#ah yes. the age old dilemma of how to tag things like this

[shaykai]

Sona doodle so I can have a new pfp

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 1: Donald

[ao3 link]

She was nobody’s aunt.

Well, maybe she was once, but she’d lost touch with her family decades earlier and they were long dead by the time she arrived at this new, unfounded dilemma.

When she’d first come across her rival-with-benefits carrying around two little kids, her initial reaction was a twinge of angry jealousy. Maybe they weren’t exclusive but come on! Kids? A family? Seriously? Then it hit her that these kids were at least eleven or twelve (or eight or sixteen, who knew how kids aged) and she’d last visited Scrooge just a few years prior. So the jealousy dissipated and was replaced with pure confusion.

“They’re Hortense’s kids,” he’d said succinctly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. They didn’t look that much like Hortense, though Goldie had only met the woman once.

“So what is this, then? Babysitting?”

Scrooge laughed in a way that pissed her off the tiniest bit. “No, no. Hortense and her husband just decided to take a wee trip for themselves is all.”

“...so you’re babysitting,” she’d said with a hand on her hip. Why couldn’t he just answer her questions with a yes or a no? She didn’t need all the extra details. Him blabbing on with unnecessary detail was the whole reason she knew more about his family than she did her own.

“Ack, call it what you will!”

The 1990s was an odd decade for her. Just a few years earlier, Scrooge had personally invited her to his home for the very first time and she thought something was going to come of that. Of course, nothing did. Then he started bringing children with him on his adventures, the adventures she used to tag along on - out of all his attempts over the years, it was the most effective way to keep her from following him. She didn’t want to hang out with kids, lower their excursions to a PG-rating and split treasure four ways instead of two.

Unfortunately, old habits die hard, and she did find herself spending time with the twins every now and again. They didn’t seem to understand her any better than their uncle did, and she didn’t understand them at all. They were loud and rambunctious and very different from one another and very different from Scrooge. Della was overly enthusiastic and kept trying to jump headfirst into danger. Donald clearly didn’t want to be out and about - Goldie had the distinct feeling he just wanted to sit in his room and play guitar. She liked that he had an appreciation for music.

He also seemed to appreciate having another adult around on dangerous adventures, what with the way he’d grab her arm or try to hide behind her when things got tough. Goldie found it very, very annoying, but it’d be even more annoying to shove him away and deal with that aftermath. So on a particular adventure in the Middle East - one where she’d legitimately accidentally come across Scrooge and his family while she was hunting the same treasure - she let him grab while Scrooge and Della forged ahead and ignored the boy’s discomfort.

She watched Scrooge talking so animatedly with the young girl and felt her own discomfort creeping in. She'd only just started to accept the fact that he was turning into a family man. But there were some obvious concerns with that realization. Particularly the fact that family men didn’t want to spend time with women like her. Family men wanted a wife.

“Miss Goldie?”

She looked down at the boy who’d finally let go of her arm, but was awkwardly trying to walk at the exact same speed as her while trying to look casual about it. “Hm?”

“Are you gonna come back to the manor with us this time?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. “Um...probably not.”

“Why not?”

“...why would I?”

Donald frowned. “Uncle Scrooge always gets sad when you leave. Didn’t he ask you to come over?”

“Oh, please. Scrooge would never purposefully invite me into his home.” She didn’t count the Christmas party. She let her expectations get ahead of her that night when he was just inviting everyone he knew and didn’t want to exclude her. It didn’t count.

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll steal stuff?”

“Seems like a good enough reason to me.” She shrugged and stared at the back of Scrooge’s head. “He’s pretty protective of all his priceless junk, you know.”

The kid stayed silent for a few moments and Goldie thought she was in the clear from this odd little conversation, but then he was back with more. “It’s just kinda weird.”

“...hm?” she mumbled while taking a drink from the canteen she’d stolen from Scrooge two decades earlier.

“I mean, like...you’re basically our aunt, right?”

What a waste of water. Goldie’s nice, clean water that she’d collected for herself before this adventure started, and now it’d been dramatically spit all over the ground, almost hitting Scrooge and his niece. But in her defense, there was no way in the world she could’ve seen that question coming. None. Nada. Zip.

Donald looked exceptionally concerned as she coughed and sputtered and slammed her fist against her chest a few times. Scrooge and Della even turned to see what was going on.

Goldie just shook her head at them and Scrooge immediately turned back around while Della gave the older woman a suspicious glare before joining him.

As soon as her voice came back to her, she pointed an aggressive finger in Donald’s face. “I am absolutely not your aunt, not even close, not even a little bit. Never,” she said quietly but angrily, not wanting Scrooge to hear this embarrassing conversation. “I am just some lady you know that likes to piss off your uncle, got it?”

Donald made a face that said the-lady-doth-protest-too-much but shrugged and went back to being silent. They still had another mile to walk through this forest before they reached the supposed location of the Temple of Nanna, which Della was particularly excited about because why wouldn’t she be? She wasn’t afraid of all the snakes they’d seen and she didn’t wonder if there were any apex predators waiting to eat them and she wasn’t paranoid about falling off a ledge and respawning back at the beginning again. Er, well. Yeah.

He shook his head and looked up at Goldie. She didn’t seem afraid of any of that stuff, either. Why did TV shows always make girls seem so frail and scared when every girl he knew was tougher and braver than him? It seemed kind of unfair. But maybe their family was just weird.

Goldie caught him staring at her and glared as if she was about to yell at him about mentally referring to her as family. He turned his attention forward to stare at the back of Della’s head instead. Then he turned to look at Uncle Scrooge, who was talking about the god of the ziggurat they were going to and how he impacted the people who used to live there.

He peeked up at Goldie again and noticed her staring at Scrooge and looking...weirdly sad. Like she was bored and didn’t expect to be. He considered saying something to her when he heard a hissing sound to his left and immediately screeched and jumped up, wrapping his arms around Goldie’s neck.

“AUNT GOLDIE HELP MEEEEEE!”

On reflex, Goldie did hold onto the kid and kick the tiny little baby snake away from them, but she looked very pissed off.

Scrooge and Della stared at them and Scrooge was blushing quite a bit while Donald’s words processed in his head. “...Aunt?”

“What did I just say?!” Goldie angry-whispered at the boy in her arms.

Donald’s eyes watered and he frowned. “I-I’m sorry, I just got really scared, and-”

As he spoke, Goldie accidentally looked up and made eye contact with Scrooge, who looked somewhere between excited and flattered and confused and maybe even a bit disturbed. His look made her heart do a backflip and she felt her brain deflate as she tried to think of what to say or do next. Aunt, wife, family...it was a bit too much for her. She tugged Donald’s arms off of her and roughly threw him at Scrooge, who caught him with relative ease.

“I’m done with this,” Goldie muttered in annoyance. She could see Scrooge was about to comment and ask what she meant by that, but then she quickly zipped past him in the direction of the temple, tired of going slow so the kids could keep up. She wasn’t in the mood for family-friendly adventures and she was barely in the mood for Scrooge-friendly adventures anymore.

Scrooge scoffed as she ran on ahead. “Goldie you no-good, greedy-!!!” he shouted, shaking a fist as he put Donald back down. “Ack, I’m sorry, kids. I thought she and I were in a good place right now, but it seems I misjudged.”

