#and yes she also just wants to sprawl on expensive sheets

[stormlit]

amalia hates sleeping in a coffin and she lowkey thinks it's strange that it's considered the norm among vampires. she's not actually dead, for one thing, she has absolutely clawed her way to living and she doesn't want to feel like she's in the grave. she's a little claustrophobic, and doesn't like being shut in such a small space, the same way she would hate being buried; she can tolerate basements and caverns just fine, but given the choice she'd rather not, yknow. and she is rich as fuck now; when she was human, she was either sleeping on the floor, in shared beds with her mother, or tiny cots in draughty attic servants' quarters with itchy sheets, but now she has the luxury of space and huge comfortable beds. and if she's seeing someone, she likes to be able to sleep next to them while still being able to breathe rather than being crammed in.

she does have a coffin, but she almost always finds a way to keep herself safe from the sun, and mostly just uses it when she travels, especially in the pre-aeroplane years.

in the present day, she absolutely has protective glass to keep her safe from the sun in any property that she owns, but before that became possible she'd use shutters, blinds, blackout curtains, paper taped to windows, even having a room in a house where the windows got bricked up so it was always dark. but if there's a way to let some light in without it killing her, she likes to see that too, before the need for sleep gets her (the 1970s scenes had some light filtering through the newspaper on the windows without it killing louis, that kind of thing).

and in her maker's country estate, which she inherited when he died, the building had already been retrofitted for vampire protection, with excellent shutters on all the windows, and secret staircases to rooms in the cellars that even the servants wouldn't have known about, where vampires could easily hide if it became necessary.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Sleepover

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. After getting Peter back to his house in D.C., he asks you to spend the night. You want to, but you’re also worried about what his mother and his twin sister Wanda may really think of you. As you and Peter get a little more time alone, you also wonder how far you’re ready to go yourself.

Warnings: Nothing more than kissing really in this chapter. Bit of awkwardness from Reader though not knowing what they really want or how to go about it yet.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen , @ikkleroniekins , @cowboyenorgy , @the-chaotic-cow

My Masterlist

——————————

“Anyway, can we argue inside at least? (Y/N) promised to call Xavier when we got here.” Peter piped up, trying to shuffle away from his mother at last.

At the sudden sound of your name though, you felt an added bit of nervousness. You also made eye contact with Peter’s mother for the very first time then, as if she’d only just realized you were there.

Peter’s sister Wanda was also looking back at you with question in her face as well at the reveal of your name. But you said nothing yet, just walking up to hand Peter his crutches.

You purposefully busied yourself turning right back around too, getting that jacket he’d stolen on the plane out from the back of the car as well for him. The sunglasses he already had still on top of his head.

So then, the only other things left in the car were the meager amount of clothes you’d bought for yourself. Which you didn’t need right now as you walked back to the others, carrying his jacket. But really pretty unsure yourself if you were even going to be invited inside for long at all.

“Come on, I’ll show you where the phone is,” Peter spoke again though, either oblivious to the increasing awkwardness for everyone else or just ignoring it entirely as he motioned for you to follow him back up the steps and through the still open front door.

—————————

As you were unfolding the little piece of paper with the motel address and phone number from out of your pocket, you tried to concentrate on the task at hand. The corded phone was propped against your shoulder to rest against your ear, you now standing there in the Maximoffs’ small kitchen. But even as you started to dial the numbers, half your attention was still on whatever Peter was now rapidly saying to his family.

“Yeah, (Y/N) goes to that school. You know I just went there to go ask about Dad since they know him. But then there’s this explosion, and I had to pull everybody out. And all the sudden this mutant god is apparently attacking the world and he took Xavier. But then the government shows up like dolts thinking Xavier’s doing it instead. And they take us to question us, but they’ve got some evil experiment shit going on in there too-”

He only took the smallest breath, continuing at that accelerated pace. “And they had that other guy, remember him, Mom? Logan? Anyway, so he breaks out and wrecks the place, so we get out and I get (Y/N), then we find out where Xavier is so we go to get him. We’re in Egypt and we all fight and that god dude breaks my leg. But he’s trying to make Dad help him, but Dad turns on him and-”

“Hello?” You heard someone on the other end of the line finally answer at the motel. You could still hear Peter rattling on excitedly behind you though, your name peppered into his story several more times as you just answered back on the phone.

“Hi, is there a Charles Xavier checked in there? I need to ring his room please.”

There was a long pause where you could only keep standing there, just looking at the kitchen wall and the bit of older panelling that covered it before the phone finally started ringing again.

Peter was now already talking about the aircraft carrier and your stay there by the time you heard the receiver pick up again.

“This is Charles.”

“Hi…hey, it’s me.” You answered with some relief.

You could hear the quick recognition in the Professor’s own voice as you didn’t have to say your name before he gladly responded. “Ah, good. You made it with no trouble then? We checked in here a while ago. I’m in room 104 if you’d need to call back. Are you leaving now to drive back?”

You tried to commit the room number to memory even as you were already replying. “Yeah, it wasn’t a bad drive. We just got here a minute ago. I-”

“Yo, Prof.!” Peter interjected, surprisingly at your side abruptly, also speaking into the phone then. “We’re barely in the door. I was going to show (Y/N) around a bit. That cool? Pretty jet lagged anyway. Probably be safer to crash on the couch tonight and have (Y/N) head your way in the morning, right?”

You blinked, for one thing not even having heard Peter stop talking to his family. But two, he was really saying you should sleep here? Not just joking around anymore? Could he even decide that on his own?

You felt frozen in that moment, not wanting to look back towards the kitchen at all and whatever surprised expressions his mother and sister may now also have on their faces.

The pause on the other end of the line was very noticeable as well before Xavier eventually continued. Peter shimmied even closer to you so he could also put his ear almost against the phone as you turned it slightly for him.

“Peter, I appreciate you looking out for everyone’s best interests and safety,” The Professor answered then, but with that tone which said he clearly doubted that was the speedster’s true or only reasoning. “But I would think that’d be more for your mother to-”

“Mom!” Peter turned his head back, rather loud in your ear as you flinched a little. “Can (Y/N) sleep on the couch? I mean you hate it when Wanda drives late by herself. Same thing right? It’s a long drive back to New York. What self respecting mom is just going to throw anybody’s kid out into the night like that, huh?”

You were tired, yes. It’d already been a very long day of traveling. But you weren’t that helpless. You were pretty sure you’d be fine. This was so weird though. Standing here in silence while someone else bargained for you. Was he really just trying to extend your time together however he could?

“I don’t care, Peter.” You just heard a rather exasperated answer though from Magda after another moment. “You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Why even ask me anymore?”

The tension from their argument in the driveway clearly remained, or maybe this was how it always was between them? You couldn’t know yet, just caught in the middle it seemed as Peter only took that as good enough, talking back into the phone quickly, “Mom says it’s cool.”

You heard a sigh on the other end, and Xavier replied, “You’re old enough, I don’t have much say myself. But do call me again when you are leaving so we know when you’re back on the road, agreed?”

“Yes.” You said, pulling the phone more back to you then. “I’ll definitely let you know. Please tell the others I’m okay. I’ll see you all soon.”

After that, you and the Professor both told each other goodnight, and that was it. You hung the phone back up, but not yet sure what you’d really gotten yourself into as you glanced back at Peter. Peter who was now outright grinning from ear to ear.

“So…Chuck Norris or Bruce Lee? Movie night?” He asked you.

But what else could you do? You didn’t mind getting the chance at a little more time together of course. You just weren’t sure about how much anyone else actually wanted you here in this house tonight.

——————————

Not long after, whatever deeper discussions still loomed in the air about Peter’s choices of chasing his estranged father straight into a near death experience with a genocidal mutant god appeared shelved. At least for now anyway.

You’d seen Magda grab some sort of drink. Resigning herself to an armchair and the living room television as she seemed to ignore you all then, even as Peter remained almost bubbly while the two of you started down the basement stairs to his room.

You really hadn’t seen where Wanda had gone, but Peter just kept talking. So your focus only returned to him as you both cleared the last step at the bottom of the staircase. You behind him as you carried his crutches, then handing them back to him as you entered the room.

“And voila, man cave de Pietro!” He announced, waving an arm out towards the space.

You weren’t sure why you’d expected something smaller either. Of course most basements sprawled out to take up near the whole bottom footprint of a house. But this was still large to you, and clearly well used.

There were things everywhere. More than just a room obviously. No, this was his life, his hideaway. The more you looked, the more things you saw. Bicycles, guitars, comic books, band posters, all pieces of his hobbies and likes scattered about.

But there was furniture as well. A little table, some chairs, was this always where he ate too? There was a big sectional couch, the cushions indented a little like he may have a favorite spot there.

You didn’t miss the expensive looking television as well, and the VHS player. All the tapes, and the nintendo and the atari, the record player, a stereo, and boxes of games, cassettes, and music records.

And his bed was near in the center of it all, much wider than one person should need and almost right on the ground as he just fell back onto it sending a noticeable wave across the sheets. A waterbed clearly. But you just laughed a little, still a bit amazed. “You really do live here in the true sense of the word don’t you?”

“Hey, I make do. Home sweet home.” He smirked, but also raised an eyebrow at you not long after. “So you didn’t even notice the table back there did you?”

At his words you did look back over your shoulder with a little confusion. But you started to smile as soon as you realized what he was talking about. An air hockey table back around the corner. Some clutter on top of it like it hadn’t been used in a while, but it was clear he remembered your arcade favorites to point it out like he was.

“I figured I’d try to keep that a surprise until now…you know, since our arcade date might be a little postponed for the moment. So uh, surprise?” He said, laying back on his bed as he put his arms behind his head, still watching you.

“I did see the Ms. Pac-Man.” You replied, motioning to the more obvious machine right against the wall. No wonder he’d said he was pretty good at that one.

“Yeah, I used to have Pong too. Wore it out though. And got tired of trying to find parts to fix it.”

“Oh, I could see that happening.” Sure, he probably played everything with a little super speed. Though imagining him somehow ‘shoplifting’ a whole arcade machine whenever he needed another one was a bit interesting. How did that even work?

“So, uh…you want me to put a movie on for real? I was trying to get us out of that kitchen before Mom went off again. But we can do whatever. You know…whatever you want?” He spoke, albeit maybe a little oddly as you glanced to him again.

He almost sounded a touch nervous with those last words? The slight change in tone was enough for you to catch anyway as you did walk over to the bed regardless before sitting down on the edge of it beside him.

But it was strange here, the more you considered everything. It was hard to explain really. Because how many countless times had you sat in your friends’ rooms at the mansion? Guys or girls, just talking or playing games or whatever. Just hanging out as you supposed most all people your age did. But there was never anything weird, never anything uncomfortable.

It could even be late at night sometimes, some of you only half dressed in your sleep shirts or pajamas and no one thought anything about it. Because you just knew back then that no one thought of you as anything but a friend too.

But with Peter…being here now, you were suddenly acutely aware that you were sitting on his bed. In his room, as he seemed to be waiting for some sort of guidance from you as well. Was that why he sounded nervous?

Yet had Crystal ever been here too you wondered. Sitting just where you were sitting now? And why would you think of such a stupid thing in this very moment?

“Hey.” Peter said gently, causing you to look down as you felt his fingers graze your wrist after he moved his arm to reach out.

You smiled a little at the contact, but still felt kind of foolish. There was no point in trying to play it cool though as you confessed the current reason for your own awkwardness at least. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be in anybody’s room like this. It’s not bad, it’s just…”

“Different?” He asked, helping you out a little to your surprise.

“Yeah.” You answered simply. But you could see as another emotion seemed to pass briefly through his expression, furthering your bit of confusion.

Was that guilt on his face?

And he spoke a little abruptly, with that rarer more serious tone emerging even though the words came fairly quick. “You know I was still just giving you a hard time right? I’m cool going as slow as we need. Despite being the fastest dude alive and all, I don’t have to be the fastest guy in bed. That’d royally suck actually. For both of us. So don’t feel like there are some sort of rules here. Like, you do not have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You blinked, those words not what you were expecting. But it wasn’t bad at all the more you got to consider them. Was he really so worried that you may think he was trying to get something from you here that you weren’t yet ready to give?

Honestly, you didn’t even know yourself what you were ready for though. “Really, it’s okay.” You replied truthfully. “I’m not uncomfortable. I think I’m still in disbelief is all. I never would have thought this is how my summer would start this year. Never in a million years.”

He sat up, smiling again then with his normal tone bouncing back fairly easily. “And I am totally coming over for a pool party, as soon as this damned cast is off. I mean I’m white as shit so people may have to avert their eyes. But we would totally wreck the others in some volleyball or something. I know we would. As long as Jean doesn’t cheat with the telekinesis crap. I could do some whirlpools too you know, knock ‘em off their feet.”

“Sounds safe.” You said, laughing at the image. Maybe living in some random motel for the foreseeable future wouldn’t be so bad after all?

He chuckled in return, but was cut off by another voice just before he started to speak again.

“Knock knock.”

You both looked up toward the stairs as you first saw a pair of black boots coming down them. Black boots, old jeans, and a dark red t-shirt.

Peter called back, straightening up a little more at the sight. “Hey, sis. Fun run out upstairs with Mom and Dynasty on the tube or what?”

“Well, it was an Alexis and Dominique Deveraux battle episode, actually.” Wanda answered a little regretfully.

“Aw, your favorite catfight duo! Why the exit then?” Peter questioned in return.

She gave Peter a slight accusatory look. “Well, you got Mom in a mood and she wanted to talk about my school next. She wanted to and I didn’t. Simple as that.”

“Well…actually I thought you’d still be at your dorm too really. Not that I’m complaining. Haven’t seen you in forever. Your classes get cancelled?” He asked.

“Well, when the metal roof got pulled off the main assembly hall, I think they decided to err on the side of caution.” She responded, rather deadpan.

“Understandable. You think you’ll still go back in the fall?” Peter questioned anyway.

“Don’t know. I haven’t really liked anything about that college yet. But I said I didn’t want to talk about it remember?” Her tone wasn’t cold to him, but still rather final.

He clearly wasn’t as intimidated by her as you were though as he didn’t miss a beat. “Well how about a movie with us? Me and (Y/N) were about to pick something.”

How true that statement was on Peter’s part, you weren’t really sure. But you still said nothing as Wanda just moved to sit on the other edge of the bed, almost as far from you as could be you noted. But Peter still between the both of you as she looked unimpressed. “Can it be something a little less bloody than your usual at least?”

He scoffed, teasing back. “Well I don’t keep your Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie box sets down here you know.”

“Oh shut up.” Wanda retorted, but it was the first time you’d seen her really smirk. Though the siblings were clearly very different, that expression was also a brief resemblance you couldn’t miss.

“Wanda’s a bit of a sitcom connoisseur.” Peter commented for your benefit.

You took the chance to make eye contact with her at that, thinking that might be your in to finally start a real conversation. But she only looked away. If Wanda was unfriendly with strangers period, or actually just disliked you specifically, it was hard to know yet.

“Just pick something.” She finally replied to Peter though. “If I go back through the living room to try to go to my room right now, Mom’s just going to try and start an interrogation again.”

—————————

Hours later

“Hey, you keep moving around. Do you want a pillow?” Peter’s voice drifted from above.

You were pretty disoriented, for one strange moment just staring up at him and clueless to where you even were before your senses returned a little.

The sunlight was gone then. The only real light flickering from the television nearby that was now on some movie you didn’t remember the name of as you sat back up a little on his bed. Was this the third movie he’d put in? You hadn’t lasted very long at all had you?

“I can get on the couch,” You offered, awake enough then to at least remember his mother and sister were still around here somewhere. Though, when had Wanda left? You didn’t see her anymore and you didn’t even know what time it was.

“Seems kind of unnecessary,” Peter replied, in a quieter tone that caught your attention as you paused.

Was he inferring that you should just get under the blankets right here? With him? But sharing the bunk on the aircraft carrier wasn’t the same as being in his literal bed. Here in his family’s home where they already seemed to be rather distant with you at best.

They didn’t know you here. You had to remind yourself of that. They couldn’t know you didn’t spend the night at boys’ houses as habit. You didn’t get in their beds with them upon just meeting. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d slept somewhere besides the now destroyed mansion.

“Peter…” You didn’t know how to convey that concern really. You did want Magda and Wanda to like you eventually if you were being honest. You wanted them to understand. But you wanted Peter to understand too. Even though he’d said he was fine taking things as slow as you wanted, you felt it would still be all too easy to make him feel rejected without meaning to if you weren’t careful.

“I mean, we could both fit on my couch down here too,” He added, so close then that you were sure he was waiting for you to cross the rest of the small distance and kiss him.

And how could staring at each other in the dark, with the muffled sounds of some badly dubbed kung fu movie in the background now be bordering on romantic for you? Somewhere in the back of your mind you did think of all those stereotypical movie scenes all of the sudden. Two young people just in their own world, oblivious to all else.

“I don’t know if I’ve made the best impression on your family yet.” You tried to explain. “If I’m still in this bed with you the next time one of them comes down here…there is no way they’re going to believe we only watched movies and slept tonight.”

He tilted his head a little, yet already smiling. “And you assume they think someone like you would be that physically attracted to someone that looks and acts like me?”

“I do…and I am.” You answered though. Not trying to lead him on, but unable to help yourself either then as you did close that small distance to kiss him. You still disliked anytime he made those comments about somehow being underserving. He was far from it.

The little bit of tension you felt in return told you he was surprised too, but that quickly faded of course as he only pressed into it to kiss you back.

You had no intention of going too far or taking advantage of his family’s allowing you to stay here tonight however. It wouldn’t be right.

But you were still young as well, and it’d be a lie to say it didn’t feel good as he touched your face and your own hand moved onto his chest. It was something too how quickly the heat rose inside you. You could feel the outline of his body through his shirt as your hand trailed down.

He was warm, his abdomen firm against your moving hand. You kissed him harder actually as his own hand moved back behind your neck. But you needed to stop soon, either that or he needed to wear thicker clothing as your hand wandered further.

It was him that surprised you to finally pull back first though. Yet smiling at you again as he kept his face close.

Your breathing had already changed a little as you looked back to him before he glanced down. He raised an eyebrow at your hand now resting on the waistband of his shorts.

Realizing what he was looking at, you pulled your hand away, apologizing reflexively. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to…” Your mind fumbled a little. Your hand had just been running down. There was no real intent behind it, despite how it looked.

“You’re so funny. Seriously.” He said in that slight tone of amusement though. “Jumping out a plane one day, ready to sacrifice yourself samurai warrior style for your buddies, brave as shit.” He tilted his head, before then enclosing his hand around yours that you’d just pulled back. “But here you get flustered? I’m just a guy, (Y/N). Total nobody. There’s nothing to apologize for. Though I still don’t get it at all. I mean, why you like me like you do.”

“But you admit it then at least?” You tried to counter back, instead of arguing against his very real point that a new relationship could be more intimidating to you than a battlefield. “You admit that I like you. Instead of just telling me I’m making a mistake?”

“Yeah, I mean I guess even I can’t really make up a story of why you’d choose to drive all the way back to New York by yourself instead of bringing one of your friends here with you…unless you really wanted to be one on one with me.” But he just smirked once more, leaning in again to steal a quick additional kiss before pulling back away. “Guess you’re just that nuts.”

“Thanks.” You joked back.

“Takes one to know one.” He answered tauntingly, then sliding off the bed a little awkwardly as he put his feet back on the floor, albeit trying to only put weight on his good leg.

He didn’t have to go far though to reach a nearby closet, pulling a large blanket from it. He wadded it up a little, then tossing it to you. “Since you’re being modest though, you can sleep with Optimus Prime and Megatron tonight. But here, take one of my pillows too.”

In the dark, you couldn’t really make out what was on the blanket. Some sort of characters. You’d just have to take his word on it being Transformers before you caught the pillow that he threw to you next.

“As far as which couch you sleep on, your call. But Wanda always gets up, classic insomniac. I don’t think you want to tempt her with the opportunity to peek into your head if you stay in the living room. She hasn’t met you for real yet and probably still wants the background deets on you.”

“She’s another psychic?” At first you couldn’t remember if he’d already told you that or not. But no, you definitely would have recalled that. Yet maybe this was better? You wouldn’t have to prove anything if she could just see the truth in your mind of how you felt for her brother.

But Peter waved his hand in a ‘so-so’ type gesture. “I don’t think labels really work well with my sister. Yeah, she can get in people’s heads. But she’s not like your friends. She’s her own deal. It’s different. There’s a lot more that she can do. I’m just saying I wouldn’t advise messing with her is all.”

Whatever concerned look you must have given then was enough for him to quickly continue though, “But I’ll work on her the whole time while you’re back in New York. She just doesn’t know you yet. It’ll be fine!”

“Uh huh.” You said, not so confidently. “Guess I’m sleeping on this couch then.”

“A wise choice I think.”

“Of course, you could just be saying all this to get me scared enough to stay down here.”

“Oh, it’s both of course.” He smiled, watching you lay down on the couch even as he got into his bed. “And if you get cold, babe. I’m just a few feet away you know.”

Even from here, you were pretty sure he winked at you as you wrapped yourself up in that blanket he’d given you and stretched out on his couch. “If I go over there, I’m not coming back over here and I know it.”

“Or I could come over there,” he offered, only half jokingly of course.

But you just laid your head on the pillow, knowing you were trying to do the right thing at least. “Not enough room for your leg. You’d be uncomfortable.”

“If you say so, killjoy.”

You only smiled. “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Night, Glo-Worm.” He responded happily.

“Ugh,” You’d hoped he’d forgotten that by now, but apparently not. “Really have to fix that. There’s got to be a better codename for me.”

“Well we can’t all be Quicksilver. Sorry, I called dibs.”

“And we can’t all choose our nicknames out of a department store display case either.” You retorted.

“Ouch. Touché.”

He didn’t tease you anymore after that, but you could still feel his gaze on you as you closed your eyes again not long after. He was close enough that you also felt safe, even here in this new environment.

It was going to be hard to leave tomorrow, that much was certain. But at least you’d also know what you’d have to look forward to as soon as his cast was off again.

Maybe the next time you two fell asleep under the same roof, it’d be in a more neutral territory where you wouldn’t have to worry about his mother or sister’s judgement. Then you could hold him just like you wanted to. And it would be well worth the wait.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[lambourngb]

This Hard Truth

Fic prompt: “Are you drunk?”

THIS HARD TRUTH picks up immediately after THIS HARD LIE, an AU that explores the changes to Roswell and Michael if Alex had decided to tell the Air Force to go pound sand. It’s not all roses. Also folks, not sure if I’ve said, but I’ve been writing these each day literally from scratch off an old vague outline I abandoned a year ago, and today’s the first one that I’ve struggled with, so there’s your warning. Once Michael Guerin Week is over, this is going to a beta and will find a home on AO3. Thank you for loving the raw story. 

****

The solid black Range Rover parked in front of his Airstream didn’t surprise Michael in the least. 

It had been three days since Jesse Manes had succumbed to his terminal cancer diagnosis, those final days silent under a steady morphine drip. The doctors were correct with their less than a month pronouncement which had left Michael with the uncomfortable position of hoping that Jesse was going to defy those odds. It was a win-win of extended suffering for a man who had earned that and it would have kept Alex in Roswell longer.

He had seen Alex exactly seven times since that first night at the Wild Pony, all of them casual spontaneous encounters that became less spontaneous after he’d learned the nursing rotation of Manes brothers and home care staff. He’d shuffled his jobs at the garage to leave openings in schedule and stopped eating at home during the nights he knew Alex would be free, emptying out his dining out jar. 

This was a species thing, he had reminded himself as a curl of guilt had started to squirm inside him at the level of low-key stalking he had done to see his ex. Between Max’s somber admission that he still could remember in crystal-clear detail the day Liz Ortecho touched his lip almost eight years ago in high school and the reaction one of Michael’s attempts at dating had to his story of showing up on Alex’s doorstep two years after a breakup with no warning, well he was aware this wasn’t a normal intensity. The date with wide eyes picking up their phone, even though it hadn’t made a noise, saying, “You seem like a nice guy, but I need to take this call, it’s probably work, we can try again some other time-”

That was the proper reaction to his story he learned, not nodding sagely like Max had and encouraging him to go in the first place.

Humans couldn’t calculate within a minute the amount of time they had recently spent with someone the way Michael could. It was a full commitment of energy to stay carefully friendly with Alex, to keep his alien focus under wraps even though he probably tipped his cards that day in Nashville. On his good days he told himself that Alex hadn’t called the cops on him because he’d been happy to see Michael and on his bad days, it was because he didn’t want the press. 

With Jesse Manes dead, Alex’s reasons for staying in Roswell were over. It was time to say goodbye to this small interlude of where Michael felt completely himself, brimming in mitochondrial buoyancy with every cell alive and sparking. Back to the cards of Hallmark blandness and the short notes of congratulations after a song does well.

Alex looked up from his casual sprawl in the lawn chair, his phone in hand, and smiled at Michael’s approach, “thought I might return the favor, and show up at your door unannounced. I gotta say, an Airstream at Sanders’ was not what I was expecting as Casa de Guerin.”

Suddenly aware of the dark stain of dirt staining his cuticles, Michael shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled up to him. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of the divide, from the shiny Range Rover Sport to the smooth manicure and high-end clothing that wrapped Alex’s frame. “What did you expect then, bedroll in my truck again?”

“Whoa,” Alex stood up, pocketing his phone to hold his hands up harmlessly. “Sorry, that’s not what I mean, I was referring to the doctor boyfriend you’ve got. Most doctors I’ve met are about the trappings, it looks like you found a good one that likes you as you.” Alex’s smile wavered, “I’m happy for you.”

Now even more off-balanced, Michael sputtered, “wait, I don’t-”

“I’m less happy it’s Kyle Valenti, but I guess it’s possible he’s changed, or received a personality transplant-”

“Holy shit who have you been talking to?” He finally cut in, looking over his shoulder back to the office at the auto yard, half expecting to see Isobel being helpful. She had never quite forgiven Alex for finding happiness in Nashville, and it would be just like her to spin a version of events to make Alex jealous. As if that was possible, even in a universe where Michael was capable of being a Stepford boyfriend worthy of a doctor, nothing compares to the life Alex has built without him. Not even zero-percent body fat doctors who did know quite a bit of anatomy. The mention of Kyle did remind Michael that he hadn’t heard very much from him since that last night shortly before Alex had rolled into town. “We’ve seen each other a few times now, Alex, I would have told you if I had a boyfriend. Anyway, Kyle has changed, but he’s not- we’re weirdly enough friends.”

A pang of longing shot through him at seeing Alex arch his eyebrow at him in judgment. “That is not what Maria says, or Arturo, or Old Man Sanders for that matter.”

“Well, they are wrong.” Michael said firmly, stepping around Alex leaving a careful amount of space as he flipped open the lid of his cooler for a beer. “It’s not like that okay? I don’t have a Dennis and a dog in my life, it’s casual and fun but nothing more.”

“I wish I was sad about hearing that, but I’m not.” 

Michael paused in the middle of popping the cap off his bottle, “Wow, thank you.” That stung more than he was expecting to hear that Alex was happy he was alone. Fame and fortune really did change people. Swallowing the lump in his throat, “Listen, I’ve loved seeing you Alex, and the less said about your dad the better, so thanks for coming by to say goodbye and eh, enjoy Nashville,” he grabbed the knob on his Airstream door to flee.

A hand covered his, keeping the door firmly closed against the frame. Michael cursed his species for the thousandth time as the touch sent waves of weakness through him. Alex leaned in close, too close for just friendly words, “Wait, that came out wrong.”

“Did it?”

“Yes,” Alex stated firmly. He held onto Michael’s hand, stepping into the space between them to block the retreat into the Airstream. This was the closest they had been to one another in four years, not since that last fight the morning before Alex’s flight east that ended with fucking on a bare mattress after Michael had packed their sheets for Alex to take. “Coming back here, seeing everyone, um, seeing you, it reminded me of who I was before I became this guy,” he gestured at his clothes and back toward the expensive car vaguely. “I’ve got all these things now, useless things, that when I look in the mirror, I see my dad, a guy who cared more about a uniform than he did his own kids.” 

“Alex, you could never be him, I don’t care if you become more famous than McCartney, it’s just not possible.”

Whatever Alex saw on his face made him shake his head gently in response, “I don’t get it, you still look at me like you did when we were dumb kids surviving on ramen, like nothing’s changed at all.” 

“Nothing has changed for me,” Michael insisted firmly, bringing the open and almost forgotten beer to his lips. A merger shield to employ. It was pretty clear that nothing ever would and that was his reality. It was as true now as it was when he had borrowed a guitar from the music room at seventeen. “But you knew that already, that’s why we broke up, remember? Things were changin’ for you, you were goin’ to bigger places than Roswell, and that’s a good thing. A great thing even.”

“I know. You should know that I’m not going back to Tennessee right now, Michael.” 

“What?”

“There’s no Dennis, I mean, not anymore. That kinda fizzled out after your visit, and the dog was his,” Alex kept his hand over Michael’s, slowly moving it up to circle his fingers around his wrist, “I do miss the dog, she was sweet.”

“Your house-” Michael started, his pulse back to pounding senselessly in his ears.

“That was mine but I sublet it to a guy I know who’s doing session work at the studio while I was here. I just let him convert the sublet into a lease.”

“And your agent?”

“Dealing with the fact I’m taking my first sabbatical in four years,” Alex finished smoothly, an answer ready for every disbelieving question that Michael could muster about his house and life. He took a step back, as if he was suddenly aware of how he had crowded him against the warm metal door of the Airstream.

There was just one question left to ask though, as Michael studied Alex’s face intently. The transparent way his eyes kept flickering from the beer bottle against Michael’s mouth and then away. “If you’re not here to say goodbye to me, then why are you here?” he asked challengingly, raising his beer back to his mouth to finish with a full lipped suggestive swallow.

Gauntlet dropped and accepted as Alex surged forward to press Michael against the door and kiss him. The glass bottle dropped uselessly to the ground, glancing off the metal steps as Michael reached behind him to turn the knob quickly. He stepped backward, letting Alex crowd him through the doorway, chasing his mouth hungrily.

The metal door slapped hard against the door jamb, as Michael fell back on his mattress. 

Alex gulped audibly for air from the break, pulling back to tug off his v-neck shirt over his head and then stilled as he took in the state of Michael’s small bed. His eyes widened, scrutinizing the setup and Michael had to look away in embarrassment, knowing exactly what Alex had just recognized. “You goddamn liar! When I said I didn’t want our sheets to take with me, you said you were going to burn them!”

“Yeah, well, it seemed wasteful.” 

Michael leaned back on the thin mattress, ripping his own shirt off to toss carelessly on the floor. He watched as Alex reached down to unbutton his pants. The yellow light from the trailer window brushed a gold glow of Alex’s half naked torso. He drank in the small, subtle changes in Alex’s body, like the corded strength in his torso that spoke of some sort of workout. Probably yoga or dancing maybe. The playful outrage on Alex’s face slowly changed over to a dawning realization as he took in the details of the small and cramped surroundings.

This was why Michael never brought anyone back here.  All around were the skeleton remains of that first apartment together. The same dishes in the tiny sink. The same cheap poster advertising Warp Tour was taped to the back of the wooden built-in dresser. The same stupid classic car clock that Alex had brought home, after Maria had bought the Wild Pony and upgraded the decor, all because the cars reminded him of Michael.

Everywhere in the Airstream was some piece of memorabilia from those three years together. It was as close to a shrine to their relationship that Michael could build without setting out candles and a full altar.

“Holy shit, you really do love me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael rubbed at the back of his head ruefully, before laying back to accept Alex’s warm weight over him. He closed his eyes as Alex kissed him, turning his head upward as those long, musician fingers tangled in his hair. Gasping softly, he confessed, “Never did figure out how to stop.” 

“My dad was wrong, I mean, I knew he was- but he was so convinced that your species weren’t capable of it-” Alex stopped abruptly, aware almost immediately that Michael had gone rigid under him. 

Dimly Michael realized that Alex was still talking but nothing registered after ‘your kind’. It was subterfuge earlier, when Alex joked that first night about his father being a lunatic lost in the ravages of a brain tumor. He believed Jesse, worse he seemed to know that Jesse was right, that Michael was different. 

Cool palms cupped Michael’s face, pulling him away from his spiraling thoughts. Any hope of laughing off the response was gone with the serious look in Alex’s eyes. “Hey. I don’t care, okay? You are still the first person, hell the only person, I’ve ever loved completely. Where you came from doesn’t matter to me. I know who you are-”

“And you know what I am.”

“Yes.”

