#my mama asked if I met anyone new and I told her about Joe

[sawruhh]

-

[reidsmemory]

Echo

Spencer Reid

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N is abducted while working a case and the team has to find her before it’s too late.

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Warnings: Mention of death of minor character, torture

not my gif!

The team had been looking into case that had targeted girls with Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. All had looks strikingly similar to you and if anyone were to see either one of the victims in a room with you, they would say you were related. You all had been on the case for about a week now and you were still no where close to catching this guy. 

     “Agent Y/L/N,” a voice called as you whipped your head to face them, “these came in for you,” the officer was holding a bouquet of red roses with a small white card on the top of it. 

      “Do you know who these are from?” you asked as he shook his head and walked away. 

      “What does the note say?” Emily asked as the whole team had watched the interaction. 

     You opened the envelope and read the note as you furrowed your brows, “echo.” The team looked at each other with puzzled faces, “what the hell is that suppose to mean? Have we already dealt with this unsub?” The rest of team began theorizing as the same officer walked up to you again.

     “Agent, we’ve got someone that say he needs to speak to you.”

      “Can’t they come here?” Hotch asked, getting defensive.

      “He says that he won’t go into a place of justice, whatever that means,” the officer began to lead you as the rest of the team followed. You began walking towards the entrance of the station as the officer looked around for the mystery man. “He was just here,” the man spoke. 

      “Spence,” you spoke out as your boyfriend looked to you before you collapsed on the ground. You head hit the flooring as a ringing sounded in your ears as well as their being two of everything. Two Spencer’s holding your head, two Hotch’s yelling and pointing fingers, two lights blinding you from seeing anything. 

     What felt like hours later you were being lifted onto a bed. Two men had arrived with an ambulance as shouting and yelling was all that was heard. “Are you family, sir?” the first responder asked as Spencer opened him mouth and closed it again, “I didn’t think so, you all can follow in cars.” The man said as his colleague gave him as weird look as the both of them lifted you into the ambulance as the rest of the team rushed to get their keys and get into the SUVs.

     The ambulance sped off as the sirens wailed and your team rushed to the cars. “What in the fresh hell?” Derek said as he looked at the tires on one of the SUVs. “My tires are popped, what about you, Hotch?” 

     “Same here,” the raven haired man said. 

     “It’s a set up,” Reid spoke as fear flooded his face. 

***

     You awoke in a cabin where you had been tired to a chair and had a gag on your mouth. Your vision still hazy and your thoughts even hazier. 

     “Oh good, you’re up,” a male voice said from the corner of the room. You tried to get a good look at him, but he stayed in the shadows. “Ben Cyrus,” he said as you furrowed your eyebrows. The name sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you had heard it before. 

      “Who are you?” you asked as the man chuckled. “Let me go, I’ll talk to my team and we can work this out.” He scoffed at your words and began to walk towards you. 

     “Ben Cyrus. He ran the greatest church known to man and you,” his face was hardened and his eyes had a crazed look in them, “took away our faith!” He struck his hand across your face as a burning sensation filled your cheek. 

     It all rushed back to you. A few year back you, Prentiss, and Reid had all gone undercover in a cult-like church. The leader, Benjamin Cyrus, had been suspected of child abuse and sexual harassment and the government had wanted the BAU to get involved. 

     “I remember,” you said as the man smiled. 

     “Good, Agent,” he grabbed a chair from the side of the room and brought it over to sit across from you. “Now,” he started again, “you might not know me. My name is Joey Cyrus and I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’d be lyin’,” he studied you as you did the same.

     “What do you want, Joey?” 

     “Well my daddy would be nice for one, but I don’t believe you have the power to do that. So you’ll do just fine,” he got up from his chair and walked over to the bag that you had seen from the corner of your eye. He dumped the contents on the ground in front of you and a spill of tools came out. A hammer, pliers, a baseball bat, a few knives, and other things that could do damage. “Let’s get to know each other.”

***

     Back at the station, Spencer was frantically trying to figure out who had taken you and why. The note on the roses had been laced with a medicinal herb that had knocked you out and the ambulance had been found in a ditch on the highway with all but one of the first responders on it. The medics had been killed in a brutal way that even made Spencer sick to his stomach as he thought about what this guy was doing to you.

     “Reid,” Hotch’s voice broke his train of thought as he met eyes with the older man. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

     “Alright. Our mystery medic is Joseph Mulgrew , he moved to Utah just a few years ago and before that he has been off the map,” Garcia told the team. “This guy, he’s like a ghost. No records of his name anywhere else and no former address of any kind.”

     “Did you say Mulgrew?” Spencer said as the team looked at him.

     “Yes I did Doctor, what about it?”

     “Look up Joseph Cyrus,” Spencer told her as they heard the taps of Garcia’s keyboard. The team looked at him for an explanation, “Benjamin Cyrus, he was an unsub we had.”

     “Yeah,” Emily started, “he was that guy that ran that church and...” she trailed off as the team got the gist of what she was saying. 

     “He was Charles Mulgrew before he made a come back at the church. It could be possible that he has unknown family, considering what he was really doing all those years,” Spencer explained, “Garcia, how old is Joseph?” 

     “He is 27 years of age and the good doctor is right. Joey here changed his name like dear old dad and oh...” Penny trailed off.

     “Penny?” JJ asked.

     “Joseph has been in and out of jail and juvie for as long as I can see. Charged with assault, petty theft, and oh my. Domestic abuse filed by his ex-wife who looks a lot like our Y/N,” a sounding on their tablets was heard as they opened it and saw a woman very similar to you.

     “But Spencer and I went undercover too, why would he pick Y/N?” Emily said as she immediately started to solve the puzzle, “you think it’s because of the looks of the ex-wife?”

     “I think so,” Rossi mumbled, “Penelope pull up the most current address to Joe and anything that could be used to store Y/N.”

     “I’ve got a home address and a storage unit and they have all been sent to your phones! Go crime fighters and get our princess back!” Penelope told them.

     “Thanks, Baby Girl,” Morgan hung up the phone.

     “Reid with me and JJ. Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss take the storage. We’ll have to use squad cars until the SUVs are fixed so lets go get Y/L/N,” Hotch ordered as they all nodded ad went to the parking lot. 

***

     You muffled your screams and grunts as Joey had began to carve into your stomach. He laughed as you clenched your teeth and held your hands in fists, surely four crescent shaped cuts were to be found on the inside of your palms if you opened them. “You son of a bitch,” you struggled to get out as Joey wiped the knife off on your pants. 

     “Don’t you talk about my mama that way, girl. I’ll make sure you regret it.” You received at blow to the side of your face. You spit out the blood that formed in your mouth as Joey began to take the other tools out from his collection. “These look nice, don’t they, girl?” He held up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as he popped one in his mouth.

     “Those things kill,” you said remembering Spencer tell you countless facts about the ‘cancer sticks’ as both of you had nicknamed them. “On second thought, why don’t you just keep smoking them.”

     He laughed, “you are a firecracker. My daddy always said the young ones are.” He stroked your hair as you tried to move back.

     “Your dad was sick in the head and you are too,” you spoke with such tenacity. 

     He looked at you blankly, “I thought I said you don’t speak of my family like that,” he took the cigarette from his mouth and stuck it on your exposed collar bone. 

     You grunted as he held your face in free hand. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “I want to hear those screams, girl.” He press the cigarette into your skin further, finally inciting a small scream to slip past your lips. “Good.”

***

     The team had arrived at both locations and there was no sign that you were there. Spencer paced around with his hands in is hair as the rest of the team was now even more worried than before, if that was possible. The team had no idea where you could be and if you were even alive. It had been at least 13 hours since you had dropped in the lobby and it was eating Spencer and the team alive.

     “You have nothing?” JJ asked Garcia over the phone,.

     “No, i’m sorry. I’ll keep looking and-” she was cut off by Spencer who had just had a revelation. 

     “Garcia, make sure the jet is ready. I think I know where Y/N is.”

***

     On the jet Spencer had explained the note and how it read ‘echo’ as saying that Joey might want to recreate the explosion at the church and now the team had touched down in Colorado where they got in SUVs to go to the church’s location. 

     A swat team followed them along the dirt roads that were bumpy and the night sky that was dark. The sun was starting to rise in the distance. Spencer remembered you always saying, ‘the same beams but a new day,’ and that made him the tiniest bit hopeful that they would find you in this new day. 

     The church came into view as they could see it was now a smaller wooden building. “What the hell,” Morgan said from the drivers seat as he say the building, “this guy built up a whole new structure to what? Avenge his father’s death?” The car came to a stop as the team hopped out of the car and Hotch began to go over the plan with the others.

     “From the front-” he was cut off by a ear piercing scream that came from no one other than you. Spencer looked at his boss in worry as Hotch returned the look and started again, “let’s go.”

     Joey drove a knife into your stomach as you screamed loudly. He left it in your body and quickly grabbed another knife from the ground. “You have got to work out your daddy issues another way,” you told him as he dragged the new knife down the side of your face as it cut into your skin. 

     “You wanna try something different, girl?” You immediately regretted your words and recalled Spence always telling you that your smart mouth was going to get you in trouble some day. He began to unbutton the top of his flannel, but quickly stopped as he heard footsteps in the distance. You heard them too. 

      “Spencer!” you yelled as loud as you could as Joey came over to you and cut the ropes on your ankles and arms as he quickly grabbed you and put a knife to your neck. 

      From the front of the house Spencer could hear your cries as his ears perked up as his heart rate grew faster and Hotch nodded as Morgan kicked the door down. The team moved through the structure and finally Spencer came face to face with you, “Y/N,” he said as you locked eyes with your boyfriend and smiled lightly, despite the situation at hand. 

     “Joseph, put the knife down,” Hotch told the man as the knife just dug deeper into your skin. 

     “I don’t think so,” he took grip on you and made it tighter. “You killed my family. He never did anything but help people in need of his guidance.”

     “Your father ruined the lives of young girls,” Spencer said matter-o-factly. 

     “No! He did them a favor, he gave them the greatest gift he could,” Joey said as he began to move his hand without the knife a bit more. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried see what he was hold and finally saw a small remote concealed in his hand. 

     You moved your eyes to Hotch’s and blinked rapidly. You just hoped he would pick up on the Morse Code and get everyone out of the building. 

     “Let’s just talk this out, Joey,” Hotch started, “JJ get everyone out, I want to talk to Joey alone.” JJ furrowed her eyebrows at the man but he gave he a stern look as she understood and began to move the team out. 

     “No! Bring them back!” Joey yelled, “or she dies.” Spencer looked at JJ as she tried to get him to leave the building, but he refused to move so she quickly called Morgan who grabbed Reid as he struggled against him.

     “I can’t leave her!” he told them and Morgan ignored his pleas and called a couple SWAT members to help him with the genius. 

     “As much as I like her, I’ll do it,” Joey said as he continued to watch the men and women exist the building. “Bring them back!” Joey yelled as his grip on you faltered for a second which you took advantage of as you got out from his grasp and struggled to take the device from his hand. 

     “Go!” you yelled at Hotch but he jumped in and started to help you as the three of you wrestled and quickly the device was flung across the doorway to another room. You all freezed before you grabbed Hotch’s hand and dragged him towards the back of the building. 

     The team waited outside for Hotch and you as Reid screamed at Morgan, “you have to let me go back in there!”

     “You can’t Kid, you heard Hotch!” Morgan yelled back as the rest of the team cringed at the fight. “I know all of us want to go back in there, but we can’t! You gotta understand that, Kid!”

     “No! You don’t understand!” Spencer screamed, “she’s all I have! I didn’t even get to tell her that I love her! That I have been in love with her since that stupid dinner at that Thai restaurant in California!” 

     “That was two years ago...” JJ mumbled.

     “Yeah! Two years! I’ve only been with with her for a couple months now and I haven’t even told her!” Everyone’s hearts pained as they heard Spencer’s cries and saw the liquid that dripped down his cheeks. “I can’t-”

     All head turned as the house exploded a safe distance away from them. The orange flames roared as the team had their mouths’ open in shock.

     “No,” Rossi and JJ whispered at the same time. 

     Morgan’s grip on Reid was gone as he watched the flames and turned to Emily who had had disbelief and horror over her face. 

     Spencer’s mind raced a mile every second and now his mind was completely blank of everything but you. Your face, your smile, your eyes, your lips, your laugh, your touch, your everything. Spencer ran towards the flames as the team yelled after him. 

     “Spencer,” JJ’s voice breaking as she leaned into Rossi’s embrace. 

     “Kid. Come on, don’t do this,” Morgan called as Emily just watched in disbelief with a gaping mouth and teary eyes.

     Spencer didn’t care about their calls, he needed to find you. He scanned the firery rubble for any sign of you or Hotch, but there wasn’t any. Just ash and fallen wood covered in sweltering heat. “Y/N!” he yelled out, “Y/N! Hotch!” Spence continued to look through the wall of intense heat and for a second he saw a delicate hand reach up through the burning wood. “Y/N,” he whispered to himself as he began to walk through the blazing fire that threatened to burn his body and ruin his lungs. 

     He moved a piece of wood off of where he saw your hand and saw you and Hotch laying side by side. “Guys!” he screamed at his friends, “help!” The team gave each other confused faces before coming over to Spencer. JJ gasped as she saw your form next to Hotch’s as tears of joy spilled from her faces. Her and Emily joined hands as they worked to get the wood off of you. 

     “Medic!” Rossi yelled as people began to rush over to help. 

     Morgan and Reid worked to get a big piece of debris off of the two of you. Hotch’s eyes opened and he immediately looked to his side where you had been, holding his hand tightly. He coughed violently as the medics lifted him up and brought him to the ambulance. You blinked a few times and saw Spencer standing over you. 

     “Hey, can you hear me?” he asked as you gave him a thumbs up and he laughed at the simple gesture. He brought you up for and embrace as you struggled to keep your eyes open. The medic came over to you and began to carry you away as Spencer and the team followed you and Hotch to the ambulance. 

      “Can I?” he asked one of the nurses as she nodded and he climbed into the ambulance and held your hand as you drifted off to sleep.

***

     When you woke up, blinding lights had been the first thing you saw. The second was Spencer who was asleep in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on the bed and his fingers interlaced with your own. You blinked a few times and saw the rest of the team in the room with you. Hotch was in bed identical to yours, but he was up and had his eye focused on the TV in front of him. By his side was JJ and Morgan as the conversed with each other in hushed voices. Penny was writing in a card with a sparkling pink pen as she handed it off to Rossi who smiled lightly at her. Emily was just outside your room as you saw her talking with a nurse or doctor; rather it looked more like arguing.

     Derek glanced over to you briefly as he then turned back to JJ and then back to you. “You’re up,” he said quietly, a contrast to his usual booming voice. Everyone looked to you as you smiled.

     “You gave us quite a scare, Y/L/N,” Hotch said as you laughed quietly which then turned into a cough. 

     “Em! Get a nurse or doctor!” Penny exclaimed as Emily rushed and called a nurse in the hallway. JJ got up from her seat and made her way over to your bed.

     She examined your face before hugging you tightly. “God, you can never do that to us again,” she chuckled as you rubbed her back. You felt a few tears fall on your shoulders as JJ pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “He’ll be happy to see you,” she gestured to Spencer.

     “Glad to have you back, kiddo,” Rossi told you with a smile, “you need anything?” As soon as he said that a doctor walked into your room and started to go over your condition.

     “You are very lucky, Agent Y/L/N” she started, “you have a mild concussion and that wound on your abdomen will take some time to heal over. You received first and second degree burns all over your legs, arms, and torso, just like Agent Hotchner. Your eardrums are very fragile and I recommend no flying for at least 3 weeks. Your face has some minor bruising and cuts that should heal over time.” She set her chart down. “The both of you should be able to leave in a few days time, but for now just relax.”

     “Thank you,” you said as she smiled.

     “Dinner will be up in a few minutes,” with that she left and Morgan was seen grinning widely. 

     “What?” you said.

     “She didn’t mention one thing.” You furrowed your brows at his words and he started to rub his head which just made you more confused.

     “I have a concussion, you’re going to have to actually say it.” He laughed at your words.

     “Do you think pretty boy will like the new haircut?” he asked as it finally clicked and you ran your fingers through your hair. 

     “Oh my, God,” you said as everyone laughed. “Oh my, God!” you repeated as Emily handed you a mirror and as you brought it up to your face your jaw dropped. Your hair was cut in jagged parts, but none shorter than your chin. The team laughed as you continued to gape at your reflection.

     “Some of your hair ended up burning off, just a bit,” Emily said as you looked at her with wide eyes. She laughed as you began to laugh too and soon everyone joined in as you all smiled at your stupidly, funny haircut.

     Spencer rubbed his eyes as he saw your smiling face and immediately hugged you tightly. “Thank Goodness,” he whispered as he pulled back from the embrace. “Why are we laughing?” he asked as you gestured towards your hair and smiled widely at the tall man.

     “Is this gonna be a deal breaker, babe?” his cheeks flushed at the nickname.

     He laughed a bit, “no, I still love you,” he said as the team froze at what he said as did he.

     “Awh, I love you more, Spence,” you told him without skipping a beat as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

     “Even if you do kinda look like David Bowie,” he said as you opened your mouth and smacked his arm playfully.

     “Spencer Reid!”

[cjsinkythoughts]

Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2747

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, I think that’s all

A/N: This is a headcanon I’ve had for a while that I’ve been wanting to write about 40s!Bucky, pre-War. I kinda want to write a series about it, so that might happen. For now, enjoy this little tidbit I’ve written, with the prompt of Occasion for HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 18! (This isn’t beta’d so please excuse mistakes.)

He’s something of a celebrity. A living legend. A God amongst humans. Starting as a kid in Brooklyn, his fanbase rapidly grew, expanding to Queens, Manhattan, even parts of New Jersey, just in the past few years.

You don’t get it. So what if he’s got cool blue eyes, soft chocolate hair, and a charming smile? Who cares if he’s got smooth moves and even smoother words? He’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. A talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him, but still just a man.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Most everyone knew his name, but there was a lot of mystery surrounding the actual character. 

You just don’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve never personally met him, or even seen him, but you know people who have. Your friend’s cousin even claims to have danced with him once. Not that that would be hard. You hear he’s never danced with the same bird twice, and, considering most start dancing in their teenage years, that’s a lot of dames.

It’s not that you’re not curious about him - if he’s actually as dashing as they say - but you’re not about to stop your life for him like some of your friends. They’re obsessed with getting his attention. With seeing if they’d be the one. The one to finally chain him down and tame him. The one he’d go steady with.

It feels like that’s all you ever talk about anymore. It was amusing at first, but now it’s just getting annoying. It’s been three years since that day in March of 1938, when your roommate ran into your room, plopping down onto your bed, before ranting and raving about the new ocean eyed piano player at her favorite bar. And since then, he’s been in your life without actually being in your life.

Speaking of, here you are. Listening to Lucy, MaryAnne, and Jean gushing over the man, trying to enjoy your milkshake.

“I heard from Sally that Thomas said that he knew the brother of one of his friend’s in high school!”

“That can’t be true! I heard from Billy, who heard from Martha, who was told by Ben, that he only had, like, one friend in high school.”

“You’re kidding, right? There’s no way a man like that had only one friend.”

“I hear he does boxing and that’s why he’s got a body sculpted like a Greek God.”

“Oh my God! MaryAnne!”

You rub your temples, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as the three burst into fits of giggles. If you have to hear one more word about-

“I heard he’s going to be playing at Georgie’s on Friday!”

Gasps echoed around the table. “No way! Georgie’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, this actually intriguing you. Georgie’s is a popular little hole in the wall, on the edge of being a speakeasy, which doubles as a pub and a dance hall in Brooklyn. It’s one of the best hang outs for kids like you and your girls, but it isn’t very high class. Maybe that’s why it’s one of the best. “Isn’t Georgie’s a little…cheap for him? He’s been playing at the best bars and restaurants for a while now.”

“It’s a classic in Brooklyn. Near his home, probably.”

“Do you think he lives near there?!”

“Ooo! Maybe we could find out!’

You scoff. “That,” gesturing to Lucy with your glass, you take a sip of your milkshake. “Is called stalking, my friend.”

Jean waves towards you dismissively. “I think he lives near Tin Pan Alley. That’s where he plays the most, after all. Georgie’s was probably just an old hang out for him and his pals.”

“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, a thought popping into your head. You turn to Lucy, confused. “How’d you find out he’s playing at Georgie’s anyways? Isn’t part of his whole act not telling anyone where he’s playing?”

Giving you a smirk and a wink, Lucy shrugs. “I’ve got my connections.”

You roll your eyes again, turning your attention back to your milkshake. “So?!” MaryAnne squealed. “We’re going on Friday, right?”

“Hell yes!”

“Absolutely!”

“Not.” You mumble, causing the other three to stare at you incredulously.

“Not?!”

“I’m not wasting my Friday night going to see some fella you all have a crush on. Especially when he might not even be there.”

Your friends groan, exchanging glances. “And what’re you gonna do?” Jean crossed her arms with a pointed look on her face. “Sit down and read a book like you always do?”

You huff. “I like reading, sue me. I don’t get a lot of time to myself. You know that new girl’s been gumming up the works and I’ve had to stay late to fix her mistakes all week.”

“This is exactly what you need, then! Come out, have a drink, jive a little-”

You look up at that, an amused kind of smirk on your lips. “Jive? Me and my clumsy ass?”

You all laugh. “Okay, so maybe not dance, but c’mon! It’ll be snazzy, you’ll see!”

“Fine, fine.” Standing up with a sigh, you collect your things, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “I’ve gotta scram.”

“We’ll see you on Friday, right?”

You give a small smile, shooting them a wink. “I guess I can make it.”

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

Friday comes a lot faster than you anticipate. You dress up; a navy blue dress going to your knees with white, heart shaped buttons and a bow around the waist. The shoes you’re wearing are your nice black and white Mary Janes. Lips painted deep red, and hair pinned back in loose curls, you glance over yourself in a mirror. You’ll admit; you look damn good. You don’t wanna go, but you might as well try to have some fun since you are.

It’s a cool evening, early May meaning the summer humidity hasn’t hit just yet. You didn’t even think about bringing a coat, but you start to regret the decision as you start walking. MaryAnne, who you actually room with, already left, being way too excited to stay put.

It doesn’t take you long - you live on the border of Queens and Brooklyn - but your feet are more sore than you’d like when you arrive.

“I knew you’d come!” Lucy grins, coming up besides you and linking her arm in yours. MaryAnne comes up on your other side and does the same to your free arm.

“Where’s Jean?”

“Where do you think? She already found a Joe to swing with.”

You laugh. “Of course she has! So is your dreamboat here?”

The grins that are immediately on their faces answer your question and they quickly drag you inside.

It’s hot and crowded and dim. Skirts with their beaus, guys with their broads, swinging and dancing to the lively music of the band on stage. Smoke from cigarettes, pipes, and cigars is evident in the air as they neared the bar portion of the building, mixing with the boisterous sound of laughter and chatter.

“Everyone’s talking about it! He’s here, but he hasn’t played yet. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of him, but we think he’s in a back room.” The dramatic sigh MaryAnne gives makes you laugh a little.

“Okay, khaki whackies. Let’s get a drink.”

You, just as you thought would happen tonight, are left alone at the bar by your friends who quickly found partners to dance with. A few men asked you, but you have never been a good dancer.

You’re lost in thought, running a finger gently around the rim of your cup, when a voice sounded besides you, pulling you out of your thoughts, a slight rasp to the otherwise mellifluous voice.

