#and if i have to go to work and let my jacket steep in piss im gonna flip my shit

[dismalswamp]

a tragedy in 2 photos

[dragon-kazansky]

Professor | Zemo + Lauda

Professor AU!

Gender neutral reader

For @lieutenantn

[Next chapter]

Part 1

University was stressful, but it was stress you would work through for your future. However, your stress just seemed to grow, and it had nothing to do with your class work.

It all came down to two of your professors.

Professor Zemo and Professor Lauda.

Both of them were incredibly handsome men who you often found yourself daydreaming about. You counted yourself as incredibly lucky to find yourself in their classes.

Helmut Zemo, your history professor. He comes from Sokovia, a country you knew very little about before learning this fact. You were his top student, but only the two of you knew that.

Niki Lauda, your languages professor. From Austria, where you have been, and would hope to go again just because this man lived there. His eyes would linger on you during class and you found it hard to keep up appearances with all your classmates around.

Both of these man had you wrapped around their fingers, but you had no idea just how bad it would become. You left your current class with Professor Zemo and headed back to your dorm.

With classes wrapped up, the teachers gathered in the teacher's lounge for lunch. There were only two teachers in there as of now. Zemo and Lauda.

The two men looked at each other.

It was no secret they despised each other. However, the reason for the hatred was a secret. No one could know they were both doting on the same student.

Both men utterly adored you.

Helmut Zemo would whisk you away during the breaks and holidays. He would take you on trips to places you had never been before, and some that you had just to create new memories with you. He would spoil you and buy you gifts. He would dance with you late at night in his office or his home. He would cook you dinner and make love to you at any ungodly hour.

Niki Lauda would take you Austria with him, show you sights. He would make you wear his jackets as he wrapped an arm around you, wanting people to know you were together. He would invite you into his office just fuck you on his desk, warning you to be quiet if you made too much noise. He would sit you in his lap while he graded papers and pepper your neck and cheek with kisses.

Niki glared at Zemo as he got what he wanted and sat down on the far side of the room. He hated him.

With graduation only days away, Niki was desperate to win you over. He wanted you come home with him and stay. He wanted you in his life so badly, but this other man was standing in his way. He couldn't have you until you let Zemo go completely.

Helmut barely paid him any mind as he tucked into his lunch. He only came to the lounge because he knew Niki would be in here, otherwise he would eat in his office.

Letting Niki Lauda have you was the last thing he would do.

"Y/N looks good today," Zemo says, knowing Niki had yet to see you today. His class with you want until later.

"Y/N looks good every day," Niki replies, still glaring at him.

"What will you do when they graduate?" Zemo's lip curls into a grin as he eyes the Austrian man.

"I shall take Y/N back home with me. I will hand in my notice and teach back in my home country."

Helmut couldn't help the laughter that tumbled from his lips. That had to be the funniest joke he had ever heard. He did not care for how much harder Niki narrowed his eyes at him.

"What's so funny, asshole?"

Helmut composed himself and smiled wickedly at him. He sat up a little more straight as he replied.

"Sorry, it's just funny you think Y/N will be going back to Austria with you. Y/N and I will be returning to my homeland. We will be very happy in Sokovia."

Niki was so pissed, he broke the pen in his hand. Ink covered his fingers as he stood up cursing in German.

Helmut chuckled at Lauda's predicament.

"That was your fault, asshole. Y/N will not choose you." Niki gathered his things and stormed out of the room.

Helmut had another good laugh once he was alone.

You made your way to class. Languages. You had been studying hard for this class, really wanting to impress Niki. He had been helping you in private... after your vigorous activities.

You were the first in the class. Niki turned around when he heard someone enter, and his face relaxed tremendously when he saw it was you.

"Y/N, can I see you after class?"

You smile softly.

"Sure. In your office?"

He nods. He can't say any more as the door opens and other students come flooding in. Throughout the class he steals glances at you. You offer him a small smile every time he looked up at you.

When class was over you lingered behind and waited for everyone else to leave. Niki disappeared into his office and you quickly followed after him, but not acting to out of it. You didn't need rumours to start from those last few studentseaving the class.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Niki pulled you over to his desk and into his lap. He had his arms around you has he rested his head against your chest. You lifted one hand to tangle in his curly hair.

"What is it?"

"Your graduation is coming soon," he says softly.

"Yes. It's come really quickly."

He sighs as he gazes up at you with his stunning eyes. You smile softly and give him a gentle kiss.

He lifts a hand to rest against the side of your face.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"I... I don't know."

Niki runs his thumb along your cheekbone and stares intensely into your eyes. You know what he's asking. It had been on your mind for some time now, but you didn't know what you were going to do.

How were you suppose to choose between these two men?

You run tour fingers through his curls again and sigh softly, biting at your lip in thought.

"I don't know," you said again.

Niki pulls you into a kiss and keeps you there for a moment, making it linger. He needed to feel you, taste you.

You broke the kiss and stood up.

"I need to go. I'll see you tomorrow Niki."

He doesn't want to let you go, but he has to. He has one final class to do before the day ends. However, it would be hard to focus on it when he can only think of you.

You look back at him as you leave.

You walk down the hall with your books tucked under your arm. You knew you would have make a decision because you could only have one.

....or none, but you didn't want that!

Lost in your thoughts of Professor Lauda, you were startled when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you into the nearest classroom.

Helmut pinned you up against the wall beside the door, his lips already on your neck. Your books tumbled to the floor as you snaked your arms him.

"Professor!"

He grins against your skin before pulling back so he can see your eyes. He pinned your wrists to the wall, but he was gentle about it.

"I missed you," he whispered against your lips.

You smile softly and kiss him.

"I missed you too."

He let's go of your wrists and cradles your face in his hands. He looks sad. You place your hands over his and savour the warmth they give off.

"I know what you want to ask, but the answer is, I don't know."

Helmut sighs as he rests his forehead against your shoulder. You press a kiss above his ear and lean your head gently against his. One of his hands slip into yours and his fingers curl around your own.

"I don't to want to lose you to him," he mumble.

"I know, but I don't know how I'm suppose to decide. Damn this university for hiring attractive professors," you chuckle.

Helmut chuckles with you.

He stands upright and looks at you softly.

"You can't blame us for falling for you. Who ever wins you over will be very lucky indeed. Just... don't let it be him."

"Professor... I can't promise anything."

"You have until graduation," he tells you, steeping away from you. He takes a step back and looks at you as a professor should.

A teacher looking at their student.

You turn away and leave the classroom.

Graduation was days away. You were running out of time. On of these men would be your future, but you had to decide which future you desired.

Niki Lauda was slumped in his desk chair staring at his desk. His lap felt so empty without you sitting in it. He couldn't focus on the papers on his desk as he thought of you.

Helmut Zemo leaned against the wall he had you pinned against. If you chose him he would be beyond happy. He would make a future with you far from here where he could love you completely.

Both men balled a hand into a fist.

The wouldn't allow the other man to win.

Time was running out for all three of you. Something had to be done.

@ajeff855 @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @luna-is-on-mars @wilder-fangirl @belle82devart @hb8301 @stardancerluv @killeromanoff @cathrin2405 @charistory @sleepyflutist18 @supercharged-tatertot @belle82devart @sexyundeadtrash @realremyd @goddessofmischief03 @myybebe @safiakillspop @scuttle-buttle @viviace @shura-gorl @fictionlandslanddreams @justfangirlthingies @zemosimp05 @celtic-witch-bitch @apparrio @thatoneartgalsstuff @somethingthatsaysbubbles @aloyssia

[crowfootwrites]

Sugar [Miguel Galindo x Fem!Reader]

I - I'm not sure what happened, because I didn't plan this lol. But it's probably because I had this song on repeat as I was writing. Miguel has been pissing me off this season, but I guess that's working for me? Idk, that seems like there's a lot to unpack there. Anyway, here's a one-shot!

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut (like, a bunch of it), unprotected sex, daddydom!miguel; language; references to sugaring (not the waxing kind) | Words: 3,295

Taglist: @chibsytelford

He had been coming in every Thursday morning for the last several weeks. He ordered the same thing every time. For Miguel, medium flat white with oat milk. An odd choice, in your opinion. Based on his appearance, you would have pegged him as an Americano guy. Or at worst, the type to order a cappuccino and casually drop the “I discovered cappuccinos at this exquisite little café on a Venice canal” line. Especially the first time he came in wearing that white suit. Might as well have been wearing a fucking straw fedora.

He sat in the café every time he came in, reading the paper and looking at you. Men did that, sometimes, but they all had the decency to look away when you caught them staring. But this guy would meet your eyes with not a hint of embarrassment and take his sweet time breaking your gaze to return to his paper. If he had been anyone else, it might’ve made your skin crawl. But the fact that he didn’t look away, as though he didn’t care that you knew he was looking, had you intrigued.

Your barista job was the way you were paying your way through school and you worked a lot. Having something like a handsome regular to look forward to made the time a little more bearable. So, your little dance with the stranger Miguel went on like this for several weeks. After the first few, you started making sure to have his order ready when he arrived, knowing he would show up at 8:15 on the dot. The first time you did that, you slid his drink across the counter as he reached for it, his fingers brushing yours lightly. You met his scrutiny with your own darkening gaze, daring him to say something. But also begging him to say something.

He didn’t. He simply smirked that infuriating smirk and took his usual place at a table near the door, opening his paper with a flick. You turned on your heel, sucking your teeth as your coworker arched her eyebrow at you.

The next Thursday, you had his order ready when he arrived, but in an effort to restore the power balance, you had your coworker bring it to the handoff. You could feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you zipped busily behind the counter, making drinks. He watched you intently for the entirety of his visit. You allowed yourself exactly three glances his way. Each time, you could tell that you were getting him riled up. You had the feeling that no one ever said no to him, and you weren’t giving him the attention he so clearly desired.

Perhaps the timing was right, or perhaps your brush-off worked, but the following week was different. You could tell something had changed when he walked in. He was all business, his shoulders squared beneath his navy suit jacket, his bearded jaw set. He looked… like he was done playing games. The thought sent an involuntary shiver crawling down your spine.

“Good morning, Miguel,” you said coyly as he approached the handoff where you had his drink waiting for him.

“(Y/N),” he offered in response, a devilish glint in his eye.

“I’d like to get this to go,” he continued, motioning to his coffee, and your heart plummeted, immediately assuming you had somehow messed this up for yourself.

“Uh, sure,” you retorted. “Not a problem.” You turned away to remake his drink in a to-go cup, mentally kicking yourself already. When you returned to hand him his drink, he was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, studying you.

“There’s something else I’d like.” He pushed himself off the wall and leaned over the counter conspiratorially, his mouth very close to your ear. His tone was smooth, with just enough authority to make your thighs clench. “You. On your back. In my bed.”

His words squeezed the breath out of your lungs. You pulled back for a moment to meet his gaze, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards. Your pulse thrummed under your skin. “Also, not a problem,” you murmured, proud of how smooth you managed to sound, despite the rolodex of emotions spinning in your head.

***

“Fuck – Miguel!” you moaned, your back arching off of his 1,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets as he slid his fingers between your folds, his mouth and beard glistening with your juices. You watched him smirk from his position between your legs, his fingers stretching you exquisitely. He had one of your knees pinned roughly to the bed, keeping you spread for him. You clutched at the sheets on either side of you, but your hands started to wander as he found his rhythm inside you. His thumb circled your clit roughly as your fingers dragged themselves down your body. One hand found a home pinching and twisting your nipple, the sharp twinge punctuating the slow heat building in your core. Your other hand gripped at Miguel’s hair as his tongue lapped at your clit again, and you couldn’t help yourself as you ground your hips harder against his face, whining in pleasure.

Your first orgasm rolled through you like a wave, your whole body convulsing repeatedly as you rode it, wailing Miguel’s name in its wake. He climbed over you as you came down, his thick cock hanging against the inside of your thigh and you shivered, eager to be stretched around him as he fucked you into his fancy mattress. He eyed you hungrily as he moved to press his mouth to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. When you had been lulled into the gentleness of his ministrations, he bit down hard on your shoulder, sinking roughly into you at the same time, and you cried out as the sensation took your breath away. You clung to Miguel, your fingers clawing frantically at his back, as he bottomed out, thrusting hard and deep.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he rolled his hips against yours. You relished in the sounds of your fucking echoing in the spacious room, his hips snapping furiously against your ass. He tossed your legs over his shoulders and pounded harder into you, the new angle sinking him even deeper. The fire in his eyes excited you and had your pussy throbbing around him.

“Ahh, Jesus, Miguel, just like that,” you gasped, feeling the pressure building in your core. The higher he took you, the emptier your mind became, until all you knew was the ache to be filled. Miguel pulled your hands off of him, grabbing your wrists roughly and pinning them to the bed above your head, never breaking stride.

“Please don’t stop,” you cried, your eyes screwed shut, quickly approaching another orgasm. Miguel dropped himself onto his elbows to hover over you, the added stimulation over your clit wrecking you. Your second orgasm snapped, spots bursting behind your eyelids and you clenched around Miguel completely. He fucked you through it and moments later he was pulling out to kneel in front of you on the bed, stroking himself desperately before releasing ropes of hot cum on your chest.

He was breathing hard as he ran a finger through the sticky mess on your chest and brought it up to your lips. He watched with dark eyes as you opened your mouth obediently and sucked the taste of him off of his fingers.

After a moment, his face relaxed and he pulled himself off the bed, returning from the bathroom with a damp rag. He gently cleaned off your chest, grazing your clavicle with his lips. You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you, at the image of Miguel Galindo cleaning you up.

“What?” he asked with a lopsided smile.

“Hope you’re not expecting me to give you my employee discount from now on,” you snickered.

Miguel grinned. “I think I can afford a cup of coffee, querida.”

***

You were more than a little surprised when Miguel showed up at your door late one Saturday morning. You had been sleeping together for a few months by then; sometimes at fancy hotels, but usually at his home, in his bed. Well, and on a lot of his other furniture. But considering that he lived in a very expensive house with lavish trappings and armed security, him coming to your shitty apartment in Santo Padre was unprecedented. But there he was, standing at your door, while you stared back at him wide-eyed. You drank in his suited appearance while you stood before him in bare feet and an oversized Guns ‘n Roses t-shirt.

“Good morning, princesa,” he said smoothly, that notorious smirk fastened to his lips. “May I come in?”

You shifted from foot to foot. “Uh, sure, I guess.” You stepped back to allow him through.

You watched skeptically as he gazed around him. He kept his expression smoothed into neutrality, making it impossible to read him. Most apartments in Santo Padre were old and somewhat run down. You had worked hard to make yours feel homey. It was small, but your couch was new, and you had a nice TV you had saved up for. There was framed art on the walls and pictures on the shelves. If he had said anything negative about your home, the only space you had to yourself, you might have thrown him out. Perhaps he sensed this; either way, he kept his mouth shut.

“Can I get you something to drink?” you asked courteously, the nicety feeling strange on your tongue considering that not two days ago that same tongue had been wrapped around his cock.

“Coffee?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but still let the grin settle on your lips.

You padded to the kitchen and pulled out two ceramic pour-over sets, your grinder, and the most expensive beans you had on hand. You got started on the familiar, comforting process of making coffee, letting yourself focus on the grinding and the pouring and the steeping, while your mind tried to parse out what Miguel was doing here.

When the coffee was done, you returned to the living room to find Miguel sitting on your couch, gazing down at the papers you had been going through strewn chaotically across the coffee table. He glanced up at you as you entered, a rare smile gracing his features, but you caught the furrow of his brows before he looked up.

You handed him the cup of coffee with an arched brow.

“You need a better system of organization,” he chided, motioning towards the mess.

You shrugged as you dropped onto the couch beside him. “Probably, but I would need to find the motivation to organize it first. Looking at all of this makes me depressed,” you responded, only half-joking.

Miguel studied you seriously for a moment. Then his features relaxed and your chest unclenched accordingly. He set his cup on the coffee table and settled back into your couch as you pulled your legs up under you, getting comfortable.

“So,” you started, drawing the word out. “What brings you to the wrong side of the tracks this fine morning, Miguel?”

You caught the irritation that flashed in his eyes as he turned to look at you. But he eased up when he spotted your wry grin.

“Needed a break from work,” he said simply, his hands gently pulling your feet onto his lap.

“So, you came to hide out in the last place they’d look for you, huh?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

He drew a low groan out of you as he pressed a thumb to the insole of your foot. You had worked a double yesterday and your feet were killing you. You closed your eyes, your head dropping against the couch cushions as you relaxed into his touch.

When you opened them a few minutes later, Miguel’s hungry stare was focused on you.

“Fuck, querida, the sounds you make,” he growled, reaching for your hips and pulling you roughly onto his lap, your back pressed against his firm chest. You let your head drop back onto his shoulder, his breath in your ear sending tremors down your back. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch teasing against the fabric of your panties. Your pussy clenched in anticipation, and you moaned, a low, wanton sound that had Miguel restraining you firmly with his free arm.

“So needy for me, (Y/N).” With a quick flick of his wrist, he had pulled your panties off and let them drop to the floor. He draped your legs over his, opening you wide for him. His middle finger caressed your slick folds, frustratingly slowly. Patience wasn’t your strong suit, and Miguel very much enjoyed lording that over you.

A low rumble reverberated in his chest as he swatted at the side of your bare ass on his lap. “Beg for it,” he commanded, nipping hard at your neck. You yelped at the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.

“Please, Miguel. Please, I need you.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, rocking on Miguel’s lap, as much as his hold would allow, desperate for more friction.

“That’s better,” he remarked as he plunged two fingers into you. Your mouth hung open in a silent cry, devastated by the feeling of him stretching you. The pace he set was savage, and you were quickly approaching the edge.

“Fuck, I – I’m so close,” you wailed, the rolling in your hips no longer under your control.

So he pulled his fingers out. A petulant whine escaped your throat before you could stop it and you heard Miguel tut chidingly in your ear.

“Up,” he ordered, and you rose off his lap. He pulled at your waist and bent you over the arm of the couch, positioning himself behind you. You heard his pants dropping to the floor before a firm smack landed first on one cheek, then the other, making you rock forward against the couch, wetness sliding between your thighs.

“Please,” you whispered, and Miguel cracked, pushing his thick cock between your folds. He sheathed himself inside you, his grip bruising on your hips. After giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he pulled out and slammed back into you, returning to his brutal pace from earlier. He looped a strong arm around your torso and hauled you up, his fingers finding their place in a firm grasp around your throat. He fucked furiously up into you, your living room permeated with primal grunts and moans.

Your fingers wandered needily to your clit, twirling around it until the tight coil in your belly snapped and you were coming, writhing so forcefully that you broke from Miguel’s grasp and caught yourself with trembling hands on the arm of the couch. Miguel reached down and gripped your hair, tugging just enough to turn your head to the side, watching you come down from your high. His cock was punishing inside you and you were trembling from overstimulation, but you knew he was close. His jaw clenched and he leaned over you, pressing his forehead against your spine, fucking you deep.

A few more thrusts like that and Miguel was coming undone inside you, his cock twitching with his release. From the corner of your eye, you could see the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he pulled out, immediately going to fetch a towel from the bathroom. He cleaned you up, placing gentle kisses on the red marks on your ass and combing his fingers through your hair. You grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom, pulling under the covers with you, your eyes already heavy with sleep.

A short nap later, you shuffled back out to the living room, leaving Miguel asleep in your bed. Despite your little interlude, you had to be somewhat productive today. You sighed, steeling yourself for the stack of bills still awaiting you. Your rent and tuition bill would be the priority. There had been more fee hikes at the school, so you were probably looking at another couple of months of pulling as many doubles as you could manage to cover expenses. Plus, you had to consider the cost of your textbooks. As you perched on the edge of the couch with your elbows on your knees, you scanned the sea of papers looking for the tuition statement. Your eyes widened as you located it, a soft “what the fuck?” escaping your lips.

There was a check on top of it. For the total amount of your tuition for the semester. Signed by Miguel Galindo.

You picked up the check with trembling fingers, as though terrified it might disintegrate if you thought about it too hard. You stared at it, your thumb tracing over the check amount, as you stood robotically and made your way back to the bedroom.

Miguel was still asleep, facing the edge of the bed, the almost permanent stress lines around his eyes and mouth gone. You sat heavily on the floor beside him, your head almost touching his, still staring down at the check in your hands.

“Miguel, what is this?” you asked softly, and with a groan, he opened his eyes.

It took him a moment to register what was happening, but when he did, he shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t want you to have to work doubles all month. Then I’ll never get to see you.”

A quiet hum thrummed in your throat. “This is a lot of money,” you muttered.

His lips turned up into a grin, a hint of condescension behind his sleepy eyes. “No, it’s really not, princesa.”

Your brain worked hard to process what was happening. What he was doing. “Does this mean you’re like, paying me for sex, essentially?”

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh and sat up in bed, pulling you into his lap. He buried his nose in your shoulder, his lips gliding softly across your skin. “Consider it mutually beneficial. I need something from you,” he growled, trailing a hand teasingly under your shirt, “and you need something that I can give you in return. And like I said, I would be a very unhappy man if I never get to do this,” he continued, pinching your nipple roughly, eliciting a fragile whine as your mind snapped to attention, “because you’re always at work, especially when I can do something about it.”

You nodded, a little dazed, and Miguel pulled you against him as he laid back down, spooning you. You began to relax as you talked yourself into the arrangement. You were already having sex, right? So, this was just… sweetening the pot? You imagined for a moment how much less stressful your life could be if you didn’t have to spend all your time either in classes or at work to pay for classes. You could have more time to study, more time to cook so you wouldn’t be living on fast food. And you certainly weren’t going to turn down more time with Miguel.

You chuckled quietly and Miguel squeezed your hand questioningly.

“Does this make you my sugar daddy?” you asked with a laugh.

Miguel scoffed. “Not a fan of that term, but I suppose that is an accurate description.”

You rolled over to face him, meeting his heated gaze. You wrapped a leg over his hips and threaded your fingers into his hair, desire blossoming in your belly. “What about just daddy, then?”

You watched that signature smirk appear, the clenching of his jaw hinting at his swelling arousal. He rolled you onto your back, pinning you roughly to the bed. “Now that, querida, I can work with.”

[watermelonlipstick]

Parking Lot

This is a love letter to the Dean who told Cassie everything about his life after knowing her for 2 weeks and who didn’t see What Is And What Should Never Be as a horror show until he saw his bond with Sam was gone. I don’t think it would work for a later seasons Dean, who had pretty conclusively abandoned this idea for himself. I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Parking Lot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3801

Summary: A parking lot quickie leads to an illuminating argument between Dean and the reader.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, ~*idiots in love*~, fluff

           In a couple ways it seemed like a lesson; you really shouldn’t have been fooling around in a parking lot no matter how late at night it was. Especially not a bar’s parking lot, potentially more likely to be busy at this hour, shadows be damned.

           But it wasn’t all your fault, not by a long shot. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, getting a Manhattan rather than his standard straight bourbon just for the cherry, rolling it around with his tongue and licking his fingers of the juice while you waited for the guys you were playing pool against to shoot.

           If Sam had been there you might’ve been able to keep it together for politeness’s sake, but you didn’t give a shit about these people and you weren’t doing research for a case, just blowing off steam post-job before heading out of town in the morning.

           Two could play at Dean’s game, though, you arching your back deep into the table to make a shot and practically purring “your turn” when he was up, hovering close enough to see the goosebumps spread over his neck when he smirked and obeyed. He finished the game lightning fast with a string of laser-focused shots and you silently downed the rest of his drink as the guys ponied up, tossing thick folds of cash onto the table and shaking Dean’s hand. You didn’t even feel guilty for hustling them, partly for their ignoring you but mostly for the distraction of Dean’s hands reracking the balls and grabbing your coat, sliding a palm to your lower back with his pinky just barely under your waistband. It was all you could do to wait until you get to the back of the parking lot to shove him up against the Impala and bite his bottom lip almost too hard before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

           You felt the smile and heard the groan at the same time, both pouring into your mouth as you ripped at Dean’s jacket, trying to yank his flannel off his shoulders with it. You abandoned the project to paw at Dean’s tee once you’d gotten the outer layers bunched down around his elbows, kissing him hungry and dark like he was yours to take.

           One of Dean’s bitten off groans trailed off into a barely-there whimper. For all his posturing he loved this, when he could give up being predator and let go for a few minutes to be your prey. He didn’t start fumbling for the door handle until you flicked open his belt, his other hand clutching at a handful of hair at the back of your neck and kissing down your jugular fast and hard. Imagining the way Sam was going to roll his eyes at the hickeys only added adrenaline while Dean finally got the backseat door open, sliding you in and unfurling on top of you. Still working on his jeans, you dragged him tight between your legs.

           “You are—so—mean,” you grinned between kisses. “Teasing me like—that.”

           Dean’s eyebrows kicked up on his forehead, playing dumb like you knew he would. “Me? Never.” His act dropped the moment you finally got his fly open, wrapping your hand around his cock through his boxers and punching all the air out of his lungs. His head rolled back on his neck almost violently, impossibly long eyelashes grazing his cheekbones and lips parted around a breathy “fuck.”

           His switch flipped, Dean scrambled to strip you as fast as possible. You tried to help him in large part to avoid tearing your clothes, ending up crushed into the leather of the bench seat somehow with one leg fully out of your jeans and underwear, the other knee tangled up in the fabric. He’d shoved up your shirt and bra and it would’ve been uncomfortable and tight if any of your senses had been turned to it instead of Dean wetting his middle finger to slip-slide along your clit, murmuring something about “I love it when you do that,” into the side of your neck as he swirled circles into you. After a few moments you were writhing in the seat and Dean pulled that finger back up, sucking you off of it before pushing it up inside you, then another.

           “Fuck me, Jesus Christ Dean,” you moaned against his tongue, yanking him forward until he guided himself into you. The stunted warm-up helped but that first push was always a shock, and whatever sound you made was loud enough that Dean covered your mouth with his hand, grinning conspiratorially down over fingers still steeped in you as he thumped you into the car door.

           “Quiet—someone’s going to hear you.”

           You bit his hand and Dean yelped with a chuckle, pulling it back before you roped around his neck and kissed him lasciviously. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” you smirked.

           He stabilized himself against the Impala’s door to pound into you harder, you wrapping your legs around his waist and whisper-moaning filthy nothings into his ear, biting his neck until suddenly you felt that finely honed awareness pique in the back of your mind, flaring hot enough to burn and you froze, thighs clamped tight around Dean.

           “Baby, I—”

           “Don’t fucking move—did you hear that?” you hissed.

           Dean tried to pull back and tensed hard, shuddering into you as you tried to lift your head to see as surreptitiously as possible before the delayed processing hit you. When you looked up at Dean he didn’t meet your eyes, wincing over one shoulder with his arms still planted.

           “Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered.

           He was silent for a half-second, still didn’t meet your eyes. “I tried t—you fucking death-gripped me with your legs, what was I supp—”

           “Oh my god, get off of me,” you yelped, trying your best to sit up and snatch at anything to clean yourself up before realizing it was useless. “FUCK! Fuck, Dean, fuck, what’re we going to—I can’t be—”

           He leaned back into the seat to get back into his jeans and fasten his belt. “One thing at a time, okay? They’ve got like pills and stuff right? We don’t even know if it’ll take.”

           You rolled your eyes angrily at him as you jammed your leg back into your jeans. “Our fucking luck it’s already triplets.” You ran a hand through your hair and took a deep, hard breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

           “No, I get it.” He slumped into the seat next to you. A long beat passed, you and Dean both sitting stupid, half-dressed in jeans and untied boots, hair all over the place. He cleared his throat. “Wanna head out?” His voice was small and rough; you knew he was sorry and maybe a little embarrassed. If you were more highly evolved you might’ve been able to console him more in that moment, but your heart was bounding through your chest about what was going to happen next—if. You managed to squeeze his hand in solidarity if nothing else before grabbing your stuff and moving to the front seat.

           Minutes of silent road passed before Dean reached over and covered your knee with his hand. You capped it with one of yours and saw his lips twitch up at the corner in response.

           He glanced over at you tentatively. “Maybe it uh, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?”

           Your incredulity spun you around in your seat so you were fully squared to him. “What?”

           It was dark in the car but you thought maybe Dean’s cheeks started to look pink. “I don’t know, teaching a little squirt how to play catch or whatever, might be cute.”

           “You cannot be serious.”

