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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

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Whatever A Spider Can

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Toms confidence is shaken when Harrison kills a spider for you

Masterlist

“AHHH!”

Your scream rang through the house as you hopped up on the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong?” Tom ran into the room with his fists up in a karate stance.

“Spider!” You pointed frantically to the spider that was crawling across the kitchen tiles. There were various spatulas and whisks on the floor that you had thrown at the spider in an attempt to kill it. When that didn’t work, up on the table you went.

“tHeRe’s A sPiDer?” Tom squeaked and backed up against the wall.

“Yes! Kill it!” You held your fists up to your face and shook nervously.

“What do you want me to do? Sacrifice myself?” He asked in exasperation.

“Well I’m not killing it!” You shouted back.

“Neither am I!” He exclaimed, flinching when it moved again.

“You’re Spider-Man. It’s your job.” You whined at him.

“That’s exactly why I can’t kill it. That’s treason!” He stamped his foot to stand his ground.

“It’s just a spider!” You protested. “He won’t be mad.”

“HE’S MY BLOOD.” Tom bellowed with a stamp of his foot.

“Ah! It moved its FUCKING MOVING KILL IT NOW!” Your screaming escalated as the spider moved towards you.

“I’m not going near it.” Tom scooted behind the table and flung his body over the couch. He peered at you over the top of the couch to see if you were okay.

“It’s gonna get me. Oh my God, it’s licking its lips.” You gulped and backed up even further on the table before shooting and angry look at Tom. “You’re just gonna leave me? To die?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He said apologetically. “I’ll always remember you.”

You were about to scold him some more when Harrison walked into the kitchen.

“Harrison, thank God.” You breathed in relief. “I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He smirked and leaned on the table to give you his attention.

“Can you kill that spider?” You pointed to it and bounced up and down on your toes.

“This one?” He asked and easily stepped on the spider. “All done.”

You broke into a smile as relief washed over you.

“You just saved my life.” You said graciously as you held your clasped hands over your heart. You walked to the end of the table where he was and made grabby hands at him.

“I got you, girly.” Harrison laughed and scooped you up bridal style and carried you off the table. Tom watched as he carefully set you down on the ground, clenching the blanket tightly when you threw your arms around him. Everything about the scene was bothering him. From the way Harrison’s arms held your body close to his to the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, something didn’t sit right with him.

“Thanks for saving me.” You smiled in appreciation and squeezed his arm. Tom perked up from the couch and stared at you two interacting.

And he didn’t like it.

“Are you ready for bed?” You leaned against the doorframe of the home gym and yawned.

“Almost.” Tom grunted as he pumped his weights. “Just 100 more reps.”

“100?” You scrunched your face in confusion. “What are you training for? Sozin’s comet?”

“I can’t laugh at your pop culture references right now, baby.” He shook his head as he pumped harder. “Daddy’s gotta train.”

“Daddy better never refer to himself as daddy again.” You said sternly. You watched his face closely for any sign of something bothering him. It wasn’t like him to train so late at night, and definitely not this heavily.

“Feel the burn. Then feel it some more.” He grunted as he pumped the weights. “Baby, do you think you can crack some eggs into a glass so I can drink it?”

“Calm down, Rocky.” You laughed nervously as you watched the sweat roll down his forehead. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m just working out so I can be big and strong. You need a big strong man to protect you.” He said matter of factly and you squinted your eyes.

“No, I can’t say I do.” You gave him a tight smile. He stopped pumping for a moment to look at you.

“Sorry, not like that. I know you can protect yourself.” He said sincerely. “I mean from things like burglars and pirates and spiders.”

“Well I do deal with those on a daily basis.” You said sarcastically. “And you’re already big and strong.”

“But I need to be bigger and stronger.” He punctuated his words by aggressively pumping the weight.

“Why?” You questioned.

“To protect you.” He said like it was obvious. You were growing frustrated and just wanted to go to sleep.

“From what?” You whined. “Really, Tom, what’s going on?”

He got off the bench and got on the mat to do push-ups.

“I can protect you from anything.” He said as he added in claps.

“I know you can, baby.” You assured him. “Who says you can’t?”

“The spider in the kitchen today.” He put one arm behind his back to push himself even more.

“He said that?” You played along.

“Yes. And then he called me a little bitch boy.” Tom said sheepishly.

“Ah, I see.” It finally clicked. “Is this because Harrison killed the spider?”

Tom rolled on his back and started to do crunches.

“I just want you to know that you can count on me to protect you from things that scare you. I didn’t do that today. Harrison did.” He said one word every time he crunched up.

“Just because Harrison killed the spider doenst mean you’re any less of a man.” You told him with a kinder tone now that you knew his feelings were hurt.

“But you needed me and I didn’t help you.” He said as his crunches got more aggressive.

“It was just a spider, Tom. It wasn’t actually going to kill me.” You pointed out.

“It could have.” He insisted. “I think it had a knife.”

“Well I’m safe now.” You held your arms out so he could see that you were perfectly fine. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s my job to keep you safe.” He stated. “Not Harrison’s.”

“How about this?” You knelt down beside him and put a hand on his back to stop his movements. “Next time there’s a knife wielding spider in the house, you can have dibs on killing it.”

“You mean it?” He smiled softly.

“I do.” You cupped his chin and kissed him. “Can we please go to bed now?”

“Okay. And let that be a warning to any spiders listening.” He said loudly as he looked at the corners of the room.

“Ooo. I think you really scared them.” You teased him before leading him to bed.

Three days later, Toms chance at redemption presented itself.

“Ah! Spider!” You shrieked when you saw a spinous black spider crawled across the living room wall.

“I GOT IT!” Tom ran into the room as quickly as he could.

“Tom! You can’t kill it with a pair of scissors!” You tried to hold him back when you saw the weapon in his hand.

“Not with that attitude.” He said as he tried to throw the scissors at the wall. You held him back and loudly bickered as you tried to stop him.

“What is all the noise -ARE THOSE MY CRAFTING SCISSORS?” Tuwaine yelled as he entered the room to see what all the noise was about. He immediately went to Tom and tried to wrestle the scissors out of his hands.

“I have to kill the spider! I have to avenge my lady!” Tom protested as he held on tightly to the scissors.

“White boy, you better chill.” Tuwaine warned, grasping onto the scissors and pulling ad hard as he could. You backed away, knowing there was no way this could end well.

“As soon as this quarantine ends, I am leaving you all and never coming back.” You mumbled as Harry walked into the room. He stood next to you and folded his arms as he watched the scene in front of him.

“What’s all this?” He asked you.

“Toms trying to kill a spider with Tuwaine’s scissors.” You said simply.

“His crafting scissors?” Hardy gasped at Tom’s audacity. “He’s completely lost it.”

“I tried to tell him.” You shrugged as the boys continued to fight. Harrison heard the commotion from upstairs and went to see what was wrong.

“What’s with all the yel-“

“GET OUT.” Tom bellowed as he pointed the scissors at Harrison like a sword. Harrison held up his hands to surrender and backed out of the room.

“What do we do? Do we just let them kill each other?” Harry whispered to you.

“I think I know how it solve this.” You nodded at Harry and walked over to the bickering boys. You squeezed in between them and slammed your hand on the spider, watching it anticlimactically fall to the floor. Tom and Tuwaine fell silent as they watched the spider corpse fall.

“You just killed the spider.” Tom said as he stared blankly at the spider on the ground.

“I know.”

“With your bare hand.” Tuwaine laughed.

“I know.”

“Why?” Tom looked around you in betrayal. “And how?”

“Because I don’t need anyone to protect me.” You stated. “Also because Tuwaine was two seconds away from stabbing Tom with his crafting scissors.”

“And you would’ve been lucky if I had.” Tuwaine dramatically snatched the scissors for Tom, snipped them twice, and left the room.

“You said I had dibs.” Tom whined and flopped down on the couch.

“That was before this became a crazy pride thing. Killing a spider does not determine your manliness.” You reminded him as you took a seat next to him. He stared at the floor as you gently rubbed comforting circles on his back.

“You two are such a weird couple.” Harry mumbled.

“But I needed the spider to redeem myself.” He told you.

“No you don’t!” You protested as you took his face between your hands. “If you’re not a man before you kill the spider then you won’t be a man after.”

“But I want to be the kind of man that can kill spiders for you.” He pouted.

“The only type of man you need to be is my man.” You smiled sweetly at him and stroked his face.

“No one else finds this conversation ridiculous?” Harry looked back at Tuwaine, who was cleaning his scissors in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, baby. It just shook my confidence.” Tom sighed and looked down. “Every time the anniversary of the lip sync battle comes around, I get a whole slew of hate comments questioning my masculinity. I usually ignore it, but after Harrison killed the spider when I couldn’t, I felt like they were right.” He admitted and you install felt bad for teasing him.

“Being able to put on fishnets and dance your ass off to make the most iconic lip sync battle of all time is the most masculine thing you can do.” You assured him. “Think of all the little boys who love to dance who can do it proudly now because they saw Spider-Man doing it.”

Tom perked up and smiled at you.

“I didn’t think of that.” He realized.

“That’s because I have to do the thinking for the both of us, baby.” You patted his cheek and hoped he didn’t realize that was an insult.

“What a plot twist.” Harrison commented as he cake beside Harry. “I didn’t expect there to be a deeper meaning.”

“I just thought he was a pussy.” Harry shrugged and mumbled under his breath.

“Right? Who can’t kill a spider?” Harrison scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Not me. I’d kill it in a second.” Harry stated with a confident nod.

“Thanks for getting my confidence back.” Tom thanked you. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You pulled him into a hug and rested your head on his shoulder.

“What did we just watch?” Harrison shook his head.

“Couldn’t tell you.” Harry sighed. Tuwaine joined the boys in watching you and Tom until he noticed something moving on the wall.

“Hold on mates, there’s a spider right above you.”

“WHAT THE FU-“ Harry and Harrison completely spazzed out and ran in opposite directions as Tuwaine stood there laughing.

“And that’s for messing with my scissors.”

Tag List 🏷

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x yn #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #harrison osterfield #harry holland #tuwaine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #iron man #peter parker fanfiction #marvel #spiderman

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lfcology · 3 years

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are you afraid of the dark? | charlie weasley

summary: Part of a new series where I write about Harry Potter characters helping/reacting to the reader and their fears. This is about Charlie and the reader back at The Burrow for the first time in years. Reader has hid her fear from him but finally has no choice but to talk about how she’s scared of the dark.

pairing: Fem!Reader who is a Dragonologist x Charlie.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: None besides the fear of the dark and mentions of food.

A/N: This is my first fic here! Please Tell me what you think!

It seemed foolish – having one of the most feared jobs in the wizarding world yet being afraid of the dark. It was something you hid well, no one ever picked up on the fact that you always had a light on when the sun went down. And, if they ever were to ask a question, you were able to cover it up with a little white lie. It wasn’t something that posed you as a real issue until Charlie Weasley entered your life. You two had been friends during your time at Hogwarts, in the same year and both loving magical creatures. As the years went by you two found yourselves smitten with one another. He, just like you, was enamoured with the scaley, temperamental beasts that were dragons. It took a bit of persuasion from Hagrid (who insisted his two favourite students would make a perfect pair) but Charlie asked you to Hogsmeade and the rest was history. You two got accepted as apprentice dragon trainers in Romania together and after years the spark of infatuation you two felt grew into genuine and strong love.

Your fear of the dark was never a topic that came up. Working with dragons meant being awake during their most active hours – the night. Their fire lit up the darkness of the sanctuary and when you two finally got the time to sleep, it was daytime, the sun provided all the light you needed to have your fear dissipate. The only time, after years of being together, Charlie noticed you acting strangely about the topic was the winter of 1995.

It was the first year you were spending Christmas at The Burrow, having such a hectic work life meant you and Charlie opted to spend most holidays in Romania. Molly trusted the two of you not to have any funny business go on and let you share Charlie's childhood bedroom with him (despite the no girls in the bedrooms rule that was put in place years before). After working the night shift for so long the pair of you welcomed a warm home, comfy bed and a hardy nap with open arms. Molly hated to wake you two up but hours later she came in to let you two know dinner was ready whenever you two wanted it.

"Morning." Charlie joked as he stretched his aching limbs out.

Evening was coming closer and as you looked out the window you saw that the last moments of sunlight for the day were illuminating the bedroom in a golden stream of light. Charlie Weasley looked utterly ethereal from his spot next to you. His tangerine coloured hair rested ever so gently across his forehead from where he'd decided to let it grow out. The constellations of freckles speckled his face almost perfectly despite being so randomly placed – It was as if the sun had personally come and kissed them upon his skin. Photos were pinned around the room showing him both before and during his time at Hogwarts and looking at the man in front of you now your heart swelled. He had grown into such a wonderful human. His jaw filled out and was stronger as if a symbol of the confidence he felt in himself. Charlie had grown up but lost none of the boyish charms he had when you fell in love with him. He donned a couple more scars than when he'd left England all those years before but he still fit into The Burrow like a glove.

He ran a calloused hand through your hair and pressed a kiss to your forehead before sitting up and cracking some of his bones in an attempt to wake up more. You hummed contently and kissed him softly before putting on a signature Weasley sweater (gifted from Molly after only dating Charlie for 2 months).

"Well, looks like Sleeping Beauty and (Y/N) are finally awake." Fred teased from his spot at the kitchen table.

He and George were tinkering with what you assumed was another invention of theirs as Charlie lovingly smacked the back of their heads. You smiled at the brotherly moment before taking a seat and having plates mounted with food placed in front of you just as quickly as you blinked. It was delicious, just what you needed to start a much-needed vacation. The cosiness of The Burrow mixed with a full tummy had you lulled into a sleepy stupor. Charlie continued chatting with his siblings, most of which were home from school for the holidays, as you leaned into his side. Between the couch beneath you two, the muggle Christmas song playing somewhere in the house and him stroking your shoulder: it felt like home.

After a few more stifled yawns from Charlie, Mrs Weasley sent you both back to bed in hopes tomorrow would bring more family time. Coming back to Charlies room felt different. The curtains were still open but with only the waxing crescent moon in the sky to provide light it was eery. You tried to remain calm despite feeling your fear rising in your throat. Charlie was around and surely that would give you enough comfort to fall asleep without a hitch, right? You slipped off your sweater knowing Charlie produced heat like a campfire and slid into bed in hopes of a quick and dreamless sleep. The Burrow, despite how strange it seemed, was silent. You assumed someone had cast a silencing charm on the room for you two to rest peacefully but right now it only fuelled your fear more. You laid motionless for the most part, Charlie snuggled up as usual with his arm around your waist as you stared at the ceiling. You were tense and after a few kisses to your neck from the boy didn't gain your attention he sensed something was off.

"Goodnight my love." He said trying to gauge your reaction before mentioning something.

He pretending to sleep, listening intently to your breathing and analysing the tenseness of your body beneath his arm. You, on the other hand, paid him no attention. How could you when fear clouded your vision more than the darkness itself. You felt as though the room was filled with evil beings and creatures just waiting for their moment to attack. It sent a shrill fear down your spine and your breathing picked up dramatically making Charlie frown and sit up. With the flick of his hand, he wandlessly cast a charm to turn on his bedside lamp.

"Hey..." He muttered softly to get your attention.

Your eyes were wide and glazed over, you were on high alert and even as you looked around the room and saw it was only old Quidditch merchandise around and not monsters you didn't relax. Charlie held your hand ever so gently making your eyes snap down to him where he gave you a calming, reassuring smile. It wasn't a very different look than what he'd give to a wounded animal.

"Hi..." You replied trying to seem normal.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he looked around the room in an attempt to see what had startled you so much.

"Yes, just thinking-" You tried to reassure but he only furrowed his deep brows at you in disbelief. He could easily tell on your face that you not only were lying but something was most definitely worrying you.

"C'mon, tell me, Princess." He said with a frown. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You sighed knowing you couldn't hide your secret much longer. You felt more at ease now that the light was on but as you stared at it you wondered what Charlie would think once he knew your secret. "'S nothing." You shrugged but he once again wasn't having it.

"You're a terrible liar." He teased trying to lighten the mood but when you didn't give him so much as a smile, he knew it was serious. Sitting up straighter and clearing his throat he held both your hands in his larger ones. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asked as you bit your lip and ducked your head in shame.

His head followed yours and he tried to meet your eyes again which made you smile slightly as he resembled a child wanting answers. "I'm afraid of the dark." You finally muttered.

He tried to hide his shock but couldn't help but let out a surprised giggled which only made you pout more. "You said you wouldn't make fun..."

"I know and I'm sorry for laughing but-" He shook his head in disbelief. "You work with arguably one of the scariest animals in the world but you're scared of the dark?"

You fiddled with the hem of the blanket as you tried to think of a way to explain it. "It's not so much the dark itself that scares me." He leaned down in bed again and rested his head on his hand to give you his undivided attention. "You and I know better than anyone what kind of stuff hides in the shadows..."

He nodded and stroke your hair back away from your face once you laid down with him again. "You should have told me earlier. You know I wouldn't mind sleeping with the light on. Hell, we do it every day considering how messed up our sleep schedule is." He said referring to your night shifts.

"I didn't want you to think I was silly." You said with a shrug.

Pecking your lips softly he turned over and flicked the light off again before grabbing his wand from the nightstand and casting a nonverbal spell. Before your eyes, a baby dragon sprouted from the tip of his wand and was glowing a gorgeous warm white. It flew around the room exploring, not much different than the babies you work with on the regular.

"Ronnie used to have trouble falling asleep so I would make these little guys for him." He explained.

You didn't feel scared anymore. Between the light that the dragon illuminated as it pranced around the room and the strong arms of Charlie around you, you felt sleep calling your name.

"I'm always going to be here to protect you from whatever hides in the dark," Charlie said just above a whisper as the baby dragon settled gently on the bed between you two. "Even if it means a little light in my eyes." He teased making you smile and peck his lips as a wordless form of showing your love.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, then the dragon, and lastly Charlie. He watched over you to make sure you were safe and comfortable before resting his eyes. By the time you woke up the sun was out, the dragon was gone and your tangerine haired boyfriend had you protectively in his arms. You had no fears when Charlie was around.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfic #charlie weasley oneshot #the burrow #weasley family x reader #harry potter #why didn't they put charlie in the movies :(#phobia series

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allegra-writes · 3 years

Text

"Bad together"

Prologue: Benjamin Reilly

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none.

"And if I'm dead to you

Why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed"

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

"... It's a disaster! Look at her! It's like someone took a look at Black Cat, selected everything that made her sexy and then took it out!"

Black Cat. The name froze the young photographer on his tracks right outside his boss' office. He hadn't heard that name in a long time, the last sighting had been well over a year ago. He would know. After all, it had been him, the very last person to have seen Felicia Hardy, alive or dead.

"What are you talking about? That looks hot af, not to mention badass!" Jade's persuasive voice reached his ears, making him smirk: It was no secret the chief editor had a soft spot for the young intern. And, on her part, the petite brunette was a firecracker. Poor old Jameson didn't stand a chance. "Come on, dad. Single handedly taking down three of the Kingpin's goons? That's impressive. It deserves to be one of the slides!"

"Not if we don't get a higher quality picture. That blurry video is good enough for a thumbnail, but not for a slide" Slides were a big deal, they were the Dailybugle.net's equivalent of a front page, and if J. Jonah Jameson took something seriously, it was his web site. He prided himself in the quality of the "receipts" of his "tea", as if that validated the trashiness of the bullshit articles he posted, more fiction from hyper imaginative wannabe writers than serious work from real reporters.

"Well, then let's get the pictures. Where is that star photographer of yours?"

The photographer rolled his eyes, typical Jade. As if the queen of cool didn't know his name. As if she hadn't graced his bed a handful of times already.

"That's a good question. Dolores, get me Reilly!"

"I'm here, Jonah" Ben finally stepped inside the office, throwing an envelope on Jameson's desk before throwing himself on a chair across it. He could feel Jade's eyes on him, almost like a physical caress, trailing from the long, slick back curls on the top of his head, to the muscles of his arms, threatening to rip open the seams at the sleeves of his white t-shirt, to his jean clad thighs. Still, he didn't turn to look at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction.

"What do you have for me today, boy?"

Ben gesticulated vaguely with his head in the direction of Jade, and Jameson caught the hint.

"Jade, out!"

"But, dad, my story!" The petulant reply left her mouth before she could stop it, undoubtedly the product of years of habit. But she had the grace to look embarrassed and leave the office without another word, trying to save whatever professionalism she had left.

Once she was gone, Jameson opened the envelope, flipping through the various pictures of a masked figure swinging around New York in a black and red suit.

"Hmmm… these are good" the older man praised, staring at the images of a frustrated robbery at 5th avenue

Ben snifled nocomitically,

"There was a fire at 16th avenue happening at the same time" He offered, "we could use that. Spider-Man forgets his roots and leaves his old neighborhood to fend for itself, running off to save some pretty socialite…"

"Oh, that is excellent! See, this is why I like you, kid. You have initiative. Unlike these snowflakes out there. Oh, but Spider-Man is a hero. Hero, my ass"

"Well, when you watch your so called hero sit back and do nothing as your life gets destroyed" Ben shrugged, "the rose colored glasses tend to fall off…"

Jameson made a face at that,

"Yeah, about that… I'm sorry. For the role the Daily Bugle played on that…"

Ben shook his head,

"You thought you were getting the truth out there. It's not your fault to have been played, along with half the world. Plus," he added, sounding genuinely enthusiastic, "you gave me this job. And now we can really tell the truth"

"Even when our idea of the truth is somehow different" The older man scoffed, flipping around a picture of Spider-Man sat on what appeared to be a hammock of his own webs, eating a hamburger and reading something that looked suspiciously like a comic book, "Still hung up on that high schooler theory of yours?"

"Well, if it talks like a brat and acts like a brat…" Ben took out another envelope, this time containing a few burger king wrappers and, effectively, a spider-man comic book.

"Where did you even get these?"

"Harlem" was Ben's curt reply, and Jameson knew that was as exact a location as he was going to get.

"So you still believe this is a copycat? Some kid playing dress up"

Ben simply shrugged again.

"Well, there seems to be an epidemic of those lately" Jameson admitted, indicating Ben to come closer, passing a tablet to him, "Jade just handled me this, take a look"

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself, already knowing what he was going to see in it. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but hope to be wrong. To hope the silver haired figure facing three much bigger, stronger looking ones as he pressed play, wasn't the same one he had spent weeks memorizing last summer. Wasn't the body he had found solace in, when everything fell apart, once again, for the hundredth time in his life.

To hope it wasn't you.

But when in his twenty-two or so years of existence, had things ever gone his way?

Ben felt the screen crack under his fingertips.

"I've heard of her" he lied through his teeth, "didn't even think she was real, to be honest. Extremely elusive, and cunning." That much was true, "I don't understand how something as mundane as a security camera managed to catch her…"

Unless you wanted to be caught, that was.

"Well, I don't care if she's the fucking Loch Ness monster, I want an HD picture of her on my desk tomorrow to go with Jade's article. I already have a headline: New Catastrophe Jen wreaks havoc on Hell's Kitchen" Jameson's eyes lit up with glee as he weaved his hands up in the air, like writing on an invisible marquee.

Ben snorted

"Don't you mean Calamity Jane?"

Jameson's face fell, the color rising to his cheeks, characteristic vein popping on his forehead.

"I meant what I meant, boy! Now, what are you still doing here? You have 24 hours to get me that picture"

"I'm going to need 72," came Ben's unphased reply, "and I want twice what you pay me for the spidey pics"

Jameson's vein looked about ready to explode,

"48 hours. And deal."

Ben jumped from his seat and bolted out of the office before his boss could change his mind, not realizing until it was too late that he was on a collision course with a sweet looking short haired blonde girl.

"Watch where you're going! Jeez!"

"Me? You're the one who crashed against me!"

Ben rolled his eyes, but crouched next to the girl anyway, helping her gather the papers that had been sent flying on impact back together.

"Peter? Oh my god, is that you?"

Of course. What an idiot, he should had recognized that annoying, shrilly voice the second he heard it. It had caught him off guard, something he knew he couldn't afford. But how could he had ever imagine he could run into Betty fucking Brant, Yale cum laude, in the freaking dailybugle.net headquarters of all places?

"Sorry, sweetheart. You must confuse me with someone else…" He mumbled, lowering his head even more in a vain attempt to hide his face.

"Of course not!" She insisted, "You're Peter, Peter Parker, we went to Midtown together!"

"Miss, I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Don't be silly, Peter!" She chuckled, completely deft to his tone or the way his whole demeanor had changed the second she had called him by the old name. "How have you been? Oh, just wait until I tell Ned, he's going to be so-"

CRACK.

At last, the tablet that had been in peril ever since Jameson had put it in Ben's hands, the one that contained his assignment, met its demise, both broken halves falling to the ground, along with all the papers he had picked up for Betty. It was several moments before he could get the shaking of his hands under control, before the tar black rage inside him subsided enough for him to be able to move without shifting. But it had.

"Peter Parker is dead." He deadpanned, dark brown eyes finally meeting Betty's stunned blue ones, "Tell Ned that, he'll probably be glad to hear it"

With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving a confused and agitated Betty behind.

To be continued...

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #peter parker x reader smut #tom holland x reader smut #dark!peter parker #dark peter parker #venom #venom!peter parker #marvel #black cat #felicia hardy #bad together #arvin russell

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shesawriter39049 · 3 years

Text

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos!

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there.

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?” Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-” Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink, and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end, your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

#Namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smut #bts au #kpop #kpop smut #kim namjoon x you

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softcallofdutyimagines · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your hcs for the safehouse boys with a thicc SO. I'd love to see some of Weaver with a thicc/curvy/pear-shaped SO, too. Kinda oddly specific (I'm a short, thicc, pear-shaped woman , so I totally enjoy the idea of the guys with a thicc SO).

SKSKSKSKS WE ARE ON AN ABSOLUTE ROLL HERE !!!! Thank you for this ask, like actually 😭😭 I love Weaver and he needs more love !!

Not to mention we l need more thickness representation 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ I'm quite lucky to have a natural hourglass figure myself and let me tell you, these curvy S/O asks speak to my SOUL !!!

Lol anyway, I hope you enjoy and thanks again! 🙏🏻💖💖

---

Ok, so I don't think I have to twist anyone's arm when I say that early black ops Weaver has always had a pretty boxy body type

You know, like not quite skinny, but not "overweight" either

But with age and his retirement to a desk job in cold war, I personally kind of feel like he's transitioned over from square abs to having a little tummy

So all this to say that I think Weaver could learn a lot from a curvy gal who's confident in her skin!

Besides, most Russian women are hardy and strong as it is, so I think Weaver is already inclined towards thicker women tbh

I feel like this could also be applied to Lazar with a curvy S/O, but I'd imagine Weaver is especially grateful for the fact that he doesn't have to worry about accidentally crushing or being "too heavy" for you

I've personally found this is actually a pretty legit concern that bigger guys seem to have irl, so believe me, Weaver so appreciates you and your strong, kick ass thighs and body

On that note however, it's easy for him to get down on himself with the changes his own body is going through

You're pretty much his ideal woman, and he just doesn't feel like he deserves someone so gorgeous with the state he's let himself get into

But, self love is a constant journey, and I think you guys could learn about it together! Especially if you're a bit insecure yourself

On a lighter note tho, he's easily flustered by you and your appeal lmao

Especially if you're the type that likes to wear bodycon style outfits that accent your curves and all...

WOOF WOOF BARK BARK AWOOOO

-Sincerely, Weaver's Brain

Lmao, but real talk, he definitely gets blushy easily over it and, much like Hudson would be, basically turns to puddy in your hands at that point

Just say the word girl, he's down for whatever you want to do!

Just make sure to use your power wisely lol

Anyway, that's not to say Weaver is just a wild animal when it comes to your body, he's actually quite gentle when it comes to loving you

He likes to trace over your hips and feel the gentle (or even pronounced!) curve of them whenever you're beside him

Additionally, he very much enjoys cuddling, particularly with you draped over top of him

Don't worry, he won't get to frisky (if you don't want him to lol) but he likes being able to run his hands up and down the peaks and dips of your body, palms down and fingers splayed

It not only makes for a decent massage, but it also does wonders to put you in touch with your femininity

All I have to say is, watch out, he plays a dangerous game with those hands 😉

#black ops cold war #call of duty #grigori weaver x reader #grigori weaver #curvy!reader

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zmediaoutlet · 4 years

Text

in support of wildfire relief, @jesusonthetortillas donated $10, and requested pre-series pining!Sam, with diary discovery. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

After his little lesson from Sabrina, the hot librarian's assistant, it's not hard at all for Dean to find what he's looking for. He drops Sam off at the library the way he usually does, and flirts with Sabrina on his way out like he usually does, but instead of going to his shift at the construction site like Sam thinks he's going to, he circles back around, through the library stacks on the main floor, and waits like a dingus by YOUNG ADULT – ADVENTURE, watching the back of Sam's nerdy, nerdy head where he's hunched at the computer banks, getting up to no kind of good.

It wouldn't have come to this, Dean thinks, if Sam weren't so—he doesn't even know how to think about it. He doesn't know when to pin it down. They were doing okay. Sam ran away, a few years back, but since then he's—well, he's always bitching at Dad and bitching at Dean half the time too, but he's done good in school, he's done his part with the hunting. It was sometime at that last school. September in Maryland. Dad was gone a lot of the time, because Dad always was, and Dean went with him on about half the hunts but Sam got to stay behind, got to just call in research tips and last-minute lore checks, and Dean thought he was pretty happy, as much as Sam ever seemed happy. Chill, just doing his homework at the rickety desk, not complaining any more than usual about Dean's usual dinners of fast food or Kraft or Top Ramen. Seventeen and getting tall and mellowing out, and finally hanging out with his little brother was just fine. Dean thought.

That was two towns ago, three months ago. Dean picks his nails with his pocket knife, leaning on one elbow by the Hardy Boys. Sam's still working away on the computer. Anymore he always is. After school he's always angling for Dean to bring him to the library and if Dean won't drive him then Sam walks, even when it's raining, like it is half the time in frickin Washington, anyway. Always finding a free computer and settling in and disappearing onto the internet. Not coming home until the library closes, and moody if Dean's there when he walks in, and Dean just—he thought they were past all this crap. He thought that maybe Sam had—settled. Figured out how things were, how things had to be.

Well. Either way. Sabrina, with the glasses and the sexy dreads and the legs that very much went all the way to the floor under those wide-legged pants she was always wearing—she gave Dean a computer lesson, free of charge, and he's got a way in, now. Sam won't talk to him, won't hardly look at him. Dean chews the inside of his cheek, watching Sam type on the battered public machine. Sam's not the only one who knows how to research a case, in this family. Dean's going to figure this out. He's gonna fix it.

