#I never even got to introduce him to matt and shove all my conflicted IS THIS GONNA BE SHATT OR SHALLURA feels at all of you

[dark-unimaginably-stupid-kids]

I Feel Everything [Ch-2]

Fandom- Voltron (D.U.S.K!AU)

Pairing- Klance (Eventually)

Rating- N/A (Seriously winging this monster, I’ll get back to you.)

Lance is a vampire trying desperately to prove he’s worth something despite lacking certain specific abilities vampires of his stature should have.

Keith just discovered he’s a werewolf and he’s not okay with this one bit.

Pidge is  experimenting in magical circuits, Hunk is almost inclined to study her instead.

Allura, Lance’s distant relative, has an age old feud she keeps very politely under wraps with Coran’s help but Lotor might not let her.

And Shiro is… as usual, tired.

Chapter Notes: Rewind: how Keith went from being a generally irritable human to a very confused werewolf.

In which Shiro is odd, Allura is crazy pleasant, and Lotor gives Keith conflicting vibes.

Also Tangled. Because Keith’s dad tried his best.

0-2 Side B (Keith)

If Keith was honest, he’d probably waited way too long to call the cops.

He sat there with the handcuffs digging into his wrists, locking his hands behind his back as he hunched in the sheriff’s department’s waiting area. There was dried blood on his hands and it made him angry just to smell it.

The officer who’d detained him was sitting at his desk with his head back, a balled-up paper towel pressed to his nostril.

He could smell that too.

Last he checked his nose wasn’t that strong before.

“You got knocked out by a kid?” One of the other cops says to officer Nosebleed.

He grits his teeth and mumbles the phrase “Sucker punch.”

Keith never really understood that term. Possibly because most people are too proud to know the difference.

Much like stupid cops who run their mouths about shit they know nothing about.

“I was just trying to file a “missing persons” report you jackoffs.” Keith grunts though he knows no one is paying attention.

“The kid’s got some disciplinary issues, it seems.” One of the cop’s mutters.

“No hun, I’ll be home in another hour or two, don’t worry.”

Keith flinches, looking up to his left where the Sherriff is behind a closed door and talking to his wife on a little cellular phone despite his voice sounding like he was standing right in front of him.

He can smell the turkey sandwich he had that afternoon too.

What the hell is going on.

“He’s been kicked out of how many schools?”

“Heh, I was right then, the dad probably did just get fed up leave him.”

“You didn’t say that to him?”

“…I might have.”

“You deserve that bloody nose Reynolds.”

Keith groaned loudly, hoping to catch someone’s attention though he wasn’t sure what he’d do with it once he had it. When that didn’t work he leaned back, adequately upsetting his arms and proceeded to start bumping his head back into the wall hard enough to be annoying but not hard enough to hurt himself.

“Kogane! Quit that!”

“Make me,” Keith growled.

The cops shot him a look but returned to their whispering.

“The kid clearly has no respect for authority.”

“Do you not remember what it was like at that age? And the kid’s dad just left? Where’s his mom in all this?”

Keith thumped his head back just a little harder, “My dad didn’t leave. He’s missing. Something’s happened to him!”

The cops ignored him.

“His mom left when he was three apparently.”

“Jeesh. So it’s just him now?”

For the love of god, “If you’re going to talk to me like I’m not here at least talk a little lower!” he shouted, he wanted to throw his arms out for emphasis but only succeeded in rattling his cuffs against the back of the bench and wincing as they rubbed against his already injured wrists.

“I just checked we have no record of a legal guardian for him. He’s a ward of the state till someone shows up now.”

“With his history we should take him for a psych e-val. Make sure he’s not dangerous.”

“He’s clearly dangerous, look at me.”

“We can’t lock up everyone who wants to punch you.”

“We can try. And we can start with the ones who did. Besides, it’s just a short stay in a psych ward. He did assault an officer and he has a history of violent outbreaks and depressive episodes.”

Keith saw red.

Depressive episodes?

His dad was a manic depressive drunk in his younger years. Go figure, that can happen when one day you have the perfect life and the next it’s ripped out from under you by someone else’s selfish decisions.

But he’s been better lately. He cleaned up his act. He’d been sober two years.

They were good.

And now he was missing and this garbage office wasn’t going to help him and they were nitpicking through his life and judging him and—

“Come on, we’re going for a ride,” said officer Nosebleed.

“Where?” Keith grits out.

The officer simply grabs him by the shirt collar and hauls him to his feet. Keith makes to bite him—a reflex, he considers, that he wouldn’t normally act on— and the cop snatches his hand back quickly.

“Jeez you some kind of rabid dog!? You wonder why your parents left you.”

Keith barely registers the sound of the other officer sighing deeply before his vision flashes red again.

He isn’t even sure what he’s saying.

Something about ripping the mans throat out with his teeth.

His jaw feels so tense he doesn’t even think he’s bluffing.

He lunges forward, expecting some manner of resistance from the officer but suddenly he’s suspended in the air, someone’s hand gripping the back of his shirt tightly as his legs dangle.

He can see the officer in some manner of suspended animation, prepared to block Keith’s assault but somehow frozen.

“Don’t get used to this okay? You won’t always have time magic when you’re working. This is a onetime occurrence because otherwise we’d have a whole boat load of clean up to do and I am not volunteering for that crap. Hell, I shouldn’t even be wasting my time on you trainees…”

Keith flailed, but the person speaking had an iron grip.

The was someone else there that wasn’t there before though, and this person wasn’t directly behind him so he couldn’t see him.

He was tall, muscular, with a flash of white in his otherwise dark hair, a reddish violet slash mark across his nose.

“Of course, Dante, but why did we come save a human?”

“You’re still blind, aren’t you, Takashi?”

The male with the shock of white hair flushed. The other who Keith still couldn’t see finally started to lower him to the ground.

When his feet touched the ground he immediately spun around and bared his teeth at the man who had so easily held him before. Why he bared his teeth? He wasn’t sure.

There was a smell in the air. Something that made him nauseas. Angry.

Keith’s instincts were screaming to fight.

Then the man he’d accidentally turned his back to reached out a hand and clasped his shoulder.

Keith whipped his head back with a snarl, but the man didn’t flinch, instead his eyes lit on something in his hair.

“Oh. Well. That’s surprising,”

“Get your hand off me.”

Takashi had no problem following directions, but then he caught sight of the handcuffs and glanced at the other male with a slight question in his eyes.

The other man was about as tall as Takashi, but he looked older despite the simple long brown hair and the lack of scars on his face. His eyes were two different colors, one green and one blue and while oddities like this usually caught Keith’s attention looking directly into this man’s face made his blood boil.

“What the hell is going on here?! How did you—how did you freeze the officers?!” Keith shouted, wincing at his own volume as he surveyed the room and realized even the rain just outside the office window had frozen in place.

Dante rolled his multi colored eyes and motioned for Takashi, “This is all you, kid.”

Takashi nodded and turned to Keith, bowing over slightly to make up for their height difference.

“I understand your hearing might be a bit sensitive so I’ll try to keep my voice low, alright?” He started, just above a whisper.

Keith scrunched up his face and fought the twitch, “Back the fuck up dude.”

“Okay well. Right. Uhm…” Takashi looked up at the ceiling, made a very clearly doubtful face and tilted his head from side to side.

The other male threw his hands up, “I am so done with this. I’m not a fucking babysitter. Ian is a one time thing. I’m out of here. You have two minutes before tweedlefuck and whatstheirface start up again.” There was the sound of clock ticking and suddenly the man was gone replaced with the phantom image of a clock face ticking down two minutes.

Takashi’s face shifted completely then, standing up straight and reaching for Keith’s hands. Within two seconds his wrists were unbound, and the other male was ushering for him to follow.

Keith opened his mouth to explain why he absolutely had no reason to trust or follow him but Takashi simply rolled his eyes.

“You can come with me or you can sit here for two minutes and wait to be placed in handcuffs again. Your choice kid.”

Alright. There were two ways Keith could look at this.

This was some sort of dream and he should go with it. Or he had been sucked into some alternate universe and he was doomed and should go with it.

He eyed the cop he was about to murder, pulled back his fist and punched him once more on principle before following after Takashi.

Out on the street Keith could almost imagine things were normal if it weren’t for the fact all of the cars appeared to be parked and there was absolutely no sound.

Everything smelled sterile like someone had opened a bottle of bleach.

He did not like it one bit.

“Good, you followed. Alright. So sorry about acting like a dunce back there, the fastest way to get rid of Dante is to pretend you aren’t worth his time. And honestly? Dante just isn’t good for the reaper image. He’s… well he’s not a reaper, he doesn’t have any sense of diplomacy whatsoever.”

Keith stared at Takashi for a solid minute before abruptly turning around and starting to walk back into the sheriff’s department.

Takashi reached out and grabbed a hold of Keith’s wrist causing the smaller boy to wince, “Whoa—hold on, look, I’ll explain. And—here, let me fix that. Give me your other hand okay?”

This was some trippy dream, Keith decided, if a hot guy was asking to hold his hands a breath after referring to reapers as actual things.

Eh. Might as well go with it.

At least his senses weren’t super spiked anymore.

Takashi smiled at him when he held his wrists before placing his hands beneath them and shutting his eyes.

Keith blinked at this. Hot guy wears eyeliner. Perfectly winged eyeliner.

Yup. Definitely a dream.

Pretty lucid too. Hm.

Takashi opened his eyes and beamed at him, so bright it actually surprised Keith for a second before he realized it was far more surprising that his wrists were back to their milky white rather than the angry searing red they’d been a few seconds ago.

“This some kind of reaper ability?”

“Repairing dead skin cells? Yes.”

“…I’m Flynn Rider.”

“I’m sorry?”

Keith looked to his right and said to no one, “Why does her hair glow?”

Takashi laughed, “Okay. Must be a reference I’m not getting. That’s fine. Just means you’re warming up to me, right?”

Keith shrugged his shoulders, “I think it means I needed that psych eval, but sure. We’ll go with yours.”

Takashi shut his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, “Patience yields focus,” he told himself before quickly looking around and suddenly reaching out and covering Keith’s ears with his hands.

A second later the cacophony of sound started up, the motors of cars on the street, children screaming, birds chirping, but Takashi’s grip managed to muffle a great deal of it.

The scents were back too though. He could smell everything and the only way he could explain it was like someone pouring hundreds of different paints down a single drain and that drain was clogged and bursts of colored paint were being spat back into someone’s mouth.

And. Something awful.

Like. Expired milk.

Keith lurched and reached up to try and cover his nose and mouth at once.

“God what the hell!” He screamed, only managing to rattle his head further.

He wasn’t sure when he ended up on the ground.

“I swear, changelings probably have it better than this…” Takashi mumbled, it was low enough that presumably Keith shouldn’t have been able to hear but focusing on the closest sound was helping drown out the rest.

It still wasn’t enough though.

“Okay. let’s go somewhere more quiet, yeah?”

…

If this is a dream Keith really wanted to wake up. Now.

Sure, he hadn’t reached first base with hot stranger yet but you know what? Keith could deal with that. That was an acceptable sacrifice for all of this to be over already.

He just wanted to wake up and for his dad to be there laughing about how he’d overslept and making them a terrible breakfast and for this entire week he’d been gone to not have happened.

“Takashi…was it…?”

“Shiro, you can call me Shiro,” said the reaper.

“Shiro then…”

Keith sat in his own living room, the blinds drawn and the pleasant if overbearing smell of jasmine under his nose. It was his favorite once, but after this he wondered if he’d ever have a favorite smell again.

“Please… Start over.”

Shiro gave him a sympathetic look as he dragged a blanket off the couch and draped it over Keith’s head and shoulders while he held his bottle of jasmine scented lotion to his nose. Keith eyed him skeptically but Shiro only shrugged, “Blankets are comforting? Kinda?”

Keith sighed but relented and pulled the blanket in close under his neck.

“So, let’s start over,” Shiro began, sitting down on the coffee table and bumping Keith’s leg with his own, “I’m a reaper.”

Keith made sure his cynicism was the most clear emotion on his face. Shiro certainly didn’t look like a reaper. He looked like some J-Pop star equipped with a ridiculous black and white hood to hide away from people who might recognize him.

The other guy, Dante or whatever his name was, he could kind of look like a reaper? At least, he was dressed in this black suit that made him look moderately threatening.

Granted, if Shiro was to be believed, his healing abilities came from being a reaper so maybe they weren’t supposed to be threatening?

Shiro certainly didn’t look threatening. He was just so…comforting?

Keith sighed and tightened his grip on the blanket.

“Okay.”

“Do you accept that yet?”

“Move it along.”

“Alright, so, a reapers job is to travel between the human world and the other making sure lost souls go to where they belong,” Shiro explained.

Keith didn’t like the sound of that, “But you swear I’m not dead?”

“No, you’re not, but you were about to kill that officer so we were alerted to your existence. See, there are two kinds of lost souls. Dead ones and…well, ones that are just plain lost. That’s where you come in,” Shiro explained, broadly gesturing to Keith.

The younger boy raised a brow and slowly turned to look around the house, “…We’re literally in my living room. I’m not lost.”

Shiro blinked at him and Keith could very nearly see the ebbing of his patience. It almost made Keith want to smile.

Instead, he with the magic eyeliner took a deep breath and leaned in closely, “Come on kid. Weren’t you the least bit curious about…?” then he made a broad motion to the sides of his own head

This did not make Keith any less confused, “about…?”

“These?” Shiro grabbed a hold of his ears and tugged.

“Your ears?”

Shiro groaned, “Not my ears, your ears.”

Keith was not following at all.

Suddenly Shiro shifted to do his own quick look around the house before a thought occurred to him, “…When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?”

Keith shrugged.

“…Showered?”

Keith rolled his eyes, “Yesterday.”

“Did you wash your hair?”

“No, didn’t have the time. Was kind of focused on looking for my dad not making sure my hair was tolerable.”

“…Did you brush your hair?”

Keith felt like he was on some kind of trial now, “Again, really wasn’t focusing on my hair. What is your fixation?”

Shiro took a deep shuddering breath before standing up, “You’re going to want to look in a mirror Kid.”

That really shouldn’t have sounded so ominous, but he did as he was told, shuffling into his father’s room and up to the master bathroom’s sink who’s mirror was still intact unlike his own from an incident a few years back that consisted of climbing out his window (just to see if he could) and his flailing legs when he realized he had no purchase on the porcelain wall.

When he looked in the mirror all he could see was himself draped in the blanket. Sure, he didn’t usually identify with Linus from the Peanuts but there wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary about it.

He sighed and glanced around his father’s untouched room. The man had just gone out for chips, to try and give their two person birthday party a little more of the festive feeling. Keith had opted to stay home because, as the birthday boy, he reserved the right to not have to wear pants.

But then he didn’t come home.

Keith had called for a while.

Then started asking the neighbors.

A days later his birthday came and went and Keith started skipping school turning over every rock between his home and the local grocery store. He simply didn’t trust the cops to do their job, especially not when it came to his dad, so he didn’t bother, but when a week had passed he decided he couldn’t just rely on himself alone.

If this was his father two years ago he’d have accepted it, fine, his father had finally abandoned him too.

But that wasn’t who he was anymore.

They had a small tower of films they’d voted on watching, Uno cards and clue set up next to the couch. His dad loved clue, he made up voices for the characters and as annoying as Keith liked to say it was they both really enjoyed playing together. He’d bought an ice-cream cake and said they could both be miserable about it later because they were out of Lactaid pills.

“We ride together, we die together!”

“Do you even know where that’s from?”

“…Some old movie. Your father can’t remember. Cut me some slack.”

Keith’s chest hurt.

Movement in the mirror made Keith raise his head, expecting to see Shiro standing in the doorway despite the fact the other man had made no move to actually follow him and instead saw…

Something moving under his blanket.

Rather, something on his head was moving.

His grip on the blanket went slack and the movement on his head caused it to slip back.

It was dark in his father’s room, but he was able to see them just fine thanks to their movement, going straight up in shock.

Two fist sized furry…animal ears.

“What…in the hell…are THOSE?!”

…

Something should probably be said about how quickly Keith’s mind went from confused to “murder” as he decided this must be some ridiculous horrific prank courtesy of the so called reaper out in the hall.

Hell, what if this whole thing was a prank?

The entire damn week.

Definitely.

