#like I get it his gloves and oversized coat made them look bigger

[nomoretumbler]

shoutout to whoever took the creative decision of making stevens glove arms his actual arms, you deserve a raise and a kiss on the cheek mwah

[jstxnes]

As it’s Christmas time, I thought we’d start getting a bit Christmassy over here ❄️❤️

Christmas Markets - John Stones

“Babe, can you get a shift on?” John calls out to you up the stairs. You roll your eyes as you hear his bellowing voice travel upwards.

“I’m nearly done. I..” You shout back down to him, giving up. There was no way a conversation of loud voices was going to happen up and down the stairs. You didn’t mind going out, you just wanted to know where. All you knew is that it was cold, bloody freezing in fact.

You walk downstairs, a t-shirt, oversized jumper on and a coat and gloves. You weren’t gonna die of a chill tonight, that you were making sure of. “Look how snuggly you look..” John grins as he pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you.

“John, it’s minus three hundred degrees outside and you’re making me go out in it..” You mumble, glancing up at him with puppy dog eyes.

“You’re so cute, baby.” He whispers, kissing your lips gently. “I promise you’ll love it.” He smiles as he picks up your beanie. “Thought you’d want this..”

“Thank you..” You grin, taking it from him and put it on. “Right, I’m ready for you to lead me to my death.” You giggle as he picks his keys up and walks out to the car. The cold air of the night hits your face and you shudder, the wind going right through you. You both get into the car, John turning the heating right up. “Should warm up soon.” He mummers, his hand on your thigh as he drives off towards the city.

He parks up just outside the City Centre. Was he taking you out for dinner? Drinks? You had no idea. You were just glad you were with him, no matter what you did or where you went.

He gets out and walks round, opening your door as you get out of the car, his hand taking yours and locking the car behind you both.

You grab onto his arm, keeping close as the cold air hits you both as you walk into the centre, just as more people were emerging and the Christmas lights shone throughout the streets, lighting the city up. You loved them. They were so pretty and you loved Christmas so it just made you happy.

“Where we going?” You ask as you walk towards Piccadilly, taking in the shining lights around you. “You’ll see..” He smiles as he walks towards the hustle and bustle of people streaming out of the Christmas Markets, the Christmas music sounding out. Manchester had many but John was hoping this one was going to be the quietest one. He didn’t want anyone bothering you both. “I know you said you wanted to come..” John smiles, seeing your face light up as you walk through the entrance of the Christmas Market.

“John…” You look up at him with a grin. It was true, you did. You were also wary of how busy it was going to be and John didn’t like being bothered when he was out with you. “Thank you baby.” You reach to kiss his lips. “I think it’s hot chocolate time first though..” John smiles as you weave through people, finding a place to get a hot drink to warm you both up.

You both stroll through the markets, stopping at different locations to look at the food and huts that were there. You stop at a bigger hut which was where you could win different soft toys. “John…” You grin up at him, nodding towards the cuddly snowman that was waiting to be won.

John chuckles as he pays the guy behind the counter, grabbing what he needed to to knock the skittles down. Of course, he did it on the first try. You weren’t even surprised but you were excited that he’d just won you the snowman. “He isn’t taking up my side of the bed tonight is he?” John asks as he hands it over to you. “Course not, he can sleep in the middle.” You grin cheekily at him. “Thank you, my love.” You kiss his cool cheek as you turn around.

“That’s John Stones.” An excited voice calls out, a girl looking over towards him, surrounded by her friends. They murmur with excitement as she walks over. “Can I have a photo?” She asks as John looks over at you. You nod, smiling slightly as you move out the way. You still weren’t used to it and you knew it annoyed him but he’d never say no. He wasn’t that kind of person.

About five minutes later he manages to get back over to you. You’d found a bench to sit on while you waited. You shiver slightly as you look up at him. “Hey.” You smile, cuddling the snowman. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He shakes his head as he reaches for your hand. “How about we take the snacks we got and go home, order a takeaway and have a bath so we can feel our toes and fingers again?” He suggests as you nod, lacing your fingers with his.

“I can’t think of anything more perfect.” You smile as you both walk out of the exit, back towards the car. This is what you loved. You loved that you could come out to these kind of things but you loved it even more that you were able to go home with him and relax with him and just be with him.

[scorsoneamelia]

It’s snowing out and scout and Amelia force link outside to make a snowman and then they have hot chocolate and all of that

AH!!! you don't even understand how excited i was to write this one!!!!!! thanks for this prompt!

AND AHHH i posted twice in one day?! that’s craaaazy.

i felt like making this post much more appealing to the eye and i added an amelink photo because my heart is so warm for them 🥺

             Snow made the world seem more quiet; more muffled, like it there was a thick blanket covering Earth’s surface. Crystals landing on top of the tree branches and bushes, freezing the leaves slightly making the world look so much more beautiful. A fresh snowfall always hit differently, always leaving a warm feeling in your chest and the prescriptive of the world changes. It was covering the roads and sidewalks, as well as the grass and the outside was completely white. So white that it was almost too bright, enough to make you squint and wonder if sunglasses for the snow were a real thing.

             There was a large snowfall overnight, so much snow that the cars were completely covered and Amelia might get buried, Link thinks, and Amelia disagrees because she’s not that short. The temperature dropped very low which resulted in the edges of the windows outside to frost over, the inside of the house being colder than usual and that’s probably why Amelia was throwing one of Link’s oversized sweaters over her head. She knew she was drowning in it, but the fact that it was much larger than any of her clothes and it was more comfortable, she was going to wear it anyways because it was also warmer.

             It was their day off, and Link would never agree with what she had planned for the day but it was snowing and Amelia wanted to make sure everyone knew that. The crystals falling from the sky were larger than usual, almost resembling hail although it was snow and it was adding more feet onto the pile of snow that was already covering the ground. 

            “It’s a wonderful day,” Amelia hummed while entering the living room where she was met with Link and Scout, who was busy playing with his toys on the floor. “It’s snowing.” 

             “It has been all week,” Link pointed out, his eyes glancing up to Amelia who stood in front of him, her smile so big that it even reached her eyes. “It’s cold.”

              “So,” she threw her arms in the air, a soft squeal leaving her lips. “Bundle up! We’re going outside!” 

              His eyes locked on hers now, his eyebrows furrowed together because he thought that was insane. “Amelia, it’s freezing out there.” But she ignored him, placing her hands underneath Scout’s arm pits and lifting him from the ground, resting him on her hip. 

            “Scout, what do you think about building a snowman?” It didn’t take much for Scout to get excited, but this time, his jaw dropped and his blue eyes lit up and he was cheering. It was his fourth winter and he has learned to love the snow, something he obviously got from Amelia and not Link.

            Before Link could interject, Amelia was already dressing Scout into warmer clothes, slipping mittens onto his hands and a hat, along with a pair of winter boots. Despite the layers and layers of clothes she had already put on him, she put a scarf around his neck to make sure he was warm. 

           After dressing him, she dressed herself throwing on a winter jacket overtop of the oversized sweater and warming her hands with a pair of gloves. Link watched her in awe as she struggled to put the gloves on, as if it was the most difficult task and she could barely move because of the winter coat and very baggy sweater that she was wearing. She put a beanie-like hat on her head, a fuzz ball sitting at the top that bounced whenever she moved. 

            “Link, c’mon.” She begged, grasping her mitten covered hands together. “It’s snowing.” She said again as if he had forgotten. 

             Impatiently, Amelia waited for Link, leaning against the door with her arms crossed while occasionally letting out an impatient huff as if she was waiting forever. “You know, I’m not a very big fan of the snow.” He commented, putting his own gloves on. “Every year, the winters get colder and the summer’s get hotter,” Amelia knew what was coming next. “I’m not afraid of anything except for climate change--”

           “Are you done?” She interrupted, her eyebrows raised and even Scout too, was leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. Link would call them dramatic, but he was in awe when he looked at her cause the hat was clearly too big for her head and even trying to cross her arms was impossible. And he couldn’t say anything to Scout because he was doing the same thing as his mom, a scowl on his face. 

            The door was being pulled open and the two of them had to squint, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the sun rays reflecting off of the snow, hitting their eyes at an angle that could have blinded them. They could see their breath when they breathed out and Link was already shivering as if it was that cold. 

            Scout was already starting, making a small snowball and rolling it into the snow to make it bigger. Ignoring Link’s shivers, Amelia joined her son and soon after so was Link. 

            Their snowman was big; tall, at least taller than her. Link could reach the head and although Scout and Amelia couldn’t, Link could so that means she was going to come up to the snowmans shoulder. (or what was supposed to be a shoulder)

            Somewhere between building a snowman and the two of them bickering about the fact that she couldn’t reach, a snowball fight broke out because Scout said so. The snow was soft, not too hard or wet ,but the both of them made sure to gently throw the snowballs at Scout, maybe a bit harder at each other. There were continuous giggles falling out of Scout’s mouth, which was only causing Amelia to laugh as well. There was a light in Link’s eyes, the same light that was there when he looked at her, the same light he had when he told her he loved her for the first time, the same light that made her fall in love with him. A light that made her feel special, his eyes sparkled and he looked at her like she was his world. (and to Link, she was his world.)

           She fell back, a sigh escaping her lips, with her back laying flat on the snow and she looked up at the sky, soft snowflakes landing on her face, wetting it slightly. Link joined her, laying flat on his back as well but instead of looking at the sky, he was looking at her. White snowflakes were dotting her dark brown hair, some of them landing on her eyelashes and there was a soft smile on her lips. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, and his hand was reaching for hers.

           Her eyes moved away from the sky and she turned her head to look at him, her blue eyes looking brighter against the white world around her and her eyelashes were wet. “You’re so beautiful,” and her eyes lit up as well, her smile growing bigger.

            “I’m in love with you.” She breathed, the sparkle in her eyes brighter than usual and she was smiling with her mouth closed, a dimple forming on her cheek.

            “I’m pretty madly in love with you.” He said back, the snowflakes were getting bigger and now her hair was almost white, but it was also soaked. Leaning over slightly, their lips were connected and his lips were soft, not as soft as hers were though. Link thinks she’s the only one he’s ever truly been in love with.

______

             Their snowman eventually ended up tipping over, the head and arms falling off in the process. Link was upset, saying it was a waste of time and he almost froze to death for it to end up just falling over, Amelia thinks he’s dramatic now. He kept whining about the cold so Amelia took the initiative to make hot chocolate for the three of them, Scout noticing before Link did.

             Scout and Link’s cheeks were rosy, and Link kept sniffling because the cold made his nose runny. Her body felt numb from being outside in the cold, the now warm fireplace heating up her body. Her hands gripped around the cup as she lifted it to her lips to take a sip.

            “Winter has got to be the worst season,” Link said, drinking his hot chocolate as well and Amelia was rolling her eyes. “It’s wet and it’s cold and-“

             “And it’s fun!” Scout interrupted, earning a loud laugh from Amelia because he wasn’t wrong, it was fun.

              “Don’t be such a grinch.” She mocked, a smile eating away at Link’s face. Amelia thinks this night was perfect—- hot chocolate, snow, her two favorite people; she didn’t need anything else. She was content.

               It was snowing harder this time, the sun was starting to set and the moon was peaking it’s way into the sky. Amelia thought the snow looked prettier in the moonlight rather than the sunlight, but Link disagrees.

             She was the most beautiful.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “A Beautiful Mind.”

Ok guys. I am back at school and so will have more time to write, I hope.  I will be looking for your suggestions and prompts to make sure I can still put out content.

Also in this story, I understand that some of you may have experience with places like this, but I did volunteer at a similar place and tried to describe it as accurately as I could. Most of what I depict here are taken from things I actually saw, so hopefully it seems accurate. 

Krill walked at the heals of his human captain holo-board tucked under one of his extra arms mimicking the behavior he had seen from other humans aboard the ship. Commander Vir walked in front of him with his uniform hat tucked under one arm. The long white hallway was full of orderlies scurrying about in all directions like ants through a destroyed anthill.  

“What are we doing here commander.”

The human turned his single green eye upon the Vrul doctor. His usual cheery smile had been almost completely replaced by a more serious expression. It was strange how the human face could do that, seemingly restructure itself to appear ten years older. When he smiled he looked his age, late twenties, when he put on his serious face, he aged almost a decade and a half. It was a useful tool as commander of the first intergalactic fleet of spaceships, but it was unnerving as hell.

“I have decided that it’s time you see something, something very important if you want to understand humans.” Krill  had to hurry to keep up with the human as he sped up aimed for a large reception desk at the end of the hall. 

“What do you mean.” 

“You’ll see.” 

They stopped before the desk, and a smiling orderly looked up from behind her computer, large framed glasses making her eyes look bigger than they should have been. She glanced down over the desk at Krill who stood very business like in his tiny white lab coat. He didn’t usually wear one, but the humans had insisted it made him look more professional.

