#two things i wonder. if he ever saw shaw's face during that moment and how did he know who john was when dillinger sent a pic of him...

[linusbenjamin]

Person of Interest | 1×01 // 3×09

[onelovewonderwoman]

first class || charles xavier x reader

i’ve been on an x-men binge and fell into a hole of james mcavoy and charles xavier again, so here we are. i haven’t written fics in a long time, so i tried to again. i’m uncreative so like the title is just the first movie because of the fact that it’s set during that time. kind of like self insert cause there’s a few bits and pieces where there’s canonical plot and interactions, so disclaimer for that. anyways, hope you guys enjoy! ps also don’t have enough energy to find a fitting gif so maybe i’ll find one later maybe i won’t. we’ll see

words: 5.8k

warnings: not proofread (i spent three days on this so i don’t have the energy anymore haha), writing lacks emotional depth, drug use and mentions, intent of murder, thoughts of (murder, rape, suicide, etc.), poorly written two paragraphs about kissing, angst, we ignore moira and charles’ romance cause... duh, it’s x reader and it’s too difficult for me to work around it rn a haha

masterlist

The rooms were always the same. They were dark, illuminated only by the dimmest of lights emanating from the occasional lava lamp or fairy lights. Fairy - ironic word for such situations, such rooms. Filled so heavily with smoke it made it hard to breathe, let alone see. And the floors; the floors always felt different. 

In hindsight, it was probably the one thing that had her realizing the rooms were never actually the same. Sure, they had the same smell, the same overcrowdedness and moving bodies, the same darkness, even the same taste, but the floors testified to the difference each room held. 

Sometimes, when the world would freeze and all the people around her became nothing but a mesh of warm bodies, she could hear the floor creak under her feet with every step she took. There she was - the house right down the street from her. 

Other times, the floors felt sticky under her shoes. She assumed it was tequila. There were always too many bottles around to count, surely there would be spills. Or, some poor guy could have pissed himself like that one time. When her shoes sounded like velcro as she walked across the floor, she was at the house all the way across town.

In any case, she felt the same ankle up. One of her favourite parts had to be the way the music always abused her ears - so high, it made her feel lightheaded. More so than she already had been both. Sex was not nearly regular enough for her to compare, but she knew what she would feel every time the music was loud enough to make her head buzz and throb with a vengeance was more erotic than anything anyone could ever do to her.

The place could change but the scene never really did. Down to the people - she knew this for sure. She knew every beating heart around her like they were her own. She never only felt it there, but in her head as well. Even as it buzzed, she felt it. Sometimes it tore at her skull as if trying to escape - ironic.

Now, why did the scene change one evening in 1962? She told herself it was fate, but it had merely been wishful thinking when she knew why. How did she know? She knew the man sitting next to her on the worn down couch, nearly entirely unconscious and reeking of weed and vodka, knew the girl across the house, the girl across the house knew the man next to her and that - so on and so forth - meant she knew all three of them, even though they didn’t know her. So, for two new men to walk into the house, their eyes focused - focused on her - changed the scene entirely.

Now, the music became nothing more than an assault on her ears; the lights became too bright at the same time as the dark became too dark; the air became heavier than usual; and she sobered up at the feeling of something - someone - in her head. Then, it all caved in. It was as overwhelming as it always was, but she was used to it enough to handle it for a little while, at least whilst remnants of her high remained. She couldn’t say the same for the shorter of the two men she saw keel over at the pressure.

He got over it pretty quick, from what she could tell. “Charles Xavier,” he introduced himself as, “This is my colleague, Erik Lensherr.”

A quick trip from the couch to the door had her standing on the lawn of the house of the night with the two men. Crickets could be heard fighting against the sound of the music blaring from the house as she swayed on her feet, making wet sounds in the grass from earlier rain. Charles stood not much taller than her, charm emanating from him and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to smile despite his furrowed brows and mouth set in a straight line as he stared at her, waiting for a response with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Erik stood taller, stoic and calculating.

“And?” She crossed her arms across her chest, both in discomfort and the fact that the chilly night air had begun to bite at her skin, her long sleeve doing nothing to help. “I should care why?”

If the incident earlier wasn’t enough, the way the both of them looked at her was enough for her to know why. “What’s your name?” Charles asked, having her notice then the English accent on his tongue. 

The second she gave it to him, he smiled - almost sympathetically - at her and hummed, “You have an incredibly busy mind, Y/N.”

“And you have an incredibly nosy one, Charles.” That had Erik letting out a chuckle, one that felt like approval to her ears.

Never in a million years would she dare say yes to anything of the sort the two men proposed to her that night. A team of mutants; not necessarily that she thought it was absurd or a horrible idea - no. It made sense, not factoring in their current climate, to have a team of mutants fighting against the evils of the world. The horrible idea was to have her join. No, she wanted to tell them, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too,” Erik agreed with her, catching both herself and Charles off guard, “We’ll be going then.”

He offered her his hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at his outstretched arm. Sometimes her high slowed time - it could have been five seconds or five minutes. When she finally looked away from his hand, up at him, she saw he stood unwavered and patient.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Her eyes shot to Charles as he broke the silence. He shook his head, brows still furrowed and mouth set in a straight line. “You’re under no obligation.”

For Charles to know, she understood. He had just been in her mind long enough to know that most of it wasn’t even hers. For Erik to know and offer her his hand made her wonder just how desperate he was to assemble the team - for whatever reason that she was about to find out in a moment.

“We leave now.” Was all he said after he tore his hand from hers.

An hour hasn’t even passed when she found herself on a plane with the two men, mind still buzzing but this time not with a high. This time, with an overwhelming anger and anticipation. The way Erik didn’t make eye contact with her and Charles sent worried glances her way throughout their trip to their “base” was enough to tell her that they knew she had already been briefed on what was happening - the reason behind their assembling of a team. Rather, she knew specifically of the personal motive behind it.

All it made her heart feel like it was beating a mile a minute. It pounded against her chest so hard she was sure at least one of them could hear it. So badly did she want to hide out in the plane’s bathroom and take something to stop the pain, but it was off the table. For now.

Soon enough the flight ended, and she came to find out their “base” was a covert CIA facility where they placed the other mutants they rounded up before her. She just as quickly met and said goodbye to Moira MacTaggert, a CIA officer working with Charles and Erik to stop Shaw. His name alone sent sparks of rage flowing through her veins.

She was left with the group when the three went off that night. There, she came face to face with Raven, Sean, Alex, Hank, Darwin, and Angel - or, Mystique, Banshee, and Havok. Darwin and Angel were “self explanatory”, considering they were already nicknames and described their powers fairly well. Hank was just… Hank.

Her turn came around quickly, once everyone settled down from Alex’s show of his “gift”, when all heads turned to her, sitting at the end of the couch. Raven smiled at her - she liked her, she was sweet - “What about you? What’s your power?”

“I’m,” She paused for a moment, the eyes on her making her anxious and curl into herself hoping, praying, another mutant wouldn’t touch her. “I can move things. With my mind.” She gave a tight smile to Raven and nodded her head, as if to reassure herself. “I can move things with my mind.”

Raven’s smile only widened, excited by either the prospect of her being able to move things with her mind or the opportunity to give her an alias. She assumed it was the latter. She excused herself to the washroom just as Raven asked the group what they thought. “We’ll have one for you once you get back! Promise!” Raven called after her.

Body filled with anticipation, she nearly ran to the washroom, willing the door closed behind her after she entered. It was small, but clean - CIA property after all. 

She tried. She really did. Albeit, making contact with a mutant was always the worst; Erik especially. The trauma, the pain, the thoughts. All them clawed at her brain, as though they were tearing through it layer by layer until nothing but them remained within her skull.

Nothing could stop her from taking out the small baggy in her back pocket and tearing it open. Nothing could stop her from taking it, only to feel a rush flow through her. It would take a bit, but soon enough she would stop feeling them gnawing on her very existence. Soon, numbness would wash over her and she could just be no one.

She guessed she was in the washroom for about half an hour. Staring at her reflection, at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything, but when she made her way back to the room, she found it in disarray. Music was blasting from the radio, chairs flipped over, Raven on top of the couch dancing as Hank hung from the ceiling light, the rest of the group messing around with their powers. She couldn’t tell if they were experiencing some high of their own or just happened to have gotten their hands on some alcohol.

“What are you doing? Who destroyed the statue?” Moira’s voice broke her out of the trance she was in watching the group. Slowly, she turned her head to see her, Charles, and Erik walking over as everyone else froze. Moira was angry, that much anyone could tell, but the two men were unreadable.

Hank was the first one to reply back, jumping down the ceiling, panicked, “It was Alex.”

“No. Havok.” Raven seemed to stay unfazed, still standing on the couch with a wide smile on her face. “We have to call him Havok. That's his name now…”

Raven’s words melted away from her. Her focus wasn’t elsewhere; it was simply nowhere at all. She stared at everyone in the room, yet no one at all. So caught up in nothing she didn’t notice Charles himself staring at her until Erik uttered something under his breath and walked away with Moira following, brows furrowed in what looked to be confusion. Just as she caught his eye, he looked away.

Directed at Raven, he spoke firmly, “I expect more from you.”

Not long after, they had gotten word that Shaw would be in Russia, and so she was left with the group of mutants when the three left alongside the CIA to get their hands on him. Before, it would have made her wonder what purpose the group of mutants really served if they didn’t want them there to help. Now, after the incident, she understood why.

By no means were any of them prepared for such a task. She couldn’t claim to be either. She only agreed because she knew a part within her would hate her for not coming and at the very least trying to help.

Just when she thought she and the solemn group couldn’t be any more of a liability, she was proven wrong. Because now Sebastian Shaw stood in front of them, smug and irritating as ever, after having his lackey drop an unsuspecting CIA to his death in front of all of them and cornering them. 

“Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw, and I'm not here to hurt you.” She was sure she wasn’t the only one assuming he had taken out every single CIA operative in the facility to make it this far; a thought that filled her being with even more dread than she was already feeling at the sight of him. “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us. So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and love like kings and queens.”

They all watched, both shocked and betrayed when Angel took the hand Shaw outstretched, standing by his side even when he murdered Darwin in his attempt to stop him with Alex. She didn’t see it - she turned away the second Shaw released the energy he’d taken from Alex into Darwin. She heard it, though. The explosion. When she turned back, as Shaw, Angel, and the men he had brought with him retreated, she saw nothing. There was no sign of Darwin; not even a speck of dust.

Suddenly, her chest tightened and the clawing came back.

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

The person who happened to almost send them home also happened to be the one who provided them a new place to train their powers for the fight with Shaw. Charles was entirely serious and extremely close to sending them all home; “They’re just kids.” But Erik made it clear to him that they couldn’t be anymore, not after Shaw.

Charles lived, alongside Raven, in a massive mansion that had been entirely too big for her to take in, but it provided the perfect space for them to train their powers. Each of them were assigned rooms by Charles personally that day. 

He took the liberty of walking them each there. She didn’t know if it was just her or a Charles thing, but he stayed quiet. Unusual for a man that had so much to say. But then again, with what they’ve already been through, she couldn’t imagine he was feeling very chatty. She certainly wouldn’t have been in his situation. Granted, she would be feeling the same way now, but in her predicament by this point, she wouldn’t mind someone else’s verbal company.

The second he guided her through the bedroom

door, she began to take in the sheer size of the room, feeling bigger than life itself in the way that she was feeling. The bed was even better; huge and looked as though the softness of it would swallow her into a warm hug. Her first instinct would have been to jump right onto it, but the fact that Charles ceased to leave and instead remained planted there, giving her a look she couldn’t make out once she turned to face him, made her fight against her urges.

She opened her mouth in an attempt to utter an “Are you alright?” but never got the chance. Instead, Charles spoke as soon as her mouth opened, slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word he was saying like she had been incapable of doing so before, “Training starts tonight, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

With her brows furrowed in confusion, she nodded, and Charles began to walk away. He stopped by the frame of the door, back to her, and spoke again, “Try and get some rest.”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Now, she was left in the room alone, tiredness washing over her. Awaiting the next day, she decided to fall into the cloud that was the bed and fall asleep while she could.

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

The next morning was when Charles asked to see her - by Raven. The young woman led her over to a room, an odd dome shaped one, where Charles stood waiting. He wasn’t the same as the night before - uncomfortable, was the only way she knew to describe it - welcoming and encouraging.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do,” Charles spoke, hands in his pockets, as she entered and Raven excused herself elsewhere. Looking around, she could see evidence that training had started last night, namely Alex’s. Dark scuff marks were streaked across walls of the dome on the end farthest from them and small balls of fluff on the floor remained, assumingly left behind in the midst of a quick clean up of training dummies that had been torn open.

Despite the mess, several other objects were placed across the floor. All ranged from light to heavy. Chairs, weights - it looked to be anything he could have been capable of carrying in with the help of the others.

She stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”

The man’s smile widened before he started, rather loudly at that. “Well.” He moved towards the objects then spun around to face her, arms outstretched. “This is the beginning of your training.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the man unimpressed. “You want me to move this stuff around?”

“You’re not just moving stuff around.” Charles shook his head, arms dropping to his sides as he declared. “You don’t need to move everything here. I only need to see how much you can handle.” His head tilted as he looked at her, blue eyes meeting her own as his expression retreated to one of curiosity. “And how you handle it.”

She didn’t think the professor was aware of the innuendo within the situation, so she let it go despite the sweet stomach dropping feeling that came over her. Instead, she shrugged. “Then what?”

“Then,” Charles hesitated for a moment, ���Erik was able to move a satellite dish. If it happens to be possible-”

“A satellite dish?” She laughed incredulously, “You can be serious.”

Charles nodded towards her, challenging her statements as he took a few steps forward. “And what is it that’s making you believe you’re incapable of doing anything similar?”

“Look.” She shook her head, looking directly at him when she said, “I can move the average household item, shut a door and maybe, just maybe, bust it down, but I couldn’t push your couch across the room, let alone move a fu- a satellite dish.”

Charles’ brows furrowed. “And that’s what you believe?”

She hummed. “That’s what I know.”

“Well,” he sighed, disappointment written across his face that sent her into a spiral, “There’s not much we can do if you don’t believe you can better yourself, is there?”

The second he walked past her was when it felt as though ice water had been spilt onto her. A mixture of confusion and gloom washed over her before she turned to see Charles’ back, still moving towards the door. “What?”

He stopped in his tracks at her exclamation, waiting several moments as if contemplating before he turned back to her. Carefully, he asked, “Why do you take them?”

She shook her head, looking almost offended. “How did you-”

“Your mind,” Charles confirmed, “It gets quieter.”

The offence on her face never ceased, but the uncomfortable mixture of feelings she was overwhelmed with had her shrug in response to his question. Charles only nodded and gave her a tight smile before turning back.

She closed her eyes, resigning herself with huff. She could go back to the life she had come to know and hate, or she could take the second chance he was giving her even if it did include the prospect of some suffering.

“I don’t take them for fun.” The sound of her voice made Charles stop again. This time, he waited. “When I touch a person I don’t just take every experience. I take every memory.”

He turned around to face her once more and gave her nod, signalling her to continue. She breathed in and out. “I see and I feel everything that’s happened to them. That’s a lot and it’s enough, but that’s not why I-”

She cut herself off, feeling herself choke on the words before shaking her head and persisting herself on despite Charles’ look of concern. “I take them because, when I take their memories, I take all of their thoughts too. Every one. So every thought of murder, or rape, or suicide, or any fucked up thing, keeps tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Charles nodded, walking closer to her, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, sympathy written deep in his soft voice, “And they scare you.”

She shook her head. Looking away from him for a moment, she willed away tears she felt gathering. She turned back to him. “The thought of acting on them scares me.”

Although slightly taken aback by the revelation, Charles holds his composure. He nodded before opening his mouth to respond, walking closer as he began.

The only reaction he got was her taking a step back, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not a bad person.” Charles assumed she didn’t want him touching her - considering she took away every thought. “I’m always all these people at once - I don’t even know who I am.”

“Then we will figure it out.” Charles tilted his head, making sure her eyes met his when she attempted to look away. His voice was soft and reassuring to her ears, even if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You aren’t alone, Y/N.”

As it turns, the drugs were having a large effect on her ability to use her powers - the next few days told her as much. By no means was she capable of moving a satellite dish, but she had been able to take her powers to lengths she never thought she could have been able to.

Most of it was due to Charles - he’d spent most of the next few days with her, pushing her, sometimes to the point where she’d snap at him. She always calmed, though, and Charles always remained coolheaded.

Still, they grew closer. Or at least she grew closer to him. She couldn’t tell if the praise, the laughs, the banter, and the willingness to come back together after a fight only meant something to her. She hoped it did - because why else wouldn’t he just give up on her? All that time spent on advancing her powers to defeat Shaw, and he still talked about helping her as though their relationship would continue past this mission.

Part of her wanted to touch him so she could just know. Even if he hadn’t taken such a liking to her as she had him, at the very least try to understand him in his entirety and make a space for herself in his life. Then, another part of her was horrified at what she would find in there.

For the time being, there wasn’t much opportunity to dwell on it. The day they would head out was coming soon, and Erik suggested the group get a good night’s rest. They would all need it.

With her luck, she didn’t know why she thought that sleep would come easy that night. Whether it was due to adrenaline, anxiety, or anything else, didn’t matter. Because whatever was keeping her up had her pacing the hallways of Charles’ estate that night.

She wasn’t looking for it, but instead happened upon a conversation. 

“… no difference. Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.” She heard Charles’ voice through a door as she passed by. Although knowing that he could probably make out the sound of her mind from a mile away, she still stopped by it. She grew even more curious when she heard Erik’s voice. 

“I'm not gonna stop Shaw. I'm gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?” A moment of silence passed and she shifted on her feet. It made the floor creek. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, nervous, expecting to hear the sound of one of their footsteps coming to open the door and catch her eavesdropping. Whether they heard or not, she didn’t know as Erik continued on, “You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we stop a war,” Charles’ voice wavered on a line of urgency and assurance, “Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so.”

Charles very well could have been doing nothing but reassuring Erik with his words, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually trying to reassure himself. As if the world wouldn’t either discard or abuse them once they’ve served their purpose of their betterment. 

“Will they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men.”

“We already are.” Erik’s voice quickly turned from calm to urgent when he next spoke. “We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!”

“No, no!” She heard Charles attempt to cut Erik off before he sighed. She could practically hear the disappointment in it, although she couldn’t say she felt the same. He only let Erik continue.

“Are you really so naive as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?” She heard him pause. “Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m sorry?” As if Charles had misheard him. 

She shifted on her feet once more as their voices became more hushed, despite the feeling coming from the room becoming more hostile than calm. This time, she was more careful. Nothing made a sound below her feet when she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, as well as her left palm for support.

“After tomorrow, they're gonna turn us. But you're blind to it, because you believe they're all like Moira.” 

“And you believe they're all like Shaw.” Came Charles’ immediate response. Calmly, she heard him continue, “Listen to me very carefully my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik’s voice never wavered when he told Charles, “Peace was never an option.”

Footsteps came far too fast for her to move away from the door. In a split second, she found herself leaning against the door to crashing into Erik’s chest when he pulled the door open. For a moment, Erik stood staring down at her, watching her attempt to recompose herself and attempt to apologize. She didn’t get a word out before he moved past her and walked away.

She watched his form retreat before she turned back to the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw Charles sitting in the chair facing away from her. With his eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “You realize I can hear your mind from across this house?”

She took a step in, almost reluctantly. She didn’t imagine Charles would be content with anything she had to say, but maybe she could make him understand. “Erik’s right, you know.”

Her words had Charles’ eyes snap open. He got out the chair, setting down the drink he was nursing on the table next to him, before he turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Peace isn’t an option ‘cause we’re never gonna get peace.” She shook her head, desperation in both her voice and eyes as she stared into his. “Erik thinks they’re gonna turn on us. They might not, but it doesn’t mean any of us will get any peace. They won’t all be like Shaw, they won’t all be like Moira, but most of them - most of them will just be human. They’ll fear us and they’ll judge us. It doesn’t matter how harmless we are or not.”

She watched as Charles took a step forward, his head tilting to the side, expression unreadable as his voice remained calm. “You can’t be serious.” It was a statement - a wrong one.

“Shaw needs to die,” She spoke with assurance. She felt her eyes fill with tears, Charles watching her suck in a breath and release as he began to walk closer to her, before she spoke in a whisper, no longer trusting her voice, “Shaw needs to die for what he did to us. We’re going to kill him, Charles.”

They’re faces we’re merely inches apart, chilling her to the bone as he looked at her. What she thought he would never do is what he tried the second he began to raise his hand, speaking quickly to her when he asked, “Us?”

His hand almost cupped her cheek when she turned her head away from it. Immediately, his hand froze. Charles watched her profile as more tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Voice weak and tearful, staring away from him, she pleaded, “Please don’t confuse me. I can’t-”

“I know you feel it,” Charles’ other hand came up to guide her face back to him despite her, whispering carefully, “But it is not your cross to bear.”

His hand was warm against her cheek. Comforting - enough to make her mind go blank. Wishful thinking, of course, because soon the clawing in her head would come back with a vengeance at having a man such as Charles touch her. For now, though, he felt safe. Stable. Enough so that she could close her eyes for a moment and let the tears fall as he leaned down to her and let his forehead press against hers. 

“You can’t help but feel his pain,” She felt his breath against her lips as he spoke, his voice the same soft and soothing as she’s known it to be, “But you can decide what you do with it.”

She shook her head gently and pulled away, but still letting Charles’ hand rest against her cheek. “It’s not just-” she whispered to him, mouth feeling dry as her eyes avoided his, trying to piece her thoughts together. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, guiding her eyes to his. She licked her lips before she swallowed. “I barely knew Darwin, but he killed him right in front of us. And it was cruel and scary and I couldn’t even make myself look at it when it happened.”

“I know.” Charles brought his other hand up to brush away slow falling tears she hadn’t even known began to escape. He voiced nothing but concern, letting her continue as if he knew what she was going to say next. 

Her hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, not to pull his hands away from her, but to simply hold onto them. Almost as if they were an anchor to make up for the tears she now felt were falling faster down her face as she realized. “For the first time, I think I want something, I feel this anger and fear, because of my head. I saw it first and I felt it first. It’s mine, and now I have a real responsibility to take care of it.”

“Not with murder.” Her hands tightened around his wrists as he brought her face closer to his own. A frown on his face as he desperately told her, “I meant it when I told you that we would figure this out together. You told me you were never your own person, that you don’t even know yourself. We were - we are - going to bring you into existence. I beg you, Y/N, don’t let yourself be brought into this world as a murderer.”

His words, as beautiful as they were, only half registered within her brain. All she found herself focusing on then was how close he was. She would think back later and come to realize that it was because the only thing making her tears stop and giving her the will not to commit a murder was the prospect of approval she would get from a man like him. From someone who could never understand her struggle, someone who never tried to or tried to make her feel as though there was some way out. From someone who wanted to build on it and show her the strength she could find within it.

Realistically, she knew he would have a few words for her if she ever outwardly admitted to him that she used approval as a means for bettering herself, but it was the best she could do at the time being.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he watched her face, spaced out and regarding him with an expression not even he could read. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew he had gotten through to her. His lips curled up slightly, speaking lowly with amusement evident in his voice, “Now where did you go?”

Her eyes shot from his lips to his eyes once more. As quick as they made eye contact, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Lips soft, she kissed him carefully, one hand moving to cup his face. Only in the last few moments did he respond to it by kissing back.

She pulled away, looking at him nervously and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry again. “I’m sorry-”

She was cut off by Charles’ lips on hers once more. She kissed back instantly, sighing into the kiss in content. Feeling Charles smirk against her lips and deepen the kiss, she put both hands behind his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly as he let his hands trail down her body to her waist, pulling her to make sure there wasn’t the slightest gap between their bodies.

Their lips broke apart, but only long enough to allow for a quick breath. Charles pushed his lips back into hers as her hands snaked down to the collar of his dress shirt, playing carefully with the top button.

Eventually, their lips broke apart as they caught their breath. Bodies still pressed together, Charles leant forward to rest his forehead onto hers, her eyes still close, for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. He placed his chin on top of her head and rested there, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she felt him - anticipating what it would feel like to feel nothing but him. 

[mlqcconfessions]

May I ask if you can make a headcanon of MC x Victor, Lucien, Kiro, Gavin, & Shaw( you dont have to do Shaw if you cant) ( MLQC men's pov) not knowing it was MC's bday. The men finding out that MC hide their birthday cause MC feels that they don't deserve to be celebrated and it is not worth it despite going all out for the MLQC men's bday. Would like to see the boys react that. Sorry if this is too much, but it is okay if you cant, I wanted to thank you and I hope you have a safe day

Because I don’t have a firm grasp on Shaw’s character yet (I’m playing on the English server), I’ll be omitting him from this headcanon. Hope you don’t mind!