How? Keith wasn’t sure. But it had to be. It was time for his dad to come out from behind the curtain and go “How’s that for a birthday huh?” and laugh like a doofus while Keith throttled him.

It was the only plausible option. And it certainly beat the alternative.

He eyed the fluffy triangular shaped…monstrosities on his head and tentatively reached for one with his left hand. It was soft, softer than his hair when it was clean and brushed. In an effort to reign in his sanity he considered dog breeds and what kind of fur the most resembled. Not quite Maltese. He settled on Pomeranian—just their ears though. He always wondered why Pomeranian ears had fur softer than the rest of their bodies, and he figured if these were his new ears then he was officially some kind of Pomeranian.

…

Keith blinked at himself in the mirror, took a deep breath and removed his hand from his ear.

…

“SHIRO.”

The reaper took less than a second to pop his head in through the doorway, “Oh good, you actually called for me, I’d been standing outside for a few minutes I didn’t want to intrude.”

Keith had to fight himself not to clarify that Shiro’s very existence in his life was an intrusion but there were far more pressing matters.

“Explain. Now.”

Shiro blinked at him, then quite suddenly stood up straight rising to his full height, brows furrowed and arms crossed.

Keith felt his throat go dry.

“…Please.”

Shiro relaxed, “Better. Alright. So.” He moved over to stand beside Keith, ducking his head a little as he turned Keith back to face the mirror.

“These are your new ears. Werewolf ears. Because you’re a werewolf.”

Keith blanched, “Uhm?”

That made utterly no sense.

“I’ve never been bitten by a dog in my entire life. In fact, dogs love me, how is that even possible? How could I have missed this!?” Keith croaked.

Shiro made a clicking noise with his tongue before bumping the smaller boys head with his, “No silly, you’re not a changeling, you’re actually a natural born.”

Excuse me?

“So you’re telling me I’ve been a werewolf my whole life?”

Shiro nodded, “Which is probably why dogs love you if I’m being honest.”

“How the hell are people born werewolves? Wouldn’t that mean my family—”

The reaper nodded again, “Yes, exactly. Your mother, I believe, was a werewolf. She mated with a human, you father, which really isn’t the brightest thing one of our kind can do because generally humans just—don’t mix well with we supernatural folk.” Shiro released his grasp on Keith and turned around so his back was facing the mirror now. “Generally when one of us reproduces with a human the outcome can go one of three ways. Option 1- the offspring is still born. Option 2- offspring is physically strong but mentally absent and basically becomes a little raving monster. And then there is option 3, the rarest possibility, you.”

Keith backed up until the backs of his knees found his father’s bed and he allowed himself to fall back onto it.

“I don’t understand…My mother was a werewolf?”

Shiro nodded, furthering the space between them by backing up and leaning against the master bath’s sink.

“Yes, you avoided displaying werewolf traits because you were raised here, in the human world, but after a certain age one’s biology simply can’t fight it anymore. Your birthday just passed didn’t it?”

Keith was going to be sick. This whole thing was insane. Absolutely positively bonkers. Had someone slipped him something? Was he drunk?

“How…How do…So all werewolves have these ears?” It was anyone’s guess why that was the question that came out of his mouth.

“Yes,” Said Shiro.

Huh. Go figure.

“…Then why haven’t I ever seen any?”

Shiro smiled, “Now that’s a good question. You should pack.”

Keith’s brows knit together in confusion, “Pack?”

The reaper stood up straight again and motioned for the door, “Well you can’t exactly stay here looking like that. And just wait till you sprout your tail. Man, I do not envy you.”

Keith felt his eye twitch. Shiro simply motioned for the door again. He was slowly phasing out of “hot stranger” and into “mildly attractive bothersome acquaintance.” And then he looked at him like that, that ‘do as your told’ face that Keith wanted to fight with every fiber of his being but somehow couldn’t.

“…Where are we going?”

“Well, this is the human world. So, by process of elimination we are going to…not the human world.”

…

It takes three hours of cajoling and one utterly terrifying “was that police sirens?” for Keith to finally agree to consider leaving.

He put on a movie for Shiro while he packed despite not having made a decision yet.

“Here, so you can catch the reference I made earlier.”

“This is a princess movie,” Shiro starts as he reads the back of the DVD, the menu screen already lighting up the dim living room.

“My dad is a single parent trying his best. Someone put the idea in his head that I needed a female presence in my life and to make up for his lack of game he decided to Disney his way out of it. I also have Frozen.”

“What’s Frozen? Sounds…Cool.” Shiro grins.

Keith falters, blinks at Shiro for a solid two minutes, then turns on his heel and goes back to what he was doing.

He shuffles around the main room of the house for a few minutes, eyeing miscellaneous objects as he fingers the strap of a duffle bag he used for the gym.

He really isn’t sure what he should be packing, or how long he’ll be gone. Shiro had basically given him a crash course in the supernatural explaining there are three other worlds full of creatures and monsters straight out of Halloween Town.

Well aside from the fact that werewolves are people with wolf ears? Does he have a werewolf form where he’s hunched over and covered in fur, half man half beast?

Shiro had said no, they turn into full on wolves though he’s seen some do partial transfigurations when not requiring the use of their full wolf forms, Shiro also said that was tricky.

But whatever, that was going to take a whole lot longer to get used to anyway.

No, Shiro had explained some next level biblical shit like “World Below” and “World Above.”

Apparently World Above was like some elitist club you could only get into if you knew a guy or slipped the bouncer a hundred.

Meanwhile World Below was some sort of cluster fuck of “the darker brood” to use Shiro’s exact words.

“It’s actually where I’m from,” He’d said proudly.

Keith had grimaced at him.

“Creatures dealing with death tend to be down there. It doesn’t make me evil or anything.”

Suddenly the idea of Shiro being evil and trying to lure him to his death occurred to him, but Christ he had wolf ears what the hell else was he supposed to do but listen to the stranger who smiled at him like he wasn’t the throw away failure everyone else made him out to be.

The third world was some Fuckery code named “Illusions” which was just a round about way of saying “Limbo” in Keith’s opinion because apparently Illusions was some kind of clusterfuck with werewolves and vampires and witches and all sorts of shit that made Keith kind of nauseas.

“The Grim actually lives in Illusions, I’m training to replace him which is how I ended up here with you. But I don’t worry about that a lot, there are like. Four other people in line ahead of me for that spot so I mostly just go through the motions.”

Keith had eyed him curiously, “So do you spend hours talking others into following you on a regular basis or…?”

Shiro smiled, “While I do enjoy the time away from Dante, nah. Guess you can say I took a special interest in you.”

Keith flushed.

Shiro then proceeded to beautifully dodge any and all implications.

And now he was sitting on Keith’s couch watching Rapunzel sing about her boredom.

“This blond chick is my kindred spirit,” Shiro announced to no one. “She’s also hella talented,” he whistled, “Tell me someone realizes how positively gifted this girl is? Like they’re not just gonna make her the vapid love interest, right?”

Keith bit back his retort that, as this was a princess movie, the male was usually the vapid love interest but instead he mentally sits on the fact that he really can’t fathom how his life brought him to this point.

“Are you done packing? I’m not expected to watch this whole thing, am I?” Shiro glanced over at Keith’s virtually empty duffle bag and sighed deeply, “Keith…”

The boy shook his head, “Hey, Tangled is actually a pretty good movie. Like. It’s funny. Just deal with the singing.”

“Keith pack. And I have no problem with the singing. I love singing. You should hear my Car-aoke.”

Keith has no words to respond to that one and so he turns to walk towards his room where he’ll actually have real things to pack but before he disappears into the hallway he glances back at Shiro who is still leaned over the back of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. When Keith had voiced certain concerns during their three-hour discussion Shiro had made certain promises.

“You’ll really help me find my dad?”

Shiro’s eyes softened at the repeated question, “I’m a reaper, so generally, I’d know if he was dead. And I have a certain amount of reach. So. Yes, I will do what I can to help you find your father.”

“You promise?”

Shiro’s eyes retained their softness though he tilted his head and his smile took on a certain ‘we’ve been through this’ air but he nods.

“And you’re sure your…witch?” Keith continues, his weight heavy on the foot closest to the hall as he tries to remember what Shiro said earlier, “…witch friend can make it so I’d know if my dad ever comes back on his own?”

The reaper rolls his eyes but his expression remains fond as he turns back to the television set, “She’s a vampire actually. But yes, I’m pretty positive there’s some blood magic for that.”

Keith takes a deep breath but nods as he finally makes his way down the hall.

…

When he’s done packing the meager proof of his existence he can hear Shiro singing along to “I’ve got a dream.” His voice actually isn’t half bad if Keith is being honest, but he’s decided he’s absolutely not going to indulge Shiro in this simply on principle.

He sits down next to him on the couch anyway and leans his head back against the couch.

“Oh! Done already Keith?”

He nodded.

Shiro grinned, “And by the way. You are not Flynn Rider. He’s too smooth for you.”

Keith shrugs, “Eugene then.”

Shiro blinks, “Who the hell is—Whatever. Now I’ll just shoot a message to my friend, we’ll cast a little spell and hit the road, yeah?”

Keith nods, slowly as if everything is finally beginning to dawn on him, the idea of leaving home, still not knowing where his father is, a creature called a reaper and his own messed up biology…

He looks at Shiro and expects some weird glowy magic show. Instead, Shiro reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out what looks like it could have been a cell-phone in some weird futuristic world.

“…You have cell phones?”

The reaper raises a brow before he starts to chuckle, shakes his head, and focusses his attention on his phone. Quickly he types out a message to what appears to be his most recent contact and doesn’t even put it down to wait for a response. Within moments a small noise like a bell is heard and his cheeks tint just the slightest shade of pink.

Suddenly Keith remembers thinking of Shiro as the hot stranger and considers that he’s probably straight, of course. Then his new friend turns to look at him with the brightest smile on his face and Keith can’t help the small smile back though he’s not sure what they’re supposed to be smiling about.

“She’ll be here in a couple minutes. You’re gonna love her. Everyone loves her,” Shiro’s eyes lit up just talking about her so Keith wasn’t so sure. “Anyway, yeah bro, we have cell phones. Well. I’d have to define ‘we’ really. Mostly I’m just gifted with really smart friends. Matt and Pidge made this, it works between the human world and world below and between Illusions and world below—but they haven’t managed to make it span the human world to Illusions. They’re working on it though so no big deal.”  Shiro slumps back against the couch and glances at his phone screen again, “We’re actually pretty lucky she was trying to visit me right now otherwise we’d be here a bit.”

Keith’s nose picks up something beside the jasmine he’d basically scrubbed his face with. It’s vanilla and clean linens and it also comes equipped with the noise of rustling skirts and…water?

He raises his head and turns to the back of the room. Shiro eventually turns with him and Keith notices in his peripheral how the reapers face practically lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

There’s a girl in his house.

A woman, really. Tall, dark skinned, silver white hair cascading down her back in massive waves. Honestly, if Keith were straight he’d probably panic and run from a girl so breathtakingly beautiful. As it stood, Keith was thankfully gay and could happily accept that this was just some kind of goddess standing in his living room, no big deal.

“Hello Shiro—Oh! You’re watching Tangled? Make room!” She laughed in a way that made Keith physically ill because he knew he would never have that kind of heart stopping power.

As she made her way over though, everything in Keith’s system started to shoot warning signs.

And then, like some kind of internal guide, his head screamed, “Vampire” and then immediately after that followed up with “Vampire equals Threat.”

Shiro scooted closer to Keith and pat the remaining space on the loveseat. Since it was just Keith and his dad they never really cared to get anything bigger.

The girl sat down, her skirt, some silky blue thing slipped higher up one leg as she tilted forward, passed Shiro and offering Keith her hand, “You must be Keith, my name is Allura. I hope you’re feeling alright? I understand for half breeds like yourself this kind of transition can be varying degrees of…uncomfortable.”

Keith wanted to reach out and grab her hand, be polite. He wanted to return the kind expression on her face. He wanted so terribly to shut down the screaming in his brain but it just wouldn’t stop and all he managed was to lift his shaking hand and slowly pull it back and further from her palm.

Allura spared him a confused glance for a moment before she seemed to realize, “Oh. Goodness, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m a pureblood so your body is probably heavily rejecting the idea of me, isn’t it?”

Keith swallowed and managed to nod.

“Right then, don’t worry, it’ll pass. Why don’t we just relax for a little bit? We’ll watch tangled, your body can become accustomed and then we can get to work on your blood binding spell, sound fair?”

When Keith only managed to nod again, squeezing himself against the armrest and into the plush leather of the couch, Shiro draped an arm around his shoulders.

“A lot of vampires could be pretty threatening, and werewolves have it ingrained into them to be wary of the species, but I swear on my life Allura here is one of the best people I know okay? So, try not to worry too much.”

“Oh! Oh! This is the best part look at Maximus!” Allura squealed happily in a way that was too smooth to be real.

Shiro blinked back at the screen though he didn’t remove his arm from Keith’s shoulders, “Maximus is the horse right?”

Allura smacked his free arm lightly, “Yes of course Maximus is the horse, have you not been paying attention?”

Keith tried to squish himself further back but when it appeared to be impossible he tilted his head vaguely toward Shiro and tried to make himself comfortable by talking to him again, “How does she know Tangled when you don’t Shiro?”

While Shiro attempts to defend himself and his priorities when traveling the human world Keith is painfully aware of Allura’s soft smile as she leans against the opposite armrest and idly rubs a piece of her skirt between her fingers before casually swiping those same fingers along her lips.

They look wet now.

Alluring.

Huh.

Alluring Allura.

What kind of bullshit.

His attention turns to her skirts and he realizes the silk looks like it’s rippling, water in every stitch.

When she realizes what he’s looking at she shakes her head, “Oh, sorry, don’t worry I’m not wrecking your couch or anything. Just had to bribe a water witch for the portal magic. The skirt is how we’re going to travel once we’re done.”

Keith really didn’t want to know because even with that explanation he doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand. All he can really grasp is there’s water in her skirt.

“…Are you thirsty?” Keith says finally, his confusion winning against his nerves.

Shiro stops short and carefully nudges Keith back into his cowering position, “You never ask a vampire if they’re thirsty, Keith, it’s just not polite. Sorry Allura.”

Allura shook her head, “It’s quite alright Shiro! It’s not like he has any way of knowing. I actually am a bit parched, sorry if that idea frightens you, but you have nothing to worry about, my being a pureblood means I can go ages without feeding and it wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

Keith wasn’t sure why he persisted, but he did, “…I have cranberry juice? If you want some.”

Allura spared him another surprised look before that smile was right back in place, “…I’d love a glass, thank you, Keith.”

This somehow managed to make his mind behave a bit, she had gone from “Threat” to “guest” now that he was trying to play host.

Alright, progress.

…

The spell they placed on the house was incredibly simple. Allura asked for Keith’s hand which, after bonding over the entirety of “I see the light” and their varied degrees of glee in Shiro’s absent humming, was not as difficult a task as either of them had initially thought.

She warned him she was about to prick his finger so when she did Keith didn’t even wince. Then she took his hand and guided the small bloodied spot to press against the wall. This is where Keith finally got his glowy magic light show. Her eyes, a crystalline blue green lit up pink where her pupils should have been. The glow spread to fill her eyes casting long shadows on her face from her lashes as her lips moved but she said nothing. Her hair had even started to lift ever so slightly as if some imaginary wind was brushing against her. But as quickly as it had begun it was over and she was patting his hand.

“There, now if anyone of your blood enters this house once we’re gone, you and I will feel it and we can come straight back here.”

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder and asked him if he was ready to go.

Keith eyed his house a moment longer before he decided he wanted to do one last thing.

He found a sharpie and a scrap piece of sketchbook paper and scrawled in large bold letters: “A Werewolf? Really?” before taking a refrigerator magnet and tacking it up right there front and center.

“Okay. Now I’m ready.”

Keith was not ready.

When Allura’s skirt dropped the water in its fibers Keith panicked for a second, preparing to get the questionable substance on his shoes or something, but instead the water moved like some sentient being. It pooled around Allura’s feet and shimmered with this gold light that made Keith dizzy.

Then she reached for his hand again, Keith looked to Shiro and he nodded for him to proceed.

“Just don’t think too much okay? Portals are all instinct,” He tells him.

Keith looks at the water and figures, that much is fine, instinct is something he can handle.