“Commander Adam Vir. I am here to see Corporal Davis.” 

The orderly glanced down at her computer, gave a smile, “Oh I see, right here.” She stood from  her desk handing them two visitors badges, “Put these on, and then follow me.” Krill pinned the little badge to the front of his lab coat as he scurried down the hall after the two humans. The woman swiped a card, admitting them through a set of doors and into the interior of the building. There was one long grey carpeted hallway and many doors on either side. There were a lot of large white windows that looked out onto the surface of the martian planet, and its hazy grey sky and red soil.

Passing down the corridor, Krill saw many groups of humans milling about near couches and chairs, always overseen by one of those white-coated orderlies. The humans themselves seemed pretty normal, through a disproportionate amount of them had not changed out of their night clothes, and wore large oversized sweatshirts. 

The woman they were following took them through another set of doors, and then ran her key-card, “We call this the Venus Ward.” The three of them stepped through the door and into a large open room. Another three or four orderlies stood about the room staring in towards the center where sat a large set of couches and comfortable beanbags.

Krill noticed right away that something was off. The humans that sat in the middle…. well , they weren’t….. He couldn’t put a finger on it. They LOOKED perfectly human, but as if there was something….. lacking . A few of the humans sat huddled on the couches arms around themselves rocking sharply back and forth. They stared forward with unseeing eyes mouthing words to themselves that no one else would understand. A few of the humans had curled themselves into balls and subsequently fallen asleep curled in heaps of clothing that only appeared human on close inspection.

Occasionally a human would turn to look at them, and the way they looked suggested that the human was completely cognitively there. He could see it in their eyes, the curious nature with which they followed the movements of the alien and the Commander. One of them stood and approached. By all rights the human seemed completely normal, but the eyes were heavily sunken, the skin seemed to hang about it’s skull, its hair was stringy and limp. The body below the clothing was rail thin.

“Good morning Jessie.” The orderly said cheerfully, “Have you eaten this morning?”

The human tilted their head with an almost annoyed or inconvenienced expression, “I had a pudding cup for breakfast.” they turned their head towards the Commander, “You’re that guy from TV. The one who flies that space ship.”

The Commander broke into an easy, calming smile, “That I am. And you are.”

The human smirked, “Well that’s hardly important.”

Commander Vir tilted his head “Well I disagree very much. Your name is just as important as mine.” He held out a hand, “Let's try again. I am Commander Vir, and you are…”

Eventually the human relented and raised a hand to take the Commander’s, “Jessie Dean.” Their once annoyed expression couldn’t help but break into a smile in response to the Commander. He was just like that: hard to resist, as personable as he was. 

“A pleasure to meet you than.” 

By this time, their introduction had drawn the eyes of a crowd. Many of the humans looked up from their rocking or even sleeping to look over. One man, very tall and with long dark hair wandered over. He had a large smile on his face and introduced himself as Samuel. He excitedly started up a conversation about space ships only relenting when one of the orderlies walked over to fetch him. He walked away waving, and the commander waved back. He could have been normal….. Almost… accept for. It was almost as if the man had been too nice too innocent like a child talking with the knowledge of an adult. 

Across the room one of the humans began to laugh. Krill looked up unnerved at the human who paced about the other side of the room with disjointed bodily movements head shaking from side to side hands reaching up to cover his face every so often in quick repetitive bursts. The laughter died away to muttering though the pacing continued. 

As they walked down the hall Krill noticed a few more things. A human sat curled in the corner. At first Krill thought that he was wearing a pair of gloves, but on closer inspection, he found a thin blue energy field around the man’s hands. He reached up trying to gnaw on them,  but his teeth simply slid off the energy barrier. A few of the other humans wore similar contraptions. Some that immobilized the entire upper body while others held tight around the waist. As he watched, one of the humans lost his balance and tipped over saved from hitting the ground as a gravity field about the belt engaged lowering him softly to the ground.

Another human walked past them down the hall followed by a floating silver ball. Looking into her eyes, Krill found another human that appeared to be all there, but with a sudden burst of anger she swiped backwards at the ball. It dodged easily out of her way and kept coming.

Towards the end of the hallway, they stopped at a door, which the orderly opened, “Conner… Mr. Davis, you have a visitor. “ 

She looked back at the commander and then motioned him inwards. The two of them stepped inside the tiny room, barely big enough to fit the two of them, and the third person, who sat huddled on the floor head in his arms rocking slowly back and forth whispering. 

Commander vir slowly lowered himself to one knee, “Hey corporal, it’s me Adam Vir…. do you remember?”

The human stopped rocking at the sound of his voice slowly lifting his head. He had wide manic eyes, but as he saw the commander, a fragile smile broke out across his face. It looked as if he was about to shatter in half like a porcelain doll dropped to the floor, “Captain?” He smiled, “Long time since I saw you…. Long;. Long time….. Long like space…. Space… space, space, space.”

Commander vir placed a hand on the man;s shoulder, “Shhh its ok, you’re safe. There is no space here.” He patted the walls as if to give the man proof, “See, no space.”

Conner nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced, “How are you?”

The man looked at him with haunted eyes, and krill recoiled at the voidless vastness that reflected back at him, “There’s so much….” The man whispered, “When will it end.” 

They weren’t able to get much more out of him other than that first recognition. The poor man was completely lost. Eventually Commander Vir and Krill stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Commander Vir’s face was crossed with pain, “He isn’t getting much better, is he.”

The orderly shook her head, “Afraid not.”

Krill looked between them in confusion, “Commander, what is this all about”

The man sighed, and leaned against the wall, “I…. made a mistake, Krill. A long time ago. I was young and I….. well….. You remember Omnidocing don’t you?”

Of course Krill remembered. It was that crazy exercise where humans left the ship in a space suit on a tether, and then allowed the ship to cloak behind them giving the image that they were in space alone. The effects for humans could be anywhere from euphoria to spiritual to maddening, “Yes.”

He sighed, “Well, I used to do it…. A lot. The only way to legally get high without mind altering substances. Didn’t mean it was any good. I suggested others do it too. IN my idiocy, I assumed that everyone was like me, and that they would get the high that I suggested they might. Turns out, and I should have known this, That that is now always the case….. They called it Cosmic Hysteria back in the day, but I think they renamed it recently Cosmic….. Cosmic Exposure Dissociation Disorder. Some people when confronted with something so mind numbingly large ad empty just… can’t take it. He snapped. They say it's similar to Agoraphobia, but like a hundred times worse. Plus with Agoraphobia people aren't really scared of open spaces themselves but what might end up happening in those open spaces. With CEDD they are afraid of the space, but they also experience horrifying dissociation symptoms like they are going to float out of their body and expand to fill the universe…. To become part of the void. They feel like they need to desperately hold their soul inside their bodies or else it will escape.”

Krill shivered at the thought. He was incapable of imagining what that might feel like, “So… this place. It’s a hospital for the mind/”

Commander Vir nodded, “Yes. A lot of these people you see suffer from a disorder that doesn’t allow them to function properly on their own. Many of them might recover and leave…. Some of them may not. Many of them experience horrific auditory and visual hallucinations, some are just delusional, and others…. Well they are people who were just fine, and then experienced a traumatic event that they just couldn’t recover from on their own. A few of them have to be watched to make sure they don’t hurt themsleves…… it is honestly a shame.” 

Krill glanced around the room again surprised at the sheer amount of things that could go wrong. “It’s better than it used to be, of course. Three thousand years ago, the treatment for mental illness was different types of torture, and even after that things werent great. Women especially got the short end of the stick, they could be called hysterical for simply being a woman, and be locked away for no other reason than being sad on occasion. Even two thousand years ago things were still questionable. They didn’t understand how important activity is for these people, they'd just sit them in a room all day with nothing to do and put them on medication with horrible side effects that most weren’t able to stay on, on their own.” 

He shook his head, “IT takes a special kind of person to work here. Heroic really, because for me it’s just sad to watch. I can’t imagine being trapped by my own mind ...”

“Don’t you have PTSD….” Krill nudged 

“Not so much anymore, but I suppose your right. But there are plenty of people who operate with PTSD, sometimes not in a healthy way, but comparatively to some of these people, I can hardly compare what I went through.” 

***

Walking out of the building, Krill couldn’t help but contemplate what he saw and what he heard. A woman hunched over at a table arms wrapped around a notebook with incomprehensible squiggles on the inside claiming that the bible told her when the end of the world was, that she was thousands of years old, and that she had millions of children. 

He saw another person, with no more but the burden of immense sadness in her eyes, so sad that Krill had to turn his head or the pain that radiated from her was too much to bare.

The dark haired man waved happily at them as they left his wide innocent eyes devoid of guile, devoid of hate. 

It was a sad truth about humans, their complexly beautiful brain structure lorded over by so many chemicals and structures that, even the smallest issue had a similar chance, of being bypassed, or causing a butterfly effect that left the human bent under the burden of a crippled mind. The simple fact that an event, which caused no trauma to the body, could send the mind weeping to its knees was almost too much to bare.

Humans are physically indestructible on many levels, a powerful being with a powerful will, but even as powerful as their bodies are, their minds can be as delicate as glass. So please, I admonish you, take care of your humans, lest they suffer on the inside. 

Your mental health is just as important as your physical health, guys. Just like you shouldn’t ignore strep throat, you shouldn’t ignore your mental health. Please stop putting off your trip to the doctor, take your meds, try to get out of bed, and make sure to do something you love even if you don’t fee like it :) 

Orders from your friendly neighborhood psych student

[random-imagines-blog]

Makeshift Wings {Davey Havok x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2020 (Yikes) Summary: Sometimes, tour brings you to a cold city, and you have to find ways to warm up.

Huffing and puffing, you attempted to follow behind the band, but it was difficult. Your legs were laden with heavy boots, while the parka that you wore made you feel like a Tim Burton character; very top heavy. From beneath the scarf, the hat and the hood, your eyes could barely be made out, and because of those obstructions, it was hard to see where you were going. The sidewalks were packed with snow and your steps were very wobbly. There were a couple of times that you lost your footing, but luckily there were large snow banks on either side of the walkway. You had become very accustomed to the California climate, and being in upper Canada for a show was a total shock to the system. Snow blustered everywhere, making your very skin hurt. The concert might be postponed, you weren’t sure yet, but either way, you were stuck here because travel conditions are awful. You grew obsessed with the idea of going back home to the beaches, the sun, the palm trees. Everything that this city didn’t have. “Can anyone even see the hotel?” You asked, your breath steaming through the scarf. It was hard to see anything. This apparently wasn’t a blizzard but it seemed like one.

“We’re getting close,” Davey said, reaching behind him to take hold of your gloved hand in his own. It sounded more like mumbles due to his own scarf covering the lower half of his face, but you managed to make out what he had said. You took it gratefully, because at least if you went down again, you wouldn’t be alone. But you did manage to make it to the lobby of the hotel without any more incidents. Save that Hunter had fallen on his behind and  had to quickly request an ice pack from the reception desk. You groaned at the idea of more ice; at least that hadn’t occurred yet.

“Are you okay?” Davey stood near you and helped to unwrap the scarf from your face. Due to the moisture from the snow droplets, and your own body, it nearly fused itself onto the inside of your coat.

You nodded though you were still shivering. It had been a ten minute walk from the parking lot to the hotel, though on a nice day it might only have taken half that time. There hadn’t been room for the tour bus anywhere in the actual parking lot, so the driver had to make some quick decisions, which meant stashing it in an expensive lot. But it was the closest you could get, so it had to be done. “I just want to get into a hot bath,” You said, lowering your hood. Adam and Hunter had offered to get the room keys, so they were doing that though it should have been your job. You took on the role of tour manager, just to be closer to your boyfriend while he toured North America to promote the newest AFI album. So far, you dropped the ball with picking the hotel, but at least the rooms should be nice. “But I have to make some phone calls first.”

“Take your bath first,” He said, removing his own striped scarf and bundled it into a ball with yours. “I can handle a couple of the phone calls.” He looked at your face and winced, which made you immediately nervous.

“What is it?” You asked, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me that part of my scarf didn’t actually get frozen to my face. Oh God.”

“No, thankfully no,” He said. “You just look nearly frozen to death. I’ve never seen your nose that ... red  before.”

“Yikes,” Hunter said, coming up to you. He also was staring directly at your nose. You brought your hands up to cover your face, and could literally feel the cold radiating off of your own skin. You snatched the key out of his grip with one hand, still covering your face with the other.

“I’m going to get sick, I can feel it,” You moaned, checking the room number that was listed on the key. “I wonder if room service comes with cold medicine.”

“Let’s just worry about getting up to the room first,” Adam said, looking over at Hunter, who he was paired with. Jade had to share a room with his brother, who also worked as a part of the tour, and was always a welcome addition to the team. You agreed with that, still shivering beneath your oversized parka. You waddled more than walked to the elevator, feeling like the Marshmallow Man from GhostBusters.

