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joannasteez · 3 years

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𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature Themes.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.7k

Credits to who made the gif @angelreyesgirl

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered

Let me know if you’d like a tag!!!

✞

Your annoyance was simmering, daring to merge into the depths of some irreversible state of agitation. The engine of the classic Dodge Charger RT in your possession had, with incredibly poor timing, began to knock. The unsavory noise resonating into the thick air of the street, stilled heat of the day pushing back the regular ebb and flow of the Santo Padre streets to make way for the obnoxious sound of your engine. Your head was spinning, dazed by the bitter humidity and a steady brew of fear trembling in your fingers to dance just under the surface of your skin. The classic car was given by your father, who'd gotten it from his father, the mass of glistening matte black metal of significant value. If the engine failed, you'd be reduced to tears, wading in the dread of some existential crisis.

Your grandfather had had this car for twenty years, the imprint of his essence etched into the leather seats, and when he became grey and withered, he relinquished it to your father for another fifteen years, till finally, it was yours.

You pulled over just as the last knock sounded, the tremble in your fingers worsening. Your eyes welled, sure to leave a soft red glassiness. The need for air consumed you, the space to walk freely about, a puff of smoke or two maybe.

The pavement was hard under your feet, slam of the door accented by vexation. You picked behind your ear, that nicely rolled spliff safely kept and waiting to be lit. The lighter in your front pocket an easy grab, the flicker of orange a short friendly blaze as it singed the paper. The pull you took was slow, measured, as if to savor this minuscule moment of stillness that lived among others not so still. Not so peaceful. With release, you blew into the air, dried eyes taking in the vast blue of the sky. The never ending expansion blurring your vision as your mind sifted through slim courses of action. If you could just get the car to your garage, then you could figure the battery out on your own, saving time you didn’t have on a mechanics trips you couldn’t afford. All you needed was a—

"Need a boost?"

"Yes". The answer was so quick, it nearly gave you whiplash. The tension in your bones dissipating as you got rid of the sizzling flame around your spliff.

The stranger spun his car from its position just beside yours, the hood of it now facing yours head on before he turned it off and got out.

"Thanks so much for this".

"No problem. It's a nice ride you got, don't really see too many classics rolling around Santo Padre much", he said, eyeing the shine of the paint job. His fingers skimming the hood before he lifted it. "Where'd you get it?"

You step closer to him, a grin stretching your lips at his admiration. The RT was your pride and joy, the height of your ego bursting through to rise above some invisible ceiling whenever folks gave it compliments and stares of approval. "My dad had it for a while, gave it to me when he couldn't keep up with it anymore".

With a nod, he retrieved the cables from his trunk, the wide stretch of his back shifting just under the white fabric of his t-shirt to reveal the curve and ripple of muscles. They traveled down his arms, the bulge of them mixing with defined veins that ran across thick powerful looking fingers. He stretched one of those hands out toward you.

"Ezekiel Reyes".

You considered his hand for a moment, slipping it into your own as your eyes racked him with all the subtlety you could muster. It mustn't have been enough because that innocent friendly smile he gave you had turned into something more knowing. He knew you were checking him out but he didn't mind much. "Y/N".

His thumb skimmed the back of your hand just before letting go, turning his attention to attaching the cables to both cars properly. You minded his movements with the cables closely, triple checking the order in which he connected them with a hawks eye, a concentrated intensity that your dear old Charger RT deserved. Abruptly then, like the quickness of a blink or some single strike of lightning, a thought came to you. "Wait, not Reyes as in Carniceria Reyes?"

"Yeah it's my pops shop",

"Felipe's a real sweet guy. It's not everyday you can look through a deep book collection while the butcher cuts up your dinner". You paused, giving the beauty of his face another glance. "He should've warned me though, never told me both his sons were so handsome".

"You met Angel", he stated, a low dip in his tone. Was it disappointment?

"A couple of weeks ago. He was passing through when I stopped by to pick up somethings. He's a real charmer your brother, but I wouldn't worry. I don't think he's messed up your chances just yet", you flirted.

The assurance produced from him a toothy grin. "I'm not worried".

Silence took ahold of you then, anticipation of the moment charging the pressure in your chest to fall straight to your gut. ‘Please work' you whispered while swinging the door wide to slide into the warm leather of the drivers seat. With the key in the ignition, you twisted your wrist forward, a huff of relief puffing from your chest when the engine roars to life. You close the door quick, that relief bubbling under your skin, your head sticking out the window.

"Thanks again Reyes".

He stepped to the window, those warm endearing eyes taking in the summer glow of your face. His tongue slipped just over the plump flesh of his bottom lip. It was a rosy color, the curving dip of it enticing. He liked the way you said his last name.

"It's no problem".

You put your RT in reverse, backing away from his broad body. "See you around?"

"Maybe", he called.

You speed off, the rev of the engine blending into the ebb and flow of the town once again. Existence dipping into the horizon.

✞✞✞✞✞

You'd saw him again at some hole in the wall you frequented at. The smooth slow tempo of some classic 70s song strumming through the stereo to seep into your ears richly like fresh honey. The atmosphere was subdued, the short clinks of beer bottles and incomprehensible murmurs of frivolous conversations sating the air. It was the perfect place to think, to allow your mind to wander directionless through the never ending abyss of happenings and circumstances that had presented themselves down through the week. You made idle chitchat with the bartender about a laundry list of things of no particular significance, small smiles and light chuckles ringing from you both every now and then.

The night was going good, till you felt a creeping touch just at the low end of your back.

"Let me buy you a drink". The voice was rusted, withered by too much tobacco.

You held up the beer in your hand. "I've got already, I'm good".

This guy was tipsy, blood red creeping into his eyes, body swaying just the slightest bit. "Don't be like that, let me buy you another".

"I said I'm good", you asserted. The coolness of the bottle creating a tingling sensation in your hand. You'd crack it over his head if he touched you again.

"Sorry I'm late, everything alright?", another voice asked, but this one you knew. That deeply textured tone wrapping sweetly around your senses. You tore your irritated gaze set on the almost-drunk guy, softening it as you took Ezekiel in. He looked slightly different, refreshed it seemed, or maybe it was just his barbered hair. A Mayans kutte rested over him, comfortable like a second layer of skin, the black leather accentuating the swell of his muscles. You'd have to figure out later why your eyes diverted to them so often, they were becoming a hindrance to your thinking.

"Everything's good now", you played. Giving him a light peck to the cheek to sell the story. His arm wrapped around you in what appeared to be some reflexive reaction, all natural like he'd done it countless times before. When he realized Ezekiel wasn't leaving, the guy swayed away in true tipsy fashion. Mumbling incoherent things with a griped attitude. Ezekiel took his chair, the proximity of it in regards to yours making the point of his knee knock and slide the smooth plain of your jeans. You watched him take a glance over the bar before he called for a beer.

"Thanks for that".

"No problem", the corner of his lip turning up. "Seems like you've been needing my help a lot lately".

"Don't flatter yourself Reyes, this is just a coincidence".

"Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

Your face screwed up in a show of confusion, but you could guess quickly the reason for the question. "Any reason why you're at a bar alone?"

He sipped at his beer. "Outside gets loud sometimes y'know, hectic. It's quiet in here. Good place to think".

"Exactly".

"A little unsafe for you though no?" And there it was.

"Everywhere's unsafe for me Ezekiel, I'm a woman. I mean I couldn't guarantee safety in my own home if I wanted to, but that's just how the world works". You paused, mischief rising in your face. "Don't worry though, I've got a little surprise for anyone who wants to test their luck".

"Oh really".

"Yeah, you men are dangerous out here. I gotta be prepared always".

His brows furrowed. "That's a bit of a big generalization to make".

"But if it's true it's true. Name one thing a man doesn't get dangerous about. Doesn't even have to be rejection", you say, turning to fully face him.

He considers the question for a moment, staring into the color of your eyes as if he'd find the answer in them. "Love".

"A man who loves, whose in love, would do any and everything, no matter how mad the shit is. He'd risk lives, his life even. If that's not dangerous then I don't know what is".

A speck of something lit in the hazel of his eyes. As if your words had brought to the present some memory buried deep within the grave of his soul. What you said hit rather close, closer than expected. "Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter, it's in the past".

"Humor me".

His jaw ticked before he spoke. "Her names Emily, but that shits all just history now. Doesn't matter". He turned the focus from himself. "What about you. Whose going all reckless about you".

"Who says he exist"

"You just did, I never specified who in particular".

So much for playing dumb. "His name is Jason".

"Sounds like an asshole".

You snort, the teasing of a headache coming as you thought on the insufferable man that was Jason. "He is. He's got that weird alpha male thing about him. Has to be in control of everything, doesn't know when to leave well enough alone".

The muted energy of the bar rose between the two of you, each taking quiet sips of your beer. You took notice of the way he surveyed the room from where he sat. That golden gaze sifting through the space and over bodies with quick ease. He was assessing, the gears in his head turning, calculating and considering every and all the possibilities of danger. It reminded you of someone.

"How long were you in for?", you ask.

"How'd you know?"

"You've been on the defensive since you sat down, lookin’ everywhere like someone's gonna up and shank you for no reason. My cousin was the same way when he got out, always looking over his shoulder". You shrugged. "Grew out of it eventually.

His eyes were a bit sullen, as if the truth would scare you. "Eight years".

"He was in for fifteen, and that prison shit is unbelievable, I mean the stories he's told me are crazy". You laugh suddenly at a memory, the resonance of it making him smile in admiration of the sound. "He did this thing for a while when he got home where he'd only have one knife, one fork and one spoon in his kitchen and I swear it was the funniest shit".

The smile falters, his body shifting awkwardly in the bar stool, embarrassed.

"Oh my God Reyes don't tell me you've been doing the same thing".

"In my defense I live alone".

"But what if you have a special guest over, you'd be a sorry ass host", you tease.

"If you wanted to have dinner with me then just say that".

You force away the heat daring to rise in your cheeks. "We have to take a trip to home goods before I even consider a dinner with you”.

You both give hearty laughs, till the vibration in your pocket pulls your focus. With a quick slip of your phone, you realize how fast time had gone on. “Shit I gotta go, but it was real nice seeing you again Ezekiel".

"It was good seeing you too".

You press your hand against his patch, laying a sweet lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Make it home in one piece for me yeah".

"I have to. You might need me again".

"I'm counting on it".

✞✞✞✞✞

You were a joke it seemed, the universe and fate in a gaming mood, as they were using you as a source for their own amusement. Commissioning their faithful associate to do the heavy lifting of masking their scents. The two of you were at the right place, at the right time again, what a damn coincidence. Before the present week, you'd never even seen Ezekiel's face, just learning of his existence a week or so before that, and now you'd seen him twice in a matter of days. This night being the third.

He was surrounded by men who donned the same kutte as him, curious eyes swimming through the sea of bodies as they did in every other setting, till they met yours. He came to you without a second thought, eyeing the tight leather of your pants and how they clung to your thighs. The cropped cut of your vintage top revealing skin he longed to touch. Since the first time he saw you his mind raced with thoughts of your voice, visions of your lips touching his skin again, plaguing his body with the desire to have you.

You stepped away from your group of friends, meeting him half way. "You're just stalking me at this point. Not that I mind".

He clutched the openings of his kutte, that signature grin lighting his face, even with the casting over of the nights darkness. "Something told me I'd see you again. How's your RT?"

"Good, resting in my garage. I've been kinda scary about replacing the battery".

"Why?"

"I'm good with cars don't get me wrong, but something about fucking it up just makes me sick. It's a lot of history behind that car. I don't wanna destroy it".

"Understandable", he nodded. Noting the caution behind your words, the way you spoke with such passion and care about the thing you loved. It was endearing.

The heavy crunch of gravel and sand tore through the beginnings of some silent stare, an undeniable enticement brewing. It was Angel.

"I see you met this asshole already", the older Reyes said.

"I'm not an asshole Angel, just 'cause I turned you down".

He sent a smirk your way. "You didn't turn me down, we made a mutual decision that you couldn't handle me remember?"

"Right. That's exactly how it went".

A call sounded through the dewy air of the night, signifying the start of a race. You started toward a cherry red car.

"That's me", you said. In regards to the call.

Ezekiel was confused, intrigued. "You racing?"

"Yeah, the mustang", you called, strutting over to your 1970's Mustang, adding the slightest dip to your hips. Giving the brothers something to admire, before dropping low into the leather seats.

With a quick twist, the mustang roared to life, the rumble tearing through the air, growling like a fierce rolling thunder through hazy storm clouds. Another car pulled up on your right, the blue electric color of it dazzling, clashing against the fine cherry red of your own to deliver a sweet contrast for the eyes that watched on in excitement. A woman, with a dangled bandana in her hand, set herself between your car and the other, whistles of admiration thrown her way as she gave the summer evening crowd an alluring smile. At the point of her finger you revved your engine, adrenaline pumping through your veins, rushing from your chest to pulse under your skin. The leather feel of the steering wheel was smooth, the grip you held to it steady. With the downward pull of her hands she set both cars to race and you pulled your mustang swift into the night.

The road before you was a muddled darkness, the outward spreading glow of your headlights stabbing it and tearing it apart as your wheels took a glide against the smooth road. At the mark line, you shifted your car into reverse, whipping left, back into drive, soaring back down the road to where the crowd watched and waited. Their rigid bodies of anticipation lit by your headlights, bellowing screams waning under the busting sound of your revving engine. Your mustang tore through the finishing mark, the tingle of victory surging through you.

Pulling back up to the crowd, you rolled your window down, a slim roll of hundreds placed in your hand by the guy who’d set the race up. You showed up to win and now you were done.

Ezekiel and Angel were a little ways away from your car, your voice carrying over to them. "A little party at my place. You and your guys are cool to come".

They both nodded, heading to their bikes when Angel answered after you. "We'll follow you".

Ezekiel swung his leg, resting on the seat of his bike as he buckled the helmet over his head, his fingers gripping the ape hangers, feeling the vibration of the engine as he followed the sleek vibrant red of your car. The afternoon he met you, he'd been turmoiled, plagued with the natural uncertainties that came with being a member of the MC. That new patch stitched into the upper corner of his kutte had bought a sense of pride and belonging he hadn't felt in forever, it gave him drive, fueled his determination, but as the saying goes, all that glitters is not good. Expectation deceived him, the reality of all things made clear. And that reality was shoveling makeshift graves for men whose names he couldn't even remember, but he remembered yours. Committed himself to it like the loving kiss he gave to the jar that held the remnants of his mother every time he stepped a foot into his fathers house.

He found you flustered, out of yourself with anxiety in the dimming light of the afternoon, and then at the bar, body rigid, eyes wired and ready to do your worst to a guy who could barely keep his posture straight, and now he was following behind you, backing his bike toward the sidewalk that laid just in front your home.

Upon entry, the knock of the speakers bled a thumping bass that pulsated through the floors. Your home had seemed to expand with every new corner that came into view, the walls pushing back to make room for the swell and scatter of bodies. Sweet smells mixed with more pungent ones, the hazy aroma of weed slipping past him as he walked further into the house. A hand placed itself at his side. It was you.

"Can I get you a drink? A beer or something".

"Yeah a beer is cool".

You intertwined your fingers with his, leading him to the kitchen where the sound settled some. Beer bottles clinked, the air releasing as you opened them, handing one over to him.

He gave a quiet "thanks" before sipping, eyeing the way your lips wrapped around the top of the bottle to taste the liquid. They looked soft, full and alluring. He redirected his gaze before the temptation overtook him to do something impulsive that had the prospect of unnerving you. His eyes flitted to the side of your face, an illustration about two inches or so etched into your skin. He hadn't noticed it till now.

You could feel him staring as you tasted the beer, the heat of it tingling your skin. "It's a dagger".

He reached forward, thumb skimming over the finely crafted design, it was a professionals work. With the simple touch of his thumb, your nerves were riling, heat rushing to pulse under your skin, he could feel it. It drew him closer, lured him in. "Did it hurt?".

"Like hell, but when you've felt more painful shit, tattoos like this don't really compare". You lifted the hem of your top some, bringing his fingers to feel the raised skin there. Four inches or so worth of a healed gash rested under his considerate touch. "Got it when I spent a year and a half inside. Grand theft", you admitted.

The reasoning behind telling him wasn't sound in the slightest bit, but what was reasoning when Ezekiel had awakened such dormant feelings inside you. With those beautiful, sunny colored eyes and the warm hand caressing your side, you were liable to tell everything. Truths you hated and dark secrets that laid deep inside your past. You reached up to lay a kiss to those pouty lips, the feel of them mesmeric, dazing. Fulfillment burdened itself onto you, finally you'd got a taste of that rosy pink bottom lip, and now your body was calling for more. Begging for it with such longing that you licked your way through his mouth, his tongue acting in kind. It was slow and all consuming, his body pressing you into the counter to surround you.

"Come with me", your voice airy. Breathless. You lead him to the back of the house. Your room first on the right. A gasp left you when your feet left the floor, body in his arms as he laid you against the fresh feel of the sheets. You kicked your shoes off with ease but the discarding of other pieces left behind a sinking feeling, a pressure forming in your chest to push down straight into your gut. He was glorious, the plains of his skin bound by rich thick tanned muscles and long veins. The dilation of his pupils darkened the air around him, physique imposing. This is what you’d wanted, Why were you feeling so anxious all of a sudden?

"What's wrong?"

Your body had raced miles ahead of your mind and now you were trying to catch up. "I don't know, I just... I feel..."

"Nervous".

"It's sounds so stupid when you say it out loud".

"But it's not, It's natural, and I'll do whatever you want me to do. Whatever makes you feel comfortable baby".

He sounded so sure of it, it made you believe him. You laid against the pillows, beckoning him with the outstretch of your fingers. "C'mere".

He obeyed, body atop yours, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as your head tilted up to give those lips another kiss. It was messy this time, fueled by desperation, your tongues slow to lick as they tasted each other's. The remnants of beer still there. He took hold of your lip, sharp teeth pulling before he kissed his way down to the heated flesh of your neck. There he sucked, bombarding your skin with pressure causing your hips to grind against the coarse fabric of his jeans. The thin cotton layer of your underwear leaving you to erupt with a fresh wave of need. He feathered kisses down your body, pushing your legs up and apart to open yourself for him. A shudder drove down your spine, that soft wide tongue of his licking so close to where you needed him. He peeled away your underwear leaving you bare before him.

"Talk to me baby. What do you need".

You could hear the pulse of your heart in your ears. "Take care of me Ezekiel, make me feel good".

He hummed, loving the airiness of your voice. So drenched with need for him you were. He was methodical despite the desire boiling in his blood threatening to burn through his skin, so he'd settled with toying with you for now. Giving that sweet glistening clit teasing licks. They were measured, the constraint of them existing solely to wreck you, to kill your resolve completely till you were reduced to in-apprehensible words filled with air. The wide-ness of his tongue felt so good, your nails running over the faded part of his head as your hips drew tight circles.

The teasing, the game of it all. He didn't know but you loved it so much. "That feels so good baby, so good", you praised.

Your words were disembodied, wandering in another plain of existence as they rolled off your lips. Your senses were bursting at the seems, and then reborn again to erupt on impact when he sucked against your sensitive nub, lapping your slick salaciously. As if he'd been starved for years, only just finding you now. The line of your spine arched, waist swiveling, grinding to meet his wet tongue. A low "fuck" fell in the air as your felt the rise of your impending release. With taut, rough fingers he hooked at the back of your knees, pushing them into the sheets. The action opened you completely to him, no choice but to surrender to his will and the feel of his lips as he drew you closer to the edge.

"Please, I'm so close", you whimpered. Vision splotchy, thump in your ears intensifying.

He sucked at you again, holding his lips still as your body shook. Quivering against the sheets. He reverted back to soft licks, tasting as you rode the high.

He rose when you settled, eyeing the heavy rise and fall of your chest as he did away with his jeans. "You Ok?"

It took you time to register the question but when you did, you threw a pillow at him. "You just sucked the soul out of me, don't ask me that damn question".

He laughed, watching your eyes dim in bliss. You hadn't noticed, but he'd done away with his underwear as well, the weight of him causing the bed to dip as he came up to where you laid. His thick fingers rolled you over, setting your face to rest against the pillows as your hips raised in the air to rest against the hot flesh of his length, the veined skin laying along your slit. You moaned in anticipation, pushing back against him.

He gripped your cheeks, spreading them to see the quivering flesh of your opening, the flushed pink shinning in the dim light of the room. His tongue slipped against his bottom lip again, reveling in the taste of you as he pushed in. He groaned, and you gave a single fleeting "yes" , the thickness of him giving a delicious stretch, rigid length hot as he pushed and pulled in and out of your depths in a slow manner. Wanting to test the waters same as he did moments ago before building you back up again. The squeeze of you made his chest tight, head swimming with delirium.

"You feel so good mama, so tight around me", he groaned.

His thrust were dizzying as they picked up to set a steady pace, your hips rolling and pushing to take him deeper. To reach that place in you that would force your vision to blur and be replaced by disfigured stars. You reach to lay a finger at your overstimulated bundle of nerves, rubbing the soft slick flesh with lazy pleasuring circles that spurred the knot in your gut to grow. A single tear fell to dampen the pillow, your depths tightening at how full you felt, at how unrelenting the stimulation of his strokes were.

The sharp drive of his hips made you go rigid, the vice like grip you formed around him causing him to fall into his own high. Pace going all slow sloppy to ride out the blissful feeling.

He pulled from you, both your body and his collapsing against the bed. His face formed with satisfaction, a beautiful buzz running through him. "You know what this means right?"

"What", you asked.

"We’ll have to see each other around more often now".

#ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #mayans mc #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes imagine #joannasteez

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

Never gonna happen

(Looking at the art deity @cacodaemonia ‘s work for inspiration to help me through the next chapter of Time To Say Goodbye and I couldn’t stop giggling at this one. And suddenly this one-shot was written. Poor Mose xD )

The bar is crowded with souls from every corner of the Galaxy and none which one should be turning one’s back on. In the corner of the room, Mose tips the food on his plate into his big mouth while Zev’sonya leans back in her chair and takes a big swallow from her glass of hard liquor.

They are between work, and also between crews as the previous one made the mistake of heavily hinting to her how many credits they could get by visiting one of the blood farms with Mose.

So, yeah, Zev’sonya is in a foul mood and of course that means some moron has to appear and try his luck charming her.

Her initial reaction and instinct is to tell the idiot to go away before she cuts him, but one glance at his face makes her change her mind. Instead of scowling, she puts on a smile. Instead of threats, Zev’sonya nods for him to take the seat next to her.

Mose chews and watches them with a slight frown.

The idiot introduces himself as Dannian or something. He offers to buy her a drink while he does a poor job at trying to map her body with his eyes and hating her layers of clothing for making it difficult. Zev’sonya keeps her smile on and pretends not to notice.

And soon she accepts the offer from this Durian-guy to travel back to his planet with him as his guest, on the one condition that her friend got to come along as well.

While Durian-guy tries to act like he’s perfectly fine with having a Hutt join them, Zev’sonya gives her sweet smile to Mose, who returns it with a faint narrowing of his eyes in a silent question.

Zev’sonya takes the hand Durian-guy offers her and lets him help her to her feet before looking back at Mose again, still smiling. “You coming?”

Sighing, Mose puts his plate down. “Yeah, yeah…”

She knew he would. He always does. He’s the one soul she can trust.

On the ship, Mose stays in the back, in the shadows, while Zev’sonya allows the Durian-guy to cozy up to her. She giggles at the lame jokes he delivers and swoons at the lies he serves her.

The planet they land on is quite beautiful with sleek, golden buildings and a warm, red sky. The air smells like sugar. They walk to an impossibly tall tower where servants scramble to obey Durian-guy’s every whim, just like he said they would and Zev’sonya knew they would.

Mose keeps quiet and remains in the background, but he follows.

Though, unease flutters across his face later, when Zev’sonya appears in a slinky dress that had been brought to her room for her to wear to tonight’s big dinner in the tower. He’s clearly worried she’s lost her mind.

Zev’sona gives Mose another sweet smile and lets Durian-guy place his hand on her bare back as he guides her over to the seat next to him. Mose shakes his head and eats.

It’s in the middle of the night when the door to Mose’s room slides open and Zev’sonya sneaks inside. “Mose…” She whispers.

Mose frowns without opening his eyes or getting up from where he’s sleeping on the floor. “What?”

“We have to leave.” Zev’sonya continues, keeping her voice down so no one else will hear her. “Now.”

Mose opens his eyes and stares directly at her. “What did you do?” His voice is an odd mix of resignation and wariness, but he doesn’t sound surprised. At all. Like he was expecting this.

Zev’sonya can’t help it, she grins, too pleased with herself not to. “Relax. He’s fine. I didn’t put a finger on him.”

“What,” Mose gets up and sighs, “did you do, Lorda?”

“You didn’t recognize him, huh?” Zev’sonya says as they leave the room. “Well, I did. I saw that guy’s face on a propaganda bulletin thing last month. Durian is a prince on this planet and a huge player in the slave trade.”

They pause in the shadows as two guards walk by before Zev’sonya gestures for Mose to follow, which he does, and they actually manage to sneak out of the building undetected.

“I just thought him having so many credits from his business deals, he wouldn’t mind sharing them with us.” Zev’sonya states gleefully, feeling the weight of all the jewellery and other valuables in her countless pockets. “He was only too happy to show me where he kept all his treasures. Not exactly humble or smart.”

“A prince, Lorda.” Mose growls. “You decided to rob a prince. On his home planet. Without an escape ship or a back-up crew.”

Zev’sonya makes a face. “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“We talked about this.” Mose sighs, shuffling along after her as she scouts for a ship to steal.

“You need to learn to get a little more fun out of life, pateesa.” Zev’sonya grins, then lights up as she sees a small and fast ship that is perfect for them. “Ah hah. That one.”

“What I need is to sleep through a night without having to flee for my life…” Mose mutters.

Snorting a laugh, Zev’sonya slices the computer lock on the ship’s door and it slides open to let them in. “You want a straw? I mean, since you’re set on sucking the fun out of things?”

“No, I just want to get off this planet before they start shooting at us.”

Zev’sonya gets into the pilot seat and starts awakening the ship from its slumber. It’s fairly easy and soon they are heading towards the safety of space. She glances back into the passenger seating area outside the cockpit door and grins at Mose. “See? You worry too much.”

Mose huffs, unimpressed, and merely tries to get his big bulk comfortable between the narrow path between the row of seats at opposite sides of him. Few ships are designed for a Hutt body and this small craft is clearly not.

Zev’sonya is about to reassure him that they’ll land and sell the ship and get a better one as soon as possible when a beeping sound draws her attention. She turns forward again and the smile on her face fades when she sees the multiple dots on the radar following them. “Oh.”

Mose stops fidgeting and stares at her. “What?”

Zev’sonya clears her throat. “I think he found out.”

“Here we go…” Mose sighs. “Are we in trouble?”

Frowning, Zev’sonya flips some switches and pushes some buttons, pushing the engine to the limit to reach top speed. It helps, but not for long. The dots on the radars increase their speed as well and soon they even start catching up. “I wouldn’t necessarily use the word ‘trouble’…”

“What word would you use?” Mose demands.

“Uhm…” Zev’sonya glances to the left when a warning shot is fired by the ship. “That things might get a little… interesting?”

Mose mutters something rude in Huttese.

A second shot comes dangerously close to the ship and Zev’sonya snarls angrily. They want to punish her for stealing stuff Durian-guy can afford losing three times over? Fine. But they do NOT get to shoot down Mose for her idiocy. She gets up and runs out of the cockpit, running across the seats to get by Mose to reach the narrow, circular opening in the floor that will lead her to the ship’s weapons. “Take over the controls. Keep up the speed and be ready to dodge. I’ll get on our guns.”

“What do you-No, wait, get back here! I can’t…” Mose blurts out as she goes by, but then the ship shakes as a third shot clearly comes too close for comfort.

“Do it!” Zev’sonya shouts as she climbs down the ladder and then rushes over to activate the weapons.

There are about seven or eight ships pursuing them and it is quite satisfying seeing them scatter like startled birds when she starts firing at them.

Mose is a skilled pilot, just rarely fits into a cockpit, so he keeps them going while Zev’sonya convinces the ones following them it would be wise to simply let them go. It takes quite a bit of persuading, whatever Durian-guy is paying them must be a lot, but eventually they decide they’ve chased them far enough and the risk isn’t worth it, so they turn and head back to the planet far away in the distance.

Cackling satisfied, Zev’sonya climbs back up the ladder. “We’re good.”

“You’re sure?” Mose asks, his upper torso in the cockpit as he has his hands on the controls while the rest of him is still in the passenger area.

“I’m sure.” Zev’sonya says, hopping up on the chairs to make her way towards the cockpit without stepping on his tail. “We’re good.”

“Good.” Mose replies, then sighs and slumps a little. “Because I’m stuck.”

“Really?” Zev’sonya blinks, surprised, then steps off the chairs and on to his back, ignoring his soft grunt of annoyance, gingerly walking up to where she crouches down and can see the door frame is digging into his sides.

“Really.” Mose grumbles.

Caught between feeling guilty and the urge to laugh, Zev’sonya clears her throat and heads back into the ship again. “I’ll go see if we got some grease.”

She finds some by a panel where somebody had been doing repairs or maintenance.

It takes a bit of time and effort, plus all of her might pulling on his arm, but finally Mose, after one careful inch after another, finally slides free with a loud schlurp. He exhales with relief and lets go of Zev’sonya’s hand so she falls on her back with a startled squawk.

Laughing up at the ceiling, not begrudging him a little payback, Zev’sonya revels in her smugness at their success. “I told you; you worry too much.”

Watching her, Mose shakes his head a little. “I feel so bad for the one who ends up marrying you, Lorda.”

Sitting up with a heartfelt scoff, Zev’sonya speaks with utter certainty: “That, pateesa, is never going to happen.”

There is absolutely zero chance of her agreeing to something so stupid. That kind of love isn’t real, the only one she will ever trust is Mose and marriage is for naive idiots.

Not going to happen.

Never.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Zev'sonya #Mose the Hutt #Mose has the patience of a saint #and Zev has impulse control issues #foreshadowing #someone PLEASE take the internet away from me

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

Note

talk to me about king christopher, intentionally or not, helping his two dads figure out they’re in love with each other 🤗 xoxo

cailee, you beautiful wonderful tropical fish, did you know you had a direct line to my soul with asks like this?