*** 

Michael stared up at the ceiling of his trailer not daring to look sideways at Alex, who was pressed as close he could get against Michael on the narrow bunk. After a soft acknowledgment that he knew that Michael wasn’t alone, that he’d figured out that Max and Isobel had to be the same even though his father had died believing only Michael was an alien, Michael told him everything. 

The crash, the pod, the years in the system, the knowledge that he was different and the fear that came with that knowledge. The fact he has powers, that they all do. The joy he had in finding Max and Isobel again at eleven even though he didn’t trust why he felt that way toward them. Then the vow they had made for absolute secrecy. “Not even Noah knows about Isobel, and they’ve been married four years now.”

“And Max? He never told anyone either?”

“His partner knows Jenna Cameron but that wasn’t planned. They were driving back to the station after a long circuit patrol for speeders and got caught up rescuing some people from a flash flood. The Berrendo. Cam got hit by a tree branch, femoral artery, and yeah, Max healed her. No one saw him because it was a dark night, but healing leaves a handprint. Impossible to deny it.”

Alex ran his hand absently through Michael’s chest hair, soothing them both. “It was a relief when my dad had Flint show me the evidence.”

“A relief?” Michael joked weakly, his mouth twitching upward in the effort. “Low key worried now that learning I’m an alien was a relief to you.”

“I thought the novelty of being with me had worn off. I mean, my choice after telling the Air Force to fuck off was starving to death or splitting expenses with you for rent. I figured after 3 years, you were ready to move on, so you let me go.” Alex reached up to cover Michael’s mouth with his palm briefly. “I know how that sounds, but you have to understand, before you? No one had ever loved me. My mom left when I was eight. I mean, maybe my older brothers did for a bit when I was little and cute? At least until I was thirteen and my dad started singling me out. He would kick my ass in front of them, daring them to protest, and they didn’t. I didn’t even love me.”

“Alex,” Heartbreak was in every syllable. “I never wanted to let you go-”

“I know, I’m just saying, I could finally believe it when Flint handed me a piece of a 70-year-old spaceship.”

“Dropping in on you with no warning a couple of years ago wasn’t a clue?”

Alex pursed his lips together, and laid his head on Michael’s shoulder. “Honestly I had spent two years telling myself that you didn’t give a shit, and then when you showed up, I thought it was because I was making a name. All sorts of people come out of the woodwork when the first taste of fame comes along. Then you confused me, because you left and started sending me these terribly boring greeting cards.”

“Fuck off, I spent forever picking out those cards,” Michael protested with a laugh. “I was trying to show you that I had chill, that I wouldn’t boil a bunny or stalk your social media.”

“Well you succeeded, I did keep all your cards though. It might have been a factor for Dennis moving out,” Alex joked in return before sobering with a tired sigh, “but little did you know, the real stalkers here were my family. Ever since 1947, a Manes man has been tasked in protecting humanity from your kind, starting with my great-grandfather Harlan, and ending with my brother Flint.”

Michael echoed the sigh, tucking Alex closer to him. The idea of the government, especially the United States Military, believing in aliens was enough to send his pulse rattling upward with fear. Every fear made real. 

“On the bright side, my dad is dead, so that’s one less Manes hunting you.”

“What’s the other side?”

“I thought my brother was in Germany except he’s been stateside for the last five years working with my dad. He’s a weapons expert, and he’s so important to the project that the military forwarded his mail to Germany for the proper postmarks.”

“Well fuck.”

*** 

The next day, Michael took a rare sick day from work and guided Alex out to the desert to the cave to show him the pods, where his story had begun according to his memory. Then it was Alex’s turn for show and tell, as he directed Michael to the abandoned air base.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to get in, but Flint calls it Project Shepherd. It was Dad’s center of operations in Roswell. He tapped into all the traffic cameras and even planted one on the gate to Sanders’ Auto,” Alex explained as he stepped out of his Range Rover. “You fixing cars must have bored the shit out of him.”

Weeds and scrub grass covered the broken pavement of the air base, lending to the air of disuse. The huge metal hangers covered the expanse, the domed tin roofs punctuated the horizon like a scattered group of D’s. Michael scanned the surroundings, a feeling of disquiet and dread filling his veins. It was probably the height of foolishness to visit a top secret bunker with only the company of a musician as back up, even if he did have the last name of Manes.

A dark shadow caught his eye, and frowned as he realized that they weren’t the only ones on sight. A familiar dark blue BMW was parked off to the side, mostly hidden by a building named B unimaginatively. As he crossed the parking lot with Alex a step behind, skipping over the broken slabs of paving markers, he drew to a halt in front of an open door.

Michael started forward, but Alex slapped his hand over his arm to halt him, “you should let me go first-”

“What, no!”

“I’m human, what if there’s some sort of anti-alien trap down there?”

“And you’re human, so what makes you think you’ll trip it?” Michael shot back reasonably, shaking off Alex’s hold. “If there’s a trap, I’m the one with the lock pick in my brain, besides, I think I know who’s down there.”

“This is like every bad horror movie, Michael.” 

But outside of that pronouncement, Alex let him take the lead down the stairs of the open bunker into the cool shadows of the underground facility. As expected, he made it down uneventfully and found exactly who he expected at the bottom, spinning around in a slow circle in a leather covered office chair.

“Did you know they’re selling a shirt at Planet 7 that says ‘I’ve been probed by an alien’? I should buy it, because I can wear it unironically,” Kyle greeted as Michael made it to the bottom of the staircase. He shut his mouth comically as he realized that Michael wasn’t alone, “Whoops, did I just blow your secret like I’ve blown you?”

In Michael’s experience with Kyle, working the almost-friends and all-benefits angle, he had seen him in a lot of states. Worn out from a long shift at the hospital, solemn because he’d lost a patient, giggly because of Michael’s tendency toward wild bedhead, horny strangely because of a good football game, and finally tipsy after a pair of IPAs. He had never seen Kyle in this state.

“Are you drunk?” Michael asked, disbelievingly even though there was a mostly empty bottle of bourbon on the long conference table, stretching along the width of the room under the fluorescent lights.

“I am very drunk. That is the only sane response to my dad, I mean my day, actually I had that right the first time, my dad.” Kyle nodded vigorously before looking over Michael’s shoulder, “Hi Alex Manes. I’m sorry I was a homophobic jackass in high school. I have really changed. Ask your ex. Or is it current? Am I the ex now? Are we both Michael’s ex? Exes? Fuck is that plural or possessive-”

“You are definitely an ex now,” Alex answered firmly.

“Holy shit you are wasted,” Michael shook his head, slightly amused in spite of the deep alarm he felt in finding Kyle Valenti deep in the command center of an alien hunting operation. It was hard to feel too afraid considering the words pouring from Kyle’s mouth unedited. 

“Listen I changed myself okay? I did the hard work examining my privilege and my toxic masculinity. I did it because I like sucking dick, but also because my dad is a good person and I wanted to make him proud. But I was fucking wrong. Not about sucking dick, that’s great, but my dad, he’s not good, Michael, he is really not who I thought he was.” Kyle pronounced seriously with the heavy emphasis of the inebriated. He staggered over to a computer system to press a key, pulling up a surveillance camera of a nondescript building on the set of command monitors. “He runs an alien GITMO,” the outside image clicked over, showing a line of cells, including an image of an all-too familiar man, “And he had Jesse Manes killed by an alien.”

[simplyclockwork]

okay so this is super obscure and i apologize but i have this headcanon where rosie runs into sherlock’s bedroom while he’s sleeping in the morning even though john tells her not to (because that’s what toddlers do best) and john has to run in to grab her so she doesn’t wake sherlock up and that’s how john actually gets to properly see sherlock’s scars for the first time

-------

Hi Anon! I love this idea. Hopefully, my fill is what you were hoping for! You didn’t specify if you were 18+, so I kept this gen :) Thank you for your wonderful prompt!

You can also read your prompt fill on Ao3 here. The rest of the fic is below the page break.

-------

No matter how many times John catches Rosie creeping past the kitchen, down the hall to the half-shut door at the end, he can’t seem to break her of the habit. She seems utterly obsessed with Sherlock at four-years-old. Chubby little legs working, she toddles around after him when Sherlock paces the flat in a fluster. Sits in his lap when he’s thinking in his chair or when he sprawls across the couch, sulking. She clutches his leg when Sherlock sways in front of the window with violin in hand, a blonde-haired little limpet.

Honestly, John would be more offended to be snubbed by his own daughter if he didn’t understand the allure. She is, after all, a Watson, and Watsons always follow Holmeses. Rosie comes by the habit honestly.

It’s just what Watsons do.

Because of Sherlock’s poor sleep habits, John tries to keep the flat quiet and calm whenever Sherlock drops. Since Eurus and Sherrinford, Sherlock sleeps more than he used to. He’s a little slower, a little softer around the edges, a little more willing to listen to John’s stern advice. But, still, his sleeping could be more regular. The times Sherlock falls asleep on the couch are nigh impossible to preserve, and Rosie always sneaks up and buries her little hands in Sherlock’s hair, inevitably waking him every time. Whenever Sherlock makes it to his bed for sleep, John runs interference as long as he can.

Today is a particularly trying day because John has a case to type up and paperwork to finish. If that isn’t enough to handle, he also has a raucous toddler who seems deadset on bouncing between loudly banging blocks against the floor or running full-tilt down the hall in a targeted assault upon Sherlock’s room.

“Maybe you could take after me a little less today,” John mutters after catching his daughter around the waist and hauling her back to the sitting room for what feels like the seventh time in an hour. Her stubbornness would be admirable if John weren’t the one corralling her in every few minutes.

“Daddy!” Rosie wails, squirming in his grip with a pout on her face sulky enough to rival Sherlock himself, “suck! You suck!”

Heaving a sigh, John struggles to keep his hold on the twisting toddler. “Oh, Sherlock and I will definitely be having a conversation about your vocabulary because I sure didn’t teach you that.”

“Auntie said Daddy sucks,” Rosie retorts, and John sighs again.

“Fantastic. Can’t wait to have that phone call with Harry.”

Setting his angry daughter on the sofa with the Union Jack pillow and the stuffed bumblebee Sherlock bought for her third birthday, John retrieves his laptop and settles beside her. Almost instantly, Rosie tries to wriggle down off the couch, and John catches her under the arms, nearly knocking the computer onto the floor.

“Rosamund, enough!” he says sharply, planting her down on his knee and juggling the laptop to the side. She stares up at him with narrowed eyes and her bottom lip pushed out.

“Want Sh’lock,” she shoots back, unable to capture the full sound of her name.

John settles her more firmly and taps a finger to her forehead. “I know you want to see him, but Sherlock is tired, and we have to let him sleep.”

The expression on Rosie’s face is mutinous, and John feels a wave of exhaustion wash over him when she tries to worm away again.

“That’s enough.” Standing, John carries her over to Sherlock’s chair, wraps her in the red robe draped over the headrest, and squats down until they are eye-to-eye. “If you wake Sherlock, I will be very cross, Rosie. Do you understand?”

She stares back at him with a sombre expression, wiggling deeper into Sherlock’s robe. “Daddy sucks,” she says in a soft, petulant voice, and John stands with an eye roll.

“Fine, sure, I suck,” he mutters, giving in on the language for now. “Just let Sherlock sleep.” Retreating to the couch, pleased to see his daughter sitting still and seemingly appeased by the offer of Sherlock’s robe, John picks up the laptop again. He loses himself in his work, relaxing as the warmth of the sitting room seeps into his body.

When he jerks upright moments later, blinking out of a light doze, John frowns. Across from him, Sherlock’s chair is empty, the housecoat discarded on the floor in a wrinkled pile that can’t be doing anything good for the expensive material.

Standing, John stretches and picks the robe up off the floor, smoothing it flat over the back of the chair. He glances around the room, doesn’t see his daughter, and frowns again.

“Rosie?” John turns toward the kitchen as if there’s any chance she’s not already halfway down the hallway. Crossing the room, John pokes his head out into the hall just in time to catch Rosie disappearing through Sherlock’s open bedroom door. “Sod it all,” he mutters, hurrying forward as quietly as possible, hoping Sherlock is still asleep.

Peeking into the bedroom shreds John’s hopes. Already crawled up onto the bed, Rosie is climbing over Sherlock’s hips, where he lies sideways under the covers. Sherlock jolts awake and moves to sit up before realizing his attacker is a toddler. Frowning, he settles back against the headboard, drawing the errant child into his pyjama-clad lap.

“Hello, Watson,” he says in a sleep-roughened voice. Rosie shouts a string of happy words at him, too fast to catch, and grabs a handful of Sherlock’s hair before curling up on his thighs.

“Rosie, I told you not to—” John begins before he pauses, the rest of the words dying in his throat when the blankets slip down, revealing Sherlock’s bare upper body.

Sherlock’s eyes dart to John’s face, but John’s gaze is lower, fastened on Sherlock’s back, and the latticework of scars standing out vividly on his skin. The longer John stares, the more his confusion builds until he is frowning and perplexed, trying to pinpoint how old the marks are.

“John,” Sherlock says quietly, but John just shakes his head, wordless, and keeps up the calculations in his head.

The scars are numerous. Some are long, jagged lines crisscrossing Sherlock’s otherwise pale skin, while others are round and puckered. Others are thin, some thick, some ropey, some turned silver from healing and time. None of them are new, but all of them are awful, and John shakes his head slowly, numb with shock. He finally lifts his eyes to Sherlock’s, who is sitting up with Rosie curled in his lap, her face pressed into his stomach and fast asleep. John’s brief flicker of ironic annoyance at his stubborn daughter flares and fades in the time it takes Sherlock’s throat to bob with a hard swallow.

“John,” Sherlock says again, accidentally talking over John when John speaks.

“How did—”

They both fall silent, locked in a staredown that neither seems willing to break. When John breathes in a low sigh and finally speaks, he sees Sherlock brace himself, tiny wrinkles appearing at the corners of his anxious eyes.

“When?”

Sherlock’s gaze darts away, and he smoothes Rosie’s blonde curls away from her forehead with an unsteady hand. “A long time ago,” he says, without really saying anything. John’s eyes narrow at the careful lack of information.

“What happened?”

Still looking away, his eyes on the wall, Sherlock lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. “I was injured.”

John’s jaw tenses, and he shifts a little closer to the bed. He sees Sherlock stiffen slightly and pauses before sinking onto the edge of the mattress. Sherlock’s eyes remain locked on the wall, avoiding John’s solemn gaze.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says slowly, watching Sherlock’s stony expression in profile. “But you can, you know?” Tilting his head, John tries to catch Sherlock’s attention and fails. Quiet falls between them until John carefully reaches out and drifts a finger over one of the longer scars. It is thick and raised, the edges jagged, the unmistakable mark of a serrated blade. “Does it still hurt?”

Sherlock’s twitches and shivers, his skin rippling under John’s featherlight touch. His head turns slightly toward John, a flash of surprise on his face. “Sometimes,” he admits, not quite looking at John. “Not so much anymore. But sometimes.”

Nodding, John folds his hands in his lap and drops his eyes to his laced fingers. “I’m glad.” He frowns before glancing at Sherlock, who is finally looking back at him. His expression is wary and impossible to read, but his eyes betray his vulnerability, and John chooses his next words with care. “I’m sorry for whatever happened, and I hope you know that I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His face flushes with the intensity of his own words, and John drops his eyes back to his hands, throat tightening. His mind flashes to Mary, to his own fury that put Sherlock on the floor of a serial killer’s ‘favourite room.’ “Not again, not anymore.”

From the edge of his vision, John catches Sherlock’s stunned expression. Unable to meet his eyes, John waits and holds his breath, finally letting it out in a grateful rush when Sherlock nods.

“Yes. Um. Thank you.” Sherlock sounds mildly flustered and busies himself with plucking at a loose thread in the sheets. “I… will do the same.” He looks at John’s daughter in his lap as Rosie squirms and resettles against his hip, mouth open and face perfectly blank in sleep. “For both of you,” he adds softly. Watching Rosie, John smiles before looking up to meet Sherlock’s eyes again. They stare at one another, the tenuous connection holding, strengthening into something that feels almost tangible.

“Great,” John replies, catching the slight softening of Sherlock’s face. “I’m glad.”

[aaluminiumas]

Puppet

M-RATED. TW: BLOODPLAY, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF VIOLENCE 

If you want to read the whole fanfic, don’t hesitate to do it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21384370

Doflamingo, habitually sprawled across his armchair, was enjoying quiet sounds of jazz that seemed to crawl under his skin. Tranquility of the dimly lit room was spreading across his tired muscles, the notes were flowing through his veins: only a few were allowed to enter the chamber, and currently the King of Dress Rosa was relishing his solitude – and power he wielded. He no longer needed to gain authority; now he possessed not only money and influence but also resources of the whole country; after obtaining the position of Shichibukai, he re-confirmed the right to ascend the throne and to rule single-handedly.

But there was something that didn’t go according to his plan: Caesar postponed the development of the weapon due to some unpredictable circumstances, Kaido demanded certain guarantees, and a feeble attempts at rioting sparkled across all over Dress Rosa every once in a while. Of course he squashed such rebellions easily but they got on his nerves even more than anything else: he hated wasting time in vain, and none of his family members would eliminate the insurgents quietly – they were so much into cruel performances.

His thoughts were interrupted by a subtle knock on the door. In a moment, a tall pale woman emerged in the room: her yellow avian eyes looked in front of her but never at the figure on the armchair. Yes, he awaited her: for some vague reason, news from Punk Hazard did not reach Dress Rosa, and Caesar, extremely lazy when it came to writing, ended up sending reports twice a week which clearly was not enough. The only person who could elucidate on the current situation was Monet – discreet, attentive and incredibly smart secretary copying and rectifying long lines of chemical gibberish by day as well as by night.

“Young Master?” came her low indifferent voice which nonetheless contained a hint to her trademark sly smirk. “I received your order.”

Sweeping his eyes over her, he idly shifted in his cushion automatically spotting a thick folder in her arms: Clown never took care of his documents. Gaze casted elsewhere and remained averse to her position. Not out of disrespect or neglect, but because he simply was that comfortable around her. Such was the aura of a debonair, perfectly calm, beguiling.

“Monet…” his deep, pensive calling would hopefully bring her further into the room, seated in the intense shade of closed curtains and oak brown overtones, the King's actual seating was quite the distance from the door. Despite that, he would relay his words to the other with simplicity, being the only two beings within the chamber. "You’ve got something for me?"

“Quite a lot, in fact.” Throughout the years spent at his feet, intent and careful, Monet learnt all the intonations of his: she knew when he was relaxed; by a mere sound she could guess whether he was angry or just irritated; just a word escaping his lips could tell her more about his mood than his gestures — cunning, powerful man, Doflamingo was aware of the ways to deceive those around him by his visible tranquility and taciturnity. But not Monet. “I have reports on Caesar's work as well as Vergo's documents. And… on a side note… Law is in the lab, too. Probably this is something you would like to know, Young Master.”

This must’ve put him on guard: his relaxed hands slid across the armrests, the nails scratched the wood. She expected him to loathe the idea, but she had never seen him to lose him temper in a heartbeat – high time to deflect his attention by the latest scientific achievements made by Clown.

Respectful, Monet hovered over to her Master, gently placing the papers on the tiny table to his left, and pulled out one document. “This is the main weapon Caesar is currently working on. You may be interested in the details, expense and the rest.” she extended her hand — and offered him her trademark sly grin exposing her sharp teeth.

Law?..

Her ruses didn’t go unnoticed: Doflamingo grabbed one of the offered papers but his thoughts rushed back to Flevance – his mind immediately wandered towards the town leveled to the ground in mere hours, to the tragedy that stupefied the rest of the world, to the grave that released only one prisoner – that boy with hollow eyes. Trafalgar, who was taken in with open arms, taught multiple trades to… betrayed the Family. That would’ve been the first time Doflamingo heard of Law’s current location. He was smart to keep away, but an appearance at Clown's Laboratory? It could only spell trouble. Trouble he decided to keep from his immediate expression, rather sulking in the thought of Law's insubordination.

Lanky digits gripping the opposite ends of the paper, withholding it before him, inspecting thoroughly. Along with that simper of hers.

“Hm.” Granted he, dismissing the sheet of paper at his side, where the bulk of the pile lay. Had the Surgeon plagued his mind that easily? Well, possibly. Although, if one were privy to the psyche of Doflamingo, they could expect it not being readily shown on his persona. His plight to stay imposing, an-ever winding road indeed. “What sort of man do you take me for?”

Monet was surprised by the question but didn’t reveal it: when Doflamingo asked, one was expected to answer – this unwritten rule of the Family she had learnt better than others. Sadistic to an extent, she felt no fear at the tortures she was exposed to, but she barely wanted to become the object of those.

“Intelligent and insidious, Young Master.” Her voice didn’t jump up a notch: collected as usual, the woman was standing in front of him, taking in the sight of his tall, muscular figure. Swarthy, derisive, sarcastic complexion; that constant smirk upon his lips. Thin aristocratic fingers always pulling the imaginary strings.

Relaxed manners.

Quick.

“Highly attractive. Powerful. Strong.” Adjectives escaped her lips without a hindrance: she spoke her mind honestly, aware of his attitude to a lie. He could kill her right here, and if he wished so, he wouldn’t waste his precious time. He would shut her up by a single gesture – but nothing happened: she was still standing in front of him, glaring into the hidden eyes of her Master.

Subtly, the middle digit twitched briefly, this in turn manipulating a thread between them; another lax move of the string connected at the evergreen-haired female’s chin – and she rose her head a little. Seeking to reel her in close, preferably on the knees, as comfort would persist. In joint, the Powerful, Strong, Highly Attractive Monarch rose from the seat’s back-support, meeting Monet's face with his. Despite the current turn of the situation, she was far from danger and to put it into perspective, in front of him was simultaneously the most secured and vulnerable one should ever feel. The Harpy did not utter a single sound: even knowing that may be her last evening at the palace, she evinced no fright, albeit any other one would have been shivering at the sight of Doflamingo Donquixote. Calm as ever, unmoving, she kept glaring at the tanned complexion slightly sneering with the corner of her lips.

A heated breath, passing onto her snow-tinted ear. Then came the low crooning of his tone.

“Then why is it, that you only report to me with bad news? Am I not deserving of anything good? Is that what you're trying to tell me?”

....

[fics-not-tragedies]

In a Week: Chapter 1 🌲

For everyone’s surprise it’s another Hozier piece of fiction and since I don’t want to spoil too much I can tell it’s a slow burn that takes place in a hotel in the woods somewhere (yes, pun intended) within a week. It will be somehow angsty, somehow sweet yet full of sorrow, dark in some places and magic in some other ones. But we’re firm on reality in this one, so don’t have too many fantasy expectations in your mind.

Big thanks to @ladyreapermc​​ who helped me with the name for my OFC, I love you lots babe, you’re the best! 💖

Please enjoy the first chapter of it and as always: every form of feedback is deeply appreciated!

STORY SUMMARY: In a hotel located in the middle of the woods, where Flo escaped from the usual struggles of her life, she stumbles upon an unusual man named Andrew, who seems too be escaping from something too.

Words:  3072; Warnings: none, unless you want a warning for alcohol drinking, then you have it; Summary: Flo escapes from her usual life to a hotel located deep in the woods, so she can rethink her whole life, before making a final decision.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​;

Sunday, 10:30pm

When she sat in the back seat of the cab, her head pressed closely to the foggy window pane, she had to fight the constant urge to cry. Flo stopped crying a while ago, before she even called to order that ride, but she had the feeling that the pain wasn’t about to leave her alone just yet. Her head was pounding and it seemed like only good cry would ease her a little. The radio in the cab was blasting some acoustic music and even though it usually soothed her, now it was more than annoying to hear another man with dulcet voice singing about lost love. All she wanted now was to get drunk in a bar, if the place even had one, eat something decent and cry into a pillow in a freshly made bed, until the heavy pain she felt in her chest would feel slightly lighter.

After a while of driving through the woods, the pitch black enveloping the car, she felt disconnected with the usual world. The darkness felt more than welcoming and she finally found herself in the environment she always yearned for. Brushing the stray strands of her straw colored hair she reached for her phone wanting to see where she was now, but she had no signal. Instead of staring at the overly bright screen she turned her attention back to the views, hoping that she’d be able to spot the faded sign that showed where the forest road leading to the hotel was located.

Flo took her time while browsing through the various sites of hotels and motels. She knew what she wanted: the place had to be located in the woods somewhere, preferably by a river, perhaps with a deep lake nearby and loads of swamps and bogs around.

“There’s a sign” she said suddenly, “turn right, please” the clicking sound of the blinker confirmed that the grumpy driver actually heard her. In one swift movement he took a rather sharp turn to the right. She squinted out of the window, trying to at least see the trees they were passing by, but it was too dark for her to notice anything.

When the cab had stopped, she could see the faint lights that were lit on the porch and around the wooden doors. She rummaged through her bag looking for a fistful of notes, so she could pay him. Flo handed him the money and then, with what was left of her willpower, she opened the door.

She knew it was raining for the whole day, but it was much heavier than she realized. The raindrops were huge and heavy, cold and it didn’t seem like the pouring would stop anytime soon. It was too late to change her mind, all was already said, there was no turning back now. Flo slowly stepped out onto the dirt covered drive, regretting not telling the driver to take her straight to the front door. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her, grabbed her stuffed duffel bags from the backseat and when she closed the door of the cab, the driver quickly sped off, leaving her alone to soak in the rain.

The building was old, huge and gorgeous and even though she knew nothing about architecture, she was absolutely enchanted by how the outside looked. As she got closer, though her somehow blurred vision, she was able to make out the much brighter light that was shining through the large windows she didn’t noticed at first and it hypnotized her to move forward, like a moth being attracted to the flame.

Before Flo could get to the door, she was already drenched. Her wavy hair, now heavy and damp stuck to her face and wrapped around her neck like they wanted to suffocate her. Her body trembled against the cold. The rain was so thick, she could barely see where she was going.

Reaching the bottom of the steps at last, she planted her feet firmly on each stone step, desperately trying not to slip. Her heeled boots were rubbing uncomfortably on the back of her heels and she was too exhausted. The moment her hand found one of the door handles, with all her remaining strength she pushed the heavy doors forward and she was finally able to escape the raging storm. The doors slammed shut behind her with a loud thud.

She fought the impulse to shake the wetness off like a dog, but her body shivered anyway. The lobby was bright and wide, but still there was something somehow archaic to it that made her feel as if she had traveled back in time. The chandeliers were covered in a thick layer of dust, the plants were in desperate need of water. The hotel seemed generally quiet from where she was standing now, but she could make out voices from down the wooden corridors. Flo hurried to the long desk ahead, every step leaving a small puddle of rainwater as she moved.

Her hair were slick against her face. Her clothes were soaked, clinging to her skin and her leather jacket felt much more heavier than it usually did. She dropped her bags to the wooden floor and tried to focus on anything except how ridiculously uncomfortable she felt now. It didn’t help when the man behind the counter peered at her through his glasses and raised one eyebrow in alarm. Yeah. She looked crazy and she fucking knew it.

“I um…” she croaked, her voice hoarse from the dryness. Flo coughed nervously and tried once again, “I’d like a room for the week please.”

“Checking out on the Sunday morning?” The concierge asked without looking up from his computer monitor.

“Um, the Monday afternoon if that’s okay?” She replied, scratching her head in thought. Flo blinked few times slowly, thoughts dancing around her mind, but she didn’t wanted to ruin the comfortable silence with an excessive amount of questions that could seem too ridiculous to the man she had in front of her.

“I have a room on the second floor…” he repeated himself, his voice sounding frustrated because she didn’t get that the first time he spoke. She had all of those hours away from reality now, that would be enough to clear her mind, that would be enough to think everything through and make one final decision.

“That’ll be perfect.”

The bellboy was quick to grab her bags, even she knew she would have managed just fine on her own. They rode the elevator in silence to the second floor and her door was a few steps away. He took the keys from her, opening her room wide for her to see. The room was modern and bright, but the dark wooden interior gave her almost gothic vibes and it felt like it was the perfect scenery to contemplate her whole life, with the forest all around her. The windows were huge, the curtains drawn wide and the stunning view of green trees seemed to crawl into the room through the glass panes. The bed was huge and high in layers of comfort, the white sheets pristine and perfectly smoothed. There was even a fully stocked minibar.

Flo nodded in the man’s direction and as soon as the bellboy had left, she threw herself onto the bed and sprawled out. She was exhausted, cried out, emotionally drained, but she was also hungry and that hunger persisted more than anything else. So, with a loud sigh, she dragged herself to the bathroom so she could freshen up.

She washed the mess that the rain formed on her face away and reapplied some makeup that had been stuffed in her handbag. It was light, delicate and it made her feel better instantly. She coated her lips with red and dried her hair with the hair dryer mounted into the wall right by the mirror. Flo opened her bags and threw everything onto the bed to rummage through the overly exceeded number of clothes she took with her. She eventually settled on a low cut chiffon black dress that accentuated her waist, but wouldn’t ever get chosen, so she made an exception only for this night. Then her heeled boots were back on, the lights were off and she headed to the bar with nothing, but the room key in her hand.

Sunday, 10:45pm

Andrew was downing his liquor filled glasses quicker than he ever wanted to admit, asking for a refill with a casual wave of his hand once he reached the bottom of every glass. The whiskey was strong, and expensive too, but he was over that moment in which he’d care about that. It hit his lips hard and burned all the way down through his throat and he enjoyed the little spark the alcohol gave him.

He was bored. Bored out of his mind. But what they say of intelligent people? They’re never truly bored. Maybe being drunk would provide him with entertainment somehow or it would push him to write new songs. He hadn’t been at the bar long or even in the hotel for more than a couple of hours, but he had a feeling this week was going to drag.

The tour has ended, his crew flew to their families. And now he was alone. Bored and alone and fucking miserable about it. Normally he wouldn’t have minded, the solitude was as much a part of his personality as the worn out flannels and layered shirts were, but he was beginning to question how long he was going to be comfortable this alone.

His mind reeling from the deep internal conflict, Andrew took one more sip and glanced up but almost spat his drink back out into his glass. Fuck. She stepped into the room, her head held high and he wiped his chin, struggling to keep his composure. She had an abundance of energy that made him catch his breath in his throat, all womanly and powerful, commanding the attention of the room with just her elegant features, no arrogance, so perfect and pristine he worried he’d corrupt her somehow if he get too close. But there was something else there too, richer, full of life and light that he caught a glimpse of when she smiled politely at strangers, the corners of her mouth curling upwards, a pair of dimples appearing in her both cheeks. Her skin was pale, gorgeous and glowy as she passed the lights.

Andrew swallowed hard. Long wavy straw blond hair fell over her shoulders effortlessly, like she hadn’t even tried. She was a fucking dream, the way the thin material of her dress was flowing around her with every step she made. She seemed like an otherworldly creature that ceased her run through the woods just to stop by and have few drinks and perhaps a late dinner. He sighed at the way she walked and his eyes drew in her body hungrily, noticing the way her breasts were pushed against the fabric of the top part of her dress, her slim waist, the sensational curve of her hips, the way her legs looked in those heeled boots. Even her lips were obscenely plump and it made him restless. He looked away, shuffling in his seat, running his hands through his hair with frustration, making it even more puffy.

She was the spark he’d been desperate for, gagging for, she satisfied his thirst like no whiskey could.

He had been in this position before, pretty girl at a quiet bar, he was Andrew Hozier Byrne, of course he had. But something about her demeanor made him nervous like he hadn’t been in a while. Flirting wasn’t really his thing, but he always succeed no matter how miserable he was, but there was something totally different about her. He was going to have to choose the perfect Andrew persona, like picking an outfit from a wardrobe, for this one. He ordered another refill and tried to calm down.

Sunday, 10:55pm

The second Flo sat down, in “the tiny table by the widow, please” and ordered her food, she felt lost again. She placed her key on the table, her fingers toying with the key-chain with the room number. The rain was still thick and heavy and she couldn’t see further than the pitch blackness so she studied the room, desperate for distraction. The restaurant and bar area was just as stunning as the rest of the hotel. Dark wood and velvet-like finishing touches, neatly carved thick crystals. Music played from an old record player located in the corner of the room. The place wasn’t overly packed, there were few empty seats here and there, but even at that hour the staff was certainly busy by constant orders of cocktails, platters of savory food, or just like she had chosen: a selection of sweet treats. There was nothing better than something sweet at this time of the evening.

The Malibu Flo ordered arrived quickly and she savored the taste, smacking her lips together, flicking her tongue across them, but carefully not to swipe off her lipstick. Once her cakes and pastries arrived, she ate them all with delight, entranced by each mouthful of sugar. It would look horrendous on her bill but she didn’t care anymore, not about the bill.