The room had the heating on, keeping it at a comfortable temperature, but it still was barely enough. The first thing you did was set your bags on, and the second was run into the bathroom and turn on the taps so hot water would begin to spew. It didn’t take long for the steam to fill the room, and make it’s way into the main area. It was becoming muggy; and yet, you were still cold. You were a definite amateur when it came to the cold. Sunny California was where you wanted to stay.

You unzipped your coat with unsteady hands, then released your fingers from the gloves. The tips of your fingers were nearly red with the cold, and you needed some place warm to put them, stat.

That’s when you looked at your boyfriend, who had just gotten out of his coat and was lying on the bed in his hoodie and jeans. A small amount of skin was showing between the shirt and his bottoms and it looked oh so appealing.

You unzipped your own sweater, and threw it beside him on the bed to get his attention. You would soon be naked and heading to the bath anyway, so now was as good a time as any to begin to get undressed. He looked over at you with an amused look. “What are you doing?”

“I thought of a good way to warm up while I wait for the bath,” You said, in your most sultry voice. You swayed your hips in a dramatic fashion while making your way over to him, crawling from the end of the bed up towards his waiting lips.

Of course you were going to kiss him, anyone would be crazy not to. His lip ring slightly digging into your lower lip, the stubble of his beard. It was all wonderful, but that was not what you had come onto the bed for. While he attempted to deepen it, you lightly brought up his shirt, pulling it up so that it rested right above his belly button. You then slid your hands under the fabric -

- and gave him a huge shock as your cold fingers rested on top of his abdomen, sending a chill down his body. He squealed, an actual squeal much like the way that teenage girls did over him, and wiggled his way out from under your grip.

“Too much,” He said, pulling the blanket over himself so that you couldn’t do it again. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, but you pulled back from him and sat down next to him.

“Couldn’t help myself. My hands are still freezing,” You held out your hands, fingers splayed, so he could see the redness. After a couple more seconds, he took pity on you, and rubbed your hands between his. It definitely helped.

“When we leave, I’ll go out myself and get the bus driver to pick us up out front,” He said, breathing warm air onto your tender fingers. “Not letting you walk through all that again.”

“Hey, I took on the job of tour manager. I should be able to handle a little snow, shouldn’t I?” You scoffed, looking towards the window which looked out at the Canadian city. As if planned by the almighty, a sturdy wind blew against it, knocking over a chair that was on the balcony. Just seeing that made you feel cold again, but you managed to resist the urge to curl up under the blankets with your man.

But you had a bath that was probably just about full that you were excited to get into. “Come bathe with me,” You said, attempting to entice him. “It’ll be nice and warm.”

“Well now that I’m cold thanks to you,” Davey got to his feet, and started to take off his clothes. He didn’t make it into a show for you, but he never had to. Just the act of slipping a plain henley shirt off of his head was enough to make you nearly start gasping for air. The way that his skin glided over his muscles, you were salivating. He tossed the shirt onto the bed, unbuttoned his pants, then paused, staring at you. “Are you so cold that you’re going in fully dressed?”

“No, of course not,” You said, snapping back into yourself. You went a little faster than Davey did, but you were also more eager for the hot water. That was a wonderful thing about hotels, they usually had a good sized bathtub. And this one looked like it was made for two. You walked back into the bathroom, Davey behind you. The mirror was already steamed up, and the water was a few inches from the top of the porcelain tub. You turned off the water, then noticed there were other setting. You pressed on a button at random and jets started to rumble through the water. “Ooh!” You pushed another button, and some sort of soap came out of a spout. It mixed with the water, and fueled by the jets, became frothy. “We gotta get one of these.”

“Why not just an outdoor hot tub?” Davey questioned, sticking his foot into the water. You nodded in agreement, since your home was so much warmer than this place. Having it outside was a pleasant idea.

Once Davey got settled, you got in yourself. You relaxed against one side of the tub, while Davey was at the other. The spout was against the wall, toward the middle of the tub, so you could both stretch out a bit without worrying about knocking your head off of metal. It felt like pure heaven.

Davey turned to get one of the washcloths from the towel rack, heated thank the Lord, and you caught sight once more of the large tattooed wings that were on his back. You sunk a little lower, your feet at Davey’s hips, and rubbed up against his skin. “Hmmm...” You said outloud. He turned around and soaked the cloth under the water. “If only we could use those wings of yours to go somewhere warm for the night.”

“Unfortunately, they’re only makeshift,” He said, alluding to one of his older songs. You smiled at the reference, then that smile got even bigger as he pulled your feet closer to him and started to rub them beneath the water. “It won’t be too long until we’re back in California.”

“I miss home but I was thinking something like Hawaii,” You said, relishing the feeling of his hands on your skin. “And something that isn’t work. Though I do love this job ... shit, I still have to make those calls.”

“They can wait. You need to relax.” He hit a tender spot on your foot, and you winced. He was more gentle after that, more loving, making his way up your ankles and your calves.

“You got it, boss,” You said with a grin. Technically, you worked for the record label, and not for the band themselves. But you were supposed to take care of their needs. And if Davey needed you to relax, and to let him massage you in this very warm and bubbly bath, well, it was your job.

Best job in the whole world, you had to say.

[brownskinsugarplum76]

One Shot: Cozying Up

I have crossed the finish line! 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 All done with this one. @m-faithfull, here you go, the Robert and a librarian idea you gave me weeks ago. It was a good idea, too good to just limit to a series of head canon bullet points. So... 4300+ words later, here we are! Thank you again for the suggestion. ❤️❤️❤️

All right, file this under romantic smut, folks. NSFW but sweet. ❤️❤️❤️

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

It's Friday, close to closing time. You're sitting at the library counter, reading an erotic novel that you've hidden in a dust jacket for A Tale of Two Cities, so no one is the wiser. But so few people came in today that it really didn't really matter. Things have been slow because a snowstorm is unfolding.

You love the wild nature in this part of Wales, but you're concerned about getting home safely in your sedan. The last visitor, who left more than a half hour before, said that there was already a centimeter or two of snow on the ground when he came in. Between the snow and the ice, you're worried that the country roads could get dicey in the dark. 

Robert enters now, waves hello, and smiles. He's a regular when he's at his Welsh cottage, and the two of you have talked about books before, as well as the ancient, seaside splendor of the library at the University of Aberystwyth.

He likes to retreat to his woodland hideaway for a couple of months at a time between tours and recording jags, so you've gotten to know him well. He's always appreciative to be at your small community library, because the usual crowd is more excited to see a rare book come in on loan than a middle-aged rock superstar who is almost a regular fixture at certain times of year. When he comes he's usually there for hours, a single guy who needs some civilization when the wilderness gets to be too much. No one blinks an eye at his arrival anymore. 

Today he's clutching a backpack on his shoulder with a gloved hand. He's not wearing a jacket, just a cozy navy sweater, jeans, and brown leather Chelsea boots. The arctic blast has made his cheeks as rosy as they can be on his golden skin. 

You feel the chill of the cold, windy air behind him, and a gust of rogue snowflakes winds its way through the door before he can close it. 

He says he's surprised you're still here. You ask him how the weather is now, and he says it's bad. As proof, a dusting of snow has alighted in his hair on the short walk to the door, although it has already begun to melt in his curls. 

He encourages you to lock up, since it's so close to closing and no one else is there.

You've only got an hour left. You weigh the slim odds of more visitors coming against the strong possibility that you'll swerve repeatedly on the blind, woodsy roads, and you decide that Robert makes a good point. You make a quick "CLOSED" sign on paper and tape it to the door. You lock it and tell Robert to get the books he wants while you go to the bathroom. 

You grab your purse and coat on the way back to the circulation desk. Robert is already waiting for you with 5 books. You marvel at how he always seems to know which books he wants, how quickly he secures the ones that strike his fancy.

He's been working his way through the history section lately, and you chat while you check out today's selections. One book is lucky enough to have a glossy dust jacket, while the others sport their original buckram fabric covers, coated with years of greasy fingerprints, cigarette smoke odors, and coffee mug rings. 

You're always delighted to have a passionate discussion with him about his book choices. Once again, you tell him that he'd make a fine history teacher if he ever decided to leave the stage. 

As he's putting the books in his backpack, he glances at the one you were reading. The smirk on his face makes you uncomfortable, so you grab the book and shove it into your oversized purse. 

He comments that he's never known Dickens to be so hedonistic, raises an eyebrow, and asks if you're in the market for a submissive servant. You blush, realizing he has discovered that you've been reading Venus in Furs during work hours. 

He awkwardly corrects himself, clarifying that he doesn't want to fill this role for you, though he would like to get to know you better.

Now you're blushing for a happier reason. You've been hoping ever since Robert started visiting that you could connect with him outside of the library, since the two of you have developed a good friendship. At last, it seems you'll get your chance. 

You excuse yourself to give the library one final sweep, and then you turn off the lights and usher him out so you can lock the back door. 

***

You curse under your breath when you see the parking lot and your car, which is blanketed with snow and ice. Robert picks up on your distress and offers to drive you to his place, in his Land Rover. He says he'll stop by your place in the morning so you can get a change of clothes and then retrieve your car from the library. Or, since Saturday is your day off, it can wait until Monday if you can't bear to leave, he says demurely. 

His tentative suggestion pleasantly surprises you, and you smile and nod your head. Having a cozy, long weekend with Robert in a warm house during the winter months is the stuff of your fantasies. 

You think about where things could go between the two of you, and all signs are positive. He always seems glad to see you. He always laughs at your jokes and exchanges glances with you that last a little longer than they would with an acquaintance. He offhandedly invited you to get coffee one time, but you dismissed it with a polite smile, thinking it was just more of his notorious flirting. He never brought it up again, but now it seems he may have been serious. 

On top of what seem to be his romantic intentions, though, you know there's a genuine concern for your safety. He knows you're an American transplant, and he's fully aware that the roads, for all of their ice-covered, tree-lined beauty, can become treacherous before you know it. Between having a behemoth vehicle and a history of driving the roads in all kinds of conditions, he assures you that it's no problem for you to stay with him. He jokes that he was looking for someone to help him finish off the big pot of stew that his cook left on the stove, and that you've now been recruited for that task. 

You agree to the plan, and he helps you climb into the vehicle before getting himself seated. 

***

Robert excuses himself to light the fireplace. You wander aimlessly before heading to the kitchen. The house is cozy and rustic, with lots of wood trim and furniture, and a healthy dose of jewel colors used throughout.

You begin to daydream about what it might be like to live with Robert. You envision greeting him with a cup of hot chocolate when he comes in from a walk on a sunny winter afternoon, and then you imagine an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. You're enjoying all the fantasies that are building up in your head. 

At the stove, you notice two pots: one big, one small. Both are still warm. You take a peek in the big one, correctly guessing that it's the stew you'll be eating with Robert. The savory smell makes your stomach rumble. You realize that you never got around to having a tea break at work, so you find a bowl and a spoon to sample some stew. 

It's delicious. You ladle a bigger portion into your bowl. The other pot will have to wait for your inspection. 

You're a little embarrassed when Robert enters the kitchen, but he gives you a hug and assures you it's OK that you've made yourself at home. Inside his arms, you feel just as safe and comforted as you did on the road with him. You quickly gather things to serve two bowls of stew. 

He locates some butter and a loaf of crusty bread. He's placing them on the dining room table when you arrive with the bowls. Then he retreats to the living room, and when he comes back the sounds of Fairport Convention and Sandy Denny's expressive, dulcet voice start up behind him. 

He says he's in the mood for some good, old-fashioned folk music. He tells you about his love for the group, and you ask him how he came to sing with Sandy Denny on The Battle of Evermore so many years ago. He responds, and then he continues with interesting bits of trivia about how some of your other favorite Zeppelin songs were made. You compliment him on Kashmir, and he shyly tells you it's one of his favorites. You relish the opportunity to glean so many interesting facts from him.

When you've both finished eating, he starts clearing the table, and you join him. 

In the kitchen, you realize he set the burner under the mystery pot to low at some point, and now a sweet smell that reminds you of Christmas fills the air. 

Robert asks you to stir the pot while he locates a large thermos.

You turn your attention to the pot. You lift the lid, and you see slices of fruit lazily bobbing along in a red pool, with the occasional bits of spices. Mulled wine. You tell him you've never had it before, and he assures you that you're in for a treat. 

Once he finds the thermos, you admire its cozy, masculine, red plaid pattern and realize that your brother has a similar one. 

He lifts the full pot with ease and fills the thermos while you hold it in place on the counter.

