#local man too busy propping himself up at a weird angle to use his arms for cuddling

[lovewriting-5]

Part 1

Part 2

*Simon Itani x female reader*

We did switch off and on for driving. The first leg of the drive we stopped at a hotel halfway to Berlin. In front of the hotel, we saw a few cars in the parking lot. Simon pulled into one of the spots. We stepped out of the car, stretched and yawned. I grab my purse from the passenger floor. He makes sure he has his wallet. He locked the car and hooked the key ring on his right index finger.

We walked in to the lobby. The desk clerk looked up from his computer. I tell him “We need a room for two.” He asks “One bed or two?” Simon places a hand on my waist. I tell the desk clerk, “One.” He then asks “How many nights?” Simon says “Just for tonight.” The desk clerk looks up, “Where are the two of you from?” Simon says “Originally from New York but on our way to a small town in New Hampshire.”

The desk clerk says “Okay. Now, we just need a name and a major credit card on file.” I tell him “Itani.” and pulled out my wallet. I hand him my ID and a credit card and the desk clerk scanned it in the computer. He hands it back along with the room keys and tells us the best way to get there. Simon tells him as he takes the credit card and keys, “Thanks.” He hands them back to me. I place my ID and card back in my wallet and purse.

Simon and I walk back out to the car. We grabbed a couple bags. Trying to hold back another yawn, I give Simon a kiss. I tell him “I can’t wait to relax.” He says “Me either.”

The two of us walked back inside and followed the direction the clerk pointed out. I took the key from Simon’s hand and unlocked the door. Once inside the room, the bags were set on the floor. I sat on the bed and scooted back closer to the pillows. Simon stands at the end of the bed and sits down. Lays on his back and closes his eyes.

I spin myself so I am closer to him. I prop my head up on my hand. Simon flutters his eyes open a little and then closes them again. He just smiles. I run my fingers through his hair. I kiss his cheek close to his lips. He turns his head and my lips touch his.

We began kissing. After awhile, he pulls away. Simon stands up and walks over to his bag. I spin the wedding ring on my finger. He pulls a folder out. He sits on the edge of the bed and lays the folder on the covers. I sit cross legged and take a look. My legs are a couple inches from his back so I am to look at it from the same angle.

Inside the folder was forms from the realtor that we signed with a picture of our new house. There was also some information about the town of Berlin and his new job. I say “There it is...our new life.” He gently places a hand on my knee, “Yep, so weird to think.” I place my chin on his right shoulder and pick up the information on Berlin.

From the information, it was a small town in New Hampshire with ‘mom and pop shops’ in the main part of town. It also said that the local radio station, 87.6 The Moose is the only station for independent music. Simon mentions “Oh by the way, Bill Starkey called and he has invited us for dinner after we get to town.” I say “That is very sweet of him.”

We talked a little bit more about the town and his new job. He asks “So how relaxed are you?” I look at him, “Well...whatever you have in mind, I’m sure I can get a little more relaxed.” He begins almost like a little kid, “I noticed that the hotel has a pool and I mean if your up for it...We could head there and have some fun.” I lean in close to him but say “Let’s do it!”

The folder and papers stay laying on the bed. I grab my swimsuit out of my bag and head into the bathroom. I change and throw on pants and a t-shirt. Once I come out, he heads into the bathroom. He comes back out and throws on his black zip up hoodie.

I place the room key in my pants pocket and ask, “You ready to go?” He nods and we head to the pool. Walking by other rooms, we could hear other guests. The two of us would make up what could be going on in some of the rooms.

Once inside the pool area, we saw that no one else was there. There was a shelf full of towels near the door, we grabbed a couple and headed to a table. We set the towels down and stripped off our clothes.

Simon jumped right in but I made my way to the stairs. I took each step one at a time. He swims to the shallow end and shouts “Come on, get in already. It’s not that bad.” I tell him “I am...just have to get acclimated to it.” I can feel my teeth starting to chatter. He swims closer with a devilish smile. I look at him, “Simon, don’t you dare.” I put my hands up to stop him. He still has a devilish smile.

I reached the second to last step as he was just inches from me. Simon reaches out both arms under the water and wraps them around my waist. “So there’s nothing I can do now, I’m guessing.” I say with a smirk. He just shakes his head ‘no.’

He starts backing away from the steps. I feel my feet leave the scratchy stairs. Simon’s shoulders are just breaking the surface of the water. I place my hands on the back of his neck and run my fingers through the hair on the bottom of his neck. He begins placing kisses on my collarbone. I wrap my arms around the back of his shoulders. As a natural reaction, I wrap my legs around his torso.

