#a bigger question for me is what exactly made the family change their mind about camille

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Hello!

I am a newbie to the FRev so I'd like to thank you for having the most amazingly detailed posts here that are, most importantly, as accurate as possible. Your blog is awesome!

Now to my questions: I read your answer to an ask about Camille and Annette's relationship and was left wondering, why did the family become so hostile towards him to the point of refusing him entry into their home?

Why did Lucille's father not want them to get married? Was it just about Camille's financial success? I saw a link to a letter in the post but my French is horrible so I have no idea what was written.

And, I'm not sure how this was seen at the time, of course times were different, but the way he talks about Annette though he claimed to be platonic, it seems that he found her attractive?? Or maybe he was "buttering" her up (he seemed to be a bit of a womanizer though maybe most men were like that at that time and frequently complimented many women at once)? When he met Lucille she was still quite young (especially compared to his age), so I got the impression (just an impression) that he liked the mother, but she was already taken so he went for the daughter instead? Though this couldve been normal at the time.

That post gave me a whole different perspective on Desmoulins and his love story, thank you so much and I apologise for the lenghty ask and if my questions sound ignorant.

Thank you so much for your compliments. So happy I can be of use to people who are new to this mess. 😊

I agree, the idea that Camille was really in love with Annette and just had to go for the second best is one that is really easy to make when reading his letters and poems to her. I don’t really have anything that goes against it being true other than the fact that Camille, as stated, once refers to his and Annette’s relationship as being just platonic (and how much truth there actually was to that I will leave unsaid…). It doesn’t particulary help that most 18th century people writing letters by today’s standards sound like they want to jump into bed with the receiver, no matter who that person might be… I don’t know if there’s anything in particular (besides words like ”my beloved”) you should look at to help determine if two people are/want to be more than just friends.

As for why Lucile’s parents didn’t want to let Camille have her in 1787, that is actually quite easy to discover through the letter Camille wrote to the father in March the following year, published by Jules Claretie on April 26 1879 within the paper Journal officiel de la République française. The letter Camille’s responding to here has unfortunately gone missing, but as can be seen, Camille still lays out and combats its arguments in a very clear way (apologies if there’s any translation errors in here):

Monsieur, I am not mistaken and I am forced to agree that your letter is worthy of a father and full of wisdom. The first moments of pain that I experienced were followed by the calm of reason, and I take advantage of this calm to allow myself a few observations regarding your letter and putting them before your eyes.

Don't let my probity scare you. The reflections that M. Duplessis made me make on your [sic] uncertain state. My uncertain state is not uncertain. I am a lawyer in the parliament of Paris and what makes your state certain in this profession is not to be on the board, but talent and work. I am certain morally of being in charge of all the appeals of the sentences of Guise, which alone will compose for me an honest cabinet and an income of 7 or 8,000 livres at least; I cannot believe that there exists anyone who, after having read the memoir that is printed about me at this moment, tells you that my condition is uncertain. The letters I have from MM. Lorget and Linguet would prove to you, if you read them, that my condition is not uncertain. Already I have a flow of business which can only grow and I will have won a hundred louis this year, supposing that I lose the lawsuit which is about to be judged and whose gain would be worth more than two thousand écus to me.

On future events which may call me back to the provinces. I took a vow to stability in the bar of the capital, this vow is expressed clearly in the epistle and the printed memorandum which I gave to you. There exists only one thing that could make me detach from Paris and make a stay in the provinces bearable, it would be if I met Mlle Duplessis there, to what oaths must I bind myself in order to take away this fear that I will leave Paris? I see very well that you do not know how much I love your daughter, since you suppose that I would be able to sadden her by taking her away from a father to whom she is so tenderly dear.

On the impossibility for me to have a house where your daughter, like at your place, could find the softnesses and charms of life. There is something touching about this paternal fear that would have made me reproach myself for my premature research. But did you believe that Mlle Duplessis is less dear to me than to you and that I wanted a happiness that would have cost her the sacrifice of the comforts of life? As for me, the sweetness and pleasures of life would have been to live with her and with you, and these pleasures would have made all the others insipid to me. There are two things here that I cannot believe, first off the fact that this fear so natural to a father that his daughter would be less happy did not alarm you from the first moment you found out about my goal; second off, that your answer here would have been the one I had the pleasure of seeing. If you had thought that Mademoiselle Duplessis' change of lodging would deprive her of the pleasures of life, it would not have been with me that she could find those pleasures. I had not concealed my lack of fortune, nor sought to surprise your avowal by magnifying my hopes, in order to have the satisfaction of showing you that I had brought into this affair all the frankness and delicacy which befits my profession; I almost decried my father's fortune and succeeded so well that you then said to me: ”With the help of your fortune, I could wait until some brilliant affair had rescued me from obscurity.” You said this to me in much stronger terms, for your expressions were that, no longer being forced to run after an écu, I could devote myself without distraction to studies which would later make me known later as a jurisconsult, if the embarrassment of my stammer was an insurmountable obstacle which prevented me from succeeding in my pleading. It is clear that you did not flatter yourself then that I could put together a home for Mlle Duplessis. However, this beloved child was still not less dear to you at the moment and you surely didn’t think that she would lose the comforts of life, but you understood that there was a way to arrange it so that she would not have to make any sacrifice until the time which is not far off, when my condition would bring me 10 to 12 thousand livres. Did Mlle. Duplessis need a house other than yours for a few years? I would even have liked her to continue to live together with you, and for the change in her adress, while at the same time making me the happiest of all men, only to have added to the sweetnesses of life without it costing her any deprivation. Although the dowry I propose to give her is of a certain consistency, you may remember that when you mentioned this section, I kept silent. Surely, to wait until my estate was enough I did not need to find a dowry. At the present moment, I am able to count only on 3 or 4 thousand livres that I would get this year from my work or from my father. But wouldn’t these 4 thousand livres, joined to the 3 or 4 that you would give to mademoiselle your daughter, be enough for a house worthy of her? Of you I wouldn’t ask for anything more. She would have brought a thousand amiable qualities into the household; as for me, I would have put my estate there and I dare say some talents. It would have been a marriage without a dowry like that of the laborers, but those of that time are well worth those of ours. I never made mine a business, the only dowry I would have asked for was that one loves me, not as much as I do (in return), that is impossible, but I am sure that mademoiselle your daughter would have been touched to see me solely occupied with the care of paying her the debt of happiness that I would have contracted.

You urged me to overcome my affection. If it were only an affection, it could be overcome, but the wound is deeper. Remember, monsieur, in what dejection I appeared before you, my state had become so violent that whatever you might have said to me, it was impossible for my pain to wring my heart more on leaving your house compared to what fear had caused it upon entering. That is why, even though it cost me, I begged you to tear off the blindfold and uproot my hope. But how much you have decreased it instead. I only asked for a distant hope and you gave me a near hope. Fortune, you told me, would not determine your choice and you did not make happiness consist of fortune. I exercised an honorable profession that it was not even necessary to fulfill with a certain brilliance in order to appear to you worthy of belonging to you; it was enough for you that your daughter was loved tenderly and constantly and that second to her your son-in-law loved only work. Who would have believed in my place that this son-in-law was really me. You did more: you invited me to spend holidays and Sundays at your countryhouse and you allowed me, you even warned me to let my father know about this interview. At this moment my father has probably written to you and part of my joy was to think about he who does not care about the dowry (that of my mother, who is still whole despite our misfortunes because it has always been sacred in his eyes, was more important) but who loves me with tenderness and is no doubt delighted that I have finally obtained this demoiselle Duplessis of whom I have been speaking to him incessantly for five years and whom he wanted me to show him when he spent a few days in Paris two years ago. In my letter from March 22, it was no longer vain conjectures and equivocal walks in the Luxembourg that I entertained, it was speeches that a father of a family had given me, hadn't I had to base myself entirely on his answer?

It would be deceiving my honesty to make any promises to me at this time, considering the young age of your daughter. If you only wish to postpone the term of my happiness, I have already waited five years, and I can still wait another two and even more, but since I above all make happiness consist in this thought that we love each other for life, I only beg you to tell me if after two years and when my heart has perhaps been consumed by these attachments, I will not have to renounce the sweet habit of loving her. My age was no more advanced four days ago when you gave me such imminent hopes. Also this reason that you bring is not the real one and you yourself do not disguise it from me. An even more essential point to observe to you, is that it for me would be putting up a barrier against the parties which within two years could present themselves and to make you give yourself up to opportunities which fulfill your views. As for what concerns me in this article, what occasion, what views can you tell me about? What purpose can I have but to be happy, and I can only be so, monsieur, with you. Where can I find another family that I love so much? I have gone too far with mademoiselle Duplessis to ever retrace my steps, and if you come to take away from me the hope that you have made me conceive, you will have unwittingly caused the misfortune of my life. I come to the great reason, that it would be to put up a barrier against the parties which could present themselves within two years. If, when you did me the honor of granting me an interview, you had said that to me, everything would have been very clear and I would have had nothing to respond to. But, since then, you declared to me that fortune would not decide your choice for mademoiselle your daughter, and that you would seek for her only a husband who would love her with tenderness; so you mean that in two years from now there may come people who like her better than me. If so, let it be. All of them will undoubtedly love her positively, but to love her more desperately than me will be difficult. And I will always have been five years ahead.

You told me enough that you had not changed your mind in regards to me, and that, if I succeeded in destroying the motives that you were good enough to explain to me in detail, you would return to your first feelings. It seems to me that I have replied in a satisfactory manner to the objections of M. Duplessis; I therefore conjure you to come back to your first favorable dispositions and return for me the heart of a father. I would very much like you and Madame Duplessis to grant me an interview. I would remove all of your doubts, and I would come down to details that cannot enter into a letter: do not push me away from your bosom but allow me to give you both names to which my heart would refuse if I had to give them to others. It is with these feelings that I have the honor to be, monsieur, your very humble and very obedient servant. DESMOULINS  Lawyer in parliament.

According to Hervé Leuwers’ Desmoulins biography, Claretie did for some reason leave out the following part when transcribing the letter: ”D’allieurs, ai-je donc demandé Mlle Duplessis pour le moment? J’ai demandé seulement si je pourrais obtenir un jour sa main, quand mon état serait pleinement fait.” which suggests Camille wasn’t actually asking if he could marry Lucile right away, just if he could call dibs on her for the future.

As for why the family fell out with Camille a year after the letter was penned down, to the extent that they asked him to stop visiting them, that is hard to know for sure considering we don’t have their letters on their issue (and those of Camille are both vague and bias in his favor). My best guess is that he simply wouldn’t shut up about the engagement and they kicked him out for that reason.

[bvckleyydiaz]

daddy, daddy - aaron hotchner

title: daddy, daddy

summary: a conversation with derek leads to an unexpected development in your relationship with your boss.

pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!f!reader

word count: 3755

warning(s): smut, 18+ mdni, dom!hotch, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), pet names (good girl, sweet girl, baby, slut), mild degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, derek being a meanie to reader (unintentional), little bit of size kink, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: it is finally finished!! i can’t wait for you guys to read it.

You should not be doing this. This goes so far beyond what’s appropriate for an employee and their supervisor, especially when both of you work for the federal government—

There is a knock on the door to his hotel room before you can fully comprehend what you’re doing.

Fuck. No going back now.

You get to seven in your head when Aaron opens the door, hair still damp from his shower and dressed in a T-shirt and pajama pants. “Y/N?” His eyebrows furrow at your presence. “Is everything alright?”

Pursing your lips, you ask him. “Can I come in?”

He nods and steps aside to let you in. You know that you should not be here right now, but you need to know if Derek is right. You need to know if you really have no chance with Aaron because of your size.

“You look like there’s something on your mind.” Aaron’s voice pulls you back to reality.

You turn to look at him, and all the confidence you had coming into his hotel room at two in the morning evaporates in an instant. “I honestly don’t know why I came here,” you admit. “I mean, I do. But… I’m not drunk enough to have this conversation with you.”

He lets out the tiniest of laughs and tilts his head to the side. “So, you decide to randomly knock on your boss’s hotel room at two in the morning without any reason?”

You know that he is only teasing you, but the situation leading up to you coming to his hotel room and him asking that question just makes you feel silly. Your lack of response changes something in his expression, and suddenly, Hotch is standing in front of you instead of Aaron. "Is there something I should know?”

You shake your head. “No. I just… I know that he was just talking out of his ass and that I shouldn’t be taking what he said personally, but it’s hard not to. What he said hurt me. And there is a part of me that believes him.”

“Hey,” he says, and you feel his fingers graze your arm. Looking up at him, you see him smiling something gentle and reassuring. It’s exactly what you need. “If someone says something to you and it hurts you, it’s perfectly natural for you to be upset. I would want you to be upset.” He squeezes your arm. “Tell me what happened to make you so upset but only if you’re comfortable.”

You let out a long, defeated sigh through your nose. “Derek and I were talking the other day, just joking around. We had gotten onto the topic of who we think would be our ideal type, and I told him who I thought mine would be. Or, who I wanted it to be. He laughed and said, ‘I don’t think I could ever see you with him because he doesn’t date girls like you.’” You try to hold back the tears because you made a promise to yourself that you would never let any of your team see you cry, especially Hotch. “I normally am not self-conscious about my body. Not anymore, anyway. I know that I am bigger than a lot of my family, my friends and the people that I work with, but that conversation with Derek made me feel like I’m unworthy of being with someone that I think could be it for me because of something as trivial as my weight.”

At first, Aaron says nothing, but you can see an undercurrent of anger simmering in his eyes. Anger for you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/N. You don’t deserve that.” He sighs. “I’m going to talk to Derek once we get back from this case, and I will tell him that he was out of line for what he said to you.”

You shake your head in protest. “Hotch—”

“No, Y/N.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Derek is in the wrong here, and he needs to be made aware of it. He said something insensitive, and it made you upset. You are right to feel this way, and your feelings should not be undermined or swept away to protect his. He is a grown man, and he can handle the consequences of his actions.”

There is no fighting him on this, and you know it. So, you nod.

“Just out of curiosity,” he starts after a moment of silence has lapsed between the two of you. “What did you say when Derek asked you who your ideal type is?”

“I told him it was you,” you admit.

He blinks as if he’s surprised by your answer. “Me?” He was surprised. You nod like it’s obvious—which, to you, it is. “I was your ideal type?”

“You are my ideal type,” you correct.

He still looks confused. “Why?”

It’s your turn to be confused. “Do you not know how sexy you are, Aaron?”

Your question seems to surprise him more than your admittance to him being your ideal type. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re fucking hot!” You cry. “There have been several instances where I have heard people around our office—men and women—talk about how good you would be in bed.” You pause. “Most of those people think you have a kinky side, by the way. ‘Gentleman in the streets, freak in the sheets,’ you know?”

His look of confusion slowly morphs into a Cheshire grin. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Do you think I have a kinky side?”

Oh.

Oh.

You know an opening when you see one, so you decide to take it.

You shrug your shoulders innocently. “I’m not sure. I think I’d have to see for myself.”

Keeping his gaze on you, he takes a step toward you. “If you ever want this to stop,” he whispers to you when he gets mere inches away from you, “just say the word, and I will stop. We will forget this ever happened, and we will go back to the way we are right now. Nothing will change between us.”

You reach out and place your hands on his chest, caressing the skin there with your thumb. “Don’t stop,” you tell him as you look up at him with your eyelashes.

A groan rumbles in his throat. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, your back is against the closest wall of Aaron’s hotel room, and his mouth is devouring yours. You often thought about what your first kiss with Aaron might be like; this is not what you thought it would be. This kiss is all tongue and teeth, getting the upper hand. There is nothing gentle about this kiss, but the desire that exudes off him sparks your skin like a match. Your fingers tangle themselves in his dark hair, and Aaron uses his to grab the plush of your waist and pulls you impossibly closer.

He licks at the seam of your lips, and with a whimper, you let him in. The taste of him overtakes you almost immediately; you feel yourself submitting to him with each lick into your mouth.

Aaron pulls away from your mouth just enough to whisper, “Oh, someone’s eager. Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You nod. “Yes, Aaron, please.” You feel heat start to simmer in the pit of your stomach.

He shakes his head, that Cheshire grin coming back full force. “A good girl doesn’t call me by the wrong name. Be a good girl, and say my name, Y/N.”

Huh. He does have a kinky side. You wet your lips and practically vibrate with anticipation. “Daddy, please.”

His pupils blow wide with lust at the name, so you know you’ve done something right. “Daddy, please what? Good girls ask Daddy for the things they want.”

Another whimper escapes when you feel the tips of Aaron’s fingers glide across your lower back. “Daddy, please touch me.”

He puckers his lips in a feigned sense of confusion. “I am touching you, sweet girl.”

You whine and grip the strands of hair between your fingers. “Please touch my pussy, Daddy.”

The sound of his condescending chuckle makes your pussy throb with need. “Aw, my poor little baby. Is your pussy all wet and aching? Do you need Daddy to help you fix that?”

You nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

He then tucks his arms under your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you let out a surprised squeak. None of your previous partners had ever been able to lift you so easily, if at all, and the fact that Aaron does it with such ease makes the coil forming in the pit of your stomach wind a little tighter. Aaron is big, there is no denying that. He easily hits the six-foot mark, and there have been cases where you see him manhandle suspects as if he was tossing around a sack of potatoes. You’ve witnessed Aaron’s strength before; you never thought he would use it on you.

He drops you down onto the bed and covers your body with his own. You feel his weight press into you, but it’s not suffocating. It feels like a blanket. He mouths at your throat, kissing, biting, and licking every inch of skin he can reach. You arch back and grind your sopping cunt into his clothed dick. It feels hot underneath the fabric of Aaron’s jeans. His big hands grip your hips and pin them to the mattress.

“If you keep doing that,” Aaron growls into your ear, “this will be over before it even starts, little girl.”

You blink and let your mind process what just came out of Aaron’s mouth. “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.” He pushes himself into a kneeling position above you and tucks his fingers under the hem of your T-shirt. “Now, let Daddy see those pretty tits, hm?” He slips your shirt up and over your head, letting out a lustful groan at the sight of your bare breasts. “Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty for me.” He takes a breast into each hand, and you moan at the feeling of his fingers brushing your nipples. “You like Daddy touching your nipples like this, huh? Does it feel good?”

You bite at your bottom and nods. “Yes, Daddy, I love it. It feels so good…”

He smiles into the tops of your breasts as he places kisses there. “Look at my girl being so good to me. Answering my questions when I ask them, calling me by my name, and being so responsive when I touch her…” He takes your nipples in between his forefingers and thumbs, twisting them gently. “You like being Daddy’s good girl, don’t you, Y/N?”

You keen at his praise and him tweaking your sensitive nipples. “I like being Daddy’s good girl.”

He twists your nipples just a bit harder this time. “Do you like it, or do you love it?”

You throw your head back against the pillow and moan at the mix of pain and pleasure. “I love it, Daddy! I love being your good girl.”

He chuckies fondly at the sight of you. “Atta girl. Mm, such a good little slut I have here. I think she deserves a reward. Do you think you deserve a reward, baby?”

You nod. “Please, Daddy. I’ve been a good girl for you. I need it, Daddy. Please, please,” you beg.

“Okay, baby. Daddy will make you feel real good.” He slides his hands down your stomach and stops at the waist of your sleep shorts. “You’re still okay with this, right? You still want this?”

You nod. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Please.”

He kisses you softly. “Okay, baby. Just checking in.” The fondness in his smile makes your heart beat a little harder.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and your panties, he pulls them down to your knees, to your ankles, then to the floor. He plants kisses up your calves and thighs as he makes his way back up your body. “Shit,” he groans when he settles himself between your thighs. “You have such a pretty pussy, baby. Look at it, all wet and needy for Daddy. This is all for me, my good girl?”

The heat that was simmering in your belly earlier is now blistering. “Yes, Daddy, fuck! It’s all for you. My pussy is all for you,” you whimper, feeling so submissive and so fucking good.

“Such a generous little girl I have, telling me that this beautiful fucking pussy is all for me to use just as I want,” Aaron praises. He pushes your thighs up so that your knees rest against your chest, leaving you wide open for him. You have never felt so naked yet so protected. “Poor baby. Your little cunt is quivering with need. I think it’s time to put her out of her misery.” With that, he flattens his tongue and licks from your hole to your clit.

That is almost enough to make you cum. You throw your head back with a keening whine and grip onto Aaron’s hair again, to give you something to ground you in reality. “Fuck… Daddy…”

Aaron peeks up at you over your stomach, and even with his face buried in your cunt, the bastard still has the audacity to smug. He doesn’t say anything in response to your moans, but he does wrap his lips around your clit and give it a sharp suck.

“Fuck, yes! Just like that, Daddy… Feels so good…” You pant, trying to catch your breath, but Aaron has something different planned for you. He gives your clit one more lick before he pulls away from you entirely and pushes himself into a kneeling position. You whine at the loss of his mouth on you, but it does not last long.

“Daddy is a little overdressed, don’t you think, baby?” Aaron asks as he slides off the bed.

“Extremely overdressed,” you tease him and throw him a wink. Letting out a soft chuckle, he sheds his T-shirt and reveals his toned chest and stomach. “Hello, Agent Hotchner.” You reach out your hand to brush against the muscular wall of skin when he makes his way back onto the bed. His knees encase both of yours, and he brings his hand up to your mouth. The playfulness of a few seconds ago is gone, and Aaron has slipped back into Daddy.

“Open,” he says, and you do as he asks. Your mouth falls open, tongue unfurling, and he places two of his fingers onto the wet appendage. “Suck.”

You close your mouth around his fingers and slowly start to bob your head. Aaron watches with rapt attention as you suck on his fingers. You slide the tip of your tongue along the underside of his fingers, and you swirl it around them, treating his fingers as if they were his cock.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” he groans as his eyes practically roll back into his head. “If you take my fingers this well, I can’t imagine how well you’ll take my cock.”

You moan around his fingers as you coat them with your spit.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” Aaron praises and fucks his fingers back into your mouth, gagging a little when he reaches the back of your throat. “Such a good little slut for your Daddy, aren’t you?”

You try to respond with a “yes, Daddy,” but it comes out all garbled because of his fingers.

Aaron laughs at your attempt to communicate with your mouth full, an undercurrent of condescension in his voice. “Look at that. My good girl is still trying to follow Daddy’s rules even when her mouth is stuffed to the brim with my fingers. You are just a mindless little slut for me.”

You nod against his fingers, and Aaron finally pulls them out, a trail of spit connecting them into your mouth. You let a cough once the intrusions are gone form your mouth and try to gulp down as much air as you can. “Aaron, if you do not fuck me into oblivion within the next five minutes, I swear to God—” A gasp cuts you off as Aaron pushes the two fingers that he fucked your mouth with into your leaking cunt, stopping only when he reaches the knuckle. “Oh, fuck!”

“Where’s that attitude now, huh?” Aaron asks, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. “You wanted to be a fucking brat, but now that you have something filling up that needy pussy? Not a word out of you. Couldn’t even wait a couple of seconds for me to get my fingers to your pussy before you started acting up.” He tsks and shakes his head. “Thought I taught my good girl better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy…” The burn from the stretch of Aaron’s fingers is a welcomed mixture of pain and pleasure. “Fuck, Daddy, I’m sorry! I just—”

“You just what?” He growls and pumps his fingers faster inside of you. “You just wanted to be a fucking brat because you didn’t have anything to fill your slutty little hole? Because you were feeling empty without Daddy’s fingers?”

