past ten, so I guess... forever?"

"That is the best logic I ever heard, but I don't think time works like that, sweetheart."

Steve's eyes flare, which is kinda interesting. Eddie calls everyone sweetheart, same as his mama called everyone sugar, but if Steve likes it, it's his.

"My roommate will cover for me," Steve says, easily. Of course he's immediately fallen into the whole team aspect of the games. He's a jock all the way down to his DNA and they bond like pack animals. "He thinks he's sent me roaming the streets of Seoul alone, after all."

"Rude," Eddie says. "Banished you out into the night, just so he can get laid."

"Super rude," Steve agrees. He hesitates then adds, "Or like, not actually laid. The guys who were on the team for the LA games think it's bad luck to have sex before a race."

"Like...immediately before or at all?" Eddie asks. Steve's races don't start for another four days and Eddie isn't, okay Eddie isn't expecting anything, but Steve is in his bed right now.

"From the opening ceremony until their races are done," Steve says. He makes a face. "It's just total superstition, obviously."

"Obviously," Eddie agrees.

Steve bites his lip.

"And you're scared to go against it just in case," Eddie fills in for him.

Steve puts a hand over his face and squints at Eddie from between his fingers. God, he's cute. A cute, cute dork. "Sorry."

Stupidly, Eddie feels himself blush. "Sweetheart, I'm not, I wasn't, I'm not... I, uh, I. Shut up."

Steve frowns. "I didn't say anything?"

"I was telling myself to shut up." Eddie groans.

"Ohhh, I can help with that," Steve says. Then he kisses Eddie again, like he thinks he's smooth.

It's actually kind of easier to relax into just kissing now that he knows they're not gonna be doing anything else. He can focus on the warmth of Steve's lips and the spit taste of his mouth. Or, it turns out, on the weird feeling of Steve yawning directly into their next kiss.

"Excuse you," says Eddie.

"Excuse me," Steve agrees, and tries to go back to kissing. But Eddie caught a look at him when they broke apart and he's heavy eyed and very, very sleepy-looking.

This time when Eddie moves to the side, Steve's protest is quieter.

"Tired?" Eddie asks.

"Nah, I'm good." Steve yawns again then looks betrayed by himself.

Eddie strokes his hair back behind his ears for him then runs his finger over Steve's flushes cheekbones. "Wanna have a nap?"

"I should get back," says Steve, while simultaneously snuggling down deeper into Eddie's pillow.

"A short nap, then I'll wake you up," Eddie promises, secure in the knowledge that he hasn't fallen asleep before four any night they've been here yet.

"Just a short one," Steve says, tugging Eddie back so he's hooked under Steve's arm.

Entirely unsure of the protocol, Eddie lays his head on Steve's chest. It's all hard and muscly, not actually all that comfortable to lie on, but it's also Steve's chest so Eddie's gonna give it a whirl, anyway.

"You're coming to watch me, right? Every heat?" Steve asks, fingers twirling in Eddie's hair.

"I mean, there's a lot of other stuff happening. You know they've let tennis back in, this year?" Eddie says, drawing it out. When Steve tugs a little on his hair, he laughs. "Yeah, I'll be there. I haven't watched every other time you swam in the last two years just to miss out on any of this."

Steve hums like he's smiling. They've shared so many hotel rooms by now, spent so many nights talking in the dark, that Eddie can read him without having to see his face.

"Good," Steve says. He plays with Eddie's hair a little longer, before his fingers go slack and his breathing deepens.

Eddie smiles to himself, trapped under Steve's arm and not minding one bit. He might still be second guessing all the new rules of their relationship, but this part is familiar. He absolutely knows how to take care of Steve before a competition.

If there's such a thing as a tour manager for a swimmer, then he has all the experience in the world. He's still pondering whether or not that's a real career when, inevitably, he too falls asleep.

(continued here)

[octuscle]

Sustainable changes

Nicolas had just been promoted to Senior Product Manager. But the condition was that he had to take a foreign assignment for two years. He had reckoned with Germany, the USA or maybe Japan. India would also have been okay. But he was supposed to go to Turkmenistan. His employer had just bought a large agricultural cooperative there, which was now to be converted in the direction of ecological and sustainable agriculture. On the one hand, this sounded like a completely unknown field of work. Nicolas had previously worked more in the consumer goods sector. On the other hand, anything that bore the label "sustainable" was naturally a career driver at the moment. So he took a cautiously optimistic approach.

Once Nicolas arrived at his new workplace, the optimism quickly evaporated. He had arrived somewhere in the middle of nowhere. There was no office building, there were only barracks. Mostly not air-conditioned. He had expected to be put up in some hotel. But he had been given a room with a farmer. Toilet in the yard. Bathroom was an outdoor shower served from the cistern. He felt infinitely silly in his outfit.

In the first service meeting, a colleague asked him if they could tweak Nicolas's resume a bit for the presentation to the workers. It might be good for his credibility if they could give him some local roots. Nicolas was tired. The trip had been exhausting. He remembered his parents' Russian gardener. A picture of a man. Former combat swimmer. And of the Turkish cook. So he answered, one may mix in there with pleasure something Russian and Turkish. The main thing was that he was allowed to retire now.

The night had been hell. It smelled like a pigsty in his room. And he could hear the pigs too, as if they were sleeping in bed with him. There was no hot water to shave with. And company policy forbids the use of shower gels containing microplastics without functioning wastewater treatment for environmental reasons. So all he can use is a bar of curd soap. When introduced to the staff, he looks appropriately a bit bedraggled. One of his colleagues asks Nicolas to say something in Russian. He has to think a bit. His grandmother sometimes spoke to him in Russian. But it's enough for a "I'm happy to be here and look forward to working with you. The employees cheer for their new boss.

Before Nicolas takes a shower the next morning, he drives the pigs out of the barn. If he's going to share the roof with them, he might as well make himself useful. His hosts invite him to breakfast. The conversation in Russian is still a bit bumpy. Nikolai hasn't spoken his father's language for years. And his host family, of course, actually speaks Turkmen. But with hands and feet it works. And so it goes on in the office. The team meeting was supposed to take place in English. But the interpreter dropped out. With every hour it gets better. The memory of his father's language comes back.

At breakfast, Nikolai realizes that he understands Turkmen better than he thought. It definitely works out that his hosts ask him in their native language. But he prefers to answer in Russian. Nikolai speaks it again as fluently as he did when he lived with his father in the Sevastopol army barracks. At work, they discuss the tasks for the next few days. Nikolai considers the projects for preventing soil erosion and unused surface water runoff to be urgent. Everyone passionately discusses the possibilities of transforming agriculture to get by without artificial irrigation. But Nikolai realizes that it will be difficult to irrigate only naturally in the desert.

The next morning, Nikolai surprises your host family with a few words of Turkmen. With his fluency in Russian and Turkish as his mother's language, it's not that hard for him to learn the language. On the job, they speak almost only Turkmen anyway. Today, his job is to drive the fields and inspect and document the environmental damage. Nikolai doesn't even need to shower for that. It will be hot anyway. And air conditioning is only for wimps. The point is to save energy wherever possible. In the afternoon, he gets a call from headquarters. They are very pleased with his work on site. It is clear that the project would not make an economic contribution. But the advertising impact is enormous. Whether he is interested in accepting a junior director position at the headquarters in Paris.