We move farther down to the deep end. Simon let go. I swam backwards toward the shallow end. I ask him “I remember what Berlin was like when we went to go see our new house. It is weird to say. It will take awhile to get used to. What do you think living in the town is actually like?” He starts swimming toward me. I back up. He follows. We keep at this until he caught my ankle and pulled me towards him. His knees were now bent. I was now sitting on his lap. I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

He says “I believe it will be like any small town. They have their secrets and stories.” I look at him with an eyebrow raised, “Is this your creative writing side coming out?”

He leans in and kisses me. Simon pulls a few centimeters away, “Maybe.” My arm moves to the back of his neck and pulls closer. I just say “Hmmm...” I place my lips back against his. He got what I was thinking. We continued kissing.

I all of a sudden heard young kids talking to their guardians as they get closer to the pool door. I say between breaths, “Simon, stop. There’s people coming.” He pulls away and looks at the door. We quickly separate. The family coming into the area were grandparents with grandchildren.

The grandparents gave us a smile and say “Hi.” Simon and I say “Hi.” I walk to the 4ft area and pull myself up to sit on the side. Simon places his elbows on the side and we just talk. I was starting to shiver a little from drying off. I tell him “I’m going to go sit at the table.” He says “Okay.” And pushes off from the wall.

Once to the table, I wrap the towel around myself. As little kids do, they began chatting to Simon. He was engaged in the conversations. Simon and I have talked about having kids but we both been busy and we wanted to wait until we had a house.

The grandmother told the kids after about half an hour, “Emily, leave the nice man alone. Sorry about that.” Simon tells her “It’s fine.” The grandmother turns to me and asks “How long have the two of you been together?” I tell her “A few years.” She says “Aw, that’s nice. Any kids?” I tell her “No.” That was the end of the conversation.

The kids decided to stop chatting with Simon. He took the opportunity and hopped out of the pool. When he got closer to the table, I tossed him a towel. He wrapped it around himself. He says, jokingly “I think that was the end of that.” I chuckle.

I looked at my fingers that were wrinkly. I tell him “My hands are so pruny.” He looks at his too, “Uhhh...mine too. Oh no, I’m turning into an old man.” Water still dripping from my hands, I shoo some into his face. I say, sarcastically “Okay, Mr. Aspiring Author.”

We talked a little bit about our next leg of the trip. I ask “So when do you think the movers will get there and what do you think they will do with our stuff?” He says “I guess they will get there same time tomorrow and toss all our stuff out of the truck.” I tell him “I’m guessing in the afternoon tomorrow and they better not.”

After a little while, he asks “Are you ready to head back to the room?” I nod “Yeah, I think so.” We gather up our clothes and keep the towels wrapped around ourselves. The grandmother tells us “Have a good evening.” I tell her “You too.”

We walk into the hallway and was blasted with cold air. Simon says “Fuck, it’s cold!” We fast walk to our room, put the key in, open the door and I quickly turn the heat on.

I ask “Do you need to get in the bathroom?” He says “Not right now, go ahead.” I grab sweatpants, sweatshirt and toiletries and head into the bathroom. I turn on the hot water and let the shower warm up a little. I hop in and take a quick shower. Once out, I get dressed and walk out into the room.

Simon grabs his clothes and toiletries and head into the bathroom. While he’s in there, I text my friend and family to let them know how our trip is going so far. They both text back telling me ‘Once you guys get settled, we will have to get together.’ I see that he has turned the television on low. I grab my brush and begin brushing my hair.

When Simon comes back out, we hang our swimsuits to dry. Then we just relax the rest of the night. We talk about what is on, the trip tomorrow, living in Berlin and what we are going to do our first day in the new house.

We both were starting to doze off. I grabbed a few dollars of cash to head to the vending machine. I ask Simon, “Babe, do you want anything from the vending machine?” Simon says “Maybe...surprise me.” I kissed him and then left. I got there and bought a couple things of chips and a couple drinks.

I get back to the room, open the door and say “Dinner is served.” He was sitting against the head board with an arm resting behind his head. He smiles and says “Oooh, my favorite.” I sit back down next to him. We ate and drank what I bought. After a little bit, I decided to get ready for bed. I brush my teeth and crawl into bed. After a few minutes, he gets ready and joins me.

Simon wraps his arms around me and I run my fingers up and down his arm. He kisses my right temple. I turn my head and kiss him. The kiss lasted for a little bit and then we tried to go to sleep.

The next morning, we woke up and began getting ready to check out. We did a few check overs to make sure we had everything packed up. We then headed to the front desk to drop off the key and then headed to the car.

