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evdarcy · 4 years ago

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An Unusual Hero C6S2

Please remember, this is unedited and unfinished, but will hopefully fill in the holes that were left and answer some questions without leaving too many others. HOWEVER I will answer all and any questions if you want to leave me a comment.

Next update - Friday 30/04/2021

Sarah jumped awake, but instantly regretted the move. Hissing in pain, she pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes. They throbbed as she tried to open them again and aborted the move almost immediately.

Her eyes filled with water, trying to flush out whatever it was causing the problem, and she had to force one pair of lids open, prying them apart with her fingers, as she peered at herself in the review mirror of the small car.

‘Fuck!’ she breathed as she saw the brown contact halfway up her cornea as it tried to slide behind her eye. She’d fallen asleep with her contacts in and she was going to pay for it badly.

She tried not to flinch as she fished the lens from her eye. Good God, even the sting of tears in her eyes hadn’t made it moist enough to avoid the feeling of torture as she pulled out the tiny piece of plastic.

She sat, puffing and panting through the pain, trying desperately not to rub at either eye, and mentally geared herself up to tackle the second. The right felt far worse than the left and she almost cried out in agony as she forced the lid open.

Shit. It had broken in half; she’d probably scratched her eye. She prayed that she hadn’t; she couldn’t have a bad eye, not now, not when she had to be more observant and aware than ever! She carefully took each part of the lens out and blinked her eyes rapidly, clenching her hands into fists around the steering wheel to stop her from rubbing at her eyes furiously.

This was one of the reasons why she’d had corrective surgery six years ago. It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen asleep in contacts, she was just glad that it would be the last. She sighed, relaxing into her seat as the pain slowly receded and she realised hadn’t done any actual damage.

A snore from behind her made her jump, her eyes flying open as she turned around her in her seat to see Luc Truman. He’d almost folded himself in half, crunched up in the barely worth it backseat. His jacket covered his torso and his head was at an awkward angle pressed against the seat and the door. At least she wasn’t the only one who would be waking up sore. But, shit. It also meant that yesterday hadn’t been a very vivid dream.

She banged her head back against the headrest repeatedly as she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault. Tried to recall what Dr. Jellyman had said to her over the last year and actually believe it this time. The situation was not her fault. Everything came down to the Demon and what he’d done.

And David.

She hoped the devil was riding the agent at that moment.

She rubbed her hands over her face—careful around her eyes—and made a frustrated grunt in the back of her throat. She had no idea what to do or where to go. They hadn’t planned for this contingency; they’d figured if the bastard found her, she’d be dead not on the run.

Okay, she had to pulled herself together, to be strong for the man behind her who’d been thrown in at the deep end. While she might have been in a similar boat twelve months ago, she’d been pulled out quickly and had time afterwards to pause and take a breath.

Luc wasn’t going to have that luxury.

But, first things first. She had to remind herself where she was and work out what her options where.

She wiped her hand across the window and tried to peer through it in the dim morning light. The sun was on the cusp of rising and the earth was caught in the eerie glow that suggested no one should be awake yet. Even nature seemed to still be sleeping, Sarah mused, as she wound down the driver’s window of the little black car and noted the lack of birdsong.

There was a chill in the air and a light, fine rain coated the world around them in a sheen of water that caused a low mist to cling to the road and the lake that stretched out before her. She frowned at the world wishing she was still asleep, tucked up in a soft, warm bed somewhere, with a thick feathery duvet and the heating on full pelt.

Wyoming! The memory of where they were suddenly came back to her.

She’d driven for more than ten hours straight, heading north through a country she’d never visited before. She’d stopped only to refill the car and to relieve herself, but Luc had merely sat next to her, frowning out the window after their talk. She’d watched the myriad of emotions play over his face every time she’d glanced his way or tried to engage him in conversation, but after an hour of silence she’d merely focused on the road, needing to keep an eye out for any vehicles following her. Every time they’d stopped she’d had to hope that he didn’t run from the car screaming and shouting that she’d stolen him away and was holding him hostage, while she tried to take a pee.

As a teacher she’d always thought bathroom breaks were bad; someone was always talking to you through the stall walls, trying to remind you of meetings you had, deadlines, parent calls to return, detentions—the list was endless. But at least she’d never had to worry about someone kicking the door in and hauling her away! Even if she had dreamt about Luc doing it one or twice when she was having a particularly bad day.

She’d finally stopped for the night when she knew she was at risk of crashing the car and doing The Demon’s work for him. And what a stop it was.

In the moonless night she hadn’t realised where she’d chosen to park, but now, good God, was there anything more beautiful? The rolling mist of the morning covered the lake, making it mystical and enchanting. The sun, slowly rising in the east, hit the mountains in front front of her, its orange glow making the snowy peaks glisten and twinkle.

‘Like a fairy tale,’ she whispered as she took in the magical sight.

Sarah opened the door and climbed out, stretching her legs and back, hoping to hear the click she desperately felt she needed, and took a deep breath of the crisp, fresh air. She coughed as her lungs cleared themselves of the stale air from the car and realised how bad the Excel smelled.

She took a few more breaths, allowing the light breeze to make her eyes water, helping her clear out the sting still within them, until her body began to shiver with the morning coldness. She hurried to the back of the car, popping the lock of the boot and lifting the lid.

While all was quiet, she took a better look through the duffel bags hoping she could find a jumper or hoodie to wear to keep her warm, but not holding out much hope. However, she frowned as she saw the clothes; jeans, jumpers, and long sleeved tops all very different from the supposed indie-author image she’d had in mind. Weren’t they all vegans and—

Her brow wrinkled as she frowned harder when her brain stopped short. She’d told Jack and David about what she wanted each of her persona's to be like, how she’d felt she could portray each person realistically. David had laughed alongside her, but Jack had sat there puzzled… At least she’d thought his lowered brows and pursed lips had been confusion, perhaps it had merely been… disapproval?

She grabbed one of the soft hoodies and threw it over her head before shoving the rest of the clothes back in the bag and grabbing the remaining cash from within its depths. She’d taken a few bills from it yesterday to fill the car and grab food, and now she estimated there just shy of fifteen grand still within its wrapper.

In the UK, she was sure she’d manage to live on that quite well for six to eight months, but she had a sinking feeling that in the states it wouldn’t last very long.

She peeled a chunk of the bills from the stack and shoved them into the back pocket of her jeans, putting the rest back with the clothes before she began rifling through the ammunition, checking what she had available. There was enough to refill each of her weapons half a dozen or so times, but would that be enough?

Shit, could you just walk into a store over here and buy more? Would she need ID? A gun certificate? How the hell did it work?

Luc grunted and she peered at the man again wondering if he knew. He’d seemed pretty familiar with the shotgun yesterday, perhaps he was one of these gun toting, firing into the sky with a Ye-haw! nut jobs she’d heard so much about in the British media?

She pushed the boxes of bullets and shells back into their bag as she shook her head of her musings. She’d work it out. She’d have to. Even if she had to hold up a store to get more she’d—

Two books caught her eye, cutting off her train of thought. They were leather bound and old looking, and had fallen to the floor during her investigation. She frowned at the volumes, turning them over in her hands as she tried to make sense of why Jack had included them. They seem to focus on living in a… wilderness setting? A forest?

Sarah pulled a face at them. They seemed to be a bit bizarre for her commander to just leave here without a reason…

She flicked through them to try and see if they had a deeper—or clearer—meaning, looking for any folded pages, highlighted notes, dotted words, or any other obvious indication as to why they were included. Her frown only deepened when that also drew a blank. Perhaps, they’d been for Jack’s personal enjoyment? Something to read on the long drive to San Francisco? Sarah had pegged him as a bit of a survivalist. He’d probably had his own nuclear-fallout escape plan all figured out.

