#not my leather jacket though cause those are expensive and she has like twenty in different colors

[star--nymph]

KASSKASSKASSKASSKASSKASS

KASSANDRA

[halfway-happyyy]

The Autumn Cottage

Happy Saturday friends! Autumn has arrived in full force where I live and I couldn’t be happier about it. To celebrate, I have written a sappy, smutty piece inspired by the current weather and this ask that I received: Can u give us a oneshot about a snuggle fuck w alex in a cozy cottage in the fall?

One of the greater joys in her life had to have been waking up to autumn's fickle fingers trying to desperately to reach her from the comfort of her woolen blanket. She watched, sleepy and bleary-eyed as leaves in shades of crimson and burnt umber drifted past her window in no particular direction. Her fingers roamed over the left side of the bed in search of him. Alexander's silhouette was barely visible through the indigo morning light, though she could make out the prominent line of his nose, and the slight curve of his bottom lip. Unmistakable in the minimal glow of dawn was the familiar glitter in his eyes, the glint that said so much about him and then nothing at all in equal measure.

“Good morning.” She whispered, and even that felt like too mighty of a disturbance in the stillness of their bedroom in the cottage. Though if he minded, he never let it show.

“Good morning yourself, kid.”

She reached the tip of a finger towards him wordlessly and brushed a feather-light touch down the bridge of his nose. Moving lower, she outlined his lips and grinned into the air before her as she felt him smile against her touch. She moved around his face with care, tried to memorize each delicate crease and wrinkle in her wake, tried to commit to memory the aspects that he resented about himself, even if she loved them beyond measure.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured as he brought the back her wrist to his lips, kissing the soft flesh there passionately. He brushed the pad of a calloused thumb over the rounded curve of her warmed cheek. “Like watching a flower bloom right before my very eyes.” They stayed like that for longer than either of them cared to admit; she could count on one hand in the past year that she had spent a weekend with him like this- alone and entirely undisturbed from anything and everything. He had broached the subject of a rented cottage in passing one morning a few weeks ago. It was one of those mornings where something had gone awry at every turn, and everything had been a blur. He had been late for something important, that much she could remember. He had rushed around the kitchen in a fury, muted Swedish curse words coloured every second sentence. He was out of breath when he reached the front door, weighed down by his leather laptop bag, but before he left, he turned to her and smiled. “Let’s get away together, kid.” She had taken it with a grain of salt until he returned home that evening, tired from a rather long shooting schedule, but in a fantastic mood all the same. “I mean it. It’s about to be a beautiful autumn. Let’s get away, just the two of us.”

“Shall I make you a coffee, or are we just going to lay in bed and stare at each other all day?” She offered him a cheeky smile and an exaggerated eye-wiggle which he simply laughed at.

“I have half a mind to choose the latter option, but I really do need some caffeine this morning.”

She nodded finitely and leaned in for a kiss, the innate push and pull of it caused a fire to ignite deep within her for him. She could easily spend the rest of her life doing this very thing; loving him fiercely and being loved back just as hard in return. “Alright,” She gasped as she pulled away from the allure of his hot, wet mouth. “Meet me in the kitchen.” She rose from the bed silently and padded over to her suitcase that was propped up on a wicker chair in the corner of the room. She noticed Alexander’s cream Sherpa sweater hanging over the arm of it and she ran a fingertip over the unbelievably soft material.

Alexander must have been watching her because when he spoke, his voice still gravelly from recent sleep, he startled her. “I’d be happy if you wore that, today.”

“You would?” She had been eyeing it ever since he’d brought it home from a shoot a month ago. She longed to wrap it around her frame, the sheer feeling of it luxe and utterly comforting on her bare skin. Especially as the months would inevitably grow colder.

“Watching you wear my clothing does something for me, kid. I love seeing how happy it makes you.”

With a small smile, she lifted the sweater over her head and let it fall into place on her body, the hem of it falling just above her knee. She pulled her hair from the confines of it and let it fall in waves down her back. “How do I look?” She asked.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured.

Satisfied with his answer, she made her way down the hardwood-floored hallway to the kitchen. She had thought at first that the silence of the cottage would be too loud; that city life had turned her into a creature who thought she craved noise on a near-constant level. But to her pleasant surprise, it had taken less than twenty-four hours to grow accustomed to it, and she knew now that she would miss it dearly when it was their time to go home. Eliciting a yawn, she stood on tiptoes and tried to remember which cupboard Alexander had hidden the coffee beans. Without warning, a large hand reached up above her head with ease and produced the bag for her with a sly smile. “I’d have found them eventually…” She muttered.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that. But- would you have been able to reach them?”

She shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Cheeky, vertically-adept bastard.”

They made their coffee together in silence. It had been one of the many things that drew him to her in the beginning. Where conversation seemed forced with every prospective partner and lover in the past- everything flowed the way it was supposed to with Alexander. There had never been a need to fill the quiet with empty words and small talk. It was a wonderful change of pace. “You hungry yet, kid?”

She remembered the basket of farm-fresh eggs in the fridge, thought of the loaf of homemade bread next to the coffee machine and her mouth watered tantalizingly. “I could definitely eat.” She watched him move around the kitchen with ease; watched the way his worn sweatpants hung low from the edges of his hips. She watched the way his muscles flexed in the light pouring in through the stained-glass window above the sink. She had always been struck silly by the beauty that this man possessed; but the notion that his soul bested his looks would never cease to leave her in utter awe. “What have you got on the go today?” She asked, a fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs rested in her hand.

Alexander passed a napkin over his lips, swallowed the bite of food in his mouth and shrugged. “Thought I might chop some wood for a fire tonight.”

She could hardly contemplate it now; the thought of watching her man hulk through multiple logs of wood caused her to physically clench her thighs together. “You plan on doing that soon?”

“After breakfast.” He confirmed.

True to his word, after the last dish had been washed and dried and properly put away, he stalked over to the coat hook in the front foyer and threw a sweater over his naked chest. Turning to her, he eyed her up and down and cocked his head to the side; a small smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. “Care to keep me company?”

Reaching for a blanket and the book that she had started yesterday morning, she nodded her head. “Lead the way.”

It was warmer outside than she had originally anticipated, though the autumn wind had picked up a little more voraciously, and she marveled at the falling leaves the same way she had earlier that morning. The sky above her was cloudless and a bright azure blue and she found herself thanking a higher being for the blessings in which she had been given. Opening the book to the page she had last left off on, the sound of an axe ripping through the middle of a log rang out through the clearing and she knew then that she would not be getting any further reading done this morning. Instead, she watched in awe as Alexander lifted the axe high above his head and brought it down with a force she had rarely seen before, the log splitting into two pieces and falling away from the stump. It was poetry in motion, really. Alexander’s hair was the longest she had ever seen it; the sandy blonde tresses were grown out and regularly fell over his eyes but she reveled in it. Of the many years that they had known each other, he had always kept a mostly clean-shaven face but quarantine, and the filming of a particularly brutal Viking revenge drama had rendered him more manlier and distinguished than she had ever thought possible. “You are fulfilling lumberjack fantasies for me that I never knew I had!” She called out to him.

Alexander tossed his head back, a hearty laughter bubbled up from the back of his throat and exited his mouth like music from a box. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself, kid. I see the way you look at me when I put on my old and holey plaid jacket.” He took a break from chopping wood to wipe the sweat from his brow. “To add to this- you also purchased me a very expensive axe a few years ago for my birthday.”

“Guilty,” She muttered under her breath.

“But rest assured I am elated that this-” He gestured to himself. “Does it for you.” 

The morning continued on in much the same fashion until maybe an hour or two later when Alexander joined her from her perch on the wrap-around porch. Falling into a bench opposite her, he took a few moments to try and regain his breath again. Beads of sweat gathered at the base of his forehead and his broad chest heaved under the weight of recent physical duress. They each viewed each other with a hunger usually only attained after seeing one another for the first time in months. “Come here.” He ordered, softly. She rose from her spot without hesitation and sauntered over to where he sat. He pat the front of his thigh twice, a silent instruction for her to have a seat. She straddled his lap with ease and wrapped her arms around his neck; the heady scent of his perspiration and body wash made her lightheaded with want. It took every ounce of self-control not to grind shamelessly down on his steadily growing erection. As he held her tightly to him, his warm, broad hands rubbed reassuring circles into her back. She shivered into the touch as Alexander kissed his way up the side of her neck, his mouth leaving trails of fire in its wake. “You cold, kid?”

“No.”

He kissed his way up the base of her throat, past the jutting outline of her jaw, and finally to her lips. His mouth still tasted faintly of the maple syrup he had poured over his pancakes hours earlier and the urge to devour everything he had to give her was overwhelming. “You like me like this, don’t you?” He smirked. “All sweaty and dirty from working hard and chopping wood for us?”

“Yes.” Her eyes slid shut and her head fell back as he continued kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. All the while his hands roamed greedily over her sweater-clad body, squeezing, and rubbing as they traversed.

“You want me to take you right here, baby girl?” His voice grew gravelly again, though it had nothing to do with sleep this time. “I don’t even have to touch you to know that you’re already soaked for me.” The wind had picked up again and had begun to blow her hair around her face, the cool breeze a welcome reprieve to her heated body. Alexander was fully erect now, his hard cock throbbed tantalizingly at her thigh. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted the hem of the sweater to reveal her panties, and the wet patch that had grown steadily in the crotch of them. Alexander reached for her and slid two fingers past the flimsy material to her soaking folds. Immediately she leaned towards him to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, but he stopped her with a soft click of his tongue. “I want to see your face when you come for me, baby.” He brought a free hand up to caress her cheek, and as he held her, he brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. She parted for him without thought and began to suckle softly at it as his other hand started to delve deeper inside of her. He had perfected a rhythm with her now; one that no matter how many times he had pleasured her, would always be the fastest way to get her unravelling for him.

“More,” She gasped when two fingers just wasn’t enough anymore. Alexander nodded wordlessly, his gaze searching her own. He added a third finger inside of her, the stretch of it almost too much to bear.

“So fucking wet for me, baby.” He groaned, as he began to pump harder into her. He could feel her clench around him, could feel the soft, wet button of pleasure at the tips of his fingers. She sucked harder at his thumb the closer she neared to her orgasm. “You’re going to come for me soon, I can tell…” He murmured as she started to ride his fingers. “And don’t you dare be quiet about it.” He warned.

These words had helped to spur the wave of pleasure building in her belly and she arched her back against his fingers, her nails digging miniscule crescent shapes into the soft skin of his shoulder blades. “Fucking hell, Alex…”

He nodded up at her. “You look so fucking beautiful like this, my queen. That’s a good girl. Come for me,” He then angled his fingers in such a way that he had her screaming his name into the wind before them, her voice raw with unbridled pleasure. She continued to ride his fingers until she came down from her high, dropping her head to rest in the warm comfort of his neck. She couldn’t be sure how long she had taken solace there, but he eventually patted her bottom. “You came so good for me.” He pressed warm, wet kisses against her temple.

Taking his chin firmly in her grasp, she gazed at him. Unending vast oceans of blue peered back at her and took her breath away. “It’s your turn.” She crashed her lips against his again, the need to have him inside of her entirely all-consuming. He lifted her up in one fell swoop, standing tall from the bench as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from falling. He carried her into the warmth of the cottage, stumbling down the length of the hallway to their bedroom where he laid her as gently as he could manage, on the bed. He made impressively quick time of ridding himself of his clothing, and as he stood before her, naked and unbearably erect, she realized that she genuinely loved the man before her. It had occurred to her before that she felt this way, but she could honestly say that no matter what they would go through together, no matter the pain he would put her through in future, she loved him deeper than she had ever loved anyone before. “Come here,” She insisted.

Alexander crawled up the length of the bed, holding her head in his hands as he did so. He entered her all-consuming heat with a loud groan, the feeling of him stretching her to maximum fullness was incomparable to any pleasure she had experienced before. Having him inside of her was a comfort that she never knew she needed until it had happened. As he moved inside of her, his head dropped to her shoulder where he scattered dozens of open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. She held him tightly to her as he bucked his hips against her, his cock managing to hit all of the essential nerves each time he bottomed out. He was muttering nonsensical things now, random pieces of Swedish and English found her ears and she smiled into their embrace. She clenched around him after every other thrust, and soon his movements had grown sloppy. “Fuck,” He growled as her fingernails raked through the soft, firm skin of his broad back.

“You feel so fucking good, Alex.” She gasped against his bearded cheek.

He cried out as his hips stilled against her own and she could feel the familiar throb of his cock as he spilled everything he had to give, inside of her. He allowed himself a few more powerless thrusts, and another low whimper before he pulled out of her completely. She found his sudden absence almost painful. They remained like that for an unknowable amount of time, each just trying to catch the breath that they had lost a while ago. Eventually Alexander turned on his side to view her, bringing the back of her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. “I love you, kid.”

A crimson leaf lay next to his head on the down pillow, and she smiled softly to herself. “I love you too, Alex.”

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1.     They want to see if they can fuck you.

2.     They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3.     They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.  

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of  a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected.  He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you ­­out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Jinxed- Part 2

Calum’s so used to fucking up that when a second chance comes his way he’s not sure what to do with it. Demon!Calum. 

CW: Mentions of death. 

Enjoy my masterlist

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No one has my permission to repost this fic, including translations. All rights reserved. Copyright © be-ready-when-i-say-go.

__________________________

Her house is a mess. Dishes have piled up, her laundry is overflowing the basket. She hasn’t returned anyone’s phone call. Her mother has left twenty or so voicemails. Her text notifications are near the hundreds. None of those matter. His notes aren’t slipped under the door. She’s checked every night for one. Like her brain hasn’t computed that he’s actually gone. But he is. There is nothing but that handful of dust. 

When she calls all those old numbers, she gets an automated voice. It tells her that the number she is trying to reach is out of service or has been disconnected. She always sobs on the last word. She is disconnected. Disconnected from a friend. Disconnected from her loved ones because no amount of the phone buzzing and shaking on the table gets her to pick it up. A lifeline has been unplugged. 

Ruby clutches the small jar to her chest most days, or keeps it near. It feels appropriate for all the times Calum would shoot whiskey or hennessey straight out of one of them. Or the time he left a single carnation in one of her mason jars. It was pink, even though she hated pink. The next time he brought white. She carries the little bit of him left in the mason jars he used to always poke fun about. 

She can’t even cry anymore tears. She just sits, curled up in his jacket. She’s starting to lose his scent though. She can smell now is herself mostly. Ruby can’t mess up Calum’s jacket. The least she can do is preserve that. So she peels herself out of, draping it carefully over the edge of her bed and goes to shower. 

She texted her boss the next morning after it happened, after the shock still weighed her down. Ruby explained she’d need to take a couple personal days. Ruby really thought that was all it would take. Like a couple days just to get herself out of the funk. It’s hard to deal with death, but she thinks that she can bolster through. However, everytime she walks into her living room, she stares at the spot he last kneeled and her whole chest shatters. Her lungs can’t expand large enough for hair. She wheezes while tears stream down her face. 

If she could use the sprinkling of his ashes and her tears to sprout him again, she would’ve done so by now. She stands, in that spot, clutching his shirt, praying there’s anything she could do to bring him back. She is by no means, a witch. She tries nevertheless. She prays that anything brings him back. At first she wanted to never know Calum. It would be much easier to never hold onto these memories of falling asleep on him when she just couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. 

The reality though is that she’s happy to have known him. She’s happy to have those random trips for ice cream, even though she knows it’ll make her intestines shiver. If she didn’t have those experiences, what would’ve been the last year and half of her life? Who would she be without the imprint of Calum on her soul? 

____

Her hair is no doubt a mess when she walks into work. She managed to do laundry and put on decent clothes. Her dishes are still not done. She’s yet to take the trash out with all the delivered fast food. But at least she’s taken care of one thing. She was just much too tired to keep her shoulders lifted to properly comb out. Most of the knots are out with her pick and wide tooth comb. 

“Hey stranger,” Tiff says. Her smile is soft, maybe even a little sad. 

“Hey, sorry about being gone for so long.” She can feel the sting behind her eyes now. Fuck, she really thought she had cried enough. How does she even begin to function like her life is normal again? 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Tiff collects Ruby into her arms, combs and all still in her hands. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“He’s gone. I just--I can’t believe it,” Ruby hiccups. 

_____

The weeks pass, blurring into months. Ruby lingers less often on the spot in her living room. She still wears his shirt around the house just for comfort sake. His leather jacket hangs in her closet, now a staple piece even though it’s boxy on her. It’s comfortable. It’s lived in. Even though his cologne is long gone and nothing but the scent of the cleaners is seeped into the garment, she can still feel the lingering of Calum in it. 

She knows he slipped his arms into the same holes. He layered it with a sweatshirt and beanie. There is something of him, his living visage still seeped into the threads that makes her feel better when she wears if, even if she doesn’t need the comfort constantly. 

Ruby keeps up with her dishes now too. Her laundry basket is emptied at least once a week. It hurts less to laugh. She can go about her day easier now. She doesn’t think she’ll ever reach her old normal. But she likes her new normal, the new routine of noticing the small things that Calum used to do that don’t cause her chest to rupture. But she gives a sad smile whenever the thoughts cross her mind. 

Like now, sitting in Kourtney’s car, Ruby is slightly reminded of the times that she and Calum would ride across town, just to try the latest sweet treat. 

“I don’t know how you’ve been single for this long now,” Kourtney laughs from the driver seat. The red light stares down at them and they stare up at it for the moment being. The comment isn’t mostly out of the blue. But their previous conversation about how dating is hard had died down a little. 