You shake your head and squirm on his fingers. “Just wan-wanted to feel you…”

He scissors you open with his fingers, making the burn from the stretch more prominent. “I know that you want Daddy’s cock, but you have to be prepped first. Otherwise, it’ll hurt, and Daddy doesn’t want to hurt you.” He slips a third finger inside of you.

You whine at the addition, but it doesn’t hurt. It just makes you want his cock more, to be full. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you feel one fall down your cheek.

Aaron’s thumb wipes away the tear. “Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Do you want a break? Or want me to stop?”

You shake your head and release a long, steadying breath through your mouth. “No, Aaron, please don’t stop. Want you so bad. Please fuck me…”

He caresses your cheek with the hand that does not have fingers inside of you and kisses you slowly, softly. “You’re doing so well, baby. Are you ready?”

You nod. “Please, Aaron.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hooks them into the waistband of his pajama pants and his boxers, pulling them down enough for his dick to spring free and slap against his stomach. His cock is long and girthy, the head of it flushed almost red with pent-up desire. You knew that Aaron would be big, but you didn’t expect this. He had to be a good eight inches, maybe even nine.

You blink once you have fully drunk in the size of him. “Holy shit.”

He laughs the tiniest bit. “This is why I wanted to prep you first, sweet girl.”

You push yourself up to kiss him. “Please, Daddy. I want you inside me.”

Biting at his lip and holding back a groan, he grabs his length and strokes it. He spreads your juices up and down his cock; he then brings your legs up to his hips and locks them around his waist. He positions the head at your entrance and looks down at you, his eyes asking you for permission.

You nod, and he pushes the tip into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“God, baby, you’re so wet for me. I feel you sucking me in.” Aaron leans down and starts peppering your throat with open-mouthed kisses. He gives you a few moments to get used to him before you whine.

“Move, Daddy, please! Fuck me…”

He nods into the crook of your neck. “Okay, my good girl. Daddy will fuck you.”

He shifts his hips and gently pushes the rest of him inside of you until he reaches the hilt. Both of you gasp at the feeling of him being fully seated inside your cunt. You’ve never felt so full before, and it is hard to put into words how sated you feel with Aaron’s cock in you and his arms around you.

“Daddy,” you sigh. “Feel so full… Filled me up so good.”

“Fuck, my sweet girl, you feel so good around Daddy’s cock… So tight and wet for me… I won’t last long, baby.”

You moan at that. “Please, Daddy, give me your cum. Want to feel it inside me. Fill me up so I’m leaking!”

He responds with his own moan of pleasure, and he starts fucking his hips into yours. A soft “ah-ah-ah” leaves your lips each time his pelvis brushes against your clit.

“Jesus, fuck!” Aaron groans into your neck. “Can’t hold back much longer…”

“Then, don’t.” You arch your back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Daddy, fuck me until you cum.”

After you say that, Aaron’s thrusts become harder and faster, and they perfectly hit that spongy spot deep in your pussy. You cry out and reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. “Shit! Ah, Daddy, you’re fucking me so good! I wanna cum, Daddy! Please let me cum!”

“Rub your clit for Daddy, baby. Yeah, that’s it. Make yourself cum on his cock…” Aaron’s words come out in pants as he gets closer and closer to his high. “Fuck, baby, I’m close! I’m going to fill this pussy up with my cum. Is that what my good girl wants?”

You nod your head frantically. “Yes, Daddy, please fill my pussy up with your cum! I’m so close, fuck! Cum with me, Daddy!”

One more brush of his pelvis against your clit is what sends you careening over the edge, moaning Aaron’s name as you cum. Aaron quickly follows suit after a few more pumps of his cock, and he makes good on his promise as you feel the hot ropes of his cum fill your hole.

“Fuck,” you pant as you try to catch your breath. “Aaron, that was amazing.”

Gently pulling himself out of you, your lover pushes himself off you and flops down next to you, hugging you into his side. “You did so well, Y/N. Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

You shake your head. “No, honey, you were perfect.” You drop a kiss to his sweaty shoulder. “Can we lay in bed for a few minutes? I can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckles and places a kiss on the crown of your head. “Sounds good. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

[zalisok]

TUA Rant #2: Pacing

Spoilers ahead:

I also want to talk about the pacing of the show: it was odd.

The first episode was already a bit odd for me: they took quite a long time to introduce the characters, but it didn't seem like enough. A bit contradictory, but still. 5 years passed snice the last season and some changes seemed pretty sudden. I want to know more about Diego and Lila's budding tension, Viktor being bad at dating, Klaus becoming a germaphobe (which lasted for, like, 2 episodes. I get that it's linked to his powers but it was still a bit disorientating), Luther becoming a stripper professional dancer. But with 6 episodes I think they did try to do the best they could, and I'm not going to give them any more shit about it, I do understand that it's hard.

There were scenes that didn't need to be there. The scene where they were puking in the van. It went on for a long time (in my mind it was, but it was probably a minute or two). And the Five and Lila scenes oh my god that plot point took up so much time and went absolutely nowhere except hinder the main plot. Like what was the point.

Klaus' (and Allison's) sideplot went absolutely nowhere. It was interesting to watch and I was invested, but it didn't help push the main plot like Klaus' sideplots usually do. It was just there.

Diego and Luther's sideplot did link back to the main plot, but only for a bit. At least their dynamic was fun to watch (Maybe I'll do a post for all the characters a bit later).

I was cool with the first four episodes. I was genuinely interested in a plot and there was a feeling of suspense, a mystery to be solved. I thought the plot points above would link back to the apocalypse somehow. But they mostly didn't, and that was a bit of a letdown. There were so many parts that were just irrelevant, and when you have limited runtime, that's not ideal.

And in turn I feel like a lot of plot points that needed to be expanded upon just WEREN'T. And a lot of it had so much potential and were genuinely interesting to me.

For Jennifer: why was she in a squid? Why did she have durango in her body instead of Marigold? What happened to her family? I want to know more about what the Cleanse actually is. Why does it appear the way it does? Why does it get bigger and bigger? Why did the reaction of two particles create a Lovecraftian horror-esque creature? Why is it named "The Cleanse"??

For Abigail and Reginald: what exactly happened when she synthesized the particles? Why did she synthesize the particles? i want to know more about her and Reginald. Is she an alien as well? Why can she change skins? And why is Reginald an alien? How did he manage to get a whole village under his control? What was his school for wayward boys? And why did that memory machine ever exist, what kind of technology is he cooking in his basement?

For the Umbrellas: Why did their powers return the way that they did? Some of them changed a bit, some of them didn't, some of them got extra powers. Was there any explanation for that? I feel like I have a lot of questions that weren't answered.

And the subway! The idea of it is so cool and it has so much potential. I wish it was explained more.

The ending was really hasty to me. The death scene was way too sudden. The Five deli scene was out of place (to me), though it was interesting to watch. It was like BOOM i guess we all have to die now. It didn't land well.

I do feel like the pacing would have been done better if there were 10 episodes. Some aspects of the show would have been made better. I also think some of the show's plot was sacrificed for comedic scenes. I always enjoy a fun scene but personally, I don't think that should have been the main point of the season. If they didn't have the time to really expand upon the new plot points to make a complete narrative they shouldn't have added so much in.

[countrymusiclover]

18 - The Lehnsherr Family

Part 19

Battle of Heart and Mind

Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway

Five years ago

Shutting the car door Erik went behind me opening the backseat door getting our two kids out. I was wearing a red jacket over a black jacket, some dark blue jeans and some black combat boots. We hadn’t heard anything from Logan from the future in a few years so we had to assume that everything had been changed. “Daddy! Piggy back.”

“I won’t be able to do this if you keep getting bigger, Astraea.” Erik told our daughter who had my bright blonde hair and the same eye color. He scooped her up and carried her on his shoulders.

Shaking my head I felt a hand touch mine meaning it was little Ryder. He looked exactly like a mini version of his father no doubt about it. “Why are we going to see Uncle Charles, mommy?”

“Because you’re father and I have some business to take care of and Charles said he didn’t mind getting a visit from his favorite Lehnsherr twins.” I answered his question by pushing the front door open with our family walking through the entrance.

Charles and I had pushed to get the school back up and running again. Since we had changed the future it felt right to try it for a second time. Some kids ran past us before I paused in the doorway eyeing the professor sitting behind his desk still in his wheelchair. “Uncle Charles!” Our daughter cheered climbing down from her father’s shoulder rushing past us and towards him directly.

“There's my favorite twins. Ohh!” Charles sat the book down in his lap.

Ryder ran past his sister since he was given his father's height jumping up into his lap first. “Dad and mom says we are spending a few days here.”

“Can you give me a ride around on your chair?” Astraea asked, sitting on his other leg showing the same excitement level.

Standing in the doorway I leaned against the wood with Erik coming to stand beside me. He looped his hand through mine looking at his friend. “I have a favor to ask of you, old friend. Can you watch the kids for a few hours. I have a date planned for us tonight?”

“Of course I can watch them. I'll have Hank cancel my classes for the evening.” Charles agreed, entering his friends mind chuckling at what he saw. Even though he would never get a chance to be with Addi now, He still had found a way to appreciate when his friend made her happy.

Bending down on my knees I instructed our kids forward. “Alright you two come give us hugs before we go.”

“And you be good for Uncle Charles.” Erik warned them, wrapping his arms around each of them. I hugged and kissed their heads before we made our way out of the school doors.

Erik and I got back in the car and we just drove in silence until we reached the airport that was closest to us. We had decided to make a trip out to DC and get married there out on my mothers backyard porch. We had both been busy raising the kids and trying to find somewhere where we were comfortable living and we had settled on Portland. Changing into a short white dress that reached past my knees but above my ankles. “Don’t get angry at me for asking this but you aren’t thinking of backing out are you?”

“Charles already gave me a pep talk about our relationship. So I am not backing away from you, Addison. Not anymore.” Erik shrugged his shoulders with his arms down at his sides. He was in a black leather jacket and one of his old dark brown turtlenecks he wore when we first were training with his friend.

Clasping my hands together in front of me I just chuckled back at him knowing Charles was very persuasive. “That is very reassuring, Lehnsherr. Oh here comes my mom.”

“Alright you two I am officially a wedding preacher.” My mother walks up to stand in front of us. She glanced between us knowing we probably wanted to get this thing out with and just say I do. “Do you two have vows prepared or are we skipping that?”

I cleared my throat by unfolding a piece of paper from inside one of my boots. “I have something to say…Erik the day we met wasn't the most romantic and we certainly aren't like one of those couples in the romantic films. But I can't imagine spending my life with anyone except you. I love you and our kids and I am excited to say it's going to be us against the world, always.”

“Addison, I know that I haven't been the easier person to get along with. Especially when you get so frustrated I won't call you Addi like you wished I would. But getting through all that you found out that there are still good parts of me. That I am just looking for love that I now get to have in you until the end of our days.” Erik reached down intertwining our hands together sending me a smile that was rare to see still to this moment in time.

My mother grinned, holding out one ring to me and the other for my soon to be husband. “Now we can get to the super romantic part. Do you Addi take this man to be your husband?”

“I do.” I responded by slipping the ring on his left hand.

She looks at her son in law. “Erik, do you take this woman to be your wife?”

“I do.” He answered her question by putting the ring on my left hand.

My mother Angela clasped her hands together. “By the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss my daughter.” She backed away before he cupped my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. Wrapping my arms around his neck I deepened the kiss feeling like we were now going to remain a family.

I heard Erik's truck pulling up in the driveway where I ran from our bedroom downstairs knowing he'd drop his keys in the kitchen. Peaking around the corner he was standing there for a few minutes before I ran up behind him throwing my arms around his neck from behind. “I was wondering when you were coming home.”

“Addi.” He chuckled, twirling me underneath his arm so that we were now facing one another.

Running my hands up his chest I smiled, kissing him. “How was your day?”

“Better now that's for sure. Where are the twins?” Erik asked me wrapping his arms around my waist, holding me as close as possible.

“Out back. I'll show you.” Gesturing my head towards the backdoor I led him outside by the hand. We had set up a wooden playset outside the back of our house.

Astraea was running around in the grass with her brother chasing after her until she gave him a look before she looked in our direction. “Daddy!” She ran forward jumping up into his arms and he caught her in his arms grunting a little bit since she was getting bigger being ten years old now.

“Mommy, when can we see Uncle Charles again?” Ryder asked me with his messy hair falling in front of his eyes. He had always adored Charles Xavier and the way he was able to run a school.

Putting my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Maybe sometime soon if your father can take off for a few days.”

“Does my brother have powers like me?” Erik and I shifted our attention to one another hearing our daughter's voice inside of our minds. It was so clear that she had gotten the same ability as our old friend. But the sad truth was that Ryder didn’t seem to have any or had yet to unlock his abilities. We weren't really sure which one was true.

Erik bounced our daughter in his arms changing the conversation. “I’m hungry. Are you kiddos hungry, let’s go eat.” The four of us had gone back inside the house sitting down and having the chicken and potatoes we had from the night before.

Erik and I had been patiently waiting for his powers to come through but it was beginning to look like he was simply born human even though he had two mutant born parents. The sun had finally set on our small house when we went to put the kids to bed. “Where did you learn that song, daddy?” Astraea asked, settling herself down underneath the covers of her bed.

Erik answered by brushing hair out of her eyes. “I learned it from my parents and they learned it from their parents. Then one day you and your brother will sing it to your children too.”

“What happened to them, your parents?” Ryder asked, laying on his side in his bed, seeing me standing in the doorway just silently watching.

Silence fell in the room when my husband’s eyes lowered to the numbers on his arm. “They were taken from me when I was a little boy. But they’re still here inside watching over you both.”

“Is someone going to take you and mom away?” Young Astraea, always so curious just couldn’t stop asking questions even when she needed to go to sleep.

Entering the room I put a hand on Erik’s shoulder before he rose from the bed turning off the light telling them to get some sleep. “Never, my sweet twins. Now get some sleep.”

“So when are we going to have the conversation with them about him not being like us?” I questioned once we had left their room and were in the living room sitting on the couch. Moving one hand over my stomach it wasn’t visible yet that I was certainly pregnant. “I feel like it should be before they start asking about me having a third baby.”

Erik draped his arm over my shoulder tugging me into his embrace. “I think the idea of them having a sibling will be easier to understand.”

“What aren't you telling me, Erik. Is it about Ryder not being a mutant?” I could sense that he was holding something back from me. I knew that he wished his son was a mutant just as much as I did.

He shifted his gaze down to mine reading my facial expression. “Don't think that I hate him for not being like you and me. I can't ever hate my own son.”

“I know that, honey. I just know we need to explain it to them before they get any older. Especially if we feel like our daughter should be taught at Charles school.” Intertwining my hand with his I laid my head on his chest. Erik wrapped his arms around my waist holding me close just enjoying the little family we had created.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[bengiyo]

Hi! I have a few questions I hope you don't mind me asking. Would you say that you like Lovely Writer more than I Feel You Linger In The Air considering the LW is a 9.5 in your book but IFYLITA is only a 9. And even though IFYLITA is only a 9, do you think you would include it within your Queer Cinema for BL Syllabus considering other notable aspects about it

Hello! I don’t mind questions at all.

Ratings are Recommendations for Me

Before we get into why each show got a different score, I think it’s important to explain my ratings system again. I come from the land of media criticism, and the primary question for me is “How easy is this to recommend to people?” I secretly use a five-stars system (5 Great, 1 Terrible) that I simple double for the 10 stars of MDL that basically works as such:

No one should watch this. It is incoherent, poorly made, and offensive.

Only genre fans could appreciate anything happening here, but it’s still offensive and/or poorly made.

Genre fans can appreciate this show, but it has major flaws in execution, narrative, or themes.

Genre fans will love this. Strong execution overall but requires some familiarity to truly appreciate.

Everyone will love this and is a fine entry point for the genre. Excellent execution and strong storytelling.

Bad Buddy is a 9.5 for me because, while it is an excellent project, the episode 12 first half sucks so hard

So why does IFYLITA get a lower score than Lovely Writer?

IFYLITA is a beautiful show with strong performances across the entire cast. However, it is a time travel show in which I don’t exactly know what the point of the time travel is, other than to enable a historical romance and enable the storyteller to play with that setting from the modern perspective. I don’t know why Jom is being dragged around the time stream or why he’s doomed to fall in love with and be torn from Yai repeatedly.

Additionally, this is a slavery romance. I am a Black gay man born and raised in the South. Solomon Northup’s autobiography is required reading, as are other first person accounts of chattel slavery in the US and the way the North surrendered Reconstruction to the South. I also watched Kindred this year after having not read Octavia Butler’s work in a long time. I am not a person who typically enjoys the power dynamics of historical romance, and I really don’t like slavery romances. I was talking with @lurkingshan yesterday about how much I didn’t like Jom and Maey sitting on the floor as Eaeang Phueng says goodbye to her family.

Finally, I think Lovely Writer is more coherent. It’s a single-season story about a potential romance between a BL actor and a BL writer. The show goes on to unpack all of the complexities surrounding these two as they are forced to collaborate and cohabitate during the filming of a show. IFYTLITA muddles its ending, and we have been reliant on spoilers from book readers to make sense of what the hell happened at the end of the episode. I don’t like that. I hate when we’re reliant on commentary from the source media to understand what the hell happened in an adaptation.

So, because of these particular issues, Lovely Writer is slightly easier for me to recommend to people over I Feel You Linger in the Air. Despite how Nonkul and Bright delivered on what may be the most accessible romantic chemistry of the year, and how much I loved the way this show tastefully approached m/m intimacy and sex, the show has some stumbles that I think diminish it slightly. I think episode 11 is incredible. I think Episode 10 is too pat. I think Episode 12 is hedging too much on a potential second season and doesn’t close off season 1 in a way that’s satisfying for me.

These are all bigger or smaller issues than others. I also very, very rarely go back and change my ratings for shows based on modern circumstances. Lovely Writer was special when it released. We don’t get IFYLITA without Lovely Writer. When I finished Lovely Writer, I thought it was one of the best shows of the year and I thought every BL fan needed to watch it. It doesn’t get a 10 because so much of the drama is about BL itself, and so there is some explaining that’s needed for people who aren’t in genre.

So, to be clear:

For me, Lovely Writer is easier to recommend to people than I Feel You Linger in the Air. That’s the .5 difference between them.

I hope that all made sense. Thanks for the question!

[i-spaced-sorry]

May challenge day 4! I actually wrote at a decent hour! This one came to me while sitting on the bus thinking about different points in my life.... something really similar happened to me when I was 11 so I just changed the city and made it fit in a One Chicago situation and this was born! Connor's interpretation of the events and present thoughts come from the way I remember this happening and my thoughts on it looking back! As always, it's under the cut and hope you enjoy!

Title: Oh, I just know there is something bigger out there

After meeting Will's dad that one day when he made a house call with the other man. Connor had been thinking of his childhood and just how good he had it. He specifically remembered a time when his sister Claire pushed the envelope.

"Where do you think your going?" Called Dolan Rhodes to his daughter, who had tears in her eyes and a hand on the doorknob of the front door.

"I'm running away! You don't treat me with respect and I don't want to live here anymore!" Yelled 15yr old Claire.

Connor at this time was 11 and didn't know what had made his sister so upset and think of a drastic idea!

"Everyone get in the car." Stated Dolan to his daughter and son, who had appeared around the corner of the wall upstairs on the landing.

"NOW!" He shrieked, which sent the kids running to the SUV that was parked out front.

Driving out of the Gold Coast, Dolan swung onto Lakeshore Drive and began his drive to his secret destination.

Connor watched as they turned onto the expressway. He had no idea where they were going but the roads turned from fun names like Michigan to numbers and the numbers were getting bigger as they drove on. 11year old Connor knew that meant they were going to the rough parts of Chicago...but the question was where?

Soon there dad was entering a bridge with the name Canaryville written on it!

"Where are we going?" Asked Claire. She has calmed down significantly since starting the 30 minute drive but she was still sniffling and tight shoulders.

"To see how good you have it" tight lipped Dolan while turning down a street that had some pretty small single family bungalow homes. Dolan started to slow the car to a roll and when he found a house he wanted to use for his example - a house next to a vacant park that had several neighborhood kids sitting on the steps of the house all chatting - he stopped the car, turned around and looked at his children in the car.

"You can get out."

Claire looked mortified and to be honest, so did Connor. "What?" Voiced Connor after a few seconds of intense eye contact with his dad.

"I said you can get out. You think you have it so hard? Okay then get out. I bet they won't mind having another mouth to feed"

Both his kids shook their heads and he smirked, "that's what I thought" and he began to drive again. Out of the neighborhood and back to the Gold Coast.

"-onnor" called Will, effectively pulling Connor out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Asked Connor snapping back to the present.

"What were you thinking about?" Asked Will while taking a seat next to the doctor on the break room couch.

"Not important, how's your dad?"

Smiling tightly, Will breathed, "not good. Jay is having a hard time with him being in a coma."

"I'm sorry"

"It's okay, just distract me, what were you thinking about? I don't care how silly it was, I just don't want to think about my dad being in a coma and Jay thinking the last words he will have uddered to him was calling him a prick"

Connor decided to just tell him. So he described the memory exactly how he remembered it and then added, "I know now that he was manipulating us by choosing that exact spot to prove his point. Cause what I've heard from you and Jay yea living in Canaryville wasn't all sunshine and rainbows but you do have fond memories of living over there. And I clearly did have issues in my own family and I lived in the Gold Coast."

Listening contently, Will responded, "I'm glad you can see your dad was wrong in the way he went about handling that situation. I'm sorry that happened to you"

(I'm nervous to post this, so please be nice)

[oblique-lane]

My, my, well, I don't have hopes for the official comics but I am willing to explore this topic further.

Aside from Sniper, what are others' wounds that made them join this blasphemous corporation?? People don't pay much attention to it but how did the mercs join Mann Co. in the first place? They didn't just go there, knocked on the door and asked for employment, right? So what are the backstories?

I'm guessing Mann Co. wanted the best of the best men out there, but those who would actually take insane risks of their lives. This kind of reminds me of Portal but instead of Olympic champions and astronauts, Mann Co. wanted ABNORMAL men. What that means exactly is still an open question for now. But hear me out, Valve heroes are never trained fighters, they are just very desperate and have no other choice but to proceed.

Why would mercs be different?

I mean, is any one of them a certified fighter? I mean yeah, Engineer has 11 PhDs but he's still more of a mad scientist rather than a formal doc. Any other?? Soldier who has never been in a war, Medic with no license, unregistered demolition, mental hospital refugee, Scout who is just a street boy wtf is he doing at the frontline??

Smells fishy, isn't it?

They wouldn't be here if they were really trained professionals. So that's why I assume they got here because they had no other place to go. And Surprisingly, in here, they got everything they wished for.

(these are my headcanons that I tried to build based on logic, however, their bases aren't exactly stable, keep in mind)

Sniper wanted to be violent legally, so he doesn't think about his moral struggles anymore (except when he talks to his dad in the phone).