We placed our bags in the back and in the back seat. Simon got in the driver seat again and I in the passenger seat. The second leg took us to a small town just outside of Berlin, New Hampshire. Same thing as before, we just stopped at a small motel and spent the night.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Swan Song

I have not technically forgotten my other works, but this one is really old (like pre Winter Soldier) and I’d like to finish it so I’m gonna start posting it here. Spoiler alert, it’s dark and kinda? Weird? (basically lots of smut and meant to be kinky but like who knows with my writing)

Shortly after the events of New York (Avengers) Thor and Loki return to Asgard. Loki to be locked away in prison and Thor to clean up messes of the realms caused by his destruction of the Bifrost. Instead of staying locked up, Loki escapes and returns to Earth, hellbent on getting his throne. He has employed you, his temptress lover, to strike down his enemies when they least expect it. However, he absolutely hates the thought of another touching you (even if it’s by his own orders). So whenever you return to him, he is certain to claim you passionately, often using clones of himself so he can forget the visual of another person touching you. There is no redemption and Loki is not tragic, he's ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants, and you support him completely.

Natasha stood in the cold, muttering under her breath as she waited in line for coffee. The hood of her jacket was pulled low over her head, obscuring her fiery hair and attempting to block out the cold air.

She stomped her feet impatiently as she tried to keep the feeling in her toes.

‘Just getting a coffee, he’ll call back soon. I’ll kill him after he answers.’ Natasha thought as she pulled her phone from her pocket. Still nothing, no messages. She cursed, something about her native language made the phrases more satisfying.

“You want to order, yes?” A tall dark man stood behind the counter at the outdoor coffee kiosk.

Natasha looked up startled before mentally kicking herself for such a drop in vigilance.

“Yea, I-“

“Too bad.” He sneered, slamming the awning shut.

Natasha wanted to scream in frustration but she held back. Offering a nonchalant shrug, she strolled away, visibly bored with the situation.

Internally, her emotions were roiling. ‘Why hasn’t he answered? This is his emergency contact line. What. The. Hell. Barton.’

She sat down on a bench nearby. It seemed of her body’s own volition that she wandered to a nearby park. Nature was calming, less outside noise and less chance of being disturbed.

But she was already thinking back to the phone call.

That deep voice, dark and cold, had promised her Barton was compromised. But she had just talked to Barton, he was fine. Her forcefully maintained composure was slipping, Barton swore he was fine but could she really trust him after all he’s been through?

“Answer the phone, please.” She pleaded at the device.

Natasha balled her hands into fists inside her pockets. The skin would be white from pressure and her palms were in danger of bleeding, cut by her nails. Natasha pulled her hands from her jacket, stretching her fingers before her, focusing on her breathing and willing herself to relax. Three hours was too long. Clint swore on every possession, every promise, every life, that if she needed him, he would answer this phone.

He wasn’t answering.

She clenched her teeth and managed a strangled scream, it was nearly silent though a few local birds – brave enough to face the cold rain – looked her way.

She pulled out the phone and dialed. “Fine!” She hissed into the receiver, then paused and straightened her breathing. She forced a smile to her face, crossing her legs and leaning back in the seat. To any passerby, she looked like she was chatting with an old schoolmate, maybe even a friendly colleague.

“I believe you.” Her eyes flashed and then the mask was set perfectly. “Let’s talk, shall we?”

Over the line, a dark voice chuckled, sending chills down her spine. “Come into my web, said the spider to the fly.” The voice practically purred at her.

Natasha laughed, “Oh, so you still go by that name?”

“Drop the pretenses. We’re talking plainly. I don’t feel like stepping around niceties right now.”

“Aww, honey, that’s so cute!” Natasha laughed, her face breaking into a grin. There was silence and the mask faltered as Natasha waited.

There was a melodic hum on the phone followed by a piercing scream. Then the scream stopped and it was eerily quiet. Natasha waited, holding her breath, expecting a comment. That’s what people do. They comment. They do something horrible, comment and you can react.

Nothing.

A game of wills. Whoever breaks the silence loses.

Natasha held her breath.

“I’m impressed.” The voice said finally. “I daresay that scream might be familiar to you. Very well. That concludes our business.”

This scream managed to be louder and more intense, it wrenched at Natasha’s heart and she shut her eyes, trying not to think of the implications. Then the scream stopped, a click, and the line went quiet.

“He hung up.” Natasha breathed out, horrified. She shook her head, staring down at the phone. “He… He hung up.”

She bit down on her knuckles to silence the yell of frustration. Hating herself for the weakness she was showing, she frantically dialed the number. It rang once and stopped. ‘Must be some kind of mistake.’ She called again. One ring. Silence.

Natasha blanched, thinking she would be sick then called a third time. One ring. Then two. She felt a flutter of hope. Then silence yet again.

She put her head in her hands, wanting to cry but not letting herself, not yet. There was still a chance.

She called again.

This time it connected on the first ring. Cold laughter echoed through the receiver. “My… I do wish I could see the look on your face right now.” More laughter.

“Hysterical.” She snarled.