“She always does this, Uncle Scrooge!” Della crossed her arms over her chest. “I just don’t get why you let her come along!”

He chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “Ah...it’s hard to explain. We have a lot of history.” Scrooge glanced at Donald, who looked uncomfortably sad. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he blamed himself for Goldie leaving them. He put a hand on the boy’s head and hoped it was at least a little comforting. “She always finds a reason to leave me behind, but I’m glad I’ve got you two with me this time!”

Della rolled her eyes and Donald just shrugged. Scrooge had a feeling they needed a distraction, since they were bound to run into Goldie again when they reached the temple. “Let me just grab the map and we’ll continue on our way……………..”

Scrooge patted at his pocket that he knew the map was in. Then he patted at his other pockets. Then he took off his hat and reached into it, checking the many pockets in there. Empty. Which could only mean one thing...

“GOLDIE!!!!” he shouted suddenly, scaring the twins and making animals scatter away from them.

Goldie, sweaty and out-of-breath and just a few feet from the temple entrance, smirked at the sound of Scrooge’s scream. She pulled out the map and looked up to make sure she was using the right entrance to avoid booby traps. She almost laughed at the thought of Scrooge having to navigate his way through spikes and arrows.

Then she thought about Donald’s stupid little face and the way he looked at her when he called her aunt and she felt an angry betraying twinge in her heart. She sighed in frustration before grabbing a knife out of her pocket and carving a checkmark into the entranceway that she knew was safe. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that Scrooge was dragging him on dangerous adventures. She’d be nice. Just this once.

[dw-writes]

Dial Tone Devil - Chapter Four

Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing his known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself full invested in your story.

All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.

Interesting.

A/N: HI GUYS AND WELCOME TO F R I D A Y!!!! Idk about yall, but its been a LONG ASS week!! And it’s about time for some good old Lucifer. And I’m sorry this is a little late (?) but I was listening to a friend drop some scalDING TEA!! AS ALWAYS, if you guys enjoy this series!! Let me know! And if you wanna be added to the tag list, I’ll be more than happy to add you! :D

Chapters: Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four || Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven || Chapter Eight || Chapter Nine || Chapter Ten || Chapter Eleven || Chapter Twelve || Chapter Thirteen || Chapter Fourteen || Chapter Fifteen

More Content: Dial Tone Christmas || The Keys to Lux || Quarantine

To Tag: @revinval @spotgaai2000 @measure-in-pain @kittenlittle24 @broadwayandnetflix @i-am-fandoms-and-satan

Linda’s office was in a smaller, comfortable office building, with bright windows, soft chairs, and a couch that you sank in to almost too much. She smiled as you looked around her beautiful office, lowering herself into the chair across from you. You drummed your hands on your knees, then pulled one of the pillows over into your lap to hug it tight.

“You’re nervous,” Linda pointed out.

“Oh, my heart feels like it’s gonna flutter up my throat and out my mouth,” you replied with a high, rattling laugh. You stuttered, and felt your voice catch, dropping it into a whisper, “I’ve never done therapy, I’ve never had the money—”

“Well, I know you have insurance,” Linda said with a nod as she grabbed a file from the coffee table. “Lucifer sent over a copy of the card—why does he have your insurance card?”

“He’s Lucifer, I don’t think he realizes he shouldn’t open my mail,” you pointed out. You sighed and fell back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “But, I-I-I can’t complain! I mean….he gave me job, he gave me a place to stay, he’s paying me so much money, and all these perks, and it—” You stopped as you squeezed the pillow, sitting up. Your voice dropped back down to a whisper, “He said it was a favor, all so I could give him a coin? But, I won’t lie, this feels like Sugar Daddy thing? And I don’t? Know what to do about this.”

Linda set your file down. “You don’t know what to do about your situation? Or how you feel about it?” she asked. When you couldn’t answer, she smiled. “Has anyone every treated you this way before? Completely over the top?”

“Uh…no.”

“Have you treated yourself this way before?” she asked.

You scoffed faintly, a small, bitter smile tugging at your lips. “I drown myself in work so that I don’t have to think of myself, so no, I don’t.” You looked up. “I mean, I get delivery.”

“That doesn’t count,” Linda pointed out. She crossed her legs, and frowned. “Why don’t…you tell me about yourself.”

You hugged the pillow and looked down. “Suuure…”

After an hour and a half, Linda sent you out with neatly penned prescriptions – anxiety, depression, and sleep – and her phone number. It was sweet of her to do, and you thanked her multiple times for it. She then demanded you see her every Monday, like clock work, and that if you missed she would find you.

You didn’t doubt that.

So you took the bus, filled your prescriptions, and headed back to Lux, more exhausted than you had been when you woke up. Walking through the doors, you yawned, and stretched, and fumbled your keys in search of your own.

Lucifer grabbed your arm and tugged you backwards, out the door and into the sunlight. “There you are! Do you not have your phone? I’ve been calling you for HOURS.”

“I? What?” You stumbled as he dragged you.

“I have been calling you, yes.” He righted you, smiled, and straightened your clothing with wandering hands. “I know you have your phone, you always have it.”

“Why does that matter?” He headed towards his car, jingling the keys. “Listen, I just got back from visiting Linda, I’d like to relax?”

“And do what, read?” He scoffed as he opened the door. “C’mon, get in. We’re doing some investigation.” You stood still on the curb, shaking your head, shrugging as you watched him roll his eyes. “Please?”

“It’s my day off,” you commented. You waved your free hand around. “Monday?” You let your hands slap your thighs as you dropped them. “I don’t have to listen to you, and I don’t have to get in your car.” You turned away.

“I want to investigate your school mates,” he called after you. You groaned as you turned back to him. “You know, see if there’s anything fishy, I believe is the term. Maybe question your professors.”

“Why?”

“Well that’s what friends are for, of course!” You sighed again, rolling your eyes. “If you’re done with the broody teenage sighing, we can head off.” Lucifer patted the door before walking around the front of the corvette. You climbed into the low seat, shoved your bag between your feet, and leaned back against the seat. He pulled away from the curb. “So? Off to the university, yes?”

You sighed, letting it melt into a groan as you dug into your bag. The water was there, given to you by Linda when you saw her, and you swallowed the biggest of gulps to down your brand new medications. “Yup…”

You felt Lucifer’s eyes on you as you dropped your head back against the head rest. “Alright now, out with it. What’s got your undies in a bunch?”

“Ever since the semester started, just thinking of campus has made me anxious as hell,” you answered. You shook your head. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid? Maybe I really couldn’t take it all.”

“Nonsense!” You blinked at the loud exclamation. It left your left ear ringing and you wondered if your medication had kicked it quicker than you thought. Lucifer pulled over to the curb, turning in his seat to face you once he parked. “What in the world makes you think that, hm? You have, singlehandedly mind you, raised our profits by tens of thousands since you’ve been here!”

“Uh-huh?”

“So, going to the university, it should be simple! You deal with much more stressful situations that a simple paper about ethical dilemmas.” He nodded. “Besides, Kant is an obnoxious knob who worked himself up into guilty knots.” It was hard to agree with him when your head swam. You dropped your head back against the seat again. “Do you want to go? I feel I should have asked that before.”

“No, I told you that,” you ground out. You patted your bag, which still sat in your lap, and held up the bottle of anxiety medication. Where were the side effects listed?