As she finished her sweets, she ordered another drink, the combination of drowsiness, emotion and lack of having a proper meal earlier beginning to intoxicate her. For a while she sat in comfortable silence, admiring the music coming from an old record. But when a lull in the melody came, her eyes fell shut momentarily and she felt a wave of sadness wash over her.

Flo was the type of person that kept all of her emotions buried deep inside, until she simply couldn’t keep them all in and they burst out into the surface. Running away from her problems always made everything worse, that’s why she needed this gateway, so she could face them in new environment, where one final thought could cross her mind. And just as she was trying to be focused on herself only, something, or someone made her thought divert.

He was sat at the bar, profile to her, balancing his glass of whiskey between his finger and thumb occasionally lifting it to his lips. She had no idea how she’d not noticed him before, because now she had, it had changed everything. Something about him was so inviting and even though she knew she was way too obviously staring, she couldn’t look away from him even for a split of second.

His face was bearded, like he didn’t cared to shave for a whole month, lit perfectly by the surprisingly modern LED lighting of the bar. He lifted his chin to drink, slowly putting the glass to his mouth hidden by the ginger colored beard. His hair was long, curly, falling onto his arms and onto his face. His complexity was overwhelming - there was so much to him. There was a delectable softness to his face had too. His skin was smooth, pale, glistening.

The man was wearing an oversized flannel shirt, with something looking like a simple grey T-shirt underneath. Despite the fit of the material, she could tell that his figure was still somewhat muscular underneath, especially his arms and the top half of his torso that was visible along with the patch of curly chest hair. He was gorgeous - so alarmingly gorgeous in fact, that she felt immediately flushed and had to take a long sip of her drink to calm herself down. Flo pressed the still frozen backs of her hands to her flushed cheeks and tried to regain her composure. But he didn’t fit in here, or at least his looks weren’t belonging to a person that was visiting that kind of hotel. It could be old and in the middle of nowhere, that’s true, but it was still stylish - something you couldn’t tell about that curly haired man by the bar.

Sunday, 11pm

His mind already made a decision for him, as Andrew swirled his glass and downed the contents, swallowing his pride and standing slowly. He could do this.

Don’t fuck it up, man.

He turned in her direction, surprised to find that she was already looking at him and he watched her body tense, her jaw lock, her breath hitch, when he noticed.

Flo felt frustrated, in more ways than one, when her gaze locked with his. His eyes were warm, round and inviting but there was something else in him too, something darker too like he knew something that nobody else did, and it made her stomach twist and turn. There was an immediate sense of softness when he stared back at her like a frightened deer in the headlights. She let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding and felt how her whole body was filled with warmth.

He was moved by her, yet still beyond the levels of comprehension, like he was a man from a different time and place entirely but some part of him felt surprisingly familiar to her, like she knew him in a different life on a different planet, where she made other choices and met him in a totally different setting.

This is the moment, Byrne. Now.

He had made it so far from the bar already, so Andrew staggered in her direction, his hands running through his hair, like had no idea what to do with them, except for when he held his guitars. He stared into her raw red eyes, that spoiled the fact that she was crying not so long ago, even though she tried to cover it with some makeup and then he stopped behind the spare chair, already struggling to find the perfect sentence to start with.

“Are you expecting someone’s company?” He asked finally, his mouth trying its best not to curl into a wide smile already.

“No. I’m on my own” she swallowed sharply, trying to make her voice sound as confident and unfazed as possible. No man had ever paid attention to her like he was in this moment, their eye contact and the softness of his gaze almost making her change her plans.

“Would you like to have another drink accompanied by me then, honey?”

“Yes.”

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Thanks to @idrabbleincrazy for one more aesthetic. I just had to do one more holiday with my favorite couple. Also, thanks to @boondoctorwho​ for stepping in as a last minute beta! You gave me great notes hon and a couple of really good lines!

Tags: 18+, sex, sexy chocolate eating, fingering, lingerie, Valentine’s day, feels

Can I come over on Thursday? Sam wasn’t specific about what he wanted when he texted Rowena. She tossed her hair and scoffed. Samuel, dear boy, I’m not at your beck and call.  I have to go out. There are important matters that need my attention. 

Important matters, huh? Always the busy witch. Can you leave the door unlocked? I’ll be in and out before dark.  I just need a few minutes in your library.  You have something I need. 

Rowena rolled her eyes but did as Sam asked. That boy! He was so serious and determined when it came to his books and research. Of course, there were times when he was serious about something else.

Rowena couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face, thinking of the memorable moments they had shared around Christmas, and New Year’s Eve. But she hadn’t seen him since, and assumed things had gone back to the way they were before. She would’ve liked to continue things with Sam. Now that she knew her favorite nerd was a generous and well-endowed lover, it was hard to turn her mind back to books. But a woman couldn’t have everything, could she? A steady friend, and a little holiday fun, was better than nothing. 

Rowena almost forgot on Thursday, but at the last minute, she turned back and slipped a key under the mat. She texted Sam a picture and said:  Leave the key where you found it. 

Couldn’t leave it on top of the door frame, then?

She actually giggled, knowing that Sam could easily reach the top of the door, but she would never be able to get the key back. 

Don’t you dare.

Nothing like a little friendly banter to put her in a good mood at the start of the day. Still, she expected that Sam - kind, considerate Sam - would have put the key back under the mat when he was done with whatever he needed. 

What she didn’t expect was for the key to be in an envelope. She opened it, and pulled out the key and a square of pale yellow paper. Coffee table was all it said, unsigned. 

She didn’t need a name; she would recognize that handwriting anywhere. She had seen it hundreds of times over the last couple of years, in notebooks, on scraps of paper forgotten in books, as he wrote down spells or case notes or curses. 

Curious, she opened the door and turned right towards the living room. On the coffee table, she found a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses in a cream colored vase. She walked over and buried her face in the petals. Hot house roses didn’t smell as good as wild ones, but their velvety petals were still sweet. As she admired her flowers from every angle, she caught sight of another envelope, just like the one that had held the key. Tea kettle Ohhhh, Rowena suddenly realized. They were playing a game. 

By the tea kettle, she found a little box with 4 chocolate covered strawberries inside. Mmm, she did like chocolate. She popped one in her mouth while she opened the envelope that had been tucked under the box. Bathroom. But why was Sam going to so much work to make her find gifts scattered all over the house? 

She hurried to the bathroom to find another box, this one bigger, although not by much. She opened it and pulled back layers of white tissue to find bits of yellow lace. As she lifted it with her slim fingers, she realized that it was lingerie- soft, delicate, expensive lingerie. There was one more envelope resting in the tissue, and her hands shook as she slid out the card. She hardly dared hope- Bedroom. Rowena let out a long breath she didn’t know she had been holding. The gifts, and the cards, were only a teaser. Sam was here, waiting for her. He was her gift, just as she had been his. 

She slipped into the lingerie and took a moment to check in the mirror. The color of the lace made her skin luminous. Her heart was beating quick and eager, pushing a pink flush into her cheeks. She swiped on some lip gloss, a pale peachy color that was softer than what she usually wore, but went perfectly with the way she looked. Then she tossed her red curls over her shoulder and obeyed the final card.

She paused a moment before her own bedroom door, which was open just a sliver, soft light spilling out. If she hadn’t been so distracted by curiosity, she would’ve figured it out sooner. Sam had a presence that went beyond his physical size, and she could feel it even without seeing him. 

Rowena stepped into her bedroom, and there he was, her Sam. His bare arms and legs were sprawled across her bed. The only thing covering him at all seemed to be a box of chocolates strategically positioned just below his waist. It was a big box of chocolates, and Rowena’s eyes went wide. 

Rowena couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled from her lips. He sat up, dropping the chocolates, and held out his hands. She walked towards him and slipped her hands into his grasp. He pulled her right onto the bed, into his arms, and kissed her. His lips felt just as soft and welcoming as she remembered. His hand caressed her cheek while she tangled her fingers in his long chestnut hair. He sighed, just a little, and she slipped her quick tongue into his mouth. He pressed her closer, both of them hungry for one another. 

Finally, they pulled apart to catch their breath. Rowena lifted the hand that wasn’t in Sam’s hair to see that she was crushing yellow rose petals in her grasp. She had only had eyes for Sam when she walked in the room, and missed the fact that there were more rose petals all over the bed. 

“Sam Winchester,” she scolded, “If you’re ruining my comforter with flower stains, I swear.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I would never, Ro, look?” She saw, then, that he had spread a sheet over the bed before scattering rose petals everywhere. Unexpectedly, a lump rose in her throat. It was a little thing, but it showed how he knew her, in a way that no one else did. 

It showed how much he cared. 

Finally she asked, “Sam, why?” 

“Look, Rowena,” his big hand cupped her face and lifted her gaze. “I know it’s silly, okay? Roses and chocolate and all that. But I want you to be mine.” He lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that was equally soft and sweet

His kisses would’ve convinced a less cynical heart than hers, but she was doubting by nature. “You mean, be yours for tonight?”

“No, Rowena.” He shook his head, dark hair flopping into his face. “Be MINE. Valentine's Day is for lovers, that's why I've waited until today."

She gasped and pulled away, but he held her hands tightly in his grasp. 

He sat back on the bed and smiled, that magical dimple-popping smile that she could never resist. “You silly little witch,” he murmured. “As if you didn't know. Come here.” 

Rowena melted into Sam’s arms. Whatever doubt, whatever fear she had, seemed small in the face of his care for her.

His love. 

She had only allowed herself to believe that this was a holiday thing, that they had both gotten caught up with lights and cinnamon and fireworks and champagne. Yes it was another holiday, and yellow roses and chocolate were just as cliche. But Sam was here, all for her. 

She nodded, and watched a weight fall off his shoulders. He laughed, then, a rare boyish laugh. He gently pushed her back against the pillows and rose up over her. She was ready for him, so ready. But he surprised her and instead drew back. He reached for the box of chocolates that had fallen aside on the bed. She watched curiously as he opened the lid and then carefully selected one. The chocolate looked tiny between his long fingers as he held it to her lips. 

It was delicious chocolate, but Rowena was in no hurry to eat it. If Sam Winchester was going to make her eat chocolate, which she loved, she would make him pay. She took her time, working her mouth in a way that suggested all sorts of things that had nothing to do with chocolate. 

He stretched out again beside her, and there was no mistaking his eagerness grinding against her thigh. She sighed happily and leaned into his embrace. 

“More, Sam,” she whispered.

He picked up another chocolate, and fed it to her, while her tongue caressed his fingers and her lips sucked on his thumb. A moan escaped his lips in spite of himself, and she smiled a saucy smile. 

“Rowena,” he begged, his voice low and dragging over the vowels. She nodded. 

That was all Sam needed. He slipped one hand behind her head, tangling fingers in her hair, as he kissed down her throat and across her collarbones. With the other hand, he pulled the top of her lingerie, freeing both of her breasts. He took one in his mouth, flicking at her nipple with his tongue and kissing the sensitive skin. She heard herself moan. 

Then he slid his free hand lower, pushing aside her lace panties, to slide his fingers against her soaking wet heat. He turned his attention to her other breast as he began to pleasure her with his hand. She ground against him, wordlessly begging for more. 

He slipped two fingers inside her, keeping pressure on her with the heel of his hand, and smiled when he heard her gasp. He rolled her nipple between his teeth and crooked his fingers just so. 

She couldn’t stop the little cries that fell from her lips, not that she wanted to. She felt wave after wave of pleasure, at the mercy of his fingers and his mouth. Finally her hips bucked against his hand, and he lifted his lips to hers to capture her groan. 

When she opened her eyes, Sam was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, like she was a new source of light. She rolled her shoulders back and sighed, pressing her hips up against his. 

“Please,” she murmured. She didn’t need to ask twice. He pressed into her slowly. Even as wet and ready as she was, she gasped. Her hips rocked side to side, trying to take him easily. He was just so much, the way he took up all of her and filled her so full. Before he was fully seated, he began to thrust, pushing in and out.

When the first moan fell from her lips, he picked up his pace. Her hands slid down the broad expanse of his muscled back until she could cup his ass in her hands. She wanted him all, needed him the way he was needing her. 

She held him close whispered, “Harder.” 

His hips snapped into Rowena, over and over, almost painfully deep. She needed him to come undone, but he would wait for her every time. So she rode the pressure of him, breathing hard in long panting moans. Her knees began to shake and she cried out, “Come with me!” 

He obeyed, and the pulse of him inside her was enough. She tumbled into another orgasm, babbling sweet filthy nonsense. They clung to one another, sweaty and breathless, as pleasure coursed through them together. She buried her face in Sam’s shoulder, shaking and gasping. 

Finally he drew a deep breath and rolled onto his side, still holding her close. She leaned back in his grasp to get a good look at his face. His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips red and swollen. She gathered a handful of rose petals from the bed and let them lightly drift down over his face and hair. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sam,” she said with a giggle, leaning forward to brush his lips with a kiss. 

A smile lit up his face, so fond that it almost hurt to see it. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Rowena,” he whispered, his voice low and hopeful. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Sam,” she didn’t have to think before she answered. “On Christmas and New Year’s and Valentine’s Day and every single other day. I love you.” 

Their kisses still tasted a little bit like chocolate.

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @maddiepants@magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia

Rowena My Queen: @lilsylvia @marril96

[lukeysgirl]

swallow me whole | c.t.h pt. 2

synopsis: nasty calum hood smut w a decent storyline? pt 2: another party but on a cruise ship. 

word count: 12k+ 

authors note: a long but good read, i pinkie swear! got a few lovies in my taglist, but i dont be doing tglists too much. i just wanna write and whoever gets to see it, sees it. enjoy! <3 

part 1 here

PART 2 S O L I C I T A T I O N 

The next mornings sun kindly kissed you awake. 

An incredible warmth was bestowed upon your shoulder as you slightly turned over. You slowly began opening your eyes, subconsciously bringing your hands up to wipe away the dried tears. A yawn escapes your dry lips, forcing your body to sit up and lick them moist. Seeing as it was now daytime, you were pleasantly shocked at how nice the room truly looked. 

It was a very modern looking room. White walls with black wood drawers and such things to compliment. You looked down to see that the sheets, too, were black and white. But they were silky smooth and catering to your skin, as you were enveloped in a comfy fantasy. But paintings were hung around the room to give the yin-yang room several splashes of color. 

You also realized you were placed into the bed much properly compared to where you had went out cold last night. You looked over to the unoccupied space of the bed, wondering where Calum had gone. Turning over to the bedside table, you noticed that your phone sat nicely at the corner of it. Tapping it awake, it illuminate several notifications that you did not want to deal with. 

“Nope,” you groaned, flipping the phone over so you could stretch. You reach for the sky, comforting your bones before removing the blanket from your warm body. But when you looked down at your legs, you crinkle your nose in disgust. Your dress and body was cum-stained, seeing as you essentially slept in hormones. “Fuck me...” 

You look around once more, noticing that the door to the room was closed. Shrugging, you get on your feet and slowly peel the skimpy dress from your body. It was difficult, considering you needed someone elses help to put it on and take it off, but you managed. You then replace it with the blanket, covering your body while holding onto each ends of it. Wings, you thought to yourself with a smile. 

The morning sun caught your attention, your feet treading lightly on the carpet. You walk over to the large glass wall, basking in the beauty of the city. It would seem dull to people who prefer the city in the night, but the beauty of it was not exclusively nocturnal. The day time, too, compliments how tall the skyscrapers truly were, and the Hudson River that ran through it all. 

You suddenly heard the door open behind you, and a deep, “oh, you’re awake.” Turning around, you see a groggy Calum Hood stand at the doorway. He had still been in the outfit from last night, but his cock wasn’t out and about. His face looked better then when the two of you were at the bar, but he wasn’t smiling. You look down to see his hands offering a steaming mug. “I made you a cup of tea for your throat.” 

You completely forgot about the two times he face fucked you. He walks over and hands it to you, in which to measly hold it with your blanket-covered hands, “thank you so much.” Brown eyes watch as you take a long swig of the tea. It was chamomile, and saccharine from what tasted like honey. It was just cool enough to drink and you smiled from the sensation. 

“Better?” He asks softly. 

You nod, “much, thank you.” Calum nods, giving you a small smile. You kept taking little sips, relieving your throat from its soreness. Calum looks over to see your dress sprawled on the floor, having him look over with a bit of concern. 

“Did I ruin your dress?” He walks over and picks it up. “I’m so sorry.” You shake your head, attempting to convince him that it was nothing. “Let me find you some clothes to wear for the meantime. I’ll give you the money to get this washed properly-- it must be expensive.” 

You watch the man disappear from the room as you continued to quietly sip your tea. He’s kind, you thought. That attitude you were introduced to when you met him was completely shadowed by his consideration. Calum Hood seemed like a nice guy, and he was pretty good in bed, too. His dominance took you aback, never having been in such a position. 

A vanilla night isn’t bad, but what Calum had done to you was beyond words. The way he took control of you, and used your body to his liking while still pleasuring you was so sexy. His lips were like nicotine, and his body was enthralling. You just wanted more and more. 

But you realized that this was probably a one-time thing, and you likely weren’t going to do anything else with him again. The thought made you pout, but you were glad you weren’t hooked. Liking someone would put a dent in your career. But you were sad to think that you’ll be remembering this for the rest of your life and he was going to forget all about you in hours. 

Your sorrow thoughts came to a halt though when Calum returned to the room with hands full of things. He had a black towel, an outfit, and hygiene things. “I figured maybe you would like to take a shower?” 

You smile, nodding graciously. You traded the empty mug for the morning bundle and held it happily. “You’re the nicest one-night I’ve ever met, thank you so much...” Calum frowned by your words but quickly regained himself. He held the mug a little more tightly. 

“I’ll take this to the kitchen,” he muttered, “the bathroom is to the left of this room, you’ll see it.” You nod, watching wondrously as the man left the room and headed off to who knows where. You put the bundle down on the bed and slip off the blanket. You wouldn’t want to bring that whole thing into the bathroom with you. 

Quickly, you grabbed your phone and rushed into the bathroom. Locking the door, you looked around to see how large the bathroom was. It was essentially the same amount of space as your entire apartment. Everything was of porcelain and granite, with metallic bathroom features such as the faucet and shower head. But the sink was just a flat rock, the shower could fit an entire bed, and there was a bath if you cared to use it. 

You placed your bundle down on the sink and turned on the shower. You looked at yourself in the mirror and widened your eyes. Your makeup was somewhat in tact, with a bit of mascara dragged below your eyes. But what really caught your eye were all the hickeys ornate on your neck. You leaned it, lightly touching them with your fingers. There was even a bit of dried up cum on your collarbones from it dripping from your lips. 

“Geez,” you sighed, shaking your head as you decide to distract yourself momentarily with your phone. Texts from Meri had spread like wildfire. She messaged you through iMessage, Twitter, Instagram, and even Facebook. You felt immensely bad for worrying her, as those texts were complimented by several missed calls. 

You walk over to the shower, noticing a plastic holder that was meant to use your phone. Deciding to call her back, you put it on speaker and slip the phone in the protector. Two rings later, and you hear an abrupt, “Y/N!” 

You cower, “hi, Meri...” 

“Where the fuck are you?” Your best friend screamed through the phone. “I’m so fucking worried about you-- send me your location!” 

“Meri, I’m fine, everything is okay!” You insisted, grabbing the bottle of body wash. You lather it all over your body, removing your upper body and thighs of the dried up cum. “I... hooked up with someone last night.” 

“Yeah, I know!” She squealed, but didn’t seem as excited about it. “They figured out that it was you who went home with Calum Hood.” 

Your eyes were wide, “how was that possible? I had my face covered the entire time he was escorting us out!” 

“Yes but you didn’t have your face covered when I was escorting you in,” Meri explains with a sigh. You sucked your teeth, realizing her point. “They’re at my apartment looking for you.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not.”

Fuck. You reach over for the plastic cap Calum provided you and covered your hair. Meri was already mad enough; you didn’t want her getting mad at you for ruining your hair. “I’m so sorry Meri, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

“I’m not upset, don’t worry about that,” Meri hums. “I’m just worried about you. Calum Hood is the bass player for 5 Seconds of Summer, if you didn’t know.” 5 Seconds of Summer? 

“All he told me was that he was a bass player of a band,” you informed her as you washed away the Old Spice body wash. “Are they a big band?” 

“I’ve played several songs of theirs before, Y/N,” Meri begins. “Do you not pay attention?” You deny recalling anything because you genuinely can’t remember. “Y/N, they’re a boyband. Their following is mainly a bunch of young girls whose ovaries pop for them.” 

You chuckle at her words but knew she had been serious. “I didn’t intend to hook up with anyone. But you were busy and you know I don’t talk with other celebrities. He just sort of showed up and we had a good conversation.”

“I know babe, I’m not mad,” Meri coos softly. She had always been so understanding, and you knew a small smile had spread on her lips. “He’s a chill guy, we’ve talked a few times before.”

You agreed, “he was very considerate. He brought me tea this morning and lent me his bathroom.”

“No wonder why you sound so weird!” Meri exclaimed. You giggled, “so... was he good?” Her voice suddenly calmed down and had been full of curiosity. You felt your cheeks flush, the shower steam making it worse. 

“He’s... really good,” you emit quietly. “I’ve never been with anyone like him.”

“He’s a top, for sure,” Meri predicted, “he gives off that Christian Grey vibe, doesn’t he?” You have no idea... “Did he hang you from the ceiling or something?” 

“Jesus Christ, Meri, no!” You waved at the phone. “He isn’t that perverted I don’t think.” As you washed yourself, you patted your chest and realized that Calum didn’t touch them. “He didn’t touch my chest at all last night.”

“Really?” Meri sounded just as confused. You cupped your breasts in self-consciousness. “I don’t know how he could resist them; they’re so cute!” You blushed, giving them a reassuring pat. 

“Maybe he isn’t a boob guy,” you put the idea out there. “He liked my butt more than my boobies.” Meri giggles. 

“Fuck it; he would have had too much fun with them anyways.” Meri was always great in reassuring you and regaining your confidence. “Anyways, send me your location so I can send someone to pick you up.” 

“It’s okay, I’ll take the subway back to yours,” you insisted. “You aren’t too far anyways.” You turn off the shower and reach for the towel. “Plus, nobody knows where he lives so I don’t want to just out his address like that.” 

“Well aren’t you sweet?” Meri boasted with a sugary tongue. “Fair enough. I’ll see you soon, okay? Make sure you eat something.” 

“Mm, I will, mom,” you agreed as you dabbed your body dry. “See you soon, love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

The call ends and you reach in to take your phone out. You felt like a brand new woman, with your skin emanating the smell of man. Giggling at this, you put the phone on the sink and finish drying yourself. You pull off the shower cap from your head as well. You noticed that Calum also provided a brand new stick of male deodorant. It was sweet of him to let you use one of his new sticks, even though you were going to smell just like him now. 

You lift up the shirt he provided you and looked at it. It was a large black dress shirt. Which was the worst choice, considering how sunny and warm it was out. But nonetheless, you appreciated the kindness and buttoned it up. It was big, but you managed to make it fit. You then pick up a pair of boxers that you were pretty sure he accidentally shrunk. It hugged your body kindly and you felt comfortable. He provided a pair of sweats as well but you were pretty warm from the hot shower you just took. 

After brushing your teeth, you the bathroom with your things and walk back into the bedroom. You place everything on the bed to tackle one thing at a time. You hung the towel from one of the hooks behind his door and placed the hygiene things as well as the sweatpants on his bedside table. You also took it upon yourself to do his bed as gratitude for his kindness. 

After doing all of that, you grab your phone, your dirtied panties, and your shoes and head out the room in search for Calum. The daytime gave you the opportunity to notice how lovely his apartment was. It was clean and ornate with photos of him and people you could recognize. Actors and musicians would smile pleasantly with him, allowing you to safely assume that he’s had a good time. 

Your feet carefully walk on the polished wood, admiring the simplicity that was his apartment. He clearly didn’t care to fill it much. You find yourself out of the hall and into the living room. It was huge, but a voice beckoned you over to give it much of a look. 

“Oh hey, you’re done,” Calum hummed. He was in the kitchen, with a spoon in one hand and a frying pan in the other. “Come come. Take a seat.” He glances back to gesture at the seats by the kitchen island. You take the offer and place your things on the chair beside you. Your thighs flourish in goosebumps when your skin touched the cool wood of the seat. 

“Your bathroom is very pretty by the way,” you begin quietly. “I’m jealous.” 

“You think so?” Calum took the compliment with a smile. “Did you have a good shower?” He steals looks over to you to see you nod. “I’m glad. Pressure is good?” 

“It was perfect, I promise,” you insisted, tapping your phone with the tip of your fake nails. You hear the sizzling of the pan, which made you curious. “Is that bacon I smell?” 

“Mm, you like bacon?” Calum glances back and smiles teasingly. “You can have as many as you’d like.” 

“I’ll just have a strip or two,” you downplay quietly. You then shyly look away, tapping on the granite tabletop. “Or five.” Calum chuckles at your silliness, and continued to cook. He decided on a simple breakfast of bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs. Only because he didn’t have too much food in the fridge, considering he was always eating out. 

“I really only eat breakfast anyways,” he explains. He shuts off the stove and places a full plate before you. You watch him place another plate across from you and head back to grab two glass cups and a pitcher full of orange juice. “We have apple juice and water if you don’t like orange juice.” 

“I’m not picky,” you insist. He smiles at you as you immediately dig in and take a bite of the toast. “This is the nicest breakfast I’ve had in a while so I appreciate it.” Calum places the two cups down and serves you a glass. 

“I take it you don’t eat much for breakfast?” 

“More like I don’t have the time for breakfast,” you admit sheepishly. “With school and work, I don’t really think much about it. I just brew a quick cup of coffee and I’ll be on my way.” 

Calum hums in comprehension. “So what about the weekends? You seem to have enough time right now.” 

“Well, I already finished all my homework and I have most weekends off,” you informed him. You stab a few pieces of egg and put it in your mouth. You chew quickly to continue talking, “and I didn’t have to make it this time so yeah, I have a pretty good amount of time on my hands.” 

He smirks at your words and nods. “By the way, I didn’t know you were Merigold’s plus one.” You nodded. “I should have known; you two give off the same nice and down-to-earth vibe.” 

“We get that a lot,” you say while taking another bite of bacon. “But she’s much prettier than me.” Calum snorts, causing you to furrow your brows. “Something funny, Calum?” 

“The fact that you think she’s prettier than you,” Calum begins quietly. His eyes stay on the plate, barely moving the pieces of egg with his fork. “It’s just a little funny.” 

“But she is.” 

Calum crinkled his nose and shook his head, “nah. Merigold is beautiful; nobody can deny she’s not.” He then lifts his head up, those deep brown eyes shooting arrows directly at your heart. “But she isn’t as gorgeous as you.” 

You roll your eyes, “you’re just saying that to be nice.” Calum shrugs while continuing to dig in. Your heart is absolutely racing now, the compliment making you think more than ever. He thinks I’m gorgeous? More so than Meri? He must be joking. 

After the delicious breakfast and the bit of chitchat, you took it upon yourself to help Calum clean the dishes. “You really don’t need to,” he tried to stop you but you were relentless and continued to clean the plates. It allowed Calum to finish the cycle of the laundry and put them in the dryer. 

“By the way,” Calum started as he came from the laundry room of his house, “I took it upon myself to wash your dress.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you turned over, clearly in shock of his kindness. “I could have gone to the laundromat and done it myself.” 

“Well, you’re doing my dishes so I guess we’re even,” Calum gave you a wink before returning to set up the dryer. You blushed. This one night stand was straight out of a fantasy book written for middle-aged women. 

As you’re finishing up, you grab a towel to dry your wrinkled fingers. You turn to look for Calum, who walked back into the room slowly. He had a bundle of papers in his hand, clearly focused on the words printed on them. He suddenly looked stressed out, like the papers contained paragraphs of bad news. 

“I finished the dishes,” you sounded, having him look over and give you a smile. 

“Thank you so much,” Calum spoke softly. His voice had reduced to a more hush tone. His eyes were suddenly cloudy; he looked distraught. He sniffled a little bit before placing the papers down on the counter. “Anyways, when do you want to leave? I can take you home.” 

He was no longer the Calum behind the stove making the two of you breakfast. He was last nights Calum, with all the stress returned from the bar. “Don’t worry, I can take the subway back,” you insisted. You dried off your hands and headed straight for the laundry room. 

“Where are you going?” Calum called to you. 

You pulled your dress out from the dryer (which had dried extremely quickly) and changed. You left the clothing you borrowed in his hamper and embarrassingly slipped on your dirty panties. You return to him and grab your shoes from beside him that was on the chair. You bent down and slipped the on, knowing that the man’s eyes were on you. But doing this motion finally made you realize about your knees. 

“Oh.” Your thumbs rub along the scrapes and bruises that made themselves at home on your knees. They were blue and purple and red, and finally began to sting as soon as you paid attention to them. 

“Y/N, let me--” Calum started but you raised your hand and shook your head. 

“I’m good.” You grabbed your phone and remembered your strap that was still in the room. But you weren’t pressed about it as kept it in hand and headed straight for the door. 

“Y/N!” Calum called for you but you were already out the door. And he chose not to follow. 

XXX

Meri, like the good best friend she was, managed to get the building staff to sneak you in from the back. You swiftly followed her through the prohibited corridors and made it safely back into her apartment. The paparazzi remained outside like angry bees, waiting to pester you for details. 

“So much for covering my face,” you sighed in annoyance. You plopped yourself on Meri’s gray couch in defeat and slipped off your shoes. Meri closes the door and joins you. “Now they’re going to bother me for a while.” 

“I think you’ll be okay,” Meri hums as she toys with a strand of your hair. “Clevver news has you covered.” 

You express a puzzled look as Meri pulls out her phone and taps away. With a video now open, she turns her phone horizontally and holds it before the both of you. You watch attentively to see one of the Clevver reporters begin the daily scoop of gossip. 

“’Last night, bass player Calum Hood left last nights celebrity gathering pretty early, hand in hand with a woman in a red dress,’” the reporter says quickly. “’The woman, though, had been identified early this morning when pictures of the same woman in the red dress had first arrived to the party with best friend Merigold Leigh.’” 

Meri sucks her teeth, “they spelled my name wrong in the captions.” 

“’The woman, known as Y/N Y/L/N, was her best friends plus one last night at the party in downtown, New York. This has reportedly been the first time seeing Y/N going out with her best friend to this kind of outing.’“ 

“I mean,” Meri begins, “they aren’t lying.” 

“‘Coincidentally though,’“ the reporter begins with a smirk, “‘her first night out ended pretty quickly when 5 Seconds of Summer’s Calum Hood escorts her out and drive them away. Could this have been by coincidence or planned?’“ 

You scoff at the phone. “I’ve never met this man until last night! What the fuck is she on about?” Meri shrugs but insists that you watch the remainder of the video. 

“‘But she could also simply be one of the many woman Calum has been taking home since his arrival to New York a week ago,’“ the reporter informs. “‘Since his arrival, he has been out every night and has a different woman each time.” 

“Ah,” you begin. “He’s a fuckboy.” You push away Meri’s phone and sigh. “Great, fucking wonderful.” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“I let him fuck me raw,” you resign into your hands. “I probably have herpes or some shit now.” Meri quickly raised her phone and started looking through her contacts. “Meri, what are you--?” 

“Sh!” She pressed a finger against your lips. “Let me do what I do.”

After 2 rings, someone picked up and Meri was on attack mode, “Luke, I have a question or two and you’re going to answer, ‘kay?” 

You watched as she put the call on speaker and you heard a man’s voice, “geez, okay.” He sounded similar to Calum, but not as sexy. His voice was indeed hoarse but it was more clean and lighter. 

“Is Calum with you?” Meri blurted out. You slapped your forehead with your hand, taken aback by Meri’s audacity. 

“Oh yeah, I just got to his apartment,” the man, Luke, answered. “D’you want me to pass the phone to him?” 

“Yup.” 

A bit of ruffling noise later, Calum’s voice sounded through, “hello?” 

“Calum, do you have an STD?” Meri went straight to the point. You wanted to melt from the embarrassment, but you knew she had to do whatever it takes to reassure you. That’s what best friends are for after all.

“No, why?” 

“Because you fucked my best friend raw and she’s worried you might’ve given her a fuckboy disease.” Calum chuckles through the phone. 

“Let her know she has nothing to worry about,” Calum assured, though the both of you weren’t too convinced. “I promise.” 

Meri’s green eyes look into yours, shrugging at his words. You couldn’t tell if he was being honest or not because you’ve only known this man for a few hours. Meri decides that he’s in the clear and sighs, “whatever you say, Hood. But if she gets checked and they find something, I’m going after you.” 