           His eyes flicked back over to you and his lips pursed out, trying to look non-plussed. “Whatever. Just trying to make you feel better.”

           “No, you’re not. Because that exact possibility is scaring the shit out of me right now and two minutes ago you were trying to convince me we were going to pill this away. So it’s—is that something you want? Having a kid someday?”

           Dean took his hand back under the guise of using two hands to turn the steering wheel.  “No.”

           You waited, willed your own heartbeat to slow down. As you knew he would, Dean kept talking, keeping his eyes on the road more to avoid the vulnerability of looking in your eyes rather than out of necessity on the long, straight stretch of road. “I don’t know. It really seems that bad to you? Having something that’s really, like, ours? Just you and me?”

           “We’re not talking about a something, Dean, we’re talking about a fucking kid.”

           “Jesus, fine, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

           His knuckles went white on the steering wheel and underlined that Dean Was Done Talking. What an absolute waste of a fun little night out, leaving Sam to have a couple hours alone. Now instead of getting back looser to a well-rested Sam, you were going to barrel into this crappy motel terrified with a pissed off Dean, dropping it all at the younger Winchester’s feet to deal with (again).

           It took you until the motel parking lot to muster up the courage to touch Dean’s wrist. “Can we talk for a second?” Dean pretended to be annoyed but you could tell it was an act shielding a spot of tenderness. He flopped his hands in his lap and looked over at you expectantly. “Maybe it’s dumb to even talk about this; like you said, it might be nothing. But I just—I mean if—do you really want that? What would that even look like? Not even with me or whatever obviously but leaving hunting, leaving Sam—”

           “Leaving Sam? Who said anything about leaving Sam?”

           “You volunteering him as nanny?”

           Dean sort of half-rolled his eyes and shifted to face you. “You know as well as I do that Sam doesn’t want to be doing this, not forever. I’m not saying we should be fucking trying, obviously, I’m just—I’m going to stick around no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ditch you with my mistake.”

           You scoffed. “How noble.”

           “Not like that. But I’m not a complete moron, I know we’ve played with fire a couple times and I know what I’m doing.”

           “I guess I just figured that was heat of the moment stuff.”

           A flash of something passed over his face, gone almost too fast for you to decipher. Offense? Sadness? “Yeah, part of it. But you—you’ve never even thought about it?”

           “Thought about how I’d get a couple hundred dollars and find a clinic, yeah. I—we can’t be hunters with a baby. And I won’t be stashed in some safe house somewhere, see you and Sam for a day or two every couple months, be the loner single mom who can’t tell anyone anything about her life.”

           “Single mom? I’m not a fucking deadbeat. I just said I wouldn’t make you deal alone.”

           You shot him an exasperated look and took a deliberate breath to keep from rising to the bait. “So what, now you want to get married? Dean, I’m not even really your damn girlfriend.”

           He reached for the handle fast enough that you had to scramble across the seat after him, Dean pausing in the open door. “Look, if it’s not what you want, that’s fucking fine. But don’t patronize me. Not my fucking girlfriend? Fuck you.”

           You flew across the Impala and out of the passenger door, following Dean as he stormed across the asphalt. “Fuck me? How are you mad at me?”

           He spun on his heel in the parking lot. “I tell you I’m willing to leave all of this—all of everything I really know, fucked up as that is—for you, would make you my whole future and you, you—your response is that you’re not even my girlfriend? Yeah, fuck you.”

           “Dean, that’s not what I—” but he had already started storming back to the room. “DEAN!” you yelled, standing stock still in the middle of the lot. He paused with his back to you for what felt like a long second before turning back around. “I don’t want to bring this back to Sam. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—I’m scared shitless about something that might not even happen and then you spring the idea of some shotgun wedding on me—”

           He rolled his eyes without even a hair of humor, the muscles in his jaw tensing hard enough to catch the cold overhead light. “See, how can you—” he started, before taking a deep, deliberate breath and starting over in a tone that was forced calm. “That’s everything I ha—that’s all I can give you, is loving you and fucking being there for you. So if it’s that fucking cheap or skanky to you then I’m sorry for wasting your fucking time.” When you didn’t respond his spine straightened a few degrees. “What? Say something. Tell me how stupid I am for suggesting that being tied together might not ruin your fucking life.”

           You felt that your mouth had fallen open but didn’t care. “You love me?”

           Dean’s face contorted like he was looking at a mirage of something bizarre, curious and disbelieving and frustrated. “I lo—of course I love you, what the fuck?”

           “Y—you’ve never said that to me.”

           “What? Yes I have.” His voice softened a shade, the certainty his anger had afforded him beginning to slip away like sand at high tide, but his eyebrows stayed indignant.

           You’d never been more certain of anything in your life, that Dean had never said that, because it was something you wanted constantly. Craved, even. Were kept awake at night by; the desire to have your feelings for Dean reciprocated too intense even to dream about. So you justified and bargained with yourself: if fooling around and this kind of casual commitment—girl who would cover him and Sam in a firefight and didn’t hound him for a label—was what he wanted, it was what you would give. Anything for more time with him or the chance to kiss those lips, to see the way he looked first thing in the morning, to get annoyed at his bullshit idiosyncrasies.            

           “No, you haven’t.” So many more words tried to burst forward from you that you had to bite your lip to be sure your mouth stayed closed.

           Dean held your eyes, willing you to say something until he lost his patience. “Who says that stupid shit all the time anyway? You know I love you; I’d do fucking anything for you.” His voice had started to rise again but the heat behind it was some sort of hungry desperation, not hurt rage. “I’m—you don’t think I love you?”

           You started to feel completely exposed by the industrial light, seared alive by green eyes. Shifting your weight from foot to foot didn’t help, and you fought angrily against the lump forming in your throat.

           He looked over his shoulder and the barked “FUCK!” startled you despite yourself. “Kid, I—FUCK, that’s what this is? I loved you since that first fucking hunt in Cleveland! You really think I’m just…? This isn’t some Beaver Cleaver ‘I put you in a family way’ bullshit, I—I don’t know, I just, with you it feels like for the first time maybe it’s not insane to think that I could—that we could—whatever, man, I’m not fucking talking about this.” A hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic you recognized immediately.

           You took two big steps toward him. “Dean, I just—I didn’t know. That’s—I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been thinking about it; but it—it’s more because I didn’t even think it was on the table, you know? I thought we were, I don’t know, really close friends that sleep together.”

           Dean’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he blew an almost-laugh out of his nose. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Never heard of any friends that live together and fuck raw.” His tongue slid along his molars and he sucked his teeth looking down at the ground, flicker of a despondent, self-deprecating smile twitching his lips. “Uh, noted, I guess. Sorry I misunderstoo—” and his eyes on the blacktop prevented him from seeing you cross the few strides between you, catching him off guard when you kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to feel everything you wanted to say, wanted to scream (at him, from the rooftops, ohmygodhelovesme) take a backseat for a moment. He grunted at the impact, stunned for a half-beat before surging forward into you, wrapping into your hair and pawing at your hips with desperate effort to get closer. Feeling the grin against your mouth, you wished you weren’t standing in the absolute middle of the parking lot, frenzy to have something to push each other against building to a fever pitch inside you when Dean tugged your hair back to look at your face.

           He looked downright pornographic; swollen, flushed pout and impossible lashes framing bedroom eyes Marilyn or Sophia would’ve envied. A washing of cockiness only amplified the effect, those pillowy lips pulling into a lazy smirk. “So is this a really-close-friends kiss or what? Trying to figure out how much tongue I’m supposed to slip you.”

           You giggled good-naturedly, letting the weight of your head press into his palm. “You are such an asshole.”

           “Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.” He sucked on that sweet pulse spot under your ear deeply, some accessory movement with his tongue enough to make you see stars and miss that it was you letting out that ungraceful whine-moan. When Dean spoke the air passing over your spit-slick neck exploded in goosebumps. “And I love you.”

           Dean kissed you in that searching, delicious, eat-you-alive way he sometimes did after a particularly victorious hunt when he either had all the time in the world or didn’t give a fuck about making it; soothing-probing with a little edge of danger that hypnotized you. It pulled at the sweater of your being and tugged, steady and cloying until you were something loose and ephemerous in Dean’s hands, something equally likely to float away or explode right there in that parking lot, clearing a hundred miles in every direction and leaving behind only the imprint of your craving for him. It’s a miracle your brain was able to function at all. In the best circumstances this flayed you open and coming on the heels of having the most beautiful gift you could imagine dropped at your feet—Dean loves you, he loves you and always has—it felt like it could stop your heart and you wouldn’t care.

           “I need about twenty minutes in a cold shower or I promise I’ll knock you up right the fuck here,” Dean growled, low with sin directly into your ear.

           You laughed breathily. “I thought you said that might be a good thing.”

           His chuckle was rough as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. He rested there for a moment before murmuring into your hair. “You really thought we were just messing around?”

           “Dean, come on, I—don’t make me say it.”

           “Say what?”

           You swallowed shakily, tried to get a handle on your thoughts through the endorphins. “You—I—I’ve had it bad for you, thought if I really like, acknowledged it that it might fuck up what I did get to have of you or that some commitment would freak you out or whatever so I just—I don’t know, tried to be cool about it. Obviously we’ve always been kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ when we were apart—”

           Dean cut off your rambling. “Uh, has there been something you’ve been ‘don’t tell’-ing? I wasn’t ‘don’t ask don’t tell’-ing.”

           “You haven’t?” you asked, surprised enough to be knocked off your nebulous trail of thought.

           “No, I mean—no. You would’ve been fine with that?” The disbelief was so clear on his face it was practically casting a glow around him.

           “Not fine with it—of course not—the thought of it kept me up nights, but I didn’t you to think I was some jealous freak.”

           A smile spread over his face slowly, butter on hot toast. “So you would’ve been jealous?”

           “I was jealous, I thought that’s what was happening.”

           Dean’s head lolled back on his neck a few degrees, smirk cementing itself in place. “That’s kinda hot.”

           It took the tension out of the moment and you chuckled under your breath, glancing down at your feet. “Yeah, you would say that right now, psycho.” It was breathy and shaky but Dean let you have it, throwing his elbow around your neck affectionately and tucking you into his side. With a kiss to the crown of your head, he started you both walking to the room lazily. At the door, you stilled him as he reached for the knob.

           “Would you really want to keep it? Like, no bullshit, if that’s the situation, that I’m actually—you know, you wouldn’t want me to…?”

           He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. They parted for a moment before he began to speak as his gaze flicked between your eyes. “Babe,” he finally breathed, and there was a note of croak there. “I’m in this for the long haul. If that’s where we’re going then we’ll deal with it. If you don’t—if you’re not there, I get it, but for me, I—yeah. If it’s going to be anyone for me, it’s you.”

           “Even now?”

           “I could think of worse things. Worse things have happened to me this week, probably.”

           There were so many follow up questions running through your mind, so many rock-solid certainties that Dean wouldn’t really be able to quit hunting, that even figuring out how to go to an OB-gyn on fake IDs was likely to be more complicated than either of you realized, but his lack of hesitation was so sweet, so earnest, and you were still riding that he loves me high. And you might’ve gotten lucky; it might be nothing, no parking lot baby to contend with, just a tense reminder to be more careful next time. It was easier than you might’ve thought to give yourself permission to relish it for the night, consequences be damned.  

-

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[c-estmabiologie]

nine terrible cups of tea (and at least one equally terrible cup of coffee) | the haunting of bly manor fic

Dani tries to master the art of making a proper cup of tea. It goes just about as well as you'd expect. (1987 - 1994)

Also on AO3!

One

“Really you could just throw a tea bag into your mug, pour some water on top, and call it a tea. But we’re better than that.”

Dani isn’t convinced but she tries her best to follow the steps as Jamie patiently describes them. She talks about making tea with the casual confidence of someone who believes that Dani can will a good cup of tea to exist. As if this isn’t the first time that she has tried to hold Dani’s hand through the process. Dani’s pretty sure it won’t be the last time either, but she tries to wield some of Jamie’s confidence as her own.

“If you want to be really proper, you can even warm the pot first with some hot water from the kettle and, you know, just dump it down the sink.”

Dani swirls the hot water around inside her teapot, feels it warm under her palms. It’s nice. Wasteful, but nice.

“What does this do?”

“No idea. Somebody probably decided that it makes the tea taste better.”

“Okay,” She drops two teabags in. One for herself, and one for the pot, according to Jamie who’s not leaving tea totally up to chance and Dani’s efforts; her arm is soft and cool against Dani’s as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder at their kitchen counter, each with their own pot of steeping tea.

“Now here’s where you might make a mortal enemy of a Brit: adding milk to your cup before or after the tea.”

“Does it have to have milk?” Dani asks, thinking Aren’t there people who drink their black tea black, like coffee? That’s a thing, right?

Dani can feel Jamie twitching a smirk beside her without having to look.

“It has milk if you’re making English tea.”

She remembers the looks she got from Hannah and Owen and even the children whenever she’d made an attempt at tea. She can’t remember when she’d added the milk. Jamie, for sure, must be exaggerating the offense.

"But which one’s the right way?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t really care as long as it’s the right amount of milk.” Dani realizes that Jamie’s already gone ahead and poured her own cup without her, milk and all, and she’s missed it. She pours her own tea and splashes in milk until its colour matches the tea in Jamie’s cup.

They look the same to Dani.

“Alright,” Jamie says, “let’s have a taste shall we?”

They taste the same to Dani, but Jamie’s brow furrows just a little as she takes the cup away from her lips. And then she starts laughing.

“Okay, how is that possible? We did the exact same thing!” Dani takes another sip from her own cup to prove her point. It tastes fine! It’s tea!

“I really have no idea, Dani,” Jamie’s still laughing. “You’re just shite at making tea.”

Two

Jamie's been trying to relax with a book in the bedroom when she hears the beeping coming from another room. Just three little beeps, then nothing. A minute later, the three beeps chirp through her focus again.

When it happens a third time, she finally puts down the book to shout.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” comes Dani’s reply from across the apartment. Then the beeps make themselves known once more.

Then: “Oh. It’s the microwave. I got distracted.”

Owen had bought them a microwave as a housewarming gift. It was a convection microwave, he’d told them proudly, which apparently made it special because you could microwave your food on a metal tray if you wanted. The idea was that they could warm up their takeaway faster, or cook frozen dinners (Owen’s very generous way of chiding them for both being awful cooks). Jamie hated it. It was big and ugly and had faux-wood paneling on the side. She’d rather stick to making burned stews on the stovetop.

Dani appears in the doorway with a mug in each hand. She holds out one mug to Jamie.

“I made you tea.”

“What, in the microwave?”

Dani shrugs and sips from her mug.

“No.”

“It’s fine—”

“Absolutely not.”

Three

It’s a quiet-ish day at The Leafling and, to be honest, Dani is sort of enjoying the peace of arranging flower displays and curling ribbons. The sun is warm through the windows.

Jamie is laid up in bed with some sort of cold. She’s being a surprisingly big baby about it, too, Dani is surprised to realize. Her wife doesn’t like it when she can’t be useful.

Speaking of certain wives who shouldn’t be up, Dani can hear steps coming down the stairwell that connects the shop to their apartment. The shop’s back door pushes open a moment later and Jamie appears with jacket on and her curls stuff up into a hat. She’s pale and her nose is pink and tender-looking around the nostrils.

“What are you doing down here?” Dani demands in her most teacherly voice, but Jamie clearly has plans to go out, not back upstairs.

Jamie’s voice is raspy and hoarse.

“I need to go out to the shops and get some more milk. Ours is off.”

“I had some in my cereal this morning and it was fine.”

Jamie coughs into her collar.

“The date on it’s fine. But I add it to my tea and it’s curdled.”

“Oh.” Dani’d left the tea steeping for her before she’d come downstairs.

Then: “It’s probably the lemon doing that. In your tea, I mean.”

“There’s lemon in my tea?”

Dani nods. “There’s honey in it, too. It’s supposed to help with your sore throat.’

Jamie sighs, then sniffles, then seems to deflate a little.

“I’m gonna be honest: it sounds absolutely disgusting.”

But Dani insists that she at least give it a try (without milk), that it will make her feel better (it does, a little, admittedly), and that, who knows, she might like it (she does not).

Four

Summer heat hits hard, and The Leafling doesn’t have air conditioning. The ceiling fans do nothing more than push hot air around the shop. The plants slump in their pots (which annoys Jamie), and fat houseflies keep finding their way indoors, only to bang themselves relentlessly against the windows until they fall dead on the sills (which annoys Dani). Everything is slightly damp with sweat or condensation.

“This is something my ex-almost mother-in-law used to make,” Dani says, stirring the ice around in the pitcher with a wooden spoon.

“You know there’s probably a less complicated way to say ‘ex-almost mother-in-law’.” Jamie says. Her hair is sticking to her neck, and her gardening gloves feel like they’re being peeled off of her skin as she takes them off.

“She used to make it for my, you know, Eddie and me in the summer when we were kids,” Dani hesitated. “I don’t know. It just always reminds me of the best parts of summer.”

But when she looks up Jamie has a glass and is holding it against her cheek.

“You know,” she says, “I do know what iced tea is. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

Jamie is thoughtful as she drinks the tea slowly.

“So,” she says finally. “This is what makes Poppins think of summer.

“It’s kind of a funny taste isn’t it? Cold tea on purpose.”

Jamie gets up and pulls Dani into a hug that’s nice, but not altogether pleasant — their skin clings together and comes apart audibly in the heat and they both smell very strongly of themselves.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Jamie says into her shoulder.

“I’m going to go upstairs and put the kettle on.”

Five

“What is it?”

The gift sits on their kitchen counter, out of place and mysterious with its glass-and-stainless steel modernity next to their wooden cutting boards, cluttered and kind of oily spicy jars, and that obnoxious faux-wood panelled microwave.

“Owen says it’s a French press. He was really excited about some Danish company. Said it’s apparently great for beginners.”

Jamie makes a note to herself to somehow ask Owen to stop giving them gifts for their kitchen.

“I didn’t think Owen drank coffee.”

Dani looks thoughtful, “I don’t think he does.”

Owen’s gift doesn’t come with instructions, and neither one of them wants to ring Owen up to ask for help. Dani takes charge, grinding the coffee beans (which Owen had also generously provided) in the spice grinder… and then washing out the grinder and starting again when Jamie points out that the fresh grounds reek of coriander.

They aren’t sure if they’re supposed to give it all a stir once the water’s been added. Or when to press the plunger. Or how long it’s supposed to sit. Their first attempt produces faintly coffee-flavoured water. Their second, a grainy, chewable mess.

The French press gets relegated to a high shelf above the stove, behind a fern. Eventually it will pinch-hit as a flower pot and Dani will love how the glass reveals the root systems buried in the soil.  

Six

“This tea tastes weird.”

It’s Dani who says it.

Jamie looks up from the arrangement she’s been working on. It’s wedding season and The Leafling has been swamped with orders for bouquets and table arrangements. Jamie’s been going back and forth on this particular order all week with a bride who seems unhappy no matter how precisely she tries to follow the bride’s vision. Frankly, it’s been pissing her off (the last time she’d come in and rejected Jamie’s work, Dani had sensibly stepped in to take over the conversation before Jamie could get their shop shut down for punching a customer).

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally drink vase water?”

She picks up her own cup and takes a sip. The milk must have been added too soon and seized up the brewing. The tea tastes like nothing. Dani is watching her.

“Yeah, this is pretty bad.”

Dani says nothing.

“Oh shut up. I’m allowed to have off days, too, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Dani says, but she’s smiling.

Seven

Jamie somehow manages to drink vase water.

Neither of them can explain how it got into her tea cup or where her actual tea had gone.

Eight

“Hey.”

The word is spoken into Jamie’s hairline and followed with a kiss. She smiles, half-awake, and reaches to pull Dani to her so she can kiss her properly. Her hand jostles a tray and something makes a precarious, jangling sound.

“What’s this?” she rubs at her eyes. It’s still mostly dark in the room.

“You’re up early.”

Dani’s at the side of their bed with a serving tray. She’s barefoot, still in her pyjamas and, from what Jamie can tell, still pretty sleepy herself.

"What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.” Dani places the tray on the bed and climbs in next to Jamie slowly, careful not to tip anything on the tray.

"I just thought it would be nice to have the morning together. I bought scones.” Dani warps her voice around the word in a way that is definitely not the American pronunciation, but just as definitely not a passable approximation of Jamie’s accent. As Dani hopes it would, it makes Jamie smile.

“I see that. Scones.”

“Mm-hmm. And biscuits,” Dani never could manage that one without the secret sort of laugh that says that the Rich Tea biscuit that she’s picking up off a plate will only ever be a cookie to her.

It’s all lovely. The biscuits, the morning, Dani: lovely.

And then, of course, there is the matter of the tea.

A few problems that meet Jamie immediately as she takes a tentative sip. First, it’s cold. Second, even with what looks like an alright amount of milk (Jamie notes that Dani’s been getting better on this front)...it’s bracingly bitter.

She bravely takes another sip to avoid spoiling the otherwise perfectly cozy moment. Something solid dislodges itself from the bottom of her cup and hits her wetly on the nose. Jamie can’t help but splutter a little, and the thing plops back into the cup. It’s the tea bag.

“Uh, Dani?” Jamie realizes that she’s poking a bruise a little here, and Dani looks so happy next to her, breaking off pieces of scone with her fingers.

“How long was the tea left sitting?”

Dani’s brow furrows.

“I’m not sure how early you wake up these days,” she says. “I may have made it… a while ago. Is it okay?”

Jamie gently places the cup back onto the tray.

“It’s just a little on the cool side, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Dani tests the side of her cup with the back of my hand, as if to memorize what a little on the cool side means to Jamie.  

“I can just warm it up in the microw—”

“ No. Let’s just enjoy our morning.”

Nine

“Does anyone who drinks this stuff actually enjoy it?”

They’re in bed, limb flung loosely over limb. On the TV screen, a woman sits tensely under a tree while another sticks her bare arm right into a beehive. Bees swarm up her sleeves and into her undone braid.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” Dani says, “It’s peppermint. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Jamie curls up against Dani’s chest. She cradles her cup between them, more for its warmth than for any interest in drinking it.

“It tastes like hot toothpaste.”

On the screen, the bee charmer has returned with a mason jar full of honey. She invites the other woman to have a taste.

“Do you think they’re gonna get together?” Dani says. Jamie considers the scene for a few seconds.

“Yeah. But it’s a little weird to go after your dead brother’s fiancée like that isn’t it?”

Her own mug empty on the bedside table, Dani picks up Jamie’s abandoned tea. It’s still warm and it’s left a warm spot on the blankets between them.

“I guess it’s a little weird. I still want them to get together.”

Jamie makes a sound that might be agreement, but her eyes are drifting closed.

She’ll fall asleep before the movie’s over. Dani will fill her in on the details she’s missed over breakfast, before they have to return the tape to the video store.

Ten

“It’s so nice to have someone cook for me for a change,” Owen says, pleasantly. It’s not often that he’s been able to come around to their place over the years (and lately it’s become even less often).

“You’ve always done so much for us,” Dani calls from the kitchen. Something clatters loudly into the sink. “We just want to return the favour.”

Owen glances at Jamie, who confirms with a nod that it was, of course, Dani who had had such a thoughtful idea.

“I’m just nervous to serve dinner to the accomplished chef and restaurateur Owen Sharma,” Jamie says. “I’ll have you know that if it were my idea, I’d have just gotten takeaway and arranged it artfully onto plates. Real plates, of course. Nothing but the best for our Owen.”

Dani comes in then with a tray and busies herself with setting up the table. Jamie clears away the half-melted candles and clutter to make room.

“I thought we could have some tea before dinner.”

The hesitation that hangs in the air is palpable mist off a pond.

Owen clears his throat and politely reaches for a cup.

“Did you make it, Dani?”

“She’s been practicing,” Jamie says, drawing one knee up to her chest and reaching over to get a cup for herself.

“She says I’m not allowed to be a judge anymore. Says I’m biased against her, but really my tastebuds are probably shot. So, you are her lucky new victim.”

They toast to friendships and loves that are never truly lost and gamely drink Dani’s latest attempt at a proper cup of tea.

“You know what,” Owen says after a moment. “It’s not that bad.”

“Really?”

“You hear that, Poppins?” Jamie says, with another half toast of her cup. “You did it.”

“Really?” Dani says again. She takes her own sip, searching the taste for what might have made this brew remarkable. It just tastes like tea to her.

“It’s good?”

Owen and Jamie both make non-committal sounds, but neither do they abandon their drinks.

“It’s not the most amazing tea I’ve ever had,” Jamie admits. “But it’s absolutely, absolutely a decent cup of tea.”

“You know what?” Dani says, “I’ll take it.”

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable- Ch 4: The Popular Kids (S1E10)

Summary:  A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: death, murder of teens, swearing, death threats

Ch 3 | Ch 5

~ ~ ~

A few weeks later, Lydia was woken by a call from her sister. She did her best not to sound shocked as she picked up, but Rebecca always seemed to know what she was thinking. Lydia considered herself a very good liar until Beck was around.

“Hey Beck, how have you been?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, okay?” Right out of that gate, she was pissed. But Lydia felt some relief to know that she wasn’t calling because something was wrong. “You know that I’m just frustrated you left again.”

“I know,” she replied. “How’s school?”

She could hear her sister huff on the other side. “Boring. I don’t see what mom expects me to learn there.”

Lydia grimaced slightly when Rebecca said ‘mom’, but quickly recovered.

“College is good for you. It’ll help you figure out what you want to do.”

“You know how often I change my mind. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to just… decide my whole future. And if school didn’t help me the first 12 years, what’s another four going to do?”

“You have more freedom in college,” Lydia reasoned, but it was just more fuel to the fire.

“Which you obviously took and ran with,” she grumbled.

“Beck, I went to Santa Cruz. That’s barely an hour away.”

“Yeah. And then as soon as I thought I was getting you back, you hopped on a plane to DC. And I wanted to follow you, but mom keeps insisting that I go to community college first.”

“Sonia is just trying to look out for you,” Lydia explained. “I mean, what are you going to do when you get here? Have me take care of you?”

The other end was silent for a minute. Lydia felt guilty, knowing that implying her sister was a burden really wasn’t the best way to handle this situation, but Rebecca sometimes forgot that if she wasn’t making money for herself, someone else was.

“When will you be back?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. I’m going to try to keep this job as long as I can and after that I’m going to go where the work takes me. But I’ll come visit as soon as I can…”

As she spoke, her phone vibrated against her ear and she pulled away to see a message from Gideon.

Round table room in 20. Bring a go bag.

She sighed. “Beck, I have to go. My boss just texted me. Tell Sonia I miss her!”

Her sister was quiet for a minute, before snapping, “That job is going to suck the life out of you,” and hanging up.

Lydia shut her eyes tightly, counting the seconds between breaths. “I love you,” she whispered into the unresponsive phone.

~ ~ ~

“McAllister,” JJ started as Lydia rushed in, stepping up next to Gideon. “Western slope of the Massanutten mountain in Virginia. Two bodies discovered in the woods, both with apparent blunt trauma to the head.”

“Skeletons?” Reid asked as he looked over the photos in his case file.

“One of them. The second victim was just killed this morning.”

“How do we know there’s a connection?” Elle asked.

“Found about 75 feet apart with nearly identical head wounds,” Hotch explained.

Lydia shook her head slightly, still looking at the details over Gideon’s shoulder. Forest is an open area and the victims didn’t look like they’d been tied there. How could someone plan to hit both of them in the same spot over the head, when the victims were in open space and could move easily? That was difficult.

“Where’s the rest of the case file?” Morgan demanded.

“There isn’t one. The sheriffs are on the scene waiting for us.”

“Their location is only a half hour away by plane,” JJ explained for Hotch.

“What’s the rush?” Morgan continued.

“Well, there was evidence on the scene that could cause a bit of public uproar.”

As Hotch said this, Gideon picked up a picture for Lydia to see. Someone had carved a pentagram into a tree with the words ‘SATAN LIVES LOD’ underneath it. They were filled in with a red liquid, but Lydia highly doubted it was blood. It was too bright. Blood would be absorbed pretty quickly by the bark and definitely leave a dark stain. It was likely just paint.

“Satanic cult,” Gideon mumbled, dropping the photo onto the table for the rest of the room to see.