A bell rings, at five o'clock, like the end of a school day. Sam jerks like he's been shocked and looks up at the ceiling, clearly annoyed. He's been engrossed for two hours, typing away, reading. Real frickin' boring, on Dean's end, but he stayed put. Like staking out a house for a job—nothing to do but wait. He takes a few steps backwards, makes sure the shelves hide his face, and there's a general rustling as people leave—a mom and her kid, and tears because the kid's favorite book wasn't here—and when Dean looks again the computer banks are empty, and Sabrina's checking out the last few patrons, and Sam's—gone. Walking home in the rain, little goth that he is. Fine with Dean, if it gives him a few minutes.

When he settles into the chair Sam was in it's still warm. He opens up Netscape Navigator, the library's homepage welcoming him in a friendly kinda way—big yellow smiley face, that's fun. He goes to where Sabrina taught him, in the menu at the top: view, and then History, where it turns out the computer saves all the webpages you went to just in case you need to find them again, and there—oh, jackpot. Gotcha, Sam.

All kinds of crap. A weather website, a bunch of Ask Jeeves searches, something called DiffEQandU. Some mythology stuff, too, and Dean goes to one that turns out to be a history of kitsune. That's something, at least—Sam doing his important homework, in there with whatever other crap he's been working on.

The last bunch of results are all pages from some website called Livejournal, which Dean's never heard of. He clicks one at random and is brought to—huh. A splashy red page, with a big picture on top of kids graduating from high school in those dorky blue robes. He scrolls down, skimming, looking for the important details among the mess, but it's hard to tell what it is. A forum, it looks like. Kind of like the ones Dean's been on where people trade car parts, or swap ghost stories. A square box, dated yesterday, that says WHEN IS HARVARD'S APP REVIEW???, and a panicky paragraph where some chick might die if she doesn't get in. Another, the day before, with questions about the SAT, and a link that says 43 comments that, when Dean clicks it, brings him to a bunch of apparently teenagers all giving each other tips from some test they're worried about taking.

College. Dean's stomach curls into a knot. It's all—college stuff, applications and tests and deadlines. The usernames are all weird shit: tmntpizzadelivery, quistis4ever, willyshakes. Dean can't tell—is one of these kids Sam?

Sabrina's nearly done with her line of book nerds. Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and clicks away, tries another of the Livejournal results in the history. Another forum, this one apparently about—soccer? Jesus, Sam. Another forum, this one about Conan the Barbarian, and that one's at least easy to snort at, with people's shitty drawings of Red Sonja and excitement about a possible remake. There are personal pages, though, too—one titled Delaware Sucks, in which some girl complains about her life—one titled trent reznor rules my soul, featuring a goth kid who won't shut up about Nine Inch Nails and his bitch of a mother. Another, with a plain blue-and-grey color scheme, with the title on the road, and a new post from today—from an hour ago—with the text just reading, I don't know what to do anymore, and six comments underneath, waiting.

"Hey—ready to go?" Sabrina says.

Dean jerks in his seat. Sabrina's raising her eyebrows at him, behind her glasses, a little smile curving her mouth that promises something a little better than book dust and computer lessons. "I'm always ready," Dean says, grinning, and gets her to roll her eyes—yeah, he's in there—but his eyes drag back to the webpage, the posts. He scrolls down, quick—post after post, waiting to be read. "Real quick—borrow a pen?"

She has one—she's a sexy librarian, of course she has one—and he uncrumples a receipt from his jacket pocket and writes down the URL, careful to get it right. rearviewmirror.livejournal.com. He wants to click on the comments, but.

"Come on, the movie's starting soon," Sabrina says, and Dean closes Netscape, folds the receipt very carefully into his pocket, stands up. He's got a date to make out with a hot chick in the back of a movie theater, and maybe a little more, and Sam's whole Eeyore routine has to take a number. Dean will figure it out. He's got an easy way to run a stakeout, now.

December 4

Still can't decide. Anyone else going through this?

current mood: agonized current music: motorhead (AGAIN)

Comments:

teenagehamburger: Yes!! I still don't know where I want to go. Mom wants me to stay close to home, but Delaware sucksssss. Where are you looking?

rearviewmirror: Anywhere. TBH I'm still not even sure I should apply.

teenagehamburger: WTF?? Of course you should!! College is the big escape, remember?

December 1

He's driving me INSANE

current mood: annoyed current music: motorhead (again)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: lol you got it bad

rearviewmirror: right now I just want to hit him with a brick, actually

teenagehamburger: LOL!! Sorry :( :(

rearviewmirror: Sigh. I guess it could be worse, right?

teenagehamburger: Definitely!! He could be the cute cheerleader from 4th period who doesn't know I exist….

coppertonebuttgirl: oh, sorry hammie, that sucks <3

November 29

The thing is, I don't even want anything crazy? I just want to be—me. Just me, without anyone breathing down my neck. Trig teacher says I could get in to one of the top ten, but I just want to go *anywhere that's not here*

current mood: restless current music: Pearl Jam (home alone!)

Comments:

bloodofreptile: i hear you lol. why don't they get that the rules and hovering and all that shit just makes us want to run faster?

rearviewmirror: Exactly! My teacher keeps talking about college like it's a place to expand your mind and stuff, and that's fine, but lately I just want to expand my horizons. Kind of ironic?

bloodofreptile: yeah lol haven't you lived like everywhere?

rearviewmirror: Feels like it.

teenagehamburger: Is You Know Who going to college too?

November 18

I feel like it shouldn't be this hard. Normal people have it easy.

current mood: indescribable current music: silence

Comments:

coppertonebuttgirl: feel free to talk to me anytime <3

November 3

Dad's gone again. Didn't say goodbye. We went to the movies and he gave me a beer, and we watched the stars for an hour in the parking lot even though it was freaking freezing. Happier than I've been in a while. Don’t want it to change but it has to change.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

teenagehamburger: OMG, that sounds so romantic?? I can't believe you were drinking!! Aren't you underage?

bloodofreptile: lol relax it's not a big deal

teenagehamburger: I'm just saying!!

coppertonebuttgirl: wish it wasn't hard for you <3

bloodofreptile: dude you've got to say something

rearviewmirror: I literally can't.

bloodofreptile: ok but it's gonna drive you crazy. do you even know if he's gay? start with that maybe

The posts go on, and on. Reading backwards through time, it's a strange piecing-together. rearviewmirror is active in about ten communities and Dean reads through all of them, that week, bringing an illicit cup of coffee in to the library when he doesn't have a construction shift. He reads with his hand over his mouth and by the time he has to get off the computer he's got a headache, every time, his throat dry and aching.

The journal's been active for six months. Dean clicks through the pages to the very start and reads it in the right order, his heart pounding oddly in his ears. I don't know what this place is. A journal, I guess, considering the name. I just need somewhere to talk where no one will listen.

It's not a pouring-out, like some teenage girl doodling hearts around her crush's initials. He holds back. Never says exactly where they're living, never mentions names. To figure out who it was, you'd have to be one of two other people, and Dean knows that Dad can barely turn on a computer, much less go onto the internet and pore over some teenage angst-fest. Dean spends half his time wishing he were the same. Maybe if he hadn't asked Sabrina for help.

At home, Sam's the same as he always is. Comes home after his own stint at the library, eats the dinner Dean gives him. He reads, most of the time. Does his schoolwork. Dean says, careful one night, "Hey, True Lies is on. Wanna watch?" but Sam only gives him a strange, uncertain look and says, "No, I have a paper due," and he shuts himself into their bedroom with the door very firmly closed, and Dean sits there on the couch alone with a beer and Jamie Lee Curtis being sexy as hell on the fuzzy TV, and he—he doesn't know what to do.

He remembers that day, the looking at the stars day. It was November 2. A nasty anniversary, in their family, and yeah, Dad left. Dean got it. He'd thought Sam did, too, by now. It was better to have Dad gone, on a hunt, than trying to drink himself to death at home in the apartment. At least he was working, that way, and not hurting himself. To distract both of them, Dean picked Sam up from the library and they went straight to the movie theater—the Blair Witch sequel, with Dean providing running commentary about how dumb they were about dealing with ghosts, which at least made Sam grin and elbow him to shut up, even if he was laughing too, the liar—and, yeah, afterward they'd picked up Taco Bell, and then after that Dean swung through the liquor store drive-thru and they parked out, and he let Sam have a beer, and they both sat on the trunk and leaned back against the cold glass or the rear window and didn't really talk, much. The stars, big above them. The night, quiet. Sam was pressed against his side, chilled out and not bitching about anything, and Dean tucked his hand behind his head and he was pretty content with the world, right then. His brother, here, and a six-pack waiting, and nothing happening right then that'd hurt them. Sam smiled at him, that night, before he went to bed. It was sweet—like he used to be, when he was little—and Dean had ended up falling asleep on the couch, watching the public access, but his dreams that night were—good, like they never were on the night of November 2, and it had felt… okay.

do you even know if he's gay?

The college prep—that wasn't a surprise. It hurt but it didn't shock. All his worrying, all his whining, wanting to be 'free'—whatever free meant—it was all part and parcel of the last decade. Dean should've known better. Sam wasn't mellowing out. Sam was a stubborn little shit and he'd always wanted to have a life that wasn't—this.

The gay thing. That hit different. One of the communities Sam followed was for lesbian and gay youth, talking about their coming out experiences. Sam didn't post there much but he commented, asked questions. How do you know? What does it feel like? The hamburger girl was from there, a lesbian chick trapped in some Delaware high school. Encouraging, commiserating. They talked about how college would be their big escape, their chance to go to a big city and find their way. Meet people. Only apparently hamburger girl was crushing on the cheerleader from fourth period, and Sam—

Dean makes an excuse the next day. Saturday: no work for Dean, no school for Sam. Alone in the apartment together, all day, after Dean's week of reading—he can't face it. "Where are you going?" Sam asks, eight a.m. with his hair fucked up and coffee clenched between his hands, and Dean looks at him in his pajama pants and his ratty hand-me-down shirt, skinny and tall and hiding things Dean can't handle, and he says, snappish in a way he doesn't mean to be—"Out, Sam, for christ's sake—" and sees Sam's expression shutter before the apartment door slams behind him.

He goes for a drive, out of town. Cold, threatening rain like it always is, but it won't snow. Out—past the airport, past the suburbs, out to Black Lake. They killed the nymph that was drowning people out here, him and Dad, when they first arrived. Sam stayed home. Sullen on the other end of the line when Dean called to say they'd finished the job, and they were getting burgers for dinner, and did Sam want one. Whatever, Sam had said, like even answering was an imposition. That was November, too.

He sits on the hood, heels braced on the bumper, arms locked around his knees. The lake looks cold. He wants to sink into it, wants to feel that freezing shock, like the polar bear dive he did on a dare back in Illinois. The way the brain just goes blank, tv-static filling up everything and washing all the shit away. All the weird crap you don't want to think about, frozen, and the only thing to focus on just—getting out.

He's not going to dive into the lake. It's nine in the morning and he's wearing his only pair of boots. He hasn't gone out with Sabrina all week. He's been piss-poor at the construction site and McMillan nearly brained him with a hammer yesterday, because Dean wasn't paying attention, and the foreman screamed at him in front of the whole crew. None of that feels close, right now. He breathes the wet-clogged air, cold and mossy, turning his ring restlessly on his finger.

Back at that high school they went to in Raton, Mrs. Encinas in 6th period English told Dean he'd be smart, if he didn't just give up all the time. All he needed to do was take the time to read between the lines, to actually interpret what he was reading and not take things on face value. He made some joke. He doesn't remember what it was, now. Like he didn't know what the fuckin Great Gatsby was saying, when he hoped and hoped and never got what he wanted. When happiness always felt like it was about a thousand miles away, on the other side of a lake he couldn't cross, and hope went out like a snuffed light. Dean can read what's not there. He's done it his whole life.

The problem: Sam's little online journal went back six months. They've lived in four towns, in that time. He never uses names, never puts up anything that'd really identify him. They were in Maryland, August-September-first of October, and it was a comment right at the end of August, on the community for gay kids, talking to the hamburger girl: I like someone, too. He doesn't know. He. The same he that carried forward, through all his journal entries, from Maryland to Washington across whole breadth of the country. He likes classic rock. He drives me nuts. He gave me a beer, and I wanted—

Dean curls forward over his knees, sliding his hands into his hair, breathing hard between his knees. He can read between the lines and he wishes that he couldn't. He wishes—god. What? That Sam would just meet a nice girl and fuck her and get it out of his system? Except how he was writing, it wasn't like it was new. It was something he'd been thinking about. When did you know? had read one of the forum posts, and in the responses, among all the dumb teenage crap about formal dances and jerking off to the wrong person in the music video, there was a comment by username rearviewmirror that said, I broke my leg and he carried me to the car and I wanted to kiss him.

Sam broke his leg in July, the summer he turned fifteen. He'd been trying to stay quiet but he'd had this trapped whimper in his throat that he couldn't stop, and Dad had stayed behind to cover their backs and it had been left to Dean, to scoop Sam up, his whole body quivering with the shock—to hug him close between the trees, humid Georgia night making every place their skin touched slick with sweat—to let Sam cling to his neck, shuddering, and to put a hand on his back and whisper, hey, Sammy, it's not even that bad, huh? no bone sticking out, you did good. we're gonna get you a cast and I'm gonna draw you a great picture, okay, Cindy Crawford with her tits out, right there on your shin and Sam had been so shaky that his laugh sounded like he was crying, but he'd nodded against Dean's neck and chattered out sounds cool, Dean, and when Dean got him to the car Sam hadn't wanted to let him go—so they crawled into the backseat together, Sam still half in his lap and with his arms still tight around Dean's neck. Dad got into the front and frowned at Dean in the rearview, and Dean nodded, and when the car leapt forward Sam gasped and gripped at Dean's shirt when his leg got jostled, and Dean put his hand in Sam's hair and said, it's okay, you're okay, and Sam—wanted to kiss him.

He can't square it. It's like there's some twinned version of his brother, in this place Dean never knew existed. All these secrets he's been hoarding, this other person he's been. These wants that make him a stranger.

He goes back home with stuff for lunch around noon. Sam's reading, in the bedroom. "Got pb&j or grilled cheese," Dean calls, down the shotgun kitchen through the thin-carpeted hall, and Sam calls back, "I'm not hungry," which is a goddamn shit of a lie. He grows like an inch a day, he's never not hungry. Dean braces his hands on the counter and counts to five, in his head. He puts the bread away, and puts the cheese in the fridge. He goes into the living room and turns on the TV and it's college football, which is boring as hell, but it fills the apartment with noise. He wishes Dad were home. He wishes he were hunting.

The Huskies lose. Sam hasn't come out of the room, as far as Dean can tell. He's had—four beers? He looks at the table. Five. It's getting toward dark and it's raining, a-fucking-gain, and Dean's still wearing his jacket and his boots and his ears are cold, because the heater in here sucks, and he's shredded the label of the beer everywhere, everywhere. He brushes it off his knees and that just means it's gonna get ground into the shit-brown carpet, but—who cares. He's got other things on his mind.

He gets the last beer out of the fridge. Should've bought more. "Got some spare cash," he says, to the dark hall. There's a halo of light around the half-closed bedroom door. "Thinking pizza for dinner."

Silence.

Dean pushes the beer bottle against his forehead. "C'mon, Sam. It's not going to kill you to prefer pepperoni or sausage. Just say something."

"Doesn't matter," is the response.

Dean squeezes his eyes closed, slams the bottle down to the counter. It's four steps to the bedroom and the door flies open under his palm. "Just fucking say," Dean says, and Sam's looking at him with big eyes, curled up on the twin bed with his back up against the wall, books spread open all around him. Homework, of course. "Just say it, okay? What do you want?"

Sam stares at him. "I don't care! Get—whatever, pepperoni. Jeez, what's up with you?"

"Sure you don't want sausage?" Dean says, kind of nasty, and Sam frowns, shakes his head. Goddamn it. Dean drags a hand over his face, sags against the door frame. He's—a little dizzy. Oh—okay, so maybe he should've eaten, sometime since this morning. "Damn it, Sam," he says, his stomach twinging.

"What?" Give him this—maybe he's sneaking around, maybe he's lying about half his life, but Sam doesn't shrink back from an argument. He's still in his pajamas. He shoves his notebook away, lifts his chin. "What?"

"Been doing some reading," Dean says, and watches Sam's face scrunch disbelievingly. "Rearviewmirror? You don't even like cars."

It's weirdly satisfying to watch Sam blanch. He's been so unaffected the last little while it's almost a relief to get a real reaction. His mouth parts, his eyes go big. He stares at Dean in total silence except the rain drumming on the roof, and then he says, "That's—private."

"Not that private," Dean says. "You're putting shit on the internet for any asshole to read, Sam. It's not a pretty princess diary with a sparkly lock."

Sam's face is white. He licks his lips, his back rigid against the wall. "How did you—you never—"

"I know how to use a friggin computer," Dean says, and watches Sam close his eyes. "So? Got a lot to say to a bunch of strangers. Might as well say it to me. I mean, I'm your brother, right? Family."

It comes out hard but his voice cracks, on the last word. He swallows and some of the anger dissipates. Sam's jaw flexes and he tucks his hands behind his neck and his knees drag in, like defense. Like he needs defense. Against Dean. Like it's Dean who's wrecking things.

Dean's legs go out from under him. He sits down. Right there, in the doorway to the bedroom, the frame hard against his spine. The rain's loud and he doesn't—what is there to say? "You should've told me."

That's really it. Sam looks at him. Disbelief. "How?" he says, and Dean tips his head back against the wall, looks at the popcorn ceiling, says, "I don't know, it's not my damn secret. But you should've."

"Yeah, that would've gone great," Sam says, sarcastic.

Silence. The rain. Dean drags his hand over his face again, clears his throat. "So. You're—queer." For some reason it seems like the simplest thing to start with.

Sam snorts. "I'm not, like, jerking off to JC Chasez," he says, bitter.

"Who?" Dean says, but shakes his head. "God, whatever. Jesus, Sam, I can't—don't talk about you jerking off. You're not—you don't date chicks, either. Ever. So you're—"

"I don't know," Sam says. Kind of firm. Dean closes his eyes to not look at him. "I don't know, okay? But that's not what—" Pause, while he drags in a breath that's audible across the room. Dean curls over, his forehead between his knees. It's too big to hear. Sam blows out air. "You read the whole thing?"

Frail. Cobweb soft, like if Dean breathed too hard it'd break. Dean folds his hands over his head. "I read the whole thing," he says.

"Don't—" Sam says, quick, and cuts himself off. Dean can't stand it—he looks, peeking up, and Sam's made himself small, there at the head of the bed. His mouth is small, his lips between his teeth—his eyes, big and scared. "Dean. I wouldn't—I swear. I wouldn't—"

"Kiss me?" Sam flinches like from a raised fist, when Dean's all the way over here. Dean licks his lips, dropping his hands so they dangle useless between his knees. "Or, what. Leave? Either way it's pretty fucked up, for me, Sam."

"Oh my god," Sam says, very quietly, and—christ. Looks like he's gonna cry.

"Sam," Dean says, and no matter how pissed he is, that's not—Sam fights back. Sam always fights back, he's frickin' annoying that way. He's not supposed to crack like this. Dean rolls up to his knees and Sam's looking away, neck craned unnaturally so that his face is pointed at the broken-blind-covered window so that Dean can't see, but Dean can—Dean can see his teeth so hard in his lip that the skin there's white, and his chest shaky, and his fist clenched in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms, and, and—"Sammy," Dean says, again, and Sam's eyes close and there is—shit, shit, a tear, running fast out of the corner of his eye, streaking down his cheek so quick that if Dean could blink he might've missed it.

Dean's gut hurts, like he took a punch from a werewolf and he's gonna be bruised for the next three weeks. He doesn't have anything to say to make it better, not when it's this screwed up. This isn't Sam bitching about Dad or whining about crossbow practice or pouting about a move. Sam's been thinking about this for two years and he's managed to talk about it with people, online at least. Dean's coming at it with a week's slow raw realization and he doesn't know how to make it—not how it is.

He gets over to the bed, on his knees. Sam won't look at him, like the view of nothing through the blinds is the most fascinating thing in the world. There's a wet shining trail, down his cheek to his jaw. A damp circle on his t-shirt. Dean says, because he can't think of what else to say, "You really—you want—" and even then, can't articulate it. A kiss. Sex. A kind of close they've never been. He says, slower, "Is that why you want to go?"

Sam drags in air. Sounds like it hurts.

Dean drags his teeth over his lip. There are books all over the bed. He pushes them away, and Sam's notebook. He pushes up—knee on the mattress, and sinking down to his hip, and Sam's close enough to touch, now, and he jerks and looks at Dean like he's an alien. A ghost. Something that can't be real, only they both know that it is. Dean touches Sam's hand, fisted there in his pants, and Sam jerks again, his stiff shoulders back against the wall, and he shoves Dean's hand but no matter the crazy growth spurt Sam's been having Dean's still stronger, still has the reach—he grips Sam's wrist and yanks, gets him off balance, and then he's right inside Sam's grapple and has his hand flat on Sam's chest, pressing him harder against the paint, and Sam stares at him wild-eyed with his breath both fast and deep and Dean leans forward and presses their mouths together. It's a bad kiss—he barely hits on center, and Sam freezes—but there's the touch of warmth, Sam's lips—soft—and the shocked air hitting Dean's face—and Dean drags in breath through his nose and resettles, fits his mouth to Sam's soft open lower lip and makes it better, his head tipping, easy pressure there, just the faintest amount of suction so that when he pulls back a millimeter there's a little smooch sound, and that makes it—real.

He kissed his little brother. No getting around that. No pretending. His nose brushes Sam's cheek and Sam's not really breathing, and Dean—fuck, Dean does it again, pressing in and letting Sam's wrist go so that he can get a hand on Sam's jaw, tipping him so it's good. Sam makes a tiny noise and breathes out hard against his mouth, and when Dean kisses him for a third time Sam meets it, his lips moving finally out of that still shock, his fingertips brushing Dean's arm all careful, his heart pounding under Dean's hand.

Dean pulls back. An inch between them—not enough but all Dean can seem to manage. He swallows. His lips are tingling, and his eyes are closed and he doesn't want to open them, and his fingers—jesus, he's got them tangled in Sam's hair like Sam's some easy hot chick he's picked up at a dive bar, pressing her up against the wall in the bathroom hallway, knowing how the night's going to end.

"We can't," Sam says. Sam. His voice, steady and familiar. "We—Dean. This isn't—"

"No," Dean says, god knows why. He pulls back, though—pulls his hand out of Sam's hair, stands up. His legs wobble for a second. He has to open his eyes and so he drags in a breath and does, and Sam's sitting there with his shoulders high and tight and his hands fisted on his knees and his hair a little fluffed on one side, a little screwy. His mouth parted and his eyes—fixed on Dean's face, looking all over it. Like he's memorizing a trail map, for an unknown stretch of land.

"I'm drunk," Dean says. It's not true. Five beers—he's buzzed but he knows what he's doing. Sam doesn't contradict the lie. "Acting nuts. Sorry, Sam. I—"

"I want pepperoni," Sam says. His face isn't white anymore. He's flushed, dark pink in the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes are dark, wide and fixed on Dean, and there's still that shining trail on his cheek but it's drying. "Order from that place on Melrose. Garlic knots, too."

Dean backs up a step, pins on a smile. "What, you think I'm dumb? Like I wouldn't get knots," he says, and Sam doesn't smile but he nods, brief and fast like Dean's picking up a play in some con they're running, and Dean snaps a finger-gun at Sam—fuck, what is he doing—and turns out of the room, says—"Okay, dinner in thirty minutes or less or your money back!" and walks through the kitchen and out into the living room and out the front door, and closes it behind himself, and leans against it and stares blindly out into the rain, the setting sun still sparking some tiny golden bit of light out to the west, past the horizon.

He licks his lips and tastes salt, not his own. Sam's hand, on his arm—skimming, brushing light through the thickness of his jacket. Like he wasn't sure he'd be allowed to really touch. He drags in the rain-soaked air. He'll drive, to get the pizza. He'll drive, and he'll give Sam time. When he gets back he'll offer Sam half the pie and a beer, and there'll be some movie on TV that Sam probably won't want to watch, but maybe he will. They'll be—brothers. Dean knows how to do that. It feels like it's all he's got left.

It's—not easy but it's not all that hard, either. There's a brutal week where Dean's torn between walking on eggshells and wanting to wrestle Sam to the ground, and Sam goes perfectly silent—not pouty withdrawal or furious silent-treatment, but as still and quiet as though he's not even there. Dean can't bear it. It takes Dad coming home to break it—Dad, and christ, when he calls to say he's coming back Dean completely freezes and his mind fills up with—with—but then Sam looks at him and takes the phone out of his hand and says, his mouth's full—what's up? and after that it's like things… settle. It's not okay but it's livable.

rearviewmirror.livejournal.com goes quiet. Dean checks, occasionally, over the months that pass. When he's looking up some random piece of lore for Dad, when they're hunting alone and Sam's stuck back at whatever shitty hotel they stored him at, and Dean's on research duty because Sam's in high school and can't answer his phone. Dean types in the address and checks, and it's still that last post. Anyone else going through this? He hopes, sincerely, not. It's too fucked up for anyone else to bear. At least the Winchesters have practice.

They run PT. Sam does his homework. Dean watches TV. Hunting focuses things. There's stuff to kill and people to save and things aren't falling apart any more than they ever are, so—Dean deals.

Sam leaves.

It's January. Dean's in a library, alone. Dad's working a job north of Boise and he sent Dean down to Wendover to take care of a haunting, and Dean's done and Dad called and said two more days and there's this raw wounded spot where Dean should be able to turn, to look over his left shoulder and say—but it's empty there, and so he's in a library.

Sam started posting again, when he got to school. Small stuff. That he was sorry for the long break. That he'd ended up at a university after all. The hamburger girl doesn't respond anymore but the Nine Inch Nails boy does: thought you were dead, he says, no-caps like he's so goddamn cool, and Sam says, Just working some stuff out.

Sam likes his professors. He plays pick-up soccer with some of the guys from his dorm. His roommate snores. He doesn't listen to music at all. There's nothing—real. There's none of the sadboy shit, nothing about what he's feeling, no pondering of what it all means. He picks up a few different Livejournal friends, clearly people from his classes, who crack jokes about Ancient Civ and Linear Algebra. He joins a community focused around civil rights litigation. He might as well not be there.

Dean reads it all. If Sam's not calling then Dean's gonna check in whatever way he can. When Sam left Dean made sure he had at least one good knife in his bag and he said don't forget the salt when Sam hiked his backpack onto his shoulder, and Sam snorted and looked at him like a gunshot but he nodded, and Sam's not dumb, he knows how to take care of himself, but. Dean's the big brother, here. He's within his rights, to check and make sure baby bro's not being a dumbass.

January and it's fuckin cold, in Wendover, but the library's too warm. Dean keeps his coat on anyway, scrolling through the comms. He's kinda turning into an expert, navigating the pages, recognizing the shorthand. He hasn't made an account. Doesn't know why he would. He finishes his scan of the comms Sam's part of and doesn't really see any relevant posts, and no comments from rearviewmirror that he can find. He chews his cheek and goes back to the main page, thinking—okay, he can get out of here. Beer and dinner, and finding a motel that doesn't look toxic, and waiting for Dad to call. Not the worst night he could have. He refreshes, one last time, just in case, and there's a new post. He reads:

January 23

Done with class for the week. Feeling restless.

current mood: current music:

Comments:

lawblog69: we should go out!!

bloodofreptile: go get laid

Dean snorts. At least the NIN kid is consistent. He refreshes again and there's a new comment.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

He takes a breath, sitting there at the computer bank. It's quiet in here—the good people of Wendover aren't much for the library, apparently—but he feels like someone's right there. Like he could reach out and touch, when it's just words on a glowing screen. Still—the speed of the comment—Sam's… sitting there. Right now, on a computer in Palo Alto, looking at the same thing Dean is.

He refreshes.

bloodofreptile: go get laid

rearviewmirror: Not really in the cards.

bloodofreptile: still holding onto that? very hufflepuff. how long has it been?

rearviewmirror: my whole life

Dean presses his knuckles to his lips, hard enough that he can feel his teeth pressing back. Jesus, Sam. He refreshes—another comment, from coppertonebuttgirl, agreeing about the restlessness but apparently she's off to a date with her boyfriend, and Sam responds and says sounds nice :), and jesus, Sam, Dean thinks. Off to have the big college experience like he wanted so bad, off to have that new shiny life, and after five months away he's still all sadsack, still not actually living.

He clicks the comment box. He types, unaccountably mad. He hits submit, and gets a warning that it'll show as anonymous. He waits, and refreshes, and reads:

Anonymous: Just go hit a bar. Live a little. Thought you were supposed to be smart, college boy.

rearviewmirror: Since when does smart have anything to do with it?

Dean rolls his eyes. He can hear Sam's voice saying it, nettled and trying to sound like he isn't.

Anonymous: You're on here mooning after Cindy Crawford when Claudia Schiffer and Tyra Banks are out there in the real world. Have a beer, get over it.

A pause. Dean has to refresh twice. The librarian walks by with her cart of books and gives him a distracted smile, and Dean's so addled he doesn't actually process and then return it until she's already gone.

rearviewmirror: I don't think it's something you get over. It mattered. It still does, to me.

Dean chews his thumbnail. Sam's face, turned unnaturally, looking out that window at the rain. The wet track, on his cheek.

Anonymous: Matters enough that you're never going to move on?

rearviewmirror: I didn't think you could move on from family. Maybe I was wrong.

The air goes out of Dean's chest. He turns away from the computer, entirely, swiveling the chair so he's looking out at the lonely bookshelves. He flexes his jaw and swivels back around. Hits refresh.

The thread of comments is gone. He blinks, confused. He doesn't think he was hallucinating—been a while, since he was that tired and drunk. But—oh—in its place, a single comment, under the brief conversation with the NIN kid:

rearviewmirror: Tell me if it's you.

Dean licks his lips. He closes out of the browser, picks up his notepad and keys. On the steps outside it's cold, cold, fucking cold, and this town is bleak. He walks down to the Impala, waiting there in the iced-over grey snow, and braces his hands on the hood, and blows out a long purling winter-dragon breath, and then fishes his phone out of his pocket. Another new phone, but he's got Sam's number memorized, and he almost calls before he chickens out. If it's not actually wanted—he imagines that conversation and he's just not constitutionally capable, right now, of facing how goddamn awkward it'd be.

He texts: It's me.

The response, after seconds: Where are you?

The shitty part of Utah. That's saying something. Easier, like this. Like it's not him kicking down a doorway right into Sam's head.

I don't have class tomorrow.

Could be random, if he didn't know who he was talking to. Dean leans his elbows on the hood of the car, looking at the little box of black-and-white text. He chews his lips and thinks. Before he can respond, another message:

I don't want to move on.