Scout was a school dropout who didn't have many options of what to work as. Although, while they were always diners and gas stations, his family of million brothers pushed him and his pride down, so in order to become a bigger man in society's eyes, he applied to military service. Probably meant to Korea or Vietnam but was redirected to Mann Co. instead.

Heavy had really difficult clashes with the Soviet Government (being a national enemy by many articles) he went to make money to US. He was probably known by Mann Co. even before his change of settlement, they knew the story about the Gulag demolition/escape, so they got interested in this person's potential.

While not being a nazi himself, Medic worked in the closed german experimental camps because it was the only place his unlicensed ass could apply (fleeing country in the wartime wasn't an option). And they needed mad scientist. However, instead of using prisoners as a resource, he made them super humans (baboon hearts kind of shit) so these prisoners killed the security guards and escaped. To avoid state persecution, Medic immigrated to America where was known and got invited to work for we-know-who.

Engineer's work is generational.

I don't know much about Demoman's lore (it's a little confusing) but "a reckless alcoholic extremist who desperately needs a job" sounds perfect for who they were looking for.

Spy is obviously not a real spy but rather a skillful conman who made through life by stealing, pretending and seducing rich women. Mafia history might be there too. But he wasn't invincible and the police was a pretty serious problem for him, so joining a secretive organisation was a solid solution. (Plus, someone could make a funny thing by setting up him and Scout together, because they knew.)

Pyro was a person who spent all their life in a mental hospital, seen as dangerous to society/unadjusted. Mann Co. reached to them and gave them a chance, which turned out great.

Soldier, too, was either a mental hospital often guest, a prisoner or a simple local crazy man who has severe amnesia and violent behavior. Good option too.

It's not a place where you could just ask to be employed, as not everyone actually could. It was some kind of a "safe heaven" for those who didn't have another place in the world. It was an insane but a very effective move by Administrator, who wanted this team of abnormal men to unite against something Big and Important ™ of which we still know nothing about. Does it make sense?

You know, I don't see a lot of people talking about this moment in the TF2 comics right here, seconds after Sniper realizes he's actually from New Zealand. Does anyone else think about how freaking insecure Sniper must have been growing up?

I know it has a somewhat comedic tone but I can't help but think about poor Sniper as a kid wondering why he was so different but never knowing why. With other Aussies being huge and muscular he must have thought something was wrong with him. And I feel like you can actually see the relief on his face in the bottom panel.

Also, side note, I love the bit about him throwing rocks from a tree which absolutely foreshadows his future as a sniper. His whole thing is shooting people from far away because he was never built to go on the offensive.

[diggerunit]

Temporary Turmoil

Life has been so different lately.

A change in rhythm, in routines. I'm taking a temporary break from work, moving from one world to another. Travelling and spending time with old friends and family.

I also had a lot of time to think about my life projection and at the same time questioning absolutely everything. Probably too much, looking for problems where there's actually none. Or making them bigger out of specific, temporary situations.

But how much of your reality is made of habits, and how often do you really question if you're on the right path? I think that every now and then, this kind of questioning is needed. Just to check-in with you again after a period of changes or even after busy times that did disconnect you from yourself. Nothing wrong with it.

Overthinking is never good, like nothing else in exaggerate proportions. Still, finding yourself in the middle of the most desired change in the last couple of years and having plenty of free time on your plate (and little activities to do) definitely tricked me into it.

It feels like I put myself through a random movie. It looked so credible and so real that I drifted away for a while. Digging myself a little deeper hole every day, confused but at the same time aware that my confusion was coming out of nothing drastic really. With no real arguments, no real talking points. Or not as big as I was painting them.

It's so curious how the mind can fly high and low and how we respond to that. How we think we're in control until we aren't. How you can find yourself walking on a tiny chord suspended above the abyss, while just 2 days ago you were sleeping like a child.

I feel like I'm still not completely in the clear, but it feels so good to be back in my environment and to feel at home again, at least more than I've felt in the past period. Who knows where I'll be a month from now, or 6, but right now I just want to enjoy this moment of peace, in absence of decision making, chilling and focusing on those activities that I enjoy doing the most.

It's probably also time to think about this year and what I've learned through it. How this has shaped me and is influencing my choices as of today. For sure it has been a year of growth and liberation. If I think of myself exactly 1 year ago I can still feel that pain and that feeling of constant fight to force me into something I needed to flee so badly.

My biggest aim and wish to myself as of today is to continue flowing, in awareness, and in serenity.

[bmodiwrites]

The Stereo's On

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is just a random little idea that turned into 6k words of schmoopy loving - hope you guys don't mind! Word Count: ~6k Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Other than that, it’s pretty tame! Summary:

Despite trying to keep his feelings on the matter a secret, Steve knows that Eddie is bummed about not going to prom. As the best boyfriend there is, he's determined to remedy the situation. Between a couple strings of fairy lights and a mixtape made especially for Eddie, Steve puts together a night to remember.

Or - a sorry excuse for a feeling filled PWP!

Find it on AO3 here.

Staring down at the expansive mess of car parts before him, Eddie tries to focus on his job, but his mind is buzzing loudly, making it hard to do anything other than listen to the loud static building up in his ears. He took the shift that Sal offered him today in hopes of distracting himself. It’s funny that the exact opposite thing is happening. Eddie somehow forgot that the mouth of the garage opens up into Hawkins’ main street. Every person making their way into town passes right by the bay the current car he’s been working on is parked. It’s impossible not to see all of the couples in fancy garb flocking to the handful of nicer restaurants that exist in such a small town. His heart pangs with a feeling he refuses to name, knowing that labeling the emotion gives it more power than it’s already exuding on Eddie’s fickle heart. It’s embarrassing to think that prom night is eliciting such a reaction – never before has Eddie ever cared about cliché school shit. Too bad the ice around his heart is slowly melting, making him the sort of guy who’s upset about missing out.

Eddie tries in vain to shoulder the blame of his emotional meltdown on the person that’s been causing all the sentimental changes. Steve Harrington is the sort of boy that pushes Eddie to be the best version of himself – the sort of boy that makes Eddie genuinely proud of both himself and the one that’s chosen to stand by his side. Steve coming into his life is exactly what Eddie’s been waiting for – someone to kick start the engine and bring Eddie back to life. Though he’s never going to be excited about the way nearly dying brought them together, Eddie knows enough about second chances to be glad for the humble beginning of a relationship that’s quickly becoming all consuming.

Eddie spent a lot of life stuck in limbo and is forever grateful for the kick in the pants the encounter with the Upside Down ended up being. Without the widening of his vision, Eddie may never have seen the real person Steve is underneath his cool guy clothes and built up persona. He’s just a guy that feels and loves and fears and makes mistakes – just like the rest of the human race. Eddie’s glad for the chance to see Steve around the kids where he flourishes and behind the counter of Family Video next to Robin who makes him bigger and brighter than he already is. Steve the normal guy is someone that Eddie loves with all of his heart. So, he’s kind of sad that he can’t share this new and exciting addition to his life with the rest of the world.

He's been using the lameness of the dance to hide behind the hurt of the real reason he and Steve can’t attend tonight’s rite of passage. Being a wanted man is still something that haunts Eddie. To this day, people whisper about his devil worship and talk about the way he barely narrowly avoided being thrown in jail for crimes he didn’t commit. While he’s used to the status of outcast, being the town pariah is a lot harder than he ever imagined. Eddie’s sure they would’ve found a way to be at the dance together without putting themselves and their relationship in danger. While being gay is still something Eddie doesn’t openly share, a couple of guys going stag to a dance isn’t unheard of. No one questions that sort of thing – especially when they don’t really want to know the answer. It’s the never ending stigma of being unwanted by the entire town that is stopping Eddie from selfishly enjoying this pivotal night with Steve. Eddie thinks that alerting his boyfriend to the reality of people’s feelings towards him is in some way protecting Steve. Though, in a lot of ways, it’s probably just hurting them both.

Shaking his head of the thought, Eddie forces himself to take in the alternator he’s meant to be assessing. Even doing so with half of his attention, Eddie knows the thing needs to be replaced. He’s even conscious of the fact that they don’t have the part, so his current effort is totally useless, anyway. If he acknowledges those truths, Eddie also has to acknowledge that his presence in the garage tonight is totally useless, too. His mind is everywhere but the job he’s there to be doing. He’s too caught up in the way the distance he’s been trying to put between himself and everyone around him is slowly killing him. Eddie can’t get away from the unfairness of being treated like a killer when the actuality of the situation is so much worse. There’s even a feeling of mourning for the fundamental thing he’s missing because life isn’t fair and he’s too stubborn and prideful to talk to anyone about it. So many thoughts run through his mind and not one of them has to do with the Chevy he’s currently pretending to fiddle with. Thankfully, Sal notices and sends him home. “Don’t come back until your shift next Tuesday, Munson. I’ll have the replacement alternator waiting for you.”

Eddie leaves the garage without argument or complaint. He shoots his boss a grateful smile after he’s washed all the grease off his hands and changes out of dirty coveralls. The ripped up jeans on his legs already make him feel a little better as the wind brushes the bare skin of his knee as he walks out into the freedom of the night. Climbing into the car, Eddie starts to come back from the torrential storm of emotions he’s been letting get the best of him for the past couple of hours. At least at home, Eddie can call Steve on the phone or get stoned or watch a movie that’s truly going to distract him. The options in which he can soothe himself are limitless outside the confines of work. He’s already thinking about how he's going to get Steve over for the night when he pulls into the trailer park. Eddie’s plan is already made up by the time he parks his van, not noticing the halo of soft light coming from the otherwise dark trailer. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s walking into something amazing until the soft music of the stereo in the front room reaches his ears. Only then does he look up to see Steve standing in the front room of the trailer with a soft smile on his face.

Eddie takes in everything all at once. The fairy lights making the space glow, the emptiness of the room that’s been cleared out to obviously resemble a dance floor – all of the little details are so overwhelming that Eddie’s sure he’s missing some. His brain halts the moment Eddie’s eyes meet Steve’s. Steve who looks like a model in a button up white shirt and black tie. He’s in his customary blue jeans and Nike shoes, but the attempt to dress up is noticed. His hair is perfectly styled and the look of confidence Eddie loves the most is settled in Steve’s eyes. Though there’s a palpable layer of nerves that Eddie can feel from his spot at the door, Steve seems calm, cool, and collected. It’s both sexy and heartwarming. Eddie blinks for a second to jump start his brain back to working order in hopes of actually getting some words out of his mouth. “Steve, what is this?”

Steve looks between Dustin and Max before pointing at the small kitchen table. “Let’s move that first.” Both of his sassy children look at him with curious expressions on their face, though it’s Dustin who speaks up first.

“Wayne’s okay with this? Us moving his entire living room out into the lawn?” The little shit can’t even help the way his lip quirks with uncertainty.

Laughing, because that’s the only thing he can do when Dustin starts in with the attitude, Steve nods his head. “As long as everything gets put back where it belongs, Wayne doesn’t care. He thinks it’s sweet, even.” Steve recalls the somewhat embarrassing conversation he and Wayne struggled through the day before. Though Eddie’s uncle is well aware of Steve’s genuine feelings for Eddie, the man is still one of very little words. The fact that he talks to Steve at all is some kind of miracle. Pushing the memory away, Steve gestures at the table again. “You two get the chairs and I’ll carry the table.”

“It is, you know,” Max says, picking up one of the foldable chairs while Dustin handles the other one, “sweet, that is.” Her voice is so full of surety that Steve can’t help but smile widely. Sometimes, being the group’s default kid wrangler gets on his nerves but moments like this where the kids he cares about care right back, that makes being the babysitter worth it. The wink she sends him makes Steve think Max knows the power of her words, too. There’s a heady sort of satisfaction that surrounds the girl as they make their way outside. After depositing the table and chairs by the side of the trailer and rolling up the rug, they decorate the empty living room. Max brings over the lights from her own room and hangs them along the wall, creating a warm glow. Dustin helps Steve move the stereo from Eddie’s room into the hallway where they can maximize the acoustics the best. Weeks of asking Eddie weird questions and “borrowing” his boyfriend’s mixtapes helped Steve make the perfect playlist for them to dance to. It’s not exactly prom the way that Steve remembers it but it’s something.

When they’re done and Dustin makes the call to Sal, Steve thanks them both and sends them back to Max’s trailer where rated R movies are waiting for them as payment for their help. Steve’s sure the candy he threw in there will be greatly appreciated, too. With the few minutes he has to himself, Steve pulls on the new shirt he got for the occasion. Robin will forever make fun of him for the afternoon they spent picking out the perfect one. Though she understands the sentiment, his relationship with Eddie is always going to be something Robin gives him grief for. The weeks of pining she had to deal with give her a prerogative Steve’s always going to be paying her back for. He’s glad for it honestly. It reminds him how much he truly cares for the boy that makes him mindless and babbly like a school girl. Getting a little heckling from his best friend for the mushy person he is and plans to continue to be is absolutely nothing in the face of rightness being with Eddie creates in him. The past version of himself isn’t the guy who plans something cheesy just to see someone smile – this new and exciting version of himself is, though. The Steve he is now can’t wait to see the door open and take in Eddie’s face.

Though he’s never told him, Steve knows about the way people treat Eddie. He’s not immune to comments from people that don’t appreciate Steve’s affiliation with Eddie. It’s so easy to swat them down knowing how brave Eddie is. While the town will never understand the depth of it, Hawkins owes a lot to the boy who rode head first into Demobats that just about killed him. Steve’s been patiently waiting for Eddie to talk to him about the treatment, though he understands why Eddie doesn’t – there are so many things that Steve refuses to bring up again, too. Luckily, Steve is much more of an actions speak louder than words kind of guy, anyway. While Eddie may not be ready to talk about the voices that plague him or the people that still weigh heavily on his innocent boyfriend, Steve can give him something that no one should miss. And since they aren’t a very conventional couple, the off the wall way Steve makes it happen is fitting.

So is the overwhelmed look that overtakes Eddie’s face as he walks through the door. The surprise Eddie feels is tangible. Steve watches him grapple for words as the lights and music and overall atmosphere is taken in. It’s hard not to grin at the speechlessness that overtakes Eddie, but Steve manages to barely hold onto his control. He tries hard to radiate the sort of confidence that makes Eddie want to come to him. Out of all the people that Steve has tried to court, Eddie is the only person that Steve truly wants to lean on him. More than anything, Steve hopes that he’s a safe place for Eddie, that his presence is something that brings the boy peace and happiness unlike the suspicion and upset he’s constantly faced with. Eddie is that kind of serenity for Steve – he’s like a breath of fresh air, the kind of reminder that home exists, even if it’s a person with long curly brown hair and eyes that are wide and all knowing. Being something equal or similar to the person that makes him happiest is what Steve’s striving for.

The perplexed words that eventually fall out of Eddie’s mouth are what break Steve’s mold and drags a smile across his lips. He takes a second to look around, to hear the music he carefully selected, to see Eddie and the many emotions overtaking all of him. He’s proud and happy and glad to note that something he’s done is actually successful. “Not exactly prom, but something like it,” Steve says in reply, shrugging his shoulders like this is something simple and not weeks in the making. He takes a step closer to Eddie and then another until he can reach out and touch.

Eddie’s head is spinning, all previous thoughts of plans and upset and glumness are gone and out the door that’s somehow closed behind him. All that registers is the empty room and surprisingly not crappy music that is radiating everywhere. It’s surrounding Eddie the way the depth of the situation is. Despite never saying a word, Steve read the situation and gave Eddie something he still isn’t capable of asking for. He’s overwhelmed and lost in a way that makes it hard to breath. Ignoring the heaviness in his chest, Eddie leans into Steve’s touch and allows the reality of the situation to overcome him. Eddie’s been worried and sad and detached because of a dance that doesn’t matter (even though it does more than Eddie cares to admit). It’s crazy to think that Steve is perceptive enough to pick up on something that Eddie’s been going out of his way to hide. Except, maybe it’s not so far-fetched – Steve selflessly takes care of the people around him, giving them things they didn’t even know where good for them. Obviously, Eddie isn’t an exception. Steve’s so sneaky that Eddie is at a loss – he’s frozen and can’t think of anything to do but follow Steve’s lead.

Which ends up being the best decision, anyway. Steve’s arms are firm around Eddie as he brings them chest to chest. There’s no space between their bodies, so Eddie can continue to relax and lean into Steve’s hold. He lets the music surround him for the first time since stepping in the door and sighs wistfully. It’s one of the many songs that Eddie sings loudly whenever they’re in his van and Steve gives up his rights to DJ duty. When it ends and another one of Eddie’s favorite begins, he finally looks up and takes all of Steve in. From his wide open eyes to the smile on his face, Steve is radiant. There’s a blush on his cheeks and his hands tighten around Eddie’s waist the longer their stares are intertwined. Eddie wants to speak up and say something about the way his heart is beating faster than it ever has before – that this moment, this singular point in time is the greatest Eddie’s ever experienced. His mouth isn’t cooperating though and the ability to do anything but smile like a loon vacates him. Maybe that’s for the best – words can only muddle what’s quickly shaping up to be romance personified. Instead of forcing himself to speak of his happiness, Eddie experiences it with each bump and sway of their bodies to the music.

Mere minutes or maybe hours later, the tape finally rolls to a stop and silence surrounds them in the empty room. It’s easy and natural to keep on moving, despite the cessation of the music. Eddie’s arms are wrapped around Steve’s neck so tightly that they share breaths. Steve’s got him in a tight grip, like he’s afraid of letting go. Between their position and the shockingly right intimacy, Eddie’s not surprised to find himself leaning into Steve’s space in hopes of kissing red lips. He’s met in the middle with a fierce press of lip against lip. This is a practiced dance for them – Eddie knows how to tilt his head just right to slot Steve’s lip perfectly between his own. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to poke his tongue out and trace the plump roundness of Steve’s bottom lip. The tease is enough for Steve to open his mouth so Eddie can tangle their tongues together in something that creates a spark that lights up them both.

There’s no fumble or fuss as they make their way down the hall and into the furthest room. Not for the first time, Eddie’s grateful for his uncle’s sacrifice – having a room that’s all his own is a glorious plus when Steve’s hands and mouth are promising such beautiful things. Their closeness continues until they’re through the door and in Eddie’s room; only then does he resurface for a breath and put a bit of space between them. He’s able to let his head clear a little bit – Steve’s absolutely intoxicating and Eddie’s an easy victim. It takes very little exposure to Steve at all for Eddie to mindlessly fall into a pit of desire that makes higher function and any sort of thought difficult. After all of Steve’s effort, Eddie wants to be present for the absolute debauchery that’s about to take place. Gesturing over towards the bed, Eddie starts to take off his shirt. “Lie down – I want you to watch.”

Steve is quick to oblige – with a blush on his face and a pep in his step, even. He quickly gets onto the mattress and scoots back until his head is on the pillow with Eddie clearly in sight. The heaviness of his stare makes Eddie shiver – his skin is hot and covered in goosebumps, like Steve’s gaze is a tangible thing that’s touching him. Closing his eyes for a second, Eddie takes in a couple of breaths and clears his head. When he looks up again, Eddie’s focused enough not to fall victim to the blissed out look on Steve’s face (though, it’s a close thing). Instead, he feels confident and wanted as he strips himself down to black boxers that cling to his thighs. He allows Steve to stare to his heart’s content for another moment before launching himself onto the bed to fumble madly at the buttons on Steve’s shirt. Eddie all of the sudden can’t stand to have any barriers between them – he knows for certain he’ll feel so much more comfortable when there’s even ground between them.

Steve’s a little dumb struck as he leans back on the bed and watches Eddie. Things like nakedness and intimacy aren’t all that new to them. Despite not dabbling with guys before, Steve’s libido has taken no hit since getting together with Eddie – in fact, he’s more certain of himself with Eddie than he’s ever been with any of the girls he took to bed. Maybe it’s the safety thing rearing its ugly head again, or maybe Steve’s finally where he’s meant to be. Either way, he’s more than happy to be the one watching Eddie drop his entire outfit, piece by piece, down onto the floor. His feelings about the situation get even more positive when Eddie joins him on the bed and waits no time at all to start helping Steve out of his clothes, too. Between the two of them, Steve is shirtless and writhing on the bed in no time. As Eddie works on his jeans, Steve gets his hands on any part of Eddie’s skin he can. While he’s slim and a bit smaller than Steve himself, Eddie is relatively well built. His muscles flex with every one of the moves he makes while ridding Steve of his clothes. The sight is lovely, made even more so by the way Eddie looks up and grins at him when he gets Steve’s pants off. Soon, they’re both naked, groin to groin, bare skin to skin – it’s hard to think about anything else when Eddie is a delightfully warm weight above him.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers after a moment of toying with the shell of Steve’s ear. His hips are casually thrusting against Steve’s, causing the most glorious friction. It’s hard to process the words at first but Steve finally absorbs them. It takes several moments for him to find the strength to make his lips work – the roll and swivel of Eddie’s hips and the soft press of lips against sensitive skin is too much for Steve to bear.

“Don’t thank me. I want you to be happy, Eddie – “ The words are choked off when another moan rips from Steve’s throat, instead. Eddie’s making quick work of the length of Steve’s torso with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve’s positive he’s going to have little suck bruises and hickies down his front. The marks will stay with him for weeks until Eddie decides to put new ones there as replacement. His possessive energy is familiar and welcomed – Steve appreciates the fact that Eddie wants to mark him up. There’s been so many people that hid their connection to Steve – that battled against it in a way that still makes Steve question himself to this day. His parents, Nancy, the friends he grew up with – everyone always finds a way to push him aside when it really matters. Except Eddie. There’s no limit to the sort of claim that Eddie wants to have over Steve. It’s sort of exhilarating, being wanted that much.

All of his thoughts quickly become nonexistent as Eddie’s lips work their way down Steve’s lower stomach – he’s dangerously close to Steve’s erection that’s practically begging for attention. Before Eddie can get any further, Steve reaches down and flips their positions. The last thing he wants tonight to turn into is a reciprocated gesture that Eddie feels obligated to give. Steve’s no saint but his intentions were completely selfless and pure. He knows Eddie’s angst about prom and wanted to alleviate it. If they’re going to be intimate, Steve’s going to be an active participant. Which is how he finds himself with a mouthful of Eddie’s cock a couple of minutes later. He made quick work of tonguing at Eddie’s nipples and reducing him to moans and pleas of want. Steve’s clever and completely into the physicality of being with Eddie – he’s made it his mission to make note of and remember all the things that drive Eddie wild. Steve takes giving Eddie pleasure very seriously. Seriously enough, at least, to reduce him to mindless groans of Steve’s name more often than not.

Letting up ever so slightly, Steve draws back from Eddie’s cock, replacing the wet heat of his mouth with the tight grip of his hand, instead. Steve shifts himself on the bed until he’s in between Eddie’s legs – strong thighs wrap around him thoughtlessly. In this position, Steve can feel the way Eddie’s hips move up into the circle of his hand, the way his body aches and shivers because of Steve’s ministrations. It’s a heady thing, to realize the sort of impact he has on Eddie – Steve’s never been more proud of himself, honestly. With that in mind, he loosens his grip on Eddie’s cock and looks up with questioning eyes. “What do you want, Eddie? My hand, my mouth, my cock?” Steve asks, leaning down to press their lips together in a hot kiss. There’s no answer for a while – Steve’s plenty happy to occupy Eddie’s mouth until they can’t help but pull away to take gasping breaths.