“I give you full permission,” Calum chuckles again. “Anyways, was that all?” 

Meri was fuming from how lightly he was taking her, but you decided to takeover. Grabbing the phone from her hand, you put it close to your mouth and grin, “that’s all, Calum. Thank you!” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Calum enthusiastically cheers. “Did you get back safe? I didn’t catch your number so I couldn’t ask.” Your cheeks tinted pink from his consideration. Meri shoved your shoulder gently. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “We’ll stop wasting your time now. Bye bye.” Calum began a breath as though he wanted to say another word, but you hung up before he had the chance. You hand the phone back to Meri and shake your head. “Who’s Luke?”

“Oh, Luke?” You nod. “That’s one of Calum’s band mates; Luke Hemmings. He’s the lead singer.” You nod, taking this information in. “When we go out tonight, I’ll point him out for you. He’s blonde with blue--” 

“I ain’t going out tonight,” you immediately dismissed. Meri looked at you in shock but you quickly stopped her, “this was enough fun for a weekend. I don’t want to be another celebrities one night.” 

“You won’t be if you don’t follow them,” Meri scolded. “Just stay with me.” 

“I don’t know if you’re gonna disappear on me again or not,” you dropped your hands on your thighs. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“What, did Calum do something to you?” Meri asked worriedly. You shook your head, “then why won’t you go?”

“I don’t want to deal with the paparazzi,” you sighed in annoyance. “I’m in the gossip and that’s not what I want. You can deal with fame but I can’t. I just want to go back to being an irrelevant NYU student who only studies and drinks coffee.” 

“Well, we’re too late for that,” Meri replies. Her hands snake under your head and tilts it so you’d be facing her. “The paparazzi aren’t going to know about this party.” 

“Mm?” You furrow your brows in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because we weren’t supposed to talk about it and it’s not an easily accessible place,” Meri informs you with a smirk. You were still confused, but she quickly opens the small drawer of the coffee table and reveals two tickets. “The party is on a cruise ship.” 

XXX

“Meri, I don’t like water too much,” you say in a panicked tone. 

Before the both of you was a huge, egg-white ship. It was brightly lit up and parked right by the bay of Chelsea Piers. You’ve always seen many boats parked there, but you’ve never had the opportunity to get on one. Not that you cared for missing out-- boats weren’t your favorite vehicles. 

“There are no sharks in the Hudson River, Y/N,” Meri rolls her eyes. You two were linked by arms as you walked closer and closer to the boarding dock. Security surrounded you two, but Meri wasn’t wrong. There were no paparazzi in sight. 

“There was a whale in here a little bit ago,” you chime in. She shoves you playfully. 

“Stop being a wuss,” Meri said aggressively, having you suck your teeth at her. “Even then, if you really want to get off, there are speed boats surrounding the cruise and they’re on hold for calls every second.” 

You sighed. It was reassuring, but you still weren’t to excited about it. The boat itself was immensely intimidating and you felt immensely self-conscious with your outfit. 

Because there were going to be several pools, Meri forced a black one-piece bathing suit on you. It hugged your curves nicely, and had a very low v-neck so the inner sides of your breasts shower. You also had a pair of white booty shorts pulled on, which were short enough that the bottom of your ass cheeks showed. Hair was tied up and heels were hugging your feet kindly. You were embarrassed, but denying Meri had been hard nowadays. 

“This is gonna suck,” you sighed. You were glad that you didn’t have too many accessories on this time, but this outfit made you feel so exposed. You told Meri that you had no intention to get into any pool, but she wanted you to dress properly. “I already hate it.” 

“Shush!” Meri hushed you. All you could do was groan as the sound of the highway by the bay sounded with humming cars and honks. You walked passed lit up sidewalk lamps and made your way over to the boarding area. Celebrities of all forms were waiting around in groups, likely waiting for others before getting into the cruise. 

The two of you get in line, security still surrounding you as the staff in charge of boarding people had been walking down the line to check everyone in faster. Meri handed the tickets to the staff member, who poked holes in them before returning them back to her. Meri handed you one and instructed that you don’t lose it. You listen and immediately fold it and put it in the pocket of your phone case. 

Your anxiety rose as you two crossed the board walk, which was covered in a red carpet. You two enter the lavish cruise ship, which were ornate with golden lights and pictures of famous people on said cruise. Staff had sprawled all around, walking around the celebrities with plates of sushi and other finger foods. 

Meri guided you to the heart of the ship, which looked as extravagant as the Titanic at its time. A huge chandelier hung right above you with a large set of stairs that guided the two of you up stairs to one of the outer levels of the cruise. Meri was so excited that she dashed up and almost fell a few times. She was lucky you held her, or else her face would have met the floor by now. 

“Beautiful!” Meri squealed as you two finally reached where the party was. The pools seemed infinite as lights were installed in them and illuminated right out of the chlorine water. There were people everywhere in bathing suits, either dancing in the water or grinding on one another dry. You weren’t really sure how to react but you decided to focus on the excited ginger holding your arm. 

“This ship is huge,” you comment, basking in the largeness and luminous entity that was the cruise. You look over at the main component of the cruise, seeing several doors and people walking around. “What’s over there?” 

“Do you not know how a cruise works, Y/N?” Meri asked curiously. “Everyone is assigned a room if you want to stay overnight. Our rooms are right next to each other.” 

You frown, “why couldn’t we just share a room? It seems wasteful to give a room to someone like me.” 

“Because,” Meri began quietly. A huge grin touching ear to ear formed and she tapped her lips with her free hand. “There’s someone I want to spend the night with.” 

“Gross,” you shake your head, “and I’m gonna have to sleep right next to that. Geez, Meri...” 

“Or maybe not?” She raised the pitch of her voice. You raise an eyebrow towards her as she begins to guide you around the pools. “I want to sleep with a member in this band and lucky for me; its a two man band.” 

“Oh is it now?” You ask in a monotone voice. 

Meri nods her head happily as she walks you passed the bunches of people. She greets the people you pass with a back pat and a happy ‘hi!’ before reaching one of the many large Jacuzzi’s. And, to your surprise, you saw more than 2 people in there. 

“Aye, Meri!” Although your ears heard one thing, your eyes were looking at a completely different individual. At the farthest point of the Jacuzzi from where you stood was Calum Hood, with a woman sitting on him. You decide to find the face to the voice before indulging in the bassist’s exposure. 

“Lukey-poo!” Meri lets you go to quickly dip into the pool to meet the blonde man half way. The white boy with blonde curls was pretty cute, with a dashing smile and heart-melting blue eyes. He seemed genuinely content to see your best friend as the two hugged one another. “How are you?” 

“I’m good; it’s so good to see you!” Oh, you realized. This is Luke, Calum’s band mate. You watch with a curt smile as the two were only thighs deep in the water, holding each other and exchanging the quickest set of words. He turned her a bit to see four other boys who were sat in the Jacuzzi, beers in hands and all smiles. 

“Ashton! Michael!” The largest man there stood up first, water dripping down his toned body. You bit your bottom lip as you watched the unnaturally red-haired man stand and give your friend an airhug. “Ashton, you can hug me; I’m not scared of water.” 

“Maybe not you, but your phone definitely is,” the built man, Ashton, joked. He turned over to meet your eyes as Meri continued to hug the other man beside him who you assumed was Michael. “I take it you are Merigold’s best friend, yes?” 

You nod shyly, watching as he moves through the water and offers you a hand. “I’m Y/N.” Ashton smiles as you shake his hand. “And wow, your hand is huge.” 

Ashton bursts into a joyful laugh. He, too, owned the broken Australian accent that Calum and Luke own. He must be part of the band, too. “I get that a lot. Will you be joining us this evening, Y/N?” 

“I’ve got nowhere else to go as soon as this cruise starts going, so,” you joked, having Ashton emit yet another hardy laugh. You smiled, noticing that Ashton didn’t let your hand go. 

“Come come, join us in the water,” Ashton insisted, in which you politely declined at first. But Ashton gives your hand a squeeze, his intoxicating hazel eyes practically begging you. “It’s warm, and there’s absolutely no sharks.” 

You snorted, with Meri looking back to laugh at Ashton’s reassuring strategy. You think for a brief moment before resigning and wiggling down your shorts as well as removing your heels. Holding it in your free hand, Ashton held your hand and helped you down carefully. He walked you over to the rest of the boys, who of which Meri had been ogling one of them. 

He’s the one she wants to fuck. But as you came closer and closer, you realized that the two man band had been people you recognized. “Oh shit,” you emit under your breath, “you guys are the Chainsmokers, right?” The two boys leaning against the rim of the Jacuzzi smile and chuckle at your reaction. 

“Nice to meet you,” the raven-haired man start, plopping his hand out from the water to offer it to you. “I’m Alex, and this over here is Drew.” You shake his hand first, realizing that this was the man Meri wanted to hook you up with while she took the dirty blonde man that also held his hand out. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” you smile while shaking hands with Drew right after. “I watched you guys win that Grammy a bit ago; congratulations on your success.” 

“Thank you so much,” Alex replies with a gracious smile. He gestures you over to sit beside him, with Ashton calling a server over to bring you a beer. It was this moment that you realized how kind a few celebrities can be. You take a seat beside Alex, with Drew beside him and Meri right next to him. The warm water relaxed your body as Ashton and Michael decide to stand in front of you all to make conversation easier. 

Michael introduces himself, in which you shake his hand happily. “I apologize that our bass player isn’t respectful.” You giggle as Luke comes over to join. “But you’ve got the lead singer, lead guitarist.” He pats his wet chest, “and the drummer.” He points at Ashton, who smiles contently. 

“Maybe you all can sing me a little something later,” you tease, as Luke looks over at the other boys. 

“I mean, I’m pretty pitch perfect right now,” Michael downplays, shrugging as you got distracted very quickly by how pale the boy was and how much ink was ornate around his body. “My voice is solely ready for Jet Black though.” 

Ashton laughs at him and shakes his head, “last chorus though?” Michael nods vigorously. “Yeah, alright. Luke?” The blonde boy also nods. They then look over at Calum, who was unsurprisingly making out with the woman on him. “Calum!” 

He pulls away from the girl and looks your way, immediately engaging with your eyes. There was a sort of longing and interest in his eyes that you couldn’t quite understand. His large hands that once held the woman’s waist under the water was now resting on the outer rim of the Jacuzzi that he was leaning against. His head was tilted up, having you ravish in his toned torso and how sharp his jawline was. 

“What?” His voice, deep and raspy, asked in annoyance. His eyes redirect to face meet with Ashton’s. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

“Can’t you see we have a guest?” Ashton points at you while still glaring at the bass player. “I think you two have met before.” 

“Huh?” He asked, his words licked with confusion. “Who?” 

You raised your eyebrows in shock. You didn’t know this man enough to be insulted, but you were surprised at his audacity. After face fucking you twice, eating you out, and ramming inside you for his climax, he suddenly doesn’t know who you are. You snorted, your hand feeling the hickeys ornate on your neck. He gave you tea, made you breakfast and washed the dress he had soiled. I misjudged you, you thought. You’re a prick. 

“I think it’ll sound just as good regardless if he joins in or not,” you immediately commented, rolling your eyes before looking back at Ashton with a smile. Meri snorted and muttered a ‘get fucked’ under her breath as she takes a swig of her beer. She passes you one, in which her happily take. “Please serenade me?” 

“Your wish shall be our command,” Ashton winks before looking over at Michael. The green-eyed boy clears his throat before he begun to sing. When he finishes his line, Ashton and Luke join in and they all harmonize. The way their voices complimented one another was impressive and you were pleasantly surprised. They’re really good. 

When they finished, everyone around who heard gave them an applause. You clapped against your bottle of beer, genuinely impressed by their voices. “Wow, can’t wait to add you guys to my Spotify.” 

They all laugh while bowing towards the crowd. You took a swig of your beer and engaged in conversation with the boys. 

XXX

A half hour passes, and you were all giggles. Michael had been telling you about how he was happily engaged and even showed you his band. Luke, Meri, Alex, and Drew decided to go participate in the surfing that they were conducting on the other side of the large cruise. Michael, soon after finishing his obsession with his lover Crystal, he received a text from her, inviting him over to her suite. 

That left just you and Ashton. 

“Ah no, we write some of the silliest shit sometimes,” Ashton explains through a fit of laughter. “We haven’t dated much in the first few years of our career and we wrote so much lovey dovey shit.” 

“I mean listen,” you tried to ease, “I’ll keep it a buck with you; that’s the stuff that sells.” 

Ashton nodded, “you’re absolutely right. That’s the shit that sells.” Ashton was right beside you, shoulders touching but he had the respect to keep from making any moves or overstepping. You could tell he had a surface-level interest in you, but he wasn’t intending to force himself on you. “Now, the band has changed completely.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Luke’s dating Sierra,” Ashton began as he looked into the distance. “Fucking Michael is engaged and Calum’s busy being a fuckboy.” You two glance over at Calum, who was still making out with this chick, his hands pressing against her exposed back. “Fucking twat. And I’m here trying to figure my place with this girl.” 

“I take it you like her?” You ask curiously. 

“I do, a lot, actually,” Ashton’s words were true. “But she doesn’t exactly want to commit to me. She initially had a crush on that dickhead over there.” He points his chin towards Calum. You widened your eyes to this information. 

“You’re kidding.” 

Ashton shakes his head, “I’m dead serious. I’m not mad at him though; she liked him first and I can’t control her feelings.” You nodded comprehensively. “But Calum took advantage of that knowledge and began fucking her for a while.” 

Wow, you thought. Tonight had really been the worst night for Calum. You were learning all these things about Calum, which confirmed your not-entertained suspicion that he might be a bad guy. The way he acts seemed completely different with the way he actually was. 

“But as you expected, he got bored,” Ashton informed you. “I’m pretty sure she only started crushing on me because she got hurt, but sometimes you’ve gotta take what you can get.” 

“My sympathy goes to you, Ashton,” you admit quietly, “but isn’t that also taking advantage of her?” 

“Yeah, if I came to her,” he took another swig of beer. “But she went ahead crying to me, unknowing that I liked her. So she attached herself to me and that’s when I told her.” 

You took another drink as well. “This is a lot of tea for me, you know. And I just met you.” The two of you share a laugh before you shrug. “I’m sorry to hear about all that though. I can imagine how awkward it must be between you and Calum.”

“What? Nah,” Ashton denied. “Me and Calum are like boyfriends. He isn’t a bad guy whatsoever. He’s actually got the biggest heart in the world.” You were finding that hard to believe now. “Currently, he’s been having a hard time but before all that, he’s the most down-to-earth guy. He apologized for hurting her even.” 

You glance over at Calum, your mind unsure as to how to deem him. He’s a good guy but also a bad guy but also a good guy? Your mind was racing as he continued sucking lips with the girl. “Sounds like someone who could ruin my life,” you muttered quietly. 

Ashton shrugged, “he’s just never been rejected before. Girls throw themselves at him left and right.” But right then, the drummer nudges you and smirks. “That is, until he met you.” 

“Huh?” 

“When Luke told him that Meri was bringing you tonight, Calum was formulating a whole plan to make you want him again,” Ashton informs you. “You’ve been the only girl who didn’t bother to ask for his number or any social media handle. He didn’t want you to be a one night stand.” 

You couldn’t believe it. Calum is being a giant prick because you were the first woman who didn’t care? Just because he was famous doesn’t mean that the world revolves around him. A one night stand is a one night stand; you weren’t bothered to ask for another night. You enjoyed that night and decided to carry on with your life. It wasn’t like you were going to date him. 

“That’s funny,” you softly reply, focusing down on the now empty bottle in your hands. “The morning after, he made me breakfast and let me use his bathroom. And after all that, he wanted me out of the apartment quickly.” 

Ashton begins to think a bit, biting the skin in his cheek. He then looks over and lowers his eyebrows, “was he looking at anything? Like his phone or any documents?” 

“Mhm,” you replied, “like this bundle of papers.” 

Ashton nods, “yeah no, it’s not you. Like I said, he’s having a hard time and those documents are the reason why. He honestly doesn’t mean to act so bipolar.” 

You began to ponder what was written in the documents, but they truly were none of your business. Whatever those documents held clearly bothered Calum and you weren’t intending to to pry. After all, you don’t even think you two can be considered friends. You’re more acquainted than anything. You know more about Ashton now than you do about Calum. 

“Anyways.” A subject change. “It seems Merigold was interested in Drew. Do you know if she’s got a crush on him?” 

“I dunno about a crush,” you shrugged, “she wants to fuck him.” 

Ashton snorts, “yeah? She’s planning on kicking you out for the night then?” 

“I have my own suite but we’re right beside each other,” you began with a sigh. “But she actually wanted me to fuck Alex so it was like a whole double-fucking thing.” 

Ashton chuckles, “how’s it working out for you?” You jokingly look around to spot the mentioned boy that clearly wasn’t around. 

“Not well, I think.” You giggle. Camila Cabello begins playing on the boat, with a bit of the noise settling down. Never Be the Same had been playing, and several people began dancing slowly against each other and quietly belting the tune. “I kinda really like this song.” 

“Yeah?” Ashton asked. He grabbed the empty beer bottles and put them on the outside of the Jacuzzi. “’Just like nicotine, heroin, morphine.’” This boy could hit some high pitches, you noticed. “’Suddenly, I’m a fiend and you’re all I need.’” He grabbed your chin, reminding you of the way Calum did, and winked. “’All I need... yeah, yeah, all I need...’” 

Ashton quickly grabbed you and placed you on top of him. You blushed, seeing how easy he was able to do that due to the water making your body incredibly light. You weren’t sure how you felt about this situation, considering you just met this man. But with the way his eyes were looking at you, you knew that you something. Unfortunately, you sort of had someone else in mind. 

“’It’s you, babe,’” Ashton sung quietly, “’n I’m a sucker for the way that you move, babe.’” His large hands supported your lower back, holding you close so you wouldn’t float away. “’And I could try to run but it would be useless...’“ 

“Ashton...” You didn’t want to seem rude, but fucking one band member and then fucking the next makes you feel like a slut. You didn’t even know how you managed to get into such a situation with Calum, let alone how you got into it again with Ashton. But hooking up immediately after one last night made your stomach churn. “I shouldn’t. I just fucked your bandmate yesterday and--” 

“I know,” Ashton quietly whispered, bringing your face closer to his. He gives you a wink, “just wait another minute.” You titled your head to the left in confusion while Ashton began cutting the space between your lips. His breath tickled your lips, “wait for it.” 

You felt his lips just barely touch yours before you hear splashes of water headed your way. Ashton laughed against your lips, pulling back as the both of you turn to see Calum rush your way. The water clearly slowed him down, but the fierceness in his eyes were piercing you. “Fuckin’ knew it,” Ashton mumbled under his breath. He looks at you and gives you a wide smile, “have fun.” 

“Huh?” You exclaimed. Before you knew it, a hand grabbed hold of your upper arm and pulled you from Ashton’s body. You attempt to pull away but you froze when Calum held your shoulders so you could be staring straight at him. “Calum, what the fuck--” 

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice was cold and vexed, as though someone had broken his favorite item. He gives Ashton an ill look, which Ashton repaid with a devilish smirk. “You’re so fucking annoying, Ash.” Calum could only roll his eyes.

“You can thank me later.” Ashton winks at you before waving his hands in dismissal. “Have fun, kids.” 

Calum began pulling you away, which made you instinctively grab your things and exit the Jacuzzi with him. He guides you away without a word, allowing you to just be met with his back. Toned and smooth, with his scapula protruding, which made you tempted to reach up and touch them. But right now, you weren’t having it with Calum. 

“Calum, where the fuck are we going? Let go of me!” 

“No.” 

His words were thin and formidable. You weren’t sure of anything at that moment except for the grip he hand around your wrist. You two were leaving a trail of Jacuzzi water, his entire body dripping more than yours. This man was looking good, you couldn’t lie. But you were not happy with being somewhat manhandled by this man. 

And, while you were at the idea of being manhandled, did nobody notice all the wounds you owned on your body? The scraped and bruised knees? The hickeys all over your neck? Was this normal for celebrities to see so they couldn’t be bothered to look at you? Even Meri didn’t say anything (which likely was to spare you from the embarrassment.) 

She’s a good friend, bless her heart.

But once again, she left you and you were having yet another deja vu moment with Calum. You could be at home, being a good girl and studying. Or maybe taking another shift so you could earn a bit more pocket money. Or sleeping, honestly. 

“Calum, where are you taking me?”

You trail close behind, noticing that he was taking you to the inside of the cruise where the seemingly endless floors of suites resided. He loosened his grip and gradually let you go as soon as you two got close to a crowded elevator. You would have escaped but he pressed his hand on your lower back, cautious of mentioned potential plan. 

“Be a good girl and just follow,” Calum murmurs, the two of you standing with several others. You grumbled, your eyes watching the elevator reach each floor before making it to the ground level (or your current floor.) Calum gets you in first so the two of you would be against the wall. But it was becoming cramp, so Calum took it upon himself to get you in a corner and cage you with his arms. 

“You must be joking,” you chuckled darkly under your breath. Calum’s chest pressed against yours, feeling your nipples perk from the A/C of the elevator and Calum’s body. “I should’ve just kicked you in the nuts and ran as fast as possible.” 

“I used to play soccer in secondary school,” Calum muttered by your ear. “Meaning that it would have been futile; I would have caught you already.” Rolling your eyes from his cockiness, you keep your arms tightly to your sides and emit a sigh. The elevator smelled of chlorine now; you longed for a shower. 

“I wish Ashton didn’t let you grab me,” you sighed in annoyance. You threw your head back and leaned against the elevator wall. “I was having a good time.” 

Calum brought his hand over to your face, pinching both cheeks with his fingers. Your lips were now vertical and popping out. “Wanna take back those words, Princess?” 

“Or else what?” You hissed, pushing his hand off of your face. “Whatcha gonna do? Bite me?” You bring a hand up to rub your neck. “I don’t think you’ve got much more bite in you.” 

“Oh Princess,” Calum hummed, pressing his forehead against yours, “you’re going to regret those words.” 

You two had reached the desired floor as Calum grabs you out of the elevator and begins walking towards his suite. You reluctantly followed, barely tipsy from the one beer you had given. This would be more bearable if you were drunk, but you preferred being fairly sober. Better to actually know what was going on rather than just mindlessly doing things in the moment. 

Your feet left several puddles, with mental apologies floating all around your head. But Calum didn’t seem to give a damn as you two made it to one of the ends of the hall worth of suites. A guard stood at the end of it, meeting eyes with Calum. 

“I.D.,” the guard asked. Calum fished his phone out from his pocket, which had been covered with a plastic protector. He lets you go momentarily but keeps you stood at the door as he took out his identification and presented it to the guard. You crossed your arms across your chest, knowing your nipples were still perky and evident. 

The guard nods, digging through his pocket with his eyes peered in to take out a keycard. He offers it to Calum, who takes it graciously and hands him a fair amount of money. They exchange a look before the guard begins to walk away from the suite, which you assumed was to take a new position at the other end. 

Calum grabbed a bit of your bathing suit and moved you back to dip the card into the lock. The red light turns green, and in one clean click! sound, the door is opened and the two of you are in. 

[Before we continue (if you’d like), play Can’t Imagine by Always Never]

Calum switches on the lights and you were presented with a beautiful suite. Unfortunately, with the situation at hand once again, Calum wasn’t going to let you ravish in it’s elegance. He drags you into the bathroom and flicks on the light in there. “Calum?” You ask but he locks the door of the suite and the bathroom before turning to you with such a serious expression. 

“Get in the shower,” Calum immediately instructed. You stayed still, attempting to comprehend exactly what was going on. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he moves a bit closer. “Did I stutter?” 

Preventing the situation from becoming grim, you oblige and position yourself into the shower. You toss your things on the sink before you do and you turn to watch Calum. The toned man empties his hands as well and teases the waist of his swimming trunks. Heat bursts into your cheeks as his length, exposed and hardening, was exposed before you. 

“C-Calum,” you attempt to look away but Calum walks towards you and grabs your chin. He tilts your head down, forcing you to see his cock slap his stomach. 

“I didn’t tell you to look away, did I?” Calum growled, your eyes wide by the twitching and eagerness of his cock. “Get in the shower, put your hands on the wall. Don’t move a muscle.” 

You pressed your hands against the wall opposite from the shower head, your heart racing from nerves. Staring at the wall ornate with minimalist art of shells and waves, you listen as Calum turns on the shower. The glass shower door is closed, and the intimacy suddenly went up into flames. 

You couldn’t see it, but Calum opened up the bar of soap that hotels provide and began rubbing it between his wet hands. You could hear the soap squish and squeak in his hands. Then, Calum’s hand grabbed the bit of bathing suit between your thighs and pulled them up, giving you an annoying wedgie. “What the fuck, Calum?”

Smack! His hand met harshly with your ass cheek, causing you to lean your body against the wall. Calum chuckled coolly under his breath, “that’s Daddy to you, Princess.” He starts to rub the area that now stings, your ass foamed up with bubbles of soap. “I need my Princess clean before I can fuck the lights out of her.” 

You gulp, feeling his fingers gradually rub down towards the crevice between your glistening thighs. His long fingers teased, slowly rubbing between the lips of your pussy. You pressed your forehead against the well, the sensation sending twitch-inducing pleasure through your body. 

“C-Calum, quit it...” you measley fought, your eyes completely shut when Calum began rubbing your clit in circles with the tip of his middle finger. Your toes curled from his touch, but he suddenly halted. Shit, you thought. Wrong name. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” 

Calum smirked. “I know you are, Princess.” He continued stimulating your clit, rubbing it slowly as his free hand rubbed adoringly along the curves of your body. “You look good. Too good.” He gave your side a little pinch. “I didn’t like the way people were looking over at you.” 

“People were looking at me?” You asked curiously. You were completely oblivious to any eyes on you, considering you were constantly engaged in interaction and conversation with people to really notice. 

“I noticed you when you first came to the pool area on the main deck,” Calum admitted quietly. “I watched you come to the Jacuzzi. I watched the way Ashton held your hand and helped you in. I watched him mount you on top of him.” 

So he cares a lot. You smirked, allowing yourself a victory in your head. Even an asshole-acting chick magnet has enough energy to put aside his pride. “Didn’t think you noticed. You had a girl all up on you.” 

“Didn’t even bother to catch her fucking name,” Calum mumbled. His hands left your body for a quick moment to apply more soap. Suddenly, without warning, his hands shoved themselves between the front of your body and the bathing suit. You froze. “I was busy thinking about how I was going to bring you back here.” 

“O-oh really?” His fingers rubbed along your stomach. “But you already h-had a girl on you. Isn’t that-” his fingers crawled up to the space between your breasts, “-what you wanted?” 

“She wasn’t you.” His large hands reached your breasts and pressed his palms down against your nipples. You emit a strangled moan. 

“Her body was perfect,” you commented quietly. “S-seemed like your body t-type...” 

“You’re my body type.” He rested his head on your shoulder, noticing your arms struggling due to his satisfying touch. “Do you like the way I touch you, Princess?” You nod, biting your bottom lip harshly. He presses his cock against your ass. “Do you want me to fuck you?” 

You hum out an ‘mhm’ but it wasn’t good enough for Calum. His fingers wrap about your nipples and tug them harshly, making you jump. Your nails threaten to leave scratches on the wall, but Calum’s painful teasing was slowly sending you to the edge. “P-please...” 

His hands rub your chest easily with his soapy fingers, his index fingers constantly circling your nipples. “I will.” But after his words, he retracted his body from yours. You open your eyes and decide to turn around to face Calum. You watched as he detached the shower head from its holster and began spraying you with water. “But first, I need to wash you off.” 

“Calum!” For a moment, you two were sharing a laugh. Calum had been spraying warm water over your body, in which you simultaneously tried to get rid of all the soap as well as shield yourself from it. He was immensely entertained by your motions as you removed any spec of soap from your body. “I’m clean, I’m clean!” 

“Are you sure?” He kept spraying your chest. “I feel like you’ve still got a lil some some.” 

“Calum!” 

“Okay, okay.” Calum obliges and puts the shower head back where it was held. It continued to hit his back again while he neared you. He tugs on the bit of bathing suit covering your stomach and reverts back to a serious face. “Strip that off and go dry yourself. I want to see you on the bed when I’m done here.” 

You tilt your head to the side, “what will you be doing here?” 

He looks down, then meets your eyes again, “I’m not fucking you with a chlorine-covered cock.” 

“Nice alliteration,” you said under your breath. Calum smirked. You looked down at his cock, standing painfully hard right before you. Then, without much thought, you brought yourself on your knees (hissing in the process.) “Pass me the soap.” 

“Y/N, you don’t--” 

“It’s Princess to you,” you scolded from below, earning a heart-melting smile from the man before he offers the soap down to you. “I can’t let you do everything, can I?” You lather the soap all over your hands before you drop it on the shower floor. Calum emits a gentle moan as soon as you wrapped your hands around his cock. “...A newfound kink I see?” You teased, stroking his cock up and down. 

“It’s not a kink!” 

“It’s a soap kink.” 

“It’s not!” 

You snort, “I’m not convinced.” You rub his long cock, watching as his thighs tense up and his toes curl below you. 

“Y/N, you’re fucking touching my cock,” Calum exclaims in frustration. He threw his head back in euphoria. “Fucking... of course I’m going to react this way-- it feels good. B-but it’s not a-- fuck!” 

Calum was quick to grab your shoulders and bring you back on your feet. Your hands leave his cock, the combination of soap and precum dripping from your fingers. “Take that off, dry yourself off, and get on the bed. Not another word, okay?” You just watched as he took the shower head again and cleaned your hands. “Understood, Princess?” He emphasized. 

You nodded, earning an eager smile from Calum as he helped you out of the shower. You quickly grabbed a spare towel and your things but before you could escape the bathroom, Calum dips out from the shower and gives your ass a spank. “H-hey!” You squeaked. But when you glanced back to glare at the man, he only gave you a darker, more cynical look in return. 

“Not another word,” Calum hums, his brown orbs instructing you to proceed before making any more bad moves. You leave silently, your skin quickly accumulating goosebumps due to the strong A/C. You shivered, lacking interest in stripping due to the bit of warmth the bathing suit provided. 

But, you were to listen. Walking over to the large king sized bed, you toss your shorts and phone on the bedside table provided. You drop the towel on the bed and begin to peel off the bathing suit. With a bit of a struggle, you remove the soppy article of clothing from your body. Shivering some more, you find solace in wrapping yourself with the dry towel you grabbed. You could still smell a bit of chlorine on your skin, but the soap was able to fairly mask it. 

The sound of the shower suddenly subdues, and you’re only left guessing what Calum could be doing. You keep your naked body wrapped with the towel while taking a seat on the bed. You watch as Calum Hood walks out of the bathroom and slowly makes his way to you. 

Your body completely defied you and instantly reacted to seeing Calum’s nude body. It was built and toned, with tattoos kissed perfectly in his skin. The muscles were absolutely not subtle, and you desperately wanted to feel them. Ride-able thighs and a thick cock stopped right before you, with a hand under your chin to force your head up. You met his hungry eyes, gulping from their intensity. 

“You seem distracted,” Calum hums quietly. He bends down to get a closer look at you. Your cheeks tint pink. “Like what you see, Princess?” 

Submissively, you nod. Although you were mad earlier and preferred to continue a conversation with Ashton, you couldn’t deny your hormones. Calum knew how to fuck, and you didn’t mind an opportunity to feel good. His thumb rubs along your trembling bottom lip, his cock completely hard and pressed against his stomach. “I’m going to face fuck you again, Princess.” 

You lips quivered, “b-but my throat is still--” 

“Did I ask?” Those brown orbs were engulfed in darkness, with all sorts of devious plans that you couldn’t even imagine. “Come.” He lays down on the bed, his head comfortably settling into the pillows by the headboard. He gestures you to sit between his legs. You nest there quickly, your hands immediately wrapping around his cock and waiting for instruction. “Comfortable?” You nod. “Then go ahead, Princess.” 

You lean down, familiar with this request as your mouth immediately took in his entire member. Calum’s throaty moans are forced out, his cock twitching contently in your mouth. You felt yourself gagging a bit when his tip teased the beginning of your throat, but you had to brace yourself. Because Calum wasn’t intending to remove your mouth from his dick anytime soon. 

His hands quickly found themselves webbed up in your hair, a string of moans escaping before he slowly forced your head up and down his length. Tears develop once again and you held on tightly to his muscular thighs. “F-fuck, Y/N... your mouth feels so fucking good...” 

His praise encouraged you to twirl your tongue around, eager for his cock to cum already. Your precum had already been leaking down between your legs and onto the bed sheets. You mentally apologized to the maids that would be cleaning this room eventually. Saliva streamed down his cock as he quickened his pace and solely focused on reaching his high. 