It’s like jumping into a pool, and then becoming one with the pool. That shouldn’t feel natural but Keith can’t see a problem with it. And then he feels Shiro’s grip on his hand and can practically feel his consciousness pushing him forward.

And then they were standing at a fountain in what was basically an enormous brightly lit orange cavern.

“Alright! Let’s get you settled shall we?” Shiro grinned, not releasing Keith’s hand and moving away from the fountain.

Keith barely has the time to look around when he’s ushered into a building, but he does get the opportunity to smell everything.

And he’s about to be nauseas again.

And the lights are too bright and there is so much noise and it’s so much worse than it was outside the sheriff’s department.

Allura and Shiro must have noticed your discomfort because suddenly they’re whispering among themselves and Shiro guides your hand over to Allura, “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna run to transports and see if someone can help relax you okay?”

Keith doesn’t like this, but his head is pounding so hard and there are a number of strangers around who all smell like the weirdest things—and god he hadn’t even looked at them before the closest person(?) is purple and small and he(?) has huge teeth and he’s smoking something that smells absolutely disgusting and the person they’re talking to smells like roses and looks very much like the rolled out of a bush that morning and wow god this overload of everything needs to stop

And then there’s Allura.

She takes his hand and pulls him close to her, pressing his head into her hair as some of it has found its way over her shoulders.

This is. Actually helpful. She smells strong but it’s pleasant and it’s less confusing than dealing with everything. And her hair is soft.

She ushers him over to a bench and sits with him still pressed into her shoulder softened by the waves of her hair. Her voice is soothing if a little frightening in how he realizes she sounds extremely persuasive, “Shhh, just listen to my voice alright Keith? My voice is the only one you need to listen to. Try to block everything else out.” She’s running her hand through his hair to try and calm him but one of her hands grazes his ear and he flinches so hard she actually jumps. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, I forgot. Shh, I’m sorry. I won’t do that again. You silly wolves and your extra appendages…” she giggles, trying to be clear that she’s joking when suddenly her mirth dies in her throat.

“Princess. Taking in another stray?”

There’s a sizzling in the air and Keith has to raise his head when he feels Allura puff out a heavy breath through her nose.

When he looks at the person who’d spoken his fight or flight response is screaming again.

A million red flags, dangerous, hostile, bad, bad, bad.

Allura doesn’t let go of his hand but her beautiful sea green eyes are narrowed on the man standing in front of the two of them now.

“It hasn’t been Princess in a long time and you know that. Do you need something, Lotor?”

The man simply shrugs his shoulders, “I was just checking in on the transport division as usual. When I felt your presence back here I simply had to come by and say hello.”

“Hello. Now goodbye.” Her voice sounds so abnormally icy Keith can’t help but stare at her.

Lotor, the silver haired male who’s skin is almost as tan as Allura’s (making Keith wonder if all vampires have dark skin rather than the pale skin of their stories) doesn’t move to leave. In fact, he closes the distance between them and bends at the waist a bit so he can be closer to their eye level as he scrutinizes Keith.

“A werewolf?”

Keith can feel the tension in his shoulders when Lotor looks at him.

Allura’s arms are defensively wrapped around Keith now and he has no idea when that happened.

“A half breed…” Lotor continues, a glint in his eye as a smile slowly makes its way to his face.

Allura moves so Keith is pushed behind her ever so slightly as she stares Lotor down, “Put your fangs away Lotor, he’s a child.”

It’s when she says this that Keith realizes that despite her young looks she’s probably significantly older than he is, being a vampire and all.

“Relax Allura, you know I just happen to have a healthy interest in half breeds. Human crosses are even rarer. How’s about it child? Would you ever like to come chat with me?”

Keith grits his teeth. He doesn’t know Lotor or why Allura seems to dislike him so much but his instincts are definitely telling him the man is trouble.

The boy opens his mouth to respond when he gets a whiff of the other vampire. He smells like earth. Like a cabin during rainy weather. It’s calming. And this thought alarms the hell out of him.

It silences him however.

And Lotor gets a good solid look at his face, and his eyes, blue green like Allura’s, appear to soften right in front of him.

If Allura notices she says nothing.

“What’s your name wolf?” Lotor begins almost softly, “Mine, as Allura here so crassly announced to you, is Lotor. First and only son of Zarkon and Honerva. Understand you are under no obligation to grant me your name however it would be much appreciated.”

Keith hates how much he actually wants to tell him.

“Honestly Lotor who still goes by those silly rules…” Allura mumbles though to contradict her statement she does look down looking vaguely ashamed.

“A named thing is a tamed thing Allura you’d be wise to remember that,” He extends his hand to Keith, still too soft, still too patient.

Keith stares at the hand unsure if he should be offended by it or intrigued.

“Ah! Lotor!”

At Shiro’s voice Lotor’s eyes immediately harden and he retrieves his hand, “Takashi. A pleasure.” Keith wonders why the vampire is clearly lying when one look at Shiro tells him the feeling is mutual.

“It’s nice to see you, I see you’ve met my new friend. Did he tell you his name?” Shiro asks casually though there’s an edge in his voice.

Lotor sighs, “No, and that’s fair, he doesn’t have to. I was just on my way out.”

“I’m sure you were, happy trails Lotor!” Shiro says with too much enthusiasm.

Lotor spares Keith one last glance that Keith can’t help but return, unsure why the vampire draws his attention so much. He bows his head, says goodbye, and is gone in the blink of an eye. As soon as he disappears the rest of the scents in the room are painfully present again and Keith is shuffling around Allura to see where he could have possibly gone while trying to ignore the twisting in his gut at the unpleasant assault to his senses.

“He teleported Keith, we vampires can do that for places we’ve seen before. He’s very much gone,” Allura explains.

“This the guy?”

Keith realizes then that Shiro didn’t return alone. Behind him is a thin blond with lightly sun kissed skin and eyes the color of fresh blood. Keith takes a small amount of joy in noting that the boy appears to be shorter than him but around his age.

“Yeah, I just need you to give him a bit muddle how much of his senses he actually registers. That’s a thing you guys can do right?”

Allura looks put out by the presence of the blond but she still relaxes enough to let Keith go. “If you were just going to do that I could have kept talking…” Allura mumbles to no one in particular.  

He’s not sure how much he likes any of this though. The blond moves forward and Shiro kneels next to the bench, a comforting hand on Keith’s knee, “This is Angel, your instincts don’t know him like they know vampires, but for full disclosure, he’s what is generally referred to as a devil.”

Well that sounds comforting.

“He’s not a bad guy though. And I mean, really, he’s just a kid.”

Angel, who’s face is directly in Keith’s line of sight, rolls his eyes, “Yeah well this kid didn’t have to take time from his work to help you with your hobby dude.”

Shiro smiles and playfully nudges the blond who ignores this and instead ushers Shiro’s hand out of the way, so he could sit beside Keith.

“I’m going to touch you okay?” explained the blond.

Keith nods and Angel motions for him to lean forward, his hands open.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m basically going to lower your sensitivity. Imagine your senses as a string tied to your mind that is currently tied very, very tight. It’s this tension that’s causing you to get sick and to feel as poorly as I’m presuming you do. I am going to loosen that string, allowing you to go about your business for a little while without the pain. But be aware, this works kind of like that disease that lets people not feel pain. Just because you don’t feel it doesn’t mean nothing bad is happening.”

Shiro and Allura exchange looks. Shiro speaks again, “It’s not exactly like putting your hand on a stove and not realizing its burning. These are just sounds and smells.”

Angel spares him a bland expression, “It’s a basic disclaimer dude, I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re gonna get into I’m just covering my bases. Keith, yeah?”

Keith blinked at him.

“Just don’t blow out your eardrums cause the world felt quieter and then come blame me, yeah?”

Keith is really unsure how he could ever, but nods anyway. Then Angel puts his hands on either side of his head and stares deeply into his eyes for a moment.

Keith thinks Angel looks almost more human than Allura and Shiro despite neither of them having features nearly as odd as bright red eyes.

Speaking of, those eyes shut and for a moment Keith is heavily overwhelmed by the noise and the smells and Angel smells like apples and caramel and something a little more grounding.

And then it all stops.

A moment after that he can hear Shiro and Allura, and Angel’s pulse with his wrist so close to his ears, but everything else is in hushed tones as he’d imagine an office should sound like.

He almost feels normal.

Angel opens his eyes and releases him, “Remember that its temporary, you should go find a quiet space to get used to your new abilities.”

Shiro takes the conversation from there, clapping Angel on the shoulder and stating his gratitude. Angel shrugs, “No big deal. You owe me one though.”

“Fair.”

“You’re taking him in right?”

“Of course.”

Allura smiles and reaches her arms around Keith again, “We’re going to have so much fun! I’ll tell you all about the world and what I know about werewolves—which isn’t a lot if I’m honest but!” Keith knows she’s just trying to be positive and encouraging and he appreciates that.

Angel leaves with a simple wave, presumably to get back to work.

Shiro disappears again, saying something about paperwork and Allura spends the time pointing at random strangers and whispering details about their races and what they could be doing in a government building. Keith also learns that in this case ‘government building’ means ‘witch building’ as the witches were the government.

He also learns, from the people who wave to Allura as they filter in and out of the building, that she is fairly well known. He doesn’t ask her about Lotor’s princess comment.

When Shiro returns he gives Keith the game plan, they’re going to go back to his place, camp out, work on getting Keith used to his new surroundings and new ways of registering his surroundings, and then Shiro was going to set Keith up with a friend of his in Illusions, a werewolf and his sister so that Keith could learn first hand about his mother’s people.

Honestly, Keith isn’t all that inclined to leave Shiro’s side, he and Allura were the ones who were going to help him find his father.

But he figured, he’d cross that bridge when it came.

…

[archaeopter-ace]

Writing Progress

For the longest time, I did a pretty good job at ‘only have one serious WIP at a time,’ and I knew a lot of other authors spawned new AUs all the time but I couldn’t see myself being one of them, I was much more determined to shove new ideas onto the backburner until they fizzled into nothing, never to see the light of day.

And now the shoe is on the other foot, and though I’m not sure how I got here, I can’t say I regret it ;P

So, without further ado:

Don’t Listen to Kafka: This is still a Work in Progress, I SWEAR. First chapter of the next installment is about 70% done, but I’m gonna need a lot more buffer before I’m ready to post, and I also still have to decide whether a ‘Get Enrique out the Darklands’ plot should be worked in here, or saved for later. Quite the conundrum, given how many other events and complicated plot threads are predicated on it, and it’s honestly really daunting to try to figure out how to deal with Gunmar once and for all. On the flipside, given that rescuing Enrique drives so much of the plot once Bular is killed, it feels like leaving the story unfinished to leave him in the Darklands. Of course, if my paralyzing indecision and writer’s block prevents me from finishing the story, then the story is still unfinished but in a much more literal way...

North Salem Possibilities: I had some ideas for what happns next, but haven’t fleshed much out. Truthfully, I’ve sort of fallen out of the phandom once again, but if the past (*checks calendar*) 13 years of falling in and out of this fandom is any indication, I will definitely come back around someday

Through Myself and Back Again: The next chapter is half done! Or possiby it’s 90% done because I am considering splitting it in two. I haven’t touched it since December, though (see above) and what I have got done needs a rewrite, since I realized I was making it more complicated for myself than it needed to be. Looking forward to writing Sam’s POV, and, later, introducing Jazz’s daemon. Possibly some of my ideas will just be written up as meta rather than fic chapters, like dealing with Vlad’s whole deal.

I Was a Teenage Troll: I’ve got bits and pieces written, but don’t expect an update anytime soon. This one is very much on the backburner, and whenever I do get a surge of ToA inspiration, I try to direct that towards DLtK, so yeah. Still really love this AU!

In Loco Parentis: So I haven’t even starting posting this one yet, but if you’re wondering where all my current energies are being invested, this is it. This is the thing that is The Most Exciting Thing to my brain right now, a crossover between Forever and Daredevil that began with two unrelated thoughts: 1. What if Henry Morgan adopted more kids than just Abe? At least as often as Bruce Wayne, spread out over decades - he’d probably be a grandfather several times over, can you imagine the family reunions? and 2. Forever is a police procedural and like all procedurals they take a very loose approach to due process and fourth amendment rights, including treating ‘lawyering up’ as a confession of guilt/worst possible roadblock to an investigation, instead of, you know, a constitutional right and good idea all-around. Gosh I’d love to drop a competent defense attorney like Matt Murdock on their heads and take them down a peg.

I am so deep down this rabbit hole that I swore I wasn’t going to go down, lol. There’s so many parallels to draw - but also points of delicious conflict. Like Henry and Matt are both stubborn men who hold strongly to their moral codes, and are willing to lay down their lives to help complete strangers, but where Henry holds to his oaths to First Do No Harm as much as he possibly can, the line Matt is unwilling to cross is Thou Shalt Not Kill, leaving a lot of grievous bodily harm still on the table. Also they were both at one point locked in the back of a New York taxi that was driven into the river in order to drown them in a plot orchestrated by their nemesis, which is a weirdly specific coincidence.

[the-big-nope]

While I’m certainly nowhere near ready for the story of the Mighty Nein to come to an end, I am also a D&D nerd and there’s a new sourcebook coming out soon with a bunch of new subclasses in it. By the time Campaign 3 of Critical Role gets underway, that book will be published, leaving a wealth of new options for the cast members to choose from, so why not entertain myself by making barely justified predictions of what the cast is most likely to pick for their next characters! (Disclaimer: Some of the new subclasses have been confirmed and some haven’t, so for a few of these picks I’m just going off of what I think is going to be in the book).

Travis

Cleric (Tempest Domain): Travis has been playing lowkey EMT since campaign one, and Laura’s already confirmed that Travis almost went cleric for campaign two. Between Grog with his barb-boosted movement speed to get around the battlefield so he could shove healing potions into his squishier teammates, and Fjord multiclassing into paladin and lovingly tapping his friends with single hit points to get them back up, it would be delightful to see him fully jump in and embrace the classical healer role. Of course, this is Travis, so I don’t see him picking a cleric domain that doesn’t allow for at least some whoop-ass, and Tempest Domain brings plenty of it. You get proficiency with all armor and weapons, Divine Strike at level 8 for boosted melee damage, you can use a reaction to inflict lightning or thunder damage against any enemy within melee range that’s hit you. And if you climb up high enough in levels, you gain a flying speed equal to your walking one whenever you’re outdoors. Pretty nifty, and makes for a fitting subclass for a guy that’s voiced Thor on multiple occasions.

Blood Hunter (Order of the Lycan): I mean, come on. The only reason it isn’t number one is that it was already widely assumed this would be Travis’s pick for campaign two, and I wouldn’t put it past him to surprise us again. But still, we saw him get a taste in Liam’s one shot and he was clearly having the time of his life. Besides, we lost Molly far too early to really see the blood hunter’s potential come to life; it would be damn cool to see someone else take a crack at it, and Travis is enough of a D&D gambler to not shy away from the class’s riskier features.

Artificer (Armorer): Speaking of Marvel connections, if Travis doesn’t lean toward fantasy Thor, then fantasy Iron Man might catch his attention instead. Artificer is an official class now, and since it’ll be reprinted in TCoE by the time campaign 3 gets underway, it’ll be a lot more visible as an option. The Armorer sits in almost a perfect middle ground of what Travis has done before: tanky and a frontliner, but also still has spells and tricks to help the party. Plus, you get a badass suit of power armor out of it. What’s not to like?

Marisha

Bard (College of Creation): After Hazel Copperpot, we all saw the pure magic that was Marisha Ray playing a bard. I know she implied that Hazel was supposed to be her campaign two backup character, but I hope this doesn’t discourage her from making another one. There are quite a few bard subclasses, a number of which I could see her being drawn to (Lore, Glamour, maybe even Swords), but I really vibe with the idea of Creation. I can’t exactly say why; maybe the idea of the ‘dancing object’ feature in Marisha’s hands is very funny to me (remember Keyleth’s adorable “Be Our Guest” moment? That, but this time it’s a walking wardrobe beating the shit out of the enemy).

