#but I’d be amiss if I didn’t mention it

[scudismystud]

May I interest you in the movie What We Do in the Shadows

I know vampirism is often used as a metaphor for the drain of the aristocracy but I think it would be fun to have more vampire characters who were just some guy before they got turned. You seek out the most ancient vampire in existence and find out he was a 40 year old wheat farmer in ancient Mesopotamia when he was turned 7,000 years ago and he hasn’t been doing much since then.

[wandagcre]

drive you mad (part 1) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You’re reunited with your old friend, Samantha Loomis, and she couldn't be any more of a puzzle to you. It doesn't take long to become entangled with her once again – replacing the previously wholesome hangouts; this time you find yourself being in her sheets way more often.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, public sex, voyeurism, mirror sex, praise, degradation, fingering, poor communication, mentions of violence, hints of stalking, sam referring to you in spanish endearments (bc why not), not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 10k+

[ PART ONE of TWO | Next ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

You liked the universe and its ways of diverting you into paths you never thought to cross paths once again.

Weeks ago, attending another lousy gala was against your whole will. It didn’t seem necessary to you, finding no difference whether your presence was something that would be amiss to the buffoons dressed in suits of your multimillion dollar company. Sure, you completely detested the idea, yet you gave it a chance, as your good colleague turned into a friend – was nagging you for days before the event. She insisted it was an opportunity (a scenario eerily familiar to your college days as if it was a mere frat party) you thought that might as well maximize these so-called connections, right? So, you caved in and went dressed to kill, anyway.

Funnily enough, the said colleague was nowhere to be seen even if she was the sole reason of your presence here tonight. She claims that she had the flu and so you were forced to take in the hors-d’œuvre by yourself.

Here you were, in a fitted beige-colored pantsuit. You didn’t know whether it was your fake it ‘till you make it mantra during work, but you managed to survive (so far). Sipping in your flute of champagne and socializing with people. Your feet were starting to ache and so were your cheeks due to the endless polite smiling you have done for the night. It was draining, so to say.

Just as you were on your way to the bathroom to do some touch up, a recognizable voice made its way to you.

“Please do tell me that you went here without a date, (y/n/n).” a sultry voice uttered directly on your ears and you turned to them too fast, almost getting a whiplash.

You haven’t heard of that for a while. It was a nickname that your closest friends and family called you by.

Lo and behold – it was Samantha Loomis. 

Your eyes fluttered as she left you flabbergasted for multiple reasons. Sam had you putting your hand on your chest, beating madly as if you’ve seen a ghost. 

“Shit. Sam, you scared me, Jesus. Can’t you say hello like a normal person?”

She bodied the suit better than every man in the room. Sam stood with hands in her pocket, an aura that can easily rival anyone else’s confidence in the room, her jet black hair was fixed in a neat ponytail. She was donned in a well put navy blue suit – truly tailored to her perfect figure, emphasizing her good attributes. Damn this woman. Sam was still taller than you and insanely oozing with attractiveness.

Another thing? This woman was the one you were silently pining over during your teenage years. You were also heartbroken when she left town abruptly, leaving no trace behind.

“Finished checking me out?” she says, cocky. “Not one hi for me? you’re still easily frightened, (y/n/n).” a smile ghosts on her face as if Sam knew a secret. “So, how are you? If you’ve got a mystery date for tonight, I’d say they are doing a bad job of keeping you entertained.”

“Hi. Happy now?” You immediately blush at her blatant flood of compliments. “And I’m fine. Really, I’m just here to enjoy the drinks and all, maybe a bit of expanding in the work field too. So, it’s definitely just me – a last minute decision.”

Sam nods, eyes trailing on you. 

“I’m more than happy to hear that. ‘Cause that also means I can do this–?” she reached for your hand and pressed her lips at the back of it, making you flustered more than ever.

You weren’t used to Sam being this direct. She was affectionate, but not to this extent. She was more laid-back as you recall, not as forward and not this flirty. Women had always been your achilles’ heel but to experience this with Sam in the present time – it was a no-brainer that your old feelings were being tested.

“You always do this to the women you encounter?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just you, (y/n/n).”

The way she kept saying your nickname felt too intimate as it was the one you were previously called back in one of the towns you used to stay in. One that Sam was a part of until she moved again – a common occurrence in her life that she mentioned in passing – albeit you were somewhat expecting it, you didn’t actually think it would hurt that much still.

You were by each other’s side all night. She blossomed into a refined and sophisticated woman, answering questions from other gentlemen and business people in the room with unshakable confidence. It was apparent too, with how they looked at her with respect. Sam even introduced you to others too, by your respective job and all, definitely buttering up your good qualities too that you haven’t even realized that this was benefiting you in your long forgotten plans of exposure. 

“I don’t think I should be with you Sam,” you whisper close to Sam who had her eyebrows furrowed at your words. “Whatever your business is, it’s definitely beyond what I do. Wouldn’t it be sketchy? Or like using you? Because that’s not–”

“Now slow down, honey. It’s no problem with me. Honestly, I was just thrilled to have you by my side tonight and you deserve the good word and all. It’s still me, (y/n/n).” she assured you as she held you softly by your shoulder. 

Exhaling the distress away, your stomach soon fluttered at Sam’s intentions.

“I’m having fun too, just so you know.” You truthfully admit, stopping a stupid smile to spread on your face. Sam gleamed at your words, evidently content as you are.

Soon you were catching up a little with life. Sam asked you how long you have been away from your hometown and what brought you to a new one. You sheepishly say that a new start was long overdue for you and interestingly, Sam returns the same sentiment, albeit there was longing in her tone but it disappeared quickly as it went. Before you could attempt to pry for more, a new set of people were catching up to the two of you, making you sigh.

Sam murmured to you after the man had left. “That man is definitely a no. He’s got a good history of attempting to shag his secretaries. Bound to be kicked from their board soon. I assumed a terrible workload and possibly environment, too.”

“Noted. Crossing that one out immediately.” You snorted at her unfiltered yet helpful tip. “He was rather creepy with how he was staring.. It’s like his first time seeing a pair of boobs during Victorian times.” you quip and laughter filled your chest.

“Did he now?” Sam squinted her eyes. “Well… you’re absolutely a sight for sore eyes, alright.” You see her eyes now surely over the valley of your chest. 

Was she really checking you out? 

Another new information for you is that Sam had apparently grown playful. You were astounded to receive her gaze, you elbowed her side. “I’m just saying! But him? oh he’s not worth your time, is all.” Sam reasoned, petulant.

“And you’re no better.”

“Excuse me, I am. I was simply admiring you.” she quipped at you very quickly and sipped her drink.

“If you say so. And hey, what about her?” you subtly point at the tall, middle-aged woman you met earlier. 

“Uh-uh, also a pass. Better CEO than him and the others, for sure, but you could do better. A bit of the same as the old man, just a woman version of him on a somewhat low profile.”

You look with much interest now. For two different reasons – one, because you didn’t expect that and two, how exactly of a big shot was Sam to know all of this insider information?

“Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Not for me. Sam murmured as she sipped on her drink. You look at her quizzically, obviously not catching her words. 

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, what about that one…” Sam subtly points out another person across from you. 

She listed out the company’s stand point, what they were looking for, and you momentarily tuned out – savoring her voice that melted in your ear.

“How do you know all of this?” You blurt out.

Sam was sporting a distant tight-lipped smile. “I own a few businesses from here and there. Can’t spill them all to you in one night. I have to remain mysterious so I can be interesting for you, don’t I, honey?” she tilted her head.

For the hundredth time that night, your heart pounded and cheeks were crimson once again, all by Samantha Loomis.

:: 

This morning as you flipped through the channels, it reported the death of a wealthy CEO, stabbed in most inhumane ways and his eyes were reportedly gouged out. 

Momentarily, you felt sick to your stomach until you realized that it was the same man who was a creep from the gala. You vividly recall Sam's words; with this man's business fluctuating badly and his poor work ethics, your thoughts gradually eased and snapped yourself out of it. He did see that one coming, you suppose.

You couldn’t be any more grateful that you’re far from that circle.

::

While you were terrified, it didn't stop you from going outside by yourself. Normally, this routine of yours is done during day time. However, resting got the best of your time this weekend and so with a resigned sigh, you came prepared with a pepper spray that you blatantly held as your free hand pushed the cart. Your stock of groceries wouldn't be done by itself, after all. Were you paranoid? (The answer is yes, rightfully so).

The mundane chore was going well. 

Until you were on one aisle, on your tip-toes, barely reaching the chips that were now placed a tier higher than normal. It’s like a trick and you were being played, as coincidentally, it was the last one on the rack. You irrationally listed this as a bad sign - change wasn't to be welcomed for you in times of horror.

The lighting grew dark and it shadowed you. it triggered your fight or flight mode as this person towered you from behind, the scent strongly engulfed your senses and so did their body frame, making you gasp as their front was almost pressed against you. 

They picked up the item for you and as you turned around, it was Sam.

She hasn’t preoccupied your mind for a while and you take in her presence as a fresh breath of air.

"Hey, pretty girl, I don't want you getting hurt." She joked and dropped the chips herself on your cart. 

"Fancy seeing you here," you retort with equal amusement to the woman in front of you. You thought it was unfair that she always stunned you as you saw her casual get up. 

Sam wore a bomber jacket and a navy baseball cap. She handheld her own cart and interestingly filled it with junk food, just like yours, and a couple of cleaning disinfectants.

"Do you usually shop this late?” Sam quips gently, hearing the concern in her tone.

You sheepishly smiled, "I know. But in my defense, work kept me late unfortunately. Or maybe it was me over napping..." admitting it out loud felt silly. "I don't have much of a choice. I ran out of stash in my pantry and while it's not really a good time.. wait, I don’t mean that with you, but what I meant is that, given the circumstances happening right now - it’s horrifying to be out and about."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your rambling. She found it endearing that you had to clarify each time how you liked her company. 

"And what circumstances are we talking about?"

"You know, the whole killing thing," you hushed down low and kept walking with Sam who hummed right behind you. "Haven’t you heard it yet? It honestly had me worried. I don't want to be put in that position."

You both come across the isle of candies, you picked up a couple of them. Embarrassment soon crept in the more you confided your fear out in the open and how you revealed your unhealthy fix of snacks in the presence of Sam, the woman you're swooning about.

"I see. That explains your trusty pepper spray," Sam nodded along in understanding. "Say, do you mind if I accompany you? Sticking together could be better, after all." she lightly nudged your side with her arm and swiftly took over to push your cart by her own.

An easy smile crossed your features. You can't say no to spending more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

::

The simple scare and business exchange was the start of your reconnection with Sam. 

It seemed that Sam was sticking for good - or near you. At least, that’s what you thought so. Her place couldn’t be that far as you happened to come across her for a few times already. 

A few days later she surprised you, sent a rather straightforward message and opened up how she misses you (you almost fainted on that message). Come the weekend, Sam called you to say that she’s sending a driver to pick you up around 6 PM. After you gave her your address, Sam notes to dress in nothing strict and formal as the gala, and you quote Sam who said in her own words: just bring your pretty self. 

It was rather bossy and forward, if you were being honest. Though your senses dulled it out of bias, being Sam’s friend in the past she hasn’t done anything to put you in harm.

Another thing that brought you to a conundrum was how it sounded like a date but you didn’t want to be that hopeful – even with her endless flirting. You simply note it as another Sam evolution; a part of her confident self. The driver who picked you up was dressed in casual business attire, no older than late 20s, gave you a polite smile. He introduced himself as Martin and referred to Sam as Ms. Loomis and as you were in a phone call with her, she immediately confirmed to you that it was indeed your ride.

Relief washed over you, feeling secured enough with the whole get up. Especially with the case of brutal murder as of recently.

Arriving at the place, the door was opened for you and he mentions that he’ll be parked at the same place. The restaurant itself was one of the places you haven’t had a chance to visit yet, mostly because you didn’t feel zealous to spend a lot of money on a glorified casual meal. The ambience striked your interest immediately, the interior was cozy, and welcoming – especially for whatever they served, the aroma made your stomach rumble. 

Looking around, it was opposed to what you expected – there was no single sight of business suits hovering in the place. They were stuffy people in casual attire, maybe.

“You made it.” Sam stood up from her seat and your eyes fluttered at her beauty once again. Her floral scent was hypnotizing and covered your senses as she went for a hug. “How was your ride?”

“It was nice. I like your car,” you timidly say as Sam pulled a chair for you. 

“And I like your outfit. You look so beautiful, (y/n/n.)” Sam’s words were earnest and crimson quickly spread on your cheeks and rose up to your ears.

The stark contrast of her in formal attire with slick ponytail was apparent, yet equally so attractive. Sam stood in plain tight polo, baggy pants and some sneakers with her hair loose. She gave you a warm smile and her eyes also did a once over to your figure; you were dressed simply in a knitted zip top that hugged your torso, some trousers, and decent platform shoes. 

“Says you. You’re absolutely charming, it’s unfair.”

“Don’t start that with me, honey. We’ll be here all night arguing about that.”

Sam grinned at how you affectionately rolled your eyes at her quip. As you settled in and looked at the menu, you noticed the familiarity. It was on par with your tastebuds. She definitely remembered your type of crowd. You hid a smile with this information.

However, your joy was temporarily cut off as you noticed the server giving Sam the heart eyes as she took note of the order, although the latter paid no mind, swiftly reiterating your orders with her polite smile, it didn’t stop you from getting irrationally bothered on the inside.

You should have seen this coming. Surely, other people were bound to find Sam attractive as much as you do.

“Have you ever been here?” Sam eagerly questioned, her doe-eyes all on you. “I was nervous to pick a decent place, to be honest. I didn’t want it to be stuffy and stiff, but not too casual – only because I wasn’t so sure with your taste now, so I relied on my (y/n) senses.”

You were quick to nod off, “No. I was interested but I never had the chance.” a slow appreciative smile spread on your lips. “Your senses were right - don’t worry, Sam. They definitely serve the type of food I like. I hope you didn’t compromise that much for me." While you liked the thoughtfulness, you wanted Sam to have a good time as well.

“Well, that’s great! It means you can enjoy it with me that way. Don’t worry, based on their menu it seems appetizing for me, too.” her eyes lit up assuring you, and it was an adorable sight. She showed you another side of her again, reminiscent of how you remember her relaxed state and wasn’t as constricted from the gala held days earlier. “I have to ask.. is this setup okay with you? In case you’re… seeing someone.”

You’re surprised at her interest at your love life. Her attention remained fixated on you and it made you blink couple of times.

“Definitely not seeing any woman right now. Nothing recently.” you hint your preference, in case Sam hasn’t picked up on it yet even before. You haven’t come out back then. 

Sam smiled at your response. “That’s a relief. Means I won’t be breaking any faces any time soon.” your eyes widen at her words. “I’m kidding, (y/n/n). Or not.”

You nod along at Sam’s words with an unsure smile, not knowing what she exactly meant by that. You shrug it off as her odd humor. 

“What about you, any lucky person yet?” you asked, it was your chance to know more about her too.

A playful smirk was written on Sam’s features. 

“Funny thing is that it's the same case for me, I haven't gotten around it for uh, for some reason.” she ended sheepishly and shuffled a bit on her seat. “I could be eyeing on someone, who knows. But I have to be mysterious to you.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower. If you didn’t know any better, your delusions would think that she’s implying suggestively to you.

While her vague answer didn’t provide you what her type was, it was a relief for you to know that Sam is not off the market yet.

Both of your smiles barely wore off since then. Soon you were finally eating your go-to food and Sam with her chosen pasta. You debate whether you should finally ask Sam of her sudden disappearance, but you really didn’t want to spoil the mood either.

“Are you okay? Something wrong with your meal?” Sam leaned in to you and you quickly motioned no. 

“No, no. It’s just– I want to know, why did you have to leave?” you can’t help it but the hurt dripped on your tone. “It was so sudden and I haven’t heard from you since then… and now, you’re here again.”

You felt silly because it was a long time ago. Seeing Sam in flesh again gave you a whiplash, you valued her presence as she was your confidant during your hard times. If it weren’t for the gala, maybe you’d be left wondering until now, you’ll never know.

Warmth covered your hands, surprised that Sam has taken them to intertwine with hers.

“I can’t say the full details yet. But.. I’m here to stay. Believe me, honey. What happened then - it has something to do with my father. You knew how unstable things were at home, right? And I was expected to… step up into things at a faster pace than I can ever imagine,”

You only had a slight idea – if Sam before wasn’t very talkative and open – it was a thing that definitely remained until now. Sometimes their house was rowdy, full of men that wore notable sparkly ostentatious accessories. You only knew that his father’s job was demanding and that he was uptight, didn't want Sam to be out late, she had to sneak to parties, and was harsh with his words - even in front of you. It reflected the fear that glinted in Sam’s eyes when you were caught at their house, at the same beat, Sam also seemed to respect him. It was odd and the similarity of her tone was not lost on you but you didn’t push further.

You also wondered how Sam's sister, Tara, is doing and most likely all grown up now. 

“Is it enough for you right now?” Sam meekly asked you, hopeful glint in her eyes.

You mimic her playful smirk from earlier.

“Only if we get mint ice cream right after this and I’m paying.”

Sam let out a relieved sigh, leaning back to her seat and an easy going grin gracing her features once again. 

“Alright, whatever your heart desires, (y/n/n).”

::

After a wholesome reunion (or date?) the two of you were on a weird loop. At least for you. She was bearing gifts that weren’t so little at all – packages were being sent to your house, always coming with a handwritten note that said ‘reminded me of you’ with a scribbled wink, sometimes a heart, and seeing Sam became a part of your routine. It was all you looked forward to every week – seeing Sam – that your friends even asked whether you were dating someone as you appeared more occupied than ever.  

At this point, you have visited restaurants and stores you could only imagine. Sam mentioned that having to try delicacies with you was a terrific experience, she liked your honesty and fun quips of critique. Although it shifted to something you’d say – a bit odd. While she was warm and welcoming, she never stopped by at your house.

Although you weren’t going to lie, it made you curious. Disappointed, too. Was she embarrassed enough to avoid being seen dropping by in the eyes of the public, in an intimate way? Granted, there wasn’t anything intimate going on. 

Other than that, it dawned to you how tactile Sam was with conversations. It was always knowing something new and familiar, never delving into something deeper.

For her sweet quips, you remain confused whether it was flirty and intentional, after all, you didn’t think that Sam was to take interest in you romantically speaking. So, it was a challenge for yourself to not get any less flustered. Especially when you’re crushing over her.

::

"Hey, pretty girl. Wanna eat out tonight?" Sam smoothly asks you from the other line and you snorted at her forwardness.

You peer over your window at the kitchen before shutting the blinds. You didn’t know whether it was still the lingering paranoia you felt over the gruesome murders and the irrational fear that you could be next. 

What if they were watching you?

"Dunno Sam," you scratch your nape, debating your answer as you remembered the events happening outside. "Is it safe? A brutal death happened recently. And you know, honestly, Sam – it rattled me a little more than I thought it did."

"Is this about the CEO? Honey, I've told you that he was already in deep shit. his decisions have probably caused him to dig himself into a bigger mess unimaginable."

The lack of care in Sam’s tone surprised you a little. But your mind weighed in the facts; these were billionaires who fucked up, didn’t do anything good for the others, and put themselves in the wrong crowd. You give Sam credit for that similar thought as you assume.

"Okay, but still…"

You hear Sam cooing in sympathy. "If it helps, I have my men around. We’ll be safe. You’ll be safe with me, don't worry." she promises with conviction enough for you to believe her.

You hummed as you rethink your answer. You wanted to hang out with the woman you've been crushing over (again) and having an idea of how her bodyguard's in question are built, you feel yourself leaning more to saying yes. 

"I guess that helps yeah- you just had to be so damn convincing, didn't you?" Even if this was a call, you can already see the stupid grin that Sam has now. "Alright, I'm sold with that. I'll see you later, Loomis." you playfully sing-songed to which Sam giggled as you dropped the call.

::

“Let’s try something new today.” Sam said in her low voice and to your surprise she held the car door open for you in the passenger seat and you weren’t in the backseat this time.

“Don’t we always?” you refer to your eating escapades with her. 

To your shock, Sam went to the driver’s seat. 

She was the one driving for today?

“Nuh-uh. We’re going to my house.”

“What?”

You turn your head fast to face Sam with your expectant eyes; filled with surprise and excitement. After all, your brain was racking itself with much curiosity of what is going on with your friend slash crush’s personal life. When Sam caught the glee in your expression, her own eyes crinkled at the corners and muttered something about how adorable you are.

As you parked outside, you noticed familiar vehicles that tailed the one you and Sam were in. You only saw a few of them before, the men only looked at you out of politeness – as if their eyes weren’t around to linger – and they were more pliant with Sam. It instilled an idea that your friend was this much of a respected person.

“Don’t worry, they’re with us.” Sam informs you and you were shy of how evident you were glancing at the side and at the back. 

You took tentative steps inside her home, surprisingly it was bursting with colors. It was apparent that Sam liked the idea of experimenting when it comes to style, as her interior and decorations felt straight out of magazine.

In her living space, she offered for you to sit first. She looked messy this time – not as neat after work, her hair down again instead of the usual ponytail, which seemed unnatural for someone so polished for her professional state.

“This was all of a sudden, sorry. I can’t… I’m a shit host for tonight. I’m honestly not feeling well today. I can get someone to fetch our food, whatever you like, it’s on me mi quierida.”

“You could’ve postponed this thing that we have. I mean, I don’t mind.” Okay maybe that was a complete lie – but you didn’t want Sam to feel forced.

Sam tilted her head. “And risk depriving myself of not seeing you? I do mind that. More than you can imagine. I guess you could say that I selfishly wanted you all by myself tonight, regardless.”

You feel somersaults in your stomach – making you squirm at your seat. Before you can process her words further, your attention panned to Sam’s hands and grew alarmed as you saw a faint view of her knuckles were red, you figure it'll be bruising the next day. She tried to hide it a lot as soon as decent lighting was present. Sam discarded her silver watch and then removed the champagne from the bucket near her to submerged her closed fist as it contained ice. It clinked against the metal, and as seeing her face, her chestnut eyes kept fleeting over you – observing.

"What exactly were you doing anyway?" Amusement was in your tone, although concern crept in quickly. You didn't want Sam to be hurt in some fight club. Or any way, for that matter.

Sam beckons you, "Come here." she softly uttered. as you did, her free hand rested on your lower back. "I ran into a small inconvenience. I guess you can say that I handled it well." 

You snorted at her poor joke. A boyish smile spread on her pretty face.

"If you're joking with that shitty pun… I'll take your word for it, Loomis." You slid an arm around her neck, patting her shoulder affectionately. 

It was truly a gesture meant to be playful but it appeared that it became a cause to shift things between you two. The proximity made you hyper aware with your heartbeat pounding loudly by the minute. You can’t even look Sam in the eye, remaining frozen.

"Uh-huh. You should trust me with it, mi quierida. You know I always mean well.”

Sam smirked, as though she knew something you didn't. She was difficult to decipher at most times but you shrug it off, noting it as a part of her charm. It was her thing thenand apparently, until now. 

Case in point: her sneakily trailing her hand lower as they were, now resting on the slope of your ass. She grabbed you by its underside, feeling her fingers digging into the flesh. Knees growing weak at the contact, you barely stifle a gasp. It was surprising yet very welcomed and better than you imagined.

She rubbed her calloused hand back and forth on your back soothingly. "Stay... stay the night with me.'' Sam whispered as she nosed the crook of your neck, her breath against your skin spreading goosebumps.

It was an all-too familiar scene, however, Sam was bolder.

“Let me give you your present for tonight,” Sam husked out, her face moved to bite on your earlobe – her hands needy all over your body. “or… just say the word and I’ll stop,”

You were pulled in, moaning as you finally cracked through the tension. Both of you no longer teetering in friendly boundaries. It was hard not to – not when it was Sam you adored for a great chunk of your life and how her siren eyes were pierced onto yours. As Sam was nervous, you were simply stunned and returned the same feeling as you did.

"Okay,” you responded shakily yet you moved with an ounce of bravery, finally affirming your answer by grabbing Sam by the nape and lips crashing with much need, electrifying you.

Sam devoured you in her satin sheets until you were swollen, frazzled, and dripping. 

::

The next day, you discover that another case of murder has happened in your town. This was an odd occurrence, as while death is inevitable, it was surprising to hear more of them happening in a short period. More so, it was unusual to hear of a brutal case in your normally nonchaotic town.