Hotch was obviously unimpressed. “Grab your stuff. We leave now.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia looked around curiously as they boarded the jet. It looked nice, but Lydia didn’t have much experience with flying, much less private jets. Gideon gestured for her to sit across from him, which she quickly did, noticing the rest of the team's hustle to get on the plane and take off.

Gideon gave her what she could only call his ‘profiling’ look as she got into her seat.

“What?” she started, calmly.

“You were almost late to the meeting,” he stated and she scoffed.

“You didn’t give me much notice.”

“Your apartment’s not far.”

“Well, public transportation’s a bitch,” she argued.

This was a game to him. Profiling people was his job, but getting them to come clean was an added bonus. He knew Lydia was busy when he texted her, otherwise she wouldn’t seem so distracted. Trying to get into her head and figure out what it was was fun for him. But Lydia was ready to play.

“Do you know anything about satanism?” he asked, veering from their previous topic.

She shook her head. “You think this is a satanist?”

“You don’t?”

Lydia smiled at him. He was good at opening up the floor for other people to discuss. “It feels planted to me. Blunt force head trauma is usually an extremely… violent way of commiting a murder. One hit wouldn’t be enough to ensure death. And they were killed out in an open space so I doubt the unsub had a lot of control over where they hit them. Identical wounds? That’s impressive.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t satanism,” he argued.

“No, but they wrote the message in red, usually meaning they want to pass it off as blood, but this…” she held up the picture “...is not blood. Who puts fake blood by a non-bloody victim?”

“I’m sure the victim was bloody when they put the message up,” Morgan said, Lydia turned to where he was seated.

“Well, I’m no profiler, but if these killings were supposed to be a message about worshipping Satan, why wait so long after the first person wasn’t noticed to kill another?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment. “Touche, Lydia.”

She smiled and turned back to Gideon. “Again, that doesn’t indicate whether or not it’s satanism, but…” she trailed off, letting him consider the suspicious circumstances.

“Try to keep an open mind when examining the crime scene,” he warned her, to which she agreed.

“Total blank slate,” she joked.

And her heart lifted at the sight of Gideon’s amused smile.

~ ~ ~

Lydia had already started pulling on her latex gloves as she followed Gideon off the path and towards the skeletal body. Reid and JJ were close behind them, trying not to slip on the steep ground or piles of leaves.

The body was surrounded by branches, arching over it ceremoniously. Lydia made a quick mental note to ask if one of the sheriffs had cut away the trees or if they’d found it like that.

“Mornin’,” a man called, approaching the group. He had on a blue deputy’s jacket and a gold badge. “John Bridges.”

“Yeah, we spoke on the phone. I’m Agent Jareau, this is Agent Gideon, Dr. Reid, and our crime scene analyst, Lydia Ambers, with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.” JJ recited the greeting so fast Lydia barely heard it. She couldn’t imagine the practice JJ had with introductions.

Lydia ignored the group as they continued speaking to the sheriff and started to examine the remains. She tried not to act surprised as she felt the presence of Dr. Reid leaning over her shoulder, making notes as well.

The clothes were torn and faded, but they hadn’t completely decomposed. Judging by how thin the fabric was, she would have given it a couple years before disappearing, meaning the body might not have been left that long ago. Maybe even less than a year. No wedding ring, but those are easily stolen.

“You guys must get a lot of this, huh? Satanic stuff?”

“Not really,” Gideon mumbled. “Who found the body?”

“Hiker found the first one at the trail,” Sheriff Bridges explained. “My deputies located this one while searching for evidence. Don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.”

“It’s a man-” Lydia said at the same time as Reid. They both looked surprised for a moment and she gestured for him to keep explaining while she searched for more.

“The male pelvis is more narrow, and the opening at the bottom is heart-shaped, as opposed to oval,” he continued. He then picked up a stick, seeing as he didn’t have gloves, and poked at a weird substance at the bottom of the tree. “Melted wax?”

“Candle wax?” JJ inquired.

Lydia peeled a piece away, rolled it around in her fingers, and hesitantly smelled it.

“Candles are used in rituals,” Reid prompted, but Lydia shook her head.

“This was recent. Colored wax fades over time and some kinds of wax rot. This body is not anywhere near that fresh. If there was a ritual here, it wasn’t a killing.” She dropped the piece she had collected, rubbing the red flecks from her fingers. She looked up at the sheriff. “Did you have to move these branches when you found the body?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. It was buried down there.”

“I thought I told you not to be biased,” Gideon scolded.

“I’m not,” Lydia defended. “But this feels… placed.”

“Explain your reasoning,” he challenged.

She crossed her arms, standing up to meet his eyes. “The recent body was found on a hiking trail. That’s basically begging for someone to find it. This one was secluded and basically buried by the other trees. Possibly to hide it, which would make more sense for satanists, or because it’s been here so long that the elements grew around it. Both would indicate a different killer. Then, there’s the fact that the wax is new and was probably left after the second killing, not the first, so why leave it by the first body? And, as I said about the carving in the tree, if that was a message, they wouldn’t have waited for so long between kills and if it’s just part of the ritual, we would’ve found another one by the other body.”

He raised his eyebrow and Lydia waited for someone to argue with her, but he simply said, “Not bad.”

She let go of a tension she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Does L-O-D mean anything to you?” he asked Reid.

“Uh-uh,” he denied. “I don’t know of any significance in satanism, either.”

“Well, I’d have Garcia research this ‘LOD’ thing, if I could get a call out,” JJ admitted, frustrated.

“Not much of a chance of that out here,” Sheriff Bridges informed her.

“Are there any cults in the area that you know about?” Gideon asked. “Secret groups? People you see you don’t know much about? People who stay to themselves mostly?”

“This is a very religious area. Church on Sundays, fellowship of Wednesday, bible classes. If there was a secret group, I’d probably know about it.”

This made Reid laugh, and a cute smile tugged at his cheeks. “That’s an inherent contradiction.”

“Excuse me?”

Gideon stepped in. “He means if there was a group being secretive, you probably wouldn’t know.”

Sheriff didn’t take that one too well, but Gideon listened patiently as he argued that it couldn’t be someone from his town. Then, he instructed them to head back up to the trail where the other body was found.

“Find anything interesting down there?” Hotch asked as the four of them approached.

“Yeah, it does look like some kind of ritual site,” Gideon admitted. “Although Ambers has got some theories to suggest otherwise.”

The unit chief looked hesitant, but decided not to ask about them.

“Have any of you heard the expression ‘lod’ or the acronym L-O-D?” Reid asked as Elle helped him up the hill.

“Not me,” Elle responded and Morgan looked like he was about to agree before the whole team was distracted by a woman shouting.

“Cherish?” she cried, running up the hill. “Cherish?”

She was blonde and in her mid-forties. She was clearly distraught, trying to walk straight onto the scene, but the deputy held her back.

“Sheriff Bridges!” she shouted, still trying to push past the deputy.

“It’s okay, Harris. Let her in,” the sheriff said.

“Was Adam Loyd killed out here?” she demanded as she ducked the yellow tape.

“Who told you that, Veronica?”

“Was he?” she tried again. The sheriff tried to calm her, but she just interrupted him. “My daughter was with him. They were out running together this morning. Oh my god, and I can’t find her,” she started to ramble. “Cherish is missing. Cherish is missing! Help me, please!”

And finally, she broke down into sobs.

~ ~ ~

“What’s the protocol for murder turned missing persons case?” Lydia inquired as she followed Gideon around the trail.

“Well, you were right about one thing,” Gideon replied. “It’s not ritual satanism. We’ll build our profile after the search, but it’s starting to look like a killer cult.”

“Multiple unsubs. Easier to kill the guy and kidnap the girl. You think these people were targeted?”

“It’s possible. Cults aren’t usually prone to crimes of opportunity. They normally kill people as part of their message.”

“So, are the carvings and wax part of their message or are they trying to throw us off the scent?”

“Guess we’ll find out when we have more evidence,” he retorted. “Hey Hotch!”

They’d looped back to the site and Gideon immediately made a beeline for Agent Hotchner. Lydia was a few steps behind and missed whatever Gideon had said to him, but she could see his disapproval.

“Gideon,” he warned. “We talked about this.”

She caught up, standing next to her mentor.

“Ambers, you’ll be with Gideon during the search. Make sure the exercise doesn’t kill him.”

She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Once he was gone and she was alone with Gideon once more, she turned on him. “What was that about?”

“I got into trouble after your first case,” he admitted. “The condition was that I would be in charge of you and make sure you weren’t making the FBI look bad.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. But I’m not supposed to let you go off on your own. During your first case, I put you in charge of going down to forensics and looking for DNA while none of the team was present and then I let you take a vehicle by yourself to work with Hotch. You did good work,” he promised her, “but if something goes wrong, Hotch’s ass is on the line, just as much as mine or yours is.”

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “This is by no means your fault. I just want to give you more opportunities to work with the things you’re good at instead of following me around like a lost dog. My goal is to get our boss to realize you’re an asset to the team, but how am I supposed to do that if you aren’t allowed to make calls sometimes?”

“An asset…?” she asked. “Gideon, I’m just a forensic scientist. Barely that, I’m a crime scene technician. My job is to pick up things that look weird and put them in bags.”

“But you could do so much more,” he argued. “You were a chemistry major. You were at the same level as Reid down there and he’s got 3 PhDs. At the Crawford house on our last case, you were setting up the victimology with us. And like you said, that’s not your job. You record evidence, you don’t analyze it. Especially not in a big picture scenario. But today, you looked at the few photos we had and already determined that ritual killing didn’t make sense. I think you’re a wonderful addition to the team.”

Lydia tried to shake her head with disagreement, but another thought came to mind. “What did you just ask Hotch, then?”

“I wanted you to be in charge of one of the search parties.”

She laughed. “Really? What good would that do?”

“The more groups, the less people for each of us to profile. I thought we could trust you with it, but Hotch is still unsure.”

“No kidding. Gideon, I’m an intern. I appreciate the thought, but I really am okay with just… learning from you. Going to the scene and bagging the things you tell me to.”

Gideon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re too smart to be quiet for that long. You’d break sooner or later and begin to explain your theories. Might as well just let you get it out from the start.”

“Maybe that’s best,” she agreed. “But I know I’m not an agent. Feel free to tell me if I step out of line.”

“Do you want to be an agent?” he inquired.

“I just wanna look at crime scenes,” she explained, failing not to smile. “I don’t need the gun or the badge. I doubt I’d be any good at being an agent. Not that I’d flat out deny the opportunity, but it’s not exactly my dream.”

“Well, I think you’d be a good interrogator.”

This was news to her. “What?! I’m not exactly intimidating.”

“No, but interrogating suspects can go many ways. It’s all just a show. Sometimes we want an unsub to be so comfortable they forget they’re being watched and they slip up. Sometimes we want to put them on edge and make them think that confessing is the best option. And you’re a good actor from what I’ve seen.”

“What have you seen?” she challenged.

“To start, you claim that you hide your anger issues very well.”

She nodded.

“And you still won’t tell me what you were up to this morning when I texted you.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why you care! It didn’t make me late and it hasn’t affected the case!”

“When Garcia told you she was going to do a background check on you, you said you didn’t have any secrets,” he responded.

“Fine. I was on a call with my sister. That’s all. Now tell me why it matters to you!”

This put a stop to the pace of their conversation. He gave her his profiling look for the second time that day and said, “It went bad, huh?”

“My sister and I always seem to be at each other’s necks… it went as well as I suspected.”

Gideon swallowed. “I ask because I care about you, Lydia. Tell me about your sister.”

Her breath hitched. He wanted to just… talk now? Gideon had just decided to be her friend?

She felt guilty for questioning his motives, but the suspicious nature in her won. “We can talk about my family when we aren’t working a case.”

He didn’t seem surprised by her answer, but as he left, she noticed that he was definitely disappointed.

~ ~ ~

Lydia sighed, looking over the note Elle had brought in after the search had wrapped up. She dusted it for fingerprints, but the thing was such a mess, having been written in charcoal, that if there were any, they would have been smeared beyond belief.

The corner was covered in blood, which Lydia would have tested, if it weren’t for the fact that the note claimed Cherish Hanson, their missing victim, would be sacrificed that evening. The team didn’t have time for her to take it to a lab and if they did, it would mean pulling Gideon from work to monitor her… she was starting to see why he thought this mentoring thing was frustrating.

So, she sat in the station and listened to them give a profile while she mindlessly looked over the photos and evidence they had to see if she got any brilliant ideas.

Sheriff Bridges’s son, Cory, was present for the profile, although Lydia wasn’t entirely sure why, and as the team finished up their description of the unsub, he was the first to speak up, admitting that he knew someone who fit the profile.

They wrapped up the meeting and took Cory to a private room to discuss the kid he thought was responsible. It hadn’t even been five minutes before the team was filing back out, and towards the door of the station.

“Drop what you’re doing, Ambers,” Gideon ordered.

She jumped up, running out of the station behind them. “What’s going on?”

“Kid named Mike Zizzo. He’s got a place where his group, the ‘Lord’s of Destruction’, hang out. We’re going to raid it, once we’ve got the teenagers cleared, I want you to sweep for evidence.”

“Got it.”

Gideon let her slide into an SUV with Hotch, Morgan, and Reid, before closing the door behind her, shutting himself out. “I’m not going on the raid.”

Hotch stuck his head out of the open window. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know, yet,” Gideon replied and walked off. He was following a girl. A high schooler who had been at the search with them.

“Gideon, you can’t just-” he started and Lydia saw him glance at her in the rearview mirror. She knew for a fact that if she hadn’t been there, Hotch would have let him do whatever he pleased. But Gideon was gone.

Frustrated, Hotch rolled up the window and drove off.

Lydia hoped it wasn’t her. In fact, she knew it wasn’t her. Hotch was very rule-oriented and Gideon was putting him on edge. But she felt so bad.

“Sorry that you’re stuck babysitting me,” she mumbled as they hit the road.

Reid glanced at Lydia and Morgan turned to Hotch, both of them unsure what interaction had just taken place. For the second time, Lydia made eye contact with the unit chief in his mirror.

“What did Gideon tell you?” he sighed, guilt evident in his voice.

“That we were getting you in trouble.” Lydia made her voice as light as possible so that Hotch knew she wasn’t totally serious, but she felt weird bringing it up around the others. She wasn’t sure how close they all were yet. Maybe if she spoke about the tension between Hotch and Gideon right now it would spread around the office like a fire and Hotch would be dealing with rumors on top of everything else.

“I’m going to be honest, Lydia,” he said, automatically making her nervous. “I like you. I think you’re very talented. But I’m starting to wonder if you’ve got some kind of spell on Gideon, because he takes every opportunity to insist that I should demand that Strauss give you a full-time job and I… I don’t know you that well yet.”

“That’s totally fine,” she told him. “I don’t… need a job. I promise I had no idea he even wanted me on the team until today.”

“Dang Hotch,” Morgan spoke up. “Did you really think Lydia was manipulating Gideon? I doubt she’s capable of it.” He turned around from the passenger’s seat and gave her a smile.

“Thanks? But I get it. It’s not ‘cause he doesn’t like me… I mean, I hope not,” she joked. “I’m just… more trouble than I’m worth.”

“I think Gideon’s right.” It was Spencer this time. “You’d be a good addition to the team.”

She sent him a smile, but he wasn’t looking directly at her, so she had to wonder if he saw it.

“We’ll talk about it if she doesn’t get me fired before the end of the year,” Hotch agreed, pulling up to an old house and parking outside. There were clearly a lot of people inside, music was blasting and their shadows haunted the windows. “Stay in the car until I give you the okay to enter the building,” he instructed, turning around to look directly at Lydia.

“Yes, sir.”

The two younger agents started to hop out, guns at their sides, leaving her alone with Hotch.

“Thank you for being understanding,” he said softly, then jumped out of the car himself.

Lydia leaned back against the car seat. He didn’t hate her. And Morgan and Reid didn’t argue about her joining the team officially either. It was immensely relieving. But her relaxed state quickly retreated as she reminded herself not to get her hopes up.

The commotion in the house took a few minutes to die down after the agents and deputies rushed in. They had the kids leave in a line, the deputies surrounding them on all sides to make sure they didn’t try to pull any stunts as they left, but everyone there just looked disappointed and perhaps embarrassed they’d been caught.

Morgan escorted out Zizzo in handcuffs, Elle on his tail to help get him into one of the vehicles. Then Hotch stepped outside and waved Lydia in.

She grabbed a pair of gloves and ran up, dodging the darkly dressed, metal covered teens, and followed Hotch.

The place looked as much the same inside as it did out. The walls were covered in graffiti, but it was very artistic. Whoever had set the place up took a lot of care in their work, nothing like the chicken scratch on the note Elle found or on the tree in the woods. The tables were covered in candles, most of them a deep red. And tons of creepy statuettes of goat heads and caricatured satans.

“Gideon claims you’re good at analyzing a scene,” Hotch admitted. “What are your thoughts?”

Lydia glanced at him hesitantly. “Well… my first thought is that I love the wooden arched doorway. And my second thought is that if Zizzo set up this house, he’s not our guy.”

Hotch tried not to look surprised. “And you say that because…”

“Because it may be uh… devil worship?” she said, for lack of a better word. “But it’s really nice looking. All those kids just want to defy their super religious parents and he’s made this place feel comfortable for them. They get to enjoy the cool art and decorations, drink some beer, hang out with friends. That’s normal teen stuff. The person who snatched a cheerleader from a hiking trail and killed her boyfriend wouldn’t care about these people.”

“Maybe he only cares for the people in his ‘in’ group,” he suggested.

Lydia shrugged. “Maybe? But it sounds like these kids drift in and out. I mean, Cory was invited once and he never mentioned any sort of initiation. They didn’t make him prove his loyalty. I bet they just offered him a beer and left him to his own devices.”

He didn’t respond to that, simply started walking to the door, the last of the kids finally having been escorted out. “I’m going to leave you here with Reid and Morgan. Search the place from top to bottom. A girl’s life is at stake.”

“Will do!” she called to him, watching his form disappear out of the door.

When she turned around she almost jumped at the sight of Dr. Reid’s approaching figure.

“He left you with us,” Reid mentioned, curiously.

“He must trust you guys not to let me fuck up,” Lydia informed him. “Sorry you got passed the babysitting hat.”

“Don’t apologize,” he told her, stepping away to look at the building around them. “I’m curious to see what you find.”

The last of the deputies began to file out and Morgan eventually ended up joining the two of them as Lydia ransacked all the drawers and cabinets she could find.

~ ~ ~

After about an hour, the last of the deputies had to leave to give a report to the sheriff, meaning the three BAU members were left without a car in the woods with no cell signal.

The two boys had gone outside to see the last deputy off and Lydia was just finishing up her work. The house was so dusty she was starting to think she could drown in all the thick air. But so far, she found nothing incriminating except all the satanist propaganda.

She kicked around the rugs on the floor of the opening room, searching for loose boards or any obvious evidence underneath them, when she heard Reid’s muffled voice say, “You had no right, man!”

She turned her head abruptly, stopping what she was doing to listen to the altercation outside.

“I- I confided in you. This is- You know, this is exactly what I get when I trust someone. It gets thrown back in my face.” He seemed distraught and Lydia had to fight her want to go ask what was wrong with the knowledge that Morgan was probably better to handle this situation.

“Mine started six months after I got into the BAU,” Morgan replied. Silence. “Yeah… Mine.”

She dropped down to search the wooden floorboards once more, but she couldn’t block out their conversation as she worked. She silently hoped that they wouldn’t come back in and find her eavesdropping on what appeared to be a very personal conversation.

Morgan started a story on one of his earlier cases as an agent. People getting strangled in Montana. He felt guilty for not starting a profile until after another death appeared, because he wanted to use it to confirm his theories. He started to have nightmares about the last victim, who died because he waited for the unsub to make their next move.

“What did you do?” Spencer asked.

“Gideon,” was Morgan’s reply. “He knew. I didn’t tell him. I was like you. I didn’t want anybody to know. He just… he knew.”

Lydia could feel a melancholy wash through her stomach as she realized that Reid was clearly going through something. And once more that was replaced by guilt as she realized she shouldn’t know that about Reid without his consent. She was just thinking about interrupting them, so she wasn’t subject to more of their secrets when Morgan said something that made her freeze in her spot.

“You think the team won’t understand? Take Lydia in there, for instance. Do you think she doesn’t see her roommate every time she shuts her eyes? To be honest, I don’t think I would have taken this job immediately after what she went through.”

There was an emptiness in her, consuming her and pulling her from her work. She really had tried to avoid thinking about Jenna at all costs. But it was difficult when her death was the reason Lydia had met the team in the first place.

“It’s been months,” Reid reasoned.

“Time means nothing when you lose someone like that. It will eat away at her for the rest of her life.”

Their conversation was put on pause when the sound of a car engine approached, coming to a rough stop outside the house.

“Did you find her? Cherish?” It sounded like Cory’s voice and Lydia stood up, wiping a tear with the inside of her arm before making her way to the door.

“No.”

“Did Zizzo say anything?”

“We don’t know. We’ve been here the whole time,” Morgan informed him.

Lydia stepped out of the house, trying to ignore the concerned look Reid gave her as she jumped off the porch and instead found herself almost running into the pacing teenager.

He stopped, looking shocked to see someone else there, and his gaze lingered on her gloved hands for a moment too long.

“Cory, calm down,” Reid instructed.

“How am I supposed to calm down? Cherish is missing. Did you check all over?” he demanded, trying to push past Lydia and get into the house himself.

“We searched the whole house,” Reid confirmed.

“It’s clean,” Lydia agreed.

“What about the outbuilding?”

“Outbuilding?” Morgan repeated almost immediately.

“Did you check the other area? Back in the woods?”

“I didn’t know there was another area,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, it’s like a- like a sluice structure or something. He took me there once. It’s this way,” the kid rambled before taking off into the trees.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at Morgan who shrugged, then said, “Let’s go.”

~ ~ ~

The hike was brutal. Lydia was starting to feel the weight of the day wearing down on her as she followed the boys farther into the woods.

“It’s up here,” Cory called back to the group. “This is their secret place.”

That was sketchy to Lydia. A secret place on top of their already secret place?

Morgan pulled out his flashlight, scanning the walls in search of anything suspicious. And he definitely found it. A pentagram and the initials LOD were painted on the side of the building, same handwriting, same red paint.

He insisted that they stay put until he had searched the outside of the house. He knelt down and waved his light underneath the building, which was elevated so that it was level to the side of the mountain. Then, once he was sure that no one was nearby, he nodded for Lydia to follow him and they made their way up the stairs to the front of the building. 

Faintly, she heard Reid start talking to Cory, but couldn’t make out much other than the stress in the boy’s voice.

The door was shut, but Morgan didn’t even bother opening it, because the windows along the sides were large enough to step through and no longer had any glass coverings. He stepped inside first, sweeping the light in search of anyone in the room, then stepped out of the way for Lydia to follow.

And there she was. Poor Cherish Hanson, her skin all blue with a bloody rats nest for hair. She was long gone.

Lydia could see Morgan shaking his head, so she reached out and grabbed the flashlight from him. “You can go tell them. I’ll do a quick sweep of the scene and head right out.”

He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that made Lydia nervous. He seemed startled by the girl’s appearance, but after years on the job, she doubted that could be.

“Is she in there? Is she alright?” Cory demanded, the minute Derek had left.

Lydia shut them out for a minute, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but the place was long abandoned. The only places where the dust layer had been disturbed were around the door up to where the body had been left. But that was understandable, seeing as Cherish was likely killed while on her run and dragged up the mountainside. This killer was athletic alright.

Still, she kicked around the leaves on the ground for a minute to look for something out of place and gently looked over Cherish’s body for anything out of the ordinary.

There was a lot more to her murder than her boyfriend’s. The killer clearly didn’t expect her to be with Adam and had to hit her multiple times to ensure she was dead. The blood trailed down the side of her face and across her chest. But if there was anything to gain from the little details she had, she didn’t know what it was.

Seeing as the unsub had clearly used the door to bring the girl in, Lydia used it to leave and caught Cory’s attention as he spoke to Morgan.

“-because of that, we also gotta look for someone who might try to put himself right in the middle of an investigation so that he can influence things,” Morgan was telling the high schooler which suddenly struck Lydia as odd. Gideon had been insistent that the unsub would be on one of the search parties, for the same reasons Morgan was explaining to Cory, but Zizzo definitely wasn’t.

She removed her gloves and another thing occurred to her. Reid wasn’t there. She started down the stairs to ask Morgan where he’d gone, but Morgan didn’t stay there long enough for her to say anything and instead got closer to Cory.

“Especially if he knows exactly what it is that we’re looking for.”

She froze, her eyes fixated on the pair. Did Morgan think Cory had done this? It didn’t exactly fit their ‘killer cult’ profile from earlier.

Cory pushed away from the tree and instead stepped towards the building. “You mean, me?”

He faked innocence well, but Lydia could tell in that moment that he was panicking.

“That was more than just a lucky guess, wasn’t it?” Morgan asked, not yet realizing that Lydia had wandered outside or that Cory was slowly inching closer to her.

“I knew about the building,” he agreed.

“You also knew about Zizzo. And the satanism.”

Finally, he faced the two of them and realized the predicament Lydia was in. Cory had placed himself between her and Morgan, meaning if he got violent, Lydia was unarmed and Morgan couldn’t get to her.

And Lydia knew it, too. She made eye contact with the agent, hoping he would be able to signal to her what to do, but he hadn’t thought that much through. Sending Reid away was easy enough, but he had relied on the hope that Lydia would spend longer looking for evidence.

“I was only trying to help,” Cory argued.

“Well, you did that,” Morgan replied. Lydia saw him beckoning her forward with his hand at his side, hoping that if she could just get close enough, he could pull her out of harm's way. “We couldn’t have found this place without you.”

Once she took her first step off the stairs, Cory realized what she was doing. Before she could process what was happening, he had wrapped an arm around her neck and a gun was pressed into her left cheek.

Both the boys were yelling at her, she realized, but still failed to process what they were saying. Her hands were out in front of her defensively and she realized that Morgan had pulled his gun on Cory, but couldn’t shoot while she was in the way.

“Hey, Morgan,” Reid called, his voice coming from down the hill. “No one’s up there-”

“Reid,” he warned and the doctor froze at the sight before him, also whipping out his gun.

“This got all messed up,” Cory grumbled and Lydia couldn’t help but scoff.

“Clearly.” He pushed the barrel more firmly against her face, trying to increase the pressure. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Morgan said.

“She wasn’t supposed to be with him. It was his run. He runs it every day, not her!”

“Cory, listen to me. We can fix this. But you gotta let Lydia go.”

“I never meant to hurt Cherish. But make no mistake, I will shoot your girl, right now.”

“No, you won’t.”

He awkwardly tightened his grasp on her to cock the gun. “Tempt not a desperate man,” he threatened. “Put the gun down!”

“Okay. All right.” Morgan turned his wrist so that his gun was facing another way and slowly  lowered it. “You win.”

“Drop it. Drop the gun!”

“Ok. Ok! You win! I’m putting the gun down.”

He did as he said and after some hesitation, Reid did the same.

“You’re in control, Cory. Let her go.”

As Morgan argued with him, Lydia remembered her talk with Gideon that afternoon about having her questioning suspects. He told her that the profile would help them determine how to get an unsub to slip up. So, what did she know about Cory?

He was terrified. He’d really thought that his plan to frame Zizzo was foolproof. He hadn’t thought this far ahead and, by that logic, he wasn’t thinking about what he’d do if he made it out of this.

“What are you going to do, Cory?” Lydia said, steadily. “Shoot the three of us and then what? Skip town?”

“Shut up!” Her lips had been squished so far to the side of her face by the gun that she was barely understandable.

“I’d rather not. But listen, I’m gonna give you some advice. You’ll have to ditch the car and fast. It’s really nice, but it doesn’t blend in well. Switching the plates only gets you so far.”

“I said, be quiet! I will shoot you!”

“How do you plan to make money?” she inquired, still not listening to him. “You’re kinda screwed there. And I’d feel bad for you, but… you did kill two of your friends and are planning to kill me and two of my friends so the sympathy only goes so far.”

Morgan spoke up once more. “You’re just a horny kid who wanted to get rid of the cheerleader’s boyfriend.”

“No!” Suddenly, Cory’s anger was targeted back at him and Lydia felt his hand shaking, the gun relaxing then being pushed once more against her face.