“Oh, what’s this?” He snatched the bottle away and rolled it around. “Interesting that Dr. Linda would give you hard medications, but good on her.”

“Can you not?” You leaned up and took the bottle back, shoving it into your bag. “Look, can we get this trip over with, I really don’t wanna draw this out longer than necessary.”

UCLA’s campus gave you a sense of nostalgia as Lucifer drove through it. Or maybe it was the anxiety medication, it was really hard to tell the difference. As he pulled into a parking lot, you climbed out of the corvette and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Ah. So.” Lucifer shut the door with thud. You squeezed your eyes shut. It rattled your skull. “Where to? The naughty professor—you know, I did always find that trope rather arousing.”

“Can you please keep it in your pants?”

“Rather hard to say,” he answered with a grin. You rolled your eyes and started up the stairs. “I can give it to you, if you’d like!” He hurried after you. “I can go all day!” You yanked the doors open and stalked in, only running smack into the professor you had spoken of—a middle aged man with grey stubble and a full head of hair.

You swallowed, ducked your head, and apologized as you walked inside. Lucifer glanced back at the man as he followed you. “Who—”

“My professor,” you puffed. Lucifer arched his eyebrow as he straightened his coat, turning back towards the door. “No! Please, I—”

“Not to worry, I can speak with him without you, now that I know what he looks like,” Lucifer murmured. He turned to you with a smile that held all the charm of a snake. “Where’s his office, darling?” You motioned towards the elevator with a mumble that sounded like the third floor, and sat on one of the many couches that littered the foyer of the building. You dropped your bag between your feet and doubled over with your head in your hands. “Are you alright?” he asked as he walked over.

“No, no, like I have said for the past hour.” You snapped your head up and stared at him, “I am not alright. This whole thing is a disaster, and I would rather not deal with going through the stress of being here again, Lucifer.”

Lucifer lowered himself onto the seat next to you with a guilty frown. “I didn’t realize that this affected you so much.”

“Are you—” The antique clock in the lobby chimed for one in the afternoon, “—Kidding me?”

“Now, now, no need to swear,” Lucifer chided. He unbuttoned his coat as he shifted towards you. “Tell me, dear, what do you truly desire?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes at him, felt a hum in your ears. “What could I give you that could make you better, hm?”

“What do I desire?” you asked. He nodded as a smile crept across his face. “Right now?” The smile faltered. “To not be here, because being here is torture,” you answered.

“But is that really what you want in life?” he asked.

You shook your head lightly as you stood, snagging your bag from the floor. “What, no, it’s what I want right now,” you replied. You waved at the door. “Let’s go, you can come back and do whatever you want with the professor or whatever when I’m not here.” You propped the door open. “Let’s go,” you ushered, wheeling your arms.

Lucifer patted his pocket as he stood, feeling the smooth coin press against his fingers. “Right, of course.” He followed you out to the Corvette, but stopped. “Where did you say you found the coin again?” he asked as he stopped.

You dropped your bag into the foot well as you looked up. “What?”

“The coin you gave me, where did you get it?” he asked again.

You threw your hands up with a huff, and planted your fists on your hips. “I told you, I found it on the curb out in front of Lux when I was walking past.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t plant it there, did you?” he asked.

Your mouth opened as you stared at him with narrowed eyes. “No, Lucifer, that is the opposite of finding it.” You reached over the door and pulled the lock free, climbing into the seat.

Lucifer nodded slowly as he followed, and turned the car over. He paused as he put the Corvette in drive. “Your professor, what is his name?”

“Manfred Sutherland,” you answered. You looked over as he eased the car out of the parking lot. “Why…?”

“Oh, just curious.” He smiled and it only made you worry more. “This way I can go see your professor whenever I please.”

He dropped you off in front of Lux with a smile, a wave, and permission to raid his penthouse for any alcohol that you wished, then left with little else to say. You swung your bag around and headed back inside, shaking your head. “Whatever,” you muttered, “Go ham.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Imagine: Chase meeting a single mother who obviously just needs all the help she can get and they just fall head over heels with each other and she helps him fight for visitation with his own kids and wauefhlskjdnialuw sorry I love him so much ;v;

Oof I love him, too, Nonny ;u;. I hope you all love some fluff/angst for supper~ (Also the Reader will have a son. [S/N] stands for “Son Name”, so I’ll leave it up to you on what you wanna name him!)@chase-brody-protection-squad if you’re interested you can read this too ^^