MLQC Headcanon - My favorite day

Victor (takes place after his Surprise Date)

He was at LFG when he heard the news

Goldman was dropping off some documents that he needed to finalize

He was browsing through the papers when he came across your company’s rough draft plans for next week’s show

He quickly glanced over the words, signed, and flipped to the next page

After every rough draft, your company’s information always followed (naturally, your personal info was there too)

He stopped to look at your picture (it was the same one you used when applying for LFG’s investment)

Always the same dumb expression.... (but he couldn’t help a smile from forming on his face)

That’s when he saw it....your date of birth (XX-XX-XXXX)

....It’s today.....?

?!

He goes into a panic mode immediately (of course, it doesn’t show on the outside)

He takes out his phone and goes to dial your number

He calms himself while the ringing is going through

But panics (again) when he hears your voice

“Victor!”

Obviously, he doesn’t want to confirm if today was your birthday (that would make him seem like the dumb one)

He has to think of what to say for a moment

“Hello? Victor?”

He’s unable to think clearly, so he just blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind

“Souvenir. 6 PM. Don’t be late”

“What? Vict—“ (he hangs up)

He looks at the time, 4 PM

He sighs, rubbing his temples as he starts to regain his senses

He resumes his work as he ponders over what tonight’s menu will be

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

You arrive at Souvenir a little early than planned (around 5:30)

You go to open the door, but it’s locked (weird)

“Victor? (you knock a few times) Victor, are you there?”

You hear a series of rattling and clattering inside

“....Victor? What’s going on in there?”

You go to knock again, but the door opens wide with a bang

He’s in front of you, disheveled as ever

“....MC....you’re early” 

“Um..yeah. Work went a lot quicker than usual and...um....are you okay? I heard a lot of noise in here”

“Yes...yes. Why wouldn’t I be okay? (he straightens his clothes) Hurry, come in”

You go inside to see Souvenir all decorated, except for a few areas where it’s still bare (even some of the lights were hanging off)

“It’s still in process....but....” (he brings out the cake, lighted with candles)

“Happy birthday”

Kiro

He found out it was your birthday from Kiki and the others (while he was over at your company for a meeting)

As soon as he heard he ran over to your desk with immense speed

“MC! MC! MC! IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY TODAY?!”

You look up from your computer, startled

“Kiro! What are you doing here? The meeting should still be going on” (indeed it was, poor Savin)

“That’s not the problem, MC! Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

You can tell that he’s genuinely hurt by this

“I...just didn’t think it was something worth celebrating, that’s all”

He goes bonkers after you say that

“Not worth celebrating? Are you kidding me?”

He grabs your shoulders and looks you in the eye

“MC! Your birthday DESERVES to be celebrated as much as anyone else’s. Mine included!”

“But...”

“No buts! Today, we are going to make sure you have the BEST birthday EVER!” (he grabs your hand and leads you out of the room)

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

He drags you along throughout town, with him wearing a foolproof disguise (he insisted you wear one too, although it wouldn’t really matter)

You’re having trouble keeping up with his energy, but soon become used to it

He takes you out shopping to buy you a birthday outfit (but he ends up modeling clothes himself, to your request)

The two of you are sitting at a bench, waiting for Savin to come with the car

“.......MC”

You turn your head towards him

He gets up, kneels down in front of you, and takes out a small container

“Kiro?”

He doesn’t say anything, but instead opens the box (you become speechless at the sight of the ring, glowing in the moonlight)

“I bought this while you were in the bathroom” (he takes your hand and slips the ring on your finger)

“Kiro...I...”

“This is my reservation, MC! With this, (he kisses your hand) I’m yours forever. Happy birthday”

Lucien

He already knew your birthday was coming up

But was unsure of the exact date

Every time he asked, you would just play it off

“My birthday? It’s.........soon”

He didn’t want to go looking through your information to find out when it was (it would feel like his loss, or something)

He decides to make YOU tell him, yourself

He’s just so good with his words?

He’s looking at something on his phone during breakfast (something he rarely does)

“MC, look at this trait description for Scorpios”

You take his phone from him

“Do you think this description fits me?”

Strategic? Persistent? Secretive?? (if this isn’t Lucien, then who else is it)

“Yeah, I think it describes you perfectly!”

“Is that so? (you don’t notice the smile on his face) How about I read yours, too?”

“Sure! But I don’t know my sign...can you check XX/XX?” (insert birthdate here)

Bingo.

“So I assumed correctly. Happy birthday, MC”

You immediately realize what you just did (oh no)

“Um, Lucien. It’s not like I didn’t WANT to tell you....” (he just chuckles as you hang your head low)

“I know.” (he gets up to clear the dishes, and goes inside the bedroom)

He comes out wearing a coat, while you’re still sitting at the table

“Well? (you look at him as he straightens his coat collar) Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

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

You wanted to avoid an extravagant celebration for your birthday

And he understood that perfectly

So he takes you to the movies, buys you dinner, and now you’re in his office (he said he wanted to show you something)

“Thank you, Lucien. I had a wonderful time today”

“You’re very welcome. But I’m afraid it’s not over just yet”

He opens a drawer and takes out a small wooden box

“Lucien? What’s this?” (you open the box, and see a beautiful pen inside)

“....is this...”

“I didn’t know what would be the best gift for your birthday.....”

“So you’re giving me Iridescent...?” (he nods slightly, appearing to be embarrassed)

“But this is your—“

“Favorite pen. Which is why I’m giving it to you”

“Does that make me your favorite person?” (you can’t believe you just said that)

This makes you blush profusely (he’s just SO good with words)

He laughs at the sight of your face going red (he hugs you while you’re holding tight to the box)

“Happy birthday......my favorite person”

Gavin

Why did he have to find out it was your birthday from Minor?

He doesn’t care that you hid it from him (he figured you had your reasons)

But it’s irritating that it was Minor. Of ALL PEOPLE

He’s having such a hard time deciding what to give you

After all, you prepared a big celebration for his birthday

“Bro, it’s gonna be okay! Chill!” (it took everything in him to not come over there and hit Minor)

“I’ll ask Boss what she wants as a present”

“What? NO”

“Don’t worry! I got this!” (Minor hangs up, leaving Gavin to pace around his room)

This was your first time celebrating your birthday with him (ever since he asked you out last year)

No wonder Birdcop is so nervous

He gets an idea of what to get you, and gets to work right away (it’s homemade!)

After pacing for 20 minutes, he decides to call you for a date

But drops his phone when you call him first (he stubs his toe while he breaks the fall)

“He-hello?” (he’s rubbing his foot, hiding his pain)

“Gavin! Where are you?”

“...what?”

“What do you mean, what? Our date! I’m in front of the aquarium right now”

He’s confused (somebody help him)

“A..aquarium?” (he flinches when he hears you sigh)

“Yes, the aquarium! Minor told me you were going to take me out on a date here. Am I wrong?” 

Birdcop’s actually thankful for Minor’s nosiness for once

“I’ll be there right away” (ride like the wind, Sparky)

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

Your aquarium date goes by pretty quickly (he takes so many pictures of you?)

“Gavin, come here! You look like this sea lion!”

It was about time for the aquarium to close, so he takes you back home

As you were about to take off your helmet, it starts raining like crazy

Despite his constant I’m okays, you bring him in into your apartment to dry off

“You’re going to get sick, Gavin!” (getting sick was the LAST thing on his mind, right now)

He’s sitting awkwardly on a chair, while you go to put his shirt in the drying machine

But you feel something in his shirt pocket and take it out

“A necklace?�� (Gavin immediately gets up and runs over to you)

It’s a necklace in the shape of a ginkgo leaf, with both of your initials carved in the back

There are rough edges here and there, but nonetheless beautiful in every way

“....Gavin....!” (he hides his face in his hands, and you notice that his ears and shoulders have turned red)

He coughs before offering to put it on for you (his calloused hands are a little shaky as they graze behind your neck)

“It’s not much but.....happy birthday”

UGH can someone give me an MLQC boy to celebrate my birthdays???

[formeandmyfics]

At the H.R.

JUGENEA FAN FICTION

Set during Easter Parade, now that Gene’s ankle is all healed, Judy & Gene are able to be together again. Rated MA - for spicy but a sweet finish

January 1948

Gene had been at Ciro's for a few minutes, sitting at a booth nestled in the corner, nursing a Brandy Manhattan on the rocks. Friends and peers of his were all chatting to themselves around him.

The 'Metro' gang usually took up the two large booths on the east side of the nightclub every Friday night, as if it was reserved, and tonight had been no different. It felt good to Gene to be out like this again.

"That pianist sounds amazing," Angela Lansbury commented as a darker-skinned gentleman played some jazz tunes over the piano accompanied by a jazz drummer. During each band's breaks, there was always a pianist playing to keep the atmosphere lively.

Lena Horne leaned over a bit towards him, to speak to Angie, who was sitting on this other side of Gene, "His name is Bud Powell. Lennie knows him. He's working on an album right now."

"Oh, good for him. He's very talented."

Gene smiled and took a sip of his drink. He was honored to be sitting between two beautiful ladies, even if they were unknowingly ignoring him. He checked his watch and kneaded his eyebrows. Judy was unpunctual, but not when it came to Ciro's. She was always here, every Friday night, on the clock.

A sudden burst of laughter from the adjoining booth next to him, where Van Johnson, June Allyson and Jimmy Stewart, to name a few, got Gene's attention. He leaned back to see if she was there. Whenever there was a roar of laughter, usually Judy was the culprit of it. But, she was no where to be seen.

Gene turned back around, and when he glanced up, he did a double take. On the dance floor, just up ahead from their booth, where couples currently stood talking, instead of dancing, there she was. Judy was in deep conversation with Ann Miller, her current co-star, and looking radiant. Her off the shoulder black cocktail dress was simple, but she made it anything but.

"Hello, earth to Gene," Lena said waving a hand past his face making him flinch.

"Huh?"

"I asked when you were going back to the studio."

"Oh, ah," he said diverting his eyes from Judy to look at Lena, "We start shooting in a few weeks."

"The Three Musketeers," she asked curious

Gene couldn't help stare back Judy's direction, "Yeah."

"Seems everyone's in it but me," she joked as a lot of their friends there tonight, including June, Angela & Van Heflin, were going to be in the film with him.

When Gene didn't answer, as his gaze seemed to be fixated in front of him, Lena looked to see what had his profound attention. When she saw Judy up ahead laughing hysterically with Ann, her lips curved into a smile.

"I'm not the only one not in your next film, hm," she said leaning into him teasingly.

"What," he asked looking at her. When she nodded towards Judy, he shrugged, "Oh, yeah, Judy's not in it. But she's still in the middle of filming 'Easter Parade'."

The mention of the movie made Gene want to wince. Everyone that knew him, knew how disappointed he had been in breaking his ankle. He had been so excited to do that film, as the music and script were divine, but ever since staring their affair up again during 'The Pirate', he wanted to continue it while working with her on this project. She wanted it even more that she went so far in having Vincente replaced as director. Part of it was because him as director didn't quite work out so good for him as husband at home as well. But, also, because she didn't want any interference with their own relationship. He had a great time rehearsing until the accident. That was 2 1/2 months ago. He was, however, happy that he had helped talk Fred into taking his place, as he wanted only the best with her, and he was genuinely looking forward to seeing the movie.

But he was more looking forward to seeing Judy tonight. Oh, they had seen each other around a few times during those months, doing post-production VR work at the studio for 'Pirate', as well at a couple house parties, where their spouses were present, but not alone. They hadn't been alone since the night before that god damn tennis game.

"She's looking very pretty tonight," Lena said.

"Yes, she is," he said casually taking another sip, his eyes glancing back up at her.

"I wonder why she's by herself tonight," Lena asked but then went on in an exaggerated tone, "Oh, that's right," she snapped her fingers, "I heard he was in New York on business."

Gene's gaze finally left Judy's to look at the woman next to him with a quizzical eye, "You don't say."

"What a shame that she's here alone. Personally, I don't think any woman should roam about at a nightclub without a date."

Gene chuckled, "Believe me, Judy is not alone. She knows practically everyone in this joint, and she knows how to work a room. She can easily get a ride home, if she needs one."

"What about you?"

"What about me," he asked trying to act blaze but her intrigued tone started to make him nervous.

"Would you give her a ride home?"

"I'd always give her a ride home, of course. She's a friend," he said taking another sip, the ice now clunking together in his nearly empty glass.

Lena leaned her chin on her hands and lowered her voice, now teasing, "How good of a friend?"

Gene put his glass back on the table, no smile apparent, but then he forced a chuckle thinking Lena was joking around, but deep inside, he had a feeling she wasn't. He knew her acting abilities was better than she was putting on.

"Good enough to know how she likes her eggs in the morning," she asked, in a whisper, so no one else could hear. And her tone signaled to Gene that she knew.

"She doesn't like eggs in the morning, she likes fruit and waffles," he said smiling bashfully.

Lena laughed and pushed his arm, "You devil."

They both looked the other direction as Angela and, fiance Peter Shaw, slid out of the booth. Now alone, they were able to talk a little more openly, but still with lowered voices.

"I find it very hard to believe that Judy told you about us."

"She didn't. Over Christmas break, when we were at Sardi's, I overheard her and Kay Thompson in the bathroom when they didn't know anyone was in there."

"Oh, God," he said, "Does she know that you overheard?"

"Oh, yeah. She was very embarrassed and swore me to secrecy," off Gene's look, her eyes widened, "I haven't said a thing, not even to my husband. I swear, Gene, your guys' secret is safe with me. I don't care what two people do, that's your own business. I ain't butting in, but..."

Gene laughed and shook his head, "Yeah?"

"From what I heard, I have to say, maybe you should be the one giving Judy that ride home," she smiled cheekily with her eyebrows raised.

"Dare I ask," he said not feeling bashful at all, but more amused.

"I'm sorry, darling, but I'm too much of a lady to say," she winked, "Now, wish me luck. I've got to stop over at the Penitentiary Fox table over there, say hi to some people."

"20th Century Fox," Gene corrected.

"You say Potato," she mumbled and scooted out.

Judy gently swatted Ann's back as Annie walked away laughing, when Lena slid by her, placing a hand on her lower back.

"Just so you're aware, dear, there's a certain handsome, dark-haired, dancer over in the Metro booth that hasn't taken his eyes off you."  

Judy watched as Lena kept on walking, heading the other direction. Judy looked down, fiddling with her nail, and was smiling a bit. She already knew who the man was. And just the thought made her insides quiver with excitement. She knew he would be there. Frank had mentioned it to her when he declined her invitation to go out, just like he had with Gene before her, because of a cold he was battling. Frank was a gentleman, and he treated her like a lady, but at the same time spoke to her like one of the guys. She was quite bold herself with him. He was one of the people who knew of her on-again-off-again affair with Gene, so he had no hesitation in telling her that the man couldn’t wait to get her alone again.

Slowly turning her head his way, with a bit of a shy smile, their eyes met.

Gene sat there in the booth, alone, staring at her with a very sexy expression as he lit a cigarette. For a moment, Judy felt like the world around them was non-existent as they held a gaze, his smoke slowly exhaling from his lips, as music echoed in her ears as if it were under water. When he took the cigarette away from his mouth, he licked his lips, and his gaze turned more intense. Judy placed her hand on her stomach feeling those delightful butterflies that he never failed in giving her, even after all these years.

"Judy...Judy..."

Judy faintly heard her name, and she saw Gene's eyes look to the right of her, before meeting her eyes again but she couldn't process it. Gene smiled, tapping his cigarette on the tray, before motioning to her to look beside her. She gave him a questionable look before she heard her name again.

"Judy," Jane Powell giggled.

"Huh," Judy asked now looking over at the blonde. Others were looking at her, smiling, as well.

“The band’s up there, honey, they’re asking you to sing.”

Judy saw that the bang had come back on stage and the conductor was motioning for her to come up.

“Sing us a song, Judy, come on,” he said cheerfully.

She giggled and nodded before heading through the crowd her cheered her on as she made her way to the stage.

“How about a slow one, is that alright,” she asked the audience through the microphone before turning to the conductor who showed her a set list and they agreed on ‘If I Had You’.

Gene watched her in a comfortable way. He was used to what her presence could do, he was familiar to the energy she gave off, so it was no surprise to Gene when no one slow danced as they did with other singers. When Judy Garland sang on stage, all eyes were upon her. She just had this captivating thing about her.

And as much as he never tired of her singing, as much as he heard her a million times before, even being lucky enough to sing with her, the sound of here right now made his dick hard. It wasn’t particularly her singing that turned him on, but that voice of hers, the one he knew very well

It was the voice that laughed with him over funny anecdotes, the voice that talked to him about the meaning of dreams and life and the universe, the voice that came out of her in a series of sounds as they made love. That woman up there was his best friend that he knew, not only intimately, but as a person. And he missed her so fucking much.

Their time back together on ‘Pirate was intense and hot. They were basically fueled by frustration, not only at work but in their personal lives as well. When they had started pre-production on Easter Parade, they were both more relaxed and their private time together was unhurried, still passionate, but softer. Then that was taken away because of a reckless moment during a sport. Though he enjoyed every encounter with her, every day that went by, especially now that his ankle was healed and he was free to come and go as he pleased, he found himself wanting to make her feel so good she forget her own name.

As Judy sang, her eyes slyly kept drifting his way. He knew he had her undivided attention, which always flattered him, and made his ego a little bigger. Ever since he met her, she seemed to only see him even in a room full of other men, some with whom desired her. He knew her attention was much more than just attraction, because it was that way for him as well, which he assumed is why their temporary separation had been almost excruciating this time around. When she finished the song, everyone clapped and cheered for another, but she politely declined. A few people had stopped her once she got off stage, and at first he felt a little impatient, but then Van slipped into the booth next to him and started chatting about their upcoming film. While talking to Van, he heard her voice behind him, followed by slight bump against his arm as she sat next to him. When his conversation finished, he turned to look at her, but she was conversing with her co-star Peter Lawford now, who was standing up with a drink in hand. Peter acknowledged him with a nod, and Gene nodded back, to which Judy turned and gave him a smile, placing a hand on his leg, before turning back to Lawford. It looked like a friendly gesture on her part, but it made his skin tingle. As the two seemingly gossiped, he took advantage of letting his eyes scan over her as she was sitting close. He could smell her familiar perfume as he stared at her flawless, porcelain skin that he was overly familiar with. The black velvet, sweetheart-style bodice of her dress was enticing. Judging by the curve of her breasts slightly pushed above it told him she was wearing one of her teddy’s underneath, which she frequently wore when wearing dresses like this. And he had frequently loved seeing them. She was no ‘pin-up girl’ as she once told him, but boy, she knew how to make lingerie look good. “…Alright,” Peter chuckled, “I’ll see ya later, Judes.” “Bye, darling.” Judy maneuvered her body and turned towards Gene. They both just smiled, a warm smile, and though there was relief in their expression, sparkles were also in their eyes. “Hi.” “Hi.” Judy had this overwhelming feeling to just jump into his arms, but she had to remind herself where she was. “How’s your ankle?” “Well, I can’t be going around doing jumping jacks hours on end, but I no longer need crutches or bandages.” “That’s good,” she said and purposefully grabbed the carton of cigarettes, nervously clearing her throat before going on, “You start your next film in a few weeks, right?” As Gene reached for his lighter, he noticed she seemed anxious. “Yeah,” he replied as he lit it for her. She exhaled, “And, ah, they’re letting you do all that physical acting already, even though you have to be careful?” “Well, the scenes with my fencing numbers they’re going to shoot at the end of filming when I’m pretty much all healed,” his eyebrows furrowed as she nodded and fiddled with the cigarette between her fingers. “Why are you making small talk?” Judy didn’t meet his gaze, but she flirtatiously smiled, “Because I’m trying to refrain from what I really want to say to you.” Gene smiled wide, his slight crows feet making her weak, “Well, I’d really like to hear it.” She giggled, “I bet you would.” He chuckled with her, and under the table, he turned his palm up which she immediately linked her fingers in his. “So, I heard that Vincente is out of town.” “Yes,” she responded with that familiar lisp. “That’s good,” he said,o

“Oh, it is,” she said fishing for attention.

He leaned into her ear, his voice deepening, “Yes, because I can’t think of anything else but being inside of you again.” “I had a feeling you’d say that…” she said not shocked at all by his confession, as their eyes linked, “…which is why I asked Kay to watch Liza tonight.” “How’d you know I’d be here,” he asked intrigued. “A little birdie told me. I called ahead for a reservation at the H.R.” Her hand slid out of his and she fiddled with her small purse in her lap. He pretended not to take notice, as he took a sip of water, but soon felt something metal slide into his hand. Looking down, he grasped the hotel key. Judy watched him quite provocatively as he tried to hide a smile as he placed it inside his breast pocket. She swore he was blushing. “That’s pretty risky,” he said, then teased her, “What if I didn’t have an excuse to get away?” “I knew you’d make one,” she said innocently, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Before he could respond, two middle-aged ladies, definitely out-of-towners, came up to their table asking them each for autographs which they happily agreed to. Luckily, the tourists didn’t stay around and strike up a conversation. As they walked away, Judy looked at him quite seriously, “Gene?” “Hm?” “I don’t want to just go there. I want to sleep in your arms tonight.” “I know,” he said back, “I'll have Frank call Betsy and tell her I passed out at his place. She won't miss me. Did you bring your own car here?”

“Yah.”

“Then I'll meet you over there."

Judy gave him a coy smile before she bounced her way out of the booth.

“Oh, honey,” he said as she passed him about to head out.

“Hm,” she asked turning on her heels.

“I gotta ask you something,” he said motioning for her which she walked over.

He took her elbow so she’d lean down a bit, “Lena said she overheard you tell Kay something naughty about me.” Off Judy’s look he went on, “In the ladies room. What did you say?”

Judy looked around to make sure no one was looking and she put her hand up as she whispered in his ear. He listened a moment, and quickly his eyes widened before his smile did.

He looked at her, his mouth slightly a jar, and she raised her arched her eyebrow, “Room 215, dear.”

He watched her walk out of his sight before letting out an impish chuckle.

Judy drove east on Sunset Blvd, heading towards Hollywood Boulevard. It was less than a 10 minute drive, but during that short duration, she enjoyed the views as the streets were quite lively that evening. When she saw the large ‘Hotel Roosevelt’ sign up ahead, lit up in red over the tower, another rush of butterflies filled her tummy. She hadn’t been acting a seduction with Gene. She truly wanted him. Not only did she miss the meaningful conversations with him, as they could be honest about nearly anything and everything without judgement, but she missed the comfort he encompassed as well. But, most of all, she missed the sex and a truly great orgasm, which was what she had told Gene. Sex with him went beyond just physical for her, and for him, she knew. They connected emotionally, mentally, and felt comfortable in their skin. She longed for that again, as it had been at its peak before Gene’s accident.

As Judy pulled into the side entrance of the hotel, where the valet was stationed, she waited behind another car. One thing she loved about this hotel was not only the history and elegance, but the discreet atmosphere. This hotel was more busy than The Chateau Marmont, which was the most private, and discreet hotels of them all in Hollywood, but she had heard that Mr. Mayer was having a party there tonight. She was not about to step into that hot water.

When Judy saw the lady that got out of the Cadillac in front of her, she cursed and slid down in her seat a bit. The designer hat was a tell: Hedda Hopper.

Still hunched down, Judy watched the gossip queen walk into the side entrance, when the door opened startling her.

“Ma’am,” the young valet said. When he saw Judy’s deer-in-the-headlights look, he gave her a confused look.

Judy immediately sat up, and smiled, “Good evening, thank you.” After taking her valet ticket, she head to the back entrance and let out a breath, hoping to God, Hedda wasn’t standing right there.

When she walked into the back lobby, Hedda was occupied at the check in desk. Luckily, Judy already had the two room keys. Nonchalantly, she walked past the woman, but as she did, she noticed Gene up ahead making a call. She wasn’t surprised to see him already there, as she had gotten interrupted by friends in the lobby of Ciro’s as she was leaving. He must’ve left just before her.

Gene was pressing Sinatra’s house number when he saw Judy walking towards him. But she wasn’t smiling. She was looking at him eyes wide, with a warning expression, and her pace was swift. When he silently asked her what was wrong, she nodded as if to look behind her, before she kept on walking past him towards the elevator.

He looked the direction she nodded and saw Hedda facing his way, but conversing with a bellhop.

“Fuck,” he whispered and turned around so his back was to her.

Gene closed his eyes. Jesus Christ, that was the last thing they needed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, buddy, it’s Gene.”

“Hows it going?”

“How you feeling?”