“You gonna drink that, doll, or just stare at it all night?”

You raise an eyebrow at the jest, turning your head, only to have your breath hitch. What a specimen. Ocean blue eyes, fluffy brown curls, cherry pink lips. A white dress shirt is pulled over his broad chest, gray dress pants hugging thick thighs, matching suit jacket across wide shoulders. He has a blue, black, and white plaid tie around his neck and you can see the edges of his blue suspenders under his blazer. He’s put together, but it’s nothing special, a normal Sunday best suit, that much you can tell.

“Uh, not all night.” You look back to the drink, before looking at the clock with a hum, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe another hour.”

He chuckles, gesturing for the bartender. “Tell me this, sweetheart. What is a beautiful dame like yourself doin’ drinking alone?”

“I’m not very good on my feet, I’m afraid.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your drink.

“Don’t come here often, then?”

“Only for special occasions.”

“What’s the special occasion this evenin’, sugar?”

You shrug. “My friends dragged me here. They’re practically in love with this guy who’s supposedly playing the piano tonight. James Barnes. Have you ever heard of him?”

He chuckles, a grin pulling his lips upwards. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of ‘im. Not a big fan yourself?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t understand the fascination with him. Let the man be.”

“I agree.” He hums with a nod, grabbing the glass of whiskey the bartender set in front of him. “I actually know him.”

“Really?” You look at him in interest.

He tilts his head with a smile towards you that makes you melt. “Yeah. He feels the same. He just likes playin’. That’s all. He didn’t want all the attention. He gets enough without that.”

You raise an eyebrow, finishing off your drink. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m Bucky by the way.”

You eye his hand, grabbing it after a second, letting him bring your knuckles to his lips. “Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, mama.” He shifts his body more towards you, running a hand through his hair. “You said you ain’t fond of dancin’?”

Shaking your head, you quickly defend yourself, “no, no. I like dancing. I’m just not very good. Got two left feet.”

He smirks, tongue poking out to run over those plump lips of his. “Well, with the right partner, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Are you asking me to dance, Bucky?”

“Not if you’re gonna say no.” He responds with a toothy grin, leaning his elbows on his knees.

You sigh and shake your head. “I’m afraid tonight’s not your night, pal. I just can’t seem to get myself in the mood.”

He hums, leaning back. “Is it the music? Too fast for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if they slowed it down some, I suppose.”

He smiles cheekily. “I can help with that. Hold on.”

You grin at him, nodding. “I’ll be here.”

Watching him stand and make his way over to the stage, you quirk an eyebrow. He seems to know the band well, if the handshakes and the claps on the back have anything to say about it. He says something to the lead, who nods with a grin, shooting him a wink. Bucky laughs, but you can see a tint of pink dusting his cheeks, making you wonder what they were saying.

He makes his way back over as the band shifts tones, the animated swing changing to a slow jazzy number. Bucky beams at you, holding out his hand as he approaches. “Care to dance?”

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes, but taking his hand anyways. “How’d you do that? Do you work here?’

“Uh…somethin’ like that.” He states vaguely, leading you to the dance floor with the other swaying couples. Pulling you as close as appropriate, his hands resting politely on your waist, he starts moving you side to side. 

“That’s not ominous.” You place your hands on his shoulders, following his lead as you stare at your feet.

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. “I’ve gotcha, doll. I won’t let you fall.”

“I’m going to step on your feet.” You explain.

“Nah. You’re doin’ great. You just need to get outta your head. Relax a little. Tell me something about yourself.”

You hum. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Uh, okay…I have a roommate who is one of the girls who begged me to come, I’m a secretary - I know, boring - and…I dunno. I like reading.”

His eyes lighten at this. “Reading? Whaddya like to read?”

“Different things. Depends on my mood. I’m re-reading The Hobbit for, like, the twentieth time right now.”

“I love The Hobbit.” Bucky grins, making you smile back. “I read it almost as soon as it came out.”

“Me too! I was planning on reading it tonight but,” you gesture around. “Here I am.”

Bucky lips pull up softly, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pulls you closer. “Well, as much as I love that book, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

Giving him a little tease, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Eh…I think I’d rather be at home.”

He pinches your side gently, making you squeal and squirm. “That hurt, sugar. That physically hurt me. C’mon, mama, your gonna say you aren’t havin’ a good time?”

“I just met you ten minutes ago.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you think we’re movin’ too fast, I won’t introduce you to my folks just yet.”

You laugh, blinking up at him. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Buck.”

The two of you rock for a little while longer, before the band stops, announcing they’re taking a break and a special guest is going to play a little something.

“Maybe James Barnes is here.” You say, a bit of intrigue lacing your tone, trying to see through the crowds of people who started gathering around the stage to catch a glimpse of the charming pianist. “I see why he would be over the attention.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, almost sadly, giving you an apologetic look. “Listen, I’ve gotta go work for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”

You smirk. “So you do work here?”

“Um…kinda. You’ll see.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, but he’s kissing your knuckles and walking away. You frown, but can’t think more on it when three young women are on you, babbling about their dates.

“Who were you dancing with, Y/N? He was cute!”

You roll your eyes, feeling yourself heat up, and not because of the many bodies in the vicinity. “Just…some guy.”

“C’mon, c’mon! We’ve gotta get a good spot to actually see him!”

You huff, letting the drag you through the crowd, shoving their way towards the front just as a familiar deep voice spoke. 

“Thanks for comin’ out, everyone. I hope your havin’ a good night. Let’s get this hop started, yeah?”

Your eyes widen when you finally catch sight of the man sitting at the piano with a polite smile on his features. He catches your eye and shoots you a wink, before his fingers start flying over the keys. The beam that he gets while tickling the gleaming ivories, his azure eyes lighting up, and you can’t fight the smile you get. He looks so relaxed, so invigorated, that it makes you happy just watching him.

“Oh my God! Weren’t you dancing with him?!” Lucy shook your shoulder obnoxiously, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, mesmerized with the way he played like it’s the only thing he wanted to do with his life. Which, as you remember his words, ‘he just likes playin’. That’s all.’ you figure it is the only thing he wanted to do with his life.

You just danced with James Barnes…and he’s just as perfect as everyone says.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it, your friends jumping around you, trying to get every little detail of him from you, when your heart skips a beat and your brain malfunctions. Bucky had started up another song, slower and more intimate, and he’s looking right at you. 

You find yourself doing something you never thought you would; you’re swooning over James Barnes, smiling like an idiot, heat blooming up your neck and flaming your face. And yes, he’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. But he’s a talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him.

And now that includes you.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

i wrote a fairytale au moment

my country has reached a terrifying level of disarray and i am scared. so i wrote some escapism (literally) for Joe and Nicky. i was even inspired by this to write a whole fairytale au fic!!! it is long-- like, my star wars fics level of long, and im very excited about it. it feels good to be excited about something lol. 

Folks that wanted to be tagggged: @ilostmyothersock, @littlerosetrove, @antukini, @sunriseseance, and @polarcell <3333 i hope you enjoy it! let me know if you do. 

His heart pounded in his chest, the nighttime’s dewy grass sending him slipping and sliding as he darted between the trees. He didn’t dare take his usual, well-trodden path. Not tonight— not if his father had sent anyone after him. 

The gardener’s cottage was on the edge of the palace grounds, where the lush, even lawns, sculpted shrubs and elaborate floral displays gave way to the foothills of the mountains. The ancient groves of chestnut trees were wilder, monuments to the artistry of a natural, unpruned life. Silver blue moonlight shone on their trunks, guiding Yusuf’s frantic steps as he dove deeper into the woods. He had slipped out of his chamber window without a sound that night— just as he had many nights before. There were no guards stationed out this far. He’d left the last of them blissfully ignorant,  back by the last of the rose trellises— he knew it, but the urgency of tonight was twisting him into knots. He had to be sure. He had to take all precautions. 

He couldn’t live with himself if he accidentally exposed this secret. 

Finally, the endless shadowy forest gave way to a familiar clearing. The iron fist clenched around his heart loosened some, and he heaved a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

The cottage was small. The roof leaked when it stormed, and the front door had gone crooked with age, providing a gale-force draft that rattled the windows on windy nights. The stones used to build it were near as old as the trees around it, starting to crack after weathering centuries of snowy winters and sun-baked summers. 

It was small, yes. But he knew that the bed was warm, that the verdant rows of growing vegetables smelled like earth and honey under the sun’s heat, and that he felt relaxed there. It felt more like a home than the Palace of Genoa, where he was all but trapped under the constant gaze of gossiping strangers. It was even more comforting than the silks and spices of home, across the sea where his family and his people ruled. 

His father had told him that he was accompanying him to Genoa to discuss trade imports between their kingdoms. He had said that they were to spend the year solidifying their connections with the Genoese royal family, drawing up important contracts— it's time you learned a thing or two about compromise, Yusuf. 

That was what he said. 

Yusuf rapped desperately at the door, a ragged half a sob punching out of his throat when he realized that he was finally there, on the flagstone threshold of someplace warm and safe, and— 

“What’s happened? Yusuf?” The door opened to the smoldering orange light of the hearth, the brightest lantern hastily lit by the sleep-ruffled man blinking owlishly at him. “You said it would be too dangerous to meet tonight, while you met with your father…” 

Yusuf would have laughed at his sweet face, if he weren’t about to cry from relief. 

“He means to marry me to her.” He said, shaping the words outside of his panicked head for the first time. They felt too loud in the quiet night, too starkly horrible against the pristine haven of the trees. “The Princess, she—“ Yusuf choked. 

Only now did he notice how his hands trembled, the way his vision was going steadily blurrier— he blinked against the heat building behind his eyes. The summer night was cool, but not cold, yet he still shivered. He shivered until a work-rough hand took pity on him. Nicolo reached out and pulled Yusuf into him, like he had all those months ago, back when everything changed. 

He pulled him through the threshold into the cottage, the floorboards creaking and the door swinging shut behind them as Yusuf spun around to immediately throw his arms around his love’s shoulders. The fog of sleep was gone when Nico’s pale eyes locked on his, suddenly and horribly awake. A hot tear broke ranks and burned a track down Yusuf’s cheek. 

Nico made a sad little noise. It rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, a hum and a moan, the quiet syllable of no hidden in behind his teeth— like mourning. He cradled Yusuf’s face, his thumb brushing the wetness away. 

“When are you to be betrothed?” He asked, his voice hoarse, like the sentence had to be yanked out of him. 

Yusuf just shook his head, the thought of it flipping his stomach. “They intend to announce the engagement by the end of the summer.” 

Something broke behind Nicolò’s eyes, and Yusuf knew what he was thinking. They had barely a fortnight left. The arm around his waist squeezed tighter, pressing their chests flush. 

He could feel their hearts, pounding in time with each other. Usually it was a comfort, but it was a ticking clock between the two of them now. Their moments together were numbered. 

Nicolo shuffled them around after a few tender seconds— breathing each other’s air, stroking over each other’s backs, existing in shared space— and maneuvered Yusuf to sit on the edge of his bed. It was still warm, the covers rumpled. 

“I’m sorry to wake you. I just… I had to see you.” 

Nico shook his head, “No apologies, Tesoro.” He puttered around the room, stoking the fire from embers to flames before setting the kettle over the highest heat. He settled on his knees, knelt at Yusuf’s feet to study him face to face. 

He brushed Yusuf’s tousled curls off his forehead, and gazed into his eyes. His love’s eyes were a pale, silvery green, but tonight, they looked darker. In the dim glow of the cottage at night, they were bluer than usual, contrasted with the amber firelight. Yusuf leaned into his palm as it traced his hairline, down over his beard and jaw. Nico sat in silence, watching him with the gentleness of someone patient enough to watch the flowers grow. He was waiting. 

“I…” he didn’t know where to start, what to say, “She’s so… She’s so old.” 

Nico’s smile was unmistakably sad, little more than a quirk of lips, but his nod of agreement spurred Yusuf on. 

“It has nothing to do with her looks, really. She’s just so old, and so wasteful, and her gaze on me is so… I just… I understand that I’ve put off marriage as long as my father can take. But she’s 25 years my senior. Her children are my age, Nicolo!” 

He had told these things to his father— he had begged him not to go through with the arrangement, not to agree to the Genoese king’s proposal for his daughter’s hand. It’s already done, he’d said, it was arranged months ago. 

Yusuf had no choice in the matter. 

“I suppose it’s stupid that I was surprised.” He groused, his throat feeling tight and his voice thick. “It’s been so long since any of his children were more than bargaining chips to him— I’m not his son, I’m a new trade route.” 

The kettle on the fire began to whistle, but Nico was sure to take his hands and kiss his knuckles before standing up to fix their tea. 

Left to drift in his mind, Yusuf chewed his lip and floated through his memories, mentally listing the siblings that he’d lost to distant royal families. Only his eldest brother, Farouk, would never leave home. The throne was his, but what about the rest of them? What was the point of having children, of lovingly raising a family, if only to scatter them to the four winds in exchange for trade routes, dowries, and peace treaties? 

It would be different if Mama was alive, he thought with a despairing little whimper. She wouldn’t let him do this…

“Yusuf, breathe.” His love’s voice broke into his thoughts, calling him back from the tangle of his mind. A steaming mug of rosehips, mint and honey was pressed into his palm, and Nico took it on himself to mold his hand around the warm pottery. “D’you have it?” 

“If I say no, will you keep holding my hand like that?” Will you never let me go? he added silently, sure that his eyes were saying it all for him. Nico’s grip was warm and solid, and the calluses felt rough against him. It tethered him to reality, right there on his love’s bed. His pale gaze was soft and glimmering a little. Like he was going to cry. Like he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to Yusuf anymore than Yusuf could bear the idea of letting Nicolo go. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, reaching out his free hand to card into his long hair. “Don’t let them take me, Nicolo— come away with me.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He didn’t mean to spring this half formed, half delirious, half perfect plan on him so soon after waking him up in the middle of the night. The words fell from his lips, unwarranted and chaotic, but suddenly he was desperate to go, run, and be free. 

Before he knew what was happening, the hot mug was lifted from his hand and Nico’s were on him, cupping his cheeks to slam their lips together. His waist was wedged between Yusuf’s thighs, his arms slipping down to wrap around him and tug his hips closer while Yusuf twined both of his hands into his love’s hair,  desperate and trembling with the need to have him as close as he could be. 

He nearly gasped with the need for air by the time they dared to pull away, but he missed his love’s lips the second they weren’t on his. Nico pressed their foreheads together, drinking in deep gulps of air, tear tracks wet on his cheeks and clumping his lashes as he fisted his hands in Yusuf’s tunic. 

Yusuf’s hands in his hair slid down to stroke gently along his cheeks, feeling the wetness and studying how it gleamed in the glow of the hearth. 

He held tight to Yusuf, fingers flexing in the fine fabric of his sleeping clothes. His jaw worked, jumping the way it did when he was holding his tongue. Everything about him was grim and elegant, as still as a statue. 

He was so beautiful, and so sad. 

“Why d’you look at me like that, Hayati?” He sighed, his own heart gripped in a terrible vice. 

Nico swallowed, lips twisted with concern for a moment before he finally sighed and said, “I cannot ask you to leave your life, Yusuf. You are of such importance—“ 

“I am the sixth child of the Tunisian King. Farouk is his heir, and he already has three children of his own. I am nothing more than a mountain pass into the north to my father. My people barely know a thing about me— to them I’m simply the handsome, unmarried oddity of the royal family. My love, you know the wealthy trappings of royal life have never been something I need— but I need a life where I am appreciated and loved for who I am! I need simple comforts and a partner to walk hand and hand with through life. I need you, Nicolo.” 

The fire crackled, and the cottage was quiet. Yusuf’s chest heaved, and tears streamed down Nicolò’s face. His bright eyes shone with a reverent light, like he had in the early days of falling in love— like he still did, in the pale morning hours when Yusuf was still half asleep by his side. It was as if he was falling in love all over again. Awestruck and grateful, his eyes looking like glimmering, full moons as he beheld Yusuf like a fallen star. 

It took a long moment for Nico to find the words. Yusuf stroked his hair, hands still trembling from the adrenaline, even as the knots in his gut began to loosen. 

“Yusuf, you…” he trailed off, rose back up on his knees and kissed him like an act of worship— firm, tender, salty with tears and trembling just as much as Yusuf was. Nico pulled slowly back, just far enough to nuzzle their noses and look him in the eyes. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”  

“Will you come with me?” 

“To the ends of the earth. Yes, Tesoro.” He sucked in a breath and let it out long, in a sigh that seemed to clear out all the corners of Yusuf’s cluttered mind. And then, he smiled. 

Nicolo was a man of intricate reactions. There was beauty in each and every one, but it was a private, special thing to see that broad, happy grin. 

“Drink this while it’s still hot— it’ll help your heart calm itself.” He fussed, pressing the mug back into Yusuf’s palm, and this time, he took it gladly. Nico stood to his full height, standing over him where he sat for a brief moment while Yusuf didn’t dare take his eyes off of him. Looking back down at him with the glow of something divine in his eyes, Nico bent himself down to press a soft kiss to Yusuf’s brow. 

“Well, my Prince— where shall we go?” 

Yusuf grinned back, something bright and hopeful growing in his chest. 

They had planning to do. 

********

Yusuf gazed up from where he laid in the glen, soft grass and wildflowers under his feet. The sun dappled the forest floor, streaming down into the parting of the trees where the cottage sat. Nico flickered his lips into one of his barely-there smiles as he gazed down at him where Yusuf had pillowed his head on his thigh. 

Summer was nearly done. The full, green leaves were burnished gold around the edges by the hot sunlight; the garden smelled heavy with ripe harvests and vibrant flowers; and— on the far side of the palace grounds, beyond chestnut groves and manicured lawns, and terraces— the home of the King was glittering with silk flags and banners for the harvest ball. The last days leading up to the festival were certain to be wildly busy— there wouldn’t be a single moment where Yusuf could slip by unnoticed. Nicolo would be fussing about in the palace gardens with last minute preparations from dawn to dusk. 

Usually, Yusuf would be tearing his hair out from the stress. He couldn’t stand the pomp and circumstance, the endless preparations of a ball. He spent hours per day, standing stock still and poked with pins while he was fitted for another itchy, Genoese costume. King Vincenzo was seeking out any opportunity to discipline the palace staff, and the courtiers got particularly insufferable as the long awaited date came to peacock around at the height of their finery. Even back at home, festivals were terrible, but in Genoa, Yusuf’s father had become even more strict. You are representing our kingdom! Act like it! was the most common phrase, hissed into Yusuf’s ear for the most minor infractions. He was constantly watching him, his shrewd eyes looking for any moment to say stand like royalty, Yusuf— shoulders back. 

He hated standing on ceremony and the never-ending scrutiny— but, this time was the last time. His escape was in sight. He didn’t complain a single time about the drapes of scratchy, heavy fabric piled on his shoulders, or the way standing with such rigid posture made his back ache. He took each new indignity with a smile so gracious that even his father was smiling back. 

Thinking of Nicolo made every pinprick more bearable. Lying there in the sun, eyes closed to bask in the warmth, he thought about the expertly packed saddlebags under his love’s bed. He listened to his soft humming— a tune Yusuf had only heard when he was rearing his most delicate seedlings, or on their quietest, gentlest mornings together— and the way it blended into the sounds of the birds. 

Yusuf had never felt so certain of his path. 

He was so content that he didn’t notice that the fingers twining their way through his curls had gone until they must have been missing from him for quite a while. He cracked open one eye, peering up at his love with mild accusation. Nico wasn’t paying attention to his pouting lips, though. 

Sitting up to get a better look at him, Yusuf found Nico’s deft hands full of colorful flowers. He weaved their stems back and forth, his steady gaze flicking over to Yusuf with a sparkle in them. 

“If I didn’t know you like I do, I’d have thought you’d fallen asleep.” He chuckled. 

Yusuf sat close to his side, able to look over his shoulder and study the intricate bouquet. “What a beautiful braid.” He murmured, awe in his voice. 

Some of the blooms were the small, wild ones that grew in the glen, poking out between the wide circles of bright blue coneflowers and puffs of golden orange chrysanthemums that Nico must’ve pulled up from the garden bed beside them. 

“Let me show you how?” Nico replied, phrased as a question even as he handed over his work for Yusuf’s inspection. “It’s not as hard as it looks, I promise.” He said, tiny smile tilting his lips again. 

Perhaps it was his imagination, or his own excitement, but it seemed as if Nicolò’s smiles had gotten wider, his eyes gone softer. The rod of nervous tension that always clung to his spine in the days before a ball wasn’t as unyielding and stiff. 

Nico was more at peace. He weaved the stems of his beloved flowers in, out and under each other, dutifully guiding Yusuf’s hands as he collected his own flowers. He was right— it wasn’t as difficult as it had looked. The rhythm was steady and relaxing, a balm on the last of his nerves as he tucked flower after precious flower into his braid of grass. The crickets chirped, the birds sang, and the sun fed the earth— Yusuf sat side by side with his love, and it felt right. 

“You know, I have been thinking.” Nico murmured, his rich accent nothing more than a purr into the summer breeze. 

Yusuf chuckled, knocking their shoulders together, “Dangerous.” 

Nico huffed an indignant sound, but his eyes rolled playfully when he met his gaze, “Of course, of course— thinking is only for those supremely educated, princely philosophers. How dare I—“ 

“No, no no no!” Yusuf shook out his curls, letting out a full, genuine laugh, “Tell me every thought that has ever passed through your head, Hayati— it is my privilege to be your audience.” He was grinning, laughing, cupping Nico’s sunkissed cheek and basking in the light of his eyes. “What were you thinking about?” 

Nico licked his lips, swallowing like his throat had gone dry as he maneuvered himself to face Yusuf, sitting on his knees like he had not so long ago. Something about it squeezed at Yusuf’s heart, his smile fading into seriousness as he waited. 

He carefully took and set down their braided flowers on the grass, scooping Yusuf’s hands up into his own. 

“If we are to truly leave this place, I want to do this properly.” He said, eyes clear and trained on him with an unwavering focus. “I love you, Yusuf, but I can’t promise any royal comforts, or an easy life. I have no ring or dagger to give,” his breath came out long and slow, intentionally calm even while his fingers squeezed around Yusuf’s hands. He let go, then, picking up his circlet of braided flowers to hold in his lap. “I can only promise you the kinds of beauty I can make grow. Would you…” 

His voice stuttered, his gaze dropping down to his lap and the blue flowers there, as if Yusuf was too blinding to look at. He could feel his smile splitting his cheeks, bright and unabashed, the cry of yes on the tip of his tongue, nearly jumping from his lips.

But he waited, patiently holding space for his love. He reached out and cupped his hand over his wrist, feeling his pulse race under the delicate skin, just to make Nico meet his gaze again. 

“Would you marry me, my Prince?” 

Yes. “Yes, my Gardener. I will marry you.” He replied, whispered like a secret, but more resonant and proud than anything he’d ever said. He was grinning, “Though, I’m not sure how much of a Prince I’ll be by the time we wed.” 

Nico huffed one of his little laughs, meeting Yusuf with one of his rare, open smiles as he lifted the circlet of blue and orange and braided white to rest gently on top of his curls. 

“No, but you will always be mine.” He said, swiping a tear from Yusuf’s cheek, not unlike he had done so recently, for such different reasons. It was more breath than sound, matching Yusuf’s hush. 