“’M close, Princess,” he informs you quietly, his voice shaky and husky due to his approaching climax. He forced his cock down your throat, your cheeks shining from your tears. But when you looked over at Calum, all you could see was his jawline. His head was thrown back, working towards his euphoric moment as his hands continued to force your head up and down his member. 

But finally, he came. 

Forcing it down your throat and relieving your throat with coughs, you watch as Calum sits up and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. He keeps you between his legs, but taps one of your legs. “Lift your leg over.” You do as told, with his leg between the two of yours. “Now sit.” 

“Sit?” You asked, your hands wrapping around his neck for safety and grip. He holds your waist for extra support and waits patiently. “On your thigh?” He nods. Emitting a sigh, you slowly letting yourself down and immediately arc your back from feeling his skin against your pussy. 

“Geez, Princess,” Calum began to tease with a smirk, “you’re so wet... it’s like you enjoy it when I fuck your face.” You stay quiet, shutting your eyes as doses of pleasure shot all about your body from just being still. “Princess, you’d feel much better if you moved.” 

“I-I know, I just...” You didn’t know what to say, really. You were already feeling good just feeling his thigh below you. He was incredibly warm and his large hands on your waist kept you paralyzed. 

“Guess I still gotta do a lot.” Without wasting a second, Calum used his strength and moved you up and down his thigh. You emit staggered moans, feeling your precum spread along his thigh. Your body writhed, your arms wrapping a little tighter around his neck. “You okay, Princess?” 

“Mhm,” you strained out. Calum chuckles, using one hand to continue moving you up and down his thigh. His resigned hand went ahead and took hold of one of your breasts. “F-fuck, Daddy...” 

His thumb circled around your nipple, forcing it erect while tilting it up so he could wedge it between his teeth. Pleasure hatched through your bones, feeling the stimulation of your pussy against his thigh and the way he nipped and nibbled at your nipple. It was killing you-- you wanted to get fucked already. You were tired of this teasing and touching when you wanted to be completely ruined by this man. 

“Alright, fuck this.” Calum’s patience runs dry from teasing you. His hands grab your waist again to lift you onto his cock. You assist, your legs now on either side of his as he forced you down onto his cock. Your mouth blurts out sinful words, feeling as your pussy was ravishing around Calum’s dick. “Fuck...” 

“Sh-shit...” His fingers dent into your waist, his pelvis thrusting into you to get his cock as deep as possible. He bounced you on his cock, with his hands ensuring that you’re pushed down immediately as soon as you’re almost completely off his cock. You hold on tightly, your acrylics digging into Calum’s back. You wanted to apologize immediately, but it didn’t seem like he minded. 

As he continued, he brings his lips to your ear and nibbles on it. His thrusting made your brain stupid, but you definitely focused when he began to talk, “Princess, I have an offer for you.” His voice is serious right then. “And you aren’t allowed to say no.” 

You continue to indulge while waiting quietly (but not quite) for his words. “I want you to be mine for the rest of the time that I’m in the city,” his whispers. “You can have whatever you want in return.” 

“Y-you offering to be my s-sugar daddy, Daddy?” You struggled out between moans. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You shook your head, backing up to look into Calum’s eyes. Your eyes threatened to shut from the pleasure but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “W-we can just be f-fuckbuddies-- I don’t want your-- fuck-- money...” 

Calum’s eyes widened, completely going still from your words. Your body calmed down from the pleasure and you tilted your head in confusion like a dog. “You don’t want my money?” You shook your head. “You straight up just want to fuck?” 

“W-well, yeah?” You say honestly with a sigh. Sweat accumulated all over his face, but you could still see a sudden gentleness wash over him. “Did you want me to ask you for money in exchange?”

“N-no, I just.” Calum stutters. “It’s usually what I expect...”

You shake your head and smile, lifting one hand to give Calum a gentle slap on his forehead. “Then you should expect the unexpected from me. I’m not some golddigger or cloutchaser.” You wrap your arms around his neck again and shrug. “If you’re giving me pleasure, I’d like to return the favor with the same amount of pleasure.” 

Calum could only blink, somewhat in awe from your words. You poke the back of his neck, watching his eyes burn into yours. “You’re only here for a little bit of time so I’d rather you spend less than what you’ve probably already spent.” The two of you sit in a bit of silence. His cock gets harder inside your pussy. “I-is that a deal?” 

Calum breathes in for a moment before changing positions. You were now lying down on your back, with the man hovering over you. His cock was very much still inside you and his chest pushed down onto yours. “I’m going to devour you, Princess,” Calum insists in a hush tone before sitting back up. He holds onto your waist once again and begins to rail you, your mind going completely blank and your hands losing feeling. 

You weren’t quite sure what you agreed to, but you were subconsciously praying you wouldn’t be regretting it. 

-=-=-==-=-===-=---=-==-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-==-=-=-==-

another long part but a goodie (kinda). let me know whatcha think right in here and ill be starting the next part! <3 

[feelingsdusk-writes]

Fides

Three thousand years later... ^^; Thanks so much @esamastation for letting me play with your idea of a terrarium filled with fairies!

---

Fides: (noun, latin) faith, trust, confidence, loyalty, promise of protection.

---

Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski is a pariah, a loser, a freak and an outcast, and he’s proud of it.

It’s been like that ever since his mother lost it and Evan Richards -big brother by one year to Jonathan (Stiles' classmate) and son to Mary, who was his doctor. All of them trash, because who shares a child's medical history like that, huh? So trash family to its fullest. Trash mother (Stiles has never liked her), trash father (he has never met him, but nothing but trash can produce such trash) and trash sons. They should make a musical a la The Sound of Music, it would be a hit for sure!- spread a lot of rumors about him sharing the same sickness and being a total psycho. Suddenly, everyone had always suspected, friends had the prefix former attached to that title, no one wanted him around. He always did this and that, didn’t you see? He had to take some kind of medication every day, didn’t you see? He was too strange, didn’t you see? What kind of boy wanted to know that much (if anything at all!) about male circumcision, huh? It wasn’t normal, didn’t you see? Blah, blah, blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. And then, no one in Lost Hills School wanted to touch that (him) with a ten foot pole.

Stiles, after two horrific weeks of shunning and jeers and coming back to an empty home because the sheriff was god knows where, decided to prove them right and fought back by being as crazy as he could… without getting caught, of course, he's not an idiot. The final balance? No one wanted to be his friend, sure, but no one wanted to be his enemy either.

Stiles is a vicious, cunning, vengeful and grudge-holding asshole, and he’s proud of that too.

He doesn’t need anyone. He hasn’t needed anyone ever since he was eight and he had to start cleaning up the fridge and going grocery shopping and tidying up the house and doing the laundry and mending his ripped clothes and… All in all, ever since he finally acknowledged that his father wasn’t going to get away from the bottle long enough to take care of him like he should.

(His stance was proven right when his dad did get away from the bottle (changing his mere alcoholic status to functional alcoholic) enough to relaunch his cop career into being named Kern County’s sheriff. Which pretty much changed nothing for Stiles, who still had to take care of himself, but now had to cook for one instead of two, more often than not. He got really creative with his cooking, that's for sure. Now he understands why people say that cooking for one is such a pain. He has also learned that a recipe found on the internet is like walking on a minefield: it may turn out alright or blow up in your face spectacularly.)

So he doesn’t need anyone, indeed, but he’s twelve, alone, with no means of transportation out of town to see anything new (unless he wants to bike his way out), some pocket money that he’ll most likely need to spend on groceries when his father inevitably forgets about him, and the entire summer vacation ahead of him and no activities to fill it with. The Internet, for once, is not cutting it at all, and hacking into his peers’ computers to plant viruses in them seems to have lost its charm and isn’t working either. And hacking the teachers'j room’s printer to have it spit pages with Mr. Jones’ porn sporadically isn’t funny with no one there to see it. Summer work, finished. Everything is clean. Laundry is done. He has the meals for the entire week prepared already.

In other words, he’s bored as hell and about to climb the walls in frustration.

He sighs and looks to the ceiling of the living room, as if the couple of stains above him are going to give him an answer to his dilemma. He’s been sprawled like a starfish since half an hour ago, ever since he let himself fall off the couch dramatically after checking all the channels on the TV. Thrice. He contemplates the idea of binge watching Star Wars again and dismisses it almost instantly, because he did that yesterday and, he loves them, he really does, but it would be too much even for him.

He wiggles in place almost in agony after going over all the possibilities again in his head and finding none suitable. The backyard catches his eye and he thinks of getting the inflatable pool to at least stop being an asphyxiated starfish and soak for a while, escaping the almost unbearable heat.

He dismisses the idea again because he hasn’t liked spending time there ever since his dad took a look at the mess his mother’s garden had turned into and took care of it. Definitely. Stiles had tried, he really had, but he didn’t seem to have his mom’s green thumb and also he had more than enough on his plate without having to despair over the gardenias.

(Seeing the empty spaces where the flower beds used to be always made his heart constrict, so he stopped looking.)

He looks again, raising up from his sprawled position. He misses her garden and the aroma that would drift through the window in spring. She never won any contest, but it was beautiful.

And now there isn’t a single plant in the house.

Stiles suddenly wants one. The memory of her garden is a good one, along with the smiles she would throw over her shoulder at him, with dirty hands and sometimes even face, when she would forget and scratch her nose. And Stiles, unlike his dad, is past the point where he avoids all memories of her and he tries to cherish the good ones. Even though the tools she used still give him nightmares sometimes (if he ever sees the little trowel with the light green handle and the matching hand fork it will be too soon), he still wants a plant. Or many. So that's it, he's getting some.

But...

But he doesn’t want to kill it, he had enough of that with the gardenias, thank you very much. So research it is. He’s going to research the hell out of it to start easy.

He nods to himself and, somehow, three hours later, the initial idea of getting a hardy cactus, which evolved to planting lavender or snapdragons, has in turn led him to inside moss terrariums and now he’s hooked. Because, apart from the awesome plant-only creations, some even put little houses un them… and there are Star Wars terrariums. Star Wars. And now he has decided he’s going to make an entire Ewok village. Not a dupe one, but an entirely functional one with even that cage elevator they had. And the bridges. And all the furniture. And… it’s going to last.

Decision made, he makes a list of what he needs and then, he plans. The container, he has, because they never got rid of uncle Celestyn’s big as hell fish tank. The glue gun, woodworking tools and materials, gloves and pebbles, he has too. Wood he can get from the broken juniper table his dad bought to fix and then never did, and moss he can easily find. He’s missing the peat moss soil and the hygrolon. The first he knows he can find at home depot, the second, he’s not so sure. True, he could make the terrarium without it, but he wants moss to cover the walls too. If he doesn’t find it or can’t afford it (there's no way he’s going to spend all his just-in-case money), he’ll make do with what he has, though.

---

The soil he has no problem getting, but the hygrolon he finds out is only sold online and it’s pretty expensive to boot. He mourns for a moment and then moves on, already making plans on how to shape the landscape of the terrarium.

He needs to cut the table to make the fake trees for the houses and he doubts he can do that without injuring himself. Not only does he not have that kind of heavy machinery, but he wouldn’t dare to use it. Then, he remembers his father’s former partner, Anderson, who likes woodworking and, more importantly, Stiles.

“Is everything okay, kiddo?”

He’s also the one he’s supposed to call in case of an immediate emergency when his father is out of town. Besides the one time he caught a stomach bug from his classmates and couldn’t go to school, he’s never done it. Not because he doesn’t like him (nothing farther from the truth, actually) but because he’s used to always dealing with problems himself.

“Sure!” he chirps. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a project?”

“You’re supposed to do those by yourself, Stiles,” the man laughs, obviously amused.

“It’s not for school!” he protests indignant and then explains what he needs. “Do you think you can help me with the trees and making the sheets of wood for the houses?“

There’s silence from the other side of the line and Stiles can picture easily what the man is thinking. He knows that Stiles is going to do it one way or another, that his father is on the other side of the county so it’s not like he’s going to be there to stop him, that it’s better if he takes on the more dangerous parts himself and instructs Stiles on how to make the others without hurting himself. In other words, he’s thinking about danger prevention and damage control. Stiles hears a sigh and makes a silent triumphant dance.

“Well,” he grumbles and Stiles snickers, “it’s not like I have anything better to do. Damn the retirement. Time of your life, my ass. I’ll be there in an hour, kiddo. Don’t you dare start without me there, you hear me? I don’t want to have to explain to your dad why you’re missing some fingers.”

“Yes, sir,” he salutes, still snickering.

When he arrives, he brings with him a portable grinding machine, a piece of fallen wood from his own garden and sealant. “I imagine you don’t want the moss to reach the trees and the houses, do you?” He explains and Stiles grins, delighted.

(Stiles really, really likes Anderson.)

About three hours later, Anderson has made a structure that will ensure that the trees don’t fall. There is one big tree and three clusters of trees joined each by various platforms at different levels, with spaces where the houses will sit. He even went as far as to shape them as if they are made out of wooden boards (instead of flat) and to hollow the thickest of the trees at that platform level. Stiles also had the idea of making the top of each tree hollow too to put a potted plant inside, so that it won’t look bare and strange. All in all, they are ready to start the setup.

“So,” the man looks at him intently. “Where are you going to put it?”

“I want it in my room,” he answers, “near the window. On the floor.”

“The floor?”

“Don’t wanna have to take the ladder every time I have to water it.”

“Fair enough,” Anderson snickers and Stiles pouts. “But you know you’re going to have to wait to finish the house to set the terrarium, right? Unless you want to do that kind of detailed work from above and with an awkward angle to boot,” he explains and then laughs at his despairing face. “Take it easy, kiddo. Call me when you want to do it and I’ll help you, ok? How about this, if you promise to be careful and not do anything careless, I’ll make a waterfall for your terrarium.“

“I can’t…” he starts protesting.

“It will be an early Christmas present. Deal?”

“There’s no waterfall in the Ewok Village…” Stiles grumbles, “but deal.”

And they shake on it.

All in all, even if he’s a little peeved about having to wait, Stiles is happy with the progress. He still hasn’t gotten the moss, so it’s not as if waiting for a bit is going to hurt… and he got a waterfall out of it. He grins, waving at Anderson as he leaves the drive. It’s going to be awesome.

—

Once he starts, he can’t stop, focused in a way that’s unusual for him.

The bridges are easy enough so long as he follows the measurements he’s made, because he only has to shape the steps, make a hole on each side of them, use the rope to secure them and then braid the whole thing. He uses the glue gun for good measure, to make sure it’s sturdy enough.

The houses are a little more complicated because they are rounded. He ends up getting round objects to support the wood while the glue dries. There are a couple of instances when they get stuck to the object he’s using and he has to start anew, but he learns how to avoid that pretty quickly. The windows and the doors are a pain in the ass in themselves. He destroys a couple of houses trying to cut them until he finds another method for that too. He precuts the wood and uses cardboard to fill in the space while it dries and it works like a charm. As it is, he has now seven vaguely house-looking semicircles with two levels (joined by a little staircase) and even some shelves inside, that he has to stick to the main structure to be able to finish the roof. He leaves that for later, because once he does that it will be a nightmare to put the furniture inside.

He struggles for a while with the tables, seats and any other detailed work he remembers from the movie, because working at that scale, even with the tweezers, is hard. Again, he’s nothing if not stubborn and he works out a method to do those too. The shelves are easy enough because it’s just a matter of measuring, cutting the actual boards of the shelves with a c shape to fit the circular walls and gluing them, both between them and to the walls. The table, the seats and the beds are easy after that, again just taking care to measure well and struggling to not have his hands tremble when he assembles them all. He even uses one of his dad’s old furry sweaters for the beddings and old t-shirts for other things like that, carefully sewing the edges to make them look more like the ones in the movie. The drawers and the wardrobes are a pain in the ass to make and he regrets even trying almost from the very first time he tries to put the drawer in its place and it doesn’t fit and then, after trying to fix it, it gets stuck. He perseveres, though, and it gets easier the more he makes. As for its door, he follows the same method he’s going to use with the doors to the house (with holes and string, because making hinges at this scale is beyond his capabilities and he has accepted that) and it ends up looking pretty neat.

(In the middle of all this, his father comes and goes but, even if he makes sure to come by Stiles’ room every night, he doesn’t seem to notice what has his own son so busy, always too concentrated on some case or another and the room too dark to actually see anything. They make small talk and he pats his head some mornings. Stiles is kind of indifferent. He loves his dad, he really does, but he’s tired of having to be always the one who tries to make a connection.)

The day when he can finally start gluing it all to the main structure comes, and he ends up not doing it after all, because he takes a look at the houses and finds them empty. Two days later, after hours of research on how to do the cutlery and the pottery, some failed attempts and a trip to the mall, he finds himself shaping them out of polymer clay, preheated oven beside him. If that wasn’t enough, after having rows upon rows of glasses, containers and different types of plates and bowls, he adds pans and pots to the collection until he’s satisfied.

Finally, nearly four weeks after he started, he starts gluing the houses in place and securing them with extra pillars that he pins to the main structure. He makes the roofs by shaping little sticks and gluing them in place, copying the ones from the movie. They’re not exactly like them, but it’s as close as he’s going to get with his current skill level. He then sticks the stairs that connect each level and the bridges between the three clusters and the lone bigger tree, where he has attached the biggest house too. As the final touches, he decorates the main area with rustic wooden benches and stumps, all around the setup for a fire, and attaches the polymer clay pulley with the cage (which has a working door, of course) at the far end of it. He then reapplies the sealant just in case and breathes, feeling deeply accomplished.

He waits a couple of days for everything to settle before he calls Anderson again. The man sounds like he has had fun with the waterfall project and like he feels pretty accomplished too. Stiles can’t wait to see it and to show him what he’s done too. Anderson tells him he’ll come by the next day and Stiles takes the opportunity to go to collect the moss and buy the plants for the tree tops.

At the home depot, he debates between the Pothos and the Heart-Leaf Philodendron. In the end, the Pothos is an easy choice, because not only is it very easy maintenance and purifies the air, but it’s also on sale and he spends much less than what he was expecting on them. He doesn’t have much pocket money left, but his allowance day is in three days, so he’s not as wary about it as he would normally be.

He feels a little silly about having to make two trips to take the six little plants home, but nothing breaks, so all is good. He checks the space for the potted plants at the top of the trees and they fit perfectly. He cheers and dances around the room like a dork for a while before going moss hunting. By the time dinner time rolls around, he has everything in place and having to eat dinner alone again doesn’t even sting like it normally does.

---

Anderson comes pretty early in the morning and whistles in appreciation at what he sees, making him beam and grin proudly. Then he takes out of his car a waterfall as tall as the whole tank and Stiles gapes astonished. The man snickers at his face, reaching to mess up his hair, and goes inside the house again.

After placing the tank in Stiles’ room, first they install the waterfall. It fits perfectly in a corner of the fish tank, going a little above its edge to disguise the wire and the flow’s setting very cleverly. The man has also made it so that Stiles can change the water inside using a little tube or refill it from outside, without having to take the whole thing out.

After that, they place the tree structure and then they cover all the spaces and the root part of the trees with pebbles. To the ones near the waterfall they apply a layer of sealant to prevent the moss eating the poor thing alive and over the rest they put a good layer of wet peat moss soil, making sure it doesn’t lay flat. Over that, they place the moss they’ve previously trimmed to fit and parts of the fallen wood to make it look more realistic. Finally, Stiles puts the Pothos at the tree tops, fills the waterfall and turns it on.

He has his Ewok Village like he said he would. His mom would have loved it because she loved gardening just as much as she loved Star Wars. Specifically, she loved the Ewoks. She had a lot of figurines and even made an Ewok onesie (furry hat included) for him when he was a baby. There’s photographic evidence of that in one of the dusty albums in the storage room. They feature Stiles in that onesie playing with the figurines and his mom in the background laughing.

(And now he wants to cry.)

(He waits until Anderson leaves.)

---

When school starts again, the moss is growing nicely and the Pothos are still alive. Stiles is also seriously considering either braving the storage room in search of those Ewok figurines or setting some of his allowance money aside to buy them, to put them in the village.

(His dad finally takes notice of the giant terrarium in his room. First he berates him for doing dangerous things and then, sighing exasperated, he congratulates him.)

(Stiles could have done without the lecture.)

—

There are two new kids at school that have transferred from New York of all places, which means they have climbed the social ladder ridiculously fast. Stiles hopes he’s wrong about the twins, but if things go as they normally do, he thinks he’s going to have to set some boundaries soon. He’s already caught others whispering to them about crazy Stiles that is a total nutjob that will destroy your life if you cross him and, while it somehow brings him a kind of vindictive glee and pride, it also can mean three different things for him. One, they think him a bully and try to teach him a lesson; two, they try to take him down to establish themselves as top dog for bragging rights; three, they don’t dare mess with him and avoid him like the plague. Okay, there could be a fourth and they could try to find if all those rumors are true for themselves, but yeah, right.

(Is it bad that out of those four choices he’s hoping for the third?)

Well, time will tell, he supposes.

(He has to resist the strong temptation of making a pre-emptive strike quite bad, though.)

—

About a month into the school year, the newcomers seem to have settled into a mixture of the three first options, leaning mostly towards the third after Stiles manipulated things into having them banned for the rest of the year from lacrosse in retaliation for a failed attempt at teaching him a lesson. Of course, no one can prove it was him, but they know .

It’s a rainy Friday afternoon in which he’s bored out of his mind, so Stiles finally decides to search for the Ewok figurines and to do a deep clean-up of the storage room while he’s at it.

After nearly one hour full of coughs, sneezes and watering eyes due to the ridiculous amount of dust, he decides that his plans of action are flawed and that he has to change them if he wants to come out of this experience alive and with his body intact.

(The giant spider that he’s pretty sure is actually the last dinosaur on Earth may or may not have helped force him into a hasty retreat.)

Half an hour and a trip to the store later, he tries to tackle the mission impossible again. With a facemask, the longest gloves he could find, his father’s protective glasses and his head covered with an old towel, no dinosaur is going to beat him. He also has long sleeves and has changed his shorts for pants, tucking them inside his socks for good measure, so that nothing crawls up there. He shudders just thinking about it. He just can’t stand spiders.

He decides to divide it into sections. First he organizes and cleans the things in those sections, making piles outside the room, then he tidies the spot superficially before tackling another section. And rinse and repeat. When he has the whole room mostly empty (there is some furniture he can’t move), he starts cleaning it thoroughly. Afterwards, he puts the organized piles (photo albums, books, music…) inside again neatly, filling drawers and shelves. He doesn’t dare to throw anything away but, except for some toys that hold a big sentimental value to him, he does set aside some things he never uses to donate them.

Six hours after he started, he hears his father’s cruiser pulling into the drive and he debates about what to do. He’s almost done but he hasn’t touched his mom’s things yet, having left them for last. His dad still won’t talk about her and all her things have been hidden in the storage room ever since he let go of the bottle, because the sight of them made him want to track the nearest liquor store and send them into bankruptcy after leaving them out of stock.

Stiles doesn’t want to be the one to pull him into that downward spiral again. He sighs, looking mournfully at the three boxes with his mother’s things. Maybe he’ll sneak in after dinner to at least get the figurines and set them in his terrarium, when his dad has gone to bed. He frowns when he hears him talking to the neighbor. Maybe…

In the end, with his heart beating wildly in his ribcage, he opens the boxes hastily, hoping that the figurines are in first sight. And they are. He rushes to his bathroom beaming but still jittery with nerves, and cleans them under the spray of water as fast as he can. When his father calls, they are already placed inside the terrarium.

He completely forgets about his battle attire and blinks in confusion for a moment when his dad asks about it, his eyebrow raised.

“Spring cleaning,” he chirps brightly, too happy about his success to care about resentment. “Er… Autumn cleaning?”

His dad snorts and pats his head fondly, only to pull his hand back with a grimace at the amount of dust settled there.

(The next day, by the time he finishes checking, cleaning and organizing his mom’s things, he’s not crying, dammit, it’s just that he forgot to put on the facemask and the dust is irritating his eyes.)

(He squirrels away the picture of himself in all his ewok onesie glory with his laughing mother and plastifies it, hiding it inside the biggest house of the terrarium so that if you crouch and you know where to look, you can see it.)

(He's the happiest he's been in a long time, and nothing can ruin what he's accomplished. Nothing.)

—

(Or maybe something can, because really, what the hell???)

Stiles wants to know what the hell has he ever done to deserve this. Or, if that’s a thing, in any of his past lives for that matter. Did he kill puppies or kitties for fun? Or babies? Was he Hitler? Because destroying the increasingly aggressive twins’ impeccable (or not so much now, but that was the point) record can’t possibly warrant this bad karma, right? Right?

It’s not his fault, ok? He did notice something was wrong, but who would have thought about this as an explanation? He did notice that the water of the waterfall went down too fast to be normal, but he thought it was maybe because of the heat wave! And of course he noticed that sometimes the ewok figurines were slightly out of place, but he thought that maybe his dad…

Seriously.

He calls a big WTF.

Fairies.

He can’t even…

No, seriously, he can’t.

He can’t because they somehow have made the Pothos grow meters in mere seconds and he’s plastered against the wall. Upside down. Stiles feels somehow betrayed because he’s their daddy, he’s been lovingly taking care of them since they were little babies and they have attacked him after all he has done for them…

He’s not being ridiculous, thank you very much. There are fairies in his room. There are fairies in his room pointing sharp looking little things at his face and he’s so completely out of his depth that he can’t stop talking. And there’s a little one (well, smaller that the rest, that is) that sneaked around the guards (or that’s at least what Stiles assumes them to be) about three minutes ago that wants to know where did all the hair go and he’s for some reason babbling about onesies and what ewoks are and the guards keep threatening him and…

“… what the hell?” he finally snaps, fed-up. “This is my house, my room, and the terrarium you’re accusing me of invading and all that shit? It’s mine too. I built it with my own two hands, and paid for the materials, and… I call bullshit here. You’re the ones trespassing here! I should be the one demanding explanations and not the other way round. And for the last time, I don’t know any glint or beam or spark or whatever the hell you’re talking about, ok?!”

The fairies go silent. They look at each other and then back at Stiles.

And it turns out that Stiles does know a spark… and quite well at that. Because he is one. Surprise, enter confetti and crackers. And the reason he has a fairy infestation in his room? Their colony was destroyed back in August and they were left wandering for a while, until the beckoning magic that Stiles had placed in the terrarium to mark it as a safe place for passing fairies called to them.

(His what now????)

Except they haven’t been able to find a suitable place to rebuild yet, and their manpower was reduced to a sixth (if that) of what it used to be when the colony fell, and there are members that are still healing, and their ruling pair is gone (which apparently means that their power has been reduced to a facsimile of what it should be), and…

In other words, they are desperate and grasping at straws and completely at loss about what to do right now. Well, it’s not like they say it outright (in fact they actually try to cover their obvious despair at the whole situation), but Stiles is quite adept at reading between the lines and he knows desperation when he sees it.

(He has intimate knowledge of it, after all.)

So, even though he’s still plastered to the wall with his feet nearly touching the ceiling, which places his head at an intimidating height from the ground and he’s definitely not happy about that, Stiles caves in. Kind of.

“We don’t have enough dishes and stuff,“ he grumbles with a sigh. When he receives no response, clearly having thrown them off kilter, he just continues. “Dishes and glasses and all that stuff, we don’t have enough. Because you’re about twenty people, that I can see, and I only made eight or ten of each, if I remember well.”

“We’ve been sharing?” the guard with his spear-like thing nearly up Stiles’ nose squeaks finally. Squeaks, yes, because all of them have high voices, man or woman, that he has to strain to listen to. He vaguely wonders about it, because there's no way he should be able to listen to them at this distance, but he dismisses it for now, chalking it up to some kind of fairy magic or whatever, because he has more pressing matters to worry about at the moment.

Stiles is going to regret all this, he just knows it. But he’s an incorrigible softie at heart just as much as he’s a vengeful asshole. He sighs again. “Come on, let me down before my brain leaks through my nostrils. I still have some polymer clay.”

So fairies are a thing.

He knows others in his situation would never believe what’s in front of their very own eyes, but Stiles has always been able to roll with whatever life throws at him, no matter what that is. Besides, thinking logically, he has taken no drugs or drank any alcohol that could impair his senses or make him hallucinate and, although he could be starting to develop the same dementia as his mother (and it is a possibility)… well, he pinched himself not a minute ago and yep, he was still hanging upside-down, plastered to his bedroom wall by the Pothos. The only thing left for him to do on that front is to somehow buy a pregnancy test to check if it turns positive, so until he manages to do that, fairies are a thing.

And he’s a wizard.

Or a spark, whatever. What matters is that that’s a thing too. A thing that is exciting and terrifying at the same time, because what other creatures exist too then? Elves? Vampires? Werewolves? Nymphs? Are those real too? Which myths are real and which not? As a spark, which are his powers? Can he do magic? Spells? Rituals? What can he do?

He wants answers, he’s not letting them stay out of the goodness of his… well, he is, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get something out of it, right? Admittedly, if they refuse to give him answers, he’s not going to kick them out. He’ll just have to find those answers by himself, that’s all. He’s pretty self-sufficient, so if push comes to shove, he’ll do it without help, like he always does. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to try to convince them, though.

His ears ring when he’s finally let down. He sits on the rug, holding his head as he waits for the dizziness to pass and for his vision to clear. He doesn’t appreciate the wet and cold sensation at all. Well, at least they didn’t just let go to see him brain himself with the free fall, so that’s definitely a sign of goodwill... right?

He eyes the overgrown Pothos warily, thinking of a way to manage it without having to chop the whole plant off. Then he decides that it’s not his mess, so he’s not going to take care of it. “You better leave these the way they were before,” he states firmly, pointing at the plant. “I’m not gonna explain that to my dad. My house, my rules and all that jazz.”

Up until now, Stiles has never let anyone walk over him and he’s not going to start with some fairies.

Next ⭐

[im-the-reckless]

✩ For Mhyrcala and Valen? :D

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? They’re both very patient at each other, but it depends in the subject they’re disagreeing about. It doesn’t last long anyways, one of them would give it to the other to simply stop it. Who threatens to leave but never actually does? None. They both have like “abandonment” issues, I think, so for them to threaten to leave would be like stabbing the other one in their back. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Well, shit. If they really reached this point, I think it would be Mhyrcala. She’d come back between the hour tho, because that’s a real bitchy move. Who trashes the house? None. Do either of them get physical? ...It wouldn’t end well if they did How often do they argue/disagree? Probably a lot more when they’re in the surface than while they were at the Underdark. Who is the first to apologise? Mhyrcala, because she probably started the problem anyways.