Paladin (Oath of Vengeance/Conquest): As of yet, no one on Critical Role has ever played a paladin from the start, only multiclassed later down the line. I think this would be a cool departure for Marisha. Both campaigns she’s played characters that were either suspicious or at least indifferent to faith and the gods. Paladins are typically associated with deities, but they’re not tied quite so closely to them as clerics are. It would be fascinating to see what she did with it. As for the subclass, I just think Marisha’s earned her turn on the Goth Character Carousel, and while I know Conquest paladin is very unlikely given its moral grayness by default which might cause undue conflict and that Vengeance is a much more likely and acceptable pick, I just think it would be a sexy character choice. 

Wizard (Bladesinger/Graviturgist): This is a much more pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinking pick on my end, but not impossible imo. Marisha has experience with heavy spellcasting already, so she probably wouldn’t shy away from a wizard, but like Travis I suspect she likes a bit of oomph to her characters, and probably wouldn’t play as support heavy as Caleb does. To that end, Bladesingers get a bit more survivability and some modicum of physical prowess alongside their spells, while Graviturgists are definitely on the more aggressive side of the spectrum for wizard subclasses, with unique dunamancy spells to boot. I’m not sure how restrictive Matt would be about Xhorhassian characters in the next campaign if it takes place on another continent, but hey, you never know. Plus, she picked one of Matt’s homebrew subclasses for the current campaign; it would be cute if it happened again.

Liam

Druid (Circle of the Shepherd): At some point before Critical Role comes to end (hopefully far in the future), I know Liam’s gonna play a druid, I can feel it in my bones. He's too big of a Kiki fan not to. However, while Circle of the Moon might feel obvious given the potential for homage and how much he likes turning into animals, I feel like he might regard it as getting too close to old territory (also, I don’t know if Circle of the Moon is like an exclusive thing to the Ashari tribes, and if it is that would be rather restrictive for building a backstory). If that’s the case, Circle of the Shepherd feels like the next best bet. It has some great support options via the totems you can put down, and rather than becoming badass animals, you instead just get really good at summoning a fuck ton of them. It’s like Frumpkin, but ten of him. And they’re bears. (Honorable mention: If Circle of the Moon would feel like treading old territory then I’m certain Circle of Wildfire would too, but I’d bet my dice collection it would at least be tempting). 

Cleric (Unity Domain): Listen. The pure sap potential that would be at Mr. O’Brien’s fingertips with this subclass is incredible. The domain all about strengthening and protecting the bonds between friends and loved ones?? The domain with the Channel Divinity that can spread damage taken by one creature across the party however the cleric chooses to distribute it to lessen the blow to the individual??? The domain that used to be called the Love Domain???? I’m practically gagging on the soft moments and unspoken devotion conveyed through spellcasting already.

Fighter (Rune Knight/Psi Knight): Liam has yet to play a tank in a long-term campaign, and while I’m more enamored with the potential of the above classes, it would be novel to see him play a character with an actually respectable amount of hit points. However, I feel like if he was gonna commit to a straight frontliner, he’d probably want something a little more unique than a Champion or Battle Master (especially since he’s played those already for one-shots). Rune Knight has some fun options and built-in flavor, and with Psi Knight you can basically be a Jedi. Not bad options at all if you ask me.

Taliesin

Warlock (Fiend): Yeah, it might be expected, or Percy might have been too close to warlock anyway to feel like there’s new ground to cover, but hear me out. Both Percy (who, let’s face it, was a warlock multiclass in all but the actual mechanics) and Fjord were the classic reluctants. They got in over their heads without really knowing what was going on, and once they did they wanted out, cutting ties with their patrons and getting clear with only the scars remaining. I want to see Taliesin commit to a warlock in a way I imagine only he could manage to pull off. How fun would that balancing act be, to have a character that has no intentions of breaking their pact, who’s here for the powers, and is willing to work that delicate balancing act between keeping what he’s got and not letting his contract holder get the better of him? Give it to meeeeee.

Sorcerer (Psionic Soul): Psionic Soul has a bit of that eldritch flavor that vibes with Taliesin so much, with the added interest of introducing a brand new feature to 5E, the Psi Die (with this subclass, using them can do things like letting a sorcerer learn a spell they don’t already know for a few hours, allow you to cast spells without needing verbal, somatic, or material components, and can give you telepathy). Taking both Percy and Molly into account, it seems Tal likes to lean into those unique additional mechanics, and while Psi Die aren’t as risk-heavy as Gunslinger or Bloodhunter, they do add a layer of variability and unpredictability that seems to match his style.

Rogue (Swashbuckler): We only got a little bit of time with Molly, and so missed out on the opportunity to see Tal play a more cavalier character this time around. If he feels like leaning away from spells next time and back toward martial, I think a high-charisma, high-swinging swashbuckler from Tal would be a delight to watch.

Laura

Barbarian (Path of the Ancestral Guardian): Laura deserves to hit things, okay? Yes, spellcasting is great and comes in clutch frequently and Jester’s amazing, but you can tell Laura misses doing fat stacks of damage to the enemy in a single round. I personally think it would be amazing to watch her just cut loose and go full rage machine. As for the subclass, I’m not glued to the idea, but Ancestral Guardians are pretty kickass, have decent support capabilities for a barb without detracting from their DPS at all, and it doesn’t tread on any previous characters’ toes or their aesthetics.

Rogue (Scout/Soulknife): Laura deserves to play her favorite class at last, okay? She’s been class poached two campaigns in a row, and though that resulted in both Vex and Jester and I wouldn’t trade them for the world, Laura has earned first pick. Seeing as she already dipped into Assassin as Vex and Sam took Arcane Trickster, I could see Scout being a viable subclass choice. It’s in the classic sneaky vein, relatively simple in concept, but comes with features that grant easy-to-understand benefits that you can never turn your nose up at (boosts to movement, advantage on initiative, giving advantage against a target to everyone else in the party, etc.). If she’s looking for something a bit flashier, Soulknife has the benefit of retroactively dunking on Vax by taking the basic knife-rogue and making it better, with psionic knives that you can manifest with a thought, that can teleport you around Whisper style, and cranking up that stealth to ridiculous levels by just being able to turn invisible for ten minutes, no concentration or spell needed. The psionic die mechanics are a little funky of course, but I don’t imagine it’s any trickier than learning to manage all those cleric spells.

Monk (Way of the Open Hand): Between Beau just being super cool and her brief stint as Farriwen Breeze, monk wouldn’t be a surprising pick from Laura. An Open Hand monk might be the definitive version everyone knows, but you can’t deny it’s a solid subclass, and between previous overlap and the concepts of the other subclasses just not seeming to fit, I could see the classic being what she went with. But hey, it’s Laura Bailey. She could surprise us with Way of the Drunken Master or something.

Sam

Ranger (Monster Slayer): Let’s be real, I don’t think this would be his actual first pick for a Campaign 3 character, but the amount of shit-stirring he could achieve by making a character with the aim of pissing off Laura Bailey specifically would be hilarious (and since Matt isn’t completely opposed to UA and acknowledges that PHB ranger has a lot of issues, I wouldn’t be surprised if they went Revised Ranger this time).

Warlock (Genie): Actual first pick here, Pact of the Genie Warlock is confirmed by now, and the potential of a warlock in the hands of Sam Riegel is pretty vast (for some reason I’m imagining he would go the ‘spoiled sugar baby’ route). The subclass doesn’t matter as much, but the Genie one is nice in that, depending on the type of genie patron you pick, you can get a wide variety of extra spells, you get a container like a classic lamp or lantern that you can bamf into for short rests, and you get a limited Wish ability for your capstone, all features I feel like would especially appeal to Sam.

Barbarian (Path of the Wild Soul): I want to see Sam play a fairy barbarian. ‘Nough said.

Ashley

Fighter (Eldritch/Echo Knight): Ashley really seems to vibe with the crushing power of martial classes (she does love her brutal kill descriptions), so I could see her sticking with it rather than going back to full caster. However, I do see her picking one of the magical subclasses for some variety after Yasha. Eldritch Knight is a classic and reasonably easy to manage, but tbh I’d LOVE for it to be Echo Knight. And think, if my wishful thinking came true, with Ashley picking an Echo Knight and Marisha playing a Graviturgist wizard, they could link up their backstories and be a traveling Kryn battle duo that left their homeland behind to explore the world!

Sorcerer (Draconic): If she does want to go back to full-time casting, Sorcerer doesn’t require near as much bookkeeping as a cleric, druid, or wizard while still having decent variety, and the Draconic subclass is a bit beefier than the other subclasses. Also, it would be the third campaign in a row where Ashley Johnson’s character eventually got wings, soooo...

And tbh I have no idea what a third pick might be for Ashley, so I’m just gonna throw a dart or two at the board and say either College of Whispers Bard or Way of Mercy Monk *Shrug* We can only wait and see!

[imagineofallkindsxxx]

Eternal Flame- Kol Mikaelson 7/?

A Hundred Dead Witches!?!

Summary: 'You never know whats in a persons heart until you truly know them' - Belle French, Once Upon a Time

Singing. Thats all what Alexandra Gilbert has cared about since she was young and all she would care about until she met him.

With Alexandra fighting vampires, werewolves and all between she may do a thing she vowed never to do, fall in love.

And to think it all started with a walk in the woods...

Tonight was the night of Illuminations, a town tradition that has been going on for centuries so a group of us had volunteered to help or in my case forced to. While hanging lanterns from the trees Carol Lockwood decided to make a speech to the volunteers deciding to thank the people actually doing the work instead of sitting around making speeches along with introducing Tobias Fell. 

"Remind me why we're here again?" I whispered to Mark but before he could answer Sam butted in. 

"It's my uncle Tobys night, my mom's forcing me to volunteer and I'm sure as hell not doing it on my own." Making me roll my eyes at the bassist. 

  "Yo, what'd I miss" James said coming behind us making me jump out of my skin giving him a push. 

  "Nothing the speech is about to begin." Sam informed him. 

  "The first illumination..." He started, going on about history of the town and the founders. 

"I'm gonna dip. Finish my lantern" I whispered to James making him look at me incredulously. I just looked at him and blew a kiss at the drummer before a quietly and as slyly as possible trying to escape the wrath of Sam Fell who although may look skinny and weak can destroy you. 

When it looked like I was in the clear for now I walked up to Caroline and Bonnie who were tying lanterns to a branch.

"-comment on that." 

"Comment on what?" 

"There. You Commented" 

"I'm confused, what are you commenting?" Asking the duo confused at what is going on and what is being commented. 

"What do you want me to say Caroline?" She asked clearly distressed before finally addressing me "I went against the balance of nature when I brought Jeremy back to life and now, I'm paying the consequences. Whenever he wants to see Anna and she wants to see him, she's still here". Jesus this is fucked up. 

"Bon..." I started looking at her sympathetically before Caroline butts in 

"I want you to tell me you're not okay with it." 

"I'm a thousand times not okay with it. I just don't know what to do about it" she said looking deflated at the entire situation making me throw my arm around her shoulders in comfort. 

"You, Bonnie Bennett are the most powerful, smartest and amazing witch. You'll figure out, trust me. You're Bonnie Bennett for Christ sake!" She smiled at me giving a small laugh before a blue Camaro comes out of nowhere pulling up with a raven haired vampire driving. 

"Greetings, blondie, witchy, brainy. I think you got your voodoo wires all crossed when you got rid of Vicki Donovan." She tells us with an annoyed expression on his face. 

"Vicki Donovan?" I questioned confused to how a dead vampire was being brought into this conversation, 

"What do you mean, why?" Bonnie questioned the annoyed/annoying vampire in front of her. 

"Because I'm pretty sure I just got spit-roasted by Mason Lockwood's ghost." He explained. What the hell did Damon do to that poor and attractive werewolf? 

"What?" Bonnie asked very confused. 

"And why exactly do you think that?" I asked wondering how Mason Lockwood was the first person he thought of.

"Maybe because he chained me to a chair and shoved a hot poker into my chest. let's say I'm having deja vu." With this being told me and Caroline both look at Bonnie who looks very confused and conflicted. 

"I thought you said ghosts couldn't interact with people." Caroline said talking straight to Bonnie thinking how it can't be possible that Bonnie may have been wrong. 

"They can't" 

"Yeah well, I don't have time for a vengeful Lockwood. When I kill someone, they're supposed to stay dead. Whatever you screwed up fix it." He ranted towards the witch after that he drove away extremely quickly and most likely above the speed limit. 

Across the road was Matt watching the interaction of the four of us. I was the first to cross the street to talk to the quarterback with Caroline and Bonnie following closely behind. I asked him quickly if he had seen Vicki.

"I haven't seen Vicki, I swear" He told us all before looking down upset about having to go through the loss of his sister a second time "I sent her back like you told me to do."

"Are you sure?" Bonnie asked making sure that Matt actually did get rid of Vicki "Because she has just as much reason to haunt Damon as Mason Lockwood does."

"90% of the people who have been killed in the past two years has as much reason to haunt Damon as much as Mason Lockwood." I added making Caroline nod in agreement.

"She's gone Bonnie. If she was here, I'd know it" I gave him a small sympathetic smile it clear that he was severely upset about this whole ordeal.

"Why do you think its Vicki and not Mason?" Caroline asked the witch.

"Because if any ghost other than Vicki Donovan has a physical foothold on our side, that means Damon's right." Words I never thought I'd hear "and something has gone really, really wrong." Bonnie states looking extremely worried about this situation and what would happen if all the ghosts from our past come to literally haunt us.

"I've had enough of this ghost stuff to last forever. So can you guys can leave me out of this one" Matt tells the three of us, I nodded understanding that if that happened to me, I wouldn't be able to get out of bed forget going to work. He walks away from us, and you can hear Caroline talking.

"I feel so sad for him. It took a lot for him to send his sister away."

"Yeah" Bonnie replied shortly.

"I highly doubt I could do that, if I got to saw my mom or dad again... I don't know if I would be able to let them go." I stated feeling so much sympathy for the blue-eyed boy. "It took a lot of guts anyway." This made the other girls nod.

"So much strength in a man." Caroline continued looking at both of us.

"Caroline it's never going to happen, get over it." Rolling my eyes at her Insinuating that Matt would be a perfectly good boyfriend as she's done for the part two months.

"I've got a ghost problem to deal with, Caroline. Save the Jeremy lecture for later" She snapped while grabbing her bag all of her stuff falling out when the strap broke. I bent down and helped her pick up her things and just as she was going to put her grimoire up it opens itself to a page in the center of the book.

"Did that just..." I asked the witch and vampire not believing my eyes.

"I think so." Bonnie said cocking her head to the side while picking up the book reading the page that the book opened itself to.

"Okay please tell me that's a recipe for witch cookies" Caroline half joked half serious about the page Bonnie was currently reading.

"It's a manifestation spell. It's used to reveal veiled matter." Bonnie told us the meaning of the grimoires spell.

"What's veiled matter?" Caroline asked and before Bonnie answered I said in shock.

"Ghosts." looking at them all.

"What do we do? Do we do the spell? What is the spell exactly?" I questioned Bonnie repeatedly wanting the ghosts to be a thing in the past and look into the future.

"I think we need to go somewhere more private."

***

Caroline pulled her car up to an abandoned creepy looking house. the three of us enter the front room me and Caroline a little bit more apprehensively than Bonnie.

"So, this is where you brought Jeremy back to life?" I asked Bonnie looking around the room severely creeped out, the interior being as bad as the exterior.

"Yeah. Sorry, I know it's creepy, but we needed a private place to do the spell." Bonnie apologized getting ready to do the spell.

"Hmmm. There's no chance it's haunted by the hundred dead witches who were horrifically burned to death in this very spot, is there?" Caroline question clearly scared, and that question alone made me just as scared.

"A hundred dead witches?!"

"They're not here anymore. And they made it clear they were never coming back." she reassured us both trying to calm our nerves or well attempted to.

"Right. You pinkie swear?" Caroline asks trying to make a joke in the tense environment. Making me give her a look. I got the candles out and gave Caroline a lighter so she can help light the candles with me for Bonnie to start the spell.

"Ready do you need us to do..." I started turning around to see Bonnie already starting to start the spell "Right. Okay" I looked at Caroline while Bonnie was continuing to do the spell getting louder every chant a breeze beginning to surround us getting stronger and stronger by the second making everything in the room moves. Seeing all of this makes my eyes widen and start to worry about Bonnie and how safe this is for her.

"Bonnie, I don't like this. Bonnie..." Caroline voices my thoughts while also looking around that was until we saw something shocking.