“That was never my intent-” he started, as multiple things happened at once.

The gun was removed from her cheek in an instant and as he flung his arm towards Morgan, his grip across her chest loosened enough for her to extend an arm out and grab his left hand. Morgan took the distraction to run at him, knocking them both back against the stairs and Lydia struggled to keep Cory’s arm pointed away from them.

He got off one shot into the forest floor before she could grapple it away from him and she rolled off the stairs, hitting the ground painfully, to get out of Morgan’s way.

Morgan got in a solid punch across the face, leaving Cory with a bloody mouth and not much energy to fight back. And by that point, Reid had reclaimed his gun and had it trained on the boy as Morgan handcuffed him.

“You all right?” Reid asked, looking away from Cory and Morgan for a moment to watch her get up.

“Yep,” she replied. Her voice was strained after taking such a hard fall, but she didn’t seem upset. She brushed herself off and looked over her scraped up palms. “I did just get tackled by Morgan, though.”

The older man shook his head, pulling Cory up off the stairs. “You’re welcome, Lydia.”

~ ~ ~

Gideon sat against the back of one of the police cars, watching Reid and Lydia give their accounts of what happened to Hotch and Sheriff Bridges separately. Lydia was clearly exhausted, her clothes were covered in dirt, and there was a lack of patience in her face, but Gideon was proud of her.

As he stared, Morgan approached beside him, also leaning against the car.

“I see it now,” he said quietly, so only Gideon could hear. “Why you like her so much.”

“Do you?”

Morgan sighed. “Your girl had a gun pressed so forcefully against her cheek she could barely talk, but her voice betrayed no fear. I don’t think even you or Hotch could be that calm in a crisis. She didn’t talk at a fast pace or stutter on a single word. It was unbelievable.” 

“When we questioned her about her roommate,” Gideon explained, “she seemed guilty to Reid and I. I said something insensitive to her to see how she’d react, maybe give something away. Her anger only revealed to me a recognition in her eyes. I realized that she’d been here before. Questioned mercilessly. Accused. And suddenly I was the guilty one. So, I tried to switch tactics, but before I could, she was apologizing to me. She said she’d always had some anger management issues and told me that she’d calm herself down so that we could continue the investigation.

“Have you ever seen that before? She’d just lost her best friend and was more concerned about our case than she was her feelings. I knew right then her heart was twice the size of an average FBI agent. I don’t know what that sort of compartmentalizing does to her. I’m still trying to find out. But from where I stand, she looks like she’s capable of saving a lot of people.”

Morgan sucked in his lips, in contemplation. “All right. How do we let her do that?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

~ ~ ~

Lydia followed the team back inside, expecting to be given some paperwork for the case before she could go back to her apartment, but Gideon stopped her as she stepped into the bullpen.

“Lydia, you should really go home. I’ll handle anything you need to do.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gideon, please don’t think I’m freaked out after what happened today. I can handle myself, I promise.���

“I trust you,” he said, genuinely. “But you’re clearly exhausted and you’ve just started graduate school if I remember correctly.”

She nodded and had to stifle a yawn in order to not prove him right so blatantly.

“Go home. Get some rest. You didn’t sleep the whole plane ride. I’ll drop all your paperwork off tomorrow morning. Or, if you’d prefer, we could have a cup of coffee during my lunch break and you can tell me about your phone call with your sister,” he suggested.

Lydia blinked, but it was such an innocent and friendly suggestion she couldn’t help herself from saying, “That sounds great,” and watching him walk off.

Over the course of just one day, a lot had been revealed to her about Gideon. The rest of the team trusted him so much. And after finding out he’d gone to bat for her in order to get her this job, she really couldn’t say no.

She came back to her senses after a second to watch Reid walk past her towards the elevator.

“Oh! Dr. Reid!” she called, suddenly. 

He turned around, a look of utter surprise dawning on his features. “Yes?”

“How exactly do you plan to help me get my PhD in three years?” she inquired.

She’d been thinking about it a lot, now that she had begun her online courses. And everything about it seemed quite appealing, although she still couldn’t reasonably explain why. If she really was going to take this path, she knew she had to do it as fast as possible in order to save money, because she could barely afford the master’s degree she’d long since planned to get.

He smiled and Lydia couldn’t stop herself from smiling back just from seeing the look on his face. His presence was frankly a very welcome one, now that she’d gotten to know him better these past two cases and she found herself drawn into whatever he had to say.

“With my help, make it two,” he said, confidently and the two of them made their way to the elevator together. “Although, if I’m going to help you, I’d much rather you call me Spencer.”

“Spencer.” The name left an interesting feeling in her mouth, being attributed now to genius beside her. “Alright. As long as you’re okay with that.”

And he didn’t respond. Not because he wasn’t, or else he wouldn’t have suggested it. But just hearing her say his name so softly made his stomach do a flip… and he couldn’t understand why.

[raayllum]

21 days

summary: They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. // Rayllum from 1x03-3x05.

a/n: reference to this touch in detail

ch15: 2x08 — THE BOOK OF DESTINY

Callum can barely see, through the rain and the fog in his brain, but he doesn't need to see in order to know that Rayla is mad at him. Pissed at him even, in a way he hasn't seen since their earliest days. His shoes squelch, thick with rain and mud, and his stomach does similarly. It's hard to walk but he does his best to drag his feet, aware of just how much weight he's putting on her, too, as she sludges along with him, Ezran and Zym trailing behind.

He knows he's let her down.

But what else was he supposed to do? Let her and the dragon die when he knew he could do something? But he can't muster up any indignant anger on his own behalf. He knows he did what was necessary—he also knows that it was awful. Knew perfectly well that he was dabbling something Claudia—the thought running his mind as he skidded down the mountain: do you really want to be like Claudia?—had built her life on.

He remembers being five, and scared, after coming across Viren in one of the halls, skeletal grey and with black eyes. Looking inhuman. His mother had taken him aside to hug him, to reassure and explain. Sometimes Lord Viren helps your dad with magic stuff, okay? It's nothing to be scared of, even if it isn't something you should do. She'd elaborated on Dark Magic a bit later, on why it was bad. He knew his parents had fought about it—You can't just let Viren walk around like that, it scared Callum senseless!—knew his mother had died because of it.

He knows he's let her down, too.

"Come on," Rayla huffs, frustrated, and he makes more of an effort to not drag his feet. It's hard. They're so heavy. His tongue is thick. He's gotten sick before but it's never been this bad. He's nauseas and sluggish and woozy. Every bone in his body aches. But he doesn't say that. He won't be the one who asks for a break. Just forces himself to take more laboured breaths and trudges along beside her, conscious of the way Ez worriedly watches his back.

Part of him wants to apologize. But he knew this too, didn't he? That Rayla would hate him for it. For saving her life. He thinks maybe she would understand more if it had been to save Ezran instead of herself. But she's stubborn and threw herself off the cliff and into the trees, and he—he's just so glad she's alive.

And he can't say he's sorry. Wrong, maybe, but not sorry.

But eventually, he can feel Rayla bend under having to carry his weight so far. It's taking a toll on her too, but she doesn't stop, sopping hair falling in front of her face. "C'mon," she says, voice only slightly strained from frustrated desperation. "We've got to keep moving. We're so close to the border. We could be in Xadia in just a few hours."

"I know we're close Rayla," says Ezran, gentle, "but Callum's not doing well."

Which is the truth, and he might say so if he could make his vocal chords work again.

"That's his own fault for messing with Dark Magic," she replies, but not as sharply as she could.

He forces his eyes open. He doesn't want her to be angry with him, though. "Mmhm, yes, you're right," he agrees and it works. She softens when she looks at him, at the slight crack in his voice. "We must move onward." But he steps too far away from her pillar of support, his arm slipping out from around her shoulders. He careens forwards, too slow to stop it either, but Rayla grabs the back of his jacket and scarf. Hoists him back up carefully, Ezran's hand a small warm weight on his other arm. Rayla places her hand on his left arm. It doesn't leave, like Ezran's, once she pulls him back to his feet. "I'm okay," he mumbles, oddly delirious. He's just glad she's close. And didn't let him fall face first in the mud. She's not that angry with him. I just need to rest my eyes while we walk."

They go back to the cave they were staying in, the mountain just as steep the first time, the climb twice as long. Callum watches Ezran runs ahead to lay down his pack and Zym and to get out of the rain while he can, and Rayla slogs beside him, even if she doesn't like water or the rain. Keeps him steady on the rocks and one arm braced along his back so he doesn't slip. Once they reach the mouth of the cave his whole body hurts and there's barely any relief in knowing he doesn't have to walk anymore.

Ezran darts past to kneel by the bag that's going to be his pillow, while Rayla maneuvers him in her arms to lay him down; he feels almost like a rag doll. He feels like garbage. She gets him sitting first, the ground cold but dry against his legs, and keeps her hands on his chest and back as she eases him the rest of the way down and she shifts to kneel beside him. Her hand doesn't leave his chest, her other sliding up to cup the back of his head, fingers soft against his wet hair, before she lets his head rest against the pillow.

"I'm so uncomfortable," he groans, but not because of her touch.

Even if her hands leave him. "Uncomfortable because of your choice to use Dark Magic perhaps?" she says, snide. Then Ezran says something, but it sounds too far to tell. Let them bicker for once, he thinks numbly. They can't do anything.

They can't save him from this, but, at the very least, Rayla is alright and the dragon is free.

(Maybe when he wakes up—if he wakes up—she won't hate him anymore.)

[definitelynottony]

“December knows me well”

[I actually finished this before midnight! So consider it a Christmas present. Just really wanted to do a short one shot of them like randomly meeting/one night stand kind of romance. Pretty happy with it actually. It’s soft~] [Ao3]

“Hi there, reservation for Harrington.”

“Just the one key?” The front desk attendant asked. 

“Yup. Just the one." 

"And you’ll be staying with us till the—”

“27th.”

“Okay. Are you aware that there’s a chance of a storm coming in tomorrow night?" 

"No, didn’t hear about it.”

“Okay, if this is a Christmas trip though I need to inform you that we’re cancelling our holiday events. So if you’re here to meet with family or—”

“Nope. No family. Just here for some R&R." 

"But won’t you—”

“Max! Will you just give the guy his damn room key!” A harsh voice called from a room behind the desk area. 

“Right. Sorry, you’re all set Mr. Harrington. Cabin 235." 

"Thank you.” Steve winced at her calling him Mr.Harrington. He was not his father. But he gathered his things from the nosy attendant, tried to see if he could whisper a thanks to the man in the back room for saving him from twenty questions. But he couldn’t see him. 

“You can take the lifts to your cabin. They’re outside to the back. Oh, or you can wait for Billy-I mean Mr. Hargrove, he’ll be heading down to the camp area in a few. You can wait in front for him if you’d like!" 

"Uh, yeah I’ll wait I guess. Thanks again.” The brunette, with his Louis Vuitton suitcase and his Ralph Lauren winter puff jacket, traipsed himself through the lobby. Back through the large gold lined glass doors, under the large chandelier in the entryway; and waited. This place was the Ritz, almost literally. 

Hey, if Steve’s parents weren’t going to be home for Christmas then the least Steve could do was charge the most expensive ski trip he could find to his father’s card. Make up for last Christmas too while he was at it. And his birthday! And so the brunette who dripped in brand names he didn’t care about, except to revel in the fact that it pissed his father off when he’d check his bank statements; flew all the way to Colorado, from Indiana. First class, booked the most expensive hotel his google search generated; ‘Maygrove Lodge’. 

Steve was born into a rich family that cared more about the money they made then him; he was spoiled, sure, but a brat by choice. Steve did have his own job though, paid for his own bills and food; but that job didn’t get his parent’s attention the way spending their money did. So he stood outside waiting for this Mr. Billy Hargrove to come around and drive him down to the cabins, hopefully help him with his bags too. It was a good ten minutes of shaky legs and winter winds, sure, it was a sunny day but still; thirty something degrees was still freezing. But finally the brunette saw the ski-cab driving around towards him. 

“You waiting on a ride to the cabins?” Steve heard the voice before he got a good look at the man driving the cab. It was deep, rough, Steve wasn’t expecting it. 

“Yeah." 

"Need help with those bags?”

“Yeah." 

Steve stood there, eyes plastered to the man trying to get a good look at his face; but he was wearing heavy sunglasses and a thick red plaid jacket. Sherpa lined, blue jeans, buckskin boots. It looked warmer then what Steve was wearing that’s for damn sure. He had nice hair though, short at the sides and long on top. Blonde, it matched the scruff on his face. Jesus, Steve came here thinking he was in for a week of rest but watching the blonde grin at him like that; he wasn’t interested in resting anymore. And the brunette watched as he packed Steve’s bags in the back of the ski-cab,

"Gettin’ in or what?" 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, thanks." 

The blonde chortled a bit climbing into the cab. Steve slipped into the seat beside him, 

"Man of many words?” He smirked at the brunette starting up the machine. Steve bit his lip around a smile, when was the last time he was this awkward? God he couldn’t remember the last time he had a crush on a guy. Maybe his first semester of college, before he dropped out? 

The ride itself was fun, the cart could go pretty fast especially over the fresh fallen snow. Steve bounced around and laughed when they took the steep bends. The cabins were a few miles from the main lodge. They were private, cost a good extra chunk of money then the rooms available in the hotel. Money Steve was all too willing to spend. 

“Hey, sorry if Max was givin’ you a hard time at check in. She’s almost like a little sister so I give her some slack, but sometimes gets a little too involved in the guests personal lives. Doesn’t understand boundaries." 

"No it’s fine. I mean it is Christmas week, she wasn’t in the wrong. I’m just a weirdo that doesn’t spend it with family.” Steve laughed, quickly wishing he hadn’t just shared that information. “Thank you though, you were the guy in the back?” 

“Heh, you and me both, and yeah I was. But seriously, if she gives ya any more trouble about it, just let me know. I’ll fire her nosy ass.” He laughed, Steve liked his laugh, it was…hot. The brunette shamelessly turned to look at the man driving, he really wanted to see what his eyes looked like. Wanted to just reach over and take the sunnies off of him. But that would be even worse than what he did end up doing,

“You can do that? Don’t you just work here too?" 

And the blonde, Billy, turned his head as he slowed the cab down to a crawl; looked at the brunette with a small sideways smirk. 

"I own this place, pretty boy.”

“Seriously! Shit, I’m so sorry… Mr. Hargrove?" 

"Oh, god, Billy. It’s Billy, Mr. Hargrove is my father” the blonde grimaced. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh because he always acts the same way when people call him 'Mr. Harrington’. 

“Wait, how old are you?” The brunette questioned, 

“Twenty two." 

"No way! You’re younger than me and own this whole place? How?" 

"Ain’t no secret, just good business. So how old are you?" 

”…Twenty three.“ 

"Really? Face like that thought you were still in high school.” The blonde pulled into a small cul-de-sac of log cabins. It was that hallmark movie kind of perfect looking. But Steve was currently more focused on whether Billy was flirting with him or just stating facts. 

Yeah, okay, Steve has a baby face, peach fuzz for days but like the way the blonde said it…or maybe Steve was just cold and horny? And the brunette must have been staring something awful because the blonde took off those sunglasses; finally. And his eyes were blue, perfectly blue, and his eyelashes were thick; so much so they caste shadows. God, he was tan too! Was it fake? How is someone so tan in the winter? Then he smiled at Steve, 

“We’re here." 

Steve jerked his gaze away, embarrassingly so—

"Wow. It’s beautiful here." 

"Thanks” The blonde huffed out a sigh “I need ta grab some firewood so I can’t help ya to your cabin. You all good?" 

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, no I’m good. Thank you for the ride Billy." 

"No problem pretty boy." 

Steve glanced at the blonde again with a faint smile before sliding out of the cab; fumbling his luggage out of the back. Probably making way too many unnecessary sounds, 

"Sure y'all good?" 

"Yup. Totally… completely…” he huffed, pulling his suitcases up in front of the ski-cab “good." 

Billy laughed again and nodded, hand tapping the steering wheel "alright. Call the front desk if you need anything." 

"Will do." 

"Hope you enjoy your stay." 

"Planning on it!” The brunette shouted over the motor as the blonde was backing out. He was such a dork, but he was cute. 

“Jesus! Why did I pack so much!” Steve whined as he dragged his suitcases up the cabin’s stairs. Of course cabin 235 had to be the one farthest from the pathway. But the brunette was actually surprised as he caught his breath and opened the door; it was decorated for the holidays. There was even a small tree hung with lights near the window. It was warm and cozy, looked more like someone’s home then a getaway spot. 

There were fur blankets sprawled across the couch, food and alcohol stocked. Seriously some first class digs. If this is what seven hundred dollars a night buys you then Steve was considering extended stay options. God, even the bathroom was stocked with brand named shit! He really started to wonder if the last guest just forgot to pack their belongings when he went to the bedroom. The closet was full, which yeah, that’s pretty odd. But Steve has always been a 'live out of the suitcase’ kind of traveler anyways. 

He scuffed his bags into the bedroom before exploring more of the cabin, it was a single level but had a small loft; the kind you have to climb a ladder to get to. There was a large flat screen that hung on the wall, a real wood burning fireplace sat under it. And a white fluffy rug in front of the fireplace. Steve really felt like he was in a Christmas movie, all he needed was some hot chocolate and… well, he wasn’t necessarily picky at the moment but that Billy guy would be pretty nice. 

Guy like him probably isn’t even gay though, probably has women flocking over him, and he’s fuckin’ rich. Not ’my parents are rich’, but like it’s actually his money! Basically owns the whole damn mountain! That’s so hot. The guy is a real go getter, knows what he wanted in life; unlike Steve. Well Steve knows he wants hot cocoa and that guy in his bed, but besides that, no future plans. 

So almost an hour later the brunette was perfectly stretched out over the leather, blankets donned couch. Tv on in the background playing some old Christmas movie he wasn’t paying attention to; hot chocolate in one hand, cell phone in the other. A real twenty first century king if I’ve ever seen one. He’s been flipping through Google, Twitter and Instagram for the last thirty minutes trying to find a Mr. Billy Hargrove; it’s like the guy doesn’t exist. Said for a few articles about the young entrepreneur. 

Blessed with some very noteworthy pictures of the guy. “Jesus.” Steve murmured zooming in on one of the photos. His eyes were seriously blue, and he has freckles that the brunette didn’t notice before. “Shit” he sighed out a laugh, he had to laugh at himself. He just flew four hours to a luxury ski lodge just to jerk off to some guy. Given, said guy was gorgeous, but come on… not that he wasn’t going to do it later. But it was only five pm, he should probably like, eat dinner at the very least before retiring to bed. 

The brunette hopped off the couch and huffed his way into the kitchen area, it was an open concept floor plan; and a modest size cabin, but still more effort than Steve wanted to give. 

“So pasta or… oh my god, no shit, is that caviar? They stock these rooms with caviar! Wonder if they have lobster too!” Steve fanned as he dug into the fridge. 

“Do I even like caviar?” He pondered as he opened up the can, he dipped his pinky finger into it like the gentleman he is. “Nope. Definitely do not like caviar. Good to know.” He shrugged it off putting it back. “Pasta it is." 

And as the brunette made way with his food, dancing to whatever commercial song was on in the living room; a news banner interrupt it. Loud beeping followed by that annoying audio prompt. Something about a winter storm advisory.

Steve paid no mind to it, hell he’d pay someone to trap him inside his little winter wonderland. Let it snow, he thought, which prompted him to sing as he finished with his food. Pooling it all into a large bowl that he knows he’ll never be able to finish, but god damn he’s gonna try. 

After more television, some wine he found in a cabinet and half a bowl of pasta later; the brunette was pretty satisfied with his first night. Five stars honestly. 

It was dark out now, the Christmas tree looked really nice through his slightly buzzed vision. The wine must have been more expensive than what he was use to, or he just drank more than he thought. He pulled himself from the loveseat and made his way to the bedroom. Slinked out of his clothes; the sheets were a deep blue, soft, probably a high thread count. It was so fuckin’ comfortable! God, forget skiing, Steve was staying in this bed for the next five days! 

Feather down comforter pulled up to his chin, he stretched out real good, felt real good; was about to feel even better too. As he slipped his hand under the blanket. As it slid down his body, as he turned his head pressing it down into his pillow. Jesus, even the pillows smell amazing. Like they sprayed them with cologne. Warm, musky, sweet; ”fuck…“ the brunette writhed under his own touch. Closed eyes picturing blue one staring back at him. "Mmhmm” Picturing thick fingers holding him, “shit…ah! God”, tan skin in the middle of fuckin’ December, warm against his. “Fuck.” Full red lips, with that scruff scraping against his thighs “Billy. Mmm-fuck. Billy." 

Did Steve feel guilty about getting off to a guy he just met, that probably had a girlfriend?…Not as much as he felt guilty for dirtying such nice sheets. But all emotions said for euphoria left him as that climax high set in. And then he wiped his hand off on the sheet, turned over and slept. Slept until the sun blinded him through closed eyes, and the brunette shoved his face into the pillow; that pillow that smelt like sex felt. And he hushed out a sleepy moan as he breathed it in. 

"Jesus. I need a boyfriend, or at least a damn hobby.” Messy hair fell into his face as he sat up, stretching arms over head. Desperately in need of a shower too. Didn’t even bother putting his boxers back on as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. The hot water helped his hangover, helped his erection too. 

“Fuck, never wanna leave this place.” The brunette feverishly groaned out. 

After he finished dressing he decided that even though it was apparently pushing one thirty pm, it was time for breakfast. Eggo’s seemed like the easiest solution for the brunette. And he settled back into his throne, news warning still at it with the winter storm advisory. 

“Twenty four inches huh? Good. Bury me here!” He threatened the television around a mouthful of waffles. 

Steve put his plate in the sink, leaned over it to look out the window that sat above it. It didn’t look like it was snowing yet, sky was grayish but not threateningly so. He should probably go get some skiing in, considering, but he didn’t really feel like it anymore. “Oh! It’s Billy!” Doe eyes all too excitedly widened, practically yelling; Steve leaned even more over the skin.

“Je-su-s” he moaned biting at his lip, the blonde was wielding an axe. Of course he actually cut the wood himself, he looked like the hottest lumberjack the brunette has ever seen. And considering it’s 2019 and lumberjacks are a dying breed, he is the hottest one Steve’s seen. He has a good pile going, the brunette considered whether he should bring him a drink or something. It would be the kind thing to do right? Totally not a come on, just neighborliness. 

But then the brunette didn’t have to decide, 'cause the blonde lumberjack, with his large wood pile was heading for his cabin. Okay, seriously, if he cut all that wood just for Steve, so he’d stay warm; Steve wasn’t responsible for what happened next. The brunette faltered, almost falling as he rushed to the front door. 

“Hey there!” He beamed as he opened it. 

“Holy shit!” The blonde cursed, dropping some of the logs in surprise. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” Billy asked sharply as he put the rest of the kindle down. 

“Uh, this is my cabin. What are—”

“No, this is my cabin, first of all. Secondly, I meant what are you still doing here?” Billy closed in on the brunette, making Steve step back letting the blonde into the cabin. 

“Oh, yeah no, I know you like own them but this is the one I’m staying in.” Steve chortled. 

Billy leaned up against the counter looking at the other who was still lingering near the door. 

“No, pretty boy, I mean this is my home, my cabin, I live here." 

"Wait. Holy shit you’re serious?" 

"Deadly…” Steve brushed his hair back with a hand as he thoughtfully bit on his lip, decreasing the space between them slowly. 

“Sorry I didn’t know. Pretty sure this is the cabin she said though. I mean the key worked so." 

"Who? Max gave you the keys for this cabin?" 

"Yeah, redhead from the front desk." 

"Damn shithead. She’s so fired!” Billy fumed. 

“Hey! No, it’s no problem man. I’ll just get my stuff and get out of your hair." 

"Yeah, ain’t gonna happen…”

“Steve. Names Steve." 

"Ain’t gonna happen Stevie, I already shut the place down. There’s a blizzard on the way. Evacuated everyone this morning. Fuckin’ Max… goddamn it.” Billy rubbed his forehead thinking about what Max told him earlier before she left. 'Merry Christmas Billy. I put your present in your cabin!’ Holy shit she was a demon child. 

“Wait so like, you and me are the only people here?" 

"I’m speakin’ english ain’t I?” The blonde retorted, 

“Oh… uh, I guess I could just leave?" 

"Already told ya pretty boy, there’s a blizzard headin’ straight towards us. No way in hell i'mma let ya drive in it." 

"Okay. Yeah, you’re probably right. Is it okay if I stay then?" 

"Looks like there ain’t no choice, plus ya already made yourself comfortable.” Billy gestured to the opened wine bottle on the counter, smirking; Steve felt his face flush. 

“Shit, I can’t believe I just raided your house.” He grimaced in embarrassment, 

“You seriously couldn’t tell someone lived here?” Billy huffed out a breathy laugh, intrigued or entertained by the brunette’s sheer ignorance. 

“I mean, just thought it was part of the package.” That earned Steve a full, heavy laugh from the blonde. Billy pushed himself off from the counter and turned heel towards the bedroom. 

“Alright. I’m gonna change cause i’m frozen and then I guess I’ll get us a fire goin’.” The blonde decided. 

“Okay.” Steve agreed, not that he had much of a say, it was Billy house afterall. His house, his bedroom, his bed…bed that Steve just masturbated in, to Billy’s scent. “Shit” the brunette scrunched his face up quickly following the blonde. 

“Billy! Hey-uh…” And as Steve entered the doorway to the room, Billy was staring at his bed. Shit, he knew right. God he could probably smell it, Steve could smell it so Billy definitely smells it. Then the blonde growled, groaned, fuck, wait, was that good or bad? Steve wasn’t sure if the blonde even made the noise. But Billy turned his head to look at Steve, he probably looked like a kid caught red handed. But Billy just smirked, tongue between teeth, 

“A guys has needs right.” That’s what he decided to combat this situation with. That and then proceeded to take off his clothes. 

Oh fuck. Steve was pretty sure he just gasped. Shit, look away, look away, Jesus, he couldn’t. 

Billy was like a God, his skin was so tan, his shoulders were wide and built with muscle. His arms just as strong, fuck; even has those veins running up them. Steve loved that shit. You can see every muscle on his stomach move and bend and stretch as he tugged his layers off. 

“Mhmm” the brunette bit his lip, fuck, yeah that noise definitely just happened. Okay he seriously needs to leave. 

“So, since it is my bed pretty boy, I have the right ta know, what got ya off?” Steve was a deer in headlights for a moment. How did he just ask they so nonchalantly. Like he was asking about the fuckin’ weather! 

“Uh…” the brunette rubbed his head a bit, Billy glanced over to him with an arched brow. 

“Well? Come on ya gotta give me somethin’ Stevie. Was it a porn? Was it—" 

'Smell. It was the smell of the pillows.” Good God! Why did he just say that! Shit! You just blew it Steve, that was the creepiest thing you could have said. Why didn’t you just say yes to the porn! 

“My pillows?” The blonde questioned, walking up to the top of his bed. He reached over and grabbed one, smelt it, smirked up at Steve,

“Smells like me." 

Mayda! Mayday! We’re going down! Steve panicked, 

"Didn’t know it was your bed.” He murmured under his shaky breath. 

“Hey, Steve, it’s all good man. Didn’t know right?" 

"Yeah”

“Did it feel good?" 

"Yeah” shit! He responded without thinking! The blonde snickered and threw the pillow down onto the bed; grabbed a shirt from his closet. Thank god he didn’t have to change out of his jeans! 

“How’s dinner sound? Maybe finish that bottle you started?" 

"Fuck, yes please.” Steve sighed almost too relieved. 

“Mmm. Might wanna keep that dirty talk to a minimum pretty boy, considering.” Billy teased, passing the brunette in the doorway. 

“Sorry.” Steve mumbled as he followed the blonde out to the living room. Billy was already making fast with getting the fire going. On his hands and knees, the brunette stood a little behind him. Tilted his head and just stared,

“Hey!” Billy snapped, like he could feel Steve watching him, “why don’t you make yourself useful and pour me a drink." 

"Yeah! yeah… sorry.” The brunette stepped to it, god he was so embarrassing! If he could only have put this much effort into school he’d probably be valedictorian. 

“Fires goin’” the blonde stated, walking up behind Steve. 

“Cool. Here” the brunette handed him his glass,

“Thanks.”