Dean tips his head enough that he's pressing the edge of the phone into his forehead. His fingers are cold. He sniffs, his nose dripping in the icy weather, and types, careful to make sure he gets it right: I'm nine hours away.

Less, if he goes over 100 in the boring parts of Nevada, and if he doesn't stop at all for a catnap.

Stop in Reno for a nap. You get weird when you drive all night. Text me when you're close.

Dean works his jaw, standing there in the cold. He's got nothing to do, for two days. He's got most of a tank of gas. He's got—nothing. Nothing. He gets in the car, and he drives.

It's only 9:30 when he gets to Reno. There were parts of Nevada where he drove very, very fast. He pulls into a truck stop, gets more gas and parks out near where the semis are lined up, the drivers early-birding the night away. Still cold here but less so. He twists around so his back's to the passenger door and looks out the driver window at the neon signs of the truck stop, the cars going in and out of the gas islands. He ate a little but his stomach was all twisted up and he couldn't get much down. A beer would go easier but he doesn't want to be drunk. Well. He does. This is insane. This is—completely stupid.

He pulls out his phone, looks at it. Dials and holds it to his ear, and it rings three times—long enough for him to change his mind four times—before there's an answer, and Sam's voice says, "Dean?"

His voice. Dean closes his eyes, tips his head back against the cold glass of the window. "Long time, no speak," Dean says. It feels rusty.

Sam's quiet for a second, on the other end. "Not really, though. Right?"

"I guess so. It's not the same." Dean listens to the little acknowledging sound Sam makes. There's silence again, for seconds that he counts—one and then two and then three. He listens to the cooling tick of the engine, through it, and then says, before he loses his nerve, "I shouldn't come. Right? This is nuts."

There's some noise, staticky. Like something passed over the mic on Sam's phone. After a beat, Sam says, "You should do what you want to do."

"Oh, should I," Dean says, and it comes out sarcastic, but he doesn't really mean it to be mean. Sam doesn't take the bait, staying quiet on the other end, and Dean opens his eyes again, watching a huge truck muscle past the gas island, watching the normal world go by. He rubs his eye. "I've been—it's been weird, Sam."

Understatement, but he doesn't know why he says it. That kind of stuff isn't for Sam to worry about.

"Go to sleep," Sam says, instead of responding. "An hour or something, just enough so you won't drive off the road. Text me when you're close."

Same thing he said before. "It'll be like three in the morning when I'm close," Dean says, and Sam says, "I'll be awake," and then the line disconnects, and Dean's left there alone again on the bench seat, but it—feels different.

He sort of sleeps, sort of doesn't. He's got a talent for going to bed wherever and whenever he has to—on spare tires and on forest floors and in a closet, once, with a propane tank as his pillow—but his brain won't shut up. He drifts in and out, for the hour Sam asked him for, and then he gets out of the car and goes into the 24-hour c-store and buys a big cup of coffee and a Hershey bar, and points the hood west, and follows the yellow dashed line home.

He texts from a gas station outside Sacramento. Sam texts back in less than a minute with an address. Dean glances at his map of California and responds: 45 minutes, and it's more like thirty when he pulls up to the—yeah, the motel, and he makes a sound that's sort of like a laugh except it doesn't feel like one. He turns into the parking lot and the headlights flash the building, and there, sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a pillar.

Dean parks. Sam has his arms folded over his knees, but he unfurls, stands. Dean gets out of the car and Sam's—jesus, ten feet away, his face totally visible under the streetlight. His hair's a little longer. "Did you get taller?" Dean says, and Sam huffs, his head ducking, and—fuck everything else, it's Dean's little brother, and he drags Sam into a hug, folding his arms over Sam's shoulders even if he has to lift on his toes a little to do it. Sam goes stiff for half a second, but he hugs back, and Dean turns his face in, Sam's hair in his nose like it always is, and feels him—warm, and safe. All Dean ever wanted for him, pretty much.

"You have to get the room," Sam says, when they pull apart. At Dean's eyebrows he shrugs, the corner of his mouth curled. "What? My scholarship doesn't include seedy rent by the hour stuff."

"Oversight much?" Dean says, but he goes in, and he gets a room. Two queens, because that's what the tired miserable little desk clerk says they have available. Means Dean doesn't have to think about other possibilities, and it means that when he dangles the keys off his finger and Sam half-smiles at him, when they've walked down the cold sidewalk side by side, when Dean opens the door and finds the different motel room, same as the first—Sam sits on one bed, and Dean sits on the other, and they look at each other, and it's like it's two years ago and they're just two kids, waiting for Dad to come home.

Sam is taller. Taller than Dean, now. His hair long enough to fall in his eyes, which it does constantly. Newish sneakers, and old jeans, and a hooded sweatshirt, and a denim jacket over the top of that. Not warm enough for the Bay in winter, but Dean bites his tongue before he says anything about it.

"How are your classes?" he says, instead.

Sam's cheek sucks in, like he's chewing it. After a second he says, "You don't want to talk about my classes, man." His head tips. "Anyway. You read about it, right."

It was a mistake not to stop for beer. Dean needs something to do with his hands. "Your algebra professor sounds like an asshole," he says.

Makes Sam smile before he ducks his head, looking down at his lap. "I thought—" He swallows, audibly. He shakes his head, his hair falling down and hiding his face. "Only reason I started posting again was that I wondered if you might still—if you'd check."

It's quiet, honest. Dean hasn't talked to Sam in person for half a year and he's off-balance. Expecting Sam to snark, to be dismissive, to roll his eyes. Small hours of the morning, maybe he's too tired not to be honest. Maybe he's growing up. Dean's not prepared for that.

Sam looks up at him when Dean's silent for too long. His teeth dig into the corner of his mouth and he drags his hand through his hair, gets it off his forehead. "I said I didn't want to move on. You know what I meant, right?"

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I'm not an idiot, Sam," he says, and Sam's eyes tighten. Dean leans back on his hands, tips his head back on his shoulders to look at the ceiling. "Thought this was the whole point of getting out. Getting away, making a whole new life. Being someone else."

"I'm still me," Sam says, unseen. "And it wasn't the whole point. I want a life. That part—whatever, that doesn't matter right now. But I never thought the other thing was going to go away."

He stands up, so Dean can see him. Dean looks at him down his nose, and Sam's—god. Tall. That keeps being his first thought. Tall, and maybe not a stranger, even if he's real damn strange. Sam steps closer, in the little space between the two beds, chewing his lip again. He's gonna make a sore there. "Dean," he says, and Dean raises his eyebrows in response. "You came."

"Yeah," Dean says, rueful. "Well. I'm Cindy Crawford."

Sam's face ripples—a frown, surprise—and then a huffed little laugh—and then he steps between Dean's knees and touches his chest, his jaw. Leans down, slow, telegraphing like they're practicing a fight, and Dean stays exactly where he is, leaned back on his hands, and Sam's mouth touches his—softly. Not hesitant. Dean lets his eyes close and feels it. Puff of air against his face as Sam lets out a tense breath and then another kiss, the damp inside Sam's lip catching against Dean's, and Dean kisses back then, reaching up and getting Sam's jaw, his jacket, fisting the denim and pulling Sam closer. There's a stagger—Sam's knee landing on the bed by Dean's hip, and Dean gets an arm around his lower back and kisses him again, tasting him. Salt, and when Dean kisses him again and presses his mouth open, licks inside, there's coffee-taste, Sam's tongue—slick, tentative—he stayed up, to wait for Dean—his kiss clumsier now, like he doesn't have much practice.

Dean pulls back a few inches. Sam's half-draped on him, his weight nearly in Dean's lap. His eyes are dark but big with surprise, like he didn't expect Dean to go with it. "Sammy," Dean says, and Sam—shudders, his hands closing hard around Dean's shoulders. Okay, Dean thinks, filing that away. He drags a thumb over Sam's jaw, where he's got a barely-there prickle of stubble. "What are we doing?"

Sam shakes his head, licks his lips. "This," he says, holding the side of Dean's neck. "This."

They peel Sam's jacket off, and then Dean's. Sam's still in that hoodie, soft black, and Dean gets his fingers just under the hem of it, barely grazing Sam's stomach, kissing him again—tangled up close on the edge of the bed, Sam's thigh slung over his. Sam keeps touching his face, his chest. His amulet, swinging forward between them when he urges Sam down to his back on the mattress, a knee between Sam's and his hand still there on Sam's belly. Sam grips the amulet and breathes out hot against Dean's face and lifts up for another kiss, which Dean gives him easy, and it's—god, it's good. The lights on, the room warm, Sam wanting underneath his hand. His mouth, slick and open, learning how to press back, how to give as good as he's getting. Dean kisses his cheekbone, his jaw, settles his hand flat on Sam's stomach to ground him, says, "Sammy, you've done this before, right?" Sam hitches breath, nods. Dean sorta laughs, lifts up so he can actually see Sam's expression. "More than once?"

"Twice," Sam says, and when Dean raises his eyebrows he frowns, vaguely indignant. "Jenny Morrison, just before graduation." He licks his lips. "And—a guy. After student orientation, here."

"Playing the field, huh?" Dean says. There's no reason it should make his stomach go molten hot. He rubs Sam's stomach, feels the rise of his breath. "You like it?" Sam nods, again. "What'd you do?"

Sam's cheeks are dark, brick-red. He licks his lips again and Dean ducks back in to kiss him, knocking his mouth open, tasting inside. Earns himself a small deep noise and Sam's hand sliding through his hair where it's too short to grab. He nudges Sam's nose and sits up, peeling off his overshirt. "C'mon. What'd you do? Didn't put that up on your journal, how am I supposed to know?"

"It was a rush party," Sam says, looking at him. He pulls his t-shirt off over his head, making sure his amulet stays put, and Sam blinks heavily, his lips parted. Jeez—it's weird. Hot. Sam wants him, Dean thinks, and it sends a rush of blood south. "He's—uh. Pre-med, smart."

"Not looking for his biography, Sammy," Dean says, and spreads his hands on Sam's hips, pushing up. The hoodie moves, the t-shirt underneath rucks up—Sam's pale here but still that faint all-over tan, darker than Dean's skin. He licks his lips. "What'd you do? Jerk each other off?"

Sam nods, again, his mouth open. God, Dean can imagine it. On some dorm-room bed, their heads leaned together, Sam's mouth open just like this—panting, his hand fumbling down—fuck, fuck it's hot, Sam nervous and into it and trying, making sure. "You liked it, huh?" Dean says, stroking his thumbs over Sam's bare belly.

"Yeah," Sam says, thin on not enough air, his knee drawing up. "But I—I thought about—when you kissed me—" and Dean kisses him again, groaning. Jesus, Sam's gonna kill him. Thinking about some shitty nervous freaked-out kiss when another guy's got his tongue in Sam's mouth. Sam grabs his shoulders, sits up, and Dean accommodates him easy, letting Sam touch him back—Sam's hands sliding down his chest, around to his ribs, grasping. "Dean," he says, panting.

"Let's get this off, huh?" Dean says, pulling, and Sam yanks the hoodie off in a second flat, his hair all ruffling up behind it. The shirt comes with it and there's just Sammy's bare smooth skin, that same pale tan all over. Small brownish nipples, slim muscles. His body. Dean dips and kisses his bare shoulder, licking there, biting, and Sam's nails dig into his ribs so he does it again, swinging a leg over so he's straddling Sam's lap, taking his time. He scrapes his teeth over the swell where Sam's collarbone dips into the arch of his trap, and Sam grips his neck, his back arching. He's hard. Shit, he's nineteen, he has to be hard. Dean slides his fingers down Sam's belly to his belt, tucking under the waist of his jeans, but Sam grips his wrist, then, groaning, saying—"Wait—wait—"

Dean drops his head to Sam's shoulder, groaning back. "We waited," he says, but Sam's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him back, making him look. "What?"

Sam's pink. "Have you—with a guy?" Dean rocks back but Sam's holding him close, looking all over his face. "Dean. Have you—"

"Yeah," Dean says, and watches Sam's ears go red. Sam doesn't need to know when, but it was all in the last year. Three dudes, hookups that were way too easy. They were good—turns out that Dean just likes sex, any way someone will give it to him—and he learned what it felt like to have a dick not his own in his hand, how it felt to slip a cock into his mouth and make a man groan. He hadn't thought about Sam while he was doing it, not really, but he's thinking about it now, and Sam's eyes have dropped, his lips between his teeth. Jealous? Dean smiles while Sam can't see and breaks Sam's hold on his wrist, and slides his hand down, and cups the crotch of Sam's jeans where he's swelling them out. Sam jerks, eyes flying open. "Means I know what I'm doing. Yeah?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes, and then it's—undoing his belt, and unzipping, and then—god, he's still got his sneakers on. Dean backs off and kicks off his boots, deliberately, and Sam blinks at him hot-eyed with his chest heaving and his jeans half-open looking like a friggin porno, but then he gets with the program, and the shoes thud to the shitty carpet and then they're practically racing, undressing, and when Dean kicks his boxers off to the side Sam's—naked, half on the bed, staring at him. Dean stares back, circling a hand around Sam's ankle. God, to look at him, in the lamplight. Long legs, hairier on the shins and lightly furred on the thighs, and a decent dark bush around a dick that's—jesus, that dick. Big, bigger than Dean's, bigger than—Dean licks his lips and looks up with an effort and Sam's staring right back at him, focused between his legs, his mouth parted. "Like what you see?" Dean says, and Sam doesn't answer, just reaches for him, and Dean crawls up the bed and settles on his elbow above Sam with their legs brushing bare, Sam's dick hot against his hip, and Sam kisses him with both hands on his face, his thigh dragging up against Dean's, his lips almost trembly.

Dean soothes a hand down Sam's ribs but Sam's—fuck. Shaking. They haven't even done anything. "Sammy," Dean whispers, between Sam's needing brief kisses, and Sam shakes his head and kisses him again and then ducks his head down, his nose brushing under Dean's jaw. Dean pulls Sam closer—tips, so they're on their sides—and pulls Sam's leg over his hip, pushes in, and—ah, shit, shit that feels good, Sam's big dick brushing in against his, dragging heavy and hot. "Oh," says Sam, small, and Dean slips his hand further and grips Sam's ass, the muscle tight and small—pulls in, and pulls again, encouraging, and Sam grips Dean's shoulder underhand tight enough to hurt but follows, pushing in with the rhythm Dean's urging. He's breathing fast, hot against Dean's throat, but he's got it—humping in, meeting Dean, making their dicks slide, his cockhead smearing wet against Dean's belly. Dean hums, kissing Sam's temple where he can just reach it, just enjoying the—insane way it feels. He lets Sam's ass go and Sam keeps going—good, good—and he licks his fingers sloppy, and reaches down between them, and for the first time he gets a grip on Sam's dick, feels the heft of it. Sam makes a sound like he's been shot and Dean says shh, easy, slicking his hand down to the base, squeezing hard as he pulls back up, and Sam makes another gulping strange sound, his thigh clutching hard around Dean's hip, his hand crushing Dean's lower back in closer. "That feel good?" Dean says, and Sam—comes. Fast, humping in, spurting up Dean's belly and his own, the slick getting all over Dean's dick, hot and wet, the sensation enormous. Dean squeezes him through it, knowing, and Sam humps in again and grabs his ass, nails digging in. Dean tips his head back, feeling it. God, it's good. Sam. His brother.

He swallows. His dick's throbbing, wanting more, feeling left behind. Sammy shudders and Dean licks his lips, pushes Sam back so his shoulders hit the bed. He flops—boneless, shocked—and Dean drags his hands over Sam's ribs, frames his hips. His dick is still big, flushed and wet, his balls clutched up high, and Dean licks his lips and says, "Okay," to no one, and leans down, and gets Sam's dick in his mouth.

A shock, Sam's body practically lifting off the bed. "What," he says, somewhere Dean can't see him—"What are you, oh—" and Dean thinks, oh, what if no one has done this? What if Jenny just opened her legs and she and Sam humped awkward and teenage in some backseat—what if pre-med only wiped his handful of Sam's jizz on the mattress and passed out—what if Dean's the first one, here, opening his jaw wide, careful of his teeth, slicking down, getting the whole fat length of it in his mouth. Only—he can't, fuck, Sam's too big. He fists the base, pulls off, spits and slicks the wet down. When he glances up Sam's up on his elbows, staring, and Dean grins at him, jerks it again, swallows. He can taste Sam's jizz, leftover from coming before. "Hang on," Dean says, and goes back down, letting the head bust his lips open, slicking tight down to his fist, dragging his tongue hard against the underside, suckling easy. Sam takes his statement as an order and grips his head, his shoulder, his hips cringing up into Dean's mouth, and Dean heaves in air, feels Sam firming up again, thick and needing and good.

He's only done this a few times but he—shit, he liked it. Likes it better the other way around, of course, but like this—his dick pressing into the bed, throbbing—Sam splitting open his mouth—yeah, it doesn't exactly suck. He bobs up and down, making sure to pay special attention to the soft ridge at the head, and Sam's making insane noises, now, up above him, petting his head and his shoulders and gripping, trying to shove up. Dean leans into his hip so he can't, fists his dick, pulls off gasping and licking his lips. Sam's still staring, down the length of his torso, and Dean jerks him through the goopy mess they're making—his spit, Sam's precome, what Sam's already come. "You like it?" Dean says, and Sam—rolls his eyes, the little shit.

"You're smug," Sam says, and Dean raises his eyebrows and says, "You're damn right I am," and lets Sam's dick go and goes down, down, no fist in the way until Sam's dick hits the back of his throat and he gags—breathes through it—slurps up with tight lips and then goes right back down, getting his throat used to it, learning the feel of this massive, awesome dick. Sam moans, pushes his hips up, and Dean lets him, rides it—lets Sam fuck up, lets him get a rhythm, like fucking—Sam, fucking his face—and Dean reaches down between his own legs and fists his own dick, finally, groaning in relief and making Sam shudder as the vibration rumbles through Dean's open throat. Sam grips his head with both hands, holding him down, and Dean drags in air through his nose and holds there, filled up with Sam and choking, spit flooding out of his open mouth—the world dark and just Sam's taste, his smell—and Sam makes a little sound—and Dean grunts and lifts off, breaks Sam's hold and crawls up his body, straddling his hips and dragging his dick against where Sam's is all sloppy-hot, dripping wet. Sam gasps up at him and grabs his hips, his ass, fucking up into him, and Dean grips both their dicks in two hands, fucking into the tight wet channel he's making for them both, and Sam pulls at his ass, spreading it, rocking his hips to help, moaning and looking helpless up into Dean's face, and Dean leans down and breathes against him and Sam still comes first, creaming them both, his dick flexing and twitching in Dean's grip, and Dean braces one slick hand on the bed and fists himself seriously, jerking fast, and Sam moans and kisses his jaw and pulls at his ass with those big hands, his fingers slipping low, dipping—and Dean jerks and spills, his belly seizing, his thighs clamping around Sam's hips, Sam's lips open and dragging wet against his throat, his fist gripping the bedspread so hard that his fingers cramp.

Sam's stroking his hips, repetitive and soft, when he's done panting. Dean swallows, shifts his weight. He's slumped on top of Sam, his face buried in Sam's shoulder. Wet between them, sliding, and he releases his dick and slips his sticky hand out, bracing on the bed enough to get some air between them. When he lifts up Sam's eyes are half-closed, but he focuses on Dean's face right away, and his hands stop their stroking and just squeeze, warm and tight. "You okay?" Sam says.

"My line," Dean says, and Sam rolls his eyes again, squeezes again. Dean sits up more but Sam doesn't let go. "C'mon, we should clean up."

Sam's eyes tighten, just barely. He sits up, keeping his grip on Dean, and Dean rocks back but doesn't tip over. He gets a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep his balance and Sam says, steady, "Don't freak. Okay?"

"Who's freaking?" Their dicks are still pressed wetly together, though Dean's basically soft, now. Sam's still plump, thick. He swallows. "C'mon, we're gonna get cemented together," he says, and Sam's mouth purses but his grip goes light, and it gives enough room that Dean can lift off, get his feet under him. Jesus, there's enough jizz on him that it's rolling down his belly—he claps a hand to it before it can drop, smearing it over his abs. "You come like a geyser, dude," he says, not really complaining, but Sam's cheeks are red when he looks back up, and he feels—shit. He doesn't know.

He goes to the bathroom. Fluorescent light, pink-painted sink. He wets one of the five-cent washrags and wipes himself up, and he's not turned on anymore so his thought is mainly that it's just gross, and that bed's going to be wrecked, and also, what is he doing. What is he doing.

Sam's hand appears, reaching around him. He jumps. In the mirror behind him, Sam's tall, looking over his shoulder. Looking at Dean, even as he wets the other rag, cleans himself up. Dean chews the inside of his lip and can't really turn away. Sam's got red marks on his shoulder, where Dean was biting him.

"Stay," Sam says. He tosses his wet rag back into the sink and settles his hands on Dean's biceps, squeezing. When he steps forward his dick presses into the small of Dean's back and his chest is warm, damp. "Tomorrow at least. We've got the room. Stay."

"You want your dick sucked again?" Dean says, and that time it is mean and he did kind of mean it to be, and Sam's eyelids dip and his jaw clenches, but he only slips his hands away from Dean's arms to his ribs, holding him. It feels… Dean shakes his head. "Sam," he says, but there's not really anything that can go after it.

A big hand slides up and over, flattening on his breastbone. "It's not just this," Sam says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror, and it makes Dean's cheeks go hot.

He covers Sam's hand with his. He shivers, for some reason. He says, "I should take a shower, I've been in the car all day," and Sam says, "Okay," and Dean takes a shower and Sam sits on the closed toilet, watches him through the clear curtain. Gives him a towel when he comes out. Takes his hips, when he's dry, and presses him to the tiled wall, and tips his head up, and kisses him clean.

Five in the morning, or later. There's a clean bed and Dean hasn't slept in a day. He lays down and Sam lays down with him, a few inches away until Dean relents and turns over, and Sam curls up behind him, holding on, his mouth against Dean's shoulder. There's going to be a call from Dad, at some point. Dean's going to have to meet him somewhere, because there's going to be something bad that needs killing. He can't stay. He's wired and tired, all at once.

"Sleep," Sam says, and Dean turns his head against the pillow, knows he will.

"Hey," he says, and Sam makes a quiet noise. "If you put this on your journal, maybe bloodofreptile will finally shut up about you getting laid all the time."

"His name is Dennis," Sam says, and Dean laughs, weirdly glad. Dennis. Yeah, that fits. "And this isn't going on the internet."

"Probably a good idea," Dean says, and Sam says, again, "Dude, go to sleep," and Dean tips back into Sam's warmth, and does, and it's the best sleep he's gotten in a year.

#fffr #wincest #weecest #first time #long fic #my writing #--seriously this one also went too long #but idk it felt right this way

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prairiemule · 3 years

Text

The Saddle & the Springs - RDR2 One Shot

Howdy @bllds1! I was your backup santa for the @rdr-secret-santa event. You said you wanted a brotherly-bonding piece with the boys, so I hope I delivered!

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston (major) Bessie Matthews, Susan Grimshaw, Hosea Matthews (minor)

Words: 9624

Summary: While looking for potential scores in a small Wyoming town, the boys hear about a wonderful and strange park to the north, Yellowstone. What they find there will amaze them.

ao3 link

Wyoming - April, 1891

Mild weather in April seemed impossible, but it had been nothing but beautiful clear skies for days now. Arthur leaned back in the saddle, staring up at the sun for a brief moment. It was a little past noon, maybe one o’clock. He needed a new pocket watch badly. Maybe he’d buy one in town, recent scores had left him with a decent chunk of pocket change.

Beside him, John was grumbling and adjusting himself in his seat. His brown turkoman horse, Layla, patient with all the fiddling.

Arthur cocked a brow, “The hell you doing, Marston?”

“This damn saddle.” John growled out. “It don’t fit my ass no more.”

Arthur stifled a laugh. “That so? Surprised you can even say you have an ass, skinny as you are.”

“Shut up.” John shot back. “I’m not the kid I was when I got this old thing.”

The older man nodded. “Suppose you’re right. You gone and turned eighteen on us, huh?”

John smiled proudly for a short second. “You’re gonna have to start treating me like an adult and not some little shit kid.”

Arthur laughed. “You’ll always be my little shit brother, Johnny.”

The teenager grumbled again, changing the subject. “How much longer we gonna be staying around here? Thought we was headed for Denver.”

“I have no idea. Hosea and Dutch seem to be up to something. Maybe they think there’s a score in Granger worth getting in the meantime.”

“So, what are we supposed to do?”

“Not draw attention to ourselves.” Arthur shrugged.

John sighed. “Whatever they’re cooking up better be worth it, there ain’t nothing to do around here to pass the time.”

“You should try reading more, kid.”

“Reading is boring.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to have this argument again with a moody teenager. “Maybe we’ll find a score of our own in town when we get there.”

“Haven’t robbed a coach in awhile.” John mused.

“What did I just say?”

“You’re no fun.” John groused, but there was humor in his voice.

“They keep telling me that.”

“Where the hell is this next town anyway? Sweetwater, was it?”

“We’re almost there, relax.”

As the sun gradually fell from its peak in the sky, the two of them continued their leisurely walk alongside the train tracks toward town, an inbound train whistling in the distance. Soon enough, they crested a hill, and the little town of Sweetwater was easily visible in the arid landscape of slowly rolling hills and short, hardy shrubs and grasses

“Don’t look like much from here.” John said, pulling his hat off to wipe his brow.

Arthur took the little town in, noting the railroad station. “Probably not much more than a place for travelers to stop and rest up. Still, keep your eyes and ears open. With so many people who pass through, you never know what gems you can pick up in dusty little forgotten holes like this.”

“Guess I’ll check out the saloon.” John said quickly.

Arthur held in a laugh. “Trying to take the easy job, huh?”

“Maybe I just don’t think your hearing is good enough for it, old man.” John teased. “It can get pretty loud and rowdy.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” Arthur shook his head. “I needed to go to the general store anyway.”

“Pick me up a -”

Arthur interrupted him. “Buy your own damn cigarettes, John.”

“I’ll pay you back!”

“I’ve heard that lie too many times now to believe you.”

“Fine.” John conceded. “Maybe I’ll just take a pack off some drunk patron”

Arthur gave him a stern look. “If you do, just try not to get in another brawl. I don’t want to have to save your ass again.”

“I fight fine, Arthur.”

“A blind raccoon could fight better than you.”

John rolled his eyes. “Just come join me when you’re done in the store, alright?”

“Sure. Might check out the station or a few shops ‘fore I come to the saloon. Doesn’t look like there’s much in the town, but you never know.”

The teenager nodded. When they finally made it onto the main drag of town, John split off and headed further down the road, having spotted what was clearly the saloon. A good number of stumbling fools wandered around outside of it, along with a few working girls gauging potential customers.

Arthur took a big swig of his canteen. The weather may have been clear and relatively mild, but it was still bright and hot out in the arid environment. He would need to refill his water while they were in town.

As he looked around, by all accounts Sweetwater wasn’t some beaten down, desperate little place. It was quaint, and well kept. Perhaps being on the railroad line kept it this way. There were a few interesting shops and businesses, a little bookstore, a tailor, a stable, and what appeared to be a leatherworker or saddler.

He hitched his roadster mare, Artemisia, outside the general store. The big horse let out a sigh before drinking heavily from the nearby trough. The heat was getting to her too. Arthur gave her a few pats. “We’ll head back to camp after this, and you’ll be able to rest up a few days.”

She flicked her ear and snorted her response.

Arthur chuckled, giving her one more pat before heading into the general store. It was a quick stop, grabbing some provisions for the road and finding a decent pocket watch to replace his broken one. He could have stolen one. But sometimes he enjoyed truly buying and owning something for himself.

Once back out in the street, Arthur glanced around town, again taking notice of the saddler and stable on the far edge of town. He almost didn’t think much of it, when suddenly an idea crossed his mind. He took one look at John’s horse, Layla, hitched outside the saloon, then he turned and wandered up the road towards the saddler.

- - - - -

He found John at the saloon’s bar maybe an hour later. The kid was standing steadily, nursing a beer bottle. So Arthur imagined he was only a few drinks in, if at all. “John.” He greeted his brother, lowly.

He looked up. “Arthur.” John returned.

Arthur leaned against the bar and took in the place. Most folks seemed to be having a good time, lots of raucous conversation and laughter.

Arthur dropped a quarter on the counter. “Gimme a beer.” He said to the barkeep. Avoiding his usual drink of whisky for the time being.

“Sure thing.” The barkeep replied, reaching under the counter and handing him a bottle. “Anything else?”

Arthur held up his canteen. “Water for the road would be good.”

“There’s a pump around back you can use.” The barkeep replied. “We’re also right on a river if that doesn’t suit you.”

Arthur nodded. “Thanks.”

After taking a few drinks from the bottle, he nudged John and gestured to an empty table in a dead area of the saloon, John grabbed one more drink and followed. “Heard anything?” Arthur asked quietly when they sat down.

John shrugged. “Not really. Think the most we’d get out of this town is robbing the few rich train passengers that may pass through. Even that’s probably not worth the trouble right now.”

Arthur nodded. John was talking sense for once. He’d been doing that more lately. “Didn’t see much from the various shops around. We could check another town tomorrow after we get back to camp.”

“Maybe.” John paused for longer than he usually would.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Arthur. “Something on your mind?” He pressed.

“I dunno. You uh . . . you heard of a weird park north of here? Yellow-something or other?”

Arthur stared at him. “Yellowstone?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s it.” John took another moment. “People ‘round here, keep saying shit about rainbow colored pools up there? Holes in the ground that blast out water? Boiling pits of mud?”

Arthur nodded. “I read about Yellowstone park a couple times over the last few years, in some papers and a few other things.”

“So . . . is all that shit true?”

“I dunno, I guess?”

“ . . . Weird.”

“What’s this got to do with anything?”

John shook his head. “Nothing, just the only interesting thing I’ve heard all day.”

“If that’s all you been hearing about, this town really ain’t worth the trouble, is it?”

“Don’t think so.” John sighed. “Shame too, I’m so damn bored.”

“We’ll have some action soon enough.” Arthur stood. “We best head back to camp then, let Hosea and Dutch know there’s nothing out here.”

John downed the rest of his drink, standing as well. “Alright, can we please rob someone on the road on way back?”

“No.”

“God damn it.” The teenager sighed.

“Let’s get a move on. I’d prefer to be back in camp before the sun sets.”’

“Yeah, alright.”

They left the saloon without another word. Arthur found the water pump around the back and refilled his canteen. Then the two of them mounted up on their respective horses and began their journey out of town.