Nikolai turns his camera, bares his left breast and says in broken French that his heart beats for his new home. He won't leave until the desert blooms again.

[mymindcreatedthis]

To the Brim 18+

Jackie Groenen x Reader

Word count: 2,307

Warning: Smut, Positions, Doggy, Cowgirl, laying on side. Blow job, throat piercing, unprotected sex, Creampies, hair pulling, daddy kink, Teasing, rough sex, Squirting, R doming Jackie, Jackie Receiving. Wet dream, grinding.

*Y/n's pov*

I start the car and drive us to the hotel. We pull up to the hotel and I park the car. I help Jackie inside, we go to the elevator I press the button and we wait for the elevator to come. Jackie got injured during the game against USA.

"Hey wanna go back to my room babe?" Jackie asks.

I nod and smile. "Sure."

The elevator doors open. We get in and press the button to our floor. The doors close, Jackie smiles and kisses me. I smile against her lips and kiss back.

We sadly break the kiss when the doors open. I help her walk out and help her walk to her room.

Jackie pulls her keycard out and unlocks the door, we go inside. I close the door behind us and lock it. We get into the room and I notice there's only one bed.

"No roommate?" I ask.

"No just me." Jackie says.

I smile and nod. "Sweet."

"Wanna shower together?" Jackie asks me.

I blush a bit as she asks me this. "Well yeah I mean, you're gonna need help getting washed up."

She giggles. "Maybe you'll get some action too."

I blush darkly as she says this. I help Jackie walk to the bathroom. I close the bathroom door and lock it, I help Jackie get undressed and strip my own clothes off and start the shower.

I help her into the shower, once we are both in the shower I pull her towards me under the shower head. I hold her close to me and kiss her deeply as the water soaks my hair and soaks our bodies.

I smile and kiss her neck as the water runs down our bodies. "You're so beautiful." I say kissing her neck and jaw line.

Jackie moans. "So are you baby.”

"Oh really?" I ask.

I lower my hand and rub her folds with my fingers, Jackie moans and pouts. "S-Stop teasing."

I laugh. "Okay okay. Let's get you cleaned up babe."

I help Jackie wash her hair and body and help her get rinsed off. Once I'm done helping her out. I clean and rinse my self off. I help her dry off, and then dry myself off.

"Let's sleep naked." Jackie says.

I smirk. "You dirty girl."

She giggles and kisses me. We go back into the room and lay down on the bed. We cuddle each other and end up falling asleep.

Morning comes, as we are sleeping something wakes me up. Jackie had her against me, she was having a wet dream and was grinding against my dick. I moan in pleasure as she grinds against my dick, I cover my mouth and moan in my hand.

She was soaking wet, I moan in my hand as she continues to grind against my dick. She was making me super hard, I continue to moan in my hand.

"Mmm f-fuck." I moan.

Jackie hears this. "What... ooo hehe someone's hard, Y/n Jr is running against my folds." Jackie says teasing me.

I blush darkly in embarrassment. "S-Sorry. I was um gonna go to the bathroom."

"Or you can just fuck me." Jackie says.

She lays in front of me and rubs my boner, I bite my lip and moan as she does this. She giggles and continues to rub my boner.

Jackie licks her palm, she wraps her hand around my dick and slowly strokes my dick.

"Mmm fuck." I moan.

Jackie giggles and rubs her thumb over my precum. "Shit baby, mmm just like that." I moan in pleasure.

Jackie smirks and strokes my dick a bit faster. Once I'm hard Jackie takes my dick in her mouth, and slowly bobs her head. The tip of my dick hits the back of her throat as she bobs her head.

"Mmm shit." I moan.

Jackie hums against my dick and bobs her head faster. I moan loudly in pleasure as she does this, I hold her hair up in a ponytail as she continues to give me head.

Jackie bobs her head at a fast steady pace. I moan and run my fingers through her hair. My legs shake and buckle in pleasure as she sucks the soul out of my dick.

"S-Shit Jackie, just like that." I moan in pleasure.

Jackie wraps her arms around my thighs and pulls me closer as she bobs her head faster. I moan as k feel myself getting closer to cumming.

"Mmm Jackie baby I'm close." I moan.

Jackie hums against my dick and bobs her head faster and faster sucking the soul out of my dick. I moan in pleasure after another 5 minutes of an amazing blow job I feel that all too familiar feeling in my balls.

“J-Jackie baby I'm gon-"

I'm unable to warn her in time. Jackie hums against my dick sending me over the edge.

Throat pie:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load in her mouth. Jackie chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth.

Jackie swallows my load, she gets the rest of my cum and swallows it. My dick falls from her mouth.

Jackie straddles my waist, she lines my dick up with her entrance and pushes my tip in. Jackie slowly slides down my dick taking my dick deep inside her.

We both moan in pleasure. Jackie bites her lip, she takes a moment to adjust to my size and slowly. I moan and place my hands on her hips.

Jackie moans and picks up the pace a bit sliding up and down on my dick a bit faster.

"Mmm fuck you're really deep in there." Jackie moans.

"Mm so tight and warm." I moan.

Jackie moans and goes faster and a bit harder. We both moan, she gasps and continues to ride me.

"Mm Feels so good." Jackie moans.

Shit her pussy has amazing grip I don't think I can last long. Jackie is amazing in bed, and really knows how to drain a girl.

I lay my head back on the pillow and enjoy the site of Jackie riding my dick. Jackie goes faster and faster, her ass continues to slam down on my dick when she brings it down.

"Mm Jackie baby I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

"Me too, shit ahh I'm gonna squirt." Jackie moans in pleasure.

She moans loudly in pleasure and squirts all over my abs, dick and all over the sheets. I massage her boobs a bit rough as she continues to ride my dick.

Jackie’s legs shake and buckle in pleasure as she squirts. Jackie moves back and forth on my dick going as fast and as hard as she can go.

I moan as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming. "Jackie baby I'm close." I moan.

"Give me your thick cum daddy." Jackie moans.

She continues riding my dick, I moan as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls as she rides me faster and harder.

"Jackie babe, I'm gon-"

I'm un able to warn her in time.

Creampie #1:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Jackie moans and cums all over my dick, we both moan as I continue to pump her full of cum.

"Ahhh it feels so good, don't stop daddy." Jackie moans.

"Oh baby, I'm not done with you just yet. I'm gonna drain my balls in you." I say.

Jackie cutely giggles. "I can't wait."

Once we both come down from our highs Jackie slowly gets off my dick. Cum glazes her folds, cum drips down her thighs and onto my dick, my lap and on the sheets.

Jackie lays beside me, I smirk and sit up. Jackie bites her lip and spreads her legs. I smirk and move between her legs, I rub my dick through her cum covered folds. We both moan as I slide my dick back inside her.

"Mmm fuck, I love your cum deep inside me." Jackie moans.