Ruby look to her friend through her peripheral. The high ponytail weave still slick and perfectly pinned in place. “I haven’t been single for that long.”

“It’s going on two years now! Ever since your birthday when that creepy guy cornered you at the bar. You broke things off with Darrell, what three just weeks before that?” Kourt risks a glance over. Rubs picks at her nails, the set of extended nails a deep burgundy color. They don’t mention that birthday too much. 

It was brought up once before after Calum’s passing and Ruby broke down into tears. Kourtney and the rest of the girls thought that Ruby and him had been dating and then broken up. But the way she cried and told them that a good friend had passed away, they figured they might be wrong about it. Everyone does their best to dart around the topic. 

Ruby makes sure never to give a name. Part of it feels like a disservice. That she’s silencing him even in death. But the other part knows it’s better this way. That she can’t say his name. Not to anyone. Would she be causing trouble for herself if she does? Would Lucifer come back for her? She’d rather not having the devil himself show up at her door again. Once is more than enough in a lifetime. 

Ruby blinks. It has been two years. Time surely hasn’t slowed. But it doesn’t feel like it’s sped up either. “Well I won’t be taking anymore recommendations from you,” she tsks, sucking her tongue around teeth. 

“You can’t hold Tre over my head forever. I thought she was cool.”

“She’s like the rest of them n--,” She had more to say but Kourtney cuts her off with a wave of her hand, as if she’s heard the guilt trip from Ruby enough already.

“So are we going out for your birthday or not?”

Ruby doesn’t know what she wants to do for her twenty sixth birthday. It feels mundane. It’s not 21 or even her 30’s. Just 26, a tick mark in the calender of her life. Just another day on the wheel. “We could go back,” Ruby offers with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Kourt presses down as the light turns green. “Back to Greenlight? It’s an hour out of town.”

“The music was lit.”

“The drinks were expensive.”

“You’ll have a birthday girl.”

“Why do you want to go back?” Kourtney asks but not without having to tap her brakes to allow for an asshole weaving through the lanes. She flips them the bird. 

Ruby watches, focus blurring on the passing asphalt. She can’t avoid things forever. She can’t hide from what’s happened. Calum’s dead. Though she’s wondered if demon’s can every truly die. Part of her wished she had asked sooner. She wished she had considered what happens when she dies, if she’ll ever cross paths with him again. Should she make some sort of deal with the devil? Calum would probably have her head for something like that. 

“Earth to Ruby!” Kourtney shouts, snapping her fingers near Ruby’s ear. 

“I’m not dead,” Ruby huffs. 

“Why should we hikes our asses all the way to Greenlight? Need to pour one out for them?”

Ruby has to laugh. Calum would not stand for the waste of alcohol in his honor. But it feels appropriate to remember him like that, even if it is wasted whiskey on concrete. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Someone’s gonna have to DD. Because I am not splitting that Uber again. I couldn’t even afford enough drinks for a solid buzz.”

“It won’t be long. But I guess if it’s an hour drive. We better make it worth our while. There’s a waffle joint close by too. Make pretty good breakfast.”

Kourtney parks in front of the mall, lips pursed. “And how would you know that ma’am?”

Keeping her gaze straight ahead, Ruby shrugs. Her lips curve though. The smile slowly etching itself onto her face. “Heard it through the grapevine.”

“Yeah right. Who you fuck that far across town?”

“No one,” Ruby defends. Her offended tone doesn’t last long before her laughter cuts through. It’s shocking that she’s never brought up the night she spent with Calum. But Ruby nows her friends. The would take any amount of scandalous details and run it for miles. 

Kourtney’s nonbelief is clear on her face, especially with the eyeroll. “Yeah and I was born last night.”

The women climb out of the car, laughing. As Ruby slings the purse onto her shoulder, Kourtney leans against the hood of the car. “Was it them? The one that passed away?”

Ruby matches her position. She can trust Kourtney, one of the few that always been more receptive to Ruby’s quiet moments. She’s always been the one that makes sure to keep the things that need to be quiet quiet. So Ruby nods her head. “Just once.”

“You just out here hoeing around and making friends out of them? Only you Ruby. Only you can sleep with someone and be friends wit’ ‘em.”

Ruby closes the car door, walking around the bumper. There’s a small breeze as they walk to the entrance. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. We slept together and I thought it was over. But he came into the salon.”

“So it was a guy, huh?”

“Yeah, he came into the salon to see a stylist. We talked for a minute.” Ruby pauses. She can’t admit that Calum turned out to be a giant asshole and a demonic one at that. “He was a bit of an asshole about it. But it was chill. Then on the date with Tre, he happened to be hanging out there too. She was still yelling about getting some ass. We argued and resolved it. Though, things didn’t actually get fix. She just stormed off. He was there. We hung out getting ice cream.”

Kourtney nods. “So you didn’t sleep with him again after that?”

Ruby shakes her head. “No.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“So why not?” Kourt screeches. 

The mall isn’t too crowded for the moment. Both of them wanted to get out and about early.  It’s only the older people that walk laps with their wristbands and two pound weights. All of them look at Ruby and Kourtney for sudden loud interruption. They are used to the stares from others because their glossy lips, and occasional pop of their gum. They know the hair and the color of their skin makes them an easy target for judgemental stares. 

It’s sometimes exhausting how true the phrase is that there is nothing new under the sun. There is nothing new about the prejudices they face. There is nothing new to the way they are watched, followed around. There is nothing new about losing loved ones. Nothing new about the stories of their lives. There is just new names on the characters they play. 

“Because we became friends,” Ruby answers. 

“You can fuck your friends.” Kourtney throws the 22 inches over her shoulder. Her nails aren’t long. But are a sharp stiletto point and have rhinestones tacked onto them. 

“You shouldn’t though,” Ruby states. 

Kourtney loves Ruby but sometimes wishes she gave more about her life. How to go from fucking a stranger to becoming their friend is a story that others would kill to tell. But Ruby holds it close to her chest. She won’t give the details.  Even if Kourtney tried to push it out of her, it would only be condensed. She’d only ever get the sparks notes version of the truth. “Fine, fine. We’re here for birthday outfits anyway.”

“Why do you need an outfit for my birthday?”

“Because I can’t go to Greenlight raggedy.”

“Your closet is twice the size of mine. You calling me raggedy?”

“Never in a million years, Rubs. Never.”

Ruby purses her lips but says nothing. Their feet carry them down past the anchor stores to a small run boutique. The displays are still neon and fishnets, with a sprinkle of cheetah print bodycon skirts. The shirts are cropped in the stomach but still thick long sleeved. The fashion choices don’t always make sense. As if only the flesh of arms get cold but not a stomach. 

“Are jeans and clear heels look too simple for my birthday?” Ruby asks, the jeans at the first display for her. She owns enough denim to last her the rest of her life if she gains no more weight. 

The question is mostly to herself, a little bit for Kourtney’s response. Kourtney’s already two racks over, thumbing through the previous season’s sequin tops. “No, it’s a very you look. Spice the top up with some glitter maybe. Or some neon?”

Ruby bypasses the denim, finding a blue sequin dress and holds it up. “Kourt, look what I found.”

A small gasp feels the air. “I need it. And I need it now.”

“Your size too.” Ruby dangles the rack from the tops of her fingers, thumbing over the dresses. Birthdays require maximum fun. A dress will have her stressed that her ass is not showing. Though depending on the amount of shots she’s had the stress of not mooning anyone could easily be overcome by the giggling urge to moon someone. She’ll stick to pants though and let the worry reside for another day when she dares a skirt. 

Kourtney takes the dress from the waiting hand and pulls out a red cheetah print top. “Try this?”

“Looks like a dress I have.”

Kourtney watches Ruby glance over the racks. The hangers making a piercing screeching as they scratch with rusted metal over the glossy metal rods that they hang on. Is smart to support her want to go back to Greenlight? Nothing special is really there about the place. It’s popular and crowded, but that’s only because it’s the latest club on the scene and more artists want to play in the club because of it’s blossoming elitist status. But a good time could be had anywhere.

“Are you positive about Greenlight?” Kourtney asks. 

Ruby nods. “As positive as I am black.”

“So hella positive then,” Kourtney laughs. 

It takes one store for them to find the base pieces, a dress for Kourtney and the top for Ruby. It takes three others for the shoes. In the second store, Kourtney finds her heels, black and strappy to neutralize the red glittery bling. And in the last one, Ruby finds a pair of clear heels--on sale. An important caveat for her considering she may not wear the shoes much after her birthday. 

When Ruby gets home, she drops the bag to her couch. She might be crazy to go back to Greenlight. Yes, they are memories there, but who’s to say that she couldn’t build more there. Why should the only ones she has of the place be tainted by a heaviness that could be replaced? 

____

It’s mutually decided that Ruby can’t be the designated driver for her own birthday. She only offered as a way to keep herself on a leash drinking wise. But her group of friends quickly shot that down.  She slips on the gold hoops as Tiff corrals the already tispy group. She can perfectly enjoy a birthday while being sober, or as close to sober as she could realistically be with a shot or two in her. 

Ruby hears the glasses clinking in her living room. The rest of the group has been sipping on fruity wine. It’s cheap, but good. Tiff hands over her tube of buttergloss. “Peachy nudes always pop more with a little bit of gloss. Always.”

Ruby takes it, just taking in the tube of glass, a fair pink. “Noted.”

___

The Greenlight is packed as always. Bodies look like a giant sea, swaying to and fro. Ruby looks over to the corner. Calum’s not there. She didn’t expect him to be there. But she had a fleeting hope. A sliver of it sits in her chest and drops when there’s just a couple talking, leaned in close to each other. Calum would be sitting there, beanie on his head. The look would not be complete without his leather jacket. She suddenly wishes she had it draped over her shoulders.

A whiskey would be in Calum’s hand of course. Maybe he’d wink at her. Maybe he’d just watch her dance with her friends. He’d offer of course to pay for a drink or two, but he’d really only be on the sidelines to let her enjoy the night. At the end of the night, when her world is still swimming with the buzz of her shots, Calum would probably tuck her into bed with water on the nightstand. “No dying on me tonight,” he’d whisper. 

For a fraction of a second, Ruby wishes she had made Calum promise that too. So that she could be angry for his death for him leaving her. But it really wasn’t of his own volition. That was a choice made for him by someone else’s hand.  

“We’ve got a birthday girl!” Tiff shouts, grabbing Ruby’s arm. 

Ruby’s imagined version of Calum disappears as she’s dragged to the bar. It takes her a moment to start reaching for her clutch to grab her ID. The bartender smiles. “And what will she have?” There’s a quick glance at the ID. Ruby thinks it most definitely isn’t long enough to see her age at all. 

“Whiskey. Straight.” The order falls from her lips without her thinking.

Tiff blinks. “Well that’s different than your usual.”

The only thing Ruby does is shrug. She can offer no explanation. It just feels like the right thing to do. The bartender nods and turns. The rest of the girls order shots or fruity drinks strong enough to knock a grown man over. 

The night doesn’t feel too special. Ruby manages to snag a few free drinks for her friends. The music thumps in her bones and the bass shakes her core. The bodies are still moving in mass, a sway. She finds herself looking to that corner again. The couple’s since left and it’s empty. She wonders if that spot feels like wearing Calum’s jacket. 

Telling Kourtney that she’s headed to the bathroom, Ruby sneaks away from the group. She climbs into the high chair, into Calum’s chair. It feels different up here. To watch everyone living their life. To know that someone’s going to home with someone else, to know that they are all in the middle of something—a breakup, trying to break a two year single streak. Whatever the case may be, every single person on that floor has a life headed in some direction. And she gets to watch the intersections. She gets to see how all the webs cross and unravel. 

“I’m very grateful you are a creature of habit. Or finding you would’ve been hell.” 

Ruby’s heart thunders, the veins in her neck thumping clearly behind the skin. She knows that voice anywhere. Even if she’s only heard it the one time in her apartment. She could identify it in a crowd of thousands. “Don’t you have other lives to ruin?”

Lucifer grins. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“That is absolutely rich coming from you. So why the fuck are you here?”

“I’m on a delivery. And I don’t think you’d be too receptive of my other Hunters.”

“To what? Deliver a harsh reminder that you killed one of my best friends? Thanks. Especially on my birthday. Perfect timing. You asshole. You’re such a goddamn asshole.” Ruby slips down from the hair, reaching back up to grab her drink. 

“Just listen for two second,” he hisses. When her hand comes up, he drops the long velvet box into it. “It’s from your friend. He never got around to giving it to you. So I figured I’d be nice. For once.”

“From Calum?”

“Yeah, from him.”

“What is it?”

“Look I’m just delivering the damn thing. I don’t ask questions about what it is. Do you realize that does spoil the whole thing about gift giving?”

“How long has he had it?”

“Again, that is not something I can answer.” 

If it weren’t for the fact that he was delivering something from Calum, she’d smack him. Maybe. It’s not like he’d feel it. Calum didn’t feel the left swing she gave him. Granted, it would be more for the affect, for the spectacle. 

“Apparently it’ll mean something to you. He’s been whining. Enjoy the rest of your day. Drink the spirits for me too.” With that, Lucifer slithers through the crowd. She notes it’s less of a walk and more of a glide. Calum had a swagger to his walk. Never rushed but never slow either. Ruby cracks open the box. 

A gold anklet stares back up at her. A small charm is attached. A mason jar etched into the gold plate with a C and R carved inside as well. Her eyes water. He’s had to have it for a while, holding onto it for some reason, for some sort of occasion. He mentioned getting her a gift. Only to her once. In passing, during Christmas. He said he wanted to give her something to remember him by that wouldn’t be subjected to the erosions all memories face. 

He wasn’t sure what to get though. Wasn’t sure how to give it to her. Sure he’d give her small things--surprising her with candy, or giving her t-shirts that he thought she’d enjoy mostly because of the crazy sayings printed on them. But he wanted to give her something tangible, that would fade to the wear of a machine. 

Ruby looks up back into the crowd. Lucifer’s is long gone. She continues to stare out over the packed dance floor. Will he show back up? And what he meant by Calum was whining? Calum was dead. The dead can’t complain, can’t speak, can’t blink. There is nothing but silence from them, right?

“Ruby! That’s one hell of a piss,” Kourtney laughs. Her eyes are glassy, Ruby notes. Maybe she won’t notice the tears forming in the corner of Ruby’s eyes. 

“Helping another girl,” Ruby lies, tucking the box away. “Zipper got caught.”

“C’mon. We got more shots. We need you.”

Ruby extends the hand not holding the chain. They filter through the crowd, over to the counter. She takes the glass of clear liquor, knocking the glasses together. As the liquid slides down her throat, it burns. What burns more is the thought that Calum might be alive somewhere out there in the depths of Hell.

Ruby crawls back into bed. The gold anklet dances against her skin. The last shot still pounds against her head. But the question would not leave her alone. Could Calum still be alive? She saw the dust. But Calum made her promise that she couldn’t watch. Right now, she wishes she had. She would know for sure, with her own eyes if death had truly ruined her. 

Her computer, even dimmed, still is harsh against her eyes. But she squints and opens a new window of Google, incognito. Like it’s illegal to search questions about demons. If it didn’t hurt to laugh, she’d chuckle at herself. 

Can you kill a demon? 

Ruby waits, blinks her eyes once and Google returns with answers, all in blue. She groans and clicks on the link. There had to be a color for the font that was easier on the eyes in the hangover state filled with curiosity.  

Demon traps, salt circles, holy water, heavenly fire, blades. 

This isn’t actually helping, she huffs. So clicks away from that link and back to the search results. Please work, she begs clicking another link. She skims over the black text. You can’t actually kill a demon. It surely look like Calum had died to her. It felt like he had died. Because if he was still kicking around he’d find a way to find her, to talk to her. 

Unless he couldn’t communicate with her like before. Ruby doesn’t know the first thing about how to communicate with any other spiritual beings. But there’s nary a question that Google can’t at least attempt to answer. 

How do you communicate with the dead? 

Ruby pauses. Should she type in how to summon a demon?

She is trying to summon one, technically. She’ll start there with the dead. To her that is what Calum is. He is dead. A dead friend. No matter the status of his spirit, he is dead to her. There’s seance, alters, crystals. Her brain begins to spin. So she closes the screen and lays back into her purple fuzzy pillows. They can offer some solace from the pounding of too much alcohol and too little water and the sting of tears. Calum can’t still be out there. She can’t handle that. 

___

The leather jacket is overkill. She knows. But staring up at the bookcase of books, she finds warmth in knowing that she is carrying a small part of Calum with her. Titles jump up out at her. Most of them centering around Wicca. She’s intrigued and pulls one down. She thumbs through the pages and holds it into the crook of her elbow. 

The Handbook of Witchcraft slips onto the top of her stack. People pass her by and no one seems to blink an eye. It’s her little secret, her little endeavor. To everyone else though, she is just down an aisle in the bookstore. She is just carrying a stack of books. She is just a patron amongst the fairly quiet calm river of the bookstore. She’s not making a ripple or bothering a soul. She is a nobody taking up space meant to be occupied. 

She settles into the cafe attached inside the store. Her stack is about four high. She might as well get started now. The whirring of machines blurs into the background of her mind. 

“Just starting out I see?” 

Ruby glances up. Another black girl with pink box braids tips her plastic cup at her stack. “Looking for answers,” Ruby says. 