“Don’t look at his mouth, don’t look at his fuckin mouth Harrington!” Steve sang a mantra in his head while sipping his own glass. Literally looking everywhere but Billy. 

“So, what sounds good fer dinner? It’s Christmas eve after all. Got some lobsters in the freezer " 

"I knew it!” The brunette shouted, Billy leaned back a little, eyes curious; waiting for the punchline. 

“Sorry. Just, last night I said I bet this place even has lobster cause the caviar." 

"You ate my caviar too?”

“Fuck no! That stuff is gross!” Billy grinned amused, 

“Yeah I know, that’s why it’s still in there. Was a gift from someone, forgot who." 

"Some gift”, 

“Tell me about it.” They laughed a bit, then they were kind of just standing there. 

“So, uh, how did you really get into the hotel business?” Steve tried, the blonde smirked put his glass down on the counter and paced over to his fridge. 

“It’s not much of a story really, not like what they write online." 

"Don’t really read much anyways”,

“I uh, I ran away when I was younger. Originally from California, came here with a one way bus ticket. Only ticket I could afford, like it was fate or whatever; if ya believe in that kind of shit.” The blonde’s voice turned warmer as he continued his story. Now filling up a large pot with water, 

“I somehow ended up here, on this mountain. It was just a little rickety ski shack back then, the old man that ran it took me in. Worked for him and eventually took over the place. Kind of built it  from the ground up." 

"Wow…that’s, you’re incredible." 

"Heh. Yeah? Thanks Stevie. Hey grab those for me.” The blonde pointed his head over to the lobsters, Steve scrunched his nose, handed them over to Billy like a kid. Holding them out as far away from himself as possible. 

The blonde shook his head as he grabbed them, 

“They’re dead you know, won’t bite.” He teased. 

“Still freaky seeing them with their eyes and everything… mind if I just wait in the living room?”

“Nope, make yourself at home. Gonna take a while to cook anyways." 

"Okay.” Steve grabbed his glass, the bottle of wine and sauntered himself into the living room. The fire already warmed the whole place up, it smelt so nice, he wished he had a real fireplace back at home too. He sat down on the loveseat admiring the flames, barely noticed the blonde joining him. 

“So what’s your story? I told ya mine, fair is fair.”

“Oh, mine ain’t much of a story actually. Just was blessed with some no show parents. They’re always bailing on me so decided to treat myself instead of mope this year." 

"No girlfriend or—”

“Nope. Single like a pringle…you?" 

"Nah, no family, no girl or boyfriend. Storm or not, I was gonna spend Christmas alone too." 

"Well, glad I get to keep you some company then. We’re kind of in the same boat huh?" 

"Sounds like it." 

Billy smirked at the brunette, who was still caught on the 'no boyfriend’ thing.

Blatantly asking someone if they’re gay is rude right? Something he shouldn’t do. He smiled back to the blonde and decided to down his wine. Getting drunk didn’t really seem like a good idea but it definitely wasn’t the worst idea to Steve. He poured himself another glass and offered the bottle to Billy, who happily topped himself off. It was quiet for a while, said for the fire crackling and the wind outside picking up. It wasn’t really that late but it was already getting dark; probably from the storm. It was snowing like a shaker globe now.

"Should probably check the food.” The blonde stood up and made his way into the kitchen. Steve just watched, he honestly just felt so relaxed that he didn’t even feel like eating anymore. Between the warm fire and the wine, the smell that was radiating off of Billy; he was satiated without the food. 

“Is it done?” The brunette called softly,

“Yeah, just about. I’ll get the plates, we can eat up here on the counter if you want." 

"Whatever’s easier”

“Wanna grab my glass for me?”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve leaned over to pick up the blonde’s glass he put down, fuzzy Steve should definitely not be carrying three glass items at once but he thankfully made it into the kitchen; all of ten steps away, in one piece. 

“Smells good!" 

"Let’s hope it tastes good too.” Billy chortled, Steve took a seat on the bar stool as the blonde set out plates on the counter. 

“So how’s it?” Billy asked sitting beside the brunette now. 

“It’s good, better than a restaurant." 

"That good huh?" 

Steve nodded as he sucked butter off his fingers, it was the blonde that was staring now. The brunette didn’t notice as Billy licked his lips; quickly darting his head down to look at his plate. Lobster definitely wasn’t the sexiest food to eat, but somehow Steve was actually doing a pretty good job at it. Mostly due to the fact that he apparently didn’t believe in utensils. Just cracked the shell and slurped the meat from it. 

Billy readjusted himself a few times on the stool, trying to ignore said noises and eat his damn food. 

"Sounds like you’re havin’ a good time pretty boy.” The blonde attempted but after that last noise Steve just made, Billy couldn’t help himself. 

The brunette swallowed and sighed out a nervous laugh,

“Sorry." 

"No need ta apologize, glad you, really enjoyed it” he grinned. “Alright. I’m gonna go take a shower. You mind doin’ the dishes?" 

"No problem” Steve smiled, stood up and collected their plates. Billy headed back into his bedroom, closed the door behind him.  

“F-u-ck” the blonde groaned under his breath, pawing at the front of his jeans; he’s been fending off an erection for the past ten minutes. “Fuckin’ hell Max, what’s wrong with you?” Billy murmured as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. 

“Thanks shithead. Merry Christmas” He texted her and threw his phone to the bed. Bit his lip for a second before rounding to the side Steve had— 

“Mm goddamn.” He growled as he smelt the brunette dried spunk. Okay, in the blonde’s defense, it was his bed. He could do whatever the hell he wanted. Also he couldn’t remember the last time he had a good fuck; runnin’ a luxury lodge was his first priority. Steve was his type too. Max knew from the minute he walked into the place, she knows Billy too well. They really are like siblings, she was the original owner’s granddaughter; so they’ve known each other now for six years. But this is the first time she’s tried a stunt like this. First time that Billy isn’t going to give her hell for. 

The blonde huffed out a tattered sigh, honestly tempted to lick the sheet; but he wasn’t that desperate. He’ll wait for the real thing. It was pretty obvious the brunette was into him, not unless Billy was just as narcissistic as people tell him he is. But, he was pretty sure Steve has been dropping hints since yesterday. Either way the blonde grabbed a change of clothes, opened his bedroom door again and made his way into the bathroom. Steve looked like he was just about finished at the sink. But Billy didn’t wait to linger. His jeans were too tight now, he started the shower up. striped off his shirt, shimmied out of his jeans, stroked himself a bit before getting in. 

He groaned low under the water, panting as he worked himself. Thought about Stevie’s pretty mouth, how he sucked his fingers, how he’d look sucking on him. “huhh” he sneered, bit his lip trying to muffle himself, “mmm” he moaned. Stood under the hot water for a little while after before getting out. Somehow he felt even hungrier after the shower, hungry for the real thing now. Billy found the brunette sprawled out on the couch when he exited the bathroom. 

“Comfy?" 

"Mhmm.” Steve contentedly hummed,

“Room for two?" 

"Mmhm” The brunette shifted a bit making room and Billy rejoined him. 

“You smell good” Steve tittered, 

“How much wine have you had?”

“Finished the bottle when you were in the shower and then I found your whiskey” he smiled. 

"Did ya now, don’t believe in sharing?" 

"Want some?” The brunette countered,

“Thought you finished it?" 

"Got some left on my tongue." 

…That made Billy groan, deep in his throat,

"Don’t think that’s a good idea pretty boy." 

Steve sat up a bit, closer to the blonde, 

"Why’s that?" 

"Don’t think I could stop with just your tongue." 

"Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

“You serious 'bout this?” Billy asked firmly but his voice was heavy with want, when did their faces get so close? The blonde could smell the liquor that beggin’ mouth was dripping with. 

“Deadly.” Steve smirked mimicking the blonde. 

“God. You’re a real brat ain’t ya?" 

"Spoiled brat.” Steve corrected. 

Billy snarled diving into a kiss, mouth hot against the brunette’s. Tongue laved whatever remnants of alcohol were left in the other’s mouth. Steve sucked on the blonde’s lip as he caught his breath quickly, crashing back in; pushing Steve down onto his back. Drunk on lust, Billy tongue fucked the brunette till he was a moaning mess. 

Steve’s hands tightly gripping to the blonde’s shoulders. Panting and writhing under Billy, rutting into the knee that was shoved between his legs. Billy’s growls and his warm hand under his chin sent shivers through Steve. But when the blonde pulled back to look at the mess that was Steve Harrington; when the blonde shoved his thumb into Steve’s mouth, when he tossed his head back and groaned as Steve suck it, that’s when the brunette whimpered. 

“Fuckin’ hell Stevie, where you been all my life.” The blonde crooned in the brunette’s ear, earning another whimper from Steve.

“Billy,” he dug his fingers deeper, tugging at the blonde’s shirt. 

“We got all night baby.” Billy lulled him, kissing his way down the brunette’s jaw; down his neck lapping at his collarbone. 

“Want you now, wanna feel you.” The brunette whined,

Billy moaned “such a brat. I’m gonna take care of you, promise." 

Steve melted under those words, under the blonde’s hot breath, under his lips, fingers like feathers touching his skin. Billy worked him slow, they weren’t goin’ nowhere in this weather; no one was coming here. To the blonde they were basically the only people left in the world. He was going to savor it, every whimper, every moan, every cry. 

”Billy" Steve gasped, tugging at the blonde’s hair as he kissed and licked his way down the brunette’s body,

“Right here, ain’t goin anywhere." 

If Billy’s mouth wasn’t exactly what Steve wanted than his words definitely were. It’s like he knows, knows that those words are what he needs to hear. That he’s terrified of how much he’s in love with this moment, terrified that it’s going to end and he’ll be alone again. 

But Billy’s fingers clung onto Steve, like he was afraid of Steve leaving too. And he nuzzled into the brunette’s thighs like a thank you. And when his kiss swollen lips mouthed at Steve’s clothed dick the brunette actually thanked him. Breath shaky and barely there. But Billy just smirked up to those doey eyes. Ripped the brunette pants down to his knees, pulled them off completely. Settled back down, grazing Steve’s thighs with his stubble. The brunette shuttered, writhed with the sensation, practically sobbed when the blonde finally took him into his mouth. 

Steve squeezed Billy’s hand, the hand that had fingers clinging hard to the brunette’s side. The blonde sucked, and licked, and bobbed his head until Steve was close to tears. Begging for more, to let him come, to let him feel Billy too. Billy moaned, eyes closed in complete bliss hearing how bad Steve wanted him. He swallowed the brunette’s spunk when he finally let him cum. Steve all to eagerly dragged him up for another jolting kiss, he groaned into Billy’s mouth as he lapped at the blonde’s tongue. Tasting himself, Billy growled, rutting his throbbing cock down onto the brunette. 

"Fuck Stevie. So fuckin’ good baby. Can’t wait to see you riding this cock. Gonna look so good pretty boy." 

"Billy! Fuck wanna ride you so bad." 

"Get on the floor, right in front of the fire. Gotta go grab lube to grease you up." 

So Steve did, he stretched himself over the fluffy white rug that sat in front of the fireplace. Billy came back as quickly as he left and dropped to his knees. 

"God, you look like a fuckin’ king like that babe.” He crooned taking his shirt off, Steve reached his arms out and Billy met them with a bare chest. The brunette sat up, his mouth kissing and biting the suntanned skin. Billy made the best sounds as Steve bruised love bites all over him. 

“Lay down, gotta open you up.” Billy pressed a slicked thumb against the brunette’s pink hole, rimmed around it, slicking it up real good. Steve left whimpering, sobbing Billy’s name on shaking breaths. 

“Gotta relax pretty boy.” Billy leaned up to kiss him, licked over his lips as he pressed a finger into him. 

“Mmm” Steve moaned against the blonde lips. “More." 

And Billy obliged, slicking a second finger in as he slowly fucked the brunette, scissoring him open. "How you doin’ Stevie?" 

"Fuckin’ perfect” Steve panted. 

Billy grinned, tongue to teeth, “think you can handle another?" 

"Do it.” Steve pushed his hips down giving the blonde a better angle as Billy pressed a third finger in. The brunette gasped, mouth agape,

“Fuck." 

"Okay?”

“Yeah, just don’t move.”

“All you pretty boy”, Billy rubbed his other hand over the brunette’s thigh, Steve took a steep breath before he started to slowly move on Billy’s fingers. 

“God, feels so good Billy” Steve huffed,

“You’re sucking me right in babe.” The blonde licked his lips with hunger. 

Steve choked as Billy started to move again, faster, rougher. 

“Ah fuck Billy! Oh fuck, fuck!" 

"Gonna make you cum with just my fingers baby so when I get my dick in ya your gonna be putty. Gonna be such a beautiful mess for me." 

"Fuck Billy, right there, yes! Just like that. Don’t stop. Fuck. Don’t stop!” And Billy kept pace until Steve was shooting out white ropes all over his pretty stomach. And the blonde moaned, slipped his fingers out of the brunette’s stretched bright red hole and licked his spunk off his belly. Finally getting a taste, fuckin’ hell, he was like water in a desert. 

Steve’s eyes were threatening tears “Billy" 

"Right here Stevie.” The blonde leaned up to look at the doey eyed brunette, he had the cutest fuckin’ smile. Completely blissed out. Billy was so hard in his jeans, needed it; been needing a guy like Steve for a long time.

Steve’s head jerked back, eyes closed tight, hands clinging to the carpet under him as Billy rammed his slicked up cock into him. The blonde panted heavy breaths as Steve was left whimpering. Bill, too impatient to go slow, he was completely taken over by sheer need.

“Oh fuck baby, feels so good inside you. Still so tight" 

"God. Billy, harder, wanna feel you everywhere." 

"Fuck” Billy growled gripping harder onto the brunette’s hips, thrusting deep, so deep into him. Skin against skin, clingy hands searching for something to grab onto, cries and growls and moans,tongue to lips; all of it was way better than any Christmas music they could have been playing. 

“Swear you were made for this cock pretty boy, fits so perfectly.” The blonde moaned “gonna fill you up so good baby." 

”Please. Feels so good Billy.“ Steve cried through hitched breaths, 

"Jesus, you’re so fuckin sweet.” Billy arched down bringing Steve into a kiss, a soft, almost painful kiss. The kind that makes your toes curl and your heart burst. Then he was pulling him up, like the brunette was nothing more than a pillow. In one swift move the blonde sat back on his knees with Steve sitting on him. The brunette with arms around Billy neck for stability and Billy strong arms like steel straps caging him in. 

“God! Fuck, I can feel you in my fuckin’ throat like this.” Steve panted as he started to grind his ass down deeper into the blonde; eliciting a feral growl from Billy. Sharp canines buried into Steve’s pale neck, bruising him up like putting a collar on him. He belonged to Billy now, even if it was just for the night. 

“Come on baby, ride it like ya wanna break me” he groaned, hands fastened tight pushing and pulling Steve until the brunette caught the rhythm. “That’s it Stevie, fuck yourself on this cock. God, you feel so good, oh fuck! Hmm, yeah just like that. ah fuck baby.” Billy crooned and groaned urging the brunette on. Steve gripped to the blonde’s shoulders for leverage, pumping himself up and down; his leaking dick slapping against him with the violent motion. 

“Billy! Fuck, fuck, oh God!” Steve whined as he fucked himself on the blonde, “Kiss me.” He demanded. And Billy did, wouldn’t dream of denying such a pretty mouth. He kissed him hard, the blonde snaked his had to the brunette nape keeping him there. Their mouths linked together, sharing one breath, Billy ate up every moan that escaped Steve. And the brunette came like that, flushed against the blonde, panting with his fingers tightly coiled in the short blonde curls. Billy didn’t last much longer after that with Steve slowly, deeply grinding on him, riding out his organism. The blonde stuttering his hips, filling the brunette with his heat. Hitched breaths were panted as their lips crashed together again, fighting for dominance. 

“That was amazing” Steve laughed out something breathy, still reeling.

“Yeah, you really are Stevie.” Billy looked up at the brunette with a wide grin in appreciation. Steve matched his grin with a fervent smile; pushed the blonde down to the carpet, they wrestled childishly for a moment. Kisses were stolen quickly until the both laid quiet, Steve curled right beside Billy, his leg over the blonde’s and his hand drawing circles in his chest. And they cuddled, warm with the fire, silently enjoying each other. 

“I do.” Steve whispered head nuzzling under the blondes chin. 

“Do what?” Billy matched his tone. 

“Earlier, when you were talking about fate, you said ‘if you believe in that sort of thing’. And I do believe in it.” He smiled, turning his head up to look at the blonde. 

“You sayin’ this was fate, us meeting baby?" 

That dopey smirk crawled back onto Steve’s face, 

"Maybe. Is that stupid?" 

"Jesus, Stevie, you really are sweet, gonna give me a cavity." 

"Shut up.” The brunette giggled out shoving the blonde teasingly. “I’m serious though Billy." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes." 

"How serious?" 

"Deadly”, 

“Good, cause I’m pretty sure its gonna be just you and meet for the next few days up here. How’s that sound?" 

"Like a dream. Like the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten." 

Billy chuckled "pretty sure you are the best present I’ve ever gotten pretty boy." 

Steve wiggled his way up to kiss the blonde, nosed his face against Billy’s scruff. 

"Hey." 

"Hi.” The blonde chortled,

“Can I love you?" 

And Billy propped himself to his elbows, brows furrowed and eyes fixed on the brunette,

"You askin’ for permission or askin’ a question?" 

"Permission. I mean just, just until they dig us outta here; till I have to leave. Can we pretend we’re in love." 

"Don’t know if that’s a good idea." 

"Why?”

“Don’t know if I can stop at just pretending.”

“Kiss me.” And the blonde did, couldn’t deny such a pretty mouth, pretty eyes; pretty face. 

“I love you, Billy” he hushed,

“…love you too Stevie." 

[kashimos-hajime]

honeyed tea | q.b.

Summary: So your best friend get’s fired and you’re left to find out if he’s still alive. So what if you kinda have feelings for him you’ve repressed since the Dark Ages? All you want is a good cup of tea and your best friend back. You end up getting both.

WARNINGS: FFH SPOILERS also Quentin is a dramatic bitch!!! CUTE AS HELL!!! Fluff!! Mentions of smut but it’s small. Swearing ‘cause I have a fat potty mouth but it’s still real cute!!!  Pairing: pre-FFH!Quentin x gender neutral!Reader Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Something cute for those who still miss him (me)

For fuck’s sake, you don’t understand what Quentin’s problem is with you. First he’s been ignoring you, next he doesn’t show up to work. You’re supposed to be his best friend for crying out loud, and although you know that Tony taking Quentin’s project right out of his hands and slapping his name on it has got to sting, you thought he’d at least call.

“Quentin, it’s me again. Where the hell are you? Ugh, look, it doesn’t matter. Can you at least call me back?” Hanging up, you put your phone back down on the desk before opening your emails. You need to catch up on some work, even if the other half of your team is gone.

Throwing a longing glance at Quentin’s empty office, you shrug off the feeling that spoils your stomach like sour milk and focus on your computer screen. Fingers dancing over the keyboard, you log in and hit Send/Receive, watching as the inbox refreshes.

Nothing important pops up. New project pitches, rescheduling of meeting, oh, and an email that’s highlighted as important. Meaning it has to be from one of two people on the list. Tony Stark or Pepper Potts.

Opening up the email, you spot Ms. Potts’ email address and continue to read.

The sour milk in your stomach curdles, and suddenly it makes all too much sense on why Quentin hasn’t been coming to work. It’s because he can’t. 

.

You knock on Quentin’s door, rubbing your palms together with a chocolate box pinched underneath your arm. You can hear shuffling on the other end so you know he’s at home and you sigh impatiently, knocking again.

“Quentin, open up! I know you’re in there.” No answer. Knocking more insistently, you rap your knuckles hard against wood. “Look! I know why you haven’t been answering my calls, even though we’re supposed to be best friends, and I quit. I quit my job so can you please open up so we can talk?”

Immediately, you get the response you’re looking for. The door swings open to reveal your beautiful best friend, the one and only Quentin Beck. More affectionately known as idiot, genius, honey, among other things. Currently, he looks like none of those, and mostly looks like utter garbage. His eyes are shadowed by dark half moons and his skin has lost its colour. His blue gaze normally alight with intelligence is muted, a fire gone out too soon.

“Hey, Quen.”

“Do not tell me you did what I think you did,” he whispers and you smile slyly. He takes your silence as your answer and his eyes widen substantially. “What were you thinking?” He takes you by the arms, not enough to hurt but enough to make you look at him and you glare back, unable to reply. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” you snap, breaking his grip on you easily. “You’re the one who got fired, and didn’t bother to call me. You’re the one who just ghosted his best friend!” You regret your harsh tone as soon as you say it because his expression falls. He looks so pitiful and hurt that your heart splits for him.

“That was your dream job,” he whispers and you hold up the box of chocolates you’d bought for him. You know chocolate is the way to this man’s heart, even though you already have a free pass to that zone, and he takes the box with wide eyes. 

A soft smile finds itself on your lips as your eyebrows knit together. Something hollow sits in your chest. “It was yours, too.”

It’s quiet as Quentin’s face nearly shatters but then he finds himself last minute, putting on some mask you wish he didn’t have. “You can’t be serious.”

“We come as a set, Quen. You think I’m gonna stand by and let Tony Stark steal your life’s work and then fire you?” You brush past him and shed your jacket, glancing around his apartment. His jaw is unhinged as he closes the door and you give him a fond smile. “Cat gotcha tongue?”

“You love working there. Stark was gonna give you a promotion and everything,” he says but you shrug and head to the kitchen, opening the fridge to find nothing but kombucha and half a loaf of bread.

“You seriously need to get this stocked, Quen. I’m only gonna be on this Earth for so long, and you can’t depend on your best friend for life.” You ignore his heated stare as he throws your chocolate on the kitchen island and leans against the marble, trying to comprehend your life choices. 

“How could you just throw away your life like that?” 

You turn on his electric kettle and pull the cabinet open to grab a mug. You could really go for a cup of tea.

“Are you even listening to me, honey?”

“I’m letting you have a moment,” you reply flatly, sending him a glance. “You need to get it out of your system.” Pulling out some chamomile tea you brought the last time you came over, you look for the honey you know he has somewhere. You love sweetening your tea with honey rather than sugar, which in part has lead to the ‘honey’ pet name the two of you have conjured up. The other part that contributes to it is the fact that Quentin finds you the sweetest person on Earth and likes to remind you often.

Finding it in its usual place, you set it on the countertop and wait for the water to boil, drumming your fingers against the smooth surface with a hum. Quentin’s still simmering but you’ve learnt to let him go through it over the years.

“Look, you’re gonna go back to Stark’s, and tell him it was a joke.”

“Quen,” you sigh, turning your head to see him storming around the island. He towers over you but you don’t care. He’s not frightening in the least. 

“You can’t seriously just let him take your life’s work, too.”

“Quen.”

“I mean, we can’t let Tony Stark just trample all over us—“

“Oh, my god. You’re such a theatrical bitch,” you mumble under your breath as the electrical kettle clicks. You grab the boiling water and pour yourself a full cup before pasting on a sunshine smile for Quentin. “You want any tea?”

He falls quiet.

He knows what the offering of tea means. It means ceasefire. No more arguing until the tea’s finished. Rule established after he realized your obsession with tea in senior year of highschool. A reminder that your friendship is more important than winning any argument. Also, an added bonus that it calms down fraught nerves.

His blue, blue eyes meet yours and his shoulders sink in defeat as you grab him a cup. Once you’ve steeped the tea leaves, you turn to him with puppy eyes. He sighs helplessly and grabs his cup, sipping it softly as you add honey to your own mug. Bringing the cup to your lips, you watch as Quentin retreats to the living space where he sits down on the couch and you realize how beaten up he is over this. He looks disastrous. There’s takeout boxes everywhere, and he’s still wearing days old clothes.

It’s kinda pathetic.

But also entirely dramatic, so you sit down beside your best friend, and make him look at you.

“Quen,” you begin, setting your mug on the glass coffee table. “You’re an idiot.” Your fingers tuck a tiny curl of hair away from his eyes and you trail your hand behind his ear, cupping his jaw. “You’re a genius, but an idiot. A helpless, dramatic, asinine, brilliant genius.”

“Please stop insulting me and complimenting me at the same time. You know it confuses me,” he mumbles and you kiss his temple. “He stole everything and called it his own. I poured everything into that project. Everything. God, I’m going to kill him. I swear, I’m going to kill Stark if it’s the last thing I do.” 

And at last, he begins to crumble in your hands. Bringing Quentin towards your body, you hold him to your chest as he curls up on himself. He runs ragged hands through his hair and you listen to his pointless rants, cheek pressed into his hair that smells like faded Dove gel and Old Spice, cedarwood and something they probably labelled as ‘Grizzly Bear Sweat’. Something stupidly masculine.

“I’m sorry, Quen,” you whisper and he looks up at you, torturously, with the blue blown out of his wide eyes. There’s only something dark, something sinister, and you run your knuckles down his face with a tight-lipped smile. “Tony is using it for good, though. You can be sure of it.”

“Good? Good? Who’s side are you on?”

“Quen—” You sigh helplessly. You hate this — arguing with him. He gets so fucking irrational it pisses you off, but you can understand the circumstances this time. He pulls away from you and your fingers snag on his sweater, making him look up from his mutterings. “Quen, look at me.”

“You throw away your life just to come here and shit on me, huh?”

“I didn’t throw away my life just because I quit my job.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. You want to see your best friend again, not this dark part you know lurks within him. His eyes lift and the spark returns to his eyes. You offer a hesitant smile.

He chews on his lower lip as you shuffle closer. You outstretch your arms and he huddles closer, allowing you to hold his head to your chest. His arms wrap loosely around your body and you rest your chin atop his head.

“That’s what you’ve been working for since… since forever, though,” he protests weakly. You stroke his head and kiss his hairline, chuckling. “You know it’s true. You work your ass off to get to where you want to be and you just throw away your dream ‘cause I got fired. It’s stupid, and—”

“My dream job is working with you, you thespian.” You place both hands flat against his face, drawing him back so he looks right at you. “You’re so dramatic. God, how am I even friends with you?”

“Seventh grade summer school for programming,” he mumbles and you laugh loudly. It’s so infectious it causes his own smile. “We were the only two who knew what we were doing.”

“Well, it was a rhetorical question,” you snort, kissing his forehead affectionately. He smiles against your palms, taking one of your wrists and pressing his lips against your skin. You melt, smile softening as warmth spreads from the point of contact to your chest. “I’d follow you anywhere, y'know?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Too late now, honey.” You reach for your tea but then Quentin’s hands cup your face, turning you back to him. His eyes bear into yours so intensely that your heart races up to your throat, your voice dying in a mere squeak. “Quen?”

“I love you,” he states and you roll your eyes, patting his cheek softly. You can ignore the fluttering in your chest if he shuts up right now. His thumbs graze over your cheeks and you chuckle nervously. Nope. No feelings. Just me and my best friend. My best friend and I. 

“Love you, too, honey.”

“No, seriously, I love you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I love you too.” You lean forward to give him a kiss between the eyes but he stops you, hands trailing down your neck to your shoulders and then to your waist. His blue eyes blown out wide, something dark and smokey lurks within. Utterly hypnotic and deep as oceans, you blink to save yourself from drowning as your throat runs dry. “Quen…” Your voice comes out almost like a moan and you clear your throat as heat rushes all around your body. You’re flaring up, and by his slight smile, he can tell. “Quen, we said this doesn’t work.”

“We said this wouldn’t work because we’re too focused on our careers and that hasn’t stopped us from hooking up before.”

“Oh, so this is a hookup now?” you whisper, gaze flickering from his eyes to his plush lips. Your hand on his cheek slides to curl around his neck, fingers playing with tiny hairs along the nape as you swallow what’s left of your inhibitions. If you have to sit here another moment with your hot best friend’s hands on your hips without any action, you might go crazy.

“Well, I wouldn’t say hookup. Too crass.”

“Oh, you’re so classy.” 

That sly smile you love crosses his lips, sitting right at home upon his bearded face. One of his hands wraps around your waist, hauling you onto him and you let out a tiny squeal as he twists to lean back against the couch. Your legs bracket his hips as your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself on.

“We said last time was the last time.”

“Well, it was the last time.”

“Then, why am I straddling you?”