She tossed them back into the boot with a shrug—she’d figure out if they were for her later—and continued on through the bags; toiletries and a map of the south-eastern United States were all that remained. She put the map with the books. The clothes, the books, and now the map. None of it made sense. She didn’t have any IDs linked to that area of the US—

‘Shit,’ she hissed and fumbled for the pocket in her jacket under the hoodie, sighing with relief when she felt her IDs safe and secure. Jack had insisted before they left the UK that she keep hold of them. Had the commander been suspicious of his American counterpart? If so, why the hell had she been kept in the dark?

Probably because she’d enjoyed what David did between her legs. She sneered at the thought of letting that man screw her. How the hell had she been so blind? How had all of them been duped by the man?

It was still a mystery to her how the agent had got on the team in the first place. How the hell had he convinced the President of the United States that he was on the level. Surely, if Renée Forbes had put the team together personally, her security checks would have been the highest of the high? Unless…

Fuck it. She couldn’t risk trusting President Forbes either. There would be no running to an FBI building, there would be no codes passed on. They were completely on their own.

The cool metal of the pendant between her ample breasts reminded her there was still one plan she had access to, she just wouldn’t know what it was until she got a phone that worked.

She rubbed her mouth as she thought about what to do next, but her brain stopped when she felt her chin wobble. What the—

Dammit, she’d forgotten about the prosthetic chin and nose they’d made her put on before she got off the jet yesterday.

She grabbed the wash bag and closed the car’s boot before she trotted down to the water’s edge and became herself again.

Any questions, please drop them in the comments. Next update on Friday!

#AUH #fangirl #Unpublished #unedited

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howyoutalktostrangers · 4 years ago

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“This is how you talk to strangers”

by Will Johnson, originally published in Prairiefire

I’ve been reading the King James Bible lately. I like it so far. Sometimes I sit cross-legged on my roof, smoking cigarettes and flipping through Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy. I haven’t even made it to the New Testament. My favorite book so far is Ecclesiastes. Here’s this guy Solomon with nine hundred wives who can’t even sort his shit out. Everything is meaningless. It’s pretty bleak stuff. Actually, that’s what Hemingway named The Sun Also Rises after, a passage from Ecclesiastes. I read that book about three times a year. If those two were alive, I bet they would be fun to drink with. It would be one of those nights where you end up flipping over a table for no reason. The kind of night where you wake up the next morning and you feel totally humiliated in front of no one but yourself.

I grew up in Labrador City, the Iron Ore Capital of Canada. I was a pretty happy kid, actually. My mother loved us and my father made enough money, which is more or less all you need when you’re little. One day I was sitting on this pier with my two older brothers and this seagull started to pick on a smaller one. It pecked at it viciously and fluffed up its feathers and squawked. We all rooted for the smaller gull, even though it was destined to lose over and over again. My brothers kept throwing them French fries to fight over. Eventually the smaller bird just flew away. I don’t know why I remember that.

Isn’t the mind terrible?

I never knew how isolated I was until I left. The first time I drove into Toronto I felt like someone was sitting on my face. So many people everywhere. I’ve done a lot of traveling in the last few years—Chicago, New York, Montreal, Winnipeg, Edmonton, Whitehorse, Vancouver, Tofino—but I never really get used to it. Walking on a sidewalk is a contact sport. In the bar everyone looks like a Viking except for me. I didn’t know how I was ever supposed to meet a girl. Shit, I don’t know how anyone ever meets anyone. It seems so illogical. I dare you to go three or four days without talking to anyone. Consider it a spiritual exercise that leads you nowhere worthwhile. Drive around to random cities, listen to On The Road on audiotape, smoke cigarettes and start thinking about everything that’s wrong with you. Seriously, try it. See what you think.

A few years ago I was walking around Charlottetown, just hating my life, and I was looking at this KFC sign. I thought wow, someone’s responsible for making that. I could never make anything nearly as beautiful. If everyone in the world had my drive, we would be living like hobos. I can’t even parallel park.

The greatest moment in life is when a woman lifts her hips, just slightly, to let you pull off her pants. Like this is really happening to me. The second greatest moment is when your car is all packed with everything you own, and you know you’ve got a lot of driving ahead of you, but at the other end is a job. Last year I was sleeping on my brother’s couch and I had been drunk for an entire month. It was time to move on—I was starting to get the distinct impression that his girlfriend didn’t like me very much. As I was pulling out of the driveway my brother ran after me, and when he came up to me in the street I thought he would say something like it’s been good or good luck with the job, man but instead he just wanted to bum a smoke. I gave him my whole pack because I had no idea when I would see him again. He punched me in the shoulder and it was the first time in a long time anyone had touched me.

I got a job as a sports reporter in the Yukon. Every day I go out to these sporting events. Baseball games and track meets and hockey tournaments. I take pictures and I interview people and I doubt they even really notice. I’m just some guy with a tape recorder and they don’t know anything about me. Their bodies are terrifying. They wear tight spandex or bathing suits and they look superhuman. Most of the time I just want to ask them why? Or maybe how? They drink protein shakes and they bike a hundred kilometers a day or they hike to beautiful places I’ll never see. They’re so fucking healthy it gives me the shakes. I covered a 3-day canoe and kayak race, and this guy told me he wears a catheter so he doesn’t have to stop to pee. I wrote a story about it and thought this is it, the end of journalism as we know it. But no one reads the newspaper anyway. And if they do, nobody cares about the fucking sports section.

My favorite song is “Take it Easy” by the Eagles. One time I listened to it fifty times in a row, while I was driving through the Rocky Mountains. I never get sick of it.

I’m terrified of death. Nobody likes it, sure, but sometimes I sit at my desk at work and all of the sudden my fingers don’t work and I can’t function. No matter how much I hate breathing, I don’t think I could ever convince myself to die. Because I don’t know what’s next. My older brother Trent is religious, and he worked for years as a youth pastor at this church out West. That seemed to make him feel better about things, but none of that ever rubbed off on me. Sometimes I think I’ll end up as one of those empty-eyed senior citizens relegated to their wheelchairs. I’ll have friendly foreign nurses that feed me yogurt and give me drugs. They’ll push me to the window so I can look outside. That sounds pretty good to me.

This guy at the newspaper told me to watch Cool Hand Luke. So I did. Firstly, I don’t think there has ever been a more sublimely beautiful human specimen than Paul Newman. His eyes look supernatural. Secondly—damn, is that movie depressing. Not because he dies. More because I’m never going to be that cool. Sometimes nothing is a pretty cool hand. I wish I had that attitude. When Luke’s getting the shit kicked out of him by Dragline, he never gives up. He just keeps swinging. One punch and I would be curled in the fetal position, probably peeing my pants and begging him to stop. I really am useless. Believe me. I’m incapable of honest labour. Most of the time I feel lucky I wasn’t born fifty years ago during any of the big wars. I would have been drafted right away and I wouldn’t have lasted a week. I watch these war movies like Saving Private Ryan and I thank an imaginary God that I’ve never had to pick up a gun. My greatest hardship in life has been living on cereal for a week. Or running out of clean laundry.

My second favorite song is “Flowers on the Wall” by the Statler Brothers.