"Mmm so tight and warm." I moan at the feeling of being back deep inside her.

Jackie wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer. This causes my dick to go deeper inside her. We both moan.

"Ahh fuck. You're so tight." I moan.

Jackie giggles and moans. "What's wrong? Scared you won't last long?"

I smile and shake my head. "Shut up."

I slowly thrust in and out of her. Jackie moans, she wraps her arms around me and pulls me down. I kiss and suck on her neck as I pick up the pace going faster and rougher.

"Fuck....Fuck....Fuck." Jackie squeaks out with each thrust.

my balls slap against her skin as our moans fill the room.

I rest my head against hers as I pick up the pace and go a bit faster and harder. Jackie moans in pleasure, her eyes roll to the back of her head as I continue to fuck her pussy.

Jackie moans as I go a bit faster and harder. "Ahh yes daddy right there." Jackie moans closing her eyes.

"Yeah? Like that baby? You like daddy's dick deep inside you stretching you out?" I ask, as I pound her tight cum filled pussy.

"Mmm yes daddy. I love your dick inside me stretching me out." Jackie moans out.

I smirk and pound her pussy faster and harder. She moans loudly in pleasure.

"Ahh I'm gonna squirt." Jackie moans.

I go faster and faster moaning loudly in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer to cumming.

Jackie moans loudly in pleasure and squirts on my dick, abs and thighs and onto the bed and bed sheets.

"Ahh shit, I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

"Yes....Fill.....me....up...... with.....your....load." Jackie squeaks out with each thrust.

I pound her pussy faster and harder. Jackie moans loudly and digs her nails into my back.

I moan as I continue to fuck the daylights out of her. I moan as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming.

"I'm close baby, get ready slut. I'm gonna pump you full of cum." I moan in pleasure.

"Fuck daddy. Please please I need your cum deep inside me." Jackie cutely moans and begs.

I moan in pleasure as I feel that all too familiar feeling in my balls.

Creampie #2:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Jackie moans and cums all over my dick, we both moan as my cum shoots deep inside her painting her walls white.

"Mmm there's so much." Jackie moans as my cum oozes inside her.

I help her ride out her high. Once we both come down from our highs, I slowly pull out of her. Thick cum oozes out of her and glazes her folds and drips down onto the bed.

I lay beside her, both of lay there next to each other panting and trying to catch our breath. Jackie gets up and moves to the middle of the bed and gets on all fours and shakes her ass a bit. She smirks and looks back at me.

"Got anymore cum daddy?" She asks seductively and shakes her ass.

"I got plenty more for you baby." I say.

I giggle and get up and move behind her. I rub my dick through her folds a bit teasing her then slide my dick back inside her cum filled pussy.

Jackie moans as I pull her hair while I fuck her pussy from behind. I pick up the pace and go faster and faster. My balls slapping against her skin as our moans fill the room.

"Fuck....right.....there." Jackie squeaks out with each thrust.

I giggle, I pull her up some. I wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me and make out with her as I pound her pussy from behind going faster and harder.

"Fuck baby, your pussy feels so good." I moan in pleasure as I continue to rail her from behind.

Jackie moans loudly in pleasure and squirts all over my dick, the sheets and all over the bed. I moan loudly in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer to cumming.

"Ughh I don't think I can last much longer." I moan in pleasure.

"Mmm fuck. Mmm give me that cum daddy." Jackie moans.

Her legs shake and buckle in pleasure as I continue to fuck her pussy from behind. I moan loudly in pleasure as I feel myself getting closer and closer to cumming.

I moan as I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

Creampie #3:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. Jackie moans and cums all over my dick, we both moan as I shoot ropes of thick sticky cum deep inside her painting her walls white.

"Ahh Fuck." Jackie moans as my cum continues to ooze inside her.

I help her ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out. Cum glazes her pussy, cum pours out of her pussy and drips down her thighs and onto the bed.

I slap her ass, Jackie giggles and moans. I lay on the bed panting and trying to catch my breath, fuck Jackie knows how to make a girl cum.

Jackie smiles and lays with me. I smile, I kiss her and cuddle her holding her close to me. We cuddle and watch tv and end up falling asleep.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 2

Bruh. My back is HURTING from being hunched over my laptop lol. For some reason I've managed to shit out this next chapter at the speed of light, but I'm back at uni and deadlines are picking up so I can't guarantee another one for a couple weeks. ANYWAY - ALASTOR HAS FINALLY MADE AN APPEARANCE. Not in person yet, but he's here (in spirit). I also apologise to anyone not from Yorkshire, I've used some of our slang from there and it may not make sense, but MC's embracing her Northener crave for violence.

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 6800

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Descriptions of murder and dismemberment. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 >

PART 1: Chapter 2

Another box for my trinkets it's trinketville.

Meraki (Definition): To put something of yourself into your work. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Thursday, 7th November, 1929.

The first four months of your new apprenticeship had you thriving more than ever before since arriving in the US. The last time you had felt this joyous and satisfied you were nearly eighteen, the tickle of the long grass on your cheeks as you laid in the meadow at the height of spring, holding the bunch of wildflowers against the kaleidoscopic swirls of the evening tones of the sky above you, admiring the way the lowering sun hit the petals and the small bugs that floated around with its golden highlights. It was one of the few times you had managed to bring your racing mind to a stand-still; no voices; no random lines of songs in your head playing on replay; no worries about the chores you were procrastinating or the book your friend had recommended weeks ago that you were yet to touch. You remembered the feeling of the summer dress you wore, the texture of the leather messenger bag beside you gifted by the old woman who lived further down the lane of the village. She used to babysit you when your parents would travel to York days at a time for work or personal errands. You loved to skip down that lane, with your hand running along the rough stones of the ancient stone walls that lined the lanes of your little village you had spent your whole life in – also lining your mind with the cuts it gave you as you tried to climb over them with the twins over the years.

The routine of working at the repair shop had brought the blissful feeling of stability back, the hectic frenzy of travelling from hotel room to hotel room, checking your tickets a thousand times to make sure you were on the correct train platform, then checking again. You no longer had to worry about travel dates that would leave you feeling paralysed from doing anything else.

Mr LeBlanc had been an excellent teacher and manager, drilling skills into your mind since you stepped into the shop for your starter shift. It was certainly an experience: opening the double doors to a vintage collector’s dream, an antique emporium filled from floor to ceiling (and on the ceiling). Ralph had brought you behind the counter, to a room in the back that he gleefully revealed to be concealed by a door disguised as a bookshelf. The workshop hidden behind was every antique restorer’s sanctuary, and it was certainly yours. Drawers lining the walls filled with every tool that could file, chip away, or apply anything you could find. In the centre was a large wooden table – thick, sturdy planks covered in chips and splatters of paint and adhesives used over the years. This table would be the place you would spend the next four months, your hair tied back by a patterned silk bandana, Ralph showing you how to work with materials from wood to porcelain, metal to textiles. You would pour over books you had pulled from Mr LeBlanc’s bookshelves until late into the evening, until he sent you home with them in your bag, and you protected them with your life as you returned on the trams (or ‘streetcars’, as Americans called them) in the evening light.