“Hopped up on every cold remedy out there, boy, including a hot toddy. What are you doing calling me? I thought you were going to the watering hole?”

“I was, but I’m at the Roosevelt now.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because Hedda fucking Hopper is behind me, and I don’t want her to see me. Listen, do me a favor.”

“Depends.”

“Not depends. You backed into my car at Gleason’s on New Years, man. I still have the dent. You owe me.”

“Yeah, ok, what’s up?”

“Call my wife, tell her I passed out at your place.”

“Why?”

“What does it matter? I’m not coming home tonight and I need a good excuse.”

He heard Frank break out in a naughty chuckle, “Ooo, oo, oo, you gone get some, huh? It’s our girl ain’t it? Ain’t it?”

Frank’s playful voice made Gene smile, “Just do it, would ya?”

“Yeah, I got your back. Tell Judy I said hi.”

Gene heard Hedda’s heels on the marble floors coming closer and his voice got quieter, “I gotta go.”

After hanging up, he kept his back to the woman, pretending to look through the phone book, nearly holding his breath as the footsteps passed him.

“Gene,” he heard her unmistakable voice and he closed his eyes sighing, “Is that you?”

Turning, he presented her with a movie star smile, “Hedda, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she squealed and accepting him into a hug, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just came for a few drinks at the lounge. Ciro’s got too busy for my taste,” he fibbed.

“Oh, mine, too. Also, it seems they’re letting anybody in nowadays. Why don’t you come have one more drink with me? We’ll catch up?”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I was just heading out. But let’s do lunch soon, yeah?”

“Oh, heaven’s, I’d love that. I’m going to keep you to your word.”

“You do that.”

“It’s good to see you out and about without crutches, darling. You have a good night.”

“You, too, love. You’re looking very pretty.”

Hedda giggled like a school girl before she turned and kept walking. The minute she was turned, Gene practically ran towards the stairs next to the elevator.

Gene unlocked the hotel room door and, when he stepped in, he immediately noticed her heels were laying in the middle of the floor, a sign to him that she made it to the room.

“I’m here,” he called out kicking off his own shoes next to her stilettos.

“I’ll be right out, darling,” she said from the bathroom.

He stood next to the closed bathroom door, “Hedda fucking saw me, baby, she tried chatting. I blew her off real quick.”

He heard her giggle from inside, which made him smile as he walked over to the closet door. He was hanging up his suit jacket when he heard the door open behind him.

“Can you believe Hedda showed up,” he heard her say incredibly, “Out of all people, the gossip Queen.”

“Well,” he said slipping his tie off, “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been one of our spouses.”

He turned around to face her, about to close the closet door, when he saw her. She was minding her own business as she took off her earrings, standing there in a black, strapless, lace teddy which had garters attached holding up her thigh high stockings.

Judy made a disgusted face at the thought of what Gene just said, “Oh, geez, please don’t say things like that. Don’t even think it.”

“Oh, honey,” he mumbled impressed, and turned on at her attire, as he swung the closet door shut behind him.

As Judy tossed her earrings on the bedside table, she looked at him and immediately noticed him eyeing her body with a look that would scare a virgin.

“What,” she giggled.

Gene looked at her in disbelief by her question, “You,” he chuckled. Judy walked up to him and placed her hands arms around his neck, “You’ve always seen me in lingerie.”

“I know, but,” he said looked down at her full, but petite, breasts against his chest, “Over two months, honey.”

“Well, I probably would have surprised you naked, but I actually need help getting out of this,” she gestured to the back of it.

“What, your handmaiden off duty,” he teased.

“Tonight she is,” she teased back, undoing a few of the buttons on his shirt, as she spoke with a very seductive voice.

He stayed still as she undid each one. When she finished, she slid the white dress shirt off his arms and then immediately ran her hands under his undershirt. Gene’s chest rose as he took a slow, but deep, breath in as her flat hands ran up his toned stomach to his chest. Gene closed his eyes as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on his neck, leaving a red lipstick mark on his skin as she did so.

Leaning back, Judy lifted the undershirt and he lift his arms so she could toss it off him. When she leaned in to kiss his chest, he immediately grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her to look up at him, in a good, and oh, so sexual, way. The sudden move made her gasp in an excited delight as she was staring straight into his eyes. Their eyes clouded over. He wanted to fuck her and she wanted to be fucked. Gene leaned in to kiss her, but he stopped short of her lips, eyeing her face up and down as her eyes closed and her lips parted. When her eyes opened, not feeling his kiss, a kiss she longed for, she saw his eyes twinkling with tease. She wasn’t in the mood for games.

Judy leaned forward to kiss him, but his hand slid up the back of her head, taking her silky hair in his fist, and he held her back, gently, but in control. Gene leaned in to kiss her again, and her mouth opened, but he then diverted, leaving a trail of kisses along her neck, sucking a bit with each one. She leaned her head back a bit and sighed, feeling his heavenly touch. She barely felt his other hand fumbling with the back of her teddy, where the lace criss-crossed up a series of hooks.

Gene leaned back from her and swiftly turned her around, her hands falling flat against the full-length mirror on the closet door to balance herself. It was another move that surprised her, but she loved knowing he was frustrated.

“What the hell, Judy,” he said.

“The back is built like a corset.”

“Why doesn’t this have a zipper like the others,” he said, his expression showing as if he were looking at a map of greater Pittsburg.

Judy let out a breathy laugh and looked at his reflection through the mirror, “You have to slide the ties from the hooks.” He started one, and it caught, she she spoke up, with a tone as if she were talking to an impatient child, “Gently.”

Gene looked up her with a stubborn expression and yanked, none-so-gently, her body slightly yanking with it. He did it again, and then another, until she felt the garment getting looser.

“Or that,” she said, “But ruin my new lingerie in the process,” she mumbled but let him continue.

Gene ignored her as he looked down at her bottom, slightly arched back, as she held herself against the mirror. She was only inches away from his growing erection.

Judy was looking down, not noticing that he took a step forward, until she felt him against her bottom, and then there was another yank. She smiled biting her bottom lip as she felt the excited tingles in her tummy now evolve as an exquisite ache between her legs.

When he was done with the last one, she turned around and he took another step, his body now over-towering hers, her back pressing against the mirror.

“Never wear that again, please.”

“You seemed to enjoy the view,” she said as her finger nails tickled his sides.

Gene’s expression was softer as he moved some hair away from her face before he finally leaned down to kiss her. Judy wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling him tighter as his lips tugged and pulled at hers, as his tongue slid erotically over her own. She reciprocated back just the same until they were both breathless.

He pulled back and rest his forehead against hers a moment, relishing in the moment of being with her again. But when he heard her whisper, “I’ve missed you,” he wanted to give her what she came here for..so badly.

Reaching down, his hands grasped her thighs right under her tush, and lifted her up. They both let out a small grunt as her body landed against his, her thighs high around his waist. She giggled as she looked down at him as he walked them across the room, towards the bed, smiling back at her.

Suddenly, Gene dropped her onto the mattress, like a doll landing on her back, and she let out a shriek. But before she could process anything, he grabbed her under her knees and yanked her towards him, his hips between her legs now. He leaned over her, holding himself up off her body as his hands sunk into the mattress next to her head and he gave her another delicious kiss. As he did, Judy reached down and unclasped her garters from her stockings, anticipating his next move was to rid her of the material she was wearing. And last thing she wanted to do was frustrate him more with ladies’ complicated undergarments.

Just as she expected, he stood back up so he could undress her. He lowered the teddy from her chest, pulling down until her legs accommodating it to slide completely off of her. It was inside out by the time he tossed it behind him. Gene gazed upon her as his hands ran over her black thigh highs, “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled, always feeling beautiful when they were together, and she reached her hands up, over his, to help him slide the nylon down.

Gene slid her hands away, “Leave them on.”

She smiled, rolling her eyes teasing, “Leg man.”

“Shh,” he said with a certain kind of seriousness he possessed whenever he was concentrated on something.

The bed made a slight sound as his body shifted, towering over her again, her hand was grasping his hair as his mouth  reminded her that he was not only a leg man, but tits, too. As he gave equal treatment to the other, she whimpered, and he could feel her try to press her thighs together, but his one knee was kneeling between her, making it impossible to do so. His other hand traveled between them, to help her relieve some of the pressure. He wasn’t surprised that she was soaked already, she normally was whenever he was about to make love to her. But the thought of how much he could arouse her, never failed to make his dick as hard as an 18-year-old.  

When Judy felt Gene leave a trail of kisses down her stomach, his mouth about to replace his hand, she tried scooting away and he lifted his head.

“No, no way,” she said adamantly.

He looked at her a little taken back. She loved when he pleased her that way, and he loved it. He loved her reactions and had intended to give her, her first orgasm of the night that way.

As if she could read his thoughts, she sat up, “I want you to be inside of me when I come.”

Most of the time, Judy always had some form of a second orgasm during intercourse, after coming from Gene’s mouth. It was not as strong, but still delightful. However, tonight she was afraid that her body might fail her if she came just from oral sex. And she knew she wouldn’t last long. She wanted to savor the time with him. That’s why, after she slowly undid his buckle and dropped his pants, she caressed him with her hand instead of her mouth, because she knew he wouldn’t last either.

Standing, but bending down as he sucked on her lower plush lip, he willfully took her wrist away from him. It twitched when he did, missing the feeling of her soft milking motions. After laying her back down, he rest his body on top of hers, but not to crush her, and they made out for a few minutes, always enjoying that type of intimacy. The kisses became erotic, heavy, as his hands caressed her breasts down to her thighs and up again. Her fingertips dug at the skin on his back, her hips rising to get closer to his hard arousal that slid up and down her entrance.

She whimpered in frustration and agony, “I can’t,” she managed to get out against his lips. She didn’t speak an entire sentence but he knew she couldn’t wait any longer. Her body was hot and bothered, as was his, but with a more refrain.

Standing up, her bottom at the edge of the bed, he held her thighs against him as he slowly slid into her. Her walls immediately grasped him making him groan loudly with relief and satisfaction. His reaction amused her as she let out a laugh through her gasp, feeling his pulse in an opposite rhythm of hers, making the sensation feel delicious.

He wasted no time fucking her and she responded whole-heartedly. Her sighs quickly turned into mewling cries as the pressure made her forget her surroundings. All she concentrated upon was the feeling of him sliding in and out and a burst of a feeling of love spread through out her chest, tingling her nipples. She bit her bottom lip and arched her head back as her hands slid over her breasts in a sensual way. Gene reached forward, placing one hand on top of hers, to remind her he was still there as she seemed to be drifting into another world of pleasure.

But his movement hit her just right, and she lifted her head gasping, “Right there.” “Yeah,” he said, mostly to himself through a sexual haze as his hands braced against her hips, keeping her in that same place so he could give her a great finish.

Her cries turned into loud moans as her body tightened, and started to twitch around him and his pace quickened, his hips smacking hard against her skin. Judy’s hands reached above her head, grasping the white comforter as if something to hold onto as the buildup was making her toes curl.  

“Oh,” she squeaked but lost her voice as it burst long and hard inside of her. Gene didn’t let up either, he kept at it, fucking her through her orgasm to make it last.

He didn’t even remember feeling her that tight around him and it made him dizzy as all his muscles were strained, his face nearly red, trying to hold out until she was sated. He was about to let himself go when she suddenly grabbed his wrist and gasped.

“Oh, Gene,” she tightened again whimpered, “Please.”

Feeling her coming again, made him proud, but was torture. He thought he was going to die at the sensation of not coming then. But he held himself together, nearly holding his breath, as he pounded her to a second orgasm. When he felt her gush around him, he let go without warning and his knees buckled. His hand quickly braced himself on the bed before crushing her.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned loudly as he continuing his pace as he shot out inside of her but it kept coming. “Fuck,” he repeated.

When he himself was completely drained, and her aftershocks wore off, he collapsed onto his back next to her. His skin was red, his heart was pounding, he felt like he just ran a marathon, but it was so worth it. He turned his head to look at her, and her hands were on her forehead, looking up at the ceiling almost in shock. It made him laugh through his heavy breathing.

She, in turn, let out her own giggle, “Oh my Gosh.”

Jazz was playing softly over the radio as Gene leaned next to the window, in one of the hotel’s, white complimentary robes, smoking a cigarette. He looked deep in thought as he stared down at Hollywood Boulevard still all lit up and still lively. His eyes saw the surroundings, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Anything exciting happening out there,” Judy asked as she walked out of the bathroom in a matching robe.

“No, but for what time it is, there’s sure a lot of people out.”

Judy walked over and peeked out, her eyes fixated on groups outside of Graumans Chinese Theater.

“Most likely tourists.” “And probably all taking pictures with your hand and footprints.”

“Yours soon, too, darling.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“Because I am. How can they not? All I did was sing about a rainbow and be Andy Hardy’s girlfriend. You’re one of the most talented dancers and actors I’ve ever met.”

Gene let out a chuckle and placed his hand on her back rubbing up and down, “You’re sweet.”

“No, I’m honest,” she corrected and walked over to the bed.

He followed suit and they sat opposite of a silver tray of fresh fruit and veggie’s that they had ordered from room service.

“What were you thinking about at the window?”

“Oh, just about being here right now and how everything sees alright in the world, even though I know it’s not. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time, even though I’ve been off work all this time,” he made a face as if he were contradicting himself, “Does that sound silly?”

Judy nodded as she took a bite of a strawberry, “No.”

“Or maybe it’s just the ‘afterglow’ of sex,” he teased.

Judy heard his playful tone but she could tell there was something else behind it. She spoke carefully, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

Gene looked up at her a little hesitant at first, then responded, “When I was with you,” he said and bit into a carrot stick.

Judy gave him a genuinely surprised expression, “Are you joking?”

“Why would I joke about something like that?”

“I don’t mean it like that, darling, I’m just a little shocked.”

“Why? Because I’m married?” Judy gave a nod and he continued a little irritated, “What does that matter, anyways. How about you?”

“Just as long.” Gene gave her a look that showed he didn’t believe her and she immediately defended herself, “I’m serious. I mean, I’ve given...” she tried to find the right word to be respectful to Gene, “I’ve been a generous wife.”

Gene immediately made a disgusted face and put his hand up not wanting to think about her giving her husband a blow job.

She continued, “But he hasn’t been interested in anything else.”

“Do you think it’s because he knows about us?”

“No,” she said popping a grape into her mouth, “That’s the funny part. When he found out about us on our last picture, you know, our history together way before he and I even got together, he kind of accepted it that I wasn’t going to give you up.”

“Vince is a very ‘happy wife, happy life,’ kind of guy.”

“The thing is, Gene, we still made love after that. But now, we kind of have this cloud over us. He’s still lovely as ever towards me, I know he’s still disappointed that I got him replaced on Easter Parade.”

“He’ll come around.”

“I’m back with you, darling,” she said reaching over to place her hand on top of his, “That’s all I care about at the moment.”

Gene picked up her hand, kissing it, before she pulled away. They were silent a moment before she spoke up again, “Gene?”

“Ya?”

“Why has it been so long for you?”

“Does it really matter,” he asked sounding a little angry.

“Yes, because I just told you about me and Vincente. You said earlier that Betsy wouldn’t miss you if you disappeared for a night. Why?”

“Because she jumped in the sack with Ted Harper, my golf partner, while I’ve been recovering. He’s the same guy whose house I was at when I broke my fucking ankle.”

Judy’s mouth opened in complete shock. Betsy was the last person she ever expected to cheat.

“Yeah,” he said seeing her reaction, “Can you believe that?”

“Is she still with him?”

“No clue. We had words,” he chuckled remembering their screaming match, “Oh, boy, did we have words. She says they aren’t anymore, but I’m not sure what to believe. I ran into Ted the other day. It took everything in my power to punch the living daylights out of him.”

“Why even bother, Gene.”

“Because she’s still my wife and he was my golfing partner. It’s disgusting, a complete disgrace.” When he saw her look he continued, “Imagine if you were home sick and you found out that, say,…Kay slept with your husband during that time…”

“I’d be devastated.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you and Betsy right now?”

“We came to equal terms, let’s just say that. We’re going to try to move past it.”

“Are you kidding,” she asked, “She slept with your friend after you broke your ankle, how can you just let it slide like that?”

“The same way she’s letting it slide that I was sleeping with you after she had my baby.”

Judy dropped her fruit and looked at him wide eyed, “She knows?”

“It slipped out when we were fighting. I guess I was trying to hurt her in the moment, hurt her the way she hurt me. I regret it, but at the same time it feels good that she finally knows. That’s where we ‘shook hands’ sort-to-speak.”

“Gene, I cannot believe you told her!”

“What are you getting pissed about? Your husband knows.”

“My husband is a part of the studio system. He knows to keep his damn mouth shut. What if she opens her mouth and ‘let’s it slip’ to someone else? A reporter will hear it, it’ll get out, and the studio will eat us alive.”

“She won’t do that. Besides, she only thinks we had an affair during My Gal. As far as she’s concerned, we’ve moved on and you’re married in a studio’s match made in heaven.”

“You won’t tell her about now?”

“Nope, same reason you won’t tell Vince. So, let’s just move on from this conversation, shall we?”

“Fine,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “I was getting bored anyways.”

“Oh, you were getting bored?”

“Mm, hm,” she said popping another piece of fruit in her mouth.

“Let’s make you un-bored then,” he said before grabbing her arm.

She shrieked as she landed on his lap, but screamed in laughter as he started a tickling match.

It was 10 a.m. and the sky was a very dark gray. Jazz music was lightly playing over the radio as rain pound against the hotel window, rare, but not unheard of, for Los Angeles. The morning was so very comfy, and so very titillating for Judy, as Gene had woken her up with his head between her legs. It was so delicious, she felt simply heavenly, as she sleepily enjoyed the unhurried attention of his mouth slowly building her pleasure. Gene heard her moan as he felt her hand go to his head, running her hands through his hair massaging his scalp as his head moved ever so gently, and rhythmically, against her. Lifting his hands, he untied her robe so he could run his hand along her breasts to heighten her sensation. Suddenly, her belly started quivering unevenly followed by mewling cries and he knew she was close. He smiled against her as he locked his arms around her thighs to hold her down in place. Usually she ended up pushing his head away as she came, but he wanted to feel it. His licks against her pearl became more intense, only stopping to suck hard, before releasing and starting over again. Judy grabbed his hair in her fist, arching her back, moaning. The sound of his mouth pleasuring her just accelerated her pleasure and she couldn’t help but give off a breathy giggle with happiness. Everything about him brought her happiness. Gene barely heard her whisper that she was coming as the sound of her giggle made his heart explode. He wanted to climb inside of her being, her soul, and never leave. When he felt her thighs lock against his head, followed by her loud cry, he quickly moved his mouth to her entrance, moving his tongue in and out of her as her muscles wildly contracted around it. Judy thought she’d die of the sensation, and for a moment, had a selfish thought of wanting him to stay there forever.

When he felt her body relax, his softly kissed his way up her body until he reached her lips, and then they enjoyed a lovely, and passionate, good morning kiss. When he pulled back, she smiled gently lifted her arms from his waist and placed them around his neck, “That felt amazing, thank you.” “You are very welcome, sweetheart,” he replied and leaned in for another French kiss. Judy felt his arousal against her stomach and she reached down to caress him. He didn’t show any signs of resistance as her wrist moved up and down at a steady pace, their mouths sucking and pulling at each other’s lips, until he buried his face in her neck to lay kisses there. When Judy heard his soft groan, she released him and placed her hands on his chest pushing him off of he. He rolled over, laying on his back, his head lifted slightly against the head board as he watched her straddle him. And she easily slid down onto him. Gene loved overpowering her during sex, showing her how much she was desired, but he also loved this: her tiny body on top of him as he was completely buried inside of her. With her open robe slightly falling off her shoulder, Judy’s hips slowly grind back and forth against his pelvic bone as she pressed her hands slightly on his chest to balance herself. She felt Gene’s finger tips start to caress her thighs up and down and she linked eyes with him. When she did, the look on his face, the way he was staring as her, made her feel loved so much that the sensation made her almost tear up. Gene saw the unconditional love reciprocated on her face, and he exhaled roughly through his nose, keeping his own emotions in check. But Judy could see right through him, like he could her. “Come here,” he said, placing his hand on the back of her neck and she complied, leaning forward to kiss him. For minutes, his hands swept her hair off her face, their foreheads touching as she she breathed against his lips and cheeks. Her movement of her hips brought higher and higher until he was groaning, his hips bucking up into her until he shot out his love into her again.           Judy stood in front of the mirror, in her cocktail dress, placing her earrings back on, when she watched Gene walk out of the bathroom, now back in his suit. He looked a little solemn, which mirrored her own feelings. Neither wanted to leave the other. When he leaned against the wall, placing his hands in his pockets, his eyes met hers through the reflection. Judy lowered hers a moment before turning around and walking straight to him, placing her cheek on his chest. His arms engulfed her and seemingly they both glanced at the time. They had only ten more minutes until she had to check out, they could already hear the maid’s carts in the hallway. “Do you think there’s a difference between loving somebody and being in-love with somebody?” Judy thought for a moment, knowing exactly where this was heading, “Love to me is a lot of things, Gene, and being in-love is very broad.” “How so?” “Because I think it feels different with each person. I’ve been in-love with different men, and each time none of it felt the same. When you’re in-love with someone, you just know, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” “Does that scare you?” “Love doesn’t scare me.” “Why don’t you look at me and say that,” he said leaning back. She stood up straight and looked at him in the eyes, “Love doesn’t scare me.” “Yes, it does.” “Someone’s love for me doesn’t scare me. My love for others scares me, because of them possibly not feeling the same. Does it scare you?” “What scares me is being head-over-heels in-love with someone and I have to hide it.” Judy looked down, shaking her head, “Gene…” “Judy, let’s face it, we fell in-love. And like you said, there’s was no stopping it.” “The timing is horrible.” “It sure as hell is.” It was no secret to them that neither were ready to leave their families. It was something they both understood, as they were dealing with on a personal level. If they were prepared, they would’ve done so years ago. “Can’t we just be together,” she pleaded, “Even though I’m in-love with you, I still love my husband, my family. I’m not ready to  give either of you up.” Gene chuckled and kissed her, “I feel the same way. Is that selfish?” “Not to me, but it would sound preposterous to others, don’t you think,” she giggled. “Well, we’re anything but simple, you and me,” he was quiet a moment, thinking, before he continued, “Honey, can we make a deal?” “Hm?” “Two more years…I’ll give it two more years. If we’re both still not happy with our spouses, let’s make a deal to just end it with them and move on together. Otherwise, what’s the point?” Judy moved her lips, about to speak, but she thought about it to herself a second. Gene looked at her with apprehensively but when he saw her finally smile, he relaxed. “Deal,” she said reaching her hand out to shake his but instead he took it and kissed the back of it. A knock on the door startled them and they heard ‘housekeeping’. “Be out in a second, thank you,” Gene yelled. He turned back to her and put his hands on her face to kiss her once more, “I love you.” “I love you, too.” “See ya at the studio.” “You bet,” she winked.

[holeinotomemind]

Shaw: I Do?

WARNING: Marriage :P

Also posted on AO3 [here]

Summary: The filming in Las Vegas about weird weddings wrapped up successfully with Shaw's help, subbing in for our sound engineer who had a family emergency. As it happened to be his birthday today, I figured we can go out and celebrate, but It seemed he had something else on his mind.

Words: 2,656

Notes: Special thank you to yunyu and WonderfulShining for the inspiration.I was a bit sad, although it was expected, that Shaw didn't get his own wedding karma. And after discussion on the discord channel and reading WonderfulShining's fic A Jolt to the Heart (also on AO3), I was inspired to write my own.I know some things don't technically make sense in this fic, but just go with it ok? XD And sorry in advance for any errors and grammar and stuff... this wasn't beta-ed. T_T

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The new series on interesting weddings around the world was wrapping up quickly after the last several weeks of filming. We finally landed a few days ago at our last stop in Las Vegas, where the weirdest and wackiest weddings took place.

Today was the last day of our shoot and I couldn’t help be feel a little sad about it. But I was also glad to be heading back home soon, especially after the several hiccups we encountered during the last week. I’m more than ready to spend a couple of days just relaxing at home back in Loveland City.

“Boss,” Kiki squealed. “That dress is cute!”

“Thanks!” I blushed a little as I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

The off-shoulder lilac dress I was wearing was bought last-minute yesterday in an outlet mall when I was suddenly told that today’s bride had a fallout with her bridesmaid and needed someone to stand-in for her last minute.

The A-line dress was beautiful with just enough beaded flower patterns above the waist that twinkled under the light without being too flashy and the dress covered just above the knees accentuated my legs while still remaining modest.