I’ve never been so proud to wear a crown, he thought. 

With his chest feeling expansive and warm, his cheeks hot with a pink flush, Yusuf hastily reached out for his own circlet of flowers. Their wide, fragrant petals and little sun-yellow centers felt silky under his fingers as he lifted it to Nico’s brow. 

“If I maintain such royalty, then, my husband must, too.” He replied, voice nearly lost in the birdsong. “King of my heart, my true love.” 

Nico’s face had gone soft and slack with a familiar expression— as if Yusuf was the sun itself, as if his warmth and light had singlehandedly brought him to life. 

Yusuf let himself be held as Nicolo took his face in his hands and leaned in close. He pressed his lips to his tear-stained cheek, and then the other. He peppered the smallest, gentlest kisses across the freckles on his nose, and Yusuf wrapped his hands around his love’s wrists to keep him close. The last kiss was softly, loving left on the crest of his brow bone, tender enough to bring the forest to a standstill. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

Winter prompt fill 67 for sternclay? Doesn’t have to be a wedding I just love the 2nd half of this prompt. nsfw would be great

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

67. you were supposed to have a beautiful winter wedding but you were ditched during the vows and my idiot sibling/best friend just cracked a joke about how maybe I’d finally tell you how I feel about you and you h e a r d

“She’s not coming.” Joseph whispers over his shoulder. 

“Joe, for all we know she got hung up in a dress emergency or something?” Lily, the best woman and Joseph’s sister, squeezes his shoulder.

When the groom turns his blue eyes on Barclay, the groomsman does his best impression of someone who thinks things will be fine.

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“Her entire wedding party is here without her. And they look as confused as we do.”

Barclay spots a member of the event staff slip in a side door and hand a piece of paper to Indrid, their friend who’s acting as an usher. 

“I, ah, have some bad news.” The pale-haired man joins them at the front of the church, “it seems the bride has had a serious change of mind and will not be joining us.”

Joseph grabs the paper, reading it over as the bridal party crowds around him. The upshot of all the commotion, and the arguing that follows the commotion, is that the bride has indeed called off the wedding and is en route to an airport. 

As the family confirms she’s alright, Joseph picks up the microphone.

“Obviously this is a, um, unexpected turn of events. It’s safe to say no one is getting married today, but everything is still in order for the reception and we’re all dressed up so, um, if people want to stay and take advantage of that, you’re welcome to. You’re also welcome to leave if you want.”

Several groups break off towards the reception hall, and Barclay pulls Joseph aside. 

“Joe,  are you sure? I mean, yeah, we’re all here, but I don’t think anyone is gonna hold it against you if you want to send everyone home.”

“It’s important to be flexible.” Joseph replies blithely. Barclay knows his best friend hates when plans change and is unlikely to suddenly lose that piece of his personality at the same moment he lost his fiancee. 

“Besides, I’d hate for that menu you helped us pick out to go to waste.” There it is, the Joseph Stern Professional smile ™, a sign that Barclay’s hunch is right.

“Screw the menu, man, I’m worried about you.” Barclay sets a hand on either of his shoulders. Joseph’s gaze snaps all the way onto him, and he knows he is losing this argument. 

“It’s still my wedding, Barclay. That means I get to run it in whatever way I think best.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He steps back, brushes lint from his arm, “you go on ahead. I join you in a sec.”

Joseph nods, turning to stride though the room in his dark suit, while Barclay watches the love of his life walk away.

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

“Uh, hi, I’m Barclay. You must be Joseph?” Barclay stands in the door of the dorm room, his backpack in his arms. 

“Yes. Um, nice to meet you.” The other guy stands, black hair and well-fitting X-Files shirt making him look like Agent Mulder on his day off.

“I didn’t choose a side yet, it seemed fair to wait until we were both here. I’m partial to the left but that’s more habit than anything else.”

“I’m cool with that. I, uh, I don’t have a ton of stuff to unpack so, uh if you need help let me know.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiles, taking his face from cute to heart-stoppingly handsome, and Barclay decides he hit the roommate jackpot.

Barclay didn’t fall for Joe so much as cliffdive, throwing himself after the feeling he got whenever Joe laughed at a joke or told him a secret or talked for fifteen minutes about the methodology flaws in Ghost Hunters. Yes, Joe was hotter than convection oven and Barclay wanted to fuck him on the floor of every space they ever lived in, but more than that Barclay was so happy with him, and his friend felt the same way. 

The problem was, Barclay had a shy streak and was far from the only person to see Joe as a catch. And so they dated other people, sometimes happily and sometimes not, but never each other. By the time Joe met Iris, Barclay’s unrequited love had been thrumming in him so long it was no more than background noise. So when Joe ran proposal ideas by him, announced the weddings, asked Barclay to stand up with him, Barclay felt genuine happiness for him and the woman he loved. There’s no rule that says one cannot feel joy and knife-in-the-gut sorrow at the same time.

He’s only gotten better with age he thinks as Joe works the room, fielding condolences with ease. Barclay helped him choose the suit, black with blue lines in the stitching, because it flattered  but did not flaunt the well-maintained figure beneath. The last time Barclay saw him in just his underwear was when they lived together after college, and he fumbled his phone when he saw him at the beach last summer. He can picture it so clearly, what that body looks like under those clothes, and it makes him want to scream

“This whole day has been full of surprises.” Indrid sits down next to him, glass of soda in hand. 

“Kinda figured you and Duck would head home.”

“Most of  our friends are here, and the food looks good. Not to mention we’re both worried about-” Indrid nods towards Joseph.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I admire his holding it together but, like, what if Duck had left you at the altar?”

“I’d have turned into a hideous red-eyed monster and flapped screeching into the night.”

“......”

“That was a joke.” Indrid grins. 

“Right. Man, hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“While this is an upsetting situation, there is a bright side; maybe now you will finally tell Joseph how you feel.”

A crash makes them both turn in their seats; Joseph is wiping his dropped (plastic) cup up with a nearby napkin, well within earshot. 

“Indrid I swear if he heard-”

“Oh, I am certain he did.”

“Dude” Barclay hisses as Joseph steals an unreadable glance at him. 

“For goodness sake, you two are a good pair. A pair you’ve been dreaming about for years. Tell him.” With that the other man stands, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts. His thoughts are no help, so he joins Indrid, Duck, Aubrey, and Dani for some cake.

As the venue finally empties, he realizes he hasn’t seen Joe in an hour and panics until he finds him standing (swaying, really) in the staging room. 

“You, hic, know, hic, this explains, hic, why she didn’t want to move until hic, after the wedding.”

“Seems like it’s for the best, going home to a place where all her stuff is would fucking suck.” Barclay puts an arm around him only for the shorter man to slump most of his weight into his chest.

“The hotel’s paid for, and I have a week hic of vacation and a packed car.”

“You’re not driving anywhere. I can and will lock you in a closet if you try.”

“Or you could, hic, come with me.”

“On your honeymoon?” Thank god Joe is too drunk to notice his voice creeping up.

“On my it’s this or be miserable t home trip. Please, Barclay? We can hic, swing by your place to get your stuff.”

Barclay says yes. Purely to help a friend in need and not because of how said friend feels pressed up against him.

They’re an hour out of the city when Joseph fumbles with his phone, “Change of plans, were going here instead of the hotel?”

“I thought the whole point was the hotel was paid for?”

“It is, by her family, so fuck it. I’ve always wanted to go here and it’s the kind of place she’d never let us stay.”

They take the next exit and find the highway North rather than East. By the time they reach the massive pink building with an airplane in the field out front, snow is falling and Joe is half-asleep, mumbling “okay” when Barclay says he’ll go get them a room. The clerk welcomes him, shows him a list of available rooms, and he notices a high number of them have heart-shaped bed, “tubs for two,” and the word “fantasy” in the name. 

Just as he’s wondering what the fuck Joe’s gotten them into, he spots the perfect room at the bottom of the list. 

“Got a surprise for you.” He helps Joe from the car and unlocks the door. His friend takes in the silver and green decor, the posters, and the UFO-shaped bed. 

“This is the exact one I was hoping for.”

“I know, you giant nerd.”

“Be nice, big guy, or you’re sleeping on the couch.” Joe stumbles to the bed and starts stripping, at which point Barclay zips back outside to get their bags. By the time he’s back, Joe is under the covers and out cold. The king bed does look comfy…

Barclay sleeps on the couch. 

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

Joe remains dead to the world until almost noon the next day, so Barclay works on his cookbook edits and sends yet another thank-you email to Mama for letting him take his vacation with such little notice. He grabs breakfast, including a sandwich for when Joe wakes up and some aspirin to go with his coffee. 

“I hate myself.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Joe rolls over, dragging the pillow atop his head, “I didn’t mean to get so drunk, it’s just the only way I could get through all those conversations yesterday was to take a drink every time I felt like crumbling.”

Barclay sits on the bed, petting his head, “It’s okay, man, getting me to drive you to a weird sex hotel is not the worst thing you’ve done drunk.”

“I threw up in a mixer one time.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” He laughs when Joe whacks him with a pillow. In the silence that follows, he remembers Indrid’s comment, and wonders if Joe does too. 

“...Is this really a sex hotel? I just thought it was kitsch aimed at couples”

“Go look at the tub.”

Joe groans, stepping out of bed in just his--god help him--silk boxer briefs. They must have been under the suit. 

“Are these...they are, there are handcuffs hanging by the tub. Well, weird as that is, I’m taking a bath.”

The day goes in an oddly non-awkward direction after that. They’ve lived together often enough that getting dressed and clean in close quarters is nothing new. Joe votes for hiding from the world  bit longer, so they settle in on the very squishy bed and watch a silver plated T.V, Joe laughing whenever Barclay yells at cooking shows they way other people yell at football games. 

He still sleeps on the couch that night. 

The next day Joe is up bright and early, suggesting they drive to a nearby tourist trap, using his phone to pick out a breakfast place that serves Barclays favorite local coffee blend. They follow that same process the next two days; find some strange roadside attraction or nearby bookstore, eat, and return back to the motel to lay side by side on the bed and to read or watch T.V.

It’s as they’re wandering around a strange, knock-off Carhenge that Joe sighs, “I sort of saw it coming, you know? Iris leaving. I proposed because I cared about her, but she was the one who brought it up, and every time we were visiting her family or she got off the phone with them, she’d bring it up more forcefully. I think she was under more pressure to settle down than I grasped. If our places were switched, I might have run too. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to marry me.”

Barclay crunches to a stop in the snow “Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I’m exactly the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your family but not spend your life with. My job has weird hours and travel, my non-work clothes have cryptids on them, I can be too particular, and I’m not that exciting for someone whose job is special agent-”

“No, fuck that, you’re a catch.”

“You’re just used to me, big guy. Your objectivity is in question.”

“Yeah, well, you’re even more used to you, so I’m really the more objective one here.” 

“Maybe you’re right.” Joe stares at his footprints, then elbows the cook, “come on, lets go get lunch.”

Barclay is still full and happy, having warmed up via a soak in the tub (where he thought of four different ways to use the cuffs and then had to calm down his cock enough to get out), when he comes into the main room and finds Joe staring at his phone. 

“Oh shit, did she get in touch?”

“Yes. Iris, um, is on a cruise ship. As a yoga instructor. She says it’s something she’s dreamed of for years, that she’s sorry for hurting me, but that marrying me would have been a step in a life she did not want to lead. So. That’s that.” He puts the phone face down, cards his fingers through his hair, “Lord almighty I wish she’d just said no when I asked.”

“Me too.” Barclay imagines a different past, where Joe asked him instead, where he said yes because it’s what he’s been dreaming of since he was twenty-two. Where Joe is sitting in front of him, not sad-eyed and tired, but happy as can be. 

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

This hangover is somehow worse than the one the morning after his non-wedding. Then again, he drank more in a shorter period, hoping to drown out the memory of the words on the screen. 

Or the words he overheard at the reception.

“Tell him how you really feel”

He’s had his suspicions about Barclay from time to time, most frequently when they were younger and he felt those deep brown eyes on his ass every time he turned around. But Barclay never took a chance; there were times after break-ups when Joe is certain anyone who was interested would have taken advantage of him being vulnerable and available, but instead Barclay cheered him up, the same way Joe did when Barclay’s relationships ended. Stern concluded neither of them wanted more. 

He would have taken more in an instant. His love for Barclay walked the line between romantic and platonic, and he would have crossed it the moment Barclay asked him to.

Now, he’s bathing with his eyes shut because any light is murder on his skull, his best friend waking up on the couch where he’s insisted on staying because clearly Joe’s lost his appeal. Who’d want to sleep with someone who got roaring drunk and needed babysitting?

He pops aspirin, drinks water, and lays down with his sleep mask over his eyes. Barclay moves around the room, talking softly in that gentle baritone that, not for the first time, makes Stern wonder what he sounds like when he cums. 

“You want me to run and grab breakfast?”

“No, I can get it for both of us. Lord knows you’ve done enough for me this week.”

“You gonna go downstairs blindfolded?”

“For you, I’ll risk a headache OW, owow.” His back locks up just as he tries to sit upright.

The bed sags, “Holy shit man, you’ve got a huge knot right here.”

“My back always does that when I’m stressed, it’ll be fine.”

“Nuhuh, lay down and let me see if I can get it out.” Barclay nudges him onto his stomach and he flops willingly, mask still on. 

“You don’t need to Ohhhhhhhhhnnn, I forget about those bakers hands.”

“Gonna knead you like dough, babe.”

Stern blushes at the name; he was always a little jealous when his friend called his boyfriends that. 

When thumbs pass below his shoulder-blades he moans, arches at the second of pain, “That’s it, that’s the epicenter.”

He can’t stop sighing as Barclay runs his hands over him, can’t stop wiggling his hips at every burst of relief. He pushes his ass up without meaning too, and a bitten-back whine reaches him. 

Fuck it. Even if he’s about to make a huge mistake, he wont have to look Barclay in the eyes.

“What did Indrid mean? At the reception.”

“Uh.” Barclay’s hands still, “uh. That I was worried about you.”

“Try again.” He grinds his ass back deliberately. 

“Joe, please, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here. You’re underneath me shirtless and I am not gonna do this a dumb way.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you that, that I, no nope, I’m gonna do this back home, at the Lodge or something, make you dinner first and be all romantic so that you don’t think I’m talking with my dick when I say I love you.”

Barclay’s whole body tenses. Joe flips onto his back, regrets the sudden movement, and lifts his sleep mask. He takes one of his frozen hands from the air.

“I love you too.”

“Really?” Barclay sounds like a teenager whose crush just said yes to prom.

“Really. And I don’t think it’s just your dick talking. Although if you wanted to bring it into the equation I wouldn’t mind.” He sends a pointed stare at the half-hard shape under worn denim.

Barclay’s breathing is picking up, his posture trapped between movements. 

“Do you, um, do you want to kiss?”

His friend drops down in reply, smashing their lips together and parting his own imploringly until Stern slips his tongue between them. His big hands cup Stern’s face and his hips grind like he thinks his parents will be home any minute. 

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Joe, ohgod, babe, please, please let me be good to you” the kisses on his face and neck are messy and the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt. 

“Barclay, you’ve always been good to me.”

“I meant this” he drags their dicks together, “kind of good.”

“Ohlord, yes okay, good point. Get your clothes off and bring me the purple bag that’s in my suitcase.”

Barclay grabs the bag, upends it and sends several sex toys, his strap-on underwear, and lots of condoms onto the bed, undresses as Stern sets one of the toys into the harness. 

“I need to put this back on.” He lowers the mask and hears a soft whine.

“I like seeing your eyes.”

“You’ll see them plenty, big guy, I promise. Now, open yourself up, please.”

“Oh hell yes.” A rip of foil, a pop of lube, and then Barclay straddles him, grunting delightfully. 

“Tell me when you get to three, that should be enough for this toy.”

Pre-cum drips just above the waistband of the underwear, and he gets a thrill remembering the few times he’d caught an accidental glimpse of Barclay’s dick. It’s big, that much he knows, and he’s going to have a lot of fun with it once he’s done reducing the man above him to tears. 

“T-three, babe.”

“Get my dick wet and then get to it.”

When he gets the gasp that tells him the toy is in, he smile and reaches to the underside of the base, “Remember that new dick I was excited about?”

“The vibrating one? OHFUCK, fuckyeahbabe” Barclay jerks and moans, his movements erratic even as he sinks all the way down. Stern echoes him, the pressure of the other man’s body makes the vibrations hit all the right spots. 

“Here’s how this is going to work, big guy; I’m going to get off while I fuck you, and if you can hold off on coming until I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“God yeah, Joe, fuck me, please.” 

He thrusts up and there’s a thud of Barclay’s hands hitting the headboard. The movement is rough on his stomach but he doesn’t care, grabs hold of thick thighs and fucks him, the other man working his hips in an attempt at rhythm.

The mask catches on a pillow, letting him see Barclay from the neck down. Lord, he looks good like this, big (Stern’s always loved how big he is), letting out the most appealing grunts and growls, dark hair covering most of his softly muscled body…

Wait a minute. 

He claps a hand over his mouth, laughing. 

“Whats, aAAhnnn, what’s so funny babe?”

“Remember when you found that Sasquatch dildo and bigfoot romance novel in my stuff?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I just discovered the source of the fantasy.”

“Are, are you saying I look like bigfoot when I fuck?” Barclay is shaking with laughter. 

“Kind of?”

“I’m putting that on a sign in my den.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late AHHhhnnnfuck, fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease say you’re close.”

“Why? In a hurry to fuck me?”

“After ten fucking years? Yes.”

He focuses on rubbing off on the toy, holding Barclay in place to keep it at the right angle, orgasm building sudden and swift when he works his hips just right and Barclay starts whimpering.

“Shit” he bites out as it ripples through him, aftershocks jerking his hips and making them both groan. 

Barclay climbs off and he wiggles the underwear off and kicks them off the bed. 

“Okay, big guy, now you can fuck meSHIT, lordalmighty you  feel good.”

“Fucking knew it would, knew you were fucking made for me Joe, fuck you’re incredible.” The hand that’s not balancing him on the mattress is shoving Sterns left out and up so he can drive deeper, shaking the walls on each thrust. Stern wonders if there’s a way recreate ten years of pent up desire so that Barclay will fuck him with this same furious affection every night of his life.

He’s limp post-orgasm, happy to let Barclay manhandle him to his hearts content. When the other man sits up, dragging his hips into his lap, he moans louder than he had in years. 

“That’s it babe, lemme hear how good it is, fuck, no one’s ever looked this good taking my dick, c’mon, take it all the way, take me all the way while I cum in you.”

“Ohlord.” his toes curl weakly as bucks into him faster and faster.

“Fucking years, years I’ve wanted cum in whatever hole you’d give me, now I’m gonna and you’re gonna feel it for weeks, fuck, babe, that’s it, ohhhnn Joe, Joe” there’s a final growl as Barclay holds his legs open, the last jolts of his orgasm making his fingers dig into his skin. 

As he’s coming down and pulling out, Stern slips off the mask, blinking at the sight before him. Barclay, flushed and slick with sweat, staring at him like he’s a prize he’d never thought he’d see.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He winces at how childish it sounds. A week ago he had a fiancee, for gods sake. 

“Yeah, hell yes, wait, Joe, you just got out of an engagement. You, you sure you don’t want some time alone or to, like, explore other options?”

Stern crawls over to him, beard scratching his palm when he turns his cheek, “Barclay, I’ve always been one step away from falling in love with you, and it turns out this was the step. I trust you, I get along better with you than anyone else, and apparently we work well in bed. If, um, if you don’t want this, if it’s too late, I understand. But if you want to be together, I want that too.”

Barclay blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s crying and Stern pulls him into the hug.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Joe, don’t apologize. I’m so fucking happy, I’ve wanted to hear this for so long it’s just” a shaky breath, “just didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I love you, Joseph, and nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend.”

They stay like that for awhile, talking in confessions and professions of feelings. Then Joe kisses him, and pulls him towards the bathroom to clean up (and maybe use those cuffs) before heading out to lunch.

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

Indrid opens the message on his phone, smiles, and texts four words in reply. 

I told you so

[madeofitzits]

In honor of the impending return of Brooklyn 99, here are 99 reasons that...

1. He was precocious enough to know, at 5 years old, that he wanted to change his name (x)

 2. He has a bunch of nicknames: Sandy Amberg, Young Sandwich, etc. but the most endearing one is 'Droidy', his family's name for him (x) 

3. He is still super close friends with people he's known since: Elementary School (Chelsea Peretti) (x)...

4. Junior High/High School (Kiv and Jorm) (x) 

5. … Summer Camp (Irene Neuwirth) (x)

7.  ...and Film School (Chester Tam) (x)

8. Before he met Joanna, he dated other famous ladies but - out of respect - he never discussed it/them (x) 

9. He loves turtles and tortoises. When he was a kid, he had a pet turtle that he named 'Squirt' because the first time he held it, it peed on him. His Mom, Margie, accidentally killed Squirt when Andy was at Summer camp... (x)

10. … Maybe this is why, when shooting 'Popstar', Andy fell hard for Maximus (Conner 4 Real's turtle). He says they "had a good thing going" and that he wanted to adopt him. In the end, he decided against it because there are a bunch of coyotes in his neighborhood and he was worried the little guy wouldn't be safe. (Popstar: DVD Commentary)

11. Speaking of his Mom, despite being a super private person, he appeared on 'Finding your Roots' so that he could help her track down her birth family (x)

12. When he succeeded he cried (although we never got to see it on camera) (x)

13. That's because, like all good boys, he loves his Mama which is why - as part of the same episode - he said "My mom is basically the kindest person I know… and many people would corroborate that" (x)

14. Andy's Sisters, Hannie (Johanna) and Darrow, used to make him wear diapers and put his hair in pigtails until he was 5 years old. He says he didn't mind because he just liked that they were paying attention to him (x)

15. That's why he sees his identity in comedy as being 'America's kid brother'. When he was young, he would annoy his sisters until they laughed and he claims to have been replicating that approach to entertainment ever since

16. Although a bunch of his characters have 'Daddy Issues', Andy definitely doesn't. He's super close with his Papa (Joe) and has said "he's a good man" and "the best Dad in the world" (x) 

17. Joe was Andy's youth soccer coach and in one scene in 'Hot Rod', Joe's favorite photograph can be seen in the background. It shows a very young Andy posing with a soccer ball, after "scoring the winning goal against Mersey" (x)

18. He's been a loyal Golden State Warriors fan since he was a little kid, living in Oakland (then Berkeley) and, in 2010, he correctly predicted that they would "win a Championship in my lifetime" (x) 

19. The proceeds from his Umami Burger ('The Samburger') went to a deafness early detection program in Berkeley. This cause is close to his heart because Margie uses hearing aids and used to work in the special needs program, teaching deaf kids (x)

20. He, Kiv, and Jorm have made multiple donations to their old school district, including $250 000 to its theater program (x)

21. On the subject of The Lonely Island; Andy always goes out of his way to make sure that everyone knows how much he owes to his buddies. For instance, he told Marc Maron, during his WTF appearance, that "I get a lot of credit for what Kiv and Jorm have done" (x)

22. He makes this face when he knows he’s said something naughty…

(Gif credit: @andrewsambags)

23. During his 'Wild Horses' appearance, he said that he can't watch scary movies because they freak him out too much. He told 'Complex' that he's still scared of 'The Shining' (x)...