“I’m comfortable,” he says with a shrug and you laugh, raking your hair back from your face as you look down upon him. “If you don’t wanna, I’m not gonna make you, honey. You know that.” His expression is so honest, so endearing, that your heart melts for him and you caress his cheek, the beard bristiling against your palm.

“I want to, but we gotta make it quick. I wanna drink my tea.”

“Deal.” Chuckling, you lean down to press a testing kiss against his mouth. He smiles against your lips, kissing back with equal fervor before you depart for another destination.

You kiss his cedarwood and smoke skin, trail up his neck, land on his lips, and taste the sparks of magic and mint and mountain air. His hands work at your top and you giggle when his fingers brush against your bare skin on your waist as he twists you around, pinning you to the couch.

“The tea,” you whisper against his mouth but then his lips leave yours and you whine impatiently. He leaves an open-mouthed, sloppy trail of kisses down your neck as you kick your pants off.

“Stop thinking about the tea,” he murmurs, exasperated, and you laugh, threading your fingers through rich dark hair. The warmth of him against your collarbone makes you shiver and sooner rather than later, he makes you forget all about the tea.

.

The tea goes cold. 

Your mourn its loss by sourly pouting at your best friend from his bed from where he stands in his bathroom. He makes it up to you by peeling the sheets away from your body, and pressing minty kisses onto every inch of you, but it isn’t enough.

He sighs in defeat and goes to make you a new cup of tea.

“What kind?” he calls and you smile sweetly at him through the doorway of his flat — your shared flat now, you suppose. Some time between midnight and daybreak, on linen sheets and silk pillowcases, you’d decided. It should’ve been a decision made long ago, but it doesn’t matter how long it takes to get to the destination, just that you reach it, right?

“Earl grey, honey, thank you!”

He brings you a cup of tea, a kiss, and a promise that he loves you more than best friends do. You laugh, whisper that you love him too, and smile at the melting honey in your tea.

[canadian-buckbeaver]

What is a Name Part 2

Just because Nikki wanted a second part where Iclyn was saved... <3

* * * * * * * 

The doctor groaned as her phone rang shrilly, interrupting her sleep. She had the misfortune of working a double shift on the baby ward and had finally gotten a moment to put her head down and get some much needed rest. Who could be calling her now?  It better be important… she grabbed her phone and sleepily put it to her ear.  “Hello?”

There was a pause before  a gruff clearing of a throat.  The voice that spoke sounded like one that had been recently racked with guilt.  “Hello. Is this the doctor with the baby quirk?”

Or maybe it was a customer. “It is yes. Can I ask who is calling?”

“My name is Shouta Aizawa.  We… my husband and I, ran into you in the grocery store a few months ago?”

Right.  The accidental quirk discharge. The girl had been adorable with those big blue eyes.  “Yes I remember you.  Can I help you?” she asked, trying not to sound harried.  She was so tired.

“Yes… I… we…” another deep breath.  “The girl vanished.”

What a shame.  There had been great potential with that one.  “Did you name her?”

“We… we hadn’t yet no…”

The doctor was doing her best as to not sound annoyed but her precious rest was slipping away.  “I did say that the girl would disappear in three months if she wasn’t given a name.”

Shouta interrupted her this time.  “We still had another day.  It hadn’t been three months yet. We were going to name her we…” his voice broke. “We just needed more time…”

The doctor sighed, sitting up.  “Listen. If the baby appears and is not given a name, they disappear like they were never there.  But if the baby is feeling helpless and incredibly upset, the chances of them disappearing sooner increases.  I only heard of one such case before.  I had bumped into another couple who were not interested in having children.  When the baby seemed to lose all hope that they would get a name, they disappeared much sooner.  It is possible that this happened to your daughter.”

* * *

Shouta swallowed hard, tears dripping down his cheeks slowly. Akarin had been removed from the room by Tetsu, leaving him and Hizashi alone in the room.  “I understand.  Thank you.” He hung up the phone.

Hizashi looked at him.  “Well?” his voice was quivering.

“Apparently if the child loses hope at being named they will disappear sooner…” Shouta said, sitting beside his husband, looking down at Mr. Beary.  “It all makes sense now.  She had been so obsessed with names lately… asking when and why we named the cats, Midnight’s fists, boats, my grandmother…”

“Tetsu said that she had asked when Akarin had been named.” Hizashi mused. “We…. We fucked up.  Didn’t we? She was practically begging to be named, to be loved and we…” he choked out a sob and held the bear to his face, tears staining the fabric.

They sat like that, huddled together, trying to comfort each other and come to the new reality. There they were, surrounded by the few toys that she had, the drawings that she had made, and no daughter to speak of. Not anymore.  She was gone.

There was something else Shouta realized. They sat in silence.  Gone was her little footsteps, gone was her soft noises.  Anything that was associated with her and her alone, were gone.  He missed it already.  He missed her already.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Hizashi lips trembled again.  “She was completely alone when she disappeared.  We were right downstairs the whole time and we knew nothing…”

Shouta shushed him quietly.  “There was no way that we could have known.  She came up here for a reason…”

She didn’t want to burden them with her disappearing Shouta knew. She had given up on getting a name, she didn’t want to force them to name her.  Looking back Shouta could almost describe their actions as cruel. Always putting off the talk of names, not really answering her questions.  They had written it off as idle child curiosity.  But really, she was looking for her own name.  The lock that would tie her to this world.

The symbol of their love for her.

“Shouta… look…” Hizashi carefully pulled the long, curly hair off of the bear.  Not his. It was their daughter’s.  Hizashi’s blond, his waves… their daughter. She had Hizashi’s quirk and Shouta’s quiet thoughtfulness…

And they missed it all.  They were too wrapped up in their own little world to try and make room for one more.

“Iclyn Yamada-Aizawa,” Shouta whispers quietly, taking the hair between his fingers.  “It suits her.”

Hizashi eyed him before smiling softly, wiping at his eyes. “It has a nice ring to it.  Our little Iclyn…”

“Our daughter… we could call her Ice for short.”

“She needs a middle name. Perhaps Kai? Tetsu would love it.” Hizashi suggested.

“Iclyn Kai Yamada-Aizawa. It’s perfect.” A fresh pair of tears traced Shouta’s cheeks.

Hizashi sniffs, holding the bear tightly to him before reaching out for Shouta again.  They embrace tightly, allowing grief to run through them.  The perfect name for a perfect daughter.

Their perfect daughter.

There is a soft, warm whisper of a voiceless whisper and a bright flash of light.  In front of their eyes little Iclyn reforms, her hair falling around her face, hands clasped to her ears and her cheeks as wet as theirs.  She’s trembling and whimpering softly, pressing herself into herself, making herself as small as possible.

They don’t even hesistate.

Together they reach out, gently touching her shoulders and arms before picking her up and pulling her into their embrace.  Mr. Bearey is clutched to her chest as Iclyn slowly opens her eyes, taking in the colour of the world around her, and the feel of her dads’ embrace.  They are whispering soft, loving things to her ear.  How they will not let her go again, how she is there to stay. Little Iclyn is there to stay.  They whisper her name to her again and again, solidifying her in the world again.  Mr. Bearey falls into her lap as she hugs them tight, softly crying. And slowly, slowly she calms.

* * * * *

Iclyn’s cries out desperately, kicking at the darkeness, screaming and sobbing, pleading.  The darkeness is closing in on her, smothering her.  It is whispering how no one loved her, no one wanted to keep her, how she belongs to the dark. That everything will be ok as long as she surrenders to it.  Panic has long since set in.  Her heart races, tears stream down her face, her breathing rapid and shallow.  Her body is trembling as she is stuck in the middle of the extreme panic attack, a downward spiral that has no end.  This cannot be happening again, not again, not again!  She is loved! Her parents named her! Akarin, or Scarlet is her sister and adores her! Where are they? Why aren’t they saving her from the darkness that wants her soul and life and-

There is the whiz of sharp steel and the sound of a falling lock. Iclyn gasps and pulls her hands away from her googles in time to watch the lid of the container she was stuck in fly open with a bang, Stain’s wild silhouette against the brightness of the moon.

For a moment they don’t move, just staring at one another. There is a slight breeze outside, Stain’s scarf waving softly with it.  It smells cool and sweet, like the aftermath of a rainstorm. Yet the air feels warm, comfortable.  She must not have been locked in the container for very long then.  Iclyn gives a hard swallow, attempting to slow her heartbeat and her breathing, trying to stop her tears.  There is nothing to worry about. No absolute darkness, no whispers. She was ok…

Stain stuck a hand in, the bandages dirty and looking like they are steeped in blood.  But he doesn’t say anything, not now. He takes her hand, helping her sit up slowly, and then helping her out of the container.  She brushes herself off, straightening her googles and her blue jacket, making sure her boots were straight along with her directional speaker. It was nothing clunky like her Dad’s more like a tiny, dainty necklace in case she needed to add a boost to her roar. The scarf was still loosely tied around her waist.  Good. Pops would be beyond pissed if she lost another one.  After making sure that she was still intact, she rubbed at her face, cleaning the tears.

“Thank you Stain,” she told her recently reformed partner.  “I appreciate you getting me out of there…” she didn’t want to know what he needed to do to save her.

There’s a whisper of wings and a soft breeze before she finds herself wrapped up in arms and wings. “Iclyn! Thank Kami you’re safe… the villains split up after they captured you and cast a hologram. I’ve been chasing at least five other groups before I got here.  Thank Kami that Stain managed to get you out.  How are you? How do you feel?” Hawks pulled back enough to let him look at her, tucking her hair behind her ears and gently wiping her tears away.

“I’m better now…” she admits, her voice still wavering. Seems like she still wasn’t over her claustrophobia yet. She took a breath.  “Come on.  Let’s find Scarlet and Ground Zero. Before I was pushed into that container I think I heard their code for reinforcements.”

“That would explain the armoured cars that were in the distance,” Hawks says as he looks in the direction.  “Are you going to be ok, Iclyn?  Do you want to stop for a break or something?”

“I’ll be fine.” Iclyn says firmly, adjusting her googles.  “Come on.  Can’t let my dad’s worry too much or I won’t be allowed out, ever again.”

Stain gently ruffles her hair, the soft gesture enough to make her pause. He’s looking at her, an intense, unreadable look to his eyes. “Let’s make them pay, Ice Dragon.” He says, removing his hand.  

Iclyn smiles.  It isn’t her normal smile, but one that looks like a strange mix of Mic and Eraser.  “Let’s go.”

[bgn846]

Close Encounters of The Muddy Kind FFXV FXtober Fic

Summary:            

Noct decides to drag Prompto out on a solo hunt after Gladio teases him about his skills.  Needless to say, things do not go as planned.

Notes:

I had an awesome opportunity to do a collab with the wonderful Blackchocomuffin for the XVTOBER prompt Bad Hunt. Their artwork is linked in the story and right here too!

--

The rain had soaked his hair at this point. Wiping away the water did little good as Prompto trudged behind Noct. The large ominous gray clouds currently dumping heavy, angry rain on them had been nowhere in sight when they’d left camp. So much for the easy hunt, Noct had promised.  “Dude, can we go back now?” Prompto yelled over the pounding of the rain.

“Huh?” Noct shouted without turning, his gaze focused on something further down the slope they were trekking up.  The slope which was steadily getting harder to climb, the higher they went.  

“Let’s go back! The weather sucks!”

“Nah we got this today is our day!”

Sighing heavily Prompto continued to tramp through the mud after his prince. Noct was taking this too seriously. One little jab from Gladio about being a shitty hunter had triggered this awful adventure. Noct was positive he could complete a successful hunt without the assistance of Gladio or Ignis. They’d gone out plenty of times, just the two of them, but the bounty had been for gems or catching a stray chocobo. This time Noct was after something more vicious.

Ignis almost didn’t let them leave earlier, and Prompto wished the advisor had put up more of a fight. Anything would be better than slogging through the mud and getting drenched.  Prompto was about to complain again when a noise from behind made him whip around. Staring at the narrow path revealed nothing but rain and mud.

“Nooocct,” Prompto drawled, “buddy, I heard something.” There was no reply as Prompto stood frozen in place. “Noct,” he tried again not wanting to take his eyes off the trail.

A faint huffing came, followed by heavy footfalls. “We’re not going back! That’s finaaaaaaahhh!”

Wide-eyed at how loud Noct had yelled at him Prompto felt his stomach grow uneasy.  Noct never yelled at him. “Hey, uh, no need to yell.” The pounding rain and whipping wind were all that he heard in return. Whatever had made the noise in the woods was probably still there, but Prompto would never know unless it attacked.  Taking a chance he turned around slowly to try and explain to Noct what he’d heard.

Nothing but muddy footprints remained in front of him. Where in the hell had Noct run off to? Upset that his friend had literally ditched him Prompto instantly forgot about the threat in the woods. Looking around he tried to see if he could spot his so-called friend. Then, he heard a sound. A loud guttural shout that resembled Noct’s ‘I’m super pissed voice’ ringing out from down below.

Looking back down at his feet Prompto noted that Noct’s tracks had come back to check on him but then they’d gone near the edge of the path and disappeared.  Leaning forward Prompto noted the fresh human-sized trail in the mud.  A trail that led all the way back down the steep slope they’d been climbing.  Shit, had Noct actually fallen? “Noct!” he cried in a panic. Another loud yell answered his call.  Okay, that was either a good or very bad sign.

Prompto didn’t have time to process what happened next when a very angry looking coeurl flew out of the woods. Without pause, he made to summon his gun but the coeurl and the path were suddenly gone. He’d taken a step back and inadvertently taken the same way down as Noct.

How Noct hadn’t screamed his head off on the ride down was a mystery. Prompto yelled the whole time and continued when he’d come to a stop next to a very cross looking prince. Noct immediately noticed his gun and looked back up to the top while attempting to stand to fight if need be.

“What’s going on?!” he demanded, eyes still trained upward.

“Coeurl tried to attack me,” Prompto gasped.

Noct looked over at him with worry, “Are you alright? Did it get you?”

“M’fine, I fell before it could attack.”

“How far do you think we are from camp?” Noct asked as he stood and held his hand out.

Accepting the help Prompto stood and looked around. “I dunno a couple of miles?”

“You like running don’t you?” Noct checked as he tried to remove the mud stuck to his shirt.  It was a fruitless effort; Noct was absolutely covered in the stuff. Peering down at his own clothing revealed the same issue.  Without waiting for an answer Noct tugged him in the direction of camp and they both broke out in a run.

Thankfully, the coeurl didn’t make chase. They didn’t stop running though, the threat of almost getting attacked was too fresh to ignore. Only slowing when they saw the haven ahead, Prompto worked to catch his breath. He was actually a better runner than Noct so he knew his friend had to be feeling this exercise. His muscles ached terribly as they clawed their way up the side of the haven.

They were safe, or so they thought.

--

“Mightn’t we go look for them? It’s been nearly two hours and I’m starting to worry,” asked Ignis as he looked out across the landscape.

“Princess is fine, we told em to call if something came up.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure I heard a shout earlier, despite what you think.” Ignis knew what Noct sounded like, especially when in distress. It was an unmistakable noise. “Perhaps we should at least call? I sure they got rained on,” he added glumly. The thought of Noct and Prompto needing their help was weighing on Ignis.  

“What and ruin their fun?! Nah, it’s all good,” Gladio huffed as he waved Ignis off. “Little adventure and rain never hurt anyone.” Though, he didn’t sound convinced.

Wandering closer to the edge of the haven Ignis peered out into the distance. He knew Gladio was starting to worry as well.  Checking the time, Ignis decided he’d wait another ten minutes before going to look for them.

The time eventually ticked by and Ignis was starting to prepare for a trek into the wilderness. He was not content to wait any longer. Pulling out his phone he called first on the off chance they were nearby.  The call never connected. “We need to find them, Noct’s phone isn’t working,” Ignis announced as he grabbed his jacket.

“Did you try Prompto’s phone?”

“Yes, a while ago, it buzzed rather uselessly in the tent where he left it charging with the battery pack.”

“Ah, that’s bad.”

Humming in response Ignis was about to don his coat when two figures ran out of the woods near the side of the haven.  Heaving a great sigh of relief Ignis dropped his coat over the back of the camp chair and watched his prince and Prompto run like their ass was on fire. Something had occurred; Ignis wasn’t sure whether it was bad or good at this point. However, the closer they got the more likely it seemed that something bad had happened.

Noct was covered from head to toe in mud and Prompto matched. His normally bright blond locks were all but covered.  How could those two have gotten so dirty? They’d only been gone for the afternoon. Dipping out of sight briefly to crest the top of the haven, their frantic breathing was all he heard for a few seconds. Then Ignis was gifted with a closeup view of absolute carnage.  It appeared their idea of a hunt involved taking a romp in a mud puddle, a very big mud puddle, or possibly a river of the stuff from the looks of it.

Before Ignis could chide his charge on getting so filthy a choked laugh erupted from nearby. Gladio had come to stand next to him to witness the arrival of the mud king and his friend. The laughing only got louder as the two younger men edged closer.  “Gladio, must you?” Ignis scolded, but he was admittedly having a hard time keeping a straight face. The look of pure annoyance on Noct’s face and Prompto’s clear frustration were rather comical.

“I thought you were going on a hunt?”

“We were!” Noct shouted still remaining frozen in place at the edge of the haven. His face barely twitched though, he was very upset.

Prompto on the other hand was shaking himself like a dog trying to get the loose bits of mud to fall away.  This tactic didn’t do much but send a few blobs sailing onto Noct.  The prince merely took a deep breath and gave Prompto the iciest side glare Ignis had ever seen on him.  Prompto of course didn’t notice as he was still dancing around in place attempting to shake off the dirt.

“Uggg I can feel it in my shoes!” the blond whined. “It’s not funny Gladio!” he added looking at the shield.

Gladio couldn’t even respond he was still laughing so hard.  Shaking his head Ignis began formulating how to best tackle the issue at hand. How to get two very dirty people clean without getting everything else messy? Before he could suggest a course of action Noct began trudging over to the camp chairs.  “Oh no highness, I must in insist you remain standing or sit on the edge of the haven until you are cleaned up.”

“Specs! I’m tired! I slid down a hill and got all beat up by roots and stuff. I wanna sit down!” Noct exclaimed.

“What?!” Gladio wheezed having finally caught his breath from laughing. “You fell off the side of a hill?”

“It’s Prompto’s fault,” Noct deadpanned, his prior outburst having drained all his remaining energy.

“Hey! Not fair! I heard a noise and you didn’t believe me!”

“I was on the lookout for something to hunt and you distracted me.”

“Aw come on buddy, we were the ones getting hunted out there!” Prompto defended. “If I hadn’t heard that coeurl the--.”

“Excuse me?” Ignis cut in with concern, “A coerul?”  

“Yeah, I heard it behind me, I mean I didn’t see it at first but then Noct ignored me, and then I thought he’d run off like a jerk!” Prompto stopped his ramble to point at Noct accusingly. “But then I realized he’d fallen and that’s when the coeurl attacked --.”

“It attacked?!” Ignis interjected as he stepped forward to check for any signs of injury on the two men.

“No, I fell before it could get me,” Prompto finished.

“You mean you tripped?” Gladio checked.

“No big guy I fell, just like I said. I took the same way down the hill as Noct. On my butt in a pile of mud!”

Gladio began snickering again but managed to keep his composer this time. “So you both are okay, the big scary cat didn’t actually attack either of you?”

“Thank the six, no! We ran outta there as fast as we could.”

“We had a head start,” Noct added dryly as he stood wavering in place.

Ignis nearly took pity on his prince and allowed him to sit in the camp chair, but the thought of cleaning all the mud off made him reconsider. “Perhaps a trip down the river is in order. I’ll send Gladio with you in case something else tries to stalk you.”

“I’m not going hunting in the rain ever again, I don’t care how bad Gladio teases us!” Prompto huffed as he started to walk towards the tent.

Stepping to the side, Ignis halted Prompto’s progress. “Allow me to gather your things. The less mud you track around the better.”

“Really? Thanks, Iggy! I’m gonna go jump in the river I hate the feeling of all this mud sticking to me.” Prompto skipped off towards the edge and jumped off. He turned and motioned for Noct to follow. “Come on! Gladio’s coming with us this time. Let’s go!” he added shaking his hands around when Noct didn’t budge.

“Highness, please go and get cleaned up. I’ll have supper ready by the time you get back.”

Noct merely scowled at him and finally ducked his head before following Prompto. Quickly grabbing two towels and a plastic bag, Ignis handed them off to Gladio before he left. “Don’t worry about the clothing I’ll take care of it later. They can change in the tent when you all return.”

“You got it, Iggy,” Gladio offered with a smile before he hopped off and ran to catch up with the mud twins.

--

It’d taken some time to remove all the mud but Noct finally felt somewhat normal. As promised Ignis had dinner ready when they’d returned from the river. They’d all eaten and laughed about their adventure in rain and mud. However, the events of the day had been more exhausting than Noct realized, and he’d soon retired to the tent to sleep early.

Which was how he found himself a few hours later, staring up at the fabric ceiling, pondering whether he’d missed a spot. Squirming slightly Noct was convinced he could feel mud somewhere, but that was impossible he’d fully submerged himself in the river.

The others had all come to bed by now and were softly snoring, or so he thought. A quiet chuckle from the other side of the tent caused Noct to look up. Even in the dark Noct could see Gladio smiling. His eyes were closed but he was definitely laughing.  

“What?” Noct hissed under his breath, “I know you’re awake.”

“I was just thinking of what you looked like all covered in mud, it was funny,” Gladio whispered.

“Yeah well don’t laugh until you try it! I swear I still have mud stuck on me somewhere!” he huffed.

Prompto groaned suddenly at the remark and flopped his arm around. “Aw man, you too? I can still feel it on my skin.”

Gladio barked out a laugh and then continued to giggle in his corner of the tent. Pursing his lips Noct took a deep breath and tried to ignore the phantom sensation of icky mud. He was about to tell Gladio to shut up when Ignis beat him to the punch.

“We’ll book a hotel tomorrow so we can all partake in a hot shower. Though, it appears some of us may need more cleaning than others.”

Noct would swear he heard Ignis stifle a laugh as they laid there in the dark.  Focusing on the more important takeaway from the comment, Noct attempted to go back to sleep. He could last until tomorrow. The promise of a nice hot shower was enough to tide him over for now. Their hunt may have been terrible but he was still grateful to have his friends around to help him when he needed it.

[universal-kitty]

.: Summer Days :.

Mani-Neko is insecure, and Hawks thinks about how he wants to spend his future.

NekoHawks

   “...I never liked the summer,” they blurted out, eyes still focused on the hustle and bustle of the city below. An unexpected comment, but it caught Hawks’ attention enough to turn, a brow raising. He’d wonder where it came from, but the temperature has been going up lately... Not too much, but the humidity will be their downfall sooner or later.

   “Humidity too much for ya?” Mani-Neko is keeping enough eye out (and ear) for the both of them, so Hawks takes a break from watching life roll by to focus completely on his partner, a small smile already on his face.

   “That...and I’m tired of it. Very, very tired of it.” A pause, a certain pain coming into their eyes. “...Actually, I’m getting pretty tired of everything, Hawks.” That part surprises him; he’s always known Akira’s taken life pretty hard over the years- he’s seen it personally enough times to get the idea- but the pure pain that’s seeping in this time...

   He didn’t notice the buildup. And that’s where the guilt kicks in.

   “Hey, kitten... I’m so-”

   “Don’t be,” they say, cutting him off. A sigh leaves Mani-Neko, standing up, though not meeting his eyes. It’s fine for now- they function better not looking at people sometimes- but Hawks already knows it’ll make him nervous soon enough. He wants to see their eyes... See the pain and try to help. “I...I didn’t tell you. You would’ve had no way of knowing.”

   But he should know. He can’t help but feel he needs to be able to read those eyes better than anyone else.

   “...Is it anything I can help with?” They laugh in that breathless, sad way that makes his heart hurt. The sound of the defeated and exhausted. When Mani-Neko’s been cornered by their own thoughts...a villain so tough, not even speedy Hawks can defeat it.

   It’s so frustrating, but... There’s things he can do to soften the blow. He knows this. It’s all the more frustrating that they have to wait to get there, though. Waiting’s never been an option for Hawks, as long as he could help it.

   “Take over the rest of the shift?” Mani-Neko finally asks, voice soft and uncertain. “I...kinda want to rest at home. Focusing is-”

   “Say no more,” he assures, stepping closer and pulling Mani-Neko into a one-armed hug, kissing their forehead. (He’s always liked that about their hair; perfect for forehead kisses.) “Go home, baby. I’ll be there soon.” It’ll be easier to round up on, too. Solo-work means flying as much as he pleases for patrol. Much as he loves his baby, being grounded for too long makes him itch for movement.

   They nod, sighing out some of the stress...and press a kiss into his neck before they go. After that, Hawks is alone, and free to patrol as he pleases.

   Hawks is still flying on patrol when a certain glow of lights catches his eyes, pausing in his sweep to stare. A jewelry store...huh? Things like that have never really caught his eye before- and what jewelry he has typically came from what few modeling gigs he picked up in the early days to bolster his name, from the rings to the custom watch.

   Now, however... He watches a couple exist the store, talking happily about something. Though with the bright smiles on their faces and exciting chattering, it’s not the biggest secret on what they probably went there for, though...

   It gives Hawks pause, watching from above...and sharp eyes noticing movements in a nearby alley. Seems that couple wasn’t the only group who wanted to go shopping... It’s just such a shame these guys don’t seem intent on paying, if the dark clothing and masks are anything to go by.

   Dealing with them is almost too easy: first go the feathers to pin them against the brick, then Hawks swooping down himself, subduing anyone he missed or who was strong enough to get away... The bigger guy- the muscle or the leader...?- gives him a bit of trouble, but a smaller size and far more speed hands the win in his favor.

   After which, Hawks steps into the establishment, to the confused gazes of the workers and customers.

   “No problems, just helped you guys avoid trouble,” he assured, waving a hand casually with an even more casual smile. His eyes sweep over the store until he spots the rings, walking further in with no hesitation. “Cops’ll be on their way soon to pick them up...but in the meantime, could I get a recommendation on a ring?”

   The silence was quickly filled with shocked gasps.

   Akira was still up by the time Keigo got home, landing on their balcony with long-practiced ease and a newfound weight in his pocket. Unsurprisingly, his partner had already taken residence on the couch, watching videos off of the internet while mindlessly eating chips. Though judging by the paper plates he sees on the table, there had been other food involved at some point early on. Nice to know they’d extended their interests to other foods and not just chips.

   “Hope you’ve been eating healthy,” is how he decidedly calls attention to himself, opening the sliding glass door and stepping inside. As a point and testament to how much of a badass, gives-no-fucks his datemate is, they simply tossed another chip in their mouth before responding.

   “I eat healthy enough. Better, actually, since you’ve moved in.” A moment of pause as they swallow the remains of chip, giving up on the bag for now to focus on and talk to him. “Patrol go well?”

   “Quiet and happy for it,” he admits, a small smile on his face as he takes off his boots, taking them in hand and walking over to set them by the doorway. “Stopped a small group from jewelry theft.”

   “Oooohh, a classic. I’m surprised criminals still do that,” Akira remarked, an ear flicking. “Anything else?”

   “We’re past our bedtime, maybe?” Keigo grinned at that one, leaning over to swipe the bag of chips from their arms, ignoring the gasp that sounded and the pleading whines for him to give it back. “Clean up the table, baby. And brush your teeth, okay~?”

   “...You’re terrible.”

   “You only say that because I upkeep the rules,” he shot back with a soft laugh, picking up the abandoned clip off of the kitchen counter, rolling the bag up to clamp closed. Quietly pleased when he heard soft rustling; the sound of Akira listening to him and cleaning up as he asked.

   Getting ready for bed went on without incident. Snarky comments and hilarious retorts going on as usual, Keigo having to hang up his jacket for the night. Hesitating...but unsure. Was it even a good moment? Did they even want to...?

   He hung his coat quietly, then went back into the bedroom to get changed into his pajamas.

   “Called out of work for a spontaneous date...? I never thought you the type,” Akira hummed, arm in his. People gasped and crooned, took pictures as they would...but to their credit, Akira handled them so much better these days. Much as Keigo was loathe to admit it, most people ended up tying his image to them. The only reason their heritage was put aside, as much as early-days rumors went flying at how Hawks was going to experience “abuse” at the hands of his new, public lover. How he would surely be screwed over by that--

   He needed to stop thinking about that. It always pissed him off so much remembering how nosy and assuming the press had gotten when the news leaked. Here, Keigo had been trained by the best how to wear masks and appear personable and friendly to the public... Be anyone they needed him to be.