I met this girl Megan in the steam room at the pool. She was doing yoga on the tiled floor with a pool mat and I was trying not to be a creep. But she was contorting her body into these ridiculous positions that made her muscles bulge and flatten in strange places. I watched the rivulets of sweat. They drew jagged lines down her stomach and dripped off the end of her nose. Sometimes I would wait, holding my breath, while one dangled. Her face was pink and the blond hair that escaped from her ponytail would stick to her forehead and cheeks. She had these elaborate flower tattoos that encircled her arms, purple and yellow and red. The vines were ropy and twisted in chaotic patterns behind the petals. We were the only two people in the steam room but I’m pretty sure she didn’t even know I was there. Her eyes were closed and she took the most relaxed, sensual breaths. It was beautiful. Finally I said something. I asked her if there were any good yoga places in town. Her eyes fluttered open. I said I’d always wanted to learn about yoga, which is probably the biggest lie I told that day. She looked at me, squirted some water into her mouth, and smiled. She said yeah, I teach twice a week at a studio in Whitehorse. You should come out.

Every now and then I realize I have a mother. My mother is a nice lady. And she loves me. If she really knew how I was living my life, I think she would have a heart attack. She’s proud of me for getting a job, but she doesn’t really know me anymore. I wish she did.

My attempts at yoga were pitiful. I spent the whole time wishing I could smoke a cigarette. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. But afterwards, after I had a shower and rolled up my brand new yoga mat, Megan asked me if I wanted to go for beer. I though to myself this is it, this is how you talk to strangers and I said sure, yeah. We walked through the snow to the bar. We sat for two hours and whenever I said something funny she would touch my leg under the table. We bought a six-pack from off sales and walked down to the Yukon River. It was starting to get cold. She told me a bunch of personal shit about her life, but really I wasn’t listening to her words. I was watching the way she laughed, the way she moved her hands, the way her breath hung in a cloud and slowly drifted away.

I was covering this downhill bike race later that week when I broke my collarbone. It was my own fault. I was perched on the side of the trail taking photos, and I was trying to get a follow-focus shot. But everything kept coming out blurry. It was muddy and I was hung over, and as I whipped my camera along with the motion of a passing biker I fell down this embankment. It fucking hurt. I mean, I tumbled and rolled and knocked my head against a tree root. I’m lucky I didn’t break my goddamn spine. My publisher was annoyed and the paper was short-staffed, but it meant I got to sit at home and drink for a few weeks. I felt like Bukowski.

I often fantasize about being productive. I see people jogging around Whitehorse or going grocery shopping and I wonder where they get the energy. One day I want to write a novel, but I can barely convince myself to walk to the gas station for cigarettes. The first time I read The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson I was so relieved. I’m not the only one. I mean, it’s not Tolstoy or Dostoevsky but here’s a person who thinks the world is as absurd and terrifying as I do, and he can actually write something half-decent. When I’m bored I Google stories about Thompson. I rented a documentary about Gonzo journalism from the library. One day I read his suicide note, just because I was curious what was going through his head when he pulled the trigger. Apparently they published it in Rolling Stone. The title keeps repeating in my head, like a mantra: Football season is over.

Megan came over a few times while I was convalescing. She made me a meatloaf and I ate it for every meal, three days in a row. I felt awkward around her. I tried to hide my empties and clean up my house before she showed up, but I didn’t have a phone so most of the time she just appeared unannounced. She was usually in a yoga outfit or her karate clothes. I sat on the couch with her one day and I asked her about the tattoos on her forearms. She looked really sad for a moment, and then she pulled the skin tight in places to show me her scars. They were methodical, horizontal stripes. I wanted to die for a long time, she said. But I didn’t want anybody to know.

By the time my collarbone healed, it was starting to get dark. It scared the shit out of me. Don’t listen to the people who live here. The Yukon is a scary place in the winter. The snow blankets everything and it’s freezing cold and all of a sudden leaving the house is like living in a Jack London short story. Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well. The reporters made fun of me when I showed up to work wearing a parka, but I needed that fur against my face while I smoked cigarettes in the parking lot. Megan was starting to sleep over, and I liked watching her muscular back rise and fall while she snored. I couldn’t believe I’d convinced someone to sleep in my bed.

She showed up at my house crying one night. I tried to talk to her but she just cried into my chest for ten minutes. Finally, when I asked her what was wrong, she said its nothing, you’ll think its stupid. I told her no, of course I won’t think it’s stupid and then she drew her head back and looked at me. There was a huge pink pimple between her eyebrows. I have a bindi, she said. I have a fucking bindi. I usually tuned her out when she started talking about all that eastern mysticism stuff. She tried to convince me to read the Bhagavad Gītā but it just stayed on my bedside table. Whenever she talked about her spiritual beliefs it sounded like she was regurgitating these antiquated phrases she had learned in yoga school, or wherever. I didn’t want to seem insensitive, though, so I listened. She told me she was scared the universe was telling her something. She said the universe gave me a bindi to send me a message.

My favorite poem for a long time was Invictus by William Earnest Henley. I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. But then Clint Eastwood took the title and turned it into a goddamn rugby movie.

I was covering this karate competition one weekend when a guy came up and shook my hand. I didn’t recognize him. He said his name was Eiji Matsumoto, and told me he was Megan’s karate instructor. What a cool name. She’s a very gifted student, he said. I nodded like this was something I had given some thought. I realized that we had been dating for months and I had never seen her fight. I had abandoned yoga after a second try. It made me feel like a bad person, knowing there was this huge part of her life I didn’t know anything about. This guy Eiji was easily a foot taller than me. He looked like he could lift me up and break me in half over his knee. He had the most luscious brown skin and beautiful dark eyes. It made my balls shrivel up into little prunes. Suddenly I wanted to shave.

It was a Thursday morning when I crashed my car. My windshield wipers weren’t working and I was trying to light a cigarette and all of a sudden this truck was stopped in front of me and I swerved off the road. I remember hurtling along. The whole car was shaking and I was wrenching the wheel around like a goddamn child playing with a video game and then I was upside down. One of my windows shattered and glass was everywhere and then everything stopped. All I could see was white, stretching out as far as I could see. People were calling out to me hey, hey are you all right in there? Are you okay? I thought about that bible verse where Jesus says he’ll come like a thief in the night. Some blood was drooling up my nose and I realized I was suspended over the ground, held by my seatbelt. I don’t know where my cigarette ended up.

My older brother Trent was arrested a few years ago. They found child pornography on his computer, and there were rumors he even molested some kids at the church he worked at. I didn’t know how to respond to that information. I still don’t.

For a week after that Megan drove me to work and back. She seemed really impatient, so I tried to spend time with my friend from the newspaper. We sat in the bar and drank too many beers. He kept saying embarrassing things to the waitress, and then we started arguing about Hemingway. He was saying Hemingway would drink beer and I told him no, Hemingway liked drinking Mojitos and bagged wine. We did some whiskey shots and then went out in the snow for a bit. I wanted to go down to the Yukon River, but my friend said it was too cold. We finally wandered into this dingy pub on Fourth Street, and the first thing I saw was Megan. She was sitting with her back to me, having dinner with Eiji. Eiji Matsumoto. My friend said what’s wrong and I said nothing, let’s just get out of here.

Whenever I’m feeling sorry for myself, I think do you know how old the universe is?