"Oh my God, is that your...?" I started but couldn't finish due to the pure shock of what I as seeing. All three of us shocked Bonnie can't say anything, it even leaves Caroline speechless. The silence was broke with Bonnie saying quietly.

"Grams."

*************************************************

A/N:

Small chapter but next is quite long an different than others as a special character will be appearing. Hope you enjoyed, Part two will include more of the boys (a slight twist).

Please correct any grammar, spelling or British slang.

Any positive or negative feedback is appreciated.

Thanks for reading lovelies xxx 

[vagrantblvrd]

Lay Your Bones Down (1/1)

Summary: When it comes to soulmates people tend to fall into two camps of thought.

Notes: Prompt fill for the wonderful @ahwuum who has been super patient and supportive. <333!

(Read on AO3)

When it comes to soulmates people tend to fall into two camps of thought.

The ones who go all-out looking for their soulmate. Buy into what Vinewood and other “experts” have to say on the mater. Read all the books on how to recognize the signs or whatever, watch the television specials and pay close attention to their horoscopes and magazines aimed at helping people find them.

Sign up for the websites and download the apps once they become available because it’s a driving force for them, part of their pursuit of happiness and everything.

Sometimes it works, they find their soulmate and live happy fulfilling lives with them.

Other times it doesn’t, and they make themselves miserable looking for a needle in a haystack all their lives and let every other chance for happiness pass them by and it’s. It’s just sad, is what it is.

Then you have the ones like Jeremy who – he’s not going to lie, okay.

He’s curious who his soulmate is. What kind of person they are, if they’d even like each other, get along like a house on fire or hate one another at first sight. (A different way of getting along like a house on fire, and to be honest saying’s always bothered him but that’s a conversation for another day, or something. Whatever.)

He used to think about it a lot more when he was a kid, bright future ahead of him and all these possibilities, right? Smart kid like him? Could have done anything.

And he did.

For a while.

Then one of his buddies got caught up in some trouble of his own making, and stupid idiot Jeremy thought he could help get him out. Only got dragged into the same kind of trouble and into a literal pit facing off against guys twice his size trying to get back out again.

Stopped wondering who his soulmate was when his primary concern was not getting his face beaten in, and then things escalated to the point all of that slipped to the back of his mind.

Soulmates and the criminal life don’t go so well together, puts a crimp in things. (He figured if he did meet his soulmate doing the things he does now, it wouldn’t be a ringing endorsement for either of them.)

So, yeah.

Jeremy pulls himself out of the fighting rings in Boston, but doesn’t do it clean. Has people who’d be glad to put him down, so he decides it would be a good idea to get the hell out while he still can.

Goes from city to city doing what he can to get by. Realizes he’s in a goddamned ridiculous line of work and figures if he can’t beat them he might as well join them (something like that) and goes all-in.

Picks up the Rimmy Tim thing somewhere along the east coast. Browsing through the offerings in a thrift store where he finds these hideous yellow suit pants. Catch his eye, have him cackling like an idiot, but that might be more the painkillers blunting the ache of a stab wound in his shoulder.

Finds a purple suit jacket a few cities over and something about it hits him just right.

It isn’t until he’s somewhere in Texas he spots the cowboy hat. Gas station with a tired looking woman on the register and news on the television talking about something going on in a city named Los Santos.

Jeremy gives her a bright grin, all nice and friendly because he’s just passing through, ma’am, no trouble here. Watches the footage of another gang war in progress play on the television as the woman rings his purchases up.

He’s been seeing more and more about Los Santos the closer he gets, figures it’s a big deal in this part of the country. (Liberty city’s got the east coast locked down for chaos and carnage.)

Gets this little itch going in the palms of his hands because everything he’s seen tells him it would be smarter to stay the hell away from a city like that, but.

Jeremy’s kind of an idiot.

And, you know.

There are still people out there with a grudge to bear against him and a city as big as Los Santos seems like a good place to get lost in.

Can’t possibly get caught up in anything big enough to make the news like half the things he’s seen so far anyway, right?

========

There are books out there that have a lot to say about the placement of people’s Names. Conflicting information based on what old wives tale the author grew up on, their region of the country.

All of them agree on one thing, though. Names closest to the heart mean you’re bound for a happy match once you find your soulmate, get that happily ever after everyone’s running towards.

Jeremy’s Name is on his back, running along his spine, and the one book he read about Name placements had nothing to say on the matter. Didn’t look further into things because he was afraid of what he’d find.

Awkward placement for him to get a good look at it, but he’d tried when he thought he had a chance to find his soulmate. (When it would have been a good thing.)

Did all sorts of crazy things to get a picture.

Tried taking a picture using the bathroom mirror but he only got parts of it in the frame. Set up a series of mirrors like an idiot and got better pictures out of it he played around in the edit mode to flip it.

Other things like that.

Realized his soulmate has the shittiest handwriting known to man or maybe something was wrong with his eyes because even now he can barely make out what it’s supposed to be.

A signature for sure, the way most of them are.

Starts with a big looping letter and ends in this indecipherable scrawl like whoever they are they either gave up along the way or couldn’t be bothered with the rest.

Sometimes he’ll catch sight of it in a bathroom mirror of whatever shitty motel or apartment he’s staying in, wonder what could have been.

========

Jeremy’s supposed to be watching this hacker.

Keep an eye on him to make sure he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing, or keep him safe, his current boss didn’t specify.

Squirrely little bastard, though.

Scrawny.

Looks like a twig with a wild tuft of hair and this nose that got him picked on as a kid. (If the way the rest of the crew treats him is any indication, that never stopped.

Jeremy might feel bad about how the others treat the guy, if he wasn’t such an asshole.

And anyways, it’s his first job in Los Santos. Some dirty little gang that’s been outsourced to do a job for an ally of theirs.

He’s hired muscle here and so low down in the pecking order he might as well not even have a name.

Just Goon #2 or something.

“What kind of name is Rimmy Tim?” the hacker asks out of the blue, not bothering to look up from his work. “Did your parents draw it out of a hat like a raffle?”

The two of them are alone in the warehouse the gang operates out of. It would be real easy to kill him and pretend he didn’t know how it happened.

Just.

So easy.

The thing that stops Jeremy from doing it is that murder is a bit of an overreaction to the annoying bastard. And, he’s being paid to watch the guy so he’d be shooting himself in the foot. Also, it’s clear he’s not thinking about the words coming out of his mouth.

Some idle thought floating around in his head while he focuses on his work and no brain-to-mouth filter.

“Yeah,” Jeremy drawls. “They used this hat to do it to. Gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday to commemorate the occasion. Even gave me a lasso so I could catch my first horse.”

The hacker keeps tap-tap-tapping away on his laptop for a few moments afterward before he processes what Jeremy said.

Slowly lifts his head to squint at Jeremy like he’s sure he’s being fucked with, but also maybe not?

“Wait, what?”

Jeremy smiles and tips his hat at the asshole as he gets up to grab a beer out of the fridge.

========

As much as Jeremy tries not to think about the Name on his back, the rest of the world makes that impossible.

Television shows and movies. Best-sellers at the store. Songs on the radio. Marketing campaigns every-fucking-where and shoved down people’s throats at every turn.

No wonder so many obsess over their Name when they’re made so aware of it every waking moment.

It’s still kind of weird, though, listening to the guys he works with gossiping about them. Doesn’t matter who he’s working for, where he is, there’s always someone like that.

Stone-cold killers and no remorse to them, and they’ll kick back for a poker game and someone will start up a conversation about the Name on their shoulder.

Curling script and little hearts dotting the ‘i’ and wondering what they have to think about their own rough scribble of a name. (Good penmanship isn’t a requirement for their line of work.)

It’s enough to make Jeremy wonder what it is about Los Santos that people like them think about their soulmates like that. Hope they’ll get the chance to meet them even though they’re on the wrong side of the law and the odds of them getting something good out of it are so damn low.

========

Jeremy’s been in Los Santos for about a year, two, before his name gets put out there as someone people might want to watch out for.

Well, one of his names, anyway.

He still gets strange looks when he introduces himself as Rimmy Tim, but considering Los Santos is the kind of city where everyone’s scared of some idiot in a rubber mask calling himself the Vagabond, he figures he's doing alright for himself.

He’s been hired on by a crew that hasn’t tried to fuck him over since they brought him on to be an extra gun for them. (Yet.)

Decent pay that helps with the rent for the place he shares with a couple of idiots he’s fallen in with in Matt and Trevor, and until recently they were playing it smart.

Did nothing to attract the notice of the bigger crews in town, but that’s changed the last few weeks. His boss with his eyes set on moving up in the pecking order which means coming up against those same crews who could squash them flat with barely a thought.

Trevor keeps harping on him to get the fuck out, fake his death if he has to and have Matt gimmick him up a new identity, the whole works, because.

Fuck, because his boss is taking swipes at the Fake AH Crew.

Just about the worst crew to mess with, what with their reputation for not taking kindly to that kind of thing and all.

The crew Jeremy’s working for keeps bringing in new blood because they’re dropping likes flies with every skirmish they get into with the Fakes.

No mercy to the Fakes when one of theirs gets hurt, just this single-minded anger snapping back around on whoever is stupid enough to go after them.

If Jeremy was smarter, he’d listen to Trevor, he would. But Matt’s got these debts and smart as Trevor is he hasn’t been able to find a way to get him out of them other than paying them off. Jeremy does his part to help, which means being the kind of idiot out there tempting fate working for a certified moron with a death wish.

It’s how you say, not great.

Jeremy’s boss knows he wants out, but he also knows Jeremy doesn’t have a lot of say about it, so he keeps giving Jeremy the worst jobs. Sends him out with the other expendables on what amount to suicide missions and no skin off his nose if they don’t come back.

Which is how Jeremy ends up being partnered with some other disgraced bastard in the crew to put a little pressure on a weapons dealer looking to side with the Fakes. Convince him he’d do well to stick with them, but they pick a bad (good?) time to do with, what with the Fake AH crew members they run into there.

Guy in a leather jacket with a snarling wolf’s head on the back, the goddamned Vagabond, and some pretentious asshole with gold-framed sunglasses and stupid hair.

There’s a moment where they all stare at one another in shock, and then at the scumbag weapons dealer has the temerity to hiccup nervously before the shooting starts.

Jeremy’s not sure who fires the first round, but the moment they do it’s a free-for-all. Bad lighting and not the best anything and it’s confusing as hell.

Bullets flying and enough yelling to almost drown out the gunshots.

He hears one of the Fakes yell something about bringing the car around when things get bad. Sees a figure go pelting out a side door like a bat out of hell. The remaining Fakes doubling down to push Jeremy and his partner back, buy time or just put an end to things.

Jeremy drops behind cover, pops off a few shots and watches his partner – stupid asshole, stubborn as hell and just plain dumb – go down without a sound.

Swears under his breath and returns fire, with the realization he can get the hell out of there or die, and he knows which one he prefers. Cuts and runs like a coward, or just someone with a brain who doesn’t need to run the numbers to know he’s facing shitty odds, whichever.

He finds a door that leads to an alley and runs like hell until he hits a side street. Glimpses an ugly little purple car puttering down the street towards him from the corner of his eye and jumps in front of it to get the driver to stop.

Thanks God the idiot didn’t think to lock their door before he’s ripping it open and forcing them into the passenger seat, means to kick them out entirely but the Fakes find them before he can, spilling into the street.

“Fuck it,” Jeremy says, and “sorry, pal, but you’re probably safer in here than out there,” and then his foot is on the gas and they’re zooming out of the alley to...somewhere.

Jeremy doesn’t fucking know, okay.

He’s shot and bleeding and apparently a kidnapper now?

So.

Yeah.

He drives for God knows how long until he hears this quiet little laugh next to him. Incredulous, disbelieving, and -

“I can’t believe you still have the damn cowboy hat.”

Jeremy almost slams on the brakes because that voice.

British accent and infuriating as hell and what are the odds?

But, the part where he’s running from the Fakes and can’t do that – traffic and all – and just, it would be bad if he slammed on the brakes.

Instead he slows down a bit to keep from plowing into the car in front of them as it slows down to make a turn, and then whips around it the moment he can and keeps on going. Waves his gun in the hacker’s direction to shut him up, intimidate him, who knows, and heads to a safehouse he knows.

Only, the gun doesn’t shut the little idiot up, no.

“You’re bleeding,” Jeremy hears, which is not news to him.

He also hears, “That looks nasty,” which, he imagines it would. Bullet plus squishy human flesh and he’s not great at math, but even he can figure that one out.

Also?

“This is going to be so difficult to explain later.”

That makes no sense at all to Jeremy, but then the hacker’s reaching for his arm and Jeremy sends him a sharp look, because maybe don’t fucking do that when he’s got a gun sort of kind of aimed at him?

Takes a chance by taking his eyes off the road and almost swallows his tongue as he goes to tell him to very fucking politely not because -

“Oh, fuck me,” Jeremy mutters, because.

Stupid hair and gold-framed sunglasses, and Jeremy's kidnapped the Fake AH Crew’s Golden Boy by accident.

Accident.

There are people in Los Santos who’d pay an obscene amount of money for someone to do it on purpose and Jeremy did it by accident.

Awesome.

========

The Golden Boy plays it smart, in his own way.

Doesn’t shut up, no, but realizes Jeremy doesn’t appreciate him trying to stop him from bleeding all over the interior of his car (not so much the bleeding part as the potential risks of what he could do to Jeremy instead, so yeah) and keeps his damn hands to himself.

Babbles as Jeremy navigates backstreets and alleys to get to the shitty little safehouse Trevor scouted out for the three of them a few months back. Paranoid as hell, Trevor, and smart enough to know things would go to hell on them sooner or later.

Either Matt’s debts or the mess Jeremy’s trapped in, who the hell knows.

Trevor’s good about planning ahead, and Jeremy trusts him like no one else he’s met in this shithole city. (He trusts Matt, don’t get him wrong on that. But Matt is the same kind of dumb as Jeremy and it’s just. Better to look to Trevor for shit like this.)

Safe enough to hide out here to patch himself up, figure out what to do from there.

He parks the car a few streets over because you can never be too paranoid in this city. Pushes the Golden Boy ahead of him while they keep to the shadows and the gun ins his jacket pocket as incentive to go along with things for now.

No damn idea what he’s going to do with the little idiot, not that it matters because Jeremy’s fucked any way you look at it.

The Fakes will tear the city apart looking for him, and they know where to start looking. His own crew would sell him out in a heartbeat to save their own skins.

The only good part about this, if it can be called that, is that Trevor will figure out something went wrong when Jeremy doesn’t go back to their crappy little apartment and want to know what happened.

(Hell, now might not be a bad time to listen to him about faking his death before the Fakes find him.)

So until then...yeah.

It’s a mess.

Jeremy’s a mess, suit jacket ruined along with the shirt underneath. Something more than a simple graze that turns his stomach and hands nowhere near steady enough to stitch himself up.

“Fuck,” he says, and again a little stronger as he stares at the his wound, still bleeding sluggishly, ”fuck.”

The Golden Boy shifts. Nervous? Anxious? Who knows.

Says, quiet, careful, “I could help?” like he’s not sure how Jeremy will take it after the whole thing in the car with the glaring and everything that followed.

He shrugs when Jeremy looks up at him, pushes his stupid sunglasses up into his stupid hair. Looks tired without them hiding his eyes. Dark bags and under his eyes and this crooked little smile Jeremy doesn’t remember seeing before.

“I’ve done my share of stitching people up.”

There’s something to the way he says it that makes Jeremy believe it. Him. Whatever.

(The Fakes are known for being vicious about protecting their own, hurt one of them and you’re fucked and he’s never thought much about it before, but. There’s got to be a reason for it beyond not looking weak to their enemies, rivals.)

Jeremy’s out of options, knows he’s probably making a mistake here, but that part about being fucked anyway, so.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, and pushes the first-aide kit towards the Golden Boy.

Watches him like a hawk as he picks through the thing making these little tutting noises as he does because Jeremy may or may not have forgotten to restock it after the last time.

Rolls up his sleeves and Jeremy follows the motion without thought. Eyes going to the line of letters he can see just on the Golden Boy’s his inner forearm. Something familiar about them, but then the Golden Boy notices Jeremy staring.

Clears his throat and pulls his sleeve down to hide the Name inked on his skin. They’re a liability in this business, get people killed, and Jeremy pulls his gaze away guiltily.