As they passed the stable, John pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Gimme a match, would ya?” He held his hand out towards Arthur.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “So you gone and stole a pack of cigarettes, but didn’t have the sense of mind to get matches while you were at it? I ain’t giving you one of mine.”

John dropped his hand. “Shit, Arthur. Maybe I got one on me.” He started patting his pockets, finally finding a small, broken match in his shirt pocket. He held it out proudly, cigarette still dangling between his lips. “Ha! See?”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You always say to be prepared.”

“That’s not being prepared, that’s being a lucky fool.”

“I’m pretty sure lucky is the last thing you can call any one of us.” John replied, having successfully lit his stolen cigarette.

Arthur snorted. “Maybe so.”

Unlike the relaxed ride into town they had, Arthur insisted they pick up the pace on the way back, cantering and trotting most of the way. John grumbled a few times after they’d passed an extravagant looking coach and they didn’t rob it. But Arthur remained steadfast and kept them moving.

The sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the horizon when they reached camp. It was just south a ways of the little town of Granger, right up next to a small stream. Far enough out that it was hidden by the hills. They followed the stream into camp, two fires glowing in the dimming light.

He heard what sounded like a heated discussion between Dutch and Hosea, muffled by Dutch’s large tent. Unsure if anyone would be on guard duty, Arthur announced their presence as they got close.

“Arthur and John, coming in.” He called out.

After a small delay, he heard a “Welcome back, boys.” From Bessie, off near the campfire.

“Any news?” Arthur asked as he led his horse to the hitching post.

He heard her approaching him now. “They’re still working on something.” She replied.

“When they get back to camp?”

“About an hour after you two left.”

John laughed. “They been fighting that long, huh?”

Bessie rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “You know how it is. Dutch thinks he’s right, Hosea knows he’s wrong. They’ll come to an agreement eventually.”

Arthur dismounted and began to remove Artemisia’s tack. “Well whatever they’re hoping to score better be good. Granger sure ain’t a big town, and if it’s anything like this Sweetwater we just went to, there’s not much of value.”

Bessie frowned. “So no luck with you two then?”

John shook his head, leaning on the saddle horn. “Nothing. Not even a funny story in the saloon.”

“Well, I guess you boys better get some food. Susan’s got some stew ready. I’m sure Hosea and Dutch will want to hear about what you found eventually. Even if it’s nothing.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Matthews.”

She smiled and gave him a quick shoulder squeeze before heading back to the scout fire.

John dismounted, rubbing his ass when he was down on solid ground. “I’m serious, Arthur. This saddle is killing me. I have half a mind to take one from the next person I see alone on the road.”

Arthur glared at him. “Wait till we’re on the way to Colorado again if you’re really gonna do that. I don’t want to tell you again, no drawing attention to ourselves right now.”

“You ain’t the boss of me.” He groused.

“Like hell I’m not.” Arthur laughed. “Besides, that order comes from Dutch and Hosea, not me.”

John sighed, beginning to take Layla’s tack off. “One of these days, you ain’t gonna be giving me orders no more.”

The older man shrugged. “When I’m dead.”

With their horses finally tack free and brushed down, the two of them grabbed bowls of stew and joined Bessie at the campfire. Arthur looked around between a few bites. “Where’s Ms. Grimshaw?”

Bessie glanced up from her sewing. “She’s doing a quick parameter check. Thought we might have spotted some coyote scat off towards the butte when we went hunting earlier.”

“Coyotes, huh.” John repeated, pushing his food around in his bowl. “You think they’re gonna try and steal some food from us?”

“Who knows.” Bessie replied. “But if they are thinking about it, Susan’ll scare them off with a few shots I’m sure.”

“Almost got bit by a coyote a year back.” John grumbled.

“How?” Arthur asked, raising a brow.

“I dunno!” The teenager threw up a hand. “I was out doing some target practice, and one of them wiley bastards just walks up on me, ain’t afraid or nothing, then it - ” John stopped himself. “You know what, nevermind.”

“No, please continue.” Arthur pressed. “Why ain’t you ever told us this?”

“ . . . Well I just rushed off towards Layla and ran away. That’s all that happened.”

After a moment’s pause, Arthur replied. “Alright so that’s why you never told us.”

He could see his little brother turning red, even in the dim light. “Shut up.”

“No, no. It’s okay. Coyotes are real frightening.”

“Well the ones I’ve met have been!”

“Why didn’t you shoot at it?”

“I’d just shot all my bullets at the targets, I didn’t have time to reload!”

Arthur started laughing, and Bessie reached over to smack him. “Don’t tease him, Arthur. You know better.”

“Fine, fine.” Arthur said. “I won’t tease him about being scared of a little coyote. Least it weren’t a wolf, or a cougar . . . or a bear!”

As John went to bite back, a few shots of a repeater rang out nearby, followed by the unmistakable yowls of coyotes.

The conversation stopped, until finally Bessie spoke up. “Ha, guess Susan found them.”

“Good.” John said. “Like to wake up and not have the camp ransacked by thieves.”

“Hope she brings one back, that’ll be breakfast.” Arthur mused.

There was a grunt of agreement from John, despite the fact that he’d barely eaten.

The night continued as they finished with their stew, John at a much slower pace. The stars were beginning to shine above, uninhibited by any clouds. A nice, pleasant breeze, further cooling down the arid climate.

Another half hour or so of idle chatter later, and Susan rode up on her little paint horse, a single coyote strapped to its back. “Well, I chased them off.” She said simply when she joined them at last.

“And got us breakfast.” Arthur added.

Susan gave a small laugh. “I guess so.” She sat down next to Bessie. “Good to see you boys back in once piece.”

“Just a quick look in the next town over, weren’t nothing to be worried over.” Arthur said.

Susan snorted. “Oh please. You two are a nightmare of a mixed bag. You boys either work like a well-oiled machine, or a set of mismatched gears. Either way it’s worth worrying over.”

Arthur shrugged. “Well, we’re fine. And we didn’t rob anyone while we were out, despite John’s protests.”

He could feel the death glare from John without even looking at him.

“Good.” Susan said simply.

It wasn’t long before Arthur started nodding off, staring blankly into the campfire. Suddenly he felt John’s body slump towards him, the kid had passed out, and was leaned up against him, cheek planted firmly on Arthur’s shoulder. He gave a small sigh, deciding whether or not to wake the kid up.

He looked up to see Bessie grinning at the sight of them. Arthur only rolled his eyes, finally nudging John awake. “Come on, Marston. Time for bed.”

John jolted upwards. “Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah.” He wiped the drool from his face, getting to his feet.

Arthur stood too, giving a nod to Bessie and Susan. “Goodnight, Mrs. Matthews, Ms. Grimshaw.”

“Goodnight, pumpkin.” Bessie returned with another cheeky grin.

“Night, boys.” Replied Susan.

John gave them a little wave before turning and trudging towards their tent. Arthur ducked in after John, sitting down on his cot and taking his boots off. Then removing his jacket, gunbelt, and hat. John had done the same, already crawling under the blankets on his cot.

Finally alone with his thoughts, he pulled his journal from his satchel, opening up to the next empty page. Arthur wasn’t feeling up to writing, but a drawing did come to mind. He found the idea of John running for his life from a coyote so amusing, he did his best to get it down on paper. After 20 minutes of working, he was satisfied with the quick gesture drawing he’d made. With one final line, he put his journal away and finally turned in for the night.

-»»»•«««-

John’s eyes blinked open slowly. Peaking over his shoulder he could see dim light filtering in through the tent flap, it must have been early morning. A quick look to the opposite side of the small space and he could see that Arthur was still there, fast asleep.

After fruitlessly trying to fall back asleep for a few minutes, John gave up. He shook his head and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Finally stretching and freeing himself from his blankets. He got changed quickly and quietly, Arthur was a light sleeper, and could be an enormous grump when woken up too early. So John took great care not to disturb him.

Once outside, camp was quiet. He half expected to still hear Hosea and Dutch arguing. But he was apparently the first one up. The sun was just rising when he looked towards the eastern horizon. It was almost funny to him that he was first awake, usually Susan or Arthur were the first ones up.

By all accounts he should have started the coffee, that’s what he was supposed to do as first up. But looking towards the horses he had another thought.

He silently walked towards Layla, whispering her name as he got closer to hopefully not startle her.

The big brown horse looked up, ears pointed forward as John approached. She turned and walked to him, greeting him with a nudge and a gentle snort.

“Morning, Layla.” John said, giving her a pat. “Let’s get that saddle on you and get out of here, quick. ‘Fore anyone wakes up.”

As if she got what he meant, she remained deathly silent as John began saddling her up, giving him no trouble as he tightened the straps. Usually she would puff her belly out a bit to keep the saddle from being too tight, but she didn’t today.

Satisfied, John went to mount up, then realized in his hurry how unprepared he was for his plan. He sighed, rushing quietly back to the tent.

John peeked in, Arthur was still sleeping, so he crept inside. Fast as he could without making noise, John gathered up a few things he thought he’d need from under his cot. Then wrote a small note, leaving the paper on the blankets.

When he made it back to his horse, there was still no sign of anybody else awake. John smiled to himself, excited to be getting out on his own for a while. But as he put his foot in a stirrup to swing himself onto his horse, he heard a familiar voice.

“The hell are you doing, Marston?” Arthur demanded.

John let the saddle go and turned quickly. Surprised by how close Arthur was already. “Nothing!” He replied, far too fast.

He saw those cold blue eyes narrow at him. John knew that look, he was absolutely busted. “Where you heading off to, kid?” Arthur asked, holding up the note John had just left.

“I . . . uh.” John stumbled over words in his brain. Finally spitting something out. “I just. I wanted to see that Yellowstone place.” He mumbled.

He saw Arthur’s face soften, and then his brother let out an enormous sigh. “Christ, John. You shouldn’t go up there alone.”

“And why not?” He shot back. “I’m old enough to do stuff on my own. Dutch and Hosea told me you used to go off on your own a lot when you were my age.”

“John.” Arthur stopped him. “I’ve read enough about that park to know how dangerous it can be. And I think you may just be dumb enough to fall in a geyser and die.”

John went to argue back then had to stop. “ . . . . a ‘geyser?’”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about.”

The teenager grumbled, looking down at the ground. “I just want to do something. I’m so bored, Arthur.”

He heard Arthur sigh again, then a long pause followed. “Alright.” He spoke up at last. “You can go.”

John’s head shot up quickly, the sudden smile on his face betraying the cool demeanor he was trying keep. “Wait, are you serious?” He said.

“Well you didn’t let me finish.” Arthur replied. “You can go, but I’m going with you.”

John’s smile faded and he groaned. “God damn it, really? I thought you hated ‘babysitting’ me anyway.”

Arthur crossed his arms and stood tall. “I think I may hate you turning up dead even more. It would be my ass on the line if that happened. Either I go with you, or you don’t go at all.”

John folded his arms too, kicking at a rock on the ground. After muttering for awhile, he finally spoke up. “Shit, alright. Fine. We both go.”

The teenager looked up in time to see that stupid grin on his older brother’s face. “Alright, we’ll leave in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll wait here for - ”

John didn’t get a chance to say much else before Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back towards camp. He tried to fight it for a few seconds, but it really was hopeless. Arthur was too strong. “Okay, okay!” John spat out. “I get it, I’ll come with you.”

Arthur let him go. “You know I’m not that dumb.”

“Worth a shot.” John grumbled.

“We need to tell Hosea where we’re going.”

“What if he doesn’t let us go?”

“Don’t see why he wouldn’t.” Arthur shrugged.

As they approached Hosea and Bessie’s tent, the flap opened and the man they were looking for stepped out. “I thought I was hearing you two argue. What is going on?”

Arthur nudged him. “Well, tell him, kid.”

Hosea looked at John expectantly.

“Uh, we’re gonna go up to that Yellowstone park north of here.”

Hosea’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before he resumed his usual collected expression. “Did you hear about a potential score there?”

Arthur answered for him. “Naw, the kid’s bored. And there’s nothing in Sweetwater. So we got jack shit to do unless you and Dutch need us for your scheme.”

Hosea smiled but shook his head. “The way things are going, don’t imagine we’ll be making much progress on that for a week or so. If you two really want to go, be my guest.”

“Alright.” Arthur nodded. “Probably be gone a couple weeks, I’ve read before the trails aren’t the best to get there.”

“We’ll be here.” Hosea replied. “You two have fun.”

Arthur pushed John forward. “Keep an eye on him while I get ready, would you?”

Hosea laughed. “Sure, I won’t let him sneak off without you.”

“Thanks.” Arthur replied, heading off towards their tent

With him gone, Hosea looked over to John. “You grab enough food for this little escapade?”

John sucked in a breath, realizing he’d grabbed nothing from the chuck wagon for the journey. “Uh . . .” Was all he could muster.

Hosea sighed. “Let’s grab you something now then.”

A few minutes later and John was loaded up with a sack full of dried goods and some canned food. “Try not to eat that all at once.” Hosea told him. “Be sure to hunt fresh game when you can. This food is more for emergencies, understand?”

“Of course I do, I’m not some dumb twelve-year-old.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Hosea grinned.

John frowned. “Now that ain’t fair.”

“Life ain’t ever been fair, John.” Hosea replied, still smiling. “But considering you forgot to grab food, I feel I am justified.”

The teenager could only grumble his response.

Hosea kept an eye on him as he went and loaded Layla’s saddlebags with the new supplies. “Now come here and make the coffee like you were supposed to.” Hosea called out as quiet as he could.

John sighed with his whole body, completely at a loss for how his plan got so out of his control.

He trudged back to the main campfire, seeing that Hosea had already done him the kindness of bringing the fire back to life with new kindling and logs. He refilled the coffee pot with water and added more ground beans, setting it by the fire to warm up.

About ten minutes later and Arthur was almost ready to go, he was dressed and putting the tack on his horse. At last joining them by the fire and pouring a cup of coffee. He drank it down after letting it cool a moment. “This got enough grit to be sand.” He said.

“Maybe time to clean the pot.” Hosea shrugged.

“Probably.” He looked to John. “You ready?”

“I was ready twenty minutes ago.” He replied.

Arthur snorted. “Well aren’t you prepared for once.”

“Of course I am.”

“Let’s get going then, kid.”

Hosea stood up. “You two stay safe, we don’t see you by the end of the month, we’ll come looking.”

Arthur nodded. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“See you soon, Hosea.” John waved.

With that, the two of them mounted up, riding out of camp, the pink sunrise lighting their way.

- - - - -

A quick stop for directions in Granger had them riding the same road as they did the previous day, through Sweetwater, then the next town after by the name of ‘Marston.’ Which Arthur got a kick out of, but John found appalling.

From there they took the road north, following the Green River as far as the road would take them.

They remained on that same path for several days, stopping rarely. Arthur managed to catch them some animal almost every night for dinner. The night he brought in a coyote, John could tell he was making fun of him.

They chatted idly about the usual things as they went, or bickered about nonsense. But mostly they remained quiet as they trotted, cantered, and galloped through the ever changing landscape.

Over the course of a few days, the mountains in the distance became larger and larger, the arid environment becoming more green and forested. Until they were right up against the base of mountains themselves.

The road and river came to a stop, and they were forced to navigate themselves. That night at the campfire, Arthur studied the map of Wyoming he’d bought in Granger.

John looked over his shoulder, staring at all the different geography, lines, and tiny words.

Arthur pointed to a spot on the map on the western half, directly below a large range of mountains that stretched to the north. “We should be about here.” He said.

“How much further to Yellowstone then?” John cocked his head and looked closer.

“Few more days I’d say.” He pointed down the map a ways. “Here’s Granger, camp is just a few minutes south of it.” Then he pointed up towards the Northwestern corner of the state. “And here’s Yellowstone. We’re a little over the halfway point between the two it looks like.”

John sighed and sat back down on the opposite side of the fire. “Dunno why I thought it would be closer.”

Arthur snorted. “Maybe because you didn’t bother to check a map before you came up with this idea.”

“Can you really blame me for wanting to get away for awhile? You do it all the time. Be gone for a month and come back.”

There was a strange heaviness to Arthur’s voice when he spoke. “I probably won’t be doing that anymore, John.”

The weight of his voice took John by surprise, and he wished greatly in that moment that he could see Arthur’s face, but he was hidden behind the map. “Oh . . . alright.” Was all John could seem to say.

Arthur exhaled. “We better get some rest, kid. I think I see a decent way up to the park. We’ll take this valley as far as it lets us, then we’ll have to traverse our way through a couple mountains, but that should take us directly into the park.”

John nodded. “Thanks . . . uh . . . for navigating I mean.”

Arthur folded the map forward, one brow raised as he stared at John. “Starting to sound like you’re glad I’m here.” He teased, a grin growing on his face.

The teenager scowled. “No - I . . . Shut up.”

Arthur laughed as he stood and folded the map up, putting it away in his satchel. “We’ll be leaving early in the morning. Good night, kid.”

John got to his feet too. He sighed. “Night, Arthur.”

- - - - -

Arthur hadn’t been kidding about getting up early. John was awoken the next morning to Arthur kicking him. Not a hard kick, but enough to make John jolt upright.

Camp was packed up quickly, and they were back on the road again. The way was less obvious to John as they continued their journey the following couple days. But Arthur seemed confident. He always had a knack for navigation, almost like he had a map and compass in his head.

They found themselves in a beautiful green valley by the name of Jackson’s Hole with huge mountains on either side. The Teton range to their west according to Arthur. In his short life, John had traveled a vast amount of the country with the gang. But he couldn’t help but take in the beauty of this valley.

It was a long stretch of land, taking about a day and a half to run the length of, but Arthur told them once they passed Jackson’s Lake, they’d be within spitting distance of the park.

By midday, the lake was behind them, and they began riding through the mountains. John felt full of anticipation. If Arthur was correct, they were nearly there. They stopped rarely, once so Arthur could pick up the deer he’d spotted and quickly dispatched for their dinner that night.

As the day continued, John was a little disappointed when Arthur stopped them to make camp at sundown. He found them a nice flat area up against a plateau near a river to set up. “Thinking we’re in the park now.” His brother said simply.

“So we’re not gonna look around?” John asked.

Arthur cocked a brow and stared at him. “How we gonna look around when we can’t see shit, John?”

“I dunno, we just come all this way, and we’re here, and we gotta stop?”

He sighed. “I understand, kid. You’re excited. But you’ll get more out of it when it’s daylight and we can see everything.”

John hated that he was right. As usual. “Fine.” He said, then after a pause. “Are you going to cook up that deer?”

“Why else you think I shot it?” Arthur laughed.

“I was just asking!”

“Yeah, I’ll get it cooking. You set up the tent.”

“You sure you want me to do that? You complained about it almost falling down last time.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I can’t do everything, boy. Put up the tent, just drive the stakes in deeper this time.”

He complained the whole time, but soon enough, the tent was up, John very sarcastically hammering the stakes even after they were well into the ground. In annoyance, Arthur threw a slab of half cooked venison at him. Eventually though, they settled down and ate their dinner, talking for awhile before finally turning in for the night.

John fell asleep hoping this whole trip would actually be worth it.

-»»»•«««-

Arthur decided he should let John sleep in when he woke up early that morning. He’d been pushing them pretty hard to get to the park in a fairly short amount of time. The kid needed as much rest as he could get, considering he barely ate any food.

In the meantime, he built the fire back up and cooked up some more meat from the deer he’d caught. He left a few pieces for John, then got coffee going in the kettle. With that taken care of, he stood and stretched deeply, looking off a ways towards where they’d left the horses.

He saw Artemisia and Layla exactly where they were supposed to be, saddles off and grazing lazily. Arthur greeted them softly as he approached, both of them perking up and coming to him. He gave them a few pats before brushing them down one at a time.

He couldn’t help but talk sweetly to them as he went. “You two both did such a good job.” He whispered to Artemisia, brushing the dust from her dapple buckskin coat. “Bringing us all the way up here in such good time.”

Then he looked to Layla. “And you did great bringing John all this way, despite how much he must squirm in that saddle he hates.”

She snorted her response.

Arthur grinned. “Alright, come on you two, let’s get to the river for a drink.” He led them down towards the river not far from this plateau they’d ended up at. He refilled his canteen and let the horses drink their fill.

Glancing around, Arthur saw very little signs of human life. There were animals, yes. But if there were any other people in this park, he sure as shit wasn’t seeing them.

When they returned to camp, John was finally up. He was warming himself by the fire and yawning heavily. “Morning, Arthur.” John greeted in that rough voice he’d developed.

“Morning, John.” Arthur returned. “You eat yet?”

“No.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. He should have figured. “Well eat some of that meat I prepared and drink some coffee, we should tear down camp soon.”

“Yeah, alright.” John spoke as he yawned again.

Arthur poured himself some coffee then went and got the horses saddled. John wasn’t exaggerating much when it came to his saddle. It was pretty worn down. A lot of that could be attributed to John’s own personal neglect, but not all. He did need a new one.

They packed up camp, and mounted up. Arthur could see John trying to hide the smile on his face. Arthur had to hold in a laugh, he really was a teenager.

“Which way we going?” John asked as they started off.

“Thought maybe we’d go see Yellowstone lake, which on this map is about the middle of the park, then go from there.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

The scenery was beautiful as they traveled. Vast green hills and plateaus, mountains all around them, pine trees spread about, rivers and streams snaked their way through the landscape. There were deer everywhere, pronghorn and elk too. Arthur wondered about potential herds of bison as well.

After riding for awhile, John spoke up again. “Sure ain’t seen no ‘rainbow colored pools’ yet.” There was noticeable disappointment in his voice

“I’m sure we’ll find them eventually, we just started looking.”

“I dunno.” He replied. “Kinda just looks like any other part of the region. Can’t see what’s so special abou-”

As if on cue, John was interrupted by a sudden fountain of water bursting from the Earth. An enormous stream, growing rapidly to at least 50 feet high.

Arthur pulled back on his reins, stopping Artemisia as she startled, trying to keep her in place. John appeared to be doing the same with Layla, the generally calm horse whinnying loudly and rearing up.

“What in the god damn hell is that!” John yowled.

As Arthur got his mare under control he laughed. “That, is a geyser, John.”

“Holy shit . . .” He said in awe. He fumbled for words, finally just ending up on one. “How?”

Arthur shrugged, the fountain of steaming water still shooting into the sky. “I have no idea. I ain’t smart enough to know.”

With their horses calmed, they watched the eruption in amazement as it lasted upwards of fifteen minutes. Something about seeing the wonder in John’s expression made Arthur happy. It seemed impossible to get the kid excited about anything other than robbing.

When it finally died down, John tore his eyes away and looked at Arthur. “We gotta get a closer look at that hole it came from.”

“John, no. This is exactly what I meant when I said you’d get yourself killed up here.”

But it seemed John had made up his mind, ignoring what Arthur said and riding Layla out towards the protruding mound in the earth.

“John!” Arthur shouted. Annoyed, he followed after the fool.

John had dismounted and was cautiously touching the mound, before peering inside. “It don’t look like nothing special. Kinda like a giant anthill almost.”

Arthur rode up next to him. “Get away from there you idiot, the water that comes out of there is boiling hot.”

“Hold on, Arthur.” He said, finding a nearby stick and tossing it in. Apparently disappointed when nothing happened, he threw a few more things in.

“Cut that out, you shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” John asked. “Maybe it’ll go off again if I do.”

“We don’t want it to go off again if you’re right next to it. Anyway I don’t think that’s how it works. Now come on.”

John grumbled but finally listened, getting back on Layla and following after him. When they were back up the hill a ways, John looked around. “Are there more of those geyser things around here?”

“I’ve read there’s more than a hundred.”

John’s eyes lit up “We gotta find them all.”

“I don’t think we have time for that, we only have a few days before we start heading back.”

The kid sighed. “Alright, well. Let’s keep moving then.”

Arthur nodded.

They continued along what seemed to be a human made trail of some kind, traveling through a forest of beautiful pine trees. After awhile a foul smell hit them, growing stronger and stronger as they moved along.

John looked around for a source, finally settling on Arthur. “You didn’t fart, did you?”

Arthur glared at him. “Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“That sure as shit ain’t me. Must have been you.”

“How the hell is it me?”

“I smelled your farts before, this is the same thing, like rotten eggs.”

“I may be a foul, mean bastard but not even I’m capable of making a stink this bad.”

“You sure about that?”

“John you say it’s me one more time and I will come over there and rip you off that horse.”

John threw his hands in the air. “Christ, okay.”

The smell continued to grow as they kept going. Until they started seeing fog or steam of some kind rising from the ground.

John perked up as he noticed it. “That another one of them water fountain things?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Geyser?” He corrected.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I dunno, John. Keep your distance until we find out.”

Once again, Arthur should have known better as John ignored what he said and took off towards the source without him.

“God damn it.” The exasperated older brother muttered as he followed after.

He caught up to John fairly quickly. Artemisia being a faster horse than Layla. The ever-present smell of rotten eggs only grew stronger as they got closer to the rising steam, until finally they broke through the trees and it was revealed to them. A huge stretch of water, of all sorts of colors. Red, orange, yellow, turquoise, blue, creating a beautiful prismatic ring around what could only be a massive hot spring in the earth.

With their horses at a stop. John stared out at the water. “I guess we found the rainbow pool.” He said, awed once more.

“And the source of that smell.” Arthur added.

John tore his eyes away to look at Arthur with confusion written all over his face. “The smell? How could something so beautiful smell so god awful?”

Arthur laughed and shook his head. “Nature is weird, kid.”

John dismounted and got closer to the edge of the water, crouching down next to the shore.

Arthur sat up straight. “Don’t touch that!” He snapped.

John looked over his shoulder at him, one brow raised. “It’s just water Arthur, what’s it gonna do?”

“Burn the shit out of you, can’t you feel that heat? It’s a hot spring.”

“You said the same bullshit about the geyser and it didn’t burn me either.”

“John.” Arthur warned.

But it fell on deaf ears, as John reached a hand out towards the water. An inevitable yowl followed as the teenager leaped to his feet, shaking his scalded hand. “Holy shit that hurts!”

“What did I just say you god damn moron.” Arthur said, irritation rising in his voice.

John opened his mouth to talk back, but it was clear he had no defense, quickly clamping it shut again.

“Get away from there. At this rate you’re gonna fall in.”

Finally, John listened, moving away from the edge and mounting back up on Layla. Once in the saddle, he went back to holding his burned hand, shaking it occasionally.

“Least I don’t gotta worry about your dumb ass jumping in the water and trying to swim in there.”

John’s head turned quickly, expression going from hurt to offended. “You making fun of the fact that I can’t swim now too?”

Arthur smiled, doing his best to make light of the situation. “Any opportunity I can, Marston.”

“I’ve heard of people swimming in hot springs though.” John said.

Arthur shrugged. “Some are hotter than others I guess, I’m pretty sure the majority of the ones around here are hot enough to kill you if you try that.”

John looked at his hand. “Found that out . . .” He muttered.

“Why you think I didn’t want you coming up here by yourself?”

“I would’ve been fine.” John replied, defiant.

“Sure kid, sure.” Arthur grinned. “We should keep our distance, but keep looking around the area for more of these springs. Probably some geysers around here too.”

Staying well away from the edge of the basin, they wandered for hours, finding more prismatic springs deep into the earth with intense steam rising from each of them. The smell never truly faded, almost impossible to go nose blind to, it was so powerful. Several dead trees dotted the area, bright green moss growing on the withered branches. There were few animals in the area, likely sensing how deadly the hot springs could be.

Eventually, they left the area, off to find more oddities in the park. Seeing a few more geysers along the way, although only one went off while they were near it. It took less convincing now to keep John at bay after being scalded, but there was still that wonderment and mischievous gleam in his eye that kept Arthur just a tad worried.

Once the sun began setting, Arthur set out on the mission of finding a decent campsite. Seeing a nice ridge near another stream they could potentially camp up against.

However, this was quickly thwarted when John spotted a bull moose. They kept their distance and watched it graze for awhile, wondering if it would move on. Then it escalated even further when Arthur noticed a large grizzly bear walking steadily towards the enormous creature.

“Should we . . . stay and watch this?” John asked, wide-eyed.

“I’m not . . . I’m not entirely sure.” He answered honestly.

“I kinda want to see what happens.”

“ . . . Me too.” Arthur admitted. “Let’s back up under some tree cover for now I guess.”

John nodded.

Once they were in a slightly more hidden position, they watched in fascination as the bull moose finally noticed the approaching bear. Apparently unfazed. He just kept his head up and focused on the grizzly. But as the bear got closer, the moose lowered his head, that massive rack of horns ready to charge, making a warning sound. The bear let out a roar and charged him.

It was a surprisingly short lived fight, as the bear got gored and knocked around a few too many times, the moose entirely unharmed. The grizzly whimpered and let out several pathetic sounds as it cowered and ran away. The moose immediately went back to grazing, blood and bear fur clung to his large antlers.

“That was unexpected.” John whispered.

“Bear must have been a juvenile to pull something that dumb.” Arthur added.

“I don’t think I want to camp near that moose.”

Arthur held in a laugh. “Me neither, let’s find somewhere else.”

The sun was much lower by the time they found a new spot far from the encounter with the moose and bear. But it was a decent, well-hidden clearing within a grove of pine trees.

They ate the remaining venison Arthur had prepared that morning. As they settled down to sleep for the night, in the distance they could hear the howls of wolves. Their songs echoed amongst the mountains. He had to assume they’d be safe from them, plenty of their natural prey in the park to choose from, there was no reason to come after a couple humans.

By the light of their one lantern, Arthur pulled his journal out. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then he began to write.

Little Johnny’s gone and turned eighteen on us. Seems like just yesterday we saved his scrawny ass from being hanged. So much has changed, and yet so much has stayed the same. He’s still a scrawny little shit, but he does actually talk some sense every once and awhile now.

But he is a dumb teenager. He tried to sneak off to see that strange park, Yellowstone, up in Northern Wyoming. I’d read about it a few times before. Enough to know he shouldn’t go there alone. So now here I am playing babysitter as usual. I really shouldn’t pretend I’m not enjoying myself. This place is so strange and fascinating. Wish I were smarter so I knew what was going on here.

Much as I like to tease him, I really do care about John. After losing Isaac and his mother. I know now more than ever I have to be there for the people I care about and love. I want to make them happy, and this little trip sure seems to have made the kid happy.

-»»»•«««-

John was awoken by the sound of several voices, for a moment he thought he was back in camp with Hosea, Bessie, Susan, and Dutch. But soon the fog of sleep left him, and he knew where he was.

Quickly poking his head out from the tent, he spotted Arthur talking to a couple men in military uniforms it looked like. John went wide-eyed, this didn’t seem like it could be a good thing, he’d always been weary of police officers or army men.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

Arthur looked over his shoulder. “Oh, John, you’re awake.”

One of the men glanced his way. “Just talking to your brother about what you two are doing up here.”

“Ain’t we allowed to be here?” John questioned.