Fear began to creep into you as your colleague mentioned it was another CEO yet, this time it was the woman whom you've also met from the gala – being there, meeting these people and hearing them as nothing but reported deaths now felt like a bad omen. It created quite the buzz in your workplace, after all it was one of your company's competitors, too.

Shiver ran down your spine; you couldn't be next, right? 

If you were to follow the pattern, it only suggests isolated killings of wealthy figures and you couldn't be any farther from that. You were another normal person who’s only trying to get by.

Then you remember Sam and the extra security she provides to you. All this time she had kept you safe and away from harm. You found solace over the thought, so you exhale and tried your best to let go of your worries.

::

In all honesty you were only expecting to pull connections that can land you higher positions that promised bits of grandiose escapades in between – all tied to your work during that gala – and you’re surprised that you landed in Sam instead, though in a much more compromising position that ignited your whole body for days. Sometimes you can’t even move due to soreness. More often, you burned and yearned for Sam’s touch. 

It’s like the woman imprinted on you.

Sam finally brought you to her actual place which was a good breaking point. As soon as you saw past the soaring entrance and the modern architecture that greeted your wide eyes. So far, it appeared that she was indeed the only one based on your frequent stays – only men in between casual and formal attires, some being her bodyguards and maids as well were around the area. 

You were surrounded by a lavish wardrobe that you can only dream of. You were amused that you share similar skin-care products as her when you first used her personal bathroom. It was a good coincidence, it made your stay-ins much more comfortable and efficient.

The spacious place felt intimidating to your bones as you walked around halls and doors after one another, although you’ve handled much more terrifying things that were specifically this she-devil.

It was a surprise to you how she can swoon you with her gentleness and barely any of that remains in the bedroom activities. She was absolutely rough and domineering.

She continues to take you to different places you’ve never been to before. Though, now they were private and more high-end properties. Today, Sam took you today to where you wouldn't normally get your sexy undergarments. 

It was sultry and inviting to the ladies. The assisting ladies were polite, kept a minimal distance, and didn’t blatantly stare unless their attention was called to. You and Sam came by fairly early, hence the lack of people, you assume. You were fascinated with the quality of the garters and fabrics that felt different on your fingertips. 

One of her men, Martin, stood by inside the store. Sam assured you that everything was fine, it’s only a precaution and more of a just-in-case business thing. She kissed you before you could ask anything else, effectively distracting you.

Finally having both of your picks, you were welcomed by another part of the area where the sconce's recessed light only added to the thrill that was covering the lavender hall of the boutique. It certainly made the atmosphere downright sinful and erotic. For a minute, you thought that maybe you can handle being Sam’s dirty secret. You felt so dizzy. Feverish. Needy.

Sam placed a final kiss to the side of your neck before she was gently ushering you to go, seeing the familiar look of hunger in her eyes as if she was controlling herself - it made you shiver with the same desire - then you went in to fit.

You nervously stood in front of the mirror, doing final touches on the laces. Sam insisted that she prefers seeing you fit the lingeries instead of her dropping them on your face out of nowhere – something you appreciated.

Slipping yourself into the intricate laces of the lingerie, you were unable to stop nitpicking on the blemishes and stretch marks that were on your skin and how apparent they were beyond this flimsy material that attempted to cover your intimate parts.

“Don’t forget to show them to me, alright?” Sam hollered from the other end.

You try to suck it up, being snapped out of your insecurities. “Wanna come in here?”

“No, come out here.”

In disbelief, you shook your head no even if Sam couldn’t see it. What did she mean by that?

“Are you crazy? There’s… there could be people out. Just come here,” you whisper-yell to Sam.

“There’s no one. We arrived early and just – trust me. It’s only me out here, seated, completely alone.”

You hesitantly move the curtain in the fitting room and step out. Indeed it was silent and no one was there just as Sam reassured. It helped that the room was actually just for the two of you. As you stood there, you felt so naked and raunchy, being were dressed in nothing but lingerie.

“What’s the verdict for this?”

Sam was manspreading on the emerald upholstered chair and you stood in between her legs, inquisitive. 

“Oh, baby.”

“How is it…?” you fiddle with the laces, not meeting her eyes.

Sam looks at you with her mouth agape. She didn't say much but surprise was written on her face. You cannot help but overthink still, as your skin wasn’t flawless nor ridiculously skinny like any other models that Sam surely had been entwined with at one point… or even now. 

“Hey, are you feeling okay, (y/n/n)?” Sam questions and taps on her thigh. “You aren’t comfortable with this one, are you?” she worriedly asks, her hands on your side, rubbing to soothe you. “Because you look so stunning to me, god,”

You refuse to meet Sam’s eyes, “I- I don’t think I look flattering at these. I’m no model, Sam. Surely you had better.” the distaste on your tone didn’t go unnoticed by the woman who frowned at your words.

Your insecurities began to gnaw in rapidly; what if Sam had other women on days you weren’t available? It made you sick to your stomach.

“What makes you think that? Oh, baby this is the best I’ve ever had.” Sam tugs you by your forearm and while you are teary eyed, she places a gentle kiss at the back of your hand. “I’m sorry if you felt forced to do this. You can take it off now if you want. If I’m being honest, I only thought of wanting to see you strip for me."

The explanation had put your mind at ease. It definitely gave you a sense of comfort that to some extent, you do matter to Sam.

“We could have thought of something else. I.. I’m just not feeling this, Sam, it doesn’t fit me. I’m sorry.”

Sam's heart sank at your words. You weren’t to blame at all. Soon, you felt her fingertips subtly tugging down your skimpy underwear to which you put your hand above hers, halting her movements.

"What – Sam, someone might see us," nervousness washes over your expression, you don't want to get caught in such a vulnerable state.

Sam only looked at you with her dilated eyes. "As if I'd let them see this. Trust me, we just have to be quick, princesa, because I can’t wait much longer.." her fingers smoothly went to hook her fingers under the garter of your underwear and moved to grab the base of the fabric. “Let me apologize to you in this way.” She gave it a pulling tug, your moan vibrating in the small space as it deliciously cupped your pussy lips. “You look so beautiful right now, (y/n/n).”

You barely stifle a moan from erupting out of your mouth and feel yourself drip with wetness.

“My pretty girl is getting turned on with a fucking wedgie? You’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?” Sam moistens her lips, “So pretty and all for me. You can’t be loud in here baby, I need you to stay quiet. Don’t want others to hear you moan.”

“Thought- there was no others,” you whimper at Sam who only smirked.

“But the assistants are outside. Can’t have them knowing you’re such a whore for me, hm? Now turn your back to me and look at your pretty reflection.”

Nodding your head profusely, you swallow the lump in your throat. It made Sam chuckle in delight, her eyes gleaming. She pulls up the fabric once again, you’re sure that a wet patch is now evidently staining it. She pokes it with the pad of her two fingers and brushes them back and forth, the friction bringing you pleasure.

She interrupts your reverie by halting her motions, unclasping the bra off you and the intricate straps – one your eyes lingered to – only you didn’t realize that Sam saw the dismay on your face, as though it didn’t fit you. It would be an understatement for Sam to say that she abhors seeing you treat yourself this way.

You observe her hooded eyes now full of desire as she looks up to you – it’s undeniable with how it matches her actions, feeling Sam’s thumb pressed then on your back muscle, letting go to run over her hands all over your torso. It’s soothing although given your position, you feel the want and her touch intoxicating you.

“Sam, please.” you begged, ass pushed to her direction with your posture bent over. 

She merely laughs and smacks her hand hard on your ass. The sound echoes in the dressing room. You hissed at how it stings.

Sam had always found your curious look so endearing. You always looked so ready for her to take, attentive, always so curious and beautiful.

She moves her hands agonizingly slow and sensual to your hip bones – brushing her thumb against them – to the skin right under the curve of your ass. You shriek out loud with eyes rolling back to your head, temporarily forgetting that you’re in a public place as Sam notches it up by squeezing you tenderly. 

Repeatedly.

“Look at the mirror, (y/n)” Sam sternly orders. You shudder with eyes wide, still not moving. “My little bunny is not dumb, aren’t you, my sweet thing? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You gulped audibly and a string of moans were pulled out of you as Sam kneaded your supple breasts pleasingly. Being bare while Sam was fully clothed made you uneasy. Looking at the mirror didn’t feel right - seeing yourself become this needy and you meet Sam’s eyes in the reflection. What was her point in doing this? You don’t know either how it intimidates you yet a tinge of excitement is unmistakably laced underneath your impression. While you weren’t new to her roughness, this was particularly still felt exhilarating to you. 

Lost in a haze of lust, the ambience changed within the store – it felt as though you were trapped in a heating chamber. It’s charged and so electrifying to be in a compromising position with Sam – while it was a secluded and high-end one that provided privacy, you hoped that no one barged in soon.

Sam left a kiss on your lower back and feeling her hot breath brush on your skin made you shiver run down your spine, snapping you out of your worries. 

“I’m going to need you to sit between my legs, (y/n/n). And I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers until you understand in your pretty head that you’re beautiful, hm?” Sam’s words echoed titillatingly on your whole body, your breath hitched and bothered.

Soon as you sat hesitantly onto the couch between her legs, Sam gripped it and opened it wide for you as she saw you squirming and shakily closing your legs. You saw yourself in the reflection - how bare you were. And all you can think about is Sam and how you’re about to soil the velvety seat. She tuts at your shyness and manoeuvres her hand, wrist curling as she glides one finger over your soaked slit, gasping at how you were already so wet – teasing you.

You sharply inhaled, chasing more of Sam’s touch. “Told you that I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror, baby. So don’t hide yourself. I’d like to keep you like this, so gorgeous and ready for me.”

Sam did it for you – adjusted her own thighs to accommodate your legs, placed them on top of hers and spread them for you to see how exactly you were dripping. The wetness trickled down the expanse of your inner thighs out of your folds. Sam had a wolfish grin, what you’d describe as predatory and hungry for you. Lolling your head back to Sam’s shoulder, you hear her grunt as she glides her fingers now directly to your folds, eventually entering inside of you.

The sloppy sounds of your wetness echoed in the room. It didn’t help that you felt Sam pressed the base of her palm against your pelvis as her curled fingers rammed madly inside of you. You were pouring out your arousal.

“Oh Sam, oh fuck– fuck, fuck!” heat rose on your belly, coming in waves. Sam responded by pressing kisses on your now sweaty face.

“Mm yeah? More?”

“Yes, yes… Please, Sam!”

You were lost in the haze of lust, driving you dizzy, as your pussy kept pounding with Sam’s rapid thrusts. A slew of guttural moans were out of your mouth – not even minding how loud you are now. You feel how your own core clenched and sucked the entirety of Sam’s fingers, taking a peek in the mirror proved it enough – it was a terrible decision for you.

“Open your eyes, come on now, my good girl. Don’t want you to miss out on how beautiful my sight is.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, you comply for Sam’s sake. She called you a good girl, after all. You kept bouncing on her slender and now thoroughly soaked fingers, your slick all over her pants and you saw how it trickled down to damp and darkened the very upholstered chair. Seeing yourself blushing and so fucking used, your pussy squeezed once again over Sam’s fingers and to both of your delight, her thumb pried and did circular motions to your clit.

The pleasure shot you straight in waves over your body and vibrated so deliciously. 

You meet Sam’s thrusts and as you bounced, you also saw how intently focused she was on your reflection.

“God, look at these tits,” Sam roughly squeezed the flesh, making them aggressively jiggle. “I fucking love having you like this baby. Aren’t you my good girl?” she hotly whispered to your reddened ear, giving your earlobe a bite.

Her other hand that supported you by the waist, crawled up to grab the very breasts that she verbally appreciated. 

“Come on, say it.” Sam gave it another squeeze – plenty that made you mewl – and tugged your perk nipple harshly. “and look at me as you do.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m.. I’m your good girl!”

“Mine only,” Sam growled and you felt her teeth sinking in the skin of your neck, biting and nipping. “Oh how I wanted you for so long, like this for me…”

You moan as you turn your head, not minding the awkward angle, not in this needy state of yours you did mind. Neither did Sam, who was visibly appeased with her pearly grin as you do – even more when you shifted your gaze to the mirror and this time, you actually stared at it. 

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your hand slithered to Sam’s nape, who was almost as breathless as you. You tried to keep a firm grip on her as you feel more lost in the pleasure.

“Yes, Oh… oh! Sam!”

You nod instantaneously making the woman smile even wider. Soon, Sam’s fingers were sloppy wet and rapidly applying pleasure on her pad and focused on your very clit. You couldn’t do anything but elicit more expressive moans and squelching noises that bounced through the room as Sam fucked you dumb. The coil in your stomach finally untangled, leaving you breathless.

You meekly look at your figure in the reflection once again. Your cum trickled down continuously, leaking out of your pulsating hole. Sam panted lowly in your ear and inserted her hand again, making you grab her inner wrist as you felt the oversensitivity. She hushed you to calm down and she was gently pumping. 

It was indeed a pretty sight.

The thick slick of your arousal and cum soon was on your lips, Sam prying it open. It wasn’t up for discussion – you didn’t hesitate either. You taste the bittersweetness coating your tongue and mixed with your saliva, eagerly sucking out of Sam’s fingers. She moaned at your enthusiasm, encouraged by this you sucked more of your remains out of it, your teeth grazing along and Sam pushed it deeper until you felt her slender fingers slightly poking at your throat. 

Once she was satisfied, she handled you differently by flipping your position so now you straddled her leg and faced Sam instead of the mirror. Her lips quickly made its way to give you open mouthed kisses to your sternum, to your neck, finally your mouth.

“You did so well, mi amor. And you were so pretty.” You shyly nodded at Sam’s praise. “Remember that, hm? Regardless of dressing like this – lingerie or not – I’ll look and appreciate you the same way.”

“Mm-hmm,” you lazily nodded and met Sam’s gaze.

After Sam helped you dress your clothes. While being fucked the lights out earlier was heavenly, the walking out of the fitting room was not pleasant at all. Your legs feel like jelly, you can barely walk properly without Sam’s tight support on your waist (you refused her offer of carrying you not wanting to be further embarrassed) but it helped that there weren’t any side glances from the assistants. 

Oh, heavens. You forgot that Martin was also waiting inside the boutique. Even if he remained mum, you couldn’t be any more humiliated today.

Sam pushed back her slightly tousled hair and you helped her smoothen the back of her clothing. As for her trousers, the damage has been done and it’s currently stained with your wetness. An odd sense of pride came at you because you did that.

Sam held the undergarments – even the one she destroyed and fucked you into and personally offered to place it inside of the provided bag and then handed her black card. 

“We’ll take the seat too, the green one in the fitting room. I’ll send someone to pick it up today.” she uttered in what you recognize as her professional voice, the lady simply smiled, replying with Yes, Ms. Loomis, as she agreed with no hesitation.

You hid your face in the crook of Sam’s neck and your cheeks burned. Sam only giggled at your shy reaction. She wrapped an arm around you and brushed your hair gently as she leaned closer to you.

::

“Come back ‘ere.” Sam lazily mutters, voice still raspy. She was still in bed which was such a miraculous sight. Not only because her godly body was exposed but the fact that she stayed in. Her arms were reaching out to you, caressing your bare lower back and eyes barely open. “It’s so cold, you know.”

You gave her a wistful smile. “And you do know that I’m out of clothes here, right? I also happen to have a place of my own, Sam.”

“You can always–”

“–borrow yours, yeah. I know, Sam. But I have to go. My work stuff isn’t here either.”

She sits up fully. “Okay, baby.” Sam replied dejectedly. You shake your head at how she’s acting like a kicked puppy and barely the same as an insatiable sex god from last night. “How about I drive you home? This is an inarguable offer, by the way.”

Sam gave you a pointed look and you can’t help but think if she’s tricking you – seducing you, almost. She’s unashamed with her nakedness and the way she crossed her arms, further made her biceps prominent, the mysterious scar across them, and her supple breasts gave you a mouthwatering view. You chose to ignore how your stomach fluttered at her use of endearment. The more time you spend with Sam, the more they slip out.

“Don’t talk business to me, Sam. You’re so annoying.” You turn back fully facing her with an impish disbelief, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. 

Sam looked at you with childish glee on her face. “Excuse me, you were the one who brought up work. I’m simply reminding you of what you are absolutely missing while I’m on leave for today, mi princesa.”

“Fine, fine. It's not my fault that I’m a corporate slave.”

“That’s why being with me is a good idea.” Sam insists with a kiss on your jugular notch. “Come on, I was planning to make your favorite dish. Maybe you can do it with me, what do you think?” 

“Very professional.” You sigh at Sam’s silliness unfolding in front of you. “You just know all the right words to say…”

She crawled her way to you, shutting you up by capturing your lips with soft ones. It was chaste and you felt her smile in between. Moments like this only tugged at your heartstrings. It deluded you that it was somehow coming home to your girlfriend, only to be shaken to the reality of you knowing it was an unlabeled limbo with an old friend. So you shift, initiating with much force this time, getting rough with how you were kissing Sam as though it was your last time. 

“Am I still annoying if I do… this?” You feel Sam’s calloused fingers smoothly trailing on your inner thighs, making you shiver. You throw your head back as you reeled to her touch. The familiar wetness reemerged on your core once again.

Before she could do anything else, her phone rang. Sam immediately went for it and barely a trace of her sweet disposition remained as she excused herself.

You blinked at her reaction, paying not much mind to it. Instead, you let your body relax in the softest mattress you’ve ever laid on and quickly, you’re pulled by the thoughts of Sam again, missing her already as you sprawl onto the bed, smelling the distinct coconut shampoo and addicting lotion that she uses and how it clung to the space you laid in. 

Half an hour had passed. Getting up, you look around where she could have been, only to find her out in one out of two living rooms, absorbed with the phone call she's in. It wasn’t your plan to eavesdrop but your heart sank soon as the words became much clearer to your ears. 

"Yes, I'm dropping by the strip club tonight... of course." 

Strip club… tonight? Her words came out in a hush, obviously Sam didn’t want to be heard or rather, caught. No wonder she has been insistent on you to stay this morning. 

You simply weren't Sam's fix for this evening.

With cautious steps, you retreat back to Sam's bedroom and with the disgust that brewed in, bile rising in your throat, you start dressing up.

"I thought we agreed that you're staying?" Sam raised her hands in confusion.

"Work couldn't wait, sorry. It’s bugging me the more I ignore it.”

Sam’s face fell immediately at your sudden change of mind. Your heart twinged a little, almost believing that it was genuine.

"Alright. Let me drive you home, (y/n/n)."

Your smile twitched as you hummed in agreement. Suspicion and confrontation will rise if you didn’t, and given what you just found out, you truly didn’t feel up for it.

"I'm bummed that you won't be cooking with me, just so you know. I'll make it alone - don't worry, it will be filled with love and care, a perfect fix as you get your reports done." Sam enthusiastically clasped her hands to you and it only made harder for you to stop the tears that were threatening to pour.

The way Sam took you in her grasp, arms loosely clung around your neck and the mesmerizing gaze she held was doing the opposite reaction. You felt repelled, uneasiness continued to flow through your mind. You've just heard her in the same beat a few minutes ago planning to go to not only a mere club to drink for fun - but a strip joint? Her intentions became even more confusing to you.

Your resolve was crumbling and it was becoming apparent when Sam leaned in for a hopeful kiss and you dodged it, her puckered lips hit the corner of your mouth instead. If she was baffled and had finally picked up your sour mood, you didn't see it as you continued to avoid her gaze.

The car ride was silent. It didn't even occur to you that Sam actually drove you home, but instead of filling the space with laughter and bickering over your taste in music, the two of you were met with an odd silence. You peer at the window throughout the ride, the silent turmoil grew inside of you at the backseat as the car drove on your way home. Eyes fluttering rapidly, you feel the waterworks coming in. Of course this was only a matter of time before it was confirmed to you that you weren’t only the one being fucked by Sam. 

You felt gross. The inkling worry that filled you previously turned out to be right. You just hated yourself for blindly trusting her and giving further meaning to her mistaken gentleness. 

::

Honestly, you did plan that to be your last time to see Sam.

At least temporarily, you wanted to avoid her. You kept making excuses about how you had a lot of work to do. You knew it was unrealistic to actually avoid her forever, not when you literally were tangled with her on her sheets for a couple of months already. Unless you were to flee the country, of course. The idea is slightly tempting. You consider it, albeit impractical, it’s one of your last resort of choices. 

You were used to her scent from her bedsheets to her clothes and to her sleepy self arguing that she is very much awake during your random movie nights, her voice – everything revolves around Sam now and you hated it.

It felt like you were a teenager again with a hopeless crush on the girl you’ve liked from afar for years.

Even as you pulled away from Sam, your brain was racking through heaps of what-if thoughts – were you ever enough? Why did she have to make you feel so special, leading you into this domestic bliss? She always made time. Besides the good, you witnessed her downs, the aggressiveness, how her indistinguishable job took a toll on her. All because she let you in. You wondered why she even thought of you as worthy as such, yet made you feel of being less than that, at the same time?

However, if there is a light to all of this domesticity you shared with Sam that gave you warmth, there were also a lot of questionable actions that she specifically kept on doing. She appeared hesitant with dropping you off to your house and insists that one of her drivers will do the honors instead – with the sex on the table, it made you feel disposable and cheap – or how sometimes hours after sex; you get a sleepy glimpse of Sam sneaking onto the balcony. The faint noises of her raised voice in her phone, doing god knows what – you were there, unaware if it was a conversation with another woman and maybe, just maybe, Samantha Loomis wasn't as heartfelt as you naively believed her to be.

As you expected she didn’t drop by at your house. Her little gifts and take outs from restaurants that you liked and visited with her continued to be sent every weekend. You didn’t know whether it was out of pity or a proper goodbye in her own terms, making your stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought.

Your friends weren’t any less worried even with your now constant appearances for hangouts and karaoke nights, they gently explained that your mind often fled elsewhere and your gloomy disposition was noticeable. It’s not that they were annoyed, your friends were concerned more than anything. So, you finally open up but not too much. You retell you were in this Friends with benefits recently and it ruined your sanity, for better or worse, all in vague descriptions. After all, you were sure that now Sam was more likely ashamed of being seen by you and wanted to keep her bachelorette status.

The chorus of oh sweetie in an understanding tone immediately came and when they hugged you, it worsened the longing you felt for Sam and how you have been entangled with her this whole time.

“It sucks how you can get roped into that so suddenly.” Jane, your friend, empathised. “does that count as a situationship – or whatever it is they call it nowadays?”

“Let’s call it friends with benefits for the sake of simplicity.” Margo, the colleague who ironically was one of the main reasons why you got into the gala and met Sam, nodded her head with no hesitation. “I don’t understand why it is that hard to communicate something simple as that. And getting her fix of pleasure in another place, too, Jesus Christ.”

“Feels a bit of a power trip to me. Based on what you’ve said, how she’s got a sexy mysterious vibe going on and while that sounds sexy in other ways, I can only imagine how it must’ve taken a toll on you, (y/n).” Jane adds with a forlorn expression on her face.

They were expressive with their opinions - you liked how your friends were very protective of you. They felt betrayed almost as much as you do soon as you mentioned that Sam was a friend of yours way back.

Although, you hated how there’s a lump in your throat and a part of you was ready to jump in Sam’s defense. Before you drown more in the thoughts of her, you decided to pour another shot. 

“Fuck that. Let’s drink to this,” your words come out slurred and your friends only follow suit.

Sam didn’t stop spamming you with messages. It was expected considering that she’s the most insistent person you have met yet. Still, you shrug her off, saying that you work overtime these days and you don’t feel like being a booty call for a while – or ever for her. But Sam’s resolve proved to be unwavering as she updated you about her thoughts and invites of coming back home; her words, not yours.

::

“You know, if you’re up for it, you should totally meet this girl. Most blunt person I’ve met yet, so.” Margo indiscreetly implies that it shouldn’t be as troublesome as your previous limbo was. “She’s also really hot. And just down for either something casual or serious, depends how you talk about it.”

“Margo, you know I don’t think–” you shake your head. Besides being full of what-ifs and considering that you might have a good time, your thoughts keep bouncing back to a specific Latina in your mind.

Your mind swirls, not knowing why it feels like a betrayal deep down.

“Just give it a chance.” Margo interrupts, firm with her stand. “One date. It’s also been almost two weeks since you’ve been moping. You know we don’t mind that but- I just wanted to tell you that the dating pool is full of choices. 