“Sorry,” he says, because he’s an asshole and a ruthless criminal as these things go, but even he’s not that far gone. Not the kind of monster who’d take advantage of knowing who the Golden Boy’s soulmate is, use that against him. Not like he can say that and expected to be believed, but still. “It’s...sorry.”

He can feel eyes on him, knows the Golden Boy is watching him, judging him, and then there’s a little sigh.

“No worries, love,” he says, striving for bright and cheerful, just this hint of uncertainty, maybe even fear to it. “Not your fault, now is it?”

(Is it?)

Jeremy remains silent, winces as the Golden Boy sighs again before he picks up a washcloth Jeremy scrounged out of a cabinet to clean away the blood. He works quickly and efficiently, murmurs an apology when Jeremy hisses in pain as he plucks out cloth fibers and whatever else have gotten into the wound before he starts on the stitches.

Neat, even things, and a little laugh afterward when he says it might not scar noticeably.

Not a major concern for Jeremy, but still nice to know.

“Thanks,” he says, as the Golden Boy tapes off the bandage covering the stitches. “Just, uh. Thanks.”

Awkward as hell, thanking the guy you’ve kidnapped (accidentally, and he’s never going to get over that) for patching him up, but hey.

That’s Jeremy’s life in a nutshell.

(Or...something.)

He watches the Golden Boy pack the first-aide kit up nice and neat, reach for a stay bit of trash from the supplies he used, sleeve riding up again and this time Jeremy gets a good look at the Name on his arm.

Realizes why it had seemed so familiar from the glimpse he caught, and reacts without thinking.

Grabs the Golden Boy’s wrist with his good hand, painfully aware of the way the Golden Boy freezes like a deer in the headlights because Jeremy’s still got his gun and the whole being kidnapped thing.

Ignores the pain ins his bad arm as he pushes the Golden Boy’s sleeve up to reveal the Name on his inner forearm.

Jeremy’s name.

Knows his signature after years of using it, every upward sweep and downward loop, and his heart drops because this, this is how he meets his soulmate, of course it is.

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy mutters, releasing the Golden Boy’s wrist, aware of the way he recoils away from him like he’s been burned. Holds his arm close to himself, hiding the Name on his skin from Jeremy, and he feels sick about his reaction.

(How could he? Why would he?)

Probably thinks Jeremy’s like all the other sick fucks in this city who’d pay anything to know whose Name someone has on their skin. Use it against them and do it happily because it gives them power over them, and fucking hell.

“I - “ Jeremy’s voice fails him and he thinks about just whipping his shirt off to show him why, but that’s.

Gonna send a bad message if he can’t explain himself first, and he can feel himself on the verge of laughing like a lunatic because this is not now he saw today going at all.

He looks up to see the Golden Boy watching him. Wary, as Jeremy would expect him to be after watching Jeremy act like the aforementioned lunatic.

“What,” the Golden Boy asks, voice cracking a little. “What was that all about?”

Jeremy stares at him, because he looks scared, sure, but also?

Angry.

Like he’d kill Jeremy rather than let him use his Name as a weapon or a threat against him. Willing to protect the idiot whose name is indelibly inked on his skin with everything he has because that’s what you do for your soulmate if you give even the tiniest of fucks about them. (Even without their unique situation.)

People are so stupid that way, and it’s both the funniest and saddest things about them to Jeremy.

Because.

He’s got a name running along his spine and he may not know a hundred percent what it is, what with the horrible handwriting, but he knows without a doubt it’s this little idiot’s.

Knows it like he knows every other important thing in his life, and this just complicates things even further, doesn’t it?

Rival crews and a carjacking that led to an (accidental) kidnapping. A soulmate that looks like he’s trying to decide the best way to kill him to keep Jeremy from using himself against him, and it’s getting real confusing in Jeremy’s head.

One thing he does know, though. He can’t let his soulmate (Jesus, Trevor will never let him live this down and neither will Matt) think he’s one of those scumbags who’d use his Name against him.

“Rimmy Tim isn’t my real name,” he says, which should be obvious by now because no self-respecting human being would go through life with it as a name and not have it legally changed at some point.

Just, no.

The Golden Boy’s still watching him. Cocks his head at Jeremy’s admission, eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out where Jeremy’s going with this.

“This is...” Jeremy trails off, knows if he just tells him his name is Jeremy it’s not going to come off well, given the current situation, so. “Uh, this is going to seem weird, but bear with me, okay?”

It’s a bit of a risk, what he’s about to do.

Turn his back on someone with every reason to use the opportunity to attack him, kill him, but he can’t think of a better idea. Just. No better idea and sure as hell doesn’t want his soulmate to think he’s in a situation where his Name is something to be used against him, that fear, even if it backfires on Jeremy.

He twists around and pulls his shirt up, hears the Golden Boy’s confused ”What?” and ”Oh, God, what?” and then this sharp inhale followed by silence.

A long, long moment of silence and this shuddery exhale, cool fingers on Jeremy’s back tracing the letters running along his spine.

Quiet laugh, shaky, and, “Bloody hell,” he hears, followed by, “I knew that couldn’t be your real name,” and another laugh that just sounds tired.

Which, yeah.

Jeremy gets that, he does.

He pulls his shirt back down and turns around to find the Golden Boy watching him again, but there’s a thoughtful quality to it this time.

“So,” he says like he still can’t believe it. “You’re my soulmate, are you?”

Hard to get a bead on how he feels about that, what with the being carjacked and kidnapped at gunpoint thing they have going for them. The way things are a little too Romeo and Juliet for Jeremy’s tastes seeing how well that went for all parties involved in that little disaster.

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy says, for whatever it’s worth. “I guess I am.”

========

The mirror in the safehouse’s bathroom is dirty as hell, has this crack running straight down the middle of it like the fault lines under Los Santos.

Good enough to get a decent picture of his back at least, have Jeremy frowning at all the scars he’s picked up since the last time he did this. (Five, six years ago? Maybe longer.)

It’s late now, few hours past midnight and the Golden Boy’s sacked out in the bedroom. Tired after a long day and what seems to have been an even longer week for him. Put up a fight because he wasn’t the one with a bullet wound, but Jeremy had overruled him on the basis of 1.) being carjacked, and 2.) being kidnapped after being carjacked.

Not to mention the reason for the carjacking and subsequent kidnapping and just...everything else on top of that they haven’t addressed properly.

More like stared at one another for a long moment trying to process before the Golden Boy yawned, reminding them both of the late hour, and they decided it would be better to pick things back up in the morning.

Sleep on all of it and figure things out then and Jesus if that’s not reason for Jeremy to grab his stuff and get the fuck out. Run off with his tail between his legs before his soulmate tells him thanks for the terrifying day and all, but he just doesn’t see things working out between them – carjackings and kidnappings do not a good relationship make – but do take care.

But he hasn’t, has he. Is creeping around the safehouse being an idiot instead.

Jeremy sighs as he fiddles with the limited photo editor app on his phone, flips the picture he just took so he can read the Name on his back.

Everyone in Los Santos calls him the Golden Boy, sometimes though they refer to him as the Fake AH Crew’s Golden Boy, sometimes he’s Ramsey’s Golden Boy, but his name’s not a secret.

That first letter on Jeremy’s back is definitely a ‘G’, and knowing what he knows now, he can see the rest.

And now that he knows, he’s afraid to say it out loud because there are -

Just.

A lot of unknowns in their future.

Or, not.

At the very least, he knows who his soulmate is now, won’t have to wonder about it anymore, and that. Well, it has to count for something, doesn’t it?

========

“So now what?”

The Golden Boy – no, Gavin – is watching Jeremy closely. Head cocked to the side and so very careful.

Looking at him, Jeremy realizes he never searched him for weapons when they got the safehouse. Wasn’t in the frame of mind to think of it with the chaos of the shootout, pain from his injury and everything that followed. World-changing realizations and all.

Can spot at least one gun on him. A few knives. Who the hell knows what else because rumors say he worked with the Vagabond for a while before the Fakes snatched him up and he’s picked up a few habits of his along the way.

Good news, no immediate rejection regarding the soulmate situation. Bad news, he’s still not indicating how he feels about the fact Jeremy’s his soulmate.

Playing it safe, smart, given the everything else that’s happened or something else, Jeremy doesn’t know.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks, because what does that even mean?

Gavin gives him this look, and gestures at himself.

Ego aside, he makes for one hell of a prize.

Any of the Fakes would be to be fair, but the Golden Boy?

Jesus, what stroke of luck to catch him.

Hit the Fakes where it would hurt the most because he’s always been considered untouchable, all these attack dogs keeping him from harm and poster boy for the crew, more so than Ramsey ever was.

Silver-tongued negotiator with an impressive string of successes behind him in the allies the Fakes have won over to their side since they clawed their way to the top.

That whole thing where he’s got a price on his head in the city only the craziest bastards would even think about cashing in on. Catch him and sell him to the highest bidder and live a life of luxury. (Until the Fakes found out who’d managed it and went hunting.)

Jeremy stares at him because 1.), no, and 2.)? Also no.

“How about this,” Jeremy says slowly. “You take that piece of shit car of yours and go back to your crew and I go back to mine and we pretend you did not just suggest what I think you did.”

Because, and Jeremy cannot emphasize this enough, no.

Even if he wasn’t Jeremy’s soulmate the answer would be the same. Jeremy’s an asshole, but he’s got limits. Lines he won’t cross and something like that?

No.

If he did have a personal grudge against the Fakes, well.

Honestly, there are only two things that would be part of that, and they’re both idiots. If something happened to them and the Fakes were involved...

Jeremy can’t say what he’d do then, but he likes to think he wouldn’t sink so low as to do something like that. (You never know what you’d do until you’re in that situation though, do you.)

There’s a long, long moment where they stare at one another, Jeremy’s heart beating double-quick time in his chest because Jesus fucking Christ. Also this sudden, violent urge to throw up because the whole soulmate thing on top of everything and how repugnant the matter of selling him out is with that factoring in?

Yeah.

Gavin laughs, tension seeping out of him as he regards Jeremy.

“Well,” he says, “that’s good to know.”

Like he really thought Jeremy could – would – sell him off like that even without the soulmate thing, Jesus.

“Yeah, sure.” Jeremy scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re welcome?”

Gavin hums, and then Jeremy feels a touch to the back of his hand and looks up to see him watching him.

“I never would have thought,” he says, and laughs like he’s still processing the whole soulmate thing. “I never would have thought you’d be the one.”

There’s...Jeremy swallows because there’s this note of wonder in his voice, the way he’s looking at Jeremy.

“Thought for sure I’d annoyed you past all reason.”

Not...not quite.

Annoying as hell, sure, but there was a part of him that appreciated watching a fellow horrible little bastard at work. Amused as hell at the way Gavin got under the skin of the others they were working with just because he could.

Yeah.

He should have known something was up then, but it was just a job at the time. Jeremy scrabbling to get by and just another job to put money in his pocket and all kinds of excuses that fall flat when he looks back on it.

“Nah,” Jeremy says, and smiles. “I mean, I wouldn’t say past all reason.”

He laughs to soften things, and is rewarded with a quiet laugh and then...it’s not awkward between them, just.

There’s.

“I should contact the others,” Gavin says, reluctant about it. “They’re sure to be worried by now.”

As if they wouldn’t have been the moment they realized something was wrong with a crew known to be as close-knit as theirs.

Trevor and Matt have to be worried about him as well by now, and the two of them can’t just hide away here forever no matter how tempting it is.

Should have gone their own ways the night before everything got complicated on them. Kicked Gavin out of the car somewhere his crew would be sure to pick him up before continuing on to the safehouse, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly.

Too late for that now, though.

“I - “ Jeremy sighs, because there’s no putting things off any longer. They’ve done enough of that as it is. “Yeah, okay.”

========

There’s not much for Jeremy to do as Gavin makes his phone call, but he finds reasons to be out of the room. Give him some privacy.

Wanders around straightening up for the next time someone needs to use the safehouse. Make a list of things he needs to get to restock the first-aide kit. Sends Matt a text letting him know he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere and he’ll tell them everything when he gets back home because he’d rather avoid Trevor’s heavy judgment for the time being.

He laughs when he gets a thumb’s up emoji from Matt, and then a few moments later a succinct Fuck you, man, that’s sure to result from Trevor expressing his disappointment in Matt for not pressing Jeremy for details.

Jeremy makes his way back to the living room just in time to catch the end of the conversation the Gavin’s having with whoever he called. All this exasperation to it and dumb little smile and he just.

Watches him for a long moment since Gavin doesn’t seem to know he’s there yet.

No telling what will happen once they leave the safehouse.

Jeremy’s got to be high on the Fakes’ most wanted list by now, and the smart thing for him to do is stay under the radar until that changes, if it will.

So. Yeah.

Gavin finishes his call and looks up to catch Jeremy’s eye, amused smile playing on his lips so so much for going unnoticed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, just,” Jeremy shrugs. The safehouse isn’t big, not a lot of places for him to putter about while Gavin was on the phone.

Thankfully Gavin seems to understand that because he laughs, and Jeremy.

God.

He’s heard the stories, you know?

From his parents, other people who found their soulmates and had things work out. The way you just. It’s not some magical thing where everything’s suddenly easy, everything nice and clear and simple, but.

There’s a difference.

This thing where you look at your soulmate and you know.

Their smile seems brighter than anyone else’s, fills you with this. Love, warmth, whatever the hell that can help flip a shitty day over into one that’s a little more bearable. Small things that make life better in a million little ways, make you feel less alone in the world.

Not easy, and shit still happens, but it’s not. Not overwhelming anymore, like you know you can make it through a bad day and any others that come after it because someone’s there to help you through them.

Jeremy sits down next to him and reaches for his hand, feels stupidly relieved when Gavin reaches back.

========

In the end, Gavin gets in his Blista and drives back to his crew, and Jeremy watches him until he’s out of view.

Out of the two of them, he’s the one with the target painted on his back, and while Jeremy’s not delighted about letting him go alone, it’s the smart thing to do.

Jeremy’s a nobody compared to him, can find his own way home without worrying about running into trouble, and he does.

Gets an earful from Trevor who’s doing a good job of looking his usual put-together self, but Jeremy knows him too well by now to miss the signs of Trevor in full-on Deeply Concerned mode.

“Trevor,” he says, because goddamn they’re all kind of dumb. “Shut up.”

He drags Trevor into a hug despite his half-hearted protests – he is lecturing, Jeremy, and hugs are illegal you fiend. And then he does the same to Matt who’s off the side nibbling on a breadstick and trying to look bored and disinterested like he’s not just as worried.

“Where the hell were you?” Trevor demands, hands on his hips and ridiculous as ever. “We heard about what what happened, and then you didn’t come home and - “

Jeremy winces at the fear he can hear plain as day in Trevor’s voice even with the dramatics he’s throwing in to cover for it. The dark circles under his eyes and bloodshot eyes from a lack of sleep and just. Everything he can see mirrored in Matt.

“It’s a long story,” Jeremy says, which is the wrong thing to say even if it’s the truth because it sets Trevor off all over again with his own side of things.

Because Matt keeps tabs on Jeremy, on Trevor. Might as well have animal tracking collars on them or gone and microchipped them in their sleep. No way to hide from him even if they wanted to. (A lie, because they’d find ways around it, but what would be the point when he does it to look after them in his own Matt Bragg way?)

And when Jeremy dropped off the radar after the shootout with all the “extra touches” at the safehouse to prevent them from being tracked there...yeah.

“I, uh.” Jeremy doesn’t know how to put this gently, so he just goes for it. “I carjacked the Golden Boy and found out he’s my soulmate?”

There.

Perfect.

Good job all around, well done him.

Jeremy turns on his heel and power walks to the kitchen to grab something strong to drink while Trevor’s brain tries to process that and Matt stops choking on his breadstick.

While he’s there he decides to be civilized and grabs glasses for Trevor and Matt because he gets the feeling they’re going to need them.

========

Trevor can’t actually ground Jeremy, because for one, Jeremy’s a fucking adult? And two, he’s not the boss of him. (Something Jeremy thinks in the safety and privacy of his own mind lest he give Trevor ideas.)

But.

The three of them are in agreement it would be safest for Jeremy if he kept a low profile for the time being, which means he is more or less grounded.