My father called me around that time. My mother was in the hospital in Winnipeg and he wanted to buy me a plane ticket. We don’t know how serious it is, he said, but she would like you to be there. I told him I would need a couple of days to arrange things with work, and he said that would be okay. I thought about Hemingway and Thompson, each of them perched over their shotguns. It seems cruel that not everyone gets to choose when they’ll die. My father told me my brother was already driving out from Edmonton with his girlfriend. The others were coming out from Halifax. He told me my mother had been sick for a while, but he didn’t want to worry me. I wandered around the twilight streets and I tried not to think about how fucking scared I was of everything. Relax – this won’t hurt.

You don’t really know much about yourself until you try to share space with a woman. Megan complained about crumbs on the counter, my unmade bed and how I always left empty packs of cigarettes everywhere. She kept pestering me to quit, and even convinced me to try the nicotine patch. She played this weird, mystical music and she meditated in our living room when I wanted to watch TV. I felt like Neal Cassady, always hiding things from his wife. I hadn’t brought up seeing her with Eiji because I didn’t want to be that guy. I’m not the jealous type. I kind of liked to see her angry, though. She never seemed like she was in control of her actions, and her moods would jackknife back and forth. One night, while we were having sex, she slapped me. Then she slapped me again. It turned me on so much she just kept slapping me until she was clawing at my chest and pulling my hair. The only ones for me are the mad ones.

I often wonder what would have happened if I never saw Eiji kiss my girlfriend. It was midday and they were coming out of a sushi place on Main Street. I had just bought a magazine and I was standing across the street smoking a cigarette when they emerged, pulling on their jackets. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It looked like a goddamn coffee commercial, like there should be music playing or something. I don’t remember crossing the street. I don’t even remember what I screamed at him. Maybe I took a swing, maybe I didn’t. All I remember was the way he looked as he reared back and kicked me square in the sternum. I flew backwards like you see in movies. My lungs felt like they were going to collapse. I was laying on my back on the sidewalk, struggling to breathe and panting when he leaned over me. Football season is over. I looked up at him and Megan while I lay there in the slush. I think I need to go to the hospital, I said. I think I’m really hurt. Help me.

I got drunk on the plane to Winnipeg. They just kept bringing me gin and tonics. I brought the King James Bible with me, but it was starting to lose my interest. Heaven and earth shall pass away: but my words shall not pass away. The New Testament sounds too much like those corny televangelists. I’m not too keen on Jesus, either. But there’s a poetry there, like Shakespeare. By the time we touched down the words were starting to mix together on the page. When the stewardess came to check our seatbelts I held out my empty cup. One more?

My father picked me up from the airport. It was the first time I noticed the deep wrinkles around his eyes. His handshake almost crushed my fingers. We drove through the grey streets for nearly an hour before we got to the hospital. I asked him if Trent was going to be there, and he reminded me that Trent was in prison and probably would be for a long time. We barely spoke after that. I didn’t even really recognize him anymore, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. Neither did he, I guess. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. He led me up the stairs, someone gave me a coffee, and then I was standing in the room with her. Machines were beeping at me and she looked so small. I came to the side of my mother’s bed and her eyes fluttered open. It’s you, she said. It’s my son.

You can’t go long in the Yukon without hearing a Robert Service poem. They’ve got him painted on walls. They teach him in elementary schools. Sometimes you’ll walk into a bookstore and someone will be reciting his poems over the loudspeakers. There are strange things done in the midnight sun by the men that moil for gold. The first time I visited Dawson City, I went to the bank where he used to work. It’s right on the main drag, just a stone’s throw from the river, this saggy, dilapidated eyesore. One night I saw kids break into it to get drunk. I peeked in the windows and inside it looks like a warzone. There are spider webs clinging to the heaps of garbage on the floor. I hear there’s talk of restoring it, maybe building a heritage site, but chances are they’ll just eventually tear it down.

My mother reached out to me with these wrinkled hands. A long tube trailed out from her wrist. She touched my face and then she held my neck. I thought she might cry, but she didn’t. I leaned down and kissed her. She smelled like cleaning products. I wanted to tell her all my stories. I wanted her to pull me into her lap and rock me while I fell asleep. I thought about this time, when I was a little kid. My brothers had gone on a trip with my father and left me home sick for the weekend. She took me to the new shopping mall in Labrador City to see a movie. Afterwards we walked through these towering empty halls like we were in a cathedral. She bought me a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and a cinnamon bun. She told me this is our little secret. Don’t tell your brothers or they’ll be jealous. On the way home I fell asleep in the passenger seat.

Do you know how old the universe is?

My mother was discharged a few days later. I went back to work. Megan had already moved her stuff out of my basement suite. The snow was starting to melt, finally. Most days I sat at my desk and listed to John Prine or Willie Nelson. I stood on the sidelines of soccer games. I took pictures of people playing hockey. It cost me an entire paycheck to get my car fixed, so for two weeks I ate nothing but microwave popcorn and scrambled eggs. The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hurries to its place where it rises. On the weekends I walked down to the Yukon River and watched the ice slide into the water. One afternoon a giant chunk tumbled down the riverbank.

It flowed slowly downstream until I couldn’t see it anymore.

The Literary Goon

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eversweet-imagines · 7 years ago

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A Spider and A Spark - Part 1

Wow Hannah you are literally the worst at staying consistent about posting and being active on here. A plus for sure. Anywhooooo I saw the new Spiderman (twice in less than 24 hours) and Tom Holland is a major cutie. Send me some spider requests and let me know what you think (:

Part two Part three Part four Part five

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart was racing and in the pit of her stomach she could feel nerves building up. Glancing around to make sure no one was around she quickly stripped off her shirt and pants, slipping her suit over top of her sports bra and covering her butt so she wasn’t just standing naked in an alley. She pulled her mask over her head and pressed her fingers to the center of her palms, activating her suit. A huge grin grew on her concealed face as she got a running start, flipping, jumping and climbing to the roofs of the buildings around her. Y/N was one of Starks “interns”. He had taken an interest in her when he, or iron man caught her playing with fire. Fire she had created out of thin air, to be more exact.

“Good afternoon Inferno” Her suit greeted her as she sat along the edge of a building.

“Hello Finn.” She responded, She had given her suits intelligence a name finding it strange to just refer to him as suit dude. “Didn’t I tell you that you can refer to me as Y/N? I think we are on a first name basis at this point, I mean you are literally on top of my naked body.”

“Very funny Y/N, if it would make you more comfortable then I will remember to refer to you by your name. All systems seem to be running cool and ready for you to heat things up. Would you like me to do a scan of the city or check with the Avengers to see if you are needed?” Finn asked and Y/N thought for a moment.

“I think a normal city scan will be enough for tonight, its been a while since I have done anything so I would probably not be the most help to the rest of the team right now.” She lit small sparks as she spoke, each one like a tiny firework going off in front of her face. It was funny to her how contrasting she was when she was in the suit versus out of it. There was something about the secret identity gig that gave her all the confidence she had hiding inside of her. She could be everything she ever wanted to be.

“Initiating city scan.” Y/N’s eyes followed the map of the city , things to be going moderately calm today. “There seems to be a robbery and some sort of fight happening at City Bank.”

“Lead the way Finn.” Y/N smiled as she stood up on the ledge of the building, running to jump from roof to roof. she followed Finns instructions, umping and turning when he said and in no time she had made it to the bank. She stared at it for a moment from across the street.

“Looks like Spiderman is fighting the Avengers.” Y/N let out a sigh, she had heard plenty stories from Happy and tony about Spiderman, he hadn’t yet completed his training wheels yet. she didn't even know who the kid was, nor did he know her real identity but Tony and Happy had asked her to keep an eye on him. “What are those weird weapons?” Y/N skipped slightly as she began to jog across the street to go and give Spiderman a hand before he got hurt. She had almost reached the door when one of the weapons shot a giant laser towards her and the small mini mart she was standing next to. Her body fell to avoid its powerful laser but her body was thrown slightly from the explosion that took place. She slowly lifted her self up with a grunt as she watched the guys get away in their van, driving off quickly as Spiderman ran over towards the burning building.