Every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, he taught you everything he could, and you absorbed it all at the speed of light, your mind soaking up every piece of information like a dry sponge. By month three you had been given the go ahead to work on your first object from a customer – a small, spindly regency era chamber table belonging to a local gentleman. All it needed was some chips to be filled and repolishing, allowing Ralph to be confident enough in your abilities to complete it correctly. Your results came out on top, both Ralph and the customer being satisfied with your work, and you received the praise gleefully, along with the hefty tip the gentleman handed you over the counter. To you, everything was going fine and dandy.

Until October hit.

Apparently there were plenty of warning signs, according to most. They knew this was coming, your aunt knew this was coming. It was what she had said when you sat with her on the steps of the front porch.

“Shops are going to start disappearing.” She said, keeping her gaze ahead as she watched the cars sputter by. “With the rate this is going, I’m going to have to pull the boys out of school and get them working – I can’t keep the walls of this house up by myself.”

It had sent chills down your spine when you had picked up a newspaper, the words ‘Wall Street’ and ‘Stock Market Crash’ staining the pages for weeks. You put your mind and body into helping Mr LeBlanc, desperate for him to keep his business up and running. Unfortunately, as prices dropped, less people wanted to splurge the extra cash on something nice and antique, so you both lowered prices where you could, even going to lengths to hammer fliers to every street-post that advertised restoration jobs for any household item, promising customers that they would save money on repairs instead of buying it new.

It worked more than you thought, and it brought in enough income for Ralph to scratch by. He was also grateful you hadn’t asked for a raise to cope with the financial crisis, flat-out refusing when he had tried to hand you some tips he had received.

It was just the beginning of December when Ralph had called the house phone as you were getting ready for work. Ollie had yelled up the stairs to tell you and you scrambled down in your work trousers with your nightgown still on. Grabbing the phone, you listened to a raspy Mr LeBlanc as he told you he had falling ill with the usual winter flu. Unfortunately, being 63 meant that he was more susceptible to the illness, and was unsure if he would recover. If he did, it would still take a while, so he had asked you that morning if you were capable of running the shop solo. You had instantly said yes, refusing to let any sidetrack be his business’s downfall, so, with your head held high, you walked to his house, picking up any essential documents that he said you would need, and kept the shop up and running to the best of your abilities.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 6th December, 1929.

It was the Friday of the first week of December when you were an hour away from closing. You had been lucky that it had been pretty quiet the last few days, allowing you to settle into working your first ever Monday to Friday and getting to know the everyday things that were essential to keep the doors open. You had brought an armchair behind the counter – the gap between the counter and the wall was spacey enough for you to fit the chair and a small side table.

After not seeing any customers for over an hour, you had wandered off to the small side kitchen hidden by a Persian rug hung over the doorway to fetch yourself a warm cup of tea and a slice of carrot cake that Agnes had slipped into your lunch bag that day. Returning to the front, you placed the food and beverage on the side table, and sank into the chair, propping your feet up and delving into the book you had bought a few months ago.

Your eyes were drooping by the time you finished the tea and cake, and you rested your head on the back of the cushion, lowering your eyelids shut but remaining awake, knowing you had to get up soon in order to close in a half hour. Though the sudden sound of the shop’s bell chiming had you shooting out of your seat like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Scrambling to your feet, you scooted over to plop yourself on the counter stool, fixing yourself to look as presentable as possible as you faced the person entering. It was the mailman, stomping his boots to rid of the snow from the mild blizzard outside on the shoe rug by the door whilst holding a semi-large parcel under his arm. You recognised him from his rounds of the area, normally dropping off the odd parcel here and there for Ralph. Making sure the curls you had pressed into your hair overnight weren’t flattened at the back, you straightened out the silk scarf tied round the front of your head, flicking a curl out of your eye, and faced the man with a warm smile, to which he returned. He was a tall, young looking lad, older than you, but youth still shone in his eager eyes as he approached you.

“Afternoon ma’am,” he greeted, tipping his snow patterned hat. “I apologise for the snow on the floor, m’fraid the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.”

You waved him off, assuring that you were going to be cleaning up soon anyway. He inquired about Mr LeBlanc’s whereabouts, and you explained that his illness wasn’t letting up any time soon.

“Shame,” he said. “I know you’re probably not getting overrun, but it still must be complicated being a young woman running someone else’s business – especially near Christmas, having to trek home in the cold and wet by yourself.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright.” You laughed with a shake of your head, trying to not let your frustration show at the thought of him doubting your skills because of your gender. “He’s given me everything I need, and I can deal with the weather just fine. Wet and cold is the norm where I’m from.” Changing the subject, you gestured to the half-damp parcel still under his arm. “Is that addressed to Ralph or the shop?”

As if suddenly remembering the reason he was here, he quickly hauled the parcel from under his arm and slid it onto the counter.

“It’s for the shop.” He explained, gesturing a gloved hand to it. “S’pose it’s a last minute repair for a Christmas gift or somethin’.”

Placing your hands on either side, you slid the large square box towards you. Standing up from the stool, you peered at the top. Brushing off the half-melted snow, you read the handwriting that ornately spelled out the address - this was probably another repair.

The parcel itself was probably the neatest you had ever seen anything wrapped. The parcel paper was thick and expensive, the water and snow running off without leaving any trace behind except for a slight sheen, and the edges were folded so crisp and perfectly shaped and flat you wondered if whoever had wrapped it was human. Tied round like a present was a thick twine, looping into a bow directly in the middle of the top. You admired the dedication of whoever had put in the time to wrap this, running your fingers over the corners only to jerk them back slightly as the folds were so sharp they felt like they were slicing at your skin.

Looking back at the mailman, you thanked him for the delivery, and hoped him safe travels back home. Tipping his hat at you, he turned away with a farewell, and the bell chimed again when he opened the door, dipping his head against the wind as he faded into the white wall outside.

When the howling wind finally allowed the door to shut, you began the closing routine, knowing that there wouldn’t be anyone else today with the severity of the weather outside. After locking the exits and pulling the shutters closed and the blinds down, you kept the shops lanterns on as you lifted the hefty parcel with a grunt and shuffled through the hidden doorway into the workshop.

Sliding it onto the table, you got to work opening it up, pulling the twine bow free and taking some small hand-held shears to slice open the glued down folds to reveal a cardboard box.

Pulling the thick brown paper and twine out from underneath, you chucked them onto the other workbench pushed against the wall to the right. Placing the shears down, you pushed your fingernails between the gap of the serrated cardboard and swung the flaps open. Inside was a lot of loose cotton wool, and you reached in, removing the protective layer and chucking it onto the table whilst simultaneously thanking whoever had spent their time padding the box out. This uncovered a semi-large shape swaddled in a maroon-coloured knitted blanket, and you reached your arms in deep to wrap around the object and haul it out.

Laying it on the table, you pushed the box and wool out of the way, and gently began unwrapping the blanket, mindful that some repair jobs may start out with several shattered pieces that you certainly didn’t want to accidentally drop an lose amongst everything. Coming to the final layer, your nails slotted through some of the holes of the knitting and clacked against what sounded like solid wood, and slipping the material off, you had your first look at your new potential project.