“It’s not that.” The man said. “We found a camp nearby with a lot of dead animals. Poachers, most like. We’re trying to track them down.”

Arthur gave John a nod. “They thought we might be them at first.”

The second man spoke. “Don’t see how you two boys could have done that, so you’re fine. But if you do see anything suspicious, please find one of us, or find the army base up by mammoth springs and let us know.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged before the men got back up on their horses and left.

John saw Arthur let out a noticeable sigh of relief once they were finally gone.

“Army? Up here?” John asked.

Arthur shrugged. “Guess they’re the ones overseeing the park right now. Sounds like poaching became such a problem they had to be put in charge.”

John couldn’t help but let out a stress laugh. “I’ll be honest, that scared the shit out of me.”

“You and me both.”

Their sudden, stressful encounter behind them, the two of them had a quick breakfast and coffee, then packed camp once more. Setting out again for the day. There were a lot more hot springs, animals, and geysers along the way. After wandering further north, they eventually came across what could only be described as a large, boiling pit of mud, a similar foul smell to the hot springs from the previous day.

John stared in disbelief. “What . . .”

“You gotta stop asking me. I have no idea.” Arthur replied, blank look on his face.

After a long pause of simply staring at it, John spoke. “ . . . I wanna throw sticks in it.”

He saw Arthur turn his head and glare for a second before he raised his brow and thought about it. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugged.

They spent the next half hour throwing rocks and sticks in the boiling mud like a couple of little kids. Laughing as they watched them sink or float. The mud making extremely satisfying sounds as the objects hit. But, eventually they got bored and moved on.

Wandering westward, they came across a big, open field with a river cutting through it, the large Yellowstone lake to their south, it was another beautiful piece of land. But what really caught their eyes was the massive herd of bison doting the hills in the distance. There had to be several thousand of them.

“Damn.” He heard Arthur mutter.

John glanced over. “What is it?”

Arthur seemed to snap back to his senses. “Oh, uh. Well I just ain’t ever seen a herd of bison that big before. I heard there used to be groups that enormous all over the country. Now they’re nearly extinct.”

John frowned. “Guess it’s good they’re trying to prevent poaching here then, huh?”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Seems to be the only worthwhile thing I’ve ever seen the army do.” He paused. “Though I wouldn’t put it past the army to have been among the people hunting them to near extinction in the first place.”

They dared creep closer to the big animals, while still keeping a respectful distance. John was almost amused by how enthralled Arthur seemed to be. Leaned forward in his saddle, watching the big goofy animals as they rolled around on their backs, butted heads, and grazed. There appeared to be a few calves amongst the herd, their coats a bright, light tan color, compared to their parents of a deep brown.

As they sat there, John lit up a cigarette with the fresh pack of matches he’d brought from camp. He was bored of watching the bison, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to bug Arthur to leave, like he normally would have. It was almost like in that moment John knew more about his brother than he had before. The way he was so enthralled with nature and the wild.

Try as he might to hide it, Arthur did eventually pick up on John’s boredom, and he led them away to explore more, heading further north this time.

They spent a few days like this. Wandering all over the park, seeing the strange hot springs, geysers, a few more boiling pits of mud, all kinds of animals, and even at one point petrified trees. Yet another thing Arthur couldn’t explain to John.

Along the way they passed a carriage full of a few curious visitors. The only human contact other than the army they’d seen. Soon after seeing the carriage, they saw the army encampment the men had mentioned a few days prior.

But a ways beyond the encampment was one of the most incredible springs they’d seen yet. It was almost like a waterfall of stone. With the water trickling down countless beautiful yellow, orange, and white limestone steps. This was Mammoth Hot Springs.

It was one of the last places they visited before Arthur reluctantly told John it was time for them to leave and head back for camp.

John could have spent another week there, it was nice and peaceful. Other than a bit of teasing, and Arthur trying to keep John from getting himself killed, for once he felt he wasn’t constantly butting heads with his older brother. They were simply out there enjoying the strange and beautiful nature, awed by things they’d never seen or believed existed. He almost didn’t even notice how much his saddle bothered him the whole time, simply too amazed to think about it.

The return home seemed quicker, probably because Arthur knew the way now more than he did before. By the time they reached Sweetwater again, John was out of cigarettes. He considered going back into the saloon and seeing if he could nab a pack off the same drunken idiot as last time.

This thought process was interrupted by Arthur. “Hey, John. I ordered something at the leatherworker by the stable last time we was in town. I think it should be done by now.”

“Yeah?” John replied.

“You mind going in and getting it?”

John sighed. “Why I gotta do it?”

Arthur snorted. “Just go do it.”

After nearly three weeks of non-stop riding, John was at this point just too tired to fight. So he rolled his eyes and said “Fine.”

He grinned. “Thanks, kid. It’ll be under your name.”

John looked at him confused for a moment, but didn’t question it. He hitched Layla outside the stable while Arthur waited on Artemisia. The smell of leather and hide was the first thing that hit John when he walked inside. Which shouldn’t have been surprising.

An older man up front greeted him. “Hey there son, what can I do ya for?”

“My brother sent me in here to pick something up that he ordered a couple weeks back? It’s under my name apparently.”

The man nodded. “Alright, and your name?”

“Oh, uh. John Marston.”

“Oh, yes.” His face lit up. “Your brother spent some good money on this one, but I’m very proud of how it came out. Some of my better work.” He turned towards the back room. “I’ll be right out with it.”

John waited a couple minutes before the man returned holding a gorgeous new saddle, with intricate floral decals and shining brass star grommets. John stared in awe as it was set down on the counter. Almost annoyed that Arthur had gone and gotten himself a new saddle. But as he looked it over he quickly noticed one more detail. The initials “J.M” were monogramed into the leather.

The saddle was for him.

After thanking the shopkeep, he carried it outside, along with the matching bridle it came with. Arthur smiled widely when he saw him. “So, kid. What do you think?”

“It’s . . .” John did his best to contain his emotions. Trying to stay cool and collected. “It’s real nice, Arthur.”

But Arthur must have seen how hard he was trying to keep himself bottled up. “Happy Birthday, John. Was about time you got yourself a new saddle. Hey, and this way, you’ll never forget how to spell your name!”

John glared at Arthur through the mist in his eyes for half a second, before turning away and carefully setting the new saddle on the ground. Already going and taking his old, beaten down one off Layla. Once the new saddle was properly on her back, he traced his fingers over the initials. “Thank you, Arthur. I mean it.” He said. “For the saddle . . . and for going with me.”

As John turned around to look at him, he saw that rare, genuine warm smile. Something he hadn’t seen on Arthur in a long, long time. “It’s no problem, kid. I was happy to.”

John smiled back, before turning around. He took the old saddle into the leatherworker’s shop. Selling it for a measly twenty-five cents. Once back outside, he gleefully mounted up onto the new saddle. Far more comfortable, and much more fitting for the adult he was trying to be.

With the sun setting, they set out for camp once more. It had certainly been a couple of weeks John would never forget. They had plenty of stories to tell the gang when they got back. And he was looking forward to it.

Notes: I did try and do a lot of research for this, to hopefully portray realistically how the park might have been at the time. I haven't been to Yellowstone in nearly 10 years now. So a lot of this isn't entirely accurate, and I definitely took some artistic liberties.

I really enjoyed writing this, but it turned out far longer than I expected, so I hope it flows well enough.

Also, I'm not condoning throwing stuff into geysers and hot springs. That is actually a super bad idea, so many geysers are now inactive because people did that in the past. They are really delicate actually. There were no boardwalks or park rangers or much of anything in the park at the time this takes place, so the boys were able to get away with a lot of dangerous things that probably should have killed them! Anyway, that's it for my PSA

Thank you for reading!

44 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely

@veriloquently

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text. “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure. “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?” “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently. “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?” “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” “Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass. “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke. “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

#my writing #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #hope ya'll like this #hope i made him enough of a fuckboy #and that it makes sense and everything #i wrote the first half real quick like last month #and then took a break from it to write curtains 5 #and then found it kinda hard to get back into it #but i think im happy with it #anyway #gonna be more benny content coming soon #im so very deep in my feels because of all this 6u content

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pagingevilspawn · 3 years

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Loving You Is A Losing Game- chapter seven

i actually hate this, so ew. but i’ve forgotten that i write, so i’ll try to type some stuff up tomorrow! regardless, i hope everyone enjoys! click here to read on ao3.

TW// domestic abuse

~*~

"small town boy in a big arcade. i got addicted to a losing game."

~*~

alexandra: you do realize how crazy that sounds right?

joseph: it's not crazy at all if you ask me.

alexandra: jo, asking for lollipops for your christmas present sounds very crazy to me.

and christmas isn't for like, a while.

joseph: dude, christmas is in two weeks and one day

and plus, i'm settling on lollipops. what i really want is a pony, a shiny, pretty one with rainbow hair, you know those? that's my dream right there

alexandra: oh crap really?

yeah yeah, ha ha. laughing so much right now.

joseph: hate to break it to you, but it's the 10th alex.

and i know, what a shame i wont be able to have my pony. it was at the top of my list this year

next to an ice cream sundae the size of manhattan, obviously.

alexandra: very funny. can't you tell how much i'm laughing.

crap, got to go, robbins is letting me in on an esophageal atresia on a newborn. i'm her favorite you know.

joseph: ugh, lucky.

make sure to kick ass and not kill anyone. that would suck.

actually... your big head could use some ego deflating. make sure robbins has to save you halfway through. maybe then you'll earn some humility.

alexandra: wow, you're such great help. so nice too.

joseph: you know it ;)

she turns off her phone, a small smile on her face as she looks out the window, passing by houses that all looked exactly alike; white exteriors with a bright green lawn. the only thing that could help someone tell them apart was the door colors. her and paul had just come back from a dinner with some of his coworkers, but he wasn't talking to her so she decided to text alex. the silence in the car was tense, though she was unable to grasp the reason why.

they'd been texting non-stop since the conference three weeks ago, talking about each other's days, complaining about annoying coworkers and classmates. they really enjoyed having a friend they could just talk to because they felt like it. it was refreshing. they'd never had anyone like that before. in the past they had friends that they felt comfortable around, but it was different when you had someone who understood you so well. not to mention, being able to make self deprecating jokes about their crappy childhoods and receive a laugh in response was so much nicer than the pity stares they were both so used to getting,

she snaps back to reality at the sound of the engine turning off, cutting the music as the expensive car door opens. she sees paul angrily walk out of the car, slamming the door behind him, not stopping by her side of the car to open the door for her like he normally did. (she was actually thankful for that. she was a grown women, she could open a damn door herself)

weird, she thinks, but decides not to question it. her husband had been a bit more moody and temperamental lately, so she supposed it was just that. but the dinner seemed to go really good in her opinion. she got along with his colleagues and paul certainly enjoyed himself, getting to be around all his coworkers and interact freely. she liked to think that his colleagues liked her as well. they complimented her all evening and included her in all of their conversations. though, she did wish that they would've referred to her by her name more, rather than 'mrs. stalder' or 'paul's wife.'

she gets out of the passenger side and shuts the door behind her, walking up to the steps after she hears that paul had locked the car. she places the small clutch she had on the entry table and walks to the kitchen, seeing paul sitting at the kitchen island, nothing in front of him except tea that he had heated up in the minute or so he'e been in there. she kisses his cheek and starts talking, knowing that it would probably help calm whatever he was feeling.

she gives him a smile, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. "it seemed like the dinner went really well, all of your coworkers are super nice and-"

"you talked to steven too much." he cuts her off, sending an icy glare her way, and look she had never seen on him before shining darkly in his eyes.

she cocks her head to the side, "huh?"

he stands up from his place abruptly, making her jump back slightly. "i said," he spits out, eyes narrowing as he stares her down "you talked to steven too much."

she lets out a loud laugh, thinking that he was just joking around and messing with her. at any second he was going to join her giggling, ignoring the way his eyes had only seemed to darken the second the sounds had escaped her mouth."oh, that's funny." she says in between laughs, eyes shining with childish glee. "jesus you really scared m-"

pain.

her words get cut off by a fist coming directly into contact with her face. she feels the stinging sensation burn from her eye to her cheek, her brown eyes watering with tears as she realizes what had just happened. she lifts a palm up to touch it protectively, almost making it seem like it was more real if she touched it.

oh god, it hurt. it hurt like hell. his gold wedding band adding to the impact was sure to leave a scar by the corner of her eye. she'd been punched before, multiple times actually by foster parents and girls while she was in high school, but this hurt so much more. it was so much harder than she'd ever been hit before.

her husband just hit her.

"oh brooke, baby." paul says, taking her into his arms and brushing her hair back immediately, trying to get her to relax into his embrace. "i just got so mad. you just made me so mad brooke. you can't make me mad like that" he tells her, eyes dripping with some kind of emotion she can't place as he places light kisses on top of her sea of brown curls, ignoring the way the way she stood stiffly in his arms, a few lone tears making it's way down her cheeks.

"i love you. you know that brooke" he whispers, wiping the tears from her face, his hands feeling usually rough against her skin, his touch not easing over the bruise that hard already begun to form.

she nods. it was okay. he loved her. he didn't mean it. he just got angry. it was okay. it was fine. he loved her, it was okay.

she thought she probably deserved it. after all she'd cheated on her husband just three weeks before, and had continued to keep in contact with the man she had cheated with. it was only karma.

"i'm sorry paul." she apologizes sincerely as he cups her face in his hands, giving her a sweet smile. it wasn't his fault. it was hers.

"it just better not happen again." he states, eyes burning into hers intently, his grip on her face tightening without her even realizing it. all she really felt was numb, as if all of her senses had seemingly shut down to avoid dealing with the pain that was spreading throughout the side of her face.

she nods her head up and down as she pulls her back into him. "i'm sorry" she whispers into his chest.

he smiled.

and that's when he knew he had her.

____

alex finished scrubbing out of a surgery, shaking off the excess water on his hands, grinning internally. it was always so much better when he was able to help save a kid. the success was just that much more fulfilling. he's about to push the door open when it swings in itself, making him come face to face with cristina, the expression she was wearing was more worried looking than he'd seen in a long time. he'd known yang for a while know, and he knew whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be bad. cristina yang was never worried.

"what do you want yang?" he asks, noting how she had her hands crossed over her chest and was avoiding his gaze.

"there's a merger happening." she says, looking up to meet his eyes to let him know that she was serious.

his narrows his eyes, scrunching up his nose. "what?" he questions. a merger? as in, combing two hospitals into one?

"you just missed the announcement. apparently we're merging with mercy west." the raven head repeats, a slight trace of fear in her voice, a very unusual thing for cristina yang.

he lets out a deep breath, tugging his scrub cap off and running a hand through his hair as he leans over the scrub sink, gripping it so tightly his knuckles begin to turn white. "i can't loose this job yang." he says to her softly, making her nod in agreement.

"you and me both." with that she walks out of the room, alex not far behind her, both of the surgeons heading up to the resident's lounge to change, which was filled to the brim with chatter, all of the doctors talking about the newest topic, the merger.

meredith sits down next to him, slipping a long sleeved purple shirt over her head when she casts a glance to alex, who was sitting still looking down at his phone's empty screen, seemingly deep in thought, almost as if he was waiting for something to magically appear on it.

the blonde nudges him, snapping him out of his trance. alex sighs, resting his elbows on his knees as he buries his head in his hands. "what am i gonna do about iz?" he asks her, judging by her face that she was drawing a blank, much like him.

jesus, this was great. these past few weeks he had hardy been able to look his wife in the eye, because every time he saw her he was reminded that he slept with someone else. not to mention, he was just texting that certain someone just a few hours ago. he was really screwed. izzie had currently been home on bedrest, not being allowed to return to work until two weeks from now, which apparently would also be when the mercy westers would turn up. fucking great. he felt as if the universe was rallying against him at this point, no matter how much he knew that wasn't possible. he dug his own grave, it was just a matter of time before he would need to lay in it.

"she'll be okay." meredith reassures him, but he can tell by the look on her face that she was unsure as well. who knew would end up getting cut? they would need to pull their heads out of their asses and prove that they deserved to stay. none of them could lose their spot. not only because of their job, but also because of the people there. they were a family. they couldn't lose any more of their family. they'd just lost george, and they couldn't lose another.

"evil spawn, put on a shirt!" cristina yells, balling up a shirt from his locker and throwing it at him, hitting him square in the chest as he glares at her. he pulls on the shirt silently and heads out, not bothering to say goodbye to anybody as he leaves the lounge and heads straight to joe's across the street.

he slides onto a barstool, ordering a beer and thanking the bartender with a slight nod of his head. how was he supposed to tell izzie about the merger? he knew that if his wife knew, she would want to return to work immediately, but he knew she couldn't do that. she was still getting her strength back, and standing around on her feet all day surely would delay the healing process. he couldn't risk her getting hurt because he wasn't able to stop her.

he'd done enough recently, even if izzie didn't know about most of it. the last thing he needed was to cause his wife more harm than he already had.

he was going to tell her, he knew that, just not right now. right now he was going to sit on this uncomfortable wooden bar stool and drink his beer and forget he had any problems. he was going to forget about the merger, he was going to forget about him and izzie going at it twenty-four seven, and he was definitely going to forget about the brunette with a fake name who seemed to be on his mind all the time.

he was just going to forget everything, his only focus being his beer and the football game on the small television above the bar. yeah, that sounded like a good idea. a really good idea.

____

okay, so he forgot about two out of those three things.

he was actually doing pretty good for a while, almost a full hour with nearly a beer and a half finished. all he had been focused on was the seahawks playing against the steelers, with the steelers crushing the seattle team thirty-four to seven. not much of a surprise though, he couldn't remember the last time he'd witnessed the seahawks win. it wasn't that they were a completely crap team, it was simply the fact that one; the steelers were much better this year, and two; he hardly ever got enough time to sit down and watch a game. being a resident drained the life out of him, especially since he had finally knew that he wanted to specialize in peds. when he wasn't at the hospital he was reading up new medical procedures in magazines, or occasionally sneaking over to meredith's to watch old ellis grey tapes.

he was doing really... until he got a text message from jo.

joseph: how was your surgery?

alexandra: wow, you must be bored.

joseph: ...

what makes you say that?

alexandra: really?

joseph: i'm in med school, thank you very much. i have a severe interest in your surgeries.

alexandra: mhm, sure.

joseph: fine, i'm bored. entertain me. please.

alexandra: that sounds vaguely dirty.

joseph: oh great. how drunk are you?

alexandra: what makes you say that?

haha, two can play that game.

joseph: i'm guessing two beers in?

alexandra: shut up, only one and a half.

joseph: mhm, wasn't too far off

but seriously. i'm bored and am in need of anything remotely interesting. you just scrubbed in on a super cool surgery, i want details

alexandra: fine, baby maria duboir, two weeks old, robbins let me lead the procedure about half way through, coded once, we then shocked her at 150, and now she is stable and in the NICU.

happy?

joseph: yes. very much so

although i do think your OR stories need work

you sound like you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about

alexandra

wow. you're a real delight you know that?

joseph: oh, believe me, i know. don't even get me started on how many times people have complimented how freaking amazing i am

it's quite a common occurrence.

if i had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, i'd be living on my own private island

alexandra: i bet you would.

seriously though, tell me something. i've got nothing better to do than watch the seahawks get crushed.

joseph: i'm guessing that's sports talk, so i'm just gonna ignore that, since it hate any sport where men look like giant block of cheese, run around a court, or just run in general.

but today's been boring. went to a dinner tonight. fancy stuck-up rich people who laugh with posh accents and sip their champagne way too slowly

fucking turtles.

alexandra: sounds fun.

joseph: you suck. i can literally hear the sarcasm through the phone asshole

alexandra: that's the point. i'll take a sick kid over fancy dinner any day.

crap, that sounded really horrible didn't it?

joseph: it really did

"i'll take a sick kid over a fancy dinner any day" real charming if you ask me. night in shining amour.

alexandra

yeah yeah you know what i mean.

____

they're not sure how long they end up talking for, alex siting at joe's bar and jo lounging on the couch in her living room while her husband was in his study going over and grading tests for one of his classes. before either one of them even know it, it gets to be twelve thirty boston time and nine thirty in seattle. alex's texts had gotten much harder to read, which made sense, considering he was now on his third beer.

jo teased him about it though, finding it more enjoyable than she would've guessed to text a drunk alex than a sober one. he seemed to get increasingly flirtier the tipsier he got. not to mention, all the spelling mistakes he made was definitely one for the books. she had a feeling that it was getting a but harder for him to see which letters where which, considering a few b's were located where there should be d's, and 'm' where they should be an 'n'

alex knows for a fact he's earning many stares from fellow people at the bar because of how much he's laughing (loudly too), but he doesn't really care. if he's gonna laugh, he's gonna laugh. all he could really focus on was the fluorescent lights hanging from the bar's wood ceiling and the frankly hilarious texts coming through his phone. (okay, so they weren't that funny, but everything is always a lot more funny when you're drunk)

jo was thoroughly enjoying herself, laughing more and more as she sank into the couch, completely forgetting about the bruise on her left cheek as she typed away, grinning from ear to ear when the man on the other side responded, words misspelt and random numbers and semicolons popping up from time to time.

they knew that what they had done was wrong. they knew that what they were doing was wrong. but they couldn't stop.

if only they had stopped sooner.

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revchainsaw · 3 years

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Bumblebee (2018)

Good Evening worshippers, and welcome! Today the Cult of Cult goes a little more mainstream than usual. It's been a while since i've tackled a big Hollywood superhero film. But I do believe that these sorts of films will be remembered fondly my small groups of people in the future, especially the smaller films that are being overshadowed by the big bad MCU, films like 2018s Bumblebee.

The Messsage

Bumblebee was originally released as a prequel to the Transformers franchise that had started all the way back in 2007. However, reboots had really hit the market as a way to breath new life into struggling franchises, and the Transformers series had already gone to just about every absurd extreme you could imagine. No changes were made to the movie as it was released, but with it's more childish and heartfelt tone, and a new aesthetic that was softer, smoother, and all around just generally more pleasing to the eye, I think it was a wise choice to rebrand Bumblebee as a new beginning.

Our story is of two friends from two very different worlds and how they came together. Our first character is Bumblebee, then known as B- number sign/it doesn't really matter. Not yet Bumblebee is a soldier set with securing a safe location for the Autobots to regroup and make their home as they suffer a pretty serious defeat on cybertron at the hands of the tyrannical Decepticons. Optimus Prime, here again voiced by Peter Cullen and looking so much more like himself, assigns this task to Bumblebee promising him that they will meet him there when the time comes. Then Optimus fucks off for the rest of the run time making way for our little hero.

Bumblebee lands on Earth and is immediately set upon by John Cena and his military goon squad. It probably would have been wise for Bumblebee to avoid John Cena but in his defense, he couldn't see him. Hardy har har. In his attempt to flee his voice box is damaged, he seeks sanctuary by taking the form of a run down little VW bug, and suffers from amnesia.

Then we have Charlie. Charlie is not like other girls. She likes cars, all the retro music, which wasn't retro when the movie takes place, so I'm supposed to just think she's a rocker but it kinda seems like she'll listen to just about anything. I think in 2018 liking Motorhead and The Smiths (who are used ad nauseum in this movie) is perfectly common, but I feel like in the 80s that was a much different and much older attitude to take.

Anyway Charlie's poor family lives in a super fucking nice house and are poor because the dialogue keeps insisting they are so it must be true despite all the shit they have that actually poor people would sell blood and teeth to attain, but hell, this is Hollywood and Hollywood poor is like regular people upper middle class. Charlies family is so poor that instead of giving her a one time graduation/birthday present to buy a part for a car she already has, they just give her a moped, She also spends all her time at a pull apart where the manager (who might be her uncle that wasn't super clear) is willing to just give her a Volkswagen so I don't understand why she didn't already have the project car up and running. Whatever, it's a plot contrivance. All you need to know is that Charlie is tenacious and hard around the edges cuz her dad is dead and she's not yet mature enough to process that in a healthy way. Maybe her character arch will teach her to let others in, we'll have to find out.

There's also a wacky nerd named Memo, and some bad guys, and John Cena. They are all also pretty archetypal and contrived and don't really do anything of note that isn't just filling a beat that this kind of movie needs to walk. Charlie starts Bumblebee up, discovers he's a robot and the two begin to bond. Charlie learns to make a friend, and bumblebee is learning about himself. They get into hijinks and get revenge on a bully girl who makes Regina George look like a saint, she pretty much only picks on Charlie exclusively for having a dead dad.

The moment Bumblebee is woken back up, some technology goof em up that both he and Charlie are unaware of brings two Decepticon baddies into the picture. I don't remember their names, but since I love The Venture Brothers let's say they can be "Jet Boy and Jet Girl". Jet Boy and Jet Girl are sometimes cars, sometimes various flying military vehicles, and they make friends with the deep state and plan to get all the adrenochrome from all the orphans, or just to go find Bumblebee and beat his ass good cuz their bad guys. Let me tell y'all though, Jet Boy and Jet Girl are so bad that they don't even care that the government is listening when they reveal that they are planning on bringing a Decepticon Invasion and after they rough up Bumblebee real good they are going to destroy all life on this planet. So they start by killing a military scientist.

John Cena is after Bumblebee and he's homies with Jet Boy and Jet Girl until the military scientist butt dials him and he hears the evil plan. John Cena goes from heel to face and helps Bumblebee and Charlie save the day. It's a giant CG clusterfuck climax a la any superhero film in the last 10 years and I basically stopped watching. BumbleBee pulls a Hellraiser on Jet Boy, and then he hits Jet Girl with a freaking boat. Charlie uses her diving skills do dive down and save him, but he's a Giant Robot and he was okay and it was literally pointless for her to to except as a way to show that her character has completed her arch by doing the thing that was representative of her connection with her lost father.

Bumblebee turns into the Camaro from the first movie, meets up with Optimus prime, and the stage is set for this prequel to squeeze more prequels out. So it wasn't very creative, but was it bad? Let's find out.

Please Stand to receive the Benediction.

Best Aspect: Transform the Franchise

Bumblebee was directed by Travis Knight of Laika fame and it shows. This movie marks a stylistic change in the transformers franchise, as in it doesn't look like utter dog shit, but it also represents in many ways a tonal shift. It does hold on to a lot of gross sleaze that has unfortunately been forcibly jammed into the DNA of the franchise but it also attempts to be a more heartfelt entry. The characters of Bumblebee might all be sort of a waste of time, but at least they are doing something with emotions, even if the emotions of the characters are only explored as deeply as a children's cartoon I'm glad they are there. In the previous installments the only thing the characters did between running from action piece to seizure inducing action piece was drool over underage girls like a bunch of chimpanzees at the facility where they test experimental E.D. meds. It was nice to see that at least somewhat tampered. This transformers movie feels more like it's for kids and young teenagers, and strangely that more friendly tone makes for a much less juvenile product.

Worst Aspect: Remember I Love the 80s from the 2000s

I hope you really like Stranger Things. I do, but because Stranger Things was so successful it' s going to be everywhere. Not true Stranger Things just 80s nostalgia porn. This 80s nostalgia is going to be forced on you whether you like it or not, and it's not going to be fun. It's gonna be in your shows, in your music, in your Sunday like Bacon in 2010. It's that or Marvel Franchise Brand Whedonisms. Bumblebee is that brave movie that says, "Why not both?" It would seem fitting that a property as quintessentially 80s as Transformers should feel completely comfortable doing a period piece set in the 80's but it's so fucking half hearted it's depressing. It wasn't done to appreciate the roots of the IP, it was done to cash in on a trend and it feels it. All they did was throw up a date and insufferably force an 80s soundtrack down your throat as if that was enough to convince you that this movie needed to be set during this time. Other than that you could have told me this film was set in 2007 and I couldn't tell you any different.

Best Character: Charlie's an Angel

I liked Charlie. Sure her Arc is predictable, her taste is dumb, and she isn't exactly a master of her own destiny to any degree. But at least she is a woman in a transformers movie who's got something going on. Sure she's defined entirely by grief, but that sure is better than pretending that being able to work on cars is a feminist character trait instead of a weird fetish thing. They certainly do that thing with Charlie, but at least it's not the only thing they throw at the wall. Bumblebee is by no means out of the woods in this department, but it garners a lot of goodwill for trying. Like a racist uncle who just started his journey out of ignorance, but hasn't yet realized he has to stop asking mortifying questions to the barista at Starbucks. Okay, maybe that's an extreme metaphor. I'm saying that perhaps Charlie is not a great character but she's a great character for a Transfomers movie.

Worst Character: It's JOOOOHHHNNNN CEEEENA!!!!

Why is John Cena in this movie? I don't hate the guy, but his character seems pointless. You could remove him from the movie completely and replace him with any one of the random military goons at any point and it changes nothing. What was with that dumb salute at the end? It seems like they put him in this movie in post and it was just to pump up cast list. I wish he was given anything to work with. I can't remember his characters name, and it's not like John Cena did a bad job, I was just annoyed every time they kept giving him hero shots. I felt like I was watching a trailer for a different movie.

Best Actor: Optimal Primo!

Every time Peter Cullen speaks I want to listen. There's a reason they haven't had Chris Pratt or somebody with a bigger name come in and take over the role at this point. He's why the audience keep coming back. Peter Cullen IS Optimus Prime, and there's no changing that. He also wins twice. He's the best actor in the movie AND he's barely in the movie. Good call Peter.

Worst Actor: Mean Girls 2, Meaner and Girlier

I don't want to be cruel so I'm not going to go into to much detail, but there's an actress in this film who's performance is so mustache twirlingly evil and stupid that it ruined my suspension of disbelief when i knew going in that i was about to endure a 2 hour toy commercial about robots that turn into cars. Beldar Conehead was a more convincing human being than Tina.

Best Effect: Goo Be Gone

I really appreciated when the bad guys shot the government nerd into a blast of snot. That was pretty fun for me. Best part of the movie hands down.

Worst Effect: Live Action?

Bumblebee is a cartoon. It's a great looking cartoon but it doesn't sell itself that way. If we were doing a Roger Rabbit thing I'd have no gripes. However, I think CG is just getting worse. I'm criticizing this and it's still lightyears better than the previous entry's on the franchise. No transformation or fight sequence in Bumble Bee had me straining to make sense of what I was looking at. I think it was a great idea to start using some basic shapes and outlines to these characters, and return somewhat to their 80s designs. But at certain points, especially when there were no humans in the shot, i was pretty convinced I was watching Clone Wars. There may not be anyway around this, as the Transformers concept might not be able to be pulled off in any more effective manner. It's a minor gripe, but I just didn't think it looked like anything other than a very expensive cartoon, and in this franchise that's a compliment, because it least it looked like SOMETHING!