24. … Similarly, when he was at UC Santa Cruz he worked at the Del Mar movie theater and he had a hard time coping with screenings of 'Species 2' (x)

25. He fell in love with Joanna, the moment he met her, when she greeted him by addressing him as 'Steve the C**t' (x)

 26. He listened to 'Ys', everyday for a year, before he and Joanna started dating (x)

27. He bought the original portrait that was used as the basis of the cover art for 'Ys' and gave it to Joanna as a Christmas present, so that she could hang it in her music room (x)

 28. He loves birds and goes hiking and birding with Joanna (x)

 29. Every new comment he makes about Joanna becomes an instant contender for 'most beautiful thing a person has ever said about their spouse' (x)

30. For example, he readily admits that Jake's iconic heart eyes are the result of him thinking about his amazing wife (x)

31. There are many stories about how incredibly romantic Andy and Joanna's wedding was and Jorm has said that it featured "the most magical vows I've ever heard" (x)

32. The Newsombergs now live in Charlie Chaplin's old house (x)

33. On the Emmys Red Carpet (2015), the year he hosted, they took a momentary break from posing for the world's press to whisper 'I love you' to each other (x)

34. At last year's Vanity Fair party, Andy carried Joanna's purse for her so she could grab a snack (x)

35. He was a semi-permanent fixture in the audience for her recent run of shows for the 'Strings/Keys Incident' tour, even officially confirming his status as the 'President of her Fan Club' (x)

36. He used his Golden Globes monologue to call out the government for framing and murdering the Black Panthers (x)

37. On the Carpet for the Guy's Choice Awards, he called the event "a ridiculous farce", adding that "men already have it so easy - it's insane that there's a show that celebrates them". That makes sense when you consider that he, Kiv and Jorm have made an entire career out of parodying toxic masculinity (x)

38. He once said that only "idiot-ass men" think that women aren't funny (x)

39. He’s been wearing glasses since 7th Grade and he has the most heartbreakingly cute habit of nudging them up his nose, (especially when he wears his Sol Moscot frames) (x)...

40. ... and of rubbing his eyes under them (x)

41. He barely ever wears glasses for roles but he also avoids contacts (because he doesn't like touching his eyeballs) which means he's almost always 'acting blind' (x)

42. He has worn his glasses in character a few times - as 'himself' ('Lady Dynamite'), as 'Paul' ('I Think You Should Leave') and during a very small number of SNL sketches (e.g. during his one appearance in a 'Gilly' with Kristen Wiig) (x) 

43. He can't tolerate glare and when that makes him squint it's a sight that's too cute for words (x)

44. He owns about six outfits and has been rotating them for well over a decade (x) 

45. He barely ever breaks during shooting/while performing, so when he does it's aggressively adorable. (x), (x)

46. He's a grown ass man who persuades people to come with him to the bathroom because if he goes by himself he'll get lonely (x)

47. He didn't announce he was leaving SNL, until after his last appearance, selflessly choosing not to detract from Kirsten Wiig's huge and emotional send-off (x) 

48. He undertook a quest to smell like Lorne Michaels (x) 

49. He's ageing like a fine wine (x)

50. To protect their daughter's privacy, Andy and Joanna never announced that they were expecting. They've never released their little girl's name or date of birth and most news outlets still report that they became parents in August 2017 (even though that's inaccurate) (x)

51. Although he's careful not to talk about his daughter often, sometimes he can't keep from gushing about her. For example, when asked about his first year of fatherhood he said: "It’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Just like a beautiful, incredible dream. It has surpassed every expectation I ever had. It’s definitely been very blissful" (x)

52. After their daughter was born, Andy and Joanna spent the first 40 days at home with her (in a practice known as 'confinement'). He's described it as being "a really special time". (x) 

53. Andy is famously mild-mannered but, when asked about what triggers his 'Dad claws', he admitted that if anyone attempted to touch his daughter, without permission, he'd "probably sock them hard in the face"…

54. ...Characteristically, he went on to add that he hopes that never happens, since he hasn't been in a fight since 6th Grade (x)

55. Cyndi Lauper was his first celebrity crush and he plays her record ('She's so unusual') for his daughter all the time. (x)

56. His is the very definition of a precious laugh (x)...

57. It's made even more wonderful by the way it makes his voice go high-pitched (x)

58.  … and the way it causes his eyebrow to rise involuntarily  

59. It's impossible not to smile at his impression of his Mom (x)

60. And laugh at his impression of John Mulaney (x)

61. He was so convinced he wouldn't win the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Comedy or Musical, that he didn't prepare a speech. Instead, as he explained to David Letterman, he "just went… and started drinking". The resulting list of improvised 'thank yous' was perfect in every way (x)

62. As producers, Andy, Kiv and Jorm have given life to some amazing projects ('Alone Together', 'Brigsby Bear', 'I Think You Should Leave')...

63. … and gone out of their way to support women in comedy ('Party Over Here', 'PEN15') (x)

64. As well as being a comedy legend, he's a super-talented dramatic actor, who gave the performance of a lifetime in 'Celeste and Jesse Forever' but, after the movie wrapped, and it was time to do press for it, he was straight back to goofing around (x) 

65. His lip bite should be illegal (x)

66. Even though he wears the same vanishingly small number of outfits, over and over, he has a vast collection of the most excellent socks (x)

67. He always gives 'editing notes' during his own interviews (x)

68. He has a super sweet and sincere way of thanking interviewers when they compliment him (x)

69. He adjusts his hoodie constantly (x)

70. The two most perfect Jake laughs in b99 are actually real Andy laughs 'https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=W38A_xuXaeg https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=sVm9nYrTWRQ

71. Virtually everyone who has ever worked with Andy has talked about what a wonderful person he is. This explains why so many of them have been involved with more than one of his projects (x)

72. It's not only his colleagues who talk about what a delight he is (x), (x)

73. This lovestruck fool wore his own wife's merch when he went out to dinner (x)

74. No one else uses the word 'dinky' quite like Andy (x). The same goes for 'snacky' (see point 70)

75. He does this with his tongue (x)

76. He still likes to play soccer but his eyesight is so bad that he has to keep his glasses on for it

77. When he lets his gorgeous floofy hair grow a little it sits perfectly over the arms of his glasses (x)

78. He gifted the world with Jakey's little curl (x)

79. At the James Franco Roast, he couldn't bring himself to be mean to anyone except himself (and Jeff Ross, a little!) (x)

80. In fact, he's always been willing to laugh at himself (x) and he still is (x)

81. He changes b99 scripts to make them more feminist (x)

82. Despite their humble insistence that they just benefited from 'good timing', the reality is that Andy, Kiv and Jorm (along with Chris Parnell) revolutionized digital media, when 'Lazy Sunday' popularized YouTube, increasing its traffic by 85% overnight (x)

83. He once attended the Vanity Fair party because his Mom told him to (x)

84. He has an amazing way of subtly but firmly shutting down inappropriate questions, like when this interviewer suggested that Holt being gay was something that could have been played for laughs https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=idQsYQfkR5o

85. He auditioned for SNL at the same time as Bill Hader. Hader thought he'd blown it because Andy had a bunch of props and Bill had none. In the meantime, Andy thought he'd blown it when he saw Hader and realized 'this guy doesn't need any props' (x) 

86. His bromance with Seth Meyers is one for the ages (x)

87. Every single second of this video is proof of why Andy, Kiv and Jorm deserve the world (x)

88. He once dragged Mulaney up on stage for SNL Goodnights, even though writers weren't allowed to join in (x)

89. He has a hilarious phobia of pooping anywhere except his own bathroom (x) 

90. His beautiful, beautiful, face: His smile (radiant), his eyes (caramel - hella disarming), his ears (adorably asymmetrical), his nose (perfect), His chin (the dimple… *swoon*), his jaw (could cut glass), The 'Sambeard' (another amazing layer of pretty) (x)

91. His body: His butt (x), his thighs, (x) his soft lil tummy (The ‘Sambelly’) (x), his hands. (x), his arms (x), his hips…

(Gif credit: @amystiago /@badpostandy on Twitter)

92. All signs point to the fact that, like Jake, Andy uses his glasses case as a wallet (x) 

93. Jake's "cool-cool-cool-cool-cool-cool" is an irl Andy-ism that the writers worked into b99 scripts. What's even better is that Joanna does it, too (x)

94. He has a really good arm and is low key competitive, which is super hot https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=e32K_nBDy3Q

95. He's one half of the cutest Red Carpet pose of all time (x)

96. He barely ever seems to get mad but if angry Jake is anything to go by, maybe he should... (x)

97. He's a huge nerd, who geeks out over GOT, LOTR, 'Star Wars', 'Alien(s)' and anything relating to time travel (x), (x)

98. He has a gorgeous speaking voice, especially when he’s tired or a little sick. (Bonus points for any time he uses the word ‘correct’. See point 30) (x) 

99. He’s still so committed to his b99 fans and fam, even after all this time and is as excited as the rest of us that...

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 31)

The smell of buttered, barbecue corn on the cobs mixed with the scent of burning firewood makes Mila’s mouth water like the cookie monster catching sight of chocolate chip cookies, as she and Juri make their way down the dark street.

“Can you smell that?” She asks Juri. “Smells nice, right?”

Juri nods eagerly and the blue eyes glistens hungrily. 

She’s holding a bottle of vodka in her right hand and Juri’s hand in her left as they struts down the street towards the bonfire and the sound of chatting people. Juri’s dressed up in a knitted sweater, sent from mama in Russia for his second birthday. The shirt was way too big for a two year old, so Mila left it in a drawer until they had to leave, to escape when all hell broke loose. It’s maroon with white, traditional pattern over the chest. 

“Are you excited?” Mila asks as they pass Jessie’s house, and a sad feeling overwhelms her. Poor Jessie. She shifts her focus from the now empty house to Juri, who nods at her. “Yeah. Me too. It might be fun. You remember the barbecues at Ellie’s and Joe’s?” Juri nods once again. Of course he remembers ‘grams’ and ‘gramps’. It felt weird to Mila that he knew her foster parents better than his real grandmother, whom he called ‘baba’. But baba was always baba. Juri gestures at her, expresses a feeling of longing for the three of them. “I miss them too, Malysh.” She smiles. “Think about the barbecue.”

That’s a thought that cheers both of them up. Mila loves barbecues. She has experienced several very different variants of the event during her short lifetime. Hot summer evenings at the Dacha at home in Russia, when the whole neighborhood gathered from the surrounding summer cottages in the largest garden and built a barbecue of old brick or sheet metal. Everyone contributed food and the vodka was lined up on a table. They danced, sang, there was always someone playing the accordion and some dexterous ribbons of wreaths. The smell of smoke settled deep in the clothes, but it did not matter, it was part of the experience itself. It was so easy and homely. In the wee hours, when half the vodka ration was consumed, there could be both hopak dancing and sniping. During the autumn harvest, people also grilled, especially during forest excursions and mushroom picking. Mama fried mushrooms over an open fire while papa boned fish. In the winter, they did the same thing, dressed up in several layers of clothes and fur hats. Their breaths stood like ice clouds from their mouths, but they didn’t freeze and the fire kept their cheeks glowing hot. 

In the States, she got to experience a different kind of barbecue, not as folksy, but still nice in that American, exaggerated way. Joe Galka owned a Weber grill, a piece as big as a piano, Mila thought, to which he was very attached. He could grill most things. In the summers there was a barbecue almost every weekend and friends and family were invited. Mila’s, Billy’s and Adam’s friends were always invited. Even in the States, people brought food to the festivities; meringue pies, apple pies, ribs dripped with sauce, mashed potatoes, salads and god knows what. Significantly less strong booze than the Russian festivities, but all the more pale beer; disgusting Corona and Budweiser, that the middle-aged men, gathered around Joe’s grill, wearing the same type of cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirts, happily sipped. And sniping was out of the question in the suburbs. When Mila met Jim and they went on hikes just the two of them, Mila went in childhood. They grilled over an open fire in the woods, or at a beach, using firewood and matches, an old frying pan and some simple tools. They brought food, coffee, booze and, God forbid, a big bag of marshmallows. Jim loved those grilled, melting sugar bombs, while Mila couldn’t stand them, instead preferring grilled fruit with a little honey and cinnamon. Then they picked out the guitar and the harmonica and sat there, playing and singing Creedence, country and other great songs, in the light of the fire, drinking booze, hearing the waves smoothly run into the sandy shore, the leves rattle in the breeze. 

Despite the fact that Mila sees herself as an established barbecue visitor by now, after exploring her way through several barbecue cultures, this is a new version. Post-apocalyptic barbecue. 

“Wonder what food we get, except for potatoes and corn.” Mila says. Juri chuckles at the thought of an all potato and corn barbecue. “Maybe some-” Mila thinks. “Green beans? Tomatoes? Oh, and what if they have found some broccoli! You’d like that.” 

Earlier in the day, Mila took Juri out outside the safe zone and went on a journey of discovery in a direction they had not previously gone. After 1,2 miles they came to an open field which Mila immediately recognized as a vast potato field. There were a few, ravaged plants sticking out of the soil, but the chance that there were a lot of potatoes hidden underneath was huge. She let out a roar of joy at the discovery and frightened a couple of birds that angrily lifted from the untouched, rugged earth, and flew away to calmer lands. Some distance away, a barn loomed and Mila purposefully steered her steps towards the grayish-brown building, where the paint had begun to flake from the walls. She pushed open the door and went in, made sure that no walkers were lurking before releasing Juri from the harness and instructing him to search for potato sacks, and other useful things. Mila found the potato sacks, while Juri found a rusty shovel. They returned to the field and Mila began scanning the earth for a potentially lush piece to start digging on. Then she started digging, while Juri began to scrape the ground by hand. The sweat evaporated from her forehead, but being out there in the big field with Juri, performing body work, created an endorphin surcharge within her she hadn’t known for a long time. She felt alive. The smell of the earth, the still breeze and the sound of the shovel shaft digging into the ground. It was agrarian, made her homesick for Russia, to the Russian countryside. Sure, it was barren and vast beyond infinity, but she loved it. Her strong, Russian soul needed an outlet right there and then. Mila started singing. A hair-raising, Russian partisan song, something her grandfather sang for her as a child. Then she needed to cheer up the mood a bit, so she started singing “Panic” by The Smiths instead. Whether it was merry was questionable, but the melody was catchy. She then went down on her knees and started to dig with her hands in the soil. Suddenly she felt something in the ground, and triumphantly she pulled out the lower part of a potato plant, where surely eight or ten potatoes were still attached, and they looked really good!

“Jackpot!” Mila exclaimed. 

While digging and tearing up cluster after cluster of potatoes, Mila and Juri talked about all the good potato dishes they could now make, making their mouth water with saliva. Potato gratin, fried potatoes with dill, moussaka with potatoes, one of their absolute favorites. They stopped digging after a sack was filled. Mila had to carry it home, and the sack probably weighed well over 30 kilos, so they stopped working and decided to come back another day, by car. 

“Sorry, malenkiy. Time to use your legs.” said Mila, hoisting the sack onto her shoulder, next to the rucksack. Well, time to use mine as well, she thought and felt the heavy bag weighing her down. If Grandma could carry two full buckets of water from the well twice a day for seventy years, I should be able to carry thirty kilos of potatoes back to Alexandria.

Thank goodness she had tough, lanky muscles. And they didn’t run into anyone on the way back. Soaked in sweat and back inside the Alexandria walls, Mila dropped the heavy bag in front of Carol in the kitchen. Carol looked as if she could not believe her eyes at the sack. Mila went and took a much-needed shower, while Carol and Juri started peeling potatoes. She then helped Rick chop wood. 

“Ya’ good at this.” Rick said as Mila, once again dripping with sweat after that very unnecessary shower, easily split firewood after firewood with the other ax.

“It may sound like a stereotype, but in Russia you learn this early in life, if you do not want to freeze to death.” Mila huffed and wiped her forehead on her arm. “Grandma and grandpa didn’t have electricity. Then you had to chop wood.”

She took a second shower an hour later, and got herself and Juri dressed up in, not fancy clothes, but clean ones, not covered in soil, dirt and potato peel. In front of the mirror she inspected the scar after the wolves machete. It was still red and bumpy, but had healed nicely, a slight miracle since she hadn’t been taking care of it nearly as well as Denise told her to. She then stepped into a pair of blue, worn jeans and ripped a top over her head. While Juri brushed his hair, Mila inspected him and cracked open a bottle of vodka. 

She’s accustomed to pre-parties and has been an avid supporter of the phenomenon since her teenage years; never arrive sober to a party, or a funeral, or anything really if you’re an alcoholic like Mila.

She looks at the brand new bottle of Russian standard in her hand, contemplating if she should sweep it at the spot to increase her chances of ‘mingle and jingle’. Before she turns thought into action Maggie comes up at her right side. 

“One could think everything was somewhat- I dunno, pre- all this.” Maggie says and lifts her eyebrows underneath the side swept brown hair.

“Feels odd.” Mila admits. “Nice, but strange. Be happy you don’t feel sick yet. The barbecue smell would kill you.”

Maggie looks down at the grey tank top underneath the checked shirt, smiles at the sight of her own stomach. It’s not prominently pouting yet, but in a few weeks it won’t be possible to hide the bump. 

“Can’t wait.” Maggie replies ironically and nods towards the vodka bottle.

“You’re prepared for disaster or what?”

“Mouth water.” Mila says simply. “Bad breath.”

“Might be because of the mouth water.” Maggie grins as they catch sight of the bonfire and the Alexandrians, gathered around it. Maggie sniffs in the air as a puff of grilled meat comes their way. “Okay, I’m starting to get really hungry. Holy moly.”

“Preggers cravings.” Mila teases at the same time as she sees Abraham walking towards them, dressed in a button down shirt for the occasion underneath his jacket. “Looking sharp.” She greets him as he reaches the three of them. His red hair burns even brighter in the light of the flames from the fire. 

“Gotta make the best of the opportunity. It’s a party.” He smiles and places a big, bearded kiss on her cheek and gives Maggie a warm hug before he squats and holds up his big palm towards Juri. “High five, little man.” Juri slams his small hand into the big man’s and looks really happy. “Heard ya’ found the potatoes.” Abraham says excitedly. “Great job, dude!” 

Maggie and Mila look at each other. Yup, Juri’s the hero and Mila’s the burro, carrying the goodies more than 1,2 miles back to Alexandria. Nah, I can handle it, she thinks as she sees Juri’s proud grin, being the potato boss for the night. 

“Come on, Romeo.” Mila starts walking towards the fire, that lures her towards its glowing sphere of heat and safety, awakening something primitive within her, a feeling that fire equals safety. 

All of the Alexandria residents seem to be attending. Even Carl sits on a log, dragged in front of the fire, next to Aaron and Morgan. His head is wrapped up and he looks a million times better than two days ago. The color has returned to his cheeks and the sheriffs hat rests homely at the brown curls. Mila smiles at the sight. Rick appears in her field of sight at the same time. He looks fresh out of the shower and as he approaches she clearly feels a faint scent of men’s perfume. 

“Carol’s over the moon with the potatoes.” He greets her as he stops in front of her. 

“Glad I could contribute.” Mila says. “Where’s Daryl?” She looks around, searches for the broad man on the other side of the bonfire and in the shadows, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I haven’t seen him today.” 

Rick shrugs a little, as to say ‘who knows’. 

“Come on.” He nods with his head to the side. “Let’s get ya’ beer.”

“Great.” 

While Juri runs off on his own, around the bonfire to sit with Carl, Mila follows Rick over to a table, set with beer and soda. Michonne’s leaning up against the table top with a Coke in her hand, probably mixed up to a Jack and Coke if Mila knows her right, talking to Sasha and Eugene, who, judging by the strong scent, have bathed himself in shaving water. Carol, an Alexandrian woman and Denise sets the table with bowls of food. Mila’s astonished over the amounts of different dishes and sides they managed to put together for the evening. Sasha and Abraham went on a run and found an abandoned greenhouse, which hid all sorts of vegetables that miraculously survived on their own during the apocalypse. Another group of Alexandrians went fishing and also ran upon a few bewildered chickens, who had to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the festivities. 

“The wall’s coming along nicely.” Mila says as she lets her gaze wander to the wall, where the big gaping hole where the church tower crashed through about a week ago. The debris is all gone and the hole is temporarily fixed with a few cars, but the structure that's supposed to become the new, reinforced wall, is already appearing. 

“It’s gonna be solid.” Eugene says and nods, trying his absolute best to seem cool about it. 

Mila’s been amused by him ever since he introduced himself to her; he’s intelligent, awkward and quite strange, but he certainly entertains her with all his clumsiness and strange talking. Despite her nearly ten years in the States, language is still the biggest challenge. Mila’s still learning new words and expressions and Eugene has undoubtedly made it a challenge for her to understand what he’s saying from time to time.

“Yippie.” Mila preaches as Rick puts a beer bottle in her hand. She takes it and chugs the bottle immediately, feeling a sudden rush of intense thirst only an alcoholic can feel in the presence of beer and booze. The intellectual with the prominent mullet stares at her as she takes the last sip of the bottle and puts it away. His expression pokes at her shenanigan-nerve, fuck she has to mess a little with him. “I’m into some real kinky shit after five bottles.” She therefore says and grins wolf-like at Eugene. 

Eugene’s cheeks turn red like the fire next to him and he swallows. Michonne laughs into her can and both Rick and Sasha grins, struggling not to laugh. Mila reaches forward and pats poor Eugene on the arm.

“Just fucking with you.” She says and blinks. “Cheers.” And she opens the vodka bottle and offers him the first sip. “Here, it’s good for the nerves.”

“You’re a real tearaway.” Sasha says and breaks off the cap on a new Corona light.

“Extremely poor impulse control.” Mila takes back the vodka bottle and takes a bountiful sip, once again feeling the deep sense of thirst down her throat. “It gets worse with age, I notice.” She peeks behind Sasha at the table. “So, what’s for dinner?” 

Carol, who happens to hear her question, comes up to the group at the table, holding a pie between the oven mittens.

“A real feast, that’s for sure.” She explains and puts the pie down. “Ribs, chicken, fish, vegetables, potatoes. Daryl must’ve hit the jackpot, he brought back an entire forest.” Carol smiles and removes the checked oven mittens from her hands. “And pie for dessert.”

“Are we celebrating something?” Sasha says. 

“Being alive?” Michonne taps her fingers at the can.

“Anyone having their birthday soon, or just had? That could be a reason.” Eugene suggests. 

“Don’t even know what date it is.” Mila says and takes another sip of the vodka. “Mine’s in June.”

“Gotta celebrate something.” Eugene continues.

“How ‘bout-” Rick begins. “A party for those who can’t be here.”

“A death party?” Mila raises her eyebrows at Rick. 

“That’s morbid.” Sasha wrinkles her nose.

“Could work.” Mila continues. “Russian funerals often turn into parties. At first people cry something incredibly for hours and hours and hours- Then you drink until you can’t feel feelings anymore.”

“Sounds even more weird.” Eugene expresses. “I like Rick’s idea better.” 

“I’m gonna drink anyway.” Mila snorts and continues to drink. At least she’s dressed up somewhat properly for a funeral reception; black top, black leather jacket and, yeah the fedora might be questionable, but at least she wears black boots! 