Reaching into her pocket, the young girl finds a pen and takes a napkin from the small stack Ruby grabbed for her muffin. The girl scribbles down the at symbol followed by what looks like a username. “This is my Instagram. Message me if you need help.”

“Thanks.” Ruby smiles. “Like the hair.”

“Gotta get them redone. New in town. Still looking for a stylist.”

Ruby reaches into her purse. She grabs a business card for her and the salon. “I do eyebrows mainly. But the salon I work in is black owned.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“It can be hard out there.”

Ruby knows she’s been at the store too long when the afternoon sun fades into a pastel orange. Packing up the stack, she proceeds to the registers. The cashier looks unphased, pushing their reward card and membership. Ruby’s thankful. Her secret is safer for even a little bit longer, safe even from the cashier, who probably cares nothing about her life to start with. 

___

Ruby laughs at herself walking into IKEA, even though her entire house is completely furnished. Nothing is broken either. She’s still here though. She gets lost every time she walks through the doors. Taking a survey of the shop, she takes a deep breath. Just a small end table. That’s all she needs. She’ll start there. 

It takes an entire half an hour and help from two different employees but she secures the end table she needs. It’s on sale, or there’s some sort of special. The small wooden two tiered table is only 10 bucks, not including the taxes. It’s even small enough for her carry herself to her car. Though several employees offer one the flatbeds to help her walk even easier. Ruby know she could’ve easily gotten one for free, maybe with more characters, more knicks in it.

All the articles she read mentioned that the table wasn’t the important part. There would be more money to spend elsewhere. Is it wrong to want to give Calum the best if he’s still out there? The only thing Ruby can do is just give it a shot. As she slides the large cardboard box into her truck, she pauses. It’s just a shot. 

It would be funny to have an ivory cloth to cover it, Ruby thinks. Though black is more fitting. She settles later on, while in Target, for a Halloween themed one, black with silver trimming. It’s clearly been lingering since the holidays. She’s shocked they haven’t been tossed out yet by the store. It hasn’t been that long since the holiday, though. So maybe it isn’t old enough to be thrown out just yet. 

Calum might be pissed. She can almost hear his voice in her head, deeming worthy of at least something solid back. But Ruby figures he has a small silver streak in himself. Even if he refuses to believe it himself.He’d probably refute it. Tell her she’s the only silver streak in his damnation.

Ruby would then tell him he’s much too harsh on himself. She misses those moments, the bickering even though it’s not real. Twisting the last screw into place, Ruby looks at the gold anklet again. 

He’s been whining. 

Is she insane? Has she finally gone off the deep end to be sitting in her bedroom, screwing together an end table to create an altar? Calum might not even be on the other side. He could all the day dead. He could be really good. 

But why the present tense? Was it false hope, some sort of unresolved sadness or fear  that kept her clinging to any gram of hope? 

 Honestly, it didn’t matter. If she was insane, Ruby would find out soon enough, right? If she was insane to try and communicate with a damned soul, then it wouldn’t work. She’d just have a spare end table and a cool table cloth to help her decorate for the holidays. It wouldn’t be a waste if it all went to shit on her. 

___

“You have to set it up for what you need. You can add traditional elements. But they’re really customizable.” 

“I need it for like,” Ruby starts then stops, readjusting her grip on the thread.

“No, no. I need not know,” Jasmine reprimands. Her eyes are still closed. Her fingers still holding the skin taut. 

Ruby cleans up the underbrow before moving to the top of the bone. “Aren’t their guides for this kind of stuff? Could I go to someone else to do this?”

“I mean you could yes,” Jasmine says. Ruby brushes away the plucked hairs and moves to the right brow. “You’re looking for something maybe more along the lines of a psychic.”

“I don’t know. Everytime I think I can do it, I chicken out.”

“Just sit for a few minutes. Even if the altar isn’t complete just sit in front of it for a few minutes. Smudge it before and after. Besides, you’re not going to get it right on your first try. It’s not about getting it right the first time either. You have to feel it, know what you’re looking for, know when you’ve found it.”

Ruby hums, focused now on the string pulling the right hairs from the roots. When done and the brows outlined, Ruby hands Jasmine the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Holy fuck,” Jasmine gapes. “My brows have never looked this good.”

“I do my best.”

“You fucking slayed it is what you did.” Jasmine turns her head side to side, to make sure it’s not just a trick of the light and angle. The truth is no, her brows look this good for every angle thanks to the talent of Ruby. Jasmine adds a ten dollar tip to the fee. “I’ll be back for sure.”

“Glad you’re happy with them.”

Jasmine grabs a couple of business cards from the display on the front desk. “For friends,” she notes before shouting loudly over her shoulder. “Bye ladies. See y’all later.”

The entire shop responds with a shout too. Ruby leans into the glass front desk. The sidewalks are pretty dead. A couple boys hanging out because of the barber shop next door. There’s a convenience store at the corner of the block, where most people grab snacks for before coming into their hair appointments. Ruby would go there to grab snacks before movie snacks. She managed to sneak out of the salon well before closing sometimes and because of that, she could load up before calling Calum. Never texted. 

The rest of the day is pretty slow. It’s only Tuesday though. The closer to the weekend they get, the busier it becomes. Ruby walks into her apartment. It’s quiet and she thinks about turning on her TV. There’s never anything on, so she lets the silence lingers and gets water instead. The table is still bear in the corner of her bedroom. Just the cloth. Ruby finds the shoebox in the top of her closet. She pulls the only photo she has of Calum. Just him reclining on her couch in a green t-shirt and sweats. 

He’s not even looking at her, too busy browsing her computer. He was trying to prove her wrong about the meaning of carnations. This then took him down the rabbit hole of flora meaning, which he spent twenty minutes reading aloud to her. Ruby has since put it in a gold frame. It fits him. So she sets the frame onto the table, just right in the center. 

Ruby sits in front of it. Just admiring the photo. Her clock ticks in her ear. The water sits on the floor, still in the cup. Ruby lights one of the incenses. Rhodney gave her a good deal on them. He helped her get into this apartment. And she just sits. Eyes closing briefly. This is nice, peaceful. Just her, sinking into the floor, thinking about Calum. She lets the lavender scent settle into her lungs. 

Ruby sits cross legged, mind suspended between the reality that she is in her bedroom and the shallow pool of not having to think about anything. She can just bathe in the memories, his love of chocolate pretzels, the way he always smelled a little like nicotine but mostly like wooden musk of cologne.

Maybe Calum couldn’t communicate with her. Ruby knows in her heart of hearts that Calum would fight heaven and high water to keep in contact with her if he could. This had to be on her to figure out. Ruby couldn’t rely on Calum’s supernatural abilities anymore. This was a fight she’d have to take up on her own. 

There’s a small rumble. She can hear the clink of her glass. She thinks it’s the glass clinking against the floor. But she doesn’t dare open her eyes.  Then her phone rings from the living room. 

“Shit,” she whispers, standing up. She was positive she had turned it on silent. But she can never be sure anymore. It’s only a spam call. She was searching for a new health insurance plan and now the companies don’t leave her alone. 

When Ruby returns to her bedroom, her glass of water is still.

___

“You really need at least 4 people to communicate with spirits. Don’t want to be doing that kind of shit alone,” Jasmine hums. She sucks through her straw, the bottom of it clearly in nothing but air. 

“I don’t really have 3 other people that would be down for that,” Ruby counters. The coffee shop is loud. It’s a shock for how late in the day it is. But for those that need the caffeine, it matters not the time of day for them. 

“Well, now you only need 2 more people,” Jasmine grins, finishing off the last of her scone. 

“You’re going to help me?” Her disbelief is clear in her question. Why would Jasmine potentially be subjecting herself to the unknown for Ruby? It’s probably less unknown for Jasmine than it is unknown for Ruby. 

“Of course.”

“You do know what I’m asking you to do right?”

Jasmine laughs. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Her latest hairstyle are crochet locs. The fake hair has the ends dyed royal blue. Ruby notes that she always has to have a pop of color with her hair. She likes it. The way Jasmine’s always so free to express herself. Ruby does that too, with her hair too, but more so through her nails. She’s not sure what color to get this time. Though every time she goes into the nail salon, her eyes drift to the olive green. The same color of the shirt in the picture. 

“You’ve got time to get your nails done today?” Ruby asks. 

Jasmine looks over the black polish she put on about a week ago. It’s chipped a little. It was a rush job on her part.  “I hadn’t planned too, but sure.”

“My treat,” Ruby adds on. 

“Sold.” 

Knocking on Kourtney’s door, Ruby wonders if she’s already gone for the day. She tried to text before driving over it. Kourt hadn’t responded though by the time they got there. Kourtney keeps her car in the garage, so there’s no way to know. The door cracks open just as Ruby’s phone buzzes in her pocket. “Well this is a surprise,” Kourtney laughs. 

“Kourt this is Jasmine. Jasmine, Kourtney.” The two ladies wave at each other. “Think you can squeeze us in.”

“For you, Rubs, always. No matter how last minute it is.”

Ruby knows that tone, it’s joking but serious. “I promise this won’t be a common occurrence.”

“Oh I know it won’t.”

As the drill buffs over Ruby’s growth, Kourtney clicks her tongue. Her nose and mouth are hidden behind the dusk mask. The raised eyebrow is clear. She’s not buying this pitch, not in the slightest. The fine powder flies under the harsh light of the lamp bent over Ruby’s nails. “You want me to do what now?”

Ruby knows what she’s asking is probably insane. “Just be there. That’s all.”

“We are too black to be fucking with spirits.”

Ruby looks over to Jasmine, who just shrugs. Her gel manicure is freshly cured, though she sits under the nail dryers for her toes. “I mean, I totally get where she’s coming from. But at the same time, if you look at other religions, they do the same thing all the time.”

“Like what?” Kourtney tuts, pulling the drill away from her work. Ruby’s hand is still firm in her grasps. 

“Do you know about orishas?” Jasmine asks. 

“Do I know about what?” 

“They’re deities, gods,” Ruby explains. “I mean, it’s not totally the same. In that belief system people who practice are mounted.”

“Mounted?”

“The deity descends and uses the practitioners physical form, or body, during rituals.” Ruby wants to avoid the term possess. That would only serve to fuel Kourtney’s resistance. 

“Just say possess them. You can say it,” Kourtney huffs. 

“It’s not like the deity stays forever.”

“So, for argument sake, people are mounted by these spirits. And you want to equate that to openly knocking on the supernatural’s door and just ask them to chill out with us until whomever you’re trying to contact shows up. Is that what you’re asking me to do?”

“Well, it’s less about just chilling with spirits than it is trying to directly contact one. But yeah, let’s go with that version,” Ruby returns. 

“You’re fucking insane.” Kourtney’s tone isn’t harsh. It’s not even condescending. She just sounds tired, and maybe even a little flabbergasted. She can see Ruby’s desperate. Kourtney thinks she might be too if a friend just suddenly upped and died. It’s different than when Kourtney’s grandmother died. She had reasons. There was an explanation and a clear peace at the end.. Her grandmother was older, had been teetering on the edge really for a while. She wasn’t deathly ill, just getting up in age. She was starting to forget things easily. She couldn’t do the same things as before. In all honesty, her grandmother’s peaceful slip from temporary slumber to a permanent sleep is the best outcome. 

Kourtney changes the bit on her drill, taking down the length of the old set. “If I become haunted, I’m making friends with the ghostman and getting them to haunt your ass instead. I don’t have the time be fucking haunted, alright? Ain’t no ghost finna pay my bills.”

Ruby looks over to Jasmine. She hadn’t expected that to happen. She thought she’d ask. She’d get told no. Ruby halfway thought Kourtney would shut her down when she started talking about the deities. But to have Kourtney agree--that comes from left field. “Are you high right now?”

“No but I just might hint a blunt after dealing with you.”

The room echoes with laughter. “I’ll even roll it for you,” Ruby offers, her chest still hiccuping with tufts of laughter. 

“Nah, it’ll be haunted or some shit. I’ll roll my own blunts. Thank you.”

___

Jasmine’s friend, who only goes by Ash, settles down last in the circle. He’s a psychic, according to his Instagram. Ruby’s talked to him once face to face. His voice is too deep, too alluring. But he doesn’t carry himself like he takes life too seriously. It made him more inviting. The long hair, it’s always braided back. Ruby can appreciate his humor. His stare can be intense, dark brown keen eyes. They don’t ever miss anything. 

As his hands wrap around Ruby’s, his gaze is stern. His tone is softer. He has no qualms with people getting the answers that they need. But he doesn’t want them to do it for all the wrong reasons.“Are you sure about this?”

Ruby’s not really completely sure. She was never really supposed to talk about Calum. She was supposed to keep all this shit quiet. But if it weren’t for her run at Greenlight, she could be at peace. She doesn’t need constant communication. She just needs to verify. Calum really might be out there. “It’s the only shot I’ve got.”

Ash nods. He can understand that. With the board settled down, Ruby begins. Kourtney keeps flicking her gaze about the small circle. She prays to God she doesn’t wind up haunted because of this shit and she prays Ruby’s not diving into the deep end either. Even though Kourtney is not well versed in how hauntings work, she knows that no matter where Ruby goes these spirits can and probably will follow. 

“I am asking if my friend Calum is still out there,” Ruby starts. Her hands are shaking a little. She can hear the quiver in her own voice. 

It’s silent. Ruby watches, blinking erratically. Does she even want to contact Calum? Should be doing this at all? It could be best to live and let die. Kourtney shifts on the floor. They’re all situated in Ruby’s bedroom, around the small little table that holds a picture. Kourtney thinks this must be the friend, this Calum. 

The lights are off. The room’s already decent temperature wise. But Ruby doesn’t miss the small distinct breeze across her face. It’s easy to think that when presented with this scenario she would be brave. But right now, she can feel her gut leaping. “Oh shit. Did anyone else feel that breeze?”

Jasmine, to the left of Ruby, speaks up. “Can the spirit in this room confirm that you are Ruby’s friend? Gently move a piece on the altar.”

Ruby watches the gold anklet. Even in the flickers of the candle light, it glitters more than the picture frame. She placed the charm upside down. Whether it was on purpose, Ruby can’t say for sure. But a part of her did hope that if she were to have any success that the anklet would be the first thing Calum would reach for. He’d know the significance.  

Nothing happens. Ruby probes whatever might be reaching out to them to move something. The minutes pass and there is nothing still. The charm does not flip over. Another breeze does not come by. There is nothing. Just the rising and falling of four chest in Ruby’s bedroom. Any potential spirits that crossed over are thanked. The circle is closed. The candles are blown out. “Did you feel anything besides the breeze?” Jasmine asks. 

Ruby shakes her head. Sometimes she wishes she hadn’t decided to keep her hair short. The longer the hair, and even the longer the weave, she could’ve hidden her disappointment, the wobble of her chin. “Sometimes, you’re not always successful on your first try,” Ash counters. His voice is soft, much like the touch of his hand on Ruby’s shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Ruby answers. Her voice is thick as it leaves her throat. 

It’s rude, she knows. Ruby shuts herself into the bathroom. The door swings close and clicks with a harsh thud. She only needs a moment. Just a second. Just so the first hot tear can run down her cheek. She was a fool. How could she really believe that this would work? Hope made everyone blind. Everyone could probably see that it would never work. And yet, they had hoped for her that it would work. Yet they had sat in her bedroom like children at a sleepover, playing with spirits. 

 Ruby couldn’t be that mad at them. They were only trying to help her. But did no one think to stop her, to save her from this embarrassment? She sniffles hard, wiping at her cheeks. She’s never really had a flush on her face. But right now, behind the copper tones of brown skin, she can feel the heated flush taking over. Why would he do such a thing to her? She was a fucking fool to believe the gift was actually from Calum. He’s dead. His ashes are still in that godforsaken mini mason jar. There is no bringing him back. 

There’s nothing left of him. His soul was already damned to Lucifer. There was no way he would let anything remain. Ruby would’ve done better to just talk to open air than to try and communicate with Calum. She was just a fucking fool. 

With another harsh sniffle, Ruby opens the door. If her eyes are red, they’ll just have to be red. “Thanks for subjecting yourselves to this. I owe you guys.” She doesn’t hide the quiver that takes over her chest. 

“Rubs,” Kourtney sighs, hugging her friend. Ruby shakes like a dog caught in a thunderstorm in Kourtney’s arms. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“N-no,” Ruby croaks. “I’ll call if I need you though.”

Kourtney thinks for a moment. She could refuse Ruby’s wishes and have to deal with a crying and pissed Ruby or she could just wait for the phone call. Ruby will probably still be crying if she calls, but at least there won’t be any anger. “I’ll be near my phone.”

As the door creaks close, Ruby locks it, bottom and top locks before sliding down the steel door. Here she is again. On her fucking knees crying over Calum again. She wants to laugh. She really does. It catches between her sobs in ragged coughs. “Fucking of course,” she pants. “Of course.”

She pushes her hands and crawls to the edge of the coffee table. Right where she was when Calum died. “I thought it was only lovers that were supposed to hurt like this.” Her speech is interrupted by sobs. But she continues on. “I thought only lovers were supposed to rip your fucking heart out.”

“They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity.”

Even though her vision is nothing but a watery field of tears, she knows that pale skin. “Don’t you have some other poor soul to torture? Don’t you have anybody else to fuck over? Haven’t you ruined my fucking life enough?” she shouts. Her hand finds a coaster and lobs it before she can even think, still half hung onto the edge of the coffee table. It requires too much energy to support herself on her elbows. She just hangs her weight into the sturdy piece of furniture. 

“He heard you calling. So I had to answer,” Lucifer returns. 