“Can we go to the ice cream shop, mama?”You glanced down at your eight year old son who sat beside you on the bench, raising an eyebrow at his question. “You want ice cream? In the winter?” A small chuckle of amusement left your lips as you ruffled his [h/c] hair, which was the same color as your own. “What are you crazy??”“Heyyy!” [S/N] pouted, flailing his arms, although he couldn’t lift them up too well because of the coat he wore. “You’re gonna knock my beanie off, ma!”“Oops, sorry,” you giggled, taking your hand away. “Say..didn’t you wanna go to that toy store down the street?”At the mention of his favorite place, his face lit up like a bright Christmas tree, and he nodded his head eagerly. “I did!” He grinned, hopping off the bench and turning to you. “Let’s go!”“Okay, okay, we’re going.” With a small sigh, you lifted your son up into your arms, before you made your way out of the empty, snowy park.Of course, nobody said that it was easy being a single mother…and it wasn’t any easier living paycheck to paycheck and working two jobs either. After your husband left when your son was just born, every day became a struggle for you. But somehow..someway…you always managed to pull through yet another week, month, and year.Why? It was simply because of [S/n]. You had told him why his dad wasn’t around anymore, which you almost regretted. But, to your surprise, he was actually very mature and understanding for someone so young. Since then he tried to spend as much time with you as possible, ensuring that you weren’t sad and that you kept on smiling.Even during Christmas time, the season where you became particularly depressed because you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford the things that your son wanted, you two tried to make the most of the holiday season.……..Chase sighed depressingly as he gazed into the window of the toy store, seeing parents inside helping their kids pick out things that they wanted for Christmas.How he wished he, Stacy, Grayson, and Samantha could be among those smiling, laughing families inside there.The cold breeze stung his eyes, which were already starting to grow tearful from the bitter thoughts that swarmed in his mind, but he quickly wiped them away with his sleeve and sighed once more. He could feel the heater from the store warm him up as shoppers opened and closed the doors.Maybe he’ll just go in for a little while and at least try to find something to send to his kids this year.Adjusting his cap, Chase walked inside the store and took a look around, wondering where to start and where to end. After a few moments of debate, he decided to go where the plushies were.Every child loves a stuffed animal, after all.As he approached that section, he saw a woman crouched down in front of her son, who had a small dinosaur plushie in his hands. When he looked closer, he saw that she had a slight frown on her face, but he figured that was only because she was telling her child that he will have to wait until Christmas to get it, as most parents in the store were doing.“…maybe..Santa will leave that little guy under the tree for you.”“Are you sure he will?”“…yeah..I… promise.”Chase blinked several times. He could see your smile, but your eyes and tone of voice betrayed your seemingly happy expression. Your son then nodded in understanding, putting back the dinosaur and asking you if he could go look at the action figures, to which you said yes.While the man knew it wasn’t in his right to get into your personal business, he couldn’t help but feel that you may have just lied to your son…in the most heartbreaking way possible.Once your kid left, that was when he decided to ask you about it. And he was ready to back off and leave you alone if need be.“Hey, dude..uh..”Looking over, you saw a guy, who appeared around your age, approach you. He had bright blue eyes, faded yellow-green hair, and a grey snapback with a red bill and a red and blue J!NX skull on the front.“Oh, hello,” you smiled at the stranger. “How’s your Christmas shopping going?”Chase merely shrugged in response. “Eh, it’s going fine…just fine…” He said, taking one of the dinosaur plushies off the shelf and staring down at it for a few moments. “My son absolutely loves dinosaurs, man…and I don’t blame him.” A small chuckle escaped his lips. “They’re the coolest.”“Yeah they are. You know…. that’s the one my son really wanted..but…”Hearing you trail off, he glanced back at you. “But what?” He knew what you were exactly going to say, but he kept the fact that he was eavesdropping a secret.“….ah it’s nothing.” You shook your head, your smile returning. “With luck I might be able to afford it for him, or I could always find a similar one at that thrift store down the street. But around this time of year..all I have is luck on my side.”Blinking several times, Chase quickly skimmed the price tag on the plushie. It wasn’t even that expensive…at least not for him. He couldn’t believe that you were having a dilemma over whether or not you could afford a simple stuffed animal for your child. If it was a video game or a scooter or literally anything else, he’d understand..but this…this isn’t something any parent should be struggling to decide on.So he finally cracked and took out his wallet. “You know what…here..”You stared at the man in confusion, until you realized that he was handing you a ten dollar bill.“W-Wait..wait..oh no, no, no..” Shaking your head, you lightly pushed his hand away. “Thank you for the offer, sir..b-but there’s no way that I can-”“Just take it, dude,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile as he put his wallet away and grabbed the dinosaur plush, handing that to you as well. “Take it and get your kiddo a dinosaur.”After a few moments of hesitation, you sighed and finally decided to take the money and the plush. “Thank you..” You whispered, happy tears filling up your eyes, before you quickly wiped them away.You didn’t want to make a scene in such a crowded store. “..It’s funny..I don’t even know your name, and-”“Chase. Chase Brody.”“Ah…well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase.” You smiled back at him. “I’m [y/n].“………After you finished paying for the plushie and hiding it in your bag, you decided to treat Chase to a drink at the coffee shop as repayment. As you talked to him, you learned that he was a humorous, laid-back kind of guy who earned his money from his YouTube channel called “Bro Average”; although he didn’t make a lot, it was enough for him to get by.At first [s/n] was skeptical of the stranger, but eventually warmed up to him after Chase brought up the subject of skateboards, sports, and just “guy things” in general.Then the two of you exchanged phone numbers, and from there blossomed a great friendship.Eventually, you did open up to him about your divorce and the hardships you’ve been facing ever since. He decided that he would help you with that, since he was divorced as well and thus knew most of the struggles you went through.You were more than grateful that he was willing to help you buy better food and a few more presents for your son and stay with him while you went to your first job early in the morning and your second job late at night. Least to say it took a lot of weight off your shoulders.It hasn’t even been a month yet and…you found yourself falling for Chase. It may have been his handsome features, his charisma, his positive and energetic attitude, or, simply, his kindness…But regardless of what it was, it was clear that you loved him as more than a friend. Even [s/n] began to see him as a father…The only question was: did he feel the same way?…….After you put [s/n] to bed, you sighed and smiled, making your way to the living room in your apartment where you saw Chase sitting on the sofa. He was staring at his wallet..at a picture of who appeared to be his kids.“Those your kids?”The man glanced up at you, a small smile appearing on his face. “Y-Yeah..I…haven’t told you about them, have I?” He chuckled.“I don’t think so,” you remarked, sitting down beside him. “What are their names?”“The one in the white sweater is Grayson. He’s ten. And the one in the green and blue dress is Samantha. She’s seven.”“Awh, they look so sweet. I’m sure they love you, right?”At what was suppose to be just a simple, innocent question..Chase’s breath hitched slightly. He then closed his wallet, shakily putting it back into his pocket. “Y-Yeah..they..do…..I-I’ll be right-”However, when he tried to stand up, you grabbed a hold of his arm. Now you were confused and worried over the way he was acting. Did you say something wrong?“Hey…I-I’m sorry if what I said offended you,” you apologized. “I just-”“N-No..you didn’t offend me, [y/n]..” He sighed, sitting back down and looking at you with a tearful gaze. “I-I just…I-I….”“What is it Chase?” Turning to him, you let go of his arm and placed your hands on his shoulders. You could tell there was something he wanted to say…something he wa–needed to get off his chest. “You know you can tell me anything.”Now you were anticipating either silence or an explanation…..but Chase breaking down and crying into your arms was completely unexpected.You initially froze, making a small noise of confusion as no words came out, but then you hugged him tightly, hushing him and trying to do all you could to comfort him as he sobbed quietly into your shoulder.From there, he opened up to you about the circumstances of his divorce, which involved a rather messy custody battle that had been ongoing for months now. He said that all he wanted for Christmas was to spend time with his kids, but his ex-wife was being incredibly stubborn and practically refused to negotiate something with him.And that left him simply hopeless and sad.Chase’s story almost made tears come to your eyes as well. You may have had your fair share of heartache that came with divorcing, but never in your life could you imagine fighting your husband every day in court just to see your own son on the weekends.But after he told you everything, you wanted nothing more than to help him through it…just as he had helped you in the weeks leading up to now.And maybe now…was the time to confess to him how you truly felt.“Chase? May I…confess something as well?”He sat up a bit, swallowing back his sobs as he stared at you with puffy, red-rimmed eyes. They widened, however, when you suddenly cupped his face in your hands and pressed your lips against his. But…he didn’t freak out and instead melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you even closer to him.After a few moments you broke the kiss, still holding his face and gazing into his eyes lovingly. “You’ve done so much for my son and I…and..even now I can’t possibly think of any way to repay you. So… I’m gonna help you see your kids on Christmas Day.”Chase gawked at you in disbelief, but before he could protest, you cut him off.“Listen..I..I love you, Chase,” you said, using your sleeve to wipe away the tears that clung to his cheeks. “I care about you so much. You’re a sweet, kind, funny, and, above all else, a loving and caring father who doesn’t deserve to go through this bullshit alone. I’m gonna talk some sense into that ex-wife of yours. Hell I’ll even make a fucking list of 100 reasons why you should be allowed to see your own kids on Christmas if I need to.”“[Y/n]…”“And don’t think I’m gonna take “No” as an answer.“ You let go of his head and brought him back into a hug. “Because I love you so much, Chase..and I refuse to let you suffer through this on your own.”“I-I…” It took Chase almost a minute to figure out how to respond to both your confession and offer to help him. But once he did, tears of joy filled up his eyes as he buried his face into your neck. “I-I love you, too, [y/n]…” He wrapped his arms around you tighter. “C-Can we stay like this for a little while? I-I miss being able to c-cuddle with someone..”“Of course, sweetie.” Smiling, you removed his hat, setting it aside before you calmly began to stroke his soft, fluffy hair. “Your hair’s really soft you know.”The male let out a small chuckle. “Thanks. But…wait….didn’t you..say that [s/n] never…. met his dad?”“I did..why?”“Oh I-I was um..thinking…maybe I…could be..?” Chase trailed off, but in that moment you knew exactly what he wanted to say next. And it made your eyes grow watery as you hugged him tighter.