Initially, I was a bit concerned that the bride may want me to wear a plainer dress, after all, I was only a stand-in bridesmaid, but considering how extravagant the original bridesmaid’s dress was, I felt confident that she wouldn’t be upset about this. Plus, Shaw said since I was paying for it out-of-pocket, I might as well buy something I like. And I sure did fell in love with this dress as soon as he pulled it out of the rack.

I checked with the film crew to make sure everything was ready before heading over to Shaw , who was acting as our sound guy today. When Herts had to drop everything to fly back home due to a family emergency last week, I was forced to ask Shaw to help us out.

He agreed, on the condition that he got to spend a few extra days here after the filming at the expense of the company. He mentioned something about a band headlining in one of the hotels here, but I couldn’t remember which one. At the time, I was so glad that he agreed to help that I didn’t listen to the exact details, but now that I thought about it, we might be expecting a big bill from him after all this.

“Hey, how’s everything going?” I asked him.

“Everything looks fine,” he answered before looking my up and down with his arms folded. “Not bad.”

“Kiki said it was pretty,” I told him, trying to give him a hint.

“Of course,” he smiled lopsidedly. “I picked out the dress.”

Not getting the desired answer, I pouted. As I turned around to find the bride, I heard Shaw chuckled behind me and I knew he did it on purpose. The little brat knew I was fishing for his compliment, but he just refused to give it to me.

Acting like a child myself, I half stomped my way over to the bride’s room.

The bride, in her extravagant red wedding gown and black leather jacket, turned towards me. “Here comes my bridesmaid!”

“Congratulations on your big day!” I hugged her tightly.

She beamed at me with the brightest smile I had seen even though her slightly shaking hands told me she was getting the wedding jitters.

The director came in with Homer, our cameraman, and asked her to talk about her story. After all, this was made in a reality show format, so the audience would like to know how she was feeling.

Sitting on the other side of the room out of shot of the camera, I watched her talk about why they chose to be wedded by a KISS impersonator in Las Vegas and how their family had opposed the idea at first.

It had been extremely interesting listening to every couple’s unique story during the last several weeks of filming, but today, my mind drifted elsewhere.

Today was a special day. True, it was the last day of filming, but it was also Shaw’s birthday. While I was happy that he was here and I could celebrate it with him, I hadn’t had the time to prepare for anything. After all, I didn’t expect to be able to see him until after I returned to Loveland City until a week ago, and I was too busy to plan anything for him this last week.

But most importantly, he was turning twenty-two today, the legal age for marriage back home.*

I shook my head violently, my face beet red at the thought. What was I thinking?

Kiki gave me a strange look when she poked her head in the door as I was smacked myself in the face several times. “Err… Boss, you ok?”

“Yeah… I was just waking myself up,” I gave her a lame excuse.

“Sure,” she wasn’t convinced but didn’t press the issue. “I came to tell you we’re all ready to go.”

With that announcement, the wedding ceremony officially began.

Carrying a small bouquet of red and black roses, I slowly walked down the aisle as loud heavy metal music played in the background. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the groom, dressed in all black, waiting at the altar, eagerly looking pass me for the bride.

As the KISS impersonator and the bride came into view, the groom let out a quick laugh and all three rose their hand to give a sign of the horn and stuck their tongues out. But that lasted only for a moment before the groom’s gaze was fixed on his bride. His face lit up, grinning ear to ear as she walked down the aisle, the KISS impersonator all but forgotten.

I stole a few quick glances at Shaw, who was carrying around the microphone. Unlike his normal playful expressions, he had a look of serious concentration on his face.

Smiling to myself, I wondered what he would look like on his own wedding day. Would he wear a proper suit? Or would he insist on wearing his leather jacket? Would he look at his bride with the same admiration as the groom did today? Or would he carry a smug look as he often did?

As if hearing my thoughts, Shaw looked over at me and smirked before returning to his work. My face flushed red and lowered my head immediately.

There was no way he could have known I was fantasizing about him being the groom, right?

Mortified at the prospects that he might know what I was thinking, I kept my head down until the crowd started cheering and I realized the groom was now kissing his bride passionately.

I bit my cheek to prevent my brain from wondering about how Shaw would act in this situation and told myself to focus.

The ceremony ended without a hitch with the minister, who was impersonating another KISS member, yelled something and everyone got up from their seat to get ready to take pictures. Several guitars were shoved towards the wedding party and everyone made faces at the photographer’s request.

Homer came over with the director to request for the couple to comment on their experience before everyone was invited to head over to the reception.

Since I was only a stand-in bridesmaid, I didn’t follow them. After congratulating the couple again, I snuck off to check in with the film crew again.

“That’s a wrap, everyone!” The director yelled out after we confirmed we had all the footage we need and everyone cheered.

Kiki hurried towards me with a bounce in her stride. She was visibly excited that the shoot was over. “Got plans tonight, Boss?”

I thought for a moment before looking down at my watch and smiled at the time. It was still early, perhaps I could still get a reservation in a nice restaurant to celebrate Shaw’s birthday tonight.

“Yes, I have plans,” I replied to Kiki’s dismay.

She muttered something before she shrugged and skipped over to Bao Bao.

As I craned my neck to look for the birthday boy, I heard him calling my name. He was standing with someone I don’t recognize.

“Come over for a sec,” Shaw called out to me again.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked as I hurried over, my heels hitting the red carpet thinking that perhaps something went wrong with the sound equipment.

I stopped a few feet from them and looked at him questioningly. Instead of answering, Shaw grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards him.

“Say I do,” he ordered out of the blue.

“What?” I blink in confusion.

“Why do you have so many questions?” He tsked annoyingly. “Just say it!”

“I... do...?” I complied in an extremely unsure tone, still confused as ever.

At my words, he smiled. It was a smile so bright I never saw before, like a ray of sunshine it warmed my heart. Dazzled, I stared at him and almost missed it when he said, “I do, too.”

Before I was able to react, before the man, who I did not recognize, finish saying “you may now kiss the bride”, his lips were already on mine.

Cradling the nape of my neck with his gloved hand, he tilted my head back further to deepen the kiss. His other hand splayed across the small of my back, pressing me close to the warmth of his body and I melted against him. His kiss was like a storm, engulfing me, forcing my senses to focus on nothing but him.

Loud cheers and whistling snapped me back to reality. Pushing away from him, I blushed bright red as I realized my staff had, apparently, been watching us. Some wore expressions of surprise, some had huge smiles, some had tears in their eyes… and then there was Minor, who looked absolutely mortified and was sweating profusely.

“What just happened?” I looked back towards Shaw and demanded. I had an inkling, but it was so farfetched that the possibility of it happening was close to nil.

Again, instead of answering the question, he took my hand and led me toward the back of the altar, where two documents laid side by side on top of a huge amplifier speaker.

Releasing my hand, he bent down to quickly signed his name on both, then shoved the pen towards me.

“Nooooo!” I squealed as I read the title on the documents and threw the pen away as if it was on fire.

“You’re too loud,” he complained, rubbing his ear with his finger. “You’re going to blow my eardrums at this rate.”

“But… but…” I couldn’t find the right words to say, so I frantically waved my arms at the documents that were titled “Marriage Licence” and “Marriage Registration”.

He chuckled at my reaction, no doubt finding it extremely amusing.

“Don’t laugh!” I smacked him on the chest with the bridesmaid bouquet I was somehow still holding on to. “Explain!”

“You,” he pinched my cheek, “are asking too many questions. Just sign the papers!”

“No!” I object again, though this time it sounded more like a whine than anything.

“No?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not! You’re wearing a hoodie and ripped up jeans, and I don’t have a wedding gown.” I gestured between him and myself, saying whatever that came to my mind. “You never proposed and there’s not even a ring!”

He burst out laughing again as I glared at him. “Is that why you’re saying no?”

Reaching towards me, his fingers circled my wrist and gently guided my hand up and that was when a saw it. A small elegant diamond ring and a platinum wedding band sat beautifully on my ring finger, the diamond sparkling under the lights of the wedding hall.

I looked back and forth between him and the rings. They weren’t on my finger before, so he must have snuck them on me when he kissed me a few moments ago. I blushed at the thought that he was able to distract me so much with only a kiss that I didn’t even know he had put the rings on me.

A small smile crept up my face as I stare at the rings on my finger, but I quickly suppressed it.

“You still never proposed,” I muttered with a pout. Why did he just assume I’d go with his spur of the moment wedding plan? “You can’t just assume I’ll agree to this.”

“Fine,” he announced before picking up the documents and holding his hand out to me. “Give me back those rings and I’ll go shred these marriage documents.”

Immediately, I shot out my hands to snatch the papers from him and held them against my chest with my right hand covering the rings.

“No way! You gave them to me, they’re mine now!” I declared shamelessly, throwing his pet phrase back at him. “You can’t take them back!”

“Oh?” He smirked at me knowingly.

Concluding that I was never going to win against this brat, I glared at him one last time before picking up the pen I threw away a moment ago and signed the papers.

“Congratulations,” the minister smiled at me as he took the documents and handed me a ring. “We’re doing this out of order, but you may still want to put the ring on him.”

The wedding band on my palm was bigger than the one my finger but was of the same style. As I held it up for a closer look, I realized there were small engravings on the inside of the ring.

It wasn’t anything fancy or romantic, just our initials and today’s date, but it warmed my heart. This was no spur of the moment decision, he had planned this in advance.

I smiled at him as tears blurred my vision. I should have known. After all, the rings on my fingers fitted perfectly.

“You look terrible crying and grinning at the same time,” he tsked and criticized as he normally did, but the hand that wiped the tears off my cheeks were warm and gentle. “Are you going to put that on me or are you just going to hold on to it forever?”

Letting out a little laugh, I slipped the ring onto his finger.

Shaw leaned in and kissed me again, this time tenderly. As I stood on my tiptoes to return his kiss, I heard Green Day’s Holiday being played in the background.

That was the song he was listening to when I met him for the first time on the bus.

Laughter bubbled inside me as I giggled into our kiss.

“What was that?” He gave me a face, but couldn’t stop smiling himself.

I stood on my tippy toes again, stretching towards him with my hand cupping the side of my mouth and whispered in his ear, “I was thinking, you’re turning twenty-two, what should I do to call dips on you. Who knew you were even more in a hurry than I was.”

He flicked my forehead playfully before interlacing his fingers with mine and started pulling me along with him, “Let’s go!”

I smiled as I jogged behind him, the film crew waving and cheering for us as we exited the venue.

Throwing his skateboard on the ground, he jumped on, dragging me along with him. I should have protested, but at this moment, I was so happy that I didn’t care. I hung on to him as we sped down the road.

There was no proposal, no elegant wedding dress, no romantic venue, no heartfelt wedding vows, not one thing I dreamed of for my wedding as a girl. Yet, it was absolutely perfect, because the groom was my one and only Shaw.

--------- 

More notes: *Since MLQC is a Chinese made game and Loveland City is based on Shanghai, I'm just going to keep the legal marriage ages of China, which is 22 for males and 20 for females. Hope there weren't any OOC moments.

[just-dreaming-about]

First Impressions #4

I WAS JUST UP FOR DRAMA OK? So things are getting intense and dramatic this time for Thalia. I kinda like the final angst. #Sorrynotsorry? Enjoy!

She didn't know how things had gotten out of control so quickly. The plan was simple, wait until she received a code message from a hidden number and that would be herr signal to get out of the building as quickly as possible before S.H.I.E.L.D's agents took action. If she didn't do it in time, she would have problems since these agents would take her as one of Hammerhead's thugs. The signal she was waiting for came two weeks after she sealed the deal with Spider-Man. During those days she had kept busy training and helping thugs clean up weapons, her normal daily routine except that she hadn’t visited her father. Spider-Man told her that it would be best if she did so, S.H.I.E.L.D would make sure to put him safe before taking action and if she were to visit him perhaps Hammerhead would realize what was going on and that would spoil the plan. The plan was ruined from the start. She also hadn't had time to see Peter and return the jacket to him. When she received the message she was busy training hand-to-hand combat, this time with the surprise that Hammerhead's right hand was her partner. He fought well, she had to admit it. Behind his extremely slicked-back blonde hair, the jacket suit and his bored face, he knew how to move. She began to enjoy the fight between the biting comments that were thrown between them from time to time to anger the other and to attack with more force so she didn’t see the screen of her phone shine with the coded message and the hidden number. When they both ended training, she didn't give her phone much importance either as she slipped it into her training pants pocket.

-I didn't expect you to really know how to fight -she teased. -I'm not where I am because of my pretty face, you know? -he denied with his head but there was a funny smile on his face.

She looked at him feigning surprise and gestured with her hands as if her head had just exploded.

-You're a dork, you know? -he threw her the towel with which he had wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

When she reached out to return the towel, he was looking at his own phone, which he had taken out of his training bag, with a worried face.

-Bad news? -she asked pretending a carefree tone.

He turned to her as if wanting to say something but just then they heard a strange noise.

-I'm on my way! -yelled a voice that Thalia knew too well.

And then the cover of the ventilation duct crashed to the ground a few meters from where they were, a blue and red figure landed just after and Thalia thought she would rather be dead right now.

-Okay, I'm in. Where do I have to go? -he waited silently before speaking again- I'll be there in a minute.

Ready to run, it was at that moment that Spider-Man noticed the two people who were there with him. His first reaction was to look at her and then at him, where the mask made the shape of her eyes they widened with what she thought was a grimace, but then his right hand went to the right side of his face where his ear should be.

-I'm going to take a little longer.

She barely had a second to think, Hammerhead's right hand was there so she would have to pretend the situation caught her by surprise as well and try to fight Spider-Man alongside him. The surprise part didn't have to strain to fake it. So she took a defensive stance, ready to spring into action, and Spider-Man seemed to read her mind because he was also preparing to go into combat but he stopped them.

-Are you that stupid or is it just that we're lucky? -he asked to the masked hero with an expression of disbelief- Do you not think before acting? Didn't it occur to you to scan the place BEFORE entering? You're lucky it's just me and Thalia, what would have happened if it had been someone else? -Wait, are you Jerry? The person agent Shaw said he had inside? -asked Spider-Man now. -Obviously! I would have shot you already, although the truth is that I am wanting. Who let you be part of this mission? -Agent Simmons thought I could use some more experience -his voice sounded somewhat embarrassed but Thalia had to interrupt them because she was so lost. -I don't get it. Who are you and why aren't you surprised to see Spider-Man here?

In a quick recap Jerry explained that he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, that he had been infiltrating the ranks of Hammerhead for months and that he reported on all the illegal activities that took place there. He also told her that he had convinced Hammerhead to keep his father alive to use it and this would give him time to find a way out of there. So S.H.I.E.L.D. was actually taking care of her way Thalia was very surprised but had no time to process the new information, Spider-Man explained to them that there were detonators in the building in the places where Jerry had told them that there would be no one: his mission was to find the Hammerhead security room and download all the information on their computers before they detonated. Both Jerry and Spider-Man insisted that she should leave the building right now, but Thalia refused, wanted to help and be helpful, and Jerry argued with her as if he were some kind of self-proclaimed overprotective older brother. That bothered her. And it bothered her even more that Spider-Man agreed with him! Sorry? She had fought Spider-Man and had defended herself well! Well, maybe the hero kicked her off in their first encounter, but she had taken the hit and got up again. That had to serve as sufficient proof that she was able to keep up with them. But neither the infiltrated agent nor the hero-in-training seemed to see him as she did. So the three of them ran to the exit carefully taking the empty corridors since at that time there would not be many people in the building.

-Why are you coming with us? Spider-Man asked, skidding to the left, almost falling in the process. -The exit is in the same direction, idiot!

For a second Peter thought that Thalia was lying to him and that he was actually going to go with them all the way so he was relieved to see that she was turning right when they were turning left. He hoped that she could get to the exit well but, although her instinct told her to turn around and accompany her to a safe place, she kept running because this mission was very important and S.H.I.E.L.D. expected a lot from him and Happy also expected a lot from him and there were many outstanding eyes looking at him during this mission in principle simple but in which so many things could go wrong... Since that night two weeks ago he hadn't stopped thinking about her. There was a part of him that scolded himself for allowing the thing to go so far, now there were feelings involved and it was very difficult to explain to anyone related to this mission why he jumped to the slightest mention of Thalia. No one knew that he had come to know her as Peter, he was struggling to pretend that he only knew her as Spider-Man and that it was only a strong sense of justice that drove him. But he was looking forward to the mission being over to go see her and check that she was okay. On the one hand he wanted all this to end for her but on the other he wondered if when it was all over he would ever see her again. The times he had seen her as Peter had been entirely by luck and he had never found the courage or the words to ask for her phone number. The time was never appropriate Jerri was in charge of opening the door to the computer room and he flew with the pendrive to download all the information he could find. It was very fast actually. Just in and out. Jerri warned Peter that the detonators were about to explode, they should leave as soon as possible. He was guided by him to a large open window from which Peter could escape, Jerri had to keep his cover so he could find work for another great objective than S.H.I.E.L.D. was targeting from Hell's Kitchen. Peter threw his webs at the nearest building and swayed easily before hearing gunshots coming from the back of the building that faced a small private harbor. Something inside him told him that it would be better to check the origin of those shots even though his brain and the plan he knew he had to follow told him otherwise. And damn it this time he listened to his instincts because Thalia was there. Two thugs were holding her by the arms, a third was holding a gun pointed at the sky and threatened that the next shot would go to her leg if she didn't respond. In a couple of seconds he heard the man with the gun yell at the girl who was clenching and her jaw preparing for another blow. This was nothing that Thalia hadn’t felt before. The pain, the beatings, the threats... When the dirty work for Hammerhead began, her training also began and her training went through torture and interrogation. But this time they were going over. A gun? Really? She could barely open her left eye without pain, her nose was burning like it was broken and a second ago she had spat blood. The way the thugs held her by the arms assured her that they would leave bruises for a while because the bruises were slow to fade away from her. They had been hitting her in the stomach and before the gun they had taken out a knife with which they had made a rather deep wound in the left leg. When she refused to answer again, she received a blow to the right side of her face, close to her ear, with the butt of the pistol to intensify the blow, which, added to the weak state she was in, she practically made her pass out right there. Between painful blinks she saw a red and blue shadow attack the guy with the gun. She felt something hard hitting her all over her left side and only when she opened her eye a little she could see that she was on the ground and a mess of feet in front of her were fighting fiercely. Someone stepped on her left leg but didn’t know if had been wanting or not. At some point someone started shouting her name. In her semi-conscious state and for a brief second she thought it was Peter who was calling her. Would he have come to ask him to return the jacket? Because she didn't want to return it, it was her favorite.

-Peter? -she mumbled.

Then she saw herself with enough force to open the only eye that didn’t hurt and saw the masked face of Spider-Man. It was he who called her.

-Come on, you can't pass out here! -he insisted and seemed worried, but she was very tired and closed her eye again- You can't do this to me, hold on! Cute Boy is waiting for you.

The next time she was mildly aware of her surroundings, she was still unable to open her eyes. There were many voices around her and she felt as if whatever she was lying on radiated heat. Someone -a woman- spoke very quickly and another person -Cute Boy?- answered in a vague and confused way. The woman's voice sounded very close to her, more relaxed as if trying to calm her, just before she felt a puncture in her forearm. Only before she lost consciousness again did she realize that someone was holding her hand tightly. After that she felt another surge of energy envelop her but she still couldn't open her eyes and an horrible pain ran through her face and body. This time, she didn't have time to notice if anyone was talking around her before passing out again. The time she did find herself able to open her eyes, she didn't open them either because someone was speaking to her in a very sweet and reassuring way and she didn't want to interrupt. She vaguely remembered that the last time she heard that voice she thought it was Peter but it was Spider-Man who was trying to help her.

-Hey. It's me. Again.

Silence and then an attempt to laugh as if to try to calm himself.

-If you woke up now I wouldn't know how to explain why I'm here... and agent Johnson would probably kill me.

He was silent again and then a deep defeated sigh.

-But Simmons says that your brain response is good and that you surely hear everything they tell you, but your physical exhaustion beats your brain activity and that's why you still can't wake up.

Once again, silence, and then a hand grabbed her own and began to draw circles with his thumb. It was nice.

-I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. I should have listened to you and let you come with us.

Again silence but this time longer than the previous ones.

-I miss you -he whispered- I-I know we barely know each other, that I only know about you how little you've told to-to Spider-Man and how little you've shown to-to Peter. But I-I... I miss meeting you on the roof of a building -he stopped to laugh nervously- I like how you called me. Cute boy. I-I'm a little embarrassed that-that y-you see me like that but I like it... When you wake up I would like you to call me that again -another pause for a nervous laugh- and to give me back my jacket although it looks much better on you.

The silence that followed was so long this time that Thalia thought she had lost consciousness again. Then he coughed before starting to speak again.

-You know? I'm not the only one waiting for you to wake up. Thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D. your father is recovering his health and has started doing leg movement exercises to regain strength. He really wants to see you... And agent Johnson is impressed with your work, Jerri has done a full report on everything you have done while he was there with you, says you could enter the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy... I-If you want of course! It is not mandatory... Although they would let you choose the specialty and they would not force you to be a field agent if you don’t want to. There are many people wishing that you wake up... Me to... I am wishing that you wake up... -Parker? You don't have permission to be here. If Simmons catches you, you're a dead man -it was a voice that she had never heard but seemed like a young boy. -I know-I'm sorry, agent Fitz-sir. I-I was leaving. -Quickly and without being seen -I hope you're at least having a nice dream, Thalia -he whispered suddenly very close and then she felt the warm brush of lips on her forehead.

[elfiesink]

May I please request an Ashe x fem reader one shot? R might be smaller and sensitive looking than Ashe but she's fiesty and protective. One day R finds her gf Ashe tied up with her bike stolen by mccree. After helping Ashe, she secretly hunts down mccree for some payback. She ends up surprising Ashe when she shows up with her bike and mcrees mechanical arm that she ripped off. Fluffy ending please?

I hope this is what you had in mind!

------

Ashe didn’t think much of you when she first met you. You were shorter than her, smaller, so delicate it looked like a strong wind could push you over. You were pretty, yes, but soft. Too soft. And yet she still watched you listen to a random old woman tell you about how she met her now dead husband. Tears collected at the corners of your eyes the longer you listened. It was comical. It was pathetic. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.

It let her witness one of her grunts making his way over. A newer guy whose name Ashe had yet to memorize. His eyes were locked on the rather large purse on the old woman’s lap. Your eyes jumped to him and the warm compassion switched to a swift and violent chill. The moment he reached for his gun you were on him; hooking your foot around his ankle and wrenching his arm out of its socket. B.O.B. had to step in to pry you off of him before you succeeded in your apparent goal of smashing the grunt’s head into the concrete. The crowd was silent as you squirmed ineffectively in B.O.B.’s grasp. Waiting for Ashe to give the word. You had just attacked a member of her gang, her family.

But you.

She liked you.

The rest of the gang never quite believed you were capable of hurting a fly. But you were Ashe’s sunbeam and there was no questioning her choices. You never really had much of a reason to fly into violence, but Ashe knew you had it in you. She adored the way you balanced compassion and fury and you loved her sense of loyalty and the wild way she lived. You found a home and family with her and the deadlocks. Nothing means more to you than her and them. Nothing.

When you found her tied to the truck the gang used for transport during heists, you swallowed the rage that welled up within you. Now was not the time. Not when the gang needed you to untie them, care for their wounds, patch up their egos. You watched over your Ashe until she fell asleep and left her in B.O.B.’s capable hands.

Your battle gear was different than the rest of the gang. You wore lace instead of leather, a shaw instead of spikes, a large floppy hat instead of an ammo belt. You picked up a small white purse and quietly departed on your hunt. You looked like the type who volunteered at animal shelters and health fairs. The type who gently but firmly asked people to sign your petitions for a new park. And you were. But you were also other things. Ashe saw that, saw all of you. You hated to see her hurt and humiliated. That job meant so much to her and for that to be taken away.

Tracking is easy when you ask nicely. People are always willing to tell such a nice young lady what she wants to know. Especially older people, especially in exchange for a little bit of your time. And you do love the stories they tell you. Each one reminds you of how wonderful life is, how important it is to find where you belong and keep it safe. That’s all you ever wanted. A quiet place of your own in the big wide world. You didn’t need adventure and excitement. You just needed home. And home just so happened to be in the middle of a bunch of rowdy outlaws, surrounded by the smell of gasoline and gunpowder. It wasn’t what you expected but it makes sense. You aren’t a visible threat amidst so many others. You aren’t a visible threat in your floral patterned lace, walking past a small hotel, taking note of the familiar looking vehicle sitting in the parking lot.