   But at that one moment in time, Keigo had considered some pretty unherolike stuff if it meant clearing Akira’s name.......but considering it would’ve put BOTH of their images in the trash to do so, he spent more time around them, calmed down, and then took it to the press himself. Together. Just so they could handle the media onslaught.

   Damn, it’d been embarrassing to have been shown up so easily by Akira...but he was damn proud of them, too.

   Ah, anyways. Akira benefits, they’re better off, and people love them. That’s fine, isn’t it? It’ll have to be.

   “It’s a day well deserved,” he hums, sending a few feathers out to help some lady who’s dropped her groceries. Much as he’d love to help everyone, as per usual...he can’t waste too many today. Gotta keep his wings together for a flight later.

   “It is...but you’re such a work addict, you know,” Akira points out, a brow raising. “What changed?”

   “Oh, just some thoughts I’ve been having...” As of a few weeks ago, on and off, but who’s keeping track? Surely not him, who’s pocket is once again burning as hot as Endeavor’s flames.

   “I won’t let you keep spoiling me like this, you know.”

   “Oh, you will. Especially today.” Akira’s steps stutter a bit, looking up at him in bewilderment. Even-footed as she is, that threw them off harder than expected. Especially today...? What does that even mean?!?

   “Wh-?”

   “Oh, here we are~! Just where I wanted us to be.” And yet, before they can ask, he’s stopped them in front of a fashion store...? Their eyes widen and stomach drops in sudden, deep embarrassment; they’ve brought this up to him before in passing, mentioning how they’ve always wanted to dress cuter- more feminine- and though Keigo’s been covering bases on the masculine side... They never thought...

   He drags them in, despite their flustered protesting, and for a brief, tiny moment......they’re kinda glad Keigo never listens.

   “I can’t believe you made me dress cute just so we could go hiking,” Akira huffs, tail flicking as they scale the mountain ever-higher. It’s more like...a steep hill- just small enough to barely count as an actual mountain- but at the rate their going... A lot of view is about to open up before them, regardless. “For someone with a Quirk that allows him to fly- No, I’ll just say it: this is so out of character for you, Kei.”

   “I have my reasons for it!” He laughs, hand firmly in their’s. Not even minding the sweat that gathers there from the cooling temperature compared to their warm bodies or the exertion on either side. “You’ll see. Just give it some time.”

   It’s easy to miss their grumbles, Keigo- at the moment- at tad more focused on working out his stress than his datemate’s obliviousness. Granted, it’s likely for the best; he risked enough pulling a last-minute “how are you on marriage” bit that he can’t believe gave away absolutely nothing of his plans.

   “Marriage? A weird time to ask...” They’d muttered over lunch, confused, but rolling with it. “I used to really want to get married as a kid, actually. However... I guess faking my identity curbed my fierce desire to get married by a lot; couldn’t exactly get married, if I wanted to keep hiding who I really was. But it’s never gone away in full. It’s just a matter of figuring out how I want my life to go and how hero work fits into that...”

   Well. Hero work can be figured out another day. For the moment, Keigo feels like doing something that’s only been becoming more and more obvious the more time passes...

   As expected, the view is gorgeous. The nature in the area is without compare...and the flowers in the distance only add to it. Farther out, even, the rice fields in eye-pleasing patterns. The wind cools them off of any worked up sweat, but Keigo needs to pull in his wings more to avoid being buffeted too harshly. Last thing he needs is his wings dragging him away in such an important moment.

   “Well... It’s definitely worth it,” they murmur, green eyes taking on a new light as she peers at every last flower and tree their eyes can pick up. It’s adorable, how greedy their eyes are for the sight...but that’s not why Keigo brought them up so high.

   His hand slips into his pocket, heart rate officially picking up a stressful, worrying amount. But he forces himself to ignore it, pulling out that box, taking a deep breath...and turning to face Akira. Stepping back so he could go down on one knee... Watching their eyes widen in shock, mouth falling open at the pose alone.

   The way their breath (and heart) picked up when he lifted up that little, dark green box.

   “I don’t know how this went unexpected,” he said, giving a breathless laugh. “But I asked how you felt on marriage earlier for a reason... Cause I never thought much about it until you. You made me start thinking about how much I want a little band on our fingers. How much I want a private ceremony for us...or maybe a public one, if you’re ready for another paparazzi showdown.” He grinned a little more as they clasped their hands over their mouth. Good reaction? Bad reaction? Fuck, he can’t even tell and it’s stressing him out.

   ...Might have to wonder if smiling is a stress reaction of some kind. Hmm.

   “What can I say? Wanna spend my life with you the old fashioned, official-by-the-law sort of way... What do ya say?” Well, he can only hope for an answer as he opens the box to reveal the ring inside. A simple band for now (he’s going to surprise them with the fancy shit at the wedding), but engraved on it all manner of the sweet nicknames he’s called them in their time with him...and with one of his smaller feathers tucked under the band. (A bit of a reference to one of their favorite games, if a red feather instead of blue.) Though fighting back tears at the sight of the ring now before them...

   Akira manages to nod, muttering a chocked up “yes” through what’s likely about to be a sob. It’s an immediate relief on all the stress that’s built up, wings spreading open in joy despite the wind blowing around them, accepting the pull against his body as he scoops them in for a tight, delighted hug. One of the rare times he’s been filled with laughter, burying his head into their shoulder.

   A snap sounds as the box closes, clutching it tight as his wings unfurl a little wider....and flap them into the sky, grinning so wide it hurts at that familiar little squeak of surprise from his now-fiance. Only spurred on with how hard they hold him, the soft tears of happiness, and feeling their heart beat just as strongly as his.

   They’ll be okay... He’ll be okay, knowing he’s got a home to come back to no matter what. To a partner who’s always had his back and can hold their own. He’ll be able to help them even more, spoil them whenever he wants...be there for them whenever they need him. Keigo... He’ll give them one of his feathers. To keep. Fuck, anything they want.

   “I love you, Akira,” he murmured, face pressing closer into their neck. Relishing in the simple pleasure of calling them by their first name...especially when he knows their last name will be his soon, too.

   “I love you, too, Keigo... So, so much.”

[hermionefae]

Hidden- Dhawan!MasterxOC Part 2

This is part 2, part one is here. 

Earth, 21st century, United Kingdom, Brighton, 11.30pm. Alice was drunk, like most Saturday nights when she and her friends went down to their favourite club in Brighton. The club night was called Sane and was always held in the basement room of a gay bar that if you saw it in the daylight you would walk right past it, slightly concerned that you would get an STD from just looking at it but at night, especially Saturdays it was Alice’s playground.

She had a tough week at work and needed to let loose, which is what she was doing. They had drunk their cheap canned cocktails on the train down and were already half wasted by the time they had got to Sane, being regulars had their advantages, they were let through regardless of their drunken state. There was always a theme to the Sane club nights and this evening the theme was Moulin Rouge Realness so Alice had bought herself an expensive red and black corset with matching skirt, black fishnets and high heeled boots and had donned a realistic looking red long wig.

Her friend Gemma had decided to fish out her leather looking trousers and put on a Victorian looking flouncy shirt and clumpy boots. She had tied her blonde curly hair into a high pony tail and perched a top hat high on her head. As ever, Gemma’s twin brother George had gone extra flamboyant. Being the only gay man in the group George always played up to the stereotype. Tonight, he also had a pair of tight leather trousers on but instead of a shirt, he was wearing a black leather harness that Gemma was holding in her hand. “It’s a bit weird for me to be your Dom as I’m your twin sister George” commented Gemma when he suggested it.

“Sis please, you’re ruining my aesthetic” was George’s reply.

Anyway, back to the evening. Alice had consumed as many shots as she could without throwing up, had danced as much as she could without injuring herself, although the night was still young and she could always be counted on to get up on the pole next to the DJ booth as whenever Alice drank, she often though that she could pole dance. Just as she was about to order another shot of tequila, Alice felt a wave of nausea come over her.

She tapped on the shoulder of George who was shamelessly flirting with the guy standing next to him and pointed upwards. They had developed different signs a long time ago because it was often too loud to talk. Pointing upwards meant they wanted to go outside to get some air, brushing their arm meant they were going to the toilet and a rather crude gesture meant one of them was getting off with someone, it was usually George but sometimes it was Alice if a fit straight guy had stumbled into the club. It was never Gemma as she had a long-term boyfriend.

George nodded but then went back to talking to the guy he was chatting up, Alice looked around, but in her drunken state she couldn’t see Gemma so she decided to go up on her own. She wobbled a bit on the steep stairs but made it outside without making a fool of herself. She turned right, towards the Brighton seafront and then sat down in an empty doorway of a disused coffee shop. Her head was still spinning so she kept it down and took some deep breaths. Then she heard her name being called in the distance, she looked up and peered up and down the street but couldn’t see anyone she recognised. Alice was a pretty common name probably someone else she concluded.

She put her head down again but was interrupted once more by a group of male voices “Hey you, nice outfit” Slurred a man, a few years younger than Alice.

“Thanks” muttered Alice, trying to avoid eye contact with the drunk men.

“Voulez vous coucher avec moi” said another man cosying up to Alice, he was not French and was also drunk but Alice got the gist of what he was saying.

“Ahhhh, I don’t think so pal” denied Alice getting up and stumbling away.

“Hey we were just having some fun, no need to be so rude” said the first man, getting angry.

“Oh, just piss off and leave me alone” said Alice.

“Alice there you are!” Came Gemma’s voice behind the men. The group turned round and saw Gemma and George who’s lead was firmly in Gemma’s grasp, Gemma had also acquired a whip from somewhere which made her look more threatening and George had his arms crossed over his chest, trying to look intimidating but was actually just hiding the fact that his nipples were erect because he was cold.

“Err, come on man, let’s leave these costumed freaks to it” said the third man who had looked uncomfortable from the start. The three friends watched as the unwelcome men made their way back down to the sea front towards the more conventional clubs.

“Hey, are you ok? We were really worried” said Gemma, rushing forward to Alice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I told George where I was but I couldn’t find you”

Gemma shot a dirty look at George who was clearly too drunk to remember that conversation. Alice felt the sickness and light-headedness arrive once again and swayed on the spot. “Alice, you look awful” stated a worried Gemma.

“I feel it” muttered Alice. Just then she heard her name being called again, the voice seemed to be coming from in front of her. Just as she felt the sick rise up her throat, she looked over at the opposite building and saw a man, slightly taller than herself with a dark complexion and black ruffled hair, wearing a purple jacket and dark tartan trousers. He had one hand in his waistcoat pocket, one leg crossed over the other and was leaning casually on the building’s pillar. He was grinning inanely at her, like a child who had just discovered a toy at Christmas. She couldn’t hold it in any longer, Alice spewed all the drinks she had consumed over the evening, plus the dinner she had insisted on having before going out, all over the floor.

“Shit!” Exclaimed George as he stepped back. Gemma grabbed hold of Alice and held her wig back from her face as she continued to throw up.

“Hey Gemma, you need to get Alice home. I’ll get the car ready” came the voice of Tyler, their friend and one of the bouncers of the club.

Gemma turned around “you sure? She might throw up again”

“No, I won’t” came Alice’s weak voice

“I’d rather she throws up in my car than in a taxi. I won’t charge you for it” said Todd as he disappeared to get his car.

They got back to Alice and Gemma’s flat without any further throwing up and Gemma took control of getting Alice undressed whilst George helped himself to toast.

Finally, Alice flopped into her king-sized bed and Gemma tucked her in. “Sorry for ruining your night” said Alice, who was still wearing her red wig as she wouldn’t let Gemma remove it.

“You didn’t ruin it; we were ready to go anyways. Who stays to the end hmmm?”

“We usually do”

“Well we’re saddos. Just get some sleep, I’ll be in my room and George is on the sofa, if you need anything okay?”

Alice nodded and rolled over, passing out instantly. Gemma, who had sobered up by this point waited and watched, making sure Alice hadn’t stopped breathing. When she was satisfied Gemma got up off Alice’s bed and took herself to bed, George had already passed out on the sofa, still in his harness. Gemma rolled her eyes at her twin and shut her bedroom door forcefully.

The first few moments of Alice being asleep, the room felt like it was spinning behind her eyes. This was a normal sensation for drunk Alice but then there was a bright light and she found herself in a long corridor with dark wood panelling on the walls and many, many doors. She tried the first door but it was locked. The same for the door opposite, the third door she tried was also locked but she could hear suspicious noises coming from behind so she recoiled and moved on. The door at the end of the hallway seemed to glow so she decided to head for that.

On the way she passed a mirror and stopped to look at her reflection, she didn’t really recognise herself, she seemed to still be wearing her wig from the club but as she tugged on it, it wouldn’t come off, it felt real. She was also bizarrely wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume complete with the white tights and black hair ribbon. She shook her head and proceeded to the last door.

This time it sprung open easily and she stepped through. She found herself in a bright garden with massive roses that seemed to sway in the breeze with their human faces turned upwards. There was a table in the centre, set for an afternoon tea with loads of cake and scones and a big tea pot.

“Hello Alice” said a familiar voice. The man she had seen observing her whilst she was throwing up outside Sane was standing in the exact same position by one of the ginormous red roses, a croquet mallet in his free hand. “Fancy a game? Or a cup of tea?”

“Who are you?” asked Alice who was equal parts confused and slightly turned on. She hadn’t noticed how attractive the mystery man was before.

“An old friend” he answered simply. He moved towards the table and took the seat at the head and gestured for her to join him.

She felt the overwhelming desire to obey him and took the seat to his left. He watched as she poured him some tea and then her own. Alice sipped it carefully “Earl grey, my favourite. How did you know?”

“I know a lot about you love, a lot! Also, Earl Grey happens to be my favourite too”

“Well if you know so much about me, I feel a bit stupid not knowing anything about you. What’s your name?”

“Ohh, I’ve gone by so many names in the past. You can call me Master”

Alice snorted “that’s a bit presumptuous” but then instantly regretted her words as the Master’s expression darkened. He looked like he was going to explode at her but then he seemed to get his temper under control. “Have a slice of cake Alice”

“Oh, I shouldn’t, I’m watching my weight”

Slam! The Master pounded his fist onto the table top, making the china rattle and the cutlery fall to the floor. Alice was proper shaking now, ‘ok time to wake up now!’ she was thinking furiously.

“You’re not dreaming Alice” said the Master darkly. He got up out of his seat and crept towards her, he sat down on the table so he was so very close to her. “This is very real, well in a manner of speaking. I had hoped that we were going to have a nice catch up before I got to this but I suppose if you want to skip the formalities, that’s fine”

The Master took a steadying breath “I need to you help me Alice”

“Help you? How?”

“You need to let me into your world”

“And why would I do that?” Asked Alice, getting a bit braver.

“Because I could tell you the truth, about your life, about your parents. Everything”

“I know about my life”

“Nope, you only think you do. I can show you the world Alice. Shining, shimmering, splendid” The master had got back up at this point and hand gone round to the back of her. He had placed his hands on her shoulders and worked on the tension in them. This was one of Alice’s weaknesses, she loved it when a guy touched her like his, or played with her hair, or kissed her neck which was what the Master was doing now.

“Oh God.” she vocalised.

“That’s right Alice, and there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Despite herself, Alice got up off the chair and sat on the table, pushing the chair away from them. She grabbed hold of the Master’s lapels and pulled him closer. “Tell me what I need to do” she said breathily.

In the TARDIS, the fam was watching at the Doctor was concentrating very hard. A moment ago, she had gasped and said “he’s found her.”

Graham, Yaz and Ryan had both established that the Doctor had meant that the Master had found the Princess and had rushed to the Doctor’s side.

“What are you gonna do?” Asked Ryan

“I need to establish contact, he’s brought her into his psychic garden, I need you and Yaz to keep the TARDIS flying, we’re gonna break through my barriers soon and land near her home. Graham keep an eye on me, if it looks like something bad is happening, shake me. Got it?”

“Got it” the three answered in unison. The Doctor sat down on the steps and put her fingers to her temples. Suddenly she found herself in the corridor that Alice had travelled down a few moments earlier. Like Alice, the Doctor tried all the doors but to no avail. One did open further down but out sprung a Slitheen which she had to quickly shut the door on. It was then she noted the door at the end. “This is got to be it hasn’t it Doctor?” She said out loud to herself and ran straight for the heavy looking door. It opened but jammed so she couldn’t squeeze through.

Through the door sliver, she could see the garden and the table as before. She could hear voices too which she knew was the Master and a lighter more feminine voice she presumed was the Princess.

“Tell me what I need to do” said the Princess. The Doctor remembered that tone of voice from long ago and she fought harder to get through.

“Kiss me” said the Master softly.

Alice had never felt so turned on in her life, it was funny how quickly she had gone from scared to horny but it happened and she drew him closer placing her lips on his. It started off gentle, almost as if the Master was astounded that his request had worked but then he got into the groove of the action and their kiss deepened.

The Doctor heard cups and saucers being pushed off the table and managed to get her head and half her torso through the gap. She saw the Master pushing the Princess down onto the table, the Princess had her white legs wrapped around the Master’s waist, giving him everything he wanted.

“Get off her!” The Doctor yelled. The couple broke their kiss and looked over at her. The Princess had no idea who the Doctor was and the Doctor felt the pure hatred the Master was giving off hid her like a wave.

“She’s mine!” The Master growled. He turned back to Alice who was panting, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He knew that she could feel his erection through his trousers but they would have to delay this slightly. “I’ll be with you shortly Princess.”

The Master put his hands on Alice’s temples and the girl began to glow, the Master kissed her again, once more to seal his passage into her world and the Alice was gone.

“Bye Doctor!” called the Master as he began to glow too.

“NO!” Yelled the Doctor as she watched her former best friend fade away, following the Princess. Suddenly she felt Graham shake her and she returned to the TARDIS.

[elisha-mikealson]

1. After 1,000 Years

My name is Elisha, Elisha Mikaelson, I've learned that I'm named after my father, Elijah, but I've never met him. I turned about 1000 years ago and I haven't left where I am at today, Mystic Falls, Virginia I haven't left here since my first transition. I've transitioned thousands of times and somehow I've been able to control it. To change whenever I want, wherever I want. It's quite freeing actually. Anyways, I've stayed around Mystic Falls as it came to be what it is nowadays. I lost contact with anyone in the Mikaelson bloodline, but Esther does come to me in dreams telling me that everything will be okay. Until one day she came to me and said that my father would be arriving outside of town and that I should meet with him. It was easy enough since I hang around the Petrova doppelganger, Elena, so after the founders masquerade ball when she gets taken I get taken as well. It was part of my plan and it worked. When I woke up from being knocked out I see that I'm sitting slumped over on the couch as Elena is curled up on the other side.

"You realize that they aren't going to hurt you right?" I ask looking at her.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because they want to hand you over to a guy by the name of Elijah Mikaelson to try to get off his naughty list, but I have a feeling that that's not going to happen- them getting on his good side I mean."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I have ears Elena, and I may or may not be a supernatural creature of wonder," I laugh a little at my clever response when I hear the front door open as a guy that I recognize the smell of walks in the room quietly. I only partially listen to the conversation between the female and Elijah before they both walk into the room.

"You're here great," I say getting up and vamp speeding over to the women, "I'm leaving but I figured I would say goodbye and your friend over there won't stop fidgeting which is making the slightest noise but is annoying the crap out of me."

"I'm sorry who are you?" Elijah asks.

"Well, I'm insulted that you don't recognize me," I say fake hurt and he gives me a confused look, "1001," I say before walking past him, but he grabs my arm, "I'm not leaving the house Elijah, just simply leaving the room, I know you have more questions for me, but you have more pressing matters to attend to," with that I walk out of the room into one of the side rooms.

After about five minutes Elijah walks in, "Who are you, and I want an answer this time."

"Elisha Mikaelson, born 986 to a Mariah Addams and her side guy Elijah Mikaelson. When Nicholas found out I wasn't his he started to beat me, that's when my mother found Esther and made a deal with her to teach me magic since I am a witch, but my mother was a wolf so that made me a hybrid. Then when your brother, Henrik, died when him and Niklaus decided to watch the wolves and they got attacked, I was the one that drew the wolf away from them to make their escape."

"You were the little girl that was at the edge of the woods," he says.

"Yeah, it was the pack that I was in that did it, more specifically Nicholas, he was the guy I called father before I knew that he wasn't, he knew what he was doing when he attacked your family. He thought it was one of them that was my father, but it was neither, like I said before."

"You said that I am your father which is impossible."

"I happened before we were turned," I say as I take down one of the boards on the windows, "can you have your moles give me back my daylight right?" I ask turning to him, "I know I don't need it but it's nice to have, it was my mother's, and if I have to get it back heads will roll," after I say this a see a small smile on his face as he nods.

"Gladly, but how do I know you are telling the truth?"

I sigh at this and motion for him the come closer as I pull out a pocket knife and pull over a table, "it's a simple spell, our blood mixes fully then you are my father, if it doesn't well Esther will have a pretty pissed off tribrid and frankly I'm not fun when I'm pissed," with that I slice my hand and hand him the blade for him to do the same. Once there was enough blood pulled on the table I start the spell. Within 2 minutes our blood was fully mixed together and I look at him, "there you have it, and if you don't trust me, I know other witches that can do the same spell and come out with the same result."

"I don't think that will be necessary," he says standing up, "we must be leaving soon, let's go collect the Petrova doppelganger," he says as we starts to walk away and I follow. Once we get back into the room I see the two from before just standing there as Elena is sitting on the couch. The guy starts talking and I ignore him as Elijah starts to circle him. I walk over and sit next to Elena and I can sense her uneasiness.

"You'll be fine, just calm down," I tell her as Elijah slaps the guy so hard that it decapitates him, now that's how you make heads roll.

There was the sound of glass breaking and Elijah looks at the girl, "who else is in the house?"

"I don't know," there was another crashing sound and I was able to smell who it was. Salvatore's, of course.

Elijah grabs Elena and we move to the entryway, "come out now," he announces as one of the Salvatores speed past us.

"Up here," Damon says and Elijah speeds up the steeps.

"No down here," he comes down the steps and I try to focus on where the two are at.

"If i have to come and get you I assure you someone's head is going to roll and it won't be mine," Elijah says.

"You think you can beat us, but you can't." I say as Elena walks out from one of the hiding places and Elijah walks up the steps.

"You're right, I'll come just don't hurt my friends," that's when I notice the grenade thing that she had right before she threw it. I was quick and took most of the vervain.

"I tried to play it nice and let you guys walk out of here but I don't know if I can let that now," Elijah says as he makes a stake out of the coat rack. I stayed back as Damon and Stefan fight Elijah before Damon stakes him.

"Come on let's go," Damon says to me as I continue to just stare at Elijah's face.

"Go, I'll take care of the body, I'll meet you guys back in town okay?" they nod and leave. I wait to make sure that the car is out of hearing range before pulling the stake out knowing that would only be minutes till he wakes up. I sit on the steps as i wait until I hear his heartbeat return to normal and look up, "would you look at that sleeping beauty woke up," I laugh slightly at this, "oh and here," I say tossing him a blood bag, "it was empty but I found a nice rabbit outside, figured would help you gain some of your strength back till you can get some actual blood."

"It's better than nothing at this point," he sighs drinking it.

"Do you want to go back to my place, it's right outside of town and you'll be able to watch over everything," i say standing up and walking down the steps, "just say the word and i'll take you there, unless of course you already have a place," i say and he smiles slightly.

"I would love to see where you have been staying," he offers me his hand which i just basically high five it before walking out.

"I'm not about that in times like this, you should learn some things about me," i laugh at this as i walk over to his car, "you coming?" i ask as i shake the keys in my hand which i so expertly slipped off him.

"How did you-"

"Slip them off you?" he nods, "i'm sneaky, i am a tribrid after all, i could use magic to lift them up and my speed to take them. Oh and you may be older than me body wise, but power wise no one stands a chance."

"Now you kinda sound like Katrina," Elijah laughs a little at this.

"Do not compare me to her, god I want to kill her, i almost killed Elena thinking it was Katherine, whoops," i say starting the car.

"You almost killed the doppelganger?"

"That was before i knew she was a doppelganger obviously, i wouldn't purposefully take out the person that could possibly help some people."

"Is my brother one of them?" he asks curiously.

"Depends if he wants to be a 100% asshole to me then hell no," he laughs at this again as i start to drive, "but know i found a couple wolves on the outskirts of town then i've been trying to help, they are trying to go after the moonstone," there was silence for a minute, "they don't know what has to be done and if the do they don't care. I've grown close to Elena and her friends and i don't care if i have to be stuck with the wolf cures, i beat it pretty much."

"How though?"

"I forced myself to change until i could do it without any pain and i could change at will," i sigh slightly, "it was hell, but it feels good to be free, these wolves are asking for my help, and i plan on give it to them. They have been good to me so i'm willing to help unless they start causing trouble for me."

"I can kinda see how we are related now," Elijah laughs a little at this.

We were driving in complete silence which got boring after about two minutes, "okay how do you drive in silence?" i ask as i turn on the radio. The music was soft and mellow but it took away the silence that was defining. It was close to fifteen minutes later when i was pulling into the driveway then into the garage, "home sweet home," i say getting out of the car tossing Elijah the keys, "follow me," i walk into the house sensing almost immediately one of the wolves, "who decided to come into my home uninvited?" i ask rather loudly as i put my jacket on the back of a chair walking over to the fridge, "stop hiding, he's not going to hurt you," i toss Elijah a blood bag as he looks of me confused and i motion to my ear, "come on, any day now," i call once more as one of the wolves i've been working with comes out.

"Elisha, i thought you were dead," Oliver says.

"I actually have to laugh at that," i tell him, "i told you, it would take a lot to kill me," i say walking over to Oliver, "now why are you here?"

"It's Rosa, she's going off the deep end again," he sighs.

"Why does this concern me exactly?"

"She triggered her curse this time, all the others were near misses, but this time-"

I cut him off, "why weren't you watching her? You had one job," i vamp speed over to him pinning him against the wall.

"I had to go see my sister, she was sick," he tries to reason to me, "i would have taken her with me, but i didn't want her to also get sick."

"Who did you leave her with?"

"Jessica, she was supposed to keep her in the house for two hours, but she let Rosa out of her sight for five minutes."

"It only takes one to kill someone Oliver, you of all people should know that," i let him go before walking over to the fridge to grab the bag of blood i opened last night as i grab a glass and poured it in i also grab the bottle of Wolf's Bane that i have and pour it into a glass, "here, you need to calm down, i will help her like i helped the rest of you," i hand him the glass and he downed it choking almost immediately, "but that still does not change the fact that you went against your word to me, i don't take that lightly," he looks up at me with terrified eyes, "bring her to me, and i'll think about giving you my forgiveness, but don't count on it," he nods before running out of the house as i grab the glass and walk over to mine that is sitting on the counter.

"Who was that?"

"A puppy that i've been working with, he is one of the most loyal out of all of them. A slip up from him means a sip up from the rest of them. Rosa is like the younger sister i never had and i ask them to watch her for one day and this is what happened. She is just a little girl, she is too young to have to deal with the supernatural world," i through the glass that once had the wolf's bane at the wall, i can tell this caught Elijah off guard as i look at him. That's when i realize my eyes changed and i looked away, "sorry, i just can't believe it happened to her. Jessica's gonna pay though, and she better be ready," i take a drink of my blood and caught a little bit, "god i forgot to mix this up."

"What's in that?" Elijah asks picking up the glass to smell it.

"Vervain and Wolfsbane mixed with blood, i built up a tolerance so i'm not phased by it if someone thinks they can torture me since they can't kill me."

"That's not a bad idea," he nods to this, "but why am i not affected?"

"Because i mix it as i go, that was an unopened bag so it wasn't mixed in any way."

"Okay what about earlier today with the Vervain grenade?"

"I didn't know that they had that, but as soon as i saw it i knew i would be less affected by it then you so i made my move. It hit me and by the time your skin was just starting to heal i was already healed," i say as i walk to the fridge and grab the bottle of vervain, "here let me show you," i sit the bottle down and open it up and pour a little bit in the glass. I stick a finger in and pull it out when it started to burn, "if you put your hand in there you won't be able to keep it in there for to long."