Eddie is oddly shy when he cups Steve’s face – “I want you to fuck me,” he says with a small break in his voice. Steve’s not given much time to think about it, though – Eddie brings him down into another all-consuming kiss. Whether it’s a diversion or simply lust taking over, Steve can’t tell and at this point, he doesn’t really care. He’s too preoccupied with clever lips and an antsy hand that digs helplessly through Eddie’s bedside table. Steve moans in triumph as his fingers wrap around a tube of lube. Eddie celebrates the little victory by tangling their tongues together in the most distracting way.

Steve’s fingers are dexterous and wide as they open him up – Eddie spends most of those moments thinking about the space they fill inside of him. It’s crazy to think that Eddie made it through so many years with so much emptiness inside of him. Though he can make it through the times where Steve isn’t there, Eddie doesn’t feel complete. Things aren’t right in the world until moments like this one where Steve takes his time mapping out and staking his claim in that empty space. None of the hook ups in his past ever came close to making Eddie feel the way Steve does. That cheesy shit is about as cliché as Eddie’s desire to go to the prom in the first place. He stubbornly continues to blame it on Steve’s influence – as the moment is proving, the greatness that Steve brings to his life makes Eddie do crazy things. Like moan out Steve’s name in such a wanton way that Eddie’s sort of embarrassed to be so done in.

Though, that emotion is so fleeting, Eddie barely registers it. He’s too busy enjoying the deep thrust of Steve’s fingers. First one, and then two, and then a third that almost gives Eddie the full feeling he’s looking for. There’s only one thing that’s going to remedy the situation – though, Eddie’s learned he’s got to be patient for it. Steve can slip in so easily when Eddie gives himself a couple extra moments to relax into the feeling of fullness once again. It’s a total body thing, finally feeling complete and real again. Not only is it a physical experience for him, but Eddie’s also come to find that his psyche and emotions like to jump into the mix, too. That’s why it’s always so overwhelming and Eddie hopes the intensity of it never changes.

When Steve pulls his fingers away, Eddie lets out an undignified moan. It can’t be helped – the sudden feeling of emptiness is too much after that sweet taste of being completely fulfilled. Steve doesn’t make him wait long – he’s gotten really good about rolling a condom on one handed while the other runs soothingly up and down Eddie’s inner thigh. The cool lube Steve spreads over himself is a shock to Eddie’s system, making his hips hitch into the press of Steve’s cockhead against him. The other boy takes advantage of the move and pushes his hips forward, easily slipping himself inside of Eddie so that two becomes one in a way that it’s gloriously impossible for Eddie to puzzle out where he ends and Steve begins. It’s more satisfying than any blowjob or orgasm will ever be. Eddie’s already blown to bits by the simple act of joining together – every thrust and clever flick of Steve’s wrist is a bonus Eddie’s overwhelmingly lucky to take part in. His body feels like it’s on fire, its source stemming from a spot inside of Eddie that Steve ignites so easily. It's heat and wanting and rightness and satiation. The closer he gets to it, the more Eddie knows the spark as the flames of love that burn so damn brightly. Steve Harrington is a magician in that sense.

Little by little, Eddie loses control of himself, willingly giving it over to sure hands that hold his hips and touch him with the sort of reverence Eddie never thought he deserved. Though Steve is admittedly out for his own pleasure, he never neglects Eddie along the way. His fingers are heavy on Eddie’s skin as they skim over ticklish spots and those that are so sensitive, Eddie can’t help but clench around the thickness inside of him. Steve spends more time giving attention to those spots the closer things get to the end – Eddie’s positive Steve loves the tight heat around him. Sometimes Steve even tells Eddie so; the dirty words drip so easily from lips that look so red and innocent and pure. Their plump and kissable and cookie cutter in a way that gives Steve that boy next door look. While Eddie knows the truth, it’s sometimes hard to remember that wicked things can bubble out of Steve Harrington’s mouth, too. He’s not just great hair and a body to die for. He’s grunts and pants and syrupy sweet words that make Eddie’s cock leak precoma uncontrollably. When he gets close, Eddie can’t decide if it’s the dead on hits to his prostate or the sneaky way Steve brings heat to the party with whispered words and clever flicks of his tongue against the shell of Eddie’s ear.

Soon, there’s no space in the room for words or declarations. Both boys are tip toeing the edge, standing right on the precipice a thrust or two away from falling. Eddie’s come to enjoy these tense moments the most – his body isn’t his to control anymore, it’s just a source of hormones and feeling and enjoyment that Eddie’s merely along for the ride for. He doesn’t have to worry about Wayne’s presence or Steve’s nosy parents – Eddie’s free to moan and call out Steve’s name to his heart’s content. He’s panting and groaning through the thrusts that shift from long and languid to fast and deliberate. Steve’s got his target locked in, hitting it with expert precision each swing of his hips. Eddie’s prostate is lit up, making his entire body shutter and clench up tightly the closer his orgasm gets. Finally, it all becomes too much. “Steve – touch me, please. You have to touch me,” Eddie gasps out around a shaky breath. He’s so close to the end that the taste of it lingers in his mouth.

It takes little convincing for Steve to change his pace and shift position enough to take Eddie’s cock in hand. His hips are moving on their own accord and there’s just enough brain power left for Steve to coordinate the movement of his hand with the rest of him. These moments, the ones where Eddie completely surrenders to his pleasure, they’re the ones that Steve enjoys the most. It’s a joy to see Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, to watch his usual pale skin turn red and dewy with lingering want and desire. Never mind the fact that Eddie’s grip around his cock becomes vice-like the closer he gets to the edge. The feeling of Eddie squeezing around him with every stroke of Steve’s hand becomes something of a game. What sort of melody can they create in those last few steps towards that glorious little death. Steve sucks in a breath and buckles in for the finish – he feels it in the way Eddie tightens up before cum splashes over his fist and onto their skin. Though it’s only a mark that they see, Steve is proud to wear the evidence of Eddie’s enjoyment. He’s the reason such a beautiful person lost complete and utter control of themselves. That thought alone is enough for Steve to join Eddie in that far off state of bliss. Steve thrusts a couple more times before he tilts his head back and gasps out Eddie’s name.

There’s the haze of nothingness that surrounds Steve for a little while. He’s just conscious enough to feel Eddie’s hands running along the sweaty skin of his back. Steve recognizes that he’s still on Earth and alive, but that’s about it. He’s a collective haze of mind blowing pleasure and exhaustion that only comes from great sex. Little by little, Steve comes back to the present where Eddie is looking at him with fondness that Steve’s never known before. It’s almost shocking, to see such a soft glance directed towards him. He gulps in a couple long breaths of air before coming to terms with the fact that he’s exactly where he should be, in the arms of the one person that can actually make him feel like he matters. Steve Harrington matters to Eddie Munson, there’s no denying that. Not when Eddie clings to him and whispers “I love you” against the shell of Steve’s ear. Resurfacing in the sort of environment that fosters love is such a different experience for him. No matter how many times they do this, Steve is still taken aback by the extent of Eddie’s feelings – hell, his own feelings, too. While it’s getting easier to swallow the truth, Steve still struggles with the reality of the situation. At the end of the day, Steve’s a person that’s worth loving. At least, Eddie seems to think so.

There’s silence between them for a long time. Steve pulls out and makes quick work of the condom. He uses one of Eddie’s t-shirts from earlier in the week to clean them both off before allowing himself to relax in bed. When he does, Steve finds himself with an armful of cuddly Eddie Munson. His boyfriend is always a little clingy after they disconnect after sex. Steve still hasn’t asked why, but he recognizes the need. It’s nice to hold Eddie close, even if it’s just for a little while.

Eventually, Eddie turns into Steve’s chest, flinging an arm over him to keep him close. “You’re too much, you know that?” Eddie asks with a voice brimming with fondness. Steve knows that’s Eddie’s way of being affectionate. Grinning at that truth, Steve nods his head.

“Yeah, I do. I’ve got to keep you on your toes somehow or another.” Steve caps off his statement with a soft kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “You deserve good things, Eds. It’s nice to be able to give them to you.” And wasn’t that an understatement. The closer they get, the more Steve realizes that he and Eddie are much more alike than he ever could have thought. This love they’re creating between them is something that’s pure and real – it’s the sort of feeling Steve’s been looking to find for all of his life. Their relationship is acceptance and freedom and genuine joy – Steve can be himself and gives Eddie that same opportunity. Being able to live without stigma, that’s new to them both. But so is the all-consuming need to take care of each other. Steve’s certain that the little things they do for each other will get easier as time marches on. For now, he leans into Eddie’s joy and revels in the fact that he managed to bring out such an emotion. They’re learning how to exist outside of the norm in a reality that has monsters like Vecna and makes room for a love like theirs.

It's different but good and right in all the ways that matter. When Steve relaxes into the bed with Eddie curled into him, he closes his eyes knowing that safety and happiness are real for them and will continue to be when the new day comes. Heaven is here, right in this bed with Eddie in his arms.

[hearthandhallows]

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  Aris nodded when Ocean admitted to feeling overwhelmed, even in a place as small as Cardinal Hill. “I don’t blame you. It’s gotta be different.” He moved to sit next to Ocean. At this point in the conversation, Aris felt that, if Ocean were somehow involved with Neil, he did a hell of a fucking job hiding it - but he couldn’t sense dark magic, so he continued. “I grew up in Portland. Metro area’s pretty big, but even just the main city’s a lot bigger than Cardinal Hill. It’s a big change, not just in the way the town’s small, but in the way it feels. Like the quiet is, I don’t know, heavier or something. I’ll be here for a while, anyway, might as well get used to it. I know I’m gonna like the hiking and camping scene, at least. Shit’s real nice out here.”

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  A grin stretched across his face as he listened to Ocean talk about camping. “Exactly. You got it. Out here, it’s just you and the world. No distractions. You rely on yourself, and whoever you bring with you.” At that, he nudged the other gently. “Just makes it feel more real. And, yeah, I can make coffee over a fire. I’m good at it too. I’ll show you when we go. Unless you drink tea.” He groaned, but continued, “I can’t say I’m as good at making tea as I am making coffee, but I could probably get the job done.”

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  He watched the way Ocean looked down when he agreed, and something about that tugged at Aris. He got the feeling that Ocean was as surprised that he’d agreed to go camping with him, as Aris was that he’d asked him. Something about it made him want to show him… something that he couldn’t vocalize. 

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  “Sunshine, Forest, Rain, Coral, Ocean, Skye, and River.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I like that. I think it suits you. You have this calming energy, you know, like, I don’t know, waves crashing onto a shore. Yeah, it’s nice.” His eyebrow rose as Ocean mentioned how some names didn’t fit, but he didn’t pry. Instead, when the question was turned to him, he chuckled. “Yeah, I do. I have two younger siblings. Copper and Hypatia. Oh, wait, I mean Copernicus.” When he said his brother’s name, his voice lowered as if the name commanded a great presence.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  “We’re all adopted. Our parents really thought Copernicus, Aristotle, and Hypatia were perfectly acceptable to teach a child to write. Nah, we started going by nicknames real young. Aris feels more like me, ya know? When people call me Aristotle, it feels like I’m about to get the lecture of a fucking lifetime. But, yeah. We were all named after something they love.” He smiled thinking about his family. 

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎  He stretched his legs out, letting the moment settle before glancing back at Ocean. “So, what other places have you been to? You’ve got 6 months more experience in this place than I do. Any other amazing trails I should keep in mind?”

The longer that he talked with this stranger, the more comfortable Ocean became, but he was still on-guard. Ocean was like that with people he casually knew even, and in fact he had a level of guard up even with his closest friends and family. It was like he no longer knew how to let people in, how to fully relax and trust them not to hurt him in some way. Of course that wasn't fair, especially to people like his close friends and his family, but Ocean couldn't help how he felt. But still, it was kind of nice talking to Aris, feeling just a little bit like they were bonding over their unique names and shared love of the outdoors. "Back in California, where I'm from, we live a very freeing, quiet life on the commune. It's simple, but everyone always seems so happy," Ocean told Aris. Everyone but me, he thought, and then that treacherous voice in Ocean's head hissed, You couldn't even be happy in a community of peace and love. This was yet another thing that Ocean couldn't do right, which joined a very extensive list - a list that included everything. "Even Cardinal Hill feels like a lot in comparison sometimes," Ocean went on. Maybe it would be different if so many strange things hadn't been happening here though, but Ocean didn't say that. There was no need to worry Aris.

"I grew up camping," Ocean told Aris, leaning against a tree, feeling more relaxed now. "Everyone on the commune does it, and a lot of us used to go every weekend when we were teenagers. It was like our version of a party." It was likely tame in comparisons to most high school parties though, Ocean knew that. He smiled listening to Aris talk about their own camping experiences because here was someone who just got it. Aris felt the same way Ocean did. "I feel like that too," he told the other man. "It's like by letting go of all the amenities we're used to, it strips you down to your core, and you can just unburden yourself." Ocean couldn't quite believe that he was talking this much to someone he'd just met, let alone saying the things he was saying. Laughing, he said, "At least you know you can't do without it. Is it hard to make while camping? Can you do it over the fire?" Ocean had never tried himself. A little surprised when Aris mentioned joining him camping, Ocean asked, "Are you...uh, are you serious?" Why hadn't he made an excuse to stop talking to Ocean and left already? Aris was probably regretting ever talking to him, probably thought he was weird or awkward, or at least that's what Ocean would have expected; instead Aris asked him if he wanted to join him. And even more unexpected was Ocean's response: "Y-yeah...yeah, that sounds like fun." He smiled softly before looked down at the ground, tracing circles with the tip of his shoe in the dirt.

Nearby was a rock Ocean often sat on to just enjoy the solitude, and he said, "I like the name Aristotle. I always felt like names should mean something." It meant a lot to Ocean that Aris was asking about his personal life and actually seemed genuinely interested, and Ocean patted a spot on the rock next to him, inviting Aris to join him. "They do," he told Aris. "I've got four older siblings named Sunshine, Forest, Rain, and Coral, and my parents are Skye and River, so they named me Ocean. But...sometimes names just seem to fit, but other times they don't." He left it at that, not going into the way he felt like the opposite of a vast, deep, mysterious ocean. "What about you?" Ocean asked, wanting to refocus on Aris. "Do you have any siblings?"

[sally-mun]

sorry i keep putting stuff in here but I thought of an interesting question this morning about the guardians. (and I don't mind if this takes you ages to do it's really fine lmao)

Where would you place your Guardians (to make it easier you can do the more 'younger' half of the family) in a ranking of... morally questionable or worse to actually morally good.

My money is on Locke or Sojo being at the bottom maybe unless we're counting Rex aka Tobor

YOU'RE RIGHT THIS DID TAKE ME "AGES" TO REPLY TO I'M SO SORRY.

Honestly tho this is a very interesting question, which is why I didn't want to answer it too quickly. The thing about the Guardians that's easy to lose sight of (as a whole, including those in BH:O we haven't gotten to address yet) is that, for the most part, most of them aren't exactly bad people, they just tend to have really shitty personalities -- or at a MINIMUM, some shitty character traits. On some level I guess I get it because it's a very isolated group that gets more and more repressed and toxic the longer it goes on, but that said I can appreciate the work someone does without wanting to grab a coffee with them.

Anyway, let me see what I can come up with here. I'll do my best.

MOST VIRTUOUS - LEAST VIRTUOUS

Athair: I think it's kind of funny that I'm putting Athair at the topic when he's largely considered a disgrace among the BH itself. But honestly, I think a lot of them know deep down inside that what Athair didn't isn't actually bad, it's just not something that directly benefited them. This is a guy that gave up EVERYTHING in his life, from a pretty young age even, to help others that were desperately in need. Athair did way more than just give up his duties as a Guardian; he gave up his relationships, his home, his reputation (especially for breaking Nemo out of prison) and even just basic comfort. The life he leads with the Lost Tribe is orders of magnitude harder than the life he has on Angel Island, but he willingly chose it because it was the right thing to do.

Sabre: Okay, I think we can all agree that Sabre can be a real tool, but the main reason he was so obnoxious was because he was so frustrated by the sheer volumes of injustice that he couldn't do anything about. He's the sort of person that doesn't let the little things go because he kind of doesn't see anything as a little thing. His sense of justice is one of his main motivations in life. The main reason why I'm ranking him behind Athair is because, while he does do a lot to enact change and also has to risk/give up things that are important to him for his morals, there's not much he can do that could ever really top the incredible sacrifices that Athair had to make for his cause.

Janelle-Li: I would say that she also has a very strong sense of justice, but that's also kind of a natural side effect when you're directly facing discrimination for most of your life. A lot of people, way more than just the Brotherhood, treated her differently simply because she was a woman, so she had plenty of drive to promote change in her world. Janelle did a ton of good for Echidnaopolis and the Brotherhood, but she took a more subtle approach to do so, mostly in the form of leading by example. There's nothing wrong with that, to be sure, but it also results in changes coming at a much slower pace overall, and sometimes it doesn't always drive home why bad behaviors are bad, so there are going to be people that never learn the lesson. I'd like to think that, had she lived longer, maybe she also would've made some bigger, bolder moves as well.

Thunderhawk: There's probably not much I can say here about Thundy that y'all don't already know, because I'm pretty sure he's almost universally everyone's favorite (living) BH member. He has pretty much the same morals as Janelle, and also shares insights into what discrimination and abuse can look like. The main reason he's ranking below her instead of equal with her is that he DOES have a bad habit of drawing lines in the sand once he's come to the conclusion that someone is bad; we saw this both in how he treated Nemo and how he reacted to Locke's treatment of Elias. All of his kind words and empathy go out the window at that point, and it can take quite a lot for him to change his mind again.

Spectre: In an interesting way, I see Spectre in much the same way I see Janelle, but the key difference between them is that he doesn't have nearly as much courage. Janelle was very vocal about her thoughts and feelings and used that as a persuasive tool when fighting adversity, whereas Spectre learned very early on that it was not safe to speak his mind. As a result, he has a strong sense of morality and why things are right or wrong, but he does very little about it. If it's something he can solve with an action, he will absolutely do so, but if it requires a discussion? Spectre is borderline useless in that situation. Unfortunately, strong morals are almost meaningless if you're unable to put them into action.

Sojourner: We all know Sojo's not a pleasant person to be around, and that he can verge into abusive territories when uninterested in holding back. He IS aware that he shouldn't do things like that, but there are two problems there: 1) He may or may not actually feel bad afterwards, depending on how justified he feels to act out, and 2) even when he doesn't feel justified, he still comes up with excuses for why things are fine and he doesn't need to change. It wasn't that bad, they'll be over it soon, it's just the way I am, life isn't fair... etc etc etc, I'm sure we've all heard these excuses before. I mean yeah, it is good that he DOES occasionally call himself out for being shitty, but if he doesn't then adjust his behavior or outlook to reduce and eliminate that quality, then it's functionally the same as not calling himself out at all.

Locke: Pretty sure you guys don't need me to go into detail here, because we all know all too well how many times Locke has crossed the line without looking back. He unfortunately has the perfect mental recipe of 1) recognizing that the things he does hurts others, but 2) convincing himself that doing so is necessary. I won't even tangle this up with the fact that he feels like his actions will be a net positive in the end, because he is DIRECTLY presented with evidence, OVER AND OVER, from lots of different people, that his information is inaccurate, that there exist far less harmful ways to achieve his goals, and that he lacks the consent of those he's affecting. Even with his belief that he's had a vision, even with the fact that he undoubtedly has mental illnesses affecting how he thinks and behaves, he actively chooses the methods that necessarily and irreparably cause others harm, purely to satisfy himself and his needs. I can't even cut him a break from the fact that his illnesses are tainting how he perceives and processes information, because he DID have that period where he was in the hospital and received some of the help he desperately needed and showed a marked improvement even in that short time -- and then chose to return to methods he knew were harmful purely for his own benefit. And unfortunately, there was no more reaching him after that.

MORITORI: MORAL OR...?

I kinda wanted to address Moritori separately from everyone else, and not necessarily because he's not "really" part of the Brotherhood. An argument could be made that he -functionally- is a part of them and therefore counts, but to me that issue is kind of a red herring. The thing to remember about Moritori is that he's playing a very different game, and on a VERY different scale. He doesn't do the horrible things he does simply for shits and giggles, he does them because he's DEEP under cover in enemy territory and trying to systematically weaken his enemies enough so that his side can be victorious. That's not really uncommon or unexpected for someone in his position; he's basically the equivalent of a CIA operative. If he intends to gain any ground for HIS side of the war between the Brotherhood and the Legion, then yeah, he's going to have to get his hands dirty.

So as far as his morality is concerned, I feel like it's kind of not fair to judge him because we're necessarily looking at him as the bad guy, because our POV is implicitly aligned with the Brotherhood's. From a BH perspective, yeah, it's very easy to say that Moritori is a despicable person that does unconscionable things -- but from the Legion's perspective, this guy has made OUTRAGEOUS sacrifices purely for their benefit. He, like Athair, literally had to give up everything in his life in the hopes of helping a people desperately in need -- and he doesn't even get the benefit of BEING with those people like Athair does. Everything he does is motivated by the idea that the Brotherhood needs to be stopped, that the Legion is relying on him, that his family needs him to do these things. If it was someone on our side doing these same things in a Nazi regime during WWII, would we judge our spy for the individual things they had to do, or would we hail them as a war hero for taking down the enemy and saving our people? And if we were to do that, does that mean that the individual acts they had to commit against the other side are now fine? They're still horrible things, but we forgive them for those things in that context. But they still did them, and people suffered for it -- just not our people, so we don't tend to extend that compassion.

Anyway, this is just a very long way to say that Moritori's morals are complicated. He does a LOT of horrible things that hurt a ton of people, but I also think that context is key, and the fact that he's under cover in the middle of a war adds at least some mud to the water. The Brotherhood would consider him less than scum, but the Legion would hail him as one of the greatest heroes of all time for single-handedly taking on the entire Brotherhood to save them. Who's right and who's wrong depends deeply on your point of view.

[outsideratheart]

When in New York (Kelley O’ Hara x reader)

Part 2

You had just finished post game media following your game against New York Liberty. You weren’t a huge fan of doing media but it made it easier considering Seattle had won. 

You leave the conference room with Stewie who you had been doing the interview with.

“You seeing your family tonight” You shake your head.

“What about you?” She nods hers.

She bumps her shoulder into yours “Two New Yorkers beat New York in New York. Sounds like something to celebrate to me” She says and maybe she had a point.

You both walk into the locker room, some players have already left and some were still packing up.

“Y/N? Megan texted saying that her and a couple other teammates are at your parents restaurant and asked if we wanted to meet up with them” Sue asks.

Very few people knew about the family restaurant, you wanted to keep it a secret so that it could stay authentic. Your family was Italian and the restaurant was like a little piece of Italy in New York. The only people that knew where your Storm teammates and Megan, the honorary team mom.

You look at sue and she is giving you the look. After signing for the team she had taken you under her wing meaning that the two of you had got quite close.