He offers you the first sip, holding the thermos for you while he looks on expectantly. The wine is sweet and flavorful in a way that's different from regular wine, but just as satisfying. After taking several more sips you realize it's dangerously good. Between the wine and what Robert seems to want for the evening, what you also want, you're really glad that you don't have to work tomorrow or leave his country hideaway. 

***

He hands you the thermos and leads you to his library. There's a burgundy and gold color scheme in the cozy space, and each wall has a mahogany shelf, filled with books and plants. 

He fixates on some books and a notebook on the leather sofa and returns them to their proper places. While he's tidying up, you peruse the bookshelves. On the drive over you were thinking that Robert would be a haphazard free-spirit, with barely controlled chaos in every room, but he has surprised you again. The books are arranged in alphabetical order by topic, and a variety of subjects are represented, from histories of many different peoples of the world to drawing techniques, to mythologies of various cultures and even a few biographies about British football greats. 

You tell him he has a nice, well-organized collection and tease him, asking if he might ever be free to cover for you at your library. 

He shakes his head as he approaches you, lightly resting his hands on your shoulders. He responds that he couldn't be there without you; it wouldn't be the same.

Your heart flutters at his admission, and you caress his hand with one of your own.  He smiles, then breaks the spell with the clearing of his throat and invites you to return to the living room. 

***

He changes to a Minnie Ripperton album on the stereo, still in a mind for 70s nostalgia, and asks you to spread out a velvety scarlet blanket that's folded next to a brown leather recliner. You place the blanket at a cozy distance from the fire. 

The smooth, soulful, romantic vibes of Perfect Angel fill the air as he joins you on the blanket. You're sitting side by side. He asks how you became a librarian and, between sips of the warm wine, you get into a long conversation about the interest in books that you've had since childhood, your educational background, your favorite books, and your craziest stories of things that have happened in the library. He tells you about his favorite books, in childhood and now. 

He is the star of his own wild library story. With a glint of fond memories in his eye, he recalls an adventure he had in the stacks before Zeppelin, with an older playmate, a Birmingham college girl. He jokes that it's the only college education he's had. 

You drink the last of the wine and offer to refill the thermos. Robert refuses, quickly getting to his feet to take care of it. 

While he's gone you lie down on your side, enjoy the flicker of the fire for a moment, and then look around the room. There is art on the wall, and plants again, but surprisingly no television. 

You comment on the latter when he returns. He says he's banished television from the house in exchange for peace and quiet, but quickly adds that he reads The Guardian edition that's delivered every day and never misses his favorite football match-ups by heading off to the nearest pub. You admire his commitment to a true chance to unwind. 

He assures you that he isn't without radio, though. He turns it on to hear the latest on the snow, but here's nothing new to report. He shrugs and says with a mischievous, lingering grin that you'll just have to find  ways to entertain each other. That's exactly what you're hoping for. 

You're lying down and facing each other with the thermos between you, taking sips of the wine. You are in an exceptionally easy-going, tipsy state and catch yourself a few times giving Robert a longing, appreciative gaze. You feel like you're soaring when you realize he is meeting every one of your glances with his own expression of fondness. 

You boldly move the thermos out of the way to spoon with him on the floor. He wraps an arm around your waist as you turn around and back up to him.

You remember that he spent time in Wales as a child and ask him about that experience. With his mouth inches from your ear, he paints a picture of a young Robert who either raced through the woods at top speed with his friends, or was content to stay at home reading or learning the words to the latest songs on the radio. 

He speaks fondly of the wildness of nature in this part of the United Kingdom and recalls all of the mythological beings that he imagined were somewhere nearby when he played in the woods. 

You have been lulled into a beautiful state of contentment by Robert's words, the music, and the wine. In your relaxed state of pleasure, he bewitches you even more by starting a sensual crawl of his hand through your hair. 

He softly ponders aloud if the two of you would've ended up like this, entwined in a mellow embrace, if the snowstorm hadn't come along. You reply that you'd always hoped so, but you just weren't sure if he was being friendly with his chatter or really interested in more. 

He raises up on his side and guides you onto your back. He traces your cheek. Then, he leans over for a gossamer kiss on your lips. He offers you a soft smile and says maybe he should've tried to kiss you sooner. 

You return his smile and kiss him back just as delicately and tentatively, as though you want more but are afraid the experience will disintegrate, that it's only an incredibly sweet dream. But when he straddles you and serves butterfly kisses to your lips and neck, you know it's real by the warm shudder of arousal going through your body. 

The kissing keeps going, deepening to a fiery lip lock with dancing tongues. The warmth of the fireplace and the warmth of Robert's deliciously invasive kisses are heavenly. There is no awkwardness between you two, just connected, instinctual romance, just as easygoing as your banter in the library. 

You lightly grasp his shoulders, and he lowers himself closer to you. His hands cradle your face as he savors the taste of your swirling tongue a little more. 

Minnie Ripperton starts cooing suggestively about two people meeting, two spirits greeting, inside each other. It seems the universe has given the two of you a sign. You continue to become more physically acquainted with each other, one wet kiss, one curious finger, one lick of an eager tongue at a time.

You have fallen in love with the faint sandalwood scent of him in the warm months, but with his sweater discarded tonight, and quickly followed by his pants, he smells strongly of a woodsy cologne all over. It's an appropriate smell for this cold time of year, and you're sure it's one you'll never forget, as well as the memory of his finely chiseled, athletic, naked body. 

You also know, without any lovemaking having taken place yet, that he will have ruined you for other men by the time you leave on Monday. It's plain as day from many of the old Led Zeppelin pictures that Robert is astonishingly well hung, but actually seeing his steadily hardening member, which has been so integral to your fantasies, letting the truth sink in as you continue to explore each other and he tenderly removes your clothes, is everything you've imagined. But it's also almost beyond belief. 

Seeing his hardness in real life, by the glow of the fire. Tracing the prominent veins on the warm, smooth skin. Feeling the tantalizing heft of him in your hand. Tasting the slight saltiness and the pearl of early excitement that has seeped from his tip. You couldn't have imagined it better. But now, it's beyond the control of your daydreams, and Robert's wild card  movements and reactions are pleasantly surprising and far more alluring than any bedtime story you've told yourself about him. As you work his cock in your mouth, his hands lightly roam in your hair, over your shoulders and your back, and it takes all of your focus to keep yourself from surrendering to his touch. 

As if sensing your need, he stops you well before his completion and attends to you. He journeys south on your body, sometimes gracing your warm skin with the faintest touch of his lips and fingertips, sometimes trailing with the tip of his tongue, dwelling at the many places along the way that make you mewl and squirm. He is treating you with reverence and lightness, like you're a beautiful, iridescent-winged hummingbird who has graced his presence but could fly away with one false touch. 

You needn't worry that the evening will be chaste, however; his caresses, licks and, now, nips of your skin grow bolder by the second. He is using all of his senses to gather all the information he needs to seduce you in the way that most resonates with you, and you alone. 

By your satisfied hums and the non-stop slither of your body, it's clear that Robert has mastered a repertoire of your turn-ons and seized control of your passion. 

Under his velvet-tongued rule between your legs, he ratchets up your delight before backing off, doing this a few times just before the point of no control for you. He ignores your moans, and they evolve to cries and screams with each passing flick of his tongue in your soaked folds. He presses on with teasing that would've overextended its welcome long ago if it hadn't also been the most sensually intoxicated you've felt in your life. 

You clutch the sheets as the electric wildfire that he has unleashed from your tight bud has spread out of control. Your legs spasm, your back stiffens. Your breath can't fill your lungs fast enough. 

He knows you're close to physical nirvana. He coaxes you further in a hushed whisper, letting you know how beautiful you look while lost to desire. He coos some more, tells you not to fight it, to come for him, to give him the look that he's dreamt about exploding on your face. 

The sexy rasp of his suggestion, and a confession of him fantasizing about you are all your body needed; it can no longer contain the build-up of your pleasure. Your energy shatters, and the wild essence of you dissipates into oblivion for a time. 

The needle has been wandering aimlessly in the inner groove of the Minnie Ripperton record for some time now, and you get to gather yourself for the next round when Robert goes to turn off the stereo. 

When he returns, he tests the waters of your core with curious fingers. By the slick wetness and your hungry groan at his touch inside, he knows that it's time. He nudges the tip of his cock inside of you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, but the slow wind of his hips is reassuring as he ventures deeper into you.

Robert doesn't stop kissing you, and before you know it he's fully nestled inside of your core. He's still wielding his cock gently, but he is, nevertheless, mercilessly stretching your walls by his mere presence. He's bigger than anyone you've ever experienced. The satisfaction is unspeakable. 

Your life hangs in the balance between every stroke. Your breath hitches and you're reduced to desperate gulps of air. The gyrations that comprise your shared passion are tortuously slow, but you still find yourself clutching his back and crying out for mercy, as though he was fucking you savagely. The contradiction is blissfully satisfying. 

The tickling meander of his hands in your hair and the brush of his lips against yours provides some relief, but you're still spiraling out of control. He smirks with the cocky grin that you've seen many times before at the library when he wins a discussion between you two. He knows his time-tested prowess and his exquisite physical gifts have transformed you to a wanton, insatiable goddess, which is exactly who he hoped to find within the woman with the friendly smile at the circulation desk. 

His smirk is short-lived as you rake your nails across his broad back and arch more steeply into him. He growls softly, cursing and enjoying the tightness, and his breathing hastens. Now it's your turn to gloat. It seems you are affecting him as much as he is affecting you. 

You share a lust-soaked gaze, and you marvel at how the sounds of your breathing have synchronized. The joyous coupling has brought both of you closer than you'd ever dreamed you'd be to each other. The slow burn of your friendship has found in your hearts all the kindling it needed to make your relationship flame brighter and higher. And there seems to be no limit to the ascension of your passion and your fondness for each other. 

Both of you are desperately greedy for the escalating sensations, but neither of you is pressed to go faster or harder. You chalk it up to the blessing of a snowed-in weekend; you both know that much of the rest of your time will be spent exploring different tempos, intensities, and positions of togetherness. 

Your body meanders its way toward completion. Both of you glow from the fire, and from a sheen of sweat generated by your combined passion. Both of you grasp the other tightly, not quite ready to be swept in different directions by the full surge of climax. But the unpredictable energy has its way, as both of you loudly sing the joys of orgasm at the same time. Robert's pleasure is punctuated with the destructive force of a shotgun blast, while your full-body spasms seem to have no end. You voyage on the dying embers of passion as far as they will take you. 

***

Your eyes snap open some time later. The fire has all but died out. Robert's head is nestled between your breasts, and he is emitting soft snores into your damp skin. One of his hands protectively grasps your waist. 

You're starting to feel a chill where your skin is not in contact with his. You fondle his damp, unfurled curls to gently wake him. He purrs and slowly focuses his sleepy eyes on yours, as a crooked smile also dawns on his face. 

He parts your lips with his tongue, kissing you with lazy, loving energy. He now realizes that the fire is on the wane, and he rises to put it out completely. 

He helps you to your feet and says you should head to the bedroom to warm up and get more comfortable. You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him, and he takes the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms. 

Once he has placed you on the bed, you find yourself reeling from the wine and the passionate encounter. Robert holds you and guides you to lay your head on his chest when he climbs into bed with you. You caress his face and tell him how glad you are that everything tonight has happened. He agrees and kisses your forehead. 

He smiles broadly, and you know he's about to say something silly. And he doesn't disappoint: he promises that, now that he's sleeping with the librarian, he'll never abuse his power to take out extra books or keep them longer than he should. You can't help but laugh, and you tell him you're going to hold him to that promise. 

Moments later, Robert has returned to being your peacefully snoring prince again, by the sound of his breath. You snuggle closer to him and close your eyes. You're excited to experience everything else that the weekend has to offer, and you know you'll both need the rest to keep up with each other.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

[sir-quack-alot]

Final Fantasy: Cross Dimension

Strifehart

I was editing my lil book and am just enjoying a few of the moments lol, here is Cloud and Squall/ Leon first meeting!

Moving his body, he pressed against the abandoned bike so to rest his weight on metal mec, closing his eyes to enjoy the slight breeze of the far-out wasteland. Something about this place reminded him of home... About a certain mission he once did.

He was so relaxed that when the sound of another cycle hit his ears, the wind pressure of it already hit him making him jolt in surprise. Sterling silver briefly met with goggled-over blue and he froze at that moment with bewilderment when footsteps were heard approaching. 

Turning towards the sound he saw three wild animals, all bigger than himself. They looked a lot like a cross breed between a hyena and wolf, other features included but those two being the most prominent ones.

Their attention was obviously on the blonde biker but quickly shifted to him as he was unmoving. Reading his stance he prepared to take them on.

The first he dodged, catching the front heals as it flew overhead. The second, he cut clean in half... But when the third came near, he prepared to repeat what he did to the second when a huge sword cut in front and did the work for him. The rider from before jumping down.