What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[andhumanslovedstories]

Had a dream last night that I lied to a cop that I was deaf so he couldn’t ask me about a crime I’d definitely seen (crime was tax fraud committed by a sentient rug via illegal business practices within a magical thrift shop), but then I had to keep up the charade so long that I became fluent in American Sign Language. I’m not saying that I recommend this as a way to learn a language. But with duolingo going down the drain, I’d feel amiss if I didn’t at least mention this as an option.

[ashironie]

I don’t have a good feeling about Celia

I tried to post this earlier but it got deleted so fuck

But from so many standpoints she just irks me

-She has the same character archetype as Alice. Many have pointed out their similarities and while this by itself isn’t much (as is everything on this list) with everything else it makes me weirded out

-She just came out of the blue. We had no warning in the episodes before no build up. We were introduced to the concept she was coming and then she came with little fanfare.

-Her introduction to the rest of the cast is a lot different than Sam’s. A lot understated. Maybe Jonny and Alex just didn’t want to do the same thing again but it felt really rushed and weird.

-I cannot see how she can possibly contribute to the plot in any meaningful way if she is just another victim coworker. She was introduced too late to have her death feel like anything but fridging (when you make a character just to kill them for momentary character drama), once again she shares a character archetype with Alice so the only thing that they could give Celia could be given to Alice perfectly fine, and she once again feels forced

-Celia was also too comfortable too quick for me. She just instantly trusted none of her coworkers would report her for talking shit about their boss. She seemed too genuine about everything even though she was in a completely new environment. And she was just so laid back with everything, like sure she might not know the full scale of things but she seems like she’s been their for as long as anyone can remember (something that might be due to the fact I associate this trait with Alice who has been there a long time)

-idk if I’m reaching or going crazy with this one but Alice seemed off. She moreso just said “I’m Alice” and and Aliced all over the place. But as soon as Celia left she said ‘yeah’ sorta suspiciously? Maybe I’m crazy. Then she’s back to herself replying to Gwen, who we can assume is only less interested in what Celia has to say due to the situation she’s found herself in during ep 4 was it? with Lena. The only time we really get to know her thoughts about Celia when she isn’t in front of her is when she’s bugging Sam about his crush on her, and also literally all conversation she has with Celia she also has with Sam and shifts the conversation (aside from just meeting Celia) to Sam (imo). The only time we get her opinions on Celia away from other characters is the little ‘yeah’.

-We don’t see Colin’s reaction to Celia either, which would mark the third episode in a row where Colin is only mentioned (to my knowledge). Though we don’t have any mention that he’s been hostile to her. The only characters that truly talk to her and that we can see their reactions to her are Alice and Sam. One who I’m convinced is suspicious of her and the other who’s ’in love’ with her (I was completely caught off guard by this due to not even thinking about any of that in the very beginnings of a horror podcast, I’m autistic and demiromantic, and because I was half listening the first time I listened. I sense it more but it still feels like a stretch to me before Alice mentions it though makes a lot of sense due to Sam’s reaction to her mentioning it)

-I feel like I’d be amiss to not mention the fact this is the episode we truly have an Avatar in it. Needles is the first avatar we tma enjoyers know as an avatar (in Norris’s statement in ep1 we have the maybe scammer but it’s unclear weather that’s an Avatar, someone being possessed, or something else entirely). Thematically, this would be a great way to establish a connection with Avatar and Celia. She was introduced exactly when Avatars were. Also the episode name could also be a reference to the fact we are having our “introductions” to Avatars thought this episode, but that’s unrelated.

-People has also pointed out Celia is in Tma, same name and same voice actress (so no Michael situation or helen and Mel’s therapist situation [I think I remember them having the same voice actress and that being a problem] here). Although I don’t know what the could mean but that’s actually the reason I decided to rewrite this mini-notsomini-rant.

I could be wrong about all of this and am prepared to be wrong but still, needed to get this out there.

[crheativity]

Hiii!!!! Just saw your 200 followers event and thought it was the cutest thing ever!! Could I request one of the Octavinelle guys at 6pm during a sunset maybe on the shore? I genuinely don’t care which one I love them all lol tyy (≧◡≦)

WARNINGS: I tried to write it slightly differently than I normally do, so I apologise if it doesn’t flow as well! Azul might be slightly OOC, sorry! Also, MC can raise one of their eyebrows. Idk if that’s a warning for most people but I literally can’t do that no matter how hard I try and it’d make me laugh if I read it, so I figured I’d put it here hehe. Also also mentions of drowning (It’s just Azul being dramatic dw nothing bad happens).

COMMENTS: Thank you so much!! I’m glad you like the event! I decided to go with Azul, he’s my favourite and by far the easiest for me to write hehe. I hope that’s okay! Sunset at the shore is so cute, it sounds like the perfect place for a confession!

Azul felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere, in the back of his brain, he was aware of the irony. Humans couldn’t normally breathe underwater, and yet he had no issue doing so. Yet here he was, sitting on the seashore with the most gorgeous sunset he’d ever seen, right next to his crush - you. You were bathed in the golden light, sitting comfortably on the sand, smiling at him so sweetly as the light hit you just so - he could’ve sworn it was a scene straight out of a painting. Heart pounding and so, so nervous, he guessed that this was what drowning felt like.

He just wanted to crawl into his octopus pot and hide.

“Wow… this sunset is really something, isn’t it?” You looked up and smiled at him. 

He blinked, willing his heart to calm down - or at the very least, let him regain his composure. “Ah- yes, it is.” 

The sunset was beautiful, yes, but try as he might, he couldn’t focus on it with you sitting next to him - and how close his hand was to yours.

You glanced up at him, evidently sensing something amiss. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yes, I suppose so.” He managed. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and glanced at you and oh. That didn’t help things at all. His heart stammered in his chest and he bit the side of his mouth to try and distract himself.

“You suppose?” You raised an eyebrow, and he internally cursed your adorable facial expressions. “Is something wrong?”

He gazed out at the sunset for a moment, taking in how beautiful it is, before turning to look at you. There was no doubt about it - you were far more breathtaking. Somewhere, his brain registered that this looked like a confession.

That thought alone had him clearing his throat and looking away, trying his hardest to hide his blush.

But what if you did confess? His thoughts nagged at him. This is the perfect place. What if you don’t get another opportunity?

He hesitated, doing his best to weigh up the pros and cons, even as his thoughts peer-pressured him into what he wanted.

Screw it.

“...There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…” He managed as he inched his hand closer to yours.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[magicalbats]

We Turn Not Older: Layla

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 3136

Warnings: Afab!reader but no gendered language, mentions of cunnilingus, scissoring

A/N: with a few minutes to spare, I'm actually on time with this one! Amazing!

⭐

Layla’s dorm is almost claustrophobically small and cluttered with astrology equipment, but it is also decidedly cozy. You knew you liked it as soon as you’d stepped through the door hours ago, when it was still daylight. Now it was dark. The cracks around the shuttered window on the far wall let in no light at all but you have no idea where she might have a clock sitting around to check the time. Not that it really mattered right now. You were much too comfortable lying in bed together, sharing this tight space with her, to even think about getting up and dressing yourself.  

Sighing in contentment, you instead roll over onto your side to regard the other girl. She’d drifted off to sleep some time ago after just a single round of going down on her and you now had the perfect opportunity to simply study her without fear of putting her on the spot. Honestly, you’d been more than just a little surprised when she first suggested this. You came as soon as you’d received the letter from the mysterious, unnamed scribe who you strongly suspected had been her other half. The other Layla. The one that is not quite so shy or easily flustered, or absent minded. You thought you were talking to her at first, for just a brief moment, but you’d quickly realized that was not the case. 

The fact you ended up in a tangle of limbs and sheets almost seems like a distant dream to you. Just something your travel weary mind had cooked up to taunt you with on lonely nights spent out on the road. This hadn’t been your intention or even some sneaky ulterior motive you’d harbored beforehand. But it was her birthday and she’d seemed like she needed it. Badly. After cumming so hard you thought she was going to pass out she’d promptly fallen asleep and you quickly followed suit not along after. It was hard not to start feeling drowsy when your bed partner was snoozing away so soundly. 

But she was still quietly snoring and you were awake. Carefully, you reach out to toy with a curled strand of rich dark hair. It’s unbelievably soft and silky between your fingertips. You think you could probably play with it for days without growing bored but even just that simple touch is enough to rouse her from what you’d thought was a deep slumber. With a faint, sleepy groan, Layla turns her head on the pillow to peer over at you. 

Offering her a small smile, you drop the strand of hair and it bounces back into place as if nothing at all were amiss. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s fine.” She half slurs under her breath. Blinking away some more of the sleep from her eyes, Layla shifts to the side and then rolls over to face you. Her golden irises take you in for a long moment, just flitting over your face and your shoulders. The curve of your bare hip. “We really did that, huh?” 

“Yeah. We did.” You agree.

“Should we do it again?” 

A quick laugh bursts out of you. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised considering how good it looked like you were sleeping a moment ago, but I had no idea you could be so insatiable.” 

She quickly averts her gaze. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” You murmur, soft and reassuring. Scooting yourself closer on the already cramped single bed, you bring your hand up to cradle the delicate curve of her waist. “Do you want to do it again? I don’t mind if you do.” 

She considers that for a brief moment, idly picking at a single loose thread on the sheet with thoughtful fingers. You think she’s very cute like this and you lean even closer to press a quick kiss to her cheek. That brings her attention back up, both of you just looking at one another for a long stretch before she lowers her eyes to study your mouth. The same mouth that had brought her to shuddering pleasure earlier in the day. 

“I’d like that, Traveler. Can we?” 

You grin at her. “Of course we can. After all, I didn’t have a chance to get off before you zonked out on me the first time.” 

Layla’s expression is equal parts surprised and flustered. Her mouth warbles open to stammer out a string of apologies and self deprecating sentiments but you quickly silence her with a kiss. She moans, very softly, at the lingering taste of her own cunt on your lips and tongue. Breathes deep and relaxes into the gesture before kissing you back. Your snuffed excitement from before promptly flares back to life, set aside but far from forgotten. It actually feels even more potent than you remembered it being and you can’t help but moan too as you drag your hand up and down her side in an encouraging caress. This may not have been your intention in coming here but you hoped she was well rested enough after her nap to stay awake a little longer. 

But even if she doesn’t, even if she falls asleep again right after, you were still enjoying yourself in the moment. It felt good being naked with her, here in the secluded privacy of her dorm. Layla’s breast is firm and perfectly cuppable in the palm of your hand when you touch it with a reverence that makes her tremble and stretch out beside you. You take a moment to thumb over the nipple in slow, even strokes until it’s stiffly perked. Taking it between your fingers, you then give it a gentle tweak. She appreciatively sighs into your mouth before tentatively reaching over to do the same to your chest, reciprocating the gesture almost tit for tat. 

You spend what feels like many minutes just basking in the warmth and the feel of one another. Kissing, touching and fondling, but it doesn’t take long for you to grow impatient. She’d found release earlier, you hadn’t. You were still wet and waiting for your own turn, your cunt mutedly throbbing every time you rub your thighs together. 

Finally giving in to the urge, you turn half of the way over onto your back and reach down with your free hand. The other tugs on Layla’s neck to guide her right up against you. She breaks apart from the kiss with a low, breathy sound as your breasts meet and press into each other. Rubbing your sticky slit in savory circles, you look her right in the eye as you reach back with the other to dip fingers under the curve of her ass and prod at what’s between her legs. 

“Oh.” She gives a quiet squeak, thick lashes fluttering slightly at the sensation. You allow yourself a moment to just tease along her crease while you sedately hump into your own hand at the same time. Archons, if you’d known this was what she wanted you would have stopped somewhere and bought some toys to play with. 

“Is this what you were looking forward to?” You keep your voice low and suggestive as you slowly breach the seam of her body and press up into satiny soft lips. “Having my fingers in your tight pussy again?” 

“Oooh.” She makes the same sound but she draws it out this time. Allows her eyes to slip shut and just basks in the sensation. Gingerly, she lifts her top most leg and throws it over your hip so she can curl her body even closer and give you a better angle to stretch open her cunt. It works and your fingers sink in a little deeper. She’s so incredibly warm inside, all soft and wet, and cushiony that you can’t help but give your digits a small wriggle. “It feels so good, Traveler … don’t stop. Please.” 

As if you even could at this point. Between your own arousal and the way she’s gripping you in palpitating squeezes, her body instinctively trying to take you in even deeper, there was no way you could bring yourself to stop until you were watching her fall apart again. You had no intention of teasing her today. Not when that would mean teasing yourself in the process. 

Momentarily abandoning your own cunt, you reach up between your bodies and offer Layla your hand. She gently takes the wrist so she can hold it in place while she gives your fingers shy little kitten licks to taste you. The way she watches you while she does it seems to be in apology. Like she felt bad for leaving you hanging the first time, even though you’d only been joking about that. It was her birthday after all. This was her treat, not yours no matter how much you wanted a chance to cum too. 

Besides, you had something in mind that you suspected would please both of you at the same time and keep you two equally happy. You just needed to make sure both of you were wet enough first. 

Layla was certainly getting there, the soft little clicks you pull from her body attesting to the amount of slick her pussy was making around your fingers. You weren’t far off either but you still take your hand from her and reach down to smear your cunt in saliva. It feels so good that you almost don’t want to stop, especially when she brings her hand down to fondle your breast again. The way she pinches the nipple with delicate fingertips makes your breath come a little faster, moaning into the static charged air.

Before you can edge yourself too close to the line, you force your hand to stop rubbing. Your pussy throbs at the loss of stimulation but you quickly roll her over onto her back and sit up. Eagerly, Layla spreads her legs wide in clear invitation, her cunt flushed an excited pink and sticky with arousal. You oblige her for the moment and bend over her pelvis so you can flick your tongue over the sensitive bud at the apex of her slit. Meaty creases and folds shudder under the ministration of your mouth and she promptly shakes in response. It was quite clear to you that Layla very much enjoyed having her pussy ate and, truth be told, you liked it too. Her clit was prominent and easy to find — hell, you could see it at just a glance, erect and jutting out from under its protective hood in search of more pleasure — and that made it all the more fun to tease and mouth at it. You were banking on it making your idea a resounding success. 

“Your pretty pussy is so greedy, Layla. You already came once and look how excited you are. Don’t you have anyone to go down on you in the Akademiya?” 

A faint, wavering moan rises in the air. She nudges her pelvis at you, back and forth, back and forth in a pleading manner. She was needy, that was for sure. 

You take pity on her and bring your hand close, rubbing her fat clit with your fingers. Layla shakes beautifully for you, her breathing rapidly picking up and becoming thicker. You don’t want her to cum like this when you had something even better in mind though, and you pull away before she can find her release. She blinks at you as if in a daze as you get spun around and take hold of one dainty ankle so you can curl it up and out to the side. The motion leaves her cunt perfectly bare and vulnerable so you can shuffle closer until your pussy finds hers. It takes a moment of adjusting, slotting the pieces together just right, but you know it as soon as you find it. 

Your body suddenly feels ten degrees hotter as lips brush against lips and squish together, creating a wet warm seal. Layla’s breath hitches in her chest when your clit prods against hers with the first experimental roll of your hips. You moan, and then do it again. Even for the lack of a toy to help mutually stimulate the two of you, it still felt mind numbingly good just to grind your cunts together and you take a great deal of pleasure in watching her face take on a far off, dreamy look as you fall into a steady rhythm. 

She almost doesn’t seem to know what to make of it at first but the pleasure is undeniable. Her cheeks flush even hotter, a low chorus of appreciative sounds falling from her lips with each slow motion drag or your hips. It looks like you’re driving her crazy now, the way she not so subtly writhes and clutches the sheets. Her hazy attention stays locked on the spot where your bodies meet though, like she was fascinated with watching you thrust against her. 

Oh, if only she knew what you could do to her with the right equipment. 

“Does that feel good, princess? You look so lovely spread out for me like this.” 

The way she moans your name then, so sweet and fragile, makes your pulse pound even harder. You wanted to touch her more, play with her tits and pinch on those stiff nipples until she really started to cry out for you. But it’s hard enough keeping your slit lined up with hers while moving at the same time and you have to make do with squeezing her thigh in a possessive grip. You’ve got it half curled around your waist, the other leg still held captive in the air, and you could tell you were slowly creeping ever closer to the breaking point. You were wound tight to begin with but the way her stiff clit digs up into and slides over yours … it was amazing how perfectly made for each other two pussies could be. Like puzzle pieces, you fit together so very nicely and you were soaring high on the adrenaline of fucking yourself on her. 

“Shit, Layla,” You gasp, struggling to keep your pelvis planted squarely over hers without losing your pace to the eager twitching that runs through your tightening muscles. Any second now the cord would snap and you sincerely hoped she was as close as you were, so you could finish together. 

“Ooh, please … please make me cum, Traveler, I want to cum so bad.” 

Digging your fingers deeper into the soft pudge of her upper thigh, you allow your hips to thrust a bit harder. A little quicker. There’s such a sticky mess between the two of you now that your slit just keeps gliding over hers in a meaty press, but her clit seems to hit its mark each time. It was making you shudder much more violently than you’d anticipated and making the effort that much more of a struggle. Almost like a role reversal, you felt vaguely like the one who was getting fucked here, not the other way around. But you keep going even when your breaths puff out of you in quick, heaving gasps and it seems like you’re just as liable to shake right off her as anything else. Your world recedes to a fine pinprick of consciousness that consists entirely of the sensation of her pussy squishing under yours, moulding two bodies together, and the breathy groans of pleasure she lets out. 

It was dizzying in the best possible way, and that feeling only increases when you finally cum with a stuttering roll of your pelvis. The spasms seize you in the time it takes you to blink, trembling so suddenly it startles a high pitched yelp out of you. Teeth clenching tight, you seethe throughout the duration of your release even as you stubbornly continue to work yourself against her. 

And Layla manages to surprise you when she cums too, just a heartbeat later. She shakes and rattles through her orgasm in almost perfect tandem with you. It’s like she’s feeding off of your pleasure, taking it into herself and then giving it back tenfold. You can feel her pussy squeezing underneath you and the sticky mess between you suddenly feels obscene. You'd thoroughly soaked one another. 

Wheezing with the final tremors of your orgasm, you release her and collapse on top of the still moaning girl in a heap of limbs and sweat dampened skin. She quickly brings her arms up to twine them around your heaving back, holding you close against her chest. It takes a prolonged moment for both of you to recover but the afterglow is warm and peaceful. Comfortable. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad staying with her here, just like this. If only you didn’t have other matters, other responsibilities to see to. 

“Layla?” You speak at last, wondering if she’d already dozed off again. 

“Hm?” Her response is quiet and groggy. Distant, like she really had been drifting back to sleep despite having only just woken up some half hour ago. You probably would have found it a little ridiculous had you not known exactly how content and satiated she must have felt in that moment. Another nap didn’t sound bad at all. 

But you wanted to ask. Had to ask. “Are you sure you don’t want to do anything else for your birthday besides lay in bed all day? I mean. It’s your choice, of course. I just thought … maybe you'd want to do something else.”

“Like what?” She yawns quietly when she says it. You try very hard not to smile and you fail miserably. 

“I don’t know. Go out to dinner or something? My treat, obviously.” 

Layla noises a small sound of interest but rather than rousing her with the prospect she actually snuggles deeper into the mattress as if settling in for the night. “Mmm. Dinner sounds good. How about breakfast instead? We can go somewhere in the morning.” 

“It won’t be your birthday tomorrow.” 

“That’s alright.” Is the last thing she murmurs to you before knocking out completely. Her chest slowly rises and falls underneath you with the slow breaths she pulls in, lulling you into a similar state of drowsiness. It was the same as the first time. You just couldn’t seem to keep your eyes open when she was snoozing away with such tranquil ease. And it didn’t exactly help that you felt so safe and secure cradled in her arms like this. Vulnerable almost, like you were the one at her mercy. It was very possible that you were. 

Perhaps you should try giving her the toy and seeing what she could come up with when taking the lead. Something told you that you wouldn’t be disappointed.

⭐

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Hunted

Summary: If they catch you, it's not going to be a fun time.

A/N: You guys know the drill; NSFW 18+ because here, we like it spicy ;)

This one happened while I was looking for inspiration for another; it can be read as a stand alone, or in conjunction with Under Your Spell (check my masterlist)

As always, my darling soul sister, @ken-dom, thank you for the beta read and endless support and reassurance! Although...I still think you're biased. 🩷

Enjoy my loves!

He climbed behind the wheel of the car, fingers flexing under the leather gloves as he slid a pair of sunglasses up his nose, rolling a little faster than he intended going over the speedbump at the end of the street, the contents of the trunk thumping loudly; a quick glance in the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to the road in front of him.

***

You had gotten dressed and you were pacing around your small living room, watching; finally after what felt like an eternity, the sleek black Mustang pulled up in front of the house. You tore out the front door, meeting him in the middle of the sidewalk

“Did you-?” you started before he cut you off 

“I said I’d take care of it, I took care of it” 

“You also told me I couldn’t trust you” 

His eyes narrowed as you slipped your arms around his waist “Unless you lied?” you asked, as you pressed your lips to his. 

He didn’t answer, simply pressed his lips to yours firmly; his hands on your waist before you pulled back with a smile. 

“Let’s go for a drive”  As you spoke, you turned toward the car sitting at the curb, keys clutched in your hand, pressed against your stomach keeping them hidden until you walked around the front of the car “I’ll drive” 

His mouth dropped open, a hand immediately flying to the pocket he’d put the keys in; empty. 

“No” he shook his head firmly “Keys”

You scrunched your nose with a shake of your head “I don’t think so” 

“Now” he practically growls and you just chuckle to yourself making him huff with annoyance. 

“I’m not afraid of you, remember?” you smirked before climbing in behind the wheel and starting the car. 

The passenger door opens as the engine roars to life and he slides in, he doesn’t look happy. 

You slide your hands over the sleek steering wheel, pulling your sunglasses down off the top of your head and sliding them over your eyes; glancing toward him sitting in the passenger seat, biting your lip gently as you revved the engine. 

“Lighten up, relinquish control once in a while” You pulled away from the curb, immediately punching the gas, flying up the street at a speed that made your heart flutter in your chest; the steering wheel vibrating in your hands. 

The loud sigh next to you made you roll your eyes, slowing the car to a safer speed “You’re no fun” you muttered

After fifteen minutes or so, you noticed him repeatedly checking your mirrors and you frowned 

“What are you looking at?” you had asked, while checking yourself, nothing had seemed amiss. 

“We’re being followed” 

“What?” you frowned, glancing at him briefly before checking your mirror again “By who?” 

“Black SUV with the tinted windows”

“This is LA, everyone has-” 

“We’re being followed” he repeated 

You sighed looking back out the front window “Well we can’t just switch seats in the middle of the road, what do you want me to do?” 

“Lose them” he said simply 

“What?” you laughed slightly, “You can’t be serious, this isn’t Grand Theft Auto”

“If you don’t, they’ll kill us both” 

“Great,” you let out a breath “No, pressure”

“Thought you weren’t scared of me” he commented 

“I’m not” you said, checking your mirror again for the SUV he had mentioned; it was still there, a few cars back, but still closer than you’d like if they were in fact planning to kill you. 

You sped up, following the curve of the road, your fingers flexing around the steering wheel as you let out a slow breath. 

You flew up the straight away, checking your mirror again, still there.

You were coming up fast on an SUV, a transport turning left, blocking your path. 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Don't slow down,” he spoke next to you “You can make it, follow it going left, go around the right of it”

You frowned “What?! Are you insane? He'll crush us into the-”

“TURN!”

You did as he said, biting hard on your bottom lip as the car squeezed between the truck and the barrier until you could pull out in front and head towards the highway and into downtown.

“Yell at me again and you'll be afraid of me” you glared. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him smirk. “They're still back there”

You weaved in and out of traffic much to the dismay of your fellow motorists. 

Your heart was slamming in your chest as you checked your mirror for what felt like the thousandth time. 

“Fuck” you muttered under your breath before running your tongue between your lips. 

“There” he pointed to the approaching exit 

You nodded, with a shaky breath “I see it” 

“Go”

Cutting across two more lanes of traffic you pulled off the freeway, taking the off ramp, turning on to the streets of downtown, not losing speed as the Mustang took the corners smoothly. Your heart in your throat as you sped through the downtown core. 