It was an old radio. Well, not that old, considering radios had only been in circulation for a decade or so, but it was one of the earlier models, the features you recognised from when you visited the county Mayor’s house when you were in your early teens. It was shaped with a resemblance to a cathedral arch, the wood panelling around the edge looking like pillars that began swirling and spiralling into gothic patterns the closer you got to the top. These patterns decorating the fine grated material that covered the speaker, and a few dials were situated on the bottom half, and you immediately noticed one was missing.

Pulling a stool over, you sat down to get a closer look, and you noted down the damages that came to light. It had obviously been looked after over the years, but, as always, people are prone to accidents, and this radio seemed to have gone through a few. Apart from the dial that was missing, there was a large split down one side, between two of the panels, and scratches and slight dents from where it had obviously been dropped. Grabbing your notebook, you jotted down your initial observations, before diving your hands into the left over cotton in the box to search for anything that could assist you.

To your luck, you found a small linen bag about the size of your palm, that you untied to reveal the missing dial and a few pieces of wood that had come off in some areas. Returning to your notes, you were just about to start a proposal form for treatment when something caught your eye. Looking over to the blanket you had put to the side, your eyes landed on a fancy looking envelope.

Reaching over, your fingers clasped around the paper, the material just as thick and expensive feeling as the parcel wrap, and you brought it towards you, careful not to elbow anything in the process, because if they could afford fancy radios and paper during this crisis, then they certainly were expecting you to repair this with equally expensive standards. Holding the paper up you read the loopy handwriting on the front of the envelope:

To  the Owner.

Turning it over, you pried the even fancier wax seal apart as gently as you could as to not ruin the paper, and opening the flap, you reached in to slide out a folded piece of parchment. Unfolding it, you began to read the matching, loopy words.

---

December 4 th, 1929

Dear Owner,

I do hope this package finds you well. I am delivering this fine radio to be repaired at your establishment, as it belongs to my dear Mother and I would be overjoyed to have it completed in time for Christmas. Unfortunately, it has suffered its fair share of drops and bumps, but from what I have heard from others in our beloved city, you should be able to do an excellent job. The outside is obvious with what needs to be done, but there are areas within the interior mechanics that require some repairs. Now, I would take it to the radio shop, but the man who owns it is oh-so unpleasant, and would take weeks to be returned.

I am sure you would be happy to take on this challenge, for my mother’s sake, and that you will do a splendid job.

Regards,

Mr A. Boudreaux

---

You blinked. Then furrowing your brows, you read it again. And again. Did this guy want you to not only fix up the look of his mum’s radio, but magically know the ins and outs of radio technology? You shook your head, then did a quick once-over of the words scrawled onto the page. Yep, he wanted you to do a Frankenstein and completely resurrect the old thing.

Placing you elbow on the table, you rested your chin on your palm as you stared at the wall covered in tool across the room. There was no way you could do this, not without Mr LeBlanc still ill – though even if he was here, you didn’t know if he had any knowledge on radios. Sighing, you rubbed at your face tiredly, not caring if you smudged the mascara on your lashes, it wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in on you with panda eyes anyway. Letting out a prolonged groan, you came to the final decision of what to do.

Trudging back into the shop, you quickly made yourself another cup of tea, before snatching some of the letter paper and an envelope from under the counter. Slumping back onto the stool in the workshop, you placed the paper in front of you whilst reaching into one of the drawers attached to the table to grab a pen, then, taking a moment to think of what you were going to say, you began writing.

---

December 6 th, 1929

Dear Mr Boudreaux,

Thank you for your enquiry. As much asI would love to fulfil your request, there are some issues regarding certain stages of the repairs. Mr LeBlanc, who owns the company, has taken ill this last week, and it is not yet known when he will recover, and I am the only member of staff he has employed at the moment. Unfortunately, I am not experienced in radio mechanics, and strongly advise that you come and collect the radio and take it to be repaired at a radio shop.

The radio can be returned here for outer repairs, but I am afraid that is the only option I can offer you at this time. The radio will be ready for you to collect from 9am on Monday morning. I do apologise for the inconvenience.

Regards,

---

Signing the first letter of your name, along with you surname, you read over what you had written. Satisfied, you sealed it in the envelope and got to work wrapping the radio back up. Quickly taking a candle, you took a peek in between the crack in the wood, the light shining on the innards. You definitely had no chance of fixing that, if the absolute mess of dislodged coils, wires and metal pieces inside said anything. Reluctantly you placed it back in its box wrapped up and padded with the cotton, before taping it up and re-glueing the parcel paper and twine back in place. It was a shame that you had to reject the request, the payment for the repair would have benefited you and Ralph quite a bit, and it made you feel awfully guilty to prevent someone’s gift for their mother, but it was out of your control. So, with the guilt hanging over your head, you pushed the parcel into the corner under one of the tables on sale.

Doing one last round of the shop, you extinguished the candles dotted around and flipped the light switches off except the main one by the door. With your coat and gloves on, you made sure the scarf was wrapped tight round your neck before grabbing your bag and did one last sweep of the place. Glancing in the corner, you took one last lingering look at the sorrowful parcel that sat under the table, but quickly snatched your eyes away, and grabbing the keys, you flipped the final light switch and stepped out into the cold, looking for the nearest post-box with the letter grasped in your hand.

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

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

Monday came rolling round as usual, and you began your usual weekday routine of washing and dressing yourself before heading downstairs for breakfast. Scooping some scrambled eggs onto the toast on your plate, you trudged from the kitchen to the dining room, the slap of your bare feet on the tiles echoing through the wide hallway.

Shuffling through the doorway, you sat opposite Ollie, who, by the looks of it, was still waking up as he shovelled buttered toast into his mouth with his head still lying sideways on the table. Reaching over, you slapped the handle of your fork against his ear that stuck out from between his loose, dark curls, and he let out a whine as he sat up to face you with one eye glued shut, the other barely open, bread hanging from between his frown.

“You’ll choke eating like that.” You said as you scooped egg into your mouth.

Ollie dropped the toast from his mouth onto his plate. “Good.” He mumbled. “S’better than Miss Sammie droning on and ooonnnn about nonsense.” He flopped his head back on the table.

“Well enjoy it while you can.” You snorted. “If this crash gets any worse Mum will be pulling you both out to find jobs. And I know you two wouldn’t last a day in the workplace.”

He jerked his head back, scrunching his face in offence. “Like you would be any better.”

You deadpanned. “I’m currently working 9 -5, Monday to Friday, dumbass.” You jabbed back in annoyance, throwing a piece of crust at his forehead.

“Shit, forgot about that.” He grumbled, but perked up suddenly. “Yea, but you’ve only been working full time since last week!”

You chucked another crust. “Running a shop full time on my own – something I’ve never done before??”

“Still.” He retorted, shrugging his shoulders.

You had opened your mouth to retort, but stopped halfway as Allie’s voice echoed through from the kitchen.

“There’s been another one!” he called out, almost excitedly, the thumping of his feet vibrating through the floorboards as he practically sprinted into the room with the morning newspaper grasped firmly in his hands. The two of us jerked back as he slammed it onto the table.