They sit down and eat when Aaron, Glenn, Rosita and Gabriel have sliced the grilled meat and put it on the buffet table. Juri’s plate is filled with potatoes and vegetables as well as Mila’s and he’s got a juice box safely placed between his cute feet. They sit on a log with Rick and Carol; eating, drinking and talking while the fire crackles, the cicadas sing behind the wall. The sky above them is starry and the sparks from the fire rises towards the gleaming stars, millions of lightyears away. But Daryl is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is he? Mila looks around every now and then, but Rick assures her that he’s alright. Why wouldn’t he? To calm her mind, she empties the vodka bottle and runs to get another one, just as the party attendants does a turn two at the buffet.

“Ey, look who’s back.” Rick suddenly says and looks at Mila- no, over her shoulder, behind her. 

Mila turns on the log and looks behind her. Daryl comes walking down the street towards them. In the warm light of the fire Mila can see that he’s fine, unharmed, but holds something behind his back. She gets up from the log, a movement that makes the others pause their conversations and laughter to look at her. Mila gets ready to give him a scolding, but Daryl’s facial expression makes her change her mind. It’s soft, somewhat gawky, but yet soft and not stern and grumpy. It strikes her there and then that he hasn’t looked surly at all lately, at least not while looking at her. She takes a step over the log and walks to meet him. The wrinkle created between her eyebrows softens as he stops in front of her in the light of the big fire. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Had a thing to do.” He says and screws a little, but keeps his back straight. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mila looks him straight in the eyes. “But where were you? I was worried.”

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, Mila has come to understand Daryl’s idea, that words are unnecessary sometimes well by now. He takes out what he’s hiding behind his back, and holds it out for her. A guitar. An acoustic sunburst Epiphone, with engraved flowers on the pickguard. Mila stares at the beautiful instrument as Daryl hands it over to her; the shimmery pearly detailing in the maple neck, steel strings and rosewood details. She lifts her gaze and looks at Daryl in awe. 

“Though ya’d like it.” Daryl looks at her, not sure if she’s happy or disappointed. “Ya’ said ya’ played.” 

Yeah, yes she did say that. But she didn’t think he’d remembered. She can’t speak. Instead, Mila wraps her arms around his neck, with the guitar’s neck still in a firm grip. The last time she got a guitar, it was Jim who surprised her with one. He blindfolded her and drove her to the music store where he led her in, like a blind. Mila stumbled on the threshold and tore off her blindfold, red in the face with anger over his shenanigans. But the anger ran off when she saw where she was.

“Pick one.”

“Pick what?”

“A guitar.” Jim reached out his arms to his side, to the guitars hanging around the walls of the shop. “Whatever one you want.”

Mila picked a light sunburst Fender that time. It was left behind in Brooklyn along with Jim’s old, trusted Gibson. At least their guitars were together. 

“Thank you.” Mila whispers into his ear and releases her grip around Daryl’s neck.

It’s one of the finest, most thoughtful gifts she has received in a long time. She squeezes the neck and admires the wooden piece. He really went off and found her a guitar. Around them, the other inhabitants have paused whatever they’re doing, to look at them. Abraham is the one that finally breaks the silence, still chewing on a glazed rib.  

“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Play it, Jersey.” He points at the guitar with the bone.

Her mouth turns into a wide grin. My God, she hasn’t played in awhile and the guitar isn’t even tuned. She takes Daryl’s hand, intervenes her fingers with his and drags him off to the overturned log, steps over it and sits down next to Juri, who looks overjoyed with the possibility of some live music. Her number one fan. Daryl sits down next to her and Carol hands him a plate of food. It’s like someone pressed ‘play’. Everyone starts talking to each other again, eating and drinking, just as before Daryl appeared with the guitar. While Daryl eats, Mila begins to tune the guitar, at the same time as she gets meaningful glances from both Maggie and Carol, who blink at her.

“I did not know you played guitar.” Says Carl and looks wide-eyed at the guitar.

“I'm full of surprises.” Mila smiles cheeky at him.

“Can you make requests?” Rick says and takes a sip of his Corona.

“Depends on the request.” Mila replies. She knows that Rick has a similar taste in music as she; they have more than once hummed along to the same country songs while working, so he won’t have to be disappointed. “I’m a little rusty.” And not nearly drunk enough to feel completely at ease with performing in front of these people, she thinks and looks around. For some reason this is different than before. Different from the bars and the family gatherings with the Galka’s and Jim. “I’ll punch you if any of you say Wonderfall.” Mila squints her eyes at her crowd as she tunes the low E-string, considering the guitar to be in playable condition. 

“Thought it was Wonderwall?” Glenn looks at Maggie, slightly confused.  

“I’ll punch you.” Mila places her fingers on the cold steel strings and strikes a loop of chords, searching for a melody. She quickly finds the sound she’s looking for; huh, she wasn’t that rusty after all. With her tongue in between her teeth she starts playing something random.  

The sheriff's tapping boot is enough for her to pick Rick as her target. 

“Come on, I’m not doing it on my own.”

Rick takes a sip of beer, chuckles a little. But Mila’s serious. As is Michonne. 

“Do it Sheriff.” Michonne bumps Rick in the side. “We got ya’ back.”

Mila doesn’t wait for an answer. He won’t be able to resist later on. She adjusts the guitar on her leg and starts playing a tune, praying to some higher power that her voice won’t break. 

“As long as I remember, the rain's been comin' down. Clouds of mystery pourin', confusion on the ground. Good men through the ages, tryin' to find the sun. And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain-”

She gets chills down her spine as she manages to pull the Creedence classic off pretty decently, sitting at the log between the men in her life, surrounded by her new family. Just as when she performed it at that bar with Jim that first time she performed like that in her life, a couple of years ago. She vomited into a bin before going on stage, or more like a corner with a rug of the small, crowded bar in Brooklyn, but as soon as she had the guitar in her hands and started singing, she felt calm, secure. Jim used to say it was a miracle she learned to play the guitar at the pace she did, having only played piano and the violin during her childhood. Guitars was a dumb instrument, according to her papa. Pff, what did he know? Prison was for dumb people, and look where he was? Mila lets the chord die after the last “-and I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?”, then continues with Springsteen.  

“On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert, I pick up my money and head back into town. Driving 'cross the Waynesboro county line, I got the radio on and I'm just killing time-”

She notices Daryl’s gaze in the corner of her eyes, just as she notices Juri’s nodding head and Abraham saying, mids a chuckle of delighted surprise: 

“I’ll be damn.” 

It’s like inviting all of them into a very special place of herself, a place where she can be something else than a mom, a dental nurse and a girl with a broken past. With a deep, lingering gaze, she tries to communicate that to Daryl, as a way of explaining her trust in him. To her, music is medicine for the soul and the heart. A heritage she has passed on to Juri when giving him the walkman for his birthday. 

“The dogs on Main Street howl, 'Cause they understand. If I could take one moment into my hands, mister I ain't a boy, no I'm a man. And I believe in a promised land-”

She removes her fingers from the strings and the chord echoes out into the night, blends in with the cheering. She’s warmed up now, overflown with the rush of happy adrenaline playing the guitar causes her, just as the applause makes her blush. Okay, let's go with something happy, she thinks.

“Here’s a lil' something to cheer ya’ll up.” She says in her most convincing country-voice, puts her fingers into a ‘G’ and: “Daddy won a radio and tuned it to a country show, I was rockin' in the cradle to the cryin' of a steel guitar-”

It takes Rick ten seconds to hear what song it is, he knows his country music. He jumps into the chorus, at first doubtfully, but encouraged by both Carl and Abe, who have taken out a cigar from his jacket, he seems to think ‘what the hell’, and sings a little louder, with more feeling. And it’s fun.

“Singin 'in the bars and- Chasin' that neon rainbow, livin 'that honky tonk dream.' Cause all I've ever wanted, is to pick this guitar and sing. Just tryin 'to be somebody, just wanna be heard and seen. I'm chasin 'that neon rainbow, livin' that honky tonk dream- “

He continues to sing with her as Mila follows up with the Beatles “Rocky Raccoon”, but lets her continue on her own after that, with both “Thunder road” and a country version of “I’m on fire”.

“Your accent disappears when you sing.” Maggie says as Mila takes a few sips of vodka. 

“Yeah I haven’t figured the reason for that out yet.” Mila wipes her mouth on the back of her hand as she grabs the guitar again, her fingertips pulsating from having to work the strings again. “But singing country with an accent would sound weird, I guess? Okay, one last one.” 

She ends her one woman-show, which could just as well be seen as therapy for her musically starving soul, with Kate Bush’s “Running up that hill”, as the flames from the fire licks the now pitch black sky, sprinkled with millions, billions of stars.   

“Say, if I only could, I'd be running up that hill. With no problems…”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[the--blackdahlia]

Edge of Seventeen Chapter 2

Title: Edge of Seventeen Chapter 2

Summary:  When the boy Karen Williamson loved left home when she was seventeen, she figured it was just a childhood crush. She had her own plans to get out of Indiana. But when those plans fell through and now she’s trapped in Lafayette with a degree that’s getting her nowhere. That is, until Jeffrey Isbell came home.

Warnings: Language for now

Karen made her way into the library Monday morning with a large cup of coffee and her lunch bag in hand. She yawned as she placed her bag into the refrigerator. She was not a morning person, but she would much rather be here in the morning and get her day over then work in the evening all the time. She heard a noise and turned to see Jackson standing there.

“Well, good morning,” He laughed. “Did you get your caffeine?”

“Yes and hopefully it starts working before Alice comes in and asks for the same book she’s read every week for the past six months.” Karen smiled at him. “Did you and Diane have a good weekend?”

“We did,” He followed her out of the breakroom. “She’s not coming in until this afternoon though, so it’s you, me, and that teenager will come in in about an hour.” They worked on getting ready to open the library. “So…”

“So what?” Karen asked, emptying out the drop box to check in.

“Well, I’m sure you heard that old farmhouse on the outskirts of town was bought by someone,” Jackson told her. “And, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that one of the famous boys has come home.”

“Sydney Pollack moved back to Lafayette?” Karen asked with a little smirk. Jackson shook his head.

“You know who I’m talking about,” He leaned on the counter, watching her check books, videos, and CDs in. “Broody, guitar player, doesn’t like to shower.”

“Why would he be back here?” Karen asked, glancing up at Jackson. “Jeff...Izzy fought hard to get out of here. He got lucky.”

“You never know,” Jackson smirked. “He might be back and you two could hook up again.” Karen rolled her eyes.

“Why, out of all the girls out there, would he want to be with me?” Karen shook her head. “He’s rich and successful. He could get him some, I don’t know, is Heather Locklear still married to Tommy Lee? Because I bet he could get her in a heartbeat.”

“Karen, back in high school he never wanted anyone but you…”

“But he left. Things change. People change. And what makes you think I even want him after all these years, hmm?” Karen crossed her arms and looked at Jackson. “I mean, if you had met Diane in high school Jackson, would you have liked her?”

“Well, maybe. I don’t really know because she’s from Kokomo...” Karen sighed.

“Jeffrey Isbell or whatever the fuck he wants to call himself would never be interested in me again.” Karen turned back to her work and Jackson sighed before going to do his own.

****

When Izzy woke up, he was a little confused at first. First nights in a new place always seemed to throw him off. Once he sobered up, the same would happen on tour, but before that, the drugs made everything blurry, so it was hard to tell if he was in a new place or not. He laid in bed for a minute, just looking up at the ceiling. Everything he had had in his Los Angeles home had been moved to Indiana, minus the ex-girlfriend and the LA attitude. His life was all packed into boxes, sitting around the house that was probably too big for just him. But he had plans for this house.

He just had to get out of bed to start working on it.

With a groan, Izzy pushed himself out of bed. He wasn’t even 30 yet. He shouldn’t feel this damn old yet here he was. He had a list of things he had to do today that he couldn’t do yesterday because he spent most of the day waiting on the phone technician to come in to set his phone up. But now he was free to roam if he wanted to, and while he really didn’t want to, he knew he had to. He needed groceries and things to start fixing up the house.

He pulled on clothes that he got from one of the boxes and headed out to the old pickup truck he had bought a few weeks before he decided to just leave LA. He was sure that Axl would love that one. He shook his head and headed into town, pulling up at his mom’s first. He wanted to make sure that she had everything she needed, for supporting him as much as she did. She was out in the backyard with her dog when he pulled up.

“Mama, you here?” Izzy called. Linda waved to her son and he headed around, letting himself in the fence and settling in one of the patio chairs as they watched the dog run around. There was a chill in the air, and Izzy tugged his jacket around him. “It’s cold.”

“Not too bad. Warmer than last week,” Linda told him. “But I guess it is colder than it would’ve been in LA.”

“Guess I just have to get readapted to Indiana weather,” He laughed. “I’m doing some errands. Do you need anything?”

“Not that I can think of. Oh, wait!” Linda looked over at Izzy. “I watched my movie last night. Can you take it back to the library and pick me up a new one?”

“I thought you said you had someone who did that for you,” Izzy watched Astaire bark at a bird who dared to come into his yard.

“I do, but she comes on Saturday’s and I hate asking her to make a special trip for me,” Linda explained. Izzy sighed.

“Okay, is it inside?” He asked. Linda nodded and Izzy headed inside, grabbing the VHS and heading back out. “I’ll get you a couple. Maybe that’ll last you until Saturday.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” Linda laughed. Izzy shook his head.

“Joe must have pissed you off,” He gave her a small smirk. “I’ll be back in a little bit mama. Love you.” He kissed her cheek before he headed out to his truck. He tossed the movie in the passenger seat before he went about his errands.

He got all his groceries, realizing for the first time that he actually had the time and patience to cook and he wanted to try to try out different things. Then he had to get some tools to work on the house, because all he had was a hammer and a screwdriver, and that wasn’t going to build the studio he wanted.

After finishing everything, he looked over to his passenger seat and groaned. He still had to go to the library to get his mom some movies and drop off her old one. He really thought about just buying her some for her to keep at home, but she liked the library. Always had. Izzy turned into the library parking lot, hoping that he wouldn’t be in there long, as he ran inside.

****

“Karen, the delivery guy is here,” Diane told Karen later that day. The teenager who worked sometimes as a work study program had to go into school for awhile, so Diane came in early.

“Okay I got him,” Karen got up from the desk. “Jackson is reshelving. Yell if you need anything.” Karen headed into the back to talk to the delivery guy while Diane took over the circulation desk. She sat there for a couple minutes when Jackson came over. Before he could say anything, the doors opened and Izzy came in. Jackson’s eyes widened.

“Uh, hey,” Izzy said. “My mom asked me to drop this off and pick up some new ones, but I just realized I don’t have a library card.” Diane laughed, unaware of who she was talking to. Jackson was about to go grab Karen, but not only was the delivery guy there, but the director of the Tippecanoe county libraries was there as well.

“We can get you one,” Diane laughed.

“I, uh, I just moved here from California,” Izzy explained. Jackson had moved into the back room, patiently waiting for a moment that he could snag Karen and bring her out to see Izzy.

“Well, who’s your mom?” Diane asked.

“Linda Isbell.”

“Oh we just love Linda!” Diane smiled. “I’m surprised that she didn’t call Karen. She always asks her to pick her up things.”

“Karen?” Izzy asked. He shook his head. It couldn’t be the same person. “Anyway, is there any way you can just check some things out on her account for me?”

“Of course, because it’s Linda,” Diane grabbed a couple VHS that had been on Linda’s wishlist. She got Izzy settled. “Tell Linda we said hi!”

“I will. Thank you.” He nodded and left as Jackson pulled Karen back out.

“Jeff wait…” Jackson sighed when he saw that he was gone.

“Jackson, that’s not funny,” Karen shook her head.

“He was here!” Jackson told her. “I swear!”

“Jeff?” Diane asked. “I thought he said his name was Izzy.”

“It’s a long story,” Jackson explained. Karen shook her head.

“I have a meeting with the director,” Karen told them. “Jackson, how many times do I have to tell you, he won’t be interested in me.” She turned and headed back towards the director, leaving Jackson and Diane standing there.

“Okay, what was that about?” Diane asked. “Spill.”

“It’s a long story sweetie,” Jackson sighed. “But I guess we have time.”

Forever Tags: @dekahg​ @marvel-af-imagines​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @nanie5​ @gemini0410​ @aiaranradnay​ @babypink224221​ @mogarukes​ @xxwarhawk​ @sandlee44​ @shatteredabby​ @caswinchester2000​ @lauravic​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @teller258316​ @horrorpxnk​ @tommyleeownsme​ @marvelismylifffe​ @mrslogansixxpixx​

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[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach Chapter 40

Negan and I came to a very good understanding after our ride in the conference room. And after he spanked me to a burning red tint. And after he made sure that the dripping wetness that him spanking me caused was thoroughly taken care of. We understood that while we adored Trey, and our routines with him, even new-ish parents deserved alone time. Overnight, evening, date time, alone time.

Eric was smug, the fucker. “‘I’m not a sex toy,’” he mocked me, taking the bag I’d packed for Trey’s first overnight stay after Negan and I agreed to the new terms of our relationship. “Sure, Mara, and I’m also sure that Coach’s big, hard-” Trey poked him in the cheek and he stopped talking. “Hey, Boo, ready for fun times at Uncle Eric’s?” I smirked at the quick turn in conversation. “Let’s get away from these straight squares and go to the-”

“Flaming fun house?” I offered, grinning at my best friend. “Get out, but first,” I kissed Trey with a loud smacking smooch. “Dada and Mama are right here, baby, so just-”

“Mara, stop it.” Eric was rolling his eyes. “Trey will be FINE. He LOVES time with Steven and me, you know that.” He turned away, tossing a warning of his own over his shoulder. “Just give a shout if Coach needs some ‘flaming fun house’ times, K?”

“Thirsty whore,” I muttered, closing the door behind him. Negan was downstairs, finishing up a meeting with Steven and a few of the outpost leaders. He’d be back soon, he promised, and he NEVER broke a promise now. Not after being forced to by Carl’s sudden appearance when we first arrived.

I tidied up the entry room, tucking Trey’s toys into his crib, smiling because Negan had found a travel crib for Eric’s rooms, one on wheels in case Laura had to take him overnight. Picking up the books that I’d read him during the morning, stacking the plates from lunch, and putting them outside our door, I took a look around and felt that the room looked decent. I moved into our main living area and repeated the process, taking the time to remake the bed, fluff the pillows, and pick up any dirty laundry that had been missed. I was fixing a t-shirt that was hanging out after Negan wasn’t as careful as he usually was during dressing when I came across the small black velvet box.

Biting my lip, I thought about NOT opening it, but curiosity won out. Flipping open the box, I shook my head. It was clearly the wedding band that he’d chosen for me. Dainty like my pair of rings still secure on my finger after all these years, it was dotted with tiny round diamonds, almost like Morse code. My finger touched the band gently, wondering if the world hadn’t gone to shit if we would have been able to get past- I sighed.

“It means ‘Forever,’” Negan offered, leaning against the doorframe and studying me. “I- I wanted it to be on your finger forever, so it seemed appropriate.” I bit my lip and waited for him to come closer. He walked slowly, leaving Lucille leaning by the door. “It should have been right here,” he took my left hand in his and touched my ring finger where the other two sat, "a long fucking time ago."

“Then put it there,” I held out the box to him, but he shook his head and my heart clenched painfully at the rejection.

“Oh, princess, I AM going to put it there,” he wrapped his arms around me after releasing my hand. “But I plan on doing it in FULL view of every-fucking-one.” It was my turn to shake my head, but my face was cradled against his chest so my movement was stifled. “And I hope you’ll wear the dress you picked out.” That made me pull back a little and look up at him.

“Did you peek?” I watched his face, feeling like I would be able to tell if he lied about this. He shook his head and I felt a rush of surprise. “Really?”

“When they brought everything back,” I’d known, because he’d finally told me what it had taken to empty our house and bring it all to the Sanctuary, that he’d sent minions to get EVERYTHING. “Since the bag isn’t fucking see through and the label is from a wedding gown store, exactly what it was, but I hoped, Amara-”

“That you’d find me?” He nodded and swallowed hard. “You did, didn’t you?” I smiled up at him and I finally got the kiss I’d been waiting for. “Stop trying to redeem yourself, Negan, I love your ass and the rest of you.” He chuckled against my lips. “So you haven’t a clue what it looks like?” Another negative. I bit my lip. “When?”

“When-” he raised an eyebrow.

“When can we do it in front of ‘every-fucking-one’, Negan? I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?” His eyes seemed to light up. “I’m serious, I want my damn ring.” That got a laugh and then he finally took the box from me, but he snapped it shut and tucked it back in the drawer where I found it.

“I think-” he scooped me into his arms and I grinned into his neck. “That FIRST I want to make sure I should buy the cow-” I slapped his shoulder playfully. “I mean, I already have the free milk, right?” Another smack and he tossed my ass onto our bed. “Now, princess, you were being nosy in Daddy’s drawers, what do you think I should do about that?”

I licked my lips and watched as his eyes went from playful to predatory. “I don’t know, Daddy, what do you think?”

Lying together on our bed, my head on his chest, my ass burning I was smiling. “You look pretty fucking pleased for a woman who just got her ass turned ruby red by my hand, princess.” I bit my lip, thinking about his face when he FINALLY sees me in the dress he swore he hadn’t peeked at.

“I’m wondering-” hiding my face in his bare chest, my smile grew.

“What?” His voice was heavy with curiosity. I considered what I wanted to ask, something I hadn’t asked in the years before the world went fucking tits over ass.

“Why did you pick me?” Not looking up at him, just letting my fingertips tease the spattering of chest hair that I loved. “I mean, when I was still a school girl and you were-”

“Your asshole gym teacher?” I smiled, kissing his skin and waiting for him to continue. His fingers slid down my bare arm, touching as gently as if I were made of spun glass. “I don’t know, I won’t lie and say I never LOOKED while I was teaching. I’m not dead.” His fingers slid back up to the back of my neck and tugged so I knew he wanted me to meet his eyes. “Then you walked in, looking like you’d like to smack the living shit out of me, eighteen years old and ready to take on the world. You said, ‘yes, sir’ and I felt something deep down inside of me unlock, and then it was temptation after temptation with you.” I smirked up at him. “I can still see your skimpy as fuck gym clothes, Amara, and I thought I’d burst into fucking flames every damn day you jogged and stretched in that fucking gym in front of me.” Biting my lip, I listened as he told me a better story than he could tell Trey. “I couldn’t fucking find it in me to even TRY to keep my distance. Hearing that you had ALL those fucking offers for Homecoming, then having you actually say yes to that moron Joe, I wasn’t lying when I said I was in knots. I knew that I should tell you to go off with a guy your own age, but fuck, princess, I knew we were meant to be. Didn’t you?”

I let what he said digest for a couple beats, feeling more loved by the man I was wrapped up in than I ever thought possible. “I think I probably knew when you spanked me the first time,” his smile made his dimples peek out from the scruff he’d regrown at my insistence. “I wouldn’t have let ANYONE do that to me, but I never once questioned YOU doing it.” I pulled myself up his body, my lips meeting his and then pressing my forehead against his. “You have opened my world wide open, Coach, and I think I’d rather die than be separated again.”

“Same, Amara, same.” And then he rolled me onto my back, and he let the rough scruff of his face drag down my body, burning until he settled between my legs. “I’m hungry.” His lips met my other lips and I felt like the world was tilting as I arched into his mouth, thinking our date nights were head and shoulders over any fucking other date nights that have ever been had.

[shadowspellchecker]

Dark Shadows 1966 Episode Revisions - Episode #0002

The woman gazes at Vicki sternly; the girl resists the urge to wilt under the glare. “I’m sorry for being so late—I had trouble getting a taxi. Are you Mrs. Stoddard?”