Sits around the apartment pestering Matt while he works on whatever Matt does. Offering unhelpful suggestions until even Matt has enough of his bullshit and kicks him out of his nerd lair so he can work in peace.

Thinks about doing the same to Trevor, but Trevor is by far the smartest one out of them and voted most likely to plot intricate, painful revenge Jeremy will never see coming, so he doesn’t pester him.

Watches a lot of daytime dramas and talk shows instead. Some DIY videos from the internet on his laptop which is great, because he finds this one channel of a guy who helps him expand on his homemade explosives repertoire.

Also?

Picks up a few delicious recipes and other things from people not out to topple governments or just make really, really, questionable life choices involving explosives.

And then one day Trevor comes up to him with a package bearing the logo of a small delivery company.

He looks conflicted, like he’s not sure what he’s doing is a good thing.

“This came for you the other day,” he says, and holds it just out of reach. “I had Matt check it over first, just in case.”

Jeremy sets his game controller aside, because Trevor has a shifty look on his face. Is having a hard time looking Jeremy in the eye.

“Trevor?”

Trevor clears his throat, fidgets in a way that is very, very alarming coming from him.

“I realize I may not have come across as happy for you as I should have,” he says, waving a hand at Jeremy and his everything. “About this whole. Soulmate thing of yours, and I apologize. For that.”

Jeremy cocks his head.

While Trevor’s not wrong, he’s not. Jeremy knows him, okay. Knows Trevor’s glad he found his soulmate, but there was the matter of everything else to deal with too because Jeremy’s a damn idiot who can’t do anything the easy way.

“You really don’t need to - “ Jeremy starts to say, and snaps his mouth shut when Trevor levels him with a look. “But, ah. Thank you?”

Trevor harrumphs, scowl slowly lightening to a rueful smile as he holds the package out to Jeremy.

“Anyway, this came for you the other day and Matt says it’s not going to kill you. Or, it might, but if it does it will be from cancer due to long-term exposure to radiofreqeuncy radiation and not explosives or what have you.” Trevor pauses for a breath. “But as we both know, that won’t happen for decades if there really is a link between cell phone usage and cancer, so, uh. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

Jeremy doesn’t know what to say to any of that, so he accepts the package with a simple thanks and scurries off to his room before he catches whatever the hell Trevor has.

(Too late to avoid the insanity, but he already knew that.)

========

There’s a cell phone in the package, but Trevor gave that away with his unsettling warning about the hazards of cell phones or whatever that was.

There’s also a note.

From Gavin.

Awkward and sweet, and Jeremy laughs as he reads if for the third time because he’s an idiot and a sap.

It’s a chance to get to know Gavin better and a burner phone to make that possible.

Side note about this being for the best until Gavin can talk sense into his crew regarding Jeremy and this rambling tangent that has nothing to do with anything, but still makes Jeremy smile.

They’re getting further and further away from the bizarre Romeo and Juliet situation they were in at first, but everything’s still unbelievably stupid and ridiculous in their own way.

Still.

Jeremy sets the note aside and unlocks the phone and brings up the contacts. Stares at the only one saved for a long moment, nerves and whatever else getting the best of him for a moment before he shoves all of that aside and presses the send button before he can think better of it.

========

A month goes by before Trevor deems it safe to let Jeremy out on his own unsupervised, which is just as insulting as it sounds.

To be fair, it’s taken that long for his bullet wound to heal to a point he can take on work again without making things worse, so it works out.

He’s been talking to Gavin every chance he can get, gone from once or twice a week to three to four to every day thy better they got to know one another. Realizing they might be among the lucky ones to find their soulmate and someone they could stand to share the rest of their lives together with.

He’s been itching at the chance to see him in person again, and Gavin feels the same because he texts Jeremy the name of a cafe along with a time and date, and Jeremy -

“Good God man, you can’t wear that abomination on your little lunch date!” Trevor looks personally offended because Jeremy’s dressed in his finest Rimmy Tim ensemble, complete with a new hat to replace the one he lost in the shootout with the Fakes.

All shiny and white because he felt like a change was in order, and also they were out of brown.

Jeremy keeps a straight face by sheer strength of will, something not helped by the thumb’s up Matt’s shooting him over Trevor’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jeremy asks, looking down at himself like he’s looking for a stray piece of lint or wrinkled fabric. A loose button, something along those lines. And, “You don’t like it?”

Trevor makes this...this noise in the back of his throat that somehow conveys frustration, disgust, and barest touch of rage as he throws his hands up.

“You march right back into your room and find something to wear that isn’t both horrendous and garish right now, young man!”

There’s a delicate silence in the moment after his outburst.

And then Jeremy makes the mistake of looking at Matt, and that’s the end of that. The two of them crack up laughing while Trevor heaves this sigh of utmost suffering that comes from having to deal with idiots like them.

========

Jeremy changes into clothes Trevor deems far more reasonable than Jeremy’s Rimmy Tim getup and makes it to the cafe with time to spare.

Follows the hostess out to an outside seating area and can’t help the goofy smile on his face when he spots Gavin waiting for him at one of the tables.

He looks.

Well.

He looks nervous, fussing with this coin he’s rolling over his knuckles in an obvious nervous habit, but he also looks good.

Button-down shirt that makes his eyes stand out. Pressed slacks and dress shoes, hair – still an unruly mess but it’s more artfully messy rather than all-out disastrous. Those ridiculously expensive sunglasses of his hooked into the collar of his shirt and best of all, he looks rested. Like he’s finally managed to get enough sleep, and the smile that crosses his face when he catches sight of Jeremy -

Blinding.

“Jeremy!” he gets to his feet and pulls Jeremy into a hug, and the last of Jeremy’s nervousness vanishes in the face of his clear excitement at seeing him again after so long.

Jeremy closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh of relief as he hugs Gavin, because nerves and this...he doesn’t even know.

Like part of him somehow thought he’d imagined it all from the shootout to the carjacking (Jesus Christ, that’s going to make the story of how they discovered they were soulmates a tricky one to tell people) to the events at the safehouse.

The phone calls that had spilled over from one burner phone to the next until Jeremy had decided the hell with things and started using his own instead. (A risk, sure, of the Fakes finding him to “have a little chat with him” Gavin had warned him about when he told him, but more than worth it.)

Everything.

This ache in his chest at being so close and so far after all these years of wondering. Maybe there is something to the soulmates thing science can’t explain because it feels like Jeremy’s taking his first full breath in far too long.

The world feels a little more real, brighter when he opens his eyes to look at Gavin.

Something.

Gavin laughs again and they untangle themselves, sit down at the table Gavin’s gotten for them and stare at one another like idiots for a moment.

It’s a beautiful day, sunny and bright and the people of Los Santos are making the most of it. Pedestrians out for a walk for the hell of it or out and about on errands or other business talking on their cell phones or enjoying the break in weather from the spate of rain they’ve had the last week.

Dogs barking, birds singing. People laughing.

All of it paints a different picture of the city than Jeremy’s used to seeing and for a moment he can almost pretend it’s any other city.

Almost.

“Uh,” Jeremy says, because pretty as things are right now, Los Santos is certainly not any other city. “Did you know - “

Gavin rolls his eyes, mouth quirking as he leans towards Jeremy. Drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Ignore them,” he says, gleam of amusement in his eye. “It’ll drive them mental.”

Jeremy raises his eyebrows at that because Gavin knows his crew best, of course, but still.

There’s a car idling at the curb just beyond the patio they’re seated at.

Shiny chrome number and the guy with the wolf on the back of his jacket Jeremy remembers seeing from the shootout behind the wheel.

Glaring at Jeremy.

Another car is parked across the street opposite him. Sleek black number with bright green accents. Too far to make out more than an outline of the driver, but Jeremy’s sure he’s wearing a skull mask. (He’s seen that car on the news too often not to know its owner.)

Not even two tables away from them are a pair of people in the absolute worst disguises Jeremy’s seen outside of a spy parody movie.

Dark sunglasses, fake mustaches and beards, and holes cut out of the newspaper one of them is reading along with oversize trench coats on a beautiful early summer afternoon in sunny Los Santos.

“...Okay?” Jeremy says, because okay.

And...he gets it, he does.

The Fakes are a close-knit crew and he and Gavin didn’t kick off this whole...soulmates thing between them in the traditional way.

At all.

To be honest, there’s a part of him that’s relieved they’re being this overprotective of Gavin. Watching out for him in an admittedly creepy way.

It’s just.

Weird as hell, too.

“Jeremy,” Gavin says, and gives him this look like he knows, but better to go along with it than fight it at this point, which.

Again, yeah, okay.

He can handle dealing with Gavin’s crew if it means he gets to have this...chance with Gavin. (Besides,  he hasn’t even met Trevor or Matt, and God knows they’re going to be as terrible in their own ways, idiots that they are.)

They chat for a bit as they look over the menu, knot of worry and doubt in Jeremy’s chest unraveling as Gavin laughs at Jeremy’s stupid jokes. Smiles at the truly awful ones like he can’t help himself even though they both know how terrible they are.

Jeremy doing the same as Gavin tells him about his recent exploits with the Fakes, little adventures he got up to on his own when he managed to slip away from his minders. (Paranoid after the incident where some inconsiderate bloke carjacked Gavin.)

“Are you ready to order?”

Jeremy freezes.

Looks over to see a man dressed like one of the cafe’s waiters standing next to their table. Impressive mustache and tattoos he can see peeking over the collar of his shirt. More on his hands holding a notepad and pencil and this glint in his eye as he ignores Gavin to stare Jeremy down.

He’s seen the Kingpin on the news. Heard all kinds of wild stories about him, the things he did with the Roosters before coming to Los Santos to start his own crew.

Ruthless.

Merciless.

Only man in all of Los Santos who could get the Vagabond to join a crew and all the other rumors out there making him to be this terrifying figure in his own right, and for good reason.

And now he’s in a waiter’s uniform waiting to take their lunch order and Jeremy has no idea how to proceed, because his brain is having difficulty processing the situation.

Jesus.

He feels a sharp pain on his shin and snaps out of his daze or whatever the hell he’s fallen into to look at Gavin.

Gavin, who just kicked him under the table and is now giving him this look. All remember what I told you, and follow my lead and God’s sakes, Jeremy, don’t let them get to you, they can smell fear.

A lot to convey with a single look, but somehow Gavin pulls it off

“Actually,” Gavin says, looking back at his menu. “I was wondering if there’s any shellfish in the shellfish cioppino? I’m allergic, and it would absolutely ruin my day if I had even the smallest bite.”

That’s a blatant lie. They were just talking about Gavin’s love for shellfish after they got onto the topic of the east coast and Jeremy’s hometown of Boston in particular, but alright.

Jeremy stares at Gavin who lifts his eyes from his menu to wink at Jeremy before gifting their waiter with an arch look.

The Kingpin glares at him.

Takes a deep breath and in a voice that says he’s going to have words with Gavin later, and says, ”Yes, sir. Unfortunately there is shellfish in the shellfish cioppino as the name implies. Perhaps something else on the menu appeals to you?”

“Oh,” Gavin says, crestfallen that his first choice might kill him if he was in fact allergic as he’s claiming to be. “That’s a shame. What about the steamed mussels?”

It goes on like that for a while as Gavin asks about every dish on the menu where shellfish is a key ingredient and several where no seafood is involved at all.

The Kingpin goes from being annoyed to resigned and defeated, staring off into the middle distance as he answers Gavin’s questions.

“Well then,” Gavin says, when he’s done torturing one of the most feared men in Los Santos. “I suppose I’ll have the shellfish cioppino.”

There’s no reaction at first, but when the Kingpin realizes Gavin’s done tormenting him he snaps back to himself. Draws himself up to his full height and scowls down at Gavin as he angrily scribbles down his order to keep up the pretense as their waiter.

Gavin beams at him, hands folded neatly in front of him on the table.

The Kingpin snorts, corner of his mouth twitching before he turns his attention on Jeremy.

“And what would you like to order?”

He’s not glaring at Jeremy now, but it’s close enough to count.

“Hmm,” Jeremy says, mimicking the posh accent Gavin had slipped into. “Are there any mushrooms in your smoked mushroom ravioli? I have this allergy to them.”

No doubt he’ll regret it in the long run, but when he hears Gavin laugh figures it’s another one of those things he can deal with just for that.

========

They go for a walk along the beach after lunch, a nice leisurely stroll.

Sure, they’re being watched by members of Gavin’s crew, but Jeremy barely notices it anymore with Gavin laughing next to him.

“Oh, God, did you see his face?” Gavin’s giggling, all lit up with it, and Jeremy’s heart does that little flippy thing it started doing halfway through lunch with Gavin laughing and smiling and happy. “Geoff will make me pay for it, but his face.”

Gavin won’t be the only one paying for what they did, but that’s a future worry.

Right now it’s the two of them enjoying a nice day and being the horrible little bastards they are.

Amazing.

Their shoulders bump every so often, shifting sand under their feet and wandering along aimlessly as people are wont to do like this. Their hands do too, and after a while it gets to be a problem, so Jeremy has no choice but to tangle his fingers with Gavin to put an end to that.

Heart in his throat as he reaches for his hand, and that flippy sensation in his chest when Gavin slides a look at him, crooked grin on his face as he slides his fingers through Jeremy’s.

========

All good things end, or something like that, and Jeremy and Gavin find their way back up to the street next to the beach.

Gavin leads them to a pretty little thing parked next to the curb. Matte black and low-slung. Looks like it could go from zero to sixty in no time flat and Jeremy would love to see that happen one day.

He laughs when he notices Jeremy admiring it, hint of a blush on his cheeks as he gives it a fond pat on the hood.

“It was in the shop at the time,” he says, and shrugs, a story behind it he’s not telling Jeremy just yet. “That’s why I was driving my Blista.”

Jeremy raises an eyebrow because those stories Gavin told him earlier and his far from spotless driving record. Gavin coughs, gaze sliding away.

They lean against Gavin’s car and watch the waves roll in below them, sun starting to sink towards the horizon. They’ve shed their escort in Gavin’s crew, one by one until it’s just the two of them now.

Jeremy passing a test he wasn’t aware of or them getting bored enough to go off to wreak havoc in another part of the city, who the hell knows.

“We should do this again sometime,” Gavin says, light and casual, like he’s not holding on to Jeremy’s hand as though it’s a lifeline. “I had fun.”

Jeremy could do that. He could. Spend hours with Gavin without keeping an eye on the time.

“Me too,” Jeremy says, and squeezes Gavin’s hand. “I’d like that.”

Gavin ducks his head, and Jeremy laughs because.

Yeah.

The whole soulmate thing isn’t a guarantee you’ll fall in love the moment you meet yours, or that you’ll even like them, but goddamn is it nice when you do. (Amazing.)

After a moment Gavin looks up at him, expression on his face like he’s thinking hard on something, and then he breaths out this sigh. Annoyed at himself for something as he straightens.

“Jeremy,” he says, and he sounds determined. Focused. About to take a risk and intent on following through. “I think I’d like to kiss you.”

Jeremy bites back a laugh because it’s so formal of him. Right and proper and all that. Very British sounding.

“Yeah?” he asks, grinning at the annoyed huff from Gavin. “I think I’d like it if you did.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow because he knows Jeremy’s laughing at him, and try as he might he can’t hide his own amusement at their ridiculousness.

“Jeremy,” Gavin says, because this is no joking matter.

Jeremy tries to wipe the grin off his face, he does, but he can’t with the way Gavin’s looking at him and the way his heart is doing that flippy thing again.

Good thing, then, that Gavin does it for him when he leans in for that kiss of his.

========

Jeremy’s life isn’t all kittens and sunshine now, no.

Matt still has those debts of his that Jeremy and Trevor are helping him with because God knows he’s an idiot and things are getting better on that front.

Los Santos is still the same shithole it’s always been.

He’s still at the top of the Fake AH Crew’s most wanted list, albeit for a very different reason now.

But.

Jeremy’s found his soulmate and while the two of them have to deal with a few more hurdles in their path than most people do, they manage just fine for themselves.

“Gavin - “

Gavin laughs, pecks Jeremy on the cheek to shush him as the lights go down in the movie theater around them.

“Ignore them,” he he whispers, like Ryan and Michael aren’t a few rows behind them making sure Jeremy doesn’t kidnap Gavin (intentionally) under cover of darkness. “They’re just being ridiculous.”

“I - “Jeremy sighs, because Gavin’s got a point. “Okay.”