“Amuver!?” cried Ollie, voice muffled by food, though he quickly swallowed it. All evidence of his tiredness now gone, he snatched up the paper and brought it right up to his face. “It’s barely been a week!”

“I know!” Allie replied, his voice rising in volume every time he spoke. “At this point it could end up happening every month!”

You looked between the two of them confused since you couldn’t see what Ollie was reading. “What could happen?” you asked, perplexed.

The two of them froze, turning to stare at you. Their eyes darted to each other, before Ollie lowered the newspaper and spoke.

“…The murders?” He revealed, as if it was the most obvious thing.

You blinked, then looked between the two, more confused. “What murders?”

“What!?” Allie cried, bracing his hands on the table as he leant over it, eyes wide. “You’ve been gallivanting round town for seven months and don’t know about thee murders??”

You leant back slightly at the sight of your cousin’s crazy expression, and slowly shook your head. “I’m uh – not one to read the newspaper often.” You explained sheepishly.

He gaped, clearly shocked at your lack of knowledge about the subject. His head whipped to where his brother sat, and his hand reached out and snatched the newspaper from Ollie’s. You quickly moved your breakfast out of the way, saving your food from being flattened as Allie slammed the paper down and began aggressively prodding at the headline on the front page. Swatting his hand away, you read the giant words printed above a photograph of a lake you didn’t recognise.

‘BARRISTER FOUND BUTCHERED ON EMBANKMENT’

Suddenly intrigued, brought the paper closer to read the front column.

Tragedy strikes again in New Orleans as the remains of county barrister, Paul Morgan, were found on the embankment and in the water of Lake Cataouatche by visitors to the area. Morgan was reported missing last Wednesday by his wife, Martha, when he failed to return home for two days after a night out on Monday with his colleagues. It was reported that Morgan’s body was dismembered, and his head took several hours to locate. However, certain body parts are still missing, therefore the lake has been closed off to the public for the foreseeable future. Police are calling in and searching for potential suspects, and give their condolences to Paul’s close family and friends, stating that they are working overtime to bring the killer to justice and prevent any further deaths. Due to the nature and severity of the crime, it is possible that this is another victim of who the public dubs ‘The Bayou Butcher’. The Sheriff strongly encourages people to stick to an early curfew and remain indoors after nightfall, as the safety of the public cannot be guaranteed at this trying time. (More on Page 5)

You went to flip through, but the paper was pulled out your hands by Ollie who wanted to read it.

“You know what I’m thinking?” Allie hissed excitedly as he lowered himself onto the chair at the head of the table between you both. “This could be another Axeman!”

Ollie gasped, eyes sparkling. “Shit, it could!”

You perked up. “Another Axeman? How long has this guy been around?” you asked as you brought your breakfast back in front of you.

Allie turned to you, eyes shining in excitement. “The first body was found in 1927 – and the rest have been popping up every 2-3 months, but this is the first time there’s been two in less than two weeks!”

You narrowed your eyes in thought. “How do you know it’s all one guy?”

At this question he seemed to get more excited, practically vibrating in his seat as he gestured to his twin. “Ollie and I have been collecting newspaper clippings on every murder that’s happened, and we’ve tried to eliminate any outliers – like, different weapons, ones that are bleedin’ obvious who did it – the rest all have the same MO: they never find the whole body.” He yammered on at light speed, emphasising each word with a loud thump of his finger prodding the table. “Sometimes it’s not obvious, I think they try to throw the police off by going for something small – like a finger – but there’s always something missing, and we know it’s them.”

You frowned. “Them?”

He shrugged. “Could be a woman.” You raised an eyebrow. “What!? I don’t discriminate! Women can be scary!” You slowly sat back in your seat, staring your cousin down. He pointed at you as he looked at his brother with wide eyes. “See!? You wouldn’t be surprised if she dragged a body in?”

Ollie swallowed the food he was chewing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she caused the second Great Fire of London because someone stole her food.” He said nonchalantly, before casually returning to his toast.

“Exactly!” cried Allie. “No wonder the government wants you all nice and buttoned up in a strait jacket!”

Dropping your fork with a clatter, you looked up at him in shock, mouth hanging open. He froze, quickly realising what he had said, and his face slowly scrunched up as he cringed.

“Too far?” he squeaked meekly as he glanced at you. “Sorry.”

Pouting, you glared silently before picking your fork back up.

A few moments of silence passed, before Ollie decided he had experienced enough of the dampened mood. “You know,” he began, catching your attention again. “We think the body parts aren’t just missing for the sake of it.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, intrigued again.

He looked you directly in the eye. “We think they’re eating them.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oo yummy, like a cannibal?” you queried, eyes darting to Allie, who perked back up, nodding. “So… there’s a cannibalistic serial killer running around New Orleans?”

Allie pointed a finger. “Serial killer, yes. Cannibal, possibly. We don’t actually have any proper evidence for that. I’m also going to skip the ‘yummy’ part, cuz I know you would never willingly consume human flesh.”

“You would be correct,” you confirmed with an amused smile, before glancing at the two. “Has mum ever suggested that you two should consider joining the police force?”

All you got were two matching cheshire grins in response.

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

After cleaning up your food, and disappointing the twins because no, you didn’t bring your serial killer books to America with you, because you didn’t want to be judged by the luggage inspectors on the ferry, besides, Jack the Ripper got a little boring after a while.

Even though it was interesting to learn about the current events of the city you were staying in, the subject of said current events did end up putting you on edge when you travelled to work that morning, with you clutching your bag a little tighter, and intensely staring down anyone who looked at you a little odd on the tram. It even got to the point where you had stepped off the tram, and spent the ten minute walk between there and the shop glancing down any alleyways as subtle as you could, even though you knew you would spot anyone against the white snow that reflected the morning sun into your poor, suffering eyes anyway.

Unlocking the shop doors, you stepped in, stomping the snow off of your boots on the mat before picking it up and shaking it off outside. Crossing the threshold of the room, you ducked under the rug into the kitchen, shrugging off your scarf and coat and hanging them up on the pegs.

You were just dusting off the old grandfather clock that was slotted between the shelves of smaller antique clocks when a knock echoed through the shop. Jumping slightly, you lowered the feather duster in your hand and looked over your shoulder to see the same mailman from Friday waving at you through the window in the door, his smile growing as you made eye contact with him . Placing the duster down, you quickly strode over to the door, twisting the locks before pulling it open and sticking you head through the gap.

“I do apologise Miss,” he began after you said hello. “I hate to interrupt you whilst your still getting ready to open, but my boss handed some priority mail to me – said I had to get it to you as soon as I could.” He held a letter out in front of you.

Frowning, confused, you slowly reached out and took the letter from his hands. “Okayyy…” Turning the letter around you came across some very familiar hand writing:

‘To Mr LeBlanc’s Employee.’

“Oh god.” You groaned quietly, your shoulders slumping. This could turn out to be quite nasty if this was going the way you thought it would.

The mailman glanced between the letter and your very prominent grimace. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concern shining in his eyes.