“I am," she affirms to Vicki's relief. "Do you have your letter?”

“Yes,” says Vicki, “It’s in my purse.”

“May I see it, please?” asks Mrs. Stoddard. 

Vicky pulled the letter from the side pocket of her purse, where she had secured it on the train. “I’ve never been in such a big house,” she observes as the woman opens the letter. “How many rooms do you have?”

“Collinwood has well over forty rooms, but not all of them are in use,” says she, handing back the missive. 

“It’s quite cold,” Vicki observes, putting the paper securely in her purse pocket.

The older woman’s gaze softens, and she says sympathetically, “I’ll put on some tea—would you like to wait in the drawing room?” 

Vicki nods, and, thanking her, steps towards the doorway. Much to Vicki’s surprise, it is warmer even on her side of the massive doors. Pausing in the doorway, something occurs to her. “Forty rooms?” 

Elizabeth nods. “Over forty.” 

Vicki blinks, thinking about what the waitress—Maggie—had said. “You must need a lot of people to help you take care of this place.” 

Elizabeth shakes her head, regarding her coolly. “I have one man for the heavy work, but we do the rest ourselves. You will be obligated to do the same, if you are to stay here.” She turns and heads through a door below the landing; Vicky also turns, drawn into the drawing room by the crackling heat. Still longingly admiring the large fireplace across the room, her attention is immediately diverted by the details of the room. The odd assortment objects on the tables, bookcases, and piano; the draperies; the portraits—of which, none of the subjects indicated a sitting any time in the last century…she paused. Of course those caught her eye, as any indication of such long family histories do—it always seemed so incredible, so miraculous, that anyone could be able to tell people of their parent’s grandparents, or their great-great grandparents, or… For a girl who had grown up in a foundling home, not even knowing her parents’ names, it would always seem inexplicable as to how she could ever be able to know even her parents, and yet here was a family who not only knew their parents, but could trace their whole ancestry! She almost felt jealous—but she couldn’t help but wonder if they knew just how lucky they were.

There was a bang, and she followed the sound to its source—a tree branch against the huge bay windows. Captivated, she stared out the window, hand resting on the cool pane; after a moment, she opened the glass and leaned on the casing, thoughts falling silent as she listened to the wind and the waves crashing below.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Five minutes later, the mistress of the household, returning laden with a tea tray, found Vicki staring at the portrait over the mantel. “Jeremiah Collins, my great-great-great grandfather on my mother's side, built Collinwood,” Liz said, startling the girl. “He was a very strong man; how often I’ve wished that…" She trailed off. "How do you like your tea, lemon or cream?”

“Lemon would be fine, thank you,” answered Vicki, conscientious of the change in subject. “I think it’s wonderful you can manage this house with only one person.”

“It’s hardly the whole house, anymore,” Elizabeth said wryly. “The East Wing was closed over fifty years ago, and we only use part of the West—one lump or two?”

“One,” Vicki answers. “Are you expecting someone else?”

“I asked my brother Roger to come down to meet you,” says Liz, handing Vicki the tea, “As you are to care for his son and tutor him.”

“What kind of a boy is he?” asks Vicki. 

Elizabeth hesitated, then said cryptically, “You’ll meet him in the morning."

“I know,” said Vicki, still on the question. “I meant to say, is he friendly, is he inquisitive? Does he like to play games? I know when I was nine, I…”

“Miss Winters, David is likely to be different from any boy you've ever met,” Elizabeth interrupts, but does not elaborate; she hears footsteps in the foyer. “Oh, Roger, we’re in the drawing room,” she calls. “Roger, I said…” Much to her dismay, he had already left through the front door. Continuing where she left off, “We don't have many visitors here, but you'll have your day off and several nights a week.”

“I hadn't even thought about that yet,” says Vicki. 

“And there's my daughter, Carolyn,” says Liz. “You’re about the same age—I’m sure you’ll get along very well; she’s a lovely girl.”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Meanwhile, Carolyn Stoddard is dancing at the Blue Whale, to the cheers and encouragement of the largely male clientele. Her current boyfriend, Joe Haskell, shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I think that will be the last one for us, Bob," he says as the barkeep passes. 

Mr. Rooney looks over at the young Collins, and nods. "Get her home safe, Joe."

Although still at their discussion, Burke Devlin and Strake have relocated to the bar, away from the noisy entrance and dance area. The smaller man gestures at the dancing blonde, and says, "Yup, that's her. Carolyn Stoddard." He pushes a folder at Devlin. "It's all in the report."

Burke smirks. "I'm looking forward to reading it, Strake."

"You better—" Burke gestures at him to hush. Strake turns around. 

Carolyn has found her way back to Joe's table, but Carolyn's previous dance partner had approached the couple. From their position, the two men could hear their conversation.

"—wanna dance?"

"Why not?" She gets up.

"Because maybe I've barely seen you tonight?" 

"Oh, come on, Joe, just because you aren't going to doesn't mean I can't—"

"I think you've had enough, Carolyn."

"Go back to your beer, sailor boy," the dancer from the floor scoffed. "Girl can make her own decisions." 

"You're making an idiot out of yourself, Caro."

At this point, a scuffle breaks out between the two young men. Carolyn, suddenly sobering up a bit, intervenes. "Joe, cut it out," she says. "I'll have this dance, then we'll go." Joe meets her eyes, and lets go of the other man's jacket. 

"I'm ready for ya' anytime," his opponent jibes.

Carolyn swats his shoulder. "Don't go ticking people off, Johnson," she warns. "One dance," she assures Joe.

"One dance," he concedes, and sits down with his beer.

Burke and Strake share a glance. "Full rundown on page twenty,” comments Strake. “Joe Haskell—Mama’s choice for little Carolyn—oh, I wish my wife could wiggle like that!” 

"Maybe if you were thirty years younger," Burke says dryly.

On the dance floor, Carolyn's dance partner had been replaced with a redhead, who had apparently decided that "hopping" was an acceptable alternative to knowing proper steps. Another guy cuts in, to Carolyn's surprise, and starts dancing with the replacement. Joe takes the opportunity to cut in. "I think it's time we leave," he says. 

"No, wait Joe. Just one more."

"That was one more, Carolyn. I think we ought to go now,” Joe retorts. 

"Hey! Dancers only!" interjects Carolyn's new dance partner. Joe elbows the guy in the gut, and his friend tackles Joe from behind. 

Amid drunken cheers, Burke stands up to see the events, dodging Rooney who was making a beeline for the phone. Strake sighs. "Better go break it up, Burke." 

Burke cuts in, separating the two men and glaring at the third to stay back. The recipient of the glare sits down. 

"Go home, Collins," Burke orders Carolyn. "Now."

Offended at the label, Carolyn stubbornly holds her ground. "And you are?"

"A friend of the family. Now get her home, Haskell, before the cops get here," he says, pushing Joe in her direction.

Carolyn is not having any of it. "And what gives you the right to—" 

Burke interrupts. "Dammit, girl, go with your boy before I take you over my knee and paddle you right here!" Joe hands a furious Carolyn her purse and coat. "And you, boy, get back here after you get Miss Collins back where she belongs. I want to talk to you." 

Joe doesn't say anything, occupied with ushering Carolyn out of the building. 

Back at the bar, Strake takes a sip of beer. "Fight's over?"

Burke smirks. "Just beginning," he says, "just beginning."

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Liz leads Vicki to her room. It has a large canopied bed. Liz closes the window. “The catch doesn't hold very well, I’m afraid,” she warns; “You’ll have to be careful—but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“It’s very nice,” Vicki assures her. 

A nostalgic look develops on the Collins matriarch’s face. “I slept on that bed every night until…” Liz trails off for a moment, “…until I married.”

“All we had in the orphanage were cots, plain iron cots,” says Vicki. “I could sleep on anything.” 

Liz scrutinizes her, but does not question further. “Hm. I’m sure you’ll have ample drawer space,” she says instead, opening the drawers in the dresser. 

“Thank you. May I ask a question?” Vicki asks Liz tentatively.

“Certainly.”

“Why did you offer me the position? You…” 

“No, I have never seen you before. Does it matter?” asks Liz. 

“I’d like to know,” says Vicki. 

“Simple enough,” says Liz. “One of the nurses at the sanitarium used to volunteer as a social worker at the foundling home while getting her degree. My brother asked for a recommendation.” 

“But I asked—they said they'd never heard of you,” says Vicki. 

“You must have asked the wrong person,” Liz reasons. 

A door slams from below. “Excuse me,” Elizabeth says, getting up and flowing out of the room. Left alone, Vicki closes the door and sits down on her bed, disappointed.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Downstairs, Carolyn passes through the foyer to the drawing room. She crosses her arms, and glares at the portrait over the mantle. "Hey big shot!" The portrait stares blankly back, and she sighs, defeated. "Who told you to build this prison anyway?"

"Carolyn?" Elizabeth interrupts, standing at the double doors to the parlor. "I didn't expect you home so early." 

Carolyn shrugs. "Neither did I." She does not turn away from the portrait.

Elizabeth walks over and puts a hand on her shoulder. "What happened, darling, is something wrong?"

"Nothing," comes the standard teenage response. Elizabeth gives her daughter a dry look. Carolyn sighs. "...Why is it impossible for me to enjoy myself?"

Liz winces. "I'll make you some tea."

"Oh, please don't. I'd rather just go to bed."

"Are you certain nothing is wrong?" 

Carolyn breaks. "Oh, Mother, I'm so tired of trying." After that, it does not take Liz long to get her daughter to relate the events of the evening. 

They end up sitting down by the fire. "That sounds horrible," Liz sympathizes. "I can't understand Joe Haskell."

"It wasn't his fault, though." 

Liz nods, distracted. "You don't know how much I worry about you sometimes." 

"I know," Carolyn says. "But let's face it, you love this house. And that's just grand for you...But every chance I find to walk away from here and find a little brightness...how can you ask me to give that up?"

"There are other ways," Liz notes. "You had one."

Carolyn grins. "I don't regret giving up my place, Mother. You know that poor Lou can't risk the draft, not with that father of his around." 

"I am proud of you, Carolyn. You did that family a great kindness."

"Still, it doesn't make it easier sometimes," Carolyn breathes. "When I was ten years old I used to dream that a white knight would come along and rescue me from this dungeon. I guess white knights have gone out of style."

"I thought you liked Joe Haskell," comments Liz. "All I ever pray for is for you to be happy… Joe loves you."

"And I like him," says Carolyn, "but he's not a white knight, Mother."

"We can't always get everything we want," says Liz. 

"I'm going to try," says Carolyn. "Please, stop trying to marry me off, ok?" She changes tack. "Besides, how do you expect me to go away and leave you alone in this beautiful nuthouse?" She gestures to all that's around them.

"I won't be," assures Elizabeth. "Not anymore." Carolyn's eyes open wide. 

"You mean she actually came?" asks Carolyn excitedly. 

"A few minutes ago, says Liz. "She's a nice girl, you'll like her very much."

But Carolyn is laughing, running up the stairs. "She must be out of her mind!" Liz shakes her head, and smiles.

 ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Vicki descends the stairs, still in her coat, and listens at the drawing room doors. She gazes at the portrait above the table in the foyer. Boo! She tells it. She follows the hall opposite the stairs, and enters some kind of room with french doors on the right. She goes outside, and hears the roar of the ocean. She walks down some steps, finally stopping at the edge of the terrace, where she gazes out at the sea. 

Roger Collins approaches from behind. "Not planning to jump, are you?? he asks, smiling --"You wouldn't be the first, you know. 

"You're Roger Collins," Vicki identifies. 

Roger nods. "Yes, I admit it. I am Elizabeth's brother, David's father. Terribly sorry if I startled you."

Vicki shrugs. "I am getting used to surprises, I think."

Roger chuckles. "Good idea, around here. We're quite a strange crew," he explains. "But, I think you'll find most of us rather nice. Though…it is quite different from New York, isn't it?" He waves his hand out over the vista, as though designating what "it" was. "I hope you won't be too lonely here."

"If I am, I'll blame it on you, Vicki quips.

"Me?" Roger asks, thrown.

Victoria, oblivious to Roger's confusion, just nods. "Mrs. Stoddard said you were the one that arranged for me to come here."

"Hmm, you don't say?" he muses, fitting pieces together.

Vicki picks up on his tension. "It is true, isn't it?" she checks.

"If Elizabeth says so," Roger remarks snidely, "then it must be true." He looks back out over the rock. "Did you know that on a cloudless day you can see twenty miles out to sea? When I was a boy I used to bring a picnic lunch out here and dream for hours."

Victoria hums pensively. "Maybe I can do the same with your son," she decides.

Roger looks doubtful. "With David?"

Vicki looks at him askance. "Doesn't he like picnics?"

Roger shrugs, resigned. "I'm not exactly certain what he does like anymore, Miss Winters. But if you intend to follow that plan, do yourself a favor. Stay away from the edge."

Vicki chuckles. "Really, Mr. Collins."

"Roger, please," he waves her off; "Mr. Collins still sounds too much like my father. You'd better head in. Shouldn't let the brightest thing in this house catching cold the first day." 

"I'm stronger than I look," she assures him. She points out to sea. "What are those lights?"

"Probably a freighter on its way to Europe," guesses Roger.

"Funny, they go all those thousands of miles, and I couldn't get here from the railroad station," Vicki muses.

"I should have come down to meet you in the car," Roger apologizes. "I was thoughtless."

"I was lucky," she says. "A man got off the train with me and got a taxi for me. He said he knew you… Devlin, I think his name was."

Roger suddenly grabs her in a painful grip. "What did you say?"

Vicki yelps, and tries to twist out of his hold. "Mr. Collins, please!"

"Did you say Devlin?" he demands. "Burke Devlin?"

"Yes," she says.

"Are you sure?" he insists, shaking her.

"Of course I'm sure!" He drops her and runs back to the house. 

Vicki rubs her sore arms and stares after him. She looks down at the rocks. "What was that about?" she mutters to the uncaring waves.

 ><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Unwilling to run into Roger again, Vicki uses the kitchen door to enter the house. As she passes through the foyer, she hears muffled sobbing from the drawing room. She cracks a door open, and peeks in. At the piano sits Mrs. Stoddard, the only person in the room. Carefully, she shuts the door and sneaks upstairs to her room.

[villainqueen]

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell - Chapter 2

V X Fem!Reader fanfiction, set after the events of Devil may Cry 5.

Prologue / Chapter 1 // Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

Ao3 [Link]

Chapter 2

There is no mistake so great as the mistake of not going on

August 1st 11:00 am

The clicking of Nico's lighter could be heard while she lightened her next cigarette. It broke an awkward silence in the Van as she drove it to the destination of their next job. Normally they would have at least talked but thanks to the new guest who accompanied them on this road trip, Nero didn't seem to be in the mood. She couldn't really blame him; he sure must have been surprised to see V standing in Dante's office as they received their next Mission. It was strange for Dante to give them a job and not doing it himself but who could've thought they would see V again and even team up with him like they did before. After the initial: "How can you even be here!", "There is Urizen?" and "What the hell happened to Vergil?" was sorted out, they welcomed V on board. Well, at least the gunsmith did and Neo? It seemed like he needed some time to collect his own thoughts on that matter. Nico looked over to her partner in the passenger seat next to her. Lost in thoughts and grumpy, usual Nero. Sometimes she wished he would be more open to her and not eating up all his emotions. In these situations, only Kyrie could really get through to him, but she was left behind at home. And as for the other member of their team. V sat in the back, eyes closed and slouched over his cane, but not fooling anyone. Nico doubted that that guy was really sleeping, with her driving ability and the condition of the road, there was just no way.

"So… Nero what do you think about this job?" began Nico to break this awful silence.

"Go to some place, kill demons. Sounds like a normal Tuesday, if you ask me." He replied without really getting invested in a possible conversation.

"Ah, fuck this crap, can you both stop makin' this weird. Nero, I know you're glad V is back, don't try to play hot'n cold with us. And you V, you're not sleeping, can you at least say somthin' or bring out that talking chickn'. Everything is better than this shitty atmosphere here. Can't work like that!"

"Nico, just-"

"Don’t Nico me, Nero. Don't you have a book to give back?"

With that Nero reached out to the book of poems with the golden letter V on its cover, he hesitated a few seconds before he spoke up again: "V. I don't know if you want it back or if I should give it to Vergil, I mean the real one. Shit, that sounds wrong, I mean, you know what I mean..."

"I would appreciate it." Said V, as he received his beloved book back. After he stared at it for a good minute, he continued: "Nero I am not your father, you don't have to act so stiff around me. I only have very selective memory that I share with him. Our childhood, some nightmares and the past few months in Red Grave City."

"So you don't know anything about my mother?"

"No, I've never met her…"

"Ah great, the ice is broken, thought the silence never gonna end. So awkward!" Nico chimed in to change the heavy topic, now in a much better mood.

"V, can tell us something more about this job?" questioned Nero as he felt pressured by Nico to at least try to have a normal, non-depressing conversation.

"I don't have much more knowledge about the place. It's an old castle, solitary in the mountains. A magic seal got broken and now demons have claimed it."

"Okay? It's really that simple, just slaying demons again, no Urizen, no hidden surprises?" Nero could help himself but doubting V's words, well knowing what happened the last time he told them about a "simple job".

"No, I have concerns as well. That is why I accompany you on this. However even I don't know what's behind all this. I am not the client this time after all."

"Guess we just have to figure it out on our own." Nero said casually as he stretched his arms out like he was getting ready for what was waiting for them.

"Hey guys, looks like we're there soon. You can already see that old place over there. Better buckle up, this small mountain road could be a bit bumpy." Nicoletta laughed as she made a sharp right turn on to a small road that lead upwards directly to the castle.

"Are you certain you want to use this road? It doesn't look like it's safe."

"No backseat drivin' here V, I got this, I can get this baby to any place, ya should know that by now!"

"Nico, the question here is not if we'll arrive, it’s more about if we'll survive!" Nero shouted while grabbing his seat. The road was narrow and not some everyday concrete path, needless to mention that their Van was not made for off road driving. Something Nico frankly never cared about.

August 1st 11:45 am

With a loud bang Nero closed the car door behind him. Standing now in front of the large gate that separated the outside from their destination.

"It looks we are not the first ones to arrive." mentioned V as he gestured with his cane to other vehicles parked on the outside nearby them.  A group of four, soldier looking, guys stood beside an army jeep near them, all dressed in protective gear that made them look like they were ready to go to war.

"Great, G.I. Joe and his buddies are here too." frowned Nero while gearing up. His trusty sword Red Queen on his back and his revolver Blue Rose by his side. V had less weight to carry, only his simple cane and the book he ever so often sunken his nose into.

Nico meanwhile was tapping the ash of her cigarette out of the car window while instructing both men: "Yo guys, I'm gonna wait here, can't drive that van in a castle after all, come back if ya find some nice demon parts, got it!"

"Yeah, yeah you don’t have to tell us that…" Nero said as he saw one of the soldier guys approaching them. He had no hair, sunglasses and a scarred face. The perfect caricature of a though soldier guy. "Whattya kids doing here? Go home to ya mamas, this place is dangerous!"

"Whatever sergeant dickhead, why don’t you mind your own business?" answered Nero in his usual standoffish manner. This did not set well with the unknown man as he grabbed Nero by the color and growled in the young devil hunters face: "Ya better watch yaself, that place is full of monsters and no human came back from it yet, would be a shame if ya end up like em!"

"Thank you for the kind warning!" said V politely but with a grim expression as he held his cane to the man’s neck. Nero wasn't one to let that slide either, his revolver in silent motion pressed against his aggressors’ body, ready to pull the trigger.

The bald guy released Nero from his grip as he proceeds to walk back while shouting: "Let yaself get killed kids, if that’s whattya after! Just don't get in the way!"

"What an asshole!" Nero muttered but before he could antagonize the soldier any further V changed the topic: "Let's see that this is all about, we didn't come to fight humans!"

Both men went off to the castle, passing the front gate that led them to the front court. It looked like it was well maintained even through it was supposed to be untouched for a long time. Yet, no birds were to hear, giving the place an awful ominous feeling despite the bright midday sun. They could hear rustling between the bushes that began slowly to surround them as they made their way towards the front door.

"Do you see that?" V asks pointing is cane towards some lifeless bodies a few feet in front of them.

"Looks like we're not the first but really dying before even getting in that place, that sucks. Good thing the pest-control is here now!" And in no time Nero took his Red Queen from his back, letting its engine roar. This was the sign for around twenty to thirty Msira, little monkey like demons, to crawl out of the surrounding woodwork. Those Msira, who are unlike their size would suggest, quite an opponent, especially in numbers.

"Very well, let us see if my powers are enough to deal with these vermin!" remarked V while pointing is cane up summoning on of his demon familiars.

"About time, Shakespeare! Thought you wanted to deal with them yourself. Not that I’d recommend that…" The demon bird Griffon materialized itself and wasted no time to open it's cheeky beak: "Let’s deal with them quick, you're still a wimp, you know! Doubt you can keep me up for long!"

We a slight smirk on his face V stated: "The true method of knowledge is an experiment. Now go and destroy them."

"I don't get what you mean by that, but the last part, that’s my jam!" Nero responded even though he was not addressed and all three of them started to slash through the Msira. It didnIt took them long, a few minutes at most and every demon defused into air. However, Griffon was also at its limit.

"That's it V, told ya that you can't sustain me for long. See ya later!" With that the demon bird became a puddle of black mud before it completely vanished.

"I've reached my limit faster than expected. I need to gain more power." V whispered to himself while marching onward to the front gate of the castle. Not wasting any time, Nero pushed the heavy door open, which led them into a grand, dim light, entrance hall. It had a heavy atmosphere to it, almost like they just entered a haunted mansion. At the end between two staircases that led to the upper floors was a statue of an angel holding a sun and a moon in its hands. The light from the outside was hardly illuminating the room as the stained-glass windows kept most of the light outside, instead several big chandeliers with countless candles gave light to the place. A few bodies could be seen on the floor and gave the demon hunters a clear indication that demons entered the castle as well.

"Man, this place gives me the creeps…" said Nero, as he looked around.

"It sure has an interesting architecture, while I personally would resign from decorating it with corpses." V answered and after a quick look around he continued: "Did you notice Nero? This castle is still in such a perfect condition, even after hundreds of years untouched."

"Now that you mention it, even the candles are still burning… it's almost as if time stopped for it."

"Exactly!" V had come to the same conclusion. The castle wasn't just sealed to prevent entrance, it was frozen in time till the moment those demons broke the barrier.

"And this guy must have been the owner!" Nero claimed, pointing to a portrait of a middle-aged man with a stern expression. Under it was a golden nameplate mounted to the wall.

"Count Caius the first, well isn't that a nice fellow..." Nero joked but was quickly brought back to the task at hand as he heard human screams coming from the westside of the castle.

"Sadly, admiring the art has to wait." chuckled V in response.

"Sure, wasn’t my taste anyways, let's finish this and get out of this place."

And with that both men hurried to the west wing of the castle towards the inner courtyard.

[sweetiecelin]

The Hunter’s Girl (Sam x Reader)

Chapter  1

“Sam?” A familiar voice spoke from behind the brothers.

“(Y/n), thank god you still-” Sam started but was cut off.

“Get the hell away from here. You got the hell outta Dodge the first time, do it again.”

(Y/n) shoved through the brothers and made a beeline for the door, but Sam jogged after her and grabbed a tight hold on her wrist,”Please, just listen, I just wanna talk.”