“You’re such a fucking liar.” Ruby wishes she could smite him. Do anything to him to make him feel the ache in her chest. Would it take a bolt of lightning? Did he hold anything precious to his heart?

“I’m many things.”

“Leave me the fuck alone, God.”

Lucifer fakes a hiss, throwing up a cross with his fingers. “We don’t say His name around me.”

Ruby drags the sleeve of her shirt under her nose. Her tears, though they roll down her face, have stopped stinging her behind her eyes. “That’s a corny ass joke.”

Lucifer shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Figured I’d give it a shot. See if you’d stop cursing me out.”

“You’re still an asshole. So no, it didn’t work.” Ruby finally pushes up from the coffee table and falls into the legs of the couch. She stares out into the open dining room, at the table pushed up against the wall, right under the window sill. Calum would sit most nights that he stayed over in front of it. He said watching the night relaxed him. But she wonders now if she was watching for Lucifer. If Calum knew all along that he was playing with a fire that would burn him. 

It would hurt more if he just disappeared, Ruby thinks. If Lucifer somehow got him in the middle of the night while she was sleeping and Calum just wasn’t there. If he never showed up with another note under her door. That would hurt more. Not knowing would kill her more than knowing Ruby figures. She probably wouldn’t have noticed it at first. But as the days blended into weeks and the weeks turned into months without any contact from Calum--that would kill her. Slowly and then all at once she’d lose her head. 

“Mind if I sit?” Lucifer asks. 

“And if I say I do. What are you going to do? Kill me?”

“I’d never kill for such a frivolous thing.”

Ruby whips  her head to look at him. “You killed Calum? And for what? Being my friend?”

“I don’t have to explain that to you.”

“No, you do! You do have to explain that to me.”

“I don’t,” Lucifer defends. 

“Oh, but you do, Lucifer.” She’s never uttered his name before. It made him too real if she did. Made Calum’s death too real. But right now, after what just happened, or didn’t happen, he owes her that much. She can say his name. It is not lead on her tongue anymore. 

“Ah, she does remembers my name.”

“I could never forget it.”

“Ruby, I don’t owe you any explanation. I didn’t owe it to Calum to make the trip before or this one. But I’m doing it.”

“What the fuck did he do?” Ruby pushes up from the floor. Her face is tight. She knows her eyes are red. There’s probably snot on the sleeve of her shirt. It doesn’t matter though. She’s going to get these answers. “Tell me. What is so wrong about finding a friend?” She searches his gaze, seeing if he’d crack. 

The only thing Lucifer does is take a step forward to her. There’s still a good foot between them. “If you’re boss gave you a rule, and you broke it, couldn’t you be fired for it?” 

Ruby takes a small step forward. “Depends on how big the rule was.”

“I’ve ruled with an iron fist. And I will always continue to do so.” Lucifer meets her step, but only after his statement crosses his lips. 

No one moves again. There’s only another step between them. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot? You can’t have a soft spot for the person you killed.”

“Calum isn’t a person.”

“He was to me.” Ruby closes the gap. Finger poking at his chest. “He was as real to me as Kourtney, or Tiff. Or anyone else in this world. He was a person to me and that’s all that matters.”

“We are monsters. Me included,” Lucifer states. “He is nothing more than a hound now. Just like all the rest.”

“And who did that to him? Who did that?” Ruby hates to get loud. But the emotion leaps from her. Her fists are furling at her side. 

Lucifer must admit she’s bolder than he took her for and far less fearful than he thought would happen for something that just tried to summon a demon into their bedroom. Though, anyone trying to do that must not hold much fear to begin with. “I know what I’ve done.”

“And is this supposed to make me feel better? Is this you trying to rectify the situation?”

“No. I can’t fix anything now. What’s done is done.”

Ruby cracks, she can feel her core crumbling. The tears come back. She presses the heel of her hands into the sockets of her eye. “Just tell me what you did. Is he really dead?” She pleads. The tough guy act is exhausting. All she wants to do is cry again, curl into her sheets and let the ache fall over her throat in screeches. 

Lucifer, for just a second, lets himself peer down at her. She stands right under his chest. He can see what Calum meant about how endearing it feels. “The Calum you knew no longer exists. You can’t summon him. His physical form is dust.”

“The whip?”

“Turned over to another owner.”

“They’re temporary to you. They’re nothing,” she gaps. It really ought not be a shock. It is the devil she’s dealing with. She’s not dealing with someone human. But it still shocks her. 

“We’re all nothing. Calum got a second shot at his life. And he fucked it up. Like he always does.”

Ruby shoves Lucifer. Her palms hitting hard into his chest. Lucifer stumbles back half a step but plants his feet to catch himself. “He didn’t. He didn’t do anything wrong!” She can see the pointed tail rising behind him. She sees the flash of fire in Lucifer’s eyes. “Do it. Fucking do it, I dare you.” Now she’s really gone insane. To goad the devil like this. But she doesn’t care. 

It’s a steel resolve that stills Lucifer. It stills even Ruby. “You don’t mean that,” Lucifer taunts. “You couldn’t possibly mean it.” 

“You don’t know what I mean and what I don’t.”

Lucifer grins, lowering the tail. “I do know that what’s left of your precious Calum whines for you. He curses himself for messing things up with you. It’s ironic really. To be subjected to an eternal curse and then curse yourself on top of that.”

Ruby just stares. She’s tired of the circle games. She’s tired of begging. If he’s going to explain himself, then he will. And if he won’t explain himself, he can go right back to the place he came from. So Ruby remains silent. Lucifer blinks at her.

 He says nothing either, waiting for her rebuttal. She’s a smart girl; she’ll have something, Lucifer figures. 

A few more moments go by. “Nothing to say?” Lucifer asks. 

Ruby remains quiet. 

“Did Calum ever tell you he was a Hunter for me? Really the head of them. That’s why I gave him the whip.” Lucifer stops for a moment. She look unphased for the moment. He sees the way she’s biting on the inside of her lip though. “I can’t bring him back,” Lucifer admits. “He still exist. Just not like you knew him as. You can’t bring him back.”

Ruby wants to look away. But she doesn’t. She takes a breathe. “You took everything from him. I hope you know that. I hope you know the destruction you’ve caused, Lucifer. Whatever good he had going on in his life, whether it was damned to you for eternity or not, all that good is gone.”

“It’s like the Big Guy said. All I’m good for it stealing, killing, and destroying. We’ve all got our parts to play. I brought you the anklet because I thought it would get him off my back. He’s relentless when it comes to you. He wanted me to give him updates. Him! Like he runs the fucking place.”

“So, tell me, do you give him updates? Why else would you be here?”

“No, actually, I heard you knocking on my front door with that summoning circle. But I didn’t think the others would take kindly to me showing up.”

Ruby has to laugh. She really does and it escapes her in dry tufts. “Tried to summon a friend and I got a piece of shit instead.”

“Yeah, I’m not the greatest, alright. I know. Just because I took Calum’s status away, just because I stripped him of his physical form doesn’t mean he can’t annoy the shit out of me in Hell.”

“And you can’t undo it? Can’t give him back his human form?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “If The Big Guy himself had to flood the earth to start over, there’s no way He’s giving me more powers than Him. He can’t snap his fingers to undo anything and I can’t snap mine.”

“What rule did Calum break? What the hell did he do deserve that?”

“I told you. Rules have to be followed. That’s that.”

“I can’t ever talk to him again. I can’t ask Calum so I’m asking you. I’m giving you the second shot you don’t fucking deserve.”

This isn’t a second shot, Lucifer thinks. He never gets those. Not that he’s ever deserved them in any capacity ever. But Ruby’s pleading stare is maybe just enough to crack his chest open. “I told him not to get too close. I told him that if he got too close to you it would be his head. You might’ve called me a liar. But others would disagree.”

Ruby sucks in a breath, turning away. Her hands cover her face. But that’s not enough darkness so she closes her eyes behind the fabric. “In my house. In front of me!”

“There’s a reason why he told you not to watch.”

She can picture it all now. There was no sound. But she can see, clear as day, a fistful of Calum’s curl in Lucifer’s fist as Calum’s body slumped away before disappearing. She wonders if his eyes blinked close, if Calum had just enough life in him to finish that action. Or they were probably already closed before the last blow was delivered. Was he thinking of her? Was she Calum’s last thought? 

Lucifer’s voice interrupts her buzzing mind. “The anklet’s actually from him. I found it in his apartment while I was cleaning it out. I had some others keep it safe. I wouldn’t have given it to you, in all honesty. I was going to have it pawned. Needed the cash for some other earthly endeavours. But I could never bring myself to fucking do it. So I gave the boy what he wanted. I gave it to you. His last good deed, he called it.”

“Do me a favor?”

“I’m not a middle man for the two of you. I agreed to give you the anklet and I only agreed to check up on you like once.”

“Just one thing,” Ruby sighs, turning to face Lucifer. 

“Just one.”

“Don’t come back to me. Don’t check up on me. Don’t give him updates.”

“This is going to sound ironic coming from me. But he’s going to raise hell over that.”

“Tell him I told you not too. I want to remember him like he was drinking whiskey way to early in the day and always dawned in the leather jacket. I want to remember him like a friend.”

Lucifer sighs. Calum’s not going to like that. But he nods and says nothing as he exits her apartment. Through the front door this time. For a brief moment, Ruby finally realizes that she never opened the door for Lucifer in the first place. Could he have been the breeze she felt? 

She was just torturing herself. Ruby never considered herself to be a masochist. Pain was never really her thing. But all she was doing was hurting herself. This was just a wound they kept picking the scab off of. It would always bleed if it’s never left alone. It can never clot and create new skin. Even if it leaves a scar, the thicker skin is more protection that busted blood vessels. 

Ruby drags herself to her bedroom. Calum’s picture staring at her as she enters. She walks over, placing the photo face down. She’s gotta let him rest. Let herself rest really. What is she doing besides running herself into the ground. That’s all it is. She picks up the anklet, testing the weight in her hand again. It’s cold against her skin and has never been heavy until now. She sets onto the dresser next to her bed. In the morning she can think about whether or not to bear its weight again. 

____

Lucifer can already imagine the roar that’s going to echo off the walls of his head. But he’s really only the message man, yet again. “Good news and bad news,” Lucifer starts. 

“Bad news first.” His voice is harsher, more of a snarl in this state. Body much too large and too hunched for the man he once portrayed. The fire does like it does everyone, making the skin blister and turn a pinkish red. It’s a shock that anyone can hold out at the eternal flick of the flames like he does. 

“You’re going to regret that. She wants to give you a good memory. Take it.”

“What?”

“Let her go. Let her remember you the way she knew you.”

While Calum would hate to admit Lucifer to right. It might be naive to think that Ruby wouldn’t try everything in her power to see him again. He’s not the man he used to be. He’s not in any position to be seen for what’s beneath it all, beneath the lies. “What’s the good news then?”

“You have a friend in her, even still. You’re lucky.”

He surely doesn’t feel lucky. Trapped here as his body is constantly burned and healed all within the same minute. He surely doesn’t feel lucky knowing that he won’t ever be able to answer a call from Ruby again. But if she’s willing to hold onto his memory, even with all the messed up shit he’s done, than he found something to be lucky about. 

Though it’s never rest that finds his soul, Calum remembers the way she laughs and something like peace stills the moment. It’s a quiet calm that only simmers for a moment before the pain kicks in again. He takes the second of calmness whenever they come because they always bring her with them.

[seasonofthegeek]

To Save and To Sacrifice, Part 2

This is dedicated to the lovely @dreamwreaver to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY month, friend! I wish you all the best things in the world! 

Parts 1, 2:

“I’ve decided to go out,” Nathalie announced as soon as she saw Gabriel raise his mug for a sip of morning coffee. She caught the widening of his eyes and the slight shake of the cup before he hid it all behind a pleasantly blank gaze. She expected the look; it was his default when he was trying to figure her out. She’d begun enjoying finding ways to cause him to produce that expression daily when she could. It alleviated the boredom at times and she couldn’t deny the slight thrill it gave her.

“Out?”

“Yes. I’d like to go choose my new bed in person. I’ve picked a few options I like but I want to get a feel for them. I’ll need a new mattress too, of course, so I’ll do that while I’m out. Perhaps I’ll shop for bedding as well to be efficient. I want to support the local economy, after all.” She speared a chunk of pineapple onto her fork and took a bite. It was juicy and just the right amount of sweet. The fruit here was always wonderful.

“Nathalie, there is no reason for you to go out for those things. I can have them all brought here.”

“I’m aware of that but I don’t think it’s a productive use of anyone’s time or energy. Bed frames aren’t small, mattresses either. And perhaps I’ll see something more fitting while I’m out. My suite is beautiful but it would be nice to make it more mine.”

“Yes, but—”

She raised an eyebrow. “I am allowed to leave the castle, aren’t I?”

Gabriel cleared his throat and nodded. He finally lowered his mug back to the table. “Of course, but it would be best if you stayed here, at least for the time being.”

“And why is that?”

“For your safety.”

“I’m plenty capable of taking care of myself.” Nathalie felt herself bristle. “If you’ll remember, Gabriel, I took care of myself and my people for over a decade before you came along.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And I didn’t agree to this union so I could be treated like a kept woman.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it either if I thought you had.”

Something about his tone paused her anger and Nathalie studied him. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“Do you really want to know?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you really not know me well enough yet?”

He reluctantly nodded. “There have been reports of hostility among some in the lower class and I’m not sure it would be wise for you to be out among the masses right now.”

“That’s very diplomatic but I’d rather know the details.”

Gabriel’s expression soured. “While the merger has been successful for the most part, some of our…less fortunate citizens are finding the influx of more people into already crowded areas not ideal.”

“Why is this the first I’m hearing about the situation?”

“Because I’m taking care of it.”

Her anger flared back up like a familiar warmth and she wrapped herself in it as she pushed back from the table and stood. “I agreed to this for my people. If there is a problem with them, I should’ve been the first to know and I should have a say in it.”

“They’re our people now and these things happen. I have experience with it and thought it best to handle it as quietly as possible while you’re still settling in.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” she spat. “And what experience could you have with it?”

Gabriel eyed her curiously. “And here I thought you’d done your research on me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head. “Nevermind. I will see what can be done about scouting the areas you would like to visit for possible threats and then we can revisit the issue.”

“Or I could simply walk out the front door now,” Nathalie countered. “I have no issue with taking guards with me. I’ve been in a leadership role for most of my life, and I know what dangers that can entail. I won’t be held here indefinitely though so you can show your power.”

“That isn’t what this is about.” Gabriel stood halfway between the table and large dining room entryway. “Please just let me have the day to get a report in on the situation.”

“I think you’ve left me out of more than enough. I’ll be taking care of it from here.” Nathalie stormed past him and was slightly relieved when he didn’t reach out to stop her when she was within arm’s length. She let her indignation take her all the way up to her suite before it left her in a hollow rush.

She felt foolish for not realizing there were issues with her people but on the other hand, she was angry Gabriel hadn’t told her about any of it. She’d trusted he would, and she had a right to know. She sat down heavily on the fainting couch and ran her hand along the thick, expensive fabric covering it. Perhaps she’d gotten too accustomed to the nicer things in her time in the Agreste castle and forgotten how hard it could be for those with less. She wanted to argue with herself, but she had given into the pampering without too much thought after things seemed to be going so well. She needed to remind herself of who she was and why she’d entered into this marriage in the first place.

With new purpose, she went to her closet and dug out the old trunk she’d brought with her in the move. Gabriel had taken it upon himself to have many new dresses and outfits created especially for her and she’d packed away her old things for a time when she needed them. That time was now.

She dressed as casually as she could in jeans and a large sweatshirt and pulled her hair up in a messy ponytail. She cleaned the makeup from her face and traded the delicate frames she’d been wearing for an older pair of sturdy glasses. She took in a deep breath and felt calm. This was the Nathalie who’d worked alongside her people to build homes for those in need. This was the woman who brought her citizens into her humble castle when there was no heat in too many homes and shared her food and blankets with any who were in need. Guilt trickled in between the memories and she pushed it all away.

She had a mission.

___

“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine.”

At the sound of the voice, Nathalie jumped a little from her hiding place in the back of the large garage where she’d ducked behind a car while a guard moved through his route. Adrien grinned at her from behind another car across the way and she took in his leather jacket and ripped jeans, a far cry from the suits she’d seen him in more often around the castle.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She stood and tried to regain her composure, but it was a lost cause. The knowing glint in Adrien’s eyes told her the prince was more than she’d given him credit for.

“Same thing as you, I’d guess.” He stood and stretched, and she saw a length of looped black rope dangle from a beltloop at the back of his pants. “Escaping for a bit.”

“I’m not escaping.”

“Sure, neither am I.” Adrien grinned again and pulled a dark hood up over his head from beneath the collar of the jacket. “And I didn’t see you and you didn’t see me.”

Nathalie shifted her weight. Technically, she was his stepmother now but seeing as how the young man was in his early twenties, she felt she had little responsibility in the matter. “That seems fair enough.”

His grin faded slightly. “Is this just for the night or more?”

“I heard things aren’t going well with some people in the poorer district. I want to check in.”

“That’s good.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

He shrugged. “Tensions are high. I’ve been doing what I can but I’m not always out there. It’d be nice to have more authority in the matter and Father tends to work his way from the top down so it can be slow.”

“What do you mean, doing what you can?”