“Ok, ok. No need to give me that look” You says.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes you leave the area, luckily for you the restaurant is only a few blocks away so you and Sue opted to walk saying that I would be your cool down / recovery.

“You said teammates” you says putting air-quotes around the word teammates “who’s there?” You ask.

“Alex and Kelley” she says which instantly bring a smile to your face.

“I thought that would cheer you up”

“Shut up”

You had a crush on Kelley, both Sue and Megan knew it. You met her last year when to US were playing in Seattle and Megan had invited you to a game. There was something about the defender that you really liked. You wasn’t if it was the fact that on the pitch she is a beast and off she is teddy but always had fun when you were with her.

You both enter the restaurant being greeted by your mom as soon as you come through the door.

“Mrs L/N nice to see you again” Sue says.

“Sue I have told you before, you can call me Maria” You mom says as she hugs you and sue makes her way to your friends.

“buon gioco dolce ragazza” (good game sweet girl) she tells you.

“grazie mamma” you reply kissing her cheek.

Meanwhile sue heads towards to table of soccer players.

She waves at everyone getting a mixture of hi’s and hello’s 

“Hi babe” She says kissing her girlfriend on the cheek. 

“Hi” Megan replies. “Where Y/N?” She asks noticing that you wasn’t behind sue.

“She’s in here somewhere” Sue says. She knew that you would probably been saying hi to your dad in the kitchen but she couldn’t tell them that.

“See Kel, you have a few more moments to get your crush in check” Alex jokes with her friend.

“Shut up!” Kelley replies.

“Hi guys” you say as to approach the table.

You notice Kelley staring at you so you take the opportunity to tease her.

“Like what you see?” You say making the defender blush.

“Have you ordered food yet?” You ask.

“No we were waiting for you. We know we are having though” Alex tells you as she hands you a menu.

“Thanks but I don’t need it” You say handing the menu to Sue who shakes her head letting you know she doesn’t need it either.

“You already know what you’re having?” Kelley asks.

“Not exactly” Sue says which confuses the others.

Looking around the restaurant you catch the attention of one of the waiters.

You let him know you are ready to order. 

Each of the women tell him what they want and then it is your’s and sue’s turn.

You look at sue and she nods her head.

“dì a gianni che avremo quello che consiglia” (tell gianni we will have what he recommends) Sue says 

“Certo” The waiter says.

You look at Sue and smile in approval.

“You getting very good, maybe time for a trip” You say.

“You speak Italian?” Kelley asks Sue.

“Y/N does and she has been teaching me for the past couple of years”

“Who is Gianni?” Alex asks.

“He is the chef here” You explain.

You start talking about the storm game when you mom bring across a bottle of limoncello hand you the bottle and 5 shot glasses.

“Grazie” You say

You pour everyone a glass and hand them out. 

“You get table service here?” Kelley asks.

“No, I asked for it when I came in” You reply.

You raise you class and everyone copies.

“Here to us. We change the game and provide hope for the next generation of female athletes” You say and everyone takes a sip except Kelley who shots it.

“You sip it Kel. If not you’ll be on the floor an hour” Megan says.

“You would know” you tease causing you and the forward to laugh.

“I will pour you another but this here” you say pointing to the bottle “is the real stuff, not something you find in a liquor store. It comes straight from a vineyard in Italy where this restaurant makes it’s wine” 

“You know a lot about this restaurant, the chef’s name and now where it makes it’d alcohol” Alex questions.

“What can I say, I have been coming here since I was a baby” you explain.

“that’s one way to put it” sue says under her breath, no quiet enough though as you send her a glare.

You look at Kelley as she takes a sip.

“Tastes better doesn’t it” She nods her head.

Your food arrives and you all say how nice it looks and smells. 

“Oh.my.god” Kelley says between mouthfuls.

“I agree, this is incredible. Megan how did you find this place? Alex asks.

“Y/N” Megan replies and Alex nods remembering that you said you came here when I was younger.

Conversation is small and simple as you all focus on your food.

You thank the waiter telling him the the food was delicious as he clears the table.

“Y/N can I ask you a question” Kelley asks.

“Only if I can ask you one?” 

“Why Italian and are you fluent” She asks

“I’m Italian so I had to learn in order to talk to family in Sicily”

“Prove it. Tell me something in Italian?” 

“quando ci siamo conosciuti pensavo fossi la persona più bella del mondo”

“Sounds very romantic” Alex says.

“What does it mean?” Kelley asks.

“it means ‘when we met I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world’” You tell her making sure to look her in the eyes when you say it.

Kelley is at a loss for words, what is she suppose to say to that. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable” You say slowly regretting what you said, not that you didn’t mean because you did.

“I’ll go get us some more drinks” you says excusing yourself from the table.

“Kelley” Alex says trying to get her friends attention.

“Does she say that kind of thing to everyone?” Kelley asks sue.

She shakes her head “She isn’t that type of person Kelley”

“You should tell her how you feel” Megan suggests.

Kelley shakes her head “what if she doesn’t feel the same way”

“You honestly think that after hearing what she just said” Alex says not believing her friends blindness.

You walk back to the table with two bottles of red wine.

“Dessert wine anyone?” You say trying to avoid the awkwardness. “trust me, this will be the best you tasted”

“It’s what they make in Italy right?” Alex says, you nod pouring her a glass.

Out of all the woman at the table to knew that Alex was the one that drank wine. You wait eagerly to see If she likes it. 

“Nice right”

Alex nods her head.

You all sip on your wine talking about everything and anything, for a moment you forget that you are all major athletes and it just feels like a group of friends catching up.

Once you are done Alex gets the attention of the waiter for the bill but he tells them that it has been settled.

She looks around the table confused but notices that Megan and Sue and looking directly at you.

“Y/N” 

“What? We don’t do this very often. Let me treat my friends”

“Thank you” Alex and Kelley say at the same time.

You are just about to leave when your mom comes to the table.

“Did you all enjoy your meal?” She asks. 

“It was incredible, I cannot wait to come back” Kelley says.

“I agree, I will definitely come back whenever we are in New York” Alex says.

“I’ll see you two soon ok” she says putting an arm around Sue and Megan. She had met them numerous times when she came to Seattle but her comment stumped the other two.

“Of course, next time your in Seattle you have to show me how to make your lasagne, I always eat the ones you make Y/N” Megan looks at you when you realises what she said.

It looks like your secret was about to get two new keepers.

“Alex, Kelley” your mom says now directed her attention to the other two soccer players “Any friends of my daughters are always welcome here”

“Wait, your daughter?” Kelley says looking at you confused.

“Meet my mom Maria” you say.

“This makes more sense. It is why you know so much about this restaurant” Alex says.

You nod your head.

You all make sure your way our of the restaurant. You had learned that Megan, Alex and Kelley were all staying in the same hotel as you and sue so you walked back together. Sue, Megan and Alex walk ahead leaving you and Kelley alone.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable earlier, it’s just that whenever I am near you I feel this connection and thought maybe you felt it too. I wouldn’t have said what I said if I didn't” you say

“I wasn’t uncomfortable, you caught me of guard. Nobody has every said something like that to me, definitely not in Italian” Kelley explains.

“I find that hard to believe, I mean look at you, you are beautiful” You say.

Kelley blushes again which you find adorable “ You were right before. I feel the connection too but I never did anything about it because we live so far away from each other”

“Can’t we just let ourself be happy even it it’s only a short period of time. We focus so much on the bigger picture that we don’t see what is right in front of us” You tell her.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks and you smile, you had wanted to do this for a quite a while.

“When do you leave New York?”

“Not until the day after tomorrow” 

“Perfect! Have breakfast with me?”

“I would love to” she replies.

Kelley stops walking “for the record, I find you very beautiful too”

You smile holding you hand out and she takes it.

You walk back to the hotel hand in hand, not talking just making the most of each others company whilst you can.

[forthehpfanboys]

Christmas Break

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You liked Winter Break Draco. Unfortunately, he was replaced by Usual Dick Bag Draco who becomes ruthless. At least Harry is there to make you feel better.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), jealousy sex, dirty talk, swearing, spanking, short mention of slapping and hair pulling, sir kink and degrading a tad- fluffy ending tho. I may have taken the kinks too far but ya know-

Notes: Requested by @the-offical-yn​, who I must apologize too. A lot of my stories got away from me so I’m very sorry this is late- but um- enjoy getting railed by Draco guys! Yo, I made a shit plot for this. I’m so sorry if it’s baaddd.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

For years, he had this twisted mind against anyone not a pure-blood or a Slytherin. He had zero shame with cussing out Gryffindor's, spitting at Ravenclaw’s during quidditch games and tripping Hufflepuff's. But, suddenly, just before Christmas break, he changed and there was nothing blunt about it. He would help Ravenclaw first years pick up their books if they stumbled on the fake steps on the moving staircases, tutor third year Hufflepuff's in Herbology after hours and helped a few Gryffindor students fix their potions.

Draco changed faster than water turns to ice in a freezer. It was almost alarming. Even Snape seemed to be concerned, probably more than others. The greasy git kept yelling at Gryffindor's (mostly the Golden Trio [mostly Harry]) about what would happen when he found out who jinxed Malfoy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he changed, but everyone else could. To the day, infact.

It was just a few days before October, when it started. Draco was strutting down the halls, using Crabbe and Goyle as shields from the dozens of students who walked by him. They stood at his sides, knocking students out of the way, acting like Draco owned this bubble of space as they walked, but somehow, you slipped through. You were crossing in front of him, trying to hurry to class and ended up tripping over your own feet.

Your instincts kicked in and you tried to catch yourself, but instead you fumbled right into Draco, landing heavily against his side. He scoffed, shoving you off and getting ready to cuss you out when you began to apologize (even if you don’t like him) and gather your things off the floor. With your head tilted down you didn’t notice the Slytherin staring at you like you were a puppy. When you gathered your things, you scurried off, apologizing to more students as you went by.

Apparently, that day, he saw you tutoring a whole table of students, all houses included, and you were being so nice to them, so kind and your voice was soft and he heard you say “Hey, no! It’s ok! There is no such thing as a dumb question, ask away”. He had this urge in his chest to just be different, to be someone you would want to be around and be a friend, maybe even be more. It made him feel sick.

It took about a week to get your attention, then a quick growing friendship blossomed. Your relationship with Draco changed- just like he had. It changed from funny jokes, sassy remarks and late night games of exploding snaps to flirting contests, long hugs and what could be considered dates. 

By December, you and Draco were dating without the official titles. Everyday, you two were growing closer and the relationship was growing more rock solid with every passing event. Soon enough, winter break was coming around and everyone was genuinely surprised when they saw the blonde Slytherin strutting through the halls during Christmas break. Usually, the pureblood went home to spend the holidays in a cabin in a warmer climate with his family.

And it was weird for everyone to see him not bragging and tripping students and spitting at kids. But for you? It was a blissful few weeks. Even the Golden Trio got a break. They were some of your closer friends, so Draco gave them a bigger break. The blonde even went as far as helping Harry during potions. It was terrifying.

Until Christmas break was passing and Draco went through another change, which was what you were going to confront him about. 

"Malfoy!" You found him out in the courtyard, a teary-eyed (y/h) first year trailing behind you. The poor kid was shaking with fear and let out a sniffle. "You have some very good explaining to do!"

The blonde looked from Goyle to you, his eyes slowly dragging down your form before darting back up to your flaming eyes. His smile had dropped and was now replaced with a sharp frown. His nose scrunched up, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crisscrossed over his chest.

“I don’t have to explain anything to the likes of you.” He sneered. He looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with the first year, who scooted over to hide himself better.  He made a scoff and turned back to Goyle, shaking his head while snorting. “Look at this- he’s tryin’ to be a hero.” As if on a cue, his little posse of Slytherins broke out into laughter, forcing your face to heat up from humiliation.

“Seriously? Are you fucking five?” You called over the idiots laughter, which morphed into pathetic ‘ooh’s. “Draco, stop being a child and a douchebag and just apologize to the first year.”

“Why should I?” Draco stepped closer to you. His eyes, stance and voice all held a challenging undertone. He moved some blonde hair out of his face, but you didn’t miss how his eyes flicked down to your lips.

“Because you called him a mud-blood for bumping into you. Grow a pair, gain some manners and apologize to him.” You crossed your arms over your chest, putting on your best angry face. If Draco was pulling a prank, you were going to punch him, without hesitation. And how the hell did an asshole like this become a prefect??

“Oh, your right, I definitely should apologize when the kid bumped into me. But I think I have a better idea.” He brought a finger to his lips, tapping it in mock thought. Sarcasm and sass was radiating from him and it only served to piss you off more. “How about you fuck off and leave me alone, (L/n).” He smirked, turning to his posse and symboling them to leave with him for a dramatic exit. You took a deep breath, your hands balling at your sides. 

“I’m sorry for him.” You turned around and put a hand on the kids back and gave him a soft push back toward the castle. “Go tell the head of the house, ok? I’m gonna keep talking to him.” When he nodded and began to walk out of the courtyard, you hurried in the direction Draco left in. You found him heading across the bridge, in the middle of his group, who were effectively taking up the whole span of the bridge. His laughter echoed in the hollow build, which only had your blood boiling worse.

So, you called his name again, effectively getting his attention. He turned so fast you thought his head would’ve spun all the way around like an owl. You stared into his now burning eyes, walking closer to him. You could feel the adrenaline mixing with rage in your veins. You weren’t thinking straight, but you didn’t care. 

“Wanna explain why you're being an ass all of a sudden or are you just gonna insult me and strut off with your orgy party?” You glared at him, ignoring his irritated sneer. It was making your face red (or whatever hue, I wanna be as inclusive as possible) with anger.

“I don’t have to tell you a thing.” Draco was, naturally, turning defensive, even if he knew deep down how he was acting was wrong. Honestly, you couldn’t tell if he knew he was actually being an ass or not.

“Ok. I get it. You stay the fuck here with your friends and I’ll just leave you alone then. Merlin, why did I think you’d change?” Your face showed disappointment before contouring back to anger and frustration and aggression. You ran your tongue over your teeth, a frown etching across your lips. “My mistake.” You turned around, still going off pure adrenaline. You felt a hand grasp your wrist and immediately tugged it free with all of your strength. “No, I really don’t wanna hear it, fuck off.”

You didn’t look back, and you certainly didn’t hear him say anything. Of course it hurt, but you didn’t care at the moment. Your heart was thumping in your chest and all you felt was anger. He had the audacity to befriend you, say he really liked you for fucks sake, and then do a complete 180. You were grateful it was the weekend so you didn’t have to sit next to him in class.

You stomped through the snow, hurrying across the school grounds to the library (can you tell I have no idea what Hogwarts layout is?). You pushed open the doors and decided to basically hide yourself in an empty corner to try to cool down. After pulling the seat out, you sat down, slouching and resting your forehead on the table. You want to know what happened, why it happened

Was it his dad? Was it his friends? Was he jinxed or something? You let out a sigh of frustration. The idea of his dad convincing him to start treating people like trash again brought your anger back. You rolled your neck and ran your hands through it.

Pulling your wand out of your pocket, you waved it casually, summoning a book from one of the carts beside the isles. You didn't care what it was. You just wanted a distraction. 

Luckily, for you, it didn't take long to get distracted. A few pages and more than a few dreadful minutes into your "reading", someone sat across from you. You looked over the rim of the book to see a smiling Gryffindor with big, round glasses slipping down his nose. He gave an awkward greeting while pushing his glasses back up. 

"Hi to you too, Harry. This is a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" You smiled, shutting the book and crossing your arms over it.

"Well, I just heard about the Draco fiasco that took place a few hours ago-" had it really been hours? "-and I wanted to make sure you were OK." Harry scooted closer to the table, his cheeks a soft pink.

"I'm fine, man. You don't gotta stress about me." You stretched your arms over your head while leaning back in your chair. You were trying to give the illusion of calmness and it was sorta working.

"Oh, good! I'm- I'm glad you're ok!" He began to fiddle with his fingers, digging at the nails nervously. "Because I also wanted to ask.. Um.. If you are free? Like this weekend? To hang out?" His green eyes barely met yours and, instead, opted for staring right over your shoulder. 

"Oh, I'm n-"

"He's not free, Potter. We have plans covering every minute of the weekend. Scram."

Your smile faded as Draco's voice filled the small corner. You looked up, immediately catching his stern gaze. He was leaning against the end of a bookshelf, his arms crossed and one foot crossed over the other. He was clearly chewing on his tongue, not that he'd admit it. You gave him a glare, your arms crossing over your chest. 

"But, Draco. I thought I canceled our plans." Your voice was condescending and it only fueled his anger. Harry, noting the weird tension, ducked out of there quickly, swerving around Draco and speed walking to a safer, less awkward part of the library. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" The blonde hissed while taking long steps over to the table. He was still staring you right in the eyes. Draco moved the chair Potter was sitting in and put his hands flat against the table. He made eye contact with him. 

"Why should it matter to you? I thought I was just being a selfish hero." You narrowed your eyes at him, daring him to make a move. You could feel the anger returning from earlier.

"I never said selfish. Why are you making this so complicated? I have a reputation to withhold, (Y/n)." His eyes softened a bit. He looked down at the polished wood before looking at you again. Draco tried to give you a smile, but you didn’t return it; you just tapped your fingers against the table top.

"I don't give a rats ass about your shitty reputation! You bully pre-teens and they actually fear you and you think that's a good thing? That's what you wanna leave behind when you graduate here?" Your face was turning a deep shade of (insert skin color please). He knew he fucked up, not that he’d admit it, and his soft eyes hardened again.

"Remember who's in charge in this relationship, boy." His hand snaked around the back of your neck, tugging you forward. Your nostrils flared as you released a sigh. Was he really pulling out the dominant card right now?

"I told you there was no relationship." you shoved his hand away, standing straight up and walking past him. You didn’t get far before he grabbed the hood of your robe and tugged you back. He guided you so your back collided roughly with the end of the book case he was leaning against.

“I know you can’t quit me like that, love.” The pure-blood spat out the pet name as his thumb and index finger roughly grabbed your chin and tugged your head up. “We both know I infected you like a virus- I know you're obsessed with me, sweetie.” A menacing grin spread across Draco’s pale lips when your jaw dropped open and your mouth fumbled to find words to combat him.

He moved his leg between yours, his hands moving from the scrunched fabric of your hood to your neck. He leaned in, planting a rough kiss to your lips while his other hand untucked your shirt. He pushed his hand under the shirt, rubbing the skin of your hip while he deepened the kiss. He managed to push his tongue past your lips and ran along yours.

Draco angled his leg to brush against your crotch causing you to jolt in the kiss. He pulled back, his tongue licking your teeth while pulling back. 

“Told you.” He purred out. The hand on your neck gives you a squeeze around the neck while his icy eyes go from your lips to your eyes. He could read you like a book. You hated it. “Don’t be a slut, darling. Let’s head to my room, yeah?” He didn’t move until you nodded your head slowly. “Good boy. Come on.”

The walk to the common room was long, but the hand around the back of your neck was sturdy. It didn't take long for him to have you pressed against the wall of his prefect bedroom, chest first, your pants basically vanished from your legs and his hand wrapped around your hard dick. 

“You’re such a whore, aren’t ya, baby boy, hmm?” Draco’s voice boomed in your ear as his fingers interlocked into your skelp. You couldn’t help but sob. The hand on your dick was going faster, but refused to slide over the swollen head. Your nails scraped down the wall pressed against your front and Draco pressed your cheek harder against the brick. “Been such a bad boy- using that dirty mouth to talk so poorly about me and to flirt with my anime. If you wanted a three-some you should’ve asked Zabini. But Potter? You know that’s a firm no, baby.”

He was tsking before biting down on the side of your neck, the grip he had around your cock only tightened to the point of painful. Tears of humiliation and pain gathered in your eyeline, threatening to boil over. Your legs subconsciously spread when he began to grind into the bulge of your ass, his hard dick prominent into your crack. He licked a strip up from the bite to your ear.

“You know very well what happens to slutty bad boys who flirt with sir’s enemy, right, baby?” He was growling in your ear again, his hand coming to a tight hold at your base. He let out a mocking laugh when your legs clamped shut and your hips tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Draco!” You squeaked out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. It made Draco happy to hear your pathetic pleas, but his joy was melting away due to you still squirming in his grasp. He shook his head, tsking again. He tugged your hair, yanking your head back and forcing you to bow against his body. He gave you a firm slap against the cheek before cupping your cheeks together and forcing your lips to pout, his hand still in your hair.

“You know that’s not my name right now, kitten. Use the right one.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your voice was weak compared to Draco’s, the obvious authority he had over you made you shiver. Abruptly, he pushed you against the wall, letting go of your hair and he was backing away from you. 

“Not yet your not, kitten. Finish stripping then get your arse over here.” Draco spoke, sitting down on the bed, patting the top of his thighs. He smirked when you did what he said, tossing your shirt off into the corner and approaching him slowly. He reached out to grab your arm and tug you over his lap. 

He used one hand to push your face into the mattress while the other ran over your right cheek. He loved watching your hips try to duck and avoid the cold silver of his rings. He let out a mocking laugh, his hands grabbing into your bum, nails digging into the skin to leave marks that had your back arching. 

"Aw, baby. Is it too cold for you?" He laughed louder, feeling you nod against his left hand tangled in your hair. "Aw, poor baby. Wait until you feel them bruise your skin. Now, do you remember what you say?"

"Yes, sir." your voice sounded strained--like you were mentally preparing yourself for the bite of the rings, the puncture of his smacks. You were, in all honesty. He never held back during punishments. 

"See? It isn't so hard to be a good boy after all, is it?" he patted your head before brushing your hair back. "Remember the safe system, darling? Good. Color?" 

"Green, sir." your legs were clenching together and wiggling, but a swat to the back of the sensitive skin of your thighs made you stop. "I'm sorry sir." 

"Good.. Now, how many does a horny little whore like you deserve, hmm? Ten? Fifteen?"

You knew what he was looking for. 

"T-Twenty." You swallowed. The anticipation and degrading was making your head cloudy. 

"Twenty? Well, you must've been really naughty, huh?" His hand ran to your lower back, caressing the skin before dragging his nails back down, leaving a trail of red marks down your skin.

You nodded your head quickly, biting your lip to conceal a moan. You could feel the pre-cum going down your hard dick, which was pressing into Draco's thigh.

"No response? Maybe we should add another ten then, since you wanna be so bad." 

"I-I'm sorry, sir! Twenty is what I deserve." You said quickly, trying to turn back and give him the huge innocent eyes he always went weak for. 

"No. Thirty seems far more fitting." He chose now to start the punishment with a raised hand and a harsh slap over the perfect curve of your ass. He watched the skin bounce and groaned, gripping the flesh again.

"One! Thank you sir." You squeaked out, back arching at the familiar sting of the hit. The cold silver of his rings colliding with your skin caused your toes to curl. 

"Atta boy." he purred out, repeating the action on the other side.

“Two, thank you sir!”

By the tenth spank, tears were falling freely down your cheeks. By the fifteenth, your voice was breaking with each shout. By the twentieth, you were trying to crawl away. By the twenty-fifth, you were kicking your legs like a brat. Somehow you managed to count to thirty without losing track. 