Best Scene: Space Opera

I am not a Transformers fan. I missed the boat on the cartoon as a kid. I would sometimes catch it at friends houses but I was more into Batman, Star Wars, and Ninja Turtles. By the time I came onto the scene the world had moved on to Beast Wars. I did one day arbitrarily decide that my favorite Transformer was Sound Wave. He looked great in this. I am a big fan of the return to form with a lot of the character designs in this. They really did keep the things that worked from the other adaptations, and they are steadily removing the things that didn't. For this reason, the scenes on Cybertron, particularly the battle with Soundwave (i prefer for personal reasons) looked great and were exciting to watch. I remember thinking Cybertron used to look like a Marilyn Manson shot a music video from inside to dumpster. This is so much better.

Worst Scene: Blocking the Box

There's a scene in Bumblebee where Charlie's family decides the best way to save their daughter was to cause a pile up of vehicles in an intersection, and it's pure contrived writing that saved any character in that sequence from being killed in a horrific traffic accident. It was stupid, played for laughs, and it wasn't exciting as much as it was anxiety inducing. I also thought that there was no reason the covert military group covering up extraterrestrial life wouldn't just disappear this family of fucking morons in their little piece of shit car. The logic of the scene was just so childish like, "No they won't hit me, I'm a good person."

Summary

Bumblebee may be remembered fondly in a decade. I think especially if the Transformers franchise were to end here. It didn't get the publicity of the other films, and that really is a shame. For my money, this was the best Transformers movie so far. I was very tempted to give Bumblebee a C, it does just enough to right what was wrong from the other movies to make me appreciate all that work. This movie has heart, and if you are at all into Transformers then l think you should see it. It's still pretty stupid, and pretty basic. It's not offering anything new to the genre, and it feels like a commercial for more movies. I really wish we could just get movies that want to tell a story. I thought it over and decided that it wasn't fair not to grade Bumblebee on it's own merits. Bumblebee is substantially better than the films that preceded it, but that's not saying a lot, when the films that preceded it are joyless exercises in self abuse.

Overall Grade: D

#Transformers #Bumblebee #Optimus Prime #Action #Adventure #Car #Super Hero #Robot #Scifi #Grade D #D #Grade: D #2018 #2010s #(D)

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x06)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 06: Mrs Silvertongue

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: one of those tropes. one of those hnnghh tropes

Word Count: I was supposed to post this four hours ago but my colleague called me to play and that dumb dork was drunk while I was laughing throughout. So, here it is. Also...I’m hot. No, I am actually hot. The temperatures are going up! I need some cool breeze.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Everybody stay together. Do not make eye contact with strangers. Do not buy stuff you don't know about and definitely do not leave your eatables unattended."

The camera switched from Loki's barely composed face to your stuffed one strapping the backpack securely behind you before looking at Loki and the sandwich sitting on the seat between the two of you.

"Wha," you stated, still not swallowing, "iss wight hea. Sop bein a wowwie wat."

The camera in Javi's hand caught the bustle on the 'station' where you all were supposed to board shuttles to be on your way to another galaxy before travelling to Knowhere. The area was thousands of square feet wide made in a dome shape outside a planet currently under the supervision of the soldiers form Andromeda. After the War, the security had been tightened around galaxy travel to monitor any remains of the Radicals who had supported Thanos and were currently the most wanted criminals in the universe. Screens everywhere showed the flights and timings along with various commercials for products all around the galaxy. Some you were able to read thank to the translation glasses the Hardy boys provided you, others were a jumbled mess of strokes and illegible patterns. Creatures from all around the wonderful black expanse moved about in this station while soldiers who looked like they had been overly tanned scanned them and their belongings before sending them on their designated shuttles. It all worked as an airport. Except for one thing.

"Well, at least there's no random selection here that is not based on some 'racist profiling'," you quoted, getting a nod of agreement from Javi.

"Oh, there is racist profiling here," Loki interrupted your blissful thoughts, "but ever since the war, it has just been bent towards the ones who helped Thanos."

"Huh, even space isn't free from such mindsets then."

An announcement on the screens caught Loki's attention. "That's our shuttle. Come on. Lulu, up."

Lulu jumped and settled on Loki's shoulder and the camera caught a full grin on your lips.

You: *smirk* And he was the one who didn't want me to take Lulu from the desert *tilt your head* you know what... he is exactly like a choco lava cake. Sturdy looking outside but soft, mushy and melting aaaaall on the inside *giggles*

Loki: she was talking about me, wasn't she? *narrows eyes at the camera* What was she saying? Javi, tell me. Javi, we're good friends. Come on, Javi. You're stuck with me. Javi. Javi. Hey. I'm the only one who can get you out of this hell hole. Javi. *looks at Javi's figure walking away* Javi. Javi! Come on! Javi!!

The creature scanning your line seemed to come out of some American writer's stereotypical description of a green alien except for the part where her huge beady black eyes had slits, just like a cat. She was stoic as a feline too, going about her job without any emotion on her face. And when it came your turn to stand underneath the scanner, her ignorance of your greetings did not help your nerves.

"You are a...terran," she stated more than she asked.

"Yes, ma'am." You blinked like a dumb animal and tried to remember to smile.

"Your business in the galaxy?" Her slow and positively raspy voice interrogated.

"Just travelling with my-" you blinked again while trying to innocently shrug with a hint of shy, looking like a questionable human-"boys. You know, sight seeing."

Those silver slits stared at you for solid five seconds, not even breathing apparently, before stamping a token and handing it to you and diverting her attention to the next passenger- Loki.

You and your bags moved to the other side of the scanner, waiting for Loki and Lulu while Javier made it next to you from the scanner next to yours. The creature looked at the information the scan brought on her screen in a language neither you nor the camera understood. But one thing that was catching the camera's focus was this text blinking in red next to Loki's picture.

"You are Loki," she stated to the God, scrutinising him from head to toe in those black scruffed jeans and t-shirt underneath a deep maroon long jacket.

"Hm," you forced out a light chuckle, "guess Tony and Clint are not the only ones who are weirded out by seeing him in anything other than his New York attire."

"Of Asgard," Loki added with an 'at your pleasure’ smirk.

"A Frost Giant," the lady acknowledged in her raspy voice. "Have you travelled to the Andromeda before?"

"I have, yes. But not in the recent years."

"State your purpose for the visit to the galaxy."

"I am-" he paused to throw a quick look in your direction before going back to his interrogator- "going there on some unfinished business with an old friend."

The lady, stoic like a rock, looked at Loki for the next ten seconds before pressing a button underneath her screen. Somewhere behind you, you and the camera could hear synchronised footsteps. The camera turned to catch seven aliens- five bulky, one bulkier than all the others, and the last one a leaner and less appeasing version of the lady- walk past you towards Loki.

Lulu, who could feel the change in the atmosphere around him, felt himself shifting on Loki's shoulders while his fur stood up like a frightened cat. But never once did that little fluffy boy leave Loki's side.

"Loki, of Asgard," the leaner one announced, "you are to come with us. Please carry your belongings with you. Please refrain from using any means to resist for you will be charged against the law of the peace fleet. Please put your hands forward so we may put diluters on your wri-I see you already have some version of them on your wrist. Very well. Please follow me."

The camera caught you, mouth gaping open and eyes out in refrained horror, looking at Loki while trying to keep your breaths as calm as possible.

"Oh fuck," your breaths forced out, "what the fuck is happening? Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-"

Loki was already moving behind the lean one, the parade of bulky Captain Gantu’s following him with their synchronised boot work. One of them looked down at the camera, sending a glare of yellow through those hollow eyes before turning back, entering what seemed like an elevator. Loki stood right in the middle, his eyes shifting from the lean alien to you for a few seconds before white doors closed and he disappeared from your view.

The camera now came back to your face, which was still staring in that direction, the colour from your skin a little faded, the pupils contracted to their limit, the breaths paused since God knows when. "Oh fuck we're gonna die."

There was a rhythmic pulse beating four times a second while the camera kept shifting- and vibrating a little- between two windows. Out of one window one could see those bulky dudes in attention standing at one door each, not shifting even a muscle while other aliens went about their business. The other window showed the lean guy standing with another alien that was bulkier in the middle. The lean one turned to the window at the rigorous tapping coming from the window.

"Calm down, Lulu," a soothing but tired voice came from out of the frame, making the little one turn towards Loki's figure sitting in what looked like a white chair beside an oval-shaped white table floating in the air, "they're not going to let us out. Not yet at least."

Lulu, who had paused to listen to the God suddenly found himself whimpering till its outright wails were catching everyone's attention outside the room.

"No, n-Lulu stop crying, Lu-" Loki got up from the chair and came to stand beside Lulu in two strides, picking the furry lump in both his hands while keeping his head away from those deafening wails. Slowly but surely, Loki brought the hysterical little lump to his chest, mostly to suppress the noise and wave uncomfortably at the judgmental eyes in his direction. At one point the fly camera-that had sneaked in with events yet unknown- caught an expression on Loki's face that reflected nothing but murder in his eyes. But the very next moment he sighed and brought his hands to stroke the frightened ball of fluff. "Hey, hey, hey," he shushed him, his hands being gentle and his expressions turning soft, "it's okay. It's completely fine. You're fine," he hummed, almost singing it while bouncing the little sobbing and hiccuping floof in his arms, "I'm in here too, aren't I? Right? You are not alone. You are not alone. We'll get out of here together as soon as we know who is behind all this mess, okay?"

The little furball sniffed and wiped his snot off on Loki's shirt. "You didn't have to do that," Loki pointed out with no real purpose to the already made mess. But Lulu was quiet now, possibly looking up at Loki and chirping something only the God understood and chuckled. "Yes-" he stroked Lulu's head- "she'll be fine without us. Once she stops panicking. Yes, yes, you're with me."

Lulu, chirped again, protruding his paw to carefully touch Loki's cheek and chirp some more. Whatever the little one had said, brought the God to a standstill, that tiny smile on his face frozen while his eyes seemed to have travelled somewhere far. "I wish that was true a few years in the past. How different some things would have been."

Lulu tilted his head in confusion while Loki seemed to be visiting certain memories that the camera on Lulu and others around them was not aware of. And all emotion in both these loveable creatures seemed to have been broken by a recognisable voice- so low and seemingly far away- somewhere in their vicinity. Lulu was the first to turn towards the window to the view of the lean guy, jumping at the sight.

And then Loki saw you standing right next to the alien who had arrested him, all colour from his face draining as he watched you flail your hands in some untethered rage right into the expressionless alien standing in front of you out of courtesy.

"Oh...oh no." Loki's face was completely opposite to whatever it is you were going through. Lulu was shifting his gaze between him and you, bouncing in Loki's arms with unadulterated joy. Javier was standing between the two of you with his camera- filming even in the midst of all the chaos.

Before he could compose himself, you were already walking towards him, the alien opening the door for you, letting you inside the room and closing it.

"Hey," your delighted and relieved face greeted Loki, "you guys okay?"

Lulu squirmed and chirped with joy, jumping straight into your arms to bonk his head with your face and rub himself all over you. Loki, on the other hand, stood there like he was seeing a ghost. "What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Oh neither did you, Loki," you were quick to point out.

Loki: *inhales* *put his palms together and brings them close to his face* *bends his hands towards the camera* Woman!

"You don't know what I or have not done so don't act like you know what you're doing, kitten," Loki pointed out rather harshly, forcing an offended gasp out of you, "you were supposed to be out there."

Your delight slowly seemed to be turning to an ember of rage. "Oh, I am sorry that tried to use my working brain to help you out in any way I can, your highness! If you wanted to spend more time in this weird jail you should have let me know when these big butts carried you off!"

"This does not concern you so stop," Loki did not let you finish. "Undo whatever it is you did. This is far more dangerous than you can stomach so off you go."

You scoffed and mocked him. "This is fir mir dingiris- well bad news it can't be undone because they think I'm your ride or die."

Loki was basically slapping himself on his face when trying to rub off the tension- along with his skin. "Wh-ha-hyy would they think that?! WHY?"

A whistle blew from behind the camera and Loki instantly caught it; along with catching your arms going across your chest while you tried to look anywhere but in the God's direction.

"Y/N," that soft but threatening growl was enough to crumble all the restraint you came undone faster than a horny teenage boy. "It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

The camera timed the perfect zoom on that face that lost a couple of hundred years as it heard that sentence.

On Earth

"It's no big deal I just told them I'm your wife."

A shrill 'Oh my Gaaaahd' left Scott's lungs while the soda bottle in his hand crushed and burst everywhere. A shriller wail left Peter as he threw his hands at his face in the utter disbelief and fell on the ground. A cushion blew up in the tight grasp of Bucky's hands, making feathers fly everywhere, and Sam stood up with one fist on his mouth and the other pointing at the screen, howling like a mad fan. Pepper watched with insane delight in her eyes while slapping the thighs next to hers that belonged to her husband who sat there looking at the screen with narrowed eyes as if he had seen something wrong- like a glitch maybe. Natasha was the only one maintaining her composure while sipping on her margarita and looking at the camera form under her lashes.

Scott & Peter: *do a whole routine with their hands in unison* I sayyyy Y/N and Loki sittin' in a tree!!! Fake M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E!!!!!

Tony: *confused* Wife?

Vision: I don't get why Scott and Peter are so excited. *looks to his right* Why are they...

*camera pans out to show Wanda barely containing her excitement in her pressed lips*

Wanda: beeeecause they might have a ship, Vis. *looks at the camera and smile a wide toothy smile*

Vision: *tilts his head* but there's no way they could ride a ship in this facility Wanda

Tony: *still confused but in a different position* Wife??

Steve: *blinks* I guess....that's a good...strategy? *frowns* I mean...sure. *hears a sniff from outside the frame*

*camera pans out to show stone-faced Bucky sitting next to him*

Bucky: *barely hides his breaking voice* Goo-*clears his throat*-good infiltration strategy.

Steve: *stares worriedly at him* You okay buddy?

Bucky: *crumbles* no~

Tony: *lying flat on the sofa, face down* *raises his head* His wife??!!!

Sam: *hollering* wife wife baby!! *turns to his side and nudges the person sitting next to him* come on get in on the fun!

Clint: *nearly saves his coffee pot from spilling all over him with Sam's nudge*

Sam: *keeps nudging and dancing in his seat* somebody's having some space fun!

Clint: *moves the pot into his other hand to drink it with hollow eyes looking at nothing, in particular,* somebody's gonna die of some fun

Sam: *all smiles for the camera* huh?

Clint: nothin' *looks at the camera zooming in on his stone face*

Tony: *wheeling out from under his car with tools in his hands* HIS WIFE??!!

Rhodey: *guffaws while clapping his hands over his head till he's wheezing* oh-oh my-oh Jesus! Poor Tony. *wipes the tears from his face* I told him karma is a bitch but I never thought it would come to bite him right in his ass!!! *continues to chortle*

Tony: *stops making his green smoothie to topple the jar into the sink and walk out of the screen screaming in groans* HIS WIFE?!! OH MY GOD!!!

Space PD HQ

You haven't felt Loki breathing since you broke the news to him. He has just been standing there staring at you with faint confusion and curiosity, still as a statue.

"Loki-" you poke him- "Loki, say something! Don't just stand there like that! You're scaring me!"

"Y/N," he finally breathed out, his brows still creased, "do you know how many people I've killed?"

You shrugged. "I don't know? A couple? Do you know how many teenage girls I deceived when I was in high school?"

"How many?" He asks with keen interest before snapping himself back to reality. "Wait, what? No. Why would I need to know that?"

You shook your head casually while leaning on the floating table. "I don't know, I thought we were sharing our darkest numbers; like couples need to know these details. Right?"

"By the Norns," Loki groaned into his palms, rubbing his face hard. "Listen-"

The door hissed open and Mr Lean Alien walked in.

"Well, we haven't been introduced properly. My name is Tsuloche."

"Hi, Tsuloche. I'm Y/N," introduced yourself, closing the distance between you and Loki, your arms rubbing on each other.

"Listen, Tsulcohe, there has been a misunderstanding here. She-"

"Yeah, there's been a misunderstanding," your stressed and scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest, "like taking my husband prisoner for no reason at all?"

Tsuloche brought his nimble green- almost as thin and long as twigs- hands together. "Mrs....uhh...Miss Y/N, Loki has killed a lot of people in the past."

You groaned. "Now you sound just like my husband. I know he's killed a lot. And he's clearly suffering for it right now." You turned your head towards Loki, bringing your fingers to softly pinch his cheeks. "My poor baby."

Loki jerked away from your fingers slightly, whispering, "stop."

You didn't. Your fingers still reaching for those cheeks. "Stop it!"

You smiled as he grabbed your hand with his and held it in a good grip. "Okay, now you're just doing it to embarrass me in front of him."

Tsuloche tilted his head at this scene, blinking those translucent eyelids before his cat-like pupils dilated a little. "Do you know he supported Thanos' cause?"

You tried to yank your hand from his grip but Loki wasn't having it. So you turned back to Tsuloche. "Huh? Yeah, I know. He was undercover there to know his plans and stop him when the time came. What else you got?"

Tsuloche stood there blankly, shifting his gaze between you and the God for a good minute, his scarcely dilated pupils going back. "Why would you marry a criminal?! That too the one who tried to destroy your home?!"

You hummed and tried once again to slip your hands from Loki's death grip but failed- though that did not stir the seriousness away from your face at the alien's question. "Well, for the home invasion part, you'll understand if you ever had spiders, lizards and flies in your home."

Now, this confused the alien further but Loki forced out a laugh at your statement.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Well, Tsuloche. The first time you see a spider or a lizard in your home, you scream and cry and want that monstrosity to be gone from your place. It's worse if they bring their friends over. At one point you form a plan of attack to get those sons of bitches out of your home because they don't pay the rent, do they? But it is later on that you realise that these spiders or lizards were actually what were keeping the flies away. You know, the flies that were contaminating your food and making you sick. The flies that were bringing disease from all corners. The only thing standing between you and death by flies was this one stubborn spider-" you squished Loki's face with your free hand, making him jerk and grab that other hand too- "who nearly killed all my people but didn't."

"As for the getting married part, Tsuloche, if you're married, you know very well the crimes you forgive when you love someone. I mean, have you seen this guy do anything bad since the War? No. That's 'cause he's been enjoying some downtime with me and my fam, getting to know me, marrying me, and now taking me and our little cuddly alien cat on a honeymoon! Ain't that right Lulu?!"

Lulu chirped.

By now those judgmental pupils were a full-blown dilated dorks looking at the two of you.

"Oh and that guy recording us outside is...is...our...videographer. Yes! That's who he is. There's a whole trend on Earth to put your life on the internet and stuff like that. So, he's here to...record everything we do on our honeymoon. Not everything, of course," you concluded a little loud with pressed lips and a nod as you realised the mistake.

"Nice save, dear," Loki chirped with a smirk.

"Shut up."

Those blown out pupils came back to disclose any emotions that last bit might have given away. Tsuloche cleared his throat. "Well, as...good as it all sounds, I am afraid I cannot let the Silvertongue go."

"Silvertongue?" you mentioned under your breath and looked at Loki's lips in amusement.

Loki caught your eyes darting to his tongue wetting his lips, sighing in a faint sense of defeat. "You know it's not silver. Why are you even looking at me like that?"

The camera caught your brow arch with some suggestions best kept to yourself. "Oh. I know," you sang, still looking at those lips, "I was wondering about what all would be...different if it were."

Wanda: *sits wide-eyed and flushed red* Uhh *clears throat* *presses her lips to suppress her smile* *talks softly with a shakey voice* I don't know what *puts one leg over another* *adjusts herself in the seat* what she meant by cat-that! What she meant by that. *turns red*

Loki just furrowed his brows at you uncomfortably before turning back to Tsuloche.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without my husband, so..." You sat down on the lone chair in the room.

Tsuloche was already composing his wrinkled raisin face. "Very well then. I hope you find this interrogation room to your liking, Miss Y/N because he is not walking out of here for another seventy-two hours-"

The door hissed open to let in one of his subordinates who handed the alien a tiny cuboid-shaped device. One look at the tiny thing and Tsuloche looked back up with his sharp pupils dilating to the max. "Mrs and Mr Loki, you are free to go. The inconvenience is regretted and the department will provide you safe passage on the next shuttle to your destination."

A little surprised by the sudden turn of events neither of you wanted to let go of this opportunity. "And by our destination you mean anywhere we want?" You are eager to know; something that makes Loki's eyes turn to you and carry an expression barely recognisable on that perfect pale face. Some would even say it was a butt-hurt disappointment.

"Destination means the place you were previously travelling to. Your bags have been transported. Now all you need to do is get on it and enjoy the rest of your honeymoon."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Loki let go of your hands but still smacked away the one coming for his cheek again, making you chuckle. "I have very limited knowledge on the feline species but it almost looks like you're happy to set us free, Tsuloche." Loki quirked his brow in agreement with your statement.

"What?!" Tsuloche was a little taken aback, continuously blinking his translucent eyelids to make those starry eyes contract to their predator like gaze. But he couldn't. "Highly mistaken you are, madam. I am definitely not happy to let you resume your honeymoon with your beloved. I am enraged that you will be going away with a criminal and your monstrous little pet somewhere to spend time together. I am-I am definitely offended by the idea of this hardened criminal getting a second chance at life with someone so beautiful as you!"

You squeaked. "Aw! He thinks I'm beautiful!" Loki rolled his eyes and looked at the camera.

Tsuloche: *highly conscious* you want me to say something in that camera? Is this for their honeymoon album? *Eyes dilate* oooh! *looks at the lens* uhh ahem, do not do anything unlawful you two. Space is a dangerous place. And...and *eyes dilate to their maximum capacity* take care. *Exhales* *wipes something off his face* oh dear! That was really hard.

Space Shuttle

The entire shuttle was empty save for your little group. The seats were comfortable and the legroom quite spacious. Securing Lulu in a seat by the window, you sat down next to him, directly facing Loki. Javier sat next to him, recording the view out of the window.

“So, you sent in one of Javi’s camera flies, found a set of rules that said spouses are allowed to meet their other half and just...went with it?”

“I also used the uninet- the universal network- to find out about Tsuloche’s species and intimidated him with a little show of power. So, yeah. I read the rules of Space and this is the second time I saved your ass, Silvertongue," you state matter-of-factly, stretching your legs as much as possible.

"Don't get so cocky, kitten," Loki purred, fastening his seatbelt, "we still have a lot of places to go. You are lucky some people like your cute face."

Your brows went up and head tilted before Loki realised what he had done. "Aw! You think I'm cute!"

Lulu's camera caught Javier signing something to the two of you. "Keep having such petty arguments and aliens will actually believe you're married," you spoke his words out loud.

Both you and Loki looked at each other. "Married? To him?"

"Married? To her?"

The unison was too much on point. But the cackle eroding into the space out of the two of you made it better.

"You're funny," Loki chortled in Javi's direction.

"In your dreams, weirdo," you added. "Can you imagine? Mr and Mrs Silvertongue?" The laughs came out again while it was Javi's turn to look at Lulu's camera.

Avengers Facility

"No, Nat, I don't think he'll go that way. He doesn't belong there, like, mentally speaking," Scott gesticulated with a lot of hand movements.

"I think Scott's right," Wanda added.

"No, come on. He knows it's his birthright. So that would be the most obvious thing to go for. And we know he wasn't really seen as much once all hell broke loose back home, right?" Nat put forward her point of view while sitting on the sofa in her jammies.

"But if it wasn't that way then?" Pietro asked with keen interest. Nat thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Then it definitely would have been the latter. I mean, you were practically raised as one. He was raised as one, right?" Bucky asked Steve. The latter nodded.

"But still," Steve contributed, " there was something wrong there, right? Which is why all of those incidents happened. Are we sure he would still go for it even if he wasn't just another kid?"

Now the lounge went silent, thinking all of it through while the camera showed a very disinterested Clint sitting on the dining table to clean his guns, bows and arrows. The expression in his eyes felt like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

The camera swerved to another person standing by the lounge entrance, looking at the whole scene with utmost disorientation. "What's going on?"

Everyone looked up at Tony standing at the door.

"Oh, we were discussing what surname would Loki choose if he and Y/N got married?" Nat casually answered.

"Like, would he go for Loki Odinson or Loki Laufeyson," Peter explained.

The camera zoomed in on Tony's face, which was trying to do it's best to understand what was going on before giving up and just tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at everybody.

"They have been at it for two hours," a defeated voice comes from Clint's corner, who was looking at some distant void while cleaning his weapons.

"This...is a hypothetical situation, right?" Tony made sure. He had to make sure.

It took a second before everyone shrugged, nodded and hummed in agreement. None- except one camera- caught Scott and Peter crossed his fingers behind their back.

"Oh my God, I just got it!" Scott exclaimed out of nowhere with a new realisation on his face. "He doesn't have to think about the surname. It's Y/N who'll be making the choice."

And just like that, the seriousness in the air changed into a shared epiphany and everyone agreed without any vote against that thought.

"You guys are having a lot of fun with this," Tony sang sarcastically with judgement filled in his tone.

"Yeah, what about it?" Pepper called out from her comfy armchair while eating cheeseburgers and sipping soda, looking at Tony for an answer.

Tony, on the other hand, shifted his weight between his legs. "No. Nothing. You have fun, sweetie. Kisses! Muah! Muah! Muah! Please don't kill me in my sleep tonight."

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agentnico · 4 years

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Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade (2010′s)

Now that we have entered the 2020s, it’s time to look back on a decade of movie magic. To emphasise the importance of each year, I’ll balance things out by including two films from each year for my Top 20 list. I’ve tried to pick films that both defined this decade as well as appealed to me personally, so my list will of course, as always, be different from yours, but hopefully, I won’t totally irritate you with my humble choice, which I deem worthy to post online for the public eye to witness.

2010:

INCEPTION - “You’re waiting for a train...” Christopher Nolan unarguably is the most exciting and original directors working today. Each time he releases a movie, its an event. A literal must-see at the cinema. Which is why this isn’t the only film of his you will find on this list. With Inception, Nolan gives us a movie that is both enjoyable and imaginative, rewarding the audience for the attention that it demands. Filled with so much detail that if you miss certain shots, you will completely get lost in confusion of the narrative (as confusing as it already is). It’s intense and complex, with great performances from the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy, this movie will leave you lingering for more even after that mysterious ending.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD - “You cocky cock! You'll pay for your crimes against humanity!” Once again, another exciting director on this list (oh there are so so many!). Ever since Edgar Wright emerged from the British isles, he’s given us some of the funniest films of the past decade and onwards. His Cornetto Trilogy is a blast, Baby Driver is a blast, Ant-Man was going to be even more of a blast if Marvel allowed Wright to do his magical shenanigans his way, and the upcoming Last Night in Soho will surely be a blast also. With Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Wright creates a meta-clever universe taking inspiration from comic books and video games and filled to the brink with wink-wink-nudge-nudge humour, this is an exciting and very sarcastic over the top endeavor. Also, Brie Larson in this movie.....phew!! And unsurprisingly, its all a blast!

2011:

DRIVE - “I just wanted you to know, just getting to be around you, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Drive is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. A shamelessly disreputable, stylish, stoic, ultra-violent thriller with amazing stunt work, one of the best opening sequences of any movie this decade and a neon-pumped soundtrack that’s a must-own for all vinyl users, if you still haven’t seen Drive, there’s only one thing you can do. Clue: it’s to go watch Drive.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - GHOST PROTOCOL - “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...” Tom Cruise’s deal with the devil allows him to do some literally impossible stuff, and though I don’t condone his Scientology ways, the man’s stunt work and efforts in his area of expertise are worth all the praise and respect. To be honest, I’m commemorating all three of the Mission Impossible flicks that graced our screen this year (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout). This franchise is like a game of dodgeball, except that Tom Cruise is the dodgeBALL, being thrown and thrust left and right like nobody cares. Also, with me being Russian, the fact that a movie manages to destroy the Kremlin and then have me not hate the film in the aftermath shows that this film is way too fun to hate.

2012:

DJANGO UNCHAINED - “Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.” Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors working today. And Django Unchained happens to be my favourite film of his. The writing for this film is orgasmic (I went there!). The way the actors deliver the lines and the lines of dialogue themselves sound almost poetic to my ears. I can quote so many lines from this darn thing. The cinematography is immaculate. The soundtrack choice is great. The performances, my goodness, the PERFORMANCES!! Jamie Foxx does arguably his career-best work here, but also we have Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio both chewing up the scenery, and I’m sure everyone has heard the story involving DiCaprio and the broken glass. Django Unchained is an easy choice on this list for me, and possibly in my Top 10 of all time.

LES MISERABLES - “Do you hear the people sing?” The film that is based on a musical that is based on a book that is based on certain true events. Tom Hooper did an interesting choice of having actors sing live in front of the camera during filming rather than pre-record their voices, and it works to grand effect, though Russell Crowe should have probably been given more singing lessons. The movie is one hell of a way to adapt such a popular stage musical. With an opening shot that emphasises the scale of this picture with a zoom-in towards this big ship during a storm being pulled by these poor prisoners, we are plunged into the despair and conflicts of various characters with adroit narrative thrust so that not a moment feels wasted or redundant. You’d think that a film with hardly any dialogue and an overall reliance on singing wouldn’t be so emotional. Yet, somehow, it works. Also props to Anne Hathaway for winning an Academy Award for being in a film for only 5 MINUTES!!

2013:

THE WOLF OF WALL STREET - “Sell me this pen.” Martin Scorsese’s mad look into Wall Street life is a bombastic caper and running at nearly 3 hours, Scorsese and his editing team manage to keep an astoundingly intoxicating pace that keeps you enthralled and engaged throughout. This one is definitely not for the families, as this R-rated fest is filled with drugs, money, sex and everything you can possibly imagine and paints quite the picture of the rich folks of Wall Street. And the middle of it all a bravura performance from Leonardo DiCaprio. Someone needs to give DiCaprio’s agent a raise, this is Leo’s third appearance on this list and we’re only in 2013!

THE WAY WAY BACK - “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're having way too much fun, it's making everyone uncomfortable.” Sometimes a little indie flick is enough to lift a human spirit. Real, fun, uplifting and innocent, The Way Way Back dedicated to anyone who felt awkward or out of place at some point in their life, which, let’s be honest, counts all of us. I’m not afraid to admit that. So stop being a b*** and reveal your sensitive side too! Yes, you, the person reading this. Who else could I possibly be talking to? Myself? Maybe. The Way Way Back though is one of the best feel-good indie films of this decade, with the loveable Steve Carell acting very unloveable and Sam Rockwell Rockwelling himself to charm city! If you’ve missed this one, treat yo’self and check it out.

2014:

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL - “And?? Where is it? What's it all about dammit don't keep us in suspense this has been a complete f***ing nightmare! Just tell us what the f*** is going on!!!” Easily Wes Anderson’s best in my opinion (I have a friend who would argue Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums has the better hand but I think my opinion is more valid because it's me), this movie is a glossy, colorful, whimsical deadpan affair with an energetic turn from Ralph Fiennes as the hotel concierge M. Gustave H. as he and his lobby boy run into various Wes Anderson regulars and deal with murderers, stolen paintings, love affairs, prison breaks, and all kinds of crazy shindigs, but all shown in such a casual Wes Anderson way. This movie is like a slice of cherry pie - damn fine!