His smile widened back to its original width and he tugged the hood a little lower so his eyes were cast in shadow. “You’ll want to get out of here within the next few minutes. Arthur will be back through to do a second check soon since he heard something. He always does.” He gave her a small wave and jogged to the exit of the garage.

Nathalie watched Adrien duck into a dark corner and after a few seconds, he appeared again and guided a beaten motorcycle to the small door instead of opening the hangar. He wasted one more smile on her before exiting through the door and the low rumble of the bike could be heard in the distance soon after.

She hadn’t thought about transportation, but she would do what she could once she was off the grounds. Perhaps she could ask the prince where she might find a motorcycle like his. It’d been far too long since she’d ridden one. ___

Gabriel watched the security feed of Nathalie sneaking out of the garage after Adrien and couldn’t decide if he felt more proud or irritated. He knew she was a strong and capable woman and that had been what called him to her, but she was being reckless and he couldn’t have that. He’d lost too much already.

If he’d known for sure that she’d gone with Adrien, he would’ve felt a little more at ease, but his son left the grounds before she had. The prince had no idea his father knew of his nightly activities, but Gabriel had seen first-hand what his son had been getting up to and felt it was okay to allow it for the time. Young love made fools of everyone after all. He’d grow out of his childish games eventually.

With a reluctant sigh, Gabriel went to his closet to dress for the occasion. He’d hidden himself in public more than a few times, but he wanted his identity to be even more secret tonight. He wouldn’t intervene unless he needed to, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to Nathalie. Of that much he was certain.

Buy me a cherry coke?

[thenightling]

The Dodged Bullet

Warning: This is deliberately bad!

The dodged bullet:  

The following is the horrific notion of what would have happened if The CW, Fox, or Syfy adapted Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman instead of Netflix.   This is going to poke fun of common tropes of Fox and CW shows.  See if you can spot them all.

I am going to deliberately write this very, very badly.

             The generically attractive young man in his early-twenties walked toward the crime scene.  He wore a long leather jacket, designer sneakers, expensive brand-name jeans, and a stylish and perfectly fitted black polo style shirt under the jacket. It was rumpled but just so as to hint at what a great body he had under it.  He had thick, dark brown hair.  Brown eyes, a smoldering gaze and a dazzling smile.  He’s Caucasian and generically attractive.  He’s thin but not rake thin, more like sexy male model thin.   He’s got muscle tone.  

           At the moment he looked stoic, hands resting in his pockets.  He crosses the yellow crime scene tape without anyone stopping him.  No one questions his presence but he is not invisible. This is “grounded” in reality, folks.  

           The Sandman solves crimes!  The Sandman is a private investigator with a secret. He is a real Sandman!  Hidden in his jacket is a leather pouch which will probably get used maybe once or twice an episode (budgetary reasons).   And he gets confused by certain social cues and pop culture references but otherwise he’s just a generic hot guy.

           He’s probably portrayed by a Tom Mison type. He might be American. There’s an English accent but it’s so slight (so hidden by Americanisms) that it’s almost undetectable.   He approaches the pretty, ninety-pound, college age female detective with perfect, blond hair.   She looks up at him.  

           “Hey, Murphy.” She says in a friendly tone.  Yes, Murphy is his alias. She thinks he’s just eccentric and thinks he’s The Sandman but he gets results!  

           “Detective Walker.” He smiled with obvious affection. He crushes on her, pines for her. But she mustn’t ever know the truth. It is forbidden for one of his kind to be with a mortal.  Even if she is a Vortex.  And her great power may one day destroy the world…  or save it!  That’s the real reason he was here, to watch her. He had never expected to fall in love with her…

The show has almost no scenes in The Dreaming and when there are it’s about 90% CG over green screen, like the Enchanted Forest sets of Once Upon a Time, or the under-whelming Hell of Lucifer.  There’s probably a throne room with a starry night sky behind it, and an under-whelming “vast” library on par with Belle’s library in Once Upon a Time that will be shown very rarely.

           “We’ve got another one.”  She said gravely.  “Eyes torn out.  Pretty girl. Whoever this creep is- this predator must be stopped!”   The implication here is the victims are all damsels who have been targeted by an evil man targeting them for misogynistic reasons.  But don’t worry!  The show is totally not sexist!   Detective Rose Walker kicks ass!   And in season four she’ll be raising her own long-lost little brother!  Even though it’ll take her at least five seasons to learn Murphy’s secret (if she ever does).  

           “I thought the ‘me too’ movement would have at least reduced some of this.” She said with a shake of her head in disappointment at the world.

           The line of dialogue doesn’t actually really make sense under easy scrutiny.  Why would “Me too” actually make a serial killer reconsider his life choices?  Oh, well, the audience doesn’t have enough time to question it.

           “Me too?”  The adorable, awkward, pretty “Murphy” questions.

           “Boy!  Where have you been?  In a cave?”            “Actually I was trapped inside a prison cell for a hundred and five years and before that I resided in another dimension.”

           She rolls her eyes.  “Not this again.   Tell me you can at least figure something out with your ‘Dream powers’” she said cynically.   He might have been insane and socially inept but he got results!

           Morpheus knelt down next to the body and placed his hands on the corpse. There isn’t even any SFX for this. He’s just sensing something.  He grunts in a sexy portrayal of sexy CW level pain.  

           “What? What is it?”

           “I think I know who did this…”

           “Who?”

           “Corinthian…”

             (Opening credits here.  Maybe the opening riff of Enter Sandman by Metallica.  No, wait, Fox and CW can’t afford that.   It’s Mr. Sandman by the Charlottes!  It kills the mood but everyone knows the song.  You’ll be sick of it by episode five if you weren’t already.  And it will get a LOT of use since the song is cheap / practically public domain.)

           The next scene is not present day.  It’s a flashback.  And by flashback I mean a hastily put together set in Vancouver Canada.  It’s probably someone’s private stables being passed off as a medieval village.  No, wait. Its eighteenth century.  There’s a sexy other character wearing slightly anachronistic style sunglasses hiding his eyes (No CG here, the production team figures the glasses are enough).  In fact his eyes might not even be weird at all. He just likes sunglasses!  There, that’s better, no wasted money here.   He’s wearing a badly fitted white wig over white hair.  

           “My king,” the sunglassed man says with a bow. We have to be blunt for our easily distracted audience, so there’s the reminder that this is the dream king. “Thank you for letting me accompany you to the waking world.  There are such delicious things here.”

           “Yes, the food is rather pleasant.” Morpheus replies. His costume is decently fitted but obviously borrowed from another show, possibly a left over from Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  Those props and some period costumes still get use.  Isn’t Morpheus adorably oblivious, though?

           Morpheus is wearing a dark blue frock coat and lace. His trousers are exceptionally tight to show off the actor’s perfect ass.

           The Corinthian’s costume is cream colored. There was a behind the scenes fight and as small victory for the one crew member who actually read Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman in getting the cream outfit.  Others working on the show wanted the costume to be black to make it more obvious he was the bad guy.        

           An attractive, tall, black man (probably American), under the age of thirty, is behind Morpheus.   This is his loyal manservant, Lucien.  But it’s totally not racist making the dreaming librarian / butler black when the show hasn’t had any black characters yet.  No, it’s inclusive!  

           The attractive black man speaks.  “My Lord, I think he intends to do harm to the mortals here.”

           “Nonsense, Lucien. I’m certain it’s fine.”

           The Corinthian wandered away from his master and he soon drags off attractive young female into an alley, hand over her mouth.   No, The Corinthian isn’t gay anymore in this version.   But it’s okay.  Hob Gadling, Morpheus’ immortal friend (who now runs a bar for some reason) is gay!  He’s very gay.  In fact that’s the extent of his entire personality.  But isn’t this diverse and inclusive?!   And there’s no more problematic gay nightmare, even though in the original comics The Corinthian gets uncreated and the second Corinthian is a relatively decent guy for a nightmare.  

           After some persuasion Morpheus finally listens to Lucien and walks down into the alley.   He stops in his tracks when he sees The Corinthian has killed the girl and his licking his fingers, having obviously already eaten her eyeballs (gotta keep that TV-14 rating!)   He lets out a gasp.  “Corinthian, what have you done?”

           We cut back to present day and “Murphy” is walking into the bar owned by his friend, Hob Gadling . Hob sees him and smiles. “Murph, oh, honey, you look like Hell! Come sit down and tell me all about it.   You know I love juicy gossip.” He says in a naisly, lisping voice.

Imagine this scene was written by some very straight guy whose only exposure to gay people were 1990s Will and Grace reruns.  

           Hob places a shot glass in front of Morpheus and Morpheus downs it quickly. “Have you seen Matthew?”

           Matthew was Morpheus’ straight human friend and roommate.  He had learned Morpheus’ secret in the pilot episode when Morpheus rescued him from a car accident using his dream magick.   Ha!  And you thought we’d have talking birds in this thing. Lol!  No!  Grounded, remember?

           “Matt?  Oh, sweetie, you can do better than him.  I keep telling you, he’s just not your type.”

           Morpheus raises an eyebrow but says nothing about the implication about his sexual identity.  There will be a LOT of queer baiting on this show without confirmation in regard to his sexuality.  

             “I need to talk to him.   One of my nightmares is loose in the city.”  You can tell this was written by a New Yorker because they take for granted “The City” to mean New York.  

           “One of your Nightmares?   Why couldn’t it be one of those sexy wet dreams?”  Get it?  Because if the character’s gay he has to always be horny!!!  Ha-freakin’ –ha.  

(Please know I don’t actually feel this way. I’m mocking bad TV writing.  This whole thing is a spoof.)    

           There’s an awkward pause intended for the viewers to laugh.

           “I don’t believe any water nymphs have escaped The Dream dimension.” Morpheus replied in confusion.

He calls it The Dream Dimension in the show because “The Dreaming” didn’t sound hip enough according to some executive.

“I’m afraid it’s The Corinthian.  So now I have two problems.”

Hob nodded sympathetically.  “The detective you might have to kill…”

“And now this.”   This is an idiot proofed recap for people turning on the show late or just watching it in passing while doing other things or playing on their phone.  CW does this sort of in-story forced, shoe-horned exposition all the time.

The episode plays out a little bit like an episode of Lucifer mashed into an episode of True Blood.

While they’re trying to find the killer, Detective Rose Walker meets Murphy’s roommate, Matthew, and the two hit it off while chatting about Murphy’s weirdness.  They decide to start to date.   As Morpheus has feelings for Rose that he won’t admit to this causes a strain between him and Matthew Raven (There’s that bird reference!  What?  That should be Lucien’s last name?  Naw!)  And between him and Rose Walker.  

Morpheus lashes out rather than admit to what he is truly angry at and he and Matthew argue over something petty and this leads to recovering alcoholic Matthew to start drinking again as sad music begins to play.  

Morpheus eventually finds The Corinthian and is forced to destroy him.  He had to kill his own creation so he is kneeling in angst crying prettily while the sand left over from the uncreation slides through his fingers.  Some new female cover of Queen’s Who Wants to live Forever? Is playing in the background.  The original version is “too old” and too expensive for use. So here’s a very generic sounding cover done in a style that makes it blend in with every other pop song played during the forty five minute mark of a CW show’s run time (including commercial breaks).  

           The song plays as we cut to Matthew drinking alone sexily in an alley.  He’s sweaty and wet, but he just looks like a wet fashion model.   Morpheus is sexy crying over the sand that was the Corinthian, and Rose going to sleep prettily in her bed, no bed head here.  Oh, and she sleeps in perfect makeup!  There’s no scene where she even remotely looks like she’s out of makeup.

 She’s having strange dreams but they look pretty mundane.  Like real-world mundane.  It’s her living room set that we probably saw a few minutes ago, just dimmer lighting and some haze to make it clear this is a dream.  Because even with a show about The Dream Lord, dreams have to have an old fashioned camera fringe haze.  Murphy is there with his back to her.  He looks sad.  He turns to look at her and she gasps.   She sees a star (lense flare) from Murphy’s eyes in the dream as he looks at her in surprise like he wasn’t expecting her to see him.  She wakes up with a gasp, and everyone in her apartment building also wakes up at the same time, signifying that their dreams were connected.

And so ends what was probably the third episode of CW (or Fox’s) The Sandman.  

And that is pretty much how CW or Fox would have done The Sandman.

[theonewiththefanfics]

70s Bling (one-shot)

70s Vintage (one-shot)

80s Retro (one-shot)

70s Glam (one-shot)

Synopsys: This is the story of how Roger and the Reader first met. And how it didn’t start off as planned. (Set in the world of 80s Retro and 70s Vintage)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!Reader

Genre: fiuff

Warnings: swearing....maybe???

Word count: 2347

“Ronnie, I’m not going,” Y/N exasperated for the umpteenth time, as Veronica was trying to convince her friend to go to a pub with her. “Besides, you’d ditch me in the first five minutes, John’s off stage. And what will happen to me then? Some drunk ass bloke will try and hit on me, and I will actually have to hit him to get away.”    “Y/N, please,” Veronica whined. “Please, just this one time. I just… I can’t do it alone. You know I’ll wuss out and just run away.”    And as much as Y/N just wanted to stay in and write a bit, she had a soft spot for Veronica in her heart. She was the first one to push the girl to hand in her manuscript to a publisher. She was the one who let Y/N cry her heart out as it got rejected, and she was the one who bought the two expensive champagne bottles to celebrate the release of her first novel.    With a deep sigh, Y/N rolled her eyes and stood up from the couch. “You owe me for this,” she pointed a finger at the girl and stomped to her room to get dressed.