“What the hell were you thinking Spidey?” Y/N shouted, her fists flaming out of anger as she stormed over to stop him.

“Move!” He shoved her out of the way as he ran faster inside. Y/N shook her head in disbelief, but quickly ran to help him as she saw him pulling a man out of the fire along with a rather large cat.

Y/N and Peter both slowly turned to look at both the bank and the burning building besides them. Spider-Man quickly began to run off, Y/N frozen for a second before she moved quickly to follow him. "Finn don't let me lose him." She said to her suit as a tracker began to follow Spider-Man. She followed closely behind before she ended up cornering him in an alleyway where he began cursing about a lost back pack.

"Spider-Man what the hell happened back there?!" Y/N shouted, trying to use her most intimidating voice and not sound like the teenager that she was. Peter froze in his spot after he turned to look at Y/N and realized who was standing there.

"I-Inferno.... I uh I umm what brings you to theirs neck of the woods?" He asked as he tried to casually lean against the trash can but missed, falling slightly before he webbed the other wall to pull himself back to a standing position.

"Oh I don't know Maybe it was the alien tech Robbery that was CLEARLY too much for you that drew my attention or you know could just be that I was taking a leisurely stroll. You are supposed to be laying low! You know helping old lady's get not lost so the can buy you churros." Y/N was getting heated, her fists erupting into violent red flames at her sides. Peter slowly backed away out of slight fear as she neared him, her voice getting louder.

"My readings tell me that Spider-Man is filled with a high percentage of fear and is t-minus 1 minute 14 seconds away from peeing himself." Finn spoke with a slight laugh in Y/N's ear distracting her for a moment. She sharply exhaled as she shot her flames at a trash can to release some of her pent up anger.

"Miss I-inferno, I was.. I was just doing my daily rounds and noticed there was an ATM robbery happening. I- I don't know they had those things I swear. They were alien guns! I don't know how- how or where they got them. But I'm going to find out.” Peter swore to her. Y/N stared at Spiderman and was at a lose of words.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark, would you like me to answer it?” Finn asked and Y/N rose her hand up, signaling Spiderman to wait, he nodded sitting criss cross on the cold ground.

“What Stark.” Y/N said, clear annoyance in her voice. A small image of Tony appeared in her vision, his jaw dropped slightly and he shook his head.

“No, no little lady. you don't speak to me like that. I swear I should have listened to everyone about letting kids join.” He began going off and Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“Maybe you should have because you're little Spiderman just caused a big old explosion at a local minimart and bank because he tried to stop some robbery that was in pursuit with some type of Alien weapons! There were almost civilian casualties sir!” y/N whisper yelled harshly, not wanting Spiderman to hear her. Tony let out a sigh, his hand going up to his face.

“Watch him. don't let him do anything stupid that could kill the kid. I’m sure its nothing. Anyways we have a mission coming up and we could really use your help to spice things up. You in?” Tony stared at her and Y/N felt a small grin taking over her previous harsh frown.

“Of course I'm in.”

“Good. Now I was serious, keep an eye on him.” Tony’s screen disappeared with a click and Y/N turned her attention back to Spiderman.

“I swear I will find out where these things are coming from and I will put an end to it.” Spidey stood up and Y/N stared at him.

“Not alone you won't.” She slightly smiled, helping him could be fun or a complete disaster.

The next morning Y/N sat in her chemistry class, her head leaning heavy against her hands as her eyelids struggled to stay open. She hadn't realized how late she had been out last night as Inferno that now she was paying for it. It didn't help that her instructor was the most boring teacher to exist. She shook her head and began glancing around the class trying to find something else to pay attention to her eyes fell onto the two kids sitting directly in front of her. Peter Parker and his best friend Ned. The two were complete nobodies, much like her but she still hardly spoke to them. Her ears perked up when she heard Ned whisper something about the Avengers to Peter.

“Have you met Inferno? She scares me but seems like a total babe.” Y/N felt a smirk grow on her lips as she leaned in ever so slightly to hear the two better.

“I actually met her last night, she said she would help me find the source of the alien guys!” Peter seemed excited.

“No way! Spiderman and Inferno working together?! This is something I never knew I needed until this moment.” Ned beamed and Y/N sat up straight, her eyes wide. She stared at Peter, he was Spiderman? Peter glanced back feeling someones eyes glued on him and met the gaze of Y/N. She looked scared, confused and almost angry but also happy. Emotions were running through her face as she continued to stare at him.

“H-hi Y/N.” He stumbled on his words, snapping Y/N out of her frozen daze.

“You’re sp-spiderman? You?!” She whispered harshly just as the bell rang. Peters eyes grew wide as she stormed out of the room quickly.

“Ned I’ll catch up with you later. Please dont talk about the thing anymore!” He shouted as he ran off trying to find Y/N in the already over crowded hallway. She had reached the exit door and glanced back for a moment, locking eyes with Peter once more before she escaped out the doorway. He ran quickly sliding between all the people and making it outside in a matter of seconds. He stopped on the front steps and glanced around his eyes falling upon the Y/H/C girl. He jumped the steps and ran over to where she was pacing around, her mind in conflict.

“Y/N... what- what you heard back there..” He started but Y/N turned her attention to him and cut him off.

“Shut it Peter.” Y/N snapped, she needed a second to think. “Is it true or are you making it up to try and get more attention at this stupid school? Don't try to lie to me.” She could feel her hands getting warm, her powers threatening to spark with her heightened emotions. Peter stared into her eyes, something about them screaming at him that he could trust her, that he needed her to know. He shot a web at her and pulled her close to him, there bodies a mere inch apart. Y/N looked up at his eyes a smile forming on her lips. His worried face began to slowly melt away.

“You can't tell anyone. Please.” He pleaded, Y/N chuckling lightly. She stepped away from him, bringing her hand up with a small flame to burn away the web that was still pulling on her.

“Your secret is save with me,” She grinned and Peter matched her actions. this was going to be the start of an interesting duo.

#tom holland imagine #Peter Parker imagine #spiderman imagine #Spiderman homecoming imagine #tom holland #avengers imagine #tony stark imagine

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slightlydizzier · 8 years ago

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Title: a waiting game Rating: E Word Count: 1.7k Summary: Dan decides today is a good day to play.

[Read on AO3]

The bed is comfortable underneath Dan, warm from the heat of his body with the blankets cocooned so nicely around him.

"We've got to go," Phil says, nudging at him ever so slightly. "Come on."

Meetings today.

Meetings always.

Dan groans and shoves his face into the pillow. "Why?"

"To support your horrendous music and t-shirt addiction," Phil says, tugging the pillow out from under Dan's head.

Dan rolls over onto his back and groans some more. His body is betraying him, though; his limbs want to stretch and his eyes want to open. He gives in bit by bit, arms over his head and toes pointed outward. The stretch makes his bladder throb, a suddenly present ache and pressure.

He pauses there, just like that, taking stock of the feeling. It's an annoyance, but - something else, too.

He looks up at Phil, already dressed and checking something on his phone.

Yeah. Today's a good day for it.

It plays in the back of his mind like a constant hum of awareness throughout the day.