The blonde took his goggles off and begun to walk towards him when Squall turned his back.

He wanted to ignore the rider and just leave now, but a noise had caught his attention making him shift away from his bike.

There, only ten feet away stood the now crippled creature, whimpering in pain. Feeling slight guilt and pity he walked to it.

Placing his hands over its eyes he tried to calm it down... Then, quickly ended its life. Even if they are just creatures, he will still show some sort of respect in ending their life.

When Leonhart turned back to walk to his bike the blonde from before was now hovering over him and he jumped, tripping over the body when he felt strong arms grip his waist and balance him back up.

Stormy Grey opened wide in mild shock before a light blush coated him and he pushed away, walking towards his mec.

Cloud, "you know I didn't just stop my bike and parked near you to be ignored?" He heard the other speak, catching his attention.

Squall vaguely looked back and shrugged mounting his own ride. "And that's my business, because?" He dragged out. He could hear crunched footsteps before a gloved hand grasped the handle of his ride.

Cloud, "because I want to know why you're in my clothes." Came the somewhat growled argument.

Blank grey's looked at him then down at his slightly loose outfit, fingers grasping the shirt and lifting it up. "What? want me to strip in the desert? I didn't take them if you want to know. It was given." He rebutted back, and it seemed this wasn't the comeback the other wanted.

Cloud, "wow, you really are shit when it comes to conversations. How is Tifa able to deal with you?"

Squall, "Easy I don't give her abandonment issues." He fought back forgetting to clip his own tongue... But he had to admit, the expression on the other was priceless.

Leonhart had no time to waste getting more 'acquainted' with this blonde though and decided to shrug him off driving the bike up and then 360ing around to drive towards Yuffie and the crew.

He gave a single glance to the blonde before trying to race right past him. Little did he expect to be jolted as the blonde caught the front of his bike with one hand, giving a coy smile.

Glaring in disbelief, Squall saw the blonde begin to reach out for him and flipped back and out of reach. "Don't you have a vanishing act to keep to?" He asked, obviously annoyed, seeing the blonde shrug.

Cloud, "what about you, weren't you just trying to do that to me?" Was the simple response given and the brunet had to laugh, the sound dry.

Squall, "Whatever." Crossing his arms the brunet let his glare settle. "Let go of my bike, If I take too long a hyperactive ninja will never let me hear the end of it." He deadpanned, indirectly referring to Yuffie.

The blonde male smirked. "Yeah, Yuffie tends to be too much sometimes." Strife had somewhat conceded, showing he knew about who the boy referred too. Which did not really surprise the brunet.

Squall, "then let go of the bike." He quickly added afterward, and the blonde laughed more clearly this time, walking closer to the brunet instead.

Squall, not trusting the blonde, pulled out his gunblade and watched as bright blues trailed the blade down. Then, before he knew it, the blonde pulled out his own oversized sword and slammed his weapon into the surface.

Leonhart froze, looking at the far too close giants' blade, locking onto the crater it made in the ground then sneered. He stared silently at the embedded blades a second before shooting a fireball at the other, the blonde jumping back. Cloud seemed generally surprised by the use of magic as it was not usual one would switch between the two in his time period. Mage or warrior... This was different?

Squall realized the man's befuddlement and decided to make use of it. He constantly had to fight with the odds against him, so in order to adapt, Leonhart had made himself unpredictable. Quick and fluent. something this solder would soon find out.

Observing the solder carefully, Squall saw the blonde come forth, swinging down with all his power, the wind behind it nearly overpowering as he flipped away from Cloud and to the side.

Leonhart swung back the second blow, both blades clashing then disbursing and then again. The two continued at it for a while, Squall changing from defense to offense in quick succession, the other mirroring with more force and strength vs his speed and agility.

Leonhart could feel exhaustion begin to tether at the end of his subconscious and decided to junction Sheva, coating the blade and body of the other with her icy touch. The attempt was meant to just slow the super soldier down just long enough for him to reach the bike.

He heard the vague "really!?" and let out a small laugh.

Squall, "really."

Starting the bike up he zoomed out hearing curses escape the other and he couldn't help but feel amused... But if one thing was for sure.

If that was the Cloud he heard of. The blonde he was compared to. He was going to see him back home sooner or later... And that meant, a lot of problems in the near future.  

[callsign-chimera]

House of Gold and Bones [CH 4]

I haven’t touched this in a year and boy, was it hard to get back into it. But I have a new chapter for now. Feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy! 

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

WAR UPON THE SEA RAGING

Men of land and sea are baffled by the increasing resiliency of the enemy our Royal Navy battles. While the goal of reuniting the isles despite multiple insurrections is still fresh in the mind of each navy man, tensions are causing doubt and cause to re-think what we had once thought so easy. There is rumor of multiple dispatches sent to Her Majesty herself, Emily Kaldwin, and soon perhaps we shall learn of what is to be done to end this extended period of war.

And I thought it was over. Coby pulled his lips into a thin line and reset the paper upon the cold wood of the table. Smoke billowed discreetly from the corners of that taunt line as the ashes of a Morleyan cigarette were flicked away. The Overseer’s apartment was not so gloomy now that his remaining belongings had at last been brought to him, nor was it so cold. Despite the dull colors of the walls, it had turned out to be a cozy abode with the aid of a fire and installation of thicker curtains. The windows remained drafty, but that was something that he could no longer be bothered with. There were obviously bigger problems, none for him to worry about, but it provided greater food for thought than his breakfast had.

Gristol at war again. First against itself, the Morleyans, itself again, and now another people Coby had no knowledge of. Yellow journalism was a must in the capital, so that only those with an analytical matter between their ears could detect. The nobility had grown soft and dull with their increasing luxuries over the twelve years that Her Majesty had allowed them to prosper. He almost couldn’t help but accept that. There were great hopes put in that little girl, and nearly all that Coby had left had so far been dashed, whether or not by her own means or something she could not control. Now she fought a war, the ones she talked about with Havelock when he would listen, and the ones she promised Corvo she would win. Now she had those ships she could crash into one another, the men she would expend to do so - and through all the dressed up journalism, the Vice Overseer could see that neither went in her favor. He scoffed and took a long draw of his cigarette.

His eyes locked on the window and squinted against the light. In light of Her Majesty, where was His Majesty? The one few spoke of and even fewer seemed to know about. Was he someone only the court and Emily’s advisers knew of, was there even a wedding? All the years in his home country, all the years stalking the docks, purchasing paper after paper for some false hope the little Empress and her crown had dashed, never had he heard of the Imperial’s betrothal. Corvo was a man to keep secrets, and through most of her upbringing, perhaps he had, but for a royal wedding? It was not a simple thing to keep hush-hush. Even a priest of the Everyman knew that. Coby sated his curiosity by telling himself he would find out soon enough, but enough time had passed for her word to meet his ears, and for that task to be completed. He was anxious and restless, with everything he had learned - His Majesty was someone who would give him questions, and Corvo was the man for answers. Eager to acquire the least and most specific of both, the Overseer had spent the last week over-analysing his findings from the archive. His notes on recent exorcisms and happenings between the Overseers of Karnaca, the Sisters of the Oracular Order, and the head of it all in Dunwall proved enough for him to lead his own investigation. It was most troubling, however, to confront the letter the High Overseer kept from him, and the items he hid away. He could only begin to wonder what possibilities it held, what secrets it revealed about the people who would rather hide it all. Coby narrowed his eyes at the hypnotizing light. His head threatened to pound as he continued to think, and think, and think. Cold as it was outside, he needed its air.

He rose, holding his cigarette between his lips and returning to his room to fetch his coat and boots. Upon entering his room, he took notice of the clutter on the desk, the mess his bed had become, and the dust that settled upon the mantle. The sudden urge to clean was a wave he must ride to its fullest if he was never to get such a thing done, but now was not the time. He had a few other ideas in mind, one that became a priority as his eyes settled upon the unfinished letter he had carried with him to the capital. The seal of the Abbey shone in shimmering gold still, though the ink had settled and begun to fade. There was still much that could be done, one he believed a few old friends could help with.

Coby donned his sturdier boots, his thickest coat of black cloth and down feather insulation, a scarf, his gloves; the letter was tucked away in his breast pocket, and he made for the door. A wave of his hand over the hearth as the crossed the main room, a sigil appeared, and the fire snuffed itself out.  

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Financial District was as cold and lifeless as it had always been. Towering, beautiful buildings coated in snow with dull windows reflecting little of the light that shone through the clouds. People paced the streets in their best, men in suits that showed off their standing and women in attire that made Coby wonder if they ever felt the cold. The woman he was looking for would be wearing something more practical, and even if she was, she wouldn’t be outside. Keeping his eyes roughly raised to navigate, he managed to avoid any long winded conversations with the passers by who recognized him as an Overseer. Kind words and greetings were shared before he dismissed the last of his greeters and disappeared into a building.

Inside it was dark as the windows refused to shine light beyond their dirty frames, but the interior itself was lovely. Marble made up the floor and dark wood covered the walls and the ceiling, creating a cozy space. Coby sniffled and moved to the distant desk and directory beside the winding staircase. He pulled his gloves off as he read the jumble of directions beside soft golden lights, pointing this way and that. Beside him was a woman hidden behind her desk, keeping herself busy and avoiding his eyes, even as he turned to face her. For a moment, Coby considered asking after his friend, then decided against it. Turning back to the directory, he took himself up the stairs of marble and wood. The offices she would be in were written to be on the third for, and after quite the jog, he stopped himself at the top of the stairs.

The atrium he walked through was far loftier than the floors below. A balcony winding all around the parameter served as the fourth floor, with its own offices hidden behind dark walls. Coby read the room numbers carefully. If she wasn’t here, then it wouldn’t hurt for him to check the Abbey’s Offices again. That was the last place he located a Sister of the Oracular Order, strange as it was. Edith was not like that, however. She preferred to be working and moving rather than being trapped behind a desk. He remembers a letter he received from her not long after his promotion to Vice Overseer saying that she pitied him for being demoted to desk work. He never replied. Perhaps he should have.

Room 105 came into view so quickly he almost missed it. The door was propped open and a pair of voices could be heard inside. Edith’s was one of them. She was speaking to another man who likely worked there by the way that he phrased his statements. Trying to outsmart her - Edith had probably proven him wrong and he was embarrassed. Coby smiled slightly and rested his back against the wall.

“You cannot simply pretend that this exchange never happened. And what would that look like for you, simply destroying them or taking them away?” Edith’s little voice came through calmly but firm. She was young for a Sister, but it had been made apparent again and again that she had a good handle on her work.

“It won’t rest well on my conscience, Sister, but I’ve always been one to do as I am told. The High Overseer insisted that these were not to be recorded, and that they are not to be shared,” said the man evenly.

Coby’s ears perked. High Overseer? Could this possibly tie back to that Karnacan exchange that flew under his radar so many years ago? How was it still a problem? 

Edith’s heels echoed in the open space as she stomped her foot. “They weren’t even connected to the High Overseer until he ordered them to be confiscated and delivered. The ones you should be reprimanding are the Royal Family. I refuse to allow this.”

The air was struck with silence as her words faded away. The man did not reply, but there was a shuffle of polished shoes on the floor. Surely he was contemplating. It was hard to act dishonestly with a religious figure present. Edith was supposed to represent what high morality was, what it stood for and what it looked like. Coby would be at her side, picking apart the situation without casting judgement. Then why aren’t I? The Overseer traded blows with his curiosity and desire for secrecy, however, honesty tugged at his heart hard. He was far from perfect, but that’s not what his title said. He could bluff.

Furthermore, the man Edith was speaking to sparked an interest. On one hand, he was no more than a financier, tracking and keeping a hold on the trades between his client. On the other, there were questions that Coby would like to ask him, perhaps he’s read something; he certainly knows something they don’t. But the Vice Overseer was not looking to interrogate the poor man, but he would not be willing to give up the documents to easily. Or would he? With a high ranking priest among them, the Void Watcher himself, Coby was convinced that his appearance alone could sway the defiant man into doing what the little Sister asked.

He huffed, he sniffed; he straightened his coat and brushed off the remaining snow from his shoulders and opened the door. When Coby met the eyes of the Sister and the man in question, he squinted against them. Their genuine shock combined with the bleached sky from beyond the windows was blinding. The Overseer allowed his icy eyes to adjust while they gathered themselves. He never expected a reaction such as theirs, nor did he expect to ever get used to it, but it would seem that his title held far more weight than he imaged, as it hardly fled the financier's mouth with as much support as the High Overseer’s.

“Overseer - Vice Overseer Martin, hello!” babled the man, standing straighter with wide eyes. “It’s good to see you in Dunwall. How are you?”