***

   The pub was packed. People were walking and shimmying all over the place, quite a lot of them going towards the stage to be closer to the band.    “I’ll go get a drink,” Y/N announced, and Veronica nodded, as she went closer to the front as well. The lights dimmed pretty much immediately as the boys came on stage and started the show.    She hated to admit it, but the band wasn’t that bad. Queen was their name, though not at first. In the beginning, they had been Smile, but then they spilt. That’s when John had come in the picture as well as their new and fabulous lead singer Freddie.    Y/N had known the guitarist Brian for a while now. He was the person she went to, to vent when Ronnie had talked her ear off about John. The astrophysicist and Y/N had shared a biology class together before she dropped out and decided to pursue writing as her full-time career, but they got along pretty well and remained acquaintances if not friends.    The only person she wasn’t that big of a fan was the drummer Roger Taylor. He had a reputation on campus. He liked to drink, smoke but most of all- he liked his one-night stands. He had even approached Veronica one time, trying to hit on the girl, while she was talking to Deaky. After that Y/N had spent the next three hours listening to her talk about the blond boy and how rude that had been.    Admittedly, Y/N wasn’t one to take someone else’s words for the truth, but when she’d walked inside the bar and had seen him with two groupies under each of his arms, there was no denying it.    There was nothing wrong with one-night stands, not in Y/N’s opinion as long as things were consensual, but she longed for something that would last. For something that would make her heart flutter the rest of her life, not for twenty minutes and a ‘see ya later’.    Ordering a pint, she sat down on one of the stools an waited for the gig to end. As the band said goodbye and exited to backstage, Y/N had to roll her eyes at how cute Veronica was when she saw Deaky approach her. The girl was practically buzzing with excitement and jumping up and down on the spot.    Suddenly someone slid right next to her and bumped Y/N’s shoulder. With an annoyed look on her face, she turned to the person who’d disrupted her evening and saw a pair of piercing blue eyes and a wide smile on his face. “I’m Roger,” the blond smirked and extended a hand for Y/N to take, but she just scoffed. “And I’m not interested.” “Ouch,” he chuckled. “No need to be so cold. ‘M just trying to make conversation.” Y/N’s eyebrow quirked up. “Oh, I know the kind of conversations the Roger Taylor has with girls. It starts off with a simple ‘Hi’ and it ends with you in bed. After that, you’d say, ‘this was nice we should do it again,’ when in fact you have no intentions of ever contacting the poor girl.” Roger’s cocky smile widened. “So, you’ve heard about me?” “Mhm,” Y/N swallowed the rest of her drink and hopped off the barstool. “And if there is one thing in the world I trust, it is my best friend’s advice- never become someone on Roger Taylor’s list. You’re better than that.” The drummer laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you don’t mind telling me who have I scorned so bad?” Y/N turned to the side leaning a bit closer to Roger and pointing at where John stood talking to Veronica. “See that girl?” she asked. “That’s Ronnie. John might have mentioned her before. And given how her taste in men is sensible, Imma follow her advice.” Roger’s heart had plummeted the second Y/N pointed in the bassist’s direction. He knew Veronica and he knew that she wasn’t overly fond of how the drummer like to live his life. And it hurt him especially, cause throughout the whole performance his eyes had been on Y/N and just her. She just stood out to him. He couldn’t explain why and what, but there was that indescribable quality she possessed and so he had decided to chat her up. Yes, with the intentions of going back to his place, but deep down he knew if anything would have happened, he’d be screwed for life. Though at that moment Roger didn’t even realize just how deep he was already in. Let alone the fact that the woman would, later on, become his wife. Pulling on her leather jacket, Y/N turned to him. “So, have a good night Roger. I hope we never meet again.” With the look of a lovesick puppy, he watched the Y/H/C haired beauty leave the pub. His whole body sagged down when he saw the door close and quietly, he whined. Suddenly someone tapped him on his shoulder. Turning his head to the side, the long blond locks obscured his vision, but when he pushed them out of the way he saw Brian. “You alright, mate?” “No,” Roger pouted. “I just blew it with a girl.” Brian snorted. “Now that’s a first.” Waving at the bartender he ordered two pints, putting one in front of his friend. “And what was so special about this one that you’re sulking? A rejection never seemed to have stopped you before.” “I know,” Roger gulped down two mouthfuls of the beer. “It’s just... I don’t know. She called me out on my bullshit. She didn’t care I was in a band, didn’t care to even hold a conversation. Didn’t even give me her name,” the man huffed the last part. “A chase has never stopped you before.” “I know.” “So, what’s the difference now?” “She’s Veronica’s friend,” Roger grumbled pouting at the wall. A slender girl slid up next to him trying to get his attention by batting her eyelashes, but for all he could have cared, it could have been the Queen of England and he’d tell her to fuck off. “And because she’s Veronica’s friend, she is sensible and smart and-“ but he was cut off mid-sentence as the affront mentioned woman ran up to the boys.    “Have you seen Y/N?” she addressed Brian, but the name made Roger’s head perk up. That must be hers.    “She left like five minutes ago,” Roger responded, and Veronica huffed, rushing out of the door in a completely frazzled state. The blond let his eyes follow along as she exited the bar as well before returning to his drink.    “Listen,” Brian grabbed Roger’s attention again, “if you really like this girl so much, then maybe it’s time to switch things up.”    The blond’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean?”    “I mean,” Brian emphasized, “ask her out on a date. That’s it. No shagging in mind, nothing of the sort. A real proper date where the two of you could get to know one another.”    Roger rolled his eyes. “I would, but as you can see she’s not here.”    Though it was right at that moment Y/N and Veronica entered the bar again, the women’s elbows linked together and talking in hushed voices. Immediately Roger’s focus was just on Y/N. How she moved and how her lips formed words he could not decipher. The girl rolled her eyes at something Veronica said before pushing the other woman in the direction of the stage.    “Go,” she said to her as she approached where Brian and Roger were.    “Did she chicken out again?” Bri asked and watched how Veronica fidgeted with her fingers while walking towards John who was talking with Freddie.    “I was smoking a cig when she rushes out, in a complete panic saying she almost asked John for a cup of coffee. She snatched my pack, took three out, smoked them so fast I think she must have stuck two in her nose and dragged me back in only to say, ‘let’s go home’. So, yeah. I’d say she ran away.”    Brian snorted and turned to look at Y/N, her arms crossed as she kept watch on Veronica and what she was gonna do next. “If it’s any consolation,” the guitarist said, “John is smitten to the point I think he’s already written a few love songs about and for her.”    Y/N laughed and turned to the bar once more to order a pint. It would seem like the night was only starting. During the whole conversation, Roger had only stared at Y/N and watched the profile of her face- how her eyelashes curled upwards to her brows and her cupids’ bow dipped down to lips he so desperately wanted to kiss, eyes shining brightly in the dim lights of the pub. But then something else struck him. Her name. Her face. Both of those things were so familiar.    “Holy shit, you’re Y/N Y/L/N!” he exclaimed standing up from his seat so fast he almost knocked over the waitress that walked past.    Y/N turned her head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? So?”    Roger was at a loss for words, but somehow managed to stutter out, “I- I just… umm… I just absolutely love your books.”    In all honesty, Roger was fangirling like crazy and sweating like a pig, for one of his favourite authors ever was standing right in front of him. And he’d just hit on her. Unsuccessfully though.    His reaction, his blushing and becoming so humble and shy, surprised Y/N like nothing else. “Really? You’ve read my stuff?”    “I think there isn’t a person in the whole universe who hasn’t,” and the soft smile on his face was so genuine it made Y/N reconsider everything she’d thought about the playboy.    “Huh…” Y/N looked Roger over once again, only with different eyes now. “Who would’ve thought that Roger Taylor had time to devote to such things as books.”    Roger’s whole demeanour had changed from confident and self-assured to a timid man standing in front of someone they greatly admired. And seeing this change, Y/N slipped on the seat between Brian and the drummer and looked at the blond.    “So. Got any recommendations of any other books I should be keeping my eyes on?”    The smile Roger gave Y/N was nothing short of brilliant.    She didn’t even notice how time slipped by as she and Roger engaged in actual meaningful conversations. They talked about everything and anything that came to mind until the bartender said they were about to close.    “I hate to say this, but I didn’t have that bad of a time, Roger,” Y/N pulled on her jacket, a small smile on her lips. “Maybe you’re not that bad after all.”    And suddenly she saw his whole form flush with nervousness. “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind giving me your number? I just really would like to take you out on a proper date. To say sorry for how I acted before and just… I just really like you.”    He was like a schoolboy in front of his crush, and against her better judgement and Ronnie’s advice, Y/N sighed, taking a napkin and quickly writing down her number.    “Don’t lose it, cause there won’t be a second chance,” she said walking over to where Veronica was still conversing with John. The pair reluctantly said their goodbyes, and together the two women started to make their way to the apartment.    “So, did you do it?” Y/N pestered, an unusual skip in her step.    “No,” Veronica groaned throwing her head back. “But next time I will.”    “Ronnie!”    “I got scared!”    The two laughed and Veronica linked her arm through Y/N’s elbow. “Though I saw you and Roger getting real cosy. Anything I should be worried about?”    Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know. As much as we had a great conversation, I don’t think he’ll call. Doesn’t seem like the commitment type.”    But boy, had Y/N been wrong to say that about the man who would become her boyfriend, her husband, the father of their three children, and evolve into something that could only be described as a soulmate.    And now, seeing the scene of the two of them meeting, being immortalized for the big screen made the woman smile.    A pair of arms wove around her waist and Y/N melted against Roger’s chest.    “Thank you,” he murmured in her neck.    “For what?”    “For taking a chance on me.”    “Well, you didn’t dump me after I and Freddie got accidentally married in Vegas. I think I should be the one saying thank you.”    The two were about to lean in for a kiss when Rami’s voice loudly interrupted their little moment and filming, making Melinda and the actress that played Veronica jump apart. “Wait you did what with Freddie?!”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @16wiishes @wanderingsami @desir-ae @thiccio-and-thicciet @roseslovedreams @vesoleil @gloomybisexualemo @kostyaownsmyheart @perriwiinkle @screaminggalileochickenwrites @barbarairene-k @aylinnmaslow @harrysgonnapayforthis @chlobo6 @pietrorunsforme @brianhemian-rogerdy @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo@palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @rawbucky @lumelgy

A/N: The Taylors have made a comeback :D

So far there is another story planned in this universe :)

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. my tags are always open

[parisandeden]

That now semi-familiar feeling of a smile traced Eden’s lips as Paris caught onto her joke and felt the fresh press of his lips against her for the first time that day. “Not exactly my best work, but, if you stick around I’m sure you’ll get to see the full act being played on others.” She felt a sense of relief that at least he seemed to have sense of humor about these sort of things, especially after she’d managed to swipe his wallet twice already without so much as bit of concern. She turned to him, slightly bewildered by his comment of making him breakfast, “That would require a skill that I’ve never had and really haven’t intended on learning. Unless you count pouring cereal out of a box and into a bowl with milk in it, now that I can do.”

 Eden could tell from Paris’s voice that home life was certainly not idyllic, she too knew the strain of being in a family where you didn’t feel like you were wanted, nor did you ever feel like you’d belonged. She was thankful for what little she had in the little studio where they were, it wasn’t much, but she couldn’t imagine where her life would be without it. So even if it had come at the expense of a hateful handout from her adoptive father she would still have a roof over her head. It was when Paris mentioned breakfast again that somehow her stomach must have been in tune with his thoughts, for it growled, quite loudly, causing her cheeks to flush slightly as she emitted a small, apologetic laugh. “Breakfast sounds … amazing,” she said before pushing herself off the floor, although not with much ease, as every muscle seemed to ache now, “let me just change into something … well decent.”

 She hadn’t intended to take long, slipping on a fresh pair of jeans, a simple tank top in a light shade of lavender and long sleeve white jacket. As she pulled her hair up into that same sloppy updo from the day before she felt somehow more put together, perhaps it was that little spring in her step from a night with a guy who seemed to understand her. Whatever it was she wanted to hold onto it for as long as she could, it was unfamiliar, and exciting, neither of which she’d ever known. When she was finished she grabbed a small little leather purse, flinging it over her shoulder before she spoke, “I know a place within walking distance we can go, that I’m not banned from yet. They have the best breakfast and their bacon ….” Eden paused just as her stomach growled again and she opened the door to her apartment, just before grabbing his hand and slipping of that ring she’d put on it earlier, “Well it’s the best, and I can’t promise I’ll share.” _________________  From: Paris Date: 01-13-2014 0:20:57 Paris didnt know what to say or do, he had no memory of the two of them even mentioning the word marriage. As she looked distraught on how the fact he forgot this he looked down and played with the ring. "I-I don't...." His eyes snapped back to hers when she started laughing. He couldn't help but feel relieved that this was all a joke. "You. You had me nervous for a second. Well played, well played." Paris smirked and kissed her again before getting up. His back hurt as he tried stretching out his sore muscles. The torn up skin still seemed sensitive even though it's been a few months since it happened. "What? No breakfast?" His eyebrow arched as he stared back at her. "If you wanted to play this gag on longer, a husband is entitled to a breakfast from his wife. Especially after what night we had." He shrugged and sat down on her couch.  "Well, as you may have noticed I live with my parents still. It's not ideal, it's required by Perry I do. The moment I turned 18 the court decided it's best I just stay with them." Paris rolled his eyes as he hated life at home "just for six months.....then I'm out of here. I'm moving away from my past." He mainly spoke to himself, thinking on how life has drastically changed within one year. His sister hates him, father barely says much, his mom still gets onto him on any sort of racial or sexist remarks he makes. His brother on the other hand, worships him like a god. Or did atleast, after he quit he was forced to as well. " since I didn't get said breakfast, lets just get some shall we?" Paris got up, wanting to get his mind away from the troubles at home.

Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: ǝsɐɔ ʇǝʞsɐq Date: 12-22-2013 2:33:38

Eden laid back down on the hard floor next to him, there wasn't a likely chance she'd fall back asleep now, especially as the sun rose and bit by bit the little apartment was flooded with light. It didn't take long, maybe twenty minutes or so for her to hear Paris' morning greeting, and she turned to him, a small smile forming across her lips just as he answered his phone. She could tell his mother was mad, but from the look on his face, Paris didn't seem to care, and she really wondered what sort of trouble he would be in for even staying with her for the night, she was certainly glad he had. Her quirks didn't seem to terrify or put him off like they had been known to with other guys so when she heard him nervously laugh when he noticed the ring she tried not to crack up with laughter. "That would make two of us," she said, Somehow the idea of them getting hitched in a late night escapade after everything else that had happened seemed like it would just be the icing on the cake.

 She smiled, almost blushing as he mentioned her strength, "All it takes is a little time at the Y, kind of got into boxing a few years back when my parent...." And then she stopped and corrected herself, "Isaac and Grace asked me to move out. A girl on her own can never be to careful, you know." She laughed a little at his mention of stalking her, "Trust me, I won't tell Officer Perry if you don't, something tells me she wouldn't think too much of two 'delinquents' spending time together. Who knows what sort of trouble we might get into." And as he sat her on his lap, asking her how she managed to get him to agree to something like marriage she looked at him stone faced, letting herself fall into the act she'd wanted to play so badly since she'd slipped the ring onto his finger.

 "You honestly don't remember...? You looked so happy and ... I thought." She looked up at him through her lashes, throwing up those doe eyes she'd used so often as a distraction to shoplift in the past. "You said...and we were on the beach," if anything pulling a full guilt trip on him would be enough, "If you don't want to though...I understand...it did seem a little too good to be ..." but her last word was cut off by a small laugh, she couldn't even help it now, bursting into laughter. "Okay, okay, we didn't get married, I just wanted to see how you'd react to it all, certainly would have been interesting to ask if now that we were married if I could meet your mom."

Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-22-2013 0:52:56

Just as the day went by the night quickly followed. Paris felt the aches all on his shoulders and back. His eyes fluttered open as they adjusted to the sunshine. "Mmm good morning..." He mumbled as he let go of her hand and rubbed his eyes. Before either of them could say anything his phone had gone off once again:  Paris -knowing he was in for it- : Good morning, mom!  Mama Dounas -obviously pissed- : where in the hell are you?! We've been calling all night!  Paris -wincing as his mom yelled-: didn't you tell me I should be out more?  Mama D: With my knowledge yes! You're on probation Paris!  Paris -groaning as his eyes glanced over to Eden, making him smile- : ok, well im fine.... I'll come home later.  Mama D: Get your ass home now!  Paris -smirking some before he glanced down at his free hand, seeing a ring he never saw before- : uhh.... I'll call you later. Love you.  -phone click-  Paris' eyes focused on the silver band that fit perfectly on his ring finger. Astonished he glanced over at hers, seeing one in the exact same finger. "Uh...." He gave her a smile, the best he could as he felt chocked up on what to say. "I didn't think it got that wild last night... Hell I never been drunk that bad to where I would do this!" He chuckled to loosen himself up some, getting up he searched for his clothes. "I had fun last night...." He said, trying to remember if they in fact got married at some point. Perhaps he was drugged midway through the night. "I must admit, I've never met someone who was strong like you." He smirked as he got his pants on, his eyes scanning down her body. "Then again... This is the first I ever stalked somebody you know? God if perry found out what I did...whew I'd go back to jail." Paris got back on the ground and pulled her in his lap, lightly kissing the tip of her nose. "So...what'd you use on me? Rupees?"

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: ǝsɐɔ ʇǝʞsɐq Date: 12-21-2013 20:13:24

There was something so transfixing about the heat, the desire, and swift motions between them. Eden couldn't recall ever feeling like this, let alone so quickly, Paris left her lusting for more with each passing moment that she was left weak and exhausted after they'd been brought back down to earth. She laid on the floor, her back a little achy from their descent from the couch, and she smiled, almost mischievously up at him, as if their first go at it together had been nothing but over and beyond sensational. Her grip was still tight on one of his arms, her nails had clearly dug their way into his skin, she let them free of his skin, looking at them as she did so and then back to him, "Sorry, guess I got a little .... caught up in it all. Forgive me for what I'm sure will last longer than any aches and pains we'll have from that tumble earlier." She sighed with exhaustion, pushing up to kiss him once more before it really set in. The exhaustion hit her harder than she expected, and she knew it was bad form to pass out right after, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

 But there was one thing that the exhaustion couldn't keep her from for long, every night since that day that would haunt her forever it came rushing back, just like the water had done. She woke up in a panic, her eyes darting open and her breathing quick and shallow, sitting up quickly to try to get her wits about her. It took a few momenta to even realize Paris was still there and she was surprised she hadn't woken him, in the past she'd been know to scream so loud that sometimes she's wake herself up. When her breathing finally slowed, she was quick to notice that the sin was already beginning to rise, soon enough the little studio apartment would flood with light and make it almost impossible to sleep. Eden got up, making sure to move slowly as to not wake Paris up before venturing to the small bathroom, where she closed the door before turning on the light. Her hair literally looked like she hadn't brushed it in days, that much she could tell while her eyes adjusted to the light. She took a brush from the shelf above the sink, running it through her hair until it looked somewhat presentable. All the while she kept sniffing at the air, his scent seemed to be on her, filling the space around her and it was intoxicatingly delightful. As she set the brush back onto the shelf she noticed she was still wearing her many rings, something she usually took off before bed, but in this case she'd been far too preoccupied to do so. She toyed with the one on her thumb as she turned off the light to the bathroom and opened the door to the living space.

 The silver band was simple, far too large to go on any other finger, and as she lied back down next to him, pulling a blanket from the couch, draping it over them, and moving his hand over it after she was done an idea popped into her head. She slipped all the other rings off her fingers, keeping the silver band in her reach and making sure just to keep one on her ring finger. Now she'd never been one to know much about where rings were supposed to go, but she at least knew what finger, so she laced her hand with that of his that was over the blanket, siding the ring on his while doing so. She grinned at their hands, a little bit more mischievously than she probably should have, but she knew it would be quite amusing to see his face when he saw it, there'd be no doubt in that.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-21-2013 18:07:53

Paris' fist clenched the fabric of her skirt, nearly ripping it as he pulled it off her hips. After he threw it to the side his lips crashed against hers for another feverish kiss. It had been awhile since he allowed himself to do something like this, something so different then his normal day to day stuff. Home, Perry, then back home to sleep. He hadn't done much with his life once he was let out, thinking it would always be this way. Paris pushed those thoughts away as he grabbed a hold of the last piece of clothing keeping her from being completely exposed. His eyes gazed down her naked body, mesmerized by her looks. His forceful nature got to the best of him, his jeans and boxers were quickly pulled off and thrown to the side. After he reached for his wallet he looked back at her and smirked. "There's one part you forgot to check....." He said as he unzipped it and pulled the packaged condom out of it. Paris busted it open and slid it on, throwing his wallet back on the ground. "Safety first right? Wouldn't want something to go unplanned huh?" He pressed his lips back to hers, almost forcing himself inside her as his hips began to rock against hers. The couch wasn't big enough for something like this, hell Paris alone thought his fingers pierced through the cushions as he gripped on it. Aggravated with it he rolled the two of them off it, stopping once he was on top again. "We'll feel that later..."  Nightfall seem to come fast, Paris laid wide awake as he looked up at the ceiling. Eden's body remained close to his, sound asleep with his arm wrapped around her tiny frame. His hair was a mess, cheeks still flushed from all the excitement, he counted three marks on his body that he could see. It definetly was nothing like he ever had, whereas most women just took it she seemed to fight back; which was a huge turn on for him. Paris raked his fingers through his drenched locks, trying to comb out the mess it was. Blindly his hand reached for his phone, turning it on to see what felt like a dozen missed calls from both his parents with countless messages. "Must've been on silence...." He said quietly to himself, smirking as he shook his head. Paris looked down at Eden, seeing how peacefully she slept against him. His fingers lightly trailed down her cheek as he smiled. His parents didn't need him home tonight, he'd much rather stick around. With a deep sigh he closed his eyes again, allowing the sleepiness to win as he drifted off into dreaming on what events took place during the last few hours.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: ǝsɐɔ ʇǝʞsɐq Date: 12-07-2013 17:36:20

 There was something there that Eden had never been able to comprehend with anyone before, Paris just made sense to her, and as she felt his hand grips hers and those lips smile at her, she felt she could genuinely return it with one of her own. It was strange, this new found emotion of actual happiness that she was sure she had at some point in her life, but no one had even tried to get it out of her and he'd already managed it without trying. When her pulled her up and onto his lap, feeling his forehead brush against her own her eyes met his, and much as she had done as a child she stared into those brilliant eyes of his, not searching, just watching, sinking deep into them as if she could almost see his soul. She was so caught up in him that she hadn't realized that he had removed her bra, she was exposed and in so many more ways than just her bare skin being out in the open, and she actually didn't care, for once in her life it felt so right, so unquestionably right.