He doesn't tell Phil. That's part of the fun, sometimes - waiting for Phil to realize. He's always oblivious for the longest time, not noticing Dan grabbing an extra bottle of water, chugging down a coffee when he wouldn't normally.

Phil starts to grow suspicious when Dan agrees to dinner with their manager.

By the time Dan orders a second drink, he's fully aware. He keeps watching Dan drink, subtle enough that no one would ever in a million years guess why but distracted none the less.

He feels Phil's hand on his thigh just ones, the quickest squeeze.

He takes another drink.

Dan is slightly tipsy when they pile into the taxi and completely sober when they unfold themselves back out of it at their flat.

Phil is watching him so carefully.

"Another drink?" He asks, standing in the doorway of the lounge almost nervously.

"Could do with one more," Dan answers. He stretches out in his favorite worn out crease on the sofa and grabs his laptop from where he left it balanced on the arm.

He has to pee. It's just shy of a pressing need but nowhere near an emergency. The waist of his jeans cuts in just the right spot over his stomach. Every time he twists or turns he can just - feel it.

It feels so good. Hot and impatient and bad, but so good.

A ribena with a splash of vodka, a few rounds of Mario Kart.

Phil plays very badly at first because he can't take his eyes off the way Dan shifts in his seat more and more as the minutes tick by.

"You gonna finish that?" Dan says, nodding at Phil's drink.

Phil's eyes widen. "You're sure-"

Dan's arm brushes the bulge of at least a half-hard dick when he reaches over Phil's lap to take the glass, not allowing time for Phil to just pass it to him.

Phil's intake of breath is sharp, his exhale unsteady. Dan hides his grin behind the rim of his glass.

He has to go.

Really, truly has to go.

He's trying to put all of his focus into playing the video game but his leg won't stop tapping up and down and his bladder aches sharply in rolling waves of intensity.

As soon as the next game is called he drops the controller and undoes the button and zip on his jeans. He lets out a loud, throaty groan of pleasure at the instant lessening of restriction across his middle.

"Jesus, Dan." Phil sounds awed. He always does.

Dan wonders sometimes if he's just trained Phil to be turned on by this as much as Dan himself is. It's a newer thing, for Phil; something just related to Dan, to watching Dan do.

But Dan's been doing this his whole life. It was just a game in his mind for so long, to hold it all day long through school and then shake with the relief of how good it felt to go after so many hours. He was a teenager on a drunk bender the first time he laid in a bed and opened his eyes and thought I have to wee but I can't get up, and just let go instead. He can still remember that morning, wanking in wet denim coming hard before the urine even cooled. He remembers the intense shame afterward, though not intense enough to drown out how how much he'd wanted to do it again.

There's no shame anymore. Dan's an adult in his own home and this feels good and it makes his boyfriend looks at him like he wants to eat Dan alive. There's no shame at all.

Phil's hand is on his thigh again. He's given up trying to play the game.

Dan's still going, though. He needs to focus his attention on something. He's in sixth place but it's still a distraction.

Just like Phil's hand is. It's stroking up and down, squeezing a little. He knows what Dan likes, what ramps up the arousal that's layered on top of an urgent need to go.

He's past the point where resistance is hard, wobbling on the border of it being a downhill slope from here. He drops the controller when a hard spasm hits him. "Fuck, fuck-" He's sucking in air and clenching his legs together.

"Are you-" Phil starts to ask.

"Not yet," Dan says. The moment has passed. He unclenches his legs a fraction and picks the controller back up.

Ten minutes later, he leaks.

He's in the final curve of the map and ignores the warning signs. If he'd been able to focus more, to grab himself, to talk to Phil - he might could have held out. But his distraction becomes too distracting and he isn't prepared for the sudden urge to spike hard and fast. He clenches everything as soon as he realizes but it isn't enough and pee dribbles out. Dan's eyes are practically watering with the tease of relief.

"Dan," Phil says, a breathless soft sound. He's looking down at the damp spot.

"Fuck." Dan tosses the controller aside as soon as the round is over. He's done playing.

He grabs Phil's hand and puts it over his crotch, knowing it'll only take a moment - and yes, fuck. He leaks again, Phil's fingers seeking out the warm wet spot and rubbing right against the head of Dan's dick.

Dan turns his face and Phil is right there, mouth waiting with a desperate kiss.

The walk to the bathroom is painful for Dan. He stops twice, longer spurts because his self-control is shit and it feels so good. It's also just fun to watch Phil absolutely lose it watching Dan.

They stop just inside the bathroom. They've done this enough times to know that spontaneity is hot but the clean up isn't, and this is a compromise.

Phil presses him against the door and kisses him hard, again and again and again. Dan's arms go around his neck and he's blissful at the feeling of something solid to cling to right now. His legs are so shaky he isn't entirely sure he could keep himself upright without doubling over.

Phil is wanking between them, his hand in his own pants tugging his dick as he presses sloppy kisses to Dan's jaw and neck. He's waiting, they're both just waiting, and it's exhilarating to do this with someone else who appreciates it. Phil keeps having to stop and Dan can tell by that wild look in his eye that it's because he's too close, too many hours of sitting there being turned on while Dan drew this as long as he could.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" Dan sucks in a breath. He's trying to hold back even now, even when it's this futile.

The longer he waits, the better it is.

He leaks again, longer and hard enough that it glistens against the material of his jeans. Phil grinds forward against him, teeth nipping at Dan's shoulder. He might have made a noise but it's far quieter than the steady stream of gasps and whines and whimpers coming out of Dan's mouth right now.

Phil's hand moves from cupping Dan's crotch to rest flat over Dan's stomach, the slight swell of his bladder. He doesn't even need to apply much pressure and Dan is keening, bucking forward.

It's enough. He's pissing then, truly unable to stop it even if he wanted to. His body has had enough and all he can do is let it happen.

Phil is pressing against him hip to hip, crotch to crotch, thigh to thigh. His hands are on Dan's ass to pull him in close and Dan wraps one leg around Phil's thigh as an anchor. There's so much and it's coming out hot and fast, flooding the whole area between Dan's legs and Phil's too. The puddle forms on the floor around them. It feels almost better than an orgasm, almost better than sex.

Two full minutes and Phil is humping against him and using the friction of sodden heavy denim and grunting and coming and done while the last of the steam is still just tapering off for Dan. But he stays there whispering lovely things to Dan and letting Dan cling to him until it's finished, leaving Dan feeling empty and new and shaken and still so turned on by what he - they - just did.

Phil starts the shower going and brings Dan off in record time under the spray, kissing him longer after the water has washed the come and piss off their bodies.

Dan's entire body wants a break now, satisfied in every way. He's exhausted and he just wants to sleep.

"I'll clean up," Phil says, like he always does.

Dan tries to protest, like he always does, but ends up crawling into bed and only barely managing to stay awake for as long as it takes for Phil mop up the floor and put their clothes in the wash.

Phil's arms around him are like the final note of a favorite song, a satisfying conclusion to an experience he'll want to revisit soon enough.

It was a good day.

#phan #phanfic

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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

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[FN] Ecstasy!! 💕

Four months ago…

Sebastian Krane. A name no one forgets in this town of Wiseville. A self-established business tycoon, he started his life from assisting in the work of labourers in the vineyards. Now, he holds the reins to the most influential liquor company. No one dares question him, as he had his influence in every business around the corner. In short, he has everything anybody would ever need.

The only thing nobody knew was, Sebastian could never sleep peacefully at night.