You are a patient person. You calmly find a new friend, an elderly couple who run a bakery across the street. You listen to their stories, their happy ones about grandchildren learning to walk, their angry ones about the ruffians around the corner who are always hassling them, their confused ones about the latest technology that came out. You helped them with it as best you could. You didn’t deal much with computers, you laughed. Honest embarrassment colored your face. You paid for your desserts, didn’t mind the way one of them eyed the large amount of cash in your purse.

There were a few little metal tables outside of the bakery that were just perfect for enjoying your treats. The sun was gentle but warm, the breeze was slight and soothing, the street quiet but cheerful. At least, it was cheerful to you. You took your time eating. It was such a nice afternoon after all, why rush such dreadful business. Ashe would be waiting for you when you got home. Home. You wished you were there now. You could already smell the gasoline, feel the grease on your fingertips from accidentally brushing them against the wrong counter. Your daydreams were disturbed by a hand slamming down on the table in front of you. You jumped, looking up to see three sneering men hovering over you.

“Hey. We heard you got some money for us.”

“No? I don’t, know you?” You tilted your head, let confusion color your face, let a yelp from your throat as they dragged you to your feet. One of them spied the small purse you were clutching for dear life and tried to yank it out of your hand. But you are stronger than you look. You pull too hard, let your body twist, and the man stumbles and falls into the road. The other two throw you into the tables, your back smacking against the window with enough force to knock the breath out of you.

But that’s fine. You have time to recover. He is the heroic type after all, of course he would come for a delicate thing in need. It’s only a few shots, a swirl of movement, the sound of thuds and running feet before a metal hand descends in front of your face accompanied by gentle words.

“Are you okay?”

You are not the strongest person in the world. You are not the most trained. You are not the biggest, the boldest, the most imposing. But there are other ways of victory. There is sitting on a tiny metal table in front of a tiny bakery across the street, dressed in pretty lace with large pretty eyes, and waiting. Waiting like the ambush predator you are.

You strike before he can react, taking advantage of his moment of kindness. You appreciate it, you do, but he betrayed Ashe and hurt your family. There’s a price to pay for hurting your family. That price comes in blood, in shrapnel, in a heavy arm dangling from one hand and a pair of keys in the other. You leave your pretty little purse full of cash on the bakery counter. Their harassers won’t blackmail those cute little owners anymore, but who wouldn’t use the extra cash anyway?

Ashe had the slightest traces of anxiety at her edges when you finally stepped back into the clubhouse after so long, too long. Your poor lovely thing, so stressed. She’s so beautiful. You drop the stolen metal prosthetic on the table before her, pressing the keys to her bike in one of her hands and shyly kissing her cheek.

“I ran a quick errand for you, sweetheart.”

You slipped away from the table, intending to head immediately for a nice shower and a soft bed. You got a good distance away and only paused because you could hear those familiar footsteps running up behind you. Ashe swept you up into her arms with ease. You laughed as she gave you a spin, setting you down only to spin you around again. Your face was peppered with kisses, lipstick marks thoroughly smeared over your skin.

“You didn’t have to do that. What if something happened to you?” Ashe lifted your chin and frowned down at you. But you could see the amusement in her eyes. The delight. You cupped her face in your hands, squeezing her cheeks together until she laughed and swatted your hands away.

“No one humiliates our family, Ashe. No one hurts you and gets away with it.” You flung your arms around her, burying your face in her chest. The familiar smell of her clothes was the safest place in the world. “Next time I’ll bring you, I promise.”

There was a silence that settled over the two of you as she slowly moved to hold you close, pressing her face into your hair. She began to sway, and then step, and then guide you back to the table. Back to your family.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, sugar.”

[teamhawkeye]

Cross Road Blues

Fandom: FC5/FC3

Characters: Anna Bishop, Hoyt Volker, Sam Becker, Buck Hughes, Willis Huntley, Dennis Rogers, Citra Talugmai, Vaas Montenegro (mentioned only)

Pairing: None

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Canon-typical violence (can’t stress these two enough, it’s a Far Cry game fic), minor character death

Word Count: 9,530

Summary: Alone and on the brink, would you accept the hand extended to you when it belonged to sin incarnate? (A FC3 AU starring Anna L. Bishop)

________________________________________________________________

“‘Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'

'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

'I don't much care where -' said Alice.

'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

'- so long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added as an explanation.

'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.’”

- Lewis Carroll, “Alice In Wonderland”

________________________________________________________________

The bottle in her hand was slammed down unceremoniously on the counter.

“Another.”

The barkeep barely even looked at her as he slid a fresh beer her way. Anna wasn’t all that drunk and she wasn’t bothering anyone, even with as unnecessarily loud and brusque as she was being. Badtown had far worse come through this dive daily – she was actually surprised she hadn’t seen the usual suspects come slinking in yet at noontime. Perhaps they all sensed her foul mood and kept some distance…a wise decision, she guessed, given how agitated she was and willing to look for any excuse to release some of her frustration.

She hadn’t made many friends since leaving the States, even less since arriving unceremoniously on the Rook Islands. So feeling essentially dumped by the two separate anchors she’d come to rely on – both in the span of a single month - had reduced her to day drinking as she did now, sitting sullenly and contemplating her future…or lack thereof.

Maybe that Vaas character was right…she’d hit the ground and no longer had a chance. She should have never jumped from that plane…

____________________________________________________

Anna’d been thinking for some time that she shouldn’t have left the United States. Her whole life, she’d never even seen the West or East Coast – there was so much territory left uncovered she could have explored.

But then Louis Draven had been paroled and common sense had gone out the window.

All her neighbors and family friends in Jackson County had beseeched her to go on vacation, to get away – however far away it may be - and find something else to occupy her mind. They’d all had the good sense to predict that if she remained, some other terrible thing might befall her…or she herself would go seeking trouble.

…they weren’t wrong to worry.

She’d sat for a few days in Chief Deputy Shaw’s living room, surrounded by relics of her past – of photos of her mother and father in their prime smiling down at her – and contemplated her future. Nothing seemed more alluring than seeking out Draven and confronting him; if there was ever a chance at closure for the deaths of her parents, it lay with him.

…but then again, he was the monster in her closet. The nightmare that had plagued her for years, that had completely upended and destroyed her life. A chance at seeing him face-to-face again left her trembling so violently she could scarcely even remember to breathe.

So she’d booked a last minute trip out of Bozeman to California and turned tail and fled.

And after a few days on the coast – finally getting to the see the ocean she’d spent her whole life dreaming about – she’d booked another trip to Thailand at the behest of the hotel concierge. And from Bangkok, she’d been talked into joining some new barcrawling acquaintances in a group skydiving venture over some secluded islands, far from prying eyes.

Every single bad decision – both past and present – led back to Draven. If he had just stayed rotting behind bars like he was supposed to, she would have never been besieged by pirates on that beach and dragged off to be thrown into a cage, readied for auction to the highest bidder. She would have never met Vaas, that psychopath who treaded a dangerous line between absolute insanity and startling clarity. She would have never had to have broken herself free and taken off into the jungle alone, pursued by armed guards, snarling dogs, and even a Black Hawk helicopter.

She might never have taken her first life as she had been forced to during that desperate escape to freedom.

“What do they say in America? ‘There is a first time for everything.’”

Dennis Rogers had told her that at their initial meeting in Amanaki Village. He’d been her first real ally, outside of the scatterbrained Dr. Earnhardt.

And the first person she’d mistakenly put her trust in.

The Rakyat seemed noble enough: they were a people fighting to preserve their home, their islands besieged by chaos and violence. They fought to survive…something she could relate to. And so she’d readily agreed to help them where she could, taking on Vaas’ pirates head on and fighting to reclaim some of their territory for them.

Dennis had promised her an eventual meeting with the Rakyat’s enigmatic leader Citra - the real power and figurehead on the northern islands. Anna wasn’t particularly convinced of the woman, just based on what she’d heard whispered about her; the Rakyat saw her as some sort of warrior goddess and Anna had long since run out of patience with stories of the divine…Still, if anyone would be able to help her return to the mainland and figure a way back home, she was the person who could.

There had been an eventual arranged introduction, after Anna had been escorted to Citra’s mysterious temple in the middle of the jungle; she’d been received with initial warmth in regards to her exploits in the name of the Rakyat, causing hope to blossom in her chest for the first time in weeks. However, the pleasantries had ended there when Citra had quickly made clear she didn’t see their working relationship panning out much further and summarily dismissed her.

“You possess great strength and courage – the makings of a true warrior…but you lack conviction.”

She might as well have just slapped her in the face: it would have left the same mark, the same brand. We appreciate what you have done for us but you will never be one of us, nor will we expend any effort to help you in your quest.

In spite of all the services she did in their name – all the lives she took, civilians she saved, outposts reclaimed – it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough, she quickly ascertained, even as Dennis tried to assure her otherwise.

“Citra sees the fire in you – but you must embrace it, not run from it.”

She’d seen him only two or three times more after that before being largely relegated to radio calls; now she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d even heard his voice. Those rejections smarted but she’d tried her best not to let it deter her. Especially not after several different sources in Amanaki whispered to her of people in Badtown who might be more willing to help an outsider such as herself. So she’d headed east and sought out the only other major center the northern islands housed…and almost immediately regretted her decision.

Filth lined the streets, with sick and drunken people either ambling about or sprawled out right in the open. Prostitutes were working every corner and there were probably more certifiably insane residents than there were sane ones. Her first minute in Badtown had Anna wondering if she wasn’t the victim of an incredibly malicious and unfunny joke: who on earth could be here that could possibly help her?

It wasn’t until the next day that she spotted him – the man in the white suit. Beyond his incredibly conspicuous choice of attire, he was one of the very few other Caucasians on the islands…picking him out of a crowd wouldn’t have been difficult.  

She had the distinct feeling he knew she was coming into town and let himself be seen; he implied as much without outright saying it when they were alone together in his underground base. He was Willis Huntley, CIA. He was on an important op for the United States government, tracking the activities of one Hoyt Volker and the massive criminal enterprise he’d built on the islands over the years. Did she want to be a true patriot and serve her country, here and now?

Anna would have agreed to just about anything in that moment if it meant scoring a guaranteed ticket home; she’d practically tripped over herself to say yes as it was.

And so she had become an agent of Langley…or an accessory to an agent, as Willis had been quick to inform her. She was by no means truly CIA and her involvement would remain as a footnote in a file that would eventually be buried in the stacks of some warehouse in the future. Fortune and glory had never been what she’d aspired for so it hadn’t hurt her ego in the least – she’d merely taken to her missions with gusto, eager to press forward.

A few burned drug fields, rescue missions for transport manifests, and a few covert spying ops later, she was feeling more secure in her chances of heading home within the next month or so. The Rakyat were managing to hold the ground she had secured for them and were finally giving the pirates enough trouble that they were forced to seek assistance from their mysterious boss, leaving them in a precarious situation. There was only so much left to do on the islands, as far as Anna could tell, before the big guns would sweep in to finally put pressure on the man in charge and force his empire to crumble.

Only fitting, then, that she’d returned to Willis’ shack for further orders and been blindsided her with the news that he was leaving her behind. His operation in the Pacific was over and he was shipping off to Russia to start a new assignment, putting the Rook Islands behind him…never to return.

“What about me?” she’d demanded when she’d regained her tongue. “When do I get to go home?”

“Whenever you can find your own way off this rock,” had been his blunt response.

He’d turned and stared at her while she visibly tried – and failed - to process what she was hearing.

“Your country thanks you for your service…but there’s bigger fish to fry out in Moscow. Hope you have enough money saved to charter a boat, since that’s your best bet of getting back to the mainland.”

That had been all he’d had to say on the matter. He was too busy with packing up his gear to even put much note into how long she lingered, hoping he was joking or that he’d at least give her something more to work with. She’d finally had the sense to drag herself back up the stairs and out into the stagnant Badtown evening air, tail between her legs, when it was clear he was an even bigger asshole that she’d pegged him for at their very first meeting.

Anna’s feet had taken her straight to the bar on the other side of town to drown her misery and ponder her disastrous luck once more…

__________________________________________________________

And there she had remained ever since. She’d poked her head out every now and then to see if Willis would ever show his face again, but she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. It was probably better that way, she realized, as her hurt was replaced with potent rage and despair – she might have slugged him given the chance. Not only was she going to be left behind with no real shot at making it to the mainland for help, he’d effectively handed her a death sentence by having her do all his dirty work in his stead.

It wasn’t just the pirates and Vaas she had antagonized now – she’d kicked the hornet’s nest by attacking Hoyt Volker’s product and sabotaging a handful of his operations. There was no way she’d escape those actions unmarked…it wouldn’t surprise her in the least if there was already a bounty on her head or a hit squad off in search of her.

The Rakyat couldn’t protect her, even if they wanted to (which they didn’t…): they could barely protect themselves. And Willis had effectively wiped his hands of her as he prepared to abscond north and head to his latest assignment. She was back to being on her own in these foreign lands, armed with only her wits and strength to keep her safe...

So, she was thoroughly fucked.

Knocking back another full swig of beer, she grimaced to herself at its strong ethanol kick. Maybe she’d head back to Dr. Earnhardt’s place for a spell while she sorted things out. She knew he’d never turn her away or turn her in: he seemed to have imprinted on her quite a bit. It didn’t take being called “Agnes” one too many times or finding old photographs of his daughter lying around to know she was filling some sort of void for him. She understood the pain of losing family but she wasn’t looking for a father figure…and the affection he doted on her left her feeling uncomfortable. Not because he was overstepping any boundaries – he was a very kind and respectful, albeit strange, man. His warmth simply left her with a painful yearning in her heart for something she’d been missing for so long...

It had made her visits to see him briefer and less frequent as her time on the islands progressed…but maybe this was the universe giving her a sign it was time to return for a lengthier stay. She’d spent time there undisturbed by the doctor’s usual pirate clientele in the past, meaning they hadn’t ever noticed or been clued into her presence. Perhaps there could be a way for her to stay there with Earnhardt and work on getting-

“Anna Bishop.”

It wasn’t a question; she took her time acknowledging, taking a swig from her drink and rolling it over her tongue before finally taking a glance over her shoulder. The men behind her were not what she had expected to see – not at all. They were well equipped - both in Kevlar vests and packing assault rifles – and clearly disciplined based off their rigid stances as they stood waiting at attention. Looking all the part of a PMC…and very much out of place in the shithole they all found themselves in.

“Who’s asking?” she demanded finally, expression trained blank even as she knew just who they worked for and why they were here.

“Mr. Volker wishes to speak with you. Please come with us,” the man on the left stated.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly and Anna was suddenly aware of how much of a pariah she’d just been branded; the eyes of the other patrons had all turned towards her, making her feel unspeakably hot under the weight of their stares. Trying not to focus on how her stomach had plummeted at the namedrop, she kept her gaze steady as she looked on as unimpressed as she could manage.

“And if I refuse?” she tested.

Neither man reacted to her bluff, still staring at her unflinchingly.

“We must insist,” the first man said simply.

She briefly weighed her options. Running seemed laughable, almost as much as making a stand did. Her eyes had taken in how trigger ready their fingers were resting on their weapons and knew they’d drop her before she even had time to reach for the pistol tucked into the waistband of her shorts. There was no one to recruit in helping her out around here – most of the locals were petrified of the pirates…and judging by their reactions to the appearance of these soldiers, even more terrified of the man who ranked above Vaas.

Turning back to face the bar, she briefly made eye contact with the bartender; his apprehension was so palpable she could practically taste his fear in the air. With a sigh, she knocked her drink back and set the bottle down with a loud clatter, pushing herself tiredly off her stool. The man on the right extended a hand out towards her; she stared at it wearily for a moment before fishing her pistol out of her waistband and placing it in his grasp.

As it slipped from her fingers, she had to work to control the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat, feeling as if the walls were suddenly closing in on her even as she was led outside and underneath nothing more than the burning glare of the Pacific sun.

__________________________________________________________

They’d chauffeured her straight to a helicopter waiting on the beach. And not some cheap passenger bird – a Black Hawk by the looks of it. She’d never been in a chopper before…hadn’t been in a plane until she left the States however long ago that was now, she couldn’t quite be sure…

It was better than being in cramped economy class, she supposed; but it was hard to feel anything other than anxiety as they crossed the sea and headed for the southern islands. There was a knot in her stomach that only grew tighter with each passing minute, amplified each time her eyes left the water below and back to her traveling companions. They were at ease, but she could see their fingers close to their triggers and knew that if she tried to pull anything before they landed, they’d riddle her with lead and dump her body in the ocean without care.

There was far less jungle on the southern isles – and far less natives. From the height they were cruising, there was nary a village or outpost unoccupied by privateers in sight. She’d heard Hoyt took issue with the locals and Rakyat but the legitimacy of such a claim became abundantly clear on his home turf. Even without setting a single foot on the ground, she could tell they ran a tighter ship over here…one she would not be able to bail from so easily.

She was starting to realize the knot in her stomach was a warning of perhaps more than just the end of this journey…

The massive concrete walls in the distance had to be their destination – it didn’t take a genius to figure out that was Hoyt Volker’s HQ. The compound was really more of a fortress: beyond the giant walls, all topped with barbed wire, there were checkpoints and armed guards at every single point of entry. There were soldiers wandering the street and sentries outside ever building on the premise, placing eyes and ears in just about every corner. Anna took in the sight of all of the security measures – all of the armed men prepared to rain fire upon their employer’s enemies - and felt something akin to acceptance settle into her chest, easing some of the sickness in her stomach…

The chopper had barely set down just outside the sprawling complex before the soldiers at her side were grabbing her by the arms and dragging her back out under the sun. It surprised her they’d been so benign up until now – being in sight of their boss and peers must have fueled their aggression and she knew better than to resist now. They paraded her through the streets, drawing every pair of eyes onto her as she struggled to match their pace. She was taken into the largest building at the heart of the compound and straight for the staircase at its center; it was all she could do to keep herself from stumbling on any of the steps, trying as hard as possible to maintain whatever dignity she had left even as her heart thundered in her chest with terror.

They marched her through a pair of large, opened doors and into a sprawling office space overlooking the front courtyard and the river beyond the perimeter wall. The large leather armchair behind the desk was occupied but turned away and facing the large windows as Anna was dragged before it by her escorts.

“Anna Bishop for you, sir,” the man on her left announced simply.

Anna had only seen Hoyt Volker twice before now, both times at a distance. He wasn’t physically imposing, in the sense that he was very lean and lithe…but he had an aura of absolute menace that made all the hair on the back of her arms and neck stand on end as he turned in his chair to face them. The man took in the sight of her with a smile, looking remarkably pleased to see her.

“Ah, there you are! So good of you to accept my invitation to meet.”

Had her courage not abandoned her long before her arrival here, she might have leapt on that statement with a scathing retort. Instead, she could only hold her silence and try to keep her gaze steady as he gave her a thorough onceover. Finally, he made a dismissive gesture with his hands she quickly realized was not meant for her.

“Leave us.”

The soldiers released her and turned without another word; she fought the urge to rub the skin on her arms where their fingers had dug in, merely watching as they filed back out the way they came, shutting the doors noisily behind them.

Leaving Hoyt and her finally alone…

There was an unbearable silence that reined between them for several moments that left Anna feeling dizzy with apprehension as she turned back to face him, taking in the way he was gazing at her. Finally, he gave her a smile and gestured towards the chair across from him.

“Come. Sit.”

She didn’t want to – her base instinct of digging in her heels was replaced by the overwhelming urge to turn tail and flee. But she made herself walk slowly towards the offered seat and planted herself in it, trying to look braver than she felt.

Hoyt had an unwavering stare that made her feel smaller than she already was. Still, she forced herself to meet his gaze head on, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest she swore he could hear it. The silence was unnerving and she had a feeling he was letting it drag on longer than necessary to rattle her cage.

“You’re a difficult woman to get ahold of,” he said finally, looking amused. “There’s only so many…civilized places on these islands. And you seem to make very few appearances in them.”

He already knew she had been doing that on purpose – staying disconnected from his network of spies and informants who might lay eyes on her – so she didn’t bother with a redundant answer.

“Self-reliant. I like that,” he admitted. “There’s only one person you can truly rely on in this world to take care of you…and that is yourself.”

A lesson she’d long since learned; still, to hear it from him, made her already queasy stomach feel worse. It made her realize that somewhere in his past, there was a connection to her own…neglect, abuse, betrayal…

“Do you smoke?” he asked suddenly.

She swallowed thickly as she tried to regain her capacity for speech.

“On occasion,” she managed to force out, softer than intended.

Her eyes watched his hands as he reached into his desk and brought forth a box of cigars; he hadn’t asked what she smoked and she had to wonder if he knew that she’d only had cigars since arriving on the islands. She reached forward hesitantly as he offered one to her, careful not to let their fingers touch.

There was only a moment to sit awkwardly with the unlit stogie in her grasp before Hoyt produced struck a match and held it out to her. The only way to accept was to lean forward across the table towards him, forcing her eyes to leave him for the first time since entering the office. When she finally drew back and brought her gaze quickly back to him, she found his eyes had never left her, still watching her every move.

Hoyt’s eyes were a curious shade of green that could almost be described as pretty…if there wasn’t such sinister intent behind them. Just as she was starting to feel herself start to sweat under the weight of his stare, he turned his eyes from her and down to his desk. She watched as he flipped open the small booklet before him and took in the familiar sight of her portrait in its corner.

“Anna L. Bishop. Born 27 November 1993…only 18,” he stated, looking between her passport and her face.

She tried not to squirm under his roving eyes, finally taking a drag from her cigar to help steady her nerves.

“You look it,” he acknowledged after a moment. “But after all the trouble you’ve caused, I’d have thought you were at least mid-20s. And trained by the military…or police…”

He reached for something else that immediately caught her eye, her heart stopping at the familiar glint of gold between his fingers. She watched him brandish the badge, her eyes glued to it, as he stared her down.

“A tad young to be sheriff,” he surmised correctly.

“…it was my father’s,” she managed to force out eventually.

“Ah. Dear old dad…won’t be missing this, will he?”

“Probably not. He’s been dead for years.”

“Hmm. And mummy?”

“Same for her.”

There was a momentary beat of silence where she forced her eyes towards the cigar smoking between her fingers, frantically working to recompose herself. Hoyt discarded the badge carelessly back onto the surface of his desk and it took all of her strength not to let herself look at it again, taking another puff from her stogie instead to ease her frayed nerves.

“You’re not military, you’re not police…”

His gaze was unrelenting as he pinned her to the spot.

“So how is it that you’re running around out there making professionals look like a bunch of fucking children in a sandbox?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, thinking over her response carefully. In the end, when she finally returned his stare, she chose honesty.

“It’s me or them. I’m just out there doing what it takes to survive.”

Hoyt scoffed, laughing lightly beneath his breath.

“Survival would be hiding beneath some rock and avoiding attracting any attention to yourself. Instead you’re leading raids on Vaas’ men, burning down fields and blowing up weapons caches.”

He wasn’t wrong but she held her tongue and watched as he visibly weighed his next choice of words.

“I’m not bothered by you fighting your way to freedom. Or the men you killed, or the trouble you’ve been giving my boy Vaas,” he said finally.

This is the calm before the storm, she realized suddenly.

“What I can’t have is you destroying my product, my property!”

Her heart was racing even as she tried not to give a reaction to his shout; still, when his hand had swung down towards the desk’s surface, she’d flinched, unable to stop herself from closing her eyes in preparation for a hit that never came. She only gave herself a moment or two to steady her breathing before forcing her gaze back on him, taking in his scorching glare as evenly as she could.

Several seconds passed before he finally leaned back into his chair, his gaze softening ever so slightly as she brought the cigar back to her lips and took another puff.

“Fortunately for you, the pirates you killed in that last little stunt were all stealing from me.”

How convenient.

Still, she could hardly believe anyone would be ballsy enough to try and rip off Hoyt Volker. She understood those who crossed him seldom lived to tell the tale - had observed as much back at Beras Town when he’d forced those people through the minefield for taking his transport manifest.

Then again, until recently, she had been actively undermining all his operations with gusto…perhaps being far removed from the man and his presence gave an inflated sense of confidence. Sitting before him, as she did now, was an entirely different thing altogether: she couldn’t imagine taking him head on anymore.

“The plan was always to burn the cut they intended to sell and then be rid of them…You did me a favor handling that all in one go. So, I’m going to cut you a break.”

The look she sent him must have spelled out her disbelief as he spread out his arms as if to wave away her suspicions.

“Clean slate. Back at square one.”

“Square one,” she repeated hollowly.

Her mind placed her back to that night in the cage, before she’d broken free and ran from an armed pursuit into the jungle. She knew from the start they were going to sell all their captives off - the pirates’ chatter had left her with no doubts about that, long before Vaas had dangled the impending danger in front of her. First they ransomed off their prey…only to then auction them off to the highest bidder anyway.