"You did so good, baby. Even if you were being a brat." Draco chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. His other hand rubbed your cheeks, trying to sooth the deep red (or whatever tint shows up with your skin, I wanna be as inclusive as possible) marks on your skin.

You let out another sniffle, propping yourself up on an elbow and wiping the tears off your cheeks. His hand ran up your sweat thighs, his palms rubbing the already sore skin of your ass once he got to it.

“Color?”

“Green, sir.” You turned your head to look at him. Your legs shifted, creating a shattering hyper awareness of how hard and how wet your cock was against his thigh. You caught his dirty smirk before he flipped you over. Suddenly, it was stoic and he was tugging your lower half back onto his lap. This time, Draco was sitting back on his calves, and he was steadily putting your legs around his waist.

“Good. Now,” he paused to lick his lips, “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, got it?” His hands moved down your thighs before moving up to your pelvic bone. While you were responding with a polite, but breathless ‘yessir’, his hand was lazily wrapping around your cock.

He was still fully dressed, and the smooth fabric of his uniform pants rubbed against the sore spots on your ass. Your hips moved upward, trying to get more of his moving hand and less of the fabric against your bottom. You let out a breathy moan while his thumb idly swiped across the swollen head of your dick.

“That’s it.” He mumbled to himself over the sound of his zipper dropping. He mumbled a preparing, lubrication and cleaning spell, his hand still working you slowly. The blonde stuck his tongue out in concentration while pushing his own cock into your lubed ass. Draco let out a hum, his teeth clamping down onto his tongue. “Fuck yes. Such a good boy- my good little slut.” He let go of your dick and clamped his hands onto your waist and used the leverage to pull you down onto his cock.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the cry as he stuffed his cock into you. You felt the wind knocked out of you. You gripped the sheets, whining pathetically. The head of his dick nudged against your sweet spot while he sat there, waiting patiently for you to adjust. It had been a bit of time since the last time you guys had fun sexy time. Your dick was literally throbbing, occasionally twitching, at the idea of him literally fucking you stupid. Your eyes were staring at the top of his four post bed, lost in your own thoughts when he began to move.

He tested the waters with the quick thrust, which yanked a moan from you. When you finally looked at him, you realized he was watching you intently, a menacing grin spread across his face.

“How’s your arse?” Draco asked, his voice condescending and cocky as he gave another thrust. His hand snaked around to your sore ass cheeks and gave one a tough squeeze, his nails digging in.

A cry left your lips, this time pain filled instead of pleasure. You planted your feet flat on the bed and tried to wiggle away from his grasp, which only made it worse.

“Sore, you dick!” You reached around, grabbing his wrist and trying to pull his hand away. “Ow! Let go, Draco!” You dug your nails into his wrist, trying to show him a small level of the pain he was causing but he just laughed, mocking your voice.

“Owie, it hurts! Take it, babe. You can do it.” He let go, his hands coming to hold your hips again before moving you at a punishingly rough pace. His muscular thighs rubbed against your ass, not that he cared. The pain was somehow starting to make the pleasure stronger. Soon it was filling your veins and fogging your brain.

Draco relished every moan, every gasp, every little sound you made. He listened to you whine out his name and it only fueled him more. He watched the sweat bead across your forehead and felt proud of himself.

“Atta boy. Gonna cum soon? Gonna cum completely untouched, like a whore? Hmm?” He purred out, leaning down to leave hickies across your neck and scratches down your chest. Your back arched pathetically off the bed while a woeful affirmative left your lips- but it wasn’t good enough for him.

“Say it.” He snarled, his voice too close to your ear to be that loud.

“G’nna cum, please.” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but your arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him closer. He shifted so he could rail you into the mattress and fulfill his promise.

“Please what? How can I help you if I don’t know what you want? What do you need, kitten?” 

It was like he used the imperius curse on you. You bent to fit his mold and he couldn’t have asked for more.

“Please, sir. Please let me cum, please.” You whimpered, your toes curling in the air. Your ankles locked behind his waist and dug into him, effectively pulling him closer. His palm glided up your chest again and he gave you a smile.

“Course you can, love. Whenever you're good to go.” Draco didn’t ease up his hips, but his voice was softer and after a few thrusts hitting your prostate and a brush of his stomach against your weeping cock had you cumming. Your head tossed back and you didn’t bother to muffle the cry of his name.

It didn’t take much to follow you for Draco, it never did. He always thought one of the most beautiful expressions you could make was while you were cumming on his bed. That, and when he gave you candy and you smiled at him. He kissed every bruise he left on your skin before landing on your lips and laid next to you.

He pulled a sheet over the two of you- the room had gotten hot but he knew both of you were too tired to get cleaned and shower. He pulled you to his chest, kissing your temple.

“You did so good, baby. I love you.” He rested his chin against the top of your head, completely delving you in his shirt covered chest. He rubbed a hand down your back. Your boyfriend didn’t care about sweat. 

“I love you too, Draco.” Your voice was rough and raspy. You planted a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled deeper into him somehow. “I miss you. The nice you- not the mean Slytherin you. He can suck my dick.”

“I know, I know. I’ll work on it. I promise.” Draco spoke between laughs. He hesitated, his mind bouncing between two questions he wanted to ask at once. “Do you want me to get you a bottle of water and we go take a bubble bath?” His voice was soft, but a massive grin spread across his lips when you nodded.

“Can we take a nap first?” You looked up at him with those big innocent eyes and gave him that smile he loved.

“Of course, dove.”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Soulmate AU part 2; Things drastically change for the better:

Arthur and Merlin’s relationship develops, Uther becomes increasingly annoyed at his failed attempts to control them, Leon continues to have heart palpitations over trying to protect them, and Morgana thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Part 1   Part 3 Part 4

So that conversation... happens.

To say it was awkward would be a MASSIVE understatement.

Arthur and Morgana spend the whole time answering Uther’s questions, so much so that Merlin barely speaks (he wasn’t great at keeping secrets, so he wasn’t too mad at them for answering for him) and Uther spends the whole time trying and failing to assert his dominance over his two dumbass kids (but they aren’t having it).

Eventually Merlin did speak up, quietly saying:

“I, um... I’m really sorry to interrupt Sire, My Lord... uh... Your Majesty Sir-”

Morgana smirks slightly and covers her mouth with her hand, Arthur rolls his eyes and squeezes Merlin’s hand, and Uther looks upon the whole scene with barely concealed bewilderment:

“-uh... my mum is waiting for me, and I’m usually not gone for this long so... could I... I mean would you mind if I... went?”

Uther looked even more taken aback at that. As much as this whole conversation had been based on Merlin, he hadn’t actually processed the fact that he was a whole person who would have family and places to be and a life outside of being The Prince’s soulmate.

He nods his head slightly and purses his lips:

“Right. Of course. Arthur said that you lived outside of Camelot?-”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing:

“-Well I’m afraid that that is unacceptable. You are the soulmate of the Prince of this kingdom, inform your family that you are to move here as soon as possible, preferably before the month is out.-”

At Merlin’s wide eyes and Arthur and Morgana’s scornful faces, he waved his hand:

“-Don’t worry, housing and anything else that you will require will be provided by the Crown.”

Merlin still looks a bit dazed and surprised at his demand, so Arthur replies instead:

“Father, Merlin and his mother have a life in their village, you can not just demand that they pack up and leave everything behind to live here.”

Uther looks annoyed at this, but patiently (or as patiently as Uther is able) retorts with:

“Well he was going have to move eventually. The two of you are only a few years from being of age, and you can not possibly live in separate kingdoms when that happens, especially as you are Crown Prince. I’m allowing this... bond... to continue, but we are still royalty, and rules must be followed.”

Morgana goes to argue this time, but Merlin tugs her sleeve slightly and says quietly:

“It’s alright ‘Gana, he is right, I was going to have to move here eventually anyway. This way you finally get to meet my mum, and we’ll get to see each other more often. Mum won’t like it, but I know she’s missed Gaius, so it won’t be too bad, and I’ve always sort of wanted to explore the city.”

Morgana and Arthur stare at him for a few moments whilst he looks between them. Arthur sighs before replying:

“Fine, but only if you’re sure. And take your time, don’t pressure your mum into leaving right away, OK?”

Merlin nods, and everyone at the table stands, stepping back.

Uther mutters that they are dismissed, but watches as they say goodbye to each other. He furrows his eyebrows in interest as Morgana hugs Merlin, mentally noting that he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile that widely before.

When Arthur embraces Merlin, much tighter, and for much longer, a hand cradling the back of the peasant’s-... of Merlin’s head, and a soft, but powerful smile on his face, Uther forgets for a moment the distastefulness of the situation, and revels in the feeling of pride and happiness; his son had found his life partner. 

The King sweeps any thoughts of his late-wife from his mind, and drops the small smile gracing his face, but not before Morgana spies it and tilts her head at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

The boys whisper something that Uther can’t hear, and Merlin steps back, giving him a quick bow and an awkward wave, before disappearing into thin air. A familiar pop echoes around the hall, and a few gold sparks fall silently to the floor.

Arthur and Morgana bow to him very briefly, before turning and leaving the room without another word, arm in arm.

Uther stands alone in the room for a moment, sighing before muttering to himself:

“This is going to be a bloody nightmare. Public announcement. Before that I have to tell the council. And I have to figure out how I can legally make these people nobles, to justify everything-”

He looks to the ceiling, sighing once again as he says:

“-Gods give me strength.” Before turning and sweeping out the room.

~

The moment Arthur and Morgana leave the room, they turn to each other and burst into slightly hysterical laughter, sputtering about “the look on his face” and “oh my gods, *sire my lord your majesty sir* ” between breaths. 

The whole situation was unexpected, but to be perfectly honest, they didn’t regret it; they knew that the longer they waited before telling Uther, the bigger the problem would be.

Morgana straightens up after a moment, wiping tears from her eyes, before whipping her head around to Arthur in sudden panic:

“Oh my Gods, Arthur. Leon.”

Arthur’s eyes widen, and he curses suddenly before taking Morgana’s hand and running towards his chambers. They almost ran into multiple people, Nobles who tutted, and castle staff who jumped out of the way, not even having time to bow before the two teenagers were out of sight again.

They loudly burst into Arthur’s chambers, out of breath, to see Leon pacing a groove into the floor:

They stand with their hands on their knees, panting, but before they can say anything, Leon rushes to speak:

“Where on earth have you been?? A guard said you were in a meeting with the King all afternoon, what happened? Is Merlin ok?? They wouldn’t let me in, so I came back here to wait but-”

Arthur held up a hand to stop him rambling, and gave him a comforting smile. The Prince straightened up, and took one last deep breath before saying:

“Sorry, for worrying you Leon. But you are not going to believe what just happened...”

Morgana starts laughing again, and with that, the two of them shut the door behind them and explain in great detail what had happened, how Merlin had just appeared and Uther had freaked, and Gaius and Geoffrey had to be called, and how funny the look on his face was when they’d explained. 

Arthur had wanted to skip it out, but Morgana gleefully insisted on recounting just how much she and Arthur had ordered Uther around, and how he’d just taken it.

By the end of their explanation, Leon had collapsed in a chair, looking very pale, and a lot like he’d aged twenty years.

He holds his head in his hands, fingers messing up his curls, and stares at the floor as Arthur and Morgana glance to each other, trying not to laugh at the poor man.

After what seems to be hours, Leon straightens up, and looks to the two of them with a stricken expression:

“I can’t believe that... well I suppose he had to find out eventually but... dear Lord I can’t decide if I’m grateful I wasn’t there or not... oh my Gods I’m going to be demoted, disowned, banished.”

Arthur laughs at that and Morgana rolls her eyes at the man’s panic:

“Nothing’s going to happen to you Sir Leon, don’t panic. We didn’t mention you, as far as my father is concerned, the only ones who knew were us.”

Leon finally smiles briefly at that, muttering a quiet thank you, before standing up suddenly, looking panicked once again:

“Wait... you said he’d be moving here?? What about his... gift?? He can’t live in Camelot it’s dangerous. You may have protected him from the King for now but... if he finds out nothing will stop him from... nothing will stop him.”

The two of them sighed at that. They had been mentally considering it, but they were just taking it one victory at a time. Arthur replied moments later:

“We’ll just have to be careful. He has to be careful in Ealdor anyway, he’s already a bastard, he had to hide magic from the other villagers because it probably would’ve been fatal for him to give them a second reason to hate him. We can set ground rules when he actually moves here and... we just have to be careful. It’ll be a new life for him and his mother, we can be careful.” 

He says the last bit with a decisive nod, and Morgana and Leon relax slightly. Arthur was right, they’d been fine so far, they could keep it up.

He would never say it out loud, but if his father found out... if he tried to hurt Merlin, Arthur knows without a doubt in his mind that he would give up his inheritance, take Merlin’s hand, and run. Without hesitation.

He would love nothing more than to turn his kingdom into a place where Merlin could be free and happy one day, but until then, he would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant leaving everything behind.

~

The next few weeks rush by.

Uther had tried to limit the number of visits between Merlin and Arthur, but neither of them were having it, and if anything, they were seeing each other more with the upcoming move.

Hunith did in fact freak out at Uther’s demand of her and Merlin moving to Camelot. For several reasons.

First off, she had a life here. It was difficult, but simple, honest work. The winters were hard, but the summers made up for it. The villagers may have started of being a little cruel to her and Merlin, but they warmed to them when the dark haired boy was nothing but sweet and kind to everyone.

Second off, her son was magical. Both naturally and unnaturally magical. Essetir was dangerous, yes, but Camelot? Camelot was so much worse.

She supposes it had to happen eventually. She didn’t like to think of it often, didn’t want to tempt fate, but her son was the Crown Prince’s soulmate. That meant that one day... he would be married to the King. He couldn’t exactly do that whilst living in Essetir, least of all because the Essetir Crown would throw a world ending fit.

In the end, she agreed to the move rather quickly, at least she would be close to her brother, and she could finally meet Leon and Morgana.

As much as Merlin and Arthur urged her not to rush, she really had nothing to do but say goodbye before they made the journey to Camelot, and the three of them were leaving the village behind them within the month, just like Uther wanted.

Though he definitely hadn’t wanted Arthur to pop away one morning, a full travel pack and a sword on his person, intending to make the journey with them. But in the end, Arthur ended the argument by rolling his eyes (much to Morgana’s amusement) and disappearing before The King could get another word in.

No public announcements had been made (they decided to wait until Arthur came of age), but the council had been informed. They were NOT happy. 

Uther would never admit it, but he did feel a swell of pride when Arthur slammed his hand on the table, and firmly told them that this was happening whether they liked it or not, and if they dared complain instead of help, they would find themselves without a chair at the table, and severely lacking in titles and land.

Uther was relieved when he found out that Hunith was Gaius’ younger sister. Gaius wasn’t a noble, but he was a life-long, close friend of the King, and a trusted advisor. Hopefully that would make it easier. 

The Court Physician wasn’t a title that came with land, or nobility, BUT it was the most respected position in the royal household, below actual nobles.

If Gaius could take Merlin on as his apprentice... then he would be an almost fully trained physician by the time he came of age, and that would be respected. Then at least he would have a role outside of being the Prince’s Soulmate.

It was all coming together in Uther’s mind. Of course it wasn’t perfect. The absolute ideal outcome would’ve been if Arthur’s soulmate had been foreign royalty (if only anyone knew about Merlin’s father...), but he could make do with this. He would have to, if he didn’t want to lose his son and his ward.

~

The day of Hunith, Arthur, and Merlin’s arrival finally comes.

Uther didn’t greet them in the courtyard (it would be unsightly for a King to greet two commoners, even if The Prince was with them) but Gaius, Morgana, and Leon did.

Everyone breaks into wide smiles when the castle gates are opened, Arthur and Merlin rushing forward to meet Morgana and Leon in a big hug, and Hunith rushing forward to meet her brother, whom she hadn’t seen in several years.

There is laughter and hugs all around before Merlin finally steps back and takes his mother’s hand, realising he should probably give actual introductions:

“Mum, this is The Lady Morgana, ward of the King-”

Morgana gives Hunith a wide smile and curtsy, before stepping forward and giving her a brief hug. Morgana was very touch averse with everyone but Merlin, Arthur, and Leon, but in her books, any woman who raised Merlin into the young man he had become, was a woman who deserved her trust. And a hug:

“-and this is Sir Leon, Knight of the King.”

Leon took Hunith’s hand, placing a brief kiss on her knuckles before stepping back respectfully. Hunith quickly followed him, and to his great surprise, wrapped the taller man in a tight hug. He wraps his arms around her after a few moments in shock, when she whispers in his ear:

“Thank you for keeping my boys safe.”

He steps back, a wide smile on his face and his hands on her shoulders. He replies quietly so that only she would hear him:

“It has been my genuine pleasure, and I plan to continue to do so for the remainder of my service.”

Hunith gives him an even wider smile, and pats his hand, before the two of them step back. The others watch on in adoration, before Leon clears his throat and addresses the group:

“I have been instructed to show the two of you to your new residence, before you are to meet with the King.”

Arthur steps back before saying regretfully:

“Unfortunately, Gaius and I should go and meet with my father immediately. Leon, you lead the way, we shall remain with him until you return and we can get this over with.”

He says the last bit with a grimace, and Morgana gives him a sympathetic smile as Merlin squeezes his hand. 

The group separates, Arthur and Gaius heading up the castle steps, and Leon leading the rest of them back out the gates.

Hunith and Merlin had been gifted a small house in the upper city, close to the castle, but not within it’s walls. Arthur had argued endlessly against that, saying they deserved chambers inside the castle, but Hunith was the one who refused.

She wasn’t nobility, and she enjoyed her simple life. She had already given up her farming and livestock, she refused to be cooped up in a giant stone castle where she would have nothing to do, and didn’t understand how anything worked.

Arthur finally saw the sense in that, he can understand that it would be difficult for Merlin and Hunith to live in the castle. He hated to admit it, but they would certainly be looked down on, and Arthur was almost of age, he didn’t have the time to spend all day entertaining Merlin, even if he wanted nothing more than to spend all day every day with him.

The house was small, but still three times the size of their place back in Ealdor. They had separate bedrooms, a large kitchen/dining area, a small storage room, and an extra room for relaxing (”City folk call them living rooms apparently.”). There was a small, fenced off grass area out the front, which Hunith was particularly excited about; she wouldn’t have to give up growing things after all.

The home came fully furnished, and Hunith was speechless at the large, comfortable beds, the soft chairs, and the abundance of cooking equipment. The living room also had a large hearth, and two ceiling-high bookshelves, though they were empty.

Once Hunith had had a good look around (the others had already seen it, and Arthur had been checking with Merlin at every step to see if he approved), Morgana excitedly grabs her hand and drags her back to the slightly larger of the two bedrooms.

Merlin follows confusedly, but Leon follows with a small smile on his face, he had seen what Morgana was planning, despite her best attempts to keep it secret.

Morgana finally stands Hunith in front of the wardrobe and gestures for her to open it. The older woman opens the doors with a little hesitation, before stepping back and gasping, her hands over her mouth.

Morgana grins proudly before speaking to a speechless Hunith:

“My gift to you. I organised a few things for Merlin as well. Of course they’ll all have to be adjusted because I could only pass on to the tailor Arthur and Merlin’s descriptions of you. I thought that could be something nice you and me could do at some point in the next few days, after you’ve settled.”

Merlin steps around Leon to try and see what’s got everyone so wound up, and takes in a quiet gasp at what he sees. The wardrobe is filled with new, tailor made dresses, a few thick cloaks, and two pairs of good quality shoes. Two of the dresses were incredibly nice, royal-gala kind of nice, and the others were a mix of practical, casual, smart. 

He smiles widely, tears in his eyes at what Morgana had done for his mum. He’s always felt a little guilty at being the soulmate of royalty, but not being able to provide her with more than she had, but that changed, starting now.

Hunith finally rips her gaze from the new clothes, staring at Morgana:

“I can’t possibly...-”

Morgana’s tilted head and raised eyebrow forces Hunith to change tracks. The boys have told her how stubborn Morgana was, she has a feeling she wouldn’t be able to return the gifts:

“-I don’t know how to thank you, My Lady.”

Morgana rolls her eyes fondly, and brings her into a hug before stepping back:

“Oh none of that “My Lady” shit, and you don’t have to thank me, you and Merlin are part of the family now.”

Merlin gives her a grateful smile over his mum’s shoulder, which she returns, before Leon speaks up:

“I’m sure you can find time to get them all properly fitted in the coming days Morgana, for now we should get back up to the castle. I imagine The King and The Prince are waiting for us.”

Morgana nods, and Hunith subtly wipes her eyes, before allowing The King’s ward to intertwine their arms. Merlin smiles at the sight (he knew they would get along) before turning and following Leon out the house, and back up towards the castle.

Merlin was only a little nervous, he’d met the King multiple times now, and whilst the man was always painfully polite, it was clear that it was only because the whole situation bewildered him a little. But he’d never met his mother yet, and this next meeting would make the rest of his life go very smoothly, or very difficultly.

Leon pauses a moment outside the door to the throne room, glancing back at Merlin, who takes a deep breath before standing straight and nodding.

Leon smiles encouragingly at him, before pushing the doors open and walking into the room.

Arthur, Uther, and Gaius were stood in front of the thrones quietly discussing something, but look up when they hear the doors open.

Arthur smiles widely and walks forward, giving Merlin a brief hug (which Morgana lovingly rolls her eyes at, they’ve only been apart for half an hour) and Uther straightens his back, before walking forwards regally, a practiced blank look on his face. Gaius gives his sister a reassuring smile, but stays back.

Leon and Merlin bow (Leon deeply, before stepping aside, and Merlin briefly and shallowly) and Hunith curtsied as best she could with Morgana protectively gripping her arm.

Arthur and Merlin stand next to the girls, hand in hand (Uther’s mind bounces between wanting to smile fondly, and wanting to grimace at the PDA), and Uther stops just in front of Hunith:

“Welcome to Camelot, your swift arrival was pleasing.”

Hunith nods, a polite, but strained smile on her face:

“Thank you, My Lord. Anything to make the boys lives easier.”

Uther clenches his jaw, and Morgana has to hide a smirk at the implication that she’d only moved to help out the boys, and not because Uther had ordered it.

“Of course. I hope your new home was to your liking?”

Hunith nodding in reply, the smile on her face a little brighter this time:

“Yes, My Lord, it’s wonderful, I can not thank you enough for providing it. I look forward to exploring your city.”

Uther nods slightly before saying:

“Yes, yes, it’s rather lovely this time of year. The Crown will provide a small allowance for a time, until you can get yourself on your feet. I’ve already discussed it with Gaius, and arrangements have been made for Merlin to become the physician’s apprentice, at Gaius’ earliest convenience.”

“Thank you, I’m sure it won’t be long before I can find work, in such a bustling city.”

Uther nods tersely, before turning back towards Gaius. He waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder as he says:

“I have other matters to attend to for the rest of the afternoon. Sir Leon, Arthur and Morgana, you have the rest of the day off to show our new... residents, around. You’re all dismissed.-”

Leon is the only one who bothers bowing to Uther’s back, and Morgana raises an eyebrow at him, before rolling her eyes and turning to leave, dragging Hunith with her, closely followed by the boys.