“Yea! Yea,” you breathed, glancing around the street with the dwindling hope that your client would show up to pick up his parcel, but the letter in your hand said otherwise. “Everything’s fine. Just some very small business issues.”

He glanced at your face again, and went to open his mouth, but hesitated, seemingly switching what he was going to say. “Well, uh, I hope everything goes well, ma’am. I’ll see you around?”

You nodded, still staring down the street. “Yea, sure. See you around.” You said distractedly. Quickly giving him a strained smile, you stepped back to close the door, and the man tipped his cap at you again before strolling away.

Walking over to the counter, you slumped onto the stool with a groan, chucking the letter down in front of you. Leaning your elbows on the surface, you rested your forehead against your palms as you glared at the words inked onto the paper. The way it was addressed to you already screamed passive-aggressive, and you hated confronting anything or anyone with a passion, and you certainly didn’t want to confront this Boudreaux guy because you denied his mum a Christmas present. With a loud whine, you slammed your head onto the counter before blindly patting the surface until you felt the thick paper and slowly dragged it towards you. Sitting back up, you held the seemingly innocent envelope in front of you, and stared at it for a couple more moments, before you couldn’t take it anymore and tore it open.

---

December 7 th, 1929

To the Employee of Mr LeBlanc,

I hope this letter has found you in post haste. I am deeply upset that you lack the skills of radio repair, after all it is a growing medium that most should be learning at this point. Therefore I have come to the conclusion that I will refuse your rejection. The fliers you put out stated very clearly that you could repair ANY object, and it would be very disappointing for people to hear that it no longer has that skill to offer, since the only other option for radio repair during these trying times is a very unpleasant experience with that owner I mentioned.

I do hope my Mother’s radio will be fixed on time, I do hate to disappoint her. If Mr LeBlanc does not recover within the period, or you have any queries about the repair, please call the number I have written below.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Best Wishes,

Mr A. Boudreaux

---

If your mouth hung open any further than you would be catching every insect that resided in the swamps surrounding the town.

Was this guy fucking for real??

You scoffed slightly. Then again. Eventually you scoffing spiralled into manic laughter as you guffawed at the audacity that this man thought he had. With wide eyes, you slammed the paper down back onto the counter, staring over at the wall because if you looked at those words any longer you would probably end up tracking this man down so you could shove his mother’s radio up his ass along with the fat metal rod that apparently already resided there.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed back the stool and stood up, deciding you needed you reset your mind before the first customers came in. Marching back to the kitchen, you spent the next five minutes sat in the middle of the floor, waiting for the kettle to boil as you very angrily stuffed the blueberry muffin you had brought in your mouth. You glanced at the clock and pouted as you realised you only had 15 minutes before you had to put on your best customer-friendly expression despite the metaphorical grey cloud that thundered above your head.

Thinking for a moment, you shot back up, chucking the muffin case as you strode back through to the counter, and snatched the letter up, marching back to the kitchen over to the rotary phone on the table in the corner. Picking up the handset, you pressed it to your ear as you spun the number written out on the paper in front of you.

It rang for a moment, and you tried to picture the man who would – hopefully – receive your call. You expected to hear the gruff voice of some 50 year old, that would start yelling down the line about how incompetent you were, especially when he found out you were a woman, before you heard a crackle as it was picked up and a polite and much younger sounding “Hello?” came through.

You froze for a moment, your vision of some rude, old guy whooshed away at the voice of a much younger, more spritely man, and you pictured someone like the mailman, until you heard a louder, drawn out “Hellooo?”, the man on the other end seemingly becoming amused at your lack of response.

Snapping yourself out of the character builder you had in your mind, you quickly spoke. “Hello, do I happen to be talking to–”

“Oh, I am sorry, my dear.” You blinked as you were interrupted. “But I do believe you’ve accidentally called an American number!” The man said chipperly, though there was a condescending undertone – his amusement clearly growing at the thought of your apparent mistake. You guessed it was when he heard your accent.

“I- what?” you stammered down the receiver.

“Oh you poor thing.” He simpered over the line like some fake grandma comforting you after you tripped over. He was clearly having fun – you could just picture the fake pout he was putting on. “Like I said, I’m afraid you have the wrong number.”

No, this was definitely the right one. His attitude over the phone matched his attitude in the letter precisely.

You could hear him being to move to put the phone down, and you quickly called out. “WAIT NO!!” you cried, on the verge of an outrage. “I definitely put the right number in! Now, am I or am I not speaking to a Mister Boudreaux?”

“Oh! Do pardon me.~” He practically sing-songed. Oh, so now he was willing to listen? “Yes that is I, and to who do I owe the pleasure to be called by an English dame such as yourself?” the fake flirtatious tone had you picturing the faceless man laid on his front, kicking his legs as he twirled the coil between his fingers. You pushed that amusing thought down, however, when you caught sight of the piece of paper in your hand.

“I got your letter.”

“Ah,” It was like a switch was flipped, the man’s tone darkening slightly. “I see.”

Rereading the words this guy had put down, you could barely control yourself, and you pictured the time your mother had marched you down the lane to the house of a boy in your school year. That boy had given you a large bruise on your forehead, and instead of telling you that he did it because he fancied you, your mum decided to give him and his family the verbal lashing of your life. ‘I’m not raising you to snap at the slightest pressure like those London lasses, my love’, she had said, ‘You’re gonna go down kicking and screaming like it’s the last thing you’ll do’.

And that’s exactly what you’re gonna do.

“Right,” you began, your Yorkshire accent coming on full force. “I’m gonna need you t’ open yer lug ole, lad, cuz I dunno how you lot do customer service over here in America, but bein’ passive aggressive t’ someone who’s literally done nowt to deserve the absolute shite you’ve just given me makes you out t’ be a right knob’ead, you hear me?” You reprimanded. “If you don’t get your arse down to the shop by the end of the week, I’m putting ya mum’s radio down as unclaimed and selling it t’ the next person I see!”

You quickly slammed the phone down, too fuming to hear anything that Mr Boudreaux had to say. The only reason you felt a little guilty was that you knew nothing about this guy’s mum – she could be the sweetest woman in the world, and you just up and went and threatened to sell her possession! Though, with the way her son behaved, you would be surprised if she turned out to be just like him. Ugh, then you would be dealing with two of them.

Letting out a sigh, you picked up the phone again, instead dialling the phone number pinned to the corkboard on the wall. It rang for longer this time, and when it picked up you received a very loud coughing fit. When it died down, you finally spoke.

“Ralph I need your help.” You groaned, plopping yourself down on the spindly chair next to you with a defeated sigh.

“I’ve got the worst customer in the world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Does uh, anyone want more memes?

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, and I do apologise for the sudden dialect change, I was desperate for MC to finally speak the way I do lol. See you soon for Chapter 3!!