“Has the widow lost control?” More of that harsh cold laughter. Natasha grit her teeth, shaking in helpless rage. Then the laughter stopped and the cold voice was deathly serious. “Hang up again and the screaming will not stop. He will scream until his vocal chords fail and he is left coughing up his blood, the choking, ripping of his throat will be the only sound he can make. Do you understand me?” The voice snarled the last sentence.

Natasha felt a small sense of satisfaction that she had bothered this person, but the implication of the threat didn’t go unnoticed. “Understood.”

“You will be given coordinates to a location. Go there, be certain you are alone. I won’t bother with idle threats of killing him, no, that would be boring. I’ll make sure he lives long enough for you to see him this way.” The voice paused. “So fragile these things are. It’s a shame, they break so easily and they’re so hard to replace. Well, there are billions of you, but you get the idea. This man holds sentiment to you. It takes a lot to find that when you are so aptly called the black widow.” Another pause. “I’ve made my point, get moving.” The line disconnected. Natasha knew he wouldn’t answer if she called again.

With a resigned sigh, she stood up and made her way to the coordinates; she would be going in completely blind.

Natasha wore her black catsuit, armed to the nines, but concealed beneath a jacket. She had reached the spot: a random street corner in the slums of some long forgotten town.

A sleek black van pulled to a halt beside her, the door opened and she stepped inside. Across from the open door sat a tall man with close cut brown hair. He wore dark sunglasses, no doubt to lessen the likelihood that his real face would be recognized.

“Fell free to keep your weapons with you. For now.”

Sitting down, Natasha barely had time to settle in before the car lurched forward. “Hey there.” She smiled, leaning back in the seat and situating herself so she faced the man. Then she leaned forward, propping herself up on the armrest as she studied him with a flirtatious smile.

The man stiffened slightly at her actions and she grinned. Natasha shifted her legs a few times, crossing and uncrossing them, trying to get that perfect angle.

“What’s a good looking guy like you doin’ working for some crazy warlord?” The man smiled at her. She could see beads of sweat on his forehead and he wiped his hands on his pant legs. “Oh come on,” she bat her eyelashes, “Can’t even make a conversation with me?”

The man shifted before looking to the glass partition, separating the driver from the back seat. Resting her hand on the man’s thigh, Natasha gave it a light squeeze, “You can trust me, what’s a little conversation going to hurt?”

The man finally nodded. “You’re right, I’m sure it should be fine.” He convulsed suddenly and she pulled back in surprise. The man gasped as he slowly stopped spasming.

“That’s very rude, Natasha.” The cold voice filled the car. “I regret that I can’t fetch you personally, but trying to take advantage of my pets?”

The man looked around terrified. “Sir? What just?”

“Silence. If she touches you again, you will be dead and she can continue riding with a slowly cooling corpse.”

The man gulped and nodded.

“I was just being friendly.” Natasha muttered.

“It isn’t nice to lie. Believe me, I know when you are.”

The rest of the car ride was filled with uneasy silence. The sense of dread grew with each moment, and as she cast the occasional glance at her travel companion, she knew the feeling was shared.

Finally, the car pulled to a stop and the door opened from the outside. Four heavily armed guards stood there, waiting for Natasha to climb out. The brown haired man she had tried to seduce prodded her in the back.

“I sure hope that’s a gun.” She said, flashing a grin at the waiting guards. They all wore helmets but she could see them reflexively flexing their fingers on the triggers of their guns. She raised an eyebrow, impressed with their level of training. Clearly the deep voiced man held quite the control over them. She wondered what type of organization she was dealing with. After that whole fiasco in New York, nothing was off the table.

Once more, the prodding of the gun in her back urged her forward. The guards led her inside the building, slowly taking her deep underground. Natasha easily memorized the path they took, knowing that there had been extra turns and reroutes to throw her off. Anyone else might have been smug, but she was strictly professional, there was no time for such petty emotions.

Finally the guards stopped outside a nondescript door and pushed her inside. They also searched her for weapons. Two waited outside and two stood inside, flanking the door. In the center of the room was a solitary chair. She surveyed the rest of the room, only moving her eyes. There was a vent up high and a mirrored wall, no doubt a window for someone to stand on the other side and watch in.

She walked over to the chair and sat down, crossing her arms. She leaned back and looked around, still looking bored.

“So what’s it take for a girl to get a drink?”

The men on either side of the door shifted uncomfortably. Then suddenly the cold voice filled the room. “Black Widow, it’s so good to see you in person.”

Natasha smirked, “We’re hardly in person. Usually when I go on a date, I can at least see the man I’m talking to.”

The cold voice laughed, “Are my men not amusement enough for you?”

She shrugged, “Maybe if I could see their faces, have a real conversation. I like to know my prey.”

This was a deadly game of chess. It was so much easier to gauge an opponent when you could see him, but for now she would make do with what she had.

“Prey, my pretty little spider? Hardly. I appear to have the upper hand. But I’m not so vain as to flaunt that.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Natasha smiled.