“Turn here” 

You did as he instructed, pulling into the parking lot, gliding into an open space and killing the engine. 

You turned in your seat breathing hard looking at him with a smile as you unbuckled, reaching to release his seatbelt before grabbing the back of his head, kissing him hard. 

He pushed you back gently “We're in a parking lot”

You nodded, your hands moving to unbutton his jeans, his hard cock springing free. “Unless you'd rather deal with that on your own” you whispered against his neck, nipping the skin roughly, making him moan. 

He pulled you over the middle console into his lap, bunching your skirt up around your waist. 

His mouth devoured yours, his tongue tangling with yours as you straddled his middle, sinking down onto his hard shaft with ease, moaning against his mouth as you rocked your hips. 

His hands gripping your hips with a strength he didn't seem capable of as his fingers bruised your flesh. You gripped the back of the passenger seat for leverage, your intermingling moans filling the small space around you as you broke your kiss. His mouth latching to your neck, sucking hard. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand moving to brace on his shoulder, squeezing hard as you cried out, finding your release. 

You breathed hard against his ear, one hand still gripping his shoulder as the other pushed though the hair at the back of his head, your hips still rocking, making your whole body shudder with each movement. 

“Cum for me” you whispered and he moaned pulling from your neck as he found his own release, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder as he caught his breath. 

You sat up, your hair falling in your face as you smiled. “How do you feel about my driving now?”

“Now it's my turn” he answered, lifting you from his lap and dropping you in the passenger seat as he lifted himself over the console and into the driver's seat

[mymoonagedaydream]

Summary: It was amazing, really, how quickly one person managed to turn your dream job into a living nightmare.

Pairing: ParkRanger!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I wrote this whole story before realising that it was some twisted RonSwanson!Bucky fantasy I'd cooked up, so if anyone can recommend a good therapist hmu

---

Monday, June 5th. Week 1.

“Oh, what a shame.”

Your eyes flicked up from the pile of paperwork in front of you, dread forming like a rock in your stomach when you saw the pitiful look she was giving you. Her head turned towards the older man sitting beside her and she pointed at something on your file.

“She's got the maintenance cabin in her coverage area.”

“Ah, oh dear.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping they’d just explain to you why that was such an issue so you didn’t have to ask. There was a tense silence as they shuffled some papers around. Eventually, Angela, who was your new supervisor and the woman looking at you like it was her job to let you know that you’re terminally ill, gave a weary sigh and pulled her glasses down her nose.

“Our maintenance manager can be… difficult.” The man scoffed at her delicate wording and received a subtle elbow to the ribs in response. “You’ll be fine, honestly, just don't try to make small talk and don't try to pet his dog. That thing is vicious.”

“Right. So what should I do?”

“Get in there, get his report and get out.”

That sounded easy enough. Even if it wasn’t, this was your dream job, so you weren’t about to let some crusty old man with a nasty temper ruin it for you. Six months of solitude in a tower in the middle of a national park was your idea of bliss and, if all you had to do in return was keep an eye on the canopy for signs of fire, you figured that was a pretty sweet deal. You’d eagerly snap up any opportunity to disconnect from the real world.

The meeting wrapped up and you were handed a sheet which detailed your daily and weekly duties. All you had to do each day was fill out a weather report, check in with basecamp and take a walk through your coverage area to make sure nothing was amiss. Easy. Your weekly list was a little longer, containing things like deep cleaning your tower and checking up on the wildlife, but you skipped past all that to find the point of contention.

Every Friday, collect weekly reports from any staff cabins in your coverage area. Review for urgent issues, gather further information if necessary and send back to basecamp alongside your weekly report.

Oh, that didn't sound too bad at all.

—

Friday, June 9th. Week 1.

The day was finally here.

Unfortunately, despite your initial attempts at optimism, you really had been dreading this, the occasional twangs of anxiety managing to effectively ruin what would otherwise have been an incredibly serene first week on the job. You figured there was a slight chance that Angela had been exaggerating, but you weren’t sure what benefit she’d get from scaring you like that. She didn’t seem like much of a sadist.

With a clipboard gripped in your white-knuckled hand, you reluctantly trudged up to the cabin door and gave two knocks. A bark from inside made you jump backwards before it swung open. The dark entranceway was filled with an imposing body, shoulders almost touching the wood on either side, arms folded across a broad chest.

You couldn’t help but give it a slightly confused look. Was this the dreaded maintenance manager? You’d been expecting a curmudgeonly old grandpa, but this guy couldn’t have been too far into his thirties. You were half-tempted to ask if his dad was in.

Recollecting yourself from the shock, not to mention the skittishness you always felt in the presence of men you found even slightly attractive, you gulped harshly and forced a smile.

“Hi, the new fire lookout. I'm here to collect your weekly report.”

“I don't do those.”

“Oh, right.” You looked down at your clipboard with a frown. “Just, it says here-”

The door slammed shut.

You were stunned into silence for a second, amazed that your first encounter with the national park boogeyman had gone down even worse that you’d expected. With a defeated sigh, you eventually turned away, muttering under your breath.

“Well fuck you, then.”

The porch steps creaked under your feet. Once safely out of earshot, you unclipped the radio from your belt and spun the dial, finding the frequency for basecamp.

“Come in, anybody there?”

Copy.

“Hey, so I just tried to pick up the weekly maintenance report and got a door slammed in my face. Apparently he doesn’t have to do them, I’m guessing that's a lie?”

God damn it, he does this every time, obviously thinks he can intimidate the newbies. Don’t worry, I'll get the supervisor onto him.

“Thanks.”

—

Friday, June 16th. Week 2.

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of your dream job had now been ruined by this asshole over some stupid fucking paperwork. What a waste. You’d been replaying your first encounter over and over in your head, just wishing you’d pushed back a little more or stuck your foot in the door or something, anything to look a bit less fucking pathetic.

Approaching his doorstep, you spotted a piece of paper lying on the porch. A wave of relief hit you. Getting the report and not having to talk to him at all was pretty much the ideal outcome here, maybe you could make this a regular arrangement.

When you reached it, however, you saw that it was just a blank sheet of paper with the word ‘fine’ scribbled in the top corner. For fuck’s sake. You snatched it off the ground and banged hard against the door, holding it up with an incredibly unimpressed expression once he answered.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“I'm new but I'm not an idiot, you can't palm me off with this.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Stop bullshitting me. I know you've done these properly before, so just fucking do it, alright?” You shoved it into his chest before swivelling around and storming away, adding over your shoulder, “I'll be back for it after my rounds.”

You were pissed off for the rest of the day. It wasn’t that you cared about reports being filed in a timely fashion or even about him doing his job properly, in fact you couldn't have cared less about that, you were just concerned that his laziness would reflect badly on you and jeopardise your chances of ever landing one of these jobs again. They weren’t exactly easy to come by.

The sun was beginning to set by the time you got back to his cabin. Again, the paper was waiting for you on the porch and, again, he’d decided to behave like a child. He'd scribbled out his first draft and written underneath ‘mostly fine'. Jackass.

Naturally, you were straight back on the radio with basecamp, but their only advice was to file it anyway and just explain that he was being a pain in the ass once it got picked up on.

So that's exactly what you did.

—

Wednesday, June 21st. Week 3.

The sun was blazing in the clear sky and you were taking your time with your rounds, soaking up the warmth and making the most of your peaceful surroundings. The forest hummed with life and you pulled in the scent of wildflowers, branches cracking under your boots, wispy moss grazing against your knuckles.

About halfway along your trail, however, you noticed an unfamiliar sound in the distance. Something like rhythmic hammering was echoing through the tees. You rarely came across hikers or campers in this area, so you decided to check it out, just to make sure they weren’t causing trouble. Besides, it’d been weeks now since you’d had a pleasant conversation that didn’t crackle through a radio.

Pushing your way through the pines, you eventually reached the cause of the sound. That maintenance asshole was set up in a clearing, fixing up some dilapidated old wooden fencing while his dog sniffed around nearby. Both of them seemed too caught up in their activities to notice you peering through the shrubbery.

You observed him for a second, musing on what a shame it was that someone so visually pleasing was so fucking unbearable to hold a conversation with, and wondering how he’d ended up out here all alone. Maybe he’d just always been a huge dick to people.

The dog was inching closer. You had no idea what breed it was, your mom always had little terriers so you were hopeless when it came to the big types. Was it a husky? A big fluffy one? It looked harmless enough. Still, you figured it was best to skedaddle, slowly backing into the trees.

You thought you’d almost managed to slip away unnoticed when a booming voice made you freeze on the spot.

“You suck at hiding, y’know.”

Shit. How the hell were you going to play this off?

“Sorry,” you emerged from cover and took a few steps towards him, keeping the dog in the corner of your vision, “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t… bears.”

“Bears?”

“Mhmm.”

“With hammers?”

“...mhmm.”

He shook his head, dropped his tool on the ground and leant against the fence, shooting a resentful scowl in your direction. “Thanks for getting me chewed out last week.”

“Anytime.” He scowled harder. “Look, I really don't know what you expected. I’m not taking the fall for your lazy ass.”

“So you bad-mouth me instead?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?”

“Trust me, I wish I could.”

It almost looked as though he was about to admit defeat and go back to work, but his eyes were suddenly pulled down towards something beside you. Following his gaze, you flinched dramatically, finding Cujo poised by your hand.

“Don't like dogs?”

“No, I do, I'm just,” it gave your fingers a curious sniff before licking them excitedly, “not used to big ones.”

“They told you she was vicious, right?”

“They might’ve done.”

“She can be,” the corner of his mouth curled menacingly, “when I tell her to be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So, you tell her to be vicious towards your supervisors?”

He shrugged.

You squatted down and gave her a scratch, laughing when she eagerly began to wag her tail before flopping onto her back, legs in the air and belly exposed. Your eyes moved back up to his. You might have been imagining it but, just for a second, his face seemed to soften slightly. Then you blinked and he was back to looking like he was sucking on a wasp.

“What breed is she?”

“Akita.”

“Sweet. What’s her name?”

“Akita.”

His expression was completely blank.

“You named your Akita, Akita?”

“Mhmm.”

“Right.” You stood back up and brushed the loose hairs off your hands. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You ignored that snide comment and ventured back into the trees, desperately wondering why the fuck you weren’t more upset about the prospect of seeing him twice in one week.

—

Saturday, June 24th. Week 3.

Yesterday had been a fucking nightmare. The lookout in charge of the coverage area that bordered yours had spotted smoke on the horizon so it was all hands on deck. You had to rush through miles of unfamiliar forest at six in the morning, only to find an elderly couple stoking a campfire next to their tent. They claimed not to have seen the dozens of bright red signs warning travellers that it was the height of forest fire season. Idiots.

The worst part of the whole ordeal, however, was that all the rushing around and subsequent paperwork didn’t leave you any time to do your weekly duties, meaning you had no choice but to visit the maintenance asshole today. You were sure he'd be thrilled to see you on his day off.

As you walked up to the cabin, you saw him sitting on the porch swing with Akita, intensely focused on something he was doing in his lap. The dog jumped down to approach you as you neared, asshole’s eyes briefly flicking up to acknowledge your presence before returning to his project.

“Hey,” you folded your arms and leant against a beam of wood, “I'm sure you heard the panic over the radios yesterday.”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t have time to walk over here, can I just get your paperwork now?”

He huffed, dropped what he was holding onto the seat and stood up. “If you're gonna make me do these things you could at least come get them.”

There were a few seconds of silence. He was obviously trying to provoke you into an argument but you didn’t rise to it, instead just staring him down and waiting.

“So, you gonna go get it for me or…?”

He huffed again, like a toddler having a tantrum, before trudging inside.

Your attention shifted down to the little object lying on the porch swing. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you tiptoed over and picked it up, turning it around in your hands. It was a small, intricate wooden deer figurine. Jesus, had he carved that by hand? It was beautiful.

The front door clicked back open and it was swiftly snatched out of your grasp.

“You mind?”

“Sorry, it's just really pretty. Did someone teach you?”

“No.”

“You taught yourself?”

“Lots of time to practise shit like that in this job, you'll see,” he sunk back into his seat, “you should find a hobby for the weekends so you can stop bothering me.”

“I think bothering you might be my new hobby.”

He chuckled. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was obviously a shock to him too because, as soon as he caught himself, he immediately went stone-faced again. You tried not to make it too obvious how incredibly fucking pleased with yourself you were.

After skimming your eyes down the report to make sure it was done properly, you nodded to him faintly, giving Akita a quick scratch before going on your way. Only when you had your back to him did you allow a wide grin to spread across your face.

—

Tuesday, July 4th. Week 5.

A ferocious knocking at the door of your tower jolted you awake. Half-delirious, you reached an arm out to your nightstand and grabbed your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding you. It was 4:27am. What the fuck was going on?

The knocking sounded again, this time even louder and faster. You bolted to your feet and yanked your coat over your pyjamas, convinced that you were going to step outside and see the whole forest engulfed in flame.

The only thing you saw when you opened the door, however, was the maintenance asshole. The dim light above the door was illuminating his face. He looked shaken up, which was strange, because you’d only even seen him look bored with a hint of pissed off.

You rubbed your eyes. “Everything alright?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Akita. She’s gone.”

“Gone?” If it weren’t for the offensively loud sound of rustling trees and the harsh wind throwing your hair around, you’d have been convinced that this was all some elaborate dream.

“Yeah, she was scratching at the door so I let her out for a piss but she must’a got spooked,” he was tripping over his words, “cause she bolted into the trees too fast for me to catch her.”

“Well, she’s trained, right? So she’ll probably come back on her own?”

“She is but she’s never done this before, what if it was a bear or somethin’?”

You were actually starting to get a little concerned, he seemed about as on edge as someone with no emotions was capable of being. “Okay, sure, I’ll help. Just let me get my boots on.”

He stared you down intently as you rushed to get your laces tied. The two of you descended the tower stairs and headed into the forest, both calling her name, torches desperately searching through the darkness for any signs of life. Half an hour passed with no luck.

You stopped walking and pointed the torch towards him. “Should we split up? Cover more ground?”

“Nah.”

“Well, what’s the point in two of us being here, then? You could’ve done this on your own.”

“Just in case there is a bear.” You gave him a confused look. “I reckon I could run faster than you.”

He kept walking. It took you a second to process, but, had he just made a joke? You wouldn’t put it past him to actually throw you to the bears, if anything you’d be expecting it, but his tone was definitely lighter than usual.

So he did have a sense of humour, then. How interesting.

“You comin’?”

You had to jog to catch up with him. “Seriously, why am I here?”

“Cause she likes you, I figured two familiar voices was better than one.”

“You’re really worried, huh?”

He didn’t answer, instead just marching ahead and continuing to call her name. This carried on for what felt like hours, the sun slowly rising, thankfully lighting up the landscape. Eventually, you came across a small stream trickling over some rocks. There, having a leisurely drink, was Akita.

He rushed over, looking absolutely overjoyed. You couldn’t help but smile at the reunion. It was nice, seeing him showing emotion, almost like he was actually human. He could obviously be pretty sweet when he wanted to be.

He clipped a lead from his pocket onto her collar and looked over to you. “Thanks.”

“No worries, I’ll leave you two alone.”

“You want us to walk you back?”

“It’s ok, I know the way,” you gave him a smile, “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“See you then.”

You wandered away from the happy couple.

By this point, you were wide awake and already halfway through your coverage area, so you figured you might as well just finish up your rounds before heading back. Besides, you could use a solitary walk to clear your head a little.

You made sure to keep a keen eye out for any big scary mammals but saw nothing, finishing up and walking back just before midday. You’d already planned out your entire quiet, cosy evening in your head.

Climbing up to your tower, you noticed something sitting at the top of the stairs. A small wicker basket. Cautiously, you peered inside, your stomach fluttering slightly when you saw that it was holding a small bottle of whiskey and a carved wooden bear figurine. It was even more beautiful than the deer he’d been working on last week.

You didn’t really drink whiskey, but you appreciated the gesture, figuring it was probably the only other giftable thing he had to hand. Picking it up and taking it inside, you noticed a small folded note underneath the bottle. It read:

Thanks again for the help. Bucky.

Was that his name? Jesus, you’d never even asked. Well, at least you could stop calling him asshole now.

—

Friday, July 7th. Week 5.

You decided to head over to the cabin a little later than usual. You were risking facing his wrath again but, bottle of whiskey in hand, you were actually feeling bold. The sun was setting behind the mountains by the time you reached his porch.

He answered the door with slightly less resentment on his face than usual. “Thought you weren’t gonna show up again.”

“Sorry, it’s been a busy day.”

That was a lie, you’d spent three hours this afternoon trying to get a hot sauce stain out of your sweatpants. He eyed the whiskey.

“Oh, yeah, I really appreciate it, but I thought maybe we could share.” You held it out to him. “I’m guessing you don’t get to replenish your stock too often, didn’t want to deprive you.”

He hesitated for an offensively long time before taking it from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to enter. You figured there was probably a fifty-fifty chance of you ever leaving here alive.

The inside of the cabin was pretty much as you expected, with exclusively wooden furniture, a couple of guns propped up against the wall and the faint smell of cigars hanging in the air. It was also pretty messy but, from your experience, that was typical of single male accommodation. The only thing that did throw you off was the lack of taxidermied animal heads hanging above the mantelpiece. Maybe that would be his next hobby.

You heard the whiskey pop open and the clink of glasses as he reached them out of a tall cabinet.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks. I don’t have guests very often.”

You glanced over to a pile of screwed-up clothes on the couch. “You don’t say?”

He took the hint, clearing them before inviting you to sit down. The two of you drank and made small talk for a while. It was pretty nice. He definitely enjoyed his liquor, though, cause you were only on your second glass by the time he’d finished off the rest of the bottle.

It hadn’t been your intention to take advantage of his tipsiness this evening, but you couldn’t help probing a little now he was nice and loosened up.

“So, how’d you end up with Akita?”

He glanced down to the dog whose head was resting on your lap, eyes closed as you softly stroked her head. “She’s a service dog.”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I got her when I left the army. I’m not great in crowded places anymore but I didn’t feel like being all alone out here. She helps me out.”

“That’s nice,” you ran one of her ears between your fingers, “I see why the two of you are so close now.”

He waited a few seconds, watching you with a vague hint of warmth dawning on his face before speaking again. “How’d you end up out here?”

“Nothing interesting, I’m afraid. I just like the peace.” He scoffed. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.”

“S’just…” he looked embarrassed, “it was a helluva lot more peaceful for me here before you showed up.”

“I’ll bet it was. Shame you can’t intimidate me into leaving you alone.”

He chuckled. “Well, as far as pains in my ass go, I guess you’re not so bad.”

“Is that the nicest thing you’ve ever said to another person?”

“I think so.”

He smiled, you were pretty sure for the first time ever. Not bad at all. You looked down at your empty glass then across to the other side of the room, quickly realising that the whiskey had hit you like a train, and that it was probably time for you to go to bed. You had a habit of embarrassing yourself after too many drinks.

“I should get back, it's pretty late.”

“I’ll walk you.” You shook your head firmly but he didn’t back down, adding while pulling on his coat, “I don’t want you gettin’ lost or mauled by a bear.”

“Damn, you’re so much nicer when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Despite your protests, he did end up accompanying you on the moonlit stroll back to your tower, the fresh forest air swiftly sobering you up while Bucky’s knuckles occasionally grazed against yours. He even insisted on walking you to the top of the stairs, pausing as you rooted around in your pocket for the keys.

“Well, goodnight,” you pushed the door open, stepping inside and turning back around to face him, “I weirdly had a really nice evening.”

“Charming.”

You expected him to just walk away after that, cause he wasn’t exactly one for niceties, but he stayed where he was. The atmosphere between you suddenly changed, the look that settled on his face sending an electric chill down your neck and along both of your arms. He took a step towards you. What the fuck was happening?

Your answer came swiftly and suddenly as he dropped his head and firmly pressed his mouth against yours, hands perching themselves slightly awkwardly on your shoulders. He’d obviously not done this for a while. You just stayed still, frozen with shock. It was nice, it really was, but fucking hell were you confused.

He pulled away, his face immediately dropping when he saw yours all scrunched up.

“Shit, did you not want-”

“No, it’s not that, I just… well to be honest I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, yeah. I kinda did,” he shrugged slightly, “but I don’t anymore.”

“How romantic.”

Chuckling at his frankness, you took hold of his hands and manoeuvred them downwards, placing them in a less wooden position on your hips. He nodded, looking as though he was taking mental notes.

“It’s been a while.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

You got another smile from him before he moved in again, softer this time, while you reciprocated by cupping his rough face between your hands. The good news was that he was obviously a fast learner, but the bad news was that he was apparently too much of a gentleman to try and push things any further, so he pulled away after just a few seconds and took a step back. Considerate asshole.

He scratched the back of his head. “I’m gonna be away for a few days, there’s a big job on the other side of the park, but I’ll be back next Friday.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Sounds good.”

He flashed a warm grin before disappearing down the stairs. You pinched yourself.

—

Tuesday, July 11th. Week 6.

You’d only just finished frantically tidying up when a knock sounded on your door. You really appreciated your supervisor taking the time to check up on you but, Jesus, she could’ve given you more than half an hour's notice.

“Hey, Angela,” you tried to hide how out of breath you were as you invited her in, “nice to see you.”

“Yes, you too. How have you been getting on?”

“All good, thanks. No complaints.”

“Really?” She planted herself down on the chair you’d set out and opened up the comically oversized file from under her arm, “because I hear you’ve been having some trouble with our maintenance manager.”

That was an understatement.

“Oh, yeah, a bit. But it’s all sorted now.”

She sighed and looked gravely towards you over the top of her glasses. “Look, I won’t beat around the bush, I’m here to collect evidence to support my argument for his termination.”

“You’re- his- what?”

“I need to take a statement from you about his behaviour.”

“You want to get rid of him?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Are you serious? You said yourself he’s impossible to work with.” She looked down and started reeling off the notes she’d already made in the file. “He doesn’t do his paperwork, he’s rude, he’s aggressive, he sets his dog on people.”

All good points.

“He’s good at his job though, right?”

“I’m afraid that just isn’t enough to cut it anymore.” She clicked her pen and poised it above the paper. “So, can you help me out?”

—

Friday, July 14th. Week 6.

You raced over to Bucky’s cabin at the crack of dawn, more eager to speak with him than you ever had been before. It was strange, if Angela had come to you asking for help just a couple of weeks ago, you probably would’ve obliged. Now, the prospect of working in the park for the next four and a half months without him actually felt pretty bleak.

You arrived at the cabin, he wasn’t there. Maybe you’d been a little overeager. Taking a seat on his porch step, you watched the birds fluttering in and out of the trees for what felt like hours before you heard his truck approaching. Your legs immediately sprung into action and launched you towards it. He pulled up, smiling at you through the windscreen. You yanked the door open.

“We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Lots of stuff.”

“Can I unpack first?”

“No.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just, come on.”

You dragged him out of the car and into the cabin, noticing that the place looked much tidier than it did on your last visit. When did he have time to do that? He’d been away since Saturday, did he do a big clean after getting back from your tower last Friday night? Weird.

He dropped his bag by the door and Akita ran in behind the two of you, settling herself on the couch. He leaned against the wall as you paced around nervously.

“So what’s up?”

“Angela’s trying to get you fired.”

“Again?”

“I’m serious, Buck. She’s got this huge file full of evidence and statements against you, she wanted one from me too.”

“Did you give her one?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Really?”

“No, you dick.” You stopped in front of him, giving him a stern glare. “Look, you have to sort your shit out. She really wants you gone, you can’t give her any more ammunition.”

“What can I do?”

“File your paperwork, for a start. I can help with that.”

“Alright.” He pushed himself off the wall and gestured for you to follow, marching towards a closed door at the back of the cabin, but pausing and spinning back around just before reaching it. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s fine, I do so much paperwork now it’s basically second nature.”

“No, I meant thanks for warning me. I wouldn’t have blamed you for just letting me get fired.”

“Well, as far as pains in my ass go, I guess you’re not so bad.”

He smiled affectionately and you reciprocated, but all the joy immediately melted from your face when he opened the mysterious door to reveal piles and piles of unorganised papers stacked precariously on a rickety wooden desk. You shot him daggers, he just shrugged.

It took hours to get things in order, a total of twelve bulging envelopes of paperwork going back months eventually getting assembled. You also, somehow, managed to convince him to go and drop them off at basecamp in person, apologising to Angela in the process. You dreaded to think of the speech he’d come up with but you just hoped to god that it was better than nothing at all.