 Her legs slipped to either side of him, her long skirt literally pooling around them and as he left her breathless with another kiss she pulled all of herself closer to him, even being inches apart didn't seem acceptable. There was no denying the bulge growing beneath her, it excited her, and she felt herself almost dragging her lower half against him at an excruciatingly slow pace, there wasn't anything she didn't want to feel, and it was so easy to do so when all that stood between them was his jeans and what little fabric there was covering her. Ever kiss between them felt deep, passionate and delightfully warm and intoxicating, she relished in each one, both of her hands now on either of his shoulder, her fingers in his hair, dragging along his neck when she'd get lost in him. So when he pulled them from her, she felt lost in another sense, but when he found a new place to delight her with she wasn't going to argue. He was forceful, but also gentle, a combination that left her with more want then she ever knew she could desire, her head fell to to top of his, her lips pressing tightly together as she drew in a deep breath, he smelled amazing, and it took everything within her to not want to take him in that instant. She'd let him continue, to ignite that fire within her, and then she's show him why she had said what she had about her name earlier.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-07-2013 16:49:43

Something as simple as a kiss, meant more than words to Paris. He clutched her hand tightly, squeezing it some as he gave her a small smile as his own way of saying thank you. The number of times he was told sorry were enough to drive him insane. Although it was terrible what happened, he felt that it was a way to remind him of the horrible he had done. Paris sat her up in his lap, resting his forehead to hers as his breathing became slightly heavy. Eden looked breathtaking, her body perfect in his eyes. He lightly kissed her nose as his hands went behind her back, looking for the latch of her bra. For once in his life, speaking didn't seem necessary to him... Only action. His lips met up with hers as he took off her bra. The way her lips moved against his felt inviting, warm. His tongue made its way to hers as he deepened the kiss. His groin ached under her, begging for atleast the same friction from earlier.

Allowing it he began to tease her against his hardening shaft, making sure she could feel where it wanted to go. A small grunt escaped his lips, feeling the pleasure of just her body this close to him being overwhelming. Paris broke the kiss and looked down at her body, seeing it move against his as she wanted some form of release as well. His thumb traced her hardening bud on her right breast, the soft flesh being grasped by his hand as the other nipple met up with his lips. His shaft felt restrained, being forced to stay down due to his jeans. Paris forced her body to work harder against him, wanting to be completely ready by the time the clothes were completely off.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: ǝsɐɔ ʇǝʞsɐq Date: 12-07-2013 1:33:08

The moment he pulled his lips from hers Eden was full of confusion and she opened her eyes to see him in such a terrified state she couldn't help but wonder if she'd done something wrong. Her hands drew back from him as she propped herself up on her elbows, gazing up at him in wonder as he seemed to be at a loss of words. And then her eyes met his and the look in them was all too familiar, there was pain in them, something had triggered what she assumed was a flash back, but she wasn't sure exactly what it had been or what the memory could possibly be. "Paris?" she asked, almost hesitantly, unsure how far he'd been swept into the memory, and when he did eventually come to she could breath a little easier. It wasn't until the shirt that he wore was removed that it began to be a little clearer, she could see from her position the scar tissue all along his back, indeed it must have more closer to an excruciating memory, even still it looked painful. She looked at the scar, seeing that she had really only been inches from touching the scar moments earlier and then she turned her attention back to him as he spoke, and she could tell there was something else he wanted to say, but she wasn't going to push him. There was little she could think of to say to him, all her scars were internal, years of torment and abandonment haunted her, so she said nothing, just simply pushed herself up onto her hands and placed a soft and tender kiss upon his forehead, it was her way of saying that she understood.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-07-2013 0:02:52

The tips of Eden's fingers came so close, his heart raced in a way that wasn't good when they almost ran across it. Quickly Paris pulled away from her lips, his chest heaving while his eyes were filled with regret. "I..." He glanced down at her, feeling a little more at ease while his heart stopped racing against him. He lightly bit his bottom lip as he thought, so upset with himself as memories of that night flashed through his head. Drunk, as always Paris laid in the field with some woman he just met. Clothes completely scattered around them as they teased around with each other. Then theflames engulfed were they were, she completely running off without him. It was if he was there again, the heat making him somewhat sweat as he thought about it. The pain that came the moment his bare skin on his back came in contact with the flame... his eyes shut tightly as he told himself he wasn't there anymore. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to startle you." His eyes opened back to look down at her, feeling safe in her apartment now. Paris gave her a small smile before he took off his shirt. There in plain sight was the scar from that night, starting at the bottom of his shoulder blade down to his entire bottom right back. His fingers traced the destroyed skin, "it's what keeps me from going back....."

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: ǝsɐɔ ʇǝʞsɐq Date: 12-06-2013 23:22:11

Eden found herself lost in those moments when his lips would press to hers with such haste that it was intoxicating. It was like that first kiss left her wanting more, her tongue gliding past his lips, dragging against his tongue and relishing in the warmth of it just as she felt him push her back onto the couch. When he pulled his lips from hers she wasn't sure what to make of it, but she could see that wicked grin tracing along those lips of his and she just gazed up at him, she was enthralled, enamored, every bit of her felt like it was coursing from this inconceivable high. She listened to him, once again slightly amused that she'd seemed to catch him off guard, that her lips turned up into another one of those uncommon movements of a smile as his thumb glided over them. "Well its a first for me... You just ...," and then she turned her head to the side, feeling that warmth rush to her cheeks again and she kept her head turned before she spoke again, "make me feel things I'm not used to. Things that ... I can't even begin to explain, but I assure you they're delightful." When she felt his hands and hips upon her she felt safe enough to turn back to him, her bottom lip in the clutches in her teeth again. Heat was beginning to rise with in her as he continued to motion her hips against her and she chose to draw a leg around him, wanting the feeling to only intensify. She let him have his way with her, feeling his tug at her shirt and she sat up just slightly so that they were easier to remove. She let out a small delightful sigh as he took his lips to her skin again and she turned her head slightly towards the side of his, letting her tongue drag along the side of his ear before her teeth nipped lightly at the lobe. Her hand that had been at his neck moved down, her fingers playing along his back until she reached the edge of his shirt and her hand drew it up under his shift ever so slightly, feeling the firmness of the skin on his back.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-06-2013 17:56:46

It was if Eden had some kind of control on him. Usually Paris was the one who called the shots on most things yet even he was taken aback when her lips met with his. Sure he had his fair share of first kisses, yet there was something paciular about this one. His arms held her small frame close to his, pushing her down on her own couch as he deepened the kiss. It was crazy enough that he did what he had done earlier today, but this was something else. Eden was something else. Already pulling away so soon he wanted more. Yet with the way his ego was he had to look down and smile at her. "I must admit, usually I make the first move. It's nice to see somebody else take control." Paris' thumb ran across her full bottom lip as he spoke. Her cheeks seemed flushed with excitement as his was. A smirk played on his lips as his hand traveled down to her chest, groping her breast lightly as he grounded his hips against hers some. The friction alone was enough to get a rise out of him, it'd been months since he last done anything close to this. The want in his eyes was obvious, to him at least. Her shirt had to come off, no questions asked or anything. He grabbed a hold of the white cloth and helped her pull it over her head. Paris allowed her to keep the bra on, not wanting to rush into things too fast. His lips pressed against the base of her throat, lightly kissing it as his hips continued to move over hers.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: ǝsɐɔ ʇǝʞsɐq Date: 12-05-2013 1:29:30

Eden watched with slight amusement as the realization of what she had said hit him, and a silence fell between them. The edges of her lips turned up into an almost heartfelt smile, a movement she wasn't used to so it didn't quite have the same effect. The fact that she could silence him with such a simple thing as a word was endearing, usually she was the one stuck in silence and even from the moment they'd met at the station he'd said more in that time then she'd spoken in a few days. She nodded her head just a bit in reply to his question, "Yes, pleasure, not exactly what one would think, but I think it has value in certain things." Eden watched him intently as the whole shock of her words seemed to settle a bit and then she saw the one thing that made it worth it, that smirk upon his lips that made her feel like the room had started spinning. But it seemed like he was planning on pushing her right past the spinning and into a whole other realm of unfamiliar territory as he began to close the space between them and she felt those familiar fingers along the side of her face. She tried to focus before she spoke but wasn't sure if she'd managed it, "I'll ... Uh ... Keep that in mind. Wouldn't want to, you know, not live up to said expectations."

 Eden didn't know what to make of what was happening, and she certainly wasn't going to fight it, personal space at this point was falling to the wayside. She'd already felt that nervous flutter twice before that day, now she was sure it those nerves were visible as her cheeks burned upon hearing the fact that someone in the world, but more importantly him, actually thought she was beautiful. It wasn't something she'd ever heard stated outright, and there he was, just stating how he felt, and now she was the one caught off guard again, feeling thing for him she was sure she'd never felt before, but had no certain way of even vocalizing them. So she felt almost a sense of relief when she felt those lips, those same lips that she'd found herself lingering too long on, upon the soft skin of her collarbone. 'Oh my god!!' was all she could think, her mind reeling as the sensation was nothing less than incredible. Her teeth gripped her lower lip hastily as he continued and she let herself get lost in it for a moment, her arm wrapping around him, her fingers gliding through his hair. She arched her back slightly, almost purposefully drawing his lips from her skin, intent on pulling them to her own that when she got them she pressed a heated kiss into him, letting go of any inhibitions she had.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-05-2013 0:19:25

"Who knows. Maybe when I meet that special lady I'll start a war for her.." Paris stared off in the distance as she spoke. Her name was unique, he was sure he'd never met an Eden in his life. The name certainly fit her in the beauty since, but it wasn't until she uttered the word pleasure that stopped him dead silent. His eyes snapped back in her direction, mind unsure on what he should say which was a first. He didn't want to be up front on everything and tease about if they should test it out to see if it was true. Instead, he just smiled in her direction ones again. "Pleasure huh?" His arm snaked its way back to him as he straighted up his posture. Paris remained silent, still speechless on everything. Smirking some he positioned his body to face her. "I must say...that beats my meaning that is of course, you live up to it." He allowed himself to inch closer to her, breaking that 'personal bubble' zone she had. Softly his hand brushed up her cheek to push her hair back. "I've never been one to lie, and honestly I think you're the most beautiful thing I've seen." As cheesy as it sounded Paris didn't care, he thought that the moment he first saw her. Even while in Perry's office all he could think about was her. Hell he wouldn't be here if he didn't want to know more about this woman he met a mere few hours ago. He laid his forehead down against her shoulder, lightly kissing her collarbone.

_________________  From: Eden Bennett Date: 12-03-2013 0:21:22

 She slid his ID back into his wallet, handing it to it to him as he sat on the couch next to her. Her nose scrunch nose at the mention of Romeo and Juliet, "If that's the only pairing available..." Eden watched him intently as he began to tell her about his names origin, her gaze falling to her arm, watching and feeling the tip of his finger upon her skin. When she heard him stop speaking for a moment she looked back up to him with a small smile. "So are you planning on starting a war of your own someday?" She gave him a once over, perhaps longer than she should have before shrugging her shoulders, "Yea...I guess it kind of fits...." But her word were cut off as she felt his hand and arm wrap around her, and she turned to look at his hand, and then back to him where that smile of his just seemed to beam at her. She tried to clear her head as he asked her about her name so she didn't sound like a complete idiot. "I'm not sure to be honest. Grace and Isaac weren't the ones to name me." People may have thought it was strange that she called her parents by their first names but in the past few years calling them mom and dad didn't feel right, they didn't feel like family as they once had when she was a child. "I have however heard that there are a few meaning to the name, the garden of course, delight...and one of perhaps my favorites..." A little bit of a grin made its way across her lips and she looked up at him before she spoke again, "pleasure..."

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-03-2013 2:03:22

Paris couldn't help but flinch when she threw her boots at him. "Whoa whoa whoa!!! ....calm down...." How she managed to get his wallet again was beyond him. It didn't upset him, just made him more curious on how she does it. "You can call me Romeo... Only if you be my Juliet of course." He sat down next to her on the small couch, letting out a loud sigh as he stretched. "Yep... I was named after the man who started the Trojan war just by stealing another man's woman.." Paris traced his finger against her arm. Most people think he was named after the city in France, which would always cause a rise out of him. His name was Greek just as he was, which was something he was always proud of. "Yeah... Of course he was good looking. I mean a woman wouldn't leave her husband for somebody who wasn't. I always thought the name fitted me in more ways then one." Paris wrapped his arm around her shoulder and grinned, wondering how awkward he had made her. "So... Does your name have some special meaning behind it. Did your parents name you Eden because you're as beautiful as the garden?"

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Eden Bennett Date: 12-02-2013 0:12:28

 She was slightly taken aback by his clear lack of understanding about personal space and even if she had tried to move away there wasn’t much space between him and the door to move between. A brow cocked curiously as he smiled at her, what was it about that smile that left her feeling nervous again, much as it had back at the station. But as soon as he pushed past her screaming that he was Luke Skywalker that feeling subsided; now she was slightly frustrated that he’d intentionally avoided her question and made his way into her place. She huffed, throwing her boots in his direction, but not with the intention of hitting him, although if they had she would just consider it a happy accident. “Me, mad … no not at all,” she said finally as she walked into her apartment and closed the door behind her. “The next time you want to withhold information maybe you should be more attune to your proximity,” and with a wide grin she held up his wallet again, opening it as she walked over to the small couch that also pulled out into a bed, pulling out his ID as she sat upon it. “And so he has a name, Paris Micah Dounas.” _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-01-2013 23:44:14

Paris smirked smugly to himself as she started talking while opening the door. Maybe he wasn't ready to tell her his name, it was more of a game to him now compared to earlier. Once she turned to face him, he just shook his head and walked close to her. His hand grabbed the door handle as he allowed himself to practically press up against her. "You want to know who I am?" He glanced down at her and smiled, his grip on the door tightening up. "I'm Luke Skywalker and I'm here to rescue you!!" He practically screamed it as his hand turned the knob, shoving it open as he ran inside. Paris clutched at his abdomen as he laughed, his face turning a bright red as he lost oxygen. "Ok.....ok..... That was good... Admit it...." His laughing calmed down as he looked around, it was cozy...small...but cozy. He didn't have any room to judge, not wanting to mention he lived with his parents still. "Nice place..." He looked back at her and smiled. "Awe, don't tell me I upset you!"

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Eden Bennett Date: 12-01-2013 21:58:30

 Eden didn’t know what to make of the stranger from the station and when he chuckled she wasn’t sure if it was because she looked ridiculous holding a pair of boots up in the air like a crazy person or because he had other sinister things in mind. She stepped back quickly on the stairs, not saying a word, her eyes wide a more full of fear than anything else as he jumped up and raised his voice to her. When he pulled out the wallet, her eyes gazed down on it, and when he opened it up and she saw the lack of contents in it her gaze drew up to him. She was purely puzzled, especially as he mentioned why he was there and then spoke her name, it was only after he started berating her with questions that she opted to speak, walking up the remaining stairs between them. “For a  person who claims to know enough to find me you sure are full of questions.”

 She dropped her boots on the mat by the front door before pulled a small set of keys from her bag to unlock it. “Before I answer your question…” she said as she turned to lock, “Why don’t you at least be a gentleman and tell me your name, you after all seem to already know so much about me.” Her tone was rather harsh; he’d already managed to touch a nerve she’d tried so hard to forget about over the past six years. “If you tell me you can come in, otherwise you might as well go, I don’t open my home to people I don’t know.” She slowly pushed the door open, turning to pick up her boots she glanced at him, at little glare in her eyes as she did so, “Well, what will it be then, in or out?” _________________  From: Paris Date: 12-01-2013 21:30:53

The startled look on her face made Paris chuckle. Perhaps for his own amusement he should play out like he was angry at her. "Why would you go around stealing people's wallets!?" He jumped up, acting as if he was really pissed off at her. He grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket, a light brown one that was a replica of Samuel L. Jackson's from Pulp Fiction (a movie that had always been a favorite of his.) "you see this?! You know how much money I keep in this?!" He opened it up to show the lack of it he really had, once she looked back up at him he just chuckled. "Don't worry sweetheart, Im not mad...." He closed it back up, shoving it in his back pocket once again. "I came here because a little voice inside my head told me I should. Our friend downtown doesn't seem to hide personal information easily. So tell me Eden Rayne Bennett... What made you snap?" Usually women who were kleptomaniacs or quiet meant something was wrong. "Lemme guess... Daddy touched you? No? Hmmm...... If it wasn't rape it must've been abuse. Did he spank you around too much. I always thought a little abuse never hurt a kid personally but who am I to judge huh!?" Paris had been known to just speak forever, never holding anything back no matter how fucked up it was. The ADD was to blame, that... And how he lacks people skills these days.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Eden Bennett Date: 11-30-2013 0:46:32

 Eden didn’t make a sound, just stood there as the stranger took his wallet back from her; the only response she gave to his comment was a quick flutter of her eye lashes as she just stared at him. He didn’t seem too perturbed by her, but she couldn’t say the same, he actually made her rather nervous, in a way she wasn’t used to. When Officer Perry returned to her to read her the riot act, Eden slightly tilted her head to the side, watching the stranger enter the office she’d just departed, slightly curious about him now. If she’d managed to get away with his wallet maybe there would have been information in there for her to learn more about, but alas she was walking away empty handed, and her ego a little bit more than bruised.