“You just wanna talk? Get your hand the hell off of me before I break it, Samuel.” (Y/n) spoke intending to keep her promise.

Sam quickly let go,” Please (Y/n), let me and my brother help- talk to you. We’re gonna try and save lives, bare with us.”

(Y/n) met his pleading eyes with a glare that could kill him, “ No. If you don’t get off my property, you and your dear brother will get arrested.”

She leaned close to his ear,” Don’t forget that I have friends in high places, Sam. I don’t like you, so they don’t like you; Don’t forget it.”

She turned  on her heel and unlocked the door, “Oh and Dean, hope your brother told you about me.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Sam turned facing his brother with a sour face, “Don’t tell me… she’s a werewolf?”

“No, close human raised with the wolves.”

Dean looked at his brother, “Like Tarzan?” Sam nodded his direction of the car. Dean took the hint and started on his way, “So definitely like Tarzan.”

“No, No, she isn’t like Tarzan. She’s like a werewolf, she is going to protect the leader with everything she’s got.”

“So did you two…?” Dean questioned once the car doors closed.

“Almost, one night. The night you called.”

“Did I y’know, interrupt?” Dean asked, suddenly more interested.

“Not that it matt-” Sam started coughing, what came up made Dean chuckled.

“So, I did interrupt, man I-” Dean started.

Sam rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t matter okay? She’s moved on with her life, probably.”

Dean started the car and pulled out, heading to the local diner, “There’s always a chance that she didn’t. How knows Sammy, she could be your true love.”

“Shut up, Dean. She and I are too different to even make it work; She was raised by werewolves and they respect her, I’m a hunter and- and it just won’t work.”

“It worked before didn’t it?”

(Y/n) was in the kitchen dancing to the radio as she cooked breakfast, she wanted to make sure that Sam’s morning was better than the past few. He looked like he had been to Hell and back a few times, she decided that Mama Maggie’s famous hangover breakfast can help his nightmares. She had heard him crying out for a man named Dean in his sleep.

Sam had walked in on (Y/n) dancing in the kitchen in a thin tank top and men's boxer shorts, “Is this your morning ritual?”

(Y/n) squeaked and jumped out of her skin, “Fuck! Jesus, you scared me, Sam!”

Sam raised his hands in a defensive manner and chuckled, “Heh, sorry it’s a habit to move around quietly.”

“So…. how’d you sleep last night? You’ve woken me up if you needed anything, you know that right?” (Y/n) quickly said trying to make her guest comfortable, but failing miserably.

“I slept fine. Um, thanks for letting me sleep here for now.”

(Y/n) offered Sam a gentle smile “It’s fine. Going through a loss can be tough of people. Even the strongest tend to break.”

“So, if you want I can try and get a job and pay rent as much as I can to help out you know?”

“Decided you’re going to stay?” (Y/n)’s smile never changing,

“Heh, yeah, I’m thinking about stay settling down for a few months.” He confessed, looking at her.

“What are you good at?” She spoke trying to help him.

“Um, I’m good at manual labor, people, I guess. Nothing else comes to mind.”

“Ya like books?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, I kind’ve got a love for reading..”

“My buddy who owns the best bookstore in town is looking for some help around the store. Look I know this sounds like something a teenager would accept but he pays well.”

“I guess, I’ll look into.”

“My bar also has an opening- Well it isn’t really my bar it’s owned by a kind woman, I just help manage it.”

Sam got taken out of his daydream, with Dean snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“Dude, snap out of it. You good? Because we’re at the diner.”

Sam sighed, ”Can’t you just go in and get the food? I’ll wait here.”

“No. C’mon Sammy, we’re not going to have you spun out of whack by some chick.” Dean hopped out of the car and waited by the front of it until Sam hopped out.

“Fine, Dean! Let’s just get this over with.” Sam got out of the car and entered the diner and the whole place fell silent.

Tracy, one of the pack members,  walked up to the brothers with a fake smile plastered on her lips, “If you could kindly pick a seat, one of our staff with shortly assist you, hunters.”

Once that word left her tongue, the older male, members of the pack started growling lowly at the men. Sam sent a pleading look in Tracy’s direction.

“C’mon Tracy, don’t do this.”

“Do what? Make sure you hurt, just like (Y/n) did once you left without a trace? I think I’ll keep doing this, you son of a-”

“Tracy!” Henry’s alpha voice boomed through the diner, ”We don’t treat people like this, no matter how many times they hurt us.”

“But, Hen- Alpha, he hu-”

“He hurt (Y/n) I know, but she isn’t pack of the pack. The rules don’t apply to her.”

Tracy rolled her eyes, then glared at the brothers, “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. Including hunters and Pack Alpha. We respectfully ask you to leave our establishment.”

Henry placed a hand on Sam’s back,”Don’t worry, we can dine at the bar. Like old times, Sam.”

(Y/n) and Sam had strolled into the bar. (Y/n) smiled at the bartender and the barflies that had been there since opening.

“Hey, Josie. You know that favor that you owe me?” (Y/n) smiled widely at the bartender.

“You finally calling it in?” The older women teased.

“Well, I thought it was about time, after what..  Fourteen years?  My friend Sam here needs a job.”

Josie sighed “Not hiring at the moment hun.”

“C’mon Jos, Kathy ain’t gonna be lifting the heavy packages with that baby of hers, then her maternity leave.”

“You good at bartending, child?” Josie questioned skeptically.

Sam nodded,” Yes, ma’am, A family friend used to run a bar a few years ago, my brother and I used to help out when it got to busy.”

“Mmm, I guess you’re qualified enough. You start tomorrow night.”

Henry and the Winchester Brothers entered the bar and the normal buzz of Joe’s was almost nonexistent. Josie glanced at the large men.

“What can I get you, boys?” She asked in an easy-going manner.

“Hey Mama Jo, could we get three home-grill burgers and three beers?”

“Of course… coming right up.” Josie turned around and gave the simple order to the cook and gave the men the beers.

“Now, Samuel Winchester, why did you decide to come back?”

Sam choked on his beer “A case… the mur-” Dean had kicked his brother's leg “What the hell man?”

“What? I did nothing.”

“Now, Y'all working a murder case in our town? Now that I think of it some patrons the past couple of weeks gave me a weird feeling.” Josie continued.

Dean glanced at the woman “What did you mean?”

“A couple of rough looking guys gave me an odd feeling. They felt like they had a certain motive.”

“(Y/n) say anything to you about it?”

“No, now that you say that, they were stalking her and a few other humans like they were prey. If anything those are-”

Henry cut her off “New members of the pack. Came here a few weeks ago, asked if they could join, some hunters killed their pack.”

Josie rolled her eyes “And you believe them? They looked like brutes, I doubt that their pack got easily killed by hunters.”

Dean couldn’t believe what was going on, a couple of werewolves were talking open werewolf business in front of two hunters, and his brother knew about this.

“You guys, uh know that Sammy here and myself are a couple of hunters, right?”

Josie and Henry looked at Dean, with a sarcastic look on their faces.

“Dean and Sam Winchester; saved the world a couple of times, sons of John Winchester, civilian-turned-hunter, and Mary Campbell, raised-hunter. I’ve known who you two are before Sam first sat down here.”

Sam chuckled “She’s like Bobby and Ellen, mixed into one minus the paranoia and hunter thing. She helps whoever needs to be helped.”

(Y/n) entered the bar and sighed “Look what I found. A mutt and a couple of hunters.”

Henry flipped her off without even looking at her “Sucking dick is the only thing you’re good at sweetheart.”

The younger female smiled “I’m also very good at pouring shots, Alpha.”

Josie sighed “(Y/n) apologize, now.”

“You’re not my mother.” (Y/n) snapped back.

“Shut up, I raised you that should be close enough.” Josie teased.

“I’m sorry Samuel.”

Josie sighed “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

“Now, Sam apologize.” Henry and Dean both laughed.

Sam blew a raspberry “I shouldn’t apologize.”

Josie reached over the counter and smack the back of Sam’s head “You left her high and dry while you were going steady.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah. We were never going steady.”

“My bad, Y'all were courting each other.”

Henry and Dean just continued laughing. (Y/n) and Sam both looked at them and hit them.

Sam spoke up “Listen, me and (y/n) never gonna happen.”

(Y/n) chuckled “Not what you said the night you left. ‘I think  I’m falling in love with you’ ‘I don’t care what others think’ ‘We should be together’.“

“He was only saying those things to get into your pant sweetheart,” Dean spoke while he nursed his beer.

“No duh. No one could ever love a hunter.”

“(Y/n) (M/n) (L/n), take that back.” Josie harshly commanded.

(Y/n) chugged the rest of her beer and got up “No, he doesn’t deserve any apologies, everything he touches gets destroyed.” She stormed out of the establishment and Henry went after her to calm her down.

Sam sighed “I knew we shouldn’t have come back. This is just a mistake, the pack will handle this like they always do.”

He started to get up when Josie spoke up “Sit your ass down, Sam. She’s just being overdramatic. But you are too.”

“How the hell am I being dramatic?” Sam tried to understand.

“Dude, you should’ve tried talking to her reasonably, tried to have understood how she felt after you left,” Dean said without thinking twice. “She must've been heartbroken after the fact that you up and left her leaving only a note behind.”

“Sam, my boy, you’re fucking stupid.” Josie disappointedly sighed.

[niora]

She was not expecting anyone to be here. She wiped at her face, trying desperately to hide that she’d been crying. Northwests didn’t cry. They had an image to uphold. But it was hard for a 12 year old to not be tearful over being told she’d be staying with relatives that didn’t care for her, while her father went to Portland for some business. She hated her aunt and uncle. She hated how she couldn’t be herself around them.

“ Are you crying?”

“ No. I have...dust in my eyes.”

The two stared at each other in silence for a time. Taking in their appearances. To her, this creature seemed to be a fawn, but it was pitch black save for the bright, almost electrical dotted markings on it’s back. It had golden hooves, tiny horn buds and bright gold eyes. She’d never seen a deer like this before, but she thought it looked very beautiful.

To the deer, this seemed to be a very young human girl, though it was unsure what age. Dark mid-length hair, icy blue eyes and pale skin. Like the settlers, the deer noted. She was dressed in a white skirt with black stockings, a large white and navy collar, navy sash at the thigh and a large navy bow in her hair. 

“ You’re not scared of me?” it said in a voice that she thought sounded young. 

“ Should I be?” she asked cautiously, she wasn’t even sure what the deer was, or if this was even a ‘deer’. “ What are you?”

“ I’m a guardian.”

“ Oh.” she blinked, not really sure what that meant. 

“ The forest is my home. I keep it safe.” it explained “ Are you lost?”

“ I...” she looked around, she had been running headlong into the forest, not even bothering to stay on the trails. She really wasn’t sure where she was now. She hadn’t been thinking of any kind of destination and she hadn’t thought of what to do or where to stay once she ran away. She felt even more foolish, her emotions had blindly led her to unknown territory.

“ I think so.” she said sadly

“ I know the way back to town. I can take you there.”

“ NO!” she cried “ No, I don’t want to go back home, I’m not wanted there.”

“ It will be dark soon, it’s not good to be out here alone.” it paused and thought where else this human could stay if she didn’t want to go home, it thought of a cave, but that would be too cold and there could be bats...

“ There’s a church not too far away, you could stay there.”

She flinched. A church? Someone like her. Something like her...being welcomed in a church? She shook her head. “ I don’t think that’s a good idea, I don’t want to burden anyone. Isn’t there somewhere else I could go?”

“ The church is abandoned, there’s no one there, but there is shelter and it’s warm. Come on.” 

The creature tilted it’s head, motioning her to follow and she did so. As they walked on, she noticed the forest getting denser, darker. She wasn’t sure if the sun was setting quicker or this creature was leading her further away from civilization. The latter thought scared her. As much as wanted to get away from home, she didn’t want to get away from town.

“ Is there any food in that church?”

“ No, but I could get you some. I know where there are a lot of berries and roots you could eat. Unless you’re a meat eater?”

She smiled at the mention of her being a ‘meat eater’, meaning this creature was probably vegetarian, like most deer were. This eased her fears of it wanting to possibly lure her away to eat her. “ I do eat meat, but berries sound good.”

There was no trail as they headed up. Branches and weeds caught her skirt and seeds stuck to her black stockings, but she paid little mind. They were already ruined by the time she met this creature, when she fell a few times trying to run off. The undergrowth and dense trees gave away to a clearing, and before them was a run down looking church. This creature wasn’t kidding when it said it was abandoned, it looked like it hadn’t seen a living soul in decades. It’s wood sides covered in ferns, vines and brambles, it’s wide doors fallen off the hinges, the roof thankfully looked intact. 

“ I haven’t been in here in a long time, but I remember there being fabric in the back rooms, I think they’re called blankets?”

She barely registered what it just said, she’d never been in a church before. Her father would’ve never allowed it. She looked around at the little figures sitting on alcoves above, colored in the dancing prisms of the light from broken stained glass, tattered red carpet harboring green moss underfoot and a lopsided cross in the very front. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as she was told it would be. It was very somber in a rustic sort of way.

She hadn’t noticed she was still walking, following the deer creature to the very front and through a room beyond it. It got noticeably dimmer but still lit from a single window. She witnessed the creature use it’s mouth to pull open a wardrobe. Inside were blankets, clothing on hangers and various other fabric that she figured were things for a ritual of sorts. She picked up a blanket, surprised by how dustless they were, the heavy pine doors must have protected them from the elements and moths.

“ I’ll get some food, I’ll be right back.” said the creature, and with a jump, it gracefully and effortlessly ran into the air, sparks of electricity on it’s golden heels. She was in awe. She only knew others like her could fly with brooms, but never just lift into the sky like that. What was this creature?

She would have to ponder about that later, the noon sun was setting, making the room even dimmer. She looked around at the other rooms, one seemed to be in a state of total decay, the floorboards had rotted to the dirt foundation they were laid on, the other room’s window had been busted, allowing nature to take hold of it. She decided to call the ‘office’ she was in, her temporary home. It had a desk, books, a bench, chairs and the single window was intact. She spotted an oil lantern on top of a shelf, shook it, there was still fuel.

By the time the creature came back with food, cleverly using a discarded offering basket on a pew, she’d made a little bed out of the bench and chairs, pulling them together against a wall.The creature set down the basket of food and looked at the makeshift bed area.

“ I found a lantern in a cabinet. I couldn’t find any matches though, so I had to use magic to get it started.” 

The creature tilted it’s head curiously “ Magic?”

“ Yes, I’m a witch. But I’m still in school, so I don’t know a whole lot of spells yet.”

Golden eyes blinked for a second. This girl was a witch? “ You are a very young witch. I’ve only met old ones before.”

“ I’m not so young!” she pouted “ I’m 12 years old this year! Nearly a young lady.”

“ Only 12 years? I am over 2 billion.”

“ That’s impossible, an animal can’t be that old.”

“ But I am. And I’m not an animal, I’m a guardian.” he explained again “ I suppose, a kind of deity of the forest.”

Her eyes went wide. A deity! Well that certainly explained how it could fly, and make electrical sparks as it did so. But she thought deities were much...bigger and more grander looking. This ‘deity’ was but a small deer. A baby. She’d never heard not read of one like that. 

“ What do they call you?”

“ I have many names. The tribes that were here before settlers came had as many as 100 names for me. Storm Bringer, Singing Rain...”

Ah, so it was an ‘Indian’ idol. She’d seen their likenesses on the trip up to Oregon carved on masks from the mysterious tribes of the cold north at trading posts, and painted on the capes and hats of the ‘Indians squaws’ who sold rabbit and otter furs along the trails. 

“ Oh but what do you call yourself? Surely you must have a personal name of your own. Like mine. My name is America Northwest, but I don’t care for it much, so I chose to go by Ami or Ricky instead.”

“ I don’t have a name like that.”

“ How sad.” she said, not have a personal name to identify with. Not even a nickname. “ What would you like to be called? I’ve always fancied William or Catherine. They’re such lovely names.”

“ I don’t know what those mean. If I am to name myself, I would like it to mean something personal to me.”

“ That’s fair.” She supposed if a name were to be chosen, it should be special. But there was time for that, maybe after she ate she’d recommend more names. She wasn’t sure what gender the little deity was, so she’d have to come up with girl and boy names, or even neutral ones like Lark or Joe.

She spied the food in the basket and her stomach growled, those berries looked delicious and she immediately recognized some to be gooseberries and wild strawberries.

“ You’re not eating?” she asked

“ I have eaten while I was out. You’re welcome to the basket.”

The whole basket? Well that was swell! She picked up a wild strawberry and popped it into her mouth. So sweet, so fragrant. Nothing like the larger ones she’d eaten back home. Very soon, the contents of the basket disappeared as did the sunlight. She lay on her side, stroking the soft and cloud-like fur of her new nameless friend. It seemed to enjoy it greatly.

“ Tell me more of your home in Ca-For-Nah.”

“ California.” she softly corrected “ San Francisco is a very big city with lots of people. It’s also very foggy and windy. The coastline is very rocky with lots of flat beaches where my mama and I used to go into the bathing machine. My papa took me to the World’s Fair last year...” 

She trailed off as her head dipped down. She normally didn’t sleep so early, but all the running and crying exhausted her. Eventually she went quiet, and lay on her side in her little makeshift bed without a blanket, the body of the creature against her radiated warmth.

“ World’s Fair. San Francisco.” repeated the creature. There was no context nor mental image of such a place, yet the names ignited curiosity. Never had the deer god left the land before, it knew nothing of the world beyond Gravity Falls or that such amazing sounding places existed. The little deer god tucked in it’s legs and curled closer to the young witch. Though it did not need sleep, it stayed quiet, listening to her soft breathing and watching the flickering of the lamp.

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

Author’s Notes:

If you couldn’t guess, this takes place probably around the early 1900s, what with the bathing machines and mention of the World’s Fair aka Panama–Pacific International Exposition. Ricky here also uses terms that described the Native peoples of the Pacific Northwest back then, which of course are really offensive now, but for the sake of her rich white background and historical accuracy, are used. Doesn’t mean she can’t unlearn it, especially with Sam, who remains nameless for now. 

A second part is pending. I like this AU, I’ve been trying to bust this writer’s block for a few days. If this is what does it, I’m continuing it. For how long? Idk. Maybe skip a few years into their friendship to see how time changes things. We’ll see.

[onlystraightforjongup]

Tanzania 2018

This January, I traveled for 24 days.  Of those days, I spent almost 3 days traveling, 1 night in Amsterdam, and 20 days in Tanzania.  I went to Arusha National Park, Tarangire National Park, the Kno Forest, Ngorongoro Conservation Area, and Serengeti National Park.

Sunset over Tarangire National Park

Between those visits, I got to live with three of the hundred tribes in Tanzania.  They were the Maasai, a pastoral, polygamous society with massive land issues and almost no women’s rights, the Hadza, a completely traditional hunter-gatherer group known for their equality, their conservation and as the happiest people in the world, and the Iraqw, an agro-pastoral society with resource and expansion issues and also with little women’s rights.

A young Maasai boy, looking curiously at the camera lens

My experiences there - with the animals, with the guides, with the country - are hard to explain.  This was the greatest trip of my life, and I’m so, so extremely lucky that I got to do it.  Under the cut, I’ve tried to explain as much as I could and tell stories.  This trip was more than a vacation, and it’s opened my eyes to so many new people and issues.

This is a long post, so feel free to skip it or just scroll for photos.  It was hard for me to decide what made the cut and what didn’t, but I think I’ve included only the very best of the trip.  The problem is - there was a lot of the very best.

I said above that it’s hard to explain this trip because we did so much.  Every day felt like a week, beginning usually by waking in a tent before dawn and ending around midnight in a circle around the fire.  I’m going to start with two stories, slightly out of context.  Both involve the Maasai, one near the end of the trip and one on our very first day in Africa.

First, is our first day in Africa, in the Lark Plains and on Maasai land.  Three Maasai girls/women came over to talk with us.  I call them both girls and women because all three were married with children, but we estimated their ages between 14 and 16.  Midway through the conversation, they told us “Moyo moja” a Swahili phrase that means “One heart.”  To the Maasai, it means that we’re all different people and all from different places, but we have one heart.  We are all human.  Tunakupenda, they told us.  We love you.

The Lark Plains, a Maasai grazeland

Second, was our last day in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area.  We’d watched the Maasai slaughter a goat, and it now roasted around the fire.  The sun had dropped in the sky, and 18 students, 1 professor, 5 guides, and 3 Maasai men sat around the fire.  We started a discussion, complete with a translation from Maasai to Swahili to English and back.  The men asked us what we think they need to do to solve their problems, particularly land conservation and hunger.  We answered women’s rights.

Three Maasai men, preparing a goat 

With those two stories in mind, I’m going to try and explain the places we visited through pictures and interspersed stories.

That requires first mentioning our guides.  My university went through the company Dorobo, which I highly, highly suggest if you ever travel to Tanzania.  The couple who owns it knows our professor because of past trips, so they came along, and our guides were Mama Mage (pronounced Maggie), Elisa, and Mika.  Elisa and Mage were 2 of 6 female guides in Tanzania, and both told us about the struggles women face.  Mama Mage even showed us the scars on her hands, face, and neck from a time in school where she bled through her skirt while on her period, and her teacher beat her because she asked to answer a question while still sitting down.

Mama Mage with a leopard tortoise 

Mika with a flap-head chameleon 

Arusha National Park

A blue monkey

A giraffe drinking

African Fish Eagle

Tarangire National Park

Red-billed Hornbill

Elephants

Impala

The Kno Forest - a tropical, high elevation rainforest

A waterfall, which we swam in - worth it, despite catching mild giardia from it!

The Kno

At the Kno, we visited our first tribe, the Iraqw.  We met a woman, who had never heard of a place where men and women were equal.  She said little about her thoughts on it, and the man translating between Iraqw and Swahili, Karoli, told us it’s not for him.  The woman asked what farming we do in America, because as a woman she takes care of the fields, the children, and all cooking, cleaning and other house chores.  We told her about little vegetable and spice gardens in our backyards.

She told us if an Iraqw man married us, he’d divorce us by sunset.

Three Iraqw people and Jenn, who is showing the kids a picture of themselves, while their grandmother watches on

Nas, to Karoli and the Iraqw.  Thank you.

From there, we went to live with the Hadzabe.  A much different tribe, with less work because of their hunter-gatherer lifestyle.  They had few belongings and a lot of laughter.  Every Hadza person has a voice and so everyone is equal.

Two Hadza men standing with their weapons

But the Hadzabe face their own challenges.  They own 10% of the land they once did, opposed by other tribes and their own government for being “backwards” despite being, as determined by a study, the happiest people in Tanzania.  The last time the government attempted to force them to change was 1990.  It failed, like the other five previous attempts since the 1960s.

Hadzabe women collecting tubers

We tried a tuber named //equa.  The slashes represent a lateral click, a click in the side of your mouth.  There aren’t many Hazda, and their native language is dying.  It’s beautiful to listen to, with three distinct clicks and bird names which are an exact replica of the bird calls.

We also hunted with the Hadzabi, the Hadza men.  They practice sustainability, only taking as much as exactly necessary.  It’s also humane; they tip their arrows with the poison of the desert rose.  It kills animals within a minute if it enters their bloodstream.