INTERSTELLAR - “Murphy’s Law doesn’t mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever can happen, will happen.” As promised, Christopher Nolan makes another appearance on this list, now with his space time-traveling epic Interstellar, where he takes inspiration from the likes of Kubrick and Tarkovsky to give us, as always, a tad bit confusing adventure with great visuals and an interesting narrative (though it does sometimes get lost in its own way), however, the key thing holding this piece together is the father-daughter relationship with Matthew McConaughey and Mackenzie Foy (and Jessica Chastain) managing to bring so much raw emotion to their respective roles that you can’t help but want to shed a tear. I mean, I haven’t cried for over 14 years, but I remember when I first watched this film, the audience around me was sobbing quite a few times during the duration of this movie. Give it to Nolan to give us the emotional moments!

2015:

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD - “Oh what a day! What a lovely day!!” Easily the best action movie of this decade. Sorry John Wick, neither you or Tom Cruise could defeat this beast. The sheer, limitless invention behind this movie's exhilarating, preposterous chase scenes highlights action filmmaking at its finest. With big monster trucks and a random guitarist rocking-it in the middle of all the action, it’s like a nihilistic version of a Cirque du Soleil show! And it makes Tom Hardy the calmest person on-screen; no idea how it managed that.

STEVE JOBS - “I sat in a garage and invented the future because artists lead and hacks ask for show of hands.” If there is anyone who can make formulaic, mathematical or technological sound fun and exciting, its Aaron Sorkin. The man has a talent for writing screenplays about difficult and complicated topics yet turning them approachable for the casual moviegoer. Pair him with director Danny Boyle, and the result is Steve Jobs, a look at the man behind the phone. Narratively set during three important product launches of Jobs’, we get to see the behind-the-scenes of his relationships with his colleagues and family members, and this character study is one that could have easily fallen into generic biopic tropes, but it holds it’s own right till the credits roll. Also props for showing that Seth Rogen can actually do a serious role. Who would’ve thought that pot-smoking fella had dramatic chops in him?

2016:

NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - “Susan, enjoy the absurdity of our world. It’s a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world.” Fashion designer Tom Ford does sew his suits well. Apparently, he can also make great films too, with 2009′s A Single Man and with said Nocturnal Animals. This movie is truly incredible and I remember it taking me and my friend by surprise when we first watched it at the cinema. It’s shocking. Horrifying. Depressing. Upsetting. Altogether exhilarating. Being of a fashion background, Tom Ford directs the hell out of this movie, with gorgeous shots and great use of colour as well as managing to masterfully create tension and suspense when necessary. Honestly, I know Tom Ford is probably busy at a department store somewhere, but the guy needs to make another movie. The man has a talent.

LA LA LAND - “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that ache; here’s to the mess we make.” Oh, La La Land. Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the also excellent Whiplash. People who know me well know how much I love this movie. An old-school tour-de-force musical that’s a love letter to jazz and the golden age of Hollywood. The city of stars never looked so good. Featuring catchy original songs, excellent dance choreography (the sequence to the song “Lovely Night” is especially memorable) and a romance tale ten times better than the forsaken The Notebook, La La Land is one special movie. I know many are put off by the film’s not so happy ending, however for me it was the only way this narrative could have ended.

2017:

BLADE RUNNER 2049 - “We’re all just looking out for something real.” Similarly to Nolan, Denis Villeneuve is proving to be one of the most exciting directors working today. He’s the man behind such films as *deep breath* Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. And those have all been done within the last decade. The man constantly makes quality movies of various genres, though lately, he has been leaning more towards science fiction, which is a-okay in my books, since as Blade Runner 2049 proves, he can turn science into fiction like butter on bread. A sequel made 30 years after Ridley Scott’s classic, this visually breathtaking piece is arguably even better than its predecessor with many moments giving you the “wow wow wow wow wow WOW!” factor, and when Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford are both on-screen they are dynamite. Forget the new Star Wars film (that’s right, I'm throwing shade there), Blade Runner is where it’s at!

PHANTOM THREAD - “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” The supposed last Daniel Day-Lewis film, as he has now apparently retired from acting, but let’s be honest, nothing stops him from simply unretiring at any point. Exhibit A - Joe Pesci. However, like Pesci, if he comes back I’ll only be happy. He’s one of acting greats of our time, and his collaborations will director Paul Thomas Anderson bring out some of his best roles. Phantom Thread is a marvel of a movie. No, I don’t mean that’s its part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean as in it can fill one with wonder and astonishment. Phantom Thread is PTA’s Gothic dark fairy-tale romance film, which expertly planned shots and scenes where every word of the dialogue counts. There is no wasted moment. And as the film transpires to its dark and unsettling climax, one begins to realize that this, THIS, is what filmmaking is about. Telling an engrossing story in an interesting way with crisp-clear shots and off-the-chart acting at play, with great costume design on display, although the latter is unsurprising due to a major aspect of the movie revolving around fashion.

2018:

MANDY - “You ripped ma shirt!! You ripped maaa shiirrt!!” An acquired taste for sure, however, Mandy is indeed something truly special. From first glance, this film might seem like nothing out of the ordinary, especially from the point of view of the plot. Its the usual revenge flick. However director Panos Cosmatos’ vision and how he presents it is so much more unique. And what’s not love in this film? There’s something for everyone! It’s artsy and slow enough for the critics, hip and metal for the nonchalant, gory and violent for the hardcore genre fanatics and of course the Nic-Cage-rage factor is present for the fans of the actor. Alright, it may not be a family film, but this one is worth a watch. The whole thing is bound together by this psychedelic otherworldly environment, with the whole movie conceived in this dark, unsettlingly beautiful yet horror-filled aura that might stray people away, as it might be just too different for them, however, if you are looking for something different to watch, take mandy. I mean, watch Mandy!

A STAR IS BORN - “Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over. All the artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes.” The film that began all the rumours surrounding Bradley Cooper’s and Lady Gaga’s affair. People, heads up, they are actors! They were putting on a performance! Jeez. That being said, I totally ship them. Nuff’ said. The film though? Yes, it’s good. Some country-style music, romance blooming, Gaga can apparently act, people sing about shallows for some reason...all together works for a pretty decent motion picture. Also, the fact that Bradley Cooper wrote, directed, produced and starred in this gives me so much respect for the guy. He poured his heart and soul into this. And Lady Gaga absolutely shines!

2019:

PAIN & GLORY - “Writing is like drawing but with letters.” Director Pedro Almodovar semi-autobiographical film takes a close look at how one deals with acceptance, being forgotten, symptoms of depression and generally all fairly negative attributes, but delivered in such an honest and profound way that there is a strange lightness that emerges from it all. Antonio Banderas is uncannily vulnerable in the lead role, delivering such an earnest performance that shows a man that is filled with melancholic regret who seeks his own form of redemption. This movie is a thing of beauty.

PARASITE - “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. If you make a plan, life never works out that way.” Parasite is easily the most original and surprising films of 2019, and possibly the decade, managing to subvert expectations and blend together so many different genres so naturally. To spoil any narrative element of this movie would be a sin, like this one in particular works best when not knowing anything about it. This movie comes to us from Bong Joon-Ho, a South Korean director behind such films as The Host, Memories of Murder, Okja, and Snowpiercer. It’s nice to see the awards ceremonies giving him the proper recognition finally. He deserves it.

That sums up my Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade list. Of course, there are so many other great films that came out in these 10 years, such as Whiplash, When Marnie Was There, Paterson, Silence, Kubo and the Two Strings, The Nice Guys...I can go on forever. Cinema is a constant ever-growing medium, and it is fascinating to see how it changes through the years, in some ways improving and in some parts not so much. In any case, I look forward towards a new decade of, hopefully, great movies, however, let’s be honest, for all these great films there’s always a Norm of the North, a Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse or frickin’ Cats. But let’s hope those will be kept to a minimum. In any case, bring on the 2020s!

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megalony · 4 years

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Shattered

This is a firefighter! Ben Hardy imagine that will have a follow up part soon, I hope you all enjoy it. There is angst and injury mentions in this part.

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Ben Hardy masterlist

Part 2

Summary: Whilst Ben is on a job at a collapsing building, he finds out (Y/n) and their son are there and tries to protect them but he can’t stop them all from getting injured.

Enjoy.

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"Whatever, it's fine Ben it doesn't matter-"

"Yes it does, it matters a lot to me (Y/n) because I've never missed a scan before. I want to be there and I want to take Tommy to his game in the afternoon but I can't swap my shift." There was a knowing look in (Y/n)'s eyes that made Ben's expression harden. They had three boys together and up to now Ben hadn't missed any of the scans during each pregnancy, despite the odd and gruelling shifts he worked. But tomorrow he simply couldn't go because he had to work and no one had been able to swap the shift with him.

"You can be at the next one Ben, it really doesn't matter. The job always comes first, right?" (Y/n) quipped back, but her response only caused Ben's brows to raise and his jaw to lock.

"Now that's not fair." Ben's voice was unusually now and with his words being quiet as not to disturb the toddler on his chest, his words sounded menacing. Ben would admit that his job was important to him, it was a vital job that he had been doing for ten years but it wasn't the most important thing in his life. Ben would always put his family first but the point was he had to work tomorrow and if something went wrong at the scan (Y/n) could always call him and he would try and leave as quickly as possible. It was the first time this had happened when they were having a scan.

"Isn't it? You haven't been able to go to half of Tommy's games, it was me who had to leave work to take Billy to the doctor, not you and we were damn lucky my water broke when it did with James or you wouldn't have been there for the birth. I'm not angry Ben because it's just a scan, its routine and we've done it before but we both know the job comes first a lot of the time."

(Y/n) knew she would be rivalling with Ben's job the moment she got together with him and it was always okay because he saved lives. Ben put his life on the line to help others and sometimes (Y/n) did worry he would get hurt badly or not come home at all. But she knew being a fireman was the only thing Ben wanted to do and he was good at his job so she was proud. But the job was almost as important as his family and even though that was understandable, sometimes it did hurt.

"No, that's not fair because when you had your operation I got two weeks off at two days notice so I could be home with the boys. When Tommy broke his leg I was the one who took him to A&E instead of going to work and when you had your accident when you were pregnant with him I left work and came straight home to you. The job always comes second to you and the boys and you know it."

Tilting his head down from looking at (Y/n), Ben looked at the two year old asleep in his arms. Billy had his head resting on Ben's shoulder and his arms curled up against his chest, when he fell back asleep Ben didn't have the heart to put him into bed. He just stayed holding him because he had to get ready and go to work in a few minutes.

"(Y/n) I don't want to argue, I'm sorry but on the next scan I'll be there and I'll take Tommy to his next game in three weeks. Can you take Billy now, I need to get ready?" Ben tipped his head to the side, his eyes sorrowful but he felt a small swell of relief in his chest when (Y/n) nodded before approaching him.

Biting her lip, (Y/n) carded her fingers gently through Billy's hair as she leaned her head on Ben's chest, feeling his free arm wrap around her waist to pull her a bit closer.

"Text me when you've finished and I'll see you tonight." (Y/n) reached over and gently eased Billy into her arms before she quickly pecked Ben's lips. Their gazes stayed interlocked for a few more seconds before (Y/n) slowly left the room to go and settle Billy back down to bed since it was still early in the morning and he was now fast asleep.

"Tommy, I need my shoes back buddy, give 'em here." Heading down the stairs, Ben sat on the bottom step before he motioned for his eldest to walk over to him when he came in sight down the hall. Ben watched with a smile as Tommy slowly waddled over to him, trying his best to walk in his dad's shoes that were far too big for his small feet. When he reached Ben, he stood by his side and kicked the shoes from his feet so they were resting in front of Ben.

Ben's shifts were all twelve hours a day, four days a week but he still had to leave home early so that when he got to work he could put his overalls on and grab his protective equipment. Then when he finished his shift he took longer because he got changed and showered at work rather than driving home covered in smoke and grime. It was tough, but it was Ben's job and he wouldn't choose to do anything else.

"Why are they like that?" Tommy leaned his head on the banister as he tapped Ben's shoe with his toe to signal what he meant.

"So I don't burn my feet, bud, or in case anything falls on them so it won't hurt." Ben tapped his knuckles against the top of his boot to show how tough the material was which he was very thankful for. Ben had to walk into burning buildings and step in or around fires so his boots had to be made of material that wouldn't catch fire easily and that wouldn't melt or burn his feet. They also had to be strong so that if any bricks or wood or items fell on him, they wouldn't crush his feet and stop him from getting to safety.

"Why aren't mine like that?" Tommy watched Ben tying up his boots before he stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, checking that his keys were in his pocket.

"What fires do you normally walk into, buddy?" Ben smiled, trying to refrain from laughing because he didn't want Tommy to think he was being rude when he was only curious. "Right, I'll see you tonight before you go to bed, your mum's gonna take you out today so you be good, okay?" Ben leaned down when Tommy wrapped himself around his legs, humming in agreement before he begrudgingly moved back to let Ben leave. Tommy huffed quietly, knowing that whenever Ben left to go to work at night or when he got home at night it meant it would soon be his bedtime.

"Bye dad."

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"I don't like this Joe, the whole place is about to go." Ben spoke into the radio hooked to his left shoulder as he cast his eyes around his sector of the ground floor car park. The fires in this multi-story car park and shopping centre were on one side of the building and it made the whole thing unsteady and Ben felt like he was going to be crushed at any given moment. Ben's team were needed to try and get people out whilst Joe's team were concentrating on the fires that were still going.

But Ben didn't like the feel of this because the fire meant that the building was collapsing on one side and that normally led to the whole thing breaking down. Ben knew that the building was far too big for everyone to get out safely before something happened but they had to try.

Turning to look over to his right, Ben nodded silently at Sammy before the pair hurried in different directions, both of them picking up speed when they could hear the building trembling. The fires on this floor were minimal but the number of cars suggested people might come down here trying to get out.

"Ben, pull your team out it's too risky. Let search and rescue take over when they get here." Joe knew it was getting to a point where Ben's team were going to be put at substantial risk when they weren't designated to getting everyone out. They didn't have the equipment or protocol to stay and act as a rescue team, it was safer for Ben and his team to get out and then help put out the fires from the outside.

Just as Ben was about to agree, he reached out to his right to steady himself against the wall when the building started to tremor.

"Dad?!"

That one word made Ben feel like the building had already collapsed onto him and crushed him entirely. They couldn't be here, not now, not today not right this moment in time. Ben couldn't have any of his family here in this building or anywhere near this place when it was about to go down.

"No, no no what are you doing here?"

A course of curse words flooded past his lips on repeat as he flung himself from the wall and across the unsteady ground that felt like it was going to give way beneath his feet. Ben's eyes were locked on Tommy who was trying to run but he was wobbling. The moment Ben reached him he wasted no time in scooping him up and holding him to his chest, pressing his hand to the back of Tommy's head as his eyes darted around to look for (Y/n).

"Where's your mum? Are James and Billy with you? Tommy tell me quickly where are they?!" Ben didn't know if (Y/n) had brought the boys with her or if she was just out with Tommy and James and Billy were with her parents like they were supposed to be. (Y/n) wasn't meant to be here, she never said she was bringing Tommy here, Ben thought she was going across town today.

Why did they have to be here?

"M-mum's behind me... t-the boys aren't with us." Tommy tucked his head into Ben's neck as much as he could with Ben's safety helmet and his thick florescent jacket being in the way. (Y/n) had been right behind him until he spotted Ben and made a beeline for him.

"Ben, are you on your way out yet? The place is gonna go down any minute, the foundations are ruined." Joe's voice over the radio was barely heard due to the rumbling sound the building was creating and the panic that could be heard from miles away.

"I can't get out yet, my family's on this floor!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A choked breath mixed with a moan escaped Ben's mouth as his eyes violently flew open like he had been resuscitated. His head jolted up before slamming back down against the concrete floor when he realised his body was far too weak and paralysed from unconsciousness to move.

Where was he? He was on the ground floor level, he remembered going down and knowing it was a bad idea before the concrete walls started to shake and the world turned black.

How long had it been? He didn't know.

Was he alone? Sammy was on the other side of the floor, but he might have gotten out when Joe told the team to retract. But Ben was still here... oh God, Tommy and (Y/n) had been down here with him the moment the place started to crumble like it was the end of the world. Hundreds more questions started to circle through Ben's mind but he couldn't focus on any of them other than needing to find where his wife and son were.

It wasn't dark.

As Ben tried to open his eyes and focus his vision, he realised that there was still light creeping into this level despite half of it being collapsed. The electrics would have surely become severed and broken so to have light meant there was part of the walls that were broken enough for the outside to creep in. That was a good sign.

When his vision managed to focus properly, Ben choked on his breath when he realised that he was laid on his side with his arms cocooned around Tommy who was squashed against his chest. Ben was relieved he seemed to have fallen- or maybe he laid down himself, in this position because if he fell on top of Tommy he would have crushed him. And if he fell with Tommy on top of him and something fell down on them, it would crush Tommy first and presumably worse than it would Ben.

Trying to keep his breathing calm and slow, Ben counted each breath he took until he was no longer on the verge of panicking as his eyes focused on his eldest boy. His vision narrowed and he held his breath so he could try and focus on Tommy and Ben felt tears welling in his eyes when he knew his boy was breathing rather normally considering the shock he must have gone through.

A shuddering breath left Ben's lips as he relished in holding his boy before he dared to look around and try to find (Y/n). Ben couldn't remember if she had been close by or a distance away, he didn't know if he had been holding onto her as well or if she had been out of his reach.

Ben's eyes soon latched onto his wife's frame only a few feet away from him, she was also laid on her side and thankfully had her front facing Ben. Even when he narrowed his eyes, he couldn't quite tell if her chest was moving and with the sirens and screams and ringing sounds, Ben couldn't hear how she was breathing. But he was certain he could see the muscles and skin around her neck moving and pulling inwards suggesting that she was breathing. He kept watching her for a few more minutes before he noticed her hand twitch and he nodded to himself that she was alive.

That was all he could ask for at this moment. He didn’t dare let his mind think about what was happening with the baby after something like this, they were only five months along and thinking of the results of this kind of event made Ben want to be sick.

As he took calming breaths, Ben tried to think what kind of training he had received for this kind of situation, but he'd never been in this situation before and his training had been years ago. The refresher courses didn't do any good and the last one of those had been at least seven months previous. Deciding he would have to try and make it up as he went along, Ben knew the first thing to do was try and see what injuries he and Tommy had and if he could move or not.

He slowly moved his fingers, feeling the gloves over his hands were grazing against rubble and gravel. When he curled his fingers into his palms, he knew he hadn't broken any knuckles or fingers which was a good start. He moved his focus onto his arms which he tensed before pulling tighter around Tommy. Ben could feel the burns and when his left arm started shaking, he figured it was a rather bad burn. But nothing broken yet.

Raising one hand, Ben slowly grabbed the helmet and visor resting on his head and moved his head to take it off. He knew it was safer to keep it on in case any rubble fell but right now he didn't want it constricting him. He cracked his neck side to side and felt very little strain there which was also good.

Trying to shuffle his weight back just a little, Ben very slowly and gently unravelled his arms from Tommy without moving his boy very much at all. When his arms were free, Ben rolled onto his back and then removed the thick padded gloves that made it hard to bend his fingers, Ben then trailed his hands over his upper body.

His overalls were ripped, burnt and hot to the touch and when he moved his hands down to his chest he hissed and jolted against the concrete when he felt at least two ribs on his right side that were either fractured or broken. Now his breathing felt like it was beginning to hurt now he was aware of the pain he was beginning to notice. Moving his hands lower, he grazed only his fingertips against his body so he wouldn't apply any pain or pressure to any injuries he had.

His torso felt strained and bruised but nothing major. Moving his hands to the floor, he felt around him for any bricks or lumps of concrete before he pressed his flat palms to the ground in order to sit himself up.

Ben took a moment to control his breathing and ride out the dizziness in his head before he dared to check over his legs. His right leg had a rather blistering burn to his upper thigh and the way it sizzled like he was sitting on a barbecue made Ben guess it had reached the muscle.

"Shit."

He left the burn alone, not having any water or gauze to clean it with anyway, so he focused on trailing his hands lower down his body.

He'd dislocated his left knee, great.

But when Ben looked at his legs, a sound resembling a moan escaped his lips before he groaned and felt himself beginning to cry without shedding any tears. There was a chunk of concrete like one of the pillars holding up the ceiling and it was laid on Ben's right ankle, cutting off his sight of his foot.

For two, maybe three minutes, Ben sat choking on dust and air wondering if it had gone completely through his ankle and chopped off his foot. Without being able to see his foot or being able to see the damage to his ankle, it felt possible that his foot was no longer connected to his leg. But Ben could feel his whole leg twitching and it didn't feel like his foot wasn't there, so surely it had to be, right?

Ben found it horrifying that he could feel no pain in his leg other than his blistered thigh. He wasn't suffering agonising pain from his ankle bone clearly being crushed by concrete, nor were his nerves shooting with pains or his muscles twitching and spasming with pain. His leg just felt numb from the knee down.

Trying to ignore his own injuries when he heard Tommy lowly groaning, Ben tried to turn to the left but he ended up laying back down on his side to ease the pain he was feeling. He gently brushed Tommy's hair from his eyes that were just beginning to flutter open like butterfly wings. He took a moment to adjust and look at Ben before hi pupils blew wide and a strangled breath escaped his bleeding lips.

The eight year old's breathing started to increase and he began to shake as a silent cry escaped his lips making it clear that his memory was sharp and coming back to him quickly.

"Sshh, hey, hey I'm here buddy. I'm here and I've got you, it's gonna be okay I promise." Ben brushed his hand over Tommy's face, knowing his voice was scratching but he hoped he could still calm him down. He kissed Tommy's forehead and continued to brush his hand over his features to calm him down, listening as his breathing calmed down but he started to choke on wails. "I'm here, you're okay."

Tommy reached his hand up and clung to Ben's arm for a few minutes until his wails turned to sniffs and gasps for a proper breath.

"Tommy, baby I need to check you over to see where you're hurt. I'm gonna turn you on your back, just tell me if anything hurts, okay?" Ben took Tommy's hand to keep him calm when he sat up before he gently eased Tommy over onto his back.

Ben felt something stabbing his chest when he realised he'd called Tommy baby like he used to when he was younger and he didn't revolt against the term. It was a pet name Ben used for (Y/n) and all the boys but Tommy started to say he was too old to be called that, but right now he didn't seem to bother, if anything it seemed to reassure him.

Ben slowly let go of Tommy's hand so he could check him over, wincing when Tommy let out a cry when Ben touched his left shoulder which felt dislocated. Ben tried to breathe slowly and calmly to get Tommy to copy him as he continued to check him over, noting that he had at least two broken or fractured ribs and his right leg felt both blistered and broken. But he didn't feel any pain around his torso or chest other than bruising which was a good sign that he might not have any internal injuries.

"Okay, I'm gonna sit you up, put your shoulder in place and then sort out my knee, okay?"

"Daddy don't... i-it's okay please-"

"It'll hurt a lot less if I put it back in place, I know what I'm doing I swear. Count to three for me baby, please." Ben eased Tommy up before reaching around to hold onto his shoulder. He knew it was going to hurt but he also knew leaving it out of its socket would be a bad idea if they had to get themselves out of here because he could catch his shoulder and make it worse.

"O-one... two-" Tommy cut himself off with a piercing scream when Ben pushed his arm straight up and they both heard it popping back into its socket. It was better to do it when he wasn't expecting it and get it over with.

"Good lad, now you just sit there for a minute, okay?"

Placing one hand on his left thigh, Ben held his lower leg with the other hand and closed his eyes for a few seconds as he calmed himself down. He'd done this before with someone else's knee, but not to himself. But he couldn't move or bend his knee if it was popped out of the joint and at some point he needed to check on his shattered ankle. Drawing in a deep breath through gritted teeth, Ben opened his eyes, focusing his gaze on his knee as he held his breath deep in his lungs.

One... two... three.

Curse words flowed freely from his chapped lips along with a scream of pain when he heard the sickening pop telling him that he'd done it.

Turning his head, Ben looked over at Tommy who was cringing from the scene and the sound he just witnessed and tears were now streaking down his face that was covered in grime and dust. But when Tommy moved his head and caught sight of (Y/n), Ben's voice caused him to quickly look back at his dad.

"Hey, eyes over here. Your mum's okay, she's just unconscious like we were a bit ago. When I sort my foot out, I'm gonna go and make sure she's okay and then we'll get out of here, it's gonna be fine I swear." Ben didn't want Tommy to sit and stare at (Y/n) because he would upset himself and convince himself that she wasn't okay. Ben didn't want Tommy to torture himself looking at (Y/n) knowing that he couldn't help, nor did he want Tommy to go and sit with her in case she had any injuries that he would be able to see.

Pressing his hand under his knee, Ben pulled it until his knee was bent up and he could shuffle closer and bend his other knee to get as close to his damaged ankle as possible. The boulder crushing his limb wasn't too extensive, it wasn't very long in length and it was rather thin which he guessed was a good thing. Daring to lean his head over the boulder, Ben sighed in utter relief when he saw his foot on the other side. He had truly believed he would look over to see a severed limb looking back at him. His foot was bent to the left at an odd angle and Ben didn't have to move the boulder to know that the bone of his ankle would be shattered.

Without even thinking, Ben moved his cautious hand to try and touch his foot that was clad in his boot but to his utter surprise, his foot jerked at the contact which made his ankle move under its constraint of the boulder.

Ben tried to swallow a howl at the sudden agony he felt when a shooting nerve sprung to life in his ankle and bolted all the way up his leg. Now he could feel the pain instead of the numbness. He tried to think what he was going to do and how to get his foot free and as he leaned his head to the side to assess his ankle, he noticed there might just be enough room to bend his foot and slide it under.

"Tommy, can you shuffle over here for me?" Ben cocked his head to the side, watching as Tommy slowly dragged himself over whilst trying not to move his broken leg too much. But when he looked over at Ben's ankle, more tears fell from his eyes and he started to whimper.

"D-daddy, y-your..." He couldn't seem to find the words he was thinking of so he just pointed at the sight that made him feel sick.

"I know it looks bad, but baby I need you to help me. I need you to lean over and help push my foot under the concrete, I can't get it free on my own."

Tommy violently shook his head, trying to retreat but Ben reached over and grabbed hold of his hand. His eyes were pleading, he wouldn't ask this if he could do this on his own. Ben didn't want his boy to see him in pain or witness this but there was no way Ben could bend his damaged foot the other way and push it under the boulder as well as trying to lift the boulder enough to slot his foot free.

"Baby I need your help or else I can't go and help your mum. Please?" Tommy started to shake but he finally relented and nodded. "Good boy, all you have to do is bend my foot to the other side and then push it when I tell you to, okay?"

Tommy turned his head to the side when he shuffled closer to the boulder and Ben could see his stomach churning and his throat tightening like he was going to be sick. He rested his left arm over the boulder and held onto Ben's boot, slowly pushing it like he was moving the hand of a clock into the right position but the noise Ben's ankle made caused Tommy to wail. He shivered and shrunk down when Ben growled through gritted teeth and snapped his eyes closed, he had to try and be strong but the pain was making it very hard.

Moving his hands, Ben slipped his gloves back on before he slotted his hands under the small gap the boulder had left. His arms started to shake and he felt his stomach muscles tightening when he pulled up the boulder before nodding for Tommy to push his foot.

Ben tried his best to pull his leg back but it was harder than he thought when his whole leg was numb to the point he could barely feel it. When the edge of his boot barely scraped past the boulder Ben let it drop against the floor before he leaned back on his hands and tipped his head back, closing his eyes tightly. Now the weight was gone Ben could feel every inch of skin and every nerve pulsing and tingling in his ankle like it was coming back to life and he knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the pain started to arise.

"Good lad." Ben breathed through the words as he tried to stop himself from becoming light-headed.

When he dared to examine his ankle, Ben knew he would be lucky if his foot would survive with how shattered the bone was, it looked like his ankle had been flattened and there was a piece of bone poking through the skin that was oozing blood like a small river.

"Tommy, baby you stay there and I'm gonna go see to your mum, I'll be right there you won't lose sight of me for a second I promise."

"O-okay."

When Tommy nodded, Ben managed a tight-lipped smile before he slowly rolled over so that he was resting on his front. He knew it would be easier to crawl over rather than try and stand with a shattered ankle and a dislocated knee, the pain would be too intense to bear. As Ben started crawling over to (Y/n), he started to wonder how long it would be before search and rescue got here and got them out.

There were countless other people trapped here who needed to escape but Ben was praying that since they were on the ground floor, they would be seen to quicker.

They needed help.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #joe mazzello #dad! ben #firefighter #shattered

103 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

Robin and Gale Hood; Ben Hardy x reader Chap. 5

*Author’s note*

Okay now that all over our initial characters have been introduced, it’s time for some REAL action. This one is a bit long so sorry not sorry but everything is important here in this chapter. So expect some blood, violence and some medieval claims against women.

Chapter 5,

The Archery tournament

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

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The next day just as promised, everyone in Nottingham was gathered out in the fields to see the archery tournament. Every eligible archer had signed up for the chance to win either the golden arrow or get the kiss from the lovely Maid Marian.

As a parade marched around the field while the villagers gathered around to find a good seat, up on the throne stand, Prince John and Sir Heston stood looking over the crowd. Prince John was lightly bouncing with excitement as he told his serpent advisor.

“Heston, the time has come for me to finally enact my revenge. My trap is baited and set and then revenge! Revenge!”

“Shhh. Not so loud sire. I know how much this has meant to you but you don’t want to give your plan away to capture Robin Hood so quickly.”

“That insolent blackguard! Ohh! I’ll show him who wears the crown!” Prince John proclaimed as he plopped down on his throne and slammed his hand on the armrest.

“I share your loathing sire. That scullery scoundrel who fooled you with that ridiculous disguise. Who dare insult your intelligence and superiority…..”

“ENOUGH!!” Prince John exclaimed as he tried to hit Heston over the head but the python dodged his attack. “Heston, you deliberately dodged.”

“But-but-but sire…..please.”

“Stop sniveling and hold. Still.” The prince sneered lowly. Heston straightened his head up and he was then hit on top of the head by Prince John.

“Thank you sire.” Heston lowly groaned.

Soon arriving to the field grounds were Maid Marian, Prince James and Arthur Kirkland. Marian hugged her cousin and best friend saying.

“Oh you guys I’m so excited. But how will I recognize him?”