It was a nervous wait in the cabin with Akita. She could obviously tell you were stressed, because she kept pawing at your leg and forcing her head onto your lap, each time managing to pull you out of your anxiety spiral. She was good.

He reappeared through the door just over an hour later, the look on his face telling you it was good news. You shot to your feet.

“Well?”

“She’s agreed to give me a second chance.”

“Oh thank fuck for that,” you let out a relieved chuckle, “for a second there I thought you were gonna abandon me.”

“Not a chance.”

He rushed towards you, an excited yelp escaping from your lips as he grabbed hold of your waist and let the two of you fall onto the couch. Akita bolted and just about avoided a firm crushing. His mouth connected to yours, your bodies shuffling around until they found a comfortable position in such a compact area. His head moved downwards, stubble grazing across your jaw, lips starting to plant kisses against your neck and collarbone. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed but, when they opened again, you found yourself nose to nose with an incredibly confused looking hound.

“Uh, Buck?”

“What?” His voice was muffled against your skin.

“Does the dog usually watch or…?”

His head shot up, face contorting into a puzzled expression. “I don’t know, this is new territory for me.”

The two of you looked from her, to each other, and then back to her.

“Maybe let her outside.”

“Yeah.”

—

Friday, October 13th. Week 19.

You couldn’t believe how quickly the last few months had gone. Now you were getting close to the end of your time in the park, you were dreading it being over even more than you’d expected.

This job really hadn’t played out at all as you’d expected, but you could honestly say that you wouldn’t trade the time you’d spent with Bucky for anything. You were just nervous about what would come next. The park wouldn’t need fire lookouts until next summer and it was basically impossible to secure any other job there during the winter months. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to travel miles every time you wanted to see him, the walk from the tower was long enough.

What you didn’t know, however, was that he’d been thinking about it too.

When you went to collect his report, just like every Friday, and he invited you in, just like every Friday, there was something new in the living room. A set of beautiful, carved wooden shelves.

“Oh, wow,” you walked over and ran your fingertips across the smooth grain, “did you make these?”

“Yeah, took me weeks.”

“They’re beautiful. What are they for?”

He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering his mouth to your ear. “Well, I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

“How?”

“I spend ages makin’ them, but I don’t have enough stuff to fill ‘em. Was wondering if you’d want to put all your stuff here.”

“Why would I-” Your heart jumped and you spun round in his grasp, eyes widening as they met his. “Are you serious?”

“Mhmm. It’ll be nice having someone to talk to who can actually talk back.”

You glanced over to Akita, laughing as her ears pinned back as if she knew she’d just been slandered. “Just wait a few weeks and you’ll be begging to go back to barking.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am right, but that’s too bad, cause you’re stuck with me now.”

“Sounds good to me.”

—

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober Day 5: Blind Date

Prompt: Jumin's Birthday / Date Night

Characters: Full RFA (sans Rika)

Wordcount: 864

Author's Notes: Sometimes you just need a cute found family ficlet, ok?

You can read this on Ao3 if you want!

Jumin took another sip of his wine and seriously considered the woman across the table from him. She looked like someone had handed her a blurry photograph of Assistant Kang and told her to “be this”.

“So, what are your goals in life?” He asked, once they’d ordered dinner - himself, his usual steak, her ‘just a small salad, please’. As though that would be enough calories to properly nourish her.

“I just want to stay at home and raise a family.” She said, and then clumsily batted her eyelashes at him.

He wasn’t gay, but he almost wished he was.

“Do you have any hobbies?” He asked, trying to get any kind of a response that wasn't just blind simpering obedience. "None worth mentioning."

“I will be gone often on business, and unable to take you along with me. What will you do while I am gone?”

“Oh, take care of the house, of course. And our eventual children."

He sighed. “If I were to buy you a new dress, what designer would you prefer?”

“Oh, I trust your eye for fashion, Jumin.” So, fashion wasn’t something she appreciated…

“If we were to go on a trip, where would you like to go?” She perked up just a little bit at that question, but he soon realized it was because the waitstaff were bringing dinner, not because of what he asked, as her response failed to please him, again.

“Anywhere you want to go is fine by me, I’m sure you need a vacation what with how hard you work!”

Their food arrived, and he picked at it dispassionately. The catch of the day had more personality than this woman. She practically inhaled her salad, looking as though she’d both never eaten a day in her life and never heard of table manners. He’d had enough.

“Thank you.” He said, standing. “I have somewhere else I need to be.”

He nodded to the waitstaff, who knew the situation well and would simply put dinner against the card he had on file with them, and walked out.

On the drive back to his apartment, Jumin logged into the RFA chat, hoping to see some friendly faces, but the chatroom was completely empty. Driver Kim attempted to cheer him up, but it did nothing. Another birthday spent drinking port alone on his balcony, it looked like.

Seven’s phone alerted him to the fact that Jumin had checked into the RFA chat, which was empty, just as predicted.

“Alright everyone, looks like he’s on the way back. Is everything ready?”

Around Jumin’s penthouse, everyone was arrayed, dressed normally except for the coordinating pairs of cat ears on top of each of their heads.

Yoosung and Jaehee had made drinks and snacks, Zen had compiled a playlist of piano music for the background, and Seven had brought some social board games to play, in case they couldn’t think of enough things to talk about. Even V was there, Elizabeth the 3rd sleeping on his lap like the queen she was. And every single one of them had agreed to wear cat ears in homage to Jumin Han on this, his birthday.

It didn’t take long for Jumin to arrive, tapping in the passcode to his apartment, the rhythm somehow elegant despite it simply being button presses.  Elizabeth heard the sound and jumped off of V’s lap, going to greet Jumin at the door as if she were a dog.  Initially, the man did not notice anything amiss in his home, he simply smiled and greeted his cat, and then he looked up and locked eyes with Zen, then glanced around and noticed the rest of the RFA. In his home. Wearing cat ears.

“What are you all doing here?” He asked, quietly. 

“Happy birthday!” everyone replied, unpracticed but joyful nonetheless. Yoosung popped a confetti popper at him, and Jumin shook his head, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“What would you all done if I’d actually had a successful date and brought a woman back late tonight instead of coming home early to be with my cat?” He asked, honestly curious.

“Gotten the hell out of the way, trust fund.” Zen said with a wink.

“You go on blind dates once a week at this point, Mr. Han.” Jaehee said with a raised eyebrow. “If you were going to find the one, I have my doubts that it is going to be at one of these arranged dinners.”

“Hear, hear.” V said, chuckling.

“Ah, V!” Jumin said, his eyes lighting up. “You’re here as well… wait a minute.” Jumin looked around again. “You’re all wearing cat ears?”

“We are!!” Yoosung grinned, and adjusted his.

"Yes, even me." Zen said, as if that were part of the question. "It's your birthday."

“Hm.” Jumin looked perturbed.

“We can take them off if you want…” Jaehee said, though she seemed legitimately concerned that he wasn’t pleased.

“That’s not it!” Seven said, and reached behind him to grab a pair of classy black ears that he’d set aside special for Jumin. “Here you go, Juju. Now you can match.”

Jumin smiled and took the cat ears, settling them in his hair.

“Now,” He said with a true smile on his face. “We all look like family.”

Any requests? Hit up my ask box, there's plenty of October left to go.

Happy birthday, Jumin!

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplaying Races 16: Honorable Mentions

So we’ve covered every possible playable ancestry published in First Edition… Well, almost. There are a handful more that I didn’t deign to do full entries on, but I figured I’d cover them today anyway.

The first of these two are the beings of Ib, which are, like yesterday’s Yaddithians, another Lovecraft reference, specifically to the short story “The Doom that came to Sarnath”.

Essentially, in the story, the humans living in Sarnath, a city-state in the Dreamlands (yes, there are whole-ass human colonies living in the Dreamlands in the Cthulhu Mythos, and by extension the Lost Omens setting), came to hate their amphibian neighbors of the neighboring Ib for their appearance, unnerving silence, and worship of a fearsome Great Old One known as Bokrug. And so they slaughtered them, leaving none alive and stealing the idol of Bokrug as a trophy.

However, when the high priest of the Sarnathians was found dead with the word “DOOM” painted on the walls in his blood and the idol missing, that was the first sign that something was amiss, but in the coming centuries the humans became forgetful and decadent, the dread promise of vengeance from a dead people all but forgotten, and on the millennial anniversary of their victory over Ib, the waters rose up and green shadows swept over the city, slaughtering the humans just as they had long ago.

Now, there are two reasons I didn’t cover the Beings of Ib in these entries. The first of which is the fact that they are almost all certainly dead, with only rare colonies or the possibility of an original homeworld somewhere in the stars being the exception, while potential others could be resurrected by truly powerful magic.

The second reason is because while most of their abilities are pretty nondescript and basic, the fact their pliable and uniform bodies are immune to crits and precision is a bit much to allow at most tables. But the option is there, in theory.

The second of these options is also Paizo-published, but comes from a crossover tie-in comic called Worldscape, in which Pathfinder iconics get to team up with heroes from other franchises, in this case, Tars Tarkas, a mighty warrior among the green martians of the Barsoom series by Edgar Rice Burroughs!

Naturally, the comic included playable stats for green martians, so that is neat if you ever wish to play one, but I decided not to go over them because the Lost Omens setting already has a mars-expy and even a four-armed warrior martian people-expy build into it in the form of the shobhad. This makes green martians somewhat superfluous unless you really, really want to specifically replicate the abilities of green martians or want to use them as a starting point to convert into the shobhad themselves if you want to play one.

Finally, I would like to give one last shout out to the multitude of various third-party ancestries out there, from the individual homebrews to the obscure self-published web supplements to even those that are even endorsed by Paizo itself. If you can imagine it, you can make a way to play it, and It’s a blessing to see folks be creative out there.

That will do for today, but I have some final thoughts I’ll save for tomorrow before we close the book on this for good.

[commanderauri-art]

WIP piece for Thief: Lock and Key - Garrett's Return

Not sure when I’ll get back to posting actual chapters but I needed to write out Garrett’s return when the actual events of the game start. Have had this idea brewing for a hot minute!

——

The clock tower appeared to be very much the same as when he’d left it that night his life changed forever. When Erin vanished during the ritual and he gained… something new. He paused long enough on his jaunt out from his chat with the Queen of Beggars to peer at his own reflection. His right eye was glowing an oddly pale blue color. Strange. He did find that he could see much better in the dark and his normally finely tuned senses picked up on sounds he didn’t typically hear. Whatever had gone on during Northcrest’s ritual had clearly affected him.

He’d stopped off briefly at the Crippled Burrick to check in with Basso, as if nothing dramatic had taken place, only to find out he had been missing for a full year. Basso was confused but didn’t linger long on the subject. He assumed Garrett had taken a job or some such and finally decided to grace them all with his presence at last. His friend, and Garrett used the term loosely, did let him know Elizabeth had been coming to the clock tower for months after he’d disappeared. She’d left behind notes, small letters, letting him know of the goings on around the city. It was clear she didn’t want him to feel like she’d forgotten him.

When they had last spoke, their conversation had ended on rather uncertain terms. He felt some sort of attraction towards the woman. Garrett admired her strength and her wit and had missed their banter but nothing serious could really take place between them, could it? If she was seen dallying with him, Northcrest would no doubt interrogate his own cousin and then have her tried and hanged. Visiting her wing of the mansion had to be enough. Or he could just end it now. He’d been gone a year. Maybe her feelings had changed. She had to believe him either dead or just gone.

He’d caught glimpses of her traveling through one of the markets near the dock. She had dressed down, not wearing any of her usual finery. That she saved for dinners and exalted guests. She'd also muddied up her face. Soot marred her pale cheeks and the front of her apron. Her hair was bound up in a messy bun, stray strands framing her face.

Garrett had watched her for a time, hiding in the shadows, and she seemed to sense that. Her head had whipped around quickly, eyes scanning her immediate surroundings. The thief hardly moved a muscle as her gaze passed over him. She knew something was amiss but couldn’t place it much as she tried. Finally, the vendor drew her attention once again and Garrett slipped away, his heart hammering at his ribs. Flapping wings snapped him out of his reverie and Garrett turned to look over at one of the open windows. A familiar bird was hopping around on the ledge, some twine and paper attached to her leg.

“Jenivere. Someone I’m actually happy to see,” he murmured, approaching the pigeon. Jenivere dutifully hopped up into the thief’s hand and held still as he unraveled the message before flying away into the rafters above him for a well deserved nap. Basso again. Adding in a few extra details he’d forgotten to mention in their previous conversation. Garrett crumpled the note up in his palm before tossing it into the fire contained in a bin nearby when his eye caught on a stack of papers resting on a set of drawers. Odd. How did he miss that.

The flowing scrawl revealed the missives had been written by Elizabeth. Garrett carefully rifled through the stack, nearing the ones at the bottom.

Garrett…

He could practically hear her voice as she wrote.

It's already been a couple weeks since I’d last seen you. Basso says you’re likely away on a job. I wish… I wish we’d been able to speak before you left. Something clearly happened at the manor leading up to you vanishing. I had been away at the time of the explosion but it decimated a good portion of the place. Luckily, it was nowhere near my wing and, as far as I’m aware, no one had been killed. But Baron Northcrest was certainly affected by it. I’m wagering a guess the stress aged him but something feels… off. I’m going to try and look into it.

In the meantime, I’ll write to you every week when I can and leave these letters here since I obviously don’t have an address to mail them off to. I’m hoping you’ll return soon.

E

Garrett set the opened note aside and filtered through the others till he arrived at one dated eleven months after the last.

Garrett,

I don’t know why I keep writing these letters to you. You’ll never read them. The dead or the missing clearly don’t have need of the weekly goings on around here. Entering and leaving the clock tower is painful. I don’t know why I continue to visit. Basso still doesn’t know where you are. He won’t admit it to my face but he thinks you’re dead. You and Erin and that you both were involved in whatever happened at the manor nearly a year ago.

I suppose it was only a matter of time? I don’t want to believe it. I don’t. You weren’t like the other blackhands, like I know many, but you were different. I just wish I could’ve had the chance to say goodbye. I know you didn’t wouldn’t… I know nothing could truly happen between us but I wish wanted to speak to you one last time. I can’t ever say these words out loud to anyone but Lottie but I miss you, Garrett. You were really the only man who saw me for me and cared nothing about my status.

I need to stop writing these letters. I know I need to move on. I just feel this little kernel of hope that maybe I’ll see you before you see me. Next month will likely be my last letter to you. I keep saying that but it may have to happen.

I’m sorry.

E

Garrett loosed a slow sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding up until that point. Blotches of ink stained the page as if she’d been crying while writing it. He set the rest of the unread stack, including the opened letters, back down and braced his hands against the table. He shook his head, his mind rereading her words. For once, Garrett had been so lost in thought he failed to hear a set of footsteps walking up the wooden stairway behind him until a plank loudly creaked. The thief whirled around on his heels, a gloved hand already reaching for a weapon, when he froze in place.

Standing at the top of the stairs, one hand resting on the banister and holding a lantern in the other, was Elizabeth. She was decked out in her nightly attire: a set of leathers similar to Garrett’s, including a cowl, cloak and flexible set of boots. A mask wrapped the bottom half of her face leaving her eyes uncovered. She stared at him unblinking for a few heartbeats. He could see her fingers twitch, as if she wanted to touch him.

“Garrett?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Is that… Is that really you?” It was like if she spoke too loudly, she’d shatter the illusion. Who could blame her? Garrett swallowed past a sudden dry patch in his throat as he looked back at her before finally nodding once.

“It’s me, Lizzie,” he answered in the same low tone. The use of her shortened name tugged at something within him. It felt like years since he’d last said it aloud.

She didn’t move. At least, not initially. Even with half her face hidden, Garrett could easily see the emotions at war there plain as day. Nearly a full minute had passed before Elizabeth carefully set her lantern down and peeled back her hood and mask. Then she slowly approached him like she would a scared animal. It seemed to be more for her benefit than anything else.

Once she was within arm’s length, Elizabeth held out a hand as if to touch him but came up short. He could see her trembling ever so slightly. Her hand then dropped back down to her side. If he could cross that gap between them but it was impossible. It felt like an invisible barrier suddenly formed between them.

“You’re back,” she stated in a monotone voice.

“I am.”

“I thought… I guess it doesn’t matter what I think. Or, you know what? It does. Where in the hells did you go?” Anger had finally cracked through that thin shell Elizabeth had wrapped around herself since approaching him. “Basso had no idea. Didn’t remember ever giving you a job that-that would’ve taken you so far away. You never wrote back. You never-“ She paused long enough to take a breath before fixing him with a hard stare. “No one saw you. And before you say anything, I know that’s the point of being a thief or at least a good one at that.” Her hands balled into fists as she fought back whatever litany of words that threatened to break through.

“I thought you were dead and now, Gods, how long have you even been back? Did you just decide to waltz on back here like nothing happened? Do you even care that people were worried about you and Erin?” His partner’s, if you could call Erin that, name came out sounding detached as Elizabeth spoke. As if the other girl had been an afterthought that suddenly came to mind.

“Are you done?” Garrett asked in a controlled voice when a few seconds had lapsed between them. Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow up in response earning her a long suffering sigh from the thief. His own anger at the situation flared up in return. Including guilt. “My comings and goings are my business. No one else’s unless we’ve signed a contract.” He soon began to pace back and forth, trying to get rid of this pent up energy that came on out of seemingly nowhere.

“I was dead. Or off in some sort of purgatory. I don’t know.” That verbal admission… While he had thought about it several times before, saying it out loud only served to further cement the matter. He really didn’t know where the hells he had been transported to and that, deep down, did frighten him.

“I don’t know what happened back at the manor. My memory of that particular night is hazy. All I remember is that we interrupted the ritual, Erin fell through the glass then nothing. I woke up in one of the dead carts. Queen of Beggars had her men hauling me off before the City Watch killed them. I didn’t… It wasn’t my intent to leave you in the dark like this.”

“Would you have even told me given the chance?” Elizabeth asked, watching the man carefully. It seemed like some of her anger deflated.

Garrett stopped his pacing to gaze at her, pausing just a second too long. “Elizabeth, you think you know the world I live in but you don’t.” His voice hardened. Why couldn’t she listen? “Not everything can be tied up neatly like in those books you read. We live in two entirely different worlds. It isn’t just a few pickpockets and the occasional bad deal or two. Every night, every job I take on, my life is on the line. Whether it’s from the City Watch or the people who would slit my throat without a second thought. You think you understand it but you don’t.”

Without realizing it, Garrett had taken a step into Elizabeth’s space forcing the woman back. Fear briefly glinted in her eyes but it was quickly dashed away. She was determined to make her point and Garrett respected that, however foolish or misplaced it may be.

“I may not fully comprehend it but I’m willing to try,” she retorted. Garrett shook his head, whether in response to her statement or the overall situation he didn’t know.

“Then you’re a fool. You can’t toe this line and walk away. All you see is the excitement and adventure of it all. You’re blind to the fact that someone could walk by and gut you just on the off chance of stealing a bit of coin to make it through the next day. There are people out there that would snuff out your life and not lose any sleep over it. I know you care and that’s the problem.”

He’d barely been back long, had barely seen her and already he knew had to push her away. He should’ve done this from the start? Why did he let it go on for so long? His heart ached but he refused to let the emotion show through. “You shouldn’t choose this. Me. Getting involved in… I am not dragging you into this with me. I wouldn’t be able to protect you from the consequences.”

It wasn’t as if she needed protecting. Garrett knew she was capable of handling her own but he didn’t want the darkness of his world marring her own. The rich folk were certainly no saints and were a deadly enough breed in their own rights. They had more power and money to fill a small thimble than most blackhands had in their entire lives. Still… There was that potential that Elizabeth could get hurt. Killed even. And Garrett wanted to head this venture off before it could go any further.

He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her.

“What are you saying? What, that we’re done? Everything leading up to this point has been nothing but a farce?” He hated the way her voice turned so brittle. Elizabeth was breaking inside and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. “You know, I am so damned tired of men getting to choose what I should and shouldn’t do. What’s good for me and what’s not.” The laugh she let out was a bitter sound. She placed her hands on her hips, casting her attention to the rafters above them as she took in a shuddering breath before settling back onto him.

“I thought you were different, Garrett. I really, truly did but I guess that was just one of the many lies you decided to tell me.” Elizabeth smiled at him but it was just as fake as fool’s gold. “Don’t bother returning to the manor. The guards will know where to look.” With that, Elizabeth spun on her heel and scooped up her lantern on her way down the tower’s stairs. Her footsteps echoed up to Garrett before fading away entirely.

The Master Thief stood there as if rooted to the spot. This was what he wanted, right? Her, out of the picture. Safe. Alive. Then why did it hurt so badly?

—-

When he stepped out into the cool night air, he hadn’t meant to make for the Cripple Burrick but he wound up there all the same. He wound his way through the back alley entrance, sidestepping drunkards pissing in the corners or singing bawdy tunes off key. The soft glow of the gaslights should’ve been a welcoming sight but his mood had certainly soured since speaking to Elizabeth.

The patrons inside were their usual mix of folk. The ale was being passed around expertly, the local sloop in stock and on tap. The warm smell of bread mixed with soup made its way up Garrett’s nose reminding him he hadn’t eaten much recently. He slipped the barkeep a few coins in exchange for a hot meal and took a seat in the farthest corner of the tavern, keeping his cowl low over his face. The City Watch frequented this place often enough but wouldn’t start a fight upon seeing someone like him. The Burrick was one of few places that actually sold decent enough food while the ale was shit.

Even tucked into the shadows the way he was couldn’t hide him long from Basso. The portly man shoved his way onto the booth cushion opposite the thief, a mug of beer already in hand. Basso looked like he hadn’t shaved in days but his coat was cleaner than the last time Garrett had seen it.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to see you back so soon,” Basso said by way of greeting. He took a hearty swig of piss colored ale and set the glass back down with a heavy clunk. Garrett could feel the other man staring at him, expecting a response. When he received none, Basso pressed on. “You look like shit.”

Garrett’s gaze flicked up and his eyes narrowed a fraction but he remained quiet.

“You able to speak with Lizzie?” Basso asked, swirling his drink around before leaning back in his seat. The aging fabric squeaked weakly. “Poor girl’s been worried sick about you. Gotta say, you always seem to land the pretty ones. Gotta be the leather and the hood. Gives ya an air of mystique about you.”

It took a monumental effort to keep from rolling his eyes but Garrett managed it. Barely. He returned his attention to his meal, trying to tune Basso out as much as he could.

“Garrett, you got that look on your face.” It was the concern in his friend’s voice that had the thief tipping his head up just enough to show vague interest. “Something happened and I want to know what.”

Garrett scoffed softly at that and bit off a chunk of bread, chewing it mechanically as he mulled over his next choice of words as Basso quietly waited. “I talked to Lizz-Elizabeth,” the thief finally said in a low voice.

“Oh? I’m sure she was happy to see you.” Basso had picked up his mug but set it back down on the grimy wooden table when Garrett spoke again.

“Not exactly.” Garrett pulled off a piece of bread and gently rolled it between his fingers. “She was angry. Angry about my disappearance. Angry I hadn’t said anything.”

“I’m wagerin’ a guess it got pretty ugly.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Garrett mustered a rueful smile at that. “We… exchanged a few harsh words and she was just so damned adamant about being around me that I… called her a fool for doing so.”

Basso grunted and shook his head, not exactly sympathetic but not unsympathetic either. He knew the world they both lived in. He knew full well what it meant to deal with shady figures and cut harsh deals. The sacrifices one had to make in order to survive.

“You’re afraid, Garrett. Afraid of losing people. Afraid of them gettin’ too close.” That earned him a harsh glare but Basso continued unphased. “You are. You’re afraid of lettin’ her in and seeing everything that culminated in your life up to this point. You’re worried that if she sees you for who you really are, that she’ll walk out of your life for good. You probably figure that it’s already going to happen so why not speed up the process?” Basso folded his large hands on the table. “You think she can’t handle all of this, yourself included, but you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” Garrett nearly snapped back, his temper flaring. “She doesn’t belong with me. She deserves-“

“She deserves to choose for herself,” Basso shot back, a sharp edge to his tone. His raised voice drew a few nearby patrons, quizzical looks on their faces, but it didn’t take long for them to return to their meals. “You don’t get to decide that for her, Garrett. She’s a strong woman. Stronger than you give her credit for. If she decides to be with you then that’s her choice to make. But you have to stop pushing her away because you’re too scared to let her in.”