“Ravishing. I could eat you alive.”

“Sounds like a date, I sure hope you’re handsome.”

There was a clicking at the door and Natasha’s head snapped over. Narrowing her eyes, she waited, wondering who it could be.

The door slid open and a tall dark haired man entered. He had piercing blue eyes, a clean shaven face, sharp prominent cheekbones, and wavy hair. It was relatively short but not particularly close cut.

He wore a crisp black suit, top of the line fashion. He was the picture of elegance and style.

Flashing a pearly grin at her, he inclined his head. “A pleasure to meet you, my delightful little spider.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “So now I have a face behind the man.” She frowned, “Not bad, I could say you’re pretty nice looking too. Do I at least get an introduction?”

The man studied her carefully. “You may address me as Lord Sharpe.”

“I’m not big on titles. I’ll stick with Sharpe, after all, you’re so keen on using my codename, I’m sure it’s only fair.” The man nodded curtly, offering a cold smirk. Then Natasha’s face straightened as she became serious. “Where’s agent Barton?”

Sharpe sighed before reaching into his pocket and pulling a small cellphone-like device out. He offered it to her and she hesitantly took it, never breaking eye contact. Once it was in her hand she allowed her gaze to flicker down for a fraction of a second. The sight was too much and she found herself looking down again.

Clint Barton, Hawkeye, sat tied to a chair, flanked by a half dozen guards. He was covered in blood and injuries and looked barely conscious.

Sharpe sighed, almost apologetically, but his eyes were cold. “I got bored, and he made such pleasant sounds.”

Natasha swallowed and nodded stiffly. “You know, I’m not one for threats, but I-“

Sharpe sneered, “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.” He glanced down at his watch suddenly before looking up. “Apologies, but I have a date with someone far lovelier than you.” The man turned on his heel and strolled from the room, not bothering to look back.

Five minutes passed and nothing happened. Natasha sat there, inwardly panicking, wondering if Sharpe was referring to Clint somehow. Carefully, she stood up. The guards shifted and aimed their guns at her. She held her hands up, “Easy boys, I’m not doing anything, just stretching my legs.” She started to pace around the room, strolling over to the glass and sliding her fingers along it. Years of experience told her this glass was bulletproof. Unease crossed her mind about the implications of that. Someone knew that gunfire in this room was very likely.

Turning very slowly, Natasha began to walk towards the guards.

“Stand down.” The guard on the right said slowly, but his voice wavered and she could detect the fear.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just-“ She ducked down, spinning around on the floor, and using a roundhouse kick to knock the man over. In the same movement she pulled his body over herself so the other guard’s shot took out the first.

She reached for the dead guard’s gun and quickly killed the second. The door flew open and she moved to the side, easily dispatching the ones from outside.

Natasha slid the chair to the wall, knocking the vent open and crawled in side. Carefully she turned around and realigned it. That should slow down any pursuit, as they would likely assume she went out the door.

Crawling along she eventually made her way past a room filled with screens. On one of them she saw an image of the same bloodied and beaten Barton. Carefully calculating where he was, she continued her trek along.

As she crawled, worry gnawed at her. There was no sounds of alarm, no sign that anyone noticed her absence in the room. Everything up until now had led her to believe Sharpe was highly competent, intelligent and utterly in control of the situation; yet now, he seemed to be clueless. She hated herself for it, but she pushed the thought from her mind, knowing that she had to get to Clint. He would suffer severely when someone finally realized she was gone.

She had gathered one of the guard’s pistols and prepared herself when she finally made it to Clint’s cell. Once again, that feeling of apprehension gripped her, this was painfully easy but she couldn’t risk losing Clint.

She gazed through the vent and saw Clint slumped over in his chair, tied up and unmoving. Then she scanned the room, aiming the pistol and shot one of the guards. Clint’s head snapped up and he looked around.

The other guards spun around, looking for the source of gunfire. Natasha managed to dispatch two more before they located her. She kicked out the vent and shot the others, a perfect angle to shoot without being shot.

“Tasha!” Clint straightened up, “What, what are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass. Again.” She muttered, dropping to the ground. “Come on, we have to get you out of here. This is definitely a trap.”

Clint frowned as Natasha released his bonds. “It is! Why’d you fall for it?”

“I couldn’t risk losing you. Now get out of here.” She kicked the chair to the vent and shoved him up. “I’m going to cause a diversion. I know the way out. You follow the vents. Keep going, they’ll lead outside eventually.”

“Nat, I can’t leave you.”

“If you don’t get your ass out of here, we’re both dead. Come back for me with more people. Now go!” She shoved the vent back into place, before charging out the door.

Clint’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but he knew her logic was true. “I’ll be back Nat, I swear it.” He whispered as he took off.