“Yes, Chase…I…I think he would love that.”

Upon hearing your words, he relaxed and smiled even wider, snuggling further into your warm embrace as his tears began to stain your neck. “I-I’m glad.” He whispered.

For the first time in years…the holiday season wasn’t so bleak for either of you.

[S/n] was going to wake up to find more presents under the tree, you now had a lover that would be there for you every step of the way and be the father that your son never had, and Chase was finally going to see his kids this year and have a real family. Even when they left, you’ll still love and support the man who helped you when you were at your lowest.As cheesy as it sounds, it was truly a Christmas miracle.

[janeykath318]

The Friendly Merman 9/13

Jim wasn't the only one who found the winter to go by far too slowly for liking. Leah McCoy and Joanna were missing their blue-eyed Merman more and more everyday. Jo was crossing off days on the calendar, counting down each one before April.

“Mom, what do you think Jim's doing right now?” She asked one November evening while toiling through her homework.

“Probably frolicking in the nice warm tropical oceans, catching fish and playing with his friends.” Leah told her, an envious twinge inside her imagining Jim surrounded by mermaids.

“Do you think he misses us?” Jo asked plaintively.

“Course he does. He said so himself, don't you remember?”

“Yeah, but what if he stops missing us?”

Leah had had that thought as well, but then she'd remembered the look in his eyes as he'd said good-bye and the necklace he'd given her and refused to admit the possibility.

“I don't think so, sweetie. Mermen are very loyal to their friends. Spock told me so. He said many of their former patients stop by every year like clockwork to say hi. They don't forget.”

Joanna still looked skeptical, but subsided for the moment. That night, Leah ran her hand over the sea glass necklace, willing Jim to return home in one piece. She had no idea why she’d even entertain the idea of loving a creature that lived in the ocean and probably wasn’t compatible with humans, but it was too late now.

Meanwhile, Jim was taking a rare trip outside the cave to visit the great sage, Jonathan Archer. He was said to be an expert at Mer/human dynamics and could possibly provide an answer to Jim’s dilemma of what to do about his love for the amazing Dr. McCoy. After his encounter with Gary, he’d avoided going into the main mer population, hanging out in smaller taverns or shops on the edge of town when he wasn’t with his pod. There was no way he wanted to risk meeting up with anyone else in his pod, especially his close relations.

When he’d told Pike where he was going, the old mer had perked up and put down the scroll he was reading.

“You mind me tagging along? Archer’s an old pal and I haven’t seen him in a turtle’s age.”

Jim had shrugged and agreed. At least he’d have support if he ran into....certain mers again and he was never averse to Pike’s company. The man seemed to understand him better than he did himself.

Venturing through many side streets and narrow passages, the two of them at last reached the towering stone building that housed the mer archive and library along with the keeper’s offices. Jim gaped in awe as he had never in his life seen such a large structure. How in the world would he find his way to Archer’s office?

“They’ve got maps all over the place, son,” Pike informed him, “but you won’t need them because I’m pretty sure Jon’s got the same office he did when I last visited a decade ago. He is most definitely a creature of habit and somewhat set in his ways.”

“Lead the way, then,” Jim offered with a sweeping arm gesture.

As they swam through the maze of halls, Jim was distracted by the shelves and shelves of scrolls and manuscripts of mer literature and history.

“Wow! This is far more interesting than the Sea Turtle roping contests and drinking games,” Jim said eagerly. He was very fond of study and learning, though he’d had little time to do so during his solitary journeys after leaving his old pod. He followed Pike down a curving stair and down another hall which led to an arched doorway, over which hung a sign proclaiming “J. ARCHER, Chief archivist.”

At Pike’s knock, a silver-haired mer appeared, looking ink-stained and disheveled.

“How can I help you gentlemers today?” He asked, than his face lit up when he recognized Pike. “Christopher! What a surprise! What brings you all the way down here after such a long absence? Training a young apprentice?”

“He’s already becoming quite the pod leader in his own right,” Pike said, shaking Archer’s hand. “Good to see you again, Jon. This is James Kirk and he has some questions for you.”

“Pleased to meet you, young man,” Archer said genially. Jim noticed with relief he showed no reaction to the Kirk name. “What do you seek assistance with?”

Jim started and stopped a few times before he blurted out, “I wish to understand if it is possible for a mer to bond with a human or if the relationship is doomed.”

Archer didn’t look fazed at all by Jim’s query, beckoning the two to have a seat in his office.

“Ah, yes, that is not an uncommon question and you may be surprised that no, the relationship is not necessarily doomed, but it requires a deep love and sacrifice. Mere surface lust will not suffice. Yes, mers have bonded with humans. Have you become enamored of a human?”

“Yes,” Jim said, face turning red. “But I don’t see how we could ever be together.”

“James, there is a way--but very few choose to take it as it requires a drastic lifestyle change and giving up one’s ocean life.”

“I thought it was something like that. How drastic are you talking?” he asked cautiously.

“If a human/mer emotional bond is strong enough, the mer becomes human in order to allow for the physical bond. Many mers do not handle the change well and end up living shorter lives as a result, much as they love their mates. That is why it is such a serious thing to engage in such a bond. I urge you to spend time in contemplation and careful self-examination before you decide on such a course. Do you love the person enough to give up your mer body and live on land, with a shorter lifespan? Do you have any plans for how you would adjust to human life? Those are the questions only you can answer, my son.”

Pike gave Jim a searching look as the young mer sat processing this information.

“Do you know of any Mers who have turned human and didn’t regret it?” Jim asked after this pause.

“Several, actually, but like I said, it required a strong connection.”

“Well, I have all winter to think about it. I won’t see her again until we migrate back to California in the Spring,” Jim sighed. “I don’t think it would be that bad being a human, being that most mer think I’m a bad omen. If it wasn’t for Chris, I would still be on my own.”

Archer looked at him sympathetically. “Ah, yes, the supposed Kirk curse. Stuff and nonsense, if you ask me. Kirk men have a self-sacrificial tendency that comes from their high character and deep bond attachment. I’d say if you also have these traits, choosing to become human would not surprise me at all. She must be a very special lady.”

“She is,” Jim smiled, thinking about Bones’s many endearing traits. Pike and Archer spent some time catching up and reminiscing before they left, but Jim was quiet all the way home, thankful that he understood the stakes now, but knowing deep in his heart what he was going to choose.

[ecotone99]

[HM] Beating Around the Bush with Alderthorpe and Monteliemar (In honour of the POTUS's recent visit to Merrie Olde England)

Reader Alert: contains profanity

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

'I say Alderthorpe my good man, I was wondering... would you mind terribly if I were to ask you a bit of a personal question?'

'I say steady on Monteliemar! A personal question? Rather a tad out of the ordinary, wouldn’t you agree?'

'Well of course you are right there, aren’t you?'

'I should say so. Whatever were you thinking, old son?'

'Fact is Alderthorpe, we've known each other for simply ages and ages haven’t we? Eton with Quayle and le Carré and Oxford... The wars, North Africa... ah yes, hunting down wogs on horseback at the crack of dawn... we have had a time of it haven’t we?'

'Those were the days weren't they Monty old son?'

'Oh indeed they were. You having it off with half the whores in Hamburg and me rogering the other half once the dust had settled? Bit of a tag-team, weren't we? Splendid times they were.'