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o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

[joanofexys]

now that youre done with school, im setting up camp here (your inbox), hope you dont mind.

soooo

i need you to yap about merrrick and jude's relationship

okay okay so,

firstly i'm so sorry i took so long to get to this i had to vist with like a million people and people kept dropping by the house for some reason to give me money

you are also so so welcome to set up camp in my inbox, you can even build a little house here if you want

anywayyyyyy Jude and Merrick

So Jude's a golden child and Merrick becomes a media darling partly because oh my god a fox went pro and they're not a complete disaster and also partly cause he's an attention whore and he ate it up once he went pro

So yeah they meet officially when Merr's 25 and Jude's 26. Jude makes court and they're eyeing Merr but ultimately decide to pass on him. He's a good player and he's good in front of a camera but any of his coaches past or present would tell them they don't think he's a good fit cause of the shit he's carrying and the pressure being court would put on his shoulders.

They had of course met in the past for college exy events but really had no reason to interact and didn't pay much attention to each other at the time

So yeah they meet when team USA is sort of eyeing Merr/scouting his still unnamed pro team and somehow ended up striking up a conversation (Jude saw Merr's tattoos and decided to compliment them and start rambling about/showing off his own). Jude asks for his number for completely professional reasons, obviously, and it largely starts with Jude texting him random shit at the weirdest times and Merrick either not responding or giving odd as shit answers because he doesn't know how to text. So Merr gets passed up on being court and Jude teTchnically has zero reason to keep in touch with him because they're actually not going to be teammates but now he's going a little bonkers. He's watching games, he's watching interviews, he's watching that one thirst trap edit that has a clip of Merr pouring water over himself after a game. He pulls back on the random texting a bit but still tells him good game and checks in regularly and well when they end up in the same area for an event it only makes sense to ask him to get coffee.

At the end of the night they end up in Jude's hotel room just sitting on the bed. Merr asks about Jude's scars, at the end of the day he's a fox, he's used to it but still curious, and Jude answers honestly. Merrick thanks him and offers nothing in return. And it's okay. A Fox and Trojan is an odd combination and for the moment they're content with what they have. Merr's glad to have finally made a friend after the foxes and well he doesn't know what Jude gets out of it but he's glad that it seems to be enough.

They go their separate ways, keep in touch sporadically, and keep a close eye on each other's careers. Team USA takes gold that year and Merr's team does well enough to keep him going and stop him from falling back into bad habits. They both tell each other good job, Jude's hand hovers over the call button, and Merr types a million sentences unsure of what he wants to say.

After that Jude has to sign with another pro team and he signs with Merr's. They're not the best team or the biggest but they're consist players, solid, and slowly working their way up the ranks. Jude has his pick of the litter and no one really knows why he chose that team when all his court teammates went on to one's with much better chances of winning but he seems happy with his choice so they don't push it.

Seeing Merrick on the court this way and how he interacts with his team is completely different from the Merrick he's seen in their brief moments of existing together. Merr's aggressive on the court, he hits hard, and in practices he doesn't tend to care much for the fact that he's often pissing off his own teammates. Off the court, in locker rooms and at team meetings he's not outright rude but he's not making any active effort to make friends and it's obvious his teammates aren't either and they've likely never tried. So Jude pushes. It starts with press duty together and they develop a good banter, a strong back and forth, and if the press adored them separately then they love them together.

It's furthered by Jude joining him for his workouts and for drills. They start running together in the morning. Jude never asks him what's wrong enough with him to have made him a fox. Merrick never brings up his scars again. They talk about movies and music and local places that Merrick has never visited and Jude is excited to see. Jude stops bringing up local bars and the club the team loves to frequent after the third time Merr goes oddly silent in the middle of a conversation.

Then Jude starts complaining about how his dog is across the country staying with his family cause the only apartment he could find at the time doesn't allow pets. Merr mentions his place does. Jude doesn't push. A few weeks later Merrick comes up to him in the locker room after practice and tells him if he wants his dog out here and can find a way out of his lease that Merr has a spare room.

So they become roommates. And they have to set ground rules. Merrick's rule number one is no substances in the house. Merr doesn't even keep over the counter pain killers, he'll call a team nurse if he needs them. Jude tells him he takes prescription medication for his adhd and depression. Merrick asks him to keep them in his room and expects that to be the end of it. This time Jude pushes. He figures he's given and Merr owes him nothing but he might as well ask if he can take a little in return. Merrick doesn't give him everything, doesn't give him much at all, but he admits he's struggled with addiction in the past. That he's been in rehab, he's clean, but he prefers not to take the risk of having anything around. That even if he's not tempted he doesn't like the reminders. Especially since he was living alone.

They fall into a routine and Jude asks for a little bit more over time. They have the same nights off so now they have movie nights. Stevie (Jude's dog) starts to join them on morning runs. She learns she likes Merrick's bed more and Merr learns that too when he's woken up by her nudging his arm one night waiting to be pet. He walks her back to Jude's room every night for a few weeks before he gives up. They switch off cooking and eventually start to cook together. Merrick will ask Jude questions. How has therapy worked for him? What does he do to cope? Has talking about things really helped? Jude answers and asks questions in return. Do you have someone to talk to? Do you need me to listen? Tell me something about you?

They become friends long before they're lovers. They like to exist together before they choose to be together. And something odd about them just works. I can't really articulate it well myself.

I don't know when they cross that line quite yet. I only have bits and pieces of what Jude learns about Merrick and when. But it all comes together, slowly but surely. Merr introduces Jude to Wymack instead of introducing him to his dad. Introduces him to Bee instead of his mom. Jude brings him home to California, they roadtrip so they can take Stevie with them and have a great time. Their team makes it to semifinals and they end up kissing on camera and falling down on the court holding each other, kissing each other over and over again. They hold hands in public and let the paparazzi take photos, they answer all the questions after games, and they make their own posts addressing it all. And it's truly time to wrap this shit up though there's much I could delve into I think and if there's any specific questions I will happily answer them but they end up as two very content dog dads to one very spoiled Stevie

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

are you canadian? the rent here is absolutely fucked

Unfortunately yes… this country is an absolute shithole. We are WAY worse than the USA. I’m not joking when I said rent where I live is $3k a month LOL:

Apparently Vancouver is the least horrible city in Canada (every other city you can literally die of frostbite just being outdoors 80% of the year lmao) but it’s still frozen like 10 months out of the year and the infrastructure is very undeveloped compared to the USA. That’s why rent is so high here.

A large percentage of Canadians don’t have a family doctor, you can literally die bc of the wait times in hospitals, we have over 60% inflation for food and basic necessities, the average salary is low AF especially compared to the USA, most people my age live w their parents, every time you go out you see addicts overdosing, the economy is DEAD, everyone is depressed, etc.

And we have this weird thing in Canada where broke people live in basements?? Like it’s $2k to live in a dirty basement underground I wish I was joking.

I’ve actually tried to move out before and paid $3k to live in everything from a hotel room, moldy asbestos-ridden dungeon basements, a shipping container, etc but in the end I was like fuck this and just moved back in with family XD

Now I’m just focusing on marrying my European boyfriend and getting the fuck OUT of here and advise every Canadian to do the same. Fuck this country I’m done paying taxes to these scum. Find a remote job and move to Eastern Europe, Mexico, Thailand, whatever bc this toilet of a nation will collapse and things will turn violent soon imo.