“Ohh he’ll let you know somehow. That young rouge of yours is just full of surprises.” Arthur said as he took Marian’s hand and patted it.

“Yes cousin. If I remember that rascal, he’ll do whatever it takes to get to you.”

“Well don’t leave yourself out James. I’m sure that wherever Robin goes, Gale is not far behind.” Marian told her young cousin and the three of them walked on.

But oh little did they know was that just behind them hiding in the bushes and trees were the gang of rebels. Robin and Gilbert wearing similar peasant clothing and they each had their own handmade bows and arrows (that differed from the ones they normally used as to better hide their true identities).

While Little John and Gale wore royal clothing that befitted Hungarian royalty, and David wore a count’s robes and Kit wore a captain of the Guard’s armor.

“There she is lads. Golly—has she gotten even more beautiful.” Robin said in awe.

“He grew his hair out. I did once tell him he’d look good with long hair. Never did I think it—he’s like a God.” Gale also whispered in awe.

“Cool it you two lovebirds. Your hearts are running away with your heads.” Little John said as he handed Robin a large grey hat.

“Oh stop worrying. This disguise would fool our own mum, right Gale?” Robin said as he placed the hat on him and tied the blue bandana around his neck.

“Yeah. But our mum is dead. You and Gilbert need to fool ol stick up his arse over there.” Soon walking towards them was the Sheriff of Nottingham himself. Gilbert and Robin winked at their friends and walked out.

“Sheriff your ‘onor!” Gilbert spoke with an exaggerated Irish accent.

“Yes…..” the sheriff muttered before both his hands were suddenly taken and being shaken with such strength and force as Robin now spoke in a Irish tone.

“Meetin yah face to face is a real treat for me brother and I. A real, real treat.”

“Well thank you.” the Sheriff said as he managed to get his hands free. “Now if you both will excuse me I’ve got a tournament to win.” As the Sheriff walked away, Robin and Gilbert signaled to the others of the success playfully laughing behind the Sheriff’s back.

“Well that’s phase one done.” Gale said.

“Yeah they’re not bad actors. But wait till they see the scene we lay on Prince John. My Queen.” Little John spoke as he bowed and held out his hand for Gale.

She giggled poshly and took his hand and the two of them walked on with Kit and David walking behind, holding the train of Gale’s dress. As the two of them finally stood before Prince John, Gale spoke up doing her best Hungarian accent.

“Ahh mi lord!” the four of them walked up to the Prince as she continued, “Our esteemed high King of England. The all mighty God himself. You’re magnificent.” She praised as she and the boys bowed.

Prince John who soaked in this praise from this strange woman chuckled softly and said.

“Well, she sure does have style ehh Heston?” Gale let out a posh laugh before saying.

“Oh you are a flatterer PJ.”

“PJ? I like that you know I do. Heston put it on my luggage. PJ. Ha-ha! Hahahaha! Ha-ha! PJ yeah…..” the Prince proclaimed before laughing and muttering to himself as he stroked his tache. Heston however wasn’t buying it. He lifted himself up to Gale and Little John and hmphed.

“And just who might you be miss?” he hissed out.

“How dare you insult our lady Queen and Duke!” Kit proclaimed angrily using a thicker Hungarian accent.

“Easy now my dear Captain. This creepy thing obviously has no class whatsoever.” Gale said.

“Excuse me?” Heston gawked.

“This is our beloved Queen of Hungary, Queen Elizaveta I. And I am her royal Duke Sir Reginald. And it’s rude to stick your tongue out at a lady.” He took Heston’s hat off his head and put it over his nose and mouth.

“If I may my liege, allow me to lay some protocol upon you.” Gale said as she curtsied and took Prince John’s hand to kiss it. He quickly removed his hand away from her and said.

“Oh no forgive me but I lose more jewels that way. Please, both of you sit.”

“Thank you PJ.” Gale giggled as she sat down to his left while Little John took the seat to his right. “I always enjoyed the tournament of the peasant folk. Oh! OH!! HEY WHAT!!! CAPTAIN! COUNT!” Gale spoke before feeling something squirming underneath her butt.

Quickly David and Kit came into action and pulled out Heston from underneath her.

“Oh my. Excuse me serpent.”

“Serpent? You vile harpy have taken my seat!”

“How dare you insult the Queen of Hungary!” David sneered angrily.

“Your majesty, if you would permit me, allow me to silence this snake once and for all.” Kit threatened with a dark smirk as he withdrew his sword. Heston shuddered in fear as Prince John said.

“Oh never mind him. Besides he should now be out there keeping his snake eyes open for you know who.”

“Wait—sire you—you mean I…..I’m being dismissed?”

“You heard his mightiness move it creepy get lost. Be gone long one.” Little John said as he slapped Heston with his cane and Heston slithered off backstage.

“What vulgar beasts. Creepy? No class serpent? Long one? Oh whose that dopey Duke and Queen of Hungary think they are anyway?!” he then slithered off to do his job assigned to him.

As the good Friar and I stood side by side each other and we watched that vile snake slither off muttering to himself, I turned to Friar Tuck and said.

“Now you know he’s up to something darling.”

“Indeed. Come on Alan.” He told me and we raced off to find that serpent before he could ruin anything. For now my darlings until Friar Tuck and I find that snake, you’re just gonna have to watch for yourselves on what happens next.

The fanfare sounded off and soon all the archers came walking in single file across the field with their bows in hand and their quiver of arrows on their backs.

Finally arriving on the stage were our three young royal characters. Marian was the first to step up on the stage and she curtsied to Prince John who gave her a slight acknowledgment. Arthur was next and he bowed before the Prince who just gave him a sideways glance.

When James finally came up and bowed before him, Prince John flat out turned his head aside and refused to even look upon his half-nephew. Which to be honest didn’t upset James at all, for he loathed his half-uncle for sending his father away and ruining the people of Nottingham.

But soon his eye caught sight of Gale. At first he didn’t see it at first, all he saw before him was the radiant woman who felt familiar in a way. He walked over to her and when the two of them locked eyes she gasped and quickly took out her fan and opened it up and hid from him.

“Oh I—beg your pardon my lady. I—you just look like someone I once knew.”

“And just who would that be young man?” asked Kit slightly interrogating him.

“A……a girl I once knew long ago.”

“Well may we introduce our majesty, Queen Elizaveta I of Hungary.” David said.

“Your majesty.” Prince James said as he knelt down on one knee and took her right hand in his. It wasn’t until he looked down and saw the ring on her thumb. He quickly looked up in shock, that’s when ‘Elizaveta’ lowered her fan just until her eyes were visible and his heart stopped.

He knew those eyes anywhere. Only one women had entrancing eyes like that. And even through the disguise, he knew she had gotten even more beautiful than ever before.

“I have seen many wonders of the world, but none can compare to the beauty that lies within your eyes.” James praised in awe as he gave a sweet, loving kiss to Gale’s hand.

As his thumb gently brushed the back of her hand and down her fingers, Gale felt that bolt of electricity that only James had given her in the past.

“Why thank you my fine young English man. And you have a face that would make the archangel Michael boil with envy.” James softly smiled and kissed her hand once more, making Gale’s heart go BOOM. She softly gasped, the two of them not breaking eye contact once.

Marian who had been watching her cousin with intrigued eyes, knew right away that the so called ‘Queen’ was actually his Gale Hood.

As she smiled happily for her cousin, a throat cleared before her and when she turned she saw a man dressed in an oversized robe, wearing a very large grey hat and a blue bandana that almost kept his face hidden.

“Ahhh your ladyship. Begging your pardon but it’s a great honor to be shooting for the favor of a lovely lady like yourself.” He spoke in an Irish accent and held in his hand a white daisy.

She reluctantly took it from the strange man who then whispered to her.

“I hopes I win the kiss.” Before giving her a wink. She let out a soft gasp and when she looked into his eyes, and he looked back into hers she knew just who this man was.

“Well thank you my fine, bow-legged archer.” She said as she stroked the flower under her chin before softly giggling. “I wish you luck,” she then leaned closer to her love and whispered so that only he could hear, “With all my heart.”

The two of them stared lovingly at each other before Robin snapped out of his daze and took his place with the other contestants.

Soon coming up towards the royal stands was the captain of the guard who held on a fluffy pillow the prize of the golden arrow. He presented it to Prince John and said.

“Your highness, with your royal permission we are ready to begin.”

“Proceed captain.” Prince John said. He then gave the arrow to Maid Marian who bowed her head to the Captain.

“The tournament of the golden arrow will now begin!” the Captain proclaimed to one and all. As a final fanfare of the trumpets played out, the contestants readied their bows and soon arrows went flying out.

The crowd cheered and whistled as arrow after arrow flew from one side of the field to the range of targets spread out on the other side. Many people were hitting various places on their targets but not quite worthy enough to gain a spot for the golden arrow and the kiss.

That was until the Sheriff of Nottingham took his shot and got close to the center of the bullseye. Of course when that happened, the crowd all hissed and booed at the arrogant, vile sheriff. Next up Gilbert and Robin readied their arrows and fired two straight bullseyes into their targets, to which the crowd applauded.

Marian clapped for Robin’s success knowing that he was one step closer to winning their kiss.

“A perfect bullseye. Well, well.” Prince John said intrigued as he stroked his mustache.

“Yeah, that’s what we in Hungary call pulling back and lettin it go PJ.” Little John said to him.

“He’s gotten better.” Prince James said. “I’m sure you must be honored to see such skill from him.”

“Indeed I am, my prince.” Gale said as the two of them secretly hooked pinkies with each other.

“I’m gonna win that golden arrow! And then I’m gonna present meself to the lovely Maid Marian……” Robin boasted as the Sheriff readied his next arrow.

“Listen you Irish hound dog. If you shoot half as good as you blabber you’re better than Robin Hood.”

“Robin Hood he says! Wow-wee you hear that brother!?” Robin exclaimed as he playfully slapped the Sheriff in the back.

“My brother is tip-top but we’re nowhere as good as he is. In fact I’d say I’m better than that rouge.” Gilbert teased as he fired his arrow behind his back without even looking at the target. It landed right on the bullseye and as the crowd continued to cheer, the Sheriff couldn’t believe his eyes.

Back on the stands, Gale fanned herself and she said.

“My, my. Those two have class. Don’t you think so PJ?”

“Indeed they do, Eliza. Bravo! Uh, bravo. Yes.” Prince John said before doing a light applause and grinning to himself.

Robin took out an arrow and observed it as he began to make conversation with the sheriff about a topic that he knew would make the sheriff explode.

“Oh umm….by the way. We hear you’ve been having a bit of a fascination with Robin’s clever little sister Gale Hood these days.” The sheriff lowered his bow and he said.

“She’s a witch that’s why. Just like her wench of a mother, she’s inherited the black magic of her people. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she’s put a spell on that brother of hers in order to hide from me.” Robin would’ve slugged him right then and there but he held back his anger to hide his cover.

Gilbert also had to hold in his anger cause even worse than Robin, he wanted to kill the sheriff for saying such a thing about Gale.

Unbeknownst to the three men, Heston (who had been observing the two young archers since the beginning with utter suspicion) slithered up towards Robin and peeking through his robes, he could see the green attire underneath.

He softly hissed and slithered through the thick bush muttering to himself.

“I knew it. It’s Robin Hood. Oh he thought he could hide but no one can hide from a snake.” As Heston continued to slither, he was soon stopped by a lute guitar in his path. When he looked up there before him stood Friar Tuck and you guessed it, me!

“Going somewhere Heston?” I asked snidely. Before the snake could speak again, Friar Tuck and I grabbed him and muzzled his mouth shut.

We then found an ale barrel and I uncorked the top of it while Friar Tuck straightened Heston out and carefully lowered his body into the barrel. The snake’s muzzled demands fell on deaf ears as Tuck punched him in the head and I closed the barrel with the cork once more.

“That’ll take care of him for a while.” I told him.

“Thank you my friend.”

“Anytime my darling. We better get back to see if Robin and Gilbert made it to the finals yet.”

“C’mon then.” We raced back towards the crowd and heard the Captain proclaim.

“Attention everyone! The three final contestants are……the honorable sheriff of Nottingham!” The sheriff stood up and took his bows but he was only met with hisses and boos from the crowd. “And the Walsh brothers of Bristol.” The crowd cheered as Robin and Gilbert high-fived each other and waved to the crowd.

When Robin turned to the royal stands, he gave a friendly wave and kiss to Maid Marian who waved back to him with a loving smile. Prince John turned to her noticing her favoritism and said to her.

“My dear I suspect you favor the bowlegged Irish archer, hmm?” Marian smiled shyly and said.

“Uh. Why yes, sire. Well—at least he amuses me.” Prince John laughed before saying as he turned back towards the field.

“Coincidentally my dear girl. He amuses me too.” He chuckled darkly.

“For the final shoot out! Move the target back 30 paces!” the drums rolled and that’s when the Sheriff ordered one of his guards.

“You heard him Wormtail! Get going you rat on two legs!” the stoutly man soon got behind the target and the Sheriff whispered to him. “And remember what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yes sir, sheriff sir.” Wormtail said as he moved the target back 30 paces before setting the target back down. The Sheriff readied his bow for one last shot. He took careful aim and released his arrow which went flying. But to everyone’s surprise and no one’s foul calling, Wormtail jumped up into the air and the Sheriff’s arrow went straight into the bullseye.

The Sheriff grinned proudly and said.

“Well, guess that shot wins the golden arrow, the kiss, the whole nine yards.”

“Now just a second Sheriff. Don’t go counting my brother and I out just yet!” Gilbert snapped.

“Your right, my apologizes. Good luck you two.” Gilbert brushed past the Sheriff and readied his arrow. He aimed right for the Sheriff’s arrow, ready to split it down the middle, but before he could take the shot something happened.

Gilbert suddenly let out a pained scream and he collapsed to his knees, holding his lower back in agony.

“BROTHER!” Robin cried out.

“Get a medic over here now!” The Sheriff called out. Soon medics arrived and they soon found that his lower hip was bleeding rapidly. They patched him up as best as they could before taking him away.

“Wait, wait!” Gilbert groaned as he gripped Robin’s sleeve and whispered to him. “Split his arrow Rob!” Robin nodded and soon the medics took Gilbert away to patch him up.

Robin then saw the Sheriff tuck in a small bloodied up dagger back into his sleeve and felt utter rage within him. He hoped that after this was over, he’d get the chance to really beat the hell out of the Sheriff.

For not only did he have the gawk to insult his sister, but he also attempted to kill one of his best men right in front of him.

As he took his stand and readied his arrow, he inhaled deeply before exhaling out softly.

‘This is for you Gilbert.’ He thought to himself. Suddenly his bow was tipped upwards and his arrow went flying sky high. The crowd gasped and using his last arrow, Robin fired his arrow at his old one.

The second arrow struck the tail of his first arrow which dipped it downward, soaring through the air like a falcon diving. And miraculously it not only hit the bullseye, but it obliterated the Sheriff’s arrow right off the target.

The crowd soon cheered loudly at Robin’s victory. Marian above all else was most excited as she embraced Arthur excitedly. James and Gale both whistled and cheered for Robin.

Prince John clapped slowly but turned to the Captain of the guard and gave him the signal. The captain nodded and winked before looking around and whispering to one of the royal guards.

Robin tossed his bow into the air and caught it doing a victory twirl and headed on over to the royal stands and escorting behind him was the royal guard. Maid Marian staring at him lovingly and smiling as she now sported the daisy behind her ear and resting against her long blonde locks.

As Robin now stood before Maid Marian who held the golden arrow, Prince John stood up from his throne and said to him.

“Archer I commend you. And because of your superior skill you shall get what is coming to you. Our royal congratulations.”

“Oh thank you kindly your highness. Meetin you face to face your high and mighty is a real treat……”

“Yes, yes, yes I know!” Prince John interrupted him before clearing his throat. He then took out his sword and began to knight Robin as he said, “And now I name you the winner. Or more appropriately,” he chuckled darkly before tucking the blade into Robin’s robes destroying his costume and revealing himself. “The loser!”

The crowd all gasped in horror, and even Gale, David and Kit stood there horrified.

“Seize him.” Prince John nonchalantly decreed. The guards soon wrestled with Robin Hood as he tried to escape and fight off each of the guards, but they easily overpowered him and had him bound and chained up. “I sentence you to instant, sudden and even immediate death!” Prince John hissed.

“Oh no!” Maid Marian gasped fearfully. Tears formed in her eyes and gently seeped down her cheeks. She turned and pleaded to Prince John. “Please, please sire! I beg of you to spare his life, please have mercy!”

“My dear emotional lady why should I?” Prince John asked not caring at all for Marian’s tears.

“Because I love him.”

“Love him?” Prince John asked in surprise. “And does this prisoner return your love?” Robin turned to see his beloved’s tears run down her face. He longed for nothing more than to break out of his binds, hold her in his arms, and kiss those tears away.

“Marian my darling, without you it’s like there’s no air for me to breathe.” Marian placed her hand over her heart at Robin’s declaration of love, while Arthur wrapped a comforting arm around her.

“Ahh young love.” Prince John mocked. Marian and Arthur turned to Prince John. Arthur glaring while Marian continued to allow some tears to fall down her face. “Your pleas have not fallen upon a heart—of stone.” He continued to mock sympathetically before proclaiming out “But traitors to the crown must die!”

“Traitors to the crown? That crown belongs to King Richard! LONG LIVE KING RICHARD!!” Robin exclaimed.

“LONG LIVE KING RICHARD!!!” the people of Nottingham echoed back.

“ENOUGH!! I AM KING! KING! KING! That’s it! OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!!”

The drums soon started playing that dreading death beat. The executioner soon came up with his axe as the guards forced Robin on his knees. The crowd went dead silent with horror as they were about to witness the beheaded of their beloved hero.

Marian sniffled and sobbed into Arthur’s chest. He embraced his friend trying his best to comfort her. Suddenly screaming through the air was a female voice.

“NOO!!!” everyone gasped out and covering his body like a shield was Gale. She glared with pure hatred at the executioner and she sneered.

“If you kill him, you’ll have to kill me too!”

“Queen Elizaveta get away from that blackguard at once!” Prince John proclaimed.

“Never you filthy dog! I’ll never let you touch another hand to my brother again!”

“You’re what?” she stood up and removed her disguise and the crowd all cheered as they now saw Gale Hood in her traditional clothing. The with one swift stroke of her dagger, she freed her brother. “Robin Hood has a sister?!” Prince John exclaimed in surprise.

“He does indeed sire. And this one’s a witch just like their filth of a mother was.” The Sheriff told him.

“Takes a demon to know one Sheriff! You both abuse the people of Nottingham, the same way you both abuse your power of authority! You both speak of loyalty and keeping the law yet you are cruel to those most in need of help! Manipulating and mistreating them for your own selfish gains!”

“SILENCE!!” Prince John whined out.

“But there is one man who knows well the difference between power and respect. And you Prince John took that right away from him when it rightfully belongs to him! LONG LIVE PRINCE JAMES!!”

“LONG LIVE PRINCE JAMES!!!” The people of Nottingham echoed back Gale’s proclamation, just like they did for Robin. James turned to Gale who looked back at him with soft eyes.

“Sheriff of Nottingham, arrest them both!” Prince John proclaimed.

“It will be my pleasure.” The sheriff growled lowly. He snapped his fingers and soon his guards surrounded the two siblings.

“Hmm let’s see now there’s……” Gale then began counting out the number of guards to herself then said. “So there’s ten of you and two of us. What’s a poor defenseless woman to do?” Gale pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket.

She then began to fake sob into the handkerchief before blowing on it which erupted red smoke out of it and soon both siblings disappeared.

“I knew she was a witch.” The Sheriff muttered.

“Oh boys~ we’re over here!~” a voice soon cooed out. The guards all turned and hidden within the toys and trinkets were both Robin and Gale.

“Kill them! Don’t just stand there! Kill them!” but then leaping from the royal stand, Little John, David and Kit sprang into action and helped out their fearless leaders.

Little John took on two of the biggest guards while David and Kit tag-teamed a few other guards from reaching the two siblings. Together Robin and Gale sword fought against a few guards while sneaking up behind them was Prince John with his sword raised.

Turning around, Robin easily knocked away the prince’s sword and he quickly turned from sneaky failed assassin to trembling child in a matter of seconds.

“Please, please don’t hurt me! No don’t hurt me! Help! Help!” Prince John fled to the safety of some drinking barrels before exclaiming out once more “KILL THEM ALL!!!”

From the royal stands James withdrew his sword and told Arthur.

“Get Marian out of here Arthur.”

“But what about you?” he asked.

“Don’t worry I’ll be fine. They didn’t call me the lion’s fang for nothing. Now go quickly!” James charged forward and joined in the fight.

When Robin was distracted from fighting off a guard, another one was aiming his arrow right for his back. Just before the guard took the killing shot, James stopped the guard and with one swift swipe across his back, the guard fell to the ground.

After knocking the guard he was fighting, Robin turned to see Prince James standing a few feet away from him.

“Thank you.” he told the Prince.

“Figured you could use an extra sword.” James said.

“Where’s Marian?” Robin asked.

“She’s fine. Arthur’s taking her away from here. And don’t worry, he’s just a friend of ours.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” Robin said.

“I know, but just in case you were. Arthur only has viewed her as a sister from when we first met him in London. Now where’s Gale?”

“I don’t know. But she’s alright, she can handle herself.”

“I hope so.” The two then raced off to continue the fight.

Meanwhile deep within the woods Laura, Michael and Robert had gotten lost in the woods in the midst of the chaos of the crowd fleeing since the battle began. The three siblings were frantically trying to find their parents when they got lost in the woods.

“Mama! Pa!” Robert cried out. Suddenly they heard a branch snap and coming out of the trees was the Sheriff of Nottingham, his sword withdrawn and when he spotted the three Sharpe children, his eyes narrowed.

“Just my luck.” He sniped coldly. Michael trembled with his arrow and fired at the Sheriff but his aim was terrible and it only embedded itself into a tree. “That was your first mistake child.”

“You dare touch a hair on those kids and you’ll regret it!” a female voice snarled protectively. The Sheriff then felt a blade right at his neck and he slowly smirked.

“The demon!” he hissed.

“The only demon I see is you. Now step away from those children and draw your sword on me you coward.” As the Sheriff spun around and tried to slash at Gale, she quickly side-stepped and stood guard in front of the Sharpe children.

Protecting them like a mother bear would her own cubs.

“Kids get up into the trees, now!” The kids quickly climbed up as high as they could go to keep away from the Sheriff and watched with awe and terror at the fight that was about to go down. “You claim me to be a witch, well I can certainly say I can take you down without black magic.”

“You’re a vile succubus of the Earth Gale Hood. Hypnotizing anyone with your charm before you taint their souls to the darkness. Using men to do your dirty work for your own selfish gain.”

“You know sheriff you would’ve made a great judge. What happened? King Richard saw your perverted side and put you in the lowest rank possible away from the palace?” The Sheriff then lunged for her but she spun around him and gave him a good cut along his cheek with her hidden knife.

As she stood behind him she told him as he wiped his cheek and saw the blood on his hand.

“That was for Gilbert. Now you both have a matching set.”

“Enough tricks siren!” the two then began to go full on at each other, spinning around each other and nearly making close calls with each other.

Of course the Sheriff had one more dirty trick up his sleeve. After Gale had gotten him on his knees after slashing his leg with her sword, he secretly took some dirt in his fist.

“Ms. Gale watch out!” Michael cried out but it was too late, he tossed the dirt right into Gale’s face. She cried out as the soil stung her eyes and she continued to scream as the Sheriff now had her pinned against him, her arm bent far behind her back and his other hand gripping her hair pulling her head backwards.

“As magnificent as you are, you are still a woman. And women are feeble creatures.” He tossed her down to the ground up. Her head hitting against the trunk of the tree.

He raised his sword high in the air ready to strike down at Gale and finally end her. Robert tucked his brother’s and sister’s heads into his chest and he too closed his eyes not wanting to see the inevitable. His sword then swung down and through the forest a loud CLANK was heard.

The kids slowly opened their eyes and that’s when Laura gasped happily. The sheriff stood there in fear for standing right before him blocking his attack on Gale was Prince James.

“I knew he’d save her. Just like the princes do in the storybooks.” Laura said to her brothers.

He pushed the Sheriff’s sword aside and with a fast strike, he managed to cut a small chunk of the Sheriff’s long black hair. As it fell to the ground the Sheriff looked up at the Prince with horrified eyes.

“Touch her again, and I’ll cut off more than just your hair.”

“My-my Prince…….I-I meant no harm. Please have mercy on me.” The Sheriff pleaded as fell to his knees.

“If you have the pride to attack a woman and attempt to kill children, you should have the balls to fight against me. Now on your feet!” The Sheriff’s fear soon melted away as his cold exterior came back up and he stood back up.

“So she’s corrupted you too? The future king. Never fear your highness, I shall remedy of your tainted soul.”

“Oh you’d be surprised just what she’s taught me.” Challenged James. The Sheriff cried out as he lunged towards the Prince.

But ohh James was indeed a clever fighter. Just like Gale did to him earlier, he spun around the Sheriff but instead of using his sword he thrusted it to the ground and quickly mounted onto the Sheriff’s shoulders.

Using his momentum and the Sheriff’s own body weight against him, the Prince spun the Sheriff of Nottingham right off his feet. When the Sheriff, dazed and confused of what had just happened to him, he heard a snap of his bone. It was then he realized that the Prince had pulled his right arm behind his back and actually broke it.

Before the Sheriff could even turn onto his back, he soon found not only the Prince’s sword, but his own sword crossed over each other over his neck, ready to behead him.

“Please……my Prince….mercy.”

“Every breath you take is mercy from me. I should kill you where you stand for your crimes against Nottingham.” The sheriff closed his eyes fearfully awaiting his punishment. “But unlike my bastard of an uncle, I know self-control. And I won’t kill before children.” He released the sheriff and gave him a final threat, “But harm those children or Gale’s family again, and next time my sword won’t stop.”

He tossed the sheriff’s sword to the ground and like a frightened dog, the Sheriff ran with his tail tucked between his legs. James put his sword away and looked up at the tree.

“You children alright?”

“Yeah we’re okay.” Robert said.

“Thank goodness. C’mon down now, he won’t be back anytime soon.” Robert was the first to scale down the tree, with barely any help from James (Robert was a pretty skilled climber and said he didn’t need any help getting down). Michael then followed behind and James helped him down to the ground, which left Laura clinging onto the trunk fearfully once she saw just how high they really were.

“C’mon Laura jump!” Robert called out to her.

“No!” she cried out fearfully.

“Laura it’s not that far, come on we gotta find ma and pa!” Michael urged her on.

“I can’t! I’m too scared!” James took his sword off his belt and went up the tree to go get Laura. Once he was half way up the tree, he gave Laura a comforting smile and he told her.

“It’s okay Laura. Can you give me your hand?” he extended his hand out. Laura looked down and clung onto the tree tighter, her small body trembling with fear.

“What—what if I fall?” she asked.

“I’ll give you a Prince’s vow that I will not let that happen. I’ll be right here to catch you.” her eyes went to look back down but James told her to not look down, only to look at him.

Soon Laura took James’ hand and slowly he brought her closer to him until she clung onto him like a bear to a tree.

“Now, just keep your arms wrapped around me okay, and you can close your eyes if you wish.” He told her as he wrapped an arm protectively around her. Laura buried her face into James’ neck, his long blonde hair gently tickling her face with each movement he did as he carefully scaled down the tree.

Once they were safely on the ground, James comfortingly rubbed her back and told her that they were safely on the ground. Laura opened her eyes when two familiar voices began calling out to them.

“Ma!”

“Pa!” soon coming through the trees were Adam and Veronica Sharpe. James set Laura down and the three children raced up to their parents. The Sharpe family reunited with each other through hugs and kisses as the kids all spoke at once about what had happened.

Adam looked up at the young Prince and said to him.

“Thank you my Prince.” He went to kneel but James stopped him and he said.

“There’s no need Adam Sharpe. Your children’s safety was my only concern. And I’m happy to see that they’ll be in their parent’s care once again.” Adam stared in awe at this young Prince but smiled and nodded.

“We—we wouldn’t know what we’d done had anything happened to any of our children.”

“Misses Gale!” Laura exclaimed. James soon turned around and saw Gale starting to regain consciousness softly groaning in pain. He quickly raced over to her and saw her eyes still covered with dirt and dust.

“Keep your eyes shut my love.” He adjusted her so that her head was on his lap. He quickly took his water pincher and dumped some water onto his hand before spreading it over her eyes then using his sleeve to gently wipe the water and dust again. He repeated the process a few times before finally allowing Gale to open her eyes.

And once again he was caught off guard by the ethereal beauty of her brown eyes. The two young lovers stared at each other, almost feeling like the world was slipping away and the only thing that mattered was just the two of them.

“James.” She whispered.

“Hey Gale.” He softly greeted with a smile.

“You—you managed to find me in time?”

“Like I told you when we first met. No matter where you are, I will always find you.” he brushed some of her hair away from her face.

“How romantic.” Praised little Laura softly.

“Sissy stuff!” Michael gagged. It was then Adam and Veronica decided to take their leave and take the children back home (but really it was to give the young prince and their female heroine some privacy).

Once the Sharpe’s had left, James continued to gently stroke through Gale’s raven hair and stare into her eyes. Gale soon reached up and took a strand of his long blonde hair in between her fingers and twirl it around.

“You took my dare?”

“Yeah I—I remember you saying long hair wasn’t easy to manage. And you were right.”

“But it—it looks good. Finally gives you the real Charming look.” He faintly chuckled and said.

“God did I miss hearing you call me that.”

“I thought you hated when I called you that the first time we met?”

“Being away from you all these years, made me come to appreciate all the things that we used to do. Every small thing you did or even called me. And—you calling me Charming has been the one thing I missed the most. Cause it makes me think back to the day we met.” Gale smiled solemnly.

James helped her stand up and he said.

“C’mon. Let’s find your brother and the rest of the gang.”

“Onto Sherwood forest then, Charming.”

“Lead the way then, Gale Hood.” She grinned and walked on ahead with James following right behind her.

Back at the tournament, with the battle that had broken out, the field was in disarray. Tents had been knocked over, the royal stand completely destroyed, and the field completely emptied. Prince John who was the only one still there exclaimed.

“HESTON! You’re never around when I need you!” that’s when he began to hear a drunken hum coming from the barrel of ale that he was hiding behind. He pressed his ear to the barrel before uncorking it.

Soon drunkenly raising up was Heston. He removed the muzzle from his python’s nose and that’s when Heston slurred.

“Oh! Oh hey th-there you are old man! PJ you won’t believe this…..but the archer boy is really Robin Hood.”

“Robin Hood…..” Prince John sneered softly. Heston nodded proudly. Prince John then exclaimed in anger as he took Heston out of the barrel and began to throttle him furiously.

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