Sex:

Who is on top? Valen Who is on the bottom? Mhyrcala Who has the strangest desires? Mhyrcala Any kinks? ...Not much. For now, anyways. But the normal spanking, hair pulling, power play, I also can imagine them in some roleplay stuff (no pun intended) Also size difference kink, but that’s more subtle Who’s dominant in bed? They switch time to time, but Mhyrcala loves it when Valen gets the upper hand Is head ever in the equation? Its always in the equation If so, who is better at performing it? Mhyrcala, problably Ever had sex in public? Does the tundra count? Who moans the most? MHYRCALA Who leaves the most marks? This one is a tie, Valen probably leaves a lot of marks in her neck, and Mhyrcala scratches his back like crazy, so... Who screams the loudest? Mhyrcala. Who is the more experienced of the two? Again, Mhyr Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? This one is a switch, it usually depends in how was their day or where they are, even the time of the day. Probably they take more chances to make it rough than soft. Rough or soft? Both? Both. Both is good. Even if Mhyr loves more the roughing up, she melts when he kisses her softly and whispers how much he loves her. How long do they usually last? The whole act or just to reach the first orgasm? The whole act can take them hours or minutes depending of how much time they have to spare. And I don’t fully understand how straight sex works so I’ll say... from 15 to 30 minutes to reach the orgasm together if they aren’t focused in other things. Is protection used? *Clears throat* at this point I’m thinking protection goes against their religion. Medieval times. Does it ever get boring? Probably not, they have a lot of place to experiment. Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Cania, in the middle of the frozing Hell. But since it happened more than once, I’d say that time they got at it right after a killing. 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? I have the feeling it was a rough conversation, in the end Mhyr expressed she did want children... but the list of conditions was long. If so, how many children do your muses want/have? So far just one Who is the favorite parent? Valen Who is the authoritative parent? Mhyrcala Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Valen Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Valen, but Mhyrcala knows and just lets it slide Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Both Who changes the diapers? I can imagine Mhyrcala saying one night “Oeskathine the Demonwrestler, go change our child’s diapers” Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? The one with the boobies, Mhyrcala Who spends the most time with the children? They spend a lot of time with them together, actually, they want them to have the childhood none of them had. Who packs their lunch boxes? Valen Who gives their children ‘the talk’? If the kid is a girl, Mhyrcala, if its a boy, Valen.  Who cleans up after the kids? Both Who worries the most? Valen, probably Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Both of them are very tamed when cursing. Then one day aunt Gaelly visits them and they learn every single bad-sounding word in at least common and elvish.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? I think both of them like to Who is the little spoon? Mhyr, but once in a lifetime she lets him be the little spoon Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Mhyrcala. Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Again, Mhyrcala How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? If they have time to cuddle it was probably because they were about to go to sleep anyways, so if it doesn’t end up in sex, they just fall asleep. Who gives the most kisses? Valen What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Besides killing monsters and going to adventures togehter? Valen loves when Mhyrcala reads to him, and Mhyr loves when Valen cooks. Where is their favourite place to cuddle? Bed. Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? While cuddling? Any of them, really How often do they get time to themselves? ...next question

Sleeping:

Who snores? Hopefully none of them If both do, who snores the loudest? Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share a bed If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up together, maybe in the middle of the night they drift apart Who talks in their sleep? If she went to sleep drunk, Mhyrcala What do they wear to bed? Valen probably either sleeps naked or in her underwear, and Mhyrcala does wear nightgowns (only the pretty and expensive ones) or naked. Are either of your muses insomniacs? Maybe a bit? They’re both used to have to sleep a couple hours then get going. Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? On a modern setting, yes, on both sides. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? They hug :3 Who wakes up with bed hair? There’s a reason why Mhyrcala braids her hair to sleep, so this one goes for Valen. Who wakes up first? Valen Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Valen, he’s a romantic What is their favourite sleeping position? If they’re apart, Mhyrcala tends to sleep on fetal position, and Valen I guess sleeps on his side. Who hogs the sheets? They tend to sleep pretty close to avoid this, I have the feeling both of them do it. Do they set an alarm each night? On a modern setting Mhyrcala has just one alarm to wake up, Valen has several alarms Can a television be found in their bedroom? In a modern setting, yes, much probably Who has nightmares? Both Who has ridiculous dreams? All dreams are ridiculous Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? I have no idea Who makes the bed? Mhyrcala What time is bed time? Any time they feel like falling asleep, really.  Any routines/rituals before bed? Mhyr has to brush and losely braid her hair before sleeping, and if they haven’t spent theit day together they just wait for the other to fall asleep. Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Both, but Mhyrcala is more vocal about it

Work:

Who is the busiest? Mhyrcala Who rakes in the highest income? Mhyrcala is either the owner of silver mines or the Guild Master in the Thieves’ Guild, its really hard to top that. Unless she decided to drop both. Are any of your muses unemployed? I guess that since being in the surface finding a job for Valen was pretty hard, but he probably ends up as a mercenary of sorts?  Who takes the most sick days? Mhyrcala can afford the luxury. Who is more likely to turn up late to work? None, unless they got... distracted while waking up Who sucks up to their boss? I don’t know what that means lol What are their jobs? Mhyrcala can either be the head of the family business in the silver mines or recover her place as the Guild Master, or simply say “fuck you all” and be a mercenary with Valen, going in adventures together once again Who stresses themost? Mhyrcala Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Mhyrcala would hate to be in charge of the mines, yet the income is huge, but would love to be the Guild Master once again. And Valen gets his job done, its not the highest paid job but he’s the best at it, no doubt. Are your muses financially stable? Mhyrcala has one hell of an inheritance, so yes. Yet it wouldn’t cover a long life of luxury without any income at all, so they’re careful.

Home:

Who does the washing? Both Who takes out the trash? Both Who does the ironing? Mhyrcala Who does the cooking? Valen. Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Mhyrcala, KKEP HER AWAY FROM THE KITCHEN, FOR REAL Who is messier? They’re both pretty clean Who leaves the toilet roll empty? I have the feeling men are the ones who do this the most, so let’s say Valen Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? It depends, on a daily basis none, but If Mhyrcala is really done with the world she’ll leave everything in the floor. Who forgets to flush the toilet? Their kid? Who is the prankster around the house? The kid. Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Both, thn proceed to say “I swear I left them in (place)”, then the other answers with something in the lines of “I clearly isn’t there!” Who mows the lawn? Valen Who answers the telephone? Valen, so if someone is calling from job looking for her he can simply say she’s not avaible. Who does the vacuuming? Mhyrcala Who does the groceries? Both Who takes the longest to shower? Mhyrcala Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Both have long ass morning routines

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? No How many cars do they own? Probably one each Do they own their home or do they rent? It can be either Mhyr’s family house or a little home for their own family Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? This is a hard one... probably deep in the countryside, less problematic. Do they live in the city or in the country? I guess they live for a very short period of time in the city, then fly away to the country side when everything is said and done Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yeah What’s their song? Doom by Deekin. Just kidding, but I guess both muns have to discuss this one tho What do they do when they’re away from each other? Modern setting? Call every night if any of them is in a long trip. Normal setting they just cross their fingers and pray to whatever god for them to return home safely. Where did they first meet? In the Underdark How did they first meet? “Are you sure, Seer? What do we know about this... this woman? She could be the death to us all!”  Who spends the most money when out shopping? The one who not only barely struggled with money, but also the one who loves expensive things: Mhyrcala. Who’s more likely to flash their assets? To each other? Both. To the world... they’re pretty tame. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? None Any mental issues? You mean aside from having trouble sleeping, PTSD, abandonment issues, and Mhyrcala’s big ass daddy issues? None at all Who’s terrified of bugs? Mhyrcala, if she  sees one she kills it in the spot Who kills the spiders around the house? Both Their favourite place? Anywhere when they can have time to be together, from their bedroom to a clearing in the woods. Probably the clearing is their favorite since they can take their kid with them. Who pays the bills? Mhyrcala Do they have any fears for their future? This is a big topic they both tend to actively ignore Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Valen, wine candles and all that jazz  Who uses up all of the hot water? Mhyrcala, no doubt Who’s the tallest? In-game Mhyrcala reaches his chest, but she’s actually a bit taller than that. Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both Who wanders around in their underwear? Both, until they have their kid, they live alone after all and any time and place around the house is a good time and place to bone Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Actually I have no idea about this one What do they tease each other about? Mhyrcala teases him a lot about his horns with terrible puns, lol, Valen on the  other hand has a lot of room to go with her excentricities in haircare and need of high tier things. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Mhyrcala at Valen, for sure Do they have mutual friends? Yes, Nathyrra, Deekin, the Seer, Imloth... Who crushed first? Mhyrcala, Valen was worried for a long time of her turning her back on them Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nope, to my knowledge at least Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Mhyrcala Who swears the most? Mhyrcala when they have sex lol

[artificialqueens]

Beneath the Amber Moon, Part 4 (Galactica AU Group Fic) – TheDane & Veronica

Heyyy!! Welcome to Part 4 of “Beneath the Amber Moon,” a group fic set in the Galactica Universe. Click here for previous chapters.

We hope you’re enjoying it! Let us know what you think!

Summary: Summary: Day 3. Rain, voyeurism, refugee sea creatures, cuddling, and a ziplining adventure: just another day in paradise...

/////

"I can’t believe this.” Fame huffed, dumping down on the bed after coming back from the bathroom.  “Look at this!” Fame said, gesturing to the rain pouring down outside.

Patrick smiled, opening his arm so Fame could crawl into it, the woman sprawling out on his chest.

Fame sighed. “At least my app says it’ll clear up after lunch.”

"I wouldn’t put bets on it, my love."

Patrick had jokingly suggested they could have sex to pass the time while they waited for the rain to clear up, Fame not willing to risk her hair getting ruined by going to breakfast with everyone else, and they had, Fame taking all her frustration out on her husband.

Fame sighed, tracing patterns on Patricks skin.

"Patrick, you're not helping." Fame ran her palm down Patrick’s body, swirling her fingertips on his stomach.

"Relax darling.” Patrick kissed her hair. “Even you cannot control the weather, no matter how much you whine.”

“I don’t whine.”  

“Bianca is here, don't you gals have some TV show you'd like to see?” Patrick knew bringing up the B-word was a risky move, but it was one he was willing to take. Fame and Bianca were dancing around each other, the women hot and then cold. Patrick could already feel Fame growing bored again, his wife not one for being told she can’t do something.

“Are you really suggesting that?”

“We have an umbrella if you want to go see her.”

“To watch TV? Because that’s just my favorite activity.”

Patrick smiled, gently tipping Fame’s face up so he can kiss her. “It’s a vacation, live a little.”

“I don’t think watching TV can be described as living.”

“Maybe it’d make you less grumpy-”

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Sure darling.” Patrick laughed, sitting up, pulling his laptop case out from under the bed. “Besides, I'm sure my partners back in New York would be more than happy if I got around to answering some emai-"

"You brought a laptop?!"

"Sweetheart, I own a law firm. Yes, I brought my laptop with me."

/////

The rain was a true blessing in disguise. Violet was enjoying a slow morning in with Sutan, the two of them eating breakfast in bed with their patio door open, rain falling outside as they listened to the new albums Karl had introduced to Sutan, Courtney knocking on their door, the blonde standing out there with a huge smile. Sutan had ordered a pot of tea, Violet quickly getting dressed in a pair of white shorts and a long top, her lace bra visible through it.  

“Here you go.”

Violet smiled, accepting the tray that had just been delivered from Sutan, Violet handing one of the cups to Courtney, the two of them sat on the edge of the deck, their feet dangling in the water.

“Thank you.” Violet tilted her head up to receive a kiss from Sutan.

“You do know there are plenty of not only very comfortable but also quite expensive couches in the bungalow, right?” Sutan smirked, clearly finding it amusing that the woman had decided on sitting on the floor.  “I’m sure the resort staff would be very sad to hear that two ladies as beautiful as you prefer the floor.”

Violet smiled and shook her head. “I like it here...” She looked out at the rain.

“It is a lot more your speed.” Sutan ran a hand through Violet’s hair, only daring to because it hadn’t been styled yet, her black locks falling around her face. “She’s a real New York girl.” Sutan looked at Courtney, mischief playing in his eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone as happy about rain as Violet was this morning when she realised the temperature had dropped.”

“Well, I know how she feels. I miss the rain, living in a desert now.” Courtney sipped her tea, the hot liquid sweet and delicious.

“I’ll bet.” Sutan laughed. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so have fun ladies.”

“Thank you for the tea,” Violet repeated.

“Thank the staff, they’re the ones who got it.” Sutan gave Violet one last kiss, retiring to the couch where he grabbed the book Raja had thrown at him the day they arrived, his sister insisting he had to read “Crazy Rich Asians,” Raja laughing loudly as she explained it to her brother.

“So, can you help me?”

Courtney had texted her the night before, asking her if Violet could help her with a project. Courtney looked like a schoolgirl, delightful glee clear on her face and honestly Violet felt the same.

“I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

Courtney laughed, reaching into her bag, when she glanced over to Sutan. “Are you sure it’s okay if we do it here? Not that I don’t want Sutan’s opinion, but it’s kinda confidential.”

"Oh. He won’t dare.”

“He won’t?” Courtney gave Violet the ipad, not really believing her words. There was no way Courtney could have had a private conversation with Bianca in the room without the other barging in, and even less one about work. Actually, she couldn’t remember a single time where Bianca hadn’t injected her opinion into what Courtney was doing, from her clothes to her food to how she wanted her hair.

"Sutan and I made a deal years ago.”

"And what is that?”

"If we want an opinion. We ask.”

Courtney couldn’t believe it was that simple, but Sutan hadn’t moved an inch while they talked, the man already diving deep into his book.

/////

“Knock knock.” Fame smiled as she stepped into Bianca’s bungalow.

Bianca looked up from her computer. She was sitting on her couch, glasses on, a pair of linen pants making her legs look infinitely long. “You’re already inside, why are you saying knock knock?”

“It’s good to see you too.” Fame closed her umbrella, Patrick sending her off with a kiss goodbye. “Do you want to watch TV?”

Bianca stared at her, cocking her head slightly.

“What?” Fame touched her face, wondering if her mascara had run from the short trip.

“You just asked me if I wanted to watch TV. Who are you and what have you done with my pretentious friend?”

“Oh, shut up!” Fame giggled, stripping off her damp jacket, a sheer white lace dress underneath before she sat down on the couch. “It’s raining, and Patrick sent me away so that he could work.”

“Ah-”

“Work! Can you believe it? He brought his laptop!”

“Well-”

“I would never do that.” Fame crossed her arms.

“Blondie...You literally have your second in command, your attorney and your head of makeup here."

"Patrick isn't my attorney. Galactica hired their own business affairs department two years ago, you know this Bianca"

"Point still stands.”

“It doesn’t! We haven’t talked shop once.”

“Shop?” Bianca chucked.

“You know what I mean.” Fame pouted at her. “So are you gonna come cuddle me or what?”

“Yes, miss,” Bianca intoned, not dodging in time as Fame hit her with a pillow. “Ouch!” she laughed, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she curled up beside Fame, laying her head on her shoulder.

“I guess the whole TV thing was just a ruse, huh?”

“Mmmh,” Fame said, placing a hand on Bianca’s back, rubbing in gentle circles. “Though there is one thing.”

“Yes?”

“There is something on Netflix called ‘Zumbo’s just desserts?’”

“And you want to watch this?”

“Raven has apparently raved about it.” Fame shrugged. “And I can’t have her have better catering ideas than me.”

“Well,” Bianca smiled. “Anything for you blondie.”

“As it should be.”

/////

“SHIT!”

Courtney screeched loudly as she felt a tug at her foot, Violet jumping at her outburst, almost dropping the iPad.

“Courtney what’s-”

“Shhhh!” They both looked down, seeing none other than Adore Delano who was bobbing away in the water directly underneath them.

“Adore, what the fuck are you doing swimming in the rain?”

“I’m a mermaid. Can I come up or what?”

“Sure, sure, just-” Courtney took a deep breath, her hand still covering her pounding heart as Adore climbed onto the deck, dripping wet. Violet had run off, only now coming back with a towel and a robe, Adore gratefully accepting both.

“Adore, not that I’m not happy to see you.” Violet wasn’t, in fact, happy to see her. “But what are you doing here?”

“Courtney texted me that she was with you, and I’m like, a refugee, so I figured I could hide my ass here since this is the last place anyone would look for me.

“You almost gave me a heart attack," Courtney sighed. “Do you want some tea?”

“Got any whiskey?”

Both Courtney and Adore looked at Violet.

“Umh..” Violet looked around the room. “Maybe.”

“Sweet!” Adore began to strip off her wet swimsuit.

“Aaand that seems like my cue to leave.” Sutan sat up, Adore waving her top in the air, laughing as he avoided eye contact.

“Hey Tan!! What up bro?!”

Sutan stood up, his thumb keeping his place in his book as he opened the minibar, taking out the miniature bottles.

“Here you go ladies.”

“Thanks!” Adore laughed. “Pour me one of those sexy bitches.”

Sutan poured, leaving the bottles on the floor where the girls were camped out, Sutan leaning down and giving Violet a quick kiss.

“I’ll be at Raja’s.”

“Okay.” Violet kissed back, not daring to point out to Sutan that there would probably be even more commotion with his nieces around. “See you later.”

Sutan nodded, Adore already trying to pour alcohol into Courtney’s drink.

/////

“Fuck!” Raven moaned, her hands were fisting the sheets, her hips thrusting again and again to meet Raja who was buried between her legs, her wife expertly fucking her with a clever tongue that knew every part of her. “More- Please, more, I can’t- Raj!”

Raven groaned, Raja hooking her fingers just right, Raven’s legs cramping close around Raja’s head as she came, effectively trapping the other woman but Raja only moaned, the vibrations shaking Raven's body with an aftershock, her breath only slowly returning to normal.

“Kiss- Ah, kiss please.”

Raja laughed, her hands forcing Raven’s thighs apart, crawling up her wife’s body. “My little brat.” Raja kissed Raven, their bodies slotting together, Raja adoring the feeling of Raven’s soft skin and her curves under her. “So demanding.”

Raven smiled, a soft and almost dreamy expression on her face. They had sent the kids to Jujus and Detox for a play date, Raja and Raven falling into bed the moment they had the chance. Raja looked like a goddess under the sun, her long hair and her dark skin even more attractive in these surroundings. “I’m thirsty.”

“Are you now baby?”

“Mmh.” Raven kissed Raja again. “Get me some water?”

“Of course princess.” Raja stood up, slapping Raven’s thigh for good measure before she grabbed a robe. Raven laid back in bed, a hand finding her pussy and gently gliding over her abused folds, Raja taking and taking and taking and Raven couldn’t wait for one more round.

“Oh. Hi Sutan.”

Raven turned her head, looking at the open door to the living room, horror drawn on her face. She hoped it was a phone call, oh god she really hoped it was a phone call.

“How long have you been here?”

“About 10 minutes?”

It wasn’t, and Raven pulled the pillow over her face, screaming into it.

/////

Parking Adore on the couch had proved surprisingly easy, the TV running on low in the background, snuggled up in Violet’s warm bathrobe while her swimsuit dried on the towel rack. Violet picked up the iPad once again, Adore looking over her shoulder.

“Are you guys working on the Moschino line?”

Violet nodded.

“I’m still surprised someone asked you to do a clothing line, Courtney...” she mused.

“Ouch,” said Courtney, miming an arrow hitting her heart, making Adore laugh. “Is it really that strange?”

“Yeah, it’s a little strange.”

“So, here’s the thing,” Courtney said. “Jeremy has been dressing me for a couple of years now, and I thought that his team kind of understood my taste. But then, we had this meeting and they asked about what I liked-” Violet nodded. “What I wanted, and you know, I said, like, rainbows and sequins and glitter and fringe and neon-”

“There is all of that in here?” Violet looked at the iPad, a grimace of worry on her face.

“Awh, listen to my tacky little baby,” Adore cooed, and Courtney stuck out her tongue.

“Well I like it, usually, but the thing is.. They sent me these sketches and it’s like...they used ALL the ideas in the same jacket. And...I don’t often say this, but I think it’s like...too me?”

“If you’re working with Moschino, it can’t be that bad,” Violet said.

“It’s bad, it’s really bad, just...I think what it really needs is someone classy who hates my taste and will add balance.”

“I’m honored you thought of me,” Violet said with a smile.

“Omigod, you’re so gonna hate it,” Adore laughed. “Open it Violet! Open it, open it!”

Violet swiped the iPad, a look with a neon rainbow color-blocked bomber jacket with fringe up and down the arms and a sequined unicorn.

“See!”

“It’s… Umh..” Violet suddenly felt dizzy, a light breeze blowing in from the sea. “It’s…” Violet handed Courtney the iPad. “It’s very…” And that’s when she felt it. “Excuse me!” Violet bent over, vomiting off the edge of the deck, her breakfast disappearing into the water.

“Shiiit!” Adore jumped up, Courtney already grabbing Violet’s hair, as she threw up once more, Violet dry heaving before Courtney gently pulled her back in, Adore’s hand on her back.

“Okay.. So, I know it’s probably a fugly jacket.” Adore teased, a small smile playing on her lips. “But that was a pretty dramatic reaction.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, the smell of seaweed, it’s so-”

“Seaweed?” Courtney looked at Adore over Violet’s back, silently asking if the other woman had smelled anything, but Adore shook her head, neither of them having any idea what Violet was talking about.

“Can’t you smell it?” The breeze hit once again, and Violet covered her mouth, taking a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Courtney asked. “I know the others said you don’t do well in this weather, but I don’t think this is normal…”

“They talked about me?”

“They’re just worried,” Adore said. “Raja keeps lecturing Tan about how he’s a dick for making you come.”

“It’s fine, I’m… It’s fine.” Violet took a deep breath. “We don’t have to make a thing of this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Give me the iPad again, please?”

The continued to go through the sketches, Violet jotting down notes and ideas in her own sketchbook as they went, Adore returning to the couch to watch TV as the hours passed by.

“Oh shit,” Adore said, looking down at her phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jinkx wants me to go to the spa for couples massages with Alaska. Omigod, I can’t do that. Face down on a table for an hour? There’s no way I’d avoid the Talk there.”

Violet furrowed her brow, not sure what Adore was talking about. Courtney shook her head.

“Don’t ask.”

“Yeah, it’s a long sto- Wait. I have an idea.”

Adore picked up the phone next to the bed and pressed the button for the concierge, tapping nervously on the table.

“...Hi! Um...do you know of any activities that I could do this afternoon that’ll take at least three hours?...Preferably involving heights?”

Courtney let out a small chuckle, knowing how much Alaska feared heights, the woman getting dizzy sometimes standing on the balcony of her penthouse apartment. What was Adore up to?

“Uh uh...ooooh, yes...yes, thank you!” Adore hung up, a big grin on her face. He’d suggested ziplining, something she’d always wanted to try, ever since Bianca had done it years ago, raving about how much fun it was. Which gave Adore another idea…“Hey, Court. How do you feel about zip lining through the rainforest? This afternoon? Huh?”

“Sounds awesome!”

Adore smiled. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone here...avoid the dreaded Talk, and bring her best friend and favorite sister back together again.

/////

“Owen, sit down, I- fuck!”

“Matthew, don’t swear around the kids.” Juju sighed. It had seemed like such a good idea to stay in with the kids when the rain had started falling, the morning going by as uneventfully as one could expect with three kids. Detox had taken Owen with him in the shower, Owen basking in his father’s attention whenever he could have it, while Kelly had called on FaceTime to chat with her little sister, Julia lighting up like the sun - almost as excited as she’d been to see Courtney - and Juju had played with Grace, the two of them practicing Grace’s colors while Juju had gotten dressed.

“He stepped on my balls!”

“And I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose.” Juju grabbed Owen’s elbow, making her son sit down. “Right Owen?”

“Mmh!” Owen smiled, the piece of fruit he had gone to collect already in his mouth, her sons smile full of watermelon meat and missing teeth.

They had all settled down for a movie - Glimmer, again, of course. Grace fell asleep sitting with Julia, their youngest looking up to her sister almost as much as Julia loved Kelly.

“Apologize to your father.”

“Sorry dad.”

“Apology accepted, champ.”

Juju rolled her eyes, settling back in. Her husband could just as well have disciplined their child himself, but sometimes it felt like she had 5 kids instead of four. Detox more often than not getting dragged along into their children's arguments instead of being the adult who stopped them, but as Detox’s arm slung around her shoulders, his warm hand caressing her upper arm, Juju chose to sink into his embrace instead, watching Courtney as Princess Lucie, galloping away on her winged horse.

/////

Bianca grabbed Adore by the back of the shirt and yanked her close, muttering, “Sister bonding time, eh?”

“What?” Adore bat her lashes innocently.

“Don’t play me, bitch. You didn’t say she would be here,” Bianca nodded her head towards Courtney, who was with one of their guides, slipping on her harness.

“She’s like a sister, too,” Adore said, face breaking into a sly grin as she added, “Or a sister-in-law.”

“Very funny, you meddling cunt.”

“I saw the way you were looking at her at breakfast,” Adore told her.

“I was looking at her fucking nails.”

“You mean her anti-fucking nails?” Adore laughed.

“Exactly! Those things are a giant red light, stop sign, do not cross-”

“Were you getting a green light before?” sang Adore teasingly.

Bianca let out an irritated scoff, releasing her shirt. She had never explained to Adore exactly how ugly things got with Courtney at the end. For some reason, she assumed that Courtney would’ve. But maybe that never happened. So she couldn’t really be mad about Adore’s harebrained attempt at matchmaking.

“Does it matter? She’s sending a pretty clear sign now.”

“Well, speaking from experience...there are work-arounds for the nails. Keep hope alive!”

Courtney skipped over to them, finally fitted into her harness. Bianca tried not to think about the last time she saw her in a harness, albeit a very different kind. It didn’t help that all she had under the harness were the tiniest little short shorts, forcing Bianca to see her rippling thigh muscles, looking strong enough to crack a walnut.

“I’m actually really excited about this,” Courtney said, slinging an arm around Adore’s shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to try ziplining.”

“See, I told you this vacation would be fun!” Adore exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah...you told me a lot of things…” Courtney caught Bianca’s eye, giving her a little smile, admiring how cute she looked in her athletic wear. Even in a ponytail, her hair looked smooth and glossy, and Courtney had to resist reaching forward to run her fingers through it.

“Uh...have you ever done this before?”

“Never,” Courtney said.

“You’re gonna love it. Such a rush,” Bianca told her.

“Can’t wait.” Courtney bit her lip, twirling her hair slightly, and Bianca felt that uncomfortable stirring in her abdomen, sighing with relief when the guides called for their attention.

/////

“Honey. Stop checking your phone.” Jinkx closed her eyes, enjoying her massage, wishing that Alaska, on the table besides her, would stop fretting and relax for a little while. “Adore will respond when she responds.”

“You’re way too indulgent with her. You let her get away with murder,” Alaska said.

“Well, that’s just literally wrong,” Jinkx laughed. “I mean, if she murdered someone, I’d probably speak very sternly to her… Unless she had a really good reason for it.”

“Jinkx. I’m serious.”

“I know, baby.” Jinkx turned her head, sighing, as the masseuse worked her muscles deeper. “I was trying to lighten the mood.”

“But that’s the problem! Neither of you are taking this seriously!” Alaska cried, wincing in pain as her masseuse found an especially tense knot in her shoulder. “Ow!”

“Lasky, I am taking it seriously. But we can’t push her. It’s not fair.”

“Why? Why isn’t it fair?”

“Because she’s a baby. She’s only 26!”

“Yeah, and I’m 38. I’m not getting any fucking younger. And neither are you,” Alaska reminded her.

“Thanks, my love.”

“I’m just saying. If we really want this, she’s our best shot. But that will require an actual conversation about it.”

“I know. But it can’t be an ambush. And it can’t be two against one,” Jinkx said. “I’ll try to find a time to talk to her tomorrow, on the boat. After we’ve had some fun and she’s in a good mood.”

“So, you’re saying that you don’t want me to be a part of this conversation?” Alaska’s voice was strained. “Ow…”

“No, honey, I’m saying that I think there needs to be a little pre-conversation. Some foreplay to lube her up. And I’m offering to do that, for all of us.”

Alaska sighed. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

After a pause, Jinkx added a soft, “I love you...”

“Yeah, I love you too, Jinkxy,” Alaska said, finally cracking a smile.

/////

“Lift.”

Violet obeyed, lifting her arm just as Sutan had instructed, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile as he ran his hands over it, the liquid soap in his hands getting spread all over his girlfriends skin, Violet humming in pleasure.

Sutan hadn’t realised the stroke of genius he had committed when he had asked Violet if he could come along for her shower. It was something the two of them often did in Paris, the showerhead one of the first things Sutan had replaced when he moved in. The ritual of showering together was an easy and honest way for them to reconnect after long days apart, both of them working so much that it sometimes felt like they barely saw each other, at least during Violet’s busy season. Here in Brazil, however, Sutan had watched Violet transform the moment the water hit her, Violet releasing a breath Sutan wasn’t even sure Violet had known she was holding.

“And the other.”

They switched, and Sutan couldn’t help but kiss Violet’s neck, the woman leaning against him. He ran his hand down her side, Violet whimpering as Sutan ran a hand over her stomach. In Paris Violet would melt like butter when he kneaded her tender back or touched her aching arms, the physical labor of working for Dior Couture sometimes pulling a true number on Violet’s body, the hours and hours and hours going into the dresses they produced paid right away, but Violet loved it, and Sutan loved that she loved it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good..”

“Yeah?” Sutan smiled, pressing another kiss into Violet’s skin, his teeth nipping at her, and that’s when he felt it, Violet’s stomach practically rumbling under his hand. Sutan broke from her, a laugh leaving him. “Damn lovely eyes. Seems like someone shouldn’t have skipped dinner, huh?”

Violet laughed, and Sutan felt his heart melt, the comfort and trust Violet showed him in that moment something he cherished more than he knew how to put into words.

When he had first met Violet, she would have shied away, embarrassed and betrayed by her bodies humanity, but instead, after years together, she was laughing. Sutan ran his other hand through Violet’s wet hair, pushing it back and turning his head so he could kiss her.

“Some soup does sound nice…” Violet smiled, kissing Sutan’s lips. “Do you think they have tomatoes?”

“I’m sure they have everything you could ever dream of.”

/////

Bianca couldn’t sleep. She laid in bed, covers tossed aside, eyes wide open and staring at the slow moving ceiling fan.

She couldn’t close them because every time she did, she saw Courtney. Muscular thighs on full display as she climbed a ladder, abs peeking out from her shirt when she sailed across a zip line. Even the agile way she jumped to the ground. Who knew that an afternoon of zip lining would be so fucking alluring?

Bianca could have cursed herself for not bringing a single vibrator in her massive suitcase. An oversight that was truly proving to be tragic, fingers simply not enough to relieve the pulsing ache in her cunt.

She flipped over onto her stomach, pillow between her legs, squirming desperately against her hand, some of her hair ending up in her mouth. God, what she wouldn’t give for that mouthful to be blonde and silky. Bianca squeezed her eyes shut, straining, trying to imagine her tongue against Courtney’s skin, hands full of her perfect ass. She whimpered, frustration mounting, finally collapsing in exhaustion and failure.

Why the fuck hadn’t she packed a vibrator?

Did Amazon Prime deliver to remote Brazilian resort towns?

[shipwhoevertfyouwantbbys]

Oooh could you please write something about Polo and Christian with Christian acknowledging his bisexuality??

      yesss i can now that i have the time, so enjoy lovely… i tried. I’m still getting use to writing for Polo and Christian. But lemme know what yall think and if you got some fic ideas then hit me up with them xxx        

              Polo wanted to cook. He had bought all the ingredients and planned to cook for both Carla and Christian. But only one had shown up.  

Christian.  

The muscular boy stood with a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of something cheap when Polo opened the door.  

Polo pretended to be less than pleased and said nothing as he let him in. Saying nothing and strolling off to the kitchen. Christian padded behind, Polo snuck a glance at the boy before grabbing his phone and texting Carla.  

Where are you? Xxx polo

I’m going to stay at my moms. Have to focus on the test I have tmr. Xxx Carla

Christian is here. Xxx polo

Entertain him then… Xxx Carla

Polo flicked his eyes to Christian who’d hopped onto the counter and blew some smoke in his direction. Polos eyes flew back to his phone.  

What are you talking about? Xxx polo  

Entertain our guest, I insist. Xxx Carla  

How? Xxx polo

I know you have a few ideas baby. Have fun and call me later. Xxx Carla  

Polo swallowed hard and clicked his phone off. His eyes slid back to Christian who’d put out the cigarette and was now waiting.  

“Carla’s not coming. She wants to study.”  

Christian raised a brow, his feet dangling over the edge of the counter. “I was promised a dinner.”  

Polo bit his lip. He could kick him out…. Christian nudged Polo with his foot, he flashed him a huge smile and it had already been decided.  

He wasn’t going anywhere.  

So Polo cooked and they talked….

“Does Carla know you like dudes?”  

Polo stirred the pasta sauce, he paused and glanced up to Christian who hadn’t moved from his spot on the counter. He just looked more comfortable now.  

“Who said I did?”  

Christian chuckled softly, shaking his head and then giving Polo a look. “I’m not just having sex with Carla… I pay attention.”  

Polos heart pounded and he went back to his sauce. Ignoring Christian for a moment because damn this imbecile. How dare he think he could ask these questions and make these accusations?  

“What about you? How does someone straight fuck around with a dude then?” Polo snapped back. He focused on the saucepan.  

When Christian didn’t say anything, he got the better of Polo and he couldn’t help but lift his eyes to him.  

The fucker was smiling, he raised his eyebrows. “Who said I was?”

Polo let a breath out. But it wasn’t of relief. He didn’t know why he—  

“Do all the leaders of tomorrow, assume everything?”

Polos brain stuttered for a moment and he didn’t know how to respond. He felt his face heat as Christian smirked at him, very amused apparently. He cleared his throat and raised a brow, “I just assumed because,” Polo didn’t even get the chance to finish because Christian slipped off the counter and into Polos space. 

“Because I jumped towards your girlfriend first and not you?”  

Polo glanced down at the space between them or the lack of it now. He bit his lip and reached for the knob on the stove. He switched it off.  

“You’ve not shown any indication that you also like dudes.”  

“Neither have you, all that you’ve indicated is that you’re freaky in the sheets and get off on others fucking your girlfriend.”  

Polo felt a flash of anger, he glared at the boy. Not caring about the lack of space now. He would not be judged in his own house.  

“Nobody is forcing you to have fun with us. Because that’s it,” Polo murmured, stepping even closer to Christian who still looked so amused. “It’s fun. Who cares what gets us off.”  