Coby greeted him and the Sister with a polite smile, moving to stand closer to the tiny circle of conversation. “I’m well, brother,” he replied absentmindedly. Icy eyes shifted to Edith, who watched him with equal surprise. “I’m here on an investigation much like our Sister here, and was told that one of you would be able to help me.”

The man eyed him with an unreadable expression, clutching the unblemished folders in his dainty gloved hands. His gaze shifted to Edith, who in turn hung on the silence, saying nothing to break it.

Coby chewed his cheek and shifted his weight. “The High Overseer was in possession of some documents that prove shipping and receiving from Karnaca to Dunwall, and then specifically to him. I would ask permission to view those documents.”

The financier assumed a casual position as well, finding that the Void Watcher’s presence was not as overbearing as he may have anticipated. “Of course, Overseer, however, those documents have long been archived. I have more recent trades in my hands, but if what our Sister said is true -”

He stopped as his eyes met the Vice Overseer’s again. They were cold but no longer hard as ice, however, they were as piercing. Coby seemed to look through him, and it words stopped in his throat.

“If I had not been as observant as I am, sir, then I may not have noticed that you just stated that you were to dispose of them. Is that true of all shipments to the High Overseer?” Coby spoke evenly, while Edith’s presence beside him was brewing with anxiety. The financier was a small man, and so when he seemed shaken, it couldn’t be easily masked, especially in the company of two of the Abbey’s keenest minds. “You can’t lie to me, brother.”

The documents that were in the noble’s hands were set upon an adjacent table as he passed it. Gloved hands were shoved deep into pockets and his disposition became agitated. Edith moved to collect the folders as her older companion remained where he was.

“Nothing gets by you, Vice Overseer, I know that,” said the man. His voice was firmer than before, calmer and confident. “What I do is to protect the Abbey. Should not every man do what they can to preserve the religion that guides and councils us? For these documents to be open to the public in the sense where any man could summon them, even the Empress herself, would that not endanger everything we stand for?”

Coby shifted, toying slightly with the bonecharms that hung on his belt. “Your zeal is admirable, brother, and your devotion is not only appreciated, but commendable. However, since this is an issue that concerns myself and the spiritual security of our Empire, I believe that I have the proper authority to conjure these documents regardless.”

The man turned to face the priest with a grim expression. “What does this all mean, Watcher? Does your foresight not tell you what will become of you if these shipments are revealed? Does that not compromise the Abbey?” His voice wavered with genuine concern, and his eyes spoke of a trouble that Coby’s gut had sensed a long while ago. But the fears of one man could not keep him from uncovering a mystery.

“You overestimate me. But I can tell you that there are foreseen troubles that do not concern you, brother. Sleep well knowing that the one who should be holding those documents has them in possession, and if I cannot take them, then allow me to leave with the knowledge of them.”

Coby did his best not to flinch as a pained expression met his own once again. He forced himself to meet the man’s eyes, trying to decide whether or not the emotion was staged. His intuition told him that everything was alright, that there was no further trickery when it came to the empire’s security; such phrasing had such an effect on people. The man agreed, and Coby was asked to follow the tiny financier down the hall to a separate, larger room. As he passed the door, Coby turned back to Edith and pointed downward, asking silently for her to wait for him. The Sister acknowledged him but did not speak as the two departed.

The man led the Overseer to an archive, illuminated by large windows that yawned upwards to the ceiling and nearly touched the floor. It was in no way as dreary as the first floor, nor as secretive as the one the Abbey possessed. With so much light, Coby felt as though he could see everything even if it was concealed. He felt a lack of security, but knew all too well how protected these documents were. The Watcher waited patiently as the man pulled aside a small stepping stool and worked his way up the wall to the drawer he needed. When he had descended, he held the bundle of papers close to his breast as he approached the priest.

“I may ask of you to take note of the information, Overseer. I can’t find the nerve to hand them over, even if it is yourself.”

Coby smiled slightly, kindly. “No worries. I’ll just have a look then.”

Gingerly, the papers were exchanged. Once Coby held them firmly in his hands, he moved across the room to a small table to spread them out. From his pocket he withdrew a tiny notebook and pen. Recently, he found it more useful to keep note of everything rather than finding a way to take all the hard copies with him. With most of what he’s looking for being written or printed, he found it to be less of a hassle to write what he saw over keeping track of individual documents.

The routes he recovered were as he expected, and he began to wonder if the morning spent accidentally frightening the staff was worth it. Edith was never one to worry when it came to getting things done, but Coby had conditioned himself over years and years not to come off so roughly. It worked for a while, but perhaps it was the title he was given that caused people to stress more than they had to.

After noting every detail he found worthy of investigation, he stuffed the notepad back into his coat pocket and adjusted the gloves on his hands. Coby turned back to the man who watched him so closely with an easy expression.

“You may do with them as you wish.”

The man nodded. As he recovered the documents, he seemed calmer, as though a storm had passed. The Vice Overseer couldn’t guess what his conversation with Edith was like before he arrived, but it couldn’t imagine it to be so stress inducing that he would fret at the sight of another holy man. Coby shelved the thought and made his way out of the room, leaving the shaken financier to his own devices.

He then made his way down the winding staircase again, finding his steps to be a little lighter than before. There was a weight of his chest that he couldn’t explain, other than he felt as though his personal mystery had been solved. Coby was hoping that it was only that easy, and that he could save the lecture for High Overseer Yul and His Majesty when he saw them. Time would tell, and so he did what he could to make that time pass quickly.

In the foyer, Edith was waiting for him. Dressed in her long coat, elegant gloves, and sturdy boots, she hardly looked the part of a Sister. Her clothing did not bare the emblem of either organization. Maybe it was better that way. They greeted each other with tiny waves and polite gestures as they made their way back to the street.

“Should I call a cab?” Edith’s voice was seemingly loud in the stillness the snowfall left behind.

“No, don’t worry about it. I prefer to walk anyway.”

“Well, I don’t,” the Sister replied playfully. “But you look like you have something to say. Just be my windbreaker, eh?”

Coby chortled through his nose and held out an arm to the younger woman. “If that’s what keeps your company.”

Edith held onto his arm loosely as they made their way along the main street. Rail cars rumbled overhead as they passed, leaving a static in the air. People moved by them briskly to escape the cold they never adjusted to. Coby kept his eyes forward and downward all the same as Edith allowed her head to hang where the wind could not catch her.

“Tell me something.” The Overseer’s statement was flat as the cold attempted to freeze his words in his throat.

“Hm?”

“Why are there so many Sister’s here? Shouldn’t you be in Karnaca?”

Edith adjusted the gloves on her hands and shivered as a small gust of wind hit her from behind. “The idea was simple enough. We were trying to compensate for your absence. With you all the way in Caulkenny, it would have taken weeks for you to show for any situation regarding the Void and its effects. So a few of us took it upon ourselves to make up for that.”

Coby frowned. He hooked his arm around the younger woman’s and stuff his hands in his pockets. “Why didn’t they just contact me anyway? Did they think it was insufficient enough?” He almost laughed. “The Abbey here has been slacking off on their responsibilities.”

There was laughter then, a light chuckle from Edith. “More or less. I don’t know, Martin, for you being one of the Abbey’s most important assets, you don’t turn up in conversation as much as I thought you would. We speak more about you in Karnaca and in visions of our own than we even hear of you from the people you serve directly.”

Coby couldn’t help but shrug; it was the only response he could think of to be appropriate. He couldn’t find himself to care too much about how people thought of him or how often he may cross their minds. The only circumstance that would cause hm to turn his head would be in circumstances such as this. He was needed, and by all sources more than ever, and yet he was allowed to sit idle while something so dangerous passed under his nose. The High Overseer was always the first Coby thought of, how his eyes were so intense, so set on his goal of ridding the Isle of this spiritual breach; his words were just as strong as they had been in letters, and yet there was no action taken to ensure that whatever it was would no longer be a problem; a threat.

The torn letter from the archives and the missing parcel proved to be a larger problem than Coby had originally foreseen. By all accounts, the Royal Family was accountable for parts of it, as well as the man who allowed all of their evidence to go missing. New questions arose as he and his companion continued on their walk through the frozen streets. His Majesty should send a letter shortly, and that’s what Coby kept telling himself. Questions would have answers very shortly, and if not, then he would back track. He would find a way to go back to where this mess began and start all over. High Overseer Yul would be facing his scrutiny, written request or not; and those amid Dunwall Tower would be not far behind.

It was not any kind of anger or overzealous righteousness that drove the Overseer to end the mystery at hand, it was his concern for safety, that of himself and the capital. The Void was a place that he had experienced first hand so long ago. For it’s spirits, artifacts, and raw power to be left unattended was frightening, to say the least. Coby lost his fear of that place and its demons so long ago; his only concern was how the fear of others would drive them, and what it would force them to do.

[katymacsupernatural]

Time Travel

Henry Winchester x Reader

2600 Words

Story Summary: Sent back in time, Y/N immediately connects with Henry. But Cas comes to rescue her, when she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

Written for @atc74 and her 2K gif challenge. I picked Henry!!

Never, not in a million years, did you think that time travel was possible. Not until your best friend Dean had shown up, claiming to have gone back in time, meeting his mother before she was born. It had taken quite some convincing on his part, along with Castiel’s agreement before you realized that it might actually be possible.

You never considered the fact that it would happen to you. Not the girl who was often left to research, or keep a look out. Sam and Dean made sure that you stayed safe, never wanting the darkest side of hunting to touch you like it had them.

That’s why you were pinching yourself right this moment. Wondering if you were in some sort of dream, or maybe Gabriel was playing a trick on you. There was no way you had somehow traveled back in time. It wasn’t plausible.

“Excuse me Ma’am, are you okay?” You heard someone say, a long fingered hand appearing in front of your face. Woozy and off balanced, you reached up, taking the offered hand. As you rose to your feet, you peered up at one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. His face wasn’t the chiseled handsome like your friend Dean, but more the classic, boy next door face. He seemed kind, and curious, his blueish green eyes staring down at you in concern.

He was dressed in tan coat and hat, a  dark blue suit, and a crisp white shirt underneath. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you glanced around him, your mouth widening when you noticed the scene behind him. Cars sped past, but not the cars you were used to. These cars were longer, bigger, with fins on the back, covered in chrome. Women walked past you, wearing tidy dresses, hats and gloves. Men were all dressed in suits, and the advertisement off to the side announced the movie a Night to Remember was premiering.

“What is going on?” You whispered, leaving your hand in his as you tried to figure out what was going on. “Where am I?”

“Miss, did you hit your head?” He asked you, his other hand creeping up to touch your cheek before stopping yourself. “This is Illinois, and the year is 1958.”

“!958?” You breathed out, your knees buckling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he guided you into the closest building, helping you into a booth.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee. And the Miss will have…” He started to order, and you realized you were in a small diner.

“A milkshake.” You whispered, hoping the sweet treat would clear your mind.

“A milkshake.” The man smiled, and the waitress walked away with her order.

“I know this is awfully forward, bringing you in here. But I was worried about you. You just seemed to appear out of nowhere, landing on the sidewalk hard.” He started to explain.

“This is going to be hard to believe.” You started to say, hating the fact that soon this handsome man would think you were crazy. “But my name is Y/N, and I’m from the future. Somehow, I was brought back here, and I don’t know why. I just want to get back to my friends. And I know this sounds crazy and you won’t believe me and…”

“It’s okay.” He assured you, reaching over the table to grasp your hand just as your milkshake arrived. Waiting for the waitress to leave, he turned those beautiful eyes your way. “I believe you. My name is Henry Winchester, and I’m studying to become a Men of Letters. Besides, your clothes kind of gave it away.”  

Your mouth hung open as you snatched your hand away, confusing him. Of course, your clothes wouldn’t fit in with the fifties. Wearing leggings and an oversized flannel, you knew you stood out like a sore thumb. “What are the odds?” You muttered to yourself. Somehow, you landed in the lap of Sam and Dean’s grandfather. It was so weird, so confusing, you pulled your milkshake towards you, gulping it down. “Do you happen to have a son?” You asked him, not knowing the Winchester’s timeline very well.

Henry seemed to puff up at your words. “I sure do. His name is John, and he’s a very good boy.  Strong and smart, yet kind. You would like him.”

“I would love to meet him.” You whispered, hoping you weren’t coming off as too creepy. “But do you think you could help me get back to my time?”

“There might be something in the books I have at home.” He answered, pulling out his wallet and paying the waitress. “You can come home with me, we’ll have dinner, and search through the books for an answer. I won’t rest until I help you get back home. You probably have a beau that is worried sick.”

“Beau?” You asked as you followed him out the door.

“Husband, boyfriend?” He questioned, and you shook your head.

“Nope. Just a couple of friends who are probably worried.” You told him, blushing slightly when he grasped your hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm.