If Hoyt still meant to make a buck off her…

“It’s just me…,” she spoke up finally, trying to keep her voice steady. “I don’t have any money to pay a ransom. I...”

A lump formed in her throat voicing that last statement and she quickly swallowed around it, working hard not to crack. She’d run out of tears a long time ago – she’d be damned to have that change now in front of Hoyt of all people.

“Negotiations generally go better if you don’t play all your cards at once,” he advised with a hint of amusement.

Probably true. Still…

“We’re a bit beyond bullshitting each other at this point,” she stated plainly. “I know when to fold a bad hand.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle at such a statement but she wasn’t sure what it was that he latched onto; she could only watch as he rose from his chair and circled the desk to come stand before her. As he loomed over her, she could barely keep herself from shaking, even as he reached out and grasped her chin in his hand, tilting her face upward. Hoyt’s eyes seemed to bore into hers and it was all she could do keep from shutting hers tightly to escape from some of his intensity.

“Such a rare thing, eyes like that,” he noted. “Plenty would pay a fortune for a pretty girl with different colored eyes.”

Her heart lurched in her chest but she held his gaze, letting her gaze harden to steel. Terrified as she may be, anyone trying to buy her would be met with resistance. She was a fighter, through and through, and would be damned if she didn’t go down without a fight…

“If I were to sell you,” he continued, finally letting her face slip from his fingers. “But I don’t want to do that.”

The look she gave him conveyed her disbelief; his hands rose in a gesture of good faith.

“Really I don’t. You fought hard for your freedom. And I’m inclined to give it to you…”

She watched him warily as he leaned back on the desk behind him, regarding her with a suddenly neutral expression.

What’s the chance he actually intends to let me walk outta here?

Slim to none, she wagered. In spite of his assertion of a “clean slate”, she didn’t see him allowing her to skip town after everything she had done. After everything she had seen. The drugs, the smuggling, the kidnappings and the murders she had witnessed in her short time here must only scratch the surface of all the dark deeds being undertaken on the Rook Islands.

She wouldn’t have the first clue who to approach back on the mainland, but her testimony could surely get something in the works…couldn’t it? Hoyt had to know that – he was already 5 steps ahead of her, it seemed, and knew the danger she presented left to her own devices. No, she didn’t see herself getting to leave this all behind…she could only see this ending one way…

“Work for me, kid.”

Nothing could have prepared her for a job offer – not when she was readying herself for death instead. Anna could only blink, unable to keep the shock from her face as she stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re young, talented…a bit green, but you show real promise,” he said casually, making the situation seem all the more absurd.

He circled back around the desk and sat himself back down in his armchair; she watched as he produced another cigar from his box and lit it for himself, taking his time savoring the initial drag before addressing her again.

“You’ll be compensated accordingly…a roof over your head, real food, neither of which I know you were getting in those savage towns or the jungle.”

…that was all certainly enticing, she wouldn’t lie. Starvation and restless nights weren’t unfamiliar to her but it still wasn’t wonderful to be experiencing them once more. The promise of a decent bed and square meals certainly had her thinking it over…

“And - best of all - you get to keep doing what you do best. Only in my name now; you go where I tell you to go, and you shoot who I tell you to shoot,” he told her, gesturing with his cigar animatedly.

Anna swallowed thickly, feeling the saliva in her mouth turn acrid at his words. It had…troubled her, to say the least, at just how easily she’d taken to killing. After that first pirate in her escape from Vaas’ camp, it had become almost second nature: she barely even blinked when taking a life anymore. She hadn’t been lying to Hoyt minutes prior when she chalked it all up to survival…but perhaps it went a bit beyond that.

Hoyt, at the very least, seemed to understand that. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be casting this pitch here and now. He thought she belonged among his ranks…working in the service of a slaver and drug lord. She hadn’t forgotten what he was or how he made his money; all his praise and honeyed words couldn’t take that knowledge from her…

He must have read the indecision on her face, given how pensive he seemed from a moment prior.

“But I understand this is big commitment, and one not taken on lightly. So…name your price.”

Anna stared at him, not quite comprehending.

“What do you mean?” she finally dared to ask.

“Anything you want…within reason,” he amended after a moment, taking a puff from his cigar. “Name it and its yours.”

What could she possibly want from him – what could he possibly give her? Her eyes darted to the far corner of the desk and the shiny gold star winking at her from it.

“I want that back,” she said quickly, gesturing for the badge.

He placed it down on the desk before her and she had to force herself not to snatch it up in the same moment. Having it back in her grasp lifted an enormous weight off her shoulders, letting her breathe normally for the first time in weeks. Her thumb slid over the shield, following the smooth trail she’d worn meticulously over the years and felt the familiar comfort and strength it lent her seep into her chest. She only allowed herself a few strokes before burying it deep in the pocket of her shorts, far from Hoyt’s prying eyes, still watching her every move.

“I was going to offer that back to you anyway,” he told her simply, leaning forward once more. “It’s meaningless to me – and probably just about everyone else. So, as a gesture of good faith, name something else.”

Anna could only stare at him, seeing how he waited in anticipation for a response and realized he was being sincere. What else could she ask for? Not her freedom, obviously, since he wanted her staying here and working for him – but what else did she want?

There was so little she craved. Money wasn’t a priority, nor was status. She would be content with so little if she could just live comfortably and in relative anonymity…all of which waited for her back in-

No, it doesn’t, a voice in her head warned suddenly, conjuring up a familiar face in her mind’s eye.

Her blood ran cold as she thought of Louis Draven once more. Everything always linked back to him – everything was always his fault. Her parents, her time in foster care, all the abuse and neglect she’d suffered, her decision to skip town and come out here-!

Wrath consumed her, causing reason to abandon her. Swallowing thickly around the angry lump that had formed in the back of her throat, she tried to keep her voice from shaking as she spoke.

“There’s a man back in the States: Louis Draven….say I wanted his head-”

“Done.”

Her eyes snapped back to Hoyt instantly, some of her rage tempered by disbelief.

“Just like that?”

He merely shrugged.

“Simple enough.”

“You don’t need to know why?” she pressed.

“You’ve got your reasons – good ones, I’m sure,” he said simply. “We’ll leave it at that.”

He levelled her with a stare.

“But know that if I do this for you, you’ve signed a contract with me. Your life becomes mine.”

There was something more than just sinister in his choice of words…but all she could think of was the smile on Draven’s face when he’d walked away from her father, bleeding out in her arms in the middle of Main Street. Her eyes were hard as stone as she stared back at Hoyt.

“You get him for me, I’m all yours,” she insisted.

If he kept his word, she meant it. But she had her doubts – no one delivered on such promises. Kind of like when the judge looked her in the eye and told her Draven would never see the light of day again after being thrown behind bars…

Still, when Hoyt smirked and reached a hand out across the desk, she took it without hesitation, shaking it firmly. An even if he didn’t make good on his word, she might have a better shot of finding help here on the northern islands than back in Badtown or Amanaki. Maybe Hoyt’s apparent interest and attention would wane and she could slip onto a boat bound for the mainland and there would be no real fuss over her vanishing. She could play the long con, if that’s what it took…with any luck, she’d be back in the States in a short while, putting this whole fever dream behind her for good.

She kept that in mind, even as a sudden heaviness in her chest cautioned her of who she had just signed her soul over to.

____________________________________________________________

Nearly two months had passed and Anna remained in the belly of the beast – but all things considered, it wasn’t so bad, she supposed.

Cutting a deal with the man pulling all the strings had immediate benefits: unlike previous agreements she had entered into with others on the Rook Islands, Hoyt actually came through for her. Real, decent food she didn’t have to scrounge for, a solid roof over her head, and an actual mattress to sleep on had her ready to speak all the words he wanted her to say a hundred times over.

The Privateers weren’t the best people to be suddenly thrust into the mix of…especially not as the lone female among their ranks. There were eyes constantly on her, making her feel next to naked just walking the streets as she learned the layout of her new home. Most kept their distance, either maintaining silence or simply catcalling as she passed. Others were bold, putting themselves in her space and forcing her to contend with their unwanted attention and defuse as skillfully as she could.

It had taken just one man going a bit too far to finally have someone step in. One of the tallest, most intimidating men she’d seen in her time at the Compound came forward and immediately had her intimidator on guard as he sized him up.

“No one messes with this one or they go straight to Hoyt,” the tall man said in a thick German accent that perfectly matched his physical appearance. “Boss’s orders.”

And that was that. The harassment all came from afar from that moment onward – and she had become fairly attached to Sam Becker, her unexpected knight in shining armor. He’d actually supervised some of her training and seemed to be grooming her to join his squad out in the field in the future.

Out of all the possibilities that laid out for her, that one was indeed the most promising. The longer she stayed here, the less certain she was that trying to make a break for the mainland was even possible. Most of the men who served here were bastards and would sooner sell her out if she approached them with such a conspiracy instead of offering a hand; those who were more decent, such as Sam and several others she had grown friendly with, would likely caution her against crossing Hoyt in such a way. He’d extended mercy to her once before – he would not do it again.

For the most part, she didn’t see too much of Hoyt himself. He was busy running his empire and she was fully occupied with being put through the paces of becoming a Privateer. The training was rather intense – she didn’t have military history like most of the men around her and hadn’t been prepared to be dropped into boot camp – but she put in her best and tried keeping pace.

When the boss did deign to drop by, it was almost always to look in on her and whatever she was being subjected to. It was a seemingly average day when he made one such unannounced visit while she was in the midst of target practice with a handful of others.

“Anna.”

Nobody ever called her Anna, as she’d said time and again. But Hoyt Volker wasn’t nobody. And he didn’t take “no” for an answer so she hadn’t bothered correcting him like she did with everyone else. She turned towards him instantly, abandoning her company at the drop of a hat; none of them protested, all knowing what happened to those who thwarted their boss’s even most inconsequential whims.

He actually waited for her to join him at his side and she was immediately suspicious of how pleased he looked with himself.

“I have a present for you,” he taunted.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she could even think to conceal her skepticism; she was a second too slow, based on Hoyt’s laughter. Had it been anyone else, he might not have reacted so well to such insolence, but for some reason, he seemed to indulge hers to a degree.

“Walk with me,” he commanded.

It was a strange request but she didn’t dare question him and easily fell into step behind him. Still, as he led them away from the range and back towards the center of the Compound, she could feel her brow furrowing with confusion. Hoyt wasn’t one for silence and his quiet left her feeling deeply unsettled. Either he was deep in thought or he was unhappy…and she finally thought to be more worried about where he was taking her as he led her down into the basement of the main complex.

She didn’t need to be told what happened down here: the sight of the cells that lined either wall and the heavy aroma of sweat and fear were all the indications she required. It left her throat dry, wondering just what reason she was being brought down here for. Hoyt had called it a “present”…but was he merely toying with her? Did he have any reason to suspect she was still harboring a desire to skip town at the first chance?

As he led her towards the furthest cell back, the man she had come to know as Buck exited through its door. He spoke to Hoyt in a low tone that had the other man chuckling under his breath before waving him away. Anna watched in silence as Buck sauntered off, but not before casting a wink her way. Immediately, her hackles raised; she didn’t know him well but she knew enough about Buck Hughes to be deeply wary and unsettled by him. She didn’t have time to watch his departure as Hoyt gestured her into the cell first.

Hesitantly, she approached before nearly stopping dead at the sight before her. There was a man inside, tied to a chair and beaten to a pulp. His head was drooped over his chest, obscuring his face from view; Anna could only stare in confusion as Hoyt passed by her and towards him, circling around behind him.  

“A deal is a deal,” he told her pointedly.  

She struggled to find the words to voice her confusion just as he grabbed the other man’s hair and brought his head back up straight. Anna’s heart stopped in her chest the moment she recognized just who was before her.

That face…she’d never forget that face. Not even bruised and broken as it was now. It haunted her...she saw it when she closed her eyes, she saw it when she slept…

She couldn’t have predicted that Hoyt would have hand delivered Louis Draven to her. Beyond the doubt that he would make good on his word at all, she’d just assumed she’d be told that he was taken care of. Having him here, before her, for the first time since his sentencing all those years back…

“Well, I imagine you have some catching up to do,” Hoyt said cheerfully, dropping his hold on Draven and striding back towards her.

Hoyt’s hands were suddenly on her shoulders, anchoring her to the reality of the situation: this was real, this was actually happening. He leaned in close and she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

“Take as long as you need,” he told her.

She felt his fingers slip away and heard his footsteps dissipate as he walked off.

Leaving her and Draven alone…

For a long time, she remained rooted to the spot, merely staring at the man before her. He barely acknowledged her, head rolling from side to side as he contended with the pain from his previous beatings. Buck must have been the one to put him through the wringer – she didn’t feel sorry for him in the slightest but she could practically feel Draven’s pain as he sat there breathing heavily.

For so long, she’d seen him as only a monster. Some sort of shadowy specter that was untouchable. Seeing him bleed reminded her he was just as human as she was. It finally gave her some power over him.

“Do you remember me?” she spoke up, softer than she intended.

“Fuck you,” Draven slurred after a minute.

“Do you. Remember. Me?” she demanded, voice rising sharply as she took a step forward.

Draven cast a tired, irritated glance her way but he did make an effort, sizing her up.

“No,” he said finally.

“March 8, 2004,” she stated stiffly, stalking closer. “Mountainview, Montana. You gunned down the sheriff and his wife in broad daylight on Main Street.”

She watched the surprise blossom in his one good eye and felt herself begin to quake with rage. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

“They had their daughter with them. You didn’t kill her.”

He was silent for some time, staring openly at her.

“You gotta be fucking shitting me – you?”

Anna stepped closer, eyes brimming with the full hatred of the last 7 years.

“Me.”

Draven sneered, showing her bloody teeth.

“Well look at you, all grown up…and working for some thugs. Parents would be so proud-”

“You don’t get to talk about them!” she shouted.

She had to wait for some of the red to bleed out of her vision; everything was so loud and moving so fast, much like her heart thundering in her chest. Inhaling and exhaling through her nose rapidly, she fought to regain any of her composure.

“And you don’t get to judge me for how I’ve survived up until now. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.”

“So that’s my fault too-“

“Yes. It is,” she snarled. “If you hadn’t killed my parents, none of this would have happened! If you had just stayed in prison like you were fucking supposed to-!”

“I did my time.”

“You were handed a life sentence,” she hissed. “Just because you managed to exploit some fucking loophole and get out does not mean you ‘did your time.’ There will never be enough time on this earth to make right what you did to my family, to me.”

“Your old man killed my brother, did they ever tell you that?” he asked.

“For trying to kill him – and several civilians,” she snapped. “It was his job to stop him.”

“Still killed him.”

“You killed both of my parents.”

“It was revenge.”

“So is this.”

He glared at her through his shark-like black eyes.

“Bite me.”

Anna surprised herself with the cruel bark of laughter that ripped from her throat.

“You took everything from me. My parents, my home, my life – every terrible foster home I got shoved into, every time I got beaten and smacked around, every hardship I’ve faced these past years is all on you. That all falls back on you and what you did that day,” she spat.

He remained silent, his glare shifting from her to the wall as he exhaled in pain, finally letting his tough guy act fall through. Anna stared at him for a long time, taking in his state as she attempted to rein herself back in. Her rage sat hot and tight in her chest and the back of her throat, making it hard to even try and sort through her thoughts. But there was still a question that needed answering – something that had plagued her for so long…

She swallowed around the lump in her throat and gave herself a second before pushing forward.

“Have you ever once felt any regret for what you did?”

“No.”

His response was fast but concise: she didn’t doubt his sincerity. It didn’t make the feeling in her chest any better but at least there wasn’t the problem of guessing if he was lying to her or not.

“Given the chance…”

She turned back towards him with surprise, waiting for him to continue. He rolled his head back to stare at her, a nasty smirk on his lips…the same one she remembered from so long ago-

“I’d do it all over again, just the same.”

Her hand flew down to her holster before she even had time to think. The Glock in her hand fired off two rounds, one into each knee. His screams made her stomach turn but she refused to look away, watching him writhe.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch!”

She reholstered her pistol with shaking fingers, trying to regain control over herself. The action had been so kneejerk – she wasn’t even sure if it’s what she intended this all to lead up to. It would be an outright lie if his pain didn’t bring her any pleasure…but by and large, she just grew angrier with each passing second.

It didn’t take much for her to realize that she had reached the point of no return. What she had done just now already spoke volumes …what came next would absolutely define her for the rest of her life. Anna shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to sift pass the cold, angry voice in her head that called for blood – had called for it for so long - to see if this was actually what she wanted.

“I should…have killed you too,” he wheezed out finally. “That’s my one regret.”

When she turned back towards him, her eyes were filled with cold resolution.

“Yeah. You should have.”

His eyes went instantly to her holster as she strode towards him, but her fingers went straight down to the sheath attached to her boot instead. He didn’t deserve quick or relatively painless – this was too personal. Draven had a moment to take in the sight of the blade before her hand arched and brought it down straight into his chest.

It was nothing but reflex at this point – she barely even reacted to his gargled exclamation before she pushed the knife in further. She let it sit for a few moments, before retracting quickly, ignoring the sudden warm spray on her cheek as she brought it down again.

He finally looked to her and she forced herself to meet his eye. For a moment, she remembered that smirk he’d given when he’d ran out of bullets and walked away from her family in the street, leaving her cradling her father while he bled out. Now Draven was the one dying, his blood covering her hands…only she had no smile for him. There was no happiness to be found in this act, only hatred and wrath. Anna made sure to hold his gaze as he slipped away, the light fading from his eyes as he finally slumped over and struggled no more.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed – it felt like both a second and an eternity – before she pulled the knife out and stumbled back a step or two. Her gaze couldn’t leave his face – at his still open, lifeless eyes, vacant and unseeing – as she panted for breath, standing in the center of the cell with silence as her only remaining companion.

Her father’s badge, safely tucked away in one of the pockets on her pants, felt suddenly heavy. Like it knew what she had just done and was reminding her of the gravity of her actions. She didn’t dare reach for it, hands slick with Draven’s blood, the knife still clutched tightly between her fingers.

Slowly, she lifted the blade to wipe clean on her sleeve. She didn’t trust herself to use any of Draven’s clothing for the task – she didn’t want to set foot near him again and chance unleashing more of that fury on his corpse. His death didn’t bring her the closure she’d hoped: killing him hadn’t brought back her parents. It didn’t undo all the injustices she had endured or take away the pain she felt.

All it did was stoke the anger inside her.

Still…even if justice hadn’t been served, vengeance had been claimed. In the end, she supposed, that was all that mattered. It was over and done, nothing further to be gained; she’d just have to accept that.

After several moments of staring at the limp body across from her, she forced herself to turn and exit the cell. Out in the hall, she felt she could finally breathe again, inhaling shakily through her mouth. It was like she’d suddenly become present again after being removed from time and space – that had actually just happened, it wasn’t something she’d imagined. The blood on her hands and face seemed to have gained weight, making her hyperaware of their presence; it didn’t leave her feeling sick as she expected…just inexplicably calm as she navigated her way back out of the cellblock.

Hoyt was at the surveillance desk when she reached the end of the hall, eyes already looking to catch sight of her as she rounded the corner. Anna realized he had been watching through the camera feed and had witnessed everything that had just transpired. A knot formed in her stomach at such a deeply personal moment being watched by an outsider…but knew it would have never taken place without his orchestration and tried to smother the feeling as best she could. His smile of approval greeted her as she drew closer, spreading his hands out in question.

“Satisfied?” he asked simply.

Anna couldn’t be sure that was the word she’d use to describe how she was feeling…but it was probably the closest to catharsis she’d ever reach. Searching for the right response, she found that there wasn’t anything remotely poignant or intelligent she could provide.

“Thank you,” she managed to force out quietly.

Hoyt merely shrugged, looking unfazed.

“Merely upholding my part of the bargain,” he reminded her, watching her closely.

Her eyes flitted to him, voice returning with a sense of conviction.

“I’m with you,” she said earnestly. “Here on out, I’m yours.”

She meant every word.

Perhaps there was no coming back from this – no redemption, no absolution. But maybe it was better this way…maybe it’s what she actually wanted. She’d struggled so long with the feelings of darkness within her soul – finally given the chance to act upon them, there had been no hesitation, no doubt…

Absolutely no regret.

Maybe she did belong here with Hoyt and his men after all. He was giving her a look of approval that she’d be damned to deny didn’t make her feel sinfully justified.The desire to return home was non-existent in her now: this was home, wherever Hoyt was. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth, into Hell itself if he asked her to; she owed him a debt she could never repay.

The darkness didn’t seem so scary now, not when she walked side-by-side with what lurked in it. There was no place for any light in that inky blackness…she’d have to leave it behind in order to move ahead.

That suited Anna just fine. 

______________________________________________________

“Yeoo, standin' at the crossroad, tried to flag a ride Ooo eee, I tried to flag a ride Didn't nobody seem to know me, babe, everybody pass me by Standin' at the crossroad, baby, risin' sun goin' down Standin' at the crossroad, baby, eee, eee, risin' sun goin' down I believe to my soul, now, poor Bob is sinkin' down”

Robert Johnson, “Cross Road Blues”

__________________________________________________________

Author’s Notes: I’ve replayed FC3 a lot the past month and a half and it had me thinking...Jason Brody was 25 and stranded with friends and family to look after when he arrived on the Rook Islands. My girl Anna Bishop would have only been 18 in 2012 when the game’s timeline is set, with no family and no friends to speak of. It had me wondering just how differently things would have played out with her in a leading role as opposed to Jason.

No attachments means less danger...but also greater loneliness and despair. And she didn’t have what Citra wanted in the end so I saw her path diverging substantially from Jason’s. Aside from how charismatic I find Hoyt, I also felt that Anna would be more susceptible to him and what he had to offer than Jason ever was. It also would open up the door for future interactions with Vaas, Sam, and even Buck going this route so i ended up typing up this little story as a way to kill time between writing some of my FC5 stuff.

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (Chapter 6)

Roger Taylor x Reader

BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

(it works both ways)

Summary: You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening.

Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks. PLEASE REMEMBER THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER OF THE STORY.

Chapter's note: Just so I don't spoil anything, I'm just gonna say that I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! lol. Thank you for taking your time to read it. I love to see you guys response to it, so keep telling me what you think in asks/comments/messages! 

Words: 2241

WARNINGS: Smut

ACT ONE: DUSK “Everything is getting settled for what happens at night. It’s time for anticipation. The hour of the day when you feel the potential in the air.”

Chapter 6

You were walking around London again, back in your old ways. But this time, you're not alone. By your side, holding your hand, in black leather pants and a loose maroon shirt, is Roger. It's been a month since the first time you kissed.

And it's been exciting, so far. You're both still fascinated by each other, that phase in a relationship where the other person says something funny or smart and you just think Fuck, I can't believe I found you. There's a world full of people and we managed to meet because everything is still so intense. It wouldn't be correct to say that you were both seeing each other through rose colored glasses; no, your glasses oversaturated everything. Your cute moments were really cute, but your rough, sexual moments were the rougher you've ever had.

You thought to yourself months ago that Roger would be good in bed; it was, in fact, one of the first things you thought about him. And you were right. But he also had a soft, domestic side you didn't really expected, but enjoyed. You could be riding him, his hand bruising your buttcheeks as he slapped your ass, your voice raspy as you moaned his name, at 9pm, and at 10 you'd both be on his living room, the TV turned on, you finishing a book for class, drinking a cup of tea he made you, trying to convince you to have it with milk "as british people would", and he'd be with his head on your lap, half asleep, his eyes staring at the TV as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Now you were both on your way to an empty classroom in Imperial College. Roger invited you to watch Queen rehearse, and you were excited. You were seeing each other nearly every day, and you spent time together even when doing everyday stuff; you'd even spent some afternoons on his stall in Kensington, trying to finish a paper as you both talked about your childhoods, your first times, what music he was listening to. You'd stop when a customer got in, and if it was a woman, she would usually hit on him, and you'd wink at him when he looked at you, trying to see if you were annoyed or jealous.

But you weren't - it was almost something that made you proud, because you were once another customer flirting with him, but it was you that he would fuck later that night, and it was you he called when he felt stressed after a bad writing session with the band, his voice tense as he asked you to talk about your day or which songs were playing in your prom, anything that could distract him.

You didn't officialize your relationship, there was no binding, no promise of exclusivity, but you were spending so much time together that you doubted he was seeing anyone else. But him taking you to a rehearsal made you wonder if he planned to make it more serious. The rehearsals were one of the only moments you didn't spend together.