As the door swung shut behind Natasha, there were still no signs of response. Then finally she heard the steady sound of running boots. Turning the opposite direction, she took off running, looking for a place that seemed familiar.

She kept moving at a dead spring, looking for the hallway that she knew should be around her.

Finally, Natasha slowed to a stop, looking around as she tried to think. Every mission she had ever done in her career hadn’t gone anything like this. More heavy boots came from behind her and she took off running, there was no place for cover to fight back, and she knew their firepower easily outmanned her pistol. She rounded a corner and screamed as she collided with an invisible wall.

A jolt of electricity ran through her and she tried to steady herself, stunned by the feeling. Then the boots slowed down, directly behind her.

Natasha turned around, looking at the dozen armed men, all aiming guns at her.

“Drop the weapon.” A gruff voice called. Natasha dropped her pistol, slowly holding up her hands. “Kick it over here.” She did as they said. Slowly the guards circled in on her. Before she could respond, an electric rod shot out at her, paralyzing her instantly. She collapsed to the ground, unable to control her body and stop the writhing.

Then she heard the faint clicking of polished shoes approaching down the corridor.

Sharpe turned the corner and offered a bright smile at her. “Agent Romanoff, you do not disappoint.” He nodded sharply at two of the guards. They promptly picked her up and dragged her back to the cell she had just rescued Barton from.

The guards slammed her onto the chair, tying her in, before slowly backing away and allowing Sharpe to stand before her once more.

He leered down at her, almost giddy with excitement.

“You’ll imagine my surprise when I left a bird in a room and come back to find it gone. And now here I am with a juicy spider. How delightful.” He purred the last word.

Natasha spat at him.

Sharpe’s hand shot out lightning fast and cracked against her face. Her head jerked to the side, surprised by his strength. For someone so lean, he had quite the physical power.

Carefully, Sharpe pulled out a green handkerchief and wiped the spit away. “Very rude.”

“Your use of our codenames is hilarious.” She snarled, finally losing her calm.

Once more, Sharpe grinned. “I was quite worried when it took so long for you to escape. I thought I picked wrong in my playthings, but no, you, you are quite the juicy spider. I can’t wait to make you squirm for me.” He leaned over her, putting his hands on the chair on either side of her shoulders. His voice lowered to just above a whisper as he growled, “And how you will squirm, my little spider. I wonder if you will sing as sweetly as the bird. I can only hope.”

He slowly pulled away, hand stroking across her face.

Natasha shivered at his touch, his fingers were cold across her face. “I will kill you, you understand me, you bastard? I will hunt you down and end you.”

Sharpe smirked, winking at her, “And I will peel the flesh from your skin, layer by layer. And when I am done. I will go after your friends.” He stepped back lifting two long slender fingers and motioning towards Natasha. The door opened up and another masked person walked in, pushing a tray of instruments. “Now, let’s see what it takes to break you.”

[shirtlesssammy]

The Memory Remains: Recap

Then:

Mary Winchester keeps flipping the script on what we all expected in season 12. 

Now:

Tomahawk, WI

(Hey! Boris spent many a summer camping on Lake Tomahawk in her youth. V. glad she didn’t know about the god of sacrifice lurking about.)

Speaking of youths not knowing what evil is lurking. Several beer-drinking, canoodling teens sit around a bonfire, enjoying the night. One friend is tired of the scene so he takes off. He walks down a dark road, oblivious of the masked mouth-breather stalking him. He comes across a backpack, and picks it up, instantly getting strapped to a tree, and coming face to face with a goat-monster. His buddy, barely hearing his cries above the music, investigates.

Not reaching his friend in time, he high-tails it out of there.

Meanwhile in the bunker, Dean has been worry pacing, worry calling, worry gun cleaning, and probably worry praying to Cas for DAYS. he leaves him ANOTHER VOICEMAIL. Sam tries to reassure his brother that Cas is fine --he always is. Dean bought into that crap last season, but it doesn’t seem like he’s biting now. Something’s up and Dean is extra upset. (So say we all.)

Sam gets an email from ghost Mick. There’s a case! It seems that the mysterious happenings in the cold open are a trend. People have gone missing every year since 1898. They stopped in 1997, but now they’re starting again. 

The boys make it to northern Wisconsin in record time, and stop in to interview the local law enforcement/taxidermist.

Sheriff Bishop gives them the lowdown on the missing person, Jarrod. He doesn’t seem too concerned with the whole situation though. There’s dead animals to stuff, people! And anyway, Jarrod probably just blew town --his home life isn’t the best.

Agents Stark and Martell then go to interview Daryn, the friend in the cold open. He’s “medicating” on his break at the meat packing plant, and is upset that Sheriff Bishop won’t believe him. The kid tells Sam and Dean about that night and “Black Bill”.