After your delight at his older model sedan, you couldn’t stop glancing over his way as he softly sang along to the jazz music playing on the radio. He had a nice voice, clear and in tune, and you found yourself wishing he was singing for you, not to just pass the time. “So, what about you?” You asked him, and he turned towards you with a soft smile. “There has to be a Mrs. Winchester, right? Since you have John?”

His smile faded away, pain making his eyes appear even more green in the sunlight. “There used to be. But sadly, she passed about a year ago, leaving just John and Me.”

You shouldn’t have felt ecstatic about the information. After all, this was your friends grandfather you were dreaming about. Their Dad was at the home you were heading towards. But the way Henry smiled at you, the kind way he treated you, you couldn’t help but wish he was someone else. Someone from your time. Because you wanted nothing more than to get to know this man a little bit better.

“Home sweet home!” He exclaimed, pulling up in front of a small ranch house. Coming around the car, he held the door open for you. Guiding you up to the front door, he turned towards you, a shy smile gracing his face. “Sometimes John doesn’t take well to strangers. Don’t be alarmed if he dawdles or tries to hide.”

Stepping inside, you peered around the nicely decorated living room as he shrugged out of his suit coat, leaving him in a form fitting white shirt. “John, we’ve company!” Henry yelled, before turning towards you. “Drink?”

“That would be lovely.” You agreed as a sullen, young boy came out of the hallway. Immediately you recognized him from the man he would become. Your heart breaking for what he would have to go through. Knowing that you couldn’t tell him, or his Dad and change his course. If you did, you might affect Sam and Dean, and you couldn’t chance that. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“John.” He answered, sitting down on the couch as Henry came back with martini’s. Handing you one, he sat down next to his son, ruffling his hair.

“I was thinking we could have the meatloaf Mrs. Sanders left us.” He offered. “I hope you like meatloaf. I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook.”

“It will be fine.” You answered.

“Here, why don’t you search through these books while I place it in the oven.” He offered, handing you a stack of books, before him and John and left you alone. They were Men of Letter books you had never seen before, and you carefully flipped through them, looking for anything pertaining to time travel.

Henry came back into the room, sitting down close enough that his shoulder brushed yours, picking up a book. The two of you stayed silent, reading through each book. But you knew he was there. Every time his knee brushed yours, or his shoulder, you wanted to lean into his touch, trying to figure out your attraction to this man. You were drawn to him, more than you had ever been to any man before, and you tried to remind yourself that it would only hurt to get interested in him.

“I haven’t been able to find anything.” He apologized as the timer went off. “But after dinner we can drive to the Men of Letters chapter house here, search through their books. There has to be something.”

Nodding, you followed him into the kitchen just as John came bounding out of his room, a smile finally gracing his face. “Dad, I’m heading over to Mike’s!”

“Be back before dark!” Henry yelled as John raced through the doorway. “Seems that dinner is just going to be you and I. I hope that’s okay.”

Your smile as answer enough, and soon the two of you were sitting down at his small table, eating the meatloaf, laughing as Henry told you stories about becoming a Men of Letters. “I think you would make a wonderful addition to the Men of Letters” He announced suddenly, surprising you. “You’re smart, and you already know about Monsters. If we can’t find something out, maybe they’ll let you apply. And you could stay here, and we could… Well… What I’m trying to say is that I like you. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I haven’t felt this way since my wife died. I hope I’m not being too forward.”

“No, not at all. I like you Henry, I’m just scared that this will only end in heartbreak when I go back.” You answered.

“But what if you can’t go back? What if you came here, for a reason? You literally landed in my arms. Maybe you’re meant to be with me. To be a Mother to John? I know it’s a lot to take in, but please, say you’ll at least think about it?”

Nodding, you helped him pick up the dishes. Standing side by side, you cleaned up from dinner, when he turned towards you, his hand resting on your cheek. Staring up at him, you knew you couldn’t fight it. This man had been nothing but kind to you, a gentleman, and you had to know what it was like to kiss the man you could easily fall in love with.

His lips were soft, his kiss a gentle caress against yours. “Is this okay?” He whispered against your lips, and you nodded.

With his hands threading through your hair, he kissed you again, and it was everything you imagined a kiss with him would be.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he held you close. “That was forward of me, and I apologize. But it was wonderful.”

“I’m glad you did it.” You whispered. “Henry, I know it hasn’t been very long, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. Like we were meant to be or something.”

“I feel the same.” He answered. “The moment I saw you there, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

Smiling up at him, you didn’t hear the fluttering of wings. “Y/N, I’ve found you!” Castiel exclaimed, as Henry pushed you behind him, picking up the knife you had just cleaned.

“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but leave Y/N alone!” Henry exclaimed. Cas just cocked his head, narrowing his eyes.

“Y/N, it’s been difficult finding you. We need to go now, before my powers are too diminished to bring you back.”

Torn, you glanced between Henry and Cas. You knew you needed to go, that you would go. But you weren’t ready to leave Henry yet. You had hoped for just another moment with him. To be with the man who already had a hold on your heart. “Cas, can I…” You started to ask, but he reached over, grabbing you.

“Y/N, it’s time.” Cas announced, and you turned to Henry as the room began to move around you.

“Goodbye Henry…” You started to say before you landed hard on the ground.

Breathing heavily, you glanced up into familiar green and hazel eyes. “Y/N!” Dean exclaimed, helping you to your feet. “We’ve been so worried!”

Trying to smile, it fell short as you stood up. Your heart felt like it had been left behind in 1958, and you weren’t sure how to act. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Sam asked, as you sat down on the motel bed.

Both Winchesters joined you as Cas stood in front of you. “She was kissing a man when I showed up.” He explained, and both of the brother’s eyes widened.

“Cas!” You exclaimed.

“Travel to a different time, and you find a man to hook up with?” Dean teased, and you glared at him.

“Leave it Cas.” You grumbled when he opened his mouth to say more. “It was just a kiss. Sure, he was nice, and I wish it had been more. But he’s in 1958, and I’m here. I’ll never see him again. So, it doesn’t matter.”

Wiping a tear away, you climbed into bed, utterly exhausted. The three men stared down at you for a moment before leaving you to your own, no doubt noticing the tear stains you were leaving on your pillow.

________________________________

A year later.

“Y/N, I know you’ve gotten better at being in the field, but please. We need you on research for this one.” Dean pleaded with you.

“But Dean, I don’t want to be locked in the motel room all day!” You tried arguing, but he shook his head.

“We need you here, to research. But tonight, it will be you and me and the local diner down the street. Maybe even a milkshake.” He tempted, and you sighed in defeat. Nodding up at him, you tried not to show how much the word milkshake affected you. After coming back from the past, you hadn’t been able to stomach one. There were too many memories attached.

“Good. See ya later sweetheart.” Dean said as he shut the door behind him.

Sighing, you plopped down on the couch, channel surfing instead of the research you had promised to work on. Leaving it on some silly romantic comedy, you let your eyes drift shut, ready to take a long nap before Dean finally called.

Halfway asleep, you shot straight out of bed when you heard a door slam, and a body fall to the ground. Taking your gun from the nightstand, you turned to the main door, surprised to see it still locked, no sign of entry. “That’s weird.” You muttered, turning back towards the bed when you saw you weren’t alone.

Holding your gun in front of you, you tried to act calm. “I don’t know how you got in here, but I wouldn’t mess with me. I have a gun, and I know how to use it?” You told the man hidden in the shadows.

“Y/N?” A vaguely familiar voice called out. Your hand shaking, you gasped in shock as the man stepped out of the shadows, Henry appearing right in front of your eyes.

“Henry? What are you doing here?” You asked him, the hand holding the gun shaking.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it’s you!” He exclaimed, and in three strides he had you in his arms, his lips searching out yours. With no clue how he arrived, or how you would explain this to your friends, you wrapped your arms around his neck, never wanting to let go.

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[sakura-soldier]

Barry Madison - Avengers OC Uniform

Ok, it's been 1 year since I've drawn and uploaded an Avengers uniform design for Tracey. Fast-forward to January 2016, I found myself having an urge to draw her twin brother, Barry in HIS new Avengers uniform. He was originally a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but he and his fraternal twin sister ended up joining the Avengers sometime after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier (he's also part of the Winter Is Ending series, written by @winter-is-ending/Singer of Water). Back in S.H.I.E.L.D, he was simply known as "Agent Madison", but then a couple years later (read "The Fireman" by Just A Little Birdy on fanfiction.net to understand this pic: www.fanfiction.net/s/11575901/…), he discovered a flamethrower gun during a mission, which originally belonged to one of those cliched mad scientists, and had to use it to fight a monster. Because of this, the internet and the Avengers (much to Barry's suffering) originally called him Fireman, but then Tracey hacked into social media and she christened him with the superhero name Firebrand instead.

Weird thing was, I tried starting this drawing back in January 2016, but that time, I was struggling with how his uniform was supposed to look like AND I got swamped over by homework and stuff, resulting in a huge-ass case of artist's blocks for months and months, so I only finished part of the lineart until just now (late April 2017-Thursday. May. 11, 2017), when I finally got the inspiration and guts to finish the whole thing (even though sadly, it took me about a few months/1 year-ish to even finish). Also, the WEIRDER thing was that, way back before Just a Little Birdy's story was written, I came up with a DIFFERENT superhero name and power/weapons for Barry; I originally wanted to call him Endgame and I planned to give him special gloves/fingerless gloves (?) that would give him the ability to move objects around in thin air with the help of physical motion/gestures and telekinesis just after leaving a signature imprint on it (inspired by video game logic and abilities). Sadly, I had to start my concept over from scratch, as well as the colour palette a few times as soon as Barry became Firebrand (unless like, I don't know, you wanna see Barry as Endgame, maybe?).

So for this outfit, I wanted to give off some kind of connection to Barry's original job as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, but since he's an Avenger now (with a new alias, too), I wanted him to prove that he is more independent, less restrained by militaristic or spy rules, and have a sense of freedom and individuality, but still connected to the organization he previously (currently?) worked in. The difficult part though, was to not make it super flashy, let alone make it super obvious that his flamethrower-like gun/fire was his weapon (think Johnny Storm's powers/Fantastic 4 uniform, flame-patterned fabrics and clothing, warm colours like red, orange, yellow, etc..); otherwise, it would make him a bigger target for the enemy to attack or notice him. For Barry's uniform, his jacket (don't worry, he's wearing a short-sleeved top underneath) and leggings could be connected together with tiny metal hooks hooking inside the jacket and legging's waistline, as if it looks like a bodyglove/jumpsuit, but it can appear as separate clothing items as well. They are charcoal black (although slightly lighter) and slightly distressed with a bit of a metallic sheen underneath (you know how some leather clothing would have have shiny, iridescent, metallic layers underneath the original black, brown, or gray colour; it's kinda like that), but it's not too obvious. Believe it or not, the jacket was actually based on a black trench coat I owned, which has a high collar like the one Barry's sporting. The collar flaps, as you can see, can be laid flat like the ones from a leather jacket, rolled up to his neck like a turtleneck or scarf for warmth, or even pulled up to cover the lower half of his face like a mask or scarf for warmth, concealing his identity, or (if Stark Industries or other technology allows it) even acting like a gas mask of some kind. The jacket buttons are bright blue, but they could also be navy blue, silver, or black either in plain or the Avengers logo. There's even a darker black pocket on his left side for extra storage, which I got the idea from after randomly discovering a jean pocket from a denim bag I saw on tumblr. :P Since Barry and Tracey are fraternal twin brother and sister, I wanted to create a few similarities and indications that can imply that Barry's related to Tracey (the two uniforms have slightly loose yet form-fitting jacket, tight leggings, the asymmetrical zipper on Barry's right and Tracey's left, the buckles on Barry's left shoulder/his left and Tracey's right shoulder/her right that are inspired by asymmetrical leather jackets and Bucky's Howling Commando's jacket, belt shape, usage of fingerless gloves, and ankle boots), but it's also easy to tell that they're mostly different (by colour schemes, abilities/strengths/skills/themes, button and belt colours, zipper and buckle positions, silhouettes, belt structure, separate vs. attachment pieces, and shades of black in the leather).

The leggings should provide mobility and freedom to move around (and to give Darcy some secret eye-candy, mmm~), while his simple black ankle boots have flat soles, rather than ones with heels, laces, or buckles, so that they're easy to put on. There's a holster with a pouch on his right left while his belt design is actually inspired by chain belts and this ribbon-like version Dan Kuso from Bakugan: New Vestroia wore as his New Vestroia/Vestal outfit (you're gonna have to look him up though, to get the idea); the "chain" is more of a decoration than anything, but it can be attached or detached from the actual belt depending on what Barry's comfortable with. The fingerless gloves are two separate versions; the "outer" layer is technically part of the jacket is based on atheltic stretch tops, running shirts, oversized sleeves, and Quicksilver's/Pietro's (Age of Ultron version)'s blue Under Armor top, while the inner layer is a dark, inky black and they're actual fingerless gloves underneath, which can be worn together or separately for protection and to keep his palms warm.