Garrett opened his mouth to fire off some retort to shut the other man up but paused. He replayed that memory of his and Elizabeth’s, albeit brief and unhappy, reunion. If she didn’t care, why would she leave a stack of letters he’d never read? Why would she leave her balcony door open late at night with a plate of food set aside for him? If she truly didn’t care, she would’ve turned his sorry ass back out onto the streets when he was so badly injured.

Basso watched the wheels turn inside the thief’s head and took a swig of his drink, downing more than half of its contents. “You know I’m right and you’re hatin’ to admit it,” he remarked matter of factly.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” was all Garrett allowed before dropping his shoulders, feeling drained suddenly. “You honestly think I can fix this.”

“I think you can fix whatever you’re willing to fight for,” his friend answered simply with a shrug. “But it starts with you stopping this damned running.”

Garrett’s mouth drew into a thin line as his gaze dropped down to his partially eaten meal. Basso was well and truly right for a change. He knew he had to find Elizabeth, make this right. If she wasn’t willing to take him back then he can’t say he didn’t try. The thief nodded to himself. “All right. I’ll fix it.”

Basso raised his glass slightly in a silent toast before leaning back in his seat, mildly curious how this was going to pan out.

—-

He had made the trek out to Northcrest manor so many times to the point Garrett would be able to navigate it through the fog. This time, however, he was filled with uncharacteristic apprehension. Anxiety had sunk its sharp claws into his chest as he stalked across the rooftops and dodged the patrolling guard. As far as he could tell, security hadn’t been doubled, so maybe- No. He wasn’t going to hope she hadn’t mentioned his presence to the manor’s captain. Better to go in expecting company.

Before long, the manor rose up to meet him and Garrett soon located Elizabeth’s wing. A light flickered within her room. She had to be inside or it could be a ruse. Thankfully, Garrett had stocked up prior to leaving. It never hurt to be too prepared though he hoped a fight wasn’t about to be on his hands. Thick, crawling vines of ivy had woven its way up this side of the wall. Funny, that wasn’t here a year ago. It helped with his route toward her balcony. When he climbed over the railing, he noticed the door was open, the sheer curtains gently flapping in the breeze.

Was she actually expecting him?

It was almost too painful to hope for. A quick peek inside revealed it to be void of everyone save for Elizabeth who was sitting at her vanity, absentmindedly running a brush through her long, damp hair. She must’ve just bathed given the plush robe she wore and the faint smell of rose petals wafting out his way.

Easing up out of his crouch, Garrett pushed open the door, letting the squeaky hinges announce his presence. Elizabeth didn’t turn around, opting to watch his reflection in the mirror before her. He stood on the threshold, waiting. After an agonizingly long time, she finally did face him, setting aside the brush. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes which looked puffy and red. That could either have been from a hot bath or, worse, she’d been crying.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see right now,” Garrett said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. He tugged down his face mask and let his arms fall to his sides. “A lot… happened since I came back. I’m still trying to piece it together and I let my frustration get to me. And I took that out on you. I wanted to apologize for what happened back at the clock tower.” Elizabeth remained quiet as he spoke, running her index finger over the tip of her thumb nail as if to distract herself.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. With everything that went on with the ritual and Erin, I lashed out. And for what I said, I was trying to keep you out because I was… scared. Of seeing the life I lead. The dangers. The kind of man I am. I never wanted you to think you weren’t worth it but I couldn’t let you in. Not all the way. I thought I was doing both of us a favor if I kept you at arm’s length.”

During this, Elizabeth stood up from the bench and crossed the gap between them, stopping just by the end of her bed. There was about five feet left. Her expression softened slightly. “You don’t get to decide what’s safe for me, Garrett.” Her voice was still firm but it wasn’t as harsh or as bitter as before. “I’m not some fragile thing to be tucked away and only taken out on special occasions. I chose to be around you. I know the dangers. If Northcrest or the Thief Taker General or any number of people found out who I was associating with, there’d be hell to pay. I just wished you could’ve trusted me. But… I also put way too much on you right off the bat. I shouldn’t have come at you like I did and I shouldn't have said what I did. You weren’t the only one that was scared.” This time, her weak smile looked a little more genuine.

“I know.” Garrett breathed out heavily, regret coloring his voice. “I should have placed more stock in you. In us. It was hard to shake the feeling that if I had let you in, it would… ruin you. Or, worse, you’d ruin yourself for me.” Another frustrated sigh escaped. He wasn’t one to normally voice his fears but it needed to be done if he wanted to make things right.

“You let me decide that, okay?” Elizabeth walked the last few feet and stood a few inches away from the thief, gazing up at him. “I can handle whatever you throw at me. It may take a minute to fully puzzle out at times but I will handle it. But what I won’t deal with is you shutting me out.” She hesitated but for a fraction of a second before reaching out to clasp both his hands in hers, squeezing them both once. His palms practically dwarfed her own. The small gesture tugged at his heartstrings.

“I know this won’t be an easy thing to get through and deal with but I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’m not expecting you to let me in all the way immediately but this… this is a good start.”

The corner of the thief’s mouth quirked up in a faint smile and he nodded. That he could do. It seemed like a quiet, unspoken sense of understanding passed between them and the anxiety that had clung to Garrett on the way over released its hold a bit. It almost felt like the city outside was holding its breath as Elizabeth rose up on her toes. Garrett met her halfway, already picking up on her intent. He held back just a little, letting his lips graze across hers. He wanted to give Elizabeth an out, a chance to pull back but she chased him.

The thief could almost feel himself melting into her as he let go of her hands to wrap his arms around her waist. Both of her palms pressed gently on either side of his face as they embraced one another. He didn’t know how long they stood there before oxygen became a need and they parted, panting and breathless. No more anger seethed within them, no more distance. No more fear. Just a fragile promise of something that could grow and blossom between the two, if they let it.

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Moaning Myrtle,

Warnings/tags: potion making, use of potions, love potion, liquid luck, HP AU,

Words: 3955

a/n: I always had this idea that Felix Felicis would backfire if you didn't need luck for the task...so I did it with Steo 💚 for @voidstilesplease for helping me solidify the idea like a year ago! @msmischief101 I finally did it 😭

Ao3 link Masterlist

Just A Little Luck

---

There’s a few things to note about Hogwarts sixth year Stiles Stilinski. For starters, he’s a Slytherin. Top of his class too, he’s been in the Slug Club for years. The sorting hat was a little stumped with him at first. His proclivity for academics almost had Stiles placed in Ravenclaw, but he’s far too much of a trickster to be placed anywhere but Slytherin. Not to mention the ambition to achieve his goals no matter what it takes. 

He’s also an Animagus. Which was an incredibly hard process to learn as a third year. But Stiles did it by some miracle. It’s amazing running around in his fox form. The Forbidden Forest is his favorite. Most of the Centaurs know him by name since Stiles is one of the few Wizards to treat not only the forest, but them with respect. So they leave him to run in peace and even occasionally seek his help if something is amiss. 

Being academically inclined made his O.W.L.s a cake walk. As a muggle-born most of his peers expected him to struggle early on. Stiles was more than happy to prove them wrong. 

Professor Slughorn is obsessed with him. Which means that Stiles has far surpassed his fellow classmates. On his first day in the advanced potions course, he was the only one to successfully brew an invisibility potion. It’s just as difficult and temperamental as the Draught of Living Death. Slughorn was practically giddy even after all this time.

“No student can make that potion,” Myrtle sneers from where she’s perched above the sinks. 

“For the love of Merlin,” Stiles sets his book back on his lap with a huff. “Isn’t there some hopeless Prefect taking a bath that you can go and annoy?” 

As much sass as he’s giving the ghost, she’s not exactly wrong. Not a single student has ever successfully brewed Felix Felicis. Never. But there hasn’t been a single potion to beat Stiles yet. He’s not about to let it be Liquid Luck either. 

Stiles needs this. 

Because today he plans on asking Theo Raeken out on a date. Slytherin Quidditch Captain, same year as Stiles. And true heir to Salazar Slytherin. While Theo doesn’t seem to adhere to the Pureblood ideology, a little luck couldn’t hurt a muggle-born like Stiles. 

So he’s going to make this fucking potion. Preferably without Moaning Myrtle’s snark.

“You don’t have to be so rude, you know,” she whines, ghostly eyes filling with tears. 

Stiles hangs his head back with a sigh, “look, Myrtle,” he tries to stow his annoyance when he faces her again. “I have something really important I’m trying to do today, okay? I need all the help I can get.” 

“From what I hear, you’re the smartest in your year.” Myrtle squints at him, “what could you possibly need luck for?”

“Landing a date with Theo Raeken,” he mumbles.

“A boy,” she squeals, laughing as she soars towards him. “Why didn’t you say so?” 

“I-I’m sorry?” The Slytherin boy stares at her shocked. The girl has certainly never been this docile around him. But he needed privacy, so he came to the second floor girl’s bathroom.

“You should be.” She goes to shove his shoulder, but her hand goes right through him. Such an odd feeling, and cold. “Had I known it was about a boy, I’d have helped you.”

Stiles snorts, “you? Help someone? That doesn’t sound like the Myrtle that tried to drown me in the toilet last year.” 

“I’m only mean to those that are mean to me,” she says with a sly grin. 

“To be fair, I hadn’t realized which bathroom I ran into,” Stiles chuckles.

“You threw a book at my head!”

“I’m sorry! You startled me!”

Myrtle laughs, “come on. Let’s get you your boy. Add another tentacle.” 

“But the instructions specifically say two.”

She shrugs, “I watched Professor Slughorn brew some as a prize for his seventh year class. He put in three.”

Suddenly unsure as to whether or not Myrtle is actually helping him, Stiles cautiously puts in another Murtlap tentacle. The bubbling brown mixture lets out a puff of smoke before settling to a nice golden color. Just like the book suggests.

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims, pumping his fist in the air. “Myrtle, I could kiss you right now. Thank you.”

The ghost giggles, “go get your boy. I want to hear all about it,” Myrtle smiles before soaring in the air and diving into her toilet with a splash.

Stiles ladles the Felix Felicis into a small goblet so it can cool off. He hasn’t been in the girl’s bathroom- lavatory, loo, he’s really gotta get a handle on the lingo outside of America- for very long. If he moves quickly, he can catch Theo on his way to the Quidditch pitch. Hopefully alone so he can word vomit his request for a date with no peering eyes. Minimal shame is what he’s going for here. 

Giving the potion another moment to cool, Stiles tidies up his things and dusts his robe off. Slinging it back on so McGonagall doesn’t give him shit for not wearing it again, he gulps down the Liquid Luck. A smile glosses over his face and with a flourish of his wand, the cauldron and ingredients disappear. Hopefully clean and back in his room. 

Felix agrees. 

Feeling good about himself, Stiles saunters out into the halls in search of Theo. He’s had the biggest crush on his fellow Slytherin since he laid eyes on the boy underneath the Sorting Hat. Theo has always been nice to him on their carriage rides to the castle and around the school. They even studied for their O.W.L.s together. Theo has even sparked up a conversation or two with him if they’ve sat close enough during meals. Stiles can just never get over the hurdle of their lineage. That there’s the chance Theo’s parents stand by the not mixing of blood and expect their son to do the same. Times may have changed, but not for everyone. 

But that’s what Felix is for.

To put luck on his side and get the guy. 

Walking out the front door feeling absolutely giddy, Stiles finds Theo not far ahead and actually walking alone. The Quidditch captain has his broom resting on his shoulders, drumming his fingers against the wood. 

Not letting this chance go to waste, Theo is right there, Stiles runs. “Hey, Theo! Wait up,” he calls. 

The other Slytherin boy stops in his tracks, turning around with his brows pinched. When his eyes land on Stiles, Theo smiles and meets him halfway. 

“Thanks,” Stiles pants when he reaches the other boy. 

“You alright?” Theo chuckles, amused as he swings his broom off his shoulders. 

Stiles hunches over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. "Yeah," he huffs. Apparently Liquid Luck couldn't be bothered to help him in the athletic department. Rude.

Theo pats his shoulder, unknowingly grounding Stiles; he’s more fox than human at times with touch. "You should join the team. I'll make you a better runner in no time." 

"I'm a fantastic runner," Stiles stands back up. He nods his head to the side, "well, when I'm a fox, I am. Four legs are much faster than two." 

"Have you given any more thought to letting me see you as a fox?" Theo asks, almost shyly, looking at his feet. 

"I-" he honestly thought the other boy had been joking. And that was like two weeks ago. "You were serious?" 

The captain nods, "well, yeah. If you'd be comfortable with that. I think Animaguses are fascinating." Theo flashes him a gorgeous smile and his heart damn near melts. This is genuine Theo too. Because he’d asked about this before Stiles even took the potion.  "It's cool as hell that I'm friends with one. I'd love to see it." 

They've talked and studied together, but Stiles never thought the other boy would've considered them friends. 

"Yeah," Stiles clears his throat to hide the cheesy grin. "Just let me know when." 

"I'm gonna hold you to that," Theo playfully narrows his eyes at him, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. "Right," he jumps like he'd remembered something, " I gotta get to the pitch, I'll see you back at the common room." 

"Okay," Stiles waves, letting him go. "Oh shit. Theo hang on," he grabs the other boy’s arm, "I almost forgot what I wanted to ask you." 

"What's up?" He asks, not caring about the hand on him. Theo doesn't usually let people touch him outside of Quidditch. 

"I-" Stiles takes a breath, anxiety starting to creep in beside Felix. But that's what it's for. All he has to do is say the words. "I was wondering if you'd let me take you to the Three Broomsticks? You know," he sways on his feet, "as a date."

"Oh, uh, Stiles-" 

No. No, no, no, no, no. Felix was supposed to help this go well! His heart is plummeting in his chest. Stomach ready to fall out of his ass. He recognizes that tone a mile away. Stiles is being rejected. 

"I'm sorry. You're a great guy and I would love to  hang out with you, but I'm just not interested in you like that." Theo’s face twists in confusion. That Stiles even asked in the first place? "I- I'm really sorry. I gotta go," he nods before turning back towards the gate. 

Stiles watches him in shocked silence. What did he possibly do wrong? He made it right, Myrtle assured him of it. And seeing as how he, a non-Quidditch player, made it outside the castle after dinner, it had to have worked. 

"What the fuck just happened?" 

—

He doesn't attend classes for three days, or even leave bed just to go down to the common room. Madam Pomfrey came to check on him the second day. Seeing he wasn't ill, but riddled with nerves, she let him off. Nerves over seeing Theo again after being rejected, but she didn’t need to know that. It was plain to his friends he shares the room with that he was not doing so great. 

His only solace was when Liam, his friend and Beater on the team, came back to their room that night and said nothing about it. So Theo didn't tell anybody. 

That's something at least. 

On the other hand though, Stiles woke up on the fourth day with his robes soaked. 

"Shit," he mutters, waving his wand to dry it. He promised Myrtle that he'd tell her what happened. She must think he's blowing her off. Today is the last day Madam Pomfrey gave him to collect himself. Maybe moving around will do him some good. 

After quickly getting dressed, Stiles makes his way to the great hall. Most of the students have gone to their first classes of the day. Only a handful of sixth and seventh years with free periods remain. He nicks a muffin and a goblet of pumpkin juice from the Slytherin table before leaving. Making his way towards the girl's bathroom on the second floor with his head hung low.

Hopefully Myrtle isn't too pissed. It's not like he's been denying her or purposefully ignoring her. Stiles was just too mortified to leave his room. Wildly embarrassed and stuck in his feelings.

Carefully pushing open the door, Stiles pikes his head inside. "Whoa!" He shouts, jumping back and narrowly escaping a massive stream of water coming straight for his face. "Myrtle, it's me," Stiles says through the closed door. 

"Good," she snaps, followed by the sound of more water slapping the wood. 

"Listen, I haven't been leaving you hanging, I promise" he explains. "Theo, he-" Stiles sighs, might as well finally say the words out loud. "He turned me down." 

Myrtle’s head pops through the middle of the door, "what?" 

"He rejected me," Stiles slaps his thighs. The ghost's face falls and she retreats back into the bathroom. Skeptical that he's safe from more projectiles, Stiles pushes the door open again, finding Myrtle sitting by the sinks; she pats the space beside her. "I don't understand what I did wrong," Stiles says, plopping down beside her. 

"What happened?" 

Stiles recounts everything. How he made it out of the castle with ease when only Quidditch players are allowed out for practice. How nice Theo was to him in general and about him being an Animagus. The playful nature the other boy had about him being out of shape as a human.

Everything. 

"But when you asked him on a date, he said no," Myrtle looks just as confused as Theo had when he said no. "Maybe he doesn't like boys. I doubt Felix Felicis can change someone's sexual preferences." 

Stiles shakes his head, "no, he likes guys too. I've seen him making out with Talbot under the Quidditch stands in our fourth year." That isn’t an easy sight to forget. The two hottest guys in school making out with each other? Yeah, that’s burned into Stiles’ brain and at the tippy top of his spank bank. 

Don’t judge.

Myrtle hums, tapping her chin, "maybe they're still together?" 

"Nah, it was only the one time and Brett transferred to Durmstrang last year." Stiles presses the palms of his hands into his eyes and takes a deep breath. He hasn't cried over this yet and he's not about to do so now. "I just don't get it. The potion definitely worked." 

"You know," she giggles, a mischievous sound. He’s not entirely sure if he likes the sound. "If you want Theo so badly, you could just slip him a love potion. It's much easier to make than Liquid Luck." 

Stiles drops his hands, crossing his arms over his knees, "no. I don't want to force him into liking me. I just used Felix to get me one date.” The Slytherin boy lifts a finger, “just the one. If Theo didn't like me after that, then so be it. I just wanted a chance, Myrtle." 

"So use Amortentia to get you the date," the ghost says. "It's not long lasting," Myrtle tries to reason, "if it wears off in the middle of the date and he wants to leave, let him. But if he stays…" she trails off, leaving the Slytherin boy to fill in the blanks. 

"Then he actually likes me?" 

"I would say so, yes." 

"I guess I could tweak it," Stiles rubs his jaw, thinking out loud, "make it less potent. More of an attraction than an actual love potion. Just to make myself seem more appealing to him, you know? Just enough to get the date, that’s it." 

Myrtle smiles, "you certainly wouldn't be the first Wizard to change a spell or potion to have it work in their favor."

"You're right, I can do this." 

—

Once Slughorn saw how good Stiles was at brewing potions, he allowed the sixth year access to his ingredients whenever he wanted. Grabbing the necessary items for Amortentia was easy. Avoiding people on his way back to Myrtle’s lavatory, not so much. The one Prefect that stopped him was thankfully a Slytherin. So all Stiles had to do was tell a small fib that he was brewing a tonic for his nerves and was sent on his way. 

It's a really good thing that no one ever uses this bathroom anymore. The house elves still keep it clean so that Myrtle doesn't have to live eternity in filth, but they’re not due yet. Which is kind of pointless. The girl swims in toilet drains on the regular. Stiles doubts she cares about a little dust. On the other hand, the thought is probably nice though. 

And with no students being stupid enough to risk upsetting Myrtle, he's free to make his potion in peace. 

"I'm glad you're not the boy I thought you were," Myrtle says, looking over the ingredients littering the tile floor. 

Stiles snorts a laugh, "and I'm glad you're not like Peeves. I really can't stand him. You know he threw some poor Hufflepuff’s books on the floor because they didn’t like his jokes? The first year was in tears." 

"I’m not above making people cry,” Myrtle deadpans. “I just mean," she settles next to the cauldron that's coming to a boil, fiddling with her fingers, "it's nice to have a friend." Myrtle ducks her head, "I haven't had one of those in a really long time." 

The Slytherin boy's heart throbs, "I'm happy to be your friend, Myrtle." 

"So tell me about your boy," she giggles, lifting into the air to fly about the room. "Your Theo." 

Colorful smoke plumes from the cauldron, the spicy scent of cinnamon rolls wafts into his nostrils. Reminds him of early weekend mornings before his mom passed. Along with the smell of the Forbidden Forest after it rains, the perfect time for a little gray fox to go for a run. And something he can't quite place, spicy but a sharp sweetness almost like- holy shit. Theo's cologne. As if he didn't already know he was attracted to the fucking guy. 

Okay, now to just lessen the effects. 

"First of all," Stiles cocks an eyebrow at her, "he's not my Theo." 

"Oh, but you want him to be," she sings. "Come on, no one comes in here. Tell me about Theo, let me see him," Myrtle waves her hand in front of the potion as he adds half of a bezoar. 

If it's good enough to cure ailments, half of one should lessen the effects. At least he really hopes so. 

"Okay, okay," he shoos her off. "He's a few inches shorter than me, not noticeable really. His eyes are a beautiful blue," Stiles smiles, seeing them in his head. "But when the sun hits them just right, they look green." Like how they do every morning at the breakfast table. Talk about a way to start your day.

"He sounds handsome," Myrtle sighs, laying on her stomach, propping her head in her hands. 

"Very,” Stiles agrees. “He's captain of the Quidditch team," he tells the ghost, the smell of the brew becoming less intense. It's working! "Theo's a Slytherin like me, but from a very prominent bloodline." 

"Uh, Stiles," Myrtle says.

"I'm talking descended from Salazar himself," Stiles carries on, his rambling taking over. "That's why I used Liquid Luck. I-I didn't think that someone muggle-born would be accepted by his family. But I-I’m not a bad guy, you know? I just wanted a fair shot to prove myself."

"Stiles!" 

"What?" He snaps out of his rant to look up at her. 

"Would you say Theo has a strong jaw?" Myrtle asks. 

"I-" Stiles' mouth falls open in a frown. That's an odd question. "Yeah, I guess so. Why do you ask?" 

Myrtle doesn't answer, rather points behind Stiles, trying to hide her laugh. A bucket of ice water pours over him, Stiles is sure of it, when he turns around to find Theo. Amused as ever where he stands against the door with his arms folded and one leg crossed. 

"Oh fuck," Stiles mutters, eyes wide as saucers. He’s in the bathroom making a fucking love potion for the guy and he just walks in. Irony? Karma? What the fuck is this, because Stiles really doesn’t like it. He doesn’t even know what to do and isn’t even sure he’s breathing.

"Hey there Stiles," Theo smirks. 

That's not good. Stiles is frozen on the spot so badly he might as well have been hit by Petrificus Totalus. It's a really good thing his mouth is used to working without any help from him because Stiles is gone.

"How, uh, how long have you been standing there?" He asks, though certain he both knows the answer and doesn't actually want to hear it. His ears are pink enough as it, the heat creeping down his neck.

Theo leans off the wall, taking a step closer. His smirk ever present, "probably a lot longer than you'd like."

"Fuck," Stiles curses under his breath, hanging his head. This is so not how things were supposed to happen. What's Theo going to do? The fact that he just looks amused about the whole thing is rather unsettling. Stiles pinches his eyes closed, rubbing them before asking, "are you going to report me?" 

The other boy laughs, fully and heartily. "Why in the hell would I report you? Can't exactly date you if you're expelled now, can I?"

"What?" Stiles' head whips is. Surely he misheard. There’s simply no way he heard that properly.

Theo chuckles, standing close enough that Stiles has to look up at him. That shouldn’t be as enticing as it looks. "You know, for someone so brilliant, you can be quite thick." 

"I-I’m sorry?" 

Myrtle cackles, “he’s not wrong.” Stiles shoots her a glare and she backs off, giggling as she goes.

"There's this fine little clause when it comes to Felix Felicis." Theo asks, "did you know that?" Stiles' face falls at his words, no he didn't. "I did. Well, I had to look it up in the library." 

"What's the clause?" He asks. Because of course the one time Stiles doesn't read the fine print it's actually useful information. Go figure.

Theo squats in front of him, "it states that if you didn't need luck for the task to begin with, the potion will have the opposite effect. It's why I didn't use it to become captain; I'd have never gotten it." 

"So-"

"It's also why I was so fucking confused when I said no to the gorgeous awkward guy in my year who helped me pass my OWLs." Theo drops his voice to a whisper, "you know the one I'd ask out myself if he wasn't so bloody shy in everything but academics. I was worried your own fear would make you say no. But here you are," Theo points at the cauldron, "brewing Amortentia and having no idea that it smells like you and those little pies you brought to our study sessions." 

"To be fair, it's heavily diluted so you'd just be a little attracted to me." Stiles gets to his feet, "but hang on. If you'd known I'd used Liquid Luck, why didn't you say anything? Confront me sooner?"