The Hadza man I hunted with, holding a Van der Decken’s hornbill he caught

Above Average Joe, which we called him because he never told us his name and it’s what his shirt read (our translator explained the name later, and he told us he liked it), moved through the land silently, aware of every bird call, every sound, and no doubt very aware of the three students behind him, crashing through branches and quickly finding out every plant in the Yaeda Valley is covered in thorns.

Nube’eya, to the Hadzabe.  Thank you.

The Ngorogoro Crater

A young zebra with its mother

two wildebeest fighting

The view at the rim of the crater

Driving in this crater

A long-crested eagle

The Crater was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, and wow, the pictures feel inadequate.  They just can’t capture it.

From there, we met with the Maasai.  We visited a tribe who rarely ever got visitors, one who lived the completely traditional way.  We were likely the first white people some of the children had ever seen, for there were no roads leading to the boma. 

The handbuilt home of the eldest wife, within the thorny walls of the boma

The boma is the home of a single family, which consists of a man, multiple wives, six in this case, and their children, about sixty in this case.  This is a typical size.  In the beginning, I said the Maasai face land problems.  They live in Ngorongoro Conservation Area, where they moved and were given permission to live, with restrictions, after they were manipulated out of Serengeti National Park.  

There were once 10,000 people.  Now there is 90,000, a number the Crater can’t sustain with its wildlife.  They are not allowed to grow crops, as that destroys natural habitat, nor can they hunt wild animals.  The people are malnourished and starving, eating only beef, goat, and drinking the milk from both.  Their population is skyrocketing, with no sign of slowing down, but the land is the same size and becoming lower and lower quality grazing.

Two Maasai half or full brothers posing for a woman who I taught how to use my camera

A young Maasai boy posing for a Maasai girl, who I showed how to use my camera

They asked us how we’d advise them to solve this problem.  And how do you answer?  You can’t tell them to stop their way of life, they can’t get more land... where do you go, what do you do?  We answered women’s rights, because right now, a woman’s status comes from her number of male children.  If that changed, then women wouldn’t push for more and more children, would be able to do more, to have other interests than raising kids and milking cows.  

They stopped and thought about it, saying they weren’t against it.  It’s hard, they said, because a man who gives his wives equal rights is seen as weak, unable to even control women.  

We answered, and ended the conversation, by saying sometimes, even if your society sees you as weak, standing up for what you believe in and what you know is right takes more strength than anything else.

Asha, to the Maasai people.  Thank you.

Ngorogoro Conservation Area

Maribu storks surrounding a lappet-faced vulture on a new carcass

A male lion resting with a full belly

Two cheetah cubs poking their heads out of the grass

Serengeti National Park

Two spotted hyaena with a wildebeest nearby and many wildebeest further away

hippos in a pond

A leopard female with a cub hidden further up the tree

This trip was the greatest thing I’ve ever done.  I learned so much, and I hardly touched upon my experiences there.  If anyone wants more stories, message me, because I am more than happy to share.  I hope this was somewhat coherent, and I hope you found it worth it to read until this point.  I’ll likely post more pictures at some point, in a point where it won’t be obscenely long like this one.  I took more than 2500 while I was there, and while I’m nowhere near Nat Geo quality, I still love a lot of them!

So to summarize my feelings about this trip and everyone involved with it: Asante, Tanzania.  Thank you.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

William is present when the Mackenzies return. He witnessed Jamie and Brianna's loving and reunion and it makes him wonder more about Jamie. Jamie also reintroduces them as brother and sister.

So a large part of this new fic is what I have in mind as something that could happen in Book 9 (but I also know probably/definitely won’t). I was outlining it to Gotham one night a WHILE back and promised her I’d write it for her and since so much of it fits with various prompts we already have in the drafts, it just made sense to use it here on Imagine. To make it’s start fit with this specific prompt, there’s a little bit of canon tweaking necessary, namely that the new big house is already finished and Ian and Rachel have just moved into their own very recently completed cabin.

Also a small disclaimer: I do not read the Daily Lines and in fact, try to avoid them (I prefer passages with full context and like my first read through the book to happen without me getting constantly distracted by my brain jumping up and going, ‘oh, I remember when DG posted this bit,’ or ‘I guess X scene was edited out/down’).

Enjoy.

-Mod Lenny

Homecoming

Part One

There was a great deal of confusion as they all talked over one another, hugging and squeezing and kissing and laughing and crying. Jamie nearly collapsed under Jem’s weight as he tried to hoist the lad onto his back to carry him up to the big house but Claire and Brianna rushed to steady them and with another laugh they were off to get the MacKenzies settled in.

“Ian’s married and they have a baby,” Claire explained to Brianna, the two of them lagging a few steps behind. “Your uncle Ian passed, I’m afraid, a few years ago now but your father was able to be with him and he brought your aunt Jenny with him. She’s staying with Ian and Rachel now the baby’s come.”

“Jenny’s here?” Brianna said with surprise. “And where did you tell her Roger and I were?”

Claire paused and turned to her daughter, her voice dropping low. “She knows now. Everything. When we went to Scotland and Ian was… we told them both the whole truth.”

Brianna just nodded.

“She’ll be thrilled to see you, though,” Claire assured her. “And to meet Jem and Mandy.”

“We’ll have to go tomorrow to see them,” Brianna promised.

“Actually… Since they’ve just finished with their new house, they’re having a gathering of sorts there tonight to celebrate… Sort of a barn raising,” Claire said. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to have you there and celebrate your return as well. I know Ian’s missed you as much as your father and I have and you’ll love Rachel.”

“Sounds like it’ll be a long night,” Brianna laughed. “It’s just such a relief to be back after everything that’s happened.”

Jamie, Roger, and Jem had reached the big house and Jamie was showing it off––it had just been finished it a few weeks before.

Claire looked around.

“Where’s Mandy? It must all be a bit overwhelming for her here,” Claire remarked then added sadly, “She can’t possibly remember us.”

Brianna looked around for her daughter too, then sighed with relief when she spotted her further down the path staring back at the road they’d walked a short time earlier.

“Mandy is… I’m not entirely sure how to describe it,” Brianna confessed, telling Claire quickly about the experiments Joe had helped her conduct with the children back in Boston. “Whatever it is she’s got it stronger than Jem but even he would say things about Da that… Especially at the old family cemetery…” She shivered. “I’m not sure what to make of it but if Mandy says or does something that seems… familiar… It’ll take some getting used to but if it helps, I don’t think she’ll be shy with you and Da.”

“What’re you looking at Mandy, dear?” Claire asked quietly.

Her dark curls were wild in the light mountain breeze and when she turned her head it blew them across the face of her red-haired doll, which she clutched tightly to her chest.

“Someone’s coming,” she informed them, then turned back to stare at the road that wound along the edge of the clearing and could be seen a short ways into the woods while the trees remained thin, but soon it wound around a bend and dropped out of sight to head further down the mountain.

Claire squinted then turned to Brianna who had been squinting as well.

“Mandy, honey, I don’t see anyone coming,” Brianna responded. When Claire caught her eye, Brianna tilted her head as if to say, See what I mean?

“But he’s there,” Mandy insisted.

Claire raised a hand to shield her eyes and then reached for Brianna who had crouched to be at Mandy’s level.

“She’s right,” Claire exclaimed. “There’s a wagon coming.”

“Who could it be?” Brianna asked mimicking Claire’s posture. “You’re not expecting anyone are you?”

Claire snorted. “No, but you lot still showed up, didn’t you?”

“Mandy honey, go tell Da and Grandda that someone’s coming,” Brianna instructed.

Mandy ran back to the house as Claire’s feet began to pull her towards the path leading down to the road. The wagon made its way into the clearing by the Higgins’ cabin and Amy emerged. Claire could only tell that there appeared to be a man and a woman in the wagon with possibly a child in the woman’s arms. Their hats obscured their faces but Amy’s gestures clearly indicated that she was explaining the way up to the big house.

“Ye should see the surgery yer da built for yer mam,” Roger called as he made his way from the house back down to where Claire and Brianna still watched and waited. “It’s bigger’n the last one.”

“The kids?”

“They’re climbin’ yer da like a jungle gym. Sounds like they’ll each find playmates over at Ian’s tonight. Germain and a lass called Fanny were sent o’er early to help get things ready.”

“Mama was just telling me.”

“Looks like they’re makin’ their way up,” Roger remarked as the wagon turned toward the steeper path up to the big house’s overlook. The man climbed down then helped the woman––who definitely held a baby in her arms––then he took hold of the horses’ reins to guide the creatures and the lightened wagon up the path.

Jamie came along with Jem hanging from his back and Mandy wrapped around his leg.

“Miss Mandy says we’ve more visitors on the way. I told her she and Jem might have to sleep in the barn wi’ the horses to be sure there’s room, unless someone doesna mind sleepin’ on the bed in yer surgery.”

Jem let go of Jamie and dropped to the ground. “I’ll go see if they need help,” he exclaimed and broke off into a run before any of the adults could stop him.

“Wait for me!” Mandy cried and hurried after him.

“Watch your feet!” Brianna called after them before closing her eyes, unable to watch as her reckless children tore downhill to besiege the poor wanderers.

Jamie chuckled and wrapped an arm around his daughter, pulling her into his chest and pressing a kiss to her brow. “They seem happy in spite of everything.”

“It’s good to be home and all together again,” Brianna nodded, resting her head against Jamie’s shoulder and putting her arms around him. “We’ve missed you.”

“Mrs… Friend Claire!” Dottie Hunter called awkwardly then shifted the baby in her arms to wave.

“Oh,” Claire gasped before turning briefly to Jamie who had gone pale and still enough for Brianna’s brow to furrow.

It was now clear the man leading the horses on foot was not Dottie’s husband. At his cousin’s exclamation, William Ransom had looked up in time to see two children barreling toward them and a ways further up Mother Claire and Jamie Fraser with two others, a younger man and woman whose hair had unmistakably come from her father.

Jem reached them first and smiled with triumph.

“D’ye need help wi’ yer horses?”

“I… I think I can manage,” William said hesitantly, staring at Jem with intent curiosity. The boy looked familiar beyond his obvious resemblance to his grandfather.

“Who might you––thee––be?” Dottie asked.

“Jem MacKenzie.” Mandy finally reached them, panting after her run. “My sister’s Mandy. Do ye ken Grandda and Grannie?”

“Yes, actually,” William said turning to get the horses moving again. Jem and Mandy walked a short ways ahead of the visitors. “I’m William Ransom and this is my cousin, Mrs. Hunter.”

“Thee can call me Dottie,” she insisted with a smile for Mandy.

“Wha’s yer bairn called?” Mandy asked pointing to the fidgeting bundle in Dottie’s arms.

“Her name is Minnie, for her grandmother.”

“William… Dottie!” Claire called as she met them on their way up. Jamie, Brianna, and Roger remained waiting in the clearing by the ledge. “What brings the two of you here? Is Denny all right?”

“Yes,” Dottie said with a smile that was clearly forced. “But he’s with the army still and with the baby… He wanted us somewhere safe and with family if possible so Cousin William agreed to bring me here to see if Friend––Sister––Rachel and Brother Ian… I should have written first to give Thee warning but it was faster to simply come in person…”

Claire smiled and stepped forward to peer at the blinking baby in Dottie’s arms. “May I?”

Dottie nodded and looked relieved to have Claire take hold of the baby.

“I’m sure Rachel and Ian will be happy to have you to stay with them and this little one,” Claire cooed at Minnie who gurgled and stuck her hand in her mouth, “has a cousin to meet.”

“Really?” Dottie reached to take Minnie back from Claire as the child began to fuss with hunger, her fist proving unsatisfying.

“William, you can stay here at the house with us,” Claire insisted. “For as long as you want.”

“Thank you, Mother––Mrs. Fraser. But I don’t expect I’ll need to stay more than the night,” he protested, not looking at her but rather staring at the ground. His jaw clenched tight and Claire remembered something vague Ian had mentioned in passing about William and Rachel.

“Ye’ll come to the party tonight though,” Mandy objected. “Grannie and Mam said they was havin’ a party tonight. We’re gonna suprise ‘em.”

“They’ll be surprised all right,” Roger said hoisting Mandy up and settling her on his shoulders. As he got hold of her foot in one hand and felt her fingers get a tight grip in his hair, he held his other hand out to William. “Roger MacKenzie. I believe we met once before a few years ago now.”

Recognition dawned on William’s face and there was a brief but vibrant flush that immediately followed and quickly suppressed.

“I believe you’re correct, Mr. MacKenzie.” William returned the handshake politely.

“Are ye comin’ to the party tonight?” Mandy reiterated, not having forgotten that William had yet to promise he’d join them.

“Oh uh…”

“You lot can go on ahead to Ian and Rachel’s with Grandda,” Claire said as they came up to Jamie and Brianna. “He’ll show you and Dottie here the way. I’ll stay back a while and help William with the horses and to unload the wagon. We’ll also need to get the rooms made up for so many guests. I’m sure William wouldn’t mind helping with that.” She looked to Jamie whose eyes had gone wet in that painful way of someone who hasn’t been able to blink. “Jenny and Rachel will be grateful for the help and Ian will be after your company setting up outside.”

“Are ye sayin’ we should be goin’ now?” Jem asked, confused.

Brianna looked up at Jamie, then over at her mother, before landing on William who was looking between the ground and Jamie.

“William,” Jamie finally spoke. “Welcome.”

“Mr. Fraser,” William muttered quietly.

“Thank thee Friend Fras––James,” Dottie said stepping forward and giving a small bob of her head. “It is kind of thee to welcome us to your––thine––home.”

“Why’s she talkin’ funny, Da?” Mandy whispered loudly into Roger’s ear.

He gave her leg a little pinch. “Dinna be rude, Amanda,” he hissed back.

“Please, let me introduce our daughter, Brianna, and her family,” Jamie said broadly with a smile for Dottie. He still had an arm around Brianna but he let his hold on her slacken. “Her husband, Roger Mac, and their bairns, Jeremiah and Amanda. We’ve another grandson, Germain, stays wi’ us here and the lass William kens, Fanny, as well. They’re already with Ian and Rachel to get ready for the gathering. Fanny’s quite taken wi’ the wee bairn and if ye bring another for her to play wi’ ye’ll have to keep an eye on her to be sure ye get yer wean back.”

Dottie laughed but there were tears in her eyes. “It sounds like precisely what Denny wanted for us,” she said. “Somewhere cheery and safe away from the war.”

“It is that,” Jamie nodded. “Now Bree, Mrs. Hunter here is Lord John Gray’s niece––ye’ll remember John, of course. She’s wed to one of yer mam’s surgeon friends from the war, Denny Hunter.”

“Denny is Ian’s Rachel’s brother,” Claire added.

Bree laughed, a little higher and more self-conscious than usual. “You need to cool it with the names unless you’re going to write it out on a piece of paper and quiz me on it later. It’ll be easier to remember once I have the faces to go with the names.” She reached over and shook the other woman’s hand.

“Thee can begin with Dottie,” she said, bowing her head to Brianna after releasing her hand.

“And William…” Jamie said, using his hand on Brianna’s shoulder to turn her slightly towards him as well. “Yer brother.” He said it quietly, now as an attempt to whisper but because of the tightness that rose in his throat at being able to say it at all.

Brianna looked to Claire who gave her a small nod.

“Yes,” William said with his head held high as though prepared for battle. “I know. Dottie does as well. And I’m assuming you’ve known all along. I… I remember now… meeting you and your family in the street that day.”

“I’m confused,” Jem declared. “Are we no goin’ to Uncle Ian’s?”

“Of course we are,” Roger said putting a hand to Jem’s head and twisting his wrist to turn the lad around. “And yer grandda’s goin’ to lead the way.”

Jamie sighed and blinked a few times as though shaking off a stupor. “Aye. We can leave now, if Mrs. Hunter is agreeable. She has been travelling for some time today already and if she needs a rest––”

“Actually, I need the walk,” she asserted, her eyes watching William who held tight to the horses’ reins and made no move to lead them further while so many people remained in the clearing. “I’ve been sitting in the wagon for hours and my legs need the movement.”

“How’re your arms?” Brianna asked stepping over and offering to take the baby. “If you’ve been sitting, you’ve probably been carrying her longer.”

Again, Dottie was relieved to pass the light weight of the baby off to another, carefully tucking in the ends of little Minnie’s blanket. “Thee is too kind.”

There was some maneuvering as a small bag of Dottie’s things was put together from the wagon. The rest would be brought over to Ian and Rachel’s cabin when the housing arrangements were settled more definitively. William remained silent and rather stoic as Claire guided most of the efforts to get Jamie and the MacKenzies on their way.

“Ye’re all right wi’ him, Sassenach?” Jamie asked quietly as she stepped up to bid him a brief farewell.

“I’ll make sure he agrees to stay for a while,” she promised him before rising on her toes to give him a light kiss. “He’s clearly overwhelmed just now and a little time to process it all is what he needs.”

Jamie pressed his forehead to hers and sighed with relief. “Aye. I’ll speak wi’ Brianna on the matter, then.”

“She’s bound to have questions of her own,” Claire agreed. “Of the two of them, I’m not sure which of us has the more enviable task.”

Jamie chuckled and kissed Claire’s forehead one last time before moving off towards the path recently cut through the trees leading a little further around the mountain and then down to the small clearing where Ian and Rachel’s cabin was nestled.

[shilohbrks-blog]

swe’re back for round two ya’ll let’s see how obnoxious i am this go around too, shall we? this time we’ve got the first character i was initially bringing here to swingers and that would be miss SHILOH BROOKS-whateverherhubbyslastnamewillbe i’m once again continuing to work on what i started at home here at work and developing her as i go ( didn’t that work out so well for KAIA........ ) so let’s pray i keep it simple this time, aye? again, i don’t want to fully get too much into her relationship bits so i don’t box anyone who might come in as her partner when it comes to their own ideas about things but i’m going to try and highlight the ideas i have about it the best i can....again, completely unlike my attempt with kaia lmao.

was that LUCY HALE i saw at the polihua resort? no, it was just TWENTY-SEVEN year old SHILOH BROOKS-? ( will hyphenate with husband's name when filled! ) SHE is MARRIED to JOE JONAS, DANIEL SHARMAN, DYLAN O’BRIEN, TRAI BYERS / UTP and has been for NINE YEARS. i heard she’s BISEXUAL and is pretty into DADDY KINK, ORAL SEX, HAIR PULLING.

✘ NOTE: for anyone out there in the world who might fill the role of shilioh’s husband, please be aware of the following things!:

shiloh is a sugar baby and has been since the age of sixteen.*

i believe that because of her lifestyle choice, they eventually decided tho label their marriage as a consensual non-monogamy relationship. he is allowed to have his outside of the marriage trysts if he desires as well but they both are honest with each other about everything and respect the other’s feelings as well as input when it comes to certain things or people. not every hook-up she has is with a sugar daddy or a sugar mama for that matter.

shiloh was eighteen on her wedding day and most of my choices for her husband are very close in age with her ( with the exception of i believe only TRAI ) so it’s my thinking that maybe they rushed into marriage for whatever reasoning - top ideas are just young and foolishly in love, believing they know everything about life and people telling them to wait are just idiots who don’t understand them or maybe a waiting until marriage sort of thing and they were young and hyped up on hormones and decided to marry ( also something in line with maybe NALEY from one tree hill shipping glory? ) or possibly maybe even a pregnancy caused them to get married young because it’s what felt right? whatever the reason ends up being, they’ve been married for going on ten years sometime this year or sometime next year. 

for the most part, shiloh believes any money or gifts she receives is ‘common property’ and transfers most of the cash to their shared account from hers but she does keep chunks for herself.

shiloh more than likely told him about sb’ing a few months into their dating life. it can be your choice how he initially reacted to the news and how he felt about it all but ultimately, the pair married and things continued on for nearly ten years now.

it’s not necessary for anyone to contact me prior to filling the role but do know that if you’d prefer to toss some ideas around, feel free to message me beforehand if that helps you construct your muse!

if choosing someone that is older than her by a considerable number, maybe he was one of her former sugar daddies? idk the ideas are endless i’m sure we can figure something out!

✘ shiloh comes from a big family where she was smack dab in the middle where you kind of end up fading in and out of thought sometime but that was okay with her. she loved her big loud family and never felt out of place, just overlooked and forgotten about from time to time but thata was natural. she wasn’t the favorite but she also wasn’t the extreme problem child. she got into her fair share of trouble but at times being one of the kids in the middle of the lineup can help you get away with most shit. she shared a room with her closest in age sister and the two of them would often cover for the other whenever they would sneak out.

✘ lost her virginity at sixteen to a friend of her college aged brother ( i’m thinking early twenties sort of thing so nothing too extreme but definitely ‘older’ ) and it was that encounter that sparked her interest in older men - despite eventually falling in love with her now husband - ( unless TRAI or someone else a number of years older of her fills the role of her husband then this will be switched up a bit of course! ) and for awhile, she was quite addicted to older men, giving guys her own age not an ounce of her attention.within a few months, shiloh immersed herself into the sugar bowl. at first, she **DID lie about her age** but then to better protect herself ( aka number one ) but also the men she met, she eventually engaged in almost completely non-sexual situations until the age of eighteen ( unless she fully trusted the man and if it wasn’t complete sexual intercourse. )

✘ she was always ( and still is for the most part ) a baby-faced short little thing that most if not everyone just saw as an unassuming, sweet girl but she soon learned how to take that youthful glow and with the help of her curvy frame, get her way with men.

✘ an artist, shiloh uses the money she’s earned over the years from sugar babying to be her cushion that allows her to pursue her passions and hobbies in life instead of wasting away years that could be spent creating in an office or a dead end job somewhere. she dabbles with paint and digital art but her favorite thing in the entire world is having a good ol’ sketchbook in hand and later lining, inking and coloring her favorite pieces over time but nothing truly beats a raw sketch in her opinion. 

✘ she’s great at keeping secrets ( from anyone but her husband ) because the ‘job’ requires her to be so she’s definitely a trust-worthy and loyal friend to have. she doesn’t really believe in cutting people down as she’s had her fair share of shit talked about her by anyone who finds out about her lifestyle and don’t agree with it or understand it.

✘ has gotten a good number of her friends hooked up with sugar daddies of their own. her parents don’t ‘know what she does but she’s also gotten two of her sisters into being sugar babies as well although one retired from the bowl once she was out of college. 

✘ ya’ll i’m falling asleep so hardcore i need a NAP but i think for the most part that’s all there really is to know about shiloh currently? there’s probably more i can think of but just can’t put it into proper words so definitely hit me up for plotting and i can fill in all the blanks.

✘ oh right! kinks and stuff, duh. aside from the three listed in her app, shiloh is into voyeurism ( has watched her husband engage in his side trysts from time to time either with or without the other participant being aware and has allowed her husband to spy in from time to time on her own as well. ), she’s definitely an exhibitionist, loves sex in public and loves to be dominated / rough sex. dirty talk is her oxygen, breast worship,  CONSENSUAL abduction as seduction and CONSENSUAL nonconsent , accidental stimulation, breath play, blindfolded sex, edging, choking, double penetration, face fucking, creampies, orgasm denial, sensation play, sensory deprivation.

pegging is something she has done for sugar daddy’s but anal sex is a hard no from her. 

doesn’t mind it if her husband slaps her around a bit or degrades her during sex. 

as for things she doesn’t like, if it’s not listed above it’s probably a no from her but then again, i may have just overlooked or missed anything ( plus a few things that seemed to peek her interest also felt a little too quote unquote weird to list so i left them off rip ) so always feel free to message asking if she’d be into a certain thing and we can see from there!