Now, the most unique part about Barry's uniform are the flame designs that run down from his shoulders to barely touching his hands, from his outer thighs to his ankles. They don't seem too significant at first, UNTIL you actually look at them more closely. At first glance, people might perceive them as normal swirls, but really, they're stylistic designs of flames (ok, I struggled with drawing actual flames for his drawing that doesn't too obvious, is small enough for the size, AND easier to tell that it's fire, so I experimented with swirls and curves like I did with Tracey's hair and ended up creating my own flame designs, which looks really cool). As for the colours, you'd be surprised at how colourful they looked; depending on how Barry moves around, the lighting, angles, or even his emotions, either the entire designs or the individual flames can change colour, which can vary from blues, whites, traditional fire colours of red, orange, and yellow, or even unusual colours like purple, pink, gold, or green. But why those colours? Well, basically, they represent the physical states of fire, which can change into different colours depending on the chemical compositions of burning material, immediate reaction products, chemicals, and temperature. I recommend looking this up to have a better understanding of flame colours and temperatures: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flame. They also reflect the temperment and unpredictability of Barry's personality inside and outside of his missions. Also, the colours COULD also act like a mood ring, in which the flame colours can change and reflect depending on his emotions and mental state. BUT if Tony Stark, S.H.I.E.L.D, or other kinds of technology could make this possible, then the flame designs would also emit and/or reflect heat to keep himself and other people warm, could light up a dark room like reflective tape/glow-in-the-dark clothes and paint/reflective elements like in Pietro's shirt, AND/OR if Barry got manhandled/grabbed/physically in contact with the enemy (human, monster, robots, or otherwise), he can either unleash his anger as a trigger (like how Bruce turns into the Hulk) or use hidden buttons inside his uniform to make himself burst into actual flames that come out via the flame designs to burn or melt the enemy/enemies, but can be cooled off by self-control/calmness/non-angry feelings or the hidden buttons so that they won't burn his actual clothing. Either of the following options depend on @winter-is-ending/Singer of Water and her choices for future stories.

I also managed to provide colour palettes for the overall outfit and the flames (sorry if some parts are cropped up though; I think my parents cut off part of it with Photoshop without telling me -__-), and I tried to practice the jacket collar in two variations (though it's actually three) and Barry's hair with several headshots. The front view made him look like Finnick Odair (or maybe that's just me?) while everything else is either sticky-uppy or loosy and shaggy. (BARRY MADISON, YOUR HAIR IS AN ABOMINATION!!!! NAH, JK, I LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU HAVE HARD-TO-DRAW HAIR, BRO.) The materials I used were pencil crayons, two different types of pens, a thin fineliner, and a hint of eraser. It took longer to draw Barry compared to Tracey and I had to improve and reinvent a lot of stuff compared to what I originally planned, but I liked the results so far and I hope Mel would like it. *^^*

deviantArt version: http://artist-cupid.deviantart.com/art/Barry-Madison-Avengers-OC-Uniform-Design-680500893?ga_submit_new=10%3A1494763216&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1&ga_recent=1

Drawing and uniform concept design belongs to me, @sakura-soldier.

Barry Madison/Firebrand belongs to @winter-is-ending/@the-melapedes-main-blog (also known as Singer of Water.

Please don't use my drawing or uniform design without my permission first, thank you.

[jessicakehoe]

Read Chapter 1 of Ian Williams’s Exclusive Short Story “I Want It All. I Want It Now.”

We wanted our Summer issue to be special, as it’s on newsstands for three months. What we came up with is two pieces of culture in one: There’s a short story, a dark take on contemporary romance written by Canadian poet and novelist Ian Williams, and then there’s the regular Summer issue, featuring Kacey Musgraves on the faux cover. Below you’ll find the first chapter of the fictional story, “I Want It All. I Want It Now.” If you pick up our Summer issue, on newsstands May 26, you’ll find it intertwined with stories on travel, trends and all the other content you’ve come to expect from FASHION.

–Noreen Flanagan, Editor-in-Chief

PHOTOGRAPHY BY TRUNK ARCHIVE

Vancouver

Another woman

I looked at my phone for—no joke—15 seconds to respond to a notification. (My father. Could I work that afternoon?) And when I looked up, my boyfriend was checking out a blond in the checkout line ahead of us. He was trying to be discreet, absent-mindedly picking the inside corner of his nose and nibbling both of his lips, willing the woman to turn around so he could see her face.

I tapped my phone against the magazine rack and waited. I picked up a pack of Trident, glanced at the nutritional label, put it back. Unbelievable. Hudson was grinding up on her in his fantasy. From the back, the woman was either Dolly Parton or Nicki Minaj. Blond. She wore high-waisted mom jeans, a white crop top, hoop earrings the size of her bracelets and probably too much makeup. She was probably Botoxed between the brows, probably had too much filler in her lips and probably her face was coated in downy fuzz.

So you got a contract for a shoot in—Whistler? Hudson came out of his trance.

Mexico, I said.

Mexico. Even better, he said. You can swing up to L.A. and meet me.

I’ll be working.

He mouthed “working” and made air quotes.

You’ll be “networking,” I said. Same finger quotes. You swing down and meet me. I’m always the one following you around.

I’ll see. His eyes shifted to Dolly Minaj tapping her debit card.

Do you know her or something?

My mom had this poster tacked up in her workspace at Citytv. She was one of the first female producers there. Now my dad keeps it in the waiting room.

Yorkie

I lifted the dog from the examination table into a plastic bag. It was an old honey-coloured Yorkie with long bangs—a faded beauty queen. I took it down to the freezer.

We had one more procedure for the day; then my father would get in his car and drive to Whistler. He had a condo there and an Australian girlfriend who thought I should be teaching public school and nursing a baby at 25. Neither my father nor the girlfriend understood terms like contract labour, freelance, precariat.

I made room in the freezer for the Yorkie. As a child, I remember my father teaching me the difference between a carcass and a corpse. To me, it was all death, a staple black dress. But to him, death was more elaborate, like a damask pattern. The worst part of death was not knowing you were dead, he thought. Not pain, not leaving people behind, but the blindness of the dead regarding their condition. I closed the freezer door and returned upstairs.

Up next, we had a Pomeranian with an intestinal blockage. I held the dog’s head; my father injected it and cut its stomach open. Then we took turns feeling along the intestines for the obstruction. It was a good note to end the day on.

Sometimes he injected them and they didn’t wake up.

I learned early on not to be squeamish. My father doesn’t pay me. This is not my life. It’s not even my job.

Dye

How blond we talking? Ella asked.

I was sitting on the lip of her bathtub while she sectioned my hair into six parts. I had bought two boxes from L’Oréal Preference: my regular light brown shade, “Shade 36 Havane,” and my dream shade, “Medium Rose Blonde 823.”

I wanted to be so blond that I’d turn the festival into a testostefest of bug-eyed guys tryna get with me. Hudson would block hotties with his shoulder and say, You got a problem, bro? They’d scuffle. Maybe rip their white tees. Blood. Yeah, a bloody nose or two. I’d drag Hudson off the guy, then clutch his bicep as we walked away. From the back, my blond hair would be dishevelled but fabulous.

You gotta work on your feminism, girl. Ella put on gloves. What’s it gonna be?

You don’t think it’ll look like a wig on me? With my eyebrows and everything? I’ve got all these gigs late in the summer. I can’t show up looking like a bleached fern.

I like you dark. Ella shrugged.

But—

Odile, make a decision!

I considered the models on both boxes. The blond was radiant, but the brunette was sultry. In the end, I slapped the light brown box into her hand. Safe.

Ella didn’t look surprised. I almost changed my mind, but she ripped open the box and I knew I couldn’t return it. I leaned forward, partly so she could start with the roots at the back, partly to hide my face.

Ella and I were a year into an M.B.A. program, half online, half in the classroom. On the first day of Risk Management, I introduced myself as Odile, a model. The female professor said, There’s math in this course. The male students looked up from their phones and calculated their chances. All the female students dismissed me as a ditz, except for Ella. On break, she characterized the professor as the kind of white feminist who is a puppet of patriarchal oppression in all its forms, including capitalism. Ella had a background in social justice and intersectional politics.

You do realize you’re basically a white feminist, I said. She stroked her hair hand over hand, like a Kardashian.

I totally realize my complicity in the problem, she said, full of vocal fry. Then, seriously, she added: I’m in this M.B.A. to grow a dick and then cut it off. I should have introduced myself as Ella, I used to be a stripper.

Ella applied dye to the middle section of my hair, then to the front.

I told her that I caught Hudson looking at a woman in a grocery store.

She said, The same way you got him is the same way you’re gonna lose him.

I did not break them up.

You kinda did, she said. Karma’s not just the name of an escort.

I met Hudson in Risk Management. He told me later that his philosophy was always to approach the hottest girl in a room first. Go big. And there was no question who was the hottest in that room of cuttlefish. His words. He was with another woman at the time. But he ended that relationship (like a month after we hooked up, Ella would add here), and we’ve been together for seven months. We went public. Like Ella, he was only getting an M.B.A. as part of a master plan; his was for him and his band to be a brand. He was in the program to talk the talk, to learn the reptilian language he could use in L.A. to get his band signed. His ultimate non-sexual fantasy involved rolling across America in a tour bus and calling me from pay phones in dusty rectangular states. Some women like men with plans. I like men with dreams. Or fantasies. Even better if they included me.

Ella removed her gloves.

While we were waiting for the colour to set, I flicked my hand through her closet for something to borrow. Ella was taller than me so I couldn’t wear her pants, but everything else was fair game. I’d call my style “bohemian”—mismatched layers and oversized accessories—like a human gallery wall. Actually, I passed most of the spring semester layering Ella’s clothes on mine or Hudson’s. Sometimes his clothes ended up in her closet. Sometimes her clothes ended up in his. She slept in my bed some nights. I slept in hers other nights—maybe tonight.

Photography via Trunk Archive

Flight Centre

When I saw my hair, I reacted like women in makeover reveals. I wasn’t blond, but I was my best self. My mother used to watch Oprah. Call me crazy, but a good dye job always makes my boobs look bigger. I had to fan my eyes to keep back the tears. Ella tried to get me to spend the night, but I messaged Hudson.

Texts after midnight always got an enthusiastic reception.

Hudson met me on the street as I was parallel parking. Even though he was a few feet away, I could feel him all over me like a cloud of blackflies.

He fluffed my hair with both of his hands and pressed me against the side of the car. A lump in his sweatpants. I was wearing Ella’s sequined shift dress; slipping off my shoulders, it was like wearing moonlight on a lake. Hudson kissed my neck, kisses like bubbles everywhere. I had stepped into a glass of Champagne. I turned my head into the glare of the Flight Centre’s lights.

He remembered his trips based on what he ate. I remembered mine by what I bought: a Michael Kors bag in L.A., a Dior macramé dress in Paris, Gucci slippers in Ireland, a Van Cleef & Arpels pendant in Chile.

Then I went inside and surfed him like in the Beyoncé song.

Insomnia

I fell asleep while Hudson was making himself an avocado sandwich. I woke up a few hours later, and he was fingerpicking his electric Gibson. The next time I woke up, he was mixing music with his laptop on top of his keyboard. Then he was flipping through the FASHION magazines I had left on his amp, maybe reading the marginalia I wrote while I was reading them.

It’s like he wanted to sleep but couldn’t. I got up and went to him on the couch.

What’s bothering you? I asked.

He shook his head. He was bouncing his leg.

Photography by Robert Reader

I was used to his insomnia, but tonight his energy was more skittish. Maybe he’d had a late cappuccino. I put my hand down his pants to tire him out. He put his nose in my hair. When he tensed and exhaled, I lay down on top of him so he couldn’t move, so our heartbeats and breathing would synchronize and he’d fall asleep. (He believed in that cosmic energy stuff.)

But when I peeked, I saw that his headphones were on and his eyes were open.

At dawn, he walked me to my car.

What you got going on today? I asked.

He shrugged. I just need to get some sleep.

I nodded. I’ll leave you to that then.

I bought an Americano at the place nearby, but when I got back to my car, I saw him unlocking his bicycle.

He swooped a leg over the frame and pedalled hard the other way.

Odile’s story isn’t over yet. Where was Hudson headed and will his relationship with Odile survive mounting tensions when things don’t go as planned during a weekend getaway? See how it all pans out in Chapter Two and follow @the.real.odile on Instagram for real-time updates.

The post Read Chapter 1 of Ian Williams’s Exclusive Short Story “I Want It All. I Want It Now.” appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

Read Chapter 1 of Ian Williams’s Exclusive Short Story “I Want It All. I Want It Now.” published first on https://borboletabags.tumblr.com/