"You can't be compelled anyways so why do you do this other than the entire torturing thing, which makes no sense since you are strong."

"To be honestly, i don't know if you could compel me, i was changed after you and your siblings, but i'm a tribrid which makes me stronger. I don't want to take that risk though, i prefer that when i'm around people to be me and to have level head."

"That's understandable," he nods as the door opens and i use my speed to pin the person to the wall.

"Elisha, it's me," Oliver says.

"Slip up number 2 Oliver, three strikes and you're out," i push away from him and turn to see Jessica walking with Rosa.

"Elisha!" Rosa running over to give me a hug.

"Hey little one, how are you?"

"I'm good, i feel like i'm a lot stronger than i used to be, but that's it," i smile at her.

"Well come on i got something i want to give you," i say as i take her hand walking into the kitchen were Elijah was still standing.

"Who's that? He smells weird," Rosa says wrinkling her nose up in disgust.

"Rosa this is Elijah, he's a friend, you can trust him," i tell her as i let her go and grab a glass and put a little bit of wolfsbane in it then diluted it with water, "here drink this," she nods and takes a sip coughing a bit before drinking the rest, "what happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rosa you know what i mean," i say picking her up and sitting her on a chair, she looks over at Jessica and Oliver then back at me, "you two can leave, i'll find you later," they nod and leave the house, "you're safe now okay?" she nods as she starts to cry.

"I didn't mean to, he was coming after Max and me, he hurt Max and the only thing i could do was stop him," i pull her into my chest as she continues to cry.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

"I don't want to change," she cries more.

"You have to now, but i'll help you," i pull her away from me slightly and wipe her tears away, "i'll get you through this, i promise you," she nods and i hug her again, "Elijah can you grab her a glass of water?" i whisper knowing that he heard when he moved and got the glass. I motion for him to follow me as i pick her up and carry her to one of the extra rooms and lay her down taking the glass from Elijah's hand, "drink this and get some rest, we will fight this tomorrow okay?" she nods taking the glass before drinking some of the water. She sits the glass down and crawls under the blankets. "Somnus," i say placing my hand on her head as she falls asleep easily. I motion for Elijah to leave as i make sure everything is put away in the room that would need to be put away.

"What was that?" he asks.

I motion for him to sit on the couch as i sit across from him, "Somnus, is a simple spell i learned that will put someone to sleep, i could do it to you right know if i so please," he nods to this, "so i'm guessing you want to know a little bit about myself since i'm the mystery Mikaelson child that should not in all means should have been born, but i was."

"Yes i would certainly like to know, especially since i never knew you existed. If i did trust me i would have kept you with me, or at least hid you so no one would find you."

"When you say no one do you mean Mikael?" he nods to this, "don't worry, he wants me dead for being anything similar to Niklaus," he gives me a confused look and i sigh, "let me start from the beginning," he nods to this so i begin, "My story is really confusing when you think about it because the guy i was calling father was never actually my father and the women that lived by me and taught me magic was my grandmother. I didn't know that at the time. Nicholas, the man i called father for the first 15 years of my life, hated me when he found out that i wasn't his. He only found out because i was a hybrid. My mom and 'dad' were both in a pack of wolves with no magical background, but my actual father had to be a witch, leaving only your family, the question was which one was it. My mother tried to protect me from Nicholas's raft but it never worked so when I started to show signs of magic she sent me to the only other person that knew who my true father was, Esther. She taught me how to control my power and what herbs i could use to help heal people. It was wonderful until Esther's husband, Mikael, showed up one day in a bad mood and it scared me. Granted Esther had hid me so he wouldn't see me, but i didn't want to return to their home after that so Esther and i started to meet in the woods, just outside of the village and my pack's territory. I would never meet her on a full moon knowing that my pack would be out waiting for someone to come into their territory to attack.

"I was out wandering one day on a full moon, watching my pack and observing what they did when i noticed that there were two people also watching. Before i could do anything someone from the pack caught them, attacking. I jumped out of my hiding spot and distracted the wolf as i saw the one guy grab the other and run out of the woods. I was able to get under cover again and have the wolf lose the track it had on me quickly before running in the same direction as the two guys. Once i got to the edge of the woods i could see a family morning and i basically stop dead when i recognize Esther. When i look at the family i notice two people staring at me, the one i recognize as Mikael, the other i want to say was you from the way he was dressed and his mere appearance. You started to walk towards me but i saw Mikael stop you before i ran back into the woods to my home. It wasn't long after that that Esther told me that she doesn't want to lose and of her children or grandchild. I was confused at first then she explained everything to me about how my mother and her son were secretly together but broke it off when i was born. That's when she showed me the spell she was going to do to make her family imortal, i was included. I told her that i would do it, if i didn't have to be there when she did the rest of her family, she agreed. That night she turned her family and once they were all lying on the ground unconscious i came out of the shadows and she did it to me, except she hid me when i was unconscious.

"When i woke up i saw the family sitting around the fire and i wanted to go over to them, but i knew i couldn't. Then the hunger sunk in, i was hungry not for food, but blood. I new it was to dangerous for me to stay around the village so i ran to my pack. I found Nicholas sitting in the small living room in our home and it looked like he was attacked. I questioned him about it but he never answered, just got up and walked over to me, that's when i noticed the cut on his arm and i could feel the hunger grow. When he was close to me i used my small size to duck under his arm before using my strength to pin him to the wall as i sink my teeth into his arm. I pulled away after a little bit and i could feel the pointed teeth poke through my gums as the veins come out of my eyes. Nicholas looked terrified as i sunk my teeth into his neck and drained him. I regretted it once i let his body drop because i knew i killed him triggering the cures. I screamed in pain as every single done in my body broke until i was a wolf. I ran out of the house and into the woods to a location i knew all too well. That's when i see people standing there and i stay hidden, waiting, to see what their move was going to be. I smelled blood when i see the one guys face, it was one of Esther's sons i wasn't sure which one though. Once he let the body drop to the ground and turned to face Mikael he dropped to the ground screaming. He was a wolf. Something felt off when i was around him, but i couldn't place it. I could see something in Mikael's eyes when he said something about the guy not being his own. Then i saw him grabbing a stake and moving to the guy as he was still on the ground. I had to do something so i jumped out of my hiding spot and stood in between the guy and Mikael.

"I growled at him as i showed my teeth, i could see his hesitation before he came after me and i lunged at him tackling him to the ground snapping at his face. I let my teeth graze over his skin and i left a few scratch marks before getting off of him to see the guy fully transformed. I heard a howl and looked at him before running off I knew he followed me. It was maybe an hour or two when i started to grow tired and i could tell that i would be changing back and i knew it was the same for the guy so i ran back to where he was at before and he followed. He changed back first and i could see that his energy was drained, but i was able to find his clothes giving them to him. He somehow found the energy to at least put on his pants before collapsing. I grab his pant leg and dragged him back to his home somehow undetected before running back to my home where i curl up onto the door step and fell asleep. When i woke up the next morning i was in my bed with blankets over me. My brother was sitting next to me, he told me that he also somehow triggered his curse but was able to bounce back a lot easier."

Elijah almost looks shocked, "how do you know Mikael wants you dead?"

"I stayed here in Mystic Falls for most of my life, but i did make a trip to New Orleans when i heard you were there, but when i got there all that was left was Mikael, he thought I helped you all escape since he recognized me. He was going to kill me, but i was able to use my power to stop him. That's how he knows that i'm a tribrid. I first tried to just scare him off by showing my wolf side, but that just seemed to enrage him, probably because my eyes are so recognizable compared to other wolves. When he knew that i was the wolf that stopped him from killing Niklaus all those years ago he came after me so i used my magic. He told me that once he took down Niklaus that he would come after me, with all his children at his side. I tried my best to find any of you. I talked to Marcellus Gerard to see where i could find any of your possessions. I tried every tracker spell possible but i couldn't find you. Esther came to me in my sleep and told me that if you don't want to be found you can't be found, not even by magic. She assured me that you all were safe and if Mikael came close to finding you that she would let me know where you were at and if she thinks that you would need my help so i could come," i look down at the ground.

"She never contacted you," he says and i nod.

"But she did when you came into town. I purposely got myself kidnapped with Elena so i could met you because i know you never knew i excited and i didn't want to be my mother's secret anymore. I want to help my family, even if it is only you," i look at him with serious eyes, "my mother, i somehow turned her into a hybrid, she bowed down to everything i said, but she would never tell me anything about you, i hated her for it. Then again she told me that i should have never been born, called me a disgrace, the list goes on," i sigh slightly at this, "i know that none of it was true, if it was she wouldn't have been so loyal to me. That was until after i went to New Orleans and she followed me, she told Mikael everything how i am nothing more than an unwanted child just like Niklaus. That was of course after he recognized me, she also told him that i would always help you and your siblings run, just as i promised, Always and forever. She used my words against me, i told her that family to me is always and forever, but that didn't matter. When i ran back here to mystic falls she followed and i killed her."

"Where did you get the phrase always and forever from?" Elijah asks looking up at me.

"It was in a dream i had, i don't remember it in detail, but i just remember the phrase Always and Forever and that's how i see family. I didn't want to kill my mother, but i knew that Mikael had a which put a spell on her so he could track her and in teams track me, if he came there would be a bloodbath and i was not about that. Then you have my brother-"

"Which is wondering why there is a guy in the house," my brother says.

"Brother its so nice to have you home," i say standing up and walking over to him, "so what did your adventures bring this time for me to clean up?"

"Nothing at all dearest sister," he says, "that's what i got Mathew for."

"When you go away but when you're here it's my job to clean up after you, and frankly i better not here that people in the town start going missing, or anyone around here for that matter."

"Why is that?" i could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Well the dearest Salvatore brothers are back in town and animal attacks are on the rise. Meanwhile i don't need you eating people that can play a key factor in a plan of mine, if you're hungry there are plenty of blood bags in this house," i tell him and he just kind of smirks.

"Whatever you say," he laughs, "still who is the boy toy over there?"

"One he is not a boy toy he is like me to a point and if you so much as try to go against him you won't have to worry about him you'll have to deal with me."

"Still not answering my question."

"My name is Elijah," said person says standing up and walking over.

"Elijah as in your father Elijah or is this someone else?"

"Cuan, you're drunk, go up to your room and sleep it off, we'll talk about this tomorrow when you are in your right mind."

"When do you think you could start telling me what to do?" he asks stepping closer to me, but i was quick to pin him to the nearby wall.

"The moment i turned you 1000 years ago, and the fact that i am your alpha," i could tell that my eyes where my werewolf blue ones.

"Okay," he says as i let him go and he walks away.

"Sorry about that, he is quite a nuisance when he is drunk."

"I don't mind, he reminds me of my siblings."

"Please tell me it's not one in particular because if it is they sound like they need a babysitter."

He laughs slightly at this, "no not one in particular, but he does remind me a little but of Kol and of Niklaus."

"I want to know more about your siblings, all Esther ever said was their names and a little about them, but that's it."

"Well those are tails for a latter date," he says and i'm confused till i look at the time: midnight.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night?"

"No, but it shouldn't be to hard to find somewhere."

"It won't because you are staying here, i can grab you some clothes," i offer and he smiles a bit, "follow me," with that i lead him up to a spare bedroom before going into my brothers room to grab one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants, "here, these should fit you."

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem, i finally have someone that i'm related to by blood, i'm going to help you, always and forever."

"Always and forever," he says back to me with a small smile as i leave the room. Once i get to mine which was just next to Elijah's i change quickly checking my phone.

[bradfordarchive]

clicks my fingers to no humanly discernible rhythm as i strut bk onto the dash w chara number two!! (it’s me nai bk again bt this time wearing a stick on moustache). bradley’s pinterest is HERE n u kno the drill mre abt her under the cut n like this fr those Sweet Sweet plots!!

MARGARET QUALLEY / CIS-FEMALE — don’t look now, but is that bradley milligan i see? the 23 year old psychology student is in their junior year and she is a rochester alum. i hear they can be brave, resilient, destructive and ruthless, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet she will make a name for themselves living in off campus. ( nai. 23. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics: singeing a hole in your fishnets with the cherry of a menthol, spitting a pistachio behind the bar just to hear it ping off the nozzle top bottles, lemon in a fresh cut, a war torn poppy standing alone in an empty field, poking bruises, stomping over flowerbeds when there’s a path right next to it, dangling over ledges just to feel your chest jolt, a snarling rottweiler that should be muzzled, limp feet poking out behind a door, ‘I PROMISE I DON’T BITE’ scrawled on a name tag, slapping a bald head in front of you at the cinema like it’s a bongo, not owning a single jacket that isn’t stolen, driving a stolen car in the wrong lane against the traffic, blowing coke in someone’s face after asking “hey, does this smell funny to you?”, hair more feral than a wolf cub and eyes smudgier than a coal mine.  

BACKGROUND:

father runs a gang n strip club in queens called ‘no angels’ tht fronts an affluent drug trade, primarily coke. his name is tony milligan n his gang is p infamous around there fr being jst like…. completely cutthroat n awful. they were nicknamed ‘tony’s rottweilers’ by locals bc he bsically has all of these trained dogs on leash at his command n they’re still a growing organisation tday

he’s pretty much the worst human being alive n bradley hs like….. a lot of issues with herself as a result of years of toxicity n abuse

in terms of more family bkground info her mum’s name was alyssa n she vanished when bradley was 12. jst like…. into thin air. nothing. no note. zilch. gan! n when bradley asked her dad abt it his response was essentially “guess she didn’t love us enough to stay”. as bradley’s got older tho n become (without intention) more involved in the business side of things, it’s become pretty clear there was far more to the story.

they had a horrible marriage n tony ws quite violent at the best of times, which didn’t help the fact tht alyssa ws struggling a lot w severe depression n rly just… not in the mindset to b dealing w anything else on top of tht, even where motherhood ws concerned. bradley p much… would look after her a lot n they’d both b scared of her dad n it was just a whole mess.

anyway im rambling bt basically tony (bradley’s dad) gt wind of alyssa sleeping w men tht worked fr him n he just… got rid. bradley’s kind of worked out over the yrs tht her mum didn’t jst leave on her own accord n tht something must hav happened to her bt she’s too scared of her dad to ever directly accuse him

when her mum went all of her dad’s cruelty pretty mch got channelled straight onto her. it ws diluted between two before bt as u can probably imagine her upbringing was jst…. a steep downhill decline frm tht point onwards

she learnt ways 2 deal w the incurring trauma bt they weren’t healthy ones at all! bsically jst. will do or take anything fr the distraction. chases a thrill like it’s the only way to remind her she’s alive. has absolutely no regard fr her own wellbeing n sometimes gets other ppl in trouble too bc she’s so insatiably reckless

she hd….2 separate stints of psychiatric hospitalisation n she never tlks abt it. like ever. acknowledging she’s been vulnerable is her worst nightmare n bc of the way her dad raised her she always thinks any sign of struggling within herself is weakness. truly does…. not kno how to properly emotion

CUT TO!!!! huntington beach. she’s currently living in a spacious loft above a rly busy bar tht i picture like. p close to campus so a lot of students prob frequent it?? she loves it bc she can sit on the window sill smoking n argue w ppl tht walk past drunk. jst randomly callin out like. nice chest hair Loser. i feel like she hasn’t even paid fr wifi she jst uses the bar’s free one n like. goes in there expecting free drinks all the time?? is jst like erm? i live here? let me drink? this is my house? aka she’s. a lot.

her dad’s opening up a new strip club (also called no angels bc he’s trying to lowkey make it like a chain) n he’s only allowed her to make the move bc she’s overseeing it kind of???? as well as a few guys tht worked fr him back in queens. one in particular called billy hs made the move n he’s a menace so. three cheers fr anarchy!

PERSONALITY:

the kind of sour cherry only certain people have a taste for

once drank a bottle of whiskey, insisted she could still do a cartwheel and accidentally kicked an old man’s front tooth out in the process. proceeded 2 collapse into a flower bed and laugh so much abt it that she cried

barely takes anything seriously 50% of the time and is angry the other 50%

if she was a coffee she’d be black with five grains of sugar that you couldn’t taste until the last sip

high functioning alcoholic. if u ever see her w a coffee cup u jst kno tht one sniff will confirm high alcohol percentage. honestly idk hw she does it her liver must b yellin

loyal to a point of fault. if she cares abt u and u murder a man in cold blood she’ll brawl anyone that says ur guilty

honestly wld probably fight a person over anything. sometimes she’ll jst be having a bad day n she’ll burst n take it out on whoever says the wrong thing. a minefield!

has the worst luck in romance…. ever. the majority of her past bfs hav been absolute beasts n as a result she kind of has the ‘romance is dead n love is a lie’ mentality

speakin of which i feel like she’s bi bt wldnt have dated a girl or anythin. like guys r probably…. her preference just bc historically theyv treated her worse n she hs a very self destructive personality like that. sexy!

dresses like courtney love, 2014 sky ferreira and a character from this is england had a baby. mostly wears stolen clothes from strangers and jackets that swamp her. hair is p much always a wild mess n she usually hd kind of smudgy/smoky makeup bcos apparently she’s allergic to combs and generally looking presentable… relatable content

she’s v sarcastic. sometimes blunt. kind of has a habit of…. assessing a person n she’s quite perceptive bc she’s been trained to b by the way she always has to monitor her dad’s expression fr the slightest emotion change. she’s quite confident n can p much mke a conversation out of whatever. sort of independent too like she hs a bunch of friends bt she doesn’t care abt going out places alone if she’s in a certain mood n jst wants…… to get into chaos. she’s probably kind of known around campus bt itd b a 50/50 balance between bein known as intimidating n bein known as that one girl tht always gets into anarchy

likes: fishnets, stealing cars, throwing watermelons off rooftops and whiskey

dislikes: amy schumer, honesty, yellow tulips and going home

PLOTS:

someone tht got a job at the new strip club her dad opened up in town?? either as a dancer or bartender or whtever. just a forewarning it’s probably gna b a pretty..... seedy and Not That Pleasant environment bc it’s like. a crime hotspot inevitably bc it’s a gang hangout so. ur chara wld truly be in fr a rollercoaster ride to say the least

she deals coke fr her dad’s gang bt it’s more like. a hobby than a steady source of income tht she Needs bc she just likes the thrill of the fact tht encounters in tht line of work can turn sour tbh. a Thrill Seeker! mayb she deals to ur muse??

anyone….. she’s brawled in the past like. she’s literally a menace i cnt express this enough. wil jst randomly throw a drink in someone’s face fr no reason bc she’s bored. she’s probably pissed off 1000 diff ppl in 1000 diff ways. the possibilities r endless n i jst think tht’s a sexy prospect!

fwbs perhaps??? exes??? (probably ws a tumultuous relationship wtever…. ur muse is like like bradley is. a handful)

mayb someone tht she met at an aa meeting when she hd to go fr a court mandated thing one time after bein arrested fr public indecency. i feel like there’s probably a rly expensive statue somewhere thts fancily Sculpted n she like. did a flying kick n kicked the dick of it off n gt arrested fr it

ppl she……. Goes Wild Goes Crazy w. truly jst the most self destructive person alive so anyone w a similar mindset wld b a hellish bt fun combination

on the contrary a gd influence cld b nice perhaps? like someone tht genuinely cares abt her n she jst doesn’t kno hw to compute it

um. honestly the world’s our oyster. hmu n we cn brainstorm if none of tht catches ur eye!

[hizzalot]

Sethos: 02. My Butler and I by @SecretlyClawed

Driving into the city of Aberdeen usually took us a good couple of hours, us being Gerald and myself. It was a trip we took at least twice a week sometimes more if business or boredom required it. I did have a nice apartment in the city and it wasn’t completely uncommon for me to use it, but being who I was and living in the city with people everywhere wasn't that good of a combination. Besides the city was too noisy and wouldn’t allow me as much freedom to do as I please which my country living did. If you asked my alter ego he would snort and huff you in the face hard enough that you thought a tornado just winded by at the mere idea of living full time in the city because no matter how gullible and unaware many humans were when it came to the existence of other beings, most people would still notices the difference between a large bird and a 10 feet tall dragon, and no matter what you think they don’t scream like they do in movies and runaway. No today the little twats with all their technology want pictures, film clips, autographs and all other sorts of things. I'm being serious, they want it all if they could they want a goddamned interview and any of that is just a big no no. 

I do have full control of my animal, well at least as much control as one can over a partly wild beast. In most cases I can stave him off if I have too but he is a demanding son of a bitch. Unlike me, I'm the least temperamental person you can meet, but don’t tell Gerald I said that because he will most likely get a heart attack he doesn’t like bent facts. Anyway, my dragon if he is denied his time to fly, hunt and play for too long he will eventually force his way out no matter where I am or what I'm doing, he can’t be stopped in those situations. In the early days that happened quite often because I had refused to accept what I had become. Gerald was many time forced to clean up my messes for many years, until one day about 25 years after my dragon first appeared. One day he had enough and sat me down for a talk, if that's what you want to call it. 

After having to use every trick in the book to get me to listen even Gerald patience ran thin. He'd ended up taken me by the ear, and when I say by the ear I mean by the ear. Imagine being a 45 year old man in human years being dragged away by his ear, it was horrifying let me tell you, humiliating and nothing I care to experience ever again. He made me see sense so to speak even if he had to do it while I kicked and screamed like a child. Yes, it wasn’t one of my finest moments. I was young, childish and still blamed my unknown father for making me into a beast and in the end taking my mother from me, so I had cursed him off and refused to take my fate serious. When I still wouldn’t listen and had cursed Gerald too he had left me to my fate. 

Trust me when I say don’t piss off the hand who feeds you especially if it runs your household, take care of all the nitty details that you never have to bother with because if you do you are left to tend to them yourself. It took me a lot of groveling and a hell of a lot more begging to get Gerald to come back, many years later he told me he never really left he just wanted to teach me a lesson, I should have seen it coming but didn’t. I didn’t dare chance it by cursing him off again but I might have grumbled about it for a while. Today Gerald is my one and only true companion, living side by side with me and as long as he does we are linked together. He was my father’s companion for many years and he is linked with both of us by blood. He is this ordinary human, if you can ever call Gerald ordinary, as anyone else but with the benefit of being linked to me by blood he is what you would call my human servant. He can feel me as I can feel him, we have a bond and as long as I live he will live too.  

Gerald as my butler and personal adviser love to drive that was why we never invested in a helicopter to take us to the city. No he wanted to do it the old fashion way, the long way and he even drove an old Classic Alvis, the love of his life. I think he even loved that car more than me and he said he was pretty damn fond of me, but not more than that car. Gerald was the father I never had, no matter if the man who went under the name of Lord Stravos had father me. The irony being that it was not Gerald I was now going to have to save. Gerald said driving calmed him and gave him time to think how to work out the latest mischief I gotten me, us into, as for me well I enjoyed the quiet. If I got too bored I would fired up the laptop and do some work, work being searching for the next object for my personal collection. I both sold and collected antique goods and being 250 years old with more money to spend than I could find things to buy it was a good job and hobby. My money came both from the inheritance my mother had left me in property and money that had been well invested and my own personal wealth.

I had a very large and impressive collection of objects ranging from small coins, rings and bullets up to full warrior armor gear, to swords and my personal favorites, cars. I had built many garages over the decades to be able to store all 150 or so cars that I owned. I had every car that you could imagine a T-Bird original, an Oldsmobile, several different Mustangs; let's just say I have a thing for really old classic cars and Muscle cars especially. I even have a first model ford car, the so-called Ford Model T it was my pride and joy it didn’t race you down the streets but it was the first T Ford ever produced and it was bought by me. It was worth more in sentimental value than money to me. Considering the shape it was in I could probably get a good 100 grand for it but why would I ever need another 100 grand that I had in plenty, First produced T Ford not so much. The most amazing thing with these cars were that they all worked. Then they were all bought by my own hand, most of them but not all hadn’t been owned or driven by anyone but me, family bought and owned. I took pride in that. To others of course I simply let others believe I bought and restored or that they’d been in possession in my family for decades which in itself was impressive enough. Because to claim I bought a car in 1908 when I looked no older than 30 wouldn’t fly. 

Closing the lid on my laptop I put it back in my bag letting the bag rest against the seat next to me. I let out a deep sigh watching the steep mountain of my home disappear before me as we kept heading for Aberdeen. I'm sure you are wondering about this thing with my father. I do too sometimes, it is a story of its own and rather long but for you to fully understand it I better take it from the beginning. My father was the longest living dragon shifter the earth had known. He lived long before what we today call civilization and long before that even existed. Tales of dragons started because of him, and because there were actual sights of him as he flew the skies of earth there were rumors about giant monsters that could fly and had spiky tails. Gerald told me all about it once I had finally come to a stage where I would listen to what he had to say. He told me how my father had pretty much reacted the same way that I had done, but compared to me he was all in alone in dealing with it. He hadn’t met my father until much much later and by then he was all well good and pleasant with his other self, so much in fact that Gerald was the one who had to lure him back into human shape. The first few hundred years alive my father had been so besotted about being this giant powerful creature that he had mostly lived in the skin of his dragon. His dragon so strong that over time he almost completely took over Drake Stravo’s mind and soul. Gerald had found him in the nick of time becoming the man to save my father’s humanity, that was how he had become my father’s butler and human servant. Gerald was the humanity to keep the dragon lord grounded. 

Before Gerald he was a hunter, alone, living out in the wild, surviving day by day the only companion being the smoke that made him high. One night when he'd come face to face with a real life dragon it'd been the stroke of midnight he'd been lying by his campfire fire, and had just finished eating his one and only meal of the day and was high as a kite. That was when all of a sudden the flames of the fire had been shielded by this large shadow and this enormous creature without a name had appeared before him. At this time he didn’t know what a dragon was, and being high as a kite he didn’t even react in fright or other, Drake Stravos lay still on the ground watching the stars while the Dragon spoke to him in his mind telling him that he would be the new lord of dragons on earth, a predator to keep humankind in check and the one chosen to lead the Dragon Clan. That was how he became Lord Stravos 

Some hundred years later here I am, Dragon Shifter extraordinaire, disguised as an antique dealer, the only offspring of the magnificent Lord Stravos his legacy like a chip on my shoulder. It is 2019, leather jacket is on and I have an old fashioned Butler in tow. We look like oil and water trying to mix, me with my 'going with the times' attitude, your average Joe persona. Then we have Gerald who refuse to live in the now with his fancy accent and polite manners that make people look at him like he is from Mars, which to be honest is not to far from the truth. I have a job to do, buying and selling antiques, if you ask Gerald it is to save his Master (I am only Sire) my job is to save a father I never met from the evil Elves in the realm beyond and reunite him with my mother. Because if I don’t his death will kill us all. No pressure!

It all sounds pretty stupid when you say it out loud therefore I almost never do unless it is with Gerald and a dying must to ensure the man I have not forgotten about my real job. Dragons, evil midget elves and heroes saving other heroes and damsels in distress sounds just like a bad Hollywood movie. But for heaven's sake don’t tell Gerald I said that he will have my tail, literary because he takes this hero business very seriously. He takes saving his Master very seriously. My only problem is finding that damn door to the realm where my father is kept and the fact that the damn thing only opens once every decade makes the waiting process a fucking drag. 

“Sire. We are here.”

The window between the driver and passenger was down, Gerald always insisted on me sitting in the back, I was after all Lord Stavos offspring. Do you know how many times I’ve rolled my eyes at this, the legacy of man that is to me unknown is a burden all on its own. 

“Awesome!” I exclaim knowing perfectly well it makes Gerald’s skin crawl using modern slang or words. It tickles me so to tease the man, I mean what else should I do with my time, there’s so much of it to spill. 

“Splendid Sire, Splendid.” He emphasized each word giving me a stern look by using the rear-view mirror. Snickering I get out of the car before he has a chance to get out and open it himself. 

“Sire if you insist on acting like a brat I will have to treat you as such and give you a time out in the corner when we get back home.” He threatens calmly next to me, his exterior never faltering even though I have made him very annoyed. With a pat on the shoulder I turn to him.

“Oh come on Gerald. Take that drivers hat off and dance down the street with me, live a little old man. Who knows you might even get laid.” I say as I hang my laptop bag over my shoulder and start down the street eyes glimmering with mischief. 

“Corner it is then Sire.” Gerald shuts my door with a little extra force to show how serious he really is and all I do is laugh. Life’s good in o 2019. #MyButlerAndI #Eddark