Christian grinned at this, he lifted a hand and clapped polo on the shoulder. “Now you’re talking.” He winked and turned on his heel, making his way to the fridge and opening it.  

Polo watched the boy take out some things for salad and sent him a questioning look.  

“Carla sent direct orders that you, our man, must eat something relatively green.”  

Our man.  

Polo pretended that didn’t send his heart racing.  

What has he gotten himself into?  

—-christian pov—-

           “What are you then?”  

Polo sat crisscrossed on the floor, much like the first time he and Carla invited Christian over.  

Christian was sprawled out on his side, propped on one elbow and poking at his salad.  

“What?”  

Christian chuckled, taking a sip of some wine. He noted that expensive wine tasted way better than well… his poor excuse of wine. “What are you? You’re not straight, because I’ve seen the way you look at me. Are you bi, bi-curious, pan?”  

Christian watched Polos expression. Waiting to catch anything at all. But instead, he saw him nervously swallowing and avoiding eyes.  

“I’m bi.”  

Polo said nothing.  

“I mean I know I ain’t fucking straight but I also know I ain’t fucking gay.”  

Nothing.  

“I was into Nano for like my whole preteen years.”  

This snagged some attention. Polos attention jerked and his lips parted in surprise. “He’s your type?”  

Christian burst out laughing at the question. Because this would be his first reaction. He pulled himself up and pushed away his salad. He turned to Polo, “I thought so. He was a god to me.”  

Polos interest peeked some more, “Was?”  

Christian reached for his wine, he hummed around the glass. “Yes. Was. As in before, I see him now as family and nothing more.”  

“I don’t know what I am.”

Christian would’ve taken the chance to let, you’re a freak. Slip from his mouth but instead opted for, “And that’s chill. Carla was right. Labels are for clothes.”  

For the first time, Christian saw a real smile come from Polo. And he could see now why Carla would do anything for him.

[frickfracksnatchisback]

Fixing the Broken Past (AGIT AU-Part 1)

This is a follow up to the You’re Worthless fic I wrote a while back for @shaykai / @hatsparadox ! Keep in mind that as your reading this it’ll jump to two different periods in time. One plot is in the present with the other in the past. Enjoy!

***

It was like any other lazy Sunday. No customers and nothing to do.

Thor was sitting inside his security booth at the front of the scrapyard. He sat in his chair as a nearby radio played peppy music that filled the entire booth. He was tinkering with the various metal pieces laying on his desk. There were all kinds of bit and bobs he had found while looking through the heaps of junk. Copper wires, nuts and bolts, even a few old computer chips that he was lucky enough to find.

It had been harder to get replacement parts these past few days, which he found rather odd. He had been constantly coming up short with the pieces he needed for his projects, but he could always try and make new parts. Although he found it tedious to do so, it was better than having to buy the expensive and unreliable brand of the Mafia’s hardware store. The less money he could give to those cheats the better.

After a few minutes of screwing in bolts he decide to stop fiddling with the pieces on his desk and relax for a little while. He leaned back in his chair, put his feet on the desk, and used his hat the cover his eyes from the sun. On days like these, there really wasn’t anything better to do than just snooze. Sure, people would come in to occasionally get rid of some stuff. Like robots they didn’t want anymore, faulty machines, scrap pieces that no longer worked, that kind of stuff. But today had, for some reason, decided to be extremely slow. He sighed and slowly began to close his eyes. If he had enough spare time on his hands he might as well spend it by getting some well deserved shut-eye.

“Hello? Mr. Thor?”

Or maybe not.

Thor lifted the hat from his eyes. Standing in front of the booth was a pair of happy, blue eyes staring back at him. A pair of blue eyes that belonged to the sweetest, most kindest little girl he had ever met in his life. She had brown hair, an adorable purple outfit, and a top hat that was almost always perched on top of her head. Her name...well, he didn’t really know her name. But most people just called her Hat Kid.

“Oh! Hey there squirt!” he said as he quickly got his feet off the desk and straightened himself up in his chair. “How’s my favorite little customer?” he smiled. She giggled which made him smile even more, seeing her happy always made his day. “Let me guess, your here to see my recent projects huh?” he asked her as he noticed she was carrying around an old, red wagon. She nodded, she was usually a kid of few words but that suited him just fine.

“Wait for me you punk!”

Another girl was running up to the booth with her red cape flapping in the wind. She skidded up to the front of the booth and posed heroically. This girl was the complete opposite of Hat Kid, yet somehow the two were friends. She had a hood instead of a hat, brown eyes, and blonde hair with a matching mustache. Hat Kid called her Mu.

“Ah, I see you brought the little thief with you this time.” Thor chuckled. Mu looked back at him with annoyance.

“Hey! You watch who you’re talking to buster!” she yelled as she pulled several fighting poses. Thor laughed, this kid sure had some spunk! “Besides, it’s not stealing if it’s junk that people don’t want.” the small girl huffed.

“It is when you sneak in at midnight.” Thor said plainly, she simply mumbled in reply. He could still remember the day when he caught her stealing scrap pieces while he was on night guard duty. Not that she wasn’t stealing for a good cause, she hated the Mafia even more than him. Still, she had proved to be quite the troublemaker. That meant he had to keep an extra eye on her. Heh, too bad that Tim wasn’t here to help him with that!

“You two girls caught me at a good time. Well, follow me.” he said as he stood up and went out to lead the girls to his workshop. The two girls followed him, one being more reluctant than the other. As they walked through the entrance he could hear Hat Kid humming a little tune as her wagon rolled along behind her. She seemed excited today, maybe she was hoping to find a new friend. She was always good at making friends.

Especially the robotic kind.

The kid had a huge soft spot for robots. He remembered when he found an abandoned service bot in the scrapyard. It looked like an orange cat in a torn chef’s uniform. She was beaten up pretty badly, not to mention scared out of her wits. She was absolutely terrified of him and ran whenever she saw him, not like he blamed her. It took him forever to coax her out of the hiding spot she made and he only managed to fix a few broken parts. He called up Hat Kid one day and asked if she could help him calm the bot so he could hopefully fix the rest of her.

The moment that Hat Kid set eyes on that bot for the first time the two became practically inseparable. She eventually adopted the bot and brought her home. The bot helped to return the favor by cleaning around the house, cooking meals, tucking her into bed, almost like a nanny. What did the kid name her? “Cookie” or something? Well one thing was sure, she did have a way of quickly befriending robots. Maybe she could give the ones in his workshop a new home.

As they made it to the front of the workshop the two children could see the two large entrance doors bounded by a lock. Thor pulled out his key chain to unlocked it. “I’m afraid we don’t have much. I haven’t been able to find enough pieces to fix all of them but you’re welcome to look around.” he said as he unlocked the door. Hat Kid bounced excitedly, the handle of her wagon making rattling noises as she did so. She then dropped the handle and left the wagon behind her.

“Why do you want a new robot anyways? Don’t you already have one?” her friend piped up.

“So CC has a new friend!” Hat Kid said simply, Mu just shook her head.

“Whatever. Just so long as I get to see some really creepy ones.” Mu said as the two followed Thor inside.

The workshop’s metal wall were rusty and the stench of oil filled the air. Different kinds of robots sat in chairs, on the floor, in corners, even on two nearby workbenches. Their were tools, bolts, and screws scattered all around the floor. The buzzing of electricity could be heard around every corner as some robots were linked up to power generators. Some of the robots twitched but none of them startled as small sparks emitted from them. Not many, but a few robotic limbs laid beside the sleeping robots.

“Watch your step girls.” Thor warned the two as they stepped over a pile of tools sprawled out on the floor. “Sorry about the mess squirt. You know I’m not very organized in my work spaces.” Thor nervously chuckled.

“Are you kidding me? This is so awesome!” Mu yelled out as she grabbed a robot’s head that was laying on a workbench. “Look at this one! Super creepy.” she said as she put it over Hat Kid’s shoulder. She laughed as Hat Kid yelped out in surprise and quickly took the head away from her.

“Are any of them awake?” Hat Kid asked as she put the head back on the workbench.

“No, sorry squirt. They’re all shut down right now.”

“Why?”

“Eh, makes them easier to work on. Its better to try and fix a sleeping robot than have it be awake and squirm around while you’re trying to fix it.” Thor stated as he bent down to pick a robot laying on the floor to set it back against the wall. “Also I don’t know if you’ve noticed but a lot of these robots where throw away by previous owners. That means they don’t take too kindly to humans messing with their insides.” he sighed as he patted it on the shoulder.

“Even one who just want to help?” Mu asked this time.

“Yeah, poor guys just can’t tell friend from foe anymore.”

“They why do you help them if they hate you?”

Thor, still hunched down, turned to look at her. “I don’t think it’s right to just leave them to rust on the streets. Every robot has a purpose, so why waste it by just throwing them away?” He said as he stared deeply into her eyes. “Besides, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going.” He stood up, dusted himself off, and walked over to the back of the workshop.

Mu kept silent as she followed the two in front. She never really understood robots but she knew a thing or two about feeling empathetic towards someone. Maybe that counted for the someones made out of metal too. She guessed that’s why Hat Kid liked robots so much.

“Well, here you go. These fellows are a little more intact so take your pick.” Thor gestured to the robots lined up at the back of the wall. Some were rather short while others were about Thor’s height. And aside from a few scratches and dents in their metal they were in good shape like he said.

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Mu said as she walked up to one and knocked on its head.

“Be careful there kid! These guys are still a little fragile.” Thor walked over to fix its head back to its original position. As he explained the different functions of the robot to Mu, Hat Kid stood there examining the robots.

“Hmm...” she said as put a hand on her chin in thought. All of them looked good, not to mention friend-shaped! But she couldn’t take all of them home with her, the house just wasn’t big enough. How was she supposed to choose? Maybe she could pick the little one? The really big one? Maybe the…

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a huge figure covered in a blue, plastic sheet.

Curious, she walked over to the corner the covered figure was sitting in. It was a small distance away from the other robots and was very tall in size. So tall that it almost reached the ceiling! As she came closer she noticed that the sheet was covered in a thick layer of dust. She ran a finger across to confirm that, yes, it was quite dusty.

“Mr. Thor? What about this one?” Hat Kid hollered in the twos direction. Mu look relieved as she was starting to get bored of Thor’s explanations.

“Huh? Which one?��� Thor called back. His eyes grew wide as he noticed what she was standing next to. “Wait! Hold on a minute!” He quickly dashed over to the figure, leaving a confused Mu behind him. When he made it over he frantically looked it up and down, as if checking for something important. “You didn’t turn it on did you?” he asked Hat Kid in a worried tone.

“Um...no?” Hat Kid said, confused.

“Oh thank goodness!” Thor said as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Is there something wrong with that one? Is it broken?” Mu questioned as she walked over to the two.

“Well, uh, yeah he is but-”

“Can I we see him?” Hat kid interrupted him, excited about the mention of “he”.

“No! Absolutely not!” Thor put himself in between the figure and the two girls. Hat Kid and Mu looked back at each other, he was definitely hiding something interesting from them.

“Is it super gross-looking? Let me see!” Mu insisted.

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea kid.”

The girls looked back at each other again. “Please?” they both said in union, giving Thor the cute-puppy-dog-eyes stare. Thor hesitated for a moment before sighing in defeat.

“All right, all right. Fine. Just don’t tell Tim about this.” He muttered as he grabbed the dusty sheet and pulled it away. A cloud of dust filled the air, making the two girls cough and try to wave the cloud away.

The two girls then gasped as the dust cleared. They saw a very tall and very purple robot. It was oddly noodle-shaped, very thin at the bottom, and missing an arm on one side. What it was supposed to be they couldn’t quite tell, but it looked creepy and awesome at the same time.

“Woah! It looks pretty cool for a piece of junk!” Mu exclaimed.

“Hey! Don’t be rude!” Hat Kid scolded her.

“Ugh, fine.” Mu groaned. “He looks pretty cool for a piece of junk.” she finished.

“Still rude.” Hat Kid fussed again, but Mu wasn’t listening. She was too busy getting closer to the robot to get a better look of it.

“Careful, kid! This guy is dangerous.” He said as he pointed at the remaining arm. Hat Kid could see he was more specifically pointing out that the arm’s hand was clawed and very sharp. Mu noticed this too and simply scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Well so am I!” she said as she whipped her cape behind her and put a hand to her chest. Hat kid and Thor groaned together.

“Seriously kid, he’s very hostile. You’re lucky he’s off right now.” He said bluntly, making Mu’s cheeky grin fade.

“Hostile?” asked Hat Kid, cocking her head to the side. Thor looked back at her guilty.

“Yeah, hostile is putting it lightly.” he said, giving the robot a mean look. “Me and Tim found him locked up in an old shed. We figured he was a good find and he was in pretty good shape when we found him. So we decided to switch him on to try and ask what had happen to the poor guy.” he explained. “Well...let’s just say it didn’t end too great. It’s part of the reason Tim’s taking a break for awhile.” Thor finished as he shuffled uncomfortably. Hat Kid gasped at his words.

“You mean that’s why he’s is in a sling?!” Hat Kid exclaimed, Thor slowly nodded.

“You said that was a working accident!” Mu pointed at him accusingly.

“It was an accident!” Thor was quick to defend himself. “At least...I sure hope it was an accident.” he grumbled as he gave the robot another glare. Hat Kid looked at him and then back at the robot. As she stared at the robot a deep emotion of sadness and pity built up inside of her. She just couldn’t imagine how scary it would be to be locked away in an old shed for such a long time.

“Maybe he was scared.” She said quietly. Thor shook his head.

“I don’t think he was scared, squirt. If he was he had a weird way of showing it.” Thor let out a hefty sigh. “I just a good thing that I had my stun gun on me, otherwise who knows what he would’ve done.” Thor said, cringing at the memory. The robot had gone completely haywire. He could still hear the robot’s mad laughing echo in his mind. He swore that he would kill both of them, and he had almost succeeded. If he hadn’t been prepared at that moment...

He looked back at Hat Kid, hoping she got the message. She was staring at the robot with this strange look on her face. Oh no he thought. He knew this look, it was way too familiar. It was the same look she gave Cookie when they first meet. The kind of look that said “I’m going to take you home and nothing can stop me”.

“Don’t even think about it kid. You’re not taking this guy with you.” he said strictly. Hat Kid looked back at him with a very upset expression.

“What?! Why not?!” she pouted.

“Kid, I’ve already told you ‘why not’. Besides, what if you got hurt?” he scolded, putting his hands on his hips. Mu dashed in front of Hat Kid and use her body as a shield.

“I’d protect her! There’s no way I’d let that tin can even think about hurting my friends!” Mu said angrily and puffed out her chest.

“Tim would strangle me just because I let you see him. Imagine what he would do if he found out I let you two kids keep a murderous robot?” Thor argued. “Why don’t you just pick one of the other bots over there?” he pointed back to the line of robots. Hat Kid eyes welled up with tears and Mu face was filled with disappointment.

“Please?” Hat Kid whimpered. Thor gulped, he felt the pressure building on. He always had a weakness when it came to children.

“Okay, fine. You can take him with you.” Thor said, defeated. The two girls perked up and cheered. “But on one condition.” he added, making the girls groan. “If he tries to harm you in any way, you immediately bring him back to my workshop. Is that understood little miss?” Thor pointed at Hat Kid. She quickly nodded in understanding. “Promise?” he demanded.

“Promise!” Hat Kid chirped.

“All right then, he’s all yours.” Thor said reluctantly. The two girls celebrated by holding hands and jumping up and down. Mu then stopped, her smile gone now.

“Hey HK?” she asked Hat Kid using her nickname.

“What?” Hat Kid stopped jumping to listen.

“How are we going to fit this guy in the wagon?”

***

The rain poured heavily outside the manor as Vanessa was being escorted her room. The servant walking up the stairs behind her said nothing as he silently pushed her along. The candlestick she was holding was the only light being shone, making the atmosphere even gloomier. When they reached her bedroom door the servant rushed in front of her to hold the door open for her. She had half a mind to walk away, to leave the servant with an empty room. Instead, she begrudgingly entered the room step by step.

The moment she was fully inside she heard the closing of the door and the clicking noise that followed after, signaling that she had been locked in. The thunder boomed as the lightening helped to illuminate her bedroom, which was now her prison. She walked over to sit in the lonely chair near the vanity and set her candle down. She looked in the mirror, a pitiful face stared back at her. Only one thought ran through her head constantly as the thunder roared outside.

This wasn’t her fault.

She could remember every detail. The hand-holding, the heartbreak, the hatred. She could remember every part of their whole “lovers quarrel”. She had been so angry. It felt like she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much he screamed. She just wasn’t able to stop herself. She had felt sad, spiteful even. But also very powerful. She was the one in control. She had to teach him that lesson, no matter what the cost.

But the cost had been all too great.

She could still hear the awful sounds of crashing metal in her memory, as she recalled the exact moment when he hit the floor. It was too late for her to take it all back as his body just laid there, not moving at all. No spasms or twitching of any kind. His body was completely still. A small puddle of oil formed around him, staining the pink carpet. That’s when she started to panic. She laid next to him and shook him violently to see if he could wake up. She could feel a deep pit of dread starting to form inside of herself. What had she done? What if her parents found out?

She couldn’t take that chance. She had to get rid of him before her parents came home. She remembered her dragging the body from out of the room, it’s head clanking down against the wooden steps. It seemed to take forever with the heavy metal scraping against the floor, causing her to put in more effort. She finally dragged it through the back door and pulled it into the garden area. She left the body were it was to go and look inside the garden shed for something useful. Anything that could make the body lighter so it would be easier to dispose of. She quickly found an axe and didn’t hesitate to grab it. It would have to do the job.

She ran back over to the body and looked for a good place to start. She found her target and brought down the axe on his leg, it made a terrible wrenching sound. The strike only made a large cut in the knee so she brought it back down again. It took her many tries before she managed to get the first leg completely off. Sparks were shooting out of wires and oil was spilling everywhere. The bottom of her favorite dress became stained with the dark fluid and little black droplets sprayed onto her face. But she continued, carefully avoiding the sparks so her dress wouldn’t catch fire. She moved over to the other leg and chopped it off just as she did the first. She picked up the legs and was ready to toss them aside so she could work on the rest of the body.

That’s when she was startled by the yelling of her parents.

Apparently, they had arrived home sooner than she expected. It didn’t take them long to find the trail of oil leading from her bedroom to were she was now and they were quick to follow it. Once they found her daughter in an oil stained dress, robot legs in her arms, and an axe on the ground they knew they had caught her red-handed. And what a scolding she received from them! They screamed at her for ruining her dress! For making such a mess in the manor! For being absolutely reckless with something so expensive!

And after hours of yelling about how disappointed they were, they agreed on her punishment. She had been grounded for a month. A whole month. She was told that she would be locked in her room with no toys or entertainment until she had learned her lesson. Because of course, whenever she left them all those other times they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. But the one time she didn’t want to be seen they just had to destroy her life. On the one day that happened to be special, her birthday. It had all been ruined by her unfaithful liar of a prince and her cruel, uncaring parents.

She came back to the present, it had been a few days since the worst day of her life had happened. That didn’t change the fact that she was still grounded, however. Her eyes were locked on her reflection. A tear slowly rolled down her cheek, it seemed golden in the candle’s light. Why was the world so cruel to her? Why was life so cruel to her?! She had lost everything she ever cared about. Her things, her freedom, even her prince was gone now. It wasn’t her fault, so why was she being treated like this? If her prince hadn’t lied to her she wouldn’t be in this mess. And it wasn’t. Her. Fault.

And yet…

She put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it tightly. She thought about how her prince used to put his hand on her shoulder whenever she was upset. His calm voice and cheery nature made her so happy. He danced with her, brushed her hair, complimented her. He did as he was told, and their life had been wonderful and pleasant. But now her prince was gone forever. He would never put a hand on his princess’ shoulder ever again. She was alone, and there was nobody to talk to but her own reflection.

“He’s never coming back, is he?” she asked the mirror, half sobbing. The rain continued to fall outside and the tears in her eyes did the same. “Oh my prince, my darling prince! If only you didn’t disobey me! Then I wouldn’t have to be alone in this prison!” she said as her voice became more broken. She stopped being able to form words and covered her tear-soaked face in her hands. She was a crying mess as she crashed in a heap on top of the vanity. There was nothing to comfort her now but the sounds of the thunder.

“Now, now my dear. There’s no need to be so upset!”

She slowly looked up from her hands. Through all her crying she thought she heard someone else speaking to her. “Nonsense.” she said in her still distraught voice. “There’s nobody here but me. I’m all alone in this room.” she reasoned to herself.

“Ah, but you’re not alone Vanessa! I’ve been with you this whole time.”

She quickly stood herself up in her chair. It wasn’t just her imagination. She did hear another person speaking to her. She shook in her seat, not even daring to look behind her. She was scared, had a thief broken into her room? Or worse, had a murderer come to kill her or keep her for ransom?

“W-who’s there? Who are you?” she said quietly, she was badly frightened. She didn’t dare to scream now, fearing the cold steel being plunged into her back or the sound of a gunshot being fired into her head. “Please…please don’t hurt me.” she closed her eyes tightly as she begged for mercy.

“You have nothing to be afraid of my love! Besides, we have a lot of catching up to do.”

The stranger chuckled as she heard a creaking noise behind her, like the sound of something being opened. She then heard sounds of movement from behind her, but she kept her eyes closed tight. She was huddled in her seat with no knowledge of who was behind her and what they were going to do to her.

“Vanessa, you can open your eyes now.” the stranger said in a singsong voice. She hesitated greatly, but she didn’t want to anger the person. She managed to take in a deep breath, open her eyes, and turn around in her seat.

The lightening flashed, lighting up the silhouette that was only a few steps behind her. The stranger was revealed as not a dangerous man, but a robot. One she had never seen before in her life. And despite its earlier tone of voice, it didn’t look very friendly.

Its eyes were a sinister red and its smile was wide and full of sharp teeth. Its head was an odd crescent shape and it had one large wheel attached to the bottom. It also had four arms with clawed hands. One pair of hands were helping the robot lean on the desk behind it while the other pair tapped playfully on the desk’s surface. Its metal body was coated in drops of water, which was most likely the rain from outside. It also wore a jacket which was caked in dried mud and damp from the rain.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” she asked, more confused than scared. The robot stopped tapping and looked back at her with a shocked expression.

“Why, you don’t remember me at all?” it said bringing a hand to it’s chest. “Oh, you wound me so! I am deeply hurt by your words.” the robot put another hand to it’s forehead, acting rather dramatically. “How could you forget a face as handsome as this one?” it asked as brought its fingers to the edges of its smile. She just stared, it didn’t seem like this robot was all right in the head.

“Well, it’s hard for me to remember you if we’ve never met.” she said matter-of-factually. The robot giggled.

“I suppose you’re right my love. I have had a few...upgrades since we last met.” the robot said, gesturing to his entire body. “But it’s still quite a shame. I only wore these dirty old rags so you could recognize me.” it said while tugging the bottom of its jacket. She look at the jacket, and it was practically rags like the robot said. With all holes and tears she could barely tell what was supposedly so familiar about it.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to remind me of anything. It just looks like you’re wearing an old coat” she stated plainly. “Why don’t you just quit playing this foolish game and just tell me already?” she said, putting her hands to her hips. She was starting to lose her patience with this bucket of bolts. The robot frowned and its eyes flashed and became a deeper red, she shrunk back a little. But then the robot simply smiled back at her, as if the deadly glare before hadn’t even happened.

“Well...if my old clothes aren’t enough to remind you, then maybe this will.” it said as it stopped leaning on the table to come towards her. She backed up a few steps, fearing what the crazy robot was about the to do next. It stopped until it was right in front of her and with one pair of arms it reached for her hands. It grabbed them tightly with its own, she could feel the cold metal which was slick from the rain. She tried to struggle away but another hand reached for her face and forced her to stare into the robot’s glowing red eyes.

“Vanessa.” the robot cooed as it used one last hand to run its fingers through her hair. “Do you remember that promise I made to you?” it said with an eerie tone. A shiver went down her spine, something about the word promise made her feel very strange. What promise? What did it mean? “I said I would always be loyal to you, did I not?” the robot continued, interrupting her thoughts. “I would always care for you, dance with you, be kind to you...” the robot stopped playing with her hair and its words trailed off. It stood still with a sad expression on its face, almost as if it was going to cry. “But was that not enough my dear?” it asked softly. “Was my programming all wrong? Did I not prove that my love for you was indeed true?” it stared back at her, begging for a response. It was then that the realization hit her.

“My prince?” she said shakily as she could feel her eyes widened. No, no it couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be him! Her parents took the rest of him away after they found her in the garden, never to be seen again. So how, how in the world could he still be here?! And what on earth happened to him?! He was supposed to be gone! He was supposed to be-

“Dead.” she found herself blurting out. The robot, who she now knew was her prince, went from sad to shocked as all of his arms fell to his sides. “You were dead! I saw you, you weren’t moving at all!” she wailed, she could feel every inch of her body shaking. “Am I going mad?! How could you have survived after I-” she stopped in her tracks. She had said too much. He just stood there and stared at her.

And smiled a wide and evil smile.

He had the face of a maniac as she could feel his eyes beginning to burn into her soul. His sharp teeth were gleaming and his head seemed to twitch. She backed up against the wall, hugging herself for protection. “I-I didn’t mean to I swear! I just thought that you were-” she pleaded before he put up a hand signaling her to stop.

“It’s alright my dear. Everything is okay.” he said, trying to soothe her. Its frightening face before had disappeared and was now more calm and collected. “I understand, you must be so confused. But trust me, it will all make sense to you soon.” his smiled had also changed to and it was much friendlier than the last. She wasn’t sure what she should do or say, the robot’s emotions seemed to change quicker than she could keep up with.

“So...you’re not going to hurt me?” she squeaked, still fearful for her life.

“Vanessa! I’m surprised at you! I’m come all this way and you think I would do something so brash?” he said sounding particularly offended before chuckling to himself. “No, no my dear! You’ve got it all wrong! I came here to reunite with you!” he said cheerfully. She perked up a little, hopeful that she would be able to get out of this situation.

“Really? You came back here to be with me again my prince?” she asked timidly.

“Please, call me Moonjumper now.” he said before bowing humbly. “And of course I did my sweet! I couldn’t just leave you here all alone now could I?” he continued before going eerily silent.

“Not to mention...we need to fix a few things about our relationship.”

Vanessa started to ask what he meant before a strange hissing noise startled her. She saw that the hissing noise was emitting from Moonjumper as he slowly opened his mouth. Strange light blue smoke came pouring out of his mouth and flew in her direction. She coughed as she received a face full of the strange smoke. She manage to get a whiff of it, the smell wasn’t noxious at all but it was awfully sweet-smelling.

She started to feel dizzy. Her vision became hazy as the world around her was starting to fade out. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Moonjumper’s smiling face.

“Sweet dreams my love...”

***

Apologies for the wait, I would’ve posted it yesterday but I didn’t have the time. Also this might turn into three parts instead of two but we’ll have to see what happens!

[sweetacidrain]

✩ Cass & Jace

Send ‘✩’ for the Ultimate Relationship Tag:

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? They both raise their voice, but mostly it’s JaceWho threatens to leave but never actually does? They’ve both done their fare share in thisWho actually keeps their word and leaves? They’ve both left at least onceWho trashes the house? JaceDo either of them get physical? Jace used to in the very early stages of their relationshipHow often do they argue/disagree? Not very often anymore, but sometimes.Who is the first to apologise? They’re both stubborn so I’m not sure if there is ever really an ‘apology’. Unless there needs to be one, then it depends on the fight.

Sex:

Who is on top? Usually Jace, but it changes depending on the mood.Who is on the bottom? Usually Cass, but it changes depending on the mood.Who has the strangest desires? Cass when she’s pregnant. There’s usually food involvedAny kinks? They’re pretty normal really. They balance each other out and they both like the same things. They both like it rough, Jace might like it a little more rough than Cass, but that’s about it.Who’s dominant in bed? Mainly JaceIs head ever in the equation? All the timeIf so, who is better at performing it? They’re both good at it, but Cass performs it more often than Jace does.Ever had sex in public? YepWho moans the most? CassWho leaves the most marks? CassWho screams the loudest? CassWho is the more experienced of the two? Jace used to be a hoeDo they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Both. It depends on their mood reallyRough or soft? RoughHow long do they usually last? Sometimes they have ‘quickies that last like 15-20 minutes, but if they aren’t rushing or anything and they have all the time in the world, they usually last a couple hours. They have also been known to fuck for days on end, but that was before the kids.Is protection used? LOL NODoes it ever get boring? NeverWhere is the strangest place they’d have sex? Probably a bathroom in a fast food place.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? YesIf so, how many children do your muses want/have? They have two kids. Delilah who is 4 and a half and Cass is pregnant with their son.Who is the favorite parent? Delilah doesn’t have a favorite, but if she did, it’d probably be Jace because she has him wrapped around her fingerWho is the authoritative parent? Both of them, but mostly CassWho is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? CassWho lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Both of themWho turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? CassWho goes to parent teacher interviews? CassWho changes the diapers? Both of themWho gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Both of them, but mainly JaceWho spends the most time with the children? CassWho packs their lunch boxes? CassWho gives their children ‘the talk’? Cass will handle Delilah and Jace will handle their sonWho cleans up after the kids? Both of them but mostly CassWho worries the most? JaceWho are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Jace

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both of them, but Cass more than JaceWho is the little spoon? JaceWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? JaceWho struggles to keep their hands to themself? Both of them, but mostly JaceHow long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Jace is a pretty heavy sleeper who doesn’t move around too much, so it’d probably be CassWho gives the most kisses? CassWhat is their favourite non-sexual activity? Watching movies in bed together; Jace, Cass, and DelilahWhere is their favourite place to cuddle? In bedWho is more likely to playfully grope the other? CassHow often do they get time to themselves? Not that often after Delilah was born

Sleeping:

Who snores? Neither of themIf both do, who snores the loudest? Neither of themDo they share a bed or sleep separately? Share a bedIf they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? It depends. They aren’t usually all over each other, but there’s usually at least one body part touching the other.Who talks in their sleep? CassWhat do they wear to bed? Cass sometimes wears Jace’s t-shirts or her own pajamas and Jace usually just wears sweatpantsAre either of your muses insomniacs? Jace used to have really bad insomnia, but it’s gotten betterCan sleeping pills be found by the bedside? NopeDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Wrap their limbs around each otherWho wakes up with bed hair? CassWho wakes up first? JaceWho prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Jace usually makes breakfastWhat is their favourite sleeping position? They’re both all over the place so who knowsWho hogs the sheets? CassDo they set an alarm each night? Cass does. Jace has a body alarm clock where he wakes up at the same time no matter what every dayCan a television be found in their bedroom? YesWho has nightmares? They both do, but Jace has worse onesWho has ridiculous dreams? CassWho sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? CassWho makes the bed? CassWhat time is bed time? Whenever they manage to fall asleep. Usually around 11 Any routines/rituals before bed? Bathe Delilah, read her to sleep, watch some shows in bed together and Cass usually falls asleep during them.Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Cass

Work:

Who is the busiest? JaceWho rakes in the highest income? JaceAre any of your muses unemployed? NoWho takes the most sick days? Cass. Jace can’t really call in sickWho is more likely to turn up late to work? Cass. Jace doesn’t have a set time to be at ‘work’Who sucks up to their boss? Neither of them. Cass doesn’t suck up to anyone and Jace is his own bossWhat are their jobs? Cass is a bartender and Jace is a drug lordWho stresses the most? JaceDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Jace doesn’t like when drunk assholes hit on his wife and Cass isn’t exactly happy about Jace’s line of work but they both enjoy their own jobs just fine lolAre your muses financially stable? Definitely

Home:

Who does the washing? Usually Cass, but Jace also doesWho takes out the trash? JaceWho does the ironing? Cass, but they don’t really have many clothes that need to be ironedWho does the cooking? Both of themWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? CassWho is messier? Cass. Jace likes things to be neat, but Cass isn’t exactly ‘messy’ eitherWho leaves the toilet roll empty? CassWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? CassWho forgets to flush the toilet? Neither of themWho is the prankster around the house? JaceWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? JaceWho mows the lawn? Jace has someone do it for themWho answers the telephone? They both have cellphones but Cass will sometimes answer Jace’s phone tooWho does the vacuuming? Cass does upstairs and Jace does downstairsWho does the groceries? Both of themWho takes the longest to shower? JaceWho spends the most time in the bathroom? Cass

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? NeverHow many cars do they own? Three cars and a motorcycle. Cass has her own car, Jace has his own car and his bike, and then they have a ‘family’ carDo they own their home or do they rent? OwnDo they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? The nearest beach is about an hour and a half away, so both?Do they live in the city or in the country? CityDo they enjoy their surroundings? YesWhat’s their song? If you ask Jace, their song is Nothing Else Matters by MetallicaWhat do they do when they’re away from each other? Work, take care of the kids, whatever they want honestlyWhere did they first meet? The bar that Cass works atHow did they first meet? Jace hit on her because he was a hoe and saw a pretty girl and that’s what he did at the timeWho spends the most money when out shopping? They don’t really go out shopping for much and even if they do, neither of them buy expensive things reallyWho’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither of them are the type to show offWho finds it amusing when the other trips over? Cass thinks it’s hilarious when Jace tripsAny mental issues? Jace used to have depression and sometimes it comes back, but he’s been good for a whileWho’s terrified of bugs? DelilahWho kills the spiders around the house? JaceTheir favourite place? Home with their daughterWho pays the bills? They both do, but mainly JaceDo they have any fears for their future? Jace has a lot of fears of rivals finding and hurting his family.Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Jace is more likely to take Cass out for a surprise fancy dinner. Cass is more likely to make a surprise fancy dinnerWho uses up all of the hot water? JaceWho’s the tallest? JaceWho’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Cass because she knows he uses all the hot waterWho wanders around in their underwear? JaceWho sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? CassWhat do they tease each other about? Jace teases Cass about being shorter and Cass teases Jace about how much Delilah has him wrapped around her fingerWho is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? They both have pretty good fashion senseDo they have mutual friends? Jace doesn’t mind some of her friends and Marcus is Jace’s best friend who gets along very well with Cass. Sometimes too well and Marcus and Cass will gang up on Jace and then he gets upset and becomes a big babyWho crushed first? Cass caught feelings firstAny alcohol or substance related problems? Not problems. They both drink and Jace smokes weed sometimes, but there hasn’t really been any problemsWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Both of themWho swears the most? Jace

[lambroseforlife]

writing prompt: one shot of Lilly and Ambrose solving a murder where she figures out who the murderer is before he does

Wow, my apologies for how late this is. This prompt took some planning and research. Not to mention, I also had exams and applications to finish while being sick all at the same time. Anyway, here you go! This is a detective AU that takes place sometime around the mid-20th century (~1940s-50s). This is a pretty LONG read compared to my previous works so I decided to split this prompt into two parts.