The Fakes like to show up on their dates from time to time, scowl and glare at Jeremy because they’re just “like that” according to Gavin, but they disappear after a while to let them have time to themselves.

More of a running gag by now than actual threat, even if Ryan still wears the mask half the time.

It’s weird as hell and definitely not the way Jeremy imagined what finding his soulmate would be like back when he used to think about it, but it works for them and that’s the only thing that matters.

[artificialqueens]

: Sinning Never Felt So Good (Pearlet) : Chapter 4 : katyasbingowings

A/N - thank you so much for the positive feedback, it does make a gal so happy. Anyway, in terms of smutty stuff, as a lesbian male gay intercourse is not my fortay, so please do forgive me. Also a lil but of Biadore to spice things up…

Warning: Smut

“Miss, is or is not a naked man reaching towards God a tad too homoerotic, I thought the bible didn’t like the gays.” Katya shot her hand up, voicing her thoughts to their Religious History teacher and silent classroom, who all soon burst into mad cackles. Except Matt, of course, who elbowed his companion roughly, growing red as his classmates all turned in their general direction.

“Katya! The nudity is used to represent -”

“If his penis is free - and tiny, if I may add - and a buff man is present they must be some homosexual underlinings. There can’t be a heterosexual explanation for this.”

“Katya. Get out. Now.”

And that’s the short tale of how Matt ended up abandoned and lonely in his first Religious History class, he being only of many wanting to delve into how religion has effected modern life. Matt sighed, defeated, watching from the sidelines as his classmates giggled between each other and doodled faces onto said miniature genitalia, again a wallflower who didn’t seem to fit in. Catholic school was not as religious as he had anticipated.

~-~-~-

The week soon drew to a close, each day following the same pattern: Matt waking up early to have breakfast with Katya, followed by class, Katya getting removed from said class for some inappropriate comment, Matt would socialise with his ‘friend’ during lunch - while Jason used cigarettes to battle his jealousy of the make believe individual, Katya grew closer to Tracy/Trissy/Tammie/nobody was really too sure, the foursome would have dinner together, Jason blatantly flirted with Matt, before everyone would drift to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

No classes were held over the weekend, Saturday being a free day, and Sunday being lords day. So as Friday night arrived the students were all ready for a well-deserved rest, no one had an ounce of energy remaining after the sinful quantities of work that had been forced upon them. Jason had retreated to his dorm, changing into more appropriate attire for lounging around with a large bottle of vodka: his signature torn jeans and an oversized hoodie, much better than the plain sweater vest school uniform. The boy stood by the belief that the concept of a uniform removed his favourite form of creative expression, as he himself was a rabid lover of fashion.

Jason was securing his locks in a loose bun when Matt returned to the room, having just performed a brief evening prayer to close the week in spiritual manner. Matt had of course forgot about the plans he had agreed to, prepared to sleep through the weekend and recharge, quite looking forward the simple arrangements. “Someone finally turned up,” Jason announced, “the rest of them are waiting, I told them to not start without us, but I doubt that’s happening.”

“What - oh!” Matt soon recalled, completely regretting even going along the idea in the first place, quickly trying to talk himself out of the miserable gathering, “I completely forgot, you go, I’m sure nobody will mind me not being there.”

“Oh you’re not getting out of this that easily,” Jason teased, piling an abundance of black cloth into the smaller ones arms, “put these on, I know you won’t have anything other than church shoes and ties and shit, these might be a bit big but they should fit.” Matt stared down at the outfit, which was borderline identical to the other boys, the only difference being the shade of Jean.

“I’m really not sure about this Jason…”

“Oh shut it or I’ll get Courtney to slap you one,” Jason taunted, shooing Matt off to change. During their short week together, Jason had learnt that his roommate was less of an exhibitionist than he was - while Jason stripped off and performed nude burlesque routines without a care, Matt always preferred to change in the more reserved bathroom. This was a brief annoyance to Jason, as it removed the opportunity to check out Matt unapologetically, that being his favourite pastime after all.

When Matt returned Jason quite enjoyed the sight of his clothes hanging against the other’s figure, giving him an unexpected rush of pride, before his eyes focused on the added accessorise to his attire, “is that a bloody nose ring?”

“Don’t even mention it,” Matt warned, “I usually wear my clear one but I just dropped it down the sink cause I’m an absolute mess, this is the only other one I could find.” Matt pierced his septum many years ago, believing it to an attractive and unique addition to his face, though his parents obviously did not agree and it had been hidden ever since, never having the heart to let it heal up - this was one of the first times he showed off his pierced skin since he had it originally.

“It suits you,” Jason told the other, tugging teasingly at the detailed ring of metal, noticing Matt blush and smirking in triumph, “I actually find it rather endearing.” His eyes focused on his roommates lips for brief moment, before catching himself and distancing his body away from Matt’s, just then realising how close the pairing were standing.

“As much as you just want to stare at my septum ring all night, we’re keeping them waiting,” Matt called him out, taking his turn to watch the fellow one grow red. Don’t get him wrong, Matt still didn’t want to leave, but believed the sooner they got there the sooner they’d leave. Jason merely muttered some form of agreement and perched the window open, guiding the more innocent individual in ‘How To Sneak Out 101’. After they had successfully scurried down the fire duct, the two walked in a peaceful silence, every so often purposefully bumping shoulders and grinning at each other playfully.

“Look at you two twinning it up,” Adore announced the pairs arrival, obviously already somewhat intoxicated, getting up to give them both a hug and stain their cheeks with purple lipstick. Matt first noticed Katya, who was flailing as if possessed on the floor, cackling manically and smacking a strangers thigh - Matt took this to be Willam, the curly hair being an indicator, who was also snorting in a wild fashion. He focused next on the second stranger in their midst, a more flamboyant boy drinking rosé out of a wine glass, pinky raised for added effect. Adore soon introduced everyone, confirming Willam’s identity, and revealing the new boy to be Justin.

“What you wanting?” Willam thrust forward the famous litre bottle of vodka - which was no longer a litre full - and a bottle of wine towards the newcomers of the group.

“Vodka.” Jason immediately replied, taking grasp of the bottle and sprinting over to Adore, Matt instantly feeling somewhat dejected.

“I guess I’ll have wine,” Matt answered, planning on only having a single glass; enough to remain socially acceptable, though a quantity he knew wouldn’t make him act a fool.

Justin handed him a glass, which he gracefully accepted. “I brought these from my personal collection, I’m a classy woman like that,” the boy explained, earning a genuine laugh from Matt, taking note to ensure the table wear did not get damaged if Justin thought so highly of his belongings. Liquor soon occupied his glass, which he connected with Justin’s before taking a sip, letting the warm sensation send goosebumps through his entire body.

This would be a good time to point out that Matt hadn’t had a lot to eat that day, missing out on lunch as he didn’t wish not sit alone, and dropping the majority of his dinner after a mortifying fall earlier that night, Jason wouldn’t let him forget that one. So skip to two glasses of wine and a few too many shots later, the boy wasn’t in the best state. He, Justin and Katya had just finished performing a rendition of Single Ladies (Justin insisting on being the Beyoncé of the trio), resulting in a bellowing round of applause from their impressive crowd of three. At one point Jason had placed a dollar down Matt’s trousers, which he was only just fishing out.

“Want your dollar back? Think you need it more than I do,” Matt asked, placing himself next to his roommate, as the rest bantered among themselves.

“You Bitch,” Jason responded, shoving Matt jovially, “keep it, buy yourself something pretty. For once.”

“Says the one who can’t afford jeans that aren’t ripped,” he winked, gesturing at the noticeable holes and tears in both their trousers, the cold biting at the exposed areas on his upper thighs and lower shins. The clothing choice had more skin than material, the polar opposite of Matt’s usual attire.

“It’s for easy access,” Jason’s deadpanned, lowering his hand through a particularly large tear to stroke patterns on Matt’s inner thigh. Matt’s breath haltered, unaware of how to react to the situation, knowing that his judgement was clouded, though also knowing that he didn’t want the tracing of circles cautiously close to his private section to halt. Jason was testing the waters, and after Matt hadn’t taken any steps to stop his wandering hands, he slowly lifted the seam of Matt’s briefs and released it, allowing the material to snap at the other’s skin. This sent a shudder through the boy’s body, one Jason had picked up on, triggering his classic smirk - the very one he suited whenever he got his own way.

Matt, now both conflicted and lustful, looked up at the fair-skinned boy through his lashes, sending a glare that read 'I am remarkably aroused and if you do not stop messing with me right now I’m gonna get a stiffy’, though made no physical effort to stop the happenings. This only boost the other’s confidence and desire to continue his relentless teasing.

“What you gonna do about it,” Jason mouthed, to avoid his distracted peers from overhearing their private affair, before sticking his tongue out pinching roughly down on Matt’s thigh. Matt responded by slowly removing the lingering hand, resulting in a rather sullen Jason, that was not what I meant by do something about it.

“Hey guys, I’m not feeling too good, we’re gonna call it a night,” Matt announced, now that is what he meant by doing something about it. Jason had never jumped up faster, quickly bidding farewell to the foursome of drunks, with the generic sign off of 'party’ from Adore. Matt was already strolling ahead of him by the time he was racing after, both seeping with tension by the time they scaled the fire duct and slipped through the propped open window.

The pair merely stared at each other for a minute moment, unsure of what was about to occur, before both of Jason’s hands were pinned against the wall, Matt’s body flush against his own. “We’re you having fun back there,” he ground his hips against Jason’s, causing an unexpected groan to sound from the back of the boy’s throat, “teasing me,” another roll of the hips made Jason thankful he was being suspended by Matt’s stern grip, “in front of all our friends?” With only final gyration Jason released a broken moan, anticipating the pleasurable pressure on his groin to continue, weeping in protest when it cut short. Matt merely stared down at Jason, he had never seen his roommate’s rebellious persona drop, and was truly appreciating the power shift that led to him witnessing such a vulnerable state.

“I would’ve teased you all damn night if I knew it would get you riled up like this,” Jason replied, voice - despite being gruff - remained quiet and sensual. He attempted to move his body to reinitiate their previous actions, though remained restricted and appeared defeated. Now it was Matt’s turn to smirk, with their previous power play completely reversed he now had control. After gloating in the moment for some time, the boy leant down and captured Jason’s lips with his own, allowing the two of them to work in sync in frantic movements.

Jason, growing bored of the PG-13 make out session, bit down with great pressure on Matt’s lip, resulting in his arms being released out of shock. He took advantage of this moment and threw Matt onto his own bed, straddling the boy before he had time to react. He knew the twosome wouldn’t remember exactly what had occurred by the time the sun rose, so he worked on leaving a prominent reminder in shape of a purple bruise on Matt’s neck. Matt bit back a moan as Jason payed attention to a sweet spot just above his collar bone, the biting and kissing blurring his senses, not considering what remnants would remain. Jason took a second to sit back and appreciate his piece of artwork, before continue to trail frail butterfly kisses up the other’s neck, to his jawline, and eventually reaching Matt’s lips.

A cold hand slipped underneath Jason’s hoodie, he responded by stripping the item off completely, allowing Matt to take in the creamy skin and gentle v-lines, tracing them softly with his finger tips. His own shirt was soon carelessly discarded, Jason admired Matt’s toned abdomen, before working his fingers on the boy’s belt buckle. Matt raised his hips to allow his jeans to easily fall down and be kicked off, leaving himself laid beneath the other in nothing but a pair of briefs, that were fitting particularly tight at this moment in time.

“Someone’s excited,” Jason quipped against Matt’s ear, palming him through the thin piece of material.

“I’m not the only one,” Matt echoed back, dipping into Jason’s boxers and taking hold of his erect member, pumping gently as Jason bit into his bare shoulder to hold back his sounds of pleasure.

Jason, in attempt to regain a dominant position in their encounter, travelled down Matt’s torso, leaving a west trail of kisses to mark his path. “Woah,” Jason breathed, impressed at what he witnessed when removing his partner’s underwear.

“Like what you see?” Matt asked cockily, pardon the pun, watching as Jason’s eyes bulged as his shaft sprung upwards. Instead of responding, he merely took Matt’s tip into his mouth, dancing his tongue skilfully against the sensitive skin. The new sensation overwhelmed Matt, as he gripped at the sheets as he failed at suppressing an earthy moan. Jason - pleased with the reaction he had catalysed - continued his actions, hallowing his cheeks taking the majority of the member in his mouth, until the tip was brushing the back of his throat. “Fuck Jason,” Matt griped, which only motivated the other boy, his name being said aloud filling him with an odd sense of pride and determination. Matt decided to grasp onto Jason’s hair, releasing the locks from the tight bun, and taking a rough hold. He used his grip to push the boy to completely engulf his manhood, resulting in a spluttering Jason, who was determined to manage the deep throat with pride. Jason allowed himself to be ruthlessly taken until a creamy substance shot into the back of his throat, he took point to make eye contact with Matt as he prominently swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as the action took place. Both treasured the moment for a second, regaining their breath, hearts palpitating rapidly.

“Who knew you were such a kinky bitch,” Jason exhaled, cheekily staring up at Matt, who was only just getting over his orgasm.

“Still think you need a little help here though,” Matt jeered, flipping the paring over, Jason honestly astounded by his stamina, as Matt’s head lowered and Jason’s eyes closed in content.

***

Katya had already returned to her room, claiming fatigue, leaving Adore to try and stumble back to the dorm alone - key word: try. She had taken a wrong turn at some point, now wandering the hallways in an intoxicated state, attempting to make her way (and failing). Her heeled boots clinked against the flooring, sound rebounding through the corridors, making her presence extremely known.

“Ma'am, it is way past curfew you need to get to your room,” Adore snapped her head towards the voice, swaying gently in the spot and beaming at her new companion, “Adore?”

“Royyyyy!” The mermaid drew out, giggling childishly at her maths teacher, who has been adorned the tedious task of manning the halls that night, unaware of the tomfoolery he would have to deal with. “I have a question about the assignment,” she supported herself against his body, flinging her arms around the smaller male and leaning her entire weight on him, Roy nearly falling at the new pressure.

“Are you drunk? Oh my gosh Adore you will be kicked out if Courtney sees you like this,” he worried. Yes, he did appreciate Adore’s company, her always making his maths classes more humorous with silly quips and antics, and didn’t want to see the younger girl get into any trouble. “You need to get you back you your room.”

“I can’t find it Roy! I keep getting lost! Maybe you should take me there,” she stumbled over her words, placing a dorm key clumsily in the male’s hand, convincing the individual with large puppy dog eyes.

“I will Adore, but you can’t say anything to anyone, okay? I could get in trouble for not ratting you out.”

“Okay!” Her green hair swayed as she jumped up and down with glee, leaving a large purple mark on his cheek as a sign of gratitude, causing Roy the smile sheepishly out of embarrassment. He rested his hand on the girl’s lower back, carefully guiding her to avoid any accidental falls, allowing her to rest against his frame. They made gentle small talk that entertained Roy, Adore seeming to have even less of a filter when drunk:

“Ganja, that girl who sits next to me, drives me absolutely nuts, you should move her.”

“I want to stick my finger in your dimple.”

“You know I won’t hand the next homework in on time so you shouldn’t even be surprised on Monday.”

“You’re so short it’s adorable. I can put my head on your head, see! Like a totem!”

“How old are you even? Like I know you’re old, I don’t have a problem with it by the way, but how old?”

“I’ll move her, don’t, I won’t be, get off my head, much too old to be entertaining you, anything else?” Roy answered, careful to not come across as annoyed, he most certainly was not, though wanted to quieten the younger individual to avoid her undergoing Courtney’s wrath.

“Can we have a pizza day? With actual edible food?” Adore added without hesitation, huge smile occupying her face, one that made Roy blush unexplainably.

“I wish. Anyway here we are, now Adore I don’t want anything like this to happen again, do you understand?” Roy questioned, unlocking the dorm door and handing her back the key.

“Of course Mr.Roy, see you on Monday!” She exclaimed, pecking him gently on the lips without a thought and swaying into her room, disturbing a sleeping Katya who began to groan. The Russian cursing did not phase Roy, what bothered him is that the intoxicated girl had placed her lips upon his own - an action she probably wouldn’t remember in the morning - and it made his heart race more than it should. He cursed himself, turning around and trying to forget the interaction ever took place, a harder task than he anticipated.