You were both at his couch, him only in his boxers, you wearing just panties and one of his button ups, sharing a cigarette and watching Doctor Who, when he told you about the rehearsal the next day. "Sure", you said, thinking he was subtly telling you that he wouldn't be able to see you the next afternoon. "Do you want to come? I know it's not a show, so I understand if you want to skip. But I think we've been sounding really good; we have this new bass player, and he's the best we've had so far-" and he continued to talk about how you could actually enjoy the rehearsal, and you realised he was rambling. He was nervous, for some reason. You thought that maybe this was a big step for him.

"Of course I'll go. I've been dreaming about you banging those drums for months, you know. That's my chance", you said, and you could see his shoulders relaxing. "Good. I hope I give you some more material for when you're alone", he said, and grabbed the cigarette from your fingers.

"I don't know why you like this. It used to be better a few years ago, when the Doctor travelled around galaxies and stuff. Now he's stuck on Earth", he complained, and stretched his legs over the coffee table. "I like the way he speaks. I think it's pretty soothing. And I like his companion, Jo Grant. She looks cool", you said, leaning onto his shoulder.

"But she's not really smart, though. The one before her, Liz Shaw, was smarter, but still looked cool. I recently found out I like girls that can do both", he said, wrapping his arms around you. "And why is that?", you asked, but you knew the answer. "Well, I think you raised my standards", he answered with a chuckle. "You're such a flirt", you said, and kissed his neck.

"Shit, I marked you again", you realised. "It's okay. It really goes with the rockstar look, don't you think? I like it", he answered, and started to pay attention to the show again. You always left love marks on each other; sometimes you wondered if it was really by accident. You thought once that maybe you left marks on each other's skin the same way a kid would write his name on his favourite toy; maybe if you lost touch again, it would be easier to re encounter, since there was evidence you belonged to one another, at least for a small period of time.

Your arrival at the college made you wake up from your daydreaming. You've been silent for the last few minutes, and Roger was humming a song to himself. The silent wasn't uncomfortable; you were now used to being around each other, and sometimes you were quiet, just enjoying being together.

He moved his hand to the small of your back as he guided you to the classroom Brian got for them to rehearse. He seemed a bit nervous, so you stopped yourself from making any snarky remarks. And you arrived at the classroom.

You could recognize two of the man standing in the room; the first was Brian, who you still remembered from the only time you watched Roger perform, and the other was Freddie, who you met in your afternoons at Kensington. The other one seemed younger than you, his long brown hair covering some of his face. Roger said it took some time for him to feel comfortable around people he didn't knew, and you respected that.

"Hey, Y/N. Good to see that you and Roger stopped fucking like rabbits enough for you to catch a rehearsal" Freddie said, coming closer and hugging you. "Maybe you should start the sexual jokes after I'm introduced to the rest of band?", you joked, and Roger laughed along with the others.

"So Y/N, this is Brian, he's the only person I know that is as smart as you", Roger said, holding your waist as you both walked closer to the tall guitarist. "Well, thank you, Roger" Brian said, and Roger mumbled "Don't get used to it" the same time Brian said "Nice meeting you, Y/N. So you're the reason Roger's mood been sucking less recently?", and you laughed. "I don't know, he's been nothing but a ray of sunshine ever since I first saw him. Nice meeting you too", you said, both of you teasing Roger.

"And this is Deacy, the bass player", he said, at the same time he said "Hey" to you. "Hey, Deacy", you answered, and Roger took you to one of the chairs, all in one side of the room, and set in a way you could enjoy the band as if it was a private show.

"I hope you like it" he said, leaning closer to your lips. "I'm gonna love it", you said, leaning in and giving him a peck on the lips.

And you did. You recognized "Doing Alright", the only song you really watched them perform, and they were all in tune, no pauses for adjustments in the middle on the song. Then there was a few others you didn't know, but you enjoyed them as well; they sounded experimental, but the songs also had something epic in them - you felt like they would be appropriate as soundtracks for movies, the amount of world building potential in them surprising you. There was a song that encapsulated that feeling, something about Seven Seas, but they could barely play it; Freddie was always unsatisfied with the way it sounded. "It's not ready yet, darling", he told you as Brian tried to play the guitar the way he wanted.

Roger looked especially hot when playing a song you supposed was called Keep Yourself Alive, judging by the way the phrase was repeated in the chorus. There was a small drum solo, his concentrated frown during it making you want to fuck him right there, and when he sang the phrase "Do you think you're better every day?", he looked at you, and you smirked at him.

His rockstar façade was so casual and devil-may-care that it was driving you mad. You kept biting your lips every time you started to really pay attention at Roger, and you were reminded of how he could make such a long lasting impression on you just by playing the drums.

And by the time they were playing the last song in the setlist, an impeccable cover of Jailhouse Rock, you were turned on. Roger's chest was glimmering with sweat, just like it would when you had sex, and you crossed your legs, trying to distract yourself - look at Freddie singing, look at Brian playing the guitars, look at Deacy and his bass, look at anything but Roger. You technically still had to get home before being able to do anything about it.

So after they were done, Roger got up as you did the same, the both of you meeting in front of his drum kit. "Did you like it?" he asked, still a bit out of breath. "I loved it", you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a quick kiss on his lips. "You guys were amazing. When is the next show?", you asked, now talking to the rest of the band as well.

"Next month. You're coming, right?", Freddie asked you. "There's no way I'm missing it", you answered, and they started to pack some of their instruments. The heavier ones were allowed to stay in an empty janitor's closet on the corridor outside, and that included the drums.

They would usually stay and help Roger, but you said you could do it, and they left the two of you in the room. You watched as Roger sat on the stool, probably about to start packing the drums, but you quickly moved there and sat on his lap, your face inches away from him.

He smirked as you grabbed his hair by the base of his neck and pulled you closer to him, moving his hands through your body, setting one of them on your waist and the other one on your hips. "You look pretty hot playing the drums. Made me remember why I didn't forget your face for months", you said, placing a lingering kiss on his lips.

"Took you long enough. I remember why I kept thinking of you everytime I look at you", he said, outflirting you. You were always competing, it seems, who can be a more obvious, cheesy, ironic flirt.

You got up, turned around and sat on his lap again. "Teach me something", you said, and he chuckled. "Sure", he said while grabbing the drumsticks. He moved his hands through your sides before extending them over your arms and placing the drumsticks on your hands. He started to hit the drums slightly, a simple beat, moving the drumsticks as he moved your hands.

That's when he decided to lean himself completely onto you, pressing himself onto your body, his lips ghosting on the skin of the curve of your neck, before propping his chin there. You felt a shiver on your back, and you dropped one of the drumsticks. He laughed as you got up, but you didn't pick the drumstick as he expected. You turned back around and sat on his lap.

"You already gave up on our class?" He said as you started to kiss his neck, holding him by the collar on his shirt. "I'll ask for another one later", you said moving your hands down to the hem and pulling his shirt up, kissing his lips. You then broke the kiss as you realised the door was unlocked.

"Shit", you said, and you started to move up, but Roger's strong hands held you down. "What?" he asked. "The door's unlocked", you said, motioning up again, but he held you down. "So what? The college is technically closed", he said, smirking and moving his hands down your skirt, pushing your panties to the side, his fingers convincing you to forget about the unlocked door, a moan leaving your lips.

"I need you to come to every rehearsal if it leaves you like this", his voice already sounding out of breath, and you smirked at him. You really hoped he would.

---

Chapter 7

Masterlist

Taglist:

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92

[asleepinawell]

Primary Asset Good Boy

The apartment was dark and quiet when Shaw entered, and for a moment she wondered if anyone was actually there. But Root’s favorite boots were lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor–just waiting for some unsuspecting person to trip over them–and Bear’s leash was coiled (almost neatly) on the little table by the door.

The apartment had that feeling it got when she wasn’t the only one there. Once upon a time that would have set off alarm bells in her head, or made her feel crowded and uncomfortable at the least, but now it felt correct. Complete.

And even if she sighed in exasperation at the clearly-not-properly-cleaned shotgun on the coffee table and the tangle of cables on the kitchen counter, there wasn’t any real annoyance there.

She paused before heading into the bedroom to look across the darkened living room towards the little camera Root had mounted on the wall ages ago. It had creeped her out a little at first, but now it was kind of comforting to see the red light winking at her.

She threw it a two-finger salute before she left.

Root didn’t stir when Shaw slipped into the bedroom. She was curled up on one side, her hair a messy wave on the pillow, and her breathing deep and steady. It was a relief to see her sleeping soundly; that often didn’t happen when Shaw was away.

Maybe the reason for Root’s peaceful slumber was right next to her, where Bear was getting a little bit squished by the way she’d curled up around him (though he didn’t look put out at all). When he saw Shaw enter, Bear’s ears perked up and his tail thumped against the bed a few times. She held up a finger to her lips and he settled down immediately.

Neither of them had moved when Shaw got back from her quick shower, but, when she slid under the covers on her side of the bed, Root stirred slightly.

“Go back to sleep,” Shaw said quietly, but Root was reaching over Bear and fumbling along the mattress with one hand trying to find her. She slid over far enough that Root’s hand bumped into her. Root wrapped her fingers around Shaw’s upper arm and gave a small, happy sigh.

She was asleep again seconds later and Shaw drifted off soon after.

Shaw woke up the next morning to find that Root had tried to curl up around her during the night. The problem, though, was that Bear was still between them so mostly what had happened was the poor dog had gotten smushed while shielding Shaw from the attempted cuddling. Shaw untangled herself from the mess and gave Bear a pat on the head as a reward.

Normally she’d have taken Bear with her on her morning run, but today she left him in bed just in case Root hadn’t fully registered last night that she was back and freaked out when she woke up dogless. Shaw would have to give him an extra treat later to make up for it.

Root was up and about when she got back, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter wearing her pajamas, and staring at her laptop. She looked up when Shaw came in.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d dreamt that you’d come back. You should really scatter some of your things around next time so it’s obvious. Even your toothbrush is in the exact same place.”

“You make enough of a mess for both of us.” Shaw motioned at the general state of the living room.

Root failed to look even a little contrite.

“I thought I must have imagined you getting in bed last night since you didn’t take Bear with you this morning.”

“He looked comfortable.” He’d looked smothered.

“I never realized how clingy he was,” Root mused. “Curled up almost on top of me every night and wouldn’t let me out the door without him.”

Shaw exchanged a look with Bear, who was stretched out on the kitchen floor. She was really glad right now that he couldn’t talk.

“He probably missed me or something. Thought when you were leaving that you were going to wherever I was.” Sounded logical enough, Shaw figured.

“He insisted on going everywhere with me. Even missions. He actually took down a perp I got into a bit of a brawl with.” Root looked down at the dog, speculatively.

“Sounds like he showed up Reese, anyway.” Unfair to poor Reese, (especially since he’d also been deprived of dog-sitting Bear while she was away this time, though she thought he’d probably figured out why), but Shaw wanted to move away from the topic.

Root shut the lid of her laptop. “Hmm, I wonder if…” She froze, staring at Shaw as if she’d somehow only now registered that Shaw had just gotten back from a run and was standing all flushed and sweaty in the kitchen.

Shaw didn’t smirk, but she did possibly flex her arms very slightly. Root’s eyes went unfocused.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” Shaw said. “You coming?”

Root blinked a few times, refocusing. “Quite possibly.”

Shaw snorted softly at that. She turned to head out of the kitchen, and Root slid off the stool to join her. Somehow they didn’t make it into the hall and Root ended up pressed up against her, kissing her thoroughly while her arms wrapped around her perhaps just a tiny bit tighter than they usually would have been.

“Miss me?” Root asked when they broke apart. She was smiling mischievously, the question meant as a tease rather than anything serious.

“Could be.”

Root’s face lit up in surprised delight at the almost-admission.

Root didn’t need her to answer the little teasing questions, Shaw knew, but sometimes she liked to anyway.

“Shall we move the welcome home party to the shower?” Root asked, tugging at the bottom of Shaw’s shirt.

“I’m not the one who detoured us up against a wall.” Mostly true.

Root smirked and stepped back before gesturing for Shaw to pass. Shaw hesitated and looked back into the kitchen.

“Uh, actually, can you go get the water started? I’ll be there in a second.”

Root looked a little curious but agreed easily enough, dropping an unnecessary kiss on the tip of Shaw’s nose before wandering away down the hall. Shaw watched her go and scrubbed at her nose with one hand, indignant. How could she ever have let herself end up with someone who wore pajama pants covered with pictures of some dumb penguin?

(Which, now that she thought about it was almost definitely the damn Linux penguin because this was Root so of course it was. And she couldn’t even mock her for it because then she’d have to admit that she’d recognized it. Unfair).

Once Root had vanished down the hall, Shaw went back into the kitchen and hunched down next to Bear.

“Good boy,” she told him, scratching his head and neck. “Know it’s exhausting keeping her out of trouble.”

Bear licked her in the face.

She hadn’t been quite sure he’d understood what she’d asked him to do before she left, but he’d done even better than she’d hoped. This was the first time she’d been on a trip where she hadn’t gotten a message from the Machine at some horrible hour prompting her to call Root, or had to patch Root up when she’d come home to find that she’d been careless and gotten hurt again.

Bear had helped both of them sleep better.

“Sameen?” Root’s voice echoed down the hall. “It’s no fun getting all wet without you.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and gave Bear one more pat on the head before she went to go join Root.

[davidcarner]

Walker, PI Ch 10, The End

A/N: Here we are...the end...Chuck is broken, Sarah isn't sure what to do...well...that's what she keeps telling herself...remember, Noir is filled with broken people...and if these two aren't broken, then they're both a little bent...Walker, PI, Ch 10, The End

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck.

(Italics indicate a voiceover)

The next day, I found myself in front of his door. There I stood, trying to figure out exactly what I was doing. Nearly every part of me said to turn around, leave, walk away and never see him again…but I couldn't. He had gotten into me, into my soul, into my skin, into my heart, and those were the parts I was listening to. He had done something terrible, but I had to ask myself, if it had happened to me, what I would have done? I knew the answer. I put my hand on the knob and turned it. I heard a gun being cocked, but I ignored him. His hand was shaking, and when he saw it was me, he lowered it. For a second I wondered if he was considering eating a bullet. He sat at a table. On it was a glass and cheap whiskey, probably Rotgut. It was unopened. I picked it up, walked over to the sink, opened it, turned to watch him, and poured it down the drain. He never moved, except to put his gun back on the table. I put the empty bottle on the counter by the sink, walked over to him, pulled an envelope, and an USB drive out of my bag and placed it in front of him. I picked the gun up, took out the clip, the bullet out of the chamber, and put it in my purse as he watched me, never flinching. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. His eyes went to the USB drive and he looked back up at me, and that when I finally saw what I was looking for, shame.

"I brought you your share of the reward," I said. He closed his eyes in disgust with himself. "Funny thing is, my phone is ringing off the hook now because of you." I looked around his apartment, still as bare as the last time I was here. "Maybe you should use the money to do something with this place."

"I've got all of the money from my company," he said, looking sick. I wasn't sure what to say. He pushed the envelope toward me. "You keep it."

"Buy yourself something nice," I said, about at wits end, and turned to go.

"What if I wanted to buy part of your agency?" he asked. I turned around, one eyebrow raised.

"I don't work with drunks, thieves, or murders," I replied. He nodded, knowing he was all three. "I mean one can redeem themselves from being a drunk…" I trailed off, not really knowing how to end the sentence. "Funny thing is, there was a time during this case I thought you could be the partner I need, the one to keep me in check from doing something stupid. The partner I needed with the skills I didn't have. Appears I was wrong." Again he nodded, with nothing really to say. I should of left. I should have walked away, but what would I have done if I had been him? I know what I would have done. "I had a whole lot of ideas of ways I could repay you for everything you've done for me," I said, looking right at him, leaving no doubt as to what I meant. He swallowed, loudly. I couldn't help but grin as I slowly walked toward him. "Now, I have a few problems because of you," I said, tracing my finger up the buttons on his shirt. He was trembling, but there was no smell of alcohol on him. Was the trembling from me, or the withdrawals, I couldn't say.

"Since I caused the problems, it seems only right I find a way to make them go away," he said, his voice catching. I looked right into his eyes. He started to lean toward me, and I put my hand on his chest stopping him, his lips an inch from mine. He could have leaned in, but he was too broken, too beaten, to think of it.

"If I turn in the real thief, I become a laughing stock." He nodded, again, just inches from my lips, I couldn't help myself, reached up, grabbed his head, and pulled him in. There was no alcohol on his lips. There was a desperation in him, a hunger, that couldn't be disguised. I wanted to give in, but no, he didn't deserve anything more. I pushed him away, but I wanted to pull him in. "It's a pity, there's so much more we could have done." With that, I turned to walk out of his life forever. Part of me prayed he'd say something, anything.

"Wait," he shouted. Everything in me jumped. I composed myself. I'd been played and he had to make things right. I turned back around to face him. His eyes had a desperation in them that made me want run to him, but I stood my ground. If I had any sense, I'd have walked out that door, but I didn't. Love makes you do funny things, and I had fallen, hard. "I lost my moral compass. They killed Jill and my mom. Jill didn't do anything, except see something she shouldn't have, and they killed her and got away with it." I stared at him, the same thoughts having run through my mind for the last several days.

"So you killed a man, stole a priceless artifact to frame them for something they didn't do, so they would go to jail for something they did do." He nodded his head. I was quiet for a moment, and when I spoke again, it was very softly. "Is there anyone else you would do that for?" I asked. I hated myself right then. I sounded so needy, so desperate. Who was he? This guy who would risk everything, all the money he had, his freedom, just to get revenge…no justice, on those who had his girlfriend killed. He was silent for a minute as he looked at me. He looked at the ground, his shoulders slumped. I nodded. I found my answer…and then….then he surprised me.

"I don't know," he said softly. Then he shook his head and chuckled to himself. He looked at me, and I began to melt inside. He was so lying. "We both know I'm lying. I sound like a fool. I loved her. I would move mountains for her, but she's out of my life. Forever.” He paused and looked me straight in the eye, his voice barely above a whisper. “There's probably someone else I would do this for. The look on his face made my knees buckle. There was no doubt who that someone was, and right now it was I could do not to find out what all he would do for her. What I do know is I would do anything to make this right." I looked at him for a minute.

"Anything?" I asked. He nodded. "You'd go confess to crimes that no one knows you committed to make this right?" He nodded. "Would you live with what you've done, and keep quiet?" He nodded. "Would you quit drinking? Would you quit drinking even when those around you every day still did? Would you?"

"I already did." I looked at him suspiciously. He raised his hands in defense. "I quit after you kicked me out of your office. I did it to give me the courage to do what I had to do."

"We keep everything we talk about between you and me?"

"Absolutely." I raised an eyebrow. "It was a victimless crime, and the statue is back." I walked toward him, slowly. I felt a tiger stalking my prey, and have no doubt, he was dinner.

"Daniel Shaw?

"He was a murderer that deserved to die for what he did," he answered. I couldn't disagree with him.

"So we're clear, you killed him?"

"Yes." I studied him. Everything in me wanted him.

"I'm the victim. I could lose everything if it was ever found out." He surprised me by walking to the kitchen quickly. He came back with a hammer, worrying me for a second, before he brought it down on the USB drive destroying all the evidence. "Just like that?" He smiled and walked toward me, hammer on the table. He stopped inches from me. "You work for me now." He smiled.

"Yes ma'am."

"You don't drink anymore."

"Yes ma'am."

"And if you don't, then maybe, just maybe, I could think about those repayment ideas I had earlier." He smiled at me, and my heart skipped a beat. I needed some distance before I showed that fool how much power he had over me. I turned, walked toward the door, and opened it.

"You're just gonna leave?" I stopped at his words, go my head screamed.

"I don't get involved with drunks I told you." I had barely turned my head.

"What about murders?" His tone was lighter, playful. Stay, my heart said.

"He deserved it, they all did." I played his game, I shouldn't have.

"What about thieves?" His voice sounded like he was moving closer, I hoped it was.

"It was a victimless crime." I may have bounced a shoulder.

"I'm a recovering alcoholic." He said it so cheekily, I knew his game, he wasn't really an alcoholic.

"You haven't recovered enough yet." I needed to stop this, now because if I didn't…

"I was right about you, you know. They said you would do anything to solve a case, and I knew you wouldn't. I knew you'd do the right thing. Maybe we can help each other be each other's moral compasses." Something in me melted with those words, all my resolve, all my anger, and only one thing was left. Love.

"And what if both our compasses are broken now? What if we're both willing to do anything for each other?" I had just asked the most dangerous questions ever, and he knew it.

"That…well…that could be interesting." With that I shut the door, and locked it. I turned around and stared at him. I should have walked out that door, but I'm glad I didn't.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it...It was different, fun, and just a moment to step back from the normal Chuck fanfic. Special thanks to Steampunk . Chuckster, Zettel, and AngelGurl0 for all their assistance on this one. Reviews and PMs are always welcomed!

DC

[therealjammy]

Flight, Merciless

This was a gift for an acquaintance of @gengarofinterest ‘s. Commission slots are still open, if you’re interested. (More on this in a minute.)

They were staying in upstate New York, very close to New Rochelle and its boarding school where Root had had her meeting with Samaritan’s Analogue Interface. The house was large and modern, with a backyard that faced a woody park. According to Root, it was one of Harold’s very first safehouses. When they’d arrived last week, it hadn’t seen occupants in years, and yet someone had kept it clean.

           John had left Root in the master bedroom in favor of going out and getting groceries and coffee. By now, he knew of Root’s affinity for Starbucks coffee, and got it for her as often as he could. Every person on Earth had a winter vice. Root’s just so happened to be that one. But coffee was what kept her going, and a decent amount of pills that she took once a day to keep herself from falling over. She slept poorly. Several times he was tempted to buy melatonin, or a stronger sleeping pill, but he figured he would have to ask before making that kind of purchase.

           Just get what you’d gotten when you were a college student, Root had told him when he was making the grocery list.

           What about when you were a college student? he’d asked.

           I was a killer-for-hire when I was college-aged. I lived off takeout and room service and the occasional beef-flavored cup noodles.

           Had it been Shaw he was staying with, he would’ve bought her her comfort foods. But this was Root, volatile and fragile, and he didn’t know what her comfort foods were. So he had to guess. He grabbed various meats and vegetables, frozen meals, bags of pasta and different sauces, and desserts. On the way back, he stopped at the nearest Starbucks. Since the month had rolled over to December, they had their Christmas flavors out. The Christmas roast was ever-popular; every customer seemed eager to get their hands on it. John scanned the menu, and realized that he didn’t know what Root’s usual coffee order was.

           Hi there, said the cashier. What can I get you?

           A grande pike in a venti cup, John said, and a grande Christmas roast.

           Is that all?

           Yes sir. He pulled out his wallet and paid with a twenty, accepting the change and stepping off to the side to wait.

 —

 There was music playing when John got back to the house. It was coming from the master bedroom upstairs. A classical piece, by the sound of it. Schubert, maybe? He wondered when Root had gotten an ear for opera.

           He put all the groceries in their proper places and went up to tell Root. He found her sitting in the middle of the king bed, laptop open and brightly lit, but not working. Just staring. He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him over the rims of her glasses.

           Bought some things, he said. He held out the cup of Christmas roast for her. Got you some coffee, too.

           Root got out of bed for the third time and accepted the coffee. She asked, What did you buy?

           A few things. I didn’t know what your comfort foods were.

           Root’s face softened slightly. Maybe the only person who’d bought her comfort foods was Shaw, after their partnership turned into a friendship.

           How’s your cooking? John asked.

           It’s decent, Root said, though it’s not Sameen’s.

           She made you food?

           Despite everything, there was a sad sort of smile in Root’s eyes. She made me food every now and then. It was a habit that started when I interrupted her private time because I needed her stitching skills. Root sipped her coffee. Are we going to make dinner?

           We can start whenever you want.

           Root went over to her laptop and the music stopped.

           I didn’t know you liked opera, John said.

           It’s growing on me.

 —

 Dinner was quiet, as they almost always were. Root played with her food more than she ate it, dragging her fork through the pork dish, or painting the other side of her plate with the sauce that was supposed to accompany it. Reminiscent of a habit of Jessica’s. She’d do this too, when something was on her mind. She would brush it off with a, It’s nothing you should worry about. John hadn’t known what Jessica was thinking. With Root, it was easier. She was thinking of Shaw, and Samaritan, and outcomes.

           Sometimes She and I are similar, Root had said, at the beginning of all this. We run through possibilities, sometimes about the future, and other times about what could’ve gone differently.

           John’s appetite was dwindling, too. And even though the food was supposed to taste good, he took no notice. Everything was tasteless. Worse than the ready-to-eat packs that his troop had used when he was in the military. But he forced the food down anyway. They wouldn’t find Shaw on empty stomachs or when they fainted from lack of substance.