Wiseville is known for its long stretches of vineyards that can be seen as far as one's eyes can see. Almost every family in this town has someone or the other working for the vineyards, be in whichever rank. So, there was a custom of holding a Gracing Ceremony every year, where everyone in town came together, and graced one another with gifts and good wishes for the year. This year too, the Gracing Ceremony was edging near. People were in the haste of preparing for the event. One such family was the Graysons. Mama Grayson had begun her preparations for her popular Dark Chocolate pie. Papa Grayson was chopping wood for the bonfire. And Mercy, their daughter, was due to reach home in two days. She lived outside town in the State University.

The night had finally arrived when Mercy was reaching home. Papa Grayson was waiting outside on the porch, his eyes yearning to see his daughter again. And then, just about twelve minutes later, a cab came to a halt in front of his gate. Mercy stepped down and went towards the back of her car to retrieve her suitcase. Seeing her, Papa Grayson was thrilled. Running hastly down the porch, he went ahead to help her. To his surprise, another head bobbed up from behind the open door of the car. A girl stepped out. Looking straight into his eyes, she gave a sheepish smile.

“Hello Mr. Grayson!! I'm Gabrielle.”

Mercy pulled out the suitcase and moving towards the front of the cab, she paid the driver and let him go. Then, turning towards her father, she ran ahead and clung to him in a beary hug. Pulling back, she looked back and forth between her father and Gabrielle.

“Papa, this is Gabrielle. She's my best friend in the college. The writer girl I talk to you about. Apparently, the charity home she stays in had asked her not to return because of a virus panic that has taken over the other people. If I hadn't brought her home, she would have been alone at the hostel. I did the right thing, yes Papa?”

Mr. Grayson looked through at Gabrielle for a moment. And then, with a big grin, gave a big shout,

“Welcome to this family my dear!! Beware we will make you fat and lazy.”

And saying this, he broke into a shaking laughter.

The morning of the Gracing Ceremony has finally dawned. Along with all other families, the Graysons had their specialty for the evening( ChocoPie) parceled up in exquisitely beautiful containers and trays. Both Mercy and Gabrielle were in a dilemma as to what to wear to the party. Girls never have anything to wear, right?

Anyway, they decided to go shopping. The store for party dresses were on the farthest end of the town, on the edge of a stooped hill. It was named ‘The Frills'. When the girls reached the shop, Mercy parked the car near the bent of the road and then went inside.

About half an hour had passed. Gabrielle had already chosen her attire for the evening and was waiting for Mercy to grab hers. Since it was almost noon, the heat inside the store was impossible to bear. Gabrielle excused herself and came out of the store for a fresh breeze of air. As she took the bent while walking down, she suddenly came to a halt.

A few steps farther, lay a black mustang. And beside it, was a man decorated in mud splashes. But that wasn't what caught her eye. Another person, probably the man's chaffeur, was spraying him with water by a water hose. As the mud started falling off, Gabrielle's jaw dropped with awe. Standing in front of her eyes was a literal Greek God. With a wet white shirt and shiny black pants, every bend of his muscles were clearly visible. His small, yet puckered nipples peeked out from behind the shirt and Gabrielle couldn't help herself from looking straight at them. And then, the unbelievable happened. He started to take of his shirt, turning his back to her. As he started to pull his shirt out, his shoulders flexed in and out, forming a sexy V-curve along the backbone. Gabrielle started to feel a tingle in her private areas. She could feel her nipples getting erect at the mere sight of his skin drenched in droplets of water. A slow, but loud moan left her lips. The man turned around. With his hands nearly opening the zip of his pants, he directly looked into Gabrielle's eyes, both confused and curious. As soon as Gabrielle realised what she had done, she gave out a shriek and ran away back towards the store.

Sebastian had been out since morning 5, closing of the deals for the day sooner, so that he could focus on the ceremony that was to be organised at his villa that evening. The whole town was coming over. His work was far from over. But you know what happens if you are running late. There always are things that delay you further. So when he had closed the deal at the ranch down the hill on the edge of the town, he was finally cleared for the day. Just as he was returning to his car, a frantic and scared retriever ran past him in haste. But in that process, it splashed up the pool of mud beside him, onto him. And since he had to visit his aunt's home before returning home, he had no other choice but to clean himself up then and there. While Rob, his Chaffeur and bodyguard, was helping him wash, he suddenly heard a low moan from behind him, probably a female voice.

And there she was. With a loosely tied-up bun, her hairs fell lazily on her ears and face. With eyes so small, yet poked out of frame, she had a set of round full reddish lips that were slightly parted letting out that moan. She looked like an angel, so fragile and innocent, yet sexy and hot as if she has crawled just out of a bed. Drawing his eyes down to sweep over her body, he could see two small crooked folds on her shirt, her nipples standing out. She stood with a 4.5 inch heels legs that were slightly parted. He could hardly change his breath when suddenly, she gave a shriek and ran back of in the opposite direction.

Oh boy, he was screwed.

That very evening, people from the town started flooding over to the Krane mansion. Mr. Sebastian Krane was the host of the evening, and he was the secret fantasy of every woman in Wiseville, starting from young teenagers to those olderly women who played poker every Sunday at his Aunt's place, just to have one look at him. Today too, almost every family in town were gathering at his house. The Graysons were getting ready. Both Mama and Papa Grayson were sitting in the living room waiting for the girls upstairs, who had still not gotten ready.

“Gab, I think you should just stop dreaming about that man and put on your dress. Not that I'm complaining. You look ravishing in that lingerie of yours. I'm sure if you show up like this, there will be many like him hoping for a chance to grope you”, Mercy teased Gabrielle and gave a wink.

“Stop pulling my leg, will you? It was best if I hadn't told you. Its so embarassing.”

After a few minutes later, both the girls were ready. Mercy wore a emerald green gown, with a deep neckline and two small pair of golden studs and golden stilletoes. Gabrielle, on the other hand, wore a prussian blue body-hugging maxi-dress, with a plunging back, and a slit starting from the lower thigh of her right leg. She paired it with a long dangling peal earring and black pumps. Her hairs were kept open loosely, with a clutch that held them a little back.

When they reached the Ceremony, Papa Grayson went off with some friends of his to the bar and sat down for drinks. Mrs. Grayson too, went in and presented her Chocopie to her neighbours and started talking. The girls, with nothing else to do, started to mingle with the other girls present, some of whom were Mercy's childhood friends.

Around an hour had passed. It was around 7:30 in the evening. Suddenly, there was a clink of a glass somewhere from the first floor of the mansion. Everyone stopped talking and whatever else they were doing to look up.

Mr. Krane had come.

“Welcome all, to this place I call home. Thankyou all for gathering today. As we know, this day is a very important day to all of us. I would like to appreciate the efforts of everyone present here that strives to make Wiseville a better place to live, everyday. I hope you all are enjoying yourselves. I'll be down in a moment, I assure you. Have a great night people!!”, Sebastian announced.The whole crowd went up in cheers.

Little did they know that at one corner of the lawn, stood a girl whose jaw had dropped open, twice on the same day, looking at the same man.

During that whole evening, Gabrielle tried her level best not to come into the view of the host of the evening. She was way to embarrassed to even face him and apologise. When the night drew closer to an end, she carefully looked inside whether the host was there or not. She was in urgent need to pee. After quite many drinks, she was already in cloud nine. So, tip-toeing inside the mansion, she searched for a washroom. Since most of the people had left, the mansion was almost empty. The only people left to still leave were out at the lawn. Heaving a sigh of relief at noticing the washroom, she ran towards it and open the door that was left a bit ajar.

“Oh I wouldn't come in If I were you.” A husky voice spoke up.