Later at the diner, Sam fills Dean in on the local urban legend that is “Black Bill”. Dean is busy overcompensating for his confused feelings about missing Cas, and starts flirting with the NAMELESS imdb says her name is Carmen, VOICELESS prop waitress. *rant commences* I mean, ok, this feels weird. We haven’t seen Dean act this way IN YEARS--like season 3? 4? My headcanon is that he’s just really messed up about Cas and so he turns to his favorite vices --beer, burgers, and sex. Not cool, but cool, y’know? My big issue with this whole thing is that this is the only woman in the episode and she doesn’t have a name and she doesn’t have a voice. Yuck. Even if we follow the crumbs to a deeper meaning for this, the surface reading just makes me feel like I, as a woman, am not a wanted audience member. They’re dudes being dudes doing dude things. The woman is an object of conquest and her agency means nada. *rant over*

Dean tasks Sammy on figuring out what the monster is, and subtextually spends the night with the waitress.

Daryn, meanwhile, is working away and is surprised by his boss, Pete. He hasn’t been giving it his all at work. Pete knows how upset he is about Jarrod, but he can’t keep using that as an excuse at work. Later, Daryn’s leaving work and the goat monster finds him and attacks! (Boris wonders if a lot of episodes this season take place in Wisconsin because Vancouver had a rather snowy winter? Wisconsin did not have a snowy winter ironically.)(Boris also doesn’t scare easily but appreciates the music this week. It’s trying!)

The next morning, season1!Dean wanders into the diner to talk shop with Sam. He steals his brother’s breakfast plate of egg whites and veg --but isn’t that impressed with it. Sam thinks they’re dealing with a satyr. Sam wants to interview Daryn, but it appears he never made it home the night before. They head to the meat packing plant instead. They interview Pete, who informs them that Sheriff Bishop owns the plant. He’s “heir to the Bishop meat empire”. Kinda like the Abe Froman of Tomahawk? The boys connect the dots and think it’s a mighty big coincidence that their only witness to the crime goes missing at the local sheriff’s meat packing factory. The sheriff just happens to be on site so they talk with him --about the missing boys, and about “Black Bill”.

Sheriff Bishop is just as blasé as ever, dismissing their concerns about “Black Bill” and the staggering levels of missing people. I mean Pennywise is getting jealous with how many people are missing in this town!

Cut to Daryn chillin’ in the plant’s freezer. (I’m so punny.) Daryn finds the very frozen corpse of his buddy, and hears growling. He runs for the door, but the horned monster attacks!

Back at the diner Dean continues to pour his frazzled worries into eating a burger. 

^^^ I love this culinary tribute to the SPN blood cannon ^^^

Sam is appalled. “Burger’s beef, bacon’s pig, Soylent Green’s people, but this...this is heaven.” (Pining Alert! Dean’s thinking about heaven!) Anyway, Dean’s research revealed that all the vics were employees at the plant. It seems that this local legend is connected to the plant --or the Styne family that runs it. Sam’s research revealed that this whole town was founded by the Bishops and the sheriff has been selling off their property over the years --everything but the plant and the family estate.

Ketch and the gang break into the bunker. (Ok, so they have a key, but that doesn’t count!) “Remember your orders. By the time we leave, Dr. Hess wants to know everything about our ‘friends’ the Winchesters.” The music is jaunty but I just felt dread watching this.

The boys head to the family estate to check it out.

The interior of the house is full of sheet draped furniture and the rooms are still, quiet. Sam finds a door with several door locks on the exterior which leads to a dark basement. They head downstairs and - oh joy - it's decorated in high torture chamber chic with weapons, carving knives, and chains all around. An angled metal table stands in the middle of the room. Sheriff Bishop arrives at the house, creeps his own way down the basement steps, and Dean surprises him with the Colt leveled at his head. Dean asks him about the “straight up murder room” they found.

Black Bill isn't real, Bishop admits. It's been his family kidnapping and murdering people all along. His father told him the story of Moloch, the god of sacrifice, who lived below his house and exchanged the prosperity of their family for human blood. (Query: isn’t every god in this show technically the “god of sacrifice”? That’s like saying “I’m Dean Winchester, human.”) Every year the man of the house would don a goat mask, kidnap someone, and kill them. When his father died in 1997 Bishop put an end to the chain of killings and kept Moloch, starving, in his little cage in the floor ever since. Sam peers into the cage, bars covered with blood and matted hair, and reports that it is empty. Ruh roh. Upstairs, something clatters. Dean heads upstairs alone, armed with the Colt.

Dean stalks through the house quietly and tracks the sounds to the second story. The camera cuts to Goat-mask cam and Dean finds Sir Goatsalot standing alone in the middle of a room. He slowly approaches the unmoving goat suit when he's attacked and knocked out by another, non-masked man. It's Pete, the besieged plant manager! After knocking out Dean he runs downstairs and Sam and Bishop get dead-bolted into the basement. Bishop hands Sam a butcher's knife to chop his way out of the locked basement. (Hey kids, remember: when bolted behind a door, always take out the hinges first.)