'Showed those Hun tarts the meaning of defeat.'

'We most certainly did.'

'For King and Empire! Makes the blood boil just thinking about it. Nothing like a good rogering I always say.'

'Oh rather old boy, nothing quite like it.'

'So what's all this nonsense about personal questions then? Never came up between us before.'

'No, you're quite right, it hasn’t, has it? But you see Alderthorpe, I thought as unseemly as it may sound, if there were anyone of whom I could ever ask a personal question that would be yourself. I mean we have had a time of it together haven’t we, the two of us?'

'Yes, I suppose we have. What about the vicar, he strikes me as more the type for that sort of thing. Perhaps you should ask him?'

'Bit of an indecorous inquiry to put before the vicar actually. Shouldn’t think he'd be able to give me the answer I'm looking for either I'm afraid.'

'Well you could always ask old Dr Sacklouse then couldn’t you? I wouldn’t think there's anything one daren’t ask him, I've no doubt the man has heard most everything at one time or another, in the course of his career so to speak. I do believe I saw him come in to the club earlier actually. Shall I ask the boy if he's still here?'

'This is a somewhat indelicate matter, even for the likes of our good doctor. And though I couldn’t agree with you more that he would have heard most of what there is to hear, at his age, I question his ability to hear much of anything. The fellow is on the downhill portion of his ninety-sixth year after all.'

'Yes, perhaps you are right there Monteliemar, seems to take a bit of a shouting to get through to him of late. But you're certainly spot-on about the indelicacy aspect of it, old chap. Hit the nail square on the head there I should say.'

'Yes quite. But if one is to go about hitting nails I should think one may as well do one's utmost to hit them on their heads, don't you think Alderthorpe?'

'I say Monteliemar, you're not considering taking-up carpentry are you?'

'Carpentry!!? Good Lord man, wherever did you get that idea!!? That piece of Jerry shrapnel in your head causing you to hear the voices again?'

'Well this incessant rain does tend to make it act-up, but so far this Fall it hasn’t progressed much further than a constant dull throb. Though I did think the voices had started-up again the other day. Wasn’t the case though. Turned out cook had left the wireless on in the kitchen, some sort of silly evangelical prattle of a station. Silly old cow, gave me half a fright at first. But I'm so pleased to hear that carpentry isn’t on your agenda. Bit of a plebeian pastime that. Not your sort of diversion I should think.'

'I should say not dear boy. We do have a man to take care of that sort of thing. Seems to be quite proficient at it too. Of course those people usually are, I mean what else is there for them to do?'

'Yes, quite.'

'So Alderthorpe, speaking of incessant, I do so hate to be a bother with all this personal question business, it is rather a bit distasteful actually, as much for me as it must be for you I should think.'

'Well my dear fellow, asking personal questions of each other isn’t exactly like sharing a trifle, is it then? Or a whimsy in Hamburg.'

'No, indeed it isn’t. By the way, your cook still make that marvellous trifle she served at the "à l'air" you held in the summer? Quite splendid that.'

'I should certainly hope it was. Used three bottles of my very best brandy for that, the stupid wench.'

'I should think that that’s what made it so delightful, what?'

'Yes, I suppose you have a point there. Though I'm beginning to suspect she does that sort of thing just to spite me, miserable woman that she is. I nearly had her flogged when I found out what she'd done.'

'Did you?'

'Oh indeed I did. I was absolutely livid with her. Doesn't know her place, that one.'

'All too few of them do, do they? So what stopped you then?'

'My wife.'

'Your wife?'

'Yes, Lady Alderthorpe informed me that that sort of thing isn’t on anymore.'

'It's not!!? How very odd.'

'Quite. But apparently not. Seems there's some sort of ridiculous law against it now.'

'How utterly absurd. What is one to do to discipline the servants then?'

'Well one can certainly no longer flog one of them in front of the others. Though that does tend to diminish the value of the exercise.'

'Yes well, it would rather, wouldn’t it then? I mean the fear of the lash is almost more effective than its application.'

'So it would seem.'

'It is ever so trying keeping up with all these frightful socialist changes isn’t it? One shudders to imagine what may come next.'

'I don't even wish to think about it, its altogether too disturbing to consider.'

'Oh well, perhaps its merely a passing fad.'

'One can only hope. I'm beginning to think Mosley wasn’t all that far off-target actually.'

'Yes well at least he endeavoured to maintain a degree of balance, to say nothing of standards. How is one expected to maintain any sort of standards these days?'

'Bit of a dilemma that.'

'Isn't it just?'

'So tell me old man, whatever are you on about with all this personal question twaddle then? Strikes me as being rather indiscreet, wouldn’t you agree?'

'Well it is that, isn’t it? However, you being the stand-up chap you are I should think you could allow the depth of our friendship to indulge me in this minor little indiscretion.'

'A bit irregular though, don't you think Monteliemar? I mean we're not bloody Frogs, are we?'

'No we're not. And thank God for that. You are quite right though Alderthorpe, it definitely is rather irregular, there's no denying that. The fact of the matter is, there is a certain element of irregularity to the subject of the question itself, old boy.'

'Is there? Well, we have been through the thick of it together then, haven’t we Monteliemar? I dare say, were it not for you, I should not be here enjoying this fine single-malt at this very moment. I am eternally grateful to you for bayoneting that young Jerry bastard in the nick of time, you know.'

'Stuck him in the kidney actually, not in the nick, but certainly in time.'

'I dare say your wit is still as sharp as that bayonet, old boy. I suppose you are right though, in view of that gesture alone on your part, I should well be able to permit you a minor indiscretion, even one as indelicate as your asking a personal question of me.'

'You are, as always, most gracious Alderthorpe.'

'Yes, I am rather, aren’t I? Fire away then old friend, what was it you wanted to ask me?'

'Well Alderthorpe, I do trust you will understand just how difficult it is for me to put such a delicate question to you.'

'But of course my good man, we are the oldest of friends after all, are we not?

'And the best of friends, I should add. So you're alright with my asking you then?'

'Well I shouldn’t go so far as to put it in quite that way, but one must make sacrifices for one's friends, mustn’t one?'

'Indeed one must. And I do appreciate your making such a sacrifice, I just want you to know.'

'Oh tosh, think nothing of it Monteliemar. You'd do the same for me.'

'Yes, I would actually. Wouldn’t think twice about it.'

'Right then, ask away. I've prepared myself.'

'Are you rogering my wife?'

'Good Heavens man, what a dreadfully common way of putting it! Most astonishing if I do say so.'

'Well yes, it is rather, isn’t it?'

'Indeed it is Monteliemar. Most astonishing.'

'Be that as it may old friend, are you or are you not?'

'Am I or am I not what?'

'Rogering my wife Alderthorpe, it was a fairly straightforward question I should think.'

'And more than a little inculpatory, wouldn’t you say?'

'Yes, perhaps it was. Do forgive me. So you're not?'

'Not what?'

'Rogering my wife.'

'Well yes actually, I am. Not at the moment though. Obviously.'

'No, no, quite. Rather a fine whiskey this, isn’t it?'

'I should say it is.'

'So you are in fact rogering my wife then?'

'You’ve already posed that question Monteliemar my lad and, if you stoke the embers of your memory, answer it I did.'

'Yes Alderthorpe, quite right, I did. As did you now you mention it. Do pardon my repetitiveness won't you?’