Shook by the sudden interruption, Gabrielle looked up. There, under the full force of the shower, stood Sebastian.

Embarassed for a second time, she turned around to open the door and leave, when a hand shot out and grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back. The next thing, she was drenched under the shower, in the tights arms of an almost-naked man, with her chest tightly pressed to his. She was drunk already. It was becoming difficult for her to fight his grasp. Still she tried wringling out of his arms.

Sebastian was surprised to see his afternoon fantasy standing in front of him, in his own washroom. And God, she was gorgeous. Her open hair did so many tricks to his body that he found himself fighting against his control, for the very first time in life. And that wasn't all. When she turned to leave, her exposed back sent him going crazy. Plush-white, she had a small round mole sitting right in the middle of her vertebral lining. All he could imagine was sliding his tongue over that mole. And then, unable to fight any longer, he pulled her into his arms and looked into her eyes. They were the most sensual of all. Brown eyes, with a small nose and those moist lips, he felt his body sparkle at the mere touch of her.

With a sudden force, he pressed his lips over hers.

Both of them were shocked at the current that ran throughout their bodies. Entwining their lips, they both slipped into an ecstasy so deep that they didn't realise they were moaning loud and clear.

They got pulled back to the reality by a frantic knock on the door.

“Sir, this is Rob. Your Aunt wants to speak to you. I'm afraid if you don't show up soon, she will come finding you, sir."

Letting go of Gabrielle, Sebastian looked deep into her eyes and let her go.

“Oh little one, this is far from over. I'm going to find you again. I'm Sebastian. And you are?”

“Uh-huh. Gabrielle”, she replied sheepishly looking down.

“Gabrielle, you are now mine”.

Few days later

Gabrielle had been quite busy helping Mercy in her volunteering works in town. Apparently Mercy has been doing this since she was a child. But since yesterday, Mercy had fallen ill, of fever. So Gabrielle vouched to do full time volunteering for Mercy's sake. So today, she went to this vineyard that stretched beside the Wiseville lake. The workers needed help storing the grapes in the barrels and so she was giving them a hand. As noon neared, all the workers went inside for their lunch. Gabrielle wasn't hungry. She walked out to the edge of the lake and sat down.

“If I knew I could find you here, I would have come for supervision everyday”.

Looking back, there was Sebastian. She flushed in pink recalling the night in his shower.

“What are you doing up here, Sebastian? If I knew you would come here, I would have never come at all.”

“Oh no no. Don't pretend. Your face says it all. You enjoy my presence as I enjoy yours. Your body does things to me, Gabrielle. And It has never happened before. I need to get to the bottom of that mystery shouldn't I?”, saying so, he chuckled.

His laughter was a music to her ears. This man, was more than perfection. Sebastian walked up near her and sat down. Rubbing her hands in his, he softly, but with a strong hold, whispered near her ear, “Will you go out with me, oh little one?”.

Sebastian was asking for a date. Gabrielle was ecstatic. She longed to jump into his arms and bob up and down, but she tried hard to refrain from doing so. Composing herself, and slightly lifting her eyes to match his, she said yes. Quite many days passed since their first date. Both Gabrielle and Sebastian met and spent time every week, but even that was less for them, considering the busy schedule Sebastian had to be in every day. But their relationship evolved quite well. For starters, Sebastian wasn't a one-woman man. For him, this was a big deal and he wanted to be perfect in it. And for Gabrielle, well, she thought that Sebastian was a catch every girl wanted to have, but she was the lucky one.

Present day

One night, Gabrielle had been out grocery shopping. Both Mr. and Mrs. Grayson were out of town for a family errand and she and Mercy were left to manage the house. Since Mercy had some laundry to do, Gabrielle had offered to go shopping. As she was returning to the house, she saw two guys fighting over something. Looking closely, she notice they were Carter and Carlose, two workers with whom she worked at her time in the vineyard. They were good to her. So wanting to help them, she ran and tried to stop them from fighting. As she was pulling one from the other, she suddenly felt a bolt running through her stomach up to her shoulders. Looking down, she could see her cream dress turning red. Figuring out what he had done, Carlose gave a scared shout. Gabrielle felt her vision growing blur. With thoughts of Sebastian on her mind, she lost conciousness.

Sebastian was looking through the finances of the month that night when suddenly Rob came running into the office. He never does that. Sebastian was curious.

“I'm sorry sir but this was urgent. There was a fight between the workers on 5th street today. That is not the issue sir. I'm afraid there is some bad news.”

Sebastian asked him to continue.

Struggling for a moment, Rob said, “Sir, Miss Gabrielle was at the spot by coincidence. She tried to stop them. But, she was stabbed during that process. Accidentally ofcourse. But she is critical and is at the Town hospital now.”

Sebastian shot up from his table and without any change of clothes ran down towards his car. For the first time, he drove his car, frantically and in tears. He didn't care whom he would hit in the process. Gabrielle was the only thing in his mind. She was the only person he loved after his dead parents.

Oh my God.

He was in love.

And when that realisation hit him, he felt himself dying at the very thought of losing her. His little one.

Two days later, Gabrielle was back to her senses. The doctor had explained to her that other than the skin and the muscles to the front, nothing major had happened. And that was, a miracle. When the doctor left, she looked towards the opposite side of her bed. And what she saw broke her into tears.

Sebastian was seated on a chair, with a night robe and a dishaveled face, tired and sleep deprived. And Rob was standing beside him, allowing his boss to take his nap in peace. “Rob, since when is he here like this?”, Gabrielle asked. “Maam, since the day you had been admitted. Sir hasn't eaten or slept. He has been there maam”.

Sebastian could vaguely hear his girl speak. His eyes shot wide open. And there she was, beautiful as ever, even in a hospital gown, smiling down at him, probably laughing at his weirdsome attire. He could bear no more.

“Rob, get out. Come in only when I call. And yes, don’t allow anyone to come in.” Saying so, he sped straight to Gabrielle and lay a kiss on her forehead.

“Oh little one, what am I to do with you?”.

A few days later…

It was a Wednesday. Gabrielle had almost recovered. Her wounds were gone, and she could slip into small household works at home slowly. Though Mrs. Grayson didn't allow her, she couldn't be stopped. That very night, after Gabrielle was done with everything, she got ready to go over to Sebastian's place. He had called her up for a dinner date and she couldn’t skip that.

As she reached his place, Sebastian was standing on the doorsteps of his home, wearing a…wait, is that a tshirt? He never wore tshirts. Atleast not after his parents died. Gabrielle was confused.

“Come up Gabrielle. I didn't call you over to gawk at my perfect muscles. The table is set.”

Both of them went in.

As they neared the dining area, Sebastian could wait no more. He lifted her up in his arms and took her straight to the terrace. Laying her down on the soft grass carpet, he looked into her eyes, like he did the first time, and touched her forehead with his, like he did the last time.

Gabrielle felt a hint of moistness on her right cheek. She opened her eyes and looked up. He was in tears. Knowing what troubled him, she held his face in her hands. He could control the piercing agony no more. Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her into his arms with a grinding force, and devoured her lips into a passionate kiss. Hot tears and subdued emotions had finally taken over. He made love to her gently that night. Every part of her body was devoured with utmost care and love. He couldn’t spread his love enough. The moon was at its full, the stars at its brightest, and both of them, naked and dripped in sweat, but in each other's arms, content.

“Will you marry me, Oh little one?”

And all Gabrielle could do was break into his arms with a stupid yet the happiest smile.

Sumana Sarmah

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