Back at the Men of Letters bunker the crew investigates the boys, taking photos of everything, rifling through drawers, downloading data. In Dean's room Ketch finds an old photo of Mary holding wee Dean and stares at it for a while.

Dean wakes up in the meat plant, plastic-wrapped to a chair, and greets Pete who reveals that the Sheriff is his half brother. Their father was a notorious philanderer who let his illegitimate child grow up poor while his other family thrived on the other side of town. (Boris interjects: Anybody else getting an Adam vibe with all this talk of brothers and family business? I guess this is all a parallel to the Winchesters --and possibly Mary selling her family’s legacy to the YED?) Now Pete’s in control of the god. You know. “Hunting people. Killing them. The family business.” 

Pete's gonna save the town with his awesome pet god and pad his own pockets to boot.

Back at the bunker the MoL goon squad has turned up nothing useful – including nada on the Colt. (Yeah, dudes, it's because Dean brought it with and then promptly had it confiscated by some tool in Wisconsin.) Ketch plants a giant-ass bug under the table with a little antenna on it. DUDES. Stick that thing somewhere less obtrusive, OMG. All the Winchesters have to do is drop a pen and they’ll find it.

Now locked in the cold locker with Moloch, Dean wheels himself around in his chair, scoping out the hunting grounds. He sees the creature snatch one of the bodies and unwraps himself from the chair. Then he grabs a meathook to defend himself against the approaching beast. Outside the locker, Sam has tracked Dean's cell phone to the plant and is in turn stalked by Mr. Goaty McGoatface (aka Pete).

Outside the meat plant Bishop tackles the Goatinator, who accuses him of dumping the crappy, failing plant on him and bailing. (Moloch approaches Dean, stalking him through what must be the largest cold locker in the history of mankind.) Pete aims the Colt at Bishop but Sam shoots him dead and grabs the Colt. It's a good thing he does because Dean has just buried his meat hook in Moloch’s side. (Moloch: hee hee that tickles.)

It’s looking grim for our Dean Bean, but Sam shoots off the lock, opens the door, and blasts Moloch with the Colt. Moloch liquefies. Gross.

Bishop tells the Winchesters that he doesn’t need help with the grim cleanup. He'll take care of his family's dark legacy.

The boys arrive back at the bunker. “Next time you hear me say that our family is messed up remind me that we could be psycho goat people,” Dean mutters and heads straight for the mini fridge in the library to grab a beer. The boys then proceed to have AN INFURIATING CONVERSATION.

Dean: What do you think our legacy will be? You think folks will remember us?

Sam: No. I mean. Guys like us, we're not exactly the type of people they write about in the history books.

Me (fake coughing): The Winchester Gospels.

Me (more fake coughing): Probably a ton of hunter journals.

Fandom: GAAAARG.

Chuck: GAAAARG.

Sam concludes that the people they saved are the Winchester's legacy. Dean wonders about the fate of the bunker once they die. He pulls out his knife and carves his initials into the library table as the scene flashes back to their childhood and carving their initials in the Impala. It’s a pretty scene and blatantly hammers home the point that they consider the bunker to be their home now. Boris speculates that this means they’ll lose access to the bunker soon and, I mean, it seems pretty possible. (Boris: On a completely practical level, I don’t think they’ll really lose the bunker because that must have been one expensive set piece, and how many years does this show have left? 2? Would they really scrap something so useful and expensive in the waning days of the show? My heart says they want to hurt us; my head says $$$. Also, I love this meta by @mittenmorgul)

They call Mick to debrief. (I’m annoyed that they call him when they get back to the bunker. Not, like, while they're still in Wisconsin. I realize that’s for narrative effect and so they can use the newly planted bug. But still.) Ketch answers and informs them that Mick's gone back to London and they are to report to Ketch instead.

Natasha: Sighs. Hasn't it been strongly implied that Ketch is just some high class hunter? I thought the MoL liked to keep the firewall between hunters and the Men of Letters rigid? Or are all their hunters goons in suits? (Makes handwavy argument that Ketch is just running a long hunt on the American hunters so he’s allowed by the MoL to call the shots.)

Anyway, at that news Dean rolls his eyes. “I would much rather be with your mother,” Ketch says.

After they hang up Ketch stares at the photo of Mary he purloined as Dean bitches to Sam about Ketch through the bugged connection.

You Goat any Quotes?

Work smarter, Sammy. Not harder.

Oh c'mon. This guy's adorable. Plays a friggin' flute.

Maybe they just run an evil petting zoo inside.

Croquet's alright but you know what would be great? Murder.

“How you feeling?” “Like I just went twelve rounds with a god. So, you know, normal.”