'Think nothing of it old friend, think nothing of it.'

'How could you?'

'How could I what, dear boy?'

'Swive my wife.'

'To tell you the truth, at my age I do wonder about that myself on occasion.'

'Yes, I know what you mean, the old Sergeant Major isn’t as quick to spring to attention as he once was, is he?'

'Unfortunately not. One can only be thankful for all those years of rigorous training and an extraordinary degree of discipline that the old fellow can still snap to it at all anymore.'

'Yes, quite. At the risk of sounding overly tedious, and I trust you will overlook that if that is the case, I really must ask you again, how could you?'

'Have a go at your wife you mean?'

'Exactly.'

'Well there is a certain degree of acquiescence involved.'

'Is there?'

'Indeed there is. I mean to say we are speaking in reference to Lady Monteliemar, aren’t we? Not some tawdry bit of Hamburg fluff dropping her knickers for a crust of bread or half a tin of Navy Cuts after all.'

'Yes, I suppose you're right.'

'Well I expect I am old boy.'

'To what precisely are you referring when you say, acquiescence?'

'Well, it is somewhat of a reciprocal arrangement dear boy.'

'Is it?'

'Yes, as a matter of fact it is. She does push back, as it were, and rather vigorously too I might add.'

'Pushing back!? And vigorously so!?'

'Indeed. She doesn't just lay there with her knickers around her ankles and let me boff her.'

'She doesn't?'

'No, she doesn't. Lady Monteliemar is quite the reciprocatory sort. You must have noticed so yourself.'

'Not recently, I'm afraid.'

'Well you can rest assured that she is not only most accommodating, but in fact rather energetically inclined in her response.'

'How very odd!'

'Odd? In what way?'

'It’s all she ever does for me of late.'

'All she ever does for you of late?'

'Yes, lays there and lets me shtup her. Nothing reciprocal about it, I'm afraid.'

'Oh I say, how awful for you.'

'Yes, rather.'

'Not much fun in that, is there old boy?'

'I should say not. But then younger women do tend toward whimsicality, don't they?'

'Yes, they rather do, don't they? Speaking of whimsy and the like, how are you and Lady Alderthorpe getting on then?'

'Not as well as we were during the summer, I dare say. She seems to have developed quite an interest in the new gardener we've taken on.'

'Has she indeed? Well she always was a bit of a wanderer, that one. Always had a bit of a taste for the outdoorsy types.'

'I expect she'll tire of calloused hands and filthy fingernails in due time.'

'Yes, I expect she will. Has a bit of difficulty in maintaining her attentions on any one thing all too long, I should say.'

'An afternoon at Harrods always seems to bring them round.'

'Does, doesn't it? Bit of lucre well applied that. Well then, I'm certainly pleased we got that issue cleared from the agenda.'

'As am I old chap, as am I. Been on my mind for simply ages.'

'Well, I'm pleased you're pleased. Getting a bit peckish, how about yourself then Monteliemar, do with a little nibble soon could you? I understand beef is Argentinean this week, frightfully good I'm told. Not much in military matters those chaps, but they seem to do a spiffing job with cattle.'

'Yes, I suppose they do. I was getting the odd growl in the tummy as we were talking just now actually. I could definitely do with a bit of a nosh soon. Wouldn’t mind another drink first though.'

'Shall we have another whiskey before dinner then? It is an excellent batch they’ve brought on this year. I do believe there's time.'

'Jolly good suggestion old chap. Yes, lets do.'

'I say boy, bring us another couple of whiskeys with a splash, would you? There's a good lad.'

submitted by /u/PopeyeLePew [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2IEPDxS

[lifeisbutadream4me-blog]

The Peter Dilemma

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Spice eater. Three male suitors, but only two shall remain. (This post is a work in progress) 

Suitor 1: The Demon/ Old Flame

Suitor 2: The Catholic Fallen Priest

Suitor 3: Cal (Poor Cal) 

Background on Peter for Readers/Lurkers

Peter VanLoventhual, is the richest Vampire nobleman in my canon, however thats not his claim to fame. He’s famous for being an alternative model, and being a spokesperson for his mental illness (Schizophrenia).

Peter’s story starts shortly before his birth. His parents are traditionally of noble vampire birth, but not noteworthy. His parents met at the age of 15 and immediately become smitten with one another. They marry, have a daughter and a son. Shortly after Peter’s birth, however, it became very apparent that Peter’s producing (dude what?! <a href=“lifeisbutadream4me.tumblr.com/Me”> Explanation< /a>) father suffered from a mental illness. He loses himself in his madness and ultimately commits suicide. 

Peters father seems to cope well to everyone he meets on the outside, but internally, he’s never able to get over the loss of his love. Peter, who seems to be a spitting image of his late father, starts to fill the void. Peter’s father begins to groom Peter into the perfect spouse. Peter’s father decides to freeze his son 10 years ahead of most vampires. Leaving him to forever look like a child. Shortly after the freezing, Peter starts to show signs on the mental illness that consumed his late father. As the panic of the reality starts to set in, Peter’s father decides to make plans that would grant his son a decent life. 

Enter Suitor 1: Hans

Peter’s father decides that the only way he can protect his son from those darn dirty suitors, is to become the most powerful vampire house. How to do this? Make money! So against the advice of everyone around him, he decides to take a demon pledge. Hans agrees to the pledge, and he is made the head butler of the house. 

When Hans arrives, he is met with the current estate butler, a frenchman, who informs him that the young master has gone missing. Rather than be upset at this, frenchman just shrugs it off. 

“That boy’s head is always in the clouds. He’ll return home when he’s hungry, and if he doesn’t, he’ll be doing the house a grand favor.” 

Hans picks up the young master’s scent, and treks out to go and find him. He finds him in a field close by. 

 He walked along a dirt path that led from the back of the house into the lush Swiss/German country side. As we walked a breeze rustled the green grass and wild flowers. Like a scene from the Sound of Music, the snow capped mountains finished the panoramic scene as they stayed nestled in the background. Hans paused when he saw him. He was laying amongst the grass on his side. His beautiful golden blonde hair swayed with the breeze, but his swiss blue eyes seemed to gaze off into a distance the human eye could not see. His skin and complexion were perfect, almost doll like. He was every aryan’s wet dream and it took almost all of Hans not to claim Peter as his. Hans sat next to the nobleman and began to plot his next move. 

Hans completes the pledge with relative ease, but at the cost of two casualties. He manages to secure quite a number of hotel properties for the family to manage, launching them into the top percent of rich noblemen. This pleases Peter’s father, but only makes Peter’s sister more bitter with rage. She eventually plans a way with her husband (the french butler) to murder Peter and her father while they slept. Peter and his father shared a bed, and room, and the night of the fire, the french butler had locked the door from the outside. After many cans of gasoline, the fire was started. 

Hans kicks open the butler’s door to the suite to swoop in and save Peter. He leaves Peter’s father to parish, as his soul was the prize Hans got for completing the pledge. Hans ensures that Peter’s sister lost her hold to the VanLoventhual estate, making Peter rich. Hans claims Peter that night, but his happiness is shortly lived. 

Enter Suitor 2: The Fallen Catholic Priest

Sam Lorde is an original fallen priest who managed to keep divinity after the great conflict. He was granted priesthood through the Vatican by becoming a liaison for the Vatican to the Damned. He was paged to a small asylum located in Germany. He was greeted by a priest and led to the back of the establishment where the ‘troubled’ children where housed. They reached the end of the hallway and the priest opened the peep hole to one of the rooms. 