Just before Leon can exit the room, Uther turns around hurriedly:

“-Before I forget, Sir Leon, I would like a word.”

Leon turns around after wiping the panic from his face. He shuts the door after the others, who look at him worriedly, before turning around to face The King:

“My Lord?”

Uther settles an assessing gaze on the knight, and Leon has to stop himself from gulping in response. Uther sighs, and speaks after a moment:

“After paying a little more attention to the relationships between yourself, the boys, and Morgana, I have realised something. You obviously knew of this... relationship, long before I did. Do no deny it.-”

Leon does gulp at that, but before he can defend himself, Uther asks:

“Can I trust that it would have been brought to my attention had anything problematic started?”

Leon widens his eyes in shock, before gathering his thoughts and replying, injecting as much confidence in his voice as possible:

“Of course, My Lord. I kept a close eye on them myself, and made sure that the Prince’s safety was my highest priority at all times. Had anything worrying happened, I would have come to you immediately. I am loyal to the throne, My Lord.”

(A big fat lie considering the whole “Merlin is a sorcerer” thing, but the King certainly doesn’t need to know that.)

Uther nods thoughtfully, before meeting Leon’s gaze again:

“Good. I am glad that Arthur has someone looking out for him. I trust you will continue this?”

Leon nods:

“Of course, My Lord.”

Uther nods once again:

“Excellent. Make sure none of... this, interferes with his studies. You are dismissed.”

Leon bows deeply, before leaving the room. He shuts the door behind him, leaning on it and taking a deep breath, before looking up to meet the worried gazes of the others, who had waited for him. He smiles shakily:

“Nothing bad, I’ll tell you later. Come on, let’s show these two around the upper-town.”

Arthur fixes him with a scrutinizing gaze, but Leon meets it (Arthur has yet to win a staring contest against Leon, in fact, Morgana was the only one who ever came close), and after a moment, Morgana shakes her head, and begins to walk down the corridor, the boys trailing after her and Hunith.

They spend the rest of the afternoon showing Merlin and Hunith around the upper-town. The tour leads them around the market, the town square (where the well is) and other important fixtures of the town, such as the tailor, blacksmith’s, and some of Morgana’s favourite shops (Uther hated it, but Morgana and Arthur regularly sneak out of the castle to spend time in the city).

By the time the sun sets, the group is relaxed and getting on well. Merlin knew Morgana and Leon would love his mum, but it was still nerve-wracking, and he was overjoyed by how well it was going.

The kitchen of Hunith and Merlin’s new home had yet to be stocked, so they stopped off at some street vendors before heading back to the house. Hunith tried to argue when Arthur insisted on paying, but she was shut down pretty quickly when Arthur reminded her that he was The Prince, he could more than afford it, and anyway, “I like contributing to the local businesses, I wouldn’t be a Prince if I didn’t have my people around me, I like to give back where I can.”

Leon and Morgana smiled proudly at that, but the smiles on Hunith and Merlin’s face were more fond. 

(Morgana quietly thinks about how differently he would’ve been without Merlin to ground him. With a father like Uther, Arthur easily could’ve turned into an absolute prat.)

They stay together long into the evening, talking and laughing, before Leon finally says it’s time to go. Morgana, Hunith, and Merlin may have tomorrow free, but Leon and Arthur had training early, followed by a day full of meetings.

Morgana smirked at Arthur’s grumbling, but dutifully stood up. The three of them give Hunith and Merlin tight hugs, before leaving them alone, heading back to the castle.

Hunith and Merlin sit in comfortable silence, wide smiles on their faces, before Merlin breaks the silence:

“So what do you think? I know Uther is a bit of a prat, but he’ll want to see as little of us as possible, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Do you... like it here?”

Hunith smiles at him fondly, and runs her hands through his hair when he rests his head on her lap:

“You’ve really made a life for yourself here, haven’t you Merlin? I’m proud of you. Lady Morgana and Sir Leon are exactly how I expected them to be. The house is far more than I expected, but I’m grateful, and I’m sure it won’t take me long to find a job. I’ll always miss our rural village, but nothing is stopping us from visiting every once in a while, to get away from the city, and we have a nice little garden here.-”

Merlin closes his eyes, soothed by his mother’s fingers in his hair, and hums thoughtfully before Hunith continues:

“-You know, I had always considered sending you here to apprentice under Gaius when you were older anyway. Funny, how things turn out. Though perhaps I should’ve realised that nothing was going to go to plan when the little blond boy that appeared in my kitchen all those years ago turned out to be foreign royalty.” 

Merlin huffs out a laugh from when he laid, and responded sleepily:

“Yeah. You know I don’t even think of him as royalty, most of the time. He’s just... Arthur.”

Hunith smiles gently down at him, and takes a few minutes to respond:

“I know what you mean. I’m glad you found your person... or more accurately, I’m glad your person found you.-”

She chuckles, before adding the next bit on quietly:

“-Your father would be proud of you.”

Merlin opens his eyes, and looks up at her blearily:

“You think?”

Hunith’s smile widens, and the both of them politely ignore the tears gathering in her eyes:

“I know.”

~

Time passes quickly. The next day, Merlin, Hunith, and Morgana spend the whole day shopping and stocking up on food and other necessities (the small allowance Uther had provided for them actually turned out to be quite a lot, especially compared to the amount of money Hunith was used to having around).

At some point over the next week, like Morgana had suggested, her and Hunith spent a day in the tailor’s, having all of her new clothes adjusted properly. 

Hunith was also ecstatic to get a job off the back of that. She may not be at quite the professional level yet, but she was the one most of the locals would go to, to fix and patch and re-sew old clothes back in Ealdor.

Merlin started his apprenticeship with Gaius, which meant the days being near, but not with Arthur, were less boring, and slightly more bearable.

He picked up healing quickly (after seeing all the various injuries Arthur and Leon had sustained over the years during training, he was eager to learn how to help them), and he soon became known around town as Gaius’ Boy.

His cheerful demeanour and wide smile endeared him to all of his patients, and he made a point to try and be polite to everyone he came across. Suddenly living in a bustling city, and having what was basically a full time job, was a little overwhelming, but being here meant being with Arthur, so he was determined to make the most of it.

The boys spent the evenings together whenever they could (and still slept in the same bed most nights, out of habit. Merlin’s nightmares had made a brief reappearance after his first meeting with Uther, but they stopped again fairly soon.), and Arthur would often pop out of the castle to share meals with Merlin and Hunith, Morgana and Leon joining them when they had the time.

This did however, involve a few instances of Merlin or Arthur appearing at inopportune times. 

An emergency patient coming in meant Arthur appearing in the physician’s chambers, instead of Merlin’s home, like he had expected. 

Luckily the patient was unconscious at the time. 

(Uther had informed them that the council members and guards who worked in the castle had been informed of the situation (so that Hunith and Merlin wouldn’t be bothered), but the public wasn’t to know at all, at least until Arthur came of age.)

A council meeting overrunning meant Merlin appearing just behind the Prince’s seat, and turning wide-eyed and red-faced before squeaking out a quick apology and disappearing again.

The meeting was side-tracked for a good five minutes as Arthur tried to cover a smirk, Morgana (who insisted she be involved in important meetings when Arthur was) openly laughed, and Uther held his head in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes and muttering something about “stupid kids” and “stupid soul-bonds”.

They tried to be more careful after that incident, and they got better at exploring the bond. With some focus and practice, the boys got fairly good at sensing where the other was, and sometimes, if they were with other people (though that particular sense wasn’t as reliable).

About a month after they moved to Camelot, Merlin was introduced to a lovely girl called Guinevere. Her mother had served Leon’s family, and once she was old enough to have a job herself, Leon swung her a position in the castle as Morgana’s maidservant.

Arthur was oblivious at first (until an amused Merlin explained it to him later on), but Merlin and Leon definitely noticed the... bond, between the two girls, though all four would deny it to anyone who asked, in order to preserve their privacy.

Guinevere, or Gwen, as her friends call her, quickly joined the group. Morgana was grateful for another female presence, and Leon was most certainly grateful for the addition of someone who cared about safety and being careful.

He loved his kids, (”Oh my Gods... I’m a father... how do I... Gaius I know nothing about teenagers, what do I do?? I’m not ready to be a father!”), and Hunith was a good influence, but they couldn’t be around all of the time, and the boys had a bad habit of making trouble, especially with Morgana egging them on. 

He stressed a little less when he knew that Gwen was with them.

~

Shortly after Gwen’s appearance, the group (unfortunately without Leon, he had a patrol:( ) went exploring in the woods beyond the city. Uther was stuck in meetings all day, but Arthur and Morgana had a free day, and after much begging, Gaius let Merlin off as well. 

Morgana having a free day, meant that Gwen had a free day as well (not that Morgana ever made her do many chores anyway, only enough to keep up the pretence that they were Lady and Servant and not... something else).

They put together a picnic, took some horses from the stables, and headed off at first light. It was a warm, summers day, and they planned to spend the day in the sun, Arthur didn’t have to worry about duties, Merlin didn’t have to worry about memorising herb lists and symptoms, Morgana didn’t have to worry about being a Lady, and Gwen didn’t have to mind her place as a servant.

It was planned to be the perfect day, and it almost was. 

After a couple hours journey, they found a beautiful lake, and they spent the morning splashing around in the water, playing and laughing and messing around. 

They spent the middle of the day drying in the sun and snacking on all the sweet meats and fruit that Arthur had snuck from the kitchens. 

They spent the afternoon playing stupid games, and relaxing in the shade, holding hands with no worries, and even sneaking the occasional kiss, revelling in the freedom of being alone.

They were sad to have to leave, but it became an agreement that at least once a month, whilst the weather held out, they would come to their spot by the lake, and relax with each other. No responsibilities, no obligations, no “My Lord”s or “My Lady”s, just four friends, hopelessly happy and in love.

It was on the way home that things went a little wrong.

Usually this stretch of the woods was completely safe and bandit free, but the group was not so lucky as to have an eventless journey home.

When they were about halfway home, Merlin halted his horse suddenly and sat up straight, letting go of Arthur’s hand and tilting his head, eyes closed, listening to the woods around him with a frown on his face.

Arthur looks back and frowns, before calling to the girls, a few metres ahead of them, to wait for a minute.

He looks to Merlin, still with a frown on his face:

“Merls? What is it?”

Merlin waves his hand in Arthur’s direction, gesturing at him to be quiet. He is silent for another few moments, before he opens his eyes wide, and speaks in a low, but rushed voice:

“Gwen, ride ahead with ‘Gana, everyone get your swords out, we’re being watched.”

Arthur tenses at that, and he and Merlin pull their swords out (Leon had insisted that Merlin learn, he wasn’t nearly as good as the others yet, but he could hold his own. Leon was also the one who insisted they be armed when he learnt of their plan for the day.), quickly followed by Gwen and Morgana. 

Instead of riding ahead, Morgana speaks up quickly:

“Gwen can fight just as well as me, I’ve been training her, we should stay together.”

Arthur looks worried, but Gwen just rolled her eyes before adding quietly:

“I’m also the daughter of a blacksmith you know, I’ve been handling swords since before I could walk.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before looking back to Merlin, and quietly, so that only Merlin can hear him:

“How many, and where from?”

Merlin tilts his head away from Gwen, so she can’t see the gold of his eyes, before flexing his hand slightly, and responding:

“Six or seven, I think from the South.”

Arthur nods once more, before turning his horse to be facing South, and he peers into the trees. It wasn’t quite dark out, but it was dimming, and the forest was so thick, the underbrush so overgrown, that it was difficult to see much beyond the edge of the path.

The girls urge their horses back the way they came, to be close to the boys, and stay alert, swords raised, feet braced and ready for action.

Merlin clenches his hands and gasps slightly, before murmuring, loud enough for everyone to hear him this time:

“Twenty seconds.”

Gwen goes to question how he knew that, but a quick look from Morgana, and a shaken head meaning “Later” stops her, and she instead focuses her gaze on where the others were looking into the trees.

Like Merlin had said, twenty seconds later, the treeline breaks, and seven men burst through yelling, and brandishing swords, the shock of which sends the horses scarpering, and the four of them have to jump off and let them go.

Battle broke out immediately, the teenagers aiming to incapacitate or injure, but the bandits not being so kind with their attacks.

The battle is intense, Merlin using little bits of subtle magic here and there to trip or confuse various attackers, Arthur and Morgana slowly but surely taking down men, one by one, and Gwen easily enough holding her own.

But, four, mostly inexperienced (Arthur had only had to actually fight for his life once or twice at this point, and before, he was surrounded by fully trained knights whose top priority was keeping him safe, even to their own detriment) teenagers, aged 15, 16, and 17, were no match for seven seasoned attackers.

In the end, it’s the four of them left (each with bruises and cuts, but nothing serious) vs three remaining attackers, but the battle quickly stops when Merlin turns around (a gut feeling) to see one of the men silently raise a sword, readying to bring it down on to Gwen’s turned back.

He instinctively raises his empty hand towards them, and yells:

“NO!”

He sends the man flying back, head hitting the tree behind him with a thwack.

Gwen stares at him (or more accurately, the golden glow of his eyes) in astonishment, and Morgana and Arthur use the momentary distraction to deal with the last two attackers, giving them swift knocks to the head.

Morgana rushes forward to Gwen and tugs at her shoulder, trying to get her attention to see if she’s ok, but she ignores her just staring at Merlin.

Merlin drops his hand, and his face morphs from anger to shock to fear, the gold in his eyes fading back to blue as Arthur reaches his side and takes his hand. 

Gwen finally stutters out a:

“What... you’re... but Uther?-” before wiping the shock off her face, and setting it in grim determination, clenching her jaw.

Merlin’s eyes widen at her expression, and he takes a fearful step back, Arthur steps in front of him and Morgana tries to grab Gwen’s arm as she begins to stalk quickly forwards, but it slips from her grip.

Arthur holds his hands out, and begins to speak, seemingly trying to talk her out of hurting Merlin, but she ignores him, and pushes him to the side with surprising strength.

Merlin gasps and tries to take another step back, tears in his eyes, but she grabs his shoulders and, before anyone can say anything more, pulls him into a crushing hug.

Merlin takes a few moments to respond, clearly not expecting such an affectionate reaction to being discovered as an evil sorcerer, but hugs back at Gwen’s watery “Thank you.” whispered in his ear.

Arthur lets out a breath, and he and Morgana smile, not really sure why they were so surprised at Gwen’s acceptance. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in Camelot, expecting hatred and violence and fear in response to magic is ingrained in you.

Gwen finally pulls back, and takes Merlin’s hands, the both of them have tears on their faces, and Gwen sniffs before quietly saying:

“I’m sorry that you have to live in fear, and I’m sorry I wasn’t clear enough in my adoration for you that you felt you had to be scared of my reaction. I promise to keep you safe, to the best of my ability.-”

She fondly punches him in the arm, before continuing with a smile:

“Next time, you can just do that right at the beginning, and save us all the trouble, yeah?”

Merlin nods slowly, before pulling Gwen into another tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, and she runs her hands through his hair and they both quietly weep.

Arthur and Morgana both feel the strong urge to step in, and comfort their own soulmates, but they resist, and instead give them a moment of privacy as they round up the horses, and search the bandits.

After a few minutes, Gwen and Merlin pull back, and walk towards the other two, holding each other’s hand comfortingly. 

Whilst searching their unconscious bodies, Arthur hadn’t found anything identifying, but had found a length of rope in one of their discarded bags, hidden in the underbrush.

He cuts the rope into separate pieces and ties the bandits up, to individual trees, before looking back to the group:

“This won’t hold them long at all, but we don’t have the means to transport them back to the city. I can get my father to send a search party to look for them, but by the time we get back to the City, and the Knights get out here, they’ll probably be long gone.”

Morgana raises an eyebrow and replies:

“I thought you Knights were excellent trackers. They won’t wake up for a while, and they’ll be dazed, so it’ll take them a while to get out of the rope, if your knots are any good-”

Arthur goes to retort, but Gwen quickly interrupts him:

“That’s not the point. What if one of them remembers what Merlin did? And accuses him? Uther probably wouldn’t take their word against all of ours, but it would attract unwanted attention, wouldn’t it? And, no offense Merlin, but he’s already not exactly fond of you.”

Arthur nods at that, and Morgana hums thoughtfully, whilst Merlin just stares at her in shock. He speaks up after a moment:

“We could loosen the knots, and wake them up a little before leaving? That way they’ll have plenty of time to escape before the knights get here? But we have to report it. The types of men to attack four teenagers, none in armour, and two of whom are women, need to be warned about.”

Arthur and Gwen look troubled at that, and Arthur speaks up first:

“Morgana is right though, the Knights are brilliant at tracking, what if they find them anyway? I won’t risk one of them remembering what you did.”

Merlin looks annoyed, always the one to sacrifice himself, and Morgana furrows her brows before looking up, and speaking slowly:

“You could... over exaggerate how violent they were? Request a kill on sight order? That way, none of them make it back to testify, but they’re also no longer a problem for travellers.”

Arthur tilts his head in surprise, and Gwen widens her eyes at the suggestion.

Arthur looks like he’s genuinely considering it, when Merlin gasps:

“Oh!! Wait! The other day, I read about a spell. It’s like a memory charm, I can make them forget the last ten minutes or so, if it works, and we time it right, they’ll remember attacking us, but not how the fight ended!”

He has a grin on his face, but Morgana and Gwen look doubtful, whilst Arthur looks thoughtful, before speaking:

“Have you tried it before? Do you know it would work?”

Merlin turns a little pink, before looking to the floor, and saying:

“Well... do you remember agreeing to let me try it on you last week?”

Morgana grins as she realises the implication of the question, and Gwen gasps as Arthur’s eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head slowly:

“...No.”

Merlin finally meets his eyes, with a nervous smile on his face as he says:

“Then yeah, I’ve tried it before and it worked fine.”

Morgana and Gwen start laughing as Merlin bites his lip and Arthur blinks a few times, before speaking again:

“...Ok, you cast the charm or whatever, I’ll make sure the ropes are done tightly, then we’ll wait for one of them to wake up, to check that it worked, then we’ll leave, and send a patrol back to arrest them.”

With the girls still laughing in the background, Merlin goes to the three attackers who had witnessed him perform magic and cast the spell, whilst Arthur double checked all of the bindings.

The group only has to splash cold water on the face of one of the attackers for him to cough himself awake. He looks around, clearly bewildered, and yells:

“What?? How the fuck... what did... how hard do you hit, kid? Jeez, how the fuck did I-”

He’s cut off by Arthur hitting him in the head again with the hilt of his sword, before he steps back and says:

“Ok. It worked. I think it’d be best if we got home as quickly as possible, we’re already going to be late.”

With that, the group takes one last cursory glance (and fill with pride at the idea that they’d managed to fight off a group of thieving murderous bandits all on their own) at the bound bandits, before mounting their horses, and urging them into a gallop towards Camelot.

The report to Uther was definitely intense, The King was furious that a group of violent criminals were attacking citizens, especially women (though Arthur made sure to point out that Morgana fought just as well as him, and Gwen held her own just fine) so close to the city.

He immediately sent out a large patrol to scour the woods, focussed especially around the path they used, and to not come back until the seasons changed, or the criminals were found.

Arthur was right, the ropes hadn’t held them for long, but he was also right in saying that Camelot Knights were excellent trackers, and they were hunted down within a week, and brought back to Camelot for sentencing.

Arthur and Morgana tried to speak against it, at Merlin and Gwen’s request, but Uther ultimately sentenced the offenders to execution, for crimes against the Crown and Citizens of Camelot, and didn’t question why they couldn’t even remember half the fight.

In fact, that actually had Uther praising the group for fighting well, and he begrudgingly admitted that Morgana’s sword lessons (which she had been ruthlessly demanding since she was a child) and Guinevere’s subsequent training, had paid off well.

~

THE END OF PART 2

Wow so I finished this way quicker than I was expecting, I just really love this concept, thanks anon, for requesting :)

Anyway, hope you enjoy gang

[hauntingmothgirl]

To Hell and Back PART 3

Hi so a lot of people liked that last part, thank you for the support, it really made me smile and made my day. If you have any suggestions/requests or want me to write a specific scene then feel free to ask, my dms are open, but for now here’s part 3! This series spans across the ending of season 4 if it wasn’t already clear enough.

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        The flight to Windsor, Ontario, Canada felt longer than it should have. Trying to avoid Spencer’s prying and profiling eyes was harder than it seemed. Even staring at her book wasn’t enough to keep him from noticing how long she had been on a single page. And the looks the team were now giving to a certain profiler who seemed to be studying every movement of his co-worker were hard to ignore. 

        By the time the plane had touched down, Y/n had cleaned up her space and was sitting on the edge of her seat, book in hand and satchel across her chest. As soon as it was clear to leave Y/n was out of her seat, mumbling a thank you to a flight attendant and hurrying down the steep steps. The normal cars they had assigned to them were directly outside, waiting for the team. Flinging an SUV door open and hurrying into the back, ducking behind the headrest, she tried her best to see over her hiding spot to check if the hour ride to R.C.M.P. Headquarters was going to be one filled with torture, or one filled with awkward silence. 

        She was just about to sit up, realizing how idiotic she looked and how stupid she would feel if someone spotted her when an uncoordinated Reid tried to hurry down the steps without looking, well… hurried. A grimace settled onto his face as he squinted through the sunlight trying to spot her. Rossi was next behind him, taking slow steps. Clapping a hand on his back and leaning in, Rossi muttered something in Reid’s ear, smiled and then started for the car. Reid’s demeanor shifted, his shoulders went stiff and then relaxed, his expression softened and then fell. He took off for the next car. 

        Y/n sat upright and stuffed her nose into her book as Rossi entered the car, pulling his seatbelt on before finally starting the car. “You can sit in the front if you like, you know?” He offered, looking up in the mirror to meet her eyes. Hesitating, she dropped her book and moved to the door. Settling into the front passenger seat, she forced herself to keep her eyes forward. The drive started out fine at first, Rossi didn’t try to make conversation and let the silence flow comfortably around them. After the first 20 minutes of driving and staring down endless highways, Y/n had grown restless and drew her book back to her, in need of something to occupy her mind. As she read her eyes grew heavy, sore, and her head fell forward slowly. Every so often she fought against closing her eyes fully and instead found herself sinking further and further into her seat. By the time she had woken up, the drive was over. 

  ✰

         “Come on Sunshine,” a voice laughed near her ear, startling her out of her sleep. Craning her now sore neck to peer up at the person who stood with her door open, trying to unbuckle her now, she rubbed her eyes. “Have a good nap?” He chuckled, taking her satchel from out of the backseat. She grimaced, taking his hands to help lift herself up, steadying her balance. “Where are we, Derek?” She asked, taking a look around. “Headquarters, they dropped your bags off at the hotel, told me to give you your room key for tonight. You were knocked out for a while, Rossi didn’t wanna wake you when we got to the hotel. Don’t worry, we didn’t go through any of your belongings,” he added with a smirk. Looking up at the headquarters, she smoothed her shirt and pulled her into a ponytail, trying to look decent, or at least as if she hadn’t been asleep for the past hour. “Thank you,” she mumbled, taking her satchel from his hands. “No problem.” 