Many people seem to be pissed with the ending of HfS so feel free to read this as a pick-me-up for your mood. This oneshot isn’t too terrible, I promise.

— — —

Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiing.

“Hello, this is Empire Investigations. How may we be of service? ….Yes …Yes ….Of course. Why definitely, right away.” Click.

Knock. Knock. 

“Mr Ambrose?”

“What is it, Miss Linton?”

“It’s a call from the police station. They said a new civilian case came in. One that they want our help for.”

“We are currently busy. Did you complete the report for the last case?”

“Yes I did, sir. They said that this new case involved a murder.”

Silence.

“They also said that the client would be willing to pay double for any third-party investigators involved. Provided that the culprit is found.”

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cramped office and a moment later, a door opened.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Linton? Let’s go! We have no time to waste.”

— — —

New Scotland Yard was in a state that could best be described as utter clamour. Once the two detectives were granted access inside the North building, they were met with an all too familiar sight for a typical evening at the compound. Phones rang persistently, multiple conversations overlapped over one another and uniformed officers bustled throughout the vicinity.

“Mr Ambrose, Miss Linton.” The front desk receptionist greeted, her auburn curls bouncing as she nodded to them both. “Inspector Dalgliesh has been expecting you both. He’s waiting in his office.”

They proceeded several floors above to the directed location and stood outside the glass-panelled door. Miss Linton paused, about to knock before entering when her boss opened the door and marched in without preamble. She blinked before following.

“Ah, welcome. I trust that my message was delivered then?” The blond, uniformed officer looked up from the pile of papers on his desk at them both, steel-blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Effectively.” Mr Ambrose glanced pointedly at the young woman standing next to him.

The Inspector’s eyes followed his and a radiant smile appeared. “Miss Linton! How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Cut the pleasantries, Dalgliesh.” Mr Ambrose all but growled. “What case is so difficult that you had to resort to hiring outside detectives with persuasion of monetary incentives?”

“Incentives that seemed to work nonetheless. And that’s Inspector Dalgliesh to you, my old friend.” All amusement vanished and his tone instantly took on a serious edge.

“No less than a few hours ago, close to seven o’clock, a Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald was found dead in room forty-five on the third floor of a hotel called The Sleeping Siren. Her husband had received a note to meet her there and when he did, he discovered her bloody corpse sprawled across the bed.”

Reaching into a file laid out in front of him, he pulled out some papers and set it down on the edge of the table for them. Upon closer inspection, Miss Linton realised that they were photographs. They were of grainy and somewhat faded quality but surprisingly they were in colour, unlike typical black-and-white ones. Taken from various angles, they clearly showed a young woman lying on a patterned bedspread. Her doe-shaped eyes were bugged out and delicate mouth ajar, a telltale sign that her last moments were spent in horrified shock. Her pointed chin and angular jaw were marred with angry red blisters, the same shade as her rouge-painted lips— but it was her slender neck that was grotesquely disfigured. The remaining skin at her throat was mottled purple, bloodied and torn, ripped apart as if it were frantically clawed at. As a result, bone and tissue underneath was also exposed, revealed for all to see.

In response, Miss Linton’s gaze automatically trailed down to the corpse’s hands which, sure enough, were clad in leather gloves that appeared to be coated with blood at the fingertips. Speckles of blood were on the victim’s tailored white princess-cut coat that looked rather expensive. Black tweed pants peeked out from under the hem and trailed down to meet a pair of shiny, suede flats.

Miss Linton snuck a sidewards glance at her employer who was still studying the pictures, his blank expression betraying no emotion. She looked up to the see the Inspector staring at them both, his hawk-like gaze intense.

“Naturally, he reacted as any other devoted husband would. Or so from what the hotel staff informed us. He bolted from the room, yelling for help. A staff member heard and upon seeing Mrs Fitzgerald’s body, immediately had someone call us. It caused quite the ruckus and in addition, Mr Fitzgerald’s gardener, Edgar Stone, was also discovered to be present near the scene. From what we have been able to find out so far, he was also inside the hotel for an unknown reason. He is currently being detained there for questioning.”

He paused and Miss Linton jumped in. “If the police is already involved, then why were we also called here too?”

He met her gaze levelly. “I was getting to that, Miss Linton. Mr Fitzgerald is convinced that his gardener was involved some way in all of this. Adamantly insists that he is the culprit, actually. But that doesn’t eliminate him as a suspect either. Nonetheless, Mr Fitzgerald is quite the wealthy man and demanded for additional investigators to be assigned to the case. Promised that he would compensate warmly for the effort given that the true culprit is proven guilty.”

He looked down as he began to rearrange his papers. Folding his hands together, he returned his attention to the two individuals in front of him.  “And that’s where you both come in. Your agency has a singular reputation with its track record and experience in solving cases.” His gaze lingered on the tall man, steel blue eyes drilling into sea-coloured ones. “Your presence here confirms that you have chosen to accept the case, but I need verbal agreement as well. Are you two up for this?”

“Yes.” Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton firmly stated at the same time.

“Good. Then let’s go to the crime scene.”

— — —

Despite Miss Linton’s prior experiences on dealing with a few murder cases, the goosebumps that settled in her skin upon registering the smell of death was an instinctual reaction that somehow still refused to diminish with time.

Room forty-five of The Sleeping Siren was left in a state of shambles. It appeared that the place had been torn asunder, as if a miniature storm had paid a visit. A few framed paintings were thrown about on the dusty hotel carpet, joined by clusters of glass shards from what formerly appeared to be a vase— evidenced by the paraffin-coated wax comprising the scattered bouquet of fake flowers.

A plastic sheet covered the former Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald while uniformed members of the forensic investigative team flitted about the room, each dedicated to their own assigned tasks. Miss Linton stepped forward, about to lift the covering over the corpse when one of the officers spoke up.

“Miss, we request that you refrain from touching anything at the moment. We are still gathering evidence and need minimal contact as possible.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She looked around to see that the other members were all wearing rubber gloves. She noticed that some appeared to be collecting samples while others were dusting a powdered substance over different surfaces.

“That’s for finding fingerprints, right?” Miss Linton asked Mr Ambrose, indicating with her chin.

“Yes.” He answered. He turned to Inspector Dalgliesh, who was next to him. “There’s no point in standing around here waiting for them to finish.Take us to the key witnesses.”

“Valid point.” He led them out of the room. “With whom do you wish to speak to first?”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton and Mr Ambrose were seated in the staff break room located on the ground floor— used as a makeshift interrogation room for the time being. In front of them sat a small, balding man with a round face. Miss Linton suspected that he was the type to usually maintain a cheerful disposition save for the current occasion. He was quivering as he blew his nose loudly into a crumpled handkerchief.

“W-What may I do for you?” His big eyes shone with tears.

“I am Mr Ambrose and this is Miss Linton. A ‘Morton Fitzgerald ’ requested for additional investigators to be assigned to the case regarding the death of Caroline Fitzgerald. I’m guessing that is you?” Mr Ambrose’s eyes bored into the smaller man sitting across the wobbly wooden table.

“Y-Yes?” Mr Fitzgerald’s eyes began to shine with fear as they darted back and forth between the two people facing him.

Miss Linton decided to interject, clearing her throat. “Mr Fitzgerald, we are the extra investigators that you asked for. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. I know that a lot has happened here tonight and we are as intent as you seem to be on finding your wife’s killer. Why don’t you tell us about what happened here tonight from your perspective?”

He seemed to relax slightly at Miss Linton’s gentle tone. Sighing, he clasped his hands together. “Well, this afternoon when I was on my lunch break, I was surprised to see that Caroline had left a note for me in my lunchbox asking me to meet her here after work.”

“Do you still have the note?” Mr Ambrose interrupted him.

The short man looked at him warily. “I did but the officers took it with them when they questioned me earlier.”

“Very well then. Continue.”

“To be more specific, the note had told me to meet her in this hotel in room forty-five at seven pm with no other explanation given. I was surprised that she wanted to meet outside in some random, cheap hotel given her recent state.”

“Her recent state? What do you mean by that?” Miss Linton asked him.

“Since last week, she had caught a cold. Her health has always been rather delicate and from the winter air, she’s had a recurring fever.”

“Was she behaving strangely prior to today? Any odd behaviours?” She pressed.

“None that I could think of.” His lips turned downwards.

Miss Linton was busy writing down her notes when she thought of another question. “This is more of a personal question but what was your marriage with your wife like?”

“An amazing one. We met two years ago and I was immediately smitten from the first time I saw her. I proposed marriage to her a few weeks later on a whim expecting rejection. Imagine my surprise when she accepted it. I’ve been a lucky man to marry the woman of my dreams only to see her taken away from me today.” Tears slid out of his closed eyes.

“We’ve sidetracked from the main question.” Mr Ambrose deadpanned, side-eyeing Miss Linton. “What happened after you saw the note?”

“I put it in my trouser pocket and went back to work as usual. When work finished at six, I went home to drop off my things and sure enough, Caroline was not there. I found a cabbie that knew where this hotel was since I had never heard of it. The driver dropped me off in front of the entrance and I headed inside. I asked the receptionist for directions and then took the lift to the third level. I found room forty-five immediately and knocked on the door. There was no response so I knocked again and called out Caroline’s name. Still no response. I checked my watch to make sure I was on time and it was seven o’clock on the dot. So then I decided to open the door only to witness the worst sight of my life. My beloved wife lying dead on the hotel bed.”

He blew his nose again as he sobbed. After a minute he calmed down enough to speak again.

“Naturally after I had registered what happened, I ran from the room yelling for help. A cleaning maid nearby heard me and when she entered the room, she ran out immediately and called the receptionist. He came up shortly, saw Caroline, and called the manager to dial the police.”

The two detectives listened with apt diligence, multitasking as they continued to jot down notes. Miss Linton decided to press for more details.

“Apparently your gardener, Mr Edgar Stone, was found here too? What can you tell me about that?”

Mr Fitzgerald’s face instantly morphed into one of anger when he heard the name.

“That—! That no-good, lowdown scum! I’m telling you, he’s behind it all! He must have murdered my Caroline! Who else could it have been?”

“Did you see it happen?” Mr Ambrose asked him.

“What?”

“Your claim that your gardener murdered your wife. Did you see it happen?”

“Well no, but—”

“Then how can you say that without definite proof?”

Bold red splotches appeared on Mr Fitzgerald’s already ruddy cheeks. “Now see here, Mr Ambrose. It’s under my demand that you’re even here in the first place. Without my say, you won’t even get the money that I’m offering if you can’t find the murderer.”

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth to retort when his employee jumped in.

“We are grateful for your graciousness, Mr Fitzgerald. We really are.” Miss Linton threw a warning glare at the man sitting next to her. “That reminds me of another question I had. Considering your eager willingness to give a generous reward, I’m assuming that you have a well-paying job. Where do you work?”

“Not as well-paying as I would like, Miss Linton.” He sighed dismissively. “I merely work as a salesman for an insurance company. However, I’m lucky that I’m an only child. My father was a wealthy man and when he passed away, most of his assets went directly to me, including his estate.”

“I see.” Miss Linton scribbled more notes. “That will be all the questions from my end. Do you have any more for Mr Fitzgerald, Mr Ambrose?”

Silence.

“Alright, then that concludes our time together. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Fitzgerald. I assure you we will do our best to find the culprit.”

— — —

“Let’s go back to the crime scene. The forensics team should be almost done about now.”

True enough to Mr Ambrose’s words, they were. They appeared to be gathering bags to collect items.

“Wait,” he told them. “Miss Linton and I wish to investigate the room.”

“But we’re almost done,” a man Miss Linton assumed as the leader of the team protested. “We can’t afford any delays in analysis.”

Mr Ambrose gave him a look.

“Well on second thought, I suppose that it would help to have more pairs of investigative eyes.”

Mr Ambrose ignored him. “We need gloves.”

Someone from the team complied and handed a pair to both Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton.

Mr Ambrose marched over to the body and promptly lifted the covering. “Now Miss Linton, what can you tell me when you look at Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald?”

She stepped closer and stood next to him. “Hmmm…compared to the pictures that the Inspector showed us, the number of blisters on her jawline have increased and some of the skin tissue has undergone degradation. In addition, the region on her neck seems to be more decayed. More of her windpipe appears to be visible with some of the bone corroded.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Her posture appears to be slightly more stiff so I would guess that rigor mortis has begun to set in. Mr Fitzgerald told us that he was here at seven pm so I’m estimating she died shortly before his arrival.”

“And what more?”

“Hmmm…wait! What’s this?” Something peeked out of one of the alabaster coat’s pockets. Miss Linton reached forward and slowly pulled out a patterned scarf. As she did so, something else tumbled out onto the bed.

“A silk scarf and a pair of sunglasses. Interesting.”

“Maybe for the cold weather?”

“Perhaps. Does anything else stand out to you?”

She shook her head and frowned. “Am I missing something?”

“Look at her hands.”

“But they’re covered by bloodied leather glov— oh!”

She looked at him and he nodded while glancing pointedly at his own rubber glove-clad hands. Why had Mrs Fitzgerald not taken off her gloves when she was inside the room? At first glance, it would have seemed she left them on since she was sick but Miss Linton thought it was still strange. She suspected there was something more. Something that probably had to do with why Mrs Fitzgerald had come to the hotel in the first place….

“We’ve looked at the body for long enough.” Mr Ambrose’s voice snapped Miss Linton out of her thoughts. “Time to inspect the rest of the room.”

He carefully placed the covering over the body and stepped back. As he did, a small table next to the bed came into view and Miss Linton saw something that caught her eye.

“Why is there a glass here? Is this supposed to be wine?” She picked up the clear flute filled with golden liquid, inspecting it.

Mr Ambrose bent over and picked up something on the ground by the table. “I believe so. Sauvignon Blanc, going by what this bottle says.”

Miss Linton leaned closer, sniffing the flute and immediately recoiled.

“What the—? Is white wine supposed to smell this strong? It’s overpowering like perfume!”

He also leaned over and cautiously took a whiff. “How unusual. This bottle is empty so there’s nothing to compare the glass to. The rest of the wine must have spilt on the ground when the bottle fell. But to answer your question, Miss Linton, wine doesn’t typically smell this…overbearing. This wine also appears to be a few shades darker than your usual glass of Sauvignon Blanc.”

“I see. I didn’t realise you’re a wine connoisseur.” She set the glass back on the table.

“I am not. Watch your step, there’s broken glass.” Mr Ambrose instructed as they stepped around the mess next to the bed.

“Hmm, I wonder why these paintings were knocked over from the wall. Wait, what are these markings?”

They both bent down to take a closer look at the faint dark-tinted smears on the backside from one of the frames.

“That appears to be some kind of dried-up liquid. One might even assume that it bears an uncanny resemblance to dried blood.”

They exchanged a long, significant look.

Standing up, Miss Linton also noticed more smears on the other paintings as well as on a few shards of the broken vase. The pair headed into the bathroom and spotted various items lined on the sink’s edge along with a black purse resting on the closed toilet lid.

“Are these supposed to be the victim’s belongings?” Miss Linton called back to the forensics team.

“We believe so, Miss. All of the items currently lined along the sink were found in the purse which originally was set on the sink’s side. One of the items is an identification card that matches the victim’s name and most likely her current address.”

Miss Linton picked up the small blue booklet labelled “Identity Card” and flipped it open. Sure enough, the name written was “Caroline Elaine Sambridge Fitzgerald”. She set the booklet back down and glanced at the other items. Wallet, coin purse, makeup, various keys including the one for the hotel room and…

Two identical bottles of perfume?

Miss Linton’s gaze automatically focused on the bottles laying side by side. The amber colour of each was the same shade but one bottle was half empty while the other appeared to be nearly full. She began to unscrew the pump sprayer of the half-filled bottle.

“What are you doing, Miss Linton?”

“Inspecting the perfume bottles.” She brought the bottle to her nose and warily sniffed it, then held it out towards her employer so that he could do the same. “Oddly, this scent reminds me of the wine.”

She twisted the sprayer back on and recapped the bottle. She carefully unscrewed the other bottle that was nearly filled. As she began to bring it to her nose, she paused abruptly.

“Bloody hell!” She held the bottle out towards Mr Ambrose and he slightly stiffened. She began to quickly screw the sprayer back on. “This bottle reeks! Nothing like perfume whatsoever. Smells more like cleaning product.”

She took out her notebook and ripped out a blank sheet of paper. She then ripped the sheet into two halves and wrote “almost full” on one and “half full” on the other. She set them down on the edge of the sink and then carefully sprayed each perfume bottle once onto its respectively labelled scrap of paper.

“I want to test if they’re different substances,” she explained to the man observing silently next to her. “There’s a chance that they might look different on papers once they dry. We do have to wait though so we should double-check the rest of the room in the meantime.”

They left the bathroom and searched the hotel room one more time, making sure that they did not miss anything. Upon finding that they had not, they returned back to the bathroom and Miss Linton gasped.

“I knew it!” She stared down at the two pieces of paper. “I knew they were different substances.”

The evidence lay in front of her, as clear as a crystal. One piece of paper had not changed colour while the other was covered with black splotches.

— — —

“Let’s split up.”

“Split up?”

“As my apprentice, you need more practice on your own. So for the remaining witnesses, we’re going to take turns speaking to them. Afterwards, we will compare information. Consider this a test for your skills.”

“Alright, sir. So how do we proceed?”

“I will question Edgar Stone, the gardener. You’ll speak to the hotel receptionist and the maid. Then afterwards, we will switch.”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton was seated back in the staff break room. In front of her sat a man, a pair of spectacles resting on his sallow-face. His displeased gaze and crossed arms gave her the feeling that their conversation would not be as smooth as she desired.

“Mr Hieronymus Pearson, my name is Miss Linton and—”

“Save the introductions and pleasantries, Miss Linton. You know who I am and I certainly know who you are.” The corner of his mouth curled into a sneer. “You’re here to ask me questions about what happened here tonight, aren’t you? You should speak to the manager instead. I’m innocent and you’ll get no useful answers to help your case from me.”

“I will determine that.” Her expression remained unchanged but her tone lost some of its lightness. “Let’s begin now. What were you doing when—”

“When the murder took place? I was attending to the other guests as a receptionist should.”

“Where were you—”

“At the front desk. Where else would I be? Ask more sensible—”

“Mister Pearson.” Miss Linton’s voice cut through his, her tone sharp. “I’m the one asking questions here so I would appreciate it if you allow me to finish them.”

“Why should I?” He shot back. “For the past few hours, I’ve been asked these repetitive, inconsequential questions, over and over again by others. And I’ve already answered them countless times. This is pointless.”

“Fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me ask you this, Mr Pearson. What duties does the job of a receptionist entail?”

“Pardon me?”

“You are pardoned. Now answer the question.”

“As a receptionist, my job is to make sure that the guests are checked in and out. Along with that, I am tasked with making sure that their stay here is the best it can be. For the past five years, I have been doing exactly that until the mess that has happened tonight.”

“That’s all?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Frankly, I’m disappointed in you, Mr Pearson. As a receptionist, you are much more than the two sentences you used to describe your job. For the past half decade as you put it, you are essentially the face of this establishment. You are the first and last person people see when they are here. Now tell me, in refusing to cooperate with the authorities and law enforcement for something that your higher ups would view as part of your responsibility, how would it look like to them?”

“I…”

“Would they reward you with that raise you’ve been hoping for? Probably not, huh? More like with a permanent vacation, most likely.” She raised an eyebrow

He remained silent, looking at her as one would at a ghost: pallid and bug-eyed.

She sighed. “Look, I know it hasn’t been an easy night for you. But trust me, the same applies for me as well. I don’t want to waste your time so if you give me your cooperation, I will give you mine. Why don’t you tell me what happened from your perspective? If anything is unclear, then I will ask some questions afterwards. Does that work?”

Mr Pearson stared at her for several moments. Finally, he spoke softly. “That arrangement sounds much better, Miss Linton.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Around six thirty this evening, I did see Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald enter our hotel. But at the time, I didn’t know it was her. It wasn’t until after her body was discovered later that I found out who she was. Anyway when she walked in, most of her face was covered with a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. I found it odd to see that she kept walking past the lobby and into the elevator without removing them. However at the same time, another guest was talking to me about a problem with their room so I could not call out to her without seeming rude.”

Mr Pearson took a breath as he continued. “Five minutes later, I received a phone call from room forty-five to have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc along with one glass delivered and left outside the room’s door. The guest’s voice was definitely female. Nonetheless, I placed the order to room service and from what the staff informed me right after the police arrived here, the wine bottle and glass seemed to be brought into the room shortly after they were delivered.”

He paused when he noticed Miss Linton scribbling furiously into her notepad. 

“Continue,” she urged. “I can listen while I write.”

“Close to seven pm, I saw who I’m guessing was her husband, Mr Fitzgerald. A short, balding young man? He walked up to the front desk and asked me where room forty-five was. I gave him directions and pointed him to the elevator. Shortly after, I receive a phone call from the third floor from Daphne, one of our maids, that there was a dead body in room forty-five. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing so I went to go see for myself. The husband was sobbing in the hallway as I entered the room. When I spotted the body on the bed, I recognised her as the lady I saw entering earlier because of her long white coat. I informed our manager right after and he immediately called the police.”

He exhaled. “Before the police arrived, I saw someone else enter the hotel. He was the man who had actually booked room forty-five a few days ago for today. The reservation was made under the name Edgar Stone but I’m not sure if that’s his real name. I also don’t exactly know what his connection was to the couple but when I informed him that there was a dead body in his room and that the police was arriving, he stared at me in shock. When he asked who it was and I told him it was a young lady, he tried to run towards the elevator but had to be held back by some of the staff. When the police arrived and Mr Fitzgerald was told to go wait in the lobby, he saw Mr Stone and a fight ensued. They were both yelling at each other, trying to land physical blows, and had to be restrained by the officers. It was only when they were told that they would be arrested if they didn’t stop that they finally calmed down. Afterwards, I was taken into the spare rooms for questioning by the officers multiple times along with the rest of the staff and have been here for hours. That’s all from my perspective, Miss Linton.”

She nodded slowly. “I do have one question, Mr Pearson. When Mr Stone made the reservation, you gave him the key to the room, right? How many copies did you give him?”

He looked surprised. “I only gave him one, of course. He said the reservation was just for one person which I assumed to be him.”

“Alright, thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr Pearson. That will be all from me.”

“Very well. Thank you for making the process easier, Miss Linton.” He stood up and walked out.

After a minute of reviewing her notes, she called to the officer waiting outside the break room. “You can let the next person in, I’m ready.”

Soft footsteps shuffled into the room and Miss Linton looked up to see a young woman sit down across from her timidly. She appeared to be no older than eighteen, nervously looking at the brunette detective in anticipation.

“Miss Daphne Belleville, correct?” The young lady nodded apprehensively and she continued. “I’m Miss Lillian Linton and I have been assigned to investigate the murder of Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald. I have a couple of questions for you since you were present shortly after her body was discovered. Shall we proceed?”

Miss Belleville nodded again.

“From my understanding, you work as part of the cleaning staff for this hotel?”

“Yes,” she spoke shyly. “I’m a maid here. I was hired in January.”

“Close to a year then. Why don’t you inform me of what happened to you earlier tonight?”

“I was cleaning some of the rooms on the third floor. When I was changing the bedsheets in one of the empty rooms, I heard a shout for help. I followed the voice to see a man sobbing in the hallway. He told me that he opened a room door and saw his wife lying dead on the bed. I tried to calm him down as best as I could to no avail. He told me the room number when I asked him. I went to the room myself and nearly fainted when I saw the dead lady. I ran out into the hallway to the staff phone and called our hotel receptionist, Mr Pearson. He came up immediately and phoned our manager to call the police. In the meantime, I stayed with the husband to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. When the police arrived, they gathered the entire staff and questioned us individually. We’ve been here for hours and I’ve had to phone my mum to let her know what happened.” Her shoulders slumped and Miss Linton could see the young lady’s exhaustion from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I see. Is that all?”

“I believe so, I don’t think there’s anythi— Oh! I just remembered something!” Her expression livened as she stared at Miss Linton.

“Yes?”

“Around ten to fifteen minutes before the man called for help, I could have sworn that I heard a scream. It was so quick though so I’m not sure if I imagined it.”

“Did the scream sound like it came from a male or female?”

“Female…I think? I don’t exactly know.”

“Alright. Is that everything you can recall then?”

“Yes. If I remember anything else, I will let you know, Miss Linton.”

“Alright, Miss Belleville. Those are all the questions I have. We’ll do our best to solve this as quickly as possible so you and the rest of the staff can return to your homes sooner.”

“Thank you, Miss Linton.” She gave the detective a small smile as she stood up and made her way out.

Once Miss Linton was alone in the break room, she sighed deeply as she rubbed her temples.

One more person to go, she thought while staring at her notes. Edgar Stone. He’s the final key to all of this. I’m sure I’ll know who the killer is once I speak to him.

— — —

END PART 1

How is it so far? I hope you’re enjoying reading this prompt. Any possible ideas on who the culprit could be?

[prcsxcvtings]

CHARACTER SHEET

repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.     Yasameen Niloufar Farahan NICKNAME.     Sameen, Yassi, Sam or Sami (but only by like 2 people so don’t try this or you’ll be murdered in your sleep) GENDER.     cis female HEIGHT.     5′3′’ AGE.     39 ZODIAC.     Capricorn (Jan 10th) SPOKEN LANGUAGES.     Farsi, English, Arabic, German & Latin

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.     Brown. EYE COLOR.     Brown. SKIN.    Soft, olive/tan but living in New York holed up in her corner office in One Hogan Place means she’s hella pale most of the year  BODY TYPE.   Slim but curvy, has the right amount of boobs to ass ratio DOMINANT HAND.     Right POSTURE/BODY LANGUAGE.   Usually brooding/has a resting bitch face. Comes across as intimidating and unpredictable as her expressions cannot be read whatsoever. At any given point, she can lose her temper and easily become someone’s worst nightmare but for the most part looking intimidating is just her face’s natural expression. She tends to sit up right in her office chair, spine straight and hooks her left thumb under her chin with her fingers slightly covering her mouth if she’s listening to someone speak. Crossing her arms over her chest or resting her hands on her hips are also a major part of her body language to show off her confidence. However, after hours in the office or at home, she’s resting on the couch or on the chair like a sprawled out cat or with her feet up on her desk/coffee table. Her body language really depends on who’s around her. SCARS.  Countless, pretty deep and horrific self harm scars across both forearms/wrists as well as her upper thighs which she continues to add more to. A cigarette burn on her right breast, cigarette burns in the groove between her thumb and wrist on both hands; all of her own doing. She’s over a dozen stitched up cuts in her scalp from the multitude of head injuries her husband caused which are not visible unless someone’s stroking her hair. She’s a 5 inch horizontal scar across the outside of her right wrist which required surgery after her husband broke it. She’s a scars across her clavicles, multiple lash marks and scars on her back which she also received at the hands of her husband. TATTOOS.  A spine tattoo in Arabic, a tattoo on her left wrist in Farsi and a tattoo on her right rib cage also in Farsi (I’ll make a separate headcanon about these in more detail) MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).   Big, Hollywood smile (if you’re lucky enough to see it), big doe eyes and straight, narrow nose.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.   Tehran, Iran HOMETOWN.    Raised in Beverly Hills, CA but calls Manhattan, NY her home (has lived there since her early 20s). SIBLINGS.     Saeed, older brother. Ali, younger brother (deceased). PARENTS.     Reza Farahan, Tahmineh (Mineh) Madani - Farahan

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.   District Attorney of New York County CURRENT RESIDENCE.   Penthouse in Manhattan, NY. CLOSE FRIENDS.   Cassandra July & Kit Prince RELATIONSHIP STATUS.   Divorced and currently single FINANCIAL STATUS.  Owns more than half a billion dollars, incredibly wealthy and yet continues to work as DA when she’s more than capable of opening her own private law firm for the rich and wealthy like herself. DRIVER’S LICENSE.    Yes CRIMINAL RECORD.   None VICES.     Abuses alcohol and prescription drugs. Occasionally smokes weed or dabbles in cocaine if she wants to ‘feel’ something & gambles if she’s in Vegas or Monaco, which is rare. It’s shocking how she hasn’t lost all her money or how she still looks so damn good despite how heavy she drinks and smokes. 

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.     Bisexual, prefers women. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.     submissive  |  dominant  |  switch  | top |  bottom | switch LIBIDO.    Generally low, prefers having sex with women than men. Higher if she’s in a relationship.  TURN ON’S.   Being tall, dark haired and having pretty eyes and a nice smile. A strong jaw line is a must and having veiny arms in men is a whole package. With women, as long as she’s tall and strong, Sameen is SOLD. Women in lingerie. If you can lift her up and do her against a wall, she’ll fucking die probably. That’s the dream. TURN OFF’S.     Fragile masculinity, arrogant people, racism, rudeness, not offering her some of your food, criticising how much she eats, pointing out her scars & flaws. LOVE LANGUAGE.    She’s pretty low maintenance, she will melt if someone touches her hair (only if she likes you back to - otherwise don’t even try it), pet names, and giving her lots of reassurance when she’s in a relationship because she has these bouts of self doubt and anxiety so just tell her she’s pretty and you love her. Oh and buy her food because food is the way to her heart. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.   She likes to take her partner out to her favourite restaurants and buy them food or if you’re really special, she’ll even cook for you. Food is a universal language in her opinion and she’s really passionate about it so you gotta keep up with her and her love for food. She’ll give you pet names in Farsi because she’s the most comfortable in her native tongue. Sameen tends to get clingy in a relationship because she’s so touch starved so hugs, cuddles, kisses are really important to her more so than sex. 

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬  !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.  I’m so afraid - Fleetwood Mac HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.   day-drinking or drinking in general, smoking, occasionally cocaine or weed, obscenely expensive food, eating in general, watching crime documentaries and taking notes on them, reading. MENTAL ILLNESSES.   Bipolar II disorder, anxiety disorder, substance abuse disorder, mild PTSD. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.  tinnitus and frequent migraines & nosebleeds. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.    Left PHOBIAS.  Her mother, spiders, insects, p much every animal that exists on Earth except a handful of them. Any body of water, her ex-husband, being buried or buried alive, failure. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.     A+++ usually VULNERABILITIES.  Can get jealous easily, very short temper, does questionable things just to get what she wants, very competitive and sometimes overconfident but she doesn’t want to fail, turning into her mother (which she has about 40% tbh), having children and being a bad role model.

TAGGED BY: Me

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