The room was well lit, despite the dreadful looking hallway. The sun shown through the window onto the bed that was set next to the wall. There laid a boy, his blonde hair was dirty and matted. His beautiful blue eyes seemed to stare at our direction, but wasn’t. The boy seemed to have an awe to him, that not even Sam could put his finger on.  “Well father, you hit the jackpot.” The priest unlocked the door to the room and opened the door. The boy did not move an inch, it didn’t even seem like he was breathing. “We found him wondering a dirt road outside this city. He collapsed into Sister Hilda’s arms and has stayed in this state since.” The priest followed Sam into the room.  “So, where do I come in..?” Sam asked, surely an asylum had dealt with a mute before.  “Ah.” The priest walked over to the boy and lifted his top lip gently. Revealing a vampire fang. It seemed to have been decorated with gold and some gemstones. The tip had been replaced with the tip of a crystal or diamond. “Oh, interesting.” Sam replied. Just then the boy sat up, the priest jumped back and Sam froze in his steps. The boy rubbed his eyes and scanned the room, first eyeing the priest, and then his eyes darted over to Sam. They widened.  “Papa!!” The boy shouted as he hugged Sam tightly. The priest shot Sam a glare. “Papa!! I was sure he killed you!” The boy started to sob into Sam’s robes. Sam wrapped his arms around the boy, feeling the warmth from his embrace. “Now, now, everything is alright..” Sam tried to re-assure the boy, using what little German he knew.

Sam is then taken to his room, but feels uneasy about leaving the pretty blonde alone, so he requests to take full custody of him. Once in his room, Sam runs a bath and cleans up Peter. After a good nights sleep and a some food, Peter become coherant enough to explain to Sam his situation. Peter told Sam that his father had taken out a pledge, and that once that pledge was completed, the demon got drunk with power. The demon had set fire to his families house and thats how he escaped. Sam listened to Peter’s story and asked what Peter’s plans were for the future, since it was obvious he was older than he looked. Peter pondered for a bit, and then asked Sam if it would be ok if he tagged along with him, as an altar boy. 

“An altar boy, you mean follow me around to different places?” Sam asked Peter, who nodded yes. A sly smile crossed Sam’s lips. “That comes with a price you know. It’s not cheap to keep a child around.” Peter knew the proposition well, and surprisingly it didn’t bother him. To him, it seemed like a fair trade, but the only one he knew. “I give myself to you.” Peter simply replied, and watched Sam, who was taken back slightly, grin. 

Sam taught Peter the church’s teachings, and two grew together as a couple. Peter was happy to be loved by someone who loved him for himself, and Sam was elated to finally have a partner who was also damned. The two lived together in Vatican City, while constantly traveling to various churches throughout Europe. 

Peter and Sam are separated after Hans discovers them at an inn in the French countryside. Hans sets up a ploy to fish Sam and Peter to a room and created an explosion as a diversion. While unconsious, Hans manipulated Sam’s memories of Peter. 

Hans grinned as he watched Peter squirm. Soon enough he’ll be begging for his embrace. “He won’t remember you. He’ll remember it as you abandoning him. So its best if you let him go now.”   Hans later reclaims Peter as his and the two eventually settle in London after WW2. Hans runs a branch of the Bank of the Damned, while Peter is left in the flat located above the bank. They two have two children, Fritzy and Henry.

Sam goes through a bout of depression after losing the love of his life. He eventually parts ways with the Vatican and makes a stake amongst the other neutrals. He eventually befriends a demon named Rex, who makes the discovery that Sam’s memories are altered. The two work together sorting through Sam’s memories, and Rex restores them. 

The warm sun, I remember how warm that morning was. I remember his face, his smile. We had business in town, but had received an urgent message. I remember arriving to this place, it seemed adandoned. Something felt off, Peter, he brushed it off and went ahead. Thats when the explosion happened. The next thing I remember is another face. His eyes, seemed so dark, even for a demon. 

Sam began plans on how to locate Peter, when he gets a instant message from Rex. 

“Hey my favorite ephebophile! came across this today, thought it’d be up your alley. XOXO Sexy Rexy <3″ Sam glared at his screen and tapped the link. It took him to a blog of some model.  “Peter Rabbit..?” Sam watched the screen load with colors that would be suitable for a child. He waited for the page to load a little more and clicked on the video at the top of the page. And there he was, Peter. Sam starred at the screen and rubbed his eyes, then pinched his legs. His Peter was in the video. He immediately called Rex, who was trying to sleep. “Yo.”  “Peter Rabbit! How do I find him!” Sam screamed. “Woah, ok. Wow. Sam, I think we need to calm down...” “No! Peter Rabbit is my husband!” Sam screamed, loud enough that Rex’s boyfriend overheard, who mouthed ‘is that the Vatican Priest?’ to Rex. “Sam, I’m learning things I’m not too excited about knowing right now...Oh wait, you mean your actual husband.” Rex his temples, it was late after all. 

The two do research about Peter and Hans. It seems Peter became a role model for a subset of butler fashion simply called Dolly. He was well respected and treated like an idol, but fell off everyone’s radar after an apparent physical altercation between him and his husband, Hans at a Convention. After doing a little more digging, Sam discovered that the couple’s eldest son, Fritzy, was in the process of trying to legally separate from the family. Sam tried get a chance to talk to Fritzy. He agrees to meet at a local coffee shop, but is a little spooked that a priest wants to talk to a demon. 

When the two meet Fritzy tells Sam about his home life growing up and how his father Hans is criminally ill. 

“My father was always cold. It was like he only operated on his needs and his needs alone. I dressed the way he wanted, attended the schools and classes he picked. Every minute of every day was pre-calculated as if it was this perfect plan to create a perfect person. But he didn’t want a perfect person. He wanted someone like my father. Easily manipulated, controlled, under his fist. I wouldn’t let him in, he will never rule me. So, when I turned sixteen, I was more than ready to take the butler’s school entrance exam. I could have gotten a perfect score, if I went. I decided that it was the time for me to break free and become my own person. This of course did not please my father. He turned from cold, to sadistic. Peter would have new, bigger bruises. Hans would make him do chores where I would have to see them, it was his sick way of letting me know that was my punishment. So I had to say good bye.”

Sam takes Fritzy in as his own and manage to get Fritzy his stake in the VanLoventhual estate. And as an added fuck you, Peter signed over the rest of the estate quietly over to Fritzy, as a wedding gift. 

During a bust of an illegal sex ring, Sam gets a notification. The trap he had placed about ten years ago finally had triggered. Elated, he quickly scans the email to read the details. While having to go a stint in the ICU, it looks like Peter was finally free of Han’s clutches. Sam was reunited with Peter and two live happily in London.

A New Suitor Appears, Suitor 3: Calvin Covington

Calvin Covington is the golden child of the great Fallen Leader, Alexander. Unlike his father, his is rather soft-spoken and gentle hearted. He befriends Sam as they both discover they share a common interest. The two become besties and Calvin meets and gets to know Peter. Calvin does fancy Peter, but doesn’t want to soil his friendship with Sam. 

Should Sam let Cal in? Or should Cal take a hike?! Who am I even writing this for?!