           A thought popped into her head as she pulled the satchel onto her shoulder, “Aren't you supposed to be with Prentiss?” she asked, twisting to look for the other profiler. “Yes, mother,” he chuckled, “I’m heading there now, but the teams inside and I'm apparently on wakeup duty. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do,” he answered, walking backwards towards another SUV. “Drive safe,” she called after him, turning to the big building as he called back, “You know it.” 

        The building was big and red. Bigger on the inside than she anticipated, multiple floors, lots of bustle and busy people. The faint smell of peppermint and air freshener wafted to her nose. As she entered the building she caught sight of the rest of her team, giving a small smile as she started towards them. “Morning sleepyhead,” JJ cooed. Her stomach did flip flops as she came to a stop in front of them, locking eyes with Spencer. “Very funny,” she retorted as the team started to set a stride. 

        A small elevator sat at the far end of the room, a door titled, “Stairs Access,” stood just across from it. On any normal day Y/n would’ve chosen the stairs, she had always had a problem with the close quarters of an elevator, the uncertainty and danger of such an unstable device had always left her off put. But a long way to the ninth floor on the stairs would not only be physically tiring, but would most definitely be accompanied by a certain doctor to her left who had been dying to talk to her alone. Still, the team became increasingly interested when Y/n stepped in with them. “Someone’s getting brave, huh?” JJ chuckled, “Just too tired to deal with the stairs today.”

        The hallway the doors opened to was short and led out to a giant office full of people. Tan walls extended on each side, the tiles on the floor reflected the lights above them. A man met Rossi in the entrance of the room, exchanging pleasantries and introducing the team, it was impossible not to notice the way Spencer’s gaze kept flickering to hers. Two red offices stood at the far end of the room and the room to the right of them. Walking in between the desks and making his way to one of the rooms, Jeff led the team, “I've got a victim board and timelines set up on monitors in the conference room. Anything you need, you've got the run of the place.” 

         “We appreciate it,” Rossi replied lightly.” “Don’t thank me, Thank the unsub. He's the one that put you all in charge.”

        Something about that last remark hit Y/n the wrong way, wrinkling her nose in agitation. JJ excused herself to go talk to Garcia as Y/n took in the room. A long conference table sat in the middle of the room, six chairs pushed into it. A tv hung on the left wall, faces of the victims littering the screen. Rossi took in the site, then moved around the table to make room for Reid and Y/n. Following Reid, she took a second to go over the tv soon realizing that she had already seen the pictures in the file JJ had supplied her with. Realizing that everyone’s backs were to them, Spencer made the quick decision to steal a look at her. Turning on her heel to walk away from the screen, her eyes reached his, the pleading look on his face was enough to make her stomach turn. Guilt flooded her, all he probably wants is his best friend back, this isn’t fair to him. Did I ruin our friendship?  Turning around to take her place next to Rossi. “You believe that he killed all these people?” Reid asked, his eyes turning back to the screen, “Fits the profile,” Officer Jeff responded absentmindedly. “How so?” Rossi asked, clearly quizzing his former student, everyone in this room knew of the Unsubs history, but Jeff answered nonetheless. “He got a recent physical trauma. Could be a stressor. Wide disparity of victims. No bodies. Possible border cross. Two entirely different terrains,” He paused, “To pull that off, you'd have to be smart, you'd have to be organized, mobile, physical.” His missing leg ran through Y/n‘s mind once again, before the accident this all could’ve been possible, but now? After such physical trauma? It didn't make sense. 

        “Military background gives you all that,” Rossi finished for him.

 “Exactly,” Officer Bedwell hummed.

        “It appears as though he clusters his victims into men, then women, and then back to men again.” Spencer’s voice raised in tone, confusion heavy in his voice. 

        “What does that tell you?” Officer Bedwell asked.

“At the moment, nothing.”

        They were informed that he hadn’t contacted family, nor a lawyer and was awaiting an interrogation. Hotch was the last person to talk, deducing that since this man had contacted the FBI, he would want to speak to whoever he believed was the most in charge. 

        The interrogation room was dimly lit, only one light directly overhead, the room behind the glass was filled with two officers, Rossi, Reid and Y/n. Crammed into the few chairs there were, Y/n watched, her brows furrowed, as Hotch sat down at the table. William was a tall man, broad shoulders and muscular arms, he sat in silence, a detached look sewn onto his features. A black goatee rested above his lips, his hair was cropped in a buzz cut, understandable due to his military background. His body shows his training too, he sat straight up, shoulders back, hands on his thighs, his legs slightly spread. The pinnacle of perfect posture. 

        It was silent as Hotch announced himself as the behavioral analysis unit chief from the FBI. William’s face didn't change as his eyes lifted to Hotch’s, “You’re here to analyze me.” This wasn’t a question, but a statement. “No, I’m here to take your confession and find out where you dumped your victims,” Hotch corrected. Y/n could see the technique Hotch was using beginning to form, diminishing any hope of negotiation. Setting himself in charge in the room and demanding the attention, making it clear that this was Hotch’s room, not Heightower’s, taking away any slimmer of wiggle room around the conversation. He continued, “Or are you wasting my time?” 

        Y/n’s boss was always great at keeping his voice firm but somewhat monotone when speaking to unsubs, not letting emotion intercede unless it was directly needed. “I gave you names, I gave you dates.” William bounced around the subject, his voice low and gravely, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours. Hotch reigned the conversation back onto topic easily, “You didn’t give me a dump site.” It was silent for a moment, as if an unspoken staring contest had started, the Unit Chief’s jaw was set, William was withholding information and he wasn’t intending on opening up anytime soon. “You were a sergeant,” Hotch started, again not a question, a statement intended to gain an emotional reaction, “You led troops, probably lost men.” Y/n’s eyes flickered to William’s just as he let out a hesitant, “a few.” 

        “What would their parents feel if they didn’t know whether their sons were dead or alive?” Hotch tried. The tension shifted uncomfortably. A cord was struck, “Don’t lecture me on notifying families, I’ve been on those doorsteps,” as William spoke his voice rose slightly from the whisper it had started out as. He’s protective of these men, his angry tone shows Hotch’s words affect him, why is he trying so hard to make us not see that? “No one cares about those people, why should I?” His head shakes as he says it, even his own body is rejecting the words he’s saying, subconsciously disagreeing with them. Hotch’s words have caught him off guard, this technique is making him emotional.

        Rossi’s voice interrupts Y/n’s thoughts, “Here we go.” 

        “What do you mean?” An officer to the right of Y/n’s chair asks, he leans against the interrogation window, unknowingly making her scoot her legs closer to herself. He mindlessly takes up so much of the little space beside her that she cringes uncomfortably away from him. “An interrogation doesn’t really start until you get the first lie,” Rossi finishes, so he picked up on it too. Hotch’s voice silences all of them as he resumes the conversation through the glass, “See that’s just the thing William, you were out there every night. You took their photographs, you checked off their names in a notebook,” William remains blank as he mutters, “So?” Hotch grimaces at the answer and then continues, “Your behavior was more like a protector, like someone in the army doing a bed check.” If Hotch’s words resonate with anything at all to him, he doesn’t show it and lets him continue. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to confess to a crime you didn’t commit,” Hotch accuses. 

        Suddenly all reservation in William is gone, his lips quiver as he spits the words out angrily, “The folks on the street, did they tell you people were missing?” It's like he’s trying to prove their absence rather than his own guilt. 

        “If my team is here there are cases we are not working on, you are wasting our time.” 

        “10 people dead, huh?” Swallowing harshly, scowling, challenging Hotch, “That’s not enough for you?” 

        “I’ve watched the tape of you at the border cross over and over again, you wait until every guard is out of the booth before you drive into it,” Hotch raises his voice, as he leans closer to the table, “if you wanted to kill people you had your chance.” 

        William’s voice is booming now, his face enraged, “Are you investigating these murders or not?!” His whole body shakes violently as silence fills the room. “So that’s what this is all about?” Hotch questions, “Making sure we investigate?” What a way to do so. “If you thought people were being killed you should’ve gone to the police in Detroit.” Another shudder rips through William, “I already did,” his voice is low as it break. “3 times. They told me the kind of people I was looking for disappeared.” His voice trembled, the light reflecting off tears in his eyes, “They said that’s the way life on the street works.” Silence enveloped them again. 

        Struggling to keep his composure, he enunciated every word, “Do. You. Believe. The. People. I. Showed. You. Are. Missing?” 

        “I believe it's possible.”

        Rage wracked through his frame once again, “Don’t give me a political answer!”

        Hotch hesitated, giving himself a moment before he responded, “Tell me about what happened the night before the border cross.” William opened his mouth and then shut it before starting, “I did a head count,” he began. “Every night for the past month, like we do in Baghdad. That night I saw a boy named Charles wasn’t where he usually camped down.” The mention of a boy sends a pang of pain through Y/n’s chest, wondering how old the boy must have been. Hopefully he had meant a young man, rather than a young boy. The idea of a child in the case was a sore subject. Swallowing the hard lump in her throat, she hoped she hadn't shown any visible signs of discomfort. 

        “So I made another pass.”

“He didn’t turn up?”

        “By the morning I knew he was gone,” another scowl had set on his face, though this time it wasn’t targeted at the man across from him. “William,” Hotch started, sympathy thick in his voice, “People don’t do what you did out of honor.” He paused, “They do it out of love.” William’s lack of a response was enough to confirm their suspicions. “Who were you looking for on the streets every night.” His brows furrowed as William prepared himself before continuing, “I got home from Iraq, first thing my mother told me was that my baby sister Lee was on the streets.” Y/n’s heart sunk, with the way he’d been acting there was no way this story was going to end well. Rossi must have noticed it too because out of the corner of Y/n’s eye she watched him shake his head slightly, turning away from the glass before coming back to it, exhaling roughly. 

        William continued, “She asked me to find her.”

        “But you couldn’t?” Hotch pried.

        “I managed once. Brought her home, we got her fed.” His eyes fell, staring longingly as his voice broke yet again, “She even wore my dog tags. For good luck.” Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, sighing. No matter how long you were on this job, no matter what horrors you’d seen, it never gets easier to hear from the relatives of people who’ve gone missing. The team was evidence of that, Rossi’s head was to the side, face contorted in uncomfort. The officers sat quietly, staring at their laps. Though Hotch had to remain indifferent in order to keep control of the room, his face was no longer hard and stern. While he held his lips together in a tight line, a deep sadness sat behind his eyes, something only his colleagues who’d worked with him for so long would pick up on. 

         “Two weeks later, she slipped back onto the streets.” Composure was no longer an option for William, his breathing came out in short, quick breaths as his chest visibly shook. The tears spilled over, “That was it,” he barely managed to let out, another shaky breath in.

         “William, you’ve got so much information about the other potential victims, why not Lee?” Hotch asked, though this was a raw subject, it was still vital to know. Blinking rapidly in order to control the tears and reign his emotions back in, Heightower replied, “I hid it in a spare tire, in my car.” That explained why none of the team had any knowledge about Lee, organized and brilliant, William had intentionally left her out of the files he created for us. He wouldn't have even been considered had the officers known how close he really was to one of the victims, Y/n pondered. “I needed to wait until I was sure,” while the tears had stopped and his breathing was now in control, his hands still shook slightly under the table as he finished, “that you were on board.”

         That was all the team needed to hear, Frankie excused herself from the room. Walking down the hall as she assembled her thoughts. The car would definitely be in evidence somewhere, how they hadn’t managed to find the new piece of the puzzle was surprising, confused she wandered the hall trying to find the stairs. 

        The sound of the stairwell door opening made Y/n falter. She’d reached a platform between the set of stairs, eyes glancing to the door at the end of the platform that would take her to the hallway. Stairwells were where most assaults happened, but due to the fact that she was in a police department, she pushed that thought to the back of her head and continued to the next set of stairs. It wasn’t until she heard the pitter patter of quick footsteps behind her, that she realized she should have taken her chances with the elevator. 

        “ Y/n?” A pang of dread ran through her body in slow waves. Turning slowly on her heel, her eyes met Dr. Reid’s. His face was contorted, his eyes fixed on the ground, then fluttered back up to hers. “I-” 

        “Did I miss something on Heightower?” His eyebrows furrowed, confusion making it’s way on to his features. 

        “No- I just-” 

“Does this have anything to do with this case or a previous one?”

        “No-”

“So this is not work related?”

        “No, it’s not, but-”

        “Then we should not be having this conversation.” Starting back down the stairs, he was next to her in a moment. “I know that, but the other night I didn’t mean to make it seem like-” “Spencer,” her nose scrunched up in uncomfort. “Please, don't do this.” Another flight of steps was through. At this point she was counting them down in her head. 

        “Y/n, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, it just seemed like the worst time and I didn’t want you to-” “Spencer, please.” One more flight to go. 

        “Okay but give me a moment to-” 

         “Spencer!” 

        Blinking back tears, she tried to reason with him. “That was the single most humiliating thing I’ve ever done. Just having to look you in the eyes right now is unbelievably painful. Knowing that our friendship will probably never go back to the way it was is killing me and you bringing attention to it every five seconds is making it worse,” she rambled. “I mean for God’s sake Morgan won't stop trying to profile me and Hotch looks at me like a kicked puppy. I can tell everyone here is second guessing my decision to come back and I’m already having a hard enough time proving that I’m okay without your worried glances making everything worse so please. Give me some space, some time before I have to have this conversation with you.” 

        Spencer’s eyes flickered down, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

        “I just can’t do this right now Spencer.” Opening the door and entering the lobby she made her way to an officer, flashing her badge and asking where the evidence storage room was.

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okay that’s part 3, again, i hope it didn’t disappoint. and if it did then, again, that's chill too. tagged everyone who wanted a part 3. i know it was pretty long but i wanted to get a lot of the dialogue out of the way so i can focus on the reader and spencer in the next couple parts, rather than just the case, although that is pretty important. thank yall so much for the kind words!! and again if you have any suggestions or recommendations just ask, and if you want to be tagged in part 4, let me know! if you want me to stop tagging you then let me know that too lol. part 4 will be up tomorrow. have a beautiful day loves :)

@anarchy-n-glitter i love you sm, thank you for the support lol.

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Part 2

Part 4

Masterlist

[caker-baker]

If There Was A Crown

It wasn’t everyday one was summoned to the royal court, and definitely not everyday a baker was summoned.

If the baker happened to be in their hero form, they might have understood, but as a regular kingdom citizen, they didn’t understand.

They had dealt with the royals, sure, but not like this, not when they were still halfway covered in flour.

Had they done something wrong? Was their bakery being repossessed? Or worse, demolished?

The hero didn’t like the stares of the people as they approached the dais, a million and one thoughts were racing through their head already, they didn’t need anyone else’s.

Upon the dais was the prince’s throne, and upon that was the prince, who sat almost amused.

“Baker.” He addressed.

The hero kneeled before they spoke. “Your royal highness.”

This seemed to further amuse the prince, who leaned forward in anticipation.

“Do you know why you have been brought here?”

“No, your highness.”

The prince’s eyes shone in amazement, a wide cat like smile forming. “You have been accused as terrorizing the kingdom under the pseudonym ‘Villain’,” before the hero could open their mouth, the prince held up his hand. “These acts include but are not limited to: larceny, arson, and murder. How do you plead?”

The court burst into chatter, louder and louder.

“I-I-” the hero couldn’t breath, their still kneeling self wobbling. “No! Not guilty, your highness.”

The prince almost rolled his eyes, but didn’t, instead choosing to motion to the guards to come forward.

“On what grounds, baker?”

Cold manacles were placed on the hero before they could blink, the whispers of the court members becoming more suffocating by the second.

“On the-” their mouth went dry.

How could they explain this?

They disappeared at odd times, generally the same time as the true villain, so that was incriminating enough; but they couldn’t outright say they were Hero. What if the real villain was here? Then they would know everything.

“The grounds that-”

“Yes, baker?” With another motion from the prince, the hero was hoisted upwards aprubtly, cold manacles on their wrists, and even colder hands on their arms.

The prince hadn’t even bothered to give the hero a chance to explain, he was having fun with this.

The reality of the situation slowly closed in on the hero, who suddenly found their tongue.

“My lord, please, you have to believe me, you can ask any of my loyal customers, any of the neighboring shops, I wouldn’t harm a fly.”

The prince pretended to consider this with his chin rested in his hand.

“And until speaking to them is possible, you will be held prisoner as Villain. That is all.”

So nonchalant, so nonchalantly the prince waved his hand as a dismissal, it made the hero want to scream. But they couldn’t do that, their hands were tied.

Well, chained.

And chained didnt change much, it was over, the hero had already thought this out.

Once they arrived at whatever cell or dungeon the apparently cruel prince had ready for the villain, the hero would begin to find an escape. After that, they couldn’t go back to their bakery, they couldn’t go back to anything, they would have to live as Hero forever.

Something hit their heart, the thought of never going back to the bakery. It felt heavy.

The hero didn’t notice the creaking door being unlocked, nor the wall which they were chained to, their bakery occupied their mind.

Even if they were proven innocent, which, judging by how the prince acted, they wouldn’t be, who would go to an accused villain’s bakery? How would the hero make a living now?

Or will this lead to the chopping block?

The hero shivered and blinked a few times to properly examine their predicament. It was a cell, there was no question about that, but it looked personalized. A bed in the corner, a stack of books beneath it, and a small desk with a chair.

A cell, but a used one, probably from a prisoner with good behavior.

The hero walked to the bars of the cell, at least a foot away from the bars, as the chains didn’t allow any further.

Chains in a cell?

That was strange, but if the prince believed them the villain, it would be reasonable enough.

If the prince deems me a villain, why this cell?

Something was wrong here.

“Everything to your liking, baker?” A voice sneered.

The hero’s eyes lit up, that voice was the prince, the prince was here. Maybe they could prove their innocence.

“Your highness, please, please, I am innocent, whoever accused me is wrong, I-”

“I accused you.” The prince interrupted, so sharp and firm the hero almost though they imagined it.

At the hero’s shocked face, the prince laughed.

“I do enjoy seeing you helpless.” He took off his crown, examining it in his hands. “It’s fitting for a pesky hero.”

Again, the hero felt their body begin to shake, perhaps out of anger.

“What?”

Cold and victorious eyes glanced up from investigating the crown. “You heard me, Hero. Or should I say it differently?” The prince cleared his throat. “I do love watching pesky heroes squirm.”

The hero felt themselves fall, the chains making a clattering sound that rang in their ears, similar to how those words someone else had spoken a week prior rang.

“You,” they began, now eternally grateful for the bars. “Are villain. You’re villain.”

The prince bowed, never taking his eyes off the hero. “In the flesh. And crown.” He smirked at that.

“But-” the hero felt at a loss for everything. At least now the accusation somewhat made sense. “But why? Your kingdom, why terrorize it?”

“You know nothing, pesky little hero.”

The hero heard the creaking door, and suddenly realized bars didn’t do much when the heir to the throne was involved.

Still, through the fear and confusion, the hero found their legs and stood, looking the prince in his eyes. It was bravery, and they would die by that.

Or maybe it was stupidity, the odds were against them.

“The only time I have seen you this close,” the prince began, “is when I managed the upper hand against that wall.”

His steps were slow, his hands even slower. Fingers delicately lifted the hero’s chin, who still looked straight on.

“Do you remember that?” He asked in a whisper, using his thumb to trace over the hero’s bottom lip.

The hero wanted to back away, but the prince had somehow already walked them into a wall. This, to the hero, was exactly like the time the villain managed the upper hand.

“That was nothing like this.” The prince concluded, finally stepping away after disagreeing with the hero’s internal monologue.

As if looking at his handiwork, the prince let his eyes trail up and down the hero.

“Tell me, how does a baker who shakes when they’re scared turn into a skilled acrobatic hero?”

“I don’t owe you anything.” The hero insisted, having pretended their mask was on. “But you owe us, you owe your kingdom’s citizens everything you ever took, including their lives!”

The prince made a tsking sound. “Pesky little heroes thinking they know everything. I have bigger plans for this place, worth much more than a few measly lives.”

“They’re your people!”

He sighed. “Yes, they are, and they will thank me in the future. Well, not the villain, the prince. They will thank the villain in secret.”

The hero saw the crown behind the prince’s back shine. Why was he hiding it?

“What happens when when the villain makes another appearance? Everyone will know it isn’t me, I’m here.”

“I would actually enjoy your input.” The prince said, that same amused shine in his eye. “See, I say you escaped and ban anyone from coming down here, barring me, of course.”

The hero’s horrified face made the prince chuckle.

“Or I have everyone forget. Some baker who disappears regularly, no real roots, no family, no friends, just customers and neighbors. No one will remember you, no one but me. Who cares if one falsely accused baker wastes away? Everyone will move on.”

“And those neighbors and customers?” The hero countered, a sliver of hope still alight in them.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, but it is surprisingly simple to pay off someone.”

The shaking came back.

“So,” The prince started, eyes watching the small trembles from the baker. “Which will it be? Have everyone forget, or live the rest of your life as a villain?”

“No.” The hero whispered. “Why abuse your power like this?”

The prince was closer to the hero, closer than they liked.

“I suppose if there was a crown on your head, you would find a way to make everything fair, no need for violence, no need to burn something anew.”

Closer still.

“But I will let you in on a secret.”

He was on the hero now, pinning them to the wall with such force the hero felt their fighting reflexes kick in. It didn’t much good though, as the prince slammed the hero against the wall again the minute they moved.

“Until the old man keels over,” The words were whispered into the hero’s ear. “this is all the power I have. This is what I can do.”

“You can hurt people?” The hero whispered back. “Threaten them, kill them?”

The prince stared in shock. “Do you think I’m going to kill you?” He laughed. “Did you not hear any of what I said?”

One hand moved to the hero’s cheek. “No.” He muttered. “No, hero, I won’t be killing you.”

Something heavy fell onto the hero’s head.

“It suits you I think.” The prince spoke, not moving his hand from the hero’s face. “What a pretty royal you would make.”

The crown.

“Is it strange I felt gratified when you addressed me by my formal title?” The prince continued, this time cupping the hero’s other cheek, effectively caging in their face.

“I think you should say it more often. Who knows? After you end up alone, one way or another, you may work your way up the ranks, perhaps even bake for the palace. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I could get you a better room, if you behave, there are probably a great many things I could do for you.”

This method, this taunting, infuriated the hero, who wanted more than anything to look away, but the prince didn’t seem keen on letting that happen.

“Pesky heroes don’t deserve nice things.” His voice dropped. “But I would make an exception for you.”

“I hate you.” The hero’s voice was just as low as the prince’s.

The prince’s shoulders tensed, but he just shrugged. “Part of the job.”

Finally, after what felt like eternity, the prince’s hands dropped, and the hero was free to lunge at them.

“Oh.” The prince sidestepped. “Pesky might be the wrong word. Feisty, maybe?”

“Keep the crown.” The prince said, slowly closing the creaking door.

Feeling their throat close, the hero finally managed to squeak it out. “And my bakery! What will happen to it?”

“That all depends on you, little hero.”

The prince bowed, and turned.

.

A quick note: Once upon a time I saw something that said “what if the villain was royalty”. I don’t remember where I saw it or who said it, but if you are that person, please let me know so I can credit you!!