 Once outside the building Eden waited, as she always did for her father, it was his duty after all to pick her up after these sessions, but more often than not he’d forget about her. In fact only twice had he actually remembered that she was there, the two weren’t close, never had been and Eden had stressed her mother out to the point of near insanity that the option of her mother coming within feet of her was likely to never happen. So she waited … five.. fifteen … thirty minutes before she finally gave up any hope that Isaac would come and take her home. She had, however, managed to paint her nails in that span of time, a light purple that she felt offered a little whimsy to her look, which drastically needed some help. She wore a basic white t-shit over a tank top of the same color that was paired with a long purple skirt, which just barely covered the commando boots on her feet. With a slight sigh she once again made the trek back to her apartment, which was a long walk from the station, a good 45 minutes and she cursed under her breath that once again she’d have to walk it alone.

 By the time she reached the apartment complex where she resided Eden’s boots where in her hands, her messy blonde hair had frayed outside of its usual confined place in a hair tie and her breathing was slightly heavy. She groaned as she made her way up the rickety stairs to the second story apartment her father had purchased to ensure her mother wouldn’t lose her mind. It wasn’t anything fancy by any stretch a 300 square ft studio apartment in a neighborhood that left quite a bit to be desired, but it was hers and hers alone. So when she noticed a figure sitting outside the door to her apartment she stopped, raising up her boots as a means to defend herself. “I don’t have anything even worth keeping, please … just let me ….” And as she cimbed a few steps higher the face of the stranger stared back at her and she was thoroughly confused. “What in the world …?” she asked rhetorically “If you’re here for revenge or an apology I have to say I can give you neither, so you might as well just leave.” _________________  From: Paris Date: 11-29-2013 22:08:54

"You know how much I enjoy these little visitations Officer Perry..." Paris smirked as he walked towards her, the pissed off look in her face stopping him dead in his tracks. "Sheesh.... If I knew you wanted my money so bad sweet face I would've made you work for it." He gave her a small wink as he took back his wallet, checking to see if everything was there. "Go easy on her Perry, the ladies can't control themselves around me." He chuckled as he walked by himself to her office. Paris waited a few moments as she spoke to the thief who tried to steal his wallet. Perhaps he should consider getting a chain, it would be harder to steal it then he thought. Even if she got away with it all it really had was twenty bucks and a few expired coupons for McDonald's. When officer Perry came in he gave her a smile as she sat down. "You seem to be in a pleasant mood today..." She said, wondering why her usual convict wasn't his usual pessimistic self today. Paris just kept grinning at her and relaxed against the chair. "I think I'm in love officer... Do you believe in love at first sight?" The woman seemed disgusted by his words, thinking that it was the last thing he really needs. "Mr.Dounas I assure you you're better off without her." His eyebrow arched at her bluntness, "ouch....and I wonder what you say about me behind my back."  "So you won't give me a name of any sort?" He asked for the hundredth time, wanting to know more about this Ms.Bennett he spoke too earlier. "I'm not allowed to Paris, you know this." The tired woman rubbed her eyes, putting his file back in her desk before getting up, "I suppose we're done for the day, I'll see you same time next week." She walked out to the restroom down the hall, leaving him alone in her office. After checking the hallways he ran behind her desk, looking in that drawer for a file with the other woman's last name. "There you are...." He quickly opened it and read as fast as he could, "Eden huh......." He grabbed his phone and took a picture of the address she had listed on there. Pleased with himself after he cleaned up the mess he made he quickly made his way out. "Have a good weekend ma'am." He said to her as she came out of the bathroom. He entered the elevator with a smirk, feeling accomplished with himself.  The taxi dropped him off where the address said, Paris paid the man before darting off inside the apartment complex. After knocking a few times at her door he realized she must still be out. He just sat next to her door and waited, wondering when this Eden Bennett would show up.

 Sent via RolePlayer.me Mobile _________________  From: Eden Bennett Date: 11-19-2013 0:12:11

 Eden didn’t even try to stifle a yawn as it emitted past her lips, clearly she was bored, this meeting felt like it would never end. Officer Perry was just rambling at this point, going on about the endless places she’d end up if she kept up what she was doing. She just couldn’t help herself sometimes; her ability to mostly go unnoticed left her to often wonder what she could actually get away with without getting caught. But she had gotten caught, a few times, the last time was for shoplifting things she didn’t even want or need for that matter. A rather large back scratcher, a few bottles of deep purple nail polish and a packet of PEZ with Snoopy as the head was all she’d taken, in reality yes, they were stupid things to take, but would they really go unnoticed if she hadn’t gotten caught?

 “If it wasn’t for that damn back scratcher…” Eden mumbled under her breath, her thick Australian accent was present as she spoke, which she instantly regretted when Officer Perry stopped talking. “Eden, c’mon!” the woman nearly screamed at her, “You’re on a downward spiral here kid, take it from me, if you don’t stop it now it’s going to take you places you’d never want to go.” As much as the woman may have been right Eden really just didn’t care and she swiftly rolled her eyes to the comment. “Like anyone would notice if I just up and disappeared one day, you’re the only one who doesn’t think I’m bloody invisible and that’s because I’m required to come here.” And then relief flung itself at her as she heard the quick little beep of the timer in the room, signaling the end of their meeting, “I’ll try better, promise!” she said in a hurry before leaving the office.

 Not more than a few steps outside of that office doorway and she heard an unfamiliar sound that caught her off guard and when she looked to find its creator she cocked a questioning brow and then looked around. Was he really referring to her as this so called “angel” cause last time she’d checked she didn’t have wings. “Uhhhh, it’s” but she paused as her eyes caught the small bulge in his back pocket and she went for it as she mumbled her name quietly under her breath and then turned to walk away. “Miss Bennett!” and in that instant she stopped walking, scrunching up her face and closing her eyes, yep, she was caught. “Buggar, buggar, buggar,” she cursed to herself as she turned around to face officer Perry’s legitimately beating red face, “Would you be so kind as to give Mister Dounas his wallet back?” With a frustrated sigh she pulled his wallet from her bag by the corner with two fingers and held it up to her line of site, giving it a once over before handing it to the one she’d taken it from without a word. _________________  From: Paris Date: 11-18-2013 22:10:44

"Look, I'm only here just to keep the big man happy and to keep me out of the slammer. I know I've done wrong so let's just move on from it." Slouching down in the chair, Paris refused to make any more eye contact with the woman in front of him. The past eighteen months had hardened him some, Juvi wasn't anything like he expected. Now 18, he was free to do what he wanted. He was still asked to see a probation officer for the next few months. Now if he was going to follow that rule was the question. "We want to make sure that this incident will never happen again sir, now if you would just talk to...." Paris' icy state cut her midway. "Why should I listen to you anyhow? You're just a woman."  The next visits weren't any better, although he swore to never brutally assault people some of his other habits have yet to die. His Neo-nazi clothing for example, still a major part of his daily wardrobe. Even if he was seeing Officer Perry he had no problem whatsoever to wear it. His hair remained untouched, the one thing he somewhat enjoy having back again. The next visit was within the hour, Paris hadn't even gotten up to get ready yet. He had missed last weeks, which resulted in a serious call that if he was to miss again they would have a warrant for his arrest. Honestly jail time didn't sound too bad, the real world had nothing for him. If it wasn't for his Mom coming in and forcing him up he would've waited for the police to come then. He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a simple wife beater, not looking to impress really anybody today anyways. Once he was finished his mom waited in the car, wanting to make sure he arrived there and stayed.  "I just wish you would take this seriously..." The older woman took out a handkerchief and rubbed the corner of her eye as she drove. Paris just slipped on his sunglasses and stared blankly at the road. "That woman has no right to judge me." The brainwashing his brothers had done was etched in his brain practically. "No nigger, Jew, faggot or woman has any right to say what I did was wrong okay?!" His mom remained mute, hating her son for saying what he just did. Her hand reached for the radio and turned it on to drown the silence, leaving Paris alone to finally sulk in his seat. Once they got there he didn't bother saying anything to her, just went ahead and got out. As he walked up to the room he noticed a newer client he assumed. Deciding he was going to lighten up his own mood,Paris smirked and whistled in her direction, giving her a wink once she looked his way. "How's it going gorgeous?" His tongue lightly brushed against his lower lip as all she did was stare. "Heaven's missing an angel, you got a name sexy?" He chuckled as another cop pulled him away "She is ready to see you Dounas." He said as he guided him back to the room. "So long sweetheart! Until we meet again!"

[salemspoint-blog]

❝ I used to punch walls until my knuckles bled because I was filled with rage and anger, now I punch walls until they bleed just to fucking feel something, or to at least try. ❞

» Sawyer King » Twenty-nine » Vampire (ex-hunter) » Mechanic » Charlie Hunnam

Physical Appearance —

There is nothing special about the appearance of Sawyer King. He does not own any clothes that would be considered expensive or name brand. He purchases his white t-shirts in bundles at the local discount clothing store, and wears the same old blue jeans that he always has. The occasional black or navy blue jacket will be seen covering the same white t-shirt, or swapped out for a leather jacket if he’s taking a ride on his motorcycle. His dirty blonde hair is typically seen lying where it falls after he has taken his shower, or slicked back if he’s feeling up to bothering with it. The stubble on his face matches perfectly with his hair, and Sawyer only cares to keep it cleaned up due to the job that he has. Otherwise, he wouldn’t bother messing with it until it became a problem.

At times, Sawyer can walk with an arrogance to match his overly sized ego. He’s been known to sway when he walks, especially if he is walking with a purpose. Typically, one hand will be seen in front of his body, fingers curled around the top of his jeans to hold them in place. When standing, he tends to slouch, his shoulders drooped down instead of standing tall like his mother had always instructed him to. This is mainly due to years spent on the back of a motorcycle, and the arrogance that he doesn’t need to be ready for a fight. As far as speaking goes, Sawyer talks with a heavy Southern accent, noticed instantly by those that overhear him. And boy will they overhear him; he has no idea what level means when it comes to talking. He will be loud, he will be crude, and there will always be some form of a swear word mixed in with the rest.

Personality Traits —

♦ Determined, challenging, and protective ♢ Reactionary, impulsive, and cold

Biography —

Sawyer Thomas King was a mess of a young boy; he was reckless, he was fearless, but above all else, he wanted to prove that he was just as good as his older brother. The pair of boys were separated in age by five years, leaving Elijah as the one that always got to do anything and everything first. He had learned how to play sports first, he had learned how to drive a car first, and most importantly, he had learned how to shoot a gun first. Growing up, Sawyer had always been in the shadow of his older brother, though he had tried time and time again to step out of that, to show that he was just as good, if not better. No matter how many times their mother expressed that they were not the same, that Sawyer was and always would be his own person; the young boy hadn’t quite seen it that way.

The King family had been granted with three handsome sons; Elijah, being the eldest; Sawyer, being the middle; and Parker, coming along two years after Sawyer. The boys were all fairly close in age, though the small gap between Elijah and Sawyer, and this brought on more competition than either Mason or Emma King had realized. Elijah was the first to learn of the supernatural world, and boy did it seem like he rubbed it in Sawyer’s face the day he learned shortly after his sixth birthday. You see, the King family had always been a well-known bunch of hunters, making something of a name for themselves in the small town of Ada, Oklahoma. Mason was not only a particularly friendly young man, but he was also quite the sharpshooter; and Emma had a habit of lending a hand when another hunter came in with a nasty wound or a sprained ankle.

It was no surprise when Sawyer wanted to follow in the footsteps of not only his father, but of Elijah, as well. He spent hours upon hours learning how to shoot, perfecting his aim, and deciphering between which gun is which and how each one should be used. He was seen more often at the gun range than he was in a classroom or his own home. And if he wasn’t seen at the gun range, he was liking sat somewhere in his family home, reading up on all things supernatural, figuring out which species had which weakness and attaining that information for later use. He wanted to not only prove to his parents that he was capable of becoming a hunter like them, but that he was just as good at it as Elijah was.

It was shortly after his thirteenth birthday that Sawyer was finally given the hunter’s blessing, like Elijah had been given before him, and his father before that. He would become a part of the King family tradition, and it was not long after he was blessed that he joined both Elijah and his father on his very first hunt. It was a small coven of vampires, holed up in a local abandoned farmhouse, said to be holding young child against their will to be used as blood bags when needed. It was meant to be an easy job; go in, take care of the vampires, and rescue the children. However, Sawyer hadn’t quite been prepared for exactly what a first hunt entitled. He’d frozen in the face of the first vampire, only to have Elijah save him at the last minute. It only added to the necessity to prove that he was just as good, to prove that he didn’t always need his older brother to protect him.

The following years were spent tracking down every supernatural he could with his father or brothers, tugging Parker along when everyone else was busy doing their own thing. The two brothers were more in sync than anyone else in the family, and that was likely due to the close proximity of ages, along with the multitude of time that they had spent together. This continued for several years until Sawyer dropped out of high school just shy of ending his junior year, intending to focus on hunting and making a name for himself. It was some time after his eighteenth birthday that he decided he needed to leave his family home behind, that he needed to get out in the world and deal with supernatural creatures in whichever town he stumbled onto next.

Town after town, city after city; Sawyer went wherever his motorcycle could take him. He crossed paths with new hunters in nearly every city he went to, frequented more bars than he could rightfully count, and slept with woman whose names he would likely never remember. He never settled in one town for too long, always finding a reason to leave or an excuse to split town before things got too complicated. That is — until he found himself in Salem’s Point. It was a city that thrived on the supernatural aspect of the world, even being the home to several of the original and founding families. It was a city that Sawyer would need to keep on his radar, especially when he found himself taking an interest in one of the very original families he needed to be cautious of.

Cassidy Gautier was a force to be reckoned with, matching him shot for shot, crude comment for crude comment. She had been nothing more than an occasional tryst in the local motel room that he had been staying at, especially given that she was one of the very creatures that he had promised to do away with in the world should the time come. Of course, he couldn’t very well kill her given the immortality; but he soon found himself not even considering the possibility. He found that he liked having her around, especially when she battled his own arrogance with her own.

It was a call that he had never hoped to receive that finally pulled him away from Salem’s Point; Elijah had gone after a pack of werewolves on his own. Sawyer had found his brother deep in the woods, not far from the city he had grown accustomed to. The wolves had left his brother for dead, only after they had quite literally torn him to shreds. The sight of Elijah, eyes wide open, lying in the middle of the forest had caused something to snap within him. He had spent the next several days, weeks, and nearly months tracking down every werewolf that had been responsible for his brother’s death and ended them in the most gruesome way he could think of. It was some time after Elijah’s funeral, after he had spent some time with his parents that Sawyer returned to Salem’s Point. There was nothing in the city that called to him, except that it was the last place he’d seen his brother alive, and it was the possibility of seeing one Cassidy Gautier that had him stepping back into the city limits.

The following year was a whirlwind for Sawyer King; from befriending local hunters, to figuring out exactly what he was doing with the original werewolf, to making a name for himself in the new city. There were more ups and downs in that year than he had ever seen on a roller-coaster, the hunter being thrown through so many hoops that he had lost count long ago. It was the relationship he formed with Cassidy that kept him stable, that kept him grounded despite all the curve-balls that he was thrown. Except, there would be one curve-ball that Sawyer King would likely not find himself getting over too soon.

The hunter had returned to his family’s home, after having not seen his parents since Elijah’s funeral, since he’d laid his brother to rest. He’d spent a few days with them, intending to stay longer until he was called back to Salem’s Point, an issue involving Cassidy needing his immediate return. If he hadn’t have found himself falling in love with the original werewolf, if he hadn’t of valued their relationship above many others, perhaps Sawyer wouldn’t have returned when he had, and perhaps he wouldn’t have run into that vampire the very night he’d made it back to town.

The woman in red; that was all he could remember of the vampire who’d forced her blood into his mouth, down his throat and into his system. He remembered her fangs sinking into his neck after the blood was in his system, draining him until he collapsed onto the forest floor. He then remembered waking up to her wicked smile, though the features of her face were not something he could conjure up in his head, could not match to any vampire he had met in the town.

And Sawyer King remembered the following days of trying to put a stake in his chest, but being unable to do what needed to be done. He remembered completing the transition by feeding from the very vein of another hunter, one who he had considered his best friend, his brother. It had taken less than a day for Sawyer to complete his transition, for him to become one of the very things he hated about the world and sought to end; a vampire.