"Well," Theo rises up to meet him, barely a foot apart, "this is the first day you've left your room." The captain gets closer, carefully putting a hand on Stiles' hip, pulling their bodied flush. All air leaves his lungs at the action, his heart pounding in his chest and legs turned to jelly. "Besides, this isn't a confrontation, sweetheart.” His free hand brushes the side of Stiles’ chin, making him shiver. “I think it's cute that you thought you needed potions to get me." 

"You do?" The words are whispered, breath caught in Stiles' throat.

"Very. All you had to do was say hello," Theo's words are accentuated with a squeeze to his hip. "So what do you say, sweetheart? Wanna be my boyfriend?" 

"Boyfriend?" Stiles nearly chokes on the word. 

"Stiles, I've known you for six years," Theo explains, "that's more than enough time to know if I want to be with someone." He leans in until their noses touch, "all you have to do is say yes and I'll learn the rest as we go."

This is all Stiles has ever wanted and more. Saying, "yes," is effortless. 

"Good," Theo grins, grabbing his chin and sealing their mouths together in a kiss. 

Guess he never needed luck to begin with. Stiles just needed to be himself to get the guy. 

Who knew?

[1introvertedsage]

I’d rather not have your jaw drop when you see me. Gone all googly eyed until they start tearing. Not really what I’d call endearing.

Stroking the ego boosting the pride. But it’s surface level. Impression from the outside.

I don’t care what I do to you. Rushing in - love’s drunk fool. Taking things slow. Impatience overcame you no real chance to grow.

And should I shudder when they mention your name. Calling and chanting like you’re owed some sense of fame. To me it seems like all part of the game.

And to hear you’re coming back. Testing my will and the places I lack. But I’m here now. Tempered react. I feel your presence and I hear your words. Voices they whisper and it’s all been quite absurd. Patiently waiting so said the birds.

Everything you thought you did - you didn’t. Some secrets we share and some are kept hidden. But when we shared that fated kiss. Sensing something was amiss. I knew what you were sent here to do. Playing by the rules. Obliviously keeping my cool. I read you before you even started talking.

Just here for the company. Getting to the root of what you could want from me. I see the hand controlling your strings. Pulled away thinking we would stay the way we were.

It’s different now. Last acts and a final bow. You’re them all rolled into one. Knowing better, right down to the letter. There’s no way you’re getting that close. Closer than most siphoning from the host - biting at the hands that feed. Timing the bleed because it knows what I need. Heaven knows you could hardly wait.

[anime-grimmy-art]

Day 4 – Buddies

Zet – Cry is Zet’s trusty partner since forever and oh boy has this poor cat been through a lot. Cry is a bit of a stickler for the rules and tries to keep situations under control, which is hard when his huntress keeps running headfirst into danger and (accidentally) insulting authority. Still, despite all the migraines he’d gladly lay his life down for his huntress. Way later, on a long journey from the mainland back to the New World, Zet stumbles onto Kamura and meets the veteran Palamute Rev. He’s a jaded old dog whose hunter had died long ago and despite all his skills had refused to be taken in by anyone. Somehow, he and Zet resonated, and despite his better judgment, Rev joined Zet and Cry for their adventure.

Mei – I’d say her buddy is Navirou, I guess? While they do butt heads sometimes, cos Navirou is very overdramatic and Mei just wants to avoid conflict, she really grew close to the weird Felyne. He can be kind of narcissistic, but Mei knows he cares a lot about her and even through danger, he never left her side. He’s also one of the only few individuals that didn’t have expectations of her since Navirou didn’t know her grandfather, so Mei found she’d often cling to Navirou’s point of view.

Chidori – Nyaba and Shibe have been with her since she was a kid, but she hadn’t seen the two for years when she was training at the Guild. But ever since she’s returned to Kamura, the two haven’t left her side. Nyaba is a very calculating Felyne and often gets called a Melynx cos she likes being a trickster. Best support you could ask for though. Shibe is a very chill Palamute since he is a very different breed from most of the dogs Iori takes care of. Not to say he’s useless in a fight. He isn’t the fastest Palamute, but he has insane endurance, like his master, and knows how to hit hard.

Day 5 – Monsters

Zet – Zet doesn’t really have a favourite monster, but she does prefer those that go “head first, thoughts later” as these monsters are very predictable and comparably easy to deal with. As for association, Zet would love to not have a link to this monster, but she sadly has strong ties to Fatalis. She had to face this monster before and almost lost her life in the fight, it was a miracle she managed to survive. After her recovery she had been sent to the New World as the Guild found her too useless (and too dangerous) to keep around, but in the end, she was forced to face the beast once again, but this time hopefully for good. I’d be amiss not to mention Xeno’jiva though, cos, ya know, Sapphire Star and all. I do personally link it and Zet together, even more so if we go with the route that Safi’jiva is the same dragon. I do love a good rivalry between hunter and monster. Also, also, if Zet had a monster-sona, it would be Velkhana.

Mei – Oh, Mei has a fondness for all monsters, really. She loves all her monsties equally, but some of her children just need/want more attention so these are kinda extra special. Of course, you have her lil baby boy Ratha, the monster fate tied to her, and Mei would not give him away for anything. Then she got her problem child Asparagus, a young and overactive Astalos. He’s like a bug dragon puppy that’s just teething, so he gnaws on everything and anyone, but Mei just finds it so adorable she would let him chew on her arm forever. Last but not least are her calm, broody ones, Apple the Anjanath and Legume the Legiana. These two are rather mild mannered but both very cuddly and affectionate. Since they’re the level-headed ones, they, along with Ratha, usually keep the rowdy bunch in check.

Chidori – As Mei is sunshine incarnate, so is Chidori Gargwa incarnate. I took a lot of inspiration from Gargwas when designing her, and her nervous and flighty demeanour also really reminded me of them. As for favourite, she likes the more chill and non-threatening monsters, at least the ones that don’t look threatening. Monsters like Tetranadon, Pukei-Pukei and strangely even Espinas (when it is asleep).

[sarahfeliciam]

The Ultimatum Ch 16

Chapter Sixteen

Dad,

Thought I’d send Saffron out real quick to share the events of my first twenty-four hours here. 

Enjoy (does sarcasm translate via quill?)

Yesterday evening, we were informed that a bloody tournament is being hosted here. What sounded like fun and games is actually a death march, supposedly. Those are my own words, but trust me - it’s just as it sounds. And to my surprise, many a student are already lining up! (Myself included - kidding).

You’ll never guess this, though. One of our hosted schools is Beauxbatons. My old friend I mentioned is here: Calliope. I haven’t had the chance to talk to her yet, but I’m looking forward to it. It would be nice to have her back, even just for one year. 

As for my evening, I’m about to go watch George make a right fool of himself as him and Fred attempt to get their names in to be considered for the tournament. I assume this doesn’t make a better case for him. Nevertheless, he’s harmless, and I promised you this vitally important gossip, didn’t I? 

It is odd not having you here. Though I’ve never had you before, last year was an utter whirlwind. I went from no dad, to dad/teacher/always in your office and now.. well I don’t have no dad again, but you get that point.

My next point hinges on the Dark Arts - we’ve got a psychopath teaching it! Name’s Mad Eye and he’s actually terrifying. He had us perform all three Unforgivable Curses IN CLASS today. So much for no use of practical spells, as I could quickly torture and take out a Death Eater in one fell swoop now already!

Anyway, I hope you and our dog are doing well. I do miss you, but nothing seems amiss here. 

Same old, same old.

…Other than a death defying tournament that we get to witness, that is. Do you suppose this will be broadcast? 

Emeline 

As she folded the letter and sent Saffron off with a kiss to her feathery head, Emeline grabbed her bag and the novel she was currently reading and darted out of her common room in a hope to meet her friends around the Triwizard Cup and ‘bask in it’s glory’ as the twins said.

•

“It is quite dim-witted, I must agree.” Emeline divulged, laughing next to Hermione. Both girls, books in hand, couldn’t contain their giggling as the twins jumped over the age line and made it. It took only moments to backfire, as expected and they howled with laughter louder as they watched the twins wrestle on the ground, George’s facial color matching Emeline’s usual embarrassed flush for the first time ever as he glanced at her before they hurried out of the room.

“What a sight.” Emeline chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Age does not become him the way I thought it would.”

Hermione laughed as they both turned back to their books, but she quickly looked up as she felt she’s on her. 

Emeline’s head shot up in curiosity after Hermione’s and she saw the lingering look Victor Krum sent her way.

“Did you see that!” Emeline whispered.

Hermione nudged her side and shook her head. It was her turn to switch to a shade of pink now.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

Both back to their books, they passed the time between fiction and study before supper.

•

The starry night and candles flickered and lit up the ambiance of the room as the Headmaster extinguished the side lighting and allowed the blue glow of the cup to illuminate the Great Hall.

Everyone waited with bated breath for the names to be drawn and Emeline shot her Gryffindor friends an excited smile. Her eyes grazed right across Calliope’s again, the Beauxbatons seated separately. 

Why was she avoiding her? 

She redirected her attention as her table erupted in excitement. Cedric was their chosen champion for Hogwarts. Of all houses, hers! And someone shed spent some time at the Quidditch Cup with.

“Wicked, congrats!” She joined in with everyone else as he stood and took his place with Fleur and Victor. 

When all seemed to settle and they were ready to eat, the cup erupted and spewed out another slip of paper. Emeline could hardly believe her ears when Dumbledore composed himself enough to speak.

“Harry Potter!”

When the champions had left the hall, the rushed to her feet to see if another owl was free in the owlry. She simply had to get this to her father and Sirius right on the tail skirts of her letter sent with Saffron.

•

The next morning, Emeline was awoken to a pecking on her beside window and opened her sleepy eyes to see Saffron waiting patiently with a letter in her beak. She jumped out of bed now and let her in, quickly taking the letter and tearing it open.

Em,

It translated via quill quite well before I even read that line. The ‘enjoy’ was quite enough. 

Sarcasm or not, I was happy to be greeted by Saffron last night. 

Another friend flew in behind her with your secondary news. 

Harry was chosen, but how? Our dog and I are extremely concerned for him and we need more information. Please ask Harry to take you to his common room tomorrow evening, alone, and meet us by the fire. You’ll understand. 

As for your defensive classes, as sick as you practicing those curses makes me and as uncomfortable a feeling as it may be, there is no law against learning them. Stay alert and stay safe. It certainly isn’t the ‘getting ahead’ I was aiming for, but I know you are safe at Hogwarts, especially with an auror like Alastor. He is gruff and eccentric.. I’d never peg him for a psychopath. 

Are you that uncomfortable around him, pup? 

I hope you get to speak with your friend soon. That’s a wonderful addition to your year and I’m happy for you. 

As for here, I miss you too, Emeline. More than you know. But I’m very proud of you and I will see you tomorrow evening. 

PS: the tournament is not broadcast despite the fact that were you of age, you competing in it would be broadcast worthy. (Does sarcasm translate via quill?) 

-Dad 

•

Down by the lake later that afternoon, Emeline found Harry and Neville, chatting jovially about sea creatures and various oceanic potions. Well, Neville was jovial, anyway.

“Hey Neville.” She greeted cheerfully. 

Was it just her, or did he tinge pink at her greeting? 

“Emeline, hey!” Harry interjected. 

“Harry, I was hoping to get a word. It’ll just take a moment.” 

He nodded and Neville smiled, turning back to his book and offering them privacy.

Harry walked over to her and she dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Harry, Padfoot and Moony would like to meet us fireside in the Gryffindor common room alone tomorrow night. They’re extremely concerned about your name being pulled and they have questions.”

Harry nodded and glanced back at Neville, who still wasn’t paying attention. 

“Padfoot will be there?”

“That’s what they say,” Emeline shrugged. “Think we can swing it?”

“Definitely. I’ll see you there.”

“See you there, Harry.”

They were interrupted swiftly by the other half of their friend circle in a sad yet hysterical display of back and forth telephone. Like a game, Hermione relayed information between the boys (whom Emeline had no clue were even arguing) before she finally got fed up and stormed off. Emeline figured she’d remove herself from a situation in which she didn’t belong and hurried off after Hermione and Ginny who’d followed suit. 

She caught the most important bit, though: That Hagrid was looking for Harry. 

Why? She hadn’t the slightest clue. 

[singdreamchild]

There's a Light That Never Goes Out || Inge & Cassius

Location: Cassius's Crypt

Timing: Pre-goo, Julyish

Parties: Inge (@nightmaretist) & Cassius (@singdreamchild)

Summary: Inge goes to confront Cassius after he ignores her texts for over a month. He's cold and distant, but it breaks the deeper their conversation goes. Turns out, they both have a lot of pain they need to work through. But they have each other.

Content warning: Suicidal ideation, mentions of spousal abuse, alcohol use

It was hard to decide how she felt as she moved through the astral. Inge had been having trouble with that in general as of late, as more negative emotions joined her mental fray. Emotions she usually kept at bay or rejected, seeping through the cracks of her well-built barriers. Was she frustrated, worried, hurt or angry? All at once? She had no interest in these feelings usually, and yet they all seemed to be taking turns.

So here she was, going to visit the so-called friend who had failed to return her messages and calls for a month. Inge couldn’t be completely mad about it, considering all the times in the past where she had disappeared on others — but still. Something about it bothered her. Maybe it was her altercation with Rhett, splaying open her weaknesses for her to be confronted with. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit though, that maybe she had needed someone like Cassius.

No. This would be simple. She’d chew him out for being silly, be a bit dramatic about it and then soon enough they could drink wine and complain about the new school year. It would be simple.

And so she appeared, no further than three foot from Cassius. “Boo.” She stared at him, trying to gauge whatever had caused him to fall of the face of the planet. “Where’ve you been?”

Another day, another reason to grade homework. With the school year recently starting, Cassius was glad that he didn’t need to keep coming up with excuses to avoid talking to people. Granted, people was just one person at this point, and that person was Inge. He loved her, don’t get him wrong. But he just couldn’t be fucking bothered to care about anyone right now. What was the point? They all leave anyway. So, he kept grading in his crypt by candlelight. It wasn’t anything difficult, just a worksheet that went along with the chapter reading he had assigned for his students. This year, same as every year, he had been assigned to the freshman class for world civ, as well as the AP European history course for the upperclassmen. It gave him something to focus on, an excuse to socialize without it having to mean anything. The betterment of children, or whatever the fuck he needed to tell himself. 

Then, Inge was just there. He didn’t jump, he just closed his eyes and slowly put down the paper he was grading along with his pen. “Here.” Cassius said simply, expressionless. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed in his usual get up, instead of black leather pants and a mesh top with a leather jacket on top, he was in black sweats and a band t-shirt, hair thrown up in a messy bun on the top of his head. “You know, you could’ve stopped in anytime, but you preferred to do it the ridiculous human way and text me like I’d answer.” He spoke, pointing a finger at her. 

Staring at her with an expectant look in his eyes, he raised his brows at her. “So what do you want?” He then asked in a flat voice, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Something was clearly amiss here, in this stupid crypt he called home. She followed his voice and blinked her eyes at the vision in front of her, feeling herself get annoyed with it. Cassius looked like a goth with depression (which one might assume to always be the case, but often wasn’t) and Inge was glad that their kind didn’t tend to have the same B.O. that their alive counterparts did. She wondered when he’d last showered.

It wasn’t like she didn’t understand life getting in the way. Hell, hadn’t it done the same for her? She had spent so many nights in the astral and in people’s dreams, rotting her days away at home where she meditated and fled mentally. “Oh, so it’s my fault we’ve not seen each other because I didn’t think to just rudely intrude onto your living space?” Her eyebrows were raised, taking none of the lack of logic she was presented with. “You could have answered my texts.” 

Inge just continued to stare at him for a moment, not breaking eyecontact and feeling increasingly annoyed. Part of that was because she felt worried, and worry never suited her well. “Since when do I need to want something to see you? What the hell’s up with you?” If she’d been better at this, she’d have asked him if he was okay. But she wasn’t. 

He knew he wasn’t going to get away from this conversation, no matter how hard Cassius could push, he knew that Inge pushed harder. “I could have, but that would mean forming meaningful connections with people that inevitably die or disappear in the end.” He spoke, the melodramatics of his voice contrasting with the flattened tone he spoke with. 

“It’s no one’s fault, dear.” He finally said, raising to his feet with that same intense yet distant stare on his face, no trace of sadness, happiness, anger. Nothing. “I simply did it on purpose. A novel concept, I know. I didn’t want to see anyone.” He admitted, blinking once more out of habit than actual necessity. “Oh, come off it. You always want something.” He then snarled, finally showing an emotion. Anger, betrayal, hatred. “Sorry I haven’t been around,” he spoke in a sardonic tone, shaking his head around as he said it. “I’m not the same person you last saw.” Cassius crossed his arms over his chest, finally his personality was starting to match the outer exterior he let others think he was. Mean, evil, edgy. All the above? Who knew. 

“So if you’re only here to yell at me?” His tone lilted as he spoke, as if he was teasing her, trying to edge her on. “Sorry, let me act the way you want me to.” He then said, clearing his throat and holding up a hand mockingly as he spoke again. “It’s been so long, my dear Inge. I am truly sorry that I haven’t been at your beck and call as you are used to, seeing as how you’re the only friend I really have. I’ll remember to make sure my schedule revolves around your wants and needs.” He blinked a few times, tilting his head to the side with a smile that didn’t reach his blank, expressionless eyes. “Better?”

She remained quiet – an impressive feat, for Ingeborg Endeman – as he went on and on and on. He must be projecting, must be handling something that had happened in a more than questionable way, moving from emotion to emotion while attempting to seem as sharp and edgy and impersonal as a knife. Some of it stung. Most of it was just grating.

She clicked her tongue eventually, a sheen of hurt on her face. “I wasn’t yelling. I could, though, if you want a bloody fight.” But for now she refrained. Inge was in no mood to argue with these void, ugly words — barbed wire and venom, meant to cut and not meant to hold any actual substance. Of course, there were plenty of relationships she had that were transactional, where all she did was follow her whim or desire or greed. And of course, there was always the risk of her upending her life and abandoning the people around her. But as of right now, Cassius was something of a true friend and she was here, wasn’t she? 

“You’re being presumptuous. Rude.” Mean, even, but Inge could take mean. She could repay it in kind. If Cassius wanted to cut her, she’d cut back. He’d said something about people disappearing and so she shook her head. “If you’d rather be alone, though…” Before the finish could finish, she was gone, into the astral and looking at Cassius from up above, no longer tangible even to his vampiric senses. She remained for a moment, letting at least a minute run out, before reappearing where she’d just stood. Arms crossed. “Do you want to try that again? Because really, the only thing I want of you right now is for you to stop acting like a teenage girl, maybe offer me a drink and tell me what it is that’s … caused you to change.”

There was a moment of relief that flooded over Cassius as the woman disappeared, only for it to immediately dissipate the second she reappeared. He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “I’m tired of getting attached, only for it to be taken away without a trace.” He finally said, eyes trained on the ground. “Richard.” He said solemnly, he knew Inge knew what he was talking about. “He was back, and I was terrified and excited and I felt like I could finally get everything back that I had been missing.” He began to explain, moving his hands around as he spoke. “But then he disappeared again. And I know that there are hunters on his tail. He probably took off so they couldn’t associate me with him or whatever bullshit it is this time.” He bit at his black fingernail for a moment, then shook his head. “Serves me right for getting my hopes up.” He finally muttered before opening one of the coffin drawers, which had no bodies in them, only storage. An unopened bottle of cabernet and a wine opener. 

He said nothing, only popping open the bottle and pouring out a glass and handed it over to her wordlessly. “And I…” he trailed off, almost ashamed to talk about it. She was truly the only person that he could talk to about these things. “There was someone. I was finally moving on. Then she disappeared.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And when she left, I snapped.” His gaze looked like it was a million miles away, breaking his trance when he took a sip from his own glass. “Tried fresh human blood for the first time, though.” He then added, making a face as if to say not bad. 

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry I took my own frustrations out on you.” He finally said, able to look her in the eyes for the first time since she appeared to him. “It’s easier to drive people away than admit what’s really going on.”  He sucked on his teeth for a moment, thoughts drifting elsewhere. “I don’t feel like being nice to people anymore.” He tried to explain. “There’s something about giving into instinct, I mean. I already dress like a vampire, why not act like it for a change?”

He reminded her of Vera, in all the ugliest and worst ways. Petulant behavior that she didn’t have an answer to or solution for, so all she could do was freeze up and leave before returning eventually. Vera had, of course, been fifteen years old, whereas Cassius was at least a century older, which was why Inge looked at him with a different kind of anger. “And so your solution is to … disappear yourself,” she concluded, perhaps a little harshly. It was hypocritical of him, she thought, and she was still bitter about he way he’d spoken to her moments ago. Scratch the way he reminded her of her daughter: he reminded her of a dog, barking and snarling before looking like a wounded puppy. At the name of the other’s sire she grew a little less venomous, though. “Well, fuck him, then. If he thinks that kind of thing is best for you, then he’s just a coward.” Sanne and her had been chased by hunters aplenty, but they’d always done so together. Until Inge had opted to turn her back, of course, when her own maker had been caught and undone with an axe to the neck. 

She took the glass of wine, immediately nipping it and humming in approval. She looked at Cassius with a look that wasn’t quite understanding, but was one of genuine empathy, or at least her best attempt at it. “Where’d she go? And shit, Cassius, two of ‘em in a row. That’s gotta sting.” At his confession that he’d tried human blood she found herself completely lacking understanding. Heartache she could get, at least somewhat distantly. She shrugged. “It’s your nature. Don’t chastise yourself for finally giving in to it.” If he wanted to be judged for feeding off humans, he’d have to talk to someone else.

Inge let out a sound, perhaps of amusement. “Deflection and projection are understandable. Shitty, though. It was kind of a bitch move.” But she was smiling at him. (She’d remember, though, she would.) “You don’t have to be nice to me. I just want you to respect me. Yeah?” Fucking bare minimum, she thought. She smirked. “Instinct is good. Following your nature is good. Just don’t get too messy. This place is crawling with slayers.”

The vampire idly swirled the red wine around in the glass as he stared at the wall for a moment, brows furrowing. Cassius was concocting a plan, one that he knew Inge would shame him for attempting. “There’s a slayer that tried to kill me,” he began, looking over to Inge, focusing his gaze. “Richard saved me before he could land the final blow.” He took a sip from his wine before continuing. “And now that Richard is no doubt hellbent on killing the slayer, I had an idea.” There was a twinkle in his eye, a mischievous one. “I will never be truly free until Richard is dead. That’s why I have the plan to strike up a deal with said slayer and kill the bastard myself.” 

The way that Cassius smiled at the idea was slightly off. Like the idea of killing someone filled him with an insane sort of glee. “And then, I leave.” He waved a hand through the air. “I mean look at where I live!” He exclaimed. “It’s time to move on, I’ve been here for ten years and people start to get suspicious when you look the exact same after a decade.” He didn’t add that this idea he had would most likely end in his death. “I want, more than anything, to be free.” 

He thought about it for a moment, he had never lived his life without the idea of Richard looming over his shoulder. And the memories of the time before his sire appeared into his life were blurry. After all, that was almost two hundred years ago. It was hard to remember anything before him. He had always been. No, Cassius deserved this. “I don’t even know if he has been using his influence over me,” he then added, brows stitching together at the idea of being truly controlled. 

He sighed as she brought up the fact that he was abandoned. Again. “I’m nothing if not used to it,” he then said plainly, taking a long drink from his wine until it was gone. Clearly, Cassius wasn’t used to it. He refilled his glass. He stared down at the red wine, narrowing his gaze. “It’s another thing that Richard held his influence over me with,” he spoke in an icy tone. “Never drink the blood of a thinking creature,” he mimicked Richard’s deeper voice with a roll of his eyes. “Well not anymore. Maybe, after two hundred years, I can truly live for myself for once.” 

She was, for a moment, too stunned to speak. Inge filled her mouth with wine to have an excuse not to, because her first instinct was to get up, hit him against the back of the head and tell him he was an idiot. It didn’t dissipate as she swallowed her wine, but she opted to verbally respond in stead. “You’re … going to work together with a slayer to kill your sire? Am I getting that right? Working together with a slayer?” She sat back, threw a hand up as if to say whatever. “Stupid plan. But do what you need to.” Even if it was a suicide mission. “Don’t get killed in the process.”