           Root was still sitting at the table when John was cleaning up the dishes. Her plate was barely touched; she’d only taken a few bites of her pork and drunk only half her glass of water.

           Do you think they passed through here? John asked softly.

           Don’t know, Root replied. I don’t even know where to begin. She picked up her fork again, painted with the sauce. We’re supposed to be tracking a truck.

           There’s little sign of it.

           I’ve worked with worse. We have footage of it.

           The footage was grainy, John remembered, but it was the truck. He turned back to the dishes, plunging his hands into the hot dishwater. So far in their search, there weren’t many signs of the truck. They stopped at every gas station they could think of and asked to see their security footage, flashing their various badges to gain cooperation. They’d had almost no luck until their last stop, just before coming up here, where the grainy footage was shown to them on the gas station’s staticky TV. Root suspected they’d come through New Rochelle, though until they explored tomorrow, there was no telling.

           You should go to bed early tonight, John said. Try to get some good hours. He saw Root nodding. At last, she got up and gave her plate, fork, and glass to him.

           Thank you for cooking, she murmured. It was good.

 […]

 By now, John was used to quiet. It’d stretched from the moment his father’s casket had been lowered from the plane until now, where he was sitting in the kitchen on guard. Moments of expanded silence filled his life. He’d spent them with his mother in their Colorado house, with military buddies before missions and during them, with Kara in a lull before they went after another traitor, with Harold, when he was asked to stay for a drink and small talk until he was dismissed. He always knew when other people were awake. It produced an itch in the silence and a feeling in your ribcage and it was like you could sense the other person, almost as if you were a satellite picking up heat signatures. He could sense Root’s restlessness, almost hear her tossing and turning in that giant bed, almost hear her blinks and breathing and the twisting knot of anxiousness in her gut. He wondered if he should go into the bedroom after all, if she would feel better with him there.

           Somewhere in the living room, a clock chimed the hour. Dong, ding. 2 AM. He got up and double-checked the doors and windows, and then quietly made his way upstairs. He peeked into the master bedroom, saw the outline of Root lying on her back with her hands folded over her abdomen.

           I’ll see you in the morning, he said.

           Goodnight, Root said, rather curtly.

           The pillow in the guest bedroom was too hard, but he sank gratefully into the soft mattress. Within half an hour, he finally drifted off to sleep.

 —

 Her mother had often told her that the hours of the night were merciless in the way that they allowed you to think without interruption. Root became aware of that truth just days after her thirteenth birthday, when Hanna was officially declared missing. She’d lay awake wondering what happened to her, where she was, hoping that she was okay and warm somewhere. Yet the truth had always been there: Hanna was dead maybe mere minutes after climbing into Trent Russell’s car.

           That wasn’t the case with Shaw. A truth lied there, too: Root knew she was alive. Her thoughts lay along that path. Where was Shaw? Where was that white truck taking her? What did Samaritan want with her? And, worst of all, would she ever come back?

           It was no secret that their odds of survival increased with Shaw by their sides. They would need her when they battled against Samaritan at full force. There would be almost no other way.

           You have to be prepared to lose people, Harry, she’d told Finch before she and John left. Or even yourself.

           Death comes for us all, Root, he’d responded, and Root’s heart had almost soared at the use of her name, sometimes sooner than others. He’d spun around in his chair then, stopping both of them in their tracks. Are you sure you want to leave?

           Yes, John had said. We need Shaw. We’re not going to find her wiling away down here.

           History often likes to repeat itself, her mother had told her too. Sometimes twice, sometimes more. First it was Hanna that was taken from her, and then it was Shaw. It seemed history was always eager to take the people Root loved most just to shake her about. And in the early hours of dawn, she found herself wondering if this would always be her fate. She counted the differences between these two disappearances in her head: One, there was no resurfacing evidence with Hanna; there’s resurfacing evidence of Sameen in the form of a white truck. Two, you knew Hanna was dead; you know Sameen is alive. Three, you couldn’t save Hanna; you can save Sameen. Four, there was no hope; there is hope.

—

[sacredlettersspn]

Letter #2: Courage (Wendigo, 1x02)

Theme: courage

Definition: the ability to do something that frightens one or strength in the face of pain or grief

Welcome back to the Sacred Letters of Supernatural. This week’s theme is courage and we’re taking a look at the episode “Wendigo.” Bravery, or courage, may seem like an obvious choice for a theme--Sam and Dean put their lives at risk and battle monsters every episode--but I want to focus on the less obvious acts of bravery shown in this particular episode. I think those might hold a lot of value for application to our personal lives. After all, none of us are hunting supernatural creatures on the daily. 

When thinking about every-day acts of personal bravery, I’m reminded of a recent fear-inducing situation I experienced. For those of you who don’t follow my personal Tumblr and don’t know this already, I went to Mexico last July. That trip brought up a lot of anxiety for me. It was my first time out of the country, first time in a place that didn’t speak primarily English, and first time on a plane. Before the trip, I was having anxiety induced dreams about forgetting my passport and not being able to get into the country. In general, I was thinking of all the ways things could go wrong and something bad could happen. I was nervous the entire way leading up to the morning of our plane ride, I was nervous walking through the airport, sitting on the plane, and through most of the plane ride. But once we landed and I realized I was really in Mexico, something almost magical happened. I walked through the doors of the Monterrey airport where our group of friends and family was waiting for us and the big ball of anxiety dissolved. Sure, there were smaller moments of anxiety during the two-week trip (anxiety never completely disappears) but the rest of the trip was fun and exciting. I made new friends and ate lots of good food, and now I want to go back as often as I can. 

Despite my fears, I made the decision to go through with the trip, not knowing how I would feel once I landed in Mexico or how I would like the food, culture, or inability to communicate with most of the people. I chose to go anyway and see what happened. A large part of what helped me was the presence of familiar people on the trip with me. Close friends and family acted as a support, especially during that first plane ride. The plane ride was one aspect of the trip I was especially nervous about. But after we landed, I sighed in relief because I had finally faced a fear. And I found out I actually liked riding on the plane. I got a huge confidence boost from conquering that fear. I love to think about how something that seemed incredibly scary to me became one of my favorite memories. 

Living normal life requires these kinds of “small” acts of courage, especially for those of us with high levels of anxiety. But by small I don’t mean “less than.” I don’t think it takes any less courage to do the small acts of bravery than it does to do the “big” things. Fear about a situation, and the courage it takes to face a fear, is relative. It seems almost easy for Sam and Dean to put their own safety on the line for others, but it’s not easy for them to talk to each other about their father or to talk about Sam’s grief. Spoiler alert: Sam and Dean do those exact things in this episode anyway. So then I asked myself: What makes someone have the courage to do the hard things in life like Sam and Dean did in “Wendigo”? Maybe we can find some answers by looking at the characters in this episode. But first, let’s go over the summary.

The episode opens with three young adults at Blackwater Ridge, camping in a remote location of the endless forest. They are playing video games in their tents and one of them, Tommy, is sending an endearing video message to his siblings, Haley and Ben. One of the guys leaves the tent to use the restroom and a few seconds later, he is heard screaming. Another guy takes a peek out of the tent to see what’s wrong, but he’s yanked out of the tent by something we can’t see. Realizing he’s in danger, Tommy turns off his lamp and hides, but whatever got his friends gets him, too. 

Sam and Dean travel to Blackwater Ridge because of coordinates that John gives them. They hear about the incident with Tommy, do some investigating, and find a witness to similar events many years ago. The witness’ name is Shaw and his family was killed when he was a child decades ago. Based on Shaw’s story, Sam and Dean get clues to what the creature might be. While most of the park rangers don’t believe Tommy is in danger and want Haley to stop bugging them about her brother, Tommy’s siblings hire a guide to take them through the forest anyway. Before leaving on their hike, Sam and Dean catch up to them and they all go on the search together. 

During this search, the guide is killed and Sam and Dean deduce that the creature is a Wendigo. They tell Haley and Ben the truth. Sam and Dean also find some time for a heart-to-heart after Sam begins acting more angry than usual. Dean and Haley are kidnapped by the Wendigo, but Sam and Ben find the trail and go into abandoned mine shafts to find them. Tommy is found alive along with Haley and Dean. Dean uses a DIY fire gun to set the Wendigo ablaze while Sam stands in front of the family to protect them. They all escape the mine shafts safely and alive. 

These first few episodes are ones I’ve seen multiple times because they’re “classic” Supernatural. I love to go back and watch them because they hold a nostalgic feeling for me. They’re slightly spooky, and they remind me of staying up late because I just can’t stop watching. But despite having seen this episode a few times before, I was noticing new details and aspects of the story. I saw so many beautiful moments of courage in this episode. If I had unlimited time and motivation to write, I would spend time on each of the moments. But for the sake of my schedule and your time, I will be focusing on two specific acts of courage seen in “Wendigo.” 

There seems to be a pattern of people confronting difficult conversations in this episode. Sam has a dream about confronting Jess at her grave while his grief is still raw. Haley repeatedly confronts park rangers who don’t believe her concerns. Dean confronts Sam when he notices Sam is more irritable than usual. Confrontation can require a hefty amount of courage. Not at all confrontation is an argument; sometimes it’s having a hard conversation, like Dean sitting Sam down in the forest and asking him what’s wrong. This scene happens at the twenty-five minute mark. While watching, I felt that Dean didn’t know how Sam would respond. I think he was a bit nervous about that, but he talked to Sam anyway because he cared about the wellbeing of everyone on the trip. Dean realized that if he didn’t confront what was going on inside Sam, it could be dangerous for everyone. Dean displayed bravery in helping someone get through a tough time and in trying to find the right thing to say to a grieving person. Sam also displayed bravery in confiding in his brother. We know Sam was dealing with heavy emotions because of the dream we see earlier in the episode, so I think it’s safe to assume it was no easy feat for Sam to divulge some of his inner turmoil. 

The moment of bravery which spoke to me the most in this episode happened when Sam and Dean visited Shaw. Shaw was attacked by the Wendigo when he was a young child, but no one believed what he experienced. Everyone told him it was a bear attack, and so for decades that’s what he told himself. When the Winchesters meet him, he’s an old man who’s had to carry his secret for a long time. There is a lot of shame in that kind of suffering, when there’s a feeling that no one believes you or cares to hear the truth. There’s also the fear that if you told your truth, you would be mocked, ostracized, or bad-mouthed. I imagine Shaw had a similar kind of fear and shame growing up. Shaw doesn’t say he feels shame, but I can see shame in his body language. He doesn’t want to look Sam and Dean in the eyes, he tells them “You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did.” That’s when Sam sits down in front of Shaw, eye to eye, and asks him again, but softer, “What did you see?” Shaw finds the courage to open up and tell his true story with a shaky voice. 

As I watched that scene, I wondered how he found the capability to trust two men he had never met before. Sam’s empathy helped, and the boys knew the right questions to ask. Maybe Shaw had been looking for someone to understand what he experienced, and Sam and Dean were those people. Sam and Dean showed the right kind of curiosity and they created a safe space where Shaw could tell his truth and be accepted. There is courage and power in telling your story, but it requires faith and hope that you will be accepted. Shaw found this when he chose to be vulnerable with the Winchesters, and his vulnerability led to the rescue of Tommy and the death of the monster who killed his parents. 

I imagine Shaw found some amount of healing as well in telling his story, and maybe he would have been given more had he been told he was right all along. Sam and Dean never visit Shaw again, so we can’t know for sure how this meeting affected him. However, knowing how vulnerability can open someone up to healing and connection, I can guess that we would have seen a huge amount of relief on his face after Sam and Dean told him that this creature can never harm another person again. 

On a side note, Shaw tells Sam and Dean that he doesn’t know why the creature didn’t take him as a child. I’ve never noticed this before but Shaw says he was sleeping by the fireplace. After watching this scene several times, I remembered that Wendigos don’t like fire. Fire kills them. Shaw didn’t get taken as a child because he was next to a fire when his parents were attacked. Drop a comment if you never realized that either so I know I’m not alone!

Lectio Divina

The next segment of this letter is called “Lectio Divina,” which is a Christian spiritual practice for reading scriptures that involves interacting with the text on four different levels. I am following Harry Potter and the Sacred Text’s use of this practice and adapting it the best I can to the visual format. Normally, you pick a scripture or a line of text to meditate on. I randomized numbers between 1 and 42 (the amount of minutes in the episode), and picked the first full line after the minute mark I was given.

Line, 11:00: “Okay, watch this. I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.” - Sam

Literal: Sam and Dean are sitting in a busy bar with a laptop and old newspapers. Sam wants to show Dean the video of Tommy talking to his siblings just before the attack happened. The clip in question that Sam shows Dean is “three frames, it’s fractions of a second.” Sam points out a shadow quickly moving outside the tent behind Tommy. This confirms their suspicions that the attack on Tommy’s camp was not a natural occurrence like a bear attack. The creature moved far too fast according to Sam. 

Allegorical/Symbolic: Watching this scene made me consider the amount of effort it would have taken to notice the quick movement of shadows behind Tommy. Sam would have had to go through each frame individually which would have taken an incredible amount of patience. In a situation where not many people are believing Tommy’s sister, Sam is taking a considerate amount of care into finding out what happened. Sam is also applying refined observational skills to dissect this video. He comes across intelligent in this scene, using his knowledge of computer technology and observational skills to give them a clearer direction in the case. In a lot of crime procedurals, there is the staple “geek” in the show, think Abby in NCIS or Spencer Reid in Criminal Minds. This person gives the team valuable insights that result in solved cases, even if they are at times eccentric. Sam is functioning like one of these characters here. He knows computers and video technology, and he went to law school, and he’s able to use his unique skill set to help crack the case.

Personal: Somewhat reluctantly, I was reminded of the grueling task of getting college assignments and papers done. Research papers require attention to detail and painstaking hours of research. I don’t think I applied as much care to each paper as Sam does to this case, but I’ll give myself a break. Sam is working with a life or death situation, so he may be more motivated than I was. But regardless, this scene made me think about what it means to stay focused and apply myself to complete a difficult job. How do I motivate myself when my brain is tired? How do I put myself aside temporarily when I’m helping someone else? Sam seems to have no trouble pouring himself into his work whereas I often feel like I could give more of myself to others. It takes genuine effort to put lots of care into a project, and I think approaching tasks with that kind of attitude is ideal. I’ll acknowledge that it’s a standard I give myself that others may not, and sometimes that standard may cause me to be too hard on myself. But I look up to Sam in this scene. He pushes through a monotonous task and comes out the other side with a valuable lead. 

Invitational: At first watch, I didn’t think this scene offered much in the way of reflection. How can watching someone show a video clip offer any useful insights to how I live my life? However, when I approached watching this scene as a lesson in observing the amount of care and dedication Sam put towards his responsibilities, this scene held more meaning. Sam’s actions led to saving the life of another human being. The amount of care Sam put into his task had a monumentally positive effect on someone else. This led me to ask the question: how does our focus and attention to detail affect others? I remembered that when I was younger, my mom would ask for help to clean the bathroom. Sometimes I would rush through it and miss spots in the bathtub or on the mirror. My mom would be frustrated, but as a kid, I didn’t understand what the big deal was. It was mostly clean, right? But this made my mom feel like she had extra work to do. Doing the job with great care to the detail and end results would have meant a great deal to my mom. I imagine there are other opportunities in which I can go the extra mile to make someone feel the same way.

Before I finish this letter, I would like to end with a question for the audience. This question is for personal evaluation or contemplation, but if you would like a chance for your answer to be featured on the blog or to begin a discussion, please send your answers to my Tumblr inbox.

This Week’s Question:

What do you think was the biggest moment of courage in this episode and why?

And last, but not least, a special thanks to our patrons!

Jamie S. 

[crimson-phantom-designs]

As the men laughed and carried on in their chatter close around the fire Shaw took his ration and went back to his resting spot outside the group alone and leaned back against a tree just barely inside the fire’s reach. Making short work of his meal as he pulled out a small leather pocket book and a pen flipping through its pages. Maps, charts and handwritten notations. Details about where he was and how he experienced this new world and the creatures there in. Perhaps he would write a book on his experiences after this… Flipping through the pages seemed to relax him as he passed by a few sketches things he seen, people… A few of the ancient creature in his keep feet from him now. His piercing eyes and  prehensile tail with a barbed tip. He was… an intresting thing to study. Something that broke reality that biblical creatures were flesh and blood and god and the devil were real as his red skin and tail. Along with the sketches Shaw had notations of his analysis of the man known to most as the Great Dragon. Luicifer. The Devil. Azazel. Draco. Feeling the seering heat of eyes on him Shaw knit his brow and looked out of the corner of his eye locating the heated gaze and saw the man in question wide awake at the end of the camp outside the fire in the cold shadows. He was leaned against the tree he was chained to as the demon silently watched him. Shaw wondered if the demon ever slept or needed to much. His gold eyes reflect the luminescent shine of the moon and faint flicker of the fire. Shaw was most certain he could see well at night being feline as the devil was…. Reflecting a hard, studing gaze back at the red man he noted Azazel bore an absent expression in his unblinking piercing gaze as he sat there so deadly still as if waiting. Patiently so. His padlocked tail snaking slowly across the ground as Shaw briefly sketched the sliding motion and fiery pair of eyes in his journal as he sat watching him. Noting how powerful he was given his lack of substance and energy and perhaps hiw long he could sustain without it if not indefinite… If anything, studying the red demon he looked absolutely feral in the heat of his predatory eyes. He was starving yes and anaminalistc, more so the closer they got, these eyes captured every movement and flicker around him yet deeply they reflect that studying gaze right back which betrayed he wasn’t simply that but in fact rather intelligent and calculating. Waiting for any chance of an opening to escape or simply get a shot in. The devil was a patient being afterall, and as what he was. He had centuries of experience… As Shaw finished capturing this in his journal he put the book away in his breast pocket and leaned aginst the tree, tilting the brim of his hat slightly to rest the lightest he could. His own eyes flashing a soft ice at the chained man across him letting him know his confidence enough in his own force to let his guard down enough to sleep. Azazel watched him a minute more before finally blinking and slumped forward as his captor slept, sagging and showing his true exhaustion as he pulled down at the tree he was chained to. His head drooped tirdly but he wasn’t sleeping here. No no and though sleeping made this suffering inexistant the shirt time he could, Azazel was on his highest alert. He was on holy ground and getting deeper in this territory each day and the danger rising. His survival instincts were taking over. Fight or fight, only the former was taken from him by the man across him so he’s left with this one preperation. Azazel sighed and shift for a more comfotable position knowing there was none to be had, at least he was able to rest off his feet somewhat now but no he wouldn’t sleep. No matter how badly this mortal body wanted it. If anything he would nap during the day in small incriments when he wasn’t pushed to move as they stopped but even then not for long. He couldn’t afford it. They were being watched. He was at least. They were followed at night and he knew it. He had to stay aware if nit for himself for her… to him. Death now would be a blessing…. He jumped slightly being pulled back from his mental wonderings as the clatter of the men’s laughter and chattering broke slightly as they passed a bottle of rum around the fire and shared rations. His eyes burned fire reflecting off the blaze as he growled softly listening to their ramblings of tales of dangers they had no idea was soon to be their deaths. Rambling of him and curiousities what he truly was or could be. “Vanting a few moments quiet would be nice.” He grunt stiffly closing his eyes then with a smirk. “Vant know more about me, come closer find out. I give much un ask little.” He purred opening his legs with a sneer. One man turned around to face him as a few spoke amongst themselves and one man, sitting closest to the fire spoke up. “What be that creature? Sick thing. Be quiet or you be given a reason to make noise.” “Hmmm, tempting. Can give more than you can imagine, human… including a ripped throat yet I am unfairly disadvantaged…” Azazel then chuckled warmly, flashing a fire in his eyes. “Perhaps a morsel or two and a drink I can show you many things. This man lead you all to die. Vas smart you free me and you have a chance to escape…. Just a simple agreement, is only needed…” One man spat gutterally as another remarked standing up and daring to approach the devil with his liquid courage. “Like a good fucking? I can already have that. Not that he cares and you are a curious thing, hell pass the time.” He spoke with a sneer, looking down at him. Barely brave enough he nudged the devil’s boot slightly with his own. “You have nothing to offer what can’t already be taken from you.” Azazel huffed with a low growl. “Nyet you ignorant fool, please try… please… Tha man there thinks owns me and flense you alive threaten mine purpose to him… but by all means try……” He purred warmly exposing the legnth of his neck as he bared his fangs then sneered. “Regardless your achievement, keep all your catrwailing, It brings things to the fire. I’m nyet the monster to be most afraid of here, things hungrier than mine. I care a quicker death really so continue- just vords of caution…. not that matters much…” He smiled darkly with a slight tilt to his head letting his eyes flash back to fire. “Oh yeah demon, why’s that?” The man said. Azazel chuckled dryly, licking his lips  as he bared his fangs through a sideways smirk and glanced over them all. “Because you’re all going to die out here anyvay. Might as vell make use your souls… You think he will seriously leave any von alive but himself once he gets vhat vants?…” He nod to Shaw far in the corner. “That man more the devil than I am….” A silence hushed over the group as fear then waved over them, whispering amongst themselves, contemplating  as Hannisty scowled jusy returning with more wood as looking around them and snapped dropping the pile on the fire. “Ignore him… just the pathetic ramblings of a man that knows he’s already dead…” He looked back down at the red devil then back to the crew. “You’ve all been paid handsomely more than any title worth your weight or his and will get more. This creature simply wants its freedom. It will kill you all for the pleasure…” “Vouldn’t you?” Azazel smirked wisking his tail in the first mates direction. Hannisty laughed. Taking one legnth of wood shooed the man and aimed it at the devils throat as he growled softly. “Men are free. You are no man. Hell way I see it you’re nothing more than a cat that looks a little more human. Devil or not, you’re not human and haven’t any rights other than what you are…” Locking eyes with the man Azazel just growled deeply his eyes a piercing yellow glaring up the branch at his throat but he then laxed back and smirked, lowering his head with an exhale. Seemingly aloss for words or seemingly too tired. Then as Hannisty smiled triumphant in his assertion goes back to his spot to hear a deep rumble as Azazel added deeply, almost through a rumble as he raised his head back up slightly to reveal blackened eyes as the men stirred seeing this and shifted further away from him. “You think you’re free, cretin? You have free vill given to you by a dictator vho cares nyet you live or die. You are merely trinkets… but da that is only your right. You have a soul and that is nyet free. I have no rights but… opportunities… even for a vaste of space like you only don’t vait too long least be too late for even my doing….” The men snickered slightly and Hannisty fumed making eye twitched.  He made a physcial rush forward pulling the rifle from his belt he carried and flipped it to the butt to strike as Azazel bayed a sharp threat and snarled lurching forward jerking in his restraints with a cringe as he prepared for the blow. Though just before the blunt trama to knock him out a steely voice shot out as everyone froze to see Shaw sitting up, the fingers of one hand resting gently on one knee as his eyes were a steely ice blue. “I said that’s enough. Go back to sleep… all of you. Leave the demon be… we have a long ride in the morning.” He said glancing from Hannisty to Azazel. “Remember Hannisty I need him alive nd uninjured least he not make it you won’t breathe to see the next. He isnt replaceable….” Azazel chuckled as the man stepped back and sat down complying to his command with a nod and soft ‘yes Sir’. Azazel then looked at Shaw as the man stood up and approached him resigning Azazel to growl softly yet was all he could or was willing to protest ro a potential blow yet to the demons suprise Shaw reached into his pocket and pulled out a strip of dried meat, outstreaching his hand to Azazel as he added bluntly. “You’ll be alive when we get there. No quiestion in that. The condition however your in dosen’t concern me rather that you’re still breathing. Remember that. Toy with them to turn agains’t me and I’ll shoot you in the spine and drag you there. Understand?” Azazel hesitated yet snapped up the offering swallowing it whole as it was barely a taste to wet his hunger. “Da, Captain….” Azazel half nodded with a sneer as he lowered his head in a sign of surrender, rocking one knee as his tail swings sensually emitting a soft purr yet his eyes stare up fading back to gold fire and fury yet he obliged quietly.  "I am at your mercy now. Just remember vhat mine said doesn’t just pertain to men vho think themselves free…. remember that.“ He leaned forward with a grin, opening his mouth gently with a deep demure expression. "Ve all, including even mine own die someday. For your soul perhaps becomes captive to at mine…. understand?” Shaw glared down at him in icy steel yet with a long pause retreated back to his resting place, a reflection of pain in his voice. “I do. More than you realize, old devil or perhaps care to.” He uttered quietly laying nack down. Peace for the time being he relaxed back and closed his eyes. Still feeling the intense heat of the gaze of the devil he kept contained least for now. —- Segment oneshot revamping muses and illustration to the ongoing fic; Playing for the Devil’s Fire