There was a very, very good reason that whenever anyone asked Edmundo Diaz about his son, the first word that he used to describe Chris was ‘smart’.

Chris was a caring boy, a kind boy, a kid who had known loss and grief in his life, more than any child should. He had survived earthquakes, tsunamis, surgeries, death, and that had shaped him into a kid that was incredibly sweet, empathetic, but most of all, smart.

Eddie knew it, of course; he was incredibly proud of his son, of the work he did in school, of the friends he made, of the person that he was growing into. Chris was bright, and he was bubbly, and he was whip quick in a way that Eddie sincerely wished he could be an adult, let alone as a kid—but that wit usually came as a double edged sword.

Because as proud as Eddie was of his son, Chris had a knack of thinking circles around everyone, himself included.

Eddie knew when he was being played for extra video game time, and knew damn well when Chris batted his eyes for a sick day from school, but Eddie figured that was about as far as things went. As far as Eddie was concerned, as long as his grades stayed up and he stayed happy with his friends, a little special treatment wouldn’t hurt.

So it only made sense that when Chris decided to wield his powers for good where his father was concerned, Eddie had no idea what was coming.

“Dad, can we go over to Buck’s house to play some video games tonight?”

Eddie smiled, watching Chris tilt his cell phone to get through whatever game he was playing in the rear view mirror as they made the trek home from Abuela’s. He had to admit, while the best possible thing that had come out of him joining the 118 was the easy friendship that he found with Buck, the easy friendship that Chris and Buck seemed to have made was a close second.

“I dunno buddy, Buck might already have dinner plans. Besides, you know it’s rude for us to invite ourselves over.” Eddie said, catching Chris’ eye in at a stoplight. He was thankful for their friendship, of course, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t feel a little guilty about monopolizing all of Buck’s time when they were both off the clock.

The look Chris gave him was thoroughly unimpressed as he held up Eddie’s phone, speaking like it was actually paining him to have to explain himself. “Dad, Buck was the one who asked. He says we should bring over pizza!”

...okay, Eddie might have felt bad about being attached to Buck at the hip, but that didn’t mean he was about to deny himself the pleasure when Buck was the one to initiate some time together. And Eddie definitely wasn’t going to say no when he knew that Chris was looking forward to spending time with Buck just as much as Eddie was.

Even if Eddie knew he enjoyed Buck’s company for entirely different reasons.

“Hey, thanks for having us over.” Eddie said softly, once pizza had been devoured, and Buck had his ass thoroughly kicked (With Chris, Buck definitely threw his matches—but with Eddie, well, there was no denying the cry of defeat whenever Eddie skimmed past him into first). “Chris loves spending time with you, you make his night whenever he gets to see you.”

Buck grinned back at him, that easy smile that made Eddie’s heart do things he didn’t care to identify as he shrugged his shoulders. “You know I love spending some time with my Diaz boys. This was definitely one of your better ideas.” he said easily, clearing the table, sliding the pizza box into the fridge.

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, pausing before any words could come out, a curious look crossing his face. He reached around Buck and grabbed two beers, handing one to Buck after he cracked them open. “You mean, thanks for the pizza. This was your idea, after all.”

It was Buck’s turn to look confused, swallowing a mouthful of beer as he pulled his phone out. “No, Eddie, pretty sure you sending me a message that said ‘game night, we’ll bring pizza’ was pretty clear.”

Eddie blinked as he looked at Buck’s phone—sure enough, the message was there plain as day, and he shot a curious look over to Chris, who was conked out on the couch. Buck followed his gaze, chuckling when he put two and two together, shaking his head. “Hey, go easy on him... after all, it’s not like I had any other plans.”

“Buck...”

“No, I’m serious.” Buck said, his face holding that soft, sweet grin. “After all, it’s... well, I like spending time with you. With, um, both of you I mean.” he murmured over the mouth of his beer bottle, pink raising in his cheeks as Eddie took a swig of his own. He didn’t trust himself to respond and instead linked his ankle with Buck’s beneath the table, trusting the gesture would say enough—and judging by the grin Buck shot him, the message was received loud and clear.

Unseen to either of them, Chris had a small smile on his face, peeking through his lashes as he watched the two from his space on the couch.

In retrospect, Buck probably should have asked what all was entailed in Career Day when Chris asked he and Eddie to show up to his school at 9am.

All he had expected was that he and Eddie would get to show the kids some of their tools, some of their gear, and then answer some questions. What he got was a room full of single moms (and dads) that were looking at Eddie like he was good enough to eat.

Which, let’s be real, Eddie was. Especially when he was partially suited up, PPE from the waist down, a 118 tee shirt, and the thick red suspenders to hold everything together. Saying he looked delicious was selling it short, but that didn’t mean Buck liked a room full of strangers being so blatant about it.

It was all he could do to stand back and not cause a scene as yet another mom walked up to Eddie and put her hand on his bicep, laughing at a joke far too loudly, for far too long. The only saving grace was the look that Eddie shot him while she had her head tossed back, rolling his eyes so hard that Buck thought he was going to hurt himself.

As Chris took his turn and made it up to the front of the class, Buck couldn’t deny feeling a little bit self conscious as he stood beside Eddie.

A room full of parents, with their kids, and then Buck.

He wasn’t jealous, okay?

And even if he was—

“This is my Dad, and this is my Buck! They’re firefighters!”

—Chris knocked that feeling out of him, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head as Chris started his presentation. A quick look at Eddie confirmed that he wasn’t the only one who caught the title, and he dipped his head with a little smile, not bothering to hide how pleased he was.

Pleased because he got to be Chris’ Buck. Not pleased because of the disappointed looks that he could see flicker across half of the single parents faces. Nope, that had nothing to do with it, and if it did, it was no secret that Chris was the real source of his joy.

“...they use their trucks and ladders to help keep us safe...”

Chris being an awesome kid was no surprise—Eddie was a great dad, okay?—but Buck still felt lucky that he got to see such a bright kid in his element like this, and even luckier that he got to help out whenever he could. He let his mind wander as Chris continued to speak, treading into dangerous territory. Chris had called him his Buck, so easily, like it was obvious, and for a moment Buck let himself wonder what it would sound like for Eddie to say the same.

“...and they’re super strong, too!”

Chris turned around, looking directly at Eddie, and Buck had to swallow a snort of a laugh as every eye in the room followed him. Eddie, to his credit, tried to save face, nodding his head. “Uh, we... workout every day?” he said, and Chris giggled as he looked over to Buck.

“Dad, you have to show them! Lift Buck up!”

Now it was Buck’s turn to feel every eye swivel over to him, and he was sure his face was bright red in record time. Was this part of the presentation? Did Chris mention this? Buck couldn’t be sure, but honestly, it didn’t exactly sound like something he would have agreed to. He caught Eddie’s eye and shrugged helplessly—after all, Eddie would be the one doing the heavy lifting, it was kind of out of his hands.

After a shared, barely-there nod, Eddie clapped his hands together, turning back to the class. “So, uh, this is called a fireman’s lift. It’s what we do when we have to carry someone out of a burning building, if they can’t walk out on their own. What we do is—“

“Have you ever had to do it before?” A blonde boy asked from the second row, his hand straight up in the air, eyes wide. His father, a corporate manager, didn’t look entirely pleased.

Eddie was all smiles, though, as he nodded and looked over to Buck. “We both have. Our job is to keep people safe, and this is the easiest way to do it.”

The clear hero worship may have helped Eddie become a little more comfortable, but for Buck, the situation didn’t matter—acting as a dead weight was always going to be a little weird. He sighed and opened his arms as Eddie stepped forward, and he was in the air before he could blink. He twisted his body as Eddie lifted so he could still face the class, focusing on Chris’ smile as his world went sideways.

If Buck thought it was awkward before, the dead silence that met him when Eddie spun around with Buck on his shoulders was completely deafening. It was all Buck could do to focus on keeping himself right side up, and not focus on the firm line of Eddie’s shoulders against his side, his strong hands on Buck’s thigh and wrapped around his arm—and thankfully Buck didn’t have long to follow that train of thought before there were twenty kids cheering for them, clapping wildly.

Okay, note to self; if you want to impress a room full of nine year olds, you just had to lift something heavy up.

Buck found himself smiling again, cheeks feeling permanently pink as Eddie brought him back down to the ground, turning to answer a few questions as they were swarmed with tiny bodies. He loved kids, he always had, and he was definitely in his element—but he couldn’t get the thought of Eddie’s hand on his thigh out of his mind.

He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when the weight of Eddie’s arm looped around his waist, effectively anchoring him and sending him into another galaxy as Chris’ teacher took a picture of the three of them together.

As Buck leaned into Eddie’s touch, he couldn’t help but look down to Chris, who very much looked like the cat that got the canary—and Buck was content to assume that it was because he obviously had the coolest Career Day presentation.

After all, getting your Dad to deadlift your Buck certainly blew any investment bankers or realty agents out of the water.

“You know, if you actually want to watch a movie, you have to press play on the remote.”

“Shove it, Eds.”

His words were snippy, but Buck was all smiles as Eddie joined him in the loft, plate in hand, passing Buck a burger and a huge plate of chips as he crashed on the couch beside him. Buck had been listening to the menu theme of some action DVD that Chim had picked out for the better part of a half hour as he scrolled through his phone, his attention quickly pulled to the food. “What’s wrong, Bobby kick you off the grill again? Made you realize there was more to life than being a meathead?” Buck said with a teasing smile, and Eddie found himself laughing in spite of himself.

“Well, actually, Carla sent me a few pictures of Chris on his class trip to the zoo today, and I was going to show you, but...”

“Hey, no, what? I think it’s awesome that you’re a middle aged grill dad, you look great with that spatula, now show me the pictures!” Buck said, immediately back tracking, his pride an easy thing to swallow whenever Chris being adorable was involved.

Eddie snorted as he handed over his phone, letting Buck swipe through the photos, and if he happened to be looking at Buck more than he was looking at the photos, well that was his own business. Buck, mercifully, was plenty distracted—the sight of Chris and a peacock would do that to anyone, Eddie had already set it as his wallpaper.

“Eddie, your kid is so fucking cute.” Buck said as he looked back up at Eddie, smiling as he tapped at Eddie’s screen, undoubtedly forwarding a few of the images to his own phone. Buck’s phone was only second to Eddie’s when it came to cute pictures of Chris, and if Eddie had more than three brain cells bouncing around in his skull, he probably would have looked a little more deeply into that.

Eddie pulled his phone back as another message came through, eyes flickering over the text message as Buck took a huge bite of the burger Eddie brought him.

“Hey Buck?”

“Mmmphhgghh?”

“Say cheese.”

“Ehh, muhnuie!”

The picture was pretty disgusting, honestly—Buck had a mouth fit to bursting of burger, sauce and ketchup smeared over his cheek, eyes wide as he turned to the camera. “What? Chris wanted to see what we were doing today.” Eddie said innocently, saving the picture to his camera roll before sending it to Carla’s phone.

“Dad I need selfies of you and Buck!”

The message from Carla came through easy enough, though it was clear that Chris had taken over, and Eddie was still laughing at Buck when he read the message aloud. Buck’s scandalized look didn’t go away as he finally swallowed, and Eddie knew he was in trouble the moment Buck reached for his phone, ready for retaliation.

He couldn’t complain when he suddenly had an arm full of Buck, laughing easily as Buck fired up his selfie camera, but his laughter quickly turned into a sound of absolute horror as he felt ketchup against his cheek when Buck smushed their faces together, camera shutter firing rapidly.

“You are disgusting!” Eddie finally got out between laughs, shoving Buck aside, who looked all too pleased with himself as he furiously tapped at Eddie’s phone, undoubtedly sending the pictures to Carla (and probably Maddie, and Abuela, and maybe his own phone too).

He had to admit, when he finally got his phone back and looked over the pictures, he was a little uncomfortable—not because of the content, but because he had never known he was so fucking obvious when he was looking at Buck. He hadn’t understood the term heart eyes until now, and it kicked his anxiety up just a little bit—he needed to work on his subtlety.

Then again, the next time he caught a glimpse of Buck’s phone, he was stunned to see that the picture of the two of them had made Buck’s wallpaper...

...maybe Chris was on to something with the whole selfies idea.

“Hey Buck?”

“What’s up, bud?”

They had just finished what Buck would not hesitate to call one of the best nights of his life—Eddie and Chris had shown up with a truck packed full of food, blankets, chairs, and a huge, colorful umbrella. Buck had worried that Chris would be less than thrilled to be near the ocean after the tsunami, but his fears were completely misplaced—Chris took to the beach like a crab, and Buck’s heart felt lighter than it ever had every time he heard Chris’ laughter, getting to the point where he actually deleted a few apps from his phone to take some more photos.

The icing on the cake, though, was Chris insisting that Buck could read him his bedtime story that night. Eddie looked completely betrayed, even as he insisted it was fine.

It was fucking hilarious.

“You love me, right?”

Buck felt his brows raise into his hairline, closing the book as he nudged Chris’ shoulders. “Course I love you, buddy. You’re my favorite little man.” He said softly, the initial spike of concern easing in his heart when he watched Chris break out into a grin. He should have known it was a trap, but Chris was so cute, so unassuming, so—

“And you love Daddy too, right?”

—so damn sneaky.

Buck swallowed once he regained his bearings, nodding his head, glad for the dim light of Chris’ room to hide his blush. “Course I do kiddo. You and your dad are both very important to me.” Which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say, if the scrunch of Chris’ face was anything to go by.

“But you love him too, right? You love me and Daddy?”

Putting the long forgotten book down on the night table beside Chris’ bed, Buck pulled his arm around the kid easily, pressing a kiss to his mess of curly hair. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the only thing that would come out was the truth. “Yeah, I love you and I love your dad too.” he murmured. It was the first time he had ever said that aloud before—and even as he felt his heart race, he felt lighter, to be able to get that off his chest, a secret that had been heavy on his heart for a long time.

“You should tell him that.”

Buck almost swallowed his tongue. Like he could sense his discomfort, Chris looked up, blinking owlishly without his glasses, a small smile on his lips. “It makes me happy when you tell me you love me. I bet it would make Daddy happy too.” he said with a little shrug, and Buck actually surprised himself with a little laugh.

“How did you get so smart, kid?”

Another kiss goodnight and Buck had the door shut behind him, walking on the balls of his feet as he returned to the kitchen, where Eddie was still scrubbing at a dish—and if that wasn’t enough of a red flag, the red tint to his cheeks and the way he shyly looked up at Buck told him all he needed to know. Shy was just not a typical look for Eddie.

“Edmundo Diaz, were you eavesdropping on your sons bedtime story?” Buck asked, his voice light and teasing, even as his face heated up. If Eddie had been listening in, there was no way to tell just how much he had heard, but while the thought usually pushed Buck into a spiral of despair, all he felt now was a strange sense of warmth.

Eddie looked up at him cautiously, chewing his lip. “What? It’s not my fault, I had to make sure the story you picked was up to his standards, and that you... did all the voices, and—“

“I meant it.”

Wow, fuck, Buck just blurted that out. He felt his jaw clamp shut as Eddie’s gaze snapped to him, Eddie’s eyes as wide as his own.

“Buck...”

“I’m serious, Eddie. I meant it, I... I mean it.” Buck’s feet are moving of his own accord, closing the distance between them until Buck could reach out and touch Eddie if he wanted. Well, if he could get his arms to respond. “You and Chris, you’re the most important people in the world to me, and... and I do, I love you. And I think, I think you love me too.”

Eddie couldn’t think, couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything other than move forward and pull Buck into his space completely. Their first kiss was a little rough—bumped noses, off center, but even then Eddie could feel fireworks—and when they reconnected, when Buck’s lips met his properly, it was all Eddie could do to remain upright.

He kept his hands around Buck when they pulled back to breathe, their foreheads resting against one another, and Eddie’s cheeks were literally hurting he was smiling so hard. Buck’s little laugh was all Eddie could hear, all he ever wanted to hear for the rest of his life—so he couldn’t be blamed for failing to hear a pair of little feet leaving the kitchen, back through the hallway, or the nearly silent closing of Chris’ bedroom door.

Chris didn’t need to stick around to see the end result—adults were so gross—but he was pleased enough to see that his hard work and careful planning had paid off, knowing that his dad and his Buck would be happier than ever now that they were finally smooching (even if it had taken forever!).

His dads were a little slow on the uptake sometimes, sure, but that was okay.

After all, Chris would be there to give them a little push whenever they needed.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #chris diaz #chris diaz is a little genius #chris diaz: professional matchmaker #buddie #buddie fic #911 #flospeaks #floanswers #mutually assured devotion #buckleydiazs

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crimsonrae · 4 years

Text

The Wiles of Men and Women

Chapter Four

Summary: Georgiana Stafford has just become betrothed to a man older than her father. Her last chance to enjoy society on her terms comes the night that court celebrates the birth of Princess Mary. She was prepared for just about anything, but she hadn't been prepared for him. Charles Brandon.

CharlesxOC,

Rated: Mature

A/N: Here is Chapter Four. I’ve been re-watching the first season and Charles really is a little shit: Between thinking of what he had done to Buckingham’s daughter to make her beg, teasing Margret (though really she deserved and enjoyed it) and hearing him tell a paramour to ‘Get her husband to lick it off’ ... I’m like ‘I kind of want to smack you.’ So to clarify this is very early Charles right now - he’s about twenty-three/ twenty-fourish and Katerina: I would place about five years older than Georgiana. Thank you to everyone who liked and showed support. I always love hearing from you guys. 💕 I really appreciate it 😊. Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

If you would like to be tagged in my stories please add yourself to the taglist linked in my bio!!

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether @cavillhavoc @omgkatinka @promptandpros @multixwolf @oddsnendsfanfics @vikingsbifrost @marswritings @imneonpanda @tumblnewby @henryfanfics101 @lebguardians @agniavateira

Big Bad Wolf

Katerina chewed on the inside of her cheek as she helped Georgiana ready herself. In truth, the younger girl hardly needed her assistance, but the finishing of laces and plaiting of hair was a good distraction from the conversation that the maid needed to eventually begin. It wasn't until Georgiana had tied a simple ribbon around her crown and picked up a cloak that Katerina didn't remember seeing in the Lady's trunk that she knew she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Lady Georgiana..." Katerina began hesitantly, not feeling embolden as Georgiana merely turned a sweet acknowledging glance her way. It was too trusting and made her gut twist with mild guilt. She silently cursed Charles Bandon's name, "When we go to the markets you need to be on your guard."

Georgiana frowned bemused, while she was an Earl's daughter, she had been to the markets before... not London's, but Wiltshire had its own section of stalls and shops. She lifted an incurious brow at her lesser, "Were you planning on stopping in a tavern or a brothel?"

It was Katerina's turn to blink in confusion, "...N-no, milady."

"Are we still getting herbs and a few bits and bobbles?" Georgiana pressed unconcerned as Katerina nodded, "Then what nefarious activity should I be on guard for?"

"Not a what really... more a who." Katerina edged uncomfortably as she refrained from fidgeting.

By this point, Georgiana had turned her full attention to her servant with an expression torn between amused and expectant. The last time she had seen someone look this uncomfortable it had been her mother as her father announced whom she was to marry. As that particular memory, her amusement became somewhat tempered, "A who?"

Katerina nodded, "It seems that Mr. Charles Brandon has taken an interest in you, milady. I believe he will seek you out at the markets today."

Georgiana felt a strange mix of emotions at the servant's words. She was suddenly terrified that Charles had discovered where his lost lamb had gotten to, but also excited? Nervous? Her heart was doing funny things in her chest while her stomach seemed to flutter in dread. She had no liking for any of it.

Feeling flushed and suddenly trembling, she attempted to keep her expression as placid as possible. She had told Katerina much about the man who had taken her maidenhead, but not his name and she was reluctant to give that particular detail away now, "Mr. Brandon? For what purpose? He knows that I'm engaged to Lord Somerset."

An almost pitying grimace crossed Katerina's expression, "Mr. Brandon cares not for such details... He has something of a reputation when it comes to the ladies of court."

Some part of Georgiana was wholly unsurprised by this pronouncement. She had heard a few whispers during tea and promenades with a few of the courtly matrons, but it was the way he had pursued and ravaged her that had already clued Georgiana onto that fact. Charles had been entirely too confident in everything he did that night not to have a few lovers. She had only been relieved to find that he wasn't married. She couldn't bear the thought of humiliating another woman in such a way... though she had hoped, perhaps naively, that Charles would feel the same.

Heart sinking in her chest, she stubbornly pushed her swelling emotions away, "Well, Mr. Brandon will simply have to learn that just because he chases doesn't mean he'll capture his quarry."

"Of course, milady." There was a pause as Katerina watched her young mistress flare almost defiantly at her unintendingly patronizing tone.

Then a thought seemed to occur to Georgiana as her gaze narrowed faintly, "Katerina, how does Mr. Brandon know I'll be at the markets? I haven't told a soul."

Katerina felt an embarrassed flush climb to her cheeks as she weakly uttered, "My apologies, milady..."

A strange stab of betrayal welled in Georgiana as she quickly connected the dots. She felt angry that her information had been given away so easily and wondered at what else her servant had imparted.

Shakily, she demanded, "What else did you tell him? Should I be waiting for more lecherous men to hound my heels now that I'm... I'm damaged goods. Should I expect Lord Somerset to break off our engagement? Will my father be storming through that door to vent his humiliation and anger at me?"

Katerina's emerald eyes widen in surprise as she softly shook her head.

"No, no, milady. It wasn't like that at all..." She sighed and tried to find the right words, "I don't gossip, milady. It leads to too much trouble, especially around here. Mr. Brandon knows this about me... he knows me too well." She said a little bitterly, "The only information I conveyed, was your whereabouts. Anything else he would have to get elsewhere."

Georgiana studied her a moment in an almost surly manner. Katerina's frustrated anger hadn't escaped her notice. She knew resentment like that and it brought a thin strain of concern to the surface as tentatively she asked, "You're angry with him...did he force you, Katerina? Did he hurt you?"

A rueful chuckle left the servant as she shook her head, "I'm angry with me, milady. Mr. Brandon can be quite persuasive when he wants to be and almost single-handedly determined. It's why I warn you to beware of him, be on your guard. You have yet to be exposed to his particular set of charms, but that should only give you armor against him."

Georgia nearly choked on an incredulous laugh that bubbled in her throat. Oh, she knew Mr. Brandon's charms alright... And so too, it seemed did Katerina. A different feeling of betrayal wound tight around her heart, but she knew it was silly to even feel it. Brandon wasn't hers, after all.

Pouting vaguely, she sent an uncertain glance to the fearful maid, "Only my whereabouts?"

"Yes, milady." Katerina stated soundly a feeling of quiet relief settled in her stomach as it slowly became clear that Georgiana wouldn't have her dismissed.

To her credit, Georgiana managed to force out a grudgingly sympathetic smile and retort, "He is rather handsome, isn't he?"

Katerina giggled, "If only he didn't know it, milady."

Georgiana hummed in agreement before her smile turned sly and she teased, "Well, we should go get you some of your tea then."

Katerina blinked in shock at the lighthearted dig but found another chuckle escaping as she nodded in agreement. Suddenly, she was rather looking forward to Brandon's encounter with Georgiana. It would be a show, of that the servant was certain.

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Charles was beginning to hate the markets.

Admittedly, the last time he had spent any time here was when he had been a boy. It had been a treat then, now his business tended more towards the smiths and cobblers than any of the food stores. He was finding it all very tedious and boring. He had waved off more than one vendor seeking his coin and quickly learned to steer clear of the stalls selling fish and hens – the stench would wake a dead man. Though a particularly good noonday meal was had, when he had discovered where the baker resided. Since then, he had been content to linger near its walls as he carefully scanned the milling crowds.

A little over an hour had passed and he had yet to see either Katerina or the Lady Georgiana. He was beginning to think he had been misled. On the verge of giving up his hunt, Charles wandered from the food stalls toward the blacksmiths. This trip was not to be wasted; he had been meaning to order a new sword for the tournaments and this was as good a time as any.

Of course, it was when he set his sights on new endeavors that his original one came into view. He found Kitty amongst the stalls catering to spices and liniments. Her fiery red hair made her a beacon in the crowd. Quickly, he stepped back amongst the shadows of the booths as he observed her bartering with a merchant for some herbs. He did another scan of the area but saw no courtly lady hovering nearby.

He frowned.

It was possible that Lady Georgiana had changed her mind and had simply sent Katerina in her stead. If that were the case then his time spent milling about had been wasted indeed.

Quietly, he sidled up to Kitty as a small jar of dried leaves was passed to her. She peered up at him in curiosity before a disgruntled frown befell her lips. He tried not to grin at her dour look. Kitty was always fun to tease – her unwillingly willing participation in his games never ceased to amuse him.

"Kitty."

"Mr. Brandon." His name sounded like an epithet from her lips.

He smiled beguilingly, "Where is your mistress?"

Katerina hummed dispassionately under her breath, though a subtle mocking gleam entered her gaze at his question, "She is here, sir."

Charles found himself narrowing his gaze at the servant, "Where, Kitty?"

"Use your eyes, sir." Katerina instructed almost loftily as she placed her jar into the basket she carried, "Surely, your sight is not so bad."

Charles felt his brow furrow as he continued to stare at her, but when she merely blinked at him, he knew he would gain no further help. Stifling an aggravated sigh, he once again looked over the crowds. The finery of court would have caught his attention, but he saw only fellow courtiers that fell into that role. Instead, he began to study every female with a predator-like intensity, all the while he could feel Kitty growing steadily more amused.

He was torn between storming off and demanding her assistance again when a voice chimed at Katerina's side, "Looking for your lost lamb still, Mr. Brandon?"

Katerina bit her lip as Charles's gaze swung around. Georgiana stood next to her with a perfectly innocent expression painting her mien, but that was momentarily lost to Charles as he took in her outfit. She was dressed not too dissimilarly from Katerina and bore no jewelry at all. Her skin was bare and her hair plaited neatly, her only accessory was a silk ribbon. Though a blossomed young woman, she looked every inch of her seventeen years at that moment.

Startled, he inclined his head as he barely remembered his manners, "Lady Georgiana... I almost didn't recognize you."

"I dare say you didn't." Georgiana replied lightly as she passed a parcel of fabric to Katerina, "Nor have you answered my question."

"No..., I supposed I haven't, milady." Charles agreed almost belatedly. He felt off-put and she... she was unsurprised by his presence, "I'm afraid that my lost lamb will remain lost."

Georgiana raised a brow, "How sad for you. Did you need Katerina for something Mr. Brandon? If not, we have more items to gather before the day grows too late."

Charles wasn't sure if Georgiana realized it, but a vague note of haughty disapproval tempered her tone. His lips twitched with a desire to smirk, but he held it at bay. It appeared that Kitty had divulged something of their tryst to the Lady – well that made things more difficult, "Actually, I was seeking your company, milady, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Georgiana tilted her head in acknowledgment, "Something may have been mentioned, though I fail to understand your interest."

Her sea-blue eyes glittered warily and a sense of familiarity washed over him as it had the previous two encounters that he had with the Lady. He swore he knew her and for a fleeting moment he wondered if she was his Charlotte, but her indifference to him had him reconsidering. His little virginal treat had been full of blushes and smothered giggles – he would be hard-pressed to pull those from the tauntingly affable woman before him. Still... it would be interesting to try.

"A beautiful young lady? New to court? I would be remiss not to take an interest." Charles answered genially and wasn't surprised when both women looked unimpressed. It brought a wicked smile to his lips.

"And that lady is engaged, as you well know, sir. Your interest is undue." Georgiana retorted primly and felt her mother beam with pride somewhere. She nearly gagged on her words, but she refused to let Brandon have anything that looked like the upper hand in this conversation. She wasn't sure if it was the fact that she knew he had already found others to warm his bed that pricked her nerve or the fact that the mischievous spark in his eye still sparked her interest. It now seemed intolerable that where he had once seemed dangerous and seductive, he now seemed cocksure and smarmy.

She was overcome with the desire to hit him.

Just once. If only to wipe the knowing smirk from his all too delectable lips.

"And where is your intended? Should he not be attending to you as a dutiful fiancé should?" Charles prodded lightly as he saw an opening in their little tête-à-tête. It was obvious to all that the engagement was arranged, this was no love match, and he sorely doubted that she wished to bed a man thrice her age.

A biting smirk answered him as Georgiana stepped away from Katerina's side and into his space, "As you know, Mr. Brandon, my fiancé holds an important station and has much to do. Though I'm sure his load would be lightened if his lessers performed their courtly duties with the same dedication that you seem to have in finding bedfellows."

A shocked bark of laughter tore from Charles's throat at her boldness, "Who said anything about bedfellows, Lady Georgiana? Surely, you don't think a man's - my interest is purely carnal? I wouldn't think a lady of your standing would have such indecent thoughts. I'm of a mind to demand an apology."

"An apology?" Georgiana proclaimed incredulously.

"For your indecorous assumptions to my character." Charles stated evenly as he turned a pointed stare to her companion, "No doubt influenced by other sources."

"Hardly, and do leave other sources out of this, sir." Georgiana retorted without missing a beat, "But please do tell, what were your saintly intentions?"

Despite her annoyed inflection, Charles could see that she was enjoying this strange battle of wills, and even more strange he was too. She was quick with her sharp words, but she hadn't strayed yet into recklessness. He wanted to push her there.

He allowed a patronizing smile as he answered, "Merely to offer my friendship and guidance, milady. Court can be quite daunting to those who have no experience."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him and Charles wondered how much further he could provoke her before she gave in to her irritation.

Yet, she showed a measure of control that he hadn't expected.

"How kind of you." Georgiana drawled before gesturing to Katerina to continue to the other stalls and stepping back herself. He frowned as she began to make her parting courtesies, "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Brandon. The day grows long and I still have shopping to complete before supper."

"Truly? It looks more like you're running away, milady." Charles taunted and hid a pleased smirk when her back stiffened and she turned to him again.

Her eyes blazed at him as she imitated his mock politeness, "Running away? Oh no, sir, I'm merely letting a little lamb that I unwittingly snared free."

Amusement warred with outrage at her words. He had wanted her reckless, but now he was suddenly so very tempted to throw her over his knee or at the very least teach her to curb her tongue.

His smile turned sharp as he leered over her, "I am no lamb, lady."

"No." She agreed quietly as she registered how close they now stood to each other, "More a wolf in sheep's wool."

As if in agreement with her assessment, a low rumbling growl answered her words as he leant closer still, "I wouldn't bite...much."

His predatory gaze noted that she had begun to faintly tremble as he reached a gentle finger to brush along her cheek. Goosebumps painted her arms at his touch and the shuddering breath she took lighted a fire that traveled straight to his cock. But it was her greenish-blue eyes – eyes that shone with wariness and curiosity, also shone with heady desire. She wanted this. Good...the little minx wasn't nearly as unaffected as she would like to seem.

"I think." Georgiana started somewhat shakily as her soft hand wrapped over his, "I think you would devour me if given half the chance."

He let her pull his hand down from her face and studied her intently. He could see that she was on the edge, but if he pushed too hard then she would fall away from him rather than into him.

Quietly, he asked, "Would that be so bad, milady?"

Georgiana stared at him wide-eyed, "Maybe... it would be trouble. You certainly seem like trouble, Mr. Brandon."

"Careful, Lady, I may extract an apology from you yet."

"I-"

"Lady Georgiana!" Katerina called in the distance like a burst cork from a champagne bottle.

It yanked the couple back to the present and Charles could only watch as she slipped from his grasp.

She pulled her hand from his and he found that he missed its warmth, but he didn't follow after her as she slid back into the crowds like a lovely wraith. His dark blue eyes followed her as she scurried to Katerina's side and dared a timid glance over her shoulder to find him. Her curiosity, wariness, and desire still there, but now muted. His lust burrowed into his veins under that look and was not to be moved.

Yes... yes, he would devour her. The Lady really should know better than to run from a wolf.

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"Lord Somerset."

Charles looked up from his paperwork and abruptly moved to stand for a bow at the sight of the Queen. He hadn't heard her approach and was mildly surprised to see none of her ladies attending her, "Your Majesty."

She smiled politely and gestured for him to stand properly, "I did not mean to intrude, my Lord."

Somerset frowned with a passing glance at the plans for a tournament that the King wanted to hold. Another costly waste of frivolity in the Chamberlain's opinion, but he was not one to oppose the whims of his monarch. Especially not one as temperamental as Henry. He shook his head gently and offered the Queen a rueful grimace, "Your presence is never an intrusion. Is there something I can help you with, ma'am?"

"Yes, I am holding afternoon tea tomorrow with a few of the ladies of court. I would like it if Lady Georgiana were to attend." Katherine said simply with an expectant look, "It would benefit her to know her peers better, no?"

Somerset smiled at the Queen's graciousness. It would behoove Georgiana to become more familiar with the players at court. She would spend much of her time here in residence with him and having a few allies in place by the time of their wedding would allow for a smoother transition, "That sounds like a splendid idea, Your Majesty. I am to sup with the Stafford family this evening. I will pass along your invitation."

Katherine's smile turned a little more genuine, "I would be most grateful, Lord Somerset. I would have passed on the invitation myself, but it seems that Lady Georgiana is visiting the markets today. Preparing for the wedding, no doubt."

That surprised the Lord Chamberlain, Georgiana had shown only the minimal amount of interest on their impending marriage. Not that he blamed the poor girl, but he had been under the assumption that her mother would make the majority of the arrangements. His heart lightened slightly at the thought of her becoming more involved. It showed at least a cursory acceptance of her fate... He truly did need to spend more time with her.

Realizing that he hadn't answered the Queen, he smiled pleasantly, "I'm sure, ma'am. There is much to do before the month is out."

Katherine almost seemed to hesitate as she studied the Earl. She was not one to meddle in the affairs of court, unless those affairs somehow affected her and her family, but she would also be remiss not to speak plainly, "Yes, I can imagine. Lady Georgiana showed her grace and obedience well before my husband...but tell me, Lord Somerset, do you know if she is truly happy with this match?"

Charles was hardly surprised by her question, much like Henry he had seen her glimmer of disapproval at the marriage announcement, "In truth, your majesty, I do not know. I have only been presented with her grace and obedience, as well. She doesn't seem to have any objections."

"That is not the same as being content, my Lord." Katherine stated sagely, "She is young and still has much to learn of this world. I would like you to remember that."

A strange mix of chastened and vague amusement welled up in Somerset at the Queen's subtle lecture. A complacent expression crossed his features as he sought the words to placate her, "I shall, ma'am. My Elizabeth, God rest her, was a boon to me in many ways that I didn't expect of a wife. She was my friend. I hope for much the same from Georgiana."

Something softened in the Queen at his quiet confession. She nodded her head understanding, while she had barely known the late Lady Somerset, she had known of her integral role in her husband's work. Katherine could only hope that Henry would one day feel the same of her. Lately, the hopeful shine in the King's icy gaze had been replaced by resigned disappointment. She hated that look.

Drawing a breath, she decided her meddling in this particular affair was at an end, "I shall let you return to your work. Have a good night, my Lord."

"You as well, Your Majesty." Somerset intoned as he watched her sweep from the room.

He pondered for a brief moment over whether Georgiana could count the Queen as one of her courtly allies...

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#Charles Brandon #charles brandon fic #charles brandon fanfiction #duke of suffolk #the tudors #tudors fanfiction #tudors fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Katherine of Aragon #The Wiles of Men and Women

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resinatingbeauty · 3 years

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A 'Witch Shop' Owner's Plea Before Casting That Love Spell

I don't personally offer many spell kits, mojo bags, etc. In my shop and avoid selling my 'Craft', as in, I don't advertise or list spell casting among my offerings, though I have had a couple of customers specifically ask if I could perform a spell I offered as a kit on their behalf for whatever reason. This is because I personally believe that the journey is just as important as the destination in witchcraft and many of the spell kits / spells I do offer are designed in such a way to soothe, relax, release, and heal throughout the process. Honestly, in addition, I really don't want the responsibility associated with performing magick on someone else's behalf for many reasons. The strength of my intent is not going to be as strong as yours, for example. Even if I effectively channel your energy, creating that personal connection between the beneficiary and the intent or purpose of the spell work is incredibly difficult at a distance. I'm always wary of other shops advertising this type of service- the sad truth of the matter is our little niche has been permeated by scammers, con artists, and frauds looking to take advantage of anyone looking for a solution to whatever it is that has them at this low point in life. I will tell you, more often than not it's love spells that the customer is after, and they are apt to find many options on Etsy, the platform I primarily do business on, and beyond.

I distinctly think of one potential customer who had contacted me one night obviously very upset. My heart went out to her immediately - I could just tell by what she was saying and how quickly she responded to me that she was in a state of panic and extreme emotional distress. She isn't the only one, but she stands out from the others as her desire to win back her ex lover was so strong it was evident that she would do anything and (potentially) pay anything for a chance to get things back to the way they were in her love life.

I am a human being. I have been given this amazing opportunity to pursue my passion to share my creations and spiritual / metaphysical knowledge with the world through my work. I understood a long time ago that this also meant I had a responsibility to do my best to help those in need and never knowingly harm, much like a doctor commuting to the Hippocratic oath. This may make me a flat out horrible business woman, but I would rather not sell someone on something I don't believe is going to help their situation. In fact, love spells usually make things worse. I'll get to that momentarily.

"Is there a spell to make her see what she has done wrong and to make her love and want me again?"

I allowed this customer to explain to me the situation and took the time to hear her out after telling her that I'm sure that she could find something like that elsewhere and someone else willing to sell her a spell kit or cast that spell, but I urged her to take a deep breath and talk to me before she did something that she would regret.

Thankfully, she spent the next hour or so explaining her situation and elaborating on everything that has happened in her relationship. It was one of those on again / off again things that so many of us get trapped in. Understandable, considering once you establish that strong bond of love, whether one sided or not, it's incredibly hard to cut that cord and move on especially if you're so emotionally invested (and maybe even financially invested) in this other individual who has had your heart for so long you can't imagine giving it to anyone else.

This PSA goes out to the broken hearted of all walks, as this is a universal experience for anyone who has been in love. There may not be someone to stop you from pursuing what you think will fix everything as I did for her, but I'm hoping if you read this, you'll think twice about acquiring and performing love spells or any magick in hopes that it will provide a quick fix to any situation.

•Beware the Opportunistic Con / Scam

Our field is flooded with scammers, con artists, and frauds that exclusively cater to those in this sweet girl's position and anyone who is vulnerable due to emotional distress or panic. Whether you need a love spell like she did to win back her ex or a quick fix to get more money in the bank or what have you, beware those that have used spiritual advisory and witchcraft as a means to peddle you their high priced garbaged. This is a tough one, as you may have a hard time deciphering what is 'legit' and what isn't, but there are some signs and facts you can look for when browsing these shops / websites.

-They promise / guarantee results within a specific or unrealistic time frame

Magick takes time to manifest and the true story is that nobody has a 100% satisfaction guaranteed spell book. More often than not, when spells come to fruition, it often isn't quite the way you would expect it to, either. Anyone promising a quick fix to anything is most likely just trying to take advantage of you when you are vulnerable and you better believe there will be no money back guarantee if said garbage doesn't work for you. OR, they like to do one of these:

-"Oh, your situation is worse than I thought. You're going to need this and this, with a huge $$$$ price tag."

This starts a never ending cycle of you pouring money into this scammer who will make you believe that it is necessary to do so. That maybe if you did throw them an extra $500 for their thingamajig that you will get what you want. This is only the beginning, as when THAT doesn't do it for you the way you would like, they will claim some other interference, maybe you're cursed or under psychic attack, and need something else even more expensive and elaborate to take care of that before you can even get to what you went to them for in the first place. Anytime someone proposes this type of thing, stop while you're ahead and don't provide them with a guaranteed cash flow that you aren't benefitting from at all. Also, be wary of ANY seller who makes outrageous claims- overnight changes, curing cancer, etc. Are unrealistic expectations.

•Understand What You Truly Need

Maybe it's time to consider an alternative path. The customer I spoke about DID ultimately purchase a tarot spread, which I was much more inclined to do for her than some love spell to win back this girl who has repeatedly broken her heart over the past few years and obviously got a kick out of it, the way she told it, as it was ALWAYS her doing the breaking up and blocking, starting all the drama. I told her I would much rather give her a spell to find her twin flame / soul mate than to win this person back who has perpetually been hurting her and taking advantage of her kindness.

Sometimes it's time to cut the cord before more damage is done. I understand it isn't easy to move on from someone you have loved and cultivated a relationship with over a long period of time, regardless of the negative energy that has invaded the relationship, we DO tend to focus on the positives, which leaves us a bit biased and blind to what we could have and deserve to have.

Take a moment if you are in a relationship situation like this, are beginning to question your current relationship, or are considering taking the next step in any relationship. Sit down with a pen and paper. On one side of the paper, write down all the things you love about that person. All the ways you think they have been the light in your life (be honest and give credit where credit is due!). Now on the other side, list the negatives or cons in your relationship. If one list is noticeably longer than the other, depending on which side it is, it may be time to consider breaking it off, giving things another shot, or taking things to the next level. Ask yourself;

-Do they support me in what I do, even if they don't understand or necessarily agree with it? (So long as it is something healthy -obviously if they're supportive of a bad habit or detrimental behavior, this is more like enabling and not a good thing)

-Do they have my best interests at heart more often than not?

-Do they show that they care? Even in the smallest of ways?

-Could I call them my "best friend?" Am I honest with them?

-Are they honest with me?

-Do they lift me up more than they put me down?

-Do you want the same things in life / have similar priorities?

-Is our relationship valuable to them the same way it is to me?

•LOVE SPELLS NEVER WORK THE WAY YOU WANT

This is the cold hard truth about love spells. Forget the warnings in movies and books, as it is hard to believe them or even take them as a legitimate warning when you haven't had the displeasure of experiencing what a love spell can do for yourself. I have, so you don't have to. This is MY story:

Of course love spells are very appealing when you're a young and naive teenager. I had a strong crush on this guy I had low key been stalking since middle school. I don't know why I liked him so much. Part of it I'm sure was the way he looked (hey, I'm being totally honest!) And how he came across to me. We had absolutely no interaction with each other outside of passing each other in the hallway. He had no idea who I was.

I had just borrowed a copy of Silver Ravenwolf's 'Teen Witch' (which is honestly a fantastic book for teens and young adults just starting to delve into Wiccan practices, which she follows exclusively) from a friend of mine and thought I would try the super simple love spell in the book figuring I had nothing to lose. All it consisted of was focusing on the subject, your intentions, writing their name on a piece of paper, folding it up and placing it under your pillow. I would sleep on that paper for months. I was in middle school just about to go into my freshman year of high school when I performed the spell and would forget about it up until the day it worked, a few months into my freshman year of highschool, when my crush was in the graduating class of that year- literally my last chance to make an impression.

I had gone to a local band's concert that was performing at the school's auditorium one day after classes and was just about to leave when my crush randomly approached me and started talking to me. It was like the whole world just stopped right there. I couldn't believe it. The thought of that spell crossed my mind briefly as we exchanged phone numbers.

Over time and getting to know him, he admittedly wasn't exactly my type. He was still someone whose friendship I valued, but not someone I could really put any effort into dating. About the time I realized this, his personality took a complete 180° turn for the worst. He was stalking me. Blowing up my cell phone (which was a prepaid piece of junk at that time I really couldn't talk on for more than a minute without paying a fortune), so much so one evening when I was at Jukido Jujitsu practice that I came home to something like 32 missed calls and 17 voicemails from him, each one showing gradual frustration and anger. This scared me. I knew I had to confront him about it and break this off before it got worse.

I caught him in a populated area of the school the next day before homeroom- more like he came up to me out of nowhere like he knew I would be passing through that part of the school that day- and I confronted him about the calls,attempting to gently explain to him that I wasn't interested in a relationship and I would like to continue being friends. He blew up at me and threw me against the brick wall of the school, trying to kiss and touch me in front of every single person that walked by. I wish I was making this up.

Thankfully a teacher came and pulled him off. Nothing much else was done. I did my best to avoid him and cut him out of my life entirely from that point on.

I don't know if it was the love spell or if this would have occurred anyways. All I knew was that what had been originally a very sweet, big hearted guy that was soft spoken with low self esteem became a monster in a matter of weeks. The take away from this and what I have personally seen with other's experiences with love spells is that they tend to bring out the worst characteristics of the person they are cast on and you have to be really careful what you are actually asking for when thinking about 'desire' and 'passion.' This intent can quickly lead to stalking, obsession, and not in a good way. Another customer of mine who originally came to me for my Forgiveness Spell Kit and had the desired results also, unbeknownst to me, had someone else perform a love and desire spell in addition to it. The guy that she was reverted into an obsessed jerk who decided to spread rumors about her on social media and beyond, blocked her on all platforms, and would get her friends involved in his quest to make her life miserable. Her story reflects and embodies so many I have heard over the years from others who have dabbled in such spells. When they work, it's just never quite what you had in mind.

So if you came to this blog post in search of a love spell for your personal situation or came across it when you have maybe considered one in the past or know someone who has, please take a deep breath, consider your options, and don't do anything that you may regret down the line. Remember that you are deserving of all the love, respect, support, and happiness one could give another. Do not settle on someone who offers you less and expects more, no matter how much you have invested in them, no matter how many years you have spent with them, as they do not appreciate you for the amazing person you are. I can promise you, however, given some time to heal, you WILL find someone who does.

-Samantha

(Owner /Chaos Witch/Designer)

Blursedbaubles.etsy.com

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aadmelioraa · 4 years

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Falling (or, Aldhelm + Efficiency Kink)

Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, 2k, rated M (read on ao3)

written for @volvaaslaug @skatingthinandice and the rest of this tiny fandom <3

Lady Aethelflaed is a capable leader. In fact, she is an excellent leader. And if Aldhelm is honest with himself, it’s becoming a bit of a problem for him.

He’s alone with the Lady of Mercia, not an infrequent occurrence of late. She’s finishing the necessary business of the day, and the way she handles the most insignificant chore with diligence fascinates him as much now as it did when he first began to notice. He’s come to understand that her attentiveness and care are only surpassed by her cleverness.

She's just…good at this.

He had maintained high hopes for Aethelred for so long, but Aethelflaed has more natural authority in her little finger than her husband does in his entire body. Years of grooming and guidance have done little to improve the Lord of Mercia’s temper in the end.

Aldhelm is almost ashamed to recall his first impression of Aethelflaed. He had thought her a naive (though lovely) girl. But he has come to realize she is stronger and more intelligent than he’d given her credit, which of course cast her husband’s increasingly poor choices into starker contrast. He cannot ignore that her skills and disposition are infinitely better suited to ruling than Aethelred’s.

On reflection, it had been foolish of him to think Alfred’s daughter would be anything less than competent. But the more he reflects, the more he realizes it is not just her capable hands and mind. It’s that Aethelflaed genuinely enjoys her role as well. She seems to derive pleasure from every task accomplished, no matter how inconsequential. She’s a brilliant negotiator, whether speaking with the ealdormen about a matter of state or Aelfwynn about what time she was expected to be in bed. The satisfied smile she allows herself after a small victory is enchanting.

It was not so long ago that Aldhelm had considered disregarding Aethelred’s wishes equivalent to treason. He had thought Mercia’s best hopes were bound up in the man, young but burgeoning with potential. Now, Aldhelm’s definition of treason is somewhat more flexible. In fact, he is increasingly sure that his loyalty no longer lies with the Lord of Mercia. To be loyal to Mercia is to be loyal to Aethelflaed.

He had not planned on Aethelflaed endearing herself to him in this way. And he had certainly not planned on falling in love with her.

The realization happens gradually, over a matter of years. But when he finds himself at the point of no return, he is as surprised as if it had happened overnight. Aethelflaed could command him to the ends of the earth, and he would obey without a second thought.

Of course, she would not. She understands his value to her and to Mercia and therefore keeps him close—first, as a liability to be assessed, eventually as a friend to be trusted. Despite his ill-advised confession several months ago, Aethelflaed does not seem to think less of him. If in fact she does, she will not show it.

She is simply too practical for that.

And her efficiency is unparalleled.

In a single afternoon, she will complete a list of duties Aethelred had left unaddressed for weeks on end. Her records are meticulous, her attention to detail exquisite. Her desk is filled with neat stacks of parchment covered in her clean, precise handwriting.

Watching her take charge of Mercian affairs with a careful eye and steady hand, it is impossible to ignore that his feelings have evolved beyond intrigue.

Aldhelm is undeniably smitten.

“Did you have something to add, Aldhelm?”

Startled from his reverie, he realizes he’s staring. Aethelflaed looks back at him with concern. Her eyebrows are raised, causing a few lines to appear on her forehead, and he cannot help but love the softness in her expression.

“Apologies, my Lady. I had meant to inquire after the delegation to Tamworth.”

“We’re to send twenty men—unless you think a larger party necessary.”

“No, I believe not.”

Twenty is the perfect number, of course.

Aethelflaed narrows her eyes, leaning back in her seat to have a better look at him.

“You seem to have something else on your mind, Aldhelm.”

He would have to work harder to conceal his feelings if he was to comport himself appropriately. A challenge that was growing in difficulty by the day.

“It’s late. Shall we discuss the city fortification project or leave that until tomorrow?”

She huffs a laugh.

“Aldhelm, I have just told you that is finished. Have you been listening at all?”

He curses himself for his wandering thoughts. “Are you well?”

He is not. He is failing. Her competence is interfering with his own.

“I am merely distracted, Lady. My apologies.”

Her gaze remains fixed on him as she sets down her pen, picking up the parchment she’d been writing on and blowing gently to dry the ink.

He clenches his jaw reflexively, and she cocks her head—her amusement compounding, he can only assume. He shifts his gaze to the tapers on her desk, which had nearly burned out.

“Distracted indeed. How odd. What could possibly be more pressing than the matters before us?”

Aethelflaed is teasing him now, he is sure of it.

She rises to her feet, sweeping her eyes up and down his body with an expression of curious detachment. It’s maddening.

“I had something on my mind, Lady. A conversation with your husband earlier.”

The mention of Aethelred does not appear to disarm her.

“My husband solicits too much of your time these days,” she sighs. “But he is not here now, and so I request your full attention. I have one other proposal I would like your opinion on.”

Aldhelm knows that he ought to end their conversation, walk away, but he cannot.

“I would be happy to advise you, Lady, of course.”

Aethelflaed is advancing towards him now, hands clasped earnestly before her. Her fingers are slightly stained with ink.

“I believe we have both been under too much stress lately, Aldhelm. I have a plan that may provide relief.”

“I’m sure it’s an excellent plan,” Aldhelm replies, voice slightly hoarse. He clears his throat as subtly as he can.

“I believe it is,” she says nonchalantly, and without breaking eye contact slips her fingers into the belt at his waist, pulling him towards her gently.

He could not have protested then even if his mouth had not gone completely dry.

“I think you will find it mutually rewarding.”

Aldhelm fights a smile of disbelief (was this a dream?) and glances towards the door.

“Lady, we may be discovered.”

The corners of her mouth twitch and she places a hand on his chest, no doubt able to feel his heart beating wildly within.

“You know as well as I do, Aldhelm, that the household is far more loyal to me than to my husband.”

She is looking up at him with lips slightly parted—soft, inviting—and he tentatively rests his hands at her waist.

The last time they’d been in this physical proximity he’d been dying (or so he thought) and she had been unable or unwilling to reciprocate his affection.

Whatever had changed between then and now, he does not care to question it in the moment.

Still, he finds himself making another objection.

“You’re married, my lady.”

What a supremely stupid thing to say.

Her mouth quirks into a smile.

“I am aware, Aldhelm. That doesn’t stop my husband from pursuing pleasure, and it won’t stop me.”

Aldhelm has no defenses left, no arguments, no thoughts in his head other than how much he desires her.

He gives in and cups her jaw, kissing her.

She tastes sweet and warm like summer rain. It’s intoxicating.

He’s not sure if he’s still breathing, or if he even cares. He tightens his hold on her waist, and she cards her fingers through his hair.

He would probably sell his soul to remain in this moment forever. Dark thoughts like this were never far from his mind when she was near.

“You’ve no idea the effect you have on me, my lady,” he murmurs.

He can feel her smiling as she kisses him back.

“I should think it’s fairly obvious at this point that I do.”

She’s pressed against him now, melting any self-control he had left. His baser instincts take over.

They’re stumbling into the next room, and she’s steering him towards the bed.

Apprehension and desire course through him at once. Never had he imagined that this wildest dream of his could be a reality.

Aethelflaed is undressing him, then directing him to sit as she slips out of her own garments. The slight golden warmth of her skin fades to creamy white where she exposes the most intimate parts of herself.

She pushes him onto his back and straddles him, her slick warmth pressed against his cock. Their eyes meet as she shifts, and—most incredible of all—he can see his own exhilaration reflected in her expression.

She leans forward, her lips brushing against his ear as she murmurs, “What do you think of my plan so far, Aldhelm?”

It’s almost cruel. He’s wound so tight already he might have snapped there.

He can’t answer with words, nor does he need to. Their kisses deepen, and she bites her lip to contain a moan as he brushes a finger against her opening. He slips inside of her and his breath hitches—she’s so warm and wet and perfect.

She’s building rhythm now, hips forward, grinding against him. She sweeps her braids behind her with a shrug of her shoulders, exposing the fullness of her breasts.

He locates the bundle of nerves beneath her thatch of hair, synchronizing the movement of his hand with the movement of her hips. She digs her nails into his chest briefly and keens in pleasure, arching her back. He draws circles, tighter and tighter. Coming with a shudder she cries out again, her face flushed with triumph. Then with a gesture, she commands and he obeys, switching places so that he’s on top.

Her legs encircle him. Aldhelm slides a hand from the tender spot behind her knee down her thigh to her ass. She’s laying back, eyes shut, breathing in gentle gasps as she matches the rocking of his hips.

By the time he comes, she’s moaning louder than before. His forehead is pressed against her and he can feel the sweat that beads her brow. Her walls quiver against him as he finishes, and he’s sure he’s just returned the favor again even as he’s satiated.

He lands next to her and catches his breath. It’s a moment before he gathers the courage to look at her, but when he does she’s grinning. The light in her eyes would make him blush if he were capable of such a thing.

In his wickedness, he cannot help but think she’d never fucked her husband like that.

Aethelflaed turns on her side, breathing deeply as she holds his gaze. He splays a hand over the curve of her exposed hip, holding it there for a moment, then moves it gently up to her waist.

“We made quite good work of that, Lord.”

She hasn’t called him that before. She’s watching to see how he reacts.

A laugh escapes him. He can’t help it.

Aethelflaed closes her eyes, still smiling.

“You’re a strange man, Aldhelm. But I have grown fond of you.”

He’s brushing the hair from her shoulders, rolling a silky strand between his fingers. He does not know how long their tryst will last, or if it will ever be repeated. He will do everything in his power to remember every detail.

There’s a freckle below her left breast. He runs his thumb gently along the contour. Her skin is prickling—the room has grown cold—and he pulls a blanket over them.

Aethelflaed rolls her head back to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes. She radiates contentment. His own limbs are heavy with it too. He pulls her close to him, their noses bump. Incredibly, she does not tell him to leave.

“Did you have a second phase of your plan you’d like to enact this evening, Lady, or shall we reconvene tomorrow?”

It’s Aethelflaed’s turn to laugh.

Laying near her in this state is restorative, thrilling. He’s bold enough to kiss her again, and the taste is sweeter than before.

“I believe we may reconvene tomorrow,” she murmurs and rests her head on his chest. “For now, let us rest.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

He will linger in this perfect moment as long as he’s permitted.

#aethelflaed x aldhelm #tlk fic #the last kingdom #tlk #me: sits down to write a smut fic #also me: spends 6 pages on aldhelm's introspection before they even touch #anyway i hope you like it!!#i lost some edits at some point this morning unfortunately but hopefully i caught most of the major typos and whatnot #kat writes

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 36 Pt 1

The days between moving in with Gustaf and New Year’s Eve were filled with never ending chores, because despite Gustaf wanting her to relax and take it easy, Sildie wanted her apartment done. Boxing up the remaining things she put them in storage, still not at ease with getting rid of anything just yet. The hard reality of what if they split still plagued her mind, once bitten twice shy. She had to keep it real, had to think of the long term back up plan in case it all went to hell in a hand basket, especially with four children in the mix. Even more of a chore was deciding on whether to keep the furniture or sell it, what to do with the apartment, did she leave it all as it was or rent it out, sell it, renovate it? Then there was the unpacking of all her stuff in Gustaf’s apartment, their apartment, cleaning, trash pick up, the list never ended. She’d come to the realization moving just sucked.

“Ok stop.” He said one night as they sat for tea and pulled her into his lap. “You haven’t stopped all day. Let it be.” He grabbed and kissed her fingers as she went to tidy up the stack of papers on the table and secured her body to his by wrapping those outrageously long limbs around her and kissing her neck.

“Sorry, I just wanted to get it all done so we can enjoy the New Year’s Eve party.” She huffed.

“You keep running around like this you won’t make it to the party because you’ll be exhausted and asleep by seven.” He kissed her neck and bit down gently. “Let it be.” He growled as she struggled against him to free her arms so she could just tidy up those papers and be done. “We can deal with the rest after January second.” He would stipulate a time as well if required.

“Fine.” She sighed and gave up, relaxing into him. “I just wanted it clean.” She mumbled taking a sip of her tea when he finally let her go, pushing those papers further away from her, she wasn’t going to budge him on it. He was right of course, she’d been hell bent on getting everything squared away before the end of the year. “I just want to start fresh next year.”

“I get it love, I do, but I also want to see you relax.” He kissed that one spot below her ear that made her weak for him.

“That’s not playing fair.” She sighed, that clever mouth bringing her undone.

“Didn’t say anything about playing fair.” He chuckled. “Ready for the party?”

“I guess, just nervous. It’s your family and we’re leaving the kids there overnight.” She was terrified, first night away with grandpa and she had all sorts of horror stories running through her head.

“The kids will just be upstairs with dad, they’re close and with someone I trust emplicitly.” Stellan and Megan had jumped at the chance to have the kids stay over. “I think Valter is staying as well so Brendan will have someone older to hang with and Oona is staying over to hang out with Lily.” He sipped his tea and squeezed her to him.

“I know I just worry.” She mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

“It’s your job, but don’t, they’ll be fine. It’s not like they have far to come if they need us.” It was handy that his dad lived in the same building a few floors up.

“What time’s the party?”

“Starts at six and goes all night, we can disappear whenever.” He kissed her neck and sucked on her pulse. “You and I are going to have an adult New Years.” He growled, her sinful giggle made his cock twitch, he had a plan, an erotic one.

“Are we now?” She leaned back into him and snaked a hand up the back of his neck and onto his scalp, toying with the soft dusting of hair, he’d let it grow out over the holidays.

“Mmm hmmm. We’re taking this year out with a bang.” He smirked against her skin.

“Oh god Gustaf that was terrible.” She scoffed and laughed at his pun.

“Yeah, but accurate.” He kissed her temple and sipped his tea. “I also booked the cabin for January 4 through 15. A little longer than planned but the few extra days were free with the deal.”

“That sounds so good. The kids will love it. Anything we need to take care of first?” She turned so she was sitting sideways on his lap. The kids weren’t the only one looking forward to some time away. She wanted to decompress with just the six of them, giving the kids time to bond with Gustaf. It was important, for all of them.

“Just clothes and maybe some snacks, board games. There’s lots for them to do outside, but it might be good to have some indoor activities in case we get a storm. We’ll need something for them to do that’s not TV and video games.”

“It’ll be a good break. Give you boys some bonding time.” She kissed him sweetly.

“Yeah.” He smiled and hung his head thinking.

“It bothers you doesn’t it? The dad thing.” Her fingers trailed his scruff and he looked at her, those eyes of perfect blue, she drowned in them every time.

“Not bother, more, different, I just need to get used to the idea.” Her kiss was tender. “It sounds so weird to my ears.” He chuckled. “If that makes any sense at all.”

“I’ll talk to them.” She said gently.

“No.” He shook his head and kissed her hard. “No. Leave it alone. They need to do what feels right for them too love. It’s just not something I ever expected from the boys. Lily I can understand, she never knew Quinn, but the boys, it was a shock, still is.” He tangled his fingers into her hair and kissed her, long and slow. “We need time, that’s all.”

“Just know I’ll talk to them if it’s too much.” She wouldn’t see him wrecked over it, hurt over it.

“No.” He smiled at her. “That’s something we need to figure out for ourselves. The four of us need to be comfortable with it and work through the awkwardness of it.” He kissed her softly. “You can’t bail me out of this one love, and I don’t want you too, not if we’re going to be a family. It’s important to them and to me that we work through it no matter how much it terrifies the hell out of me.”

She studied that handsome face, her finger playing with his scruff. “You’re a good man.” He dropped his head and her hand cupped his cheek. “You are. Look at me.” She kissed him sweetly. “Not many would do what you’ve done for them. It makes you so special.”

“I love you, I love the kids. It’s pretty simple really.”

“Sweet man I know you do, and I hope you also know that we love you too, so much.” He kissed her, the slow devastating kiss of the only man that could render her incoherent.

“My goddess, you and the kids are my world.” He rested his head against hers. “It’s been a good year. Sure there’s been some shitty bits in there, but I met you. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me love.”

“A crazy woman who blubbers in your lap after sex, with four kids in tow.” She chuckled. “Yeah, the best.” Her tone thick with sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t change it for anything.” He grinned. “And I blubber, you fall apart.” He flicked her nose playfully.

“Me either.” Her chuckle light. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

“We do.”

“So confident.” She giggled.

“Just calling it how I see it. You make one kick ass mum you realize that right?” He said softly.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She scoffed.

“Don’t sell yourself short. Four happy kids after what they’ve been through, that’s pretty fucking phenomenal.” Yes he knew he’d been a part of it, but she needed to hear it. Their lives had turned to shit in a blink, she had brought them to a place where they were thriving. He tried to keep the nudge out of his tone, the one that told her he wanted kids with her. Not your choice mother fucker, he cautioned silently, leave it there. He would not manipulate her no matter how much he wanted it. “Come on.” He said tapping her thigh and squeezing. “Bed, sleep. We’ve done enough for the day and I have a need to hold you close.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit either.” She said softly as she stood and took the teapot to the sink.

“You did all the hard yards love. Take a moment here and there to look at them, really look at them, they’re happy. Sure they’re still grieving and will continue to, but they’re happy.” He tucked a wave of copper over her ear. “You did that, you should be proud of it. Especially as there are so many other ways it could have turned out. Take the win love, you deserve it.” He kissed her sweetly.

“But you’ve helped where I couldn’t, you give them the missing pieces.” She kissed him tenderly. “Remember that ok?”

“I’ll remember. Bed. Come on.” He took her hand in his and tugged it to get her moving.

They snuggled in bed, Sildie almost passing out as her head hit the pillow. Sleep always took her hard, or maybe that was because she didn’t stop during the day, he thought with a wry smile. He let his mind wander as his fingers stroked her head, lips kissing her brow, breathing in her scent soothed him.

The last few days had settled him once he realized Lily was safe and Ana wasn’t going to get through the front door. His nightmare had scared him to the deepest parts of his soul, the thought of losing Lily, any of the kids had him rethinking his life. It wasn’t just him now, he had a family, responsibilities, that if he fucked up, they would feel the repercussions. He would be better, work at being a better man for them.

Next year would be busy, twelve week shoot starting in February, a premier, and hopefully more work. Maybe he’d take something closer to home, he thought, it caused him physical pain to think about being away from them for so long. They’d figure it out, they’d make it work, it was just going to tear at him.

He was hoping Sildie took the partner offer, she’d worked hard for it and wasn’t going to let anything get in her way if she decided to take it. A nanny, a housekeeper, something to take the load off when he wasn’t here. His mind chewed it over, flitting from one idea to the next until he drifted. His last conscious thought before joining Sildie in the sleep world was of a brood of kids of their own, it was often on his mind. The heart wants what the heart wants.

“Ok Lily, I’m coming. Good grief.” Sildie groaned as Lily screamed her head off through the monitor.

“Uk?” Gustaf mumbled as she pulled away from him.

“Yeah I’ll get her I’m awake now anyway.” She grumbled.

He watched her pull her robe on, the silk hiding all those delicious curves, and grinned into the pillow. The things he was going to do to her tonight, he mused as he listened to Sildie soothe Lily through the monitor.

“Lily bear, my goodness.” She cooed picking up the screaming child.

“Mum mum mum.” She sobbed as she snuggled in and hiccuped, the tiny girl was well beyond it. “Let’s get you cleaned up huh? Then some snuggles?”

“Mum mum mum.” She was a hot mess, tears and snot, that little flushed face.

“Yeah yeah, I’m here.” She sighed as she cleaned her up and dressed her in some warmer pajamas. “Were you cold little lady? Hmmm? Is that what it was? Cold and needed a snuggle?” She sat in the rocker and tucked the blanket in around her as she curled her in.

He hugged his pillow and smiled at the softness in her voice. There was no doubt in his mind she’d be a good mother, if she could only hear herself with Lily, with the boys. Getting her to see it for herself without pushing was another story.

“And you’re not going to drop any hints either asshole. Her body, her decision.” He mumbled to himself. “God I want kids with you.” He whispered into the dark as Sildie started to hum to Lily.

Pulling the covers back he climbed out of bed and found some clean sweats. It was ridiculous to be up at 4 am when they had nowhere to be until 6 that night. Padding out to the kitchen he put the kettle onto boil and dumped the tea leaves in the teapot. After the tea had steeped he poured Sildie a cup and took it in with him to Lily’s room. He smiled at the sight, his heart melting and constricting all at the same time. His two best girls fast asleep in the rocking chair. Placing the tea down he took a throw from the bed and covered Sildie up, propping her head up with a pillow so she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck. He took her tea back to the kitchen, closing the door behind him.

Drinking his tea alone he had something to eat before heading into his workout room to burn off some energy, hopefully he’d be able to nap later in the day. Slipping on the gloves he started out light, letting his body warm up before going a full hour until his muscles screamed at him.

There was no anxiety, no anger, just the ebb and flow of thoughts and ideas. Things he needed to do next year in his career, with the kids, Sildie, his life had changed, dramatically, from single to father of four. He stopped suddenly and tapped the bag lightly with a fist thinking as it swayed.

“I guess this is how you feel my lovely lady.” He murmured to the bag as he thought on that epiphany some more. “Drowning doesn’t seem to cover it.” He muttered. “Single to father of four.” Maybe that was why the whole dad thing was brutally overwhelming him, he thought, maybe it had been too much, too soon. “Single to father of four.” He repeated and continued with his workout.

His thoughts drifted to their future, what he wanted, what he wanted to give them, provide for them. Sure, he wanted kids of their own, and that decision was out of his hands, at least for the moment. The punch landed softly when marriage fluttered into his mind, he still wasn’t sure if she’d want to be married, or if he was even ready to take that plunge again.

His first marriage wasn’t bad, it wasn’t a picnic either with his addiction hanging over them both like a consistent third partner in the relationship. That was half the problem, their relationship was already on shaky ground before it had even had the chance to grow, to flourish. “I’m a different person now.” He muttered, and he was, he was clean and sober for a start. He’d disassociated himself with toxic people, mainly Ana, but there were more. Greedy, lecherous people only interested in him for what he was, his fame, or money, or his family connections. That’s where Sildie was different, she saw him for who he was, fucked up bits and all. Yes, he was different, he’d changed, and had the most incredible woman in his life. “Next year.” He said softly. “Sometime next year I’ll be asking you.” He grinned. He just had to figure out if it was something she wanted. “That’ll give me something to plan while I’m on set.” He chuckled.

Ripping the gloves off he sat for meditation and let his body relax, inviting the calm in. His breathing leveled out from the exertion and the peace flooded into him. This was a peace he’d fought hard for and a peace he was only able to obtain because of Sildie. She hadn’t given it to him directly, she’d given him understanding, support, and compassion. She’d given him a reason to be a better person, a reason to fight his demons after Ana, because if he was being honest, that fucking bitch had almost put him in the bottom of a bottle again. He’d been teetering on the edge when he’d save a few wayward oranges on Sildie’s threshold.

This year had taught him a lot and given him much more. He’d had his bad days, but the good ones had outweighed those dramatically. Most of all he’d stayed sober, he’d stayed clean, and his state of mind was clearer than it had ever been. Calm and peace settled in his mind, and he’d not been at peace with himself like this for a long time, if ever.

Getting to his feet he wiped down the bag and stowed his gloves before heading for a shower. By the time he surfaced in clean sweats and a t shirt, the boys were at the kitchen island for breakfast.

“Where mum?” Brendan asked as he started making pancakes, Gustaf’s lips twitching a smile at his endearment for Sildie.

“She’s curled up with Lily in the rocker. Lily woke up screaming at four this morning.” He yawned, putting the kettle on to heat up for a fresh pot of tea.

“Ouch.” The teen winced.

“Yeah. It was a little rough.” Gustaf chuckled. “Let them sleep, we’ll stick to quiet time this morning ok?” He looked at the twins and they nodded.

“Can we play Harry?” Finn asked as he snatched a hot pancake from the plate.

“Volume down low and we might go for a walk later, get out for a bit if the weather is good, so no grumbles when we do ok?” Both boys nodded, they knew the rules, grumbles meant shortened game time. “What about you B? What are you up to today?”

“Chokladbiskvier, I thought we could take them to grandpa’s tonight.” He said flipping a pancake.

“Only if you want to, there’s no need to. My dad has the party catered.” Gustaf saw the kids eyes light up. “Christmas is for family, New Years is a little more of a party.”

“I want to.” The teen grinned.

“Then have at it. And. Yum.” He elbowed the kid playfully before pouring the water over the tea leaves.

“If I have time I might even make Kladdkaka.” Brendan said on the sly.

“Shit kid you’re killing me.” He groaned.

Once the boys had eaten and off to do their designated quiet time activity, Gustaf settled into the one seat with his book, content to have some down time of his own while his girls slept.

“Mum mum mum.” Lily said softly, tapping Sildie’s face with her tiny hand.

“I’m up.” Sildie said, inhaling sharply. “Hey there little lady.” Lily crashed into her and hugged her tight. Sildie smiled as she kissed the toddlers head. “Shall we get cleaned up and go have some breakfast?” She laughed as Lily bounced, happy and content on her lap with her usual chatter for her dad dad. Her ass was asleep and she smiled at the throw and pillow tucked in around her. Gustaf had obviously come to check on her at some point. With a clean Lily she shuffled out to the kitchen and a wonderful smell of warm cookies. Brendan had been cooking up a storm again and she was so thrilled for the boy, something that brought him so much happiness in a year where things had gone to shit in more ways than one. They’d all come a long way since their parents passed. Maybe Gustaf was right, maybe I am good at this mum thing, she thought and then snorted before kissing Lily’s head. It was only better because of Gustaf, she was drowning before he came along and swept her off her feet, cleaning pasta sauce from her floor.

He loved that look on her face, her body, she’d slept and slept hard, total relaxation. Saving his page he got up and wrapped his arms around her waist as she sat Lily in her high chair with a pancake.

“Morning lovely lady.”

“Morning.” She yawned. “Did you get some more sleep after this one made a ruckus?”

“No, but I’ll take a nap later.” He kissed her temple and let his hand wander under her robe out of the line of sight of the boys. He growled and palmed a breast gently. “Fuck I love the feel of you.” He nipped her ear as her soft moan escaped, that spot below her ear betraying her as he kissed it. “You might want to nap today, you’re gonna need every ounce of energy for what I have planned for you tonight kitten.” He murmured, turning her so she faced him. He gently gripped her chin and kissed her slowly, patiently devouring every inch of her mouth. She was breathless and struck mute by the time he let her up for air.

“I love it when you kiss me like that.” Her chest heaved, pussy throbbed, god she wanted him to bend her over the table and fuck her.

“I know.” He kissed her again tenderly. “Sit down I’ll get you some un mangled pancakes.” He chuckled at seeing Lily’s shredded breakfast on her high chair table, the child quite content making an absolute mess of herself and offering crumbs to Sildie.

The man certainly knew how to kiss a woman, she thought as she sat near Lily and watched Gustaf walk to the kitchen. How was it he made her tummy flip just by looking at those thighs, that ass, the roped muscle of his arms, those hands? Because you know what’s under all those clothes, the little devil on her shoulder whispered, and you like what he does to you, all of it. “Yes I do.” She muttered and smiled as Lily tried to feed her some squished pancake.

After Sildie had eaten Gustaf forced her into the one seat with her book. With his hands braced on the arms of the chair he leaned down and kissed her. “I don’t want to see you get out of that chair unless it’s for the bathroom.” He murmured and kissed her again. “Rest love, please. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends these past few days and I don’t want you burning out or getting sick.”

“Only if you rest too.” She trailed a finger down his jaw, over his scruff, along the column of his throat, before fanning out her fingers over his chest. That chest, she thought, all hers and damn it if she didn’t love curling into it, the safety and security she felt when she did.

“I’m going to entertain Lily, which is rest enough.” He kissed her again and left her to read.

She watched him stretch out on the floor, his body caging Lily against the corner of the room, she’d have to climb over him to get out. Looking around the apartment she smiled, the twins quietly figuring out the next puzzle on Harry Potter, Brendan in the kitchen baking, experimenting with whatever flavors he desired, happy. On the last day of the year, there was this surreal calm that had enveloped the apartment and the people in it, and she couldn’t deny that it felt really good. Gustaf was right, the kids were happy, she’d brought them to a place where they could be settled and start their life again. It wasn’t just her though, she thought, as she watched Gustaf. They were happy because of this gorgeous man laying on their floor playing with a child that wasn’t his by blood, but his in every way that mattered. He’d given them a home, a family unit.

I want more days like this, she thought, that was her goal for the coming year, more time with the kids, more time with Gustaf, more peace in their lives. What about making partner, the little voice in her head said softly, what about your dreams, your hopes? If Dana could manage her own firm and three kids with another on the way, I sure as shit can manage the four she handed me, she thought with an indignant huff. She’d thought about what Gustaf had said, get a housekeeper, a nanny, she didn’t have to do it on her own anymore so why make it harder on herself? A housekeeper would be helpful, laundry, pick the kids up, get dinner on, especially if she was working late, and especially when Gustaf was away. The only issue was cost, because she wasn’t going to expect Gustaf to pay for it all. Quinn and Dana had used one but they had dual income, maybe she could get Alice to come work full time? Do the half and half payments with Gustaf? “Now there’s a thought.” She mumbled and kept reading.

She was so engrossed in her book she didn’t notice Gustaf had fallen asleep until Lily started to get upset that dad dad wasn’t playing with her anymore. Sildie climbed out of the chair and lifted the child out from her makeshift compound. She took her to get changed and had Brendan watch her for a moment. Kneeling beside Gustaf she gently lifted his head and placed a pillow under it, grabbing the throw from the couch she covered him enough to keep his torso warm, he was out cold and she couldn’t bring herself to wake him.

“Sleep love.” She murmured, before collecting Lily from Brendan and sitting with the child to read to her.

He woke up with a tiny child using him as a jungle gym. The place was quiet apart from Lily chattering dad dad, how long had he been out? Those lips he craved pressed against his temple and he snaked an arm around Lily so she didn’t fall as she flopped over his hip with a giggle.

“Time to wake up sleepy head.” Sildie murmured, kissing his temple.

“Wow I bombed.” He yawned rolling to his back.

“You did. It’s nearly four.” Her chuckle was humorous.

“What! Shit!” He huffed. “Didn’t mean to sleep that much.” Scrubbing a hand over his face he sat up and pulled Lily into his arms, the child hugging her dad dad. “Did you get a nap?”

“Sort of, this one crashed out for about two hours. We snuggled.” She helped him to his feet and went to make tea as he wandered into the kitchen, Lily curled in, that wonderful cookie smell still lingering on the air.

“Damn those look good.” He said to Brendan at the sight of the chocolate coated Chokladbiskvier.

“These are for us, I packed up the rest for the party already.” Brendan said quietly.

“I can have one?” Gustaf grinned at him like the big kid he was at heart.

“Yeah.” B chuckled shyly, the teen was still getting used to having free reign of the kitchen.

“Yeah?” His eyes sparkled as Brendan pushed the plate over to him. Instead of taking one or two, Gustaf grabbed the entire plate and took it to the table.

“I meant one cookie.” Brendan laughed.

“Ahhh but you didn’t stipulate. I’m taking one. One plate, that just happens to have all the cookies on it.” He bundled the kid into him for a hug. “They look and smell divine. I won’t eat them all I promise.” He chuckled.

“You have to watch this one.” Sildie said to Brendan as she brought the teapot to the table.

“Apparently.” The kid laughed and hugged Gustaf tightly.

“Go take a shower and get cleaned up, make sure you’re packed for tonight.” Sildie said gently. “Finn, Liam, you too. Finish up your game, go pack and get cleaned up.”

“Mum mums cracking the whip.” Gustaf mumbled to Lily, kissing the girls head as he snagged a cookie.

“I heard that.” She scoffed and stared at him, the cheeky twinkle in his eyes made her smirk as she poured the tea.

“Keykey.” Lily chattered to Gustaf, her little hand squeezing in and out of a fist at the cookies.

“You want one?” Gustaf handed her half a cookie and she demolished it. “Chocolate fiend.”

“You good with her while I go shower?” Sildie said sipping her tea.

“Sure.”

“No more cookies.” She chuckled as that little hand reached out for another.

“I don’t blame her they’re really good.” He kissed Lily’s head and pushed the cookies away from her. He needed to stop eating them too or he’d end up the size of a house.

Sildie showered and dressed, hiding a new set of black lace under her dress. It was a simple figure hugging black wrap dress with a plunging neckline and knee high skirt, enough to have her man drooling before she set foot out the door. She topped it off with a string of moonstone beads.

“I’m going to take Lily’s por...” His sentence stopped there as he laid eyes on her, all wrapped up in black velvet.

“Going to take Lily’s what? Where?” She smirked biting her bottom lip wickedly.

He stalked across the floor, those long powerful legs eating up the hardwood flooring. Gripping her chin gently he looked at her, those ice blue eyes finding his from under her lashes. “That’s a very dangerous game to play kitten.” He growled, that low rumble making her pussy ache for him. His kiss was slow and sensual, yet demanding, his thumb gently prying her lip free from between her teeth. “One day you’ll tease me once too often.” He warned. Oh how he wanted it to be tonight, he thought, silently begging her to do it again.

She felt the power ripple off him, his presence unmistakable raw domination and she loved playing this game with him. Would he spank her tonight if she pushed him, she wondered? Her body betrayed her as a shiver skittered over her.

His low chuckle against her lips told her it hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Finish getting ready kitten, I need to take Lily’s portable crib upstairs.” He murmured, lips ghosting hers seductively before he devoured her mouth, leaving her breathless. “I can’t wait to taste you.” He purred as he pulled away from her.

He left her dazed as he walked out of the room chuckling. Collecting Lily’s crib and the boys overnight bags he headed to his fathers. This would be a New Years she wouldn’t forget in a hurry, he’d make damn sure of it. A night to leave all the shitty bits of the past twelve months behind them and start fresh tomorrow.

By the time Gustaf came back for a shower the boys were dressed, and Lily had her sunflower dress on. It was a favorite of his, something he’d found on sale before Christmas and bought it on a whim. Simple yellow gingham with embroidered sunflowers along the hem, perfect for his little ray of sunshine.

She couldn’t help it. Biting down on her bottom lip she groaned softly as Gustaf came out of the bedroom a while later in black thigh hugging denim and a crisp white shirt. His eyes met her across the tops of the boys heads and she saw the smirk twitch at his lips, he knew what that shirt did to her. Moving over to her he pocketed his phone and keys before brushing her blood red stained lips with his thumb, prying it from her teeth again. “I’m not beyond putting you over my knee tonight kitten.” He growled before kissing her, slow and erotic as her system trembled. “Mmmm, you like the sound of that don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew damn well what the thought of it did to her.

“We need to go.” She choked, breathless and wanting.

“Yes we do.” He kissed her sweetly. “Were not done.” He growled as her finger trailed the patch of chest peeking out of his dress shirt. “Nowhere near done.”

“You’re not playing fair.” She murmured.

“All bets are off tonight kitten.” He nipped her ear playfully. “Nothing I do to you tonight will be fair, but you’ll be begging me to do it over and over again.” He added before stepping away and picking Lily up. “Well don’t you look like the little ray of sunshine you are.” He said kissing the girl until she giggled while Sildie attempted to get her hormones under control. Damn he knew how to get her going, and that shirt, she wasn’t going to be able to keep her hands off him.

They locked up the apartment and climbed in the elevator, Liam pushing the button to Stellan’s floor. “I like this dress.” Gustaf whispered, his hand cupping her ass giving it a squeeze.

“Then you’ll love what’s under it.” She purred, those eyes so seductive as he chuckled before kissing her.

“Fuck I love you.” He grinned, kissing her hard as the doors opened, that wicked smile of hers making his cock throb.

The front door was wide open, Megan greeting them and getting the kids settled, Lily was determined to stay with Gustaf for the moment and snuggled into his neck. Sweet girl I know how you feel, Sildie thought, that’s where I want to be snuggled right now too. Truth be told she wanted to get her hands on him and under that shirt, and he smelled so damn good, pure freshly showered male. With a squeeze of Gustaf’s hand she ventured into the kitchen with Brendan and the cookies, Eija wrapping the kid in an excited hug. Here we go, she thought, jump in the deep end, sink or swim with his family, because she couldn’t stay glued to Gustaf every time she was around them.

“You and I need to talk Kladdkaka.” She said lifting the lid of the container holding the cookies, snagging one and biting down. “God yes, and these.”

“About what?” Brendan asked looking slightly puzzled.

“If it’s ok with your mum I want to hire you to bake for my Sunday brunches.” She said digging out another cookie.

“For real?” Brendan’s eyes went wide as dinner plates.

“For reals kid. My brother told me you were good so I took a full Kladdkaka home with me from Christmas Day and fed it to my staff just to be sure. They asked when your first shift was.” Eija chuckled.

“But what about school and hockey?” He looked at Sildie for some help, way out of his depth, but not wanting to blow this chance.

“I think we can work something out.” Eija said gently. “We can do just the Sunday brunches for the moment, get your feet wet, see how you like it, how you go when school starts up. I can send you the order Monday, you send me the list of ingredients I’ll have them delivered. Don’t change anything from what you use now, that’s what makes it yours and special. Same brands, same everything, don’t change a thing. I was thinking you could cook Saturday and then let me know when they’re done and I’ll pick them up.”

“Every Saturday?” Brendan asked and felt his heart sink.

“No, we can do one weekend a month to start. I don’t want it to be too much. And the bonus is I’ll pay you.”

“Like a job?”

“Like a job dude.” She chuckled.

“Sick.” Brendan looked at Sildie. “Can I? Please?” Sildie could see him holding his breath, the excitement at the offer, his body vibrating.

“A few conditions. School comes first, your grades drop, you’re done. Just like hockey.” She said bluntly.

“No argument from me on that one.” Eija said honestly. “Your grades drop kid, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“Ok, I figured that was a given.” Brendan chuckled.

“Eija’s the boss. You don’t get to tell her what you’re baking, she tells you.” Brendan nodded. “Half your pay goes into the bank, no exceptions. The other half you can save and spend on whatever you like, within reason.” She smiled at him. “Other than that if you want to give it a try, then do it. If you want to think about it, then take some time to think on it. It’s a huge deal, be sure it’s what you want before committing to it. That makes it fair for Eija as well.” She watched him chew on it. The kid wasn’t impulsive to start with, but she wanted to be sure he was thinking about things before making a decision.

“Can I think about it Aunty Eija?” He asked quietly.

“Of course.” She elbowed him playfully. “And it’s just Eija, the Aunty thing makes me feel old.” She chuckled.

“Oh, sorry.” He cringed, feeling he fucked up his chances right off the mark.

“It’s fine kid.” She hugged him tightly. “You weren’t to know.”

“I should have asked first.” He mumbled and Sildie ran her fingers through his hair to soothe.

“It’s ok love she’s not angry.” Sildie said softly.

“Live and learn slick. I don’t hate it, it just makes me feel old, like my brother.” She chuckled. “Alex is a dinosaur.” She said loudly, knowing her brother on the other side of the room heard it as his head snapped to her grinning, Brendan couldn’t stop the snort. “That’s just between you and me by the way.” She chuckled and smiled as the kid lightened up.

Valter came past and hijacked their conversation, stealing the teen away so he could help kick Finns ass.

“He’s a good kid.” Eija said when it was just the two of them, handing Sildie some champagne.

“Not for me, I don’t drink.” At least not anymore and especially when there was a gorgeous man in a white dress shirt just across the room making eyes with her. She wanted to be stone cold sober when he fucked her tonight, she wanted to remember it all. “He is. Brendan’s been through a lot, took a lot on when Quinn passed. They’ve never had aunts and uncles, grandparents. It’s all new for them. Your brother gave him back his childhood, and a family.” She said quietly and cracked the seal on a bottle of water, emotions bubbling up.

“Goose is a special guy.” Eija’s honesty struck a chord in Sildie’s heart.

“He sure is.” Sildie said wistfully as she watched Gustaf, that lean body moving so gracefully. His gaze eventually caught hers from across the room, probably sensing she was watching him. Biting down gently on her bottom lip she smirked as the fire lit in his eyes, could feel the growl ripple from him silently, her finger twirling the string of beads around her neck.

He had to check the audible growl, the overwhelming urge to storm over there, strip her down to the black lace he knew was under that plush velvet dress, and spank her until she screamed, begged him to take her.

“I’m glad he met you.” Eija said softly.

“He makes me ridiculously happy, makes the kids happy.” Sildie smiled.

“He deserves someone like you, Sildie. Someone that loves him for who he is, not what his occupation is, or who he can connect them with.” Eija’s voice caught with emotion. She knew her brother had struggled, with addiction, with Ana, with anxiety and anger. He’d finally met someone that loved him for everything he was and more.

“He’s a very sweet soul.”

“I heard about your work party.” Eija said carefully. “Gustaf talked to me, in case anything gets dragged up in the media.” She added seeing the anger flare in Sildie’s eyes, nervous fingers tapping the island countertop.

“Fair enough.” She banked the fury, this whole Ana thing was bigger than her and Gustaf, it touched this entire family, she thought as she looked at Alex. She had to remember that.

“For what it’s worth I’m sorry.” Eija said quietly.

“Eija you have absolutely nothing to apologize to me for. Or like Gustaf likes to tell me, you don’t get to apologize for her. Ever.”

“Well if you need a hand burying the body let me know, I’ll grab the shovel.”

Sildie snorted. “Gustaf was right, we are so alike.”

“Nobody fucks with my brothers, especially Goose. He’s been through too much.” Eija was scrappy, and that’s what Sildie liked about her. She spoke her mind, told it to you straight, no bullshit, and no fucks given if it hurt your feelings. And she was fiercely protecting of her brothers, especially Gustaf. “Is your friend going to be ok?” She asked. Sensitive and emotional under it all, but fierce. “The lawyer?”

“I don’t know, the last I heard from Lucas she was out on bail, I don’t know when or if a court date has been set yet with all the holidays. I’m hoping it’s just a quick hearing and he can move on.”

“Will you keep me in the loop?” She asked.

“Sure, as much as I can. Lucas can’t tell me much as it’s an ongoing investigation, but if I hear anything I can text you.” She studied Eija. “You want to see her go down in court don’t you?”

“You bet your fine ass I do.” Her tone full of fire. “I want to see her fucking face when karma pays that bitch a visit.”

“No outbursts, no contact, no disruptions. If you do it could hurt Lucas and potentially drag Gustaf and yourself into the middle of it.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely fucking right.” She sighed. “Damn it.”

“That’s what she’ll be trying to do. She wants a reaction, don’t give her one. Promise me Eija, or you’ll get no updates from me.” Eija could see she wasn’t fucking around. “It can get much worse from here, for you, Gustaf, me, my kids, I’m trying to stop that from happening.” Sildie needed to reign Eija in, if not things could get complicated.

“I promise. I want to know what’s going on but yeah, I get what you’re saying.” She looked at Sildie and saw the fear her brother had mentioned. “She won’t get near your kids Sildie. Goose won’t allow it.”

“I know, I’m more worried about what it’ll do to him.” She said softly, the terrified look in his eyes that morning he’d had the nightmare haunted her. “I can’t watch her shit storm take that peace he’s fought so hard for from him too.” Sildie looked at her and had to say it, just to be absolutely clear. “Don’t make me lawyer you. Because I’ll do it to protect those I love Eija, including you, especially your brother. He’s gone through too much to carve that bitch out of his soul, I don’t want this thrown in his face more than it has to be.” Memories of Gustaf burning the notebook flittered into her mind, the baby bootie.

“I don’t want this to hurt my brother either. You have my word, I’ll behave. I just want to see her go down.” Eija promised.

“I’ll see what I can do when or if it goes to trial. At the moment it’s just between Ana and Lucas. With a bit of luck we’ll be left out of it.” Wishful thinking, Sildie thought, but she had to hold onto something.

“Sounds good to me. Goose was right, you’re scary as fuck when the lawyer comes out.” Eija grinned.

“Oh, I can be scarier.” Sildie stated bluntly. “Gustaf knows just how scary.” She added thinking back to the night in his workout room where he’d spiraled and she’d let him have it.

“No doubt.” The muttered reply making Sildie smirk.

He watched her as she spoke to his sister, happy that they seemed to get along, admired Sildie for having the balls to clear the air with Eija on Christmas Day, that hadn’t been easy. His woman in black velvet, curves on full display, the way her fingers toyed with that damn necklace. She caught him staring, the shy smile with a hint of the erotic goddess he knew was under it all.

“You’re so fucking gone over her.” Bill snorted, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

“Yeah.” His goofy grin said it all, totally smitten. “And this one.” He added, as he picked Lily up when she wandered over to grab him by the leg. “My Lily bear.”

“She’s the cutest thing.” Alex said, coming over to stand with them. Lily eyed him and snuggled into her dad dad, she still wasn’t too sure of the oldest brother. She would be with time, Alex was just never home long enough for her to get used to him.

Sildie watched as Gustaf put Lily down, Oona waddling over and grabbing his leg, the two girls dancing and bopping at his feet. Her heart melted as he took a hold of Sam’s three month old, his hands dwarfing the baby, but it was his face that sucker punched her. Gustaf sat and cradled the baby, joy and adoration pouring from him. Did she want that with him, could she give that to him, she wondered, as the all familiar questions kept repeating in her mind like a cracked record?

They spent the early part of the evening apart, Sildie was determined not to hang on Gustaf like a lost puppy. She was a lawyer damnit and this was just his family. She had to get used to being around them, with them, and without Gustaf as a safety net. There would be times he would be away and they would visit, and she wanted to be comfortable visiting them, with or without the kids.

She smiled as Alex walked over and put Eija in a loving headlock, she missed that playfulness you could only get with a sibling. The both of them keeping her entertained and helping her to relax. Alex was reliving an exceptionally funny story when Gustaf caught her eye, that smoldering look that had her almost crossing her legs as her pussy throbbed. His gaze raked over her body, undressing her as it went, the heat rising in her. How did he do that, she wondered? Not to be outdone she nibbled on her bottom lip and saw the desire flash in his stare. Running her tongue over her lips she swore she heard his groan before he whipped out his phone. A moment later her text tone went off.

You’re playing a dangerous game kitten, unless you’re begging me to put you over my knee and spank you with an audience you need to stop.

She could practically hear the growl as the words leapt off her screen. Looking at him from under her lashes she bit her lip again and twirled a finger around the moonstone beads.

Promise?

She texted back and grinned wickedly.

He had to check the groan at her words, his cock twitching, he wasn’t going to make it until midnight if she kept up with her current sinful teasing, he was uncomfortably hard in his jeans as it was. Trying to have a conversation with his family while hiding a massive boner was difficult. Sitting on the arm chair he half tuned into the conversation, half watched his seductive goddess move through the room. Those curves, that mane of silk copper, those cherry red lips he wanted around his cock. The sight of her was seduction enough.

He watched her talk with his father, the slight shift in her emotions clear to him, but not anyone else. She was trying so hard to put her grief behind her and have a good night, making the effort to get to know his family where most others hadn’t bothered to take the time. First rule of the new year, he thought, love this woman with every part of my soul, every second of every day, show her how incredible she is.

“I’m sorry I upset you the other day.” Stellan said gently as he grabbed Sildie another water.

“You didn’t. I’m still processing a lot of grief, it gets in the way sometimes. If anything I’m the one that should be apologizing for running out of there so quickly, it was rude.” She’d felt bad after he’d helped them move the display cabinet that day.

“No need. You’re still finding your feet after the rug was ripped out from under you. It couldn’t have been easy with four kids on top of it.” Stellan watched her carefully, he didn’t want to dive into it too much and have her freak out.

“It’s no picnic.” She said softly.

“It’ll settle, give it time, lean on Gustaf, on us. We’ll do everything we can to make things easier on you and the kids, especially when Gustaf’s away. Anytime, day or night, Megan and I are just a short elevator ride away and she works from home most of the time.”

“Thank you.”

“I know Gustaf’s said it and I’ll say it too, you’re not alone anymore Sildie. This family sticks together, we help each other out. Sure we bicker and fight, but when we need to we rally, no questions, no judgement.” Stellan pulled Megan over for a kiss before they settled into a conversation about safer topics, his statement resonating with her, family, support, love.

She could see the pride Stellan had for his kids, what they’d accomplished, the lives each one of them had carved out for themselves. In the short time she’d been with his family, Gustaf resembled Stellan the most. That same warmth and kindness she felt with Gustaf she felt from Stellan, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. As they talked and each sibling drifted in and out of the conversation she realized how much she’d missed out on growing up, how much she missed her brother, her parents. The slow seduction from across the room throughout the night was tantalizing. Those subtle suggestive looks, the nibble of her bottom lip, the flirtatious knowing smirk he’d give her as he blatantly undressed her with his eyes. It wasn’t until 11:30 and the younger kids had gone to bed, that Gustaf stole her away from talking to his father to dance, Stellan grinning as Gustaf waltzed her around the room.

“It’s a promise kitten.” He growled at her ear as he pulled her close and swayed, the soft jazz filling the apartment. “The things I’m going to do to you.” He dipped her slowly and kissed her throat. “I should punish you for tormenting me from across the room too.” His tone was that seductive timbre that made her pussy throb. “My sex kitten in black velvet.”

She bit down on her bottom lip to push the issue and he gripped it hard, borderline painful. It always amazed her at how he managed to skate that line between pleasure and pain so deftly. Still dancing he kissed her, slow, sensual, devouring. “Don’t push me kitten.” He purred, his lips ghosting hers as he let her chin go, fingers trailing her body to wrap around hers. “You may get more than you bargained for tonight.”

“God I hope so.” She purred, those ruby red painted lips kissing that one spot on his neck that turned him to mush. “I want to feel you daddy.” She whispered.

“We’re leaving the minute after the new year.” He dipped her again. “Because I can’t wait much longer to have you. Dancing and teasing is one thing, but I want you bound and begging.” He kissed her, tongue teasing hers. “And you will be begging.”

“You keep kissing me like that and we’re not going to make it home.” She muttered as he held her close. His low chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

“You’ll make it home, I don’t want an audience when I fuck you slowly until you scream my name.” He felt the shiver ripple through her body, now doubt in his mind she’d be wet for him. “I’m going to take my time with you, tie you up, take you apart an orgasm at a time.” His kiss was slow and sinful and if he kept talking to her like this she was going to orgasm right in the middle of the party. “Mmm you like the sound of that don’t you kitten?”

“You know I do.” Her gaze found his, the seductive blue looking back.

“Just say the word and we’ll go.” He smirked, knowing she’d want to dance some more and see midnight, time was it’s own seduction. He twirled her around the room, content to feel her let go and have fun. This was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her.

“I see where you get your jazz gene from.” She chuckled, she had to change the topic or she’d embarrass herself. “Your dad has good taste in music, that’s what we’re were talking about before you whisked me away.” She laughed as he dipped her low.

“Fuck me I love that laugh.” He murmured, his lips grazing her temple as he grinned like a fool. “Dad and I are a lot alike.”

“You are. You have the same smile.” She said softly and kissed those lips she craved. “The same kindhearted soul.” He looked at her, eyes drowning in hers.

“It takes like souls to see each other.” He tucked a wave of copper behind her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too sweet man.”

Gustaf closed his eyes and swayed with her, the joy and happiness on her face as he held her close, the tender touches as they talked and got lost in each other. He was, as Bill had put it, gone over her, so completely. This was what he wanted of for her, the happy bubble, he’d see she got more of it.

“My Sildie.” He murmured as the countdown to midnight started. “You’re the best thing to come into my life.” He rested his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for walking into mine, into ours, you are my everything love.” She felt so at peace with him, the world on the cusp of a new year, new beginnings, a fresh start. As the clock chimed midnight he kissed her, slow and long, a silent promise that he would take care of her, take care of the kids, become the family he so desperately wanted with her, and they so desperately needed from him.

“Sweet man, I love you.” She whispered, before deepening the kiss. She wanted him, this, family, the feeling of being loved for who she was, baggage and all.

“I love you too.” He squeezed her tightly and danced her around the room. “Now those are the best first words of the new year.” He chuckled and dipped her, that laugh making him deliriously happy.

“There’s so much love in this room.” She said softly as they swayed, the slower song drifting them along with it.

“As family should be love.” He smiled kissing her head and breathing in her scent.

“Thank you.” She murmured.

“What for?”

“For giving me a family.” She whispered and closed her eyes, the stray tears falling as he danced with her cheek to cheek.

“Don’t cry love.” He kissed each cheek, the saltiness of her tears making his heart break.

“Sorry, they’re mostly happy tears.” She chuckled.

“It’s ok to miss them love.” He murmured kissing her tenderly. She was happy, yes, but the undercurrent of grief made things more difficult for her.

“I just hate when it bubbles up like this.”

“Better it bubbling up than holding it in.” He said gently, which he knew she did on a daily basis. She held so much of it in it was a wonder she could hold it together at all, he’d be a wreck. “Talk to me love.” He leaned back slightly as they continued to dance so he could see her face. “It’s New Year’s Eve, air out the mental laundry.” Her laugh was more a snort.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” She scoffed

“Try.” He whispered before dipping her low.

“It sounds silly.” And she wasn’t sure of what his reaction would be.

“So let it sound silly.”

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

#gustaf skarsgard #shattered lives #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Ducktales Reviews: Escape from the Impossibin! or A Dark Night of the Soul

It’s a long dark night of the soul for everyone’s favorite family of ducks as our beloved family grapples with the revelations of last episodes. While Scrooge clearly smarts from the betrayal he pits his latest security system against Della and Louie, given the title it naturally goes wrong and forces all three to try to escape. Meanwhile Beakly sics Webby on Huey and Dewey, and Dewey gets a cool new sword he can’t use while Huey has a slow burn mental breakdown.. again. Someone get my poor boy some therapy. Suprises, Also an exaustingly deep dive into the life of Bentina Beakly. Disguises but sadly not pies of all sizes insue under the cut.

Well.. this one was fantastic. Obviously i’ll explain why as we go but holy shit I was not expecting a master class of an episode just one week after the already great Let’s Get Dangerous. And yes I had my complaints there but none of them, especially on the second watch, really detracted from what was honesty an amazing episode. And after slogging through “Catch as Cash Can” over the past few days, this was a welcome return to the version of the duck family I love best and a crisp reminder of why this series is so frigging amazing. I may criticize, i’m a critic comes with the territory, but I genuinely and wholly love this show, and this episode is encapsulates why. So enough lollygagging, let’s dew it to it!

We open with one of those scenes where two characters give a similar speech and it flashes back between both as they finish each other’s sentences. It’s a storytelling choice I never realized I always loved as it’s always a good way to amp up tension or comedy. It’s a good way to start. At the Mansion, Beakly is lecturing Donald, Huey and Dewey, because both families likely talked Launchpad into just sharing different days with each of them after the first inevitable sleep driving car crash so he’s with his boyfriend and child right now. It’s also really nice to both have almost the entire main cast given something to do for an episode AND have the one missing member have a thoroughly valid reason for not being there that was set up last week. It’s also really nice to see Donald and Della again. While it’s only been two weeks, both have only featured in one episode this block so far, and Della’s been kind of pushed to the side this season.. not unfairly mind as she was the focus for two solo episodes and a ton of episodes last season for obvious reasons but it dosen’t mean I can’t miss my disaster twins when they aren’t around. So anyways back on the episode, Beakly is naturally assuming theirs more traitors in their midst, and she and webby have narrowed it down.. this dosen’t really come up aside for a gag in a second for the rest of the episode, but is both funny and two of them are clearly setup for later. Have a look

My thoughts in order:

Little Bulb: He probably IS plotting to betray them, but for entirely unrelated reasons. Donald: .........................................................................................................

Look I get it on some level, as he was away from the family a long time, hated Scrooge, and had every reason to betray him. BUT, and it’s a bit but, besides the obvious of Bradford and his goons being the reason they gave up looking for his sister, if for good reason, Donald would’ve TOLD them all about that by now if he’d been spying, or if he’d had any dealings with the man. The man loves his family, uncle included, more than anyone and even at their lowest point I doubt he’d sell the man out for the boys sake unless FOWL threatened them. Donald is principaled, hardworking, loving, and has both dove directly into a nest of shadows and sent himself hurtling to earth in a possibly lethal rocket to protect this family, so even if this is a funny gag, it does bother me Beakly and ESPECIALLY Webby, his surrogate niece, would even consider this. That being said while I felt the need to rant because he’s my boy and I feel protective of him, it was damn funy as Donald naturally tries to wipe it off because.. yeah everything above, only to get caught in the flipping board and ending up as above with Beakly forced to admit it’s probably not him. Plus yeah.. he’s also way too clumsy and anger prone for wetwork so there’s also that.

Fenton: I’m TEMPTED to use the trunks picture twice in a row but besides that being obnoxious.. I get it MORE here. Donald has no motive anymore, would’ve told them by now if he had when he did, and has broken his back for all of them at one time or another. Probably literally in some cases. Fenton is sweet, loyal and another one of my boys.. but his obviousness has left him open to deception in three different episodes, not counting the tolkyolk one since that wasn’t BOYD”S choice: But he put blueprints out online for a mcduck industries project, got his armor taken by beaks luring him in to work for him, and had Gandra working for Beaks snuck into his lab.. and probably in the process also got any info on it Bradford couldn’t get through company files. He’s a good man, a kind man but he could easily be a leak without realizing it and also has a mother at home and could be threatened into doing stuff for them for her saftey.. and yes I know she can take care of herself but we’re talking a regular cop against secret agents who aren’t above murdering one. He might panic even if rationally he knows she’s fine.. or they could do the inverse and use her to get secrets from him since she’s a mother and Gandra could probably easily hack fenton’s armor, since Bradford probably has the full blueprints at this point. The point is while I don’t see him betraying them WILLINGLY, I get him being a possible leak. Donald could be, but again is too obvious and likely reguarly checked for bugs anyway long before fowl, as is Launchpad I assume.

Bluescreen Beagle: I don’t know this dude, but I’m betting he’ll be important soon enough since they brought him up at all and he is a beagle working for Scrooge so that alone is interesting.

Louie: Yeah unlike my boys I have no excuses for him here. While Louie is family, and has proven his own loyalty plenty... he’s also selfish, greedy and shortsighted so like Fenton he could be an easy accidental pawn at best or turn on them for money or an adventure free life at worst. I don’t think he would mind, i’m just more understanding of this given just last episode his response to a clearly suspicious thing making machine was to ignore any suspicion entirely and whine about it while Huey looking into it ended up saving the universe. He also nearly killed them all last season, so fair enough.

So yeah Beakly is going to train them to

WHich the boys are all for while Donald gets all spinny eyed ont he floor. Cue credits... though obviously we have to cover the scrooge side of things too...

Meanwhile at the bin, Scrooge has brought Louie and Della there because there the sharpest mind he knows, and their seeing all the angles means their the perfect test subjects for his new post-deeply cutting betrayal security system. He also obviously goes off on an alteration filled rant at Bradford that has to be cut before he can get to calling him shiteating. And given he’s a buzzard that’s probably not inaccurate. Point is they are genuinely the best ones for the job and both agree.. Louie’s not really enthuastic about any of this but hey it’s their money this is guarding so why not. So with that done since we have two full plots to deal with and they don’t intersect until the last few minutes, like with Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades, i’m going to be splitting this one and covering each bit separately since it’s also easier for me to recall and recap that way.

Beakly, Brah, Making Kids (and herself) Cry, Brah!:

A can of coke to whoever figures out that reference first. Or a free review comisson shipping Coke is expensive you know? But yeah as you can tell this bit is not going to go well for any of the kids, or the beakly or my heart. So this plot continues at breakfast, where Huey is meticulously going over both his guidebook and Finch’s Journal to see if there’s ANY signs of F.O.W.L. their connection anything.. it’s also very clear he’s panicking. Given his enitre life is built on logic and he’s now facing a threat he probably feels he SHOULD have seen coming.. I mean they clearly have access to the Missing Mysteries, there must be SOME tie to them SOMEHOW. He, in my opinon at least, feels blindsighted and scared, going up against a group using his own love of logic that blindsighted all of them INCLUDING Scrooge, the most clever and daring adventuerer of all time and Beakly, who was likely responsible for seemingly wiping out F.O.W.L. in the first place. If THEY can be blindsighted, what hope does he have? So he’s searching for it in his comfort texts, kind of like I did at his age: when theirs a crisis trying desperatley to solve it even if you really can’t, which he cannot, at leats not alone. Dewey of course being Dewey, has decided the solution is to get a massive sword he can’t lift and hit people with it and mock Huey for his reading. Huey gets what’s clearly the start of his episode long emotional breakdown, the worst he’s had of SEVERAL this series and over the biggest stakes thus far, seriously get this boy some therapy, while Dewey just thinks the key to beating their worst menace yet is a giant sword to hit things with. He does break a pot with it in an accidental spin attack in a later scene though so I do apricate that reference.

But when opening the serving tray they find an attacking Webby instead with Beakly explaining why she’s doing this to her surrogate brothers: Beakly is testing them by having Webby sneak attack them at some point and the’ll never know when, while Beakly herself works with Donald to secure the house.. sadly we don’t get to see any of that latter part, as it’s probably full of hilarious slapstick, but it’d also clash heavily with the rest of this plot which, while not lacking in jokes, is meant to be uncomfortable and have us on edge like the boys, so fair enough. Webby “Bringer of Death” hugs htem saying this is going to be fun.

Naturally it really REALLY isn’t as Huey is still very shaken by this. And it cleverly ties into what’s been shown from day one and especially this season to be his greatest weakness, and very likely the crux of his character arc: Huey can’t improvise. It’s a nice contrast to Louie last season: Louie’s very talent is thinking on his feet, seeing every angle and making them bend the way he wants. I’ts how he schemes as well as he does, how he fits into the family and what makes him himself. What he needed was to think of others and think through the consequences of his actions. That’s what he gained from his arc last season: perspective, the ablility to improvise while also not shooting himself in the foot for later and to have empathy for people. Huey is the oppoisite: Instead his ablility to think IS his skill. He’s a genuis, able to understand super science on the level of fully grown adult genuises, able to puzzle through confounding mysteries, to solve any problem. He and huey both are gifted with anyalsis, but Louie sees the small picture, the people, the moving parts at the moment, while Huey sees the big picture and how everything connects to lead to one thing and loves learning more and more. I REALLY relate to him that way. But this season has brillinatly drilled in where he needs to improve: He’s not ready for suprises or deviations from his plans or all the things that could go wrong. He can’t improvise, he just panics. It’s something again I relate to and something that each of his episodes has set up leading to this moment hammering it home and me realizing what his arc was:

Challenge of the Senior-Junior Woodchucks had Huey utterly lost without his Guide Book for a while and unprepared for a sudden challenge in Violet. Quack Pack had him unravel when he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the world, yet he was perfectly fine once he knew what was going on, Astro B.O.Y.D. was entirely about his intellgence and need for structure leaves him bullied and alone a lot of the time even among in his element with the woodchucks and how he finds friendship in someone like himself who gets him. Rumble for Ragnarok showed that while he can comment find for sports like golf where there’s rigid structure, rules and history, he fails as bad as Launchpad at calling wrestling because wrestling is just as much about sponteaniety as planning, with run ins, reff discrations and other chaos being part and parcel and even in real life matches often have to be changed on the fly due to injuries or someone simply coming up with a better finish at the last minute. At the same time the season’s shown how it is vital to him, as the next two, The trickening and forbidden fountain showed WHY his structure works and that it can in the right format, and that he usually has reason for it. And the final one showed that too, with him being the one to find out what Bulba’s up to simply by research, and while he didn’t stop it, his pulling at the threads of why Bradford was there and his hate of them forced FOWL out into the open which, while now putting him on edge, forced their enmies into the open where while their more dangerous, they can now at least strike back. Huey’s arc is , hopefully if i’m right about this, about him having to learn to use his strengths with his weakneses, much like Louie last season: To adpat, to grow while not forgetting who he is and that not everything can be put in a box, as the creators put their interpretation of him. Not everything can be quanitfied or planned for and sometimes you just have to try and hope for hte best. It’s a damn compelling arc, my relating to it helps of course but it paints Huey as a fascinating character and tying it heavily into the main plot fixes how Louie was largely removed from the moonlander plot aside from one episode, as was glomgold’s quest. While the season has three main plots: A focus on Huey, the missing mysteries and FOWL, all three intertwine perfectly and are interconnected. The creators learned well from where they slipped up last time and the result is phenomenal, and they’ve clearly proven this is Huey’s season afterall: Even when he’s not been the a-plot who huey is, how he functions and being forced to grapple with the downsides of it are front and center and I am here for it.

But yeah he’s breaking down, not helped by trying to go to beakly only to find out about the hidden bin and Dewey tries to help him calm down.. only for Dewey to walk in and unsuprsingly the one who can actually offer deep encouraging support was Webby who threatens this isn’t the attack. Nor is her dummy she leaves for them. The boys are left terrified hoping they won’t be attacked and holding Dewey’s sword, but Huey ends up convinced it’s just a test and that it’s the classic paranoia gambit: by telling them something will attack, the real lesson is to be prepared. But Nerp, Webby attacks them with arrows and easily snares Dewey while Huey has a panic attack that’s genuinely hard to watch as he ends up running into the wall and breaking his ankle. This very real pain along with his clear trauma when he flinches at her genuinely trying to help him snap Webby out of it: She realizes she’s gone way too far and utterly terrified her own brothers, sending one into a full on mental breakdown, just to prepare them. Up till now it was probably normal for Webby: Beakly trained her rigorously, if understandably, kept her from the world, probably did this to her, and Webby just thought it was normal and it made her what she is. But it also came at the cost of any normalcy. To me Webby’s always been like a lighter, since she can at least speak, has toys and Beakly you know treats her like a human being rather than a weapon, of the second Batgirl, Cassandra Cain. Cassandra was raised from birth as an experiment to make the ultimate weapon, someone who rather than speak spoke in phsyical motion and could kill effortlessly.. but actually doing so shocked her and she escaped and Bruce took her in. Cass is as badass as Batman at a fraction of the age but dosen’t understand simple life things and can’t speak. Hence the parallel: While Beakly isn’t a monster like David Cain, she still took a small child and turned them into a weapon strugging to adapt to society, and only isn’t a monster because as said she clearly cares about webby and dosen’t want to loose her like she lost her child and in-law to whatever presumibly fowl related nightmare took them from her and left Webby an Orphan. What i’m getting at with this is this feels like Webby realizing while this is her normal.. the boys can’t take it with Dewey terrified and again, Huey nearly broken by all of this and whimpering in a corner. This isn’t bonding between master and student, grandmother and granddaughter, partners in fighting.. this is just .. wrong. So when Beakly, not noticing how badly she’s damaged either boy, demands Webby continue attacking them, Webby refuses, stands firm.. and prepares to take on the person she loves most in the world, yes more than Lena she’s only 12 for christ’s sake, and Beakly gladly accepts. Webby’s training is in session. When we next see them the fight is in full force, and it is awesome to see. After 3 seasons we not only see Beakly’s darkest aspects come out we see her granddaughter in the path. Though at first it seems like what their training sessions normally are, a friendly if lively and full force spar between two trusting combatants. But it becomes clear over the fight from Webby’s reaction that Beakly is going harder than usual, and doesn’t stop when asked. Thankfully her kind gesture paid off as Huey and Dewey whisk her up to the attic. Webby is genuinely SCARED, never having seen her like this but also worried for her: Acting like a monster or not.. Beakly is still her granny and it’s clear FOWL coming back has rattled her. The fist through the attick doors, barred with the sword proves that. The kids head up to the roof with Beakly in persuit like some sort of slasher villian, again fist through a door, determined to still fight while Webby clearly just wants this to stop and so does the audience. This hurts.. intentionally so but I haven’t been cut this deep by two family members literally coming to blows since Amethyst fought Pearl in the first season of steven universe. It’s tough to watch but in a very good way. The boys break up the tension for half a second by rushing her and she just tosses them aside... where their caught by Donald, who didn’t realize ANY of this was going on and is rigthfully pissed.. though dosen’t do the angry dance thing because then he’d kill his children but he’s sure thinking it loud enough.

As Webby reluctantly readies for round 2, Donald calls at her to fucking stop already. While she counters with they have to be ready, which is true... Donald shuts her down. “Not like this”. She’s broken Huey and Webby and Dewey.. is traumatized but fine but this episode really isn’t about him. What it is about is Bentina Beakly and her Dark Night of the soul. I brought up the term for dumb reasons admitely: Because it sounded neat and because Douglas Adams had spoofed it with the dirk gently novel “Dark Tea-Time of the Soul” a title that’s stuck with me and a book I own and still need to read. But I looked it up to make sure I wasn’t badly misusing it and it turned out to fit this episode: A Dark Night of the Soul, as defined by spirtual guru and thankfuly not scumbag Eckheart Tolle whose article explained the old expression better than wikipedia could. While he naturally pitches his book there, it was still helpful so thanks man for your spirtual advice helping me analyize ducks. I owe you one.

The Dark Night of the Soul is essentially a person coming to their lowest point after having lost themselves or feeling lost, rattled by one event and awakening with a new sense of spirtual purpose and a new direction and a sense of self again after it. Having everything you know upended and coming out the other side with a new self, usually in a religious sense. And it works here because really that’s what Huey, Beakly, Scrooge and to a Degree webby face here. Louie, Della, Dewey and Donald are all fine in the face of FOWl and it makes sense: Louie and Donald are often outside the adventure bubble in terms of enjoying it, seeing it’s dangers to them and in Donald’s case his kids, Webby included, and how much chaos it is. Both have accepted it as part of their lives so while this escalates things, both just see it as just more of the peril and chaos that’s a daily part of their lives. Dewey and Della being thrillseekers and loving a good challenge simply see this as taking on an epic challenge: fighting the worst villians of the world off and having a daring story to tell. Webby similarly isn’t that effected at first because she sees it the same way likely and only starts to get bothered by it when it starts tearing her family, the thing most precious to her, apart over it.

But for the other three it makes sense. Obviously we’ll come back to Scrooge during his part of the episode. But for Huey as we’ve seen this upends his world. There was a massive deadly secret just beneath him, an unknown beyond all unknowns, and it rattled him.. and having his own sister constantly terrorize him just made it worse. For Huey without consitencey his life falls apart as those prevoius episodes highlhted.l He can prepare for anything.. but he has to know it’s coming and having a villian group who strikes from the shadows is his worst fears manifest and preparing for that naturally breaks the poor boy. He gets through it though, as once it’s on someone else, his fear falls away and as we saw his focus is entirely on helping webby: Not on himself, not on the risk but on protecting his sister. It shows that Huey has the potenital for instinct, as seen with the woodchuck and wrestling episodes too, he just needs to get out of his own head and let it work with his gut instead of trying desperately to use only his head.

For Beakly though it’s far worse... and really gets to the core of who she is in this series. She was, and probably still is, a Secret Agent, who fought long and hard to utterly destroy FOWL, at the cost of everything else, constnatly having to keep her guard up with spies all around her and with Scrooge apparently being the only friend from those days who lasted the whole time. SHe probably lost countless partners in both sense of the word, time and youth she’ll never get back and everything she had to stop them. She gave S.H.U.S.H. everything as far as I can tell. And then she got her reward. FOWL was gone, she had a child, and possibly had a loving partner, provided they didn’t either leave her pregannt and alone or just grow apart from her eventually we don’t know at this point and i’m just spitballing. Point is she had a child, she had a happy ending.. except clearly.. she did not. According to the website, and it’s probably still accurate, Beakly was living in seclusion following her retirement, likely to keep anyone from harming her child.. but also because with her partner possibly gone, she had almost NOTHING left. A child that either kept her at arms length or she kept at arms length to keep their family safe, an old friend who was busy as is, and a safe world.. that’s all she had. Just her and alone. And that’s been clearly shown as Beakly’s biggest issue as we see: She has trouble letting others, even webby at times given how she lied at her, in and given all she’s lost it’s hard not to see why. After a life time of probably watching cold blooded killers kill people she loved and having people betray her and loosing the father of her child possibly, again it’s vauge, no wonder she is the way she is. And then it somehow gets worse and better: She looses her child, one of the three people she has left in the world.. yet she finds herself in charge of Webby. And with that.. she has a purpose again, to protect this child. This baby girl who needed her more than anything. So she did.. a little too well as discussed. To quote the excellent song “Dark, Sad, Lonely, Knight” from the musical “Holy Musical B@tman!” which yes really exists:

“I remember that horrible night that night you were split in two, and I swore I’d protect you. So I built a wall all around you, but the wall was too tall, it blocked out all the birds and the sun. I tried to raise you right! I tried to raise you proper! I tried to be a mentor and a friend and a mother and a brother too! I’d insulate you from any outside source of fright... i’d make bloody certain, you’d never see another, dark, sad, lonely night. “

And yes as you can imagine that was sung by Alfred.. but it fits perfectly. That’s how Beakly raised Webby, guarding her from the world, trying to protect her from the world the way she’d always guarded herself from it. She did hurt webby’s development.. but you can see WHY. She lost everything, she had two people left in her life at that point: One had given her home and the other had given her her soul back. She couldn’t loose Webby so she made sure she couldn’t and held her as tight as she could. It’s why she pushed Scrooge to let his young nephews into his life. She saw over her time with him he was doing what she did, pushing everyone out. She wanted him to avoid being alone like she was before Webby. And it worked.. and showed her Webby clearly wanted to see the world and that Bentina didn’t have to be afraid to show it to her anymore, and could let Scrooge share in doing so. She let her be free and opened up for the first time in likely a decade since she got a two year old dropped on her lap. And soon wither she’d admit it or not she found herself part of the family. She found herself the voice of reason, sometimes sharing it with Donald, and the one to put both Scrooge and the rest of the family in their place when they nearly tore apart again, helping Donald realize that for all scrooge hurt him.. Scrooge hurt from loosing della too, and helping the boys realize Scrooge, much like herself, tends to lash out at people. She prevented them from getting distance from their family, knowing from experince you may never get them back or mend that wound. She was part of the family and for the first time in her life even if again, given her emotoinal distance she wasn’t really close to any of the duck family but Scrooge and her newly inducted Grandaughter, she still clearly cares and looks after them and even her harsh treatment of Della was well meaning and understandable. And that’s why the F.O.W.L. revelation tears her apart to her very core, her very SOUL: Because not only is the enemy she thought dead, or may of known wasn’t dead we don’t know but this episode leans towards the former alive, not only is her worst enemy, one who nearly killed her grandaughter part of them once again, but their head was one of Scrooge’s most trusted advisors and associates, the man he trusted more than himself at times to do what the company needed and the only one who knew his deepest secrets besides Beakly herself. They now faced not only her worst nightmare reborn, but with vital info about them and everyone around them. And for all we Know F.O.W.L. took her family from her in the first place and now they easily could again and she NEVER saw it coming. It’s why she drives everyone including Webby so hard, because she can’t take loosing everyone she cares about again so they will be ready, they will be prepared even if it destroys them on the inside because she cannot take it again.. she can’t fail them AGAIN. I feel she puts a lot of the blame on herself because in this family it’s her job to be the suspicious one, to see things coming, to be ready, to be the one who knows EVERYTHING even more than scrooge.. and this apparently rattled her as much as he did and suprised her just as much. She failed and she can’t again even if Webby hates her for it. But in trying to continue the fight.. she slips, Webby dodges and she falls off the roof.. and everyone helps her up. Even if they all have EVERY REASON to be mad at her they help. And Webby points out this can’t go on. They won’t get stronger tearing themselves apart.. their a family. They don’t need to do it like fowl, they need to be themselves and work TOGETHER. The one thing they have, the one thing they can trust is each other. Beakly is touched like this and realizes their right.. their not the enemy.. and there the one people,, for once in her life she can fully and completely trust. She tries apologizing to webby, they hug..and then gets an alert. What’s all that about? Well to get that that we kinda have to finish the other story.. which I would’ve put first had I realized this was going to be as long as it was but hey.

Escape from the Impossibin

Thankfully this won’t be as long or as emotionally complex.. entirely. So back at this plot about 20 minutes ago, Scrooge breaks down the challenge and the risk as it was made by the most devious and deranged minds he knows: Gyro and Quackfaster with Louie getting a good laugh out of me by pointing out “Why are the most devious minds in Duckberg friends of ours” to which I say because only Scrooge let’s them go all out, and on the friend part, at least for you, Louie...

I mean maybe Quackfaster, but you stole from Gyro multiple times now. And he hated Fenton for far dumber and more petty reasons why wouldn’t you assume he hates you too.. I mean he did help with Louie’s Eleven but there was also a good chance your head would explode there so I don’t really count it.

Anyways Scrooge offers lunch if they make it, which Louie notes means he must REALLY not think they will. And the first test proves his overconfdience correct as we enter the most dangerous, devious and deadly trap Gyro could manage.. which given who we’re dealing with, i’d be very afraid. The ultra violent ultra violet trap seems at first to just be a bunch of purple, if really cool buzzsaws and sawblades, your standard super villian death course.. but Gyro being beyond your average super villian, I mean the only reason he’s not is he has a steady job that lets him build a clone army with company resources so why would he give that up, jazzed it up with an ultraviolet bit of bulbtech.. and due to the violet light it hides the traps ,meaning their invisible. And while Louie and Della try navigating them, they cannot get through as Louie runs out of PEP to spray them with and Della using her metal leg as a guide, which itself is awesome for her as she clearly and wisely made the thing nigh indestructible and we haven’t seen it tear or get destroyed once all series so good going, really should market that to other people in need of prostetics della and Scrooge. Scrooge is of course delighted as that’s the entire point even if his child and grandchild are understandably not as happy about it. But naturally, as I hinted at in the teaser, it goes wrong as Scrooge’s password dosen’t work and he tries it too many times, been there, sucks. Granted Louie asks hilariously “Your the oldest man in the world why isn’t your password just 1234″.. and though the why is obvious, it’s still a good line. Point is their locked out and now have to escape it for real! Weirdly Scrooge dosen’t catch onto the fact of whose behind it, but we’ll get to that. He does have more pressing matters. Luckily Louie figures it out after an insult at the Bulbtech causes it to flash read, like most Bulbs do.. but since this Bulb’s entire purpose is to flash Purple, that means pissing it off makes the blades visable and while Scrooge is understandably sore that his 3 million dollar security system has such a big flaw in it, they escape. Though I get Scrooge’s frustration: Their going up against someone who knows how Gyro’s tech’s works, if Louie can figure it out so can Bradford and he wouldnt send FOWL in without a full briefing on Scrooge.

We don’t see the next one as it’s a time loop room, it’s a time loop room, it’s a time loop room okay i’ll stop and so does Dell after Louie well meaningly smacks his mom. Next puzzle’s quackfaster and I like scrooge pulling a Dumbledore and having some of his most trusted advisors devise the traps for him. I may hate JK Rowling for good reason but I did always love that bit of the Sorcerer’s (Or phillosphers in the uk because the publisher’s weren’t as stupid) Stone. Death of the author and all that. Point is I like it here too even if i’ts truncated for time. But Emily’s trap is a bunch of tiles that fuck with gravity because apparently she’s magical now... who knew. I’m not questioning it though: She runs a giant library full of dangerous, and probably magical in some cases, literature.. if she didn’t know spells she probably woudn’t be able to sort some of them. It’s a new fact out of nowhere but it makes perfect sense.

Point is they have to figure it out though Louie once again succeeds with some books and, in a really cool bit, using scrooge as a platform with the two walking in time and della grabbing on as they hit the master rune to shut them all off. It’s a damn cool sequence even if Scrooge is agrviated. We then come, after they apparently fought a Squid Monster off screen, because Quackfaster can also apparently summon demons.. or gyro made a tentacle monster which dosen’t suprise me at all. Either way it’s the final challenge in the main room leading ot the bin and in the way of deactivating security: A Scrooge Robot! Because as we all know by video game logic, the Robot Version is always stronger. Of course Louie’s annoyed both at the spending of his inhertince and at Scrooge’s egotisim but he has a good point there and the thing looks hilarious clunky with 8-bit eyes.. till it morphs, to scrooge’s delight, into a giant purple robot with a cane and scrooge’s face on the front j jonah jameson style. I never see that spider-slayer refrenced but i’mg lad this one did. Granted it could be to arim zola or something but I feel the Spider-Slayer refrence fits here.. take a look if your curious.

See? Anyways a fight insues with Scrooge, in a great bit, riling up Della when she fishes for him to admit she would’ve’ been a better base by bringing up Donald first instead. The trio get their asses kicked, and a pep can drops out, as naturally Louie was lying but it’s a rare flavor so I get it. I do. Thankfully his lies do save them however as the Cherry PEP he fires at the machine stuns it while Scrooge USES THE POGO CANE MOVE ON IT. Hell.. fucking yes. It’s about time we saw that again and in fully glory here too. I really want that game on the switch by the way.. where’s my disney afternoon collection.. WHERE CAPCOM WHERE. But yeah they won.. and Scrooge is upset. Because this was SUPPOSED to keep FOWL out but if his family can beat it so can they. And now we get to Scrooge’s far less horrifying dark night of the soul as we get a sense of just how much this whole ordeal has rattled him: As he mentioned at the top of hte episode he TRUSTED Bradford. It was clear he never liked him as a person, but Scrooge is a paranoid guy, he hardly trusts anyone and for someone to earn that it had to take a lot.. and it naturally stings. We see that while he may of been a necessary evil, SCrooge still liked the guy on some level and to have someone he trusts and respects betray him naturally shook Scrooge. He trusted someone.. and they knifed him in the back going against all he stands for. Instead of earning money, Bradford stole what Scrooge and others worked for while working to destroy him as soon as he feasably could and take his legacy for himself. To Scrooge, Bradford was revealed to be the worst kind of parasite and one that leeched off him for probably decades. But what’s worse is the risk that creates: Bradford was one of his top guys and the only other one running the company: He knows EVERYTHING about Scrooge, every secret, every investment, where every treasure is stored, and everywhere he’s been. He knows about his friends, family, some of his darkest and most guarded for a reason secrets, secrets he’d never give away freely.. and can now use ALL of it to destroy his family and everyone they care about. That sheer level of betryal would rock anyone but someone like Scrooge, who BARELY trusts anyone and can even be paranoid of his own family from time to time? LIke beakly it’s easy to see why he spiraled and why he put so much into this: Because like Beakly, he was blindsided, and his buisness, his crown jewel, the thing he put his heart and soul into and worked hard to build up and CONTINUES to work hard on to this day.. was being slowly corrupted and he has no idea what parts or where or just what all Bradford did with his money and resources and what nasty suprises he has hidden in them. The one thing he could trust as almost entirely his is tainted, his sense of security tainted.. and his sense of self tainted. If Scrooge freaking mcduck can get blindsighted like this, just how powerful is his former friend?

And we soon see Scrooge’s own fears manifest as Bradford hyjacks the robot, revealing this was, naturally him.. as of COURSE it was the guy who was revealed to be an evil mastermind who hates your guts. And because Scrooge didn’t change his password, which cleverly is the sum total of his money hence why it was a mass of numbers, which.. really dude? I don’t like doing it either and don’t change mine up if I can help it but even I did when someone tried hyjacking my spotify account. Yes that happened, I thought it was just a wifi thing, it was not. So yeah turns out Bradford was STILL one step ahead, and thus knew about the defenses and thus trapped Scrooge in them for reasons that will dramatically be revealed at the end of the episode. He also naturally attacks because just like JJ, he’s a crotchety old man whose yelling at our loveable rascals to in a sense, get off his lawn. Granted unlike JJ he’s clearly never came around, but the parallels are there. Point is it’s time for another fight this time using the gravity runes, with Scrooge hitting his despiar event horizon as if FOWL can outhink him on this what hope does he have. But like the rest of his family sans launchpad did for Beakly, Louie helps him through the other side and points out there are things they have they don’t.. and demonstrates as naturally the bulb tech used for the robot is just as irate so Louie tricks it into going after him then does a bin dive, with the massive amount of money destroying the thing and Bradford unable to get Gandra to stop it, so our heroes win... oh and Bradford left the company.. for some reason, because as his investors Scrooge can’t really remove him and I was curious how they’d get him out.. then again Scrooge probably, even as cheap as he is, had security cameras showing Bradford’s little talk with Bulba or any of his various rants as evidence. I mean Scrooge is stingy but he’s not STUPIDLY stingy. it’s the best I got, point is he’s to the wind now and our heroes have one! Except yeah.. the ending of the last segment.

Lost the Battle, Time to Win the War

In an utterly amazing swerve we find out just what kind of alert Beakly got as the rest of this episodes cast have arrived at the bin and Beakly asks why Scrooge hasn’t answered his phone.. and when Scrooge does Bradford’s plan comes into view: Turns out he locked scrooge in as a DISTRACTION, keeping him in the one place no one could reach him. It also explains why he attacked Scrooge: Besides having the perfect weapon for it and getting to gloat, someone needed to keep him busy while the rest of his operatives finished his master stroke. Turns out EVERYONE involved with one of the missing mysteries called: Goldie called to gripe about the fountain being gone and Scrooge taking it before she could, the Mervanans called to tell him the harp was swindelded by some eggheads and their good vibes did nothing to save her, we also get to see the pink one in full view which is nice but unimportant, and we get Drake back for a cameo!

But sadly it’s because he just met Steelbeak for the first time.. again, and Beaky clearly beat the every loving shit out of him as he’s heavily bruised, and took the papers on Solgelo’s Circuit with him

And Gene called to tell them he was being kidnapped as the Blot, now with a fully functioning gauntlet got to him. So to sum it up F.O.W.L. in one night, took all the missing mysteries they’d gathered or found, beat one of their most trusted allies and made their new security system worthless.

It was an utterly masterful story move: Firmly tying both plots together and confirming FOWL has SOMETHING bigger they want out of them. Some bigger plan, and as the last two weeks proved already knew where they were. Now it’s open war F.O.W.L.’s taken the first shot and hit hard.

But Scrooge, now with his confidence restored thanks to Louie, instead of backing down, is galvanized: They’ve lost the mysteries they have but if F.O.W.L. wants the rest, their going to have to beat the greatest family of adventurers the world, and probably the multiverse if we’re being honest and yes that includes other versions of this family, has ever known to them first. Sneaking in the shadows, attacking them from behind, striking them while they were at their most vunerable? FOWL was in their element and won this round because of it. But now adventuring, traveling the world, finding rare artifacts lost to time? Now their in the ducks wheelhouse. As Beakly, finally accepting her place in the family and that she’s not alone, proudly states their not ready for them. And so we close on one badass group shot as Dewey tries to lift the sword again only for his siblings to help, minus Louie naturally who still looks on determined. Our heroes have been through their dark night of the soul, they’ve lost a lot and the villians are miles ahead.. but they’ve also come out of it together, determined, their doubts behind them for now, and FOWL firmly in their sights. They won the battle.. but the war’s far from over. Game on.

Final Thoughts.

God this was a good one, as you could probably tell from the way I went on and on about it but this was one of the series best.. and while I say that a lot, mostly because Season 3 has consistently been about them topping themselves again and again, this time it’s etched in stone. I thought this would be a good one but forgetable.. instead it’s easily one of the best dives into the cast, and one of the best bottle episodes i’ve seen, limiting the cast to just our heroes, a handful of cameos and our big bad and letting our heroes be their own worst enemies for most of it. IT’s a great character piece, with plenty of great fluid action set pieces, absolutely heartbreaking character stuff, and a hell of an ending that sets the tone for the final half of the season and possibly the series. It also shut my mouth about the pacing, because as I hoped, much like season 2 it was slow on purpose: The first half, while also providing vital setup here and there, was also about telling stories they really COULDN’T once the FOWL plot kicked into gear for act 2. Getting trapped in a sitcom, a casual breakin of a gala where Donald meets the love of his life, a trip to tokyolk.. none of this would’ve really worked with Fowl at their heels. By taking their time they simply had more time to set the stage so when things kicked up with this act, things could stay intense.. minus the christmas episode but that takes place before these episodes so I don’t really count it. Point is the tone is firmly set, the stakes are high and things are at a level they’ve never been. This is one of the show’s finest and I expect i’ts only going to go higher and higher from here. Also one last note Bradford, bud.. why did you out Gandra as an agent? You had to have known about the whole Fenton thing, you seem to know everything and a break in to Gyro’s lab would’ve been something Scrooge had to tell you about or you could learn about yourself. They didn’t know she was still evil or working for you or that she was even on their radar. Also related while Steelbeak and Blot’s missions were obvious it was easy to figure out who went where besides them: Heron went under the sea both because she was the odd one out and because Bradford was presumably still mad about the helicopter thing, while Rockerduck obviously took the fountain since he’d been there and knew where it was now it was properly restored. Next Week: Kidcentric episode and the sabrewing sisters are back! Also while I don’t hate it, Lena’s blueform is simply a super mode.. phew. I mean I don’t dislike it but i’ts not a walk around in public thing. Point is kids teaming up for shenanigans, a mystic sword in the middle of x of swords AND the return of my two faviorite fowl agents. I’m pumped.

Until then if you like this review there’s more reviews on the pages on my blog including a just finished this weekend review of the original Ducktales 4-parter, Catch as Cash Can. It was a trip. You can find that collected into a handy series of links HEREEEEEEEEEE. Or if you prefer this series, as I do, you can find last week’s review of Let’s Get Dangerous HERE. If you like this review and want to here my thoughts on say an episode from the first two seasons (which I mostly haven’t covered yet), or another disney show, you can pm me on this very blog to comission an episode, just like one of my fans commissioned me to review catch as cash can. Or you can follow me on my patreon HERE. Until next week stay safe, vote if your old enough and check your house for Gary Busey!

#ducktales #escape from the impossibin #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakly #webby vanderquack #huey duck #louie duck #della duck #dewey duck #donald duck #bradford buzzard #gandra dee #darkwing duck #drake mallard #ducktales spoilers #reviews #revew

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foreverwayward · 5 years

Text

“Wayward Hearts Season 3 Chapter 5: Red Sky at Morning

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 8512

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

Maple Springs was left in the rearview mirror as the three drove into the dark highway that night. Dean’s foot seemed heavier on the gas as Baby roared down the road.

With Riley in the back seat and Sam in the front, there was a cloud that sat over them all in the silence of the ride. There was no music coming from the stereo and Dean had stayed quiet long enough.

“So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs. One of you got something to tell me?”

Sam played dumb and answered almost in a question. “It's not your birthday…”

“No.”

“...happy Purim?” The younger brother laughed. “Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking about--”

Cutting Sam off mid-sentence, Dean went firm. “There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened?”

His eyes went to the mirror to look at Riley and she didn’t acknowledge his glance.

“I know it wasn't me. So, unless one of you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans...”

“Dean…”

“You went after her, didn’t you? The Crossroads Demon. After I told you not to.”

Riley sighed before joining the conversation with her eyes shut, “it wasn’t just him, Dean.”

Dean practically rolled his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? You both could have gotten yourself killed!”

“But we didn’t!”

“And you shot her.”

“Hell ya I did,” Sam replied. “She was a smartass!”

After taking a beat, Dean asked the one question that flooded his mind. “So, what? Does that--does that mean I'm out of my deal?”

“Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean? No. Someone else holds the contract. She wouldn’t say who.”

“Well, we should find out who. Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon. Oh, wait a minute…”

Riley softly shook her head as Dean peered back at her again. “That’s not funny, Dean.”

“No, it's not!” he barked back. “It was a stupid fucking risk and you shouldn't have done it.”

Finally meeting his stern look, Riley stared back incredulously. “We shouldn’t have done it? Are you kidding me?”

“She’s right, Dean. This is bullshit,” Sam agreed. “You’re my brother; Riley loves you. And no matter what you do, we’re gonna try and save you. And we’re sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, alright?”

Silence fell over the Impala once again. Riley leaned back with her arms folded and Sam sighed heavily in exasperation. Dean’s stare continued down the road with nothing left to say to either of them.

“Sam,” Riley called to him with her abilities. “Please don’t tell him.” She saw her brother's large shoulders tense at her voice. Sam was still angry with Riley over her trying to make a deal for Dean’s soul. “Sam…?”

“I wouldn’t do that…” Sam thought. “It would kill him.”

------

Impersonating officers of the law to interview a witness, Riley and the Winchesters stood in the home of the witness to their newest case. Her finely decorated house sat right at the edge of the bay.

The witness’ name was Gertrude Case, an elegant and well-groomed woman in her early 70’s. She held a picture of her beloved, now deceased niece.

“But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives.”

“Right, yes. But, see...” Dean began their cover story. “We're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department--different departments.”

Sam went straight to business. “So, Mrs. Case…”

“Please,” the woman cooed as she looked intently at Sam. “Ms. Case.”

“Okay. Um, Ms. Case, uh--you were the one who found your niece, correct?”

“I came home, she was in the shower. The coroner said she drowned. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?”

Riley jumped in, trying to ignore the intense sexual thoughts and emotions that dripped from Mrs. Case. She cleared her throat. “Was Sheila acting strangely in any way in the days before she died? Did she seem scared or possibly say anything out of character…?”

“Wait a minute,” Gertrude paused. “You're working with Alex, aren't you?”

“Alex?” Riley asked before nodding her head in a lie. “Oh, sure. Yeah, Alex has been a huge help.”

“Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort. But, I’m sorry, I thought the case was solved.”

Sam leaned onto his right foot to shift his weight before replying, “Uh...well, no. No, not yet.”

“I see.”

“So, anyway, we were talking about your niece.”

“Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat.”

“A boat?” Dean asked.

“Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a...ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship.” Every word she said seemed to be only directed at Sam. Gertrude’s eyes sat on him with hunger.

Thrown off by her intense regard, Sam answered awkwardly, “well, um...could be.”

“Well, you let me know if there's anything else I can do for you.” Coming closer to Sam, she slowly ran a finger along Sam’s hand.

He looked beyond uncomfortable while Dean and Riley tried not to laugh.

“Anything at all.”

------

The three moseyed along the dock, the gentle sound of lapping water touching the shore. The ocean port was crowded with pristine, rather large boats owned by the obviously wealthy.

“What a crazy old broad,” Dean joked.

“Why?” Sam asked. “Because she believes in ghosts?”

Dean laughed. “Look at you, sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound.”

“Bite me.”

Nibbling her lip as a laugh tried to force its way out, Riley couldn’t help the urge to tease her brother. “She might bite you first, Sam.” He glared at her and she chuckled to herself. “So, do we know an Alex? Another hunter maybe?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change our job.”

“And it looks like we’re dealing with some kind of ghost ship.”

“Yeah. It's not the first one sighted around here, either. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing, three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings.”

Dean glanced down at the wood at his feet before looking back up. “So, whatever's happening is just getting started. What's the lore?”

“Well,” Riley interjected. “Apparitions of shipwrecks are sighted all over the world. The Griffin, the S.S. Violet, the Flying Dutchman--and all of them? Death omens.”

“So, what happens? You see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?”

“Looks like.”

“What's the next step?”

“Sam I.D.’s the boat.”

The younger brother scoffed through a laugh. “Oh, sure. I’m gonna do that.”

“Yup,” she smiled. “‘Cause you just love me so much.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam teased. “Sure. I mean, there’s only over a hundred and fifty three-mast clipper ships that have wrecked of the coast.”

“Wow,” Dean added. “Well, shit.”

“Mhm.”

They quickly went up the concrete steps that took them to the main street level. The air was salty with the breeze that blew through with seagulls crying close by.

As they reached the road, the three approached an empty parking space. Dean looked around confused.

“This is where we parked the car, right?”

“I thought so,” Sam answered as he watched Dean walk into the spot.

Dean’s body language changed as he grew more and more tense. “Where's my car?”

“Did you feed the meter?”

With his voice starting to rise in panic, Dean’s anxiety grew. “Yes, I fed the meter. Sam, where's my car? Somebody stole my car?!” he shouted.

Riley could feel his legitimate worry and fear that he had possibly lost Baby. She saw him double over and ran to him. “Hey, Dean, you gotta calm down.”

“I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca--” the Winchester began to hyperventilate and bent over, clutching his knees to calm himself.

At his gasping, Riley and Sam both tried to talk him down. “Take it easy, Dean. It’ll be alright.”

A deep voice with a British accent spoke out from ahead. They all stood up only to see Richard sauntering in their direction. He took off his sunglasses to look at the three hunters. “The '67 Impala? Was that yours?”

“Richard,” Riley sighed in exasperation.

“I'm sorry. I had that car towed.”

“You what?!” Dean barked at him.

“Well, it was in a tow-away zone.”

“No, it fucking wasn't, you douchebag!”

Richard leaned in with a pleased grin. “It was when I finished with it.”

“Why?” Riley asked in a frustrated, but drained tone. Her hands found her hips as she glared at him. “Just--why are you here?”

“A little yachting,” he replied flippantly.

“You're Alex,” Sam scoffed. “You're working with that old lady.”

“Gert's a dear old friend. A bit grabby, but a sweet lady nonetheless.”

“Yeah, right. What's your angle?”

“There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats.”

Dean’s face scrunched in disgust. “Yeah, I’m sure you perform all kinds of helpful services. Ugh. And you’re conning them--none of it’s real.”

“The comfort I provide them is very real.”

“How do you sleep at night?” Sam asked.

“On silk sheets, rolling naked in money.” Richard’s eyes landed on Riley with a strong sexual tension in them. Dean noticed and immediately grit his teeth. “Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from Dean, but you?”

“You fucking shot me!”

“I barely grazed you,” Lewis mocked. “Good, god, Sam. About time you toughened up, don’t you think?”

It took all of Sam’s strength not to clock Richard across his face. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared with rage.

Riley had so much disdain for Lewis that his mere presence was enough to irritate her. She was sickened by the way he eyed her like a piece of meat. “So, I’m assuming that you know what’s going on around here. The whole ‘ghost-ship’ story is real.”

“I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way.”

“It isn't,” Dean added with a scowl on his face.

“She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers. Look...just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. And I'd get to that car if I were you...before they find the arsenal in the trunk.” With a cocky smile, Richard put his sunglasses back on before winking at Riley. “See you around, Munroe.” He turned to leave and straightened his well-tailored coat as he walked off.

“Can I shoot him?” Dean seethed.

“Not in public,” Sam and Riley answered in unison.

------

The next day, Riley and the Winchesters had gone to another house of yet another mysterious drowning. The entire property had become a crime scene. Police officers had taped off the home and their radios could be heard throughout.

Ahead, Riley spotted Richard talking to the victim’s brother. She tossed her head back and groaned. “I’ll ask again...why?” she whined.

The brother of the victim was still shaken and obviously reeling from the earlier events.

Richard was interviewing him, posed as a reporter. He was using a fake American accent and really playing into his role. “I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw.”

Riley, Sam, and Dean pulled out their badges to flash them before shoving them back away. They all looked irritated and Dean stared Lewis down. “I think this man's been through quite enough. You should go.”

Still holding his recording device, Richard told them coolly, “I just have a few more questions.”

“No, you don't,” Sam told him firmly.

Richard shot the brothers daggers with his eyes before feigning respect for Mr. Warren. “Thank you for your time.” As he walked past Riley, his hand brushed up against hers purposefully and he shot her a playful look.

“Sorry you had to deal with that,” the older Winchester told the grieving brother. “They're like roaches.” Dean raised his voice so that Richard could hear him.

He turned back to glare at the hunter and Dean shot him a harsh leer before Lewis scoffed and left.

“Did he touch you?” he asked Riley quietly.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she replied. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“Pfft. He’s not getting to me. I just--wanna kill him is all.”

Sam had already pulled Mr. Warren to the side to talk as Riley and Dean joined them. “So, it’s Peter, right? Peter Warren? We heard you say your brother saw a ship.”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“Did he tell you what it looked like?” Dean asked.

“It was, uh--like the old Yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging--angel figurehead on the bow.”

Riley looked at the man curiously. “Wow. That’s pretty specific detail for a ship you didn’t even see.”

“My brother and I were night diving. I saw the ship, too.”

The three shared a knowing look of worry before Sam turned to notice Richard. He was talking to officers and pointing to Riley and the brothers’ direction.

Sam nudged Dean and he quickly wrapped things up.

“Alright. Well, we'll be in touch. Thank you for your time.”

------

Later that afternoon, the family of three loaded their shotguns at the trunk of the Impala in the nearby woods. It didn’t take long before they were joined once again by an unwelcome voice that approached them from behind.

“I see you got your car back.”

Dean had to briefly shut his eyes to contain his frustration before replying, “you really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?”

“Now, now. Mind your blood pressure, Dean. Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat.”

As Riley snapped the gun back into place she stared Richard down. “The brother? He saw the ship.”

Dean closed the trunk as they all turned to face Lewis.

“Yeah? And?”

“...and he’s gonna die. So, now we gotta save him.”

Richard found slight humor in the comment and smirked with a soft chuckle. “Oh, Riley. How sweet. Always ready to run into the fray. Though I’ll admit, one of the many reasons I’ve always found you so interesting,” he added with a sly look.

Sam butt into the conversation with a scoff, “dude, back the hell off. And what? You think this whole thing is funny?

“He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time and you know it.”

“Hmm. Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so…” Sam said plainly as they all went to get in the car. “...we're gonna try.”

“Yeah, well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley looked at each other, exasperated before Dean marched over to the smug visitor. “Hey, Dick, how'd you get like this, huh? What, did daddy not give you enough hugs or something?”

Lewis fought not to let his face show how offended he was. “I don't know. Your daddy give you enough?”

The two men shared an obvious moment of desire to fight.

Riley could feel the tensions rising and a part of her hoped Dean would hit Richard.

“Don't you dare look down your nose at me,” Richard told him. “You're not better than I am.”

“We help people.”

With a scoff, Richard went on. “Come on. You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me--which is healthier?”

“Richard,” Sam interrupted. “Why don't you just leave? We've got work to do.”

“Yeah. You're 0 for 2. Bang-up job so far.”

As he left, the others sighed as Riley ran a hand through her hair. “I’m starting to think shooting him in public isn’t such a bad idea.”

------

When night had fallen, Riley and the boys sat in front of the Mr. Warren’s large house. Back in their day to day clothes, they had decided to stake-out the place in hopes of catching whatever was going to come after the man.

Riley had her feet up as she lounged in the back seat finishing her candy bar. As Sam went over his findings on the Warren brothers, Dean’s eyes sat on Peter in the window.

“I don’t get it. I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads--no criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago.”

“How much?” Dean asked.

“$112 million.”

Riley whistled in response. “Real estate, huh? I’m in the wrong business obviously.”

“Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, aboveboard. So, why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?”

“Maybe nothing,” Dean added.

“No. There's always something.”

Peter had spotted them through his window and came out of the house toward them. Stopping at the security gate, he shouted, “hey, you!”

“Think we’ve been made, boys.” Riley was the first to get out of the car as the Winchesters followed.

“What are you guys doing?! You watching me?”

As they neared the panicked man, Sam tried to reason with him. “Sir, calm down. Please.”

“You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not--not in that shitty car.”

Dean was taken back and chuckled. “Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty.”

Hoping she could appeal to Peter, Riley gently put her hands up as a soft surrender. “We are cops, sir. We’re just undercover. We think you might be in danger, Mr. Warren.”

“From who?!”

“We can talk about this. Let’s all just calm down.”

“Look, you guys just stay away from me!” Peter demanded as he ran to his own car to get in.

At the gate, Dean yelled, “hey, dumbass! We’re trying to help you!”

Peter’s Mercedes approached the opposite side of the entryway and the car shuddered before coughing and dying.

“That can't be good,” Dean stated.

“No. Get the salt gun,” Sam told his brother as he and Riley hopped the short fence. Together, went into a full sprint across the property.

Inside Peter’s car, a spirit dressed in the clothes of an old seaman sat in his backseat. He wore a navy coat, his long hair soaking wet and dripping into his eyes with his right hand missing.

Mr. Warren peered back to look, but the spirit was gone. As he turned, the spirit was sitting in the passenger seat. The ghost glared at Peter and reached out to touch his cheek.

The man immediately began to convulse, choking on cold, salty water that spilled out of his mouth as he fought for air. He scrambled for the door, which locked itself and Peter finally slumped over the steering wheel.

Sam got to the car as the Winchester shouted into the driver’s window, “Peter!”

When Riley reached the passenger side, she gasped at the spirit staring her down. There was so much rage exploding from the ghost that she shuddered at the feeling.

Across the way, Dean hollered as he rushed in their direction, “guys! Get down!”

The two ducked down as Dean fired his shotgun into the window. It shattered at the salt round’s impact as the spirit disappeared.

Riley quickly stood and reached through the broken glass to unlock the car door. Sam yanked the driver-side door open and pulled Peter back against his seat; water still pouring from his mouth with his eyes wide open. The hunter checked for a pulse, but after a few seconds, his shoulder slumped and he sighed in defeat. Sam shook his head at the others and Riley groaned putting her hands in her hair.

As the thunder in the distance rumbled, Dean kicked the car door in frustration.

Against their best efforts, they were too late.

------

Lights from around them flickered through the windows of Baby as Dean drove her down the local highway. The radio was going with an announcer discussing the weather.

“With what started out as a mild breezy night, a severe weather front is headed in from the Northwest. Expect heavy lightning and thunder, with sudden rainfall--”

Dean shut off the radio with his eyes never leaving the road. “Do either of you wanna say it or should I?”

“What?” Sam asked.

“You can't save everybody”

Riley scoffed under her breath. “Right. So, does saying that make you feel better?”

“No, not really.”

“This isn’t even about us not being able to save Peter, is it?”

With a heavy sigh, Dean replied, “you gotta understa--”

Immediately cutting his brother off, Sam’s face fell flat with both sadness and defeat. “It’s just lately, I feel like I can't save anybody.”

The car fell silent with Sam, Dean, and Riley lost in their own thoughts.

Reaching out to her brother, Riley solemnly spoke through her abilities. “Me too, Sam.”

------

An abandoned and worn Victorian style home sat on the corner of a quiet street. The windows had been boarded up; the yard was a mess and wildly overgrown. It was the perfect place for the hunters to stay while they worked the case.

As Sam sat at a table reading about shipwrecks, Riley gently strummed her guitar as she tuned it. Dean was mindlessly playing a game on his phone off to the side of the room. The only time he seemed to look up was to sneak a glance at the woman in front of him with a soft smile.

When there was a knock at the door, Dean got up to check it out. A small, rusted and squeaky door opened as a peephole. Dean opened it and rolled his eyes seeing Richard staring back at him. The Winchester closed the tiny door before sharing a long look with Riley and Sam.

Reluctantly, he opened the door and Richard waltzed in wearing a high-end suit, carrying a leather portfolio.

“Dear...god,” he muttered as he looked around the house. “Are you actually squatting? ...charming.” Lewis walked further inside to join the others. “So. how'd things go last night with Peter?” When no one responded, he asked, “that well, huh?”

Dean’s jaw slightly clenched and Richard turned in his direction. “If you say 'I told you so', I swear to God I'll start fuckin’ swinging.”

“Look, I think the four of us should have a heart-to-heart.”

“That's assuming that you have a heart,” Dean snarked.

“Dean, please...I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts. I've ID'd the ship.” Richard unzipped his portfolio to pull out his findings as Dean sat next to Riley. “It's the Espírito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel--quite a colorful history. In 1859, a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37.”

Sam immediately added, “which would explain the 37-year cycle.”

“Aren't you a sharp tack? There's a photo of him somewhere…” Lewis took a beat as he flipped through the paperwork. “Here...”

As the three studied at the photo, they quickly shared a knowing look. Riley pointed at one of the men in the picture before saying, “isn’t that the guy from last night?”

“You saw him?”

“That’s definitely him. I looked him right in the eyes. But...he was missing a hand.”

“His right hand?” Riley nodded at Richard’s question and he went on. “The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory.”

“A hand of glory?” Dean smirked. “I think I got one of those recently.” The older brother chuckled with a quick glance towards Riley. She met his gaze with a firm look and he cleared his throat realizing he had overstepped.

“Dean,” Sam started with exasperation. “The right hand of a hanged man is a serious occult object. It's very powerful.”

“And it qualifies as actual remains.” Riley picked up the photo to look at the man closer. “But how is he choosing his victims? It doesn’t make sense.”

Richard leaned onto the table and stared into her eyes. “I'll tell you why. Who cares? Find the hand, burn it, and stop the bloody thing.”

“Why are you even helping us, Richard? Why tell us all of this?”

“Because I know exactly where the hand is--the Sea Pines Museum. It's a macabre bit of maritime history. But I need help.”

“What kind of help?” Sam asked giving Lewis a skeptical look.

Richard said nothing, only to turn to Riley with a smirk.

------

That evening, the house was filled with lit candles as the electricity hadn’t worked for years.

Dean and Richard waited in the living room with no one else around. Richard was in a tux with Dean was in nice slacks with a white button-up shirt, and a bowtie with a matching vest.

Dean tugged at the tie at his neck. “I don’t get it. Why the fuck do I have to go undercover as a waiter? Why can’t you or Sam do it?”

“Because I need Sam to keep Gertrude busy, I’m on the list with a plus one, and you…” Richard paused and sized him up. “Well, you’ll fit right in with the help.”

Feigning a sarcastic and annoyed laugh, Dean mocked him. “Douchebag…” he muttered under his breath.

Just then, movement on the stairs caught both of their attention. Dean and Richard’s eyes shot up to the staircase to see Riley coming down. She was in a black evening gown that had straps that nearly hung off her shoulders. It had a plunging neckline and a slit up her right leg. Riley’s hair was curled in large, loose rings as it fell over her shoulders. She was even wearing a diamond necklace that Richard had loaned her to play the part.

Dean felt his jaw fall slightly agape as she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to him. She was stunning. He could have stared at her all night with the candles flickering on her face. Dean had never seen her dressed up like that and nearly went weak in the knees.

The smile that grew on his face was so genuine, he practically beamed. “Wow…” Dean nearly whispered. “You look…”

Before he could finish, Richard jumped in with a grin. “Incredible. Riley, I’ll be the most envied man in the room tonight.”

It was obvious that Dean was uncomfortable with Lewis being with Riley that night. But, it wasn’t her he didn’t trust, it was him.

Riley half-smiled at him only to walk towards Dean. Her heels clicked on the floor and he gulped hard as she got closer. The hunter was in awe of her and it was obvious.

“You look so good…” Riley flirted as she fixed his bowtie with a smile.

“You…” Dean stammered. “Sweetheart, there aren’t words.”

A mischievous look grew on her face as she looked up at Dean. “Think you can show me then, later tonight?”

“God, yes…” he nearly growled as his hand went to her waist. Dean kissed her gently as Richard rolled his eyes. When Dean peered up after their kiss, he looked smug and pleased with himself knowing how jealous Richard was. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

------

Outside the museum, the three got out of Richard’s elegant, two-door sports car. He straightened his jacket as he buttoned it up and a parking attendant helped Riley out of the car.

Dean was in the small backseat and struggled to push one of the chairs forward to get out. He grunted shoving it over it over as the leather squeaked.

Richard leaned in to push a lever that brought the seat up and smiled trying to hide his humor over the hunter’s embarrassment.

“You know, Dean,” Richard said as he went to Riley’s side. “I believe the staff goes in through the back.”

Riley could see the anger in Dean’s face and she spoke to him telepathically. “It’ll be okay. Remember, he’s not the one I’m going home with.” Her tone was teasing and Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Shall we?” Lewis asked as he put out his arm for Riley to take it.

Dean felt himself boil just watching the man he hated touch her as the two walked in the front door. With a groan of frustration, he walked around to the back.

Once inside, Richard gave the doorman their invitation. Everyone was in formal black-tie attire as cultivated music played through the air through the murmurs of conversation.

With Riley’s hand on his arm, Richard placed his on top of hers. She tried to hide her desire to pull away and took a deep breath as they walked inside. Guests had congregated at the bar and throughout the museum as they socialized and admired the displays.

Sam hurried to Richard and Riley from across the room, leaving Gertrude waiting. He looked uncomfortable and jumpy in his black tux. “Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?”

“As long as it takes,” Richard grinned.

Riley could feel how frustrated Sam was and leaned into him. “There’s security everywhere, Sam. Without Gert and Richard’s invitations, this party is un-crashable.”

Holding a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres, Dean reluctantly joined them, his face flat. “This is fucking ridiculous. They got me serving crab cakes.”

Richard reached out to take one. “Don’t mind if I do.” He ate the appetizer and softly moaned. “Delicious. Thank you.” Reaching behind them to the bar, Lewis grabbed two flutes of champagne before handing one to Riley. “Excuse us…” Richard teased as he took Riley’s arm once again and walked them off.

She turned around to mouth, “I’m sorry,” before they disappeared into the crowd.

Dean was practically seething. “I seriously hate that fucking guy.”

“Yeah, join the club.” Sam groaned as Gertrude showed up next to him with their own glasses of champagne. Her eyes sat on Sam with hunger and desire as he took the drink.

Sam didn’t hesitate before downing the entire glass. He turned to Dean one more time to utter, “let’s get the hand and get the fuck outta here, alright?”

“Pfft. You read my mind.”

With a tight smile, Sam went off with Ms. Case as Dean placed his platter onto the counter. As he went to leave, Dean quickly rushed back to grab three crab cakes from the tray and scurried away while shoving one in his mouth.

------

In a less crowded room, Riley and Richard looked around. There were men in uniforms standing at every door and in front of the staircase. They both spoke in undertones to each other as they tried to blend in.

“Private security?” Richard asked her.

“No...I don’t think so. Check out how they’re standing--definitely professionals. Maybe state troopers on a night job.”

“Posted to every door, too.”

Riley casually glanced around. “Pretty sure they’re not just gonna let us upstairs.”

“Well, I have a thought.”

“I’m all ears.”

“...faint,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Faint.”

The hunter groaned frailly and fell into Richard’s arms toward the floor. Holding her, Richard knelt down next to her. “Darling? Darling, are you alright?” He looked around and called to over to a man that passed them. “Waiter! My wife, she has a terrible peanut allergy. Please tell me you weren’t serving anything with peanuts.”

“No, sir.”

A guard approached as Richard scooped Riley up into his arms. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“My wife, she’s not well. Possibly one too many glasses of champagne. Is there somewhere I can lie her down until she is back on her feet?”

The suited guard looked up the staircase. “Follow me.”

Still holding Riley close to his chest with ease, he thanked the gentleman. “Come on, darling. Let’s get you somewhere quiet.”

Riley could feel Richard’s hand squeeze at her just a bit and she had to fight not to reach up and smack him across the face.

He carried her up the stairs as they were led into a private room. Gently, he placed her down on a red leather couch.

“Thank you so much,” he told the guard at the door as he slipped him some money. As Richard shut the door behind him, Riley sat up.

“Getting a little grabby there, Richard.”

He chuckled under his breath. “As I recall, you weren’t opposed to me being ‘grabby’.”

“Yeah,” Riley scoffed as she fixed her hair. “Three years ago. Let it go.”

“As if you’re so easy to forget, Ms. Munroe.” Richard’s eyes locked onto her with desire and she could hear some of his lewd thoughts. She couldn’t let him know she could read his mind and instead just rolled her eyes as she stood. “Room 235. It’s in a locked glass case wired for alarm, I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.” Lewis pushed the hair away from her face with his hand lingering.

“Cool. Thanks,” she added with a condescending pat to his chest as she turned to leave the room.

Gently closing the door behind her, Riley began to make her way to the room. She jumped when Dean quickly turned the corner in front of her. “Ugh. You scared me.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure you’re date is a lot scarier.”

Riley giggled to herself before grabbing Dean by the coat he had stolen and kissed him. Breaking away, she kept hold of her grasp and drug him along.

A playful look grew on Dean’s face, enjoying her show of control.

Down the hall, Riley pointed to the door marked 235. Dean checked the handle to find it unlocked and they crept inside.

In the room were several glass cases with high-tech security on each one. The hand of glory sat to the right in its case and the couple went in its direction. It took several minutes as Dean worked to bypass the security, but when he finally did, the case was easy to remove.

“Very James Bond of you, Dean,” Riley flirted.

Dean stood with a smug look and a hooked eyebrow as he took the hand before tucking it into the jacket pocket. Turning to her he bit his lip as he looked her over. “The name’s Winchester,” he said dramatically as if quoting the famous spy.

She laughed in return and kissed him. “Let’s go.”

The two hurried back to the room they had left Richard in and closed the door behind them. “Ah, Dean. So glad you could join us.” He gave the hunter a judgmental look before asking, “And the hand?”

Pulling out a shriveled, almost mummified, human hand out of his pocket, Dean showed Richard their prize.

Lewis approached with his hand open. “May I?”

“Nope,” Dean told him sternly as he pulled it away from him. He pulled a handkerchief from the jacket’s front pocket and wrapped it.

Riley glanced up at Dean. “Wanna put it in my purse? Might be easier to hide.”

He scratched his nose, using their signal for her to read his mind. “And give Dick over here another chance to grope at you so he can get it? I don’t think so.”

She softly shook her head at his ridiculous thought, but dropped the subject.

------

Back downstairs, Gertrude and Sam swayed to a song played by the quartet. She leaned into the Winchester’s chest. Clutching an empty champagne flute, Ms. Case’s other gripped Sam’s tightly. Her eyes were shut as she brushed herself up against the hunter; the liquor that began to hit her only making her bolder.

“Man, this is one long song,” Sam uttered,

Breathing him in deeply, Gertrude cooed, “I hope it never ends.” She paused to gaze up at Sam who looked deeply pained. “How's the investigation going?”

“These things take time.”

“People are talking about the Warren brothers’ deaths. Strange. Do you think it’s connected to Shelia's?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Yeah, we think so.”

“I think they had it coming.” Gertrude went back to her comfortable spot on the hunter’s warm chest. “You know--in a Biblical sort of way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know about their father?” When Sam shook his head in response, she said, “Come here, I'll whisper it to you.” Taking the sides of his head, Gertrude seductively pulled him close to speak in his ear. Sam tried to contain his groan in discomfort. “People say that the old man didn't die of natural causes.”

Sam grimaced. “Then how?”

Caressing him, she continued to whisper and blow in his ear. “Rumor is the boys did it. Nothing was ever proved, but, uh--people still whisper.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” He winced as he pulled himself away. “Um, uh--so did--did Sheila have any connection to them?”

“Well, none that I know of.”

“Did Sheila have any kind of tragedy in her life?”

Gertrude thought to herself. “Yes. As a matter of fact, there was a...car accident when she was a teenager. Her car flipped over. She was okay but her cousin Brian was killed. Why, is that important?”

“Uh…”

Dean, Richard, and Riley approached and Richard just grinned. “Having a nice time, Gert?” he asked.

“He's delightful!” Gertrude chuckled somewhat drunkenly. She spoke low to Lewis in almost a whisper. “He wants me!”

With a look of surprise, Dean turned to Sam who appeared completely abashed. Riley could feel the embarrassment Sam was drowning in and how badly he wanted to get out of there.

“Gert,” Richard started as he took her hand onto his arm. “I think it’s time we get you home. You might need a cold shower.”

“Great idea,” Sam practically groaned in disgust.

Looking over his shoulder, Richard playfully winked at Riley. “See you at the cemetery.”

After watching the two leave, Dean turned to his brother. “You stink like sex.”

Riley nearly chortled at the comment and tightened her lips together to avoid bursting into laughter.

------

Once outside the museum, the three walked through the parking lot. Riley, Sam, and Dean got into the Impala as they all sighed with relief that the night was over.

Sam pulled at his bowtie, nearly ripping it off with anxiety in the backseat. “You got it, right? Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing.”

“I got it...Mrs. Who?”

“Dean, would it kill you to open a book?” the young Winchester snarked. “Never mind. Just let me see it.” Pulling something out of his pocket, Dean began to unwrap something from a cloth. His face changed with a sense of panic as he unraveled it faster. “What?”

Dean held up a small ship in a bottle that Richard had replaced the hand with as his anger grew. “I'm gonna kill him.”

“I’m down,” Riley shrugged.

------

Back in more comfortable attire, the hunters sat in the candle-lit house once again. Dean examined the ship more closely by the light of a small flickering flame.

“You know what? I'm not gonna kill him. I think slow torture's the way to go.”

“Dean,” Riley said sweetly. “I keep telling you not to let him get under your skin. You gotta relax.”

“Relax! Oh, yeah, yeah, I'll relax. I can't believe the son of a bitch got another one over on us!”

Sam looked up at his brother. “Actually...he got one over on you--not us.”

Pausing with frustration, Dean shouted, “thank you, Sam. Very helpful.”

There was a rapid knock at the door before a deep voice called to them. “Hello? Could you open up?” They all went together to open the door to see Richard looking back at them. “Just let me explain.”

Sam, Dean, and Riley were pissed...and it showed.

A short while later, Richard was sitting at the table with Dean leaning down to glare at him. Sam sat backward in his chair while Riley leaned against the mantle with her arms crossed.

“I sold it,” Richard admitted. “I had a buyer lined up as soon as I knew it existed.”

Furious, Dean walked behind him. He made a shooting motion with his fingers, imagining a bullet going into the guy’s head.

“So, the whole reason for us going to the charity ball was...?” Sam asked.

“I needed a cover. You were convenient.”

Riley exhaled in exasperation. “You sold it. Go buy it back.”

“It's halfway across the ocean. I can't get it back in time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have plans?”

Lewis ran a hand over his face taking a long pause to answer to her snarky question. “I saw the ship.”

“You what?” Dean questioned with a soft and surprised tone as he began to pace. “Wow, you know, I--I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist piece of shit, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower--”

“What are you talking about?”

“We figured out the spirit’s motive,” Sam added as he showed Richard an old photograph. “This is the captain of our ship--the one who hung our ghost boy.”

“So?”

Taking a few steps forward, Riley leaned onto the table. “They were brothers. It was all very Cain and Abel. Now, because of how he died, he’s got a very specific target--people who have killed someone in their own family.” Richard looked stunned as she went on. “Sheila? She killed her cousin in a car accident. The Warren brothers? They murdered their father for his inheritance. And now you apparently.”

“Oh, my God,” he said under his breath.

“So, who was it, Dick? Hmm?” Dean hovered behind Lewis hoping to intimidate him. “Who'd you kill? Was it mommy? Your little sis--?”

Softly, he replied, “it's none of your business.”

“No? Right. Well, have a nice life--you know, whatever’s left of it.” Dean slapped him on the back before grabbing his jacket and going for the door. “Guys, let’s go.”

“You can't just leave me here.”

“Watch us.”

Reluctantly, Richard admitted, “I need your help.”

“Our help?” the older brother scoffed. “You call us serial killers, get handsy with my girlfriend…”

“Okay, that was a bit harsh and rude, I admit it...but it doesn't warrant a death sentence.”

Sam stood with his arms crossed as he told him softly, “that's not why you’re gonna die. What'd you do, Richard?”

“You wouldn't understand. No one did.” Richard cleared his throat and slicked back his hair. “Never mind. I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself.”

As he turned to leave, Riley spoke out. “You know...you just sold the only thing that could save your life, Richard.”

“I'm aware.”

“Well…” Sam sighed. “Maybe not the only thing.”

------

Richard had gone along with the hunters to a local graveyard. Sam was setting up a ritual circle: five candles, a pentagram, and a bowl into which he poured a jar of red liquid. Another jar was on the opposite side of the circle with what appeared to be herbs in it.

Huddling into his coat from the cold, Richard shuddered slightly. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

Dean was leaning on a tombstone with his shotgun rested on his shoulder. “Almost definitely not.”

Thunder suddenly crashed and the wind whistled before rain began to pour over them. Sam and Dean zipped up their jackets and braced for the storm. Tugging the hood of her sweater out from under her leather jacket, Riley pulled it over her head.

“Well…” she practically shouted over the rain. “Hope those aren’t your good shoes, Richard!” Riley turned to the young Winchester. “Sammy! Time to read, bro!”

“Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam. Ehrley, et balam, ego vos conuro, per deum verum, per deum vivum cuivos,” Sam had to yell over the storm that drenched them. “Cuiaves eos supermontes et per eum, qui adam, et avum formovit. Et per eum...” As he went on, the wind grew fierce and the rain felt as though the skies had completely opened.

“Riley!” Dean called. “Stay close.”

Before she could get to him, Riley could see the phantom approaching Dean. “Behind you!”

Grabbing Dean, the ghost threw him through the air. He hit a headstone with a painful thud before his gun went off.

Sam looked up and continued to read in Latin as the spirit reached out to Richard and placed a hand on his face. Lewis immediately began to cough up water as the phantom watched him fall to his knees.

Riley quickly spun to see Dean across the way as he staggered up. Knowing he was okay, she threw herself next to Richard and held him to support him as he continued to heave water.

“Read faster, Sammy!” Dean bellowed as he stumbled over to Riley and Lewis.

Richard continued to cough when the rain suddenly died down. His coughing went on but seemed to have calmed down.

There was a creaking sound nearby and the ghost turned toward the source of the noise only to see his brother standing before him.

“You...hanged me!”

“I'm sorry,” the spirit pleaded to his brother.

“Your own brother!”

“I'm so sorry!”

The ghost charged with rage into his brother’s spirit. When they collided, the two dissolved into screams and a splash of water that seemed to almost explode.

Richard gasped for air, no longer coughing up water, as Riley and Dean helped him to stand.

The spirits were both gone with their unfinished business finally at rest.

------

The next day, the family packed, getting ready to leave the home they had been staying in. A sound came from outside before the door opened and Richard walked in, dressed in a dress shirt, tie, slacks, and shining shoes.

“You know, you really should lock your doors. Anyone could just barge in.”

“Anyone just did,” Sam replied as he continued to put his things into their rightful place. “Did you come to say goodbye or thank you?”

“I've come to settle affairs. Giving the spirit what he really wanted, his own brother--very clever, Sam. So here.” Richard pulled out three packets of money and tossed one to each of them. “That’s fifteen thousand--should cover it. I don't like being in anyone’s debt.”

“So, ponying up fifteen grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?” Dean asked. Lewis smiled faintly and the hunter shook his head with a scoff. “You're so fucking damaged.”

Richard’s smile broadened. “Takes one to know one.” His eyes landed on Riley, only a little less suggestive than usual. “I’ll see you around, kid.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” she teased with a playful smile.

With a slight nod, Lewis turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Sam flipped through his money and then looked back up to his partners. “He’s got style. You gotta give him that.”

With his own cash in hand, Dean dismissed the thought. “Whatever. He’s still a douche.”

“Guys,” Riley started as the three huddled together. “Should we even take this? I mean who the hell knows where this money’s been?”

“No, but I know where it's going…” Dean said with a smile before planting a peck on Riley’s lips and going to get his things. “A-HA HA!”

------

That night, the Impala drove on, still covered in drops of rain. Riley sat in the front seat as she went over a map and Sam leaned forward to look over her shoulder.

“Seriously? Atlantic City?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Hell yeah! Play some roulette--always bet on black.” Dean paused and his tone changed. “Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking. Um...I want you both to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon.” Still unwilling to make eye contact, the others sighed feeling the air of the car change. “You know, situation was reversed, I guess I'd have done the same thing for either of you. I mean I'm not blind, I see what you guys are going through with this whole deal--me going away and all that. But, you're gonna be okay--both of you.”

“You think so…” Sam said tonelessly.

“Yeah, you'll keep hunting, y'know--you live your lives. You’re stronger than me. You both are and you know it. You'll get over it. But, I want you to know I'm sorry--I’m sorry for...putting you through all this, I am.”

Tears ached at Riley’s eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?”

“We’re just supposed to ‘get over it’-- ‘move on’?” When Dean didn’t respond, Riley went on even though the lump in her throat that was actually causing her pain. “You really expect me to move on? That I can just be without you?”

“Sweetheart, when this is all over...I want you to move on. Build a life with someone if that’s what you want, or hunt with Sam...or both. I just want you to be happy.”

“Happy?!” she almost yelled. “You want me to have a life with someone that isn’t you? How could you even say that?”

“Because you have to, Rye! You gotta let me go.”

Sam couldn’t take it any longer and barked at his brother. “You know what, Dean? Go fuck yourself. We don’t want an apology from you! And by the way, we can take care of ourselves--we’re adults.”

“Oh, well, excuse me.”

The younger brother’s voice continued to rise as Riley rushed to wipe the tears from her face. “You have to give a damn, Dean. You have to fight! I want you to give a shit that you’re dying! Stop trying to plan our futures for us and help us fucking save you!” Dean said nothing in return to Sam, but smirked annoyingly. “So, that's it? Nothing else to say for you?”

Dean stared off down the road, his mind leaving the conversation. He was quiet before changing the subject with a smile. “I think maybe I'll play craps.”

Outraged at his response, Sam leered at his brother. He shook his head and sighed in exasperation. Riley turned to Dean and tears streamed down her face without a sound as Dean’s smile faded.

As they drove on, Riley reached out telepathically for the man she loved, desperate to get in his head. She couldn’t find a single thought in the older brother and realized he had shut her out. Wondering if she could break the wall, Riley fought with all her might to get through to him.

“Dean...please…” she felt herself practically scream in her own head begging for him to feel her. When there was nothing, Riley sulked into her seat and stared out the window.

Dean wasn’t even gone yet, but Sam and Riley knew, he was already saying his goodbyes.

------

S3 Chapter 6: Fresh Blood

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 - Syrup and Sachertorte

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier

CHAPTER TWO Syrup und Sachertorte

"And this one is made with the very best dark Swiss chocolate, blended with vanilla and the slightest hint of chili, then melded to perfection within my own trademark cinnamon-spiced choux pastry."

Matthew's eyes closed just briefly as he tasted the next bite-sized delicacy from the tray laid before him. The lovely accountant sat on a tall stool opposite Francis at the counter, his tie undone and his briefcase forgotten beside him. Francis could only smile in delight, almost letting a small sigh escape his lips. He could watch Matthew taste his delectable creations all day. At this stage, he was intending to do just that. For almost a week now Matthew had been coming to his patisserie every morning, brightening Francis' day just as it began, giving him something to look forward to every night. Francis had asked Matthew about his work at first, but it quickly became obvious that the accountant did not wish to speak of it. So instead they spoke of their homes, of music and art, of food and sport and travel. And the more Francis found out, the more he realised he wanted to know. Of course, he was ridiculously attracted to Matthew. How could he not be – he was gorgeous, and his hair was fabulous. But Francis also wanted to talk to him, hear how he was, hear how he thought… he did not just want to sleep with him. He wanted to do that too, of course, so badly it was painful. Which really made him wonder why he hadn't even broached the subject yet. After all, it had been a week - anyone else and Francis would have slept with them and forgotten them by now. It struck Francis that this was the longest relationship he had ever been in, and it was not even a relationship.

It was now Friday afternoon and to Francis' utter joy, Matthew had stopped in on his way home from work. The smell of baking bread wafted from the kitchen, the voice of the divine Miss Piaf flowed from the speakers, and the golden afternoon seemed to stretch on forever. A few customers came and went, but Francis' entire focus was on the charming young man before him.

"Oh," said Matthew after swallowing the chocolate pastry. He laughed softly, shaking his head in amazement. "How do you do this, Francis? Just when I think I have tasted the most delicious thing ever created, you present me with something better!"

Francis knew he was the best pastry chef to ever come out of Paris, but hearing these compliments from Matthew somehow meant more than the thousands he had received before. He shrugged modestly and gave Matthew a tiny, teasing smile. "My dear, it is now my goal in life to keep surprising you."

Matthew smirked, gazing up through lowered lashes. "A goal I believe you will have no trouble accomplishing."

Francis felt his heart thump a few swift, heavy beats in his chest. He was never quite certain if Matthew meant to be seductive when he spoke like that, when he looked at him like that; but the mystery just made him even more appealing. Francis hadn't had this much fun flirting in years. "I am flattered by your faith in me."

"Well honestly, Francis," Matthew continued, sitting straighter and brushing the sugar lightly from his hands. "You're a magician!"

Francis placed a hand to his chest and gave a tiny bow. "And you are too charmingly kind."

"What I really want to know is how you are not the size of a house!" Matthew looked down at himself critically. "One week visiting your patisserie and I am certain I have gained ten pounds."

Francis scoffed. The man could sell gym memberships. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, slender with what looked like the perfect amount of muscle beneath that suit… Francis let his eyes wander. "Nonsense, you are flawless. And it is all about moderation, no? Besides, I like a man with a little… softness to him."

Matthew reddened, but laughed at the same time. "Well, uh, I suppose that's a good thing. Much more of this and I'll turn into a pastry myself."

Francis grinned delightedly. "Then I would have to eat you, darling." Matthew really did walk into these things, sometimes. "And I am sure you would be delicious." Matthew rolled his eyes mockingly, but his cheeks were still that delicious shade of red. A hot, wild flutter pulsed through Francis' veins. Time to see just how far he could push. "I have been working on something special today." Francis spoke slyly, leaning forward across the counter.

"Oh?" asked Matthew interestedly, his blue eyes bright and intrigued behind his charming wire glasses.

"These," Francis gestured over a row of miniature crepes on the tray before him, "Are made with a very special secret ingredient."

Matthew glanced down then up with slightly narrowed eyes and parted lips. "Do tell me more, monsieur."

Francis leant closer to Matthew and lowered his voice. "A great chef never gives away his secrets."

Matthew leant in also, until their noses almost touched and Francis could smell his hair. "What if I promise to never tell a soul?" he whispered.

Francis had to bite back a groan of desire. He was used to this feeling of intrigue and attraction. What he was not used to was this overwhelming swelling in his chest when Matthew smiled, this intense wave of heat that spread through him when Matthew blinked slowly. Francis clenched his hand, digging his nails into his palm. "Well," he said, forcing himself to smile smoothly, "If it's a promise…"

Matthew raised a hand in a oath-taking gesture. "Scout's honour."

Francis pulled back sharply and gasped in horror. "Please tell me you weren't a boy scout, darling."

Matthew gazed back at him evenly, impassive and serious. "Of course I was. That is where I acquired my impressive knowledge of knot tying. And where I learnt never to take candy from strangers."

Francis raised an eyebrow deviously. "Knots, hmm? And..." He looked pointedly down at the tray of pastries. "Candy?"

Matthew's lips twitched upwards ever so subtly. "I never said I was a good scout."

Francis suddenly felt far too hot for this cold autumn day – he had the immediate urge to fan himself. He chuckled softly. "Well, now I really don't know if I can trust you with my secrets."

Matthew waved a hand. "I swear to you, I'm a vault. Your naughty little secrets are safe with me, Francis." Then he winked, and Francis nearly bit his tongue in half. Oh, this was too much. The way Matthew blushed just slightly at Francis' bold flirtations, but never backed down or looked away. The way he knew just how to respond to keep Francis intrigued and on his toes. Matthew still had a straightforward sort of innocence about him, but he was no bashful submissive. Francis was finding Matthew's unique blend of sweet and snark intoxicating.

Francis sighed dramatically and spread his hands in defeat. "Very well, you win." He reached down slowly, picked up one of the miniature rolled crepes, then lifted it delicately. Matthew's eyes followed his fingers the entire time. Francis smirked. "Maple syrup, my darling."

Matthew's mouth fell open and his wide blue eyes shot up to meet Francis'. "Oh," he breathed, his shoulders tensing, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. His chest heaved as he took a deep breath; his eyes darkened as they fell back down to the crepe. Francis felt his veins burn beneath his skin. "Oh," said Matthew again, his cheeks still blushing red. "Maple syrup?"

Francis could feel his grin growing feral. But God, when Matthew breathed and sighed and blushed like that, how could he control himself? "Your favourite, wasn't it?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes." Matthew responded too quickly. Francis could see his feet twisting beneath the glass counter.

Francis silently congratulated himself. He had just found the secret ingredient to immediately turn the tables in his favour. "Would you like…" he let the sentence trail into anticipative silence.

Matthew gasped, soft and expectant. "Yes! Let me try, please…"

The way Matthew said 'please' shot straight to certain parts of Francis' body, hot and fierce and craving. A week suddenly felt like a very, very long time. "Well, of course you may try." He made as though to pass the crepe to Matthew, who leant forward expectantly until Francis suddenly stopped and drew back. He just smiled pleasantly when Matthew furrowed his brows. "Tell me, Mathieu. What are you planning to do with yourself this weekend?"

Matthew looked cravingly at the crepe between Francis' fingers, but then met Francis' teasing gaze steadily. His eyes immediately narrowed. "Not much. I still have a few boxes I haven't unpacked."

Francis had to give Matthew credit. His breath was still a little fast, but once he knew Francis' game, he seemed determined not to lose it. "No, no, no my dear," Francis winked. "I have a better idea. What do you think of... oh, but what am I doing. Here. Try this first." Francis held the crepe before Matthew's lips. Matthew eyed it warily, even after his earlier display.

"Why?"

Francis forced himself not to laugh with delight. "Because then you will not be able to say no!"

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Well. I'll have to test that."

Matthew's lips were so soft, so warm against Francis' fingers. Francis again clenched his other hand and bit his lip to hold back a moan. He felt the briefest touch of Matthew's tongue on his fingertip and it shot through him like an electric shock. Matthew's eyes fluttered shut, then opened slowly, then met Francis' with a dark, burning intensity.

The bell above the door jingled cheerfully and a loud voice resounded through the shop. "Where's my cake?"

Matthew shot backwards and quickly covered his mouth with his hand. Francis groaned inwardly. Why, why, why? Of all times... Introducing Matthew to his overly confident, unbearably loud, and stubbornly narcissistic German best friend was not part of Francis' plan of seduction.

"Gilbert!" cried Francis with sarcastic delight and genuine frustration. "Perfect timing as always."

Gilbert barrelled through the shop, grabbing a cupcake as he went. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here for my party cake and it had better be amazing."

"I thought the party was a surprise." Francis addressed the sentence to Roderich, who followed resignedly behind the practically bouncing German.

"You know what he's like." Roderich snatched the cupcake from Gilbert's hand and glared at him warningly.

Francis knew exactly. The slightest hint someone was doing something for his birthday, and Gilbert would have pushed and pried and wheedled and whined until he found out every last detail. Gilbert grinned smugly. "You can't hide anything from me, suckers."

"Antonio told him," said Roderich simply.

Francis rolled his eyes. Of course Antonio told him. "Why am I not surprised. Regardless, Gilbert, you are early, mon ami."

"What are you talking about, it's nearly six! You'd better have my sachertorte ready or I…" Gilbert broke off, staring at Matthew as though he had only just noticed him. His expression turned briefly blank before his lips spread in a delighted, wicked grin. "Let me guess. You chose the éclair."

Matthew turned red. Francis gritted his teeth. Roderich thumped Gilbert on the shoulder.

"Ow! What? That's spousal abuse right there, I could file a lawsuit..."

"I must apologise," said Roderich, smiling at Matthew, polite and dignified as ever. "Gilbert's social intelligence never progressed beyond a fourth grade level."

"Roderich, Gilbert!" said Francis loudly, interrupting before Gilbert could come out with something inappropriately vulgar. "This is Matthew. A friend of mine. We were busy." Francis spat the word at Gilbert, who just wagged his eyebrows.

"I'm pleased to meet you," said Matthew softly. Francis' chest swelled a little and his spine tingled as he watched Matthew get hesitantly to his feet. This shyness that showed through occasionally was too enthralling. And to think only moments ago those softly smiling lips had been against Francis' fingers...

Roderich took Matthew's hand in a polite handshake. "Likewise." Roderich's manners were, as always, impeccable. Francis never was quite sure just what the refined Austrian saw in Gilbert, who was now leaning against the counter and eyeing Matthew up and down.

"So, Matt, tell me. How long did it take mon ami Francis?"

Matthew looked puzzled. "How long?"

"Yeah, you know." Gilbert pointed to the infamous éclairs under the glass counter. "To get from one of those in your mouth to…"

Francis grasped Gilbert by the collar, hauled him forward, and hissed in his ear. "One more word and I swear I will tell Roderich about that lap dance in New York last month."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Well played, sir." When Francis released him, Gilbert cleared his throat and straightened his collar. "Get me my damn cake."

Francis smirked triumphantly. "One moment, good sir." Francis walked out the back, hearing Roderich behind him.

"What was that, Gilbert?"

"Nothing! Is it hot in here? So, Matt, what do you do? Let me guess, investment banker. Hey, are those maple syrup crepes?"

Francis retrieved his brilliant sachertorte from the kitchen, then arrived back at the counter to find Gilbert helping himself to the crepes and Roderich asking Matthew politely about his work. Francis was just about to rescue Matthew from a topic he knew the accountant hated, when Gilbert reached over and dragged him down the counter. "What the hell is going on here?" Gilbert hissed. "Have you even asked Mr Studly Accountant out yet?"

Francis did not want to explain this now, and not like this. He knew his friends would not understand, and would think this attraction was just the same as all the others. "Look, I've only known him a few days."

Gilbert looked at Francis blankly. "Are you joking? A few days? Last week you picked up in a men's room."

Francis' glanced worriedly over at Matthew. "Shh, keep it down!"

"We were supposed to see a movie!" Gilbert spoke far too loudly. "Then you duck into the bathroom for two minutes and the next thing I know you're taking some guy home!"

"Look, that wasn't exactly how..."

"I had to watch it on my own! Do you know how dodgy that looks, a grown man watching 'Puss in Boots' on his own? I thought someone was gonna call the police!"

"Merde, Gilbert, will you just…"

"Man, all I'm saying, is that if you can pick up in the time it takes to piss then a few days is like a long term relationship."

Francis glared. Gilbert stared back. "Are you done?" asked Francis finally. "You do know you are incredibly crass, don't you, my dear?"

"Psh, you sound like Roderich. The way I see it there's only three possible explanations here." Gilbert ticked off his fingers. "One; you don't like him. Two; he doesn't like you. Three…" Gilbert grinned. Merde, he could be so obnoxious with that disgusting grin. "You really like him."

So maybe his friends would understand after all. Francis shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. "And what if I do?"

Gilbert's eyes lit up in that familiar, worryingly evil way. "Ohhhh. Well, well." He grinned again before racing back down the counter. He sidled up beside Matthew and leant in far too close. "Matt, my friend. I'm not sure if Francis has told you yet, though I don't know why he wouldn't, but there is an awesome party planned for tomorrow night to celebrate the momentous and world-changing occasion of my birth into the world twenty-eight years ago. You will, of course, be attending."

Matthew looked a little bewildered. "I will?"

"You will. Shindigs at Chez Beilschmidt tend to get a little wild, so bring a change of pants." Francis slapped his hand to his forehead as Gilbert continued. "As for presents, I'm partial to silk trousers, seventeenth century carved smoking pipes, and custom My Little Ponies..."

"Please don't bring a thing," interrupted Roderich.

"Aw, nah, at least get me some socks or something..."

"Feel free to ignore him, everyone else does." Roderich kicked Gilbert in the shin, somehow managing to do it elegantly. "But Francis must have invited you. We will see you there, of course?"

"Well, uh," Matthew glanced at Francis just briefly. "That sounds great, but… Francis hasn't actually invited me."

Francis gulped as both Gilbert and Roderich glared at him. Gilbert shook his head in disgust. "You tactless French bastard."

"ME tactless? My dear, coming from you, that is richer than your beautifully crafted sachertorte. Besides, you interrupted me before I had the chance."

"No more of these excuses. I am embarrassed for you, Francis. I thought you were good at this sort of thing, you've had enough practice..." Gilbert's verbal attack turned into an incoherent shout when Roderich again kicked him in the shin. "Damn it, man, will you stop physically attacking me today!"

Roderich swiftly and gracefully took the cake box from the counter before guiding Gilbert insistently to the door. "We must be leaving. Thank you for the cake, Francis. It was lovely to meet you, Matthew, and I do hope to see you tomorrow evening."

Gilbert glared at Francis, wide-eyed and intense, even as Roderich dragged him by the collar. He pointed two fingers at Francis, then at Matthew. "Man up, bro."

The door slammed shut behind them and Francis let out a deep breath. Matthew looked slightly overwhelmed.

"I do apologise," said Francis, annoyed at the interruption but flashing a charming smile. "It is usually best to be introduced to Gilbert slowly. Or not at all."

Matthew shook his head and straightened his tie awkwardly. "No, I should be the one to apologise. When I said you hadn't invited me, I did not mean to sound like... like I expected you to, or..."

"You didn't?"

Matthew looked crestfallen for a moment before covering it with a blank expression. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to put you on the spot." Francis mentally kicked himself - Matthew must have misunderstood. "I thought..." Matthew persevered, "I mean, they must have thought there was something between us. Oh, and that crepe was incredible, by the way."

Francis held back a giggle. "I know it was."

"Whatever you were going to ask me before we were interrupted, the answer would have been yes."

And now Matthew was utterly adorable again. Francis felt his heart jump, and knew he couldn't play around and ignore the point any longer. "Is that so? I'm glad to hear it, because I am afraid we now have a dilemma."

Matthew's eyes brightened hopefully, but his expression remained unsure. "We do?"

Francis leant his arms on the counter and lowered his head, his eyes narrowing and his lips turning in a familiar manner of seduction. "I can not possibly let our first date be to my obnoxious friend's birthday party."

Matthew's hope-filled eyes widened and he tilted his head inquisitively. "Date?"

"Yes, my dear, which leaves us with only one night to rectify this situation, and one possible option. Have dinner with me. This evening."

Matthew blinked silently a few times before a slow, shy smile spread across his face. He brushed his hair back and shrugged in an obvious attempt to look nonchalant. "Sure. Why not."

Francis felt his cheeks turn warm at the captivating smile. If there had been any doubt Matthew was interested in taking this further, it had just been utterly crushed. "Wonderful, darling! And I know the perfect place. Tell me... do you like Italian food?"

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#la patisserie de la rose chapter 2

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disasterjones · 5 years

Note

Jarrett. Give us the tea my dude

Jarett: Describe your worst boss or teacher you've ever had.

my time has come,,

this is obscenely long, apologies

okay so I used to work at a credit union (it’s basically a bank but they push this concept of “community” and “we’re not like the banks” except that they are, do not be tempted by their honeycomb claims, they’re as fragile as they are sweet) and I worked in the quality assurance department

we were tasked with everything from balance inquiries to opening accounts to being the equivalent of loan servicers (without the capacity to actually craft the loan agreement for underwriting, because then what would the loan officers do)

my boss, we’ll call him Bob, had two assistant managers, we’ll call them Jenny and August, who were probably the pacific northwest equivalent of Stepford Wives, with Bob being the superficially-agreeable gentleman that welcomes the unaware into the compound for assimilation

so anyway I joined this job through a temp-to-hire position and it was great for the first six months or so (as it turns out, even jobs have honeymoon periods), I made friends with coworkers, I established a presence and something of a reputation for being the friendly-and-decently-quick-learner, which I would later find out was to my detriment, because they took the “quick learner” concept and thought that translated perfectly to “teacher,” and about a year in they gave me a temp to train

the temp was never a problem, although she did sometimes like to be on her phone when we were in the middle of a call, but I’m just an employee that’s giving pointers, I’m not a boss nor am I her mother, so I don’t bother to give her too much hassle about it. she still manages to keep decent call times for a newbie and is able to navigate our systems after a little bit of repetition

this was the beginning of my issues with Bob, as he wanted me to be more strict and adhere as closely his own inflexible schedule as possible. problem is I can’t force a person to learn faster, nor had I asked for the responsibility of training someone in the first place. why hadn’t they asked someone with more experience? sure I’d learned the ins and outs of the programs okay, but i hadn’t developed the tools to quickly de-escalate angry callers yet, hadn’t even been given access to several systems I was expected to use to train this temp, but being behind was my fault no matter what I said

I’d already been dealing with some subtle snideness and condescension from Jenny and August on top of that, and it took me ages to realize it’s because I was the only person that didn’t engage in makeup culture (partially bc I can’t afford that shit lol) and that was literally the reason why: I wasn’t “put together” or “company ready,” even though I never personally interacted with members or anyone on site beyond people in my immediate department

so a year and a half of this, of subtle underhanded remarks and difficult demands, of having constant rising expectations and quotas, told at every turn that our goal is to have as many new members as possible, all the while a broken record of lie, just repeating constantly that “sales don’t matter, it’s about the community”

(EXCEPT GET ALL THE ACCOUNTS DON'T LET THEM SLIP THROUGH YOUR FINGERS YOU FUCKING FAILURE YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN THEM 3 ACCOUNTS YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN THEM A GOOD RATE ON THE NEW CREDIT CARD IF THEY JUST SIGNED UP BUT REMEMBER WE DON’T WANT TO SELL THEM ANYTHING)

finally it’s Christmas time and I’ve been busting my hump for the whole year and it’s my second year so I’m eligible for a bonus and I’m literally gonna burst I’m so happy... until Bob and Co. announce that, despite all our stellar efforts this year, despite that we are ahead of company projections by a 15% margin across all departments, despite that I personally (and by proxy our department) was responsible for the acquisition of an account worth over 1.3 million, we were told our Christmas bonuses were actually going to be a bit sparser than they were the year prior, my first year, the year I got a $75 Fred Meyer gift card in

I had been looking forward to a cash bonus and had worked my ass off for it, had been damn near guaranteed it during a number of team/personal reviews with the managers, but surprise! three days before christmas, all I have to look forward to is $50 to a place that I can reasonably get a single pair of shoes from (and maybe some socks)

it’s a month or so later that the Big Change happens, and the entire building of employees moves across town to a new location. some people get let go in the shuffle, including one of my close friends I’d met there. financially stressed though she was, I could see how much happier she was to be out of that place, and I started to get inklings of leaving as my mental health began to deteriorate. another result of this change is that the parking availability for employees is cut down to a third of what we used to have, except it’s even less because most of the spots at the new building are intended for members, so everybody’s carpooling or riding bikes or bussing

side note: carpooling is all well and good in a green initiative, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to coordinate more than two people for a carpool? either you can make us carpool or you can have us in on time, you can’t have both

a bit of advice for anybody new to the job circuit or who might have trouble deciphering “appropriate” social gestures: no matter how open they say you can be, no matter how friendly or amenable they appear to be to mental health struggles, don’t fall for that trap and think you can show any moment of weakness. it’s true that not everyone will react the way my managers did, but don’t take the chance if you can help it. on the surface, they understood. on the surface they said they were with me.

i would go on to walk in on those same people mocking my symptoms and talking about how it can’t be that bad, that I must be trying to get attention.I was labeled unprofessional, and no matter how much they encouraged open communication and preached how “life happens and things get rough for people,” I was still an acceptable target.

so I took my complaint to HR, who at first seemed taken aback at the notion that, of anybody, BOB could be engaging in such careless and callous behavior. “Oh, he’s such a nice man! I’m sure he didn’t mean those things.” and because he wasn’t the one saying them, but rather laughing along with them, and because it was my word against theirs, it was unlikely to go anywhere

time crawls on and it’s about march or so when everything finally snaps in my brain. getting out of bed feels like selling my soul and going to work feels more like torture than a paycheck. on The Dawn Of The Day That Broke My Back, I was up and ready, out in front of my apartment and chain smoking to keep myself awake, when I realized that no matter when my carpool shows up now, we’re going to be late

I try to keep myself in decent spirits, not be a grumposaurus on the way in. I feel prepared for the day, got my coffee and my lunch in a bag and a nice outfit and I feel like maybe today won’t be as bad as the rest of the month has been, even though we’ll be late

we arrive about 10 after, but I’ve got Jenny and August’s numbers in my phone, so I’ve sent them messages ahead of time to let them know that the carpool was a bit late because traffic has been troublesome. I don’t remember how true it was, but the point is I did my part to let them know ahead of time that we weren’t no-shows, just a bit delayed. as I’m walking in (mind you, following and followed by a number of other individuals just as late as me), Bob singles me out, pointing first at me and then another aggressive point in the direction of a closed office space

fun fact: with the new change in locations, he no longer has his own office, in fact he now sits directly adjacent to me and close enough to hear me speak under my breath, something I had to be constantly aware of

he ignores the confusion on my face as soon as we’re inside and immediately begins to accuse me of slacking off, saying I’ve been skipping out on and coming late into work constantly, and I need to “get it together” or I’ll be out of a job. I try to express that I’m not trying to shirk my responsibilities, just that I’ve been dealing with a lot of personal stuff and it’s affecting my focus. He doesn’t care, his frustration continuing to escalate, and every time I offer a response or rebuttal to an unfair statement, he gets angrier and changes what he’s upset about.

Finally it happens.

“You were late! 10 minutes late! You need to be in your chair at your desk and ready to sign in and be ready to take calls BY 8:00!!”

I have grown tired of him yelling for no reason, and the backbone that had crumbled away over the last two and a half years suddenly snaps back into place hard as steel.

“I would like to know why this is all aimed at me specifically, when you saw me enter with the remainder of my carpool, the carpool that you all made us set up in the middle of construction season, which of course is happening on the only road that leads here.

“I would like to know how I’m supposed to control the environment or lives of the other people I am stuck riding with every day for this job that supposedly cares about us, even though it doesn’t seem to care about the extra expenses or time crunch we now have to endure as a result of this change that miraculously doesn’t affect you.

“I would like to know who put that stick so far up your ass that you thought it was necessary to yell at your employee about 10 damn minutes. If you don’t mind, I have a job to get to.”

And I go and sit at my desk. He fumes quietly in the office for a while before coming out to his desk, returning to whatever he was doing before he pulled me aside to treat me like a child.

Not a few hours later, I get a call from a member that had been working directly with Bob (big ordeal that needed a manager a few days prior, so he was the go-to for this particular account), and they wanted to speak with him, claiming it was urgent. I hold the call and stand up, trying to get Bob’s attention quietly since there’s other calls happening around me. I call his name quietly, saying “phone for you, it’s [member’s name]” but he doesn’t seem to hear me because he doesn’t respond. So again, I whisper his name, this time leaning more towards him to hopefully catch his eye with the movement, but he cuts me off before I can get the member’s name out

He starts yelling. Like, at the top of his voice, yelling. In a small room, to a person less than 5 feet away, audible to everyone both on a call and not (I would later find out it was also audible over the phone! a member asked what the yelling was about. but I’m the unprofessional one)

“CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY? WHATEVER YOU HAVE TO BOTHER ME WITH CAN WAIT. GET BACK TO WORK.”

The resolve I’d summoned earlier didn’t stay with me, and this was the final straw. It’s one thing to be berated to and humiliated one on one, it’s another to be on the receiving end of it in the presence of 20 other people. I get back on the phone and tell the member, “I’m very sorry, he’ll have to return your call. He’s unavailable at the present.” and hung up, because I was about to cry and I needed to get out. I log out of everything, lock my computer, pick up my belongings and wave to one of my carpoolmates as I walk out and down to HR

they wound up convincing me to stay for a few more weeks, especially after they fired Bob (who it would turn out was going through a divorce, his second in four years, and I just happened to be the punching bag he needed that day), but eventually I left and never went back

[ Critical Role Ask Meme ]

#anon #asks #gif #prompt #god i haven't thought about taht in years #its still so vivid though

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ronweasleydefensesquad · 6 years

Text

Personal headcanon/rant: of magical prowess and bashing

You know all these fanfics where you have Super!Harry with a bunch of superpowers or Hermione creating spells that Merlin himself wouldn’t be able to dream about? And how, oddly, Ron is pretty much always left out of the loop when it comes to the Powerful!fanfic bunch, because people would rather have a spoiled brat of a Death Eater or an asshole teacher be übermensch?

We know Snape is a good duelist and has “created” spells (unless he simply dug them out of a library somewhere), but he’s got twenty years of experience along with some skirmishes he must have gone through with his fellow DEs. We know Hermione’s good at spellcasting but that she also studies heavily, and that she has trouble with spells that are not entirely theoretical (the Patronus). Harry doesn’t study as much as Hermione does and is not that great at magic; the only spells he can to cast without any problem are the Patronus, Expelliarmus and Stupefy. As for Malfoy… He does Serpensortia once and then we never see him fight again because he’s a big coward. No super-strong magic here.

So why am I complaining about stupid fanfiction that makes characters who have no superior magical prowess whatsoever into the new Merlins of the world?

First, because they always leave Ron out.

Second, because if there’s one wizard in the Potterverse, apart from Voldemort and Dumbledore, who deserves to be given attention about his magic powers, it’s Ron.

Windschild8178 (some of you Ron-lovers might recognize them as the author of the excellent fanfic Stay Standing on FFN) is writing a few Ron-centric stories right now and has written an extremely good author’s note on their story The Boogeyman, a rant about all of the hidden potential Ron’s character presents, and how it gets ignored by pretty much all the HP fandom. I recommend you read it because it’s pretty much as if they took the very soul of Ron-lovers and put it into words.

And now, on to my own, much bigger, much less organized personal rant.

I’ve always had the feeling that Ron was the most magically gifted/powerful of the trio. His so-called “averageness” is very much a lie. His magic is fuelled by his emotions and as such becomes even stronger. This headcanon of mine is founded in several actual canon happenings that we can observe throughout the series (in the books only. Come on, dearest Stevie giving credit to Ron? Now there’s a laugh).

Not only does Ron react very strongly to external magic (the Veelas, Crouch Jr’s Imperius Curse leaves him skipping steps for more than twenty minutes after he’s been freed from it, he notices the locket’s “pulse” whereas Harry only vaguely feels it, he has the very correct feeling that Voldy’s name shouldn’t be said out loud), he also demonstrates great abilities when he gets serious. … and when he doesn’t, as well.

I mean, the class genius masters Wingardium Leviosa and makes her feather levitate 20 inches. Great, fine. Four hours later, the the kid who couldn’t do just that casts Wingardium Leviosa and makes a shit heavy club outright fly 12 feet off the ground!! And nobody thinks that this is slightly impressive?! Hermione states “Ron knocked it out with its own club” and no teacher raises an eyebrow? It’s like Ron is actively ignored by pretty much everyone besides Harry and Hermione.

Second year, Hermione herself tells us that the slug-belching charm is a spell that’s hard to cast, and it’s even worse with a broken wand. Guess who casts it, NONVERBALLY, with a broken wand? Ronniekins, that’s who! Percy was barely learning how to cast nonverbal spells at the time! Oh, oh, and you know what’s even more impressive? Ron’s wand was broken, but it wasn’t even his own wand! It was Charlie’s! Ollivander tells us that a good wizard can do magic with anyone’s wand but it’s easier with their own wand. Basically: holy shit, Ron!

Ron’s crazy magic settles down a bit during PoA and GoF, or at least I can’t remember any instance where JKR describes something unexpected happening concerning him.

However, we then have OoTP, and this time our beloved redhead’s quite in shape. For example, during his Charms O.W.L., it’s said that he transformed a plate into a toadstool/mushroom without knowing how he did it. A wooden plate… into a toadstool… a toadstool, which can actually be considered as… food.

HOLY SHIT RON JUST BROKE GAMP’S LAW OF ELEMENTAL TRANSFIGURATION.

Yeah yeah it was a throwaway joke and JKR created Gamp’s Law in the seventh book so she could justify why the trio was able to starve during the Camping Trip Of Pointlessness™, but she should have known better, or actually establish Gamp’s Law earlier on in the series (after all, they turn pincushions into headgehogs at some point in the earlier years, who’s to say you can’t eat a hedgehog?). And some people might say “but nooo its not food if its a poisoned toadstoool ron is not good at megic bcuz hurmion is bettur, ur full of lies” well guess what, in order to be poisoned you actually have to eat, meaning chew, swallow and digest - or rather fail to digest - the poisonous thing. BAM. IT’S CANON. RON BROKE GAMP’S LAW OF ELEMENTAL TRANSFIGURATION. (And JKR has the freaking gall to give him the same results as Harry only slightly less better. Can you feel her prejudice against her own character?) And that’s not all he does in fifth year!

At the Department of Mysteries, Luna tells us that she, Ron and Ginny fled from four Death Eaters that followed them into a room full of planets. Four Death Eaters. One breaks Ginny’s ankle and Luna blasts him with Pluto. Then they collect Ron, who got cursed by “them” and is acting all loopy and run back to Harry. … what about the three Death Eaters unaccounted for in the planet room? Well apparently Ron fought all three of them, got cursed by at least two, and still won, considering no DEs are chasing after Luna and her group. All hail the King.

In HBP, finally, we’ve got that time where Ron broke up with Lavender and was feeling so guilty, he was simply waving his wand around and… and it starts snowing. INSIDE HOGWARTS. He’s making it snow. INSIDE HOGWARTS. No incantation, no spell, nothing, just “I feel like I’m a coldhearted bastard” and suddenly it’s snowing INSIDE HOGWARTS.

And of course we can’t forget how Voldemort casts a Silencing Spell over the people of Hogwarts, holding his Elder Wand, saying Harry died like an idiot, only for Ronald Weasley, official best friend and badass extraordinaire, to scream AT VOLDEMORT “HE BEAT YOU!” and the charm, the super-powerful, cast-by-Voldemort-and-the-Elder-Wand Charm BREAKS. He wasn’t even using a wand, he wasn’t even saying an incantation, Ronald Weasley, through the simple power of his rage and grief, freaking breaks a silencing charm made by VOLDE-FREAKING-MORT AKA THE GUY THAT COULD HOLD HIS OWN AGAINST DUMBLEDORE.

So that’s well and good but if Ron was so talented, why didn’t he put his magical power to a use, the Ron-lover asks curiously and the Ron-basher sneers contemptuously?

The answer’s simple: 1) blame JKR for getting prejudiced against her own character as she was writing her series; 2) his perpetual negative billions self-esteem that could have been solved had any of his friends bothered paying a little attention to him.

One of the reasons why I’m so hostile to Ron-bashing is because these people look down at someone who already considers himself to be less than worthless… and then they proceed to dig him even deeper. That’s manipulative, abusive, borderline psychopathic behaviour. They do exactly what Draco Malfoy does with Weasley is our King in the first place: they kick people when they’re already down. They act like Snape acted towards Neville Longbottom (you know, the kid whose biggest fear would have been Bellatrix Lestrange had she not been hijacked by a teacher who delighted in belittling him and tormenting him?).

Ron’s the kind of person who needs reassurance to function. He needs affection and nice things said about him. Some people might think it’s pathetic but we all know better. Who doesn’t like to have nice things said about them, and to them? Wanting to be praised, to be appreciated, to be told he’s doing things right for a change, that was everything Ron Weasley needed to blossom, and that’s everything he’s denied for the whole freaking series.

Do you know what Weasley is our King is? If you’ve seen only the movies then no you don’t, and then you have no right to bash Ron. Because this song, this anthem to Ron’s glory used to be a song used to humiliate him so much, he wouldn’t be able to play Quidditch.

Picture it. Draco Malfoy. Sitting down at a table. Thinking “how can I make Ron’s self-esteem take such a nose-dive he’ll be literally paralyzed and unable to play?”. Picture Draco Malfoy actively looking for Ron’s greatest insecurities and fears of inadequacy. Picture Draco Malfoy writing a song about them and teaching it to every Slytherin in the school.

And then try to sell me Draco Malfoy the redeemed little angel, The Boy Who Made The Wrong Choice(s). See me spit right in your face because I refuse to praise an arrogant, bigoted, spiteful little bully, and you should too. He’s not so bad anymore, yes. But do you even begin to understand how Ron must have felt during this school year? How he was probably flushing in humiliation any time he saw something related to Quidditch? How he would have blamed himself for Harry and his brothers’ ban from Quidditch because he thought it was his fault for letting Malfoy get to him? How Harry never, not even once, tries to reassure him? Hermione might try but what does Hermione know about Quidditch? Ron being utterly alone and ashamed and filled with self-loathing? Hm? How’s that for sweet little Draco Malfoy who’s never been bullied and tormented by anyone, ever?

Draco wasn’t irredeemable when he joined the Death Eaters. He was irredeemable as soon as he opened his mouth to say that all Weasleys had red hair, freckles and more children than they could afford. Because while JKR “loathes a traitor”, I loath a bully. I’ve been bullied. I’ve seen people shipping characters with their bullies. I’ve seen people call such relationships as being those of “star-crossed lovers”. I’ve hated these with all my soul. Because being bullied is not romantic, nor is it cool or cute. It’s freaking awful, it’ll make you miserable, cause you to lose your friends, turn your life into a living hell.

Weasley is our King is a metaphor for harrassment and school bullying. It’s basically what a (blessedly) few teenagers have to go through during their school years. Do you know what usually happens to these teenagers? Suicide.

And the worst part? JKR herself partakes in it. JKR herself bullies her character. Do you know what happens after the triumphant reprise of Weasley is our King is sung for the very first time, when Ron saves all these goals, when he shows how incredible he can be, how good he is despite all the mockeries he’s had to endure during all of his fifth year that we didn’t see because it was All About Harry™ as usual? After Ron has finally triumphed and “proved” he was good enough to the entire school?

She has him bump his head on the door’s lintel.

Because being humiliated for an entire school year then proving your abusers they’re wrong without being ridiculed isn’t allowed when your author is named J.K. Rowling and you’re Ron Weasley.

I went on several topics there; Ron’s obvious magical prowess, how he could have used said magical prowess had JKR not restrained him with extra-heavy plot chains, and the disgusting prejudice there is against a kind-hearted character who happens to have a few faults while the bigoted bully next door gets a get-out-of-jail-free card, all by the will of an author who apparently had a nice long discussion with Steve Kloves in-between PoA and GoF to prepare the first movie adaptation of Harry Potter… and we all know how this ends.

That was my little… *looks at slider* … enormous rant on Ron, magic, and bullying. Hope I didn’t bore you that much. Cheers, Ron-lovers!

#ron #defense #submission #ronweasleydefensesquad #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley #Harry Potter

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