She drained her glass, held it out for a refill. So he was leaving, fine. He whined about being abandoned and now he was announcing his own abandonment of the town. She understood. Inge thought of leaving aplenty. “So the one who’s left becomes the one who leaves. Where would you go? I’ve been considering swapping this place for a bustling city myself.” At least she understood his desire to be free. “I’ve been missing New York.” Was she asking to leave together? She wasn’t sure. It was becoming somewhat clear that she didn’t matter quite as much to Cassius. Fine.

There was no desire to speak of the influence of sires. Her mind tended to move towards her own maker, that glorious and beautiful woman who Inge idolized until this day. She refused to crack that perfect image of her. Hearing Cassius talk was not an incentive to keep doing so, was destined to start thoughts of reflective doubt of her own. “Well, fuck him. He sounds like a bore. You’re a vampire. You should drink blood. We are all creatures who survive off consumption, humans and undead alike — why practice abstention in a world ran by desire?” It was ludicrous. 

She found herself feeling embittered, displeased with this version of Cassius. On one hand, it was exciting that he was looking further, wanting to widen his horizons and give into instinct — but on another, he was being a fool about it. Besides, his words from moments before still stung. And maybe she just wanted to ask about her, though that wasn’t a thing she wanted to readily admit. Inge didn’t want to be hurt by something as simple as people’s words or lack thereof any more. “Does this mean you’ll finally move on from teaching stinky teenagers?”

Pinching his fingers against the bridge of his nose, Cassius let out a deep, suffering sigh. “Shit, I’m an asshole.” He realized aloud. He was almost ashamed to look at her. All this time he was thinking about himself and all the things he needed to do to further his life, when he was ignoring the one person he had left in this God-forsaken town. “You’re still here.” He spoke, as if he was realizing it for the first time, himself. “So fucking focused on the fact that two people left that I forgot that you still haven’t left, though now you have absolutely every reason to do so.” He frowned, almost afraid to meet her eyes as he refilled her wine glass. 

He didn’t know where he would go, he hadn’t thought about it. “I haven’t been to New York since I first moved to America,” he then spoke. “I bet it’s a lot better now that it has plumbing.” He lofted his brows, realizing that so much had changed in the world around him since he was alive and he just hadn’t bothered to really pay attention to it. It made him wonder how much London had changed, a place he hadn’t gone back to in so long. The last place he was ever alive. 

He let out a breath through his nose, finally meeting her eyes. “You’ve stuck by me through a lot of my bullshit, and I’m sorry for making you deal with more.” He took a swig from his drink, breaking eye contact for a brief moment to stare at a wall, anything but her scathing stare. “I’m sorry for what I said.” His voice was soft, genuine. “I said it out of desperation to push you away, and now I’m afraid that it worked.” His shoulders slumped at the idea of losing truly everyone in his life, he didn’t like the idea, not as much as he may outwardly portray. “If you want to punch me, that’s completely valid and fair.” 

He was catching up. Inge wondered what all those centuries had given Cassius in wisdom, because it certainly seemed lacking right now. She nodded. “Yeah. A right cunt, you are.” She didn’t tell him it was fine, because in a way it wasn’t. And though she didn’t want to keep going on about why it wasn’t – as that would be showing her cards, her investment in him, her hurt – she didn’t feel like placating him either. “Did it ever come to your mind, Cassius, that I would need you too? Or are you just focused on what you require from people, and the wallowing in their absence, when there are others around for you still?” Immortality made people selfish, she knew that through personal experience. Right now she had the moral upperhand.

She chuckled. “Yeah. It’s probably a lot better. I was there before I came here, it was solid there. Plenty of undead, plenty of exciting nightlife. Bunch of annoying hunters, though.” Inge grimaced. It was hardly as if this place was any better, but New York had been larger, had offered more anonymity. She still went there sometimes, at night. To the MET, to look at the artworks through the astral. 

His mood kept turning, switching and she found it hard to keep up. Inge knew how illogical emotions could be, though, was prone to these kinds of moods herself. So she didn’t chastise him too much. “I mean, I’m not a bundle of warm feelings for you right now, no,” she said, taking another sip from her glass. “I get it, wanting to be solitary. It’s how I function best too. But it’s nonsense to try and sabotage the good things you do have. So don’t do that. Treat me with more respect than that.” Then she shrugged. “I’ve no interest in punching you. If I did, I’d have done it already, without your permission.”

Cassius smirked. She wasn’t wrong. It also didn’t help that he felt the urge to lash out one moment and regret it the next. He wanted not to care anymore, to simply throw it away and start over somewhere new. He had never bothered to get close to anyone throughout his life. It made things complicated when it came time to move on. And here he was, finding himself in a complicated position with moving on because of his formed connection with Inge. “You always hold yourself in a way that feels like you wouldn’t need anyone at all,” he answered earnestly. He always saw her as someone who knew what she wanted and didn’t take any shit from anyone. He didn’t think for a second that she actually needed him. He frowned. He was a fool. 

He gave a wry smile as Inge spoke. She was right. Of course, she was always right. “It makes things messy,” Cassius said simply. “Forming connections, you’re the first person I’ve had anything with since I was a human.” He shook his head, realizing that Inge had been the real first step to moving on from the shadow of his sire he stayed under. “It’s hard to break out of the mold that Richard put me in.” He confessed, taking a long swig from his drink. “Why keep meaningful relationships when I’ve been conditioned to live somewhere for a set amount of time, then move on?” He frowned, staring down at the wine. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. He was starting to come to the realization that despite his years, he’d never truly lived at all.

He knitted his brows together, the distress of his realization striking him harder than he thought. “Well, if I’m not abandoning Wicked’s Rest,” he began, swirling the remaining liquid in the glass as he thought back to his previous plan. “Then the bastard’s gotta die.” He reiterated with a nod of his head. “I’ve been alive for over two hundred years, and not once have I ever done anything without thinking what my sire would do or how he would react.” Cassius’s frown deepened. “I’m done living the way I have. Boring and lifeless.” He thought momentarily, taking another drink and swishing it in his mouth, lost in thought. “First, I have to figure out how the fuck do that.” He looked up at Inge, expression one of confusion and determination wrapped into one.

That was an interesting assessment. Inge sat with it for a moment, wondering whether she really needed people — she didn’t, of course she didn’t. She had lived all these years, through and past grief, as a person who relied mostly on herself. But she needed something. Company. A corner to turn to, in a moment of high need. A friend, even if temporarily. “Everyone needs people,” she answered, which was a general statement. “I need company, friends. People to drink wine with and speak about life with. Sure. I can take care of myself, but I don’t want to be alone.” She thought about her altercation with Rhett. “I need people when I’m in trouble, sometimes. Selfishly.”

He put into words what was the issue with most immortals, wasn’t it? As their bodies remained in stasis and the world moved on, there was no place they could stay long. Inge found she missed her companion. She hadn’t searched for a replacement, though. “It is hard. I understand this. I met plenty of people like this, and with plenty I stay in touch but … none of those relationships are as … constant as the ones I’ve had before.” She swallowed. “I had a companion once, you know? We were partners. She made me. It was more tolerable, in a way — to have someone there.” Even if they fought, even if Inge resented her, even if Sanne resented her back for reasons she never understood. “She died. Not by my hand — slayers.” She shook her head. “Regardless. I think even if you move from place to place and leave people behind, I think the relations can continue. We are immortal. Some time and space doesn’t have to undo our ties.”

She took a long sip from her glass as he spoke of his ludicrous plan again. “Is that the only way you can ensure your freedom?” Inge thought of Hendrik for a moment. This didn’t seem like a situation that called for divorce papers. “Cassius, it seems stupid. I can help you with changing how you live — we could feed together, go dancing at Dance Macabre … we could run a scam! Anything to battle the boredom of immortality! That’s where I excel. Do you have to occupy yourself with killing him, when you could focus on such things in stead? If he’s gone, let him stay gone.”

Staring down at the ground, Cassius nodded his head slowly, as if coming to his own realization. “You’re not alone.” He said, looking up to her. “Not with me around, anyway.” He gave an apologetic smile. “And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” The vampire nodded his head slowly. He didn’t know what he would have done if he had lost Richard to a slayer. “I’m sorry that happened,” he murmured, his brows knitting together in sympathy. “Richard and I… we were together for a very, very long time. I became wholly dependent on him, and to lose him in such a way, I… I don’t think I would have come out as strong as you have.”

Cassius frowned as Inge spoke, it wasn’t that easy. “Elder vampires make things a bit… tricky.” He began to explain, taking another drink and staring at a spot behind her as he formulated his thoughts into words. “Richard can control me. And he’s possessive. Once he learns that I’ve decided to stop living in his shadow?” He rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, letting out a bark of laughter. “He could turn me into his emotionless puppet without so much as a blink.” 

Cassius tapped his foot against the ground, shaking his head. “No, he has to die. If I want to truly be free, I have to kill him. I’m not going to let it get to that point.” He paused to take another drink of his wine, staring down at the liquid before lifting his gaze up to Inge. “He’s used and manipulated me for one-hundred and eighty damn years, Inge.” His tone took on an almost desperate quality to it. “Once he’s gone, I can finally do something with my life. Something that isn’t the same song and dance that he’s forced me to do since the day he turned me.”

He then gave a wry smile, tilting his glass to the side as he thought over her ideas of a good time. “I wouldn’t be opposed to those ideas.” Cassius then spoke, a spark of excitement igniting behind those often bored eyes. “You have any scams you’ve wanted to run? You seem like the kind of person that has a few ideas on deck.” He gave her a once over, then smirked. “Also, feeding with you would be strange. Because I have to be there physically, you don’t.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “And you know I already go to that club at least once a week.”

It was a nice sentiment. You’re not alone, he said, and it could be nice — but he hadn’t been there for weeks, like he pointed out. Inge took his apology and considered it, before shrugging. “I guess we’ll see,” she said, giving him a small look. “But you won’t be rid of my friendship so easily.” She was quiet for a moment. Was she strong? She certainly considered herself as much, but to be called it sincerely by someone whose opinion she respected was still somewhat stirring. “I was a mess after. I made some good fucking art, though.” Had she been dependent on Sanne? Not in the way she had been of Hendrik, that was for sure, but still — she had had someone. “And time has passed. It doesn’t heal the wounds, but it makes them … more tolerable.” Did it? She thought of her daughter on her deathbed. She looked, without melodramatics or exaggeration, genuinely sad for a moment, before recollecting herself. “Grief when you’re undead is a dreary thing, no?”

At the revelation that elder vampires had more powers than Inge had anticipated she made a bit of a face. “Control you, how? Manipulate your emotions, or something?” He did sound like quite the problem. Not one she was particularly keen on solving, although that might have something to do with her continued, slightly soured feelings towards Cassius. She didn’t want him to live under this Richard’s thumb, but she was also not sure what she could do in the grand scheme of things — she was hardly good at combat, and all her skills were only useful against mortals. Couldn’t really put a vampire to sleep.

“And how do you plan to do it? Not some suicide mission, I hope? I don’t see how I can lend a hand, but I suppose, should you have an idea —” She waved a hand, the best way she could say I want to help. It was lackluster. Her mind was occupied, she found, emotions toiling in a way she most despised. 

So, onto different ideas. “Of course I have scams I want to run. I mean, I haven’t as much as of late, considering work and creation — but yes.” Inge grinned. “I am still there, physically! Just not mentally. You can watch over me as I scare someone in their sleep while drinking off their partner, it could be fun. Don’t beat it before you try it.” She threw up her hands. “So what? We should go together. Dress up. Show them how we do. Or I will drag you to New York and show you the undead scene there, hm?”

Art through grief was something that Cassius could relate to. He had wrote some pretty dramatic poetry when Richard had up and left him. Sure, he had gotten gnarly writer’s block back then, too, but he was able to produce some poems that he had since burned. Most of his poetry got burned when it was emotionally heavy. It was cathartic. “Your art is quite fucking good,” he remarked with a brief smile, thinking to the creations she had shown him over the years. “It’s embarrassing to admit just how long I’ve gone before finally making steps to move forward.” He spoke, shuffling his feet a bit as he thought about the past fifty years. “Time moves strangely when your life doesn’t have an expiration date,” he murmured with an unfocused gaze at nothing in particular. “Dreary is definitely a word to use.” He then spoke with a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Stranger still to watch those who weren’t meant to outlive you go before you.” He shook his head, this wasn’t a fun topic to discuss. He hoped that she would feel the same and move on.

He nodded his head with a hum as she questioned him. “Exactly that,” Cassius answered. “I can be having a full on temper tantrum or laughing at the funniest joke I’ve ever heard and he can just… turn it off,” he snapped a finger, “just like that.” He shuddered to think of what would happen if Richard ever did resort to such measures. Deep down, Cassius knew that his former lover would never do such a thing, yet he was terrified of the ‘what ifs’ that flitted around in his mind.

The idea of letting Inge help him made him feel sick with worry. “As much as I know you could hold your own, I would rather keep you out of this.” Cassius spoke, pressing a finger to his mouth as he thought of the only plan he had. “I’m meeting with a slayer.” He said vaguely, not wanting to give away more than that. “He nearly killed me,” he admitted with an apologetic smile. “And Richard was the one that saved me before he could deliver the final blow. But because of that, now Richard wants him dead.” He twirled a finger around in the air as he explained. “Because of that, and the fact that he knows he can’t take on an elder vampire alone, we’ve teamed up.” He sighed, realizing how utterly ridiculous and stupid it was that he was doing this. 

“Richard has gone into hiding again for one reason or another. I know there were some slayers after him, which led him to hiding here.” Cassius thought back to the moment his sire had showed up, as if no time had passed. How his face had turned into that of a monster. How horrified he had been to see him after so long, how he had the audacity to act like he hadn’t done anything wrong, like he deserved to still be Cassius’s life. His face had turned pensive, and he found that the more he thought about it, the more conflicted he became.

“I just want to know that I’ll be free.” He spoke, his voice hushed. “And I cannot be truly free if he’s around. But I also can’t let go of almost two-hundred years of loving someone either.” He buried his face in his hands. He had been too impulsive yet again, and now he was in a deal with a slayer that had tried to kill him. “Oh, I’m well and truly fucked, aren’t I?” He wondered aloud, eyes going to the ceiling as he thought of how rash he had been acting in the past few months. 

He was relieved when Inge began to talk about something - anything - else. A smile slowly began to creep onto his face as she spoke of her ideas. “You know, I think I would like that.” He spoke, looking over to her, nodding his head slowly. The idea of teaming up with someone to feed together, the possibilities of doing more reckless activities because they could. “And if we ever get into trouble, New York it is.” The smile had grown to a toothy grin, and he held her gaze. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“I’m glad I can make something from my pain, I suppose,” she said, and though she said it off-handedly she did fully mean it. Inge had made a muse out of her losses and trauma, conjured creations from that infinite source. “Art demands suffering.” It was something discussed in her department at the college, something some students wrote interesting essays on — but she would not be swayed from that opinion, no matter how many counter arguments she heard. 

She was quiet for a while, considering Cassius who was so much older than her and must have lost everyone. She still had people out there, from her human life. Two siblings, an ex-husband, a handful of nieces and nephews, even some of her former friends. She hadn’t seen any of them since Vera passed. “I’ll say.” Her mind got stuck on it, that thought of Vera, that inevitable point of return. The epicenter of her mind and memory, that she avoided and ignored but always got trapped in anyway. “I had a daughter.” It was spoken in a tone uncharacteristic for her. Quiet, reserved, with an immediate feeling of regret.

So she moved on, focusing back on a topic that laid outside of her heart, outside of her painful memory. “Well, we don’t want that to happen. Jesus.” Sanne had had an influence on her, no matter how she didn’t want to admit it, but not like that. Inge grimaced and only grimaced more at the revelation that Cassius was going to work with a slayer. “Who?” The question was sharp as a knife, demanding in its shortness. She thought of the Cortez slayer, who had not yet come to undo her head of her neck but still lingered. “He’s going to kill you afterward. You’re going to lead him to what he wants, to kill an elder, and then he’s going to kill you. What the fuck are you thinking, teaming up with a slayer?” She swallowed more venomous words. “And you know, I’m not keen on the idea of you dying.”

Inge watched him bury his head in his hands, feeling ill-equipped to deal with this kind of thing. “I want you free. But I much rather want you alive. Richard — he’s an idiot if he’s hiding here to evade slayers, surely there’s … something to be done,” she said, fiddling with a strand of hair. “You can move through the loss. That’s something to think of for after, if you’re gonna go through with it. But are you sure? That this is the only way?” 

Life and art demanded suffering, certainly, but that didn’t mean she went out of her way to find it. She wanted fun, wanted her friendships to exist in a place of laughter and light. But the air felt heavy, even at the promise of boundless fun. “Deal.”

Cassius’s face fell when Inge revealed such a precious detail of her life. So suddenly, so quietly. He didn’t know what to say, noticing how she had used past tense instead of present. She had a daughter. Living longer than a child was something no parent should have to go through. But they were immortal, forced to walk the earth long after everyone they loved had passed on. He put a hand to Inge’s, looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” He spoke softly, knowing that there wasn’t anything in the world that could take away that pain. “If you ever want to talk about her, I’m more than happy to listen.” He then added, giving her a soft, private smile. 

Then, she asked who. Yes, who indeed. “His name is Owen,” he explained, shuffling his feet a bit. Speaking the name of his would-be killer tasted like acid on his tongue. “He tried to kill me, and Richard saved me.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “And now he’s teaching me how to fucking fight.” He sighed, realizing how utterly stupid the whole situation was. “And he’ll probably be the one that kills me, so.” He shrugged, as if there was nothing he could do about it.

Cassius stared at the ground for a moment, what was he thinking? He knew the answer, but he didn’t dare speak it aloud. “I…” his voice petered out, and he realized just how vulnerable he was with Inge in that moment. “I was thinking that I was tired of living.” His voice came out gravelly and weak, and he was unable to meet her eyes. A confession, one that he had kept close to his chest. One that he didn’t dare tell anyone else, not even Sofie when she was still around. “That at least, I could take out the one person who has kept me here after all this time.” He blinked, realizing how true the statement was. “Sofie left, and it’s like all the color left the world. She had taught me to truly live again.” He finally looked up at Inge, vulnerable and meek. “And in a moment of true weakness, I made a deal that I can’t get out of.” 

His gaze was watery, the emotions he refused to feel bubbling to the surface. He couldn’t let those tears fall, there was no putting them back once they did. “I don’t know if it’s the only way.” He confessed, balling his hands into tight fists. What did he say? The truth tasted like metal. “I love him.” He finally said, voice breaking. “I still love Richard, even after all this time.” The tear finally spilled free, and suddenly it was like a dam was breaking. Shit, he was weak. “And I’m terrified of what he can do to me.” He paused, then shook his head. “What I would let him do to me.” He angrily wiped away his tears, letting his gaze go back to the floor. 

Did she want to talk about her? There was so much to say. Boundless stories about Vera’s spirited ways, the way the two of them had fought, the days in Amsterdam and the ones that had come before. Her regrets and shortcomings, her failures and the goodbyes. All of them. Inge considered it, but shook her head. “Not now. But — thank you.” The focus on the evening was on Cassius it seemed, which was fine. She wasn’t good at handling other people’s issues but it was preferable over dealing with her own. 

Her face cracked, then. She let out a sound she couldn’t quite describe and if she could  have flushed red she might have. There was no way on God’s green earth, after all, that there was another slayer named Owen in this tiny town. “This is ridiculous. You’re teaming up with a slayer who’s teaching you how to fight – and so, learning your weak spots! – so you can lead him to some elder cunt and then he’s gonna kill him and you.” She wondered if she had any sway over Owen, but that entire interaction had been one of lust and no affection — and besides, she had some pride.

Her jaw set in a way it hardly ever did as Cassius spoke. She had called this a suicide mission before in a lighthearted tone but it seemed now that perhaps this was what this really was. Consciously. She swallowed, incapable of really understanding. Even if life at times could feel pointless or boring, her desire to keep living it was a driving force. In spite of grief and loss and solitude. “Why didn’t you —” She stopped her sentence halfway through, not knowing if that was helpful. But she was thinking it. Why didn’t you come to me before you did this stupid, stupid thing. “I’m sorry, Cassius. That you felt –” It had to be past tense, didn’t it? “– this desolate and desperate. That it came to that. I … understand, that our way of being alive, but not being alive in a sense can be hard. But you’re not alone in it.”

Inge had once thought she loved a man who hurt her. Separation and distance had made aware that it hadn’t been love, what she’d felt for Hendrik — that it had been lies she fed herself to stay in the comfortable position of being married to her supposed first love. Lies she’d fed herself out of fear. Cassius seemed afraid, now. Cracking at the seams. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like that, nor make you afraid.” It seemed cliche to say, but she knew it to be true. “But I understand. Sometimes we have no choice in it. Or sometimes we think we don’t have any. I know you, though. I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know? And though we might be immortal, love isn’t. You can grow past him. You will.”

Nodding his head as she decided not to speak on it more, the vampire respected her privacy, but appreciated her speaking on it all the same. “No matter which way this ends up, one of us isn’t walking out of this alive.” Cassius spoke in a hollow tone, he knew that he was on a suicide mission, and he knew that Inge wouldn’t approve. “But it’s done, there’s no getting out of it now.” He spoke, voicing his own thoughts. 

He nodded his head slowly, that same faraway and hollow look in his eyes as she shoved his free hand into his pocket. “I know that now. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” He finally looked up at her, sincerity in his eyes. “I’m still figuring everything out, trying to figure out how it is to live outside of someone else’s shadow.” He gave a humorless laugh as he shook his head. “Rather strange, really.”

He wiped away his tears and schooled his expression, feeling silly for letting himself cry over something that was over, that was in the past. And no matter how badly he wanted to live in the shadows, he couldn’t anymore. He was allowed to be happy and with other people. It was just… strange. Different. He nodded his head as her words echoed through his head. She was right, as she often was. He didn’t say that out loud, however. “One step at a time,” he said with a slow nod of his head. “One foot in front of the other and all that.” He raised his glass towards Inge in a ‘cheers’ motion. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend, you know.” He spoke, giving her a small and almost private smile. “Thank you for your words. They’re greatly appreciated.”

“Bullshit. There’s getting out of any fucking situation.” She shook her head, didn’t understand this willingness to lay down ones life. Inge wanted nothing but more, out of life and out of herself. “Some fucking hunter, right? Tied me in his basement, surrounded me with salt so I couldn’t leave. Do you reckon I gave up and assumed I wouldn’t get out? No. And it’s because of that I’m here. You gotta fight to stay alive, you —” She swallowed the expletive. “You’ve got to. Okay. Try, at least.” 

The apology was accepted, Inge not interested in harboring grudges about that particular slight of Cassius. “I get it, you know. Trust … opening up, they’re not exactly my forte either, but I guess …” She shrugged. “It’s something we can do with each other. Let that be the take away of this entire ordeal.” She smiled. “You’re a radiant fucker, Cassius. You deserve to stand by yourself.”

She was a little unsure what to do with his tears, felt like she wasn’t helping while also being convinced of her own righteousness. It was a conflicting combination. “It’s a cliche, but it’s true,” she said, taking a ship after their quiet cheer. “I am quite a fabulous friend to have. But so are you.” Inge gestured to the bottle, wanting another glass. “I’m glad we got to talk it out, yeah? Let’s keep doing that. I reckon it’s good practice.”

Inge’s forceful tone was enough to elicit a sigh from Cassius. “You’re right, as always.” He murmured in response, rolling his eyes at himself. “I think it’s about time I had a long talk with Richard.” He said. If he wasn’t about to murder the man who made him what he was, he was going to set some damn boundaries. The very idea set him on edge, as if his veins were ice. Even still, he knew that deep down, he didn’t want Richard dead. He didn’t want to work with this damn slayer. He had made choices in a rage and now he was left to deal with the consequences.

Cassius gave a soft smile as Inge declared him radiant, that they could open up to each other. He spent so long trying to avoid how he was feeling that he let it get to him. And now Inge was still there, willing to listen. Still smiling, Cassius nodded his head. She was right. “As always, you’re right.” He then said, raising his brows in a teasing manner.  He nodded his head again as she recommended to keep talking to each other. Not letting himself get that way again did sound like a good plan. Plucking the bottle up, Cassius poured more wine into Inge’s glass. “You’re a damn good friend, Inge.” He spoke, raising his glass towards